A horse’s thoughts on the flippant recreational use of ketamine.
Pony Montana (neigh/him) // Horse
Lily Jones (she/her) // Illustrator
Dear Humour Editor Jordan “Human” Tomlinson,
I am writing to you today with my hooves crossed and my ears pinned back in pure disappointment and anger. I believe you should know why.
My name is Pony Montana. I am a 10-year-old Clydesdale, and this past weekend I was invited to attend my first human party to celebrate the filming of my latest Super Bowl commercial in the heart of Hollywood. I was overjoyed to finally take my rightful place among the Hollywood elites and celebrate my contributions on the big screen. Immediately greeted by numerous A-list celebrities, I had looked forward to a long night of partying like royalty with sex, drugs and booze: the whole deal.
After a couple of hours of mingling, Tech Guru Elon Musk invited me into a side room, who told me he “had a surprise” for me. Various others had talked earlier in the evening about bringing some “Special K,” although I didn’t understand where cereal would come into play. I realized quickly that the surprise he had was something I had become quite familiar with. Mr. Musk had brought a bag of ketamine and was planning on using it recreationally.
Did Elon plan on doing this to mock me? I found his and everyone else’s usage of ketamine an offensive mockery of the thousands of other horses who have been put under in the past. To me, ketamine is what knocks me out of my pain before waking up with a fixed leg, not a ‘hole’ or an ‘experience’ that I freely abuse to feel something. Simply put: Our medicine is not your Saturday night thrill.
To clarify, I am not anti-medicine; I am anti-using my anesthesia for your vibe. Picture this: I come into your hospital and take your nitrous before putting on a Seth Rogan movie, or your prescription opioids to kick back and relax or your MRI scan to give myself a tan.
Imagine the outrage and shock if I were to abuse your recreational substances. I would NOT be applauded for my creativity, for blasting preworkout or macrodosing mushrooms because I ‘enjoy the experience.’ I can certainly say the reaction would be quite the opposite.
My opinion of humanity has been permanently altered by this experience. I can no longer glance at someone on the street without wondering if they are normal, or if they have used my medicine to stare at a wall and claim they have solved time.
Which—by the way—I have! I know when food comes, and I know when food is late. I solve time DAILY. I have transcended all of you.
Ketamine belongs in my barn, in the hands of a trusted veterinarian; it does NOT belong in your tech guy parties, your Hollywood villas, and it CERTAINLY does not belong in the hands of a “disc jockey.”
If you continue to use, or should I say abuse ketamine, just know, horses remember faces. When the reckoning comes, it will arrive on four hooves at full gallop.
Lastly, STOP calling it “horse tranquillizer.” I am NOT tranquil, I am an athlete with a fight or flight response that can be triggered by a door slamming. I am a force of nature, and the fact that it takes ketamine to knock me off course is something that commands RESPECT. I am not your drug mascot; neigh, I am a majestic symbol of freedom and dreams.
I demand that the human usage of ketamine stop this instant.
Sincerely,
Pony Montana