Horses and Bayonets: The Sopranos Connection

"Next time you come, you come heavy or not at all.” 

So said Uncle Junior to Tony in Episode 4 of the first season of The Sopranos.

What does that line have to do with the debate last night? Hold your horses, yep I said that, I'll get around to it. 

First of all, I did not enjoy the setup for the debate. I want my politicians standing up, pacing and looking like they are ready to pounce on their opponent. Sitting at a table with their hands folded, does not make for a riveting show.

Now I was watching the debate on CNN. I missed the explanation, so can someone tell me what the hell that flat line graph of Florida undecided voters was supposed to mean? I think it might have been a veiled reference to the age of the population of Boca...it seemed everyone was sleeping peacefully. Eh, I hope they were just sleeping.

Anyway...

While last night wasn't nearly as interesting as the week before, there were still a few fun quotes. Unfortunately, when the moderator ends the night with the best one...well maybe it's a good thing the election is only weeks away.

So let's just savor the few honorable mentions from last night.

"Syria is Iran's only ally in the Arab world. It's their route to the sea" Have you looked at a map at all?

"It still doesn't work" I believe the subject was MittMath, unless they were referencing the "yours is bigger than mine" quote from the last debate.

"Attacking me is not an agenda" But let me attack you and call it policy.

But of course the best line came from President Obama...

"We also have fewer horses and bayonets..."

So here we have a vision of unnaturally large horses, armed...ready for battle, or as Uncle June would say...Heavy

I give you Jethro Tull's "Heavy Horses"

"Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust

An October's day, towards evening

Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough

Salt on a deep chest seasoning

Last of the line at an honest day's toil

Turning the deep sod under

Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone

Flies at the nostrils plunder.

The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie

With the Shire on his feathers floating

Hauling soft timber into the dusk

To bed on a warm straw coating.

Heavy Horses, move the land under me

Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free

Now you're down to the few

And there's no work to do

The tractor's on it's way.

Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed

To keep the old line going.

And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood

Behind the young trees growing

To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,

And your eighteen hands at the shoulder

And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry

And the nights are seen to draw colder

They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power

Your noble grace and your bearing

And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls

In the wake of the deep plough, sharing.

Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill

Up into the cold wind facing

In stiff battle harness, chained to the world

Against the low sun racing

Bring me a wheel of oaken wood

A rein of polished leather

A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky

Brewing heavy weather.

Bring a song for the evening

Clean brass to flash the dawn

Across these acres glistening

Like dew on a carpet lawn

In these dark towns folk lie sleeping

As the heavy horses thunder by

To wake the dying city

With the living horseman's cry

At once the old hands quicken ---

Bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---

Thrill to the sound of all

The heavy horses coming home."

Oh yeah, the best of the night. Bob Schieffer quoting his mother "Go Vote. It Makes You Feel Big And Strong." 

Mom always knows best.

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