The Netherlands are a crazy drug haven

Where have we seen it:

In many movies and TV shows like “Euro Trip”, “European Gigolo” and even “Hostel”, but more importantly in the dreams and blogs of every college drop-out whose only dream is to one day smoke their life away in Amsterdam, the drugtacular capitol of the Netherlands.

Why it’s all a bunch of horse piss:

Netherland laws against using drugs are a little bit like rules prohibiting pissing in public pools. Officially they do exist, but if you keep it at a minimal level and never drop a deuce in the water (which in this metaphor stands for cocaine), the life guard will probably look the other way. It doesn’t make it legal though, same as the drugs, all of which—even pot—are considered controlled substances under Dutch regulations. The government simply decided to not do anything about them… for now.

What actually is “tolerated” in a silent double-wink agreement between the Police and the users is far from a liberal’s wet dream. You’ll be OK as long as you stay on their stuff, but try to bring in some cannabis yourself from abroad and that’s 4 years in one of those famous Windmill Prisons (12-16 years for the harder drugs). Additionally, you can only buy small quantities of pot (coke, heroine and even shrooms having all been outlawed) and it has to be smoked in one of the designated coffee houses, many of which have been closing down like crazy lately due to being too close to public schools/creating a new generation of Environmental Studies douchebags.

When you get down to it, the Netherlands are merely a country where in a very few selected places you can buy an illegal substance and get high in front of a group of strangers. It couldn’t get less crazy if everyone wore suits and wanted to discuss national fiscal spending.

Canada is the Ned Flanders of North America

Where have we seen it:

Thanks to such distinguished anthropological documentary productions like South Park, The Simpsons or Canadian Bacon, the world will forever view Canada as the pacifist, overtly polite and lovably quirky version of the US, only with igloos and “aboot” instead of “about”, eh? Also: Mounties, Maple Syrup, Hockey and Poutine.

Why it’s all a bunch of horse piss:

What would you say is the longest sniper kill in recorded history? 500, 600 yards perhaps? Sounds about right. At that distance it would be like shooting pubes off an ant, but it probably could be done. Well, in March 2002 on Afghanistan soil, an “Operation Anaconda” sniper took out an al-Qaeda agent…. from 2657 yards away. That’s a little bit over 1.5 mile or “Holy Tap-dancing Jesus!!” in the Cracked-tric System. The soldier’s name was Rob Furlong, but you will fucking address him as “His Deadshotness Master Corporal Rob Furlong of the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry”. Additionally, you will not snicker at the word “princess”.

However, pushing out a guy who would feel more at home in the movie “Wanted” was hardly the first time when Canada kicked everyone in the balls so hard all their children and grandchildren were born infertile. During WWI, Canada—as part of the British Empire—was basically allowed to do whatever they wanted concerning their involvement in the war effort. So, when most of us would probably volunteer to clean the showers in the ladies’ training facilities, Canada willingly mobilized four divisions which later became known as the most effective and feared assault formations on the Allied side, affectionately called “Shock Troops”.

Later on Canadian forces concentrated mainly on Peacekeeping Missions in such politically stable areas as Central Africa, Syria, Cambodia or Kosovo, where their Air Force was responsible for 10% of all the explosive “peace” dropped in the region.

But then I realized something. Yes, I will be giving up a lot of the freedom I have now, but I will gain a completely new type of freedom: to do things, really cool things mind you, that only older folk can do. I have narrowed them down to a Top 3 and am now sharing them with you. People, it’s OK to get old. Because once we’re there, we will be able to:

3. Pull off the suit look

I freaking love suits, and want to assure you am not really a retired brick layer posing as a debonair Polack on this site. Suits look simply amazing but only if the right sorts are wearing them. James Bond would be the perfect example, and for a more recent one look no further than Don Draper of “Mad Men” fame. I want to be that someday.

The problem is anyone younger than 35 looks like a giant turd wrapped in fabric while sporting the suit look. It’s like dressing up your family dog in a mock sweater and pants. Yeah, it’s cute, but it’s as far away from dignified as mining for boogers after having picked your butt for an hour. That’s what most people my age look like in suits: animals in people clothing.

But once you hit the late 30s/early 40s mark the suit starts to… suit you. In unrelated news I have just been subpoenaed for allegedly murdering comedy with my last sentence and I am planning to plead guilty.

2. Be brooding and cool at the same time

Every now and again the mood hits you like a sledgehammer to the dick and you start feeling down in the dumps. Everyone has to go through that at least a couple times a year, but it’s especially aggregating when you are younger. Stop smiling like a moron for more than a minute and everyone (your age) around you will start calling you Grumpy Sourpuss von Sadsack, or worse yet, emo, and that is a reputation nobody wants.

Then let’s take your grandpa. When the problems of the world—and the fact that high school girls are now sluttier than ever and he can’t do anything about it without his blue pills—finally get him, you will often find him over a glass of scotch in a poorly lit room, cursing under his breath and looking cooler than ever. When you are old, everyone assumes you went through enough shit, what with having to deal with all those dinosaurs as a kid, and simply let you be dark and enigmatic over your drink.

Be dark and enigmatic – now that is something which under no circumstance can a person under 40 achieve in his entire life. Don’t believe me? Check out your local Goth kids. They tried it and they failed. Horribly.

1. Buy a motherfucking sword cane!

Have you seen the movie “Blood and Bone”? If not, do it this instant and prepare to have your butt kicked off. It stars Michael Jai White as a semi-mute asskicker, a role so perfect for him you’d think they especially bred it in top genetic labs, but more importantly, it has Eamonn Walker using a god damn sword cane. The man looked so manly doing that, I instantly grew a third ball after witnessing it on screen but it’s OK because one of my other testicles exploded within seconds from the sheer badassery before my eyes. It was then that I decided I want a sword cane.

Some time after turning 50.

If suits make us young whippersnappers look like circus monkeys then canes on anyone without a snow white scrotum look like the ultimate douche move. Even royalty has trouble pulling them off before a certain age. So what chance does some local community college jerk-off who spends his afternoons watching illegally downloaded episodes of “House” have? Canes are just that one part of the senior experience which will forever belong to them.

And if the cane also happens to be a sword… hot damn, the ladies will be buying season tickets for a chance to totally gum the hell out of your junk. Good times, here I come!

I have separated the most annoying types of sidewalk mouth-breathers into 3 convenient categories. This is for all of you out there driving cars you didn’t trade for 3 packets of “colorful hats” that one horrible jonesing-afternoon like I did. If you ever get tired of humanity’s shit and decide to plow your vehicle into someone, please, AIM FOR THESE GUYS:

3. The Day Dreamer

With the economy kicking everyone’s butt harder than daddy after his late night whiskey (but it’s OK, I totally deserved that…), more and more people have taken to the sidewalks, and surprise, most often it actually works out just fine. No one wants to spend so much time so close to other human beings, so most pedestrian traffic in more crowded places tends to move smoothly. Until you come by the Day Dreamer.

You see, the Day Dreamer is most likely a coma patient who has woken up from his 20 year slumber and is now fascinated by how much the world has changed. The grass is greener, the squirrels are squirreler and it’s so hard to take it all in once. So he simply has to stop in his tracks to just, like, feel it man, maybe ponder about life a little, because, dude, what’s the hurry? Or more likely he’s an utterly stoned hippy who doesn’t understand that dropping anchor in the middle of a busy sidewalk screws up traffic worse than… some… automatic screw machine. Yeah.

2. The Road Hog

The Road Hog is not merely one person but rather a hive consciousness of pure douchebaggery, compromised of a minimum of 4 people who always travel in groups because they usually share no more than 3 brain-cells between each other. Still, even that is pretty damn good considering how utterly lost and confused they get when separated from each other. A simple solitary stroll down the road for these people might mean their families will soon be identifying their bodies in Venezuela.

The problem is the Borg-like Road Hog group never got around to understanding the simple principle of walking in a line. The only configuration they understand is to spread themselves out on the entire width of the sidewalk, afraid that the one who falls behind his brethren will be the group’s bitch or something. These are also the types of people who will eye you like a draft-dodging cat molester if you try to break them apart and walk through their little defense line of utter misery.

1. Mr. Lightning

Not named for his stunning speed on the non-vehicular highway but for the odd patterns he traverses in. Straight, left, right, back again, a pirouette, and repeat until you’ve bumped into every person imaginable, that is the way to get to places, according to this precious snowflake. Mr. Lightning is actually a close relative of the Day Dreamer in that they both have nowhere special to go. Mr. Lightning simply is more in a hurry to get there.

A short walk on one stretch of the road can mean up to 10 separate encounters with this pedestrian, and no one really knows why. Much like salad in a McDonald’s joint, his presence on the road is a mystery, but it’s more likely one of those Scooby Doo mysteries with a pretty boring and obvious explanation. My guess? He is lost and is following an ant, hoping it will lead him home. Most Mr. Lightnings are actually paranoid schizophrenics.

Alfonso is generally recognized as the first official “king” of his region, and for good reasons. As a devoted Christian and a pretty fearless leader he started a lifelong war with the Moores who have already been roaming Spain for ages, driving the lot of them from all of the northern regions, subjugating with time large amounts of land under his rule. Then, to keep the Muslim invaders out of his tanned-but-still-white-dammit Spain, Alfonso created a depopulated buffer region between their 2 territories: a giant abandoned strip of land known as the Desert of the Duero, which no large army could easily pass.

This in all reality created a natural defense between Europe and Muslim Africa, assuring that good God fearing Spaniards will never have to meet and learn to tolerate other religions ever again, allowing continental Christianity to grow unchallenged in peace. And as we all know, that worked out beautifully for everyone without a single hitch…