Hate a Random Country: Uruguay

The only thing that burns brighter than that sun is my hatred for this worthless excuse of a country

There are 12 nations in South America, and all of them are heinous. But there is one country whose unfathomable taintery exceeds even the regional standard. I’m looking at you, Uruguay. First of all, the stupid bastards broke the cardinal rule of country naming: Never use more than two U’s. Even those scrotum-headed assmuffins in Vanuatu figured that one out. Yet, the unforgivable frequency of that obnoxious vowel pales in comparison to the other obscene actions of Uruguay. In this educational essay, I will unveil just a few of Uruguay’s fatal flaws.

American are constitutionally obligated to not give a shit about soccer, but even we know you can't do that.

To find an instance of flagrant bitchdom perpetrated on behalf of the Uruguayan wasteland, we need not look back more than a year. In July 2010, Uruguay competed against Ghana in the quarterfinal round of the World Cup. The game stood at a 1-1 tie in overtime when Uruguayan Luis Suarez – a notorious twatpocket – used his hands to deflect a shot that would undoubtedly have gone in otherwise. Obviously, Suarez was given a red card for his blatant assholiness, and Ghana was allowed a penalty kick, but the penalty kick hit the crossbar, and Uruguay proceeded to score the go-ahead goal and advance to the next round. Thanks to the scarce forces of karma in the universe, Uruguay received a brisk pimp-slapping from the Aryan, dreamsicle-donning Dutch national team, but that doesn’t change the fact that Uruguay’s soccer team pulled one of the most pronounced dick-moves the world has ever seen. Yes, winning is good – but if you cheat, you’re not a winner. And if you cheat against Ghana, you’re just a complete cockfiend. The American soccer team was kind enough even to let Ghana win, because Americans are classy. If they had so desired, the American team could have handed the sub-Saharan nation the largest helping of ruthless beat-down that they’ve seen since – well, probably fairly recently. But a large helping of ruthless beat-down nonetheless. Uruguay should have certainly followed us down the high road, but instead, they decided to be raging doucheaholics.

Let's talk when your coat of arms doesn't look like a 6th grade social studies project

Another aspect of Uruguay that is intolerably bitchtastic is their coat of arms. If you’ve read my rant on the inherent inadequacy of Latvia, you probably think I’m hypercritical when it comes to Coat of Arms. Maybe this is true, but it’s not my fault that most coats of arms resemble the doodles of a mentally handicapped chimpanzee. Uruguay’s coat of arms depicts, among other things, a shield with four images. The first is a set of scales – an image that traditionally symbolizes justice, but in the case of Uruguay, just symbolizes the fact that they haven’t yet invented electric scales there. The next image on the shield is a castle on a hill hovering over a sea. I feel like there’s little to say about this, only that a coat of arms should contain items that are real. The American coat of arms, for instance, displays an eagle – an animal that’s pretty goddamn real (although not as frequently encountered as the Awk Hawk). The last two pictures on the shield are of a black horse and a brown cow – cool story. It looks like Uruguay – like most countries – has plagued itself with a coat of arms as unimpressive as Michele Bachmann at… well, anywhere.

In conclusion, it is imperative that we maintain the lowest possible level of respect for the nation known as the Oriental Republic of Uruguay. No, that is not a joke or a poorly construed racial slur – that is actually the country’s full name. It only makes sense, given that as much as 2% of the population is from the Orient, and the country’s cultural influence is almost entirely European. As I mentioned earlier, there are a mere 12 nations in South America, and if each one represented a line in “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” Uruguay would certainly be “Ten Lords a-Douching.”

–Ross Packingham