Die, you arrogant bastards. Die screaming for mercy. Die slowly, baked alive in a flaming pie of dog excrement. May you live only long enough to see everyone you have ever loved dragged by their feet through the streets of Calcutta behind an incontinent elephant overdosing on methamphetamine. Then die, your orifices having been reamed by a sharpened meat tenderizer, your genitals sandblasted, your eyeballs punctured and drained of fluid, your hair set afire, and your nose, ears, and nipples chewed off by rabid hamsters.
You pompous, condescending ASSES. You have the effrontery, the chutzpah, the unmitigated gall to come to my country on your Fucking “holiday” and say that five thousand people are dead and “That’s the way it goes?” FUCK YOU, SIR. FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU. Fuck your fat smiling wife and your ugly motherfucking smiling kids. Fuck you all the way back to Bristol or Leeds or whereever the Fuck you’re from. Sweet Jesus, I hope to God the next terrist attack is directed exactly at your happy home on 100 Assbag Lane, England. And Tony Blair gets on the TV and says “We will not be retaliating for this attack, because Goddamnit, they only killed assholes this time. Nice Shooting, Osama!” I’d say you people are a disgrace to your country, but you’re a fucking disgrace to humanity first.
And as for you, Dutch boy, let me introduce you to an American tradition called the ass-whipping. As in, if you make one more remark about how Americans are stupid and American women are easy, I’m going to drive you way the fuck out into the swamps of Florida, find me some Jethros looking for a good time, and beat until you scream that Queen Beatrix is a ape-felching whore. After that, I’m gonna give you the choice. You can jump into a four-foot cage with a wild hog in heat, or you can spend a couple of hours with some good old boys who’d be happy to help you reinforce your sterotypes of Americans by renacting “Deliverance.” I’m sure they will be very impressed that you can name all 50 states “and some of the capitals,” and deeply ashamed that they cannot do the same for your nation. Or perhaps they’ll just shoot you.
And for every other fucking euroshit coming to America, allow me to introduce you to a fucking concept called a fucking guidebook. In this amazing book, you will be made aware of that strange and unusual customs of the nation you will visit. In America, for example, there is this strange ritual called the Tip. ANY fucking two dollar guidebook to America will give you guidelines about whom to tip and how much. Futher, since we’re freindly people, ask a concierge, bellboy, desk clerk, FUCKING ANYONE and they will helpfully tell you how to fit into our society and whom to tip. The only way you can NOT know is if you are a selfish, arrogant fuckface with no desire to respect his hosts or even provide fair compensation for services rendered. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I am sick of you people acting like our culture is an imposition on your vacation. If you don’t want to tip, stay the fuck home, you self-absorbed septic tanks.
OH-- but, wait, I’m forgetting. It’s only Americans who are rude tourists. Europeans are tolerant and respectful visitors; which is why every fucking beach in Thailand has some fat wrinkled German businessman in Speedos next to his topless, flabby-titted wife, wondering why the natives are so shy.
Look, dicksnot, just because you watched Dallas doesn’t mean you know what our country is like. Just because you think Burger King is the highest-quality cuisine we have to offer doesn’t mean you can walk around like you’re the missionary forced to live amongst savages. Just because you choose to spend thousands of dollars on vacation doesn’t mean you have the right to insult the people trying to give you a good time. And just because your taxi driver is smiling and nodding while he listens to your inane drivel doesn’t mean he isn’t a heatbeat away from stopping the car, bashing your head into the dashboard and shitting down your throat.