Obama's Attack on Success

With proper authority, I published the following, copyrighted short story a few years ago as a free gift to readers on a web site. Among other things, it could be called an allegory on the conflict between socialism and capitalism. Many dystopian novels and short stories have been written on the proposition that, not only are we all created equal, but that we should all remain equal, socially and economically, throughout our lives. Theoretically, according to the egalitarian, social engineers, all mankind should be happier, but the dystopian novel demonstrates that the desired utopia invariably evolves into dystopia, and the end result is misery for all.

Such an egalitarian view of life as Obama's, conflicts with free enterprise, individual effort and merit. Where total equality, from cradle to grave, has become law, it has suppressed the competitive spirit. Obviously, Obama has contempt for individual accomplishment and thinks that all credit for success should go to the Government. That is the Marxist view, and the view of those who espouse a communist government. Here is the story:

NO HORSE LEFT BEHIND

Copyrighted Material


While awaiting the first race of the day, Jockey Pepe Rodriguez reclined on a locker room bench to rest his eyes before the race. He was especially tired today because he had sat up all night with a baby that had the colic. Using his helmet for a pillow, he promptly dozed off and began dreaming about how much he’d like to win the next race and take home a big rider’s fee to his wife, Laura.

* * *

The track bugler sounded the call to post for the first race of the day at the Border Bend race track, and the horses came onto the track. All horses walked leisurely through the post parade, then drifted toward the north end of the track, and meandered around the final turn where some jockeys kicked their mounts into a sauntering gallop to warm them up. Jake Marrow kicked Equal Equine, into a saunter, and close behind him, his fellow jockey and friend, Tommy Forcet, warmed up Four Score, A little further behind them, yet in earshot, was their friend, jockey Pepe Rodriguez, atop Glazed View.

By the time they reached the far side of the final turn, Tommy and Pepe caught up with Jake. The bright, spring sun bathed the racetrack with afternoon sunlight that enhanced the colorful scene. The slender, athletically built jockeys looked sharp in their fresh, clean racing silks that shimmered in the bright sun.

"Well, we have the two best horses," said Tommy to Jake. "It looks like a two way race between me and you, with the rest fighting it out for third place. Our horses will go this one-mile breezing."

"I’m not so sure about that," challenged Pepe.

"Truthfully, I’m not so sure either, Pepe," said Jake.

"What do you mean?" asked Pepe. "My horse is just as good as those you guys are riding."

"I meant I’m not so sure for a different reason." Jake’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as if he were riding the longest shot in the race.

Tommy parroted Pepe’s question: "Yeah—what do you mean, Jake?"

"Well, Tommy, your horse and mine have superior breeding, the best times for this race, and our horses have earned, by far, the most money this racing season."

Jake added, "Right—and good trainers and proper schooling also come into the equation, but…"

"Mine has the best jockey," injected Pepe.

Jake’s brow remained furrowed. "Be all that as it may, guys, this racing card is a pilot program to introduce a new and more fair and balanced method of handicapping."

"How could they make it fairer?" queried Tommy. "Your horse and mine are carrying a hundred and twenty-two pounds for this race. Pepe’s is carrying one-twenty. None of the other eight horses in the race are carrying more than a hundred and fourteen. But we’ll still beat ‘em all easily. It’s in the horses’ breeding and class, I tell you. Trust me, old friend; this is going to be a race between you, Pepe, and me. Tell you what. The two of us that loses to the third, has to take him and his significant other out to dinner tonight."

"I’ll take part of that action," said Pepe.

"Done," said Jake. "But if none of us three finishes first, the bet is off. OK?"

"Fair enough," said Tommy.

"Fair enough," said Pepe.

Jake added, "We’d better work our way over toward the starting gate. Post time is in three minutes."

When they returned to front of the grandstand and approached the starting gate, Tommy said, "Hey, look at the tote board, Jake! We’re both even money in this race."

"Yeah—and Pepe is three to one. The fourth choice is six to one."

"Well, the race is run on the track and not the tote board," said Pepe.

In a few moments the horses were circling behind the starting gate, and the head gate man gave the word to load up, left to right. Jake and Tommy’s horses were posted into the number 5 and 6 positions, respectively, next to each other. Pepe’s horse was loaded into post 7. As he steadied his mount in the gate, Tommy looked around at the other horses and jockeys in the starting gate and said, "Jake, other than Pepe’s mount, I don’t see anything except second rate nags. I don’t even understand why our horses’ owners put these horses in this race. I don’t think they’ll get a good workout."

"We’ll see," said Jake.

Tommy pulled his goggles down over his eyes and said, "You’re a worry wart, Jake, old pal. It’s easy money—ten percent of the horses’ earnings—enjoy the ride, Jake."

The starting gate crew got the horses settled, and the gate bell rang loudly. The starting gates flung open with a cacophonous crash. As expected, Tommy and Jake’s horses took the early lead and the two experienced jockeys worked their horses close to the rail to save ground. By the time they reached the first turn, they had a two-link lead over Pepe’s horse, now running third. Tommy pulled up even with Jake and as their horses ran stride for stride, he said, "A piece of cake! Didn’t’ I tell you Jake?"

Just then a pilot car with long barricade wings normally used for lining up horses in harness races pulled out of a gap in the outside rail near the first turn, onto the track, fifty yards ahead of Jake and Tommy. "What the hell is this?" asked Tommy.

"It’s part of the new handicapping system I told you about. We have to pull up to the barricade and hold our horses there until the other ones catch up."

"That’s insanity," said Tommy.

When all horses were once again even, the pilot car folded the barricade wings and accelerated. As Tommy had predicted, his and Jake’s horses quickly went to the front of the field again. Pepe regained third position, hugging the rail.

"Well, crazy it is," said Tommy, "But it still won’t keep the best horses from winning."

"We’ll see," said Jake.

As they headed down the backstretch, the jockeys clucked their horses onward into the homestretch. After the final turn, another pilot car with a barricade pulled out into the center of the track and spread the wings of the barricade, forcing the leaders to check. "Incredible!" shouted Tommy to Jake as they steadied their horses behind the barricade. "We’re only an eighth of a mile from the finish line and they’re holding us up again. We can still win, though."

“Que diablos!” shouted Pepe as he slowed his horse to the speed of the pilot car.

Soon, all the horses were again racing evenly behind the barricade. Jake, Tommy and Pepe again waited anxiously for the mobile barricade to fold again so that they could accelerate. However, this time the barricade wings did not fold up. In fact, the pilot vehicle slowed more, continuing to hold all horses to a slower pace so that the slowest could stay even and abreast behind the barricade.

The barricade stayed down and all horses crossed the finish line evenly. All ten horses went to the winner’s circle and had their photos taken. The purse was divided evenly among the ten horses. The tote board showed that all bettors’ tickets would return the amount of money the bettors had paid for the ticket, plus the minimum payout of five cents on the dollar.

Irate fans fell into line at the cashiers’ counters, shouting, murmuring and protesting. The line of bettors at an outside bettor’s window stretched all the way back to the rail guarding the scales station where Pepe stood in line, holding his saddle for the end-of-race weigh-in. The line at the pay window was about three times as long as it would have ordinarily been. He listened to the fans’ strident complaints. Unlike all races before, every bettor in this race was a "winner," but their pari-mutuel payoff profit was a dismal dime. "How long do we have to put up with this horse manure?" asked a lanky young man standing on the opposite side of the rail from Pepe, waiting to cash his ticket.

A white-haired, elderly man behind him, wearing a beat-up, gray fedora hat and eyeglasses with thick lens, said, "It looks like it’s here to stay. It worked as they planned."

"It did?" said the young man. "Why in Hell would they plan such a finish?"

"It’s the Government’s idea."

"The Government’s?"

"That’s right. A civic organization complained to Congress that some handicappers are far more experienced and better at reading and interpreting the Daily Racing Form. They claimed that the handicapping-challenged lose more money than their better-educated and more experienced counterparts. So Congress introduced the new racing regulations and the President agreed that it was in line with his personal philosophy about equal opportunity. This new handicapping system is called the No Horse Left Behind policy."

Back in the jockey’s locker room, Jake and Tommy joined the other jockeys’ chorus of complaints.

Pepe pulled off his shirt and slammed it against a wall. He grumbled, "Man, I’m going back to ride in Mexico again."

Jake said, "That sounds cool, Pepe. Maybe I’ll join you."

In a few moments the track announcer blared that all the rest of the races on the card had been canceled because all the bettors had left the track.

Pepe sat down on a bench, pulled off a riding boot, and as if to add a punctuation mark to his feelings, banged the heel against the floor. "Man, I want to be where they have winners—and losers. Ya can’t have winners if you don’t have losers."

* * *


Pepe was awakened with a shaking from fellow jockey, Jake Morrow. "Hey Pepe, wake up! It’s time to report to the paddock!"

Groggily, Pepe sat up on the bench, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at Jake who carried his whip under his armpit while adjusting a pair of goggles on his helmet. Grinning broadly, Jake asked, "Hey Pepe, what the hell were you dreamin’ about?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were talkin’ in your sleep."

Buttoning his silks, Pepe warily asked, "What did I say?"

"It was weird," said Jake, still laughing. "You were muttering and saying a lot of things. You blurted out something that sounded like, ‘We need losers so we can have winners!’”

The End