Meet two members of the Royal Scotch Guard, whose uniforms never need cleaning:
Don’t ask what’s in the groin-level fanny pack deals. Unless you’re up for a Justin Timberlake thing.
In which case, you might need some ScotchGuard of your own.
PS — yes, I know the fanny pack is technically called a sporran. But it’s still a fanny pack. That’s what sporrans are.
Remember the study published last year that placed the excess violent Iraqi deaths since the 2003 invasion at over 600,000 (albeit with a large margin of error)? It was attacked and rejected and barked at and mooed at, of course, because, well, bad bad bad.
Now British government officials are saying that it was probably worth paying attention to after all:
[snip]
The conclusion, based on interviews and not a body count, was disputed by some experts, and rejected by the US and British governments. But the chief scientific adviser to the Ministry of Defence, Roy Anderson, described the methods used in the study as "robust" and "close to best practice". Another official said it was "a tried and tested way of measuring mortality in conflict zones".
So the real death toll may well be in the ballpark of ten times higher than the US government claims, and over fifty times higher than the US public generally guesses.
At least that’s the World Cup’s official song, which is admittedly catchy as hell.
And generally, yes, that’s the experience. Unless you play for India or Pakistan, two cricket powers, both eliminated in the first round of play. (In their place in the second round: Bangladesh and Ireland, two countries few would have given a chance.) And the impact of cricket in India and Pakistan may be greater than all American sports have in the US, combined.
So India’s players now know that their property is being pelted with stones, they’re being burned in effigy, and police have had to begin guarding their homes 24/7.
Oh, and the Pakistan coach didn’t drop dead on the night his team was eliminated after all — he was strangled in his room.
Everybody sing: It’s the game of love and unity…
If you missed this post, two weeks ago, let me get you caught up. This is Mello, official mascot of the 2007 Cricket World Cup:
The woman with him is his handler, who is highly-trained in the dangerous art of handling big cats armed with large wooden bats.
Yes, yes, Mello looks laid-back, yes. And on his good days, Mello is a treat for young and old alike. As I’ve said, nobody does a hokey-pokey with the kids like Mello. Nobody, man. That’s why he’s getting this one last chance.
After, y’know, that ugly business in Jamaica. And the manslaughter charges and the plea bargains and the community service and the apology on Letterman. The guy’s just too good.
But just in case, his handler is packing a utility-belt taser and communicating with rooftop snipers armed with tranquilizer guns. Just to be sure.
Unfortunately, on my last day in St. Kitts, I caught this terrifying scene. Just before shit went bad.
Just seconds after this photo was taken, Mello was swarmed by ten security guards, saving his handler’s life. Two of them are still hospitalized with giant-shoe bruises and synthetic fur burns.
It has been a difficult World Cup, no question.
I just hope Mello doesn’t have to be put down.
Or at least the writer who revived the Time Lord just did, in the Sunday Independent (UK).
Wow. Excuse me while I geek.