A Bone to Pick with Bolivia

I have a bone to pick with Bolivia. Now it’s true that this is my first tiff with Bolivians but it is an important one nonetheless. Bolivia is on the brink of passing the ‘Law of Mother Earth’ legislation which endears Mother Earth with the same rights as humans. Read about it here.

The language of the law includes the following rights: the right to life and to exist; the right to continue vital cycles and processes free from human alteration; the right to pure water and clean air; and the right to not have cellular structure modified or genetically altered.

Let’s break down what some are calling a ‘groundbreaking’ law and show why the Bolivians are making a boneheaded policy choice. 

The Right to Life and to Exist

I wholeheartedly agree that animals and plants have the right to life and to exist. Koalas, jaguars, lions, cows, yaks, flowers, and trees are all important aspects of the earth. Yet, they are also extremely delicious. 

Now this seems like a panda that wants to exist.

 Unfortunately for these creatures they don’t have opposable thumbs, metallurgy skills to make guns, swords, or machetes, and they are not privy to the fact that humans don’t like them around. Look, no one feels bad for the squirrel that gets hit by a car after staring at it for a full minute before deciding to move. It had plenty of time to move. Animals, you have to fight for your right…to party…wait, no I mean…to exist. 

The Right to Continue Vital Cycles and Processes Free From Human Alteration

This one is completely ridiculous. If animals have the right to continue vital cycles and processes free from human alteration, then humans should have the right to continue their vital cycles and processes free from animal alteration. Until humans have that right, then animals shouldn’t have it either. For example, why should I have my beautiful walk down the street marred by squirrels trying to fuck on telephone poles? Not only are they showing their disgusting admiration of exhibitionism, but they are also just plain showing off. 

Moreover, why should millions of humans be forced to have sex whilst some perverted dog watches? Or worse, the millions of humans who have had dogs try to get in on the action? Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. Why should humans endure the bugs that decide it’s a good idea to eat our crops? Is that not an affront to our vital cycles? You don’t see humans eating whatever the fuck it is that bugs eat. Well, I suppose that means we eat the same thing, but bugs should know not to fuck with our stuff. 

The Right to Clean Air and Water

As far as I’m concerned, if it is good enough for us then why the hell would it not be good enough for animals? Are we supposed to give tigers Brita filters? Is that what you want Bolivia?

SEE BOLIVIA! Even if we gave animals water filters they wouldn't know what to do with them.

The Right to Not Have Cellular Structure Modified or Genetically Altered

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I will let the images do the talking. Let’s just think about what the world would miss if plants and animals did not have any modification to the cells or genes:

An actual Liger, bred for its skills in magic which is evident by the outfits his handlers are wearing.

Only humans could have made it possible to be cornered by a giant killer tomato.

We know their genes have been spliced. But think about it Bolivia, this might just be animals' best chance to take over the world and get rid of us pesky humans.

Solving More of the World's Problems

I am a man of solutions. When I see a problem, I find a solution. So it is no wonder I am at it again. Since the government has told me to cease sending them my ‘outrageous’ opinions or risk the consequences, I will share them with you. 

The problem I see is one unique to the city. When I take the train downtown for work, I get a good tour of some different neighborhoods along the way. If you didn’t know any better, you would swear that you were passing through Kiev just after the wall came down. The glum, dirty landscape can’t help but make you think about what you take for granted. 

I began to think that someone should really clean up these poor, dirty neighborhoods. It would boost morale for these people a little bit (but not too much we don’t want anyone to get any ideas and revolt). Everyone feels better and energized when they are working or living in a tidy space. 

The solution is simple. Goats. Now I know the first thing you were thinking is that it is inhumane to put goats in these poor neighborhoods to attract el chupacabra who can then eliminate the litterers. That’s really not where I was going, but I’m happy my readers have el chupacabra on the mind…you always have to be on the lookout.

Could you imagine this thing pouncing on a guy who throws a Jolly Rancher wrapper on the ground? Sweet!

But seriously, goats will eat anything! Have you seen the episode of Andrew Zimmern where he has an exotic food eat-off with a goat? While that may have been something I imagined after eating a strange flower, the message is still the same: the goat won. 

Andrew Zimmern ordering indigenous boys to find him more testicles to eat.

So if we release a small flotilla of goats into these dirty neighborhoods the tires, plastic bags, condoms, food wrappers, and old pornography will be gone in a year. I personally guarantee it. 

Personal Guarantee valid in Estonia, Latvia, and the Czech Republic.

As with all my plans there is an added bonus. It’s similar to when they offer you double the quantity of Sham-Wow products for the same low, low price.

With all these goats wandering around the city, an added food source for poor people is now easily available. This will allow the government to cut food stamps without the guilt of knowing they screwed over the poor (we all know that is the last thing they would ever do).  

This government issued guide will help people to properly take advantage of all the supreme tastiness a goat has to offer.

 In essence, goats will be the key to cleaning up the inner city, economic revival, and political healing. I’m starting to feel like this platform could have defeated Rahm Emmanuel in the mayoral race. Either way, we have to look forward and not to past hypothetical situations. I just want to say, “You’re welcome America, I knew you couldn’t do it without me.” 

This goat may save America's livelihood. Honor him by cooking him savory.

Senior Moments

What do you say to someone who asks you how to type numbers on a keyboard? This came up today as I sat reading my book at work. Yes, today is a slow day.

As the situation unraveled, I assumed I was witnessing a person having a 'moment'. I've done that myself so I wasn't quick to pass judgement, even though a man of my stature could do so unabated.

For example, I once complained to our doorman at work that all of the escalators were going down and I needed to get to the fifth floor. He quickly yelled a man's name into his walkie talkie and said What the HELL is going on? As we walked toward the escalator it became painfully obvious to both of us that some escalators were going up and some down. With my hand on my face and shame bulging out my back pocket I apologized and told him I must be having one of those days. We laughed it off and I went to work wondering just how much damage I did to my brain in college.

However the circumstances today were just a bit different. Generally speaking when you have a moment it is so embarassing that once you realize your momentary lapse of reason, you can't help but laugh at yourself. After she asked me the ridiculous question, I stood speechless over the lady's desk. All I could muster up as a response was Uhhhhhhhhh and I pointed at the numbers on the keyboard. She looked, obliged, put in her numbers, and said Thank you.

There was no Ooooooh or Oh my lord it's right there or any other indication that she had previously known this answer but had a mental impasse. This lady was somehow a director of a daycare/school, and had first used a computer on this day March 4, 2011 in my office. I feel that it is an honor that I could be part of something so important. I may have to take her aside and call the World Historical Society and see if she'll count as the ninth wonder of the world. 

Normally this is one of those times where I call on evolution to act swiftly, deftly, and with malice towards this person. However, the more I thought about it the more I think this lady is valuable. You see if humans are to survive when an asteroid hits earth, we will need a good number of people who are genetically predisposed to living under rocks. For that reason alone we should keep her around. Everyone serves a purpose, this lady is just completely useless in this day and age.

Sir, You Can't Poo There

I would like to talk a bit about expectations. Expectations are all around us. They help form the worldview that we all hold. Now obviously they are no constant. Two neighbors can have diametrically opposed sets of expectations. It depends on what you value and where you are in your life. Let me tell you about some of my expectations.

For Our World and Country:

• They will clone dinosaurs (read here), Jurassic Park will come true, and Michael Crichton will look like a fucking genius.

• Seals will one day become the dominant species on earth making Kurt Vonnegut look like a fucking genius.

• The Chicago Cubs (although I am a fan) will probably never win a World Series.

• One day we will find out the Vikings actually got to the moon first.

Awww shit!

• Public transportation is never enjoyable.

This is one example of the type of person you see on public transportation. 

• When aliens bother to stop here, they’ll pull an upper decker in the White House and flip the bird as they fly away from Earth screaming Good luck, assholes!

• When the USA goes bankrupt, I fully expect I’ll have to eat at least one ferret.

• Homeless people will be turned into food (it’s only a matter of time people) but Charlton Heston won’t be around to tell us the better.

Well, what did you think we were going to do with every dumbass who shot themselves because we let them have guns?

• Pat Flaherty will never pay me the money he owes me because he is an incompetent, cheap bastard.

So why are we talking about expectations? Please allow me to explicate my stimulus. In January I was given a job at the company I was temping for. The company has five offices. Two on the South Side of Chicago, one downtown, one in Springfield, Illinois, and one in the nation’s capitol.

I work at the one on the South Side in an area not considered to be the greatest neighborhood. I must say that my expectation working in the neighborhood has been completely torn down. It was probably my suburban upbringing that skewed my vantage point. I don’t know if I was expecting an active war zone, but it really has proven to be anything but that. I enjoy going to work everyday.

One of the aspects of my job, however, is that I need to move around the city to different locations. I spend a lot of time at the downtown office and I considered this to be a perk. When I go downtown, I feel like an actual member of society. The hustle bustle of the working world envelops me. Delivery trucks zoom goods from office to office and throughout the country and world. The city is an active machine; you can almost hear the gears turning below the streets.

If you have a moment, people watching is quite fun. One constant is that everyone is walking fast and talking on their cell phones because they are obviously very important. Personally, I like to walk obnoxiously slow for two reasons. First, I know I’m not important so I’m not going put up any facades. Second, I like to mess with the important people and get in their way a little bit. I figure it’s a good way to bring them back down to earth.

So with all of these upstanding citizens of great importance and class, you would understand my surprise when I walked into the bathroom at work and found a wonderful fecal gift. Someone defecated in the urinal.

Dramatization of the event

My first thought was Where is my phone? This needs to be documented. Unfortunately (or fortunately for you readers), I had left it in the office. So I did my business and returned to the office.

Now I must say this fecal vandal is obviously a professional. I’ve never entered that bathroom without being accompanied by three or four other men. It’s a busy shared washroom on a busy floor. How he got away with that is beyond me. Maybe he was prairie dogging and all the stalls were occupied. Maybe it was this guy’s last day and he is incredibly passive aggressive and talented with his sphincter. 

Either way my expectations were shattered that day. It became very apparent that even at the height of culture and civilization, we’re all just mildly well trained animals. And every now and again, the monkey rears its ugly head. 

This Means War!

Apparently the birds have declared war on me. I’m not sure whether or not it is my love of all things poultry or an ethnocentric arrogance that drives these disgusting creatures’ decisions.

What’s more disturbing is that they have clearly hacked into government databases. I don’t want to be a ‘conspiracy theorist’, but the evidence is shocking. Somehow the birds have stolen our blueprints for carpet-bombing technology. If you don’t believe me, maybe the cold hard facts will persuade you. As Bill Cosby would say, the proof is in the pudding:

Exhibit 1

Exhibit 2

Exhibit 3

Since it is obvious the bird race has mastered our language enough to grasp these complex top-secret schematics and develop the technology to build such apparatuses, I am sending a clear and firm message to their race.

While you have clearly mastered a new technology and have shown its capability on my back windshield, use caution my feathered brethren. While you may need new technology to make an impact, I can take hundreds of your soldiers out with a pack of Marlboro Reds, a six-pack of beer, a BB gun, and a Saturday afternoon. Please, for the sake of your youth, don’t start something you can’t possibly finish. 

Blizzard Bonanza!

I have always had a secret love for the destruction that winter storms can bring. Despite all of our fancy machines, Mother Nature can bring us to a standstill in mere hours. It is truly a humbling experience.

So this afternoon I went for a walk around my neighborhood to peruse her work. I think she went a little hard on us this time. It is almost as if Mother Nature ate way too many black beans last night. She held those farts in for so long and finally unleashed her snowy farts on us with intense velocity.

The white out conditions last night, the foot plus of snow the Chicago area is currently digging out of, and the deep freeze we will experience tonight are far more than we all deserve at once.

That's why I will spend the rest of the afternoon revving my car's engine in my driveway until the tank is empty. You want to fuck with us Mother Nature? Well this guy will return the favor.

My house, post digging out.

Our wonderful city has decided today would be a good day to give off the plow drivers

Why are they called snow drifts? I prefer snow dunes. 

You may not be able to tell, but I'm walking on the street. Where exactly are my tax dollars going?  

Guinness Book of World Records

At one time or another we have all pondered about what we could personally do to get into the Guinness Book of World Records. We all have different skill sets so most of us would consider different talents.

 Now let’s quickly put aside those people with freakish naturally occurring features. While they are interesting to see, I think we all know we are laughing at them and not with them. If you have the world’s largest/smallest nose, feet, hands, breasts, or anything like this, please know that you are essentially a lemur in a cage that everyone points at. 

Meet Mehmet Ozyurek, owner of the world's largest nose.The Turkish Army actually uses this guy's schnoz for Anti-Aircraft guns. He can shoot 30 snot rockets at enemy planes in under a minute.

I have more respect for the people who have the longest toenails, longest hair, or most tattoos covering their body. While this is equally as useless as having the biggest nose, at least these people showed the dedication and disregard for all that is socially acceptable to reach their statuses with Guinness. 

However, today my post is not about freaks who don’t bathe or the man with the smallest penis. No, this post is about me and how I plan on getting into the Guinness Book of World Records. I originally had to think of what talents I possess. Having quickly run through that short list and having identified no promising ideas, I had to look elsewhere. 

My first idea was to become the person to eat the most types of animals in the world. As I thought about it, the idea seemed too easy and infantile. As I said before, I respect those who have put some dedication into their records. 

After talking my aspirations over with some friends, I came to a conclusion that will definitely gain me fame and possibly fortune. I plan on becoming the first man to travel around the world via one hundred percent animal transportation. You may be saying to yourself Oh Jesus Christ, this guy is a fucking idiot.

You are correct, but not because of this topic. I’ve thought it out pretty seamlessly. Some keys to success are perseverance and the ability to properly interact with the animals. Since I’m half Mexican I most likely have some distant Aztec or other Native American blood in me. And because Native Americans are quite adept at persevering and interacting with wild animals, I’m instantly better than most people. That being said, I’m off to a good start. 

So the plan is to use animals to transport me around the world. I can ride them, have them pull me, or use them in any way to aid my transportation. I will most likely start off on a horse and ride him northeast towards Alaska. When he is downtrodden, I will kill him for meat to sustain myself and the next animal I use. 

Another key to success on this journey is sharing the previous animals’ heart with the next animal. So when the horse dies and I find a moose to ride the rest of the way toward the Bering Strait, the moose and I will both dine on the horse’s heart. Now we all know that by eating an animal’s heart one can capture some of the courage that animal held. I’ve previously only eaten cow’s heart which is why I am currently only moderately courageous. However that will all change soon enough. 

As time goes on, acquiring the courage of more and more animals will be necessary. No matter which route I ultimately take around the world (northern, equatorial, southern), I will be faced with some serious animals. Lions, tigers, and bears will bow in reverence to me as I confront them in the forests and jungles. They will be able to sense that I have undertaken a grand and mystical journey. More importantly, they will be able to sense the courage of their animal brethren instilled within me. By the end of this journey, there is no doubt in my mind that I will be elevated to a shaman-like status in the human and animal world. 

Don't be surprised if I come back from the trip looking a lot more like this guy.

For those doubters out there who wonder how I will pass the vast oceans that lie in the way of my circumnavigation of the world, please know I this is no problem. I will recruit hundreds of turtles whose shells will make a raft powered by horse hide sails. 

So as you can see there is little left to do but find time to implement my plan. One aspect I am unsure of is how long such a trip would take. We will see if my company will approve a five year sabbatical to travel the world and achieve shaman status. I think it will depend how clever I am in the write-up.  

How I Plan on Making A Half Million Dollars

I’ve been good friends with Shakin’ Eakins for a long time now. For those of you who know the two of us, I apologize for some of the ridiculous conversations you have had to sit through. From an outsider’s perspective, some are better than others. You see; our brains are tuned to the same wavelength of disregard for all things. Therefore, there are many times where we come up with monumental ideas. If you gave the two of us control of the country and we ruled as Two Kings, America would be kicking ass once again. As long as there was no potato famine in Idaho. 

A couple of nights ago at the bar we had another one of these moments. I’m pretty sure that this is how we can each make half a million dollars. We’ll split the million of course, because the idea I’m about to unfurl upon you was a brainchild of our brain trust.

So without further adieu, here is the idea. I’m going to ask you to use your imagination for a few minutes. I truly hope that Jersey Shore and Jon & Kate Plus Eight marathons haven’t completely destroyed this part of your brain. Imagine the following movie trailer:

The Trailer

The year is 2022.  Tensions over natural resources have brought the world to war. The East fights the West in a conflict that will determine who is to control the last of this world’s fledgling supplies of oil and natural gas. Consequences are grave for both sides. Consequently, countries pour their monetary resources into new ways to wage battle. A new way of fighting war will be born.

An USAF plane cuts through the clouds and begins to descend. The chatter of radios, equipment, and the banter of the pilots is audible throughout the plane. One man sits strapped into a seat in the rear of the plane. He gazes into the distance. The ground is black. The darkness is startling and he still has not become accustomed to it. Because of night time bomb raids and rationing, only necessary lights are used. He tries to remember flights in the old days when the warmly lit glow of cities emanated from the ground. It seems like those days are so far away now.

Suddenly he is awoken from his musings.  “Jones! You’re up in five!” screamed the pilot over the intercom.  Startled, Jones immediately went into action as his training had prepared him for. Robotically he acquired his gear, checked his parachute, and stood waiting for the green light from the pilot.

As the door opens and he leaps from the plane, the cold air envelops him. What seems like an eternity later the parachute opens and Jones glides toward the Earth. Blackness still surrounds him.

With a thump he hits the ground and again training takes over his body. Cut away the parachute, arm yourself, equip night-vision, and find bearings. The conditions must have been good because Jones found himself perfectly situated in the drop zone. The laboratory was only a few miles away.

As he trekked through the outskirts of nowhere, Jones was surprised by the lack of any human presence. The cold Russian wind greeted him. The deer in the forest greeted him. But if the Russians knew he was here, the greeting may come in the form of a lead slug. He knew the area was sparsely populated by civilians, but there should be more Russian military around.

Keeping his mind focused on the mission at hand, Jones made his way to the periphery of the laboratory complex. It was a large, drab building with little character. Red brick stacked up to meet an asbestos covered roof. There were very few windows and only a couple of doors. Once again Jones notices the lack of activity. It confounds him. The Russians’ most top secret weapon is supposed to be housed here. If it weren’t for his briefing, the building would be unremarkable.  It would blend into the industrial sector of any city in Russia. Jones began to get suspicious. He wondered if the intelligence they received was wrong.

Snipping the fence to the compound Jones crawls through the opening and notices the signs of a frantic incident at the laboratory. No signs of guards are apparent on the outside of the building. Trucks are strewn about the area, some even still running. He debates leaving the scene.

A door lays open at the top of some cracked concrete steps. Jones contemplates whether or not this is a trap. It has been far too easy getting into this laboratory. His body and mind are on edge as he enters the building. The level of danger has increased dramatically now that he is inside. His mission is a quick one. Find a computer and load the contents of a flash drive. Any computer will suffice, once the virus is in the network it will start reporting information back to the Americans.

Making his way through the hallways he hears a sneeze. His back throws itself against a wall as he waits nervously to see the situation. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he encounters a Russian. His heart races. Sweat beads form on his brow. His ears prick up as the sound of footsteps echo through the halls. He peers out to see his adversary. Nothing except the pale green tile on the floor and dirty white walls. He peers again. Nothing. The footsteps persist and he takes one last look.

What he sees is unexplainable. A small child of maybe three or four years dressed in full military uniform walked through an adjacent hallway. “What is going on here?” he thought. With the baby gone, Jones eyes a computer in the office across from him. He closes the door, sits, and quickly sets out to complete his mission. Five minutes is all that’s needed to upload the virus and he can make his way out. The minutes pass like hours and as the virus finishes loading, he hears a heavily accented Russian voice. “Freeze!”

As he turns to meet the beginning of what he assumes to be a hellish nightmare he is faced with an unexpected site. “Who are you and who do you work for?” asked the leader of the group. So flabbergasted by the situation that lay before him, Jones could not mutter any response. “Children?!?” he thought. “How are they talking so well? They seem to be of adult intelligence judging by the way they’re speaking amongst themselves, but that’s not possible. What the fuck is going on here?” continued his inner voice.

The lead child took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. He then mumbled something to the others in Russian. Still trying to get a grasp of the peculiar situation Jones found himself in, he checks to make sure the virus loaded correctly. A loud sound of metal scraping and moving gained the attention of the gang of babies before him. Quickly, Jones grabbed the flash drive to cover his tracks. These goddamn kids might know he’s here, but they are not going to know what he is doing. He knows he can’t jeopardize the mission.

The sound gets louder and a metal cart rolls into view. Behind the cart are three little ones dragging a Kalashnikov. Jones’ pupils dilate with fear. These aren’t ordinary children, they are some sort of experiment. But, what? They are clearly super-intelligent for their age. And at closer inspection, he sees little difference between them. Jones deducts that they must be clones. As he pieces his split second observations together he is taken aback by the ramifications. “Super-intelligent evil Communist child clones” he thinks. “Babies that could infiltrate any country or battlefield to spy or assassinate leaders. How terrible. How scary. How distinctly Russian.” 

Jones knows he has to get back to base to report his findings. The future of the war and the country just might depend on it. But he also knows he will have to fight his way out. Jones reacts quickly and grabs the lead baby and throws him through a large window connecting two adjacent offices. The babies duck from the falling glass. Four struggle to get the AK-47 on the cart so they can shoot Jones. As Jones advances to pummel the babies, alarms ring and more and more babies start filing into the area.

Why, You Ask?

As far as I know, no one has ever made a movie like this. First, who wouldn’t want to see a grown man take down hundreds and hundreds of clone children with hilarious theatrical violence? Second, these aren’t just clones. They are super-intelligent evil Communist clones. And to be honest, since the Cold War ended, Communists disappeared from popular action movies. But some of the best movies had Commies We really need to bring it back.

Pictured here is Elya Baskin. Since the end of the Cold War, it's been hard for this guy. He can't be cast as 'Russian Gunman/Terrorist/General anymore.

Third, just picture the tag line and advertisement scheme (spoken with that movie-guy voice): They say the children are the future. For Special Agent Alan Jones, the future (cue explosion) must (cue Communist children flying through explosion) burn!

Who wouldn’t want to see this movie?

So this is how I plan on making half a million dollars. I assume Eakins and I can sell the script for at least a million. We might even be able to make more. Who knows?

No name for the movie yet. Any suggestions?

The Bald Eagle is Always Vigilant

As a patriotic American I take our country’s role of protecting freedom quite seriously. I carry my gun to wave in someone’s face if they infringe on my first amendment rights and I always call the police when I see suspicious foreigners. In fact, the police have told me I’m too attentive and that I will be served a subpoena if I call again. The price of vigilance is high.

Well it came as a surprise to me when I saw that the Department of Homeland Security has teamed up with Wal-Mart to help make our communities safer. It’s about god damn time my neighbors started making the same patriotic sacrifices I have been.

Select Wal-Mart check out lines will now have a video that you can watch while you buy your Martha Stewart underwear that will explain what Americans should be looking out for. By the way DHS, just save us some time and say brown people and foreigners because it makes it a lot easier for the ‘type’ of people shopping at Wal-Mart. The video also provides information about who should be contacted when suspicious activity occurs. 

While this is a novel idea it remains to be seen whether or not the plan will actually yield any terrorism arrests. I’ve been to Wal-Mart, and I don’t think I’ve ever noticed terrorists in the traditional sense. Terrorist is a general term referring to a person that incites terror. Honestly, I know nothing more terrifying than the people that shop at Wal-Mart. For some reason I don’t think Wal-Mart wants the majority of their clientele arrested on charges of terrorism. Unless, that is, they unveil a new legal service. 

I'm not sure if I should be chanting 'White Power!' or 'Bring on the Kool-Aid!'

What's more offensive, the catheter or the shirt with four horsemen riding into a lightning storm? Okay, probably the bag of pee.

The gloves keep his hands from soiling evidence as he hunts terrorists. The shirt allows his body to be cooled during times of heavy stress. True dedication.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Let's leave it with that.

In my research (yes, this was research) I came to an astonishing conclusion about the Department of Homeland Security's new plan to team up with Wal-Mart to stop terrorism. It seems like it will work if Wal-Mart customers keep their eyes open for suspicious activity. 

With that much Sprite, you must be making a fucking bomb.

Think about how wonderful it will be when Americans have a new class of patriotic heroes. No longer will heroism be restricted to Veterans, Police Officers, Firemen and women, and police dogs. It will give hope to a section of the population left out of this equation for too long. This my friends, just could be the next great American hero:

Click here for more about this story

Special thanks to People of Wal-Mart 

Setting the Record Straight

If you have been reading recently and did not notice anything awry, then shame on you. A few weeks ago I placed a post entitled All Hail Our Glorious Chinese Masters, a personal oath of allegiance to the reprehensible People’s Republic of China. You should all know by now I am a patriotic, gun loving, bumper sticker donning, war hawk, obese American through and through. These colors don’t run, baby.

The sheer fact that not one of you saw through this façade and rushed to my help is disgraceful. The anger stewed inside me and I thought of posting pictures of Sarah Jessica Parker to torture you.

I only have one carrot. Decisions, decisions. 

The fact of the matter was that three Chinese men were using me to try and corrupt the American psyche and held me against my volition. Little did they know that because few can handle the truth that spews from my orifices, only a select dedicated group of intellectuals read what I write. This was the first flaw of their plan. The second flaw was a cultural mistake. The ropes they used to restrict me may have been able to secure a Chinese man, but not this American behemoth. As I stomped their faces in I felt oddly like Gulliver, if he had gone on a whiskey-fueled rampage and smashed all the tiny people he met in Lilliput.

Thanks for ruining a good story for a generation, you fuck. 

So in order to restore my reputation as a man of national pride, I will now explain to you why you never have to leave the United States.

For many the word travel implies far off exotic places and foreign languages. This is a common misconception. Leaving the United States, the greatest country in the world (for any foreign readers), will only leave you disappointed. Let me squash the reasoning of anyone who tells you that you need to see the Eiffel Tower, Pyramids, Big Ben, Italian countryside, or any other of the countless potential mistakes you just may make. 

France would be great if it weren’t for those pesky French people

The French have an institution named the L'Académie française that protects the French language from the modern world. Basically new words must be approved before official use in the dialect. For example this is a sentence you would never hear in French: I was eating a Big Mac today while blogging then totally Facebooked it. To be completely honest, I can respect this. It is irritating to hear people make up words and expect to be respected when they go around talking like a fool.

However, I’m not sure if there is a similar French institution that must approve inventions before they are used. The reason I say this is because when riding the Metro in Paris, you would swear that no one in the country has heard of deodorant. A stench I can only liken to cooked taco meat that has sat out on a stove for three weeks marauds you as you enter the underground. 

Now stuck up liberal yuppies will tell you that you must go to Paris for the food, wine, art, and the Eiffel Tower. If I wanted fancy food I would go to Red Lobster. I have actually been to Paris and I couldn’t find boxed wine anywhere, so I don’t know what these yuppie fucks are talking about. Also, I didn’t see Tom Hanks in the Louvre to show me clues about how Jesus secretly is a panda in the San Diego zoo. So clearly the museums were a waste of time. Lastly, the Eiffel Tower looks much better with a Casino in the background that sells giant Margaritas.

U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

England

I’ve spoken about England before and because of their tongue and connection to our own country, they are the least reprehensible of the rest of the world. However, that is one reason to avoid England. It’s basically the same as the United States but they talk funny and cars drive in the opposite direction on the road. I’m pretty sure I can recreate these circumstances on a Tuesday night with a few good friends and a couple of bottles of whiskey. Cheers!

In Soviet Russia, vodka drinks you!

Russia is known for their alcohol, vast expanses of nothingness, and corruption. Buy some Stolichnaya, drive through Nebraska, and try to buy off the state trooper when you get pulled over for driving very too fast. No matter the outcome, you will be better off because you won’t run the risk of encountering these Ruskies:

Drago eats nails for breakfast, uses small children as punching bags, and doesn't know the Cold War ended. Beware.

The Russian Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin, likes to wait in the woods for foreigners. 

Africa

Let’s be honest somewhere around ninety five percent of Americans cannot name more than five cities in Africa. To Americans Africa is a blackhole. People who go there rarely come back and little is known about it. Americans know about as much concerning Africa as Bill Clinton knows about Hillary’s fun stuff. But if you are one of those Americans who is curious to know more about institutions that haven’t had much significance in a long time, just go to a Chicago Cubs game. It will save you a lot of time and you probably won’t get dysentery from the hot dogs.   

Italy wantsa meatballa!!!

Yeah you do Italy, you want those meatballs…mmmm… Oh I’m sorry please excuse me. I didn’t think anyone was still reading.

Italy fascinates me so. It’s not the society that the Romans built or the history of the Roman Catholic Church and the Vatican. It’s not the Vespas or the Lamborghinis. The men and the food are what really captivate my mind.

When in Italy I was overcome with confusion. At every corner I saw men wearing capris, or more appropriately manpris. For the record, capris are barely acceptable for women. They are pants that just will not make up their mind. Are they short pants, known as shants? Are they extreme floods? Are they really long shorts? I find capris to be the single most useless piece of clothing a woman can buy. Men should never buy these hybrid pants that were clearly a result of a few fashion designers playing god in a laboratory.

The face of this 'man' is withheld to secure 'his' personal safety.

It makes me smile every morning knowing that Italian Americans are much more savvy in almost every way to Italians. The fancy, borderline feminine dress just does not stand under the good old red, white, and blue. In fact, just to stand apart from those Italians who are too estrogenically connected, Italian Americans make a point to be burly, gruff, and disconnected from vanity. Take these Italian Americans as a prime example:

Nice headbands bros

Eastern Block

As you travel further East in Europe, the scenic views disappear and smog dominates the horizon. The sun refuses to shine so as not to give anyone living there a false sense of hope. The smell of unchecked industry crawls into your nose and refuses to leave. If the bleak surroundings of Eastern Europe are what you desire, why not try Detroit? It will save you some time and you can take in some old fashioned American pollution with a McDonald's burger.  

Latin America

The only reason to visit Latin America is to be ironic and steal a native person’s job. If you are ballsy enough to steal a Spanish speaking person’s job, then props to you and your intense principled stand.

He's got the right idea (picture via Meet A Stranger).

Otherwise Americans should stay away from Latin American tourist traps. Instead go to the local Taquería, fumble your way through ordering your tacos in Spanish, and call it a night. 

China

Impressive traffic jams that literally last for days on end are found near the big cities of China. Spewing from these is a layer of smog so heavy the sun can’t penetrate through it. Chinese food is at every corner the eye can see. Yes this sounds like China, but it also sounds like Los Angeles. 

In a seventy-five mile traffic jam that can last days, an important question that arises is whether or not you poo in your Hyundai Sonata?

When you factor in that there are billions of Chinese people in China who are trying to take world control away from the majestic Bald Eagle and company, the choice is pretty obvious. 

Vietnam and Southeast Asia

There are only two groups of Americans allowed to return to Vietnam. The first is obviously John Rambo. If the Army needs Rambo to retrieve soldiers, intelligence, or anything else he is allowed to travel there. For the record, Rambo is his own group of people. When you can hold off the police for days in the forest, your badassery merits acknowledgements like these.

Veterans returning to meet with ex-lovers, bastard children, and opium dealers they made friends with during the war constitute the second group of people. Sometimes honoring the troops means letting your husband go back to reunite with the prostitute he railed forty some odd years ago. For the record, much is made of the fact that you can go to these poor Asian nations and find cheap hookers of all sizes, shapes, and ages. If nasty sex is what you really want you don’t have to leave the land of the Stars and Stripes. Move to Las Vegas or become a priest. It’s quite simple. 

Canada, eh?

Oh Canada, the top hat of the USA. Like a top hat should, Canada makes the USA classy. These funny talking, nature orientated souls have few problems eating moose, pooing on ice, and drinking Labatt Blue. While we rarely give them credit, Canada makes the USA look amazingly refined by comparison.

To quote the most honest t-shirt I ever wore, “Canada, they started a country and nobody came”. So why should I come to Canada when I can go bear hunting in Minnesota like a true American, holding my semi-automatic rifle that will surely render that bear completely useless?

You're Welcome

I grow weary of churning out this truth for you to read. While I could continue to embolden the opinion that never leaving the United States is not only possible but also advisable, I think you can put the rest of the puzzle pieces together. I hope this serves to set the record straight that when I cut myself while scaling Mount Rushmore, I bleed red, white, and blue.