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Mankind's only alternative

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Feature Story January 24, 2002
Letís Gloat!
By Mark Ames Browse author Email

They said it couldn't be done. Heck, even we said it couldn't be done. Afghanistan was the graveyard of empires. A dustbowl of death, a meat grinder that had churned the armies of Alexander the Great, Queen Victoria and the Soviet Union into human sausage. They had Stingers, cave bunkers, hostile topography, and thousands of crazed sand monkeys whose only dream in life was to strap a belt of TNT to their waists and stroll into a crowd of American GIs. Al Qa'eda had melted into 60 countries, taking half the world as human shields. They had small pox cultures, sarin gas, dirty nukes. Even if Afghanistan and Bin Laden weren't all that, then George Bush and his clique of greedy frat boys were bound to flee from a fight, for fear of dirtying their cuffs.


This is what happens to ragheads who fuck with the USA!

On paper, we were the underdogs. It was only reasonable to assume that we'd lost before it had all begun.

Then the world woke up. Reality kicked in. We were introduced to the most efficient, beneficent, and hilarious killing machine that planet earth has ever known: The United States Armed Forces.

We weren't looking for a fight. They dared us. They taunted us. They didn't take us seriously. They sheltered the world's most bloodthirsty terrorists and danced and made funny noises with their tongues as our skyscrapers exploded. And now those same "theys" are squatting in cages in Guantanamo Bay, sleeping barefoot under burning halogen lamps, with shaven heads and shaven scrotums, rubber balls belted in their mouths as if The Gimp was going to have a quick go at 'em. Who's laughing now, bitch? Who? America, that's who! Because AMERICA KICKS ASS!

That's right. You heard us. We, America, are the strongest nation that man has ever known, a juggernaut of unprecedented firepower and unparalleled Gross National Product, and the cool thing is... we're using it. Or rather, we're just beginning to flex one strand of one muscle in our Schwartzneggerian body. If there's one thing we've proven to the world, it's this: in the immortal words of Bachman Turner Overdrive's Randy Bachman, "B-B-B-ABY, YOU JUST AIN'T SEEN NUTHIN YET!"

We subjugated the most feared (and detested) country on earth without barely lifting a pinkie. We fed them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Froot Loops, and if they didn't like that, we fed them daisy cutters. Our armed forces are funny as hell to watch, and at the same time, if you are their enemy, they're the meanest motherfuckers on earth.

People said you can't win a war from the air. They said we were doomed for dropping bombs from 30,000 feet up. Guess what? We can drop bombs from 30,000 feet up... AND STILL KICK OTHER PEOPLE'S ASSES. We can do the impossible. We can do what no people in history have ever been able to do: win wars and conquer people without harming a hair on our chinny-chin-chin.

The score in this war? Thousands of enemy and civilians dead, a nation of twenty-five million fabled warriors kissing our collective ass, the world's largest and stupidest religion bitch-slapped back into its cave... all at the cost of one American soldier and one CIA officer. Oh, and a few billion dollars, give or take a billion here or there. Not that we'd give a fiscal shit. This war was so cheap, you'd think it was Made In China. Spending two billion dollars to conquer a country is like going to Sam's Club bargain-shopping for entire nations and civilizations. A few billion dollars for America is chump-change, something the tooth fairy leaves under a suburban kid's pillow.

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From Chelni To Guantanomo :

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Boyz In The Rayon : We interrupt this club review to remember Leha and visit Rayon.

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Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

Scanning Moscowís Traffic Cops
Automotive Section
We’re happy to introduce a new column in which we publish Moscow’s raw radio communications, courtesy of a Russian amateur radio enthusiast. This issue, eXile readers are given a peek into the secret conversations of Moscow’s traffic police, the notorious "GAIshniki."

Eleven Years of Threats: The eXile's Incredible Journey
Feature Story By The eXile
Good Night, and Bad Luck: In a nation terrorized by its own government, one newspaper dared to fart in its face. Get out your hankies, cuz we’re taking a look back at the impossible crises we overcame.

Your Letters
Russia's freedom-loving free market martyr Mikhail Khodorkovsky answers some of this week's letters, and he's got nothing but praise for President Medvedev.

Clubbing Adventures Through Time
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eXile club reviewer Babooshka takes a trip through time with the ghost of Moscow clubbing past, present and future, and true to form, gets laid in the process.

The Fortnight Spin
Bardak Calendar By Jared Lindquist
Jared comes out with yet another roundup of upcoming bardak sessions.

Your Letters
Richard Gere tackles this week's letters. Now reformed, he fights for gerbil rights all around the world.

13 Toxic Talents: Hollywoodís Worst Polluters
America By Eileen Jones
Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...


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