I’ve had some admittedly questionable ideas in the past. Like the time I thought it apt to attend a Halloween party in a predominantly black neighbourhood painted in blackface, or an ephemeral three week period where I made a legitimate attempt at vigilante crime-fighting under the ill-advised porn star-sounding name of ‘Justice Hardcastle’. Most of those three weeks were spent in the same area as the Halloween party. Probably just a coincidence.
However every time I bring up my latest marvelous conception, I get treated with the utmost disdain, and I’m on the receiving end of worse looks than those given to Roman Polanski at an elementary school sex education class. And all because I tell them I have an idea to create a comedy musical based on the Jewish Holocaust.
“That’s offensive!” they cry, “You’re being insensitive!” they assert. What they seem unable to fathom is that my Holocaust musical is the complete opposite-in my story, the Jews actually win. While some would point at the worlds financial industries, news media, music business, jewelry industry and Hollywood as evidence that the Jews already have won, I’m referring to victory during the Holocaust. Rather than the extermination of 6 million Jews, in my revisionist take on the ol’ slave labour saga, only a couple thousand meet their untimely demise, because of a lone hero that escapes the concentration camps and proceeds to infiltrate Hitler’s security team, finally killing him and putting an end to World War 2 before the worst of the genocide transpires. It’s a happy ending for the Jewish people, kind of like ‘Inglorious Basterds’ but with considerably more dancing. Its a real feel good story for all the family, and will no doubt be a real gas.
And I’m not the first to be associated with the concept; the great Mel Brooks had a similar idea with ‘Springtime For Hitler’ in ‘The Producers‘ and the following video:
To show the utmost respect to my audience, I promise to give survivors free tickets to the show and sit them all in the front row so they have the best seats in the house. That’s because if the media picks up on reality TV stars attending, it’ll increase awareness in the musical. I wonder if season 1 winner Richard Hatch is out of jail yet?
I realize I may have trouble getting many Jews in the door if the tickets are priced more than 5 bucks a piece, so I’ve envisioned an additionally astute marketing ploy, involving attempting to book Jackie Mason as a warm-up act before the show. If we can’t get him, Jim Davidson can be called in as a last resort. Either should be fine.
So now that you agree that my Holocaust musical is an amazing idea, let’s discuss potential casting. To showcase my desire to be an equal opportunities director, I plan to saunter into the realm of avant-garde and audition any kind of ethnicity that wishes to try out for the role of Adolf. I’m open to the idea of a black Hitler, an Oriental Hitler, a gay Hitler, a cockney Danny Dyer-esque Hitler, a midget Hitler or even Gary Busey. But no Mexican auditions. The last thing any of us need is to see some of the Schutzstaffel props being stolen and sold down an alley in East Los Angeles the next morning. I mean, that’s just common sense.
I’m also willing to give Mel Gibson a career lifeline and offer him a role in the play. I know he’s had his troubles recently with a lying, parasitical whore and her edited tapes, and his occasional intoxicated rant about various ethnicities. But Mel Gibson was in four classic Lethal Weapon movies and motherfucking Braveheart. I wouldn’t even care if was a loathsome granny-robbing, child-molesting Islamic Extremist with a penchant for bigamy, trafficking underage sex slaves and casual feline molestation, he’s Martin fuckin’ Riggs, man. You know? Plus I could just cast Mel as one of Hitler’s associates and he wouldn’t even need to read the script. Simple!
The protagonist in my play is a Jewish hero named Max Bergberg. He obviously needs to be played by a genuine Jewish actor for authenticity (or we could just get Gary Busey and put a fake nose on him). In his role he’ll really stick it to the gentiles! I mean really stick it. As in multiple sex scenes with sexy blonde Aryan women that will take place on the stage and leave nothing to the imagination. In one of these debauched performances, upon reaching orgasm, Max will deliver the line “Now I’ve just done to you what you’ve been doing to my people!”, no doubt to a rousing applause from an overjoyed audience of families with confused and awestruck young children.
In another scene they’ll be some kickass action, where Max will use a rubber prop knife and sever a Nazi soldier’s hand off, with a prosthetic limb hurtling across the stage and a fountain of fake blood squirting out of a tube placed underneath his arm. Then Max will shoot several Nazis dead and deliver the line:
“Consider that Kosher. Mazel Tov, bitches.”
Now if that won’t win me a Tony Award, nothing will.
Once the casting is arranged, the real magic will begin. I’ve written a number of enthralling musical numbers for the play, such as the following song, to be serenaded by Max and an assemblage of malnourished-looking extras. Picture the smoke machines billowing out the vapors of the gas chambers as Max looks to the captivated audience and sings…
We’ve had enough and we’re at the end of our wits!
We’ve got to escape from the hellish Auschwitz!
No more gassings and death to the Jews,
We’re fighting back and this time we won’t lose!
I’ve had it up to here with your Nazi ways
Enough is enough and it’s time for a change
I’m going to break free from your evil camp
I’m going to be known as the Jewish champ
You’re not Mein Führer and I’m not down with starvation!
I’m not into forced labor or general deprivation!
Shaving my head is unnecessarily belligerent
I love my curly locks and I won’t be obedient
Because my hair’s not blonde and I don’t have blue eyes
You seem to think that I personally killed Jesus Christ
You think you can stop me with a little cyanide
But I’ve got vengeance in my plans, so you better go hide!
I’ve got a message for Heinrich Himmler,
When I find you I’m going to chin ya
After all your genocide, I’m going to make you whine
I’m going to stick a frankfurter where the sun don’t shine!
Jews, gays and retards,
I will avenge everyone that’s been killed
With my proud Jewish heart of a lion
And my big brass balls of Hebrew steel
I’m on a genital castrating trip to Munich
Gonna crush his only ball so he becomes a eunuch
So when Adolf’s with Eva, his little Nazi mate,
He’ll permanently be unable to procreate
I don’t eat pork but I recognize a pig
I’m going to bury you bastards so you better start to dig
Hitler and company, you should get out of town
We’re gonna turn these death camps upside down!
We’ve had enough and we’re at the end of our wits!
We’ve got to escape from the hellish Auschwitz!
No more gassings and death to the Jews,
We’re fighting back and this time…we…won’t…loooooose!
And the crowd will go wild. Another big musical number will involve a cover of Queen’s ‘Princes of the Universe’, sung by Hitler, with bondage clad Nazis dancing around him. At the end of it the stage will darken and a bright spotlight will be placed on Hitler. He will hold out his arm in a stiff Nazi salute and say “There can be only one…superior nation on earth”.
Finally, to send everyone home happy and deliver a message of peace and tolerance as Max stands over the bloodied carcasses of several dead Nazis, we’ll get some Muslim extras to rush to the stage screaming “Allahu Akbar” as if they’re going to blow up the theatre, only for them to lock arms with the Jewish extras and start Irish riverdancing with a special rendition of War’s “Why Can’t We Be Friends“. A beautiful end to a beautiful show.
So there you have it-possibly the greatest idea of all time. Your welcome, society.
There are certain things in life that I can unequivocally state, without a millisecond of hesitation, to be true. And one of those truisms is that there is nothing funnier in this world than midgets. I’m a midget aficionado. Granted, it’s not the most conventional thing to be an ardent fan of; some people are car enthusiasts, others are devotees of particular forms of music. I happen to love midgets. I adore the hilarious little freaks, and they’re a constant source of hilarity for my twisted mind. Seinfeld? Cheers? Pah-give me Gary Coleman or Weng Weng any time!
One thing I’ve never understood is why, in today’s disgustingly politically correct society, some have tried to deem the word ‘midget’ as offensive. These are the same mongoloids that demand black people in the United States are known as ‘African Americans’ (even if they’re of Jamaican descent), deaf people as ‘hearing impaired’ and Islamic terrorists as ‘Misunderstood explosive enthusiasts’.
I’m surprised they haven’t started calling midgets ‘vertically challenged’. The alternatives aren’t much better though. Apparently the preferred nomenclature is ‘dwarf’. Well excuse me for not realizing we were in a fucking Lord of the Rings novel. Where’s Gandalf, maybe he can magically conjure me up a shotgun so I can swiftly blast an aperture into these PC fuckwits whining faces. Then there’s the marvelously self-explanatory ‘Little People’. Of course, that isn’t condescending at all, is it?
“This is Michael, he’s a little person.”
“Thanks for informing me of the appropriate categorization so that I don’t accidentally spew any hate speech! I had no idea that he was actually a little person, despite the fact that he needs a stepladder to use a urinal and his eye-line roughly matches my sweaty ballsack. But that’s really cleared things up! Oh look, there’s Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Is he a big person?”
Anyway, regardless of the first amendment-hating simpletons, midgets are my favourite source of comedy on the planet. There’s nothing more amusing than watching a midget scurrying along as fast as his little feet will take him, getting up to all kinds of diminutive hijinks. Whenever I see one in the street, I stop and guffaw, and they appreciate the love.
It’s always been my primary goal in life to one day have my own midget sidekick. I’d dress it up in truncated versions of my clothing and teach it how to talk, like a real life Mini Me. I would take him for walks (on a tight leash of course), while as he does his number 2 behind a tree I could ask him the most pertinent questions, such as Do midgets find other midgets attractive? and If a midget impregnates a normal, will the child be a midget or normal-sized? Perhaps somewhere in the middle, like Danny De Vito?
I would occasionally use him as a human foot-rest, and enter him in midget races against other freaks for money and fame. I’ve already envisioned my midget winning the ‘Handicapped Egg and Spoon Race’ after narrowly beating the son of the Elephant Man for the gold medal. His life would be every midgets dream. I’ve narrowed down my choices to midget actors Peter Dinklage and Verne Troyer. Hopefully soon I will own one of them.
But it doesn’t stop there. It’s an aspiration of mine to have a multitude of midgets living with me, like Hugh Hefner and his playmates, except instead of buxom, lustful whores it would be knee-high larrikins and the Playboy Mansion would instead be my humble abode in central London. There’d also be no sex of course…unless one of the female midgets happened to seduce me. Who knows how they’d show their gratitude to me?
My gang of midgets would all be cared for and looked after well, so there’d be no need for PETA to investigate. I promise to wash them each once a month, feed them three times a week, and put them up in wonderful, newly furnished cages in the basement. They will each work for me as servants, cleaners and cooks, and I will pay them with generous allowances of leftover vegetables. Like Madonna and her adopted kids, I hope to be ethnically diverse with my midgets, and plan to own a sassy black midget that talks lovable jive, an Irish midget with a drinking problem, and a Jewish midget that will secretly run the house. And if anyone wrongly claims this is enslavement rather than a wondrous midget utopia then I’ll set a group of my Mexican midgets to steal their car.
Everything is funnier with midgets. Porno? Funnier with midgets. Itty Bitty Gang Bang anyone? TV shows? Funnier with midgets. Miniature versions of Ross and Rachel? Comedy gold! Sports? Definitely funnier with midgets.
But perhaps none are more comically effective than the late, great Weng Weng, a legendary and unfortunately deceased midget from the Philippines.
Weng Weng was a pintsized lothario and martial arts expert, who’s aptitude in obliterating normal sized foes was matched only by the lascivious attractions he garnered from numerous scantily clad wenches.
Rest in peace, the baddest motherfucker the midget world will ever see. I will forever be a fan of your magnificent ilk!
Making money-it’s what Jesus would do. Right?
Well, it’s what a lot of his so-called followers have tried to do through his name. And why not? However, they can do so much better. In these capitalist times, it’s just good business to try and make an antiquated, absurd and hateful religion like Christianity more marketable for a mass audience. Think of the potential $$$!
Now I’ll be the first to tell you how ridiculous Christianity is, and how it completely boggles my mind that in this day and age, in a supposedly evolved and civilized society, that people still genuinely believe in such asinine lunacy and fairytale nonsense as Christianity. I’d expect such primitive, backwards stupidity out of the Middle East, but in America and Europe? It never ceases to amaze. Stupidity and irrationality are still ripe within the first world.
These days Christians are pretty harmless, I admit. They may still openly state that anyone that doesn’t believe in their particular brand of ancient bullshit will spend an eternity in a nightmarish prison chamber (or an eternal Justin Bieber concert-both are similarly hellish) but nowadays their most notable transgressions consist of molesting little choirboys and throwing dirty looks to guys who’s wrists are a little on the limp side.
It wasn’t always this way, of course. More wars have been fought over religion throughout history than anything else; the years and years of Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the purging of the Cathars, the persecution of Jews throughout history, the falsified witch hunts in Salem, the 700 year long Reconquista, the holy wars between Catholics and Protestants, particularly all of the deaths in Northern Island, and George W Bush’s invasion of the Middle East, to name but a few. Years of bigotry, misogyny, homophobia, violence, and sheer ignorance, all in the name of a pretend levitating carpenter with a beard. These days the worst offenders are the Muslims, a religion that’s even more senseless than the Bible Bashers.
One of the American founding fathers named Thomas Paine once said it best: ‘All national institutions of churches, whether Jewish, Christian or Turkish, appear to me no other than human inventions, set up to terrify and enslave mankind, and monopolize power and profit.’
Deceased comedy genius George Carlin also hit the nail on the head in the following video while talking about the ‘Ten Commandments’.
Christianity was invented by man simply to scare and control weak-minded primitive people, manipulating their fear and confusion and benefiting from the frequent conflict that religion brings. It’s all about control, control, control-humans desire to control others. It’s the primary reason organized religion exists. Carlin explains this perfectly, and in the process exposes the Ten Commandments for the bullshit they really are.
I strongly believe in God, and atheists are some of the smuggest twats on the face of the earth. What I don’t believe in is the cancer that is organized religion, which is actually a barrier between man and God. But since it exists, and thanks to the manipulation, indoctrination and general stupidity of the human race, it ain’t going anywhere, so why not try and make some money off of it?
The Church has been passing the collection plate around for years, so this isn’t really that different. And what do you think Christmas is? All I’m suggesting is a more vigorous approach. Here are some ideas:
-An E-Bible for the Kindle
When traveling Christians are on the go but want a constant taste of Jesus in their mouths without the bother of dragging around the holy book with them, what better than an electronic Bible? If a fanatical Christian is partaking in a lengthy excretion in a hotel toilet but has an unyielding desire to read about how the Bible condones slavery or claims that the earth is flat, he can! This could be marketed to a whole new audience of Godless sinners and a younger generation that, gosh darn it, just think books are for dorks! Now the Bible can be cool again! Soon all the popular kids will be down with mindless bigotry, yo! Yay!
They say you are what you eat. I regularly eat pussy so I’m not sure I agree with that theory, but nonetheless Christians can eat Christian food and show their faith by gobbling down treats. How about ‘Christ Crackers’, an edible biscuit in the shape of a crucifix? Try some ‘Pious Punch’, an energy drink that really gives you a holy burst of endurance. Show your commitment to the cause by drinking the ‘Blood of Christ’ (it’s just cranberry juice). Mmm, tasty and spiritual! Though when Jesus said he was the ‘bread of life’, this probably wasn’t what he meant.
-A home baptism set
For those poor souls that missed being water-boarded the first time. They pay for the water too, so it’s super-profitable!
-Improved retail ‘God Hates Fags’ signs.
Those wonderful folks at the Westboro Baptist Church have become quite renouned for their colourful and open-minded signage recently. However, these devout desecrators don’t realise that their boards could be mass marketable if simply tweaked a little. A brighter colour here, some more lamination there, and mixing up the messages-how about ‘God Hates Two and a Half Men’? Or ‘Sodomy: It’s a Pain in the Ass!”. Amazon would be storing them in no time!
Sex sells, and so would Jesus doing anal to some young freshly-turned 18 year old wench behind his carpentry shed while a sexy Asian whore masturbates herself with a small cross. That’s not just a money shot, that’s a licence to print it!
-A Catholic priest anti-pedophilia chip
The Vatican holds more kiddy-fiddlers than Mel Gibson owns Nazi paraphernelia. So here’s what I propose-a small chip placed into the flesh of every Catholic priest, as soon as they enter the priesthood. This chip is directly linked to the Vatican’s bank account. Every time a priest’s penis so much as touches the skin of a young boy, the chip relays a message to someone, who then is legally bound to take several thousand dollars/euros from the Catholic funding. That money then goes to charitable causes, but we, the designers, recieve a percentage of it. Granted, neither the technology nor the legality of such an enterprise has yet been found, but it’s a start. Hey, I just made pedophilia charitable! Take that, other philanthropists!
In order to attain every demographic, we need to create specialized material. One of the biggest audiences we need to reach is the black community. To do this, Christianity has to be ghetto-d up. Sure, there’s vivacious black churches that sing gospel and preach about black Jesus, but that doesn’t appeal to most blacks. We need to reach the ghetto. I’m talking about Christian gangsta rap. Lyrics about pimpin’ hoes and shooting up rivals should be mixed with rhymes about rising from the dead and avoiding Jews. Jesus should be presented as the biggest pimp of them all. How about:
Yo I’m a thug from da hood and I ain’t down with da devil
I’m a gangsta like Jesus, he on another level
Cause Christ was a pimp and so am I
One day I’ll be in da ghetto in da sky
I buss caps in fools, I killed about seven
Homies know only Christians gonna reach Heaven
Then there’s the ‘grill’ that reads ‘HOLY’ in thick solid gold lettering. And ‘G’ can stand for God! Now that’s gangsta, y’all.
If there’s one thing religious people do well, it’s indoctrinating kids at a young age. Most religious people were brought up religiously, and don’t have the mental capacity to see why they’re idiotic because it’s all they’ve known from the moment they reached adequate cognitive function. Likewise, we should aim for the kids in getting their parents money too!
How about a miniature cross that transforms into a self-defence weapon (to protect against Jews, obviously) with a few simple adjustments? This plays into the popularity of the Transformer movies, and thusly will sell like hotcakes with the youngsters. Every excited kid will beg their parents for a toy that’s both educational and violent! “Thanks mom, now I can accept Jesus and stab the people that killed him!”
There’s others that have already beaten me to it, like moronic MMA fighters wearing t-shirts reading “Jesus Didn’t Tap” (presumably his submission defense was solid?), Christian bumper stickers bemoaning atheist drivers, and a real life Christian theme park for those who think general rollercoaster’s just aren’t Godly enough. But more can be done, so let’s get together and make some money! I’m considering calling it ‘Faith Inc’.
Praise the Lord!
Note: This is satirical, in case you happen to have a lightly salted cashew nut for a brain.
As an avid traveler to many parts of the world, including the United States of America, I feel it is my duty to assist my colonial and corpulent brethren from across the pond in their trips to the wonderful continent of Europe. You see, most Americans don’t travel overseas and never leave the comfort of their grease-soaked lives in the good ol’ US of A. But the ones that do decide to expand their horizons past their star-spangled diets of fatty foods, tedious games of baseball, mass murdering schoolchildren and in more southern parts of the country, depraved coitus with close siblings in barns, need to be embraced for opening their minds and wanting to see the world.
Which is why I have constructed a helpful list of tips for those globetrotting Yanks that choose to explore the history, culture and atmosphere of the sexiest continent in the world. So to any American readers, enjoy the advice I have kindly bestowed below, and then set forth on your journey, prepared, enlightened, and ready to tackle anything those wacky Europeans can throw at you.
-Always wear the proper attire there, as Europeans are fond of American fashion sense. This consists of a baseball cap, oversized fanny pack, Hawaiian shirt, camera around the shoulders, flip flops and white socks, and baggy shorts (even in winter). These clothes should be worn at all times, including when at a restaurant. Never take off your baseball cap, even when indoors.
-When walking the streets of busy European cities, it is preferable to do so in large groups. Europeans enjoy seeing Americans ambling along the street like a herd of boisterous buffalo, and enjoy being forced to the side of your oncoming stampede.
-It is advisable to heartily chant “USA! USA! USA!” when around Europeans. They will appreciate your proud patriotism and bow their heads in reverence to your enchanting American charm.
-Be careful when asking Europeans for directions. They don’t understand the concept of blocks. Some of them are such primitive savages that they don’t even speak American! When this occurs, it is wise to simply increase the volume of your question to the point of shouting. Eventually the backwards European will understand and gladly point you towards the nearest McDonalds or Starbucks.
-Stop random strangers in the street and insist on showing them your extensive photo collection of close family members, including your sons, daughters, nephews and nieces, as well as giving them a thorough explanation as to their college sports achievements. The Europeans will be glad to stop whatever their doing and invest their time in listening to you.
-Share your religious and political views with as many people as possible, even if the conversation to that point has nothing to do with either, and especially if you happen to be a staunch conservative and fanatical Christian. Europeans love to be lectured on why America is always right, and react fondly to extreme right wing views and being taught about Jesus.
-The food in Europe is terrible. You may have trouble finding an XL quadruple cheeseburger or caramel banana pecan hotcakes. Thankfully in the major cities some of the Europeans have come to their senses and provided numerous McDonalds and Burger Kings, bastions of quality food. They don’t have Dairy Queens though, the Neanderthals!
-When at a restaurant, feel free to use your hands rather than the snobbish, unnecessary cutlery provided for you. Also, the portions there are incredibly small. It’s no wonder that the Europeans are so dangerously skinny. Do not be afraid to inform the waiter you want your meal “supersized”. The chef will gladly oblige and triple your food.
-When ordering food, watch the waiters and chefs like a hawk. Wander into the kitchen and examine the food as its being cooked if necessary, because the Europeans have a disgusting tendency to spit in it. They’re a backwards people.
-When ordering beer, make sure not to drink the foul booze the Europeans have. If you order European beer by mistake, simply add a litre of water to it and it will taste just like the beer you get back at home.
-When a game of American football is on, waltz into any nearby pub and change the channel on the bar’s television screen until you find ESPN showing the game, especially if the pub’s inhabitants are already watching a soccer match. The patrons won’t mind, and will appreciate you showing them the superior sport that only Americans watch, as opposed to the world’s most popular sport soccer, which for some reason they call “football”.
-Do likewise if baseball is on. If they complain and say this isn’t America so they shouldn’t watch an American sport, explain to them that baseball is the “World Series” and therefore a global event.
-When you see poor people or Europeans less fortunate than you, instantly take photographs of them. Sometimes it’s good for your partner to take a photo while you pose with the poverty-stricken individual. They won’t begrudge you for this. In fact, they’ll be happy that a wonderful American has enriched their lives with a moment of your vivid culture.
-Greet every European with a hearty backslap and a “how’s it going, buddy?” at the top of your voice, even if you’ve never met them before. Europeans love American friendliness.
-If you pass a European college, take a short visit inside armed with a megaphone and explain to the students the importance of Christian teaching in their education. They will appreciate the advice and instantly convert to Christianity.
-Never switch on European news unless you can find an American station, preferably Fox News. European news stations tend to skew the truth and pretend that America is somehow wrong in spreading freedom to the world through destruction and death. Some of these Europeans don’t even realize that America is the savior of the world.
-Never feel uncomfortable about laughing at the top of your voice when a European tries to speak English. Some Europeans sound like dribbling retards when doing so, and they will have no problem with you openly mocking them as they struggle to speak a foreign language, to you, in their own country.
-When in London, ask every English person you see if they personally know the Queen, particularly in some of the more deprived areas, such as Peckham and Bermondsey. Chances are, they meet with her regularly.
-European women are mostly savages. They refuse to shave their legs and armpits, and some don’t even wear bra’s. It is advisable to avoid eye contact with them.
-If you see an elderly person standing in front of you in a line to a public bathroom, aggressively push them out of the way and stand in front of them. If they take offence to this, kindly inform them that the Americans won the war for them and so you can do whatever you want. They will instantly agree and step aside.
-When on one of Europe’s many beautiful beaches, if you see a topless woman sunbathing, make sure to cover her up with a towel and explain to her that Jesus Christ doesn’t approve of partial nudity. She’ll appreciate your Christian family values and will quickly put on her bikini top.
And there you have it, my American friends. Discard your travel guides, for this is all you need for an enriching and enjoyable experience in Europe. Have fun!
Paris is truly my favourite city in the world. I just got back from there, and I fell in love with the place all over again. The atmosphere, the architecture, the sexy women, the incredible food; everything. I love it all. I’ve been to Paris many times over the years, and I enjoy it more and more every time I visit. I feel a strong kinship with Paris and Parisians, and much like Ernest Hemingway did, I find myself most attracted to Montparnasse and in particular the Jardin Du Luxembourg. I’ve also become taken with Versailles, once you escape the tourist trap that is the otherwise amazing palace. Paris is vibrant yet feels carefree, and it’s the coolest fucking place in the world.
Not only that, but every time I’m there, the stereotype of the rude Frenchman is shattered into a million erroneous fragments. I’ve never met one-they’ve always been nothing but friendly and helpful to me, even though I have the impressive knowledge of just three French words in my international vocabulary.
Coming back to London on Eurostar, I was met with an assortment of nationalities. As I sat there and listened to the irritating chatter of the insipid English, the relentless babble of the annoying Aussies, and the obnoxious squeaking of the typically corpulent Americans, all probably with brains emptier than an Ethiopian’s picnic basket, it dawned on me-the French cleanse me of my misanthropy, while everyone else just augments it. I like the French-THERE I SAID IT! They may be liberal-leaning surrender monkeys, but dammit, they’re fucking cool-and better than the English at almost everything.
The best thing about my trip though was the discovery of possibly the greatest invention since William Shatner’s toupee: Lion Bar Cereal. If you’re unaware, Lion Bars are Nestlé’s chocolate elixirs of the Gods, and to find them in the form of a breakfast meal was akin to losing one’s virginity in a sordid threesome with gorgeous Japanese twin schoolgirls that rearry ruv you rong time.
I had never seen this mystical, talismanic treat anywhere else before, and as far as I know it isn’t sold in England. But it’s delicious and kind of actually does taste like the bar, calories be damned. Just another reason to love Paris.