Workouts for Dummies

Ah, the good ol’ Books for Dummies—my favorites. I’ve been on both ends of that deal. I have read them books for dummies, and buddy, I have written a few snippets for dummies too. That’s ‘cause in today’s world, dummies outnumber experts about ten to one—and they got way better marketing.

'We as a society can’t stand experts. Oh no. They’re “know-it-all dimwits” just ‘cause they actually… know stuff. And somehow that makes us—the proud, card-carryin’ dummies—feel like dummies. And that ain’t right. I got a constitutional right to be a dip. Found it right there between free speech and buyin’ fireworks across state lines.'

Shoot, bein’ a dummy nowadays ain’t an insult—it’s a lifestyle brand. “Dummies R Us,” and business is boomin’. Folks wear it like a badge of honor. “Yup, I don’t know nothin’, and I ain’t about to start now, but let me tell you......”

Take me for example—I ain’t much of a calculus or trigonometry fella. Never have been. But will that stop me from takin’ a big ol’ swing at it? Absolutely not.

You come at me talkin’ about “SOHCAHTOA.” First off, that sounds like a minor league baseball team or a prescription drug. “Ask your doctor if SOHCAHTOA is right for you.” Side effects include confusion and actin’ like you know what sine means.

Then you throw out somethin’ like:

h equals 50 times tan of 40 degrees.

Well I’ll tell you right now, the only tan I trust is the one I get walking the dogs in a tank top. And triangles? I don’t trust ‘em. Three sides, always hidin’ somethin’. Square seems honest—lays it all out there. Triangle’s got secrets.

And these experts, man… they’ll say, “There’s a correct answer.” Sure there is skippy. That’s where they lose folks. Around here, answers ain’t about bein’ correct—they’re about bein’ confident. If you say it loud enough, and repetetively, somebody’s gonna nod.

But here’s the thing—and this is where I might lose my membership card to Dummies R Us—I got a rule: if I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about, I try not to run my mouth too much. I know, I know… radical concept. Call me a dipshit if you want, but I’d rather be quiet than loud and wrong.

That don’t stop folks nowadays though. Oh no. They’ll charge right in—“Well I got a right to my opinion!” And you sure do. One hundred percent. But guess what? The rest of us got a right to ours too… and sometimes ours comes with a little less nonsense and a little more… I dunno… reality.

And that’s where feelings get dented. Egos out here flappin’ in the wind like a screen door in a tornado.

Now take horse racing—Lord help us, it’s that time of year again. Everybody suddenly an expert. Folks who couldn’t tell a fetlock from a fence post out here breakin’ down stride mechanics like they got a PhD from the University of Churchill Downs Workout Video Library.

Meanwhile, some of us been at this craft 40 years. Forty. Years. We might—might—know a thing or two about what a horse is supposed to look like.

And spoiler alert: they don’t look like gorillas.

Horses are athletes. Real ones. They’re intuitive, adaptable, sharp as a tack. They don’t pound their chest and holler about how right they are. They don’t need to. They carry themselves with a kind of quiet confidence most folks could learn from.

Truth is, they’re smarter than we give ‘em credit for. They’ll try to tell you things too—if you’re willin’ to listen. Problem is, a whole lotta people ain’t listenin’. They’re too busy talkin’.

And that’s where this whole “Workouts for Dummies” comes from. It ain’t just pokin’ fun—it’s a little reminder. If you wanna learn, there’s folks out here willin’ to teach. Real knowledge, earned the hard way.

But if you just wanna holler about trigonometry while starin’ at a horse like it’s a math problem… well go ahead.

Just don’t be surprised when the rest of us can tell you don’t know what you’re lookin’ at.

So Workouts for Dummies—yeah, it all kicked off when some fella decided he was “uninspired” by a Kentucky Derby prospect. 'Uninspired'. Like the horse owed him a Broadway performance, of guys and dolls, his own version of 'I got the horse right here and the man says the horse can do-can do, instead of just winnin’ races.

This horse—mind you—ain’t done a single thing wrong. Just wins. That’s it. Shows up, runs, collects. But apparently that ain’t enough anymore. Nah, now we got folks sittin’ there like Tinker Bell, waitin’ to be emotionally moved.

Motivation? Inspiration? Two-bits-three bits a dollar, every body stand up and holla.

What is this, a Peloton class? or a pep rally?

The horse supposed to yell encouragement back at you mid-work?

Now some of these folks, they don’t just wanna see a solid, professional breeze. They wanna be wowed. They want flashy times, stopwatches explodin’, workmates gettin’ dropped like bad habits. They want that horse to pull away like Pegasus himself, tossin' a little fairy dust over his shoulder, maybe wink at the camera on the gallop-out.

And if that don’t happen? “Eh… I’m just not feelin’ it.”

One genius even said he “needs to see horses that look forward.”

Look forward?! Well color me the yak woman—what direction you think horses been runnin’ this whole time? You want him trottin’ sideways like a crab? Checkin’ over his shoulder for traffic?

And then—here comes the part that’ll really get ya—they lower their voice like they’re breakin’ news on national television:

“Somethin’s wrong with that horse.”

Oh, is there now? Thank God you showed up. We was all waitin’ on Detective Stopwatch to crack the case.

“He’s choppy.”“High action.”“Time was slow.”

Buddy, you watched a 48-second workout from the rail with a hot dog in one hand and a phone face timing with your mimi, in the other—you didn’t just diagnose a Thoroughbred like you’re readin’ X-rays.

These are the kinda comments that would even make Hans Gruber pause mid-crime and go, “Wow… that’s a bold level of confidence for someone who has no idea what they’re lookin’ at.” And that man gots defenestrated out of a skyscraper—he knows bad judgment when he sees it.

See, that’s the thing about dummies… they don’t know they’re dummies. They think they nailed it. They walk away proud, chest out, like they just solved horse racin’.

Meanwhile, the rest of us—the slightly less dumb crowd—we’re over here squintin’, second-guessin’, lookin’ at every angle. Wonderin’ if we’re right. Hopin’ we ain’t missin’ somethin’. And when we are wrong? It bothers us. We think on it. Try to learn somethin’ so we don’t step in the same mess twice.

Dummies? Oh no. They wake up every mornin’, walk straight over, and put their hand on the same hot stove like, “This time feels different.”

It ain’t different, Darryl. It’s still hot.

And that’s what Workouts for Dummies really is—it ain’t about callin’ people names. It’s about helpin’ the folks who actually want to learn. Breakin’ things down, explainin’ what matters, what don’t, and why a horse don’t gotta put on a fireworks show to be the real deal.

Now sure, I’ll sprinkle in a few zingers for the hardheaded ones—but let’s be honest, they ain’t listenin’ anyway.

They’re too busy over there stickin’ their hand in a runnin’ blender, talkin’ ‘bout, “Nah, I think I got it this time.”