All Rise...

Fun fact! This is the second My Little Pony review that Judge David Johnson has used the word "propaganda" in.

The Charge

The following was retrieved from the leg of a pigeon.

The Case

May 12
I pray someone is reading this. My name is Sal. I am a pony. I am officially a resident of Ponyville, but you wouldn't know that if you ever visited. Or scanned the town records. Or asked the ponies you'll see walking to and fro on the magical, flowery road. No, you won't find me, or any other male pony, anywhere in Ponyville—unless you know where to look.

This is the shocking secret I wish to tell the world. Ponyville, as you've no doubt seen from the various My Little Pony programs, is shown as a whimsical land populated by beautiful, kind-hearted ponies with lovely hair and big hearts.

This is propaganda. And your media has embraced it.

I must go now. Someone is coming.

May 13
I am consistently amazed that no one on the outside has picked up on an obvious fact from the My Little Pony transmissions: where are the males? How can no one have ever asked this question?!?

Well, I will answer it for you. We are here. But we are oppressed, kept hidden from outside eyes, and forced to do whatever the females tell us to. My kind is bound in chains, deep below the surface of Ponyville, imprisoned in a complex of subterranean caves. We are deprived of education (I have mastered English by fortuitous proximity only; my holding pen is within earshot of the guards, and they do enjoy their PBS). Sustenance is limited to simple oats and water, enough to keep us healthy and functioning, but no more.

And what is our primary function? Breeding, of course. It is our seed the females are solely interested in. Once a month, during the Princess Promenade, a Ponyville celebration where the females build floats and show off new hairstyles, we are released from our pens, and ushered into fertility chambers. There we are forced to mate with a ripe female, while guards threaten us with electric prodders. It is not as enjoyable as it may sound.

May 14
I have just discovered that a momentous event has happened. The mythical dragon, called Spike, has been awoken from his millennium of slumber. As such, he is by Ponyville doctrine mandated to choose the Princess of Ponyville. The chatter down here is that Wysteria, one of the more powerful females of the herd has been selected as princess.

The rumors say she is reluctant to assume this mantle, as it is ostracizing the other females. I find this particularly hard to believe. >From what I know (and having been force-bred with Wysteria once before), she is a ruthless creature, power-mad and eager to roll over any that challenges her. For her to relinquish the title of princess would take nothing short of a grand epiphany where she realizes that her friendship is more important and being true to oneself is what determines royalty and a community of happiness and joy is the greatest gift she could ever have.

But what are the chances.

Oh no. I see it is my time to go to the fertility chamber. I will return soon.

May 15
As irony would have it, I was again made to copulate with Wysteria. In the middle of the breeding frenzy, she took it upon herself to tell me about what was going on in Ponyville. It is a profoundly taboo action talking to one of us, but something I know Wysteria takes pleasure out of, teasing males about life outside of our holding pens.

Apparently, in the middle of her celebratory parade, she publicly renounced her claim to the throne, and instead divided her duties of princess among her friends. So it appears that Ponyville has adopted an elitist junta as a ruling body. A shrewd move from Wysteria; she preserves her power by anointing her loyal chosen, but any sign of public strain can be answered with distribution of blame. My little pony indeed.

May 17
My strength is leaving me. I don't know what it is, but I suspect that Wysteria may have poisoned me during our recent breeding session. She is cold and cruel.

So I leave behind this memoir and hope that somehow I can find a way to get this to the world beyond my cage. If you are reading this, I plead with you—perhaps beyond the grave—to not forget what I have written. Lift the veil of ignorance! Look past the eyelashes, the ornate jewelry, the perfectly styled manes, and the empty talk of kindness, love, and fun.

These bitches are evil.

Tell others my story

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