camel cheese: Miss Camel beauty pageant

You didn’t think there could be more on the scintillating topic of camel cheese, didja? But there iiiiiiis! This makes the grade because it is both cameltacular and cheesy in the extreme.

BTW, doing well on Google for camel toe as well.

Those familiar with the JonBenet Ramsay case, the movie Little Miss Sunshine, or Sexually Repressed Eisenhower Maudlinism will recall that an industry exists devoted to the production and promotion of competitions of feminine beauty. Now, whether or not you believe that the best families show their daughters or their spaniels, you must admit that a beauty pageant is, if nothing else, a visually impressive and highly competitive event.

Even in Saudi Arabia.

Now, given your no-doubt intimate familiarity with the Wahabi code, you’re probably raising one, if not two or three eyebrows right now. Indeed, when I heard about the Qahtani tribe’s Mazayen al-Ibl competition, I expected it to look not unlike this:

Saudi vacation snaps

And award the winning beauty a stoning outside the city gates. But nooooooooooooo!

Instead, it looks like this:

Camel market Paul Cockrell

Yes, just as in Wiarton, Ontario the beauty queen is not Miss Wiarton but The Groundhog Queen (no, really, she is) in Guwei’iyya the most beautiful contestant is crowned Miss Camel. The only difference is, theirs more literally embodies the title noun. The Groundhog Queens of my youth (and there, surely, is a phrase you just don’t hear often enough, eh?) were really for the most part not hogs at all, nor, in the manner of small-town beauty queens, were they very grounded.

From Reuters, via the Camel’s Nose:

The legs are long, the eyes are big, the bodies curvaceous.

Contestants in this Saudi-style beauty pageant have all the features you might expect anywhere else in the world, but with one crucial difference — the competitors are camels.

This week, the Qahtani tribe of western Saudi Arabia has been welcoming entrants to its Mazayen al-Ibl competition, a parade of the “most beautiful camels” in the desolate desert region of Guwei’iyya, 120 km (75 miles) west of Riyadh.

“In Lebanon they have Miss Lebanon,” jokes Walid, moderator of the competition’s Web site. “Here we have Miss Camel…”

“Beautiful, beautiful!” the judge mutters quietly to himself, inspecting the group. Finalists have been decorated with silver bands and body covers.

“The nose should be long and droop down, that’s more beautiful,” explains Sultan al-Qahtani, one of the organizers. “The ears should stand back, and the neck should be long. The hump should be high, but slightly to the back.”

Yes, as in all beauty contests, the size and shape of the humps is critical.

iron, men

And now for the latest in our series on the Ideal Man.

All the world knows about the iron men: streamlined bio-units of muscle, sinew, and insanity who compete for survival-level prize money over a gruelling, often mountainous course approximately the distance typically travelled in a human lifetime.

But do you know about Extreme Iron Men?

Extreme Ironing Man, Mt Fuji!

Extreme Ironing is the *sport* (you decide) of taking an iron & ironing board to locations not conducive to ironing, and pressing a few items of clothing.

When I left raincoaster Global HQ this morning there was a pile of wet laundry on a rack over the bathtub, dripping away and patiently waiting for my attention. I figured it would keep and tried to creep out of the place without waking the slumbering Cybergypsy. When I returned this afternoon, the laundry was happily drying on the line and my roommate was straightening the last of my unmentionables on the drying rack.

I should sign him up for this and bet a snotload of money on the guy. He’s obviously a natural. Any man who would touch my underwear without a specific invitation is, frankly, fearless.

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All Star Hooker Sting

Look! Hookers!

Ah, baseball.

Sport of the gods. Oh, don’t let those Buddhists fool you: the gods are highly competitive. The Norse vs the Blackfoot, the Aztec vs the Animist. And now that nobody actually worships them in any meaningful way, they have sublimated their divine battles into the true sport of the gods (sport of kings eat your heart out): baseball.

And guess what? As always happens when the divine attempts to work itself out in thes sphere of the mundane, things got weird.

The biggest hooker sting since the last Republican convention took place in non-accidental conjunction with the All-Star game.

NBC11 has the story:

Law enforcement officials said Monday that 131 people were arrested in a prostitution and child exploitation sting between July 6 and July 12 in conjunction with the Major League Baseball All-Star game in San Francisco.

Oakland police spokesman Roland Holmgren said the sting was conducted because “a significant number” of Oakland-based prostitutes ply their trade at high profile events such as baseball all-star games, pro football’s Super Bowl and the Hot August Nights festivities in Reno every summer.

Yep, the game of champions. George Will has a lot of ‘splainin’ to do!

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Join the Harry Potter Challenge

Snape-a-go-goWell, get a move on.

We have, as of this typing, exactly 29 days before the July 21st release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Cold Hallows, the seventh and allegedly final book in the Hogwartian Mythos Cycle.

Which is, should you be a speedy reader, just enough time to get through all of the previous books, particularly if you read them before. If you read them before but you were drunk, it counts as reading them for the first time, for purposes of scorekeeping in this highly competitive international competition.

And no, watching the movies does not count, especially if you mostly just fast-forwarded and rewound and replayed all the parts with Luscious Lucius Malfoy until the DVD started to burn out on you.

For bonus points, you may also read the purportedly-but-not-confirmedly-false version of HPatDH which was posted on the internet last month. And you may do so here.

So what are you waiting for? Get to work!

GET TO WORK!

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Caption Contest: George W. Bush

As usual, win vast fame and the right to be eaten first when the Earth is cleared off. No cash.

Stolen from Gawker, who stole it from Towelroad, who stole it from Getty. I THINK. These geopolitical media conspiracies are so damn confusing since I stopped reading The Nation.

Invisible Intern

My suggestion, if the LolMaker (TM) were working correctly, which it is not…

“Invisible Intern!”

Also: Blair looking hawt again. Screwing over his successor and hooping his own party for a generation or so agrees with the boy.

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