and the red is surprisingly difficult to wash off... hmmm...
so this past saturday, after a frivolous cross-country automobile voyage, i pulled on a piece of officially-licensed Nike athletic apparel, painted my face red, white, and blue, slung a drum around my neck with a modified guitar strap, and marched into a stadium with my dad and little brother (both of whom had painted themselves to resemble weird French mimes...)
anyway, why would i do something like this?
two-nil, motherfuckers. that's why.
anyway, now that i've gotten that out of the way, i can go back to being ashamed of my country like i ought to, at least until the World Cup rolls around next summer... when the streets of Stuttgart will run red with the blood of America's enemies and all opposition will be trampled under my imperialist jackboot.
but until then, i'm still safe to talk to.