Horse Sense

What do you do with a horse?

Some of the answers are pretty obvious - e.g., stay out of its way, don't tell it to fetch, keep your fingers away from the top part of the carrot.

But, as you've probably read, more than 400 plaintiffs who sued their lawyers in Kentucky for allegedly mishandling a giant diet drug settlement have an opportunity that almost no one ever gets they get to manage a chunk of a champion racehorse named Curlin.

It seems the lawyers they sued owned 20% of Curlin and the judge in the case said the plaintiffs could take that to partly satisfy their judgment.

By the time you read this, the horse may have already been sold for mere money, but I'm hoping someone has paused long enough to tell this group that money isn't everything.

It's a lot, but not quite everything. And, besides, if you don't take the money and run, you can hang on to what you've got, make a whole lot more money, and even be sort of famous (while not exhausting yourself running).

For those of you who are not horseracing fans, owning Curlin is a big deal. Imagine owning the Boston Red Sox, making millions of spectators happy, and then not having to renegotiate anyone's contract. Imagine keeping Alex Rodriguez happy with some peppermints. It's sports ownership heaven.

And not only that, but you have a chance to create and own your player's children. (Think about arranging a mating between David Ortiz and Venus Williams. Or maybe Kurt Schilling and Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Thinking about charging a stud fee for the services of Manny Ramirez. OK, maybe that's too much thinking....)

Sure, the plaintiffs in this diet drug case could get some nice money for Curlin, but they're going to miss out on a lot of fun if they sell.

So, Curlin plaintiffs, if you haven't already sold out by the time you read this[1], here are some things you can do with your new acquisition:

Write a best-selling book. People love rags to riches stories. The title could be something like:

How I Gained 2,000 Pounds on the Phen-Fen Diet.

Or:

The Championship Diet.

Or:

From the Courtroom to the Breeders Cup: A Classic American Tale

Challenge other animals to match races. You've seen Seabiscuit. They make movies about this sort of thing.

If there aren't any horse owner takers, pit Curlin against, say, a cheetah. Or some loudmouth human athlete. You know there's going to be an audience and television coverage.

Take Curlin on a speaking tour. OK, Curlin probably can't speak all that well, but who wants to have a conversation with a horse anyway?[2]

Charge $5 a pop for the chance to feed Curlin a carrot and stroke his nose and then give the money to charity (e.g. Phen-fen victims).

Wealthy donors could even get a ride (if they're not too fat).

Go for rides. Hey, he's a really cool horse.

[1] And why wouldn't you be reading this?

[2] A horse is a horse, of course.

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