Don’t Sleep On Vietnam

As previously noted, I’m kind of a big deal in Slovenia.  Apparently the Vietnamese read about this, and they are fucking PISSED.  Since my glowing report on Slovenia and the copious amount of fucking ass they kick in every which way but loose (and also loose.  if anyone is loose, it is the Slovenians, bet your bottom fucking dollar), it would seem the Vietnamese have decided to wage a little viewing war with Slovenia.  They now stand even-Steven at 12 page views all time.  This is exciting folks.  It appears that Vietnam has fully recovered from the clusterfuck war America waged there for a decade and is now flexing its economic Internet muscle.  The buzz this international war is generating on the Internet is palpable.  Google had to shut down its server hub and throw some bricks of dry ice in there and let shit cool down.  It was like in “Christmas Vacation” when Clark finally is able to illuminate the lights on the house, and they have to manually shut down the grid in Chicago and switch over to the emergency circuit.  The one Internet cafe in Hanoi had a line around the block of 11 people waiting for the first guy to get done with the computer so they too could start pounding What Sucks Now.  Global commodity markets were roiling as Vietnamese rice, as well as conical straw hat production, virtually ground to a halt.  I’ve already been asked to travel to Vietnam and begin a tour of the country via the Ho Chi Minh Trail, as we attempt to bridge the divide between our two cultures.  My black pajamas are packed bitches.  You can choose to willfully ignore Vietnam if you wish, but at your own peril.  Vietnam, lets fucking rock.     

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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