I don't mind that we're in the middle of an unjust war started by falsified facts. I don't mind that large corporations and powerful politicians are making record profits off of the record gas prices. I don't even mind that a movie can show death, destruction and mutilation and still receive a PG-13 or R-Rating, but the second you show a man's un-erect penis, it's rated NC-17. I don't mind those things, because those are the things that make America so special.
But what does bother me is the news that Anheuser-Busch is considering moving all of its plants overseas. Honestly, what is more American that Bud Light? It goes Apple Pie, Jesus, Racism and then Bud Light. We could never have crushed those damned British during the American Revolution if our boys in blue weren't throwing back cans of BL to ease their woes. BL is the social lubricant that has enabled us to slip our proverbial fingers up the rectums of loose college girls throughout our history. In order to understand the preceding metaphor, replace 'proverbial fingers' with 'hard cock of justice' and replace 'loose college girls' with 'towel-headed evil-doers'.
I'm not sure if anyone remembers the outsourcing of Converse a few years ago, but I still roll the horrible memory around in my skull at great length. Remember when you could throw on a pair of grimy old Chucks and march down your neighborhood street and proudly display your 'Made in America' logo with pride? Those were the days. Then the Converse Company went and got castrated by China (via Nike) who in turn jacked the price up to over $35 for a shoe that previously sold for under $20 and is only really worth $10. I know Chuck Taylors were the original basketball shoe, but has anyone ever tried to actually play a game of b-ball with those P.O.S.'s on? They sucked, but at least they were OURS! (by 'ours', of course, I mean us as Americans)
I would rather bleed all over the basketball court as my skin scrapes and tears as it rubs against the rough canvas interior of my American-made Chucks. I would rather spend my substandard paycheck on a 24 pack of Bud Light with the Stars and Stripes brazenly displayed on the box than a 12 pack of some imported sissy piss-water that won't even get me buzzed enough to forget about my miserable, pathetic life. And, you know what, I would rather sit through a box office American blockbuster, shoot-em-up, kill-fest than see one more artsy-fartsy French film about two fags who fall for each other in pre-World War II Tokyo and slap their flaccid penises against each other in the closing scene.
And for those of you out there who would rather see a limp dick than bloodshed, check out Edward Norton's package in American History X. They show it twice!
This is America. Jealous?
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