I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s definitely Friday.

Dear Dear Readers,

How are you? I’m swell. I’ve spent the past week feasting on the fruits of my patience cultivations and living the lavish, hedonistic lifestyle that comes following such toils. That’s not true. I didn’t do much this week, and I certainly didn’t train as much as I should have… But I think I’ve got enough stuff to muster up a decent post.

Here we go.

There are a couple of things that I wanted to talk about today but good news first: It started snowing! Yup, winter is a fickle mistress here in the Windy City and I guess a week of relatively clear, uncharacteristically survivable weather is best when topped off with 6-8 inches of snow (or rain, whatever). Oh well, hopefully a few more seasons like this and we Chicagoans will shuck the dangerous and unreliable horseless carriage and revert to our ancestors’ mode of animal-transit. (The horseful carriage?).

“Beautiful carriage, Thaddeus! And so horseful!”

I’m telling you, Dear Readers, invest in horse stock. And I don’t mean looking up popular horse breeding companies and researching investment methods and strategies all so that you can make responsible, measured decisions and come out ahead. I mean go all American, look up Horses (under “H…” as in “horse”) and go balls to the wall. Child’s college funds? Throw ’em in. 401K? More like Four-oh-one-“H,” as in horses. Disaster money? It’d be a disaster not to invest in horses. Why all this sage talk about horses, you ask? Well, so you can say that you heard it here first, Dear Readers. Additionally, I’m am basically just streaming consciousness at this point so, you know, bear with me. (Or should I say, “horse” with me?)

I went out to my parents’ house this week. I had debts to pay off, jobs to do and I had to see this guy about this thing. Anyway, between all my other misadventures I was lucky enough to spend some time with some very close friends of mine [don’t be jealous, Dear Readers (But seriously, be jealous, Dear Readers)] and I they sent me off with a kingly gift:

Gorgeous

Yes, the coveted Brooks saddle, and in perfect condition no less. Now, while a Brooks saddle isn’t the most precious thing on the Earth (certainly more than 25lbs. of ’em across the whole planet), it is a highly prized addition to any rider’s collection. Here’s the thing though; we no longer live in a world where items are skillfully made and meant to be cherished. Ours is a world where phones that cost hundreds of dollars are designed to fall to pieces in time for the next model (yeah, Apple, we’re calling you on your bullshit). I mean, we live in a world where this is considered a vehicle worth owning:

1. Terrible.
2. Horrendous
3. Nope.
4. “Curvy” is the new “visually abrasive”
5. Asymmetry? Nice try, Nissan

It seems as if the days of quality-controlled products are behind us, unfortunately. We have broken from artistic beauty for the sake of gimmicky utilitarianism (ask your parents how often they “needed” Google Maps while driving as kids or Angry Birds while pooping). And further, all the novelties which our new products bring to us only make the items more susceptible to failure. Consider coding in modern vehicles. Failure sensors for frivolous shit like navigation systems can trip and shutdown the vehicle (when was the last time you saw a horse with a killswitch? I’m telling you, they’re coming back).

Thank goodness Brooks doesn’t stand for this bullshit. They have been making saddles for nearly 150 years and they haven’t seen a need to change their formula yet. I’m sure someone at one point said “Hey yeah, these leather saddles sure are great, but don’t you think they would be better if we could also play Words with Friends on ’em?” After a swift, horse-like kick in the gooch that man was fired and Brooks dusted its shoulders off, got the girl and then went on as if nothing happened. And you know what? Their saddles are works of art. Thick, strong leather embossed with their logo, complete with steel runners and even a tensioning bolt. Their quality is in their simplicity and craftsmanship.

Needless to say I, having grown up with access to a veritable bounty of poorly constructed junk, was at a loss with this acquisition. How do I…what’s the word… care for this? Enter my dad and all the unexpected shit he owns and knows.

Now my parents have a lot of… unconventional… trash strewn throughout the house. This is something my siblings and I grew accustomed to throughout our lives. It did not, however, prepare me for when my dad pulled leather wax and saddle soap out of the drawer adjacent to our silverware. Of course we–Chicago suburbanites–have something like saddle soap and of course we keep it within reach of our pickle forks. Only at our house, I guess. It is no stranger than our industrial-grade rivet gun, our collection of unsettling porcelain dolls or our coal-powered clothes iron. And no, mom, I don’t care if it’s “rustic,” that thing is terrible and I will never use it.

I guess I can at least say that my family is ready for anything. Certainly they are ready to treat their saddles when horses come back.

That’s all for the week, Dear Readers,
-Nick

So last week’s poll came in with over 50% of the votes going to “more information about me.” In due time, Dear Readers. I still don’t feel I know you well enough and I don’t want to get hurt. Second place was the “other” category and the suggestions were… the suggestions were what they were. I will do my best to incorporate all of them in the future. Anyway, onto this week’s poll: