The Derby is one of those spectacles that afterwards leaves me feeling nauseous and vaguely ashamed. The Superbowl is another. Last year after watching Madonna grind her way through ten minutes of simulated halftime intercourse I left the house, remarking to the long suffering missus foad that I was going out to join the Taliban and that she should not bother keeping supper warm.
So on this year's first Saturday in May I decided to skip the pomp and circuses. I didn't watch the pre-race show. I didn't watch the undercard. I didn't even buy a racing form. Instead, about 5:45 I made a julep - one must have traditions, mine involve whiskey - and fired up the DVR. I fast forwarded through the opening montage and the special report about what sort of feminine hygiene product Debra Messing had chosen to pair with the one of a kind Derby hat that had been designed especially for her by a precocious 7 year old suffering from an inoperable brain tumor; I zipped through Bob Costas droning on portentously about the time he and doomed golden boy Tony Conigliaro watched doomed golden boy Chris Antley ride doomed champion Charismatic to the latter's date with destiny; Jerry Bailey, Randy Moss and the rest of the NBC bald brigade went by in a single flash of white light reflecting off their collective domes as each excrutiatingly explained how he'd managed to settle on the favorite as the most likely winner. I didn't stop until the post parade. Despite the fact that for half the field this consisted of nearly proctological examinations of the horses nether regions as they trotted away from the camera I picked the four I thought perkiest - Trinniberg, Rousing Sermon, Dullahan, and I'll Have Another - and boxed them in a triple for a buck. I had another julep and after a brief thrill in the stretch tore up my imaginary ticket and turned off the television. This made for the Best. Derby. Ever. I still felt a little sick to my stomach - whoever decided shrubbery belonged in bourbon is hopefully burning in the 10th circle of hell - but at least I didn't feel dirty.