A horse is a horse (of course, of course)

Yeah, I missed you too.

Now back to blogging. Today's Slate magazine has a great story about one of the great benchmarks of modern culture. We're talking about that equine sensation of the early 60s, Mr. Ed.

I was always a fan of Ed. He was a smart ass, ignored his superiors, enjoyed to cause trouble and enjoyed a good prank phone call.

 He was my kind of horse.

Finally, the rest of you have caught up with what I've always known.

Since humankind first donned stirrups, this planet has been home to two groups of people: those who love horses and those who find the creatures, with their shaggy bangs and Richard Branson teeth, a little weird. Mister Ed, which premiered in 1961 and ran for five years, was born in equal measure of both tastes. For horse lovers, it was an anthropomorphic Liebestraum, a vision of the world in which hoofed beasts were not just lithe and gorgeous but possessed of an uncommon, prime-time-eligible wit. (Ed, the talking palomino, got his own billing in the credits and most of the show's best lines.) For the ambivalent, there was the added comedy of seeing a gawky animal enjoy the sacraments of postwar culture. Ed submits to psychoanalysis, goes to costume pageants, orders shoes over the phone. The joke is not just that he acts human; it's the implication that the better part of early-'60s home life could be managed, quite adeptly, by a horse with a vocabulary.

Well, hello there Wilbur! And the theme song was awesome too.