This is Oscar, an 11-month-old quaker parrot.
Don’t worry, he has two feet. The other one is hidden in his fluff.
During the last World Cup, an octopus called Paul decided he’d go all special snowflake on us and start predicting the results of World Cup matches. And hey, he did pretty well. But Paul died. Who else to fill his tentacle-prints but a clever little bird?
Here he is having a good long think about, dunno, Japan versus Colombia or something.
It’s a simple premise: Can my pet parrot predict the World Cup results more accurately than the pundits? And the setup is simple, too: Oscar likes almond slices. He really, really likes almond slices. For each match, I’ll write the name of each country at opposite ends of a piece of paper. Beneath each name, I’ll place an almond slice. Then I’ll release Oscar at the halfway line and see which morsel he gobbles up first. The chosen country is the winner. If he flies away, it’s a draw.
Got it? Good.
(It should go without saying that this is just a bit of fun and if you’re actually going to bet big money on what my bird chooses to eat, you probably shouldn’t be allowed near money.)
FAQ:
WHY?
Because.
Really?
Yes.
REEEAAALLY, Julia?
You heard me.
Isn’t there a Brazilian player called Oscar?
No relation.
Why is the player called Oscar in competition, rather than his surname?
Because Brazil. Ask Ronaldo.
Fat Ronaldo or Annoying Ronaldo?
The former.
What do you call a very rich person from Rio?
A Brazilionaire.
What do you think about all those other animals predicting World Cup results?
Wannabes. Second-rate. Can they fly? Can they speak English? Do they sometimes yell “BAM!” for no reason at all? Can they reduce a cardboard box to shreds in minutes in a quest for tasty seed balls? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
What does Oscar think about all those other animals predicting World Cup results?
That is Parrot for ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Who ARE you?
My name is Julia and I’m a public health researcher in Boston. I’ll be moving to New York City in the middle of the tournament. I look forward to crying in my beer when England inevitably go out on penalties in the quarter-finals. Again. My actual blog is here, and I occasionally groan about my beloved Tottenham Hotspur but otherwise it’s not football-related.
Is it true you know all the words to the John Barnes rap from “World in Motion”?
*sniffs* Might be.
Let the Parrot Pick 