Tunisia

Tunisia is a small country wedged between Labia and Algeria.

Hahaha.

Tunisia was home to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, humble moisture farmers and guardians of Luke Skywalker, before they were cut down by Stormtroopers. It is a hot, dry place, with two suns and lots of Womp Rats (It's not impossible. I used to bullseye womp rats in my T-16 back home, they're not much bigger than two meters) and motherfuckin' Tuskan Sandraiders, you know the guys that hold their guns abover their heads, in the hills, and go "aaaar aaar aaaaar".

So many people prefer the old Star Wars to the new ones. I am one of those people. I also prefer the old Tunisia to the new one. The old one was the home of the city state called Carthage.

Carthage was were Hannibal was from. Hannibal crossed the alps with elephants just so he could fuck up the North Italians.

Now south and north Italians say that they are different. And they may be. But there is one defining character that both north and south Italians share - they are creepy, creepy bastards.

Take Oktoberfest for example. The middle weekend of this celebration of all things barbaric is populated by Italians. Italian males. Italian drunk males. Now these guys are bad drunks. And they are downright creepy. They grope anything with a pulse and perform a two handed chest to crotch CPR on anything without.

In 1910 there were more than 100,000 Italians living in Tunisia. Imagine the level of creeping they bestowed upon those lovely, naive, Berber and Arabic girls. My goodness.

In the 1940's there was a big battle fought there between the Axis (Germany and Italy) and the Allies (us). How did the Italians ever convince the Germans that they were on the same page? The Germans are cold and dispassionate and big and Bavarian (unless they're not from Bavaria) and the Italians are the opposite. I think that if the Germans won the war they would have quite quickly forgotten their creepy southern ally.

Modern day Tunisia is a testament to authoritarianism. Nobody speaks out, there are no coups or riots (that we hear of). Independent thought is stunted by media censorship equaled only by China. There is little dissent.

But, remember when Hannibal crossed the Alps? With Battle Elephants! I love the old Star Wars.

Turkey

The men in Turkey have hairy arms. The men and women in Greece have hairy arms, but I think that the women in Turkey don't and that the men take it out. I have never been to Greece or Turkey.

I have come across alot of Turkish men. Not in bath houses and not in a wrestling setting, but in Germany. And the UK. In Germany we know that Berlin is the world's second biggest Turkish city, second only to Istanbul. The Turks there make kebabs and they sell them for nothing, relatively.

In Berlin you can leave the house with five euros and have nine beers and a kebab whilst walking the streets and seeing the sights.

The Turks pride themselves on being a secular nation with a muslim majority. The Turks I have met have been hard working. They have worked hard to provide me with a kebab. They work hard to suppress any potential uprising amongst their Kurdish population.

They also worked hard when fighting for the Ottoman Empire during World War 1. It was the Turks who repelled the invading ANZAC force. Much blame has been put on the English command for that defeat, that national baptism of fire, but not very often does one hear praise forthcoming for the Turks who were defending their land.

When Australians started going en masse to Gallipoli for ANZAC day the Turks thought we were coming to apologise for the invasion. Honestly thought that.

I wonder if it ever crossed anyone present's mind?

Also, despite the obvious, the Turkey, gobble gobble, doesn't hail from Turkey, kebab. Massive case of mistaken identity, but basically Guinea Fowl, from Guinea, West Africa, were traded by Turks from Turkey to the Poms from England. The Poms, from England, fucked up again and named the birds after the traders. Calling Guinea Fowls, from Guinea, West Africa, Turkeys because they were traded by Turks from Turkey. Turkeys as we know them today were from the Americas, and when Europeans 'discovered' them the birds were mistaken.

So something birds were mistakenly called Turkeys, traded by Turks, which were in turn mistakenly named and were indeed Guinea Fowl from Guinea.

I had originally started this post with the proposal that Turkey be called 'Muslim Chicken'. By this I meant the bird and not the place, but that didn't make any sense.


Gobble gobble.

I am a fair believer that arm hair is a good indicator of the proliferation of other body hair. My famous Guatemalan friend, Pedro Pablo Mendez Gonzales, always championed the investigation of a girl's eyebrows and ankles, not for body hair but as an indication of where her coming years would aesthetically take her.

I have heard only good reports from people who have visited Turkey. I have never visited Turkey, albeit with my lips, teeth and digestive system.

And I must say that I recommend it to anyone.

Turkmenistan

In classic Gravy fashion I undertook a project, got a little bored and let the world get in the way of my completing it.

But I'm back.

In relation to a previous post I just spent sometime with a man from Zambia. He was 40 something, with eyes that almost popped out his sockets. He was a copper miner and he invented a very lucrative way to chemically strip the mineral from his country with sulfuric acid. Nevertheless the lucrative chemical mining process fucks the surrounding water table.

But I digress. He was vivacious, with an infectious high pitches laugh, a snore like a hippo being chainsawed and the propensity to snap photos at an alarming rate. He came to see the snow, and see the Swiss Alps he did, he came to duty free shop, and in the tax haven of Andorra he bought more lenses than a Chinese optometrist and he came to bang prostitutes.

He did.

He told me that Zambian emeralds are more expensive than diamonds, the really good ones. I questioned his visiting Switzerland and Andorra considering he was in the business of digging things up. He also told me that Zambia was a stable country, with some kind of democracy, a short and gore light civil war and a moderate rate of AIDS.

I told you so.

Turkmenistan, on the other hand, is fucked. Since the death of its "Glorious Leader for Life", Turkmenbashi, (Big-T) the country has made the slightest of improvements. Under Big-T the country, which is one of the worlds largest gas producers and near to China the worlds largest gas consumer, and its countrymen suffered abject poverty.

Big-T and his family lived large with quite an impressive investment portfolio, including properties in London's Mayfair.

He also renamed the months after himself and his family, renamed the sea after his long deceased mother, built the most elaborate of monuments to himself, including an ice palace in the desert and plastered the country with his own image.

The most interesting part of his reign, however, was the publication of his book. Called the Ruhnama it is not only mandatory reading for all Turkmenistan's citizens, it is still the sole reference for school and university exams, and even needs to be learnt for driving tests.

It basically outlines how amazing Big-T is (was) and how sweet the Turkmen are. And that Big-T better be obeyed or else. If you read it three times you gained automatic heaven entry.

And here are all these other Muslims blowing themselves up for the same privilege.

Big-T wisely spent his country's gas revenue on launching the book into space once. Just because he could and the book said that nobody else could say that he couldn't.

All of the girls in Turkmenistan have mono-brows.

Turks and Caicos

Population: Beach boys and big booties.
Located: Near Jamaica.
Known for: Being near Jamaica.

Remember the movie "How Stella Got Her Groove Back"? Attractive middle aged black female finds herself an economic success but romantic failure in San Francisco. She is encouraged by Whoopi Goldberg, that bizzare-on-the-eyeball fusion of negroid and Jew, to take a deserved break to Jamaica. There she fucks a man 20 years her junior, and consequently gets her 'groove back'.

This movie is representative of a growing trend - female sex tourism (fst). Usually, however, the protagonists aren't attractive, successful or black. They are white and they travel to the worlds poorer regions to pursue that mythical black cock.

Jamaica is the world's number one fst destination. The islands of Turks and Caicos are a British colony formed when Jamaica gained independence. I feel sorry for the men of Turks and Caicos as they must feel the wobbly brunt of middle England's unstimulated spinsters, while the poorer carbon copies in Jamaica get the Swedes and the Yanks and the other, less systematically disgusting, needy vaginas.

The men utilised in fst are globally known as 'Beach Boys'. This is because they typically work menial jobs on the beaches which vie with black wang as the primary reason single cold females choose tropical, negro infested, destinations. They either work on the beach or hang out on the beach, and they are muscular and they say the right things. The female, for her part, is comparatively wealthy. She is willing to buy dinner and breakfast. She is willing to leave donations.

She is, effectively, paying for sex. The guys are inexplicit prostitutes. The girls are johns, though they can tell themselves otherwise. They can pretend that what occurred was romance. That the guy really liked her. He told her he did, he told her she was beautiful. He said, "baby I like your butt". He said, "hmmm damn I need to get me some of that white pussy".

He does. And she discovers that the majority of black cocks are the same as white cocks. And that the beach boys are narcissists who skip foreplay. Everyone with muscles is a foreplay skipping narcissist, a theory I have developed that reinforces my personal image and keeps my lazy limbs out of gymnasiums.

In the morning she pays for breakfast, she pays for lunch, she pays for eveything. It makes sense, she is from the rich white world. When she leaves he asks her for rent money, it's due and he can't pay.

Why not, she thinks. For her it's a pittance and she couldn't bear to see him on the streets. The streets are dirt. Her lover would begin a downward spiral. The better beach boys convince the girls to help them get to the western world.

This happens to Stella. Stella and her husband live happily ever after. How Stella Got Her Groove Back is based on a book written by Terry McMillan, which was in turn based on the authors actual experience. She went to Jamaica and met a beach boy named Jonathon Plummer. They married, they made a book and a movie. A world of fst's were inspired. He was 20 years her junior, a young, virile black stallion.

In 2004 Plummer told McMillan he was gay. The year after they divorced. He had his papers and half her fortune. She had been getting fucked without foreplay by a homo for the last 6 years.

He wasn't a prostitute, though...

Tuvalu

Population: 11,000.
Located: No higher than four metres above sea level in the Pacific.
Known for: Dot TV.

I asked my friend Buddha what he knew about Tuvalu. Not in a meditative sense, nor in a religious way, but my flesh and blood friend who's parents devoutly named him after Gautama Siddhartha. The other night in a bar a Swedish Somalian introduced himself to Buddha. His name was Mohammad. Seeing as though we are in Spain a quick sweep of the bar would have found a Mexican named Jesus, for sure. Then Buddha and Mohammad and Jesus could have sat down and had a chat, worked some shit out.

When I was introduced to Mohammad a Canadian guy I was with, Matt, told him he looked like Brazillian striker Ronaldo. He then realised his faux pas and retracted saying, "not because of your teeth, because of your hair". For those of you who know of Ronaldo you would know that his prominent, bucked, teeth are his most identifiable feature.

Mohammad looked like he had sprung from a roll in the hay between a curly haired ET and Mr Ed.

When I asked Buddha about Tuvalu he said that all he knew of Tuvalu is that they were lazy, due to the fact they just stole the Australian flag and added more stars and that they were black.

This isn't entirely true. For starters they aren't entirely black. They are Polynesian, which, unlike Melanesians, tend to be brown. Think Hawaiian, Maori, Tahitian. Melanesians are blacker. We came across them already in Vanuatu and we will again in Papua New Guinea and The Solomon Islands. There are also Meganesians, which are the Australian Aboriginal people.

Poor bastards.

Tuvalu was formed when the Polynesians could no longer handle being lumped together with Melanesian scum whilst members of the British colony of Gilbert and Ellis Islands. Polynesians are proud, arrogant, fierce, regal. They wage war with sharpened clubs and dine on their enemies. They have monarchies that last 'till this day. They tattoo their life stories on themselves. They are the noble savage embodied.

Melanesians are friendly. Their hair is fuzzy and they live in the jungle. They are less noble and more savage. When provoked they will attack with ferocity and cunning, with machetes and improvised modern weapons.

The Polynesians of the Gilbert and Ellis Islands colony became Tuvalu, the Melanesians Kiribati.

Whilst not black, they are lazy. They are provided for most of their needs from the island and the sea. Their climate is hot. The menfolk do little but fish. Fishing for non commercial purposes is hardly an occupation. It is more of a pastime.

Tuvalu's history is rather mundane. They recognised the sovereignty of Taiwan. The Taiwanese, in turn, built Tuvalu's biggest building - a mind boggling three stories of absolute rubbish. Square and uninspiring.

Tuvalu also leased its internet suffix, .tv. This netted the government there a whopping 50 million dollars over a 12 year lease. This shows that white people will always be able to short change brown and, especially, black people. Even when it is no longer colonial policy.

In some years when, or if, the ice poles melt Tuvalu will be underwater. It stands at four metres above sea level at the highest point. If that happened soon the world may raise a solitary eyebrow.

If it happens in a decade or so our collective problems will have reached such a point that no one will either notice, nor care.

And we will wish that Buddha and Mohammad and Jesus sat down and had that beer.

Uganda

Population: 30 odd million.
Located: Land locked North East Africa.
Known for: Idi.

I met a Ugandan, once. I may have met others, but they have blurred into the same man, a black African man at university. I have met many black African men at university and they were always pretty strange, pretty rich, pretty opinionated and pretty keen to sell me on the idea of Africa being misunderstood. One even tried to sell me on his parents safari lodge. I assured him it was out of my price range.

The Ugandan I remember meeting was white. He was made even more white by his being afflicted by alopecia. There was no hair shading anywhere. At first I thought he was an albino but he didn't have red eyes. Albinos have red eyes.

He was a big bastard, a rugby player. He was a river guide in Uganda, a river guide on the river Nile. I thought the Nile was only in Egypt, but I'm ignorant. The Nile runs through Uganda also, and is volatile enough to extreme sport on, though when it gets to Egypt it is mellow and the population relies on it for water.

I wonder if Kiwis more readily associate the Nile with Uganda, given their hard-on for extreme sports. Most Kiwis bleed Red Bull, wankers.

The first time I came across Uganda, however, was as a child. My parents, in their infinite wisdom, had hired a movie called "Idi Amin: Rise and Fall" and allowed me to watch it with them. The movie was made in 1981 as was Mad Max 2 and Superman 2 and Raiders of the Lost Ark. I am sure we didn't watch it in 1981 as I wouldn't have remembered it.

I remember it. I remember a black man eating people. I remember a black man killing people. I remember a black man raping people. I remember a white man being a hero of some sort. The film was graphic, little more than violent pornography. It was scarred into my developing mind along with the main character's name - Idi Amin.

Idi Amin was the military dictator of Uganda between 1970 something and 1970 something. He was in power for around six years, more or less. He killed somewhere between 80 000 and 500 000 people. Hippies say 500 000 and nazis say 80 000. The world is that easily defined. Hippies and Nazis.

Of course I don't mean actual hippies and nazis. Actual hippies lived around the same time as Idi was in power, they had a much better time due to all the acid and free love. Actual Nazis killed many more people than Idi, but they never ate anyone, as far as I know. Idi Amin, who admired Adolph Hitler, once said that Hitler was, "right to burn six million Jews". Now come on Idi.

Hippies are left wingers and nazis are right wingers. These are terms I am going to use to make our lives easier from now on. There is also a third type of hippy. These are my least favourite type of people. They come from rich families and for a short part of their lives, usually while in university (which their parents pay for), present themselves as paupers. In Europe they drive in shit vans with mongrel dogs. They have dreadlocks and smoke dope and wear rubbish colourful clothes. They pretend to be poor because they don't want to do anything. They have enough of that lifestyle and go home and stay with their parents again. They sport bare feet and tread in dog poo and hate it.

Here in Barcelona many European kids arrive to reinvent themselves. Their reinvention ends with their hair in knots and with them flicking around sticks and giving me the shits.

But I digress.

Idi was eventually deposed and there was never any concrete proof that he ate anyone. He moved to Saudi Arabia and died there. He was a Muslim, though I don't want to insinuate that this is why he was a cunt. It was because he was an African. His way of thinking was shaped by the fact that his immediate ancestors were villagers. If you couple that with his desire for the trappings of the western world, a world he knew through Uganda's colonial history - the big man was in the British Army for a while and achieved the highest ranking possible for a non-white soldier.

He wanted the opulence but didn't know how to handle it.

In 2007 a movie was released called "The Last King of Scotland". It stars Forrest Whitaker as Idi and is pretty historically correct. There are some discrepancies, the main character never existed, for example, but otherwise it's pretty good. At the end the fictitious Scottish doctor escapes and Idi is furious and executes someone and then there is some archival footage of him yelling and then some text which reads:

"Forty-eight hours after some hostages were released, Israeli forces stormed Entebbe and liberated all but one of the remaining hostages. International public opinion turned against Amin for good. When he was finally overthrown in 1979, jubilant crowds poured onto the streets. His regime had killed more than 300,000 Ugandans and expelled tens of thousands of Asians who had made Uganda their home for years. Amin died in exile in Saudi Arabia on 16 August 2003. Nobody knows if that was the day he dreamed about.

These days in Uganda children are forced to work for the Lord's Resistance Army. The boys are given guns and sent to the frontline. The girls are made into wives. The leader, one Joseph Kony, has over 60. There is another conflict in the north of Uganda which has resulted in thousands of deaths and displacements. The people are desperately poor and live in fear of being raided, raped, murdered, stolen.

In the picture Idi is being carried by some white businessmen, with some prominent Swede shading him from the sun with an umbrella, blind eyes firmly turned.

Ukraine

Population: Vampires, gypsies, skinheads, prostitutes, weightlifters and spies.
Located: In Russia.
Known for: I wish Ivan Drago was from the Ukraine, or that it was called Ukrainia.

Ukraine. This one of those countries where the girls look incredible and the guys have the heads of potatoes. I have never understood this. I have never understood how a society with such an aesthetic discrepancy between males and females can ever be repopulated. I always assume that the female spies would stay with the foppish Brits and plastic headed Yanks they are espionaging rather than go back to the lumpy headed, wide eyed vampires clawing at the other side of the Iron Curtain.

One of the uglier Ukrainian males is Victor Yushchenko. He is the Ukrainian president. His eyes are tiny, like the eyes of a lizard and his lips are thin, like those of a chicken. His nose is overwhelmingly human, though uninspiring, and this menagerie of rubbish is all positioned on a coupon inspired by a round root vegetable. And then, during an election campaign, his face swelled, making his eyes squint even more and his pores enlarged but didn't expand with his face, which went outwards and outwards, resulting in pock marks and the skin texture of a burns victim, if the burns victim's face was the moon getting pelted by a flaming hot meteor shower if the meteors were lit safety matches.

It came to light that he was the victim of espionage, no doubt effected by the previously mentioned splendid female Ukrainians. That is another aspect of these Slavic bastards - they are always creative with their assassinations, or attempted assassinations. No point shooting someone, or strangling them from behind with a piano cord. No way. Your Eastern Bloc assassin prefers poison, and not just poison that you find in your Grandpa's shed, not the stuff with a skull and bones on the label, but radioactive gear that makes you look like cancer, or other shit that made poor Victor's face swell to elephantmanentine proportions and threatened to close those shrimpy eyes for good.

When Australian Prime Minister Harold Holt disappeared while swimming off Melbourne Soviet espionage was blamed. The media proposed that Russians had appropriated the frolicking aquatic Holt with one of their submarines. They proposed that it was in response to the seven troops Australia sent to Vietnam. And, given the Russian propensity for elaborate espionage, the public accepted this as a viable explanation as to the Prime Minister's disappearance.

Like there was a lobster shaped sub that plucked him by his budgie smugglers as he negotiated the Portsea shore break. Surely, if the Soviets wanted off with our PM, and I dare say they didn't even know who he was, an assassination born by a simple bullet sent by sniper, even while he was swimming, would be more cost proportionate to the offending Australian troop deployment.

The motherlickers could even dip the bullet in poison, if that so tickled their creative murderous fancies.

Or, better yet, send some of those delightful femme fatales from the Ukraine. Perhaps they could entice Harold deeper and deeper, past the breakers, past where he could stand. They would flash their delightful Slavic breasts and beckon him to swim "just a little further", where they would marvel at the uniformity of his round head, the decent spacing of his eyeballs.

Then they would push him under and hold him there between their muscular thighs where, with the memory of their accents and his proximity to their caviar dispensers, he would die the pleasant of deaths. A death befitting of a statesman, a gentleman, a good bloke.

R.I.R Harry
Rest In Rips