I am a horse. I know horseplay. That's not what this is.

[ehrnst]

To Whom It May Concern,

I am a horse. I know horseplay. This, my friend, is not horseplay.

Ask yourself: Was someone frolicking in a beautiful, verdant field? Was a mane billowing in the breeze? Did you feel a stirring of joy in your heart for the first time in months, like a crocus bursting from the winter soil?

Was a long tail flapping freely in the breeze? Was it unbelievably majestic? Was Misty of Chincoteague there?

Was anyone playing polo? Was anyone PRANCING? Did anyone canter wild and free across the prairie? Did you witness Rafalca jumping around, caparisoned in ribbons, displaying athleticism? Were you filled with a commingling of wonder and delight?

Was it the controversial Broadway show “Equus”?

All of these would have been horseplay, or at least horse play. This other thing is not. This sounds violent and awful.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/opinions/wp/2018/09/18/horseplay-you-say/?utm_term=.934c5c6200be

[Hortensis]

1. +1000. Horseplay as a euphemism for sexual violence? No.

The images in that writing are lovely and delightful, btw. I suddenly want to go drive by our neighbors' farm, but their horses won't be frolicking again until the sun drops behind the trees.