CANDIDATE HORSLEY AND THE MULE!

FROM THE EXAMINER:

I first learned about Neal Horsley when he sent me an email telling me he had been following my articles on secession and wondered if I could help him get in contact with the head of the Georgia Militia. I told him, sadly, no, but was curious about a link to a website he gave me for his campaign for governor. And then, there was the mule thing, which I'll get to.



He is running on the "nullification platform", which is kind of secessionist lite. Though, looking over his platform, there doesn't appear to be anything lite about it. But we'll get to that later.

Now, about the mule. Here's a snippet of his confession on Alan Colmes:

NH: "Absolutely. I was a fool. When you grow up on a farm in Georgia, your first girlfriend is a mule."

AC: "I'm not so sure that that is so."

NH: "You didn't grow up on a farm in Georgia, did you?"

AC: "Are you suggesting that everybody who grows up on a farm in Georgia has a mule as a girlfriend?"

NH: It has historically been the case. You people are so far removed from the reality... Welcome to domestic life on the farm..."

Colmes said he thought there were a lot of people in the audience who grew up on farms, are living on farms now, raising kids on farms and "and I don't think they are dating Elsie right now. You know what I'm saying?"

Horsley said, "You experiment with anything that moves when you are growing up sexually. You're naive. You know better than that... If it's warm and it's damp and it vibrates you might in fact have sex with it."

Yep. There was no way we weren't going to ask about that one. It was just a matter of how. We worked in the question somewhat delicately this way: "So, as a candidate for Governor, are you worried about any skeletons in your closet that might get aired in the course of the campaign?"

"No, that's why I'm running for Governor because I don't have any skeletons in my closet," he says. " I’ve talked about things people would never have talked about. Any skeletons I have, I take them out and rattle them around."

"What kinds of things?" I ask.

Without missing a beat, he says, "You know what you’re thinking about has been out there..."

"We're talking about the mule now?"

Yes, he says. The mule.

"A small mule?" I ask.

"No, a full grown mule," he says. "She loved me, though."

We both laugh, but I'm still trying to figure out the logistics. How big is this thing? The size of a horse, he says.

"All I had to do was give her an ear of corn." He laughs again. "She was a [prostitute] mule."

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