Dear Darfur: Find Some Oil or Shut the Fuck Up

In case you didn’t notice, 6 people in Libya got a headache, 4 people turned their ankles, 3 people got diarrhea, 2 people pulled a hamstring, and 1 chick broke a newly manicured nail. And what happened? Tomahawk missiles up the ass of their oppressors.

What did you get in Darfur? Lets see, hundreds of thousands dead, famine, rape, torture, just a general ass kicking…..and I think you got some t-shirts, maybe a couple of shitty folk songs, a few righteous Hollywood assholes giving an overly dramatic Oscar acceptance speech not because they cared about you, but because they cared about everyone thinking they cared about something outside of their own giant head.

North Korea, Rwanda, Indonesia, Cambodia, Zimbabwe……cry us a fucking river. The USA and the “Allies”, which always appear to consist of the USA, France for 36 hours of the operation, and England until their citizens start asking why they’re killing people with their tax money, are the World Police. But not for you sorry sons of bitches. The World Police only police areas which sit on top of a shitload of Texas Tea, Liquid Gold, Oil that is. So until one of you goes out shootin’ for some food and happens upon about 10,000,000 barrels of crude per month…..get fucked. Mugabe, Idi Amin, Janjaweed militia, Kim Jong Izzle can do whatever they want, all day baby. And unless you find some Tomahawks and a few F-14s out behind your dung huts, or better yet an assload of oil, you’re hating life. So quit whining. We’re too busy Tomahawking Tripoli back to a day when Hannibal would still recognize it, to listen to you.

We will bomb the McMutherfuck out of anyone starting trouble in a crude-pumping mecca. But if you start makin’ trouble in your neighborhood, and your ‘hood ain’t oil-rich, eeehhhh, we’ll say something really pointed about it at the next U.N. General Assembly. Right before we all head out to eat, drink and whore on the money our governments pledge to pretend to help people like you. It is what it is; lower your expectations to zero and fucking deal with it.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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