I guess Dustin knows how Jon Stewart feels now. Every summer Stewart takes a week off and that’s inevitably the week that the country melts down. And then we had last week while Dustin was off trying to regain some sanity by hunting men for sport in a remote corner of Guatemala. If he wanted to dip himself in mud and whisper “the horror, the horror”, he didn’t need to parachute into the ruined ziggurat at the center of that desolate swamp, he could have just read the comments.
Not your comments, dear readers. The other ones. The ones you responded to in force and with great eloquence. Some were repeatedly calling me a “social justice warrior” as a slur, which although is a term I’ve never heard before, reminds me of nothing so much as being asked “what are you, smart?” with a sneer in seventh grade.
I mean, come on, the ban hammer is laying in the corner: limp, bruised, and sobbing. It just can’t take anymore, and after years of being wielded lightly, it earned a paycheck over the last five days.
So, now is a time for something to lighten our hearts and lift our souls. I’m sure that our great war isn’t over, that the crusades worth fighting are the ones that never really can be won, but that doesn’t mean that gentle warriors cannot find joy amidst the battle.
Thus, I present you with the Ukrainian pop rap duo Potap and Nastya’s ode to the Die Hard franchise. You really don’t need to understand Russian to appreciate it.
Moi Geroi, motherfucker, moi geroi.