The Types of Men You Encounter While Abroad

Aren’t we all sick of the typical “Study Abroad Blog”? I mean, it’s #amazing and #lifechanging that you saw the “Le Tour Eiffel” and drank wine in Sicily and went to that weird building in Barcelona. You got a picture with a camel and underprivileged children? That’s really amazing!

I’ve never seen anything quite like it! For the past 6 minutes, that is.

So, just a warning, if you are abroad, I speak for most everyone–no one reads your blog aside from your extended family. If you’re lucky, maybe your mother leaves it open for your cat to take naps next to. But that’s it.

A cat nap: Sleeping on someone else’s electronics and/or fresh laundry. Like an asshole.

Let’s be real, the only blog people would really want to read would be about sexcapades. We don’t want to hear about how you went to a coffee shop in Amsterdam; we want to hear about how you made your cash in the red light district to pay for said coffee shop.

While you’re abroad, as long as you act the 100% opposite of a Northwestern student (aka never step foot in the library and make eye contact with, well, anyone,) then you’re guaranteed to meet some incredible people who will change your outlook on life (#clicheforareason). That being said, these people will likely fall into certain categories, and this is taking a moment to dwell on all of the wonderful men in your life, the ones who won’t quite make the blog.

How to Feed Yourself and Your Unpaid Internship

There’s nothing like the sweet flavor of an unpaid internship.

Seriously. There literally is nothing like that. Unpaid internships taste like shit, because most internships boil down to three-plus months of ass kissing and there’$ nothing to $weeten the deal.

Plus, you’re starving. Because when you’re in New York, San Francisco or any other city where each square foot of rent costs the sum total of Dolly Parton’s plastic surgeries, do you have the cash to spare for sustenance?

$ign$ point to n0.

Bartistics: Quantifying the Best Northwestern Bars

The next Keg?

Sherman Ave editor Evander Jones teamed up with food blog What I’m Eating for Lunch’s curator Jameson Bulwinkle to provide a comprehensive statistical analysis—or bartistical analysis, if you will—of the Evanston and Chicago bars most frequently frequented by Northwestern undergraduates. But first, an explanation of the bartistical categories analyzed by Evander and Jameson:

Yelp Rating: How many Yelp starts the bar received, out of a maximum potential of five.
Distance from the Arch: As estimated in walking distance by Google Something Maps.
Best Weekly Special: The best available special the bar offers on a day of the week.
VORN: Value Over Replacement Night. This bartistic measures how much more valuable the bar’s weekly special night is compared to a random night at the same bar given the same blood alcohol content. A VORN of 5.4, for instance, means that the bar’s weekly special night is 5.4 times better than a random non-special average night at the same bar.
Food, Ambiance, and Drinks: All subjective scores, out of a maximum of ten points, assigned by Evander and Jameson.
OoS: Odds of Scoring. What is the percentage chance of an average Northwestern student patron hooking up with another patron from the bar?
BPT: Biddies per Townie. What is the ratio of biddies to townies at the bar?
ABP: Average beer price. ABP’s with asterisks are actual average prices, not estimates.

What Your Favorite (Cheap, Shitty) Beer Says About You

If you’re drinking Old Style, then chances are you’re either too old to operate a computer, or just got ejected from a Cubs game. Either way, this isn’t the blog for you.

It’s that magical time of the year again in Evanston: early March. Nobody has seen the sun in three months, finals are rapidly approaching as all of your friends at other schools gear up for spring break, and it’s so cold that Morty has moved his office to the steam tunnels.

What differentiates March from the rest of winter quarter, you may ask? Baseless hope that spring is right around the corner. Kinda like that scene in Batman where Bane is all like “Yo, this prison is the fucking TITS because being able to see the sun makes bitches go CRAZY.”

Sixty Hues of Sex, part 1

Not for the faint of heart. Or stomach.

So I was reading the NY Times the other day, as part of my daily pretention ritual, and I happened upon a section that listed the top 10 best selling books of 2012. What was the best-selling book, you ask? 50 Shades of Grey. In fact, all three books in this horrendous trilogy were on the list. What the fuck, America? What the soft-porn-disguised-as-fiction fuck?! Are we really at the point where some British chick writing Twilight fan-fiction can become a best-selling author by writing such gems as “my insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid, desire.”*

However, as disgusted as I am by the state of American literary consumption, I am still an extremely greedy individual. So, I figured I would strike while the iron is hot. If this moron can write popular porn fiction, then I sure as shit can. So, without further or do, I present:

The Sandra Fluke Rule

Rush: The Human Douche-Strudel

Last week, human colonoscopy Rush Limbaugh launched a three-day offensive against Georgetown Law student Sandra Fluke after Fluke was denied the opportunity to testify before a congressional panel on contraception. Fluke had intended to share her opinion that private institutions such as G-Tizzle should be required to offer health care plans that offer birth control at no extra cost to women.

Yet crocodile anus Rush Limbaugh decided this meant she accepted cash or other forms of payment in exchange for sexual intercourse with another human being and called her a “slut” and a “prostitute” before demanding that Fluke release tapes of said intercourse for him to touch his pee-pee to. Limbaugh, an ingrown toenail, has faced significant backlash for his statements, which is obviously quite unfair. To back up synthetic diarrhetic Rush Limbaugh’s attacks on the harlot, we’ve developed a quick list of other incredibly offensive names we should apply to people who do extraordinarily normal things:

People who use cafeterias in schools: Lard-asses
You fatsos have the nerve to demand that schools let you just stuff your faces all day long? Wow, that’s really taking morbid obesity to the next level. Why don’t you all just not eat all day ever? That’d make things a lot easier for the rest of us, you overweight calorie dumpsters. It’s embarrassing that you honestly think you should be given a public place to engage in your disgusting food orgy. THINK OF THE FUCKING CHILDREN.

People who have a tutor: Euthanizable Idiots
If you don’t know how to do differential calculus on your own, you should be removed from the gene pool, plain and simple. This is an inherently American concept and anyone who even slightly disagrees is a terrorist.

People who hug their kids: Child Molesters
These are people who want us to just stand by and watch as they lay hands on children. The most disgusting of individuals, I cannot see why these child-hugging monsters have not been arrested, forced to report themselves to their neighbors and removed from within a half-mile radius of schools. I’m thoroughly sickened by these perverts and it definitely has nothing to do with not having been hugged as a child.

People who are on life-support: Drug Addicts
They’re so dependent on that steady stream of sweet, sweet drugs that they’d literally die if we took it away. That’s actually the definition of an addiction. Too easy. Now take the goods away from these society-ruining deadbeats and watch the economy flourish. Just watch. It’s totally gonna happen.

Are you the fucker who didn’t say hi to me on Sheridan Road?

People who walk on sidewalks: Genocidal Maniacs
This one may take a minute but I promise it’s well thought out. Ok, so who pays for sidewalks? We, the taxpayers, do as a community. So the COMMUNEity pays for sidewalks. It’s basically a sidewalk-obsessed commune of neo-commies laying down concrete and making us all walk in their Marxist line. You know who else loved communes and marching in lines? Joseph Stalin, that’s who. Anyone who uses a sidewalk is Joseph Stalin.

People who coach football: Jerry Sandusky
He coached football. Transitive property says everyone who coaches football is him. Look it up, bro. But don’t you fucking dare get a tutor to explain it, you euthanizable idiot.

People who use a radio show to accuse law students of being hookers: Chodes
Rush Limbaugh is a mildew.

Guys, Newt had an idea!

Genteleman, I have a plan. Let's destroy the Republican Party!

Newt Gingrich recently promised that by the year 2020, the United States would have a colony on the Moon if he is elected president in the 2012 election. Like literally, this was a thing he said. These words came out of his mouth intentionally. Here’s the quote: “By the end of my second term, we will have the first permanent base on the moon. And it will be American.”

Again, and this cannot be stressed enough, this was a thing that he said in an attempt to convince Americans he would stimulate the economy, reduce the size of government, and cut the deficit.

So I thought I’d call up a few of my closest friends and get their reactions to Newt’s new campaign platform.

Mitt Romney: So this is the guy that’s leading me in the polls? He’s actually ahead of me? I just… I really don’t understand what I did to make you hate me so much. I have been so nice to all of you. I considered you friends of mine. I put my life on hold for you fuckers. And THIS is how you treat me?! KAY. COOL. WE’RE OVER. GET OFF MY LAWN.

Ron Paul: Great idea. You first, bro.

The late, great Frank Sinatra: Flyyyy me to the mooooon, you delusional bag of serial adultery.

Zlurg, leader of the Moon People: So help me Thor, if you try to take our lands we will destroy you and everything you love. We will come down there and raze your buildings, burn your wildlands, poison your water, eradicate your air and kill every single one of you. Slowly. One by one. Starting with women and children. Do not for a moment think I am joking. You have one hour.

Rick Santorum: I had the exact same idea! But then I did a quick Bing search– #boycottGoogle, amirite guyz?!—and found out that going to the moon involves science. So, uh, good luck with that! HAHAHAHAHAH SCIENCE HEHEHEHE.

Has he seriously never seen Moonraker?

Morty Schapiro: Do I have a reaction to Newt’s proposal? No. No I do not. Do I have a reaction to Kenan Thompson coming to campus? OOOOWWWWWEEEEE T-SHANE YES I DO.

A lolcat: I can haz moonburger?

Marianne Gingrich, Newt’s second wife: Oh this is JUST like you, Newt. Leave Mother Nature the moment she gets sick for some cooler, younger planet who can do things I never could. That’s it, isn’t it? What does the Moon do for you, Newt? Tell me, I wanna know. Does she tell you you’re so much smarter and sexier than all the other Earthlings? Is that it? Or is she willing to do things I’m not? Maybe that’s it. OR MAYBE IT’S THE FACT SHE DOESN’T HAVE M.S. LIKE I DO. COULD THAT MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT?!

Barack Obama: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH MY GOD STOP. There’s noooo way this is real. You guys, you guys come hear what Newt said! No seriously, come hear this! Yeah, I KNOW! Everyone take the next five months off, I think we got this hahahahahaha.

Badasses in History: Audie Murphy

Audie, en route to fucking some shit up

Let’s start this week’s historical badass with a riddle. What’s black and blue and red all over? Answer: Chuck Norris after trying to fuck with Audie Murphy.

“That’s impossible!” you say.

Well, shut the fuck up and sit down and maybe you’ll see what I’m talking about.

You see our story begins in 1924 when Audie was born the sixth of twelve children to Emmett and Josie Murphy in Kingston, Texas. Things were hard for Audie, as he was and would remain very small, something looked poorly upon in Texas, “where everything is bigger.”

Riiiiiiight.

Anyway, Audie and his siblings worked on the family farm as children, at least until his father abandoned the family in 1936, presumably saying, “How the fuck did we end up with this many kids?” His mother died five years later, leaving the Murphy children to fend for themselves, with only the oldest sibling, Elizabeth, at age 31 to care for them.

Audie, rightfully realizing his life was going up shit-creek faster than a prairie dog in a wheelbarrow race, decided the best thing to do would be for him to join the army. So, Audie put his three youngest siblings in an orphanage (he would later reclaim them after coming back from the war), and attempted to enlist.

See, I say “attempted” for a reason.

Thing is, Audie tried to enlist right after Pearl Harbor, at age 17, but was turned away for being too young. Reputedly, Audie hulked the fuck out on the recruiter, but matters would stand this way for some time. Shortly after, Audie tried to enlist once again, but was declined by the Marines, the Air Force, and the Navy.

Why? Well, he was 5’5’’ and 110 pounds. Yeah, he kind of looked like one of those starving kids Sally Struthers is always bitching about. Luckily for Audie however, the United States Army was always on the lookout for meatshields…I mean corpses…I mean cannon fodder.

Damn it! I mean upstanding, brave specimens of American masculinity.

Yeah, that works.

So, long story short, Audie finally got to live out his dream of being a military man. At which point he promptly passed out during training and was ordered to be a cook instead. But, like short people everywhere, Audie wouldn’t shut the fuck up. He insisted on being a combat soldier for so long that finally his drill sergeant gave up and let him do it.

At this point Audie got sent overseas to North Africa, where he saw no action and presumably just fucked around playing stickball or something. After getting tossed over to Sicily however, Audie finally got to prove himself and was quickly promoted to sergeant.

So he was only like 18. He was Audie Motherfucking Murphy, so suck it.

That's more gold on his chest than Nelly has in his mouth

Now we get to the fun part, and by fun part, I mean we get to the part where Audie becomes the most decorated soldier in American history.

I didn’t mention that before? Really? I could have sworn…

Well no matter! Just listen up.

By the way, Audie contracted malaria during the Allied Invasion of Siciliy. So everything I’m about to explain? He did it with malaria. Yeah.

At one point, Audie mined a road where Axis tanks were known to be crossing. Asking his men to cover him, Audie stealthily snuck up on one such tank and tried to blow the thing up with a Molotov cocktail. When that didn’t work, Audie tried rifle grenades (all while getting shot at, and pulling Matrix style shit to avoid them). It worked. All by his lonesome, Audie managed to knock the tank off its treads, rendering it useless.

Yeah, Audie Murphy took out a tank, all by himself.

What the fuck? I can’t even do that shit in a videogame much less real life. And he was 5’5’’. There are NBA centers whose arms are longer than that. AND he was 110 lbs. That’s like what? How much my books weigh each quarter?

So we’ve established he was a badass, and that alone would be enough to ensure him a place of glory (it did win him a Bronze Star), but it’s not all.

The scene: It’s 1944, the Germans are being repelled and the Allies are pushing forward. BUT! The German forces are by no means down for the count. Enter a beachhead in Southern France.

Audie and his company were ordered to capture an enemy artillery position. In the course of the conflict, the Germans signaled their surrender, at which point Audie and his men went to take their position.

Of course, Nazi’s being total dickwads, they were faking and promptly shot and killed Audie’s BFFL.

This was really quite a poor decision on behalf of those Germans. I say “poor decision,” but what I really mean is “complete and utter catastrophe.” This is because Audie Murphy, on seeing his friend gunned down in front of his eyes, went Super Saiyan.

Legends say that he was doused with fire and emerged unscathed. That he shrugged off the strikes of lightning like they were so much trash. He endured a hail of bullets and his screams of rage flung them to the ground.

It may not be all true, but the reality is this: Within one hour, every single German was dead. Audie literally ran to the German position, amidst a storm of bullets, and took control of the nearest machine gun, slaughtering every Nazi within sight, and winning him the Distinguished Service Cross.

When another machine gun operator starting firing on Audie, he promptly picked up a mortar gun and gave that Kraut bastard what for. He then took out two more turrets and two sniper positions.

All by HIMSELF. This guy makes Rambo look like a pussy. Hell, he makes Seal Team 6 look like kindergarteners.

But even that doesn’t measure up to his actions in Holtzwihr Forest, which I’ll get to in a minute.

Before Holtzwihr Forest, however, Audie won the Purple Heart —for taking a mortar shell fragment to the hip, then immediately requesting to return to the front upon recovery — and two Silver Stars — the first for taking out two German positions using only a pair of hand grenades, saving the lives of numerous other soldiers; the second for reconnoitering near a German outpost and relaying its location to nearby artillery so it could be destroyed.

In case you aren’t keeping track at home, the tally is as follows: 1 Bronze Star, 1 Purple Heart, 1 Distinguished Service Cross, and 2 Silver Stars. Not bad for a 20-year-old right? He was also promoted to staff sergeant, then platoon sergeant, then platoon leader, AND THEN 2nd Lieutenant during this time.

Well it gets better.

On January 26th, 1945 (just one day after being named company commander, as well as suffering wounds from a mortar that exploded nearby that same fucking day), Audie and company became engaged in battle in the Holtzwihr Forest in France (I know, the name sounds German. Shut up).

During the course of the battle, Murphy’s 128-man company was reduced to 19 men, nearly all of them wounded. Realizing things might not turn out sunshine and daises, Audie decided to do something incredible: hold the Germans off by himself.

Yeah, he did that thing every movie hero does but that no one has the balls to pull of in real life. HE PULLED A FUCKING GANDALF AND SAID “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”

Seriously though, he shot at the Germans until he ran out of ammunition, at which point he climbed aboard a flaming, abandoned M10 Tank Destroyer (yes, it fucking blows the shit up out of tanks). Remember, it was on fire while he did everything I’m about to tell you. And he still had malaria. And he was wounded from the mortar shell. Also, it was 14°F. Just so we’re clear.

Audie started using the .50 caliber machine gun on all Germans coming his way. He got shot in the leg, but kept going for nearly an hour, all single-handed. The only time he stopped fighting was to call in artillery fire using a nearby telephone line.

In the end, Murphy and his remaining men—who came back—staged a counterattack and drove the Germans back out of Holtzwihr Forest, winning the battle.

When asked why he had decided to seize a machine gun and attack an entire squad of German infantry, he uttered perhaps the most badass explanation ever given:

Nobody fucks with Audie's betches

“They were killing my friends.”

I stand in awe of this man. If he wanted to punch me in the face I would take it and be honored. For his actions in Holtzwihr, Audie was given the Legion of Merit and the Medal of Honor, America’s highest military award, as well as given a promotion to 1st Lieutenant.

Audie continued fighting in the war, amassing a staggering total of military awards. In fact, he won every single U.S. decoration for valor available to Army ground personnel at the time. Some of them more than once.

In total, Audie was credited with destroying 6 tanks, and personally killing 240 German soldiers. Audie would eventually be promoted to Major while serving in the Texas National Guard. After his retirement from the service, he became an action star in Hollywood, starring in a few Westerns and — get this — playing himself in a movie called To Hell and Back about his battle in Holtzwihr.

He was such a popular actor, in fact, that he got a star on the Walk of Fame.

How can you get more badass?

Oh, here’s a list of Audie’s medals. If you don’t feel like counting, the number is 33. He was, and is, the most decorated soldier in American history.

• Congressional Medal of Honor
• Distinguished Service Cross
• Two Silver Stars
• Legion of Merit
• Two Bronze Stars
• Three Purple Hearts
• U.S. Army Outstanding Civilian Service Medal
• Good Conduct Medal
• Two Presidential Unit Citations
• American Campaign Medal
• European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal with One Silver Star,
Four Bronze Service Stars and one Bronze Arrowhead
• World War II Victory Medal
• Army of Occupation Medal
• Armed Forces Reserve Medal
• Combat Infantry Badge
• Marksman Badge with Rifle Bar
• Expert Badge with Bayonet Bar
• French Fourragere in Colors of the Croix de Guerre
• French Legion of Honor, Grade of Chevalier
• French Croix de Guerre With Silver Star
• French Croix de Guerre with Palm
• Medal of Liberated France
• Belgian Croix de Guerre 1940 Palm

On Columbus Day

Columbus valiantly raping native lands so future government employees could get a sweet three day weekend

You know that feeling you get when you wake up on Christmas morning? Or, for Jewish readers, that feeling you get when you wake up on Tax Day? Well, when my alarm went off at 10 this morning, I woke up with a very similar feeling. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and – most importantly – it was Columbus Day!

First celebrated in the superlative state of Colorado in 1906, Columbus Day is the quintessential American holiday. While Christmas has too many European influences to be American, Halloween’s partnership with obesity makes it too specific to the Deep South, and the 4th of July is too close to Canada Day to be truly American, Columbus Day stands for all the true American values: land-snatching, tribe-subjugating, civilization-founding, and boats. It would be preposterous for our nation not to wholly dedicate this day to the recognition of our nation’s pure and righteous heritage. And yet – somehow, Northwestern University neglected to cancel classes today.

How can we honor the man when we can't even blow up an inflatable Charlie Brown to the size of Columbus' ego?

There are two reasonable conclusions to draw from this abominable crime. First, one could presume that Northwestern University lacks a fundamental respect for American culture and history. However, there is nearly limitless evidence disproving this theory – the least of which being a timeless photograph of heavily intoxicated Northwestern students reenacting the iconic “Crossing the Delaware” painting in a rural barn.

Therefore, the only plausible conclusion left is that Northwestern – and many other institutions that don’t fully recognize this sacred day (*cough* SOUTH DAKOTA *cough*) – fears that a grandiose celebration of Columbus Day might “offend” people like “Native Americans.” My response to this? Don’t let the myth of “political correctness” get in the way of celebrating our nation’s manifest destiny. We can just solve things the easy way: If the “indigenous” peoples are offended by our holidays, just offer them some basic incentives. Perhaps they would go for a summer home in Oklahoma? If that’s not enough, we could throw in paid travel expenses to seal the deal.

The man sure as fuck didn't spark genocide and imperialism for this "no school" shit.

In retaliation to this unspeakable trend of political correctness, I encourage all readers to act in the most Columbian way possible. Spread your syphilis to as much of your community as you can. Paint “Santa Maria” on the side of your car and trespass on every property you see. Govern the Dominican Republic. Some may call you irrational and most will just call you an asshole, but I will call you a patriot and a role model.

Hate a Random Country: France

A Frenchman overcoming his existential ennui with wine, bread, and unbridled douchiness.

Have you ever had your testicles sawed off with a rusty butter knife at a Nickelback concert? Although that may sound like the worst possible fate one could suffer, there are over 60 million people in the world who suffer a fate much worse. I’m not talking about AIDS victims, I’m not talking about human rights violations – I’m not even talking about Cubs fans. I’m referring, of course, to the French. Those elitist semensicles are the physical embodiment of everything heinous about the world, which is a substantial claim, given that they inhabit the same planet as other notorious twatbarrels like Iceland and New Zealand.

I’d like to begin this exposè by clarifying one crucial point: The French did not help us to gain our independence. “Historians” may assert that the French came to our “rescue” in “boats,” but we all know that those were just patriotic pirates mistaken for Frenchmen because of their tragic speech impediments.

Don't be fooled by the buxom and idyllic French Lady Liberty

Now, where was I? Oh that’s right – I was talking about how France is the most pitiful heap of Le Scrotum upon which humanity ever laid its sorrowful eyes. The first point of scrutiny is their flag, which boasts the triumphant red, white, and blue color combination, just like the United States. Don’t be fooled, though – while the American flag’s colors stand respectively for valor, purity, and justice, the French flag is merely a white flag of surrender with red and blue bars symbolizing red wine and bleu cheese.

You can't sit with us! That's the second time this week you've worn pantaloons!

France’s history of “leadership” is also notably heinous. Ranging from Louis XIV (who held the title of “Biggest P-tripper” for almost 300 years until Sherman Ave was created) to Nicolas Sarkozy (the only attendant of the G20 summit who could easily double as a cast member on Jersey Shore), the presidency and monarchy of France were never lucky enough to see any George Washingtons or Andrew Jacksons take office. The most successful leader they had was Napoleon, who can only be compared to an atrocious illegitimate lovechild of Danny DeVito and Jim Cramer. Napoleon accomplished some things as a leader, but all of his achievements are effectively canceled out by the fact that his men killed Prince Bolkonsky. Fucker.

To be fair, it was the first French combat victory in quite a long time.

Another hilariously sad aspect of France is its athletic culture. Like most nations that are absolutely rancid, France’s national sport is soccer, or “football,” as known by Brits and hipsters. One of my personal favorite highlights in France’s history is the national team’s 17-1 loss to Denmark in 1908. I don’t think there’s really too much more I need to say here – I’ll just humbly point out how demoralizing it must be to get clobbered by a country whose Queen fucked her brother-in-law. However, an even more humiliating event in the team’s history happened in the 2006 World Cup Final, when Zinedine Zidane – someone who stands out as a douchegargler even among the French populace – found it necessary to blatantly headbutt a member of the opposing Italian team. And then they lost! That’s like being ass-raped and still getting pregnant. Better yet, when the French national team qualified for the 2010 World Cup, they didn’t even make it to the primary elimination round; they were bested by the national teams of Mexico, South Africa, and – I shit you not – Uruguay. That was certainly a gargantuan blow to their ego, but thankfully they have enough ego in just their waxed mustaches that it didn’t do any permanent damage.

Some pansy French guy, probably after finding out how fucking lame the 5th Republic is or something

If you’re looking for more reasons why France is innately inferior, the proof is in the crêpes. Remember that time we landed at Normandy and showed the Nazis that they were not(sy) going to win World War II, while the French were too busy cultivating their fucking grapes? Remember that time the French thought they were going to win the 4×100 swimming relay in the 2008 Summer Olympics, and then American bamf-stick Jason Lezak came from behind like he was Kobe Bryant (not a basketball reference)? Remember that time an American athlete with a trunk only half-full of junk (or half-empty, for all you private-part pessimists) went into France and beat them at their own sport 7 times in a row? Because I remember. So, to all Frenchmen and Frenchwomen (often a difficult distinction to make), I leave you with this last thought: Next time your flagrant self-centeredness convinces you that you’re the best country in the world, you can escargot fuck yourself.