I was having dinnerâ€¦ in Londonâ€¦ when eventually he got, as the Europeans always do, to the part about â€œYour countryâ€™s never been invaded.â€ And so I said, â€œLet me tell you who those bad guys are. Theyâ€™re us. WE BE BAD. Weâ€™re the baddest-assed sons of bitches that ever jogged in Reeboks. Weâ€™re three-quarters grizzly bear and two-thirds car wreck and descended from a stock market crash on our motherâ€™s side. You take your Germany, France, and Spain, roll them all together and it wouldnâ€™t give us room to park our cars. Weâ€™re the big boys, Jack, the original, giant, economy-sized, new and improved butt kickers of all time. When we snort coke in Houston, people lose their hats in Cap dâ€™Antibes. And weâ€™ve got an American Express card credit limit higher than your piss-ant metric numbers go. You say our countryâ€™s never been invaded? Youâ€™re right, little buddy. Because Iâ€™d like to see the needle-dicked foreigners whoâ€™d have the guts to try. We drink napalm to get our hearts started in the morning. A rape and a mugging is our way of saying â€˜Cheerio.â€™ Hell canâ€™t hold our sock-hops.
We walk taller, talk louder, spit further, fuck longer and buy more things than you know the names of. Iâ€™d rather be a junkie in a New York City jail than king, queen, and jack of all Europeans. We eat little countries like this for breakfast and shit them out before lunch.â€
From Sarah Hoyt.