Centaur talking!

It does look like the analyst is talking here in this New Yorker cartoon. But why waste a centaur? I don’t understand. Go here to see the New Yorker cartoon contest. 

“Hell yes I blame my parents! Wouldn’t you?”

“Recognition I get, but what I want is chicks.”

“I shit on this guy’s rug once, and he called the cops on me. I mean, I could see his point, but still I felt it was an over reaction.”

“Believe it or not, shoes are a real problem.”

“I met this chick once, I told her I was a bull. I knew it was wrong, but she fell for it. I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like women want to be lied to.”

“That Harry Potter gig was beauty, you know? Beauty. And now they want me to be a fucking ride in an amusement park. I deserve more.”

“Here people call me Mr. Ed. In France people are eating cœur de cheval. Which is worse?”

“The stand-up is not working out for me. Once I get past the hoof jokes, I got nothing.”

“You know what I would like to tell the group? I would like to tell them this: ‘I am not neurotic. I’m an ungulate with attitude, that’s all, and that is not blame-shifting. I am goddamn tired of this two-legged game and, frankly, I quit. If you can’t keep up, you can’t keep up. I will run circles around your lazy asses and bill you for my time.’ That’s what I would like to tell the group.”

“Compromise? My whole goddamn life is a compromise. You think lying on this couch isn’t a compromise? Shit. It’s a hell of a compromise.”