To reach the Federation of Black Cowboys headquarters at Cedar Lane Stables, you take the A train for about an hour out of Manhattan to the Grant Avenue station in Howard Beach, walk a mile past park-and-ride lots and construction sites and a truck selling Polish sausage, then look for the wooden rail fencing around a long and narrow stretch of trees and trailers alongside Linden Boulevard. For two decades, until the city closed the stables this year, these 26 acres of pasture, trees, and western-themed corrals provided a place for city kids to learn to ride a horse or see a rodeo.
Now this is a football highlight reel.
"'I've been to cattle barns before and sales before, in Arkansas, but I've never felt like I was the one that was being bid on,' Clinton told the crowd in the auction barn, many of whom wore cowboy hats. 'I know you're going to inspect me. You can look inside my mouth if you want. I hope by the end of my time with you I can make the case for my candidacy and to ask you to consider caucusing for me.'"
Hillary, 'Pumped,' Tries a New Look in Iowa [NYO]
There's a kind of masochistic satisfaction to be had in reading Slate's roundup of the European media's response to Tuesday's Democratic victories, the gist of which was, "Took you long enough, you fucking idiots." But among the teeming tidal wave of mixed metaphors about what drove the last nail into the straw that broke the American voter-camel's back, one device stands out: the comparison of our Texan president to a Wild West gunslinger.
Yep, it's another one of those scared-smokeless anti-tobacco ads, and like most people, we suspect the shocked crowd reactions are all commercial extras. That said, a singing cowboy crooning through his tracheotomy voicebox while making "camp" in a New York street is a nice little tableau. Maybe this is what the Naked Cowboy needs to spice up his act.