On the island of Bequia, the best-defended T-shirt shop on Earth:

Archaeologists believe the Carib Indians first sold T-shirts on this spot as early as the fifteenth century. Spanish and English explorers invaded the island in the 1600s, but neither group was able to maintain control of the T-shirt concession, due to difficulties in mastering the local dyes. The British assigned ownership of the island to the British West Indian T-Shirt Company, who never enforced their claim, since they had a better profit margin on key fobs, beer cozies, and tiny souvenir spoons made of scrimshaw.

The French arrived in the 1700s, developing a working relationship with the indigenous people — the Caribs made the actual T-shirts, and the French provided a garrison of troops to repel British attacks. The French defensive battlements became known as Fort Tricot, named for St. Tricot, the Patron Saint of foundation garments.

However, in 1783, in conceding defeat to France and the new United States after the American Revolution, the British ultimately reclaimed Fort Tricot for good, thanks to a small tag attached to the Treaty of Paris with a safety pin.

All that remain of this rich history are the crumbling original T-shirts manufactured by the French. And the guns.

If invaders ever try to seize Fort Tricot, they will be fired upon. And then they will be given a mildly dirty look if they leave and walk back down the hill without buying anything.

This week’s animal is a little different.  Meet Mello, official mascot of the 2007 Cricket World Cup:

The woman with him is his handler, who has spent several months working with big cats in preparation for the tournament.  You really haven’t trained until you’ve handled big cats swinging large wooden bats.

Sure, Mello looks like the quintessential laid-back icon of West Indian smoothitude, I grant you.  (And could anything possibly be more calming than an afternoon in the Caribbean… watching cricket?  Toss in 90-degree heat and humidity, and It’s amazing anyone hasn’t slipped permanently into gelatinous torpor.)  And no question, on his good days, Mello is an absolute treat for young and old alike, a feline fountain of big-shoed mirth.  Nobody does a between-innings hokey-pokey with the kids like Mello.  Nobody.  That’s why he’s getting this one last chance.

But just in case, his handler is packing utility-belt tasers and maintaining constant communication with rooftop snipers armed with tranquilizer guns.

Mello… has a few rough edges.  Let’s say that. 

This week’s animal is a little different.  Meet Mello, official mascot of the 2007 Cricket World Cup:

The woman with him is his handler, who has spent several months working with big cats in preparation for the tournament.  You really haven’t trained until you’ve handled big cats swinging large wooden bats.

Sure, Mello looks like the quintessential laid-back icon of West Indian smoothitude, I grant you.  (And could anything possibly be more calming than an afternoon in the Caribbean… watching cricket?  Toss in 90-degree heat and humidity, and It’s amazing anyone hasn’t slipped permanently into gelatinous torpor.)  And no question, on his good days, Mello is an absolute treat for young and old alike, a feline fountain of big-shoed mirth.  Nobody does a between-innings hokey-pokey with the kids like Mello.  Nobody.  That’s why he’s getting this one last chance.

But just in case, his handler is packing utility-belt tasers and maintaining constant communication with rooftop snipers armed with tranquilizer guns.

Mello… has a few rough edges.  Let’s say that. 

This week’s animal is a little different.  Meet Mello, official mascot of the 2007 Cricket World Cup:

The woman with him is his handler, who has spent several months working with big cats in preparation for the tournament.  You really haven’t trained until you’ve handled big cats swinging large wooden bats.

Sure, Mello looks like the quintessential laid-back icon of West Indian smoothitude, I grant you.  (And could anything possibly be more calming than an afternoon in the Caribbean… watching cricket?  Toss in 90-degree heat and humidity, and It’s amazing anyone hasn’t slipped permanently into gelatinous torpor.)  And no question, on his good days, Mello is an absolute treat for young and old alike, a feline fountain of big-shoed mirth.  Nobody does a between-innings hokey-pokey with the kids like Mello.  Nobody.  That’s why he’s getting this one last chance.

But just in case, his handler is packing utility-belt tasers and maintaining constant communication with rooftop snipers armed with tranquilizer guns.

Mello… has a few rough edges.  Let’s say that. 

Glenn Greenwald and others connect the dots.