Watching horse shows is a lot like watching porn . . . . . .

the faces change, but the action stays the same.

Having said that, these "Saturday night shows" (even if they are on a Friday night, they are called a Saturday night show) are very different than these "royales" and fundraisers I've seen. The fundraisers had people in tuxes and offspring of the members presenting the awards and blah, blah, blah.

These little local country shows have the added benefit of . . . . . fabulous people watching. Down the gate from me was some folks with Summer Teeth. Some were there, most were not. Now, if you can own a horse and compete with it, you can take yourself to a dentist and get some dentures. But the best part are the fine-azz country boys in their fine-azz country clothes. They have jeans starched rigid and tight tight - tight wranglers, cowboy boots, and equally as startched western shirts. The whole outfit just makes their butts sit up high, and the shirts are tight across their chest, and then they have that hat on. Oh my. It's like a visual country buffet of testosterone.

But the horse shows, even without the organ player rippling a waltz tune across the keys and a high school prom queen giving out the ribbons, is still the same. "Flat walk . . . . . . . . gait. . . . . . . . trot and run . . . . . . . . . . reverse. . . .. . . " over and over and over again.