On June 4, 1923, at Belmont Park in New York, one of the most absurd stories ever recorded in horse racing unfolded.
Jockey Frank Hayes crossed the finish line first, but when officials approached to congratulate him, they realized he was no longer alive. He had died during the race, likely of a heart attack, but his body had remained in the saddle throughout the race, overcoming obstacles and maintaining his balance until the very end.
It was said that the cause was a combination of stress, excitement, and a drastic weight loss in the days leading up to the race, a common practice among jockeys of the time to meet the required categories. Whatever the reason, Hayes remains the only jockey to have won a race while dead, a record as incredible as it is disturbing.
The horse, Sweet Kiss, became instantly famous. No one dared to ride him again, and he ended up being remembered by a nickname that left no room for imagination: the sweet kiss of death.
As a kid from Queens, winning the Belmont Stakes was always one of my biggest dreams.
I’ve been fortunate enough to win it once and finish second four times.
This Saturday, I’m incredibly lucky to have two horses, Renegade and Powershift, competing in the Belmont Stakes.
I’ll be thrilled if either one gets the job done, but my heart is with Renegade after his courageous runner-up finish in the Kentucky Derby and Irad Ortiz’s incredible ride.
Think Big, Dream Bigger.
LET’S GO WIN THE BELMONT STAKES.
🙏🏆🐎
Beautiful Dove & Ditto were just rescued from the town dump & haven't been around people before. We'll get them comfy & healthy - they're shy but already warming up. 🧡🧡
161 years ago today, in the salt-stained cabin of a Union steamer anchored off Galveston, Texas, an exhausted Confederate general named Edmund Kirby Smith picked up a pen and ended the Civil War.
Lee had surrendered at Appomattox on April 9. Johnston had surrendered in North Carolina on April 26. Lincoln had been dead for 49 days. Jefferson Davis had been captured in a Georgia thicket on May 10, wearing his wife's overcoat. The Confederate cabinet had dissolved. The treasury had vanished.
But out west of the Mississippi River, a parallel Confederacy of 43,000 men was still under arms, still drawing pay in worthless paper, still drilling on the dusty parade grounds of Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana. Their commander was Kirby Smith, and the half a continent he ruled had been so isolated by the fall of Vicksburg two years earlier that men called the entire region Kirby Smithdom. He had his own armies, his own foundries, his own diplomatic envoys in Mexico.
In the last week of May 1865, his army began to dissolve under him.
Soldiers in Galveston broke open the warehouses and looted them. Officers stripped the gold braid off their coats and headed for the Mexican border. Stand Watie's Cherokee Confederates kept riding. Kirby Smith himself, with a small staff, fled west toward the Rio Grande planning to keep the war alive in exile.
He got as far as Houston. There he stopped, turned around, and went to Galveston to do the thing he had spent four years trying not to do.
At 5 p.m. on June 2, 1865, on the USS Fort Jackson in Galveston Bay, Kirby Smith and Union commissioners signed the surrender of the Army of the Trans-Mississippi. It was the same Appomattox terms Grant had given Lee. Men could go home. Officers could keep their sidearms. Horses, if they owned them, were theirs.
When Kirby Smith stepped back onto the dock at sundown, there was no army left to command. His troops had already gone home. He had surrendered an army that had effectively surrendered itself.
He fled to Mexico that same week to escape possible treason charges. He grew a beard, called himself Mr. Smith, and crossed into Cuba. By 1868 he was back in the United States, teaching mathematics at the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee, where he died in 1893 as the last surviving full general of the Confederate Army.
The Civil War did not end at Appomattox. The fighting ended there. The dying continued for weeks after.
The Confederacy itself died on a steamer deck off the Texas coast on the evening of June 2, with one signature in fading ink.
🚨Repost with the correct information🚨
Not a single application so far for the sweet boy who was set on fire, Cinder.
He's been at the South Lebanon Ohio PetSmart for a week, seen by 100s of people, and no one has been able to look past his scar...
Cinder loves to be picked up. He gives hugs and kisses. And they still turn away...
His application can be filled out here:
https://t.co/EJbDYpUE7K
Please repost so we get the correct information out there!
I ordered one pancake in America. The waitress wrote it down and said, "one short stack."
Short. I am a small and humble man. A short stack sounded perfect for me. I waited with a calm heart.
She returned carrying three pancakes, each the size of my face, stacked into a tower, with a block of butter on top sliding down the sides like slow lava.
This was the short one. I did not dare ask what the tall one looked like. Some knowledge a man is not ready for.
I ate for forty minutes. I was not full. I was afraid. The tower did not shrink. I am fairly sure it was growing back faster than I could eat it.
I had to surrender. I left half. In Japan, leaving food is a deep shame. So I leaned in close and apologized to the pancakes directly, in a low voice, one by one.
The waitress asked if I wanted a box. I did not know food could be taken into custody. I declined. I did not want it following me home.
In America, is the short stack truly the small one?
I need time to prepare my spirit before I ever face the tall one.
Dems in Power: “We wanted to pass the Clean Drinking Water For Toddlers Act, but the Senate Parliamentarian said no so we gave up immediately.”
GOP in Power: “We’re building a fucking Thunderdome on the White House lawn for an old pedophile’s birthday party, no one can stop us.”
my cat has been ramming his head into my boobs a lot lately and i've read stories about how pets sometimes warn their owners of cancerous tumors using the same method so i went to the doctor and got checked and found out that my cat is just a pervert
Our Street Kitty Medical Fund exists to cover urgent/vital medical care for abandoned/stray/feral/community cats in the Baltimore area! Find out more in the next tweet. 1/2