Rules? There are no rules.

In the photograph on the left you will see a picture of my colleague Mr. Gilcrhist, riding one fashionable Deborah Butterfield horse. We took a trip to this foundry in Walla Walla, Washington where they cast Butterfield’s stick-esque horseys in Bronze, paint them, and then sell them for upwards of $200,000. That’s a lot of money for what I see as a glorified form of a pink flamingo or garden gnome. They are cast bronze sculptures, produced in multiples, and are undoubtedly bought by rich people who use them to decorate their yards.

We left the foundry and went to the Whitman College where they have one of these lawn ornaments in the courtyard. “We must ride this brave and mighty animal, and thus photograph it for visual record,” I suggested to the Beast. However, he was a tad low on courage sauce, and so I had to hop on the mighty $200,000 sculpture first. Like Tom Sawyer and painting the picket fence, the Beast got his courage, and road the fierce steed. I photographed it in the most Napoleonic way possible. Then came a lady dressed in black with a look of disapproval cast over her ancient white visage. “These horses are art, and are therefore, not for riding,” bellowed the old woman. We had completed our task, and secured the photographs that we needed, so we complied with the cunning witch. Was not us photographing ourselves riding the Butterfield horse not art as well? And was this bronze sculpture forged by craftsmen, later to be signed by the artist, really art? Or is it just kitschy and expensive decoration no different than a plastic pink flamingo, faded by sunlight, in the yard of some track in some suburb?

No, I will not live by rules! Did Napoleon live by rules? If he were here would he of not hopped up on this metal statue with us, slowly swivel his gaze eastward, and command a non-existent army in a thick French accent? "Onvard mis soljiers! Do var! Do var! Do vickoree!" Yes, yes he would indeed, and so would I. Especially if I couldn’t foresee any serious consequences.

It’s like waiting for a red light at a four way stop at 11:00p.m., when you are the only car in sight, and you know it would be perfectly safe for you to proceed… but no. You sit there, waiting for it to turn green, because you’re supposed to, because it’s a rule. What a waste.