Wilb-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bur!
Move over Bo Derek, there’s a new queen of equine eros in town- is what I’d be saying if this were the year 2001. Unfortunately, I’m a little late to the Godiva game on this, so we’ll have to play with the space-time continuum a bit. Just like 1984 came and went without fulfilling Orwell’s dystopian predictions to a tee, there was no way Kubrick and Clarke could have foresaw this aberrant agape in their futuristic vision. 9 cinematic years later, in 2010, the crew of the Leonov and Peter Hyman spoiled the mystery of the first film by revealing the nonsensical hippie message of the imposing monolith- peace and love (a message that would later be recycled in Jim Cameron’s abysmal The Abyss). If we knew back then (2001) what we know right now (2010), we wouldn’t be the King of the Ladies, we’d extend that message of love beyond the Ruskies to the animal kingdom and start fucking horses.
Because what the monolith knew that we earthlings did not, is that the physical act of love between humans and horsemanity is as old as time itself. Hence all the centaur fossils found by Indiana Jones and Sean Connery over the years. Creationists believe centaurs were created by God and coexisted with Adam and Eve and the dinosaurs in the Garden of Eden, but science knows the sexy truth. It is high time we got back to our rutting roots, when “taking a trip to the glue factory” meant something entirely different than it does now.
Sex and the Country
