|Above: Hat in blue.|
|Pictured: British camouflage, late 1700's.|
If you look carefully, you might
be able to spot the soldiers.
The whole process was way the hell more civilized than say, dumping tea in the harbor and taking up arms against garishly dressed English troops, but now that it's over, aren't things going to be a bit awkward? I mean, the vote was 55-45. That's a lot of bummed out Scots who came within caber tossing distance of an independent Scotland only to have their bag-pipes deflated at the last possible moment by-wow, hey sorry about all the tired stereotypes, I'm an American who went to public school, so my understanding of places that aren't the U.S. is kind of limited. I'll stop.
|"Hey, just to show there's no hard feelings,|
I'm taking everyone out for Fro-yo."
-Ulysses S. Grant, 1865
For the time being, Scottish people can look forward to a hilariously named consolation prize, devo-max (a bunch of expanded powers for the Scottish Parliament), but it's not quite the same thing as blue-faced freedom (sorry, last one, I promise).
|For the winners: delicious cupcakes.|
For the losers: cupcakes, but they'll
taste kind of like defeat. Also vanilla.
|What? Have you ever even tasted chicken|
tikka masala? God save the Queen, man.
Anyway, hang tight Scotland. You've waited 300 years, a few more won't hurt. Until then, smile, pretend to enjoy whatever the hell Branston Pickle is supposed to be and then, when the time is right, blamo: tea in the harbor. They never see it coming, trust us.
|Um, but maybe you could skip the racist disguises...|