White Horses

Yes, it’s Angelina Jolie,
Rolling Stone

Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the colour of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlours, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed.

Dylan Thomas

As a wise old Englishman said " I love Horses,but you can’t beat the sight of Angelina Jolies’ breasts in full swing" Sorry, that must have been me :whistle:

Dylan Thomas is the fiend behind the fiend behind the fiend.

I like my horses with splotches.

A fella was walking through Cullamaloo, Victoria, some years ago when he saw a fine looking white horse in a Chinaman’s garden.

He knocked on the door and said ‘That’s a fine looking horse, how much would you take for him?’

Chinaman says: ‘He no lookee too good.’

Fella: ‘I’ll give ya two quid.’

Chinaman: ‘He no lookee too good.’

Fella: ‘Give ya three.’

Chinaman: ‘He no lookee too good.’

Fella: ‘He looks fine to me. Here take 5 quid.’

Chinaman: ‘OK, but I tell you he no lookee too good.’

Next day the fella comes back to the Chinaman leading the horse and says: ‘Hey you conniving, sly, yellow bastard: you sold me a blind horse!’

Chinaman say: ‘I tell you: he no lookee too good’.

The Bird Snatchers

The terrible trampling
Of a maddening tattoo,
Is the harbinger of a school of rearing white heads,
Tilted at an odd but not unnatural angle
For the monocular vision
of beasts,
I see myself momentarily reflected
In the crystal black veneer
Of a turbid black pool
Before the eagle is ripped unceremoniously
From my exhausted hands,
And I give myself over to the unforgiving blades
Of glory.

It’s a good thing that this thread isn’t about black horses, because they are not horses.

Here’s an old chestnut Peagsus was a white horse. And that name means horse.

They are portals to the other world, especially if you encounter the Lone Ranger and “Hi! HO! Silver and away!”

(I thought of shrinking that, but why. It’s a horse. It’s big and right there.)

If a white horse is not a horse, and you say a black horse is not a horse, what is a zebra not?

That’s what I get for reaching to the Dennis Miller ratio.