The worst country in the world

A country is like a family is like a butthole - everybody’s got one and they all stink and we’d be shit out of luck without em.

And much like our own family butthole, we know much too much about our own. Its ins and outs and darks and farts.

We love to complain when they’re not working right, which is always, except, of course, most of the time, in most of the ways.

“You have no idea how good it is here,” my parents tell me. They’re right. We moved from Ukraine when I was seven and now I take it all for granted.

Except it’s not all granted. Not for long. So we must, as with our family and our butthole, forgive it.

But not just that. We must get mad and scream and work. Accept and except but never let it off the hook. How this applies to your butthole is between you and your maker, but still, if must be done.

But still, it is terrible. Full of bad stuff and darkness. Whose family butthole isn’t? Ours though, it’s especially bad.

Our country’s the worst in the world.

Except, of course, all the rest.