There has been a lot of talk lately about Greece. In light of recent fires, I have decided that now is the time to look over this old girl’s history and, with any luck, find a solution to its problems in some ancient dusty box in the attic of introspection. Before that box is burned by rioters.
To start with, what is Greece? What turbulent waters and epic conflicts helped to shape this coastal nation into the ineffective dive of a country we know today? It all began with Mongol traders who stumbled upon a drunk oil-wench wandering around the mountains. And although they could barely understand her ridiculous accent she was ridden more times that night than a communal saddle. More times than a rickshaw on the Great Wall; more times than the chieftain’s thong; more times than a Greek prostitute! Anyway, this writhing mass of Mongol-on-Grecian flesh gave birth to the kingdoms of Greece. The rough and tumble son–with more than his share of mommy issues–was named Sparta. The effeminate bookworm–who was kind of a momma’s boy–was Athens. And the Grecian sister, Dot.
A few centuries and a couple of dead philosophers later, the sons of Greece were deeply entrenched in war. Persia, the rich kid on the block, had decided to invade. It was up to the king of Sparta, with his brave 300 and Scottish accent, to give up his life for freedom and the natural rights of all men. Leaving his slave empire behind him, he and his men slaughtered the Persian monsters for three days before the cowardly homosexuals, which no fighting man of Greece could ever abide, overtook them. That last night before their deaths, the brave 300 Spartans comforted each other, steeling themselves for tomorrow’s destiny. Hardening themselves beneath the naked sky and the penetrating glare of the stars. Many men came to Leonidas himself for a solid talking to– why that night the King of Sparta took on more men than the French Foreign Legion. He took on more men than a feminist in the sixties; he took on more men than a bar stool at Hooters; he took on more men than a Greek Prostitute!
Yet the death of the brave 300 lit a fire under Greece, and with time and effort they threw back the Persian aggressors. And, having grasped peace from the gauntlet of war, the kingdoms brought their fighting men home just in time to ravage each other. Yes, the kingdoms ravaged each other. Sparta sacked Athens, Athens laughed as Sparta fell apart. Stuff happened to the other kingdoms but nobody cares about losers.
Some time after this, the nation of Greece saw the flaming beacon of World War II and, predictably, got their asses kicked by the Germans. Germany is a much better, more interesting country, but they’re not in the news right now. Anyway, boring old Greece has limped on ever since. Imagine, dear reader, a country run by a cartoon rat whose partner in crime, a cross-eyed wild boar, holds the position of police chief. The rat is always trying out another scheme to steal his nation’s cheese hoard without anyone noticing, and the wild boar shoots 15-year-olds. This is a rough approximation of Greece in the last fifty years. A few weeks ago, however, the mouse-like populace of Greece found out just how little of their cheese wheel remains. And now, not unlike a certain gorilla who found his mighty banana hoard reduced to a few shrivelled phallic tree-fruits, these mice are gonna burn the rest of that yellow bullshit and raise a little hell! YEAH! Democracy was born here it can die here, bitches!
(Stay with us for part 2 of this investigation, entitled: “A Rational Response to Riots”)