European countries aren’t real countries, says Fred. They have American occupation troops and military bases everywhere, uncouth foreign soldiers drinking [their] beer, diddling [their] daughters—Italian ones are best; English girls are often mistaken for dead—and letting Massuh Washington blow up their energy sources
BY FRED REED* (posing with a European)
Well, I declare. I hear you Europeans bleating and hollering about how unfair life is and you don’t have gas to keep warm if it gets cold in winter, which generally it does, and everything costs too much. Fact is, you deserve it. To be honest, which we journalists sometimes do, I think it’s amusing. It’s like watching a man beating his thumb with a hammer and saying, oh ouch, oh ouch, it hurts, oh ouch, it hurts and can’t figure out why. It’s because Europeans are so easily led, managed, dominated by the fetid Yankee Rome in Washington, which regards you as trained seals. I’ve known fire plugs, even toaster ovens, more intelligent than you are.
You poor widdle fings! You aren’t even real countries. You can’t be a real country when you have American occupation troops and military bases everywhere and uncouth foreign soldiers drinking your beer and diddling your daughters. GIs tell me the Italian ones are best, with English girls often being mistaken for dead. I couldn’t stand the humiliation, but Europeans are a resilient people.
Really, it’s a cackle. Mornings, I fire up the computer to see what you squirming servile dwarves have done now. You are better than Monty Python. Think. Ten years ago you were all peaceful and had plenty of cheap Russian gas and your factories were humming like contented cats and you were buying stuff from Russia and selling it I don’t know what all. Then Master Washington says you have to push the Ukraine toward NATO. You dim twits need Ukraine in NATO like you need a corn cob where the sun don’t shine but Europe is servile by nature, so you say, “Yass, Bwana! What you say, Boss! Which boot we lick first, Massuh?”
I see a bull market for flavored boot polish. Brussels would buy trainloads.
Anyway, Russia says over and over and over, If Washington tries to put NATO in Ukraine, dey gonna be wah. Even a European, or some anyway, could understand this. Or maybe, with help from a caring adult. But Massuh Washington wanted wah, and told you to keep pushing, “Yass, Bwana,” and you didn’t listen to Putin, because you are dumber than retarded possums and belong in diapers. What children you are. Nanny nanny booboo.
This is wonderfully funny, and I am enjoying it outrageously. You are going to freeze. Good. It’s a hoot but it’s a Darwin thing too. It’s good for the world when a region with the aggregate IQ of inbred bacteria eliminates itself. Well, except for the Italian girls for the GIs. We’ll keep those. You are going to freeze solid like terra cotta soldiers or burn your houses to keep warm and your farmers will grow scrawny underweight plants because you cut off fertilizer and gas from Russia to show your devotion to your stern Potomac Father. It’s comic. You are so stoopid! When American proconsuls go to Brussels your anointed European butt-sniffers rush out to be patted on the head and, or so I hear, receive suitcases of money. How dignified.
But the funniest part was blowing up the pipelines. Yes. See, Washington couldn’t let Germany, the only potentially serious country in Europe, except it really isn’t one, trade with Russia and China. So it gets the war going in Ukraine, easy with malleable European dimwits, and then…blows up the pipelines! Simple, direct, and effective. The amusing thing is that everyone in Brussels knows perfectly well that America did it, as must every European with the IQ of a doorknob, but none of you weak sisters has the dangling ellipsoidals to say so, because then you would have to do something about it, and you are scared unto death of the United States. Of which the United States is well aware and so, reasonably, holds you in contempt. I do too. I mean doesn’t everybody?
So some silly woman in Belgium—Ursula Borderline or something, anyway a scrawny blonde who looks like she really needs a sandwich—yaps from under the sofa that doing bad things to Europe’s energy infrastructure is “unacceptable,” Grr, bowwow, woof. But sweetheart, you poor, dumb monument to pusillanimous inadequacy, of course it is acceptable. You are accepting it, aren’t you? You know who did it, Washington knows you know, but you will look studiedly puzzled while Washington chuckles inwardly. Europeans are so gelatinous, so weak, so negligible.
I mean, seriously. Suppose you admitted that America did it. What could you poor dears do about it? Nothing. NATO controls Europe. What do you think those bases are for? And Washington is NATO. You wouldn´t dare close even the smallest US base, or even a closet door in one. Haha! Freeze, baby, freeze.
So, suckers, you’ve been taken for a ride by experts. And America makes out like a bandit. Washington tells you who you can trade with, and you obey, yass, Bwana, what you say. America gets to sell you overpriced LNG (liquefied natural gas). You will meekly buy uberbillions of costume-jewelry weapons from America. Your dependence on the US approaches outright ownership. Without cheap Russian gas, electricity will be really pricey and your factories will close or maybe go offshore to America and Europe will get in touch with its inner backwater. Hey, it’s a giggle.
England is America’s most devoted camp follower, a political barnacle firm glued to the ship of the Yankee state, making international noises in an effort to pretend it is more than an American poodle. (You may be wondering how it is possible to be a poodle and a barnacle at the same time. Multiple personality disorder, maybe.) From Brexit we went to endless Truss ads. Now we are back to the standby, hissing at Russia. Yass, Massuh.
You think you are defending democracy, doing something about human rights and, you know, having values or something. No, halfwits, you are helping Washington cut you off from the world’s largest markets. Yes, children. As the rest of Eurasia grows like Topsy, as the center of gravity of technology and economy moves eastward, America will pillage you as you pillaged most of the world and turn you into a peninsular homeless shelter. You will be all grateful to Massuh Washington for saving you from the evil Putin monster who was about to conquer all of Europe and turn you into slaves or robots or something else bad. You will buy lots of dysfunctional fighter planes.
And you will crawl. It is your way.
Buy Fred’s Books! Solidly Built. You can squash bugs with them.
FRED REED describes himself as [previously] a “Washington police reporter, former Washington editor for Harper’s and staff writer for Soldier of Fortune magazine, Marine combat vet from Viet Nam, and former long-haul hitchhiker, part-time sociopath, who once lived in Arlington, Virginia, across the Potomac River from the Yankee Capital.”
His essays “on the collapse of America” Mr. Reed calls “wildly funny, sometimes wacky, always provocative.”
“Fred is the Hunter Thompson of the right,” seconds Thomas E. Ricks in Foreign Policy magazine. His commentary is “well-written, pungent political incorrectness mixed with smart military commentary and libertarian impulses, topped off with a splash of Third World sunshine and tequila.”
Hardboiled is back! (The exclamation point is to arouse wild enthusiasm in the reader, a boiling literary lust.) Gritty crime fiction by longtime police reporter for the Washington Times, who knows the police from nine years of riding with them. Guaranteed free of white wine and cheese, sensitivity, or social justice.
*Image: Our author, Fred Reed, poses with a European.