Many conservatives, however, fulminated in anger. "A pony! We clearly told that simian simpleton we wanted a pony!" spat out Michael Savage, already feeling cussed from all the fuss over the anniversary of his ex, Allen Ginsberg. "Look at those teeth! Those droopy eyes! This horse won't last two decades! We ask for a virile, young Clarence Thomas of a horse and get a Mrs. Ed leftover from the sixties!".
But Bush praised the horse warmly, "She may not be an Arabian Stallion - those are bad form these days - but she's *my* horse. That's the important thing. I've had to go through some real sewers to get where I am today, and no matter how putrid and toxic a soup she had to go through, she always did exactly she was told. That's what makes a horse a horse, a real horse, of course, of course, and that's why I nominated her. People worry about how she will vote. Well, we put this little box on her back, under the saddle, and let's just say she'll always know what to do. Ain't that right, Harriet?" Neighers blew air through her lips in agreement.