Illustration by Jan A. Igoe
OK, it’s time for a pop quiz! Where do the words headless, horse, gallop and goat mean fun for the whole family?
Sorry, time’s up.
If you guessed Afghanistan, you’re right. The Afghans are crazy for buzkashi, a sport that makes our National Hockey League look like Pansies “R” Us. Even if our guys played naked and switched to exploding pucks, they’d still be wimps by buzkashi standards. Remember, we’re talking about a country where Local Warlord is a job title. (And I’m not sure they like us.)
In lieu of a ball, this sport uses the carcass of a decapitated calf. (In a pinch, a goat will do.) Teams of screaming men on horseback gallop around dragging the departed beast toward their goal, while opponents beat each other senseless with whips. That’s it. No refs, no rules, no cheerleaders—just a lot of unhappy livestock.
While some fair-minded sports fans might argue that any leather ball is basically a dead animal carcass, the nice round ones from Wilson with the tidy stitching and lack of entrails don’t leave fans wondering where the head went. Anyway, it seems more civilized.
This got me thinking back in December, as I searched for some New Year’s resolutions beyond the delusional pledge to rise at 4 a.m., do three hours of cardio, consume organic beets with spinach juice and make Mother Teresa look like a slacker. So this year, I’ve decided to donate my spare time to the Pentagon to assist with matters of national security. Don’t tell them yet. I want it to be a surprise.
If you watch the news, you probably know that our military folks have a lot of trouble extracting information from suspected terrorists without offending them. No one can agree on how to do these things politely. Martha Stewart doesn’t make a line of color-coordinated interrogation tools (yet), so we’re pretty much left offering a Tootsie Pop to the first Taliban dude who’ll cooperate.
Fortunately, I have years of experience torturing reluctant men without getting the ACLU involved. When America uncovers a credible threat and the safety of millions could hinge on immediate access to accurate intelligence, I suggest a Brazilian wax job. People from the buzkashi-playing side of the planet may be exceptionally tough, but they’re also exceptionally hairy.
Surely, a simple procedure that delicate women regularly endure can’t be labeled torture. Do you know how they evict errant ear hair over there? The barber sets his alcohol-soaked shears on fire and singes those little suckers into oblivion. You see? We’re dealing with folks who don’t mind having their heads flambéed, so it’s going to take something special to get their attention.
In the event of a total disaster—if all else fails and we’re faced with a DEFCON 1 scenario—we bring out the Kardashians. According to my sources, four new Kardashian Klan shows are plotting to assault the American public as we speak. Even more frightening, there’s still their dancing brother and two stealth mini sisters, Kendall and Kylie, who’ve been ripening in the wings, prepping for primetime. By any standard, that’s a credible threat.
So that’s the plan. If Al Qaeda starts acting up and we need intel now, we launch the Kardashians. Game over.
That ought to get their goat.
Jan A. Igoe, writer and aspiring defense strategist, resides in Horry County with her canine posse and torture victim of 20-plus years. You can wax nostalgic anytime at HumorMe@SCLiving.coop. Happy New Year, everyone!