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.

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. 

All Hail our Glorious Chinese Masters

It should come as no surprise to anyone these days that China is taking over the world. They have over a billion people, cheap labor, an insurmountable mass of territory, and the political will to achieve these lofty goals. While there are some of us still clinging to the notion that somehow the Bald Eagle will be able to peck out more than two billion eyeballs, I for one do not think this is a fight worth the effort. I am embracing our new Chinese overlords. I feel that they will be fair and just masters who will supply numerous perks for us underlings. Here are just a few of the changes I see coming when the Chinese take over the world and one issue that may just put a kink in their world domination attempts.

Pandas often confuse skyscapers with bamboo sticks. I don't think there is much to be scared of, look how cute they are!

Food

For one, who doesn’t like Chinese food? Gone will be the days where Americans pick up McDonald’s on the way home from work. Gone will be the days where an American can go to the farthest stretches of civilization and somehow find a McDonald’s serving piping hot burgers made from the aboriginal peoples in the area. Who can really argue that this is a bad thing? Instead we will all bow down to the mighty panda and his delicious yet price friendly Chinese cuisine. I dare you to resist the delectability of orange chicken and lo mein noodles!

In time, we will all have to take a Panda Pledge. However our pledge will have to do more with not committing any actions detrimental to the glorious People's Republic of China.



Culture

During America’s time as controller of the world, we have seen American cultural phenomena spread in a virus-like fashion around the globe. Let’s take a moment to remember some of these cultural highlights:

Michael Jackson describing some of the foreplay he enjoyed with his monkey Bubbles.

Screw Lucy Liu bots, I want a Britney Spears bot. Before becoming a fat mother, of course.

Oh Mr. Cooper, when didn't we want to hang out?

 When the tides turn in China’s favor we will inevitably have the winner of Chinese Idol jammed down our esophaguses. While I hope for the best, this probably means we’re going to see a lot more of this guy:

Urge to kill....RISING

我們不妨習以為常口語和閱讀中文

If you can’t read that then you’re really quite screwed. In preparation of our new masters I have taken to learning their mother tongue. I recommend you do the same. You see, in doing so I am beginning the process of endearing myself to the Chinese people. This will help me to move up in their society. We must remember that the days where we can laugh at the comical old man at the Chinese restaurant who offers us ‘Flied Lice’ are numbered. This situation just won’t arise anymore because we will all be speaking in Chinese. And to make matters worse, they will laugh at us when we mess up their language. This will be especially hard for Southerners considering they can’t even speak English well enough to get by, let alone speak Chinese.     

I don't know or want to know what her secret is, but I can assume she won't be able to learn Chinese.

Clothing

Now here is the problem for me. While I have unrelenting love for our new Chinese suzerains, I have one small issue with how they are ruling. Now, I know the Chinese are out there reading this. Their spies may even be peeping at me right now determining whether or not to send a poison tipped blow dart at my neck. If you are watching me please, refrain from doing so. As I said before, my allegiance to the Chinese is uninhibited in its devotion. I only offer constructive criticism.

To the Chinese I have this to say. Americans are generally a portly bunch, me included. The reason I must parlay this information is because my girlfriend, affectionately known as Squirtle, bought me a Chicago Blackhawks jersey for Christmas.

I understand why you may be confused that I have received Christmas gifts already. You see we are pagan so we celebrate Christmas whenever we feel like it. I was ecstatic when I received the gift and had no idea it was a Chinese knockoff until she told me. The next day we went to the Blackhawks game and as I started to pull the jersey over my head I noticed this extra-large was the smallest I had ever seen. Some might say it was an extra large for Chinese people, not fat Americans.

Despite the jersey clearly stating extra-large, it fit Squirtle like a glove. So even though I may have to wait a while for another jersey, at least she will get some use out of it. Moreover, girls in hockey jerseys are sexy, so I can’t complain.

So China, listen up. We may give up our food, language, and dominance in the world. However we will never relent in our love of football, baseball, basketball, and hockey. I don’t know what sports the Chinese play, but we probably won’t like them. And if China is going to start making all of our jerseys, sell them for cheaper, and cut out the middle men, I will support you. But you better get it right. I don’t want a ‘Chinese extra-large’, I want an American extra-large. I want a Patrick Sharp jersey, not a Patrick Shap jersey.



I'm going to go ahead and assume he ordered a Gonchar jersey

And remember this China because if not, you will have a whole bunch of fat Americans coming after you.

European Travels: The Sun Never Sets on the British Empire

I was sitting on my couch the other day with my Dad watching Arsenal play a match against Shakhtar Donetsk. My dad explained to me that this soccer stuff was basically ‘slow hockey’ and promptly fell asleep, from boredom one can only assume. Good match it ended up being, with Arsenal winning handily.

This made me think about my travels through Europe and some of the interesting cultural differences I’ve come across. More specifically, stereotypes I’ve encountered or shattered. I’ve been to Europe four times now and I’d like to tell you a story. 

When I travel I’m always looking for that true European experience whether it’s in England, France or wherever else. It’s not as easy as you would think. Undoubtedly it’s fun to see the historical and cultural sights but there’s nothing like coming back with some stories about locals you chummed it up with. Fortunately for my most recent trip o’er the pond, my friend Phil and I were able to find one of these experiences. 

England

Isolated on an island, the English are unaware of modern day guns.

Oh England, the English speaking paradise of Europe. This former patriarch of the land I call home is domicile to bad teeth, homely women, bad food, and soccer hooligans. At least that’s what popular belief here in the USA says. Well I am here to set the record straight. The teeth are really bad. 

I really enjoyed England. It’s like America except everyone talks funny and the streets are backwards. So when you’re drunk at four in the morning it’s very easy to get yourself killed stepping out into traffic. Speaking of getting drunk (which I have been known to enjoy), London had the most rules I’ve ever seen about getting drunk. Mind you this is in the area known as Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square. It’s a trendier/touristy area in the heart of London that reminded me a lot of being in New York City around Times Square. 

So the rules

If you want to get drunk and watch a soccer game (like we did one night) you must go to the sports bars. It seems no other bar in the heart of downtown shows the matches. Walk into a pub, no game. Walk into a sports bar, games everywhere. The problem lies in the fact that the lines to get into sports bars go half way around the block. By the time you’ve entered the bar, the game is at half. What’s the point?

Now if you want to get good old fashioned saucy for no reason the pub is a good choice. You would think that as I did, but once again London drinking rules are in effect. The pubs, though a good source of beer, close rather early: midnight or one in the morning depending on the night of the week. In one of these pubs we met the most attractive ladies we did in England. We started talking and it turns out they were from America. No surprise there, like I said before England is full of homely women. Also no surprise that they were ‘heading home’ at bar close and didn’t want to come out for some more drinks. They told us that if we wanted to keep drinking until the wee hours of the morning, the night clubs were the way to go.

If you’ve ever seen a picture of me, you would know that I don’t do night clubs. I have nightmares about nightclubs. Smooth-chested men in leather pants with gelled hair attack me in those dreams. Bass heavy techno sampling songs from dead artists I actually like make my ears bleed in those dreams. Women who want nothing more than free drinks and ecstasy from me make me broke in those dreams. I wasn’t about to make any of those terrible things reality. 

The loophole we found was the 24 hour casinos. A little bit of sanity in an insane part of the city. As long as we kept gambling, we could drink all night long. And for all that drunk gambling I did, I actually made money. So the moral of the story kids is drunk gambling will never lead to bad consequences. In fact we came across another group of attractive ladies while at the casino: they were Irish. 

Hooligans & Their Food

Okay so now that we have established that there are far too many homely women in London, let’s move on to my other preconceived notions: soccer hooligans and bad food. The food wasn’t bad. It was like the dinners your grandma made after she started to lose it. But you can’t complain to your grandmother for serving you tacos and green bean casserole because you know she loves you. It wasn’t bad, it just seemed the combinations were uninspired. The ‘Full English Breakfast’ consisted of eggs, a sausage, a tomato, a mushroom, and toast. They all tasted decent, but when you look at the plate you think ‘This is what you came up with?’  All I can say is that the food was good enough to give me a solid base for drinking. And as you will soon learn, that was important one night. The main reason my friend and I went to England was to see an Arsenal game, not the food. 

We made our way to North London for the match against Wolverhampton. Drank a few pints before the match in pubs packed like sardine tins. We then headed down the street to the Emirates. The neighborhood was really cool and reminded me somewhat of Wrigleyville in Chicago. It was a neighborhood consisting of flats and two-flats as far as the eye could see. Small, locally owned shops, pubs, and restaurants lined the main thoroughfares. It had that olden feeling, even for London. But then, out of nowhere rises the intimidating modern steel of the Emirates. 

Beautiful.

That's Phil, in all his glory

Packed house for the match.

The game was great. No score through 90 minutes despite the Gunners’ constant peppering of the Wolves’ goalie. Stoppage time came and in the 94^th minute Niklas Bendtner streaked into the box and headed a cross pass into the goal for the dramatic win. The Emirates erupted in relief as Arsenal put away a game that should not have been so close.  

   

Just to clarify a bit here: Arsenal FC players are called Gunners and their fans are called Gooners. I don’t understand the Gooners thing, so don’t ask. High on life my friend Phil and I made our way to a pub named Bailey’s Gooners. Obviously this bar was for Gooners exclusively. However if the name wasn’t clear enough, there was a sign placed in the window stating ‘No visiting fans welcome’. The bar was small, completely covered in wood and very dark.  It was daylight when we entered the bar and probably about two in the morning when we left. 

Gunner Niklas Bendtner

We chatted with a few groups of fans and as the time wore on and pints turned into more pints neither of us wanted to leave. Slowly the bar started to become less populated. There was one group of guys who remained. They were serious fans. They lead the bar in soccer chants the entire night. Unparalleled is the sense of unity in sport when an entire pub erupts into song together. You just don’t see this very much in American sports. At the end of a good Bears game this is what you’re bound to hear walking back to your car:

 Fuck yeah those fuckin’ Colts really fuckin’ sucked. And you see Cutler? Fuckin’ amazing tonight. 

HEY FUCK YOU JACKWAD, PACKERS SUCK!

Anyway we talked quite a bit with this group of guys. There were four of them that I remember. The first was really tall, probably about six foot five or so with a five o’clock shadow from yesterday. The second was a kid so bland I can’t really come up with a description for him. I do remember he really liked cocaine because he kept talking about it. In fact, all of them were talking about cocaine quite a bit. The third was a short, humorous, black guy dressed in purple. Last guy seemed to be a prick, honestly. He was very serious and despite the fact that the other three guys liked us, I’m not so sure he did. The night wore on with this crack group of guys discussing sports, America, and England. 

Sometime late, we all moved on to new bars. All I really remember from this part of the night was walking through the streets, singing soccer songs, and watching these guys knock over trash cans, construction signs, and basically anything not chained to the ground. Stop in a bar have a couple drinks, move on to the next. We got a good tour of North London. It was during this march that we found out these guys, although they did cocaine and were drinking at the bars without a problem, were 17, 18, and 19 years old. Maybe it was the beers that shaded our perception or maybe it was the fact that they wanted to keep drinking, but it never crossed either of our minds. Somewhere in the range three in the morning (mind you the spirits began somewhere around 1pm), Phil and I decided to head back to the hotel. We had a seven a.m. train to Amsterdam to catch. Somehow we made it back to the hotel and to the train on-time. In hindsight, a miracle.

That train ride to Amsterdam was probably God’s way of telling us that we were assholes. It was long and boy were we hurting really bad. But it was totally worth it. Nothing beats hanging out with the locals when abroad, even if they were five years younger than us. If you want to party, I'm game. That may just say something about my maturity level. However when all was said and done, it was truly an experience that will be hard to top.