When the hell did Americans decide to care so much about their appearances? Some might say it was when Eve took a bite of the apple, others when Paul Mitchell came out with his first revolutionary line of hair products, and some, believe it or not, might contend it happened when Rosie O’Donnell appeared in her first movie and we thought to ourselves, “Fuck, I want to kill me an ugly person.” Regardless of when it happened, however, I am personally sick of our country’s superficial tendencies – not only because they prevent me from sleeping with hot chicks, but because they’re degrading to the moral depth of our country’s character. Thus, before it’s too late, and our whole citizenry becomes a bunch of shallow assholes, we need to start making fools of ourselves, we need to exercise humility. America, in short, needs more people to close their eyes in photographs.

Although many a shallow asshole might think closed eyes in a photograph is a terrible foix pas, they could not be further from the truth. In fact, when people make the conscious decision to close their eyes in a photograph, they are not only exercising great humility, but they are giving something for all of their friends to laugh at later down the line (unless, of course, their friends are shallow assholes). Sure, maybe an individual looks like a bit of choch face with his/her eyes closed, but at least that choch face is contributing to a better America.

Look, I’m not saying that closing your eyes in a photograph is appropriate for everyone. But if you care about your country, or if your either drunk or Asian, it shouldn’t be too much to ask. (Disclaimer: I love patriots, drunks, and more than anything else in the world, Asians.)

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America is full of people with extremely confused identities. Some people struggle all their lives to figure out what defines them – do I believe in God or not? Am I straight or a homosexual? Am I mentally retarded or just kinda an idiot? Given these struggles, it’s only American to support all those who have figured out their identity, even when that identity is somewhat harmful to their well-being. Moreover, we’re obligated to make these people feel as comfortable as possible. Thus, in the spirit of patriotism and acceptance, and the upcoming July 4th holiday, America needs to create a breath mint specifically designed for bulimic people.

While many might instinctually feel that bulimia is something that America should discourage, we must not consider it solely as a disease, but also, as an identity. In a country where millions of young men and women grow up without any clue as to what makes them who they are, do we really have the right to tell bulemics they can’t do the one thing that they truly love, the one thing gets them through the day – throwing up? Personally, I pray that America could never be so selfish. That said, we must do everything in our power to make bolemics feel as comfortable in their identities as possible. And since their breath is pretty fucking disgusting, on account of throwing up all the time, we should create a breath mint that’s designed specifically for them. Although an entire box of Altoids could possibly do the trick, that quickly gets expensive, and I’m sure bolemics don’t really want to carry around any financial pressure. After all, they wouldn’t be bolemic if they weren’t already depressed.

Of course, bolemia isn’t exactly the best identity that one could choose. But if America wants to act like the tolerant country that we purport to be, then creating a breath mint for bolemics should be more than an obligation - by golly, it should be our pleasure. Besides, who likes talking to a bolemic after they’ve thrown up? Not only is it disgusting, but it kinda makes the other person want to throw up, as well – and I’m pretty sure that’s how the cycle of bulemia gets started.

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Look, I don’t want to be an asshole, but America is supposed to a be a country governed by logic. In other words, there is a reason for things that we do - we set up three branches of government so there are checks in power, we support a fast food industry so that poor people can eat too, and we ignore Africa all together so that we don’t feel guilty about their whole “AIDS” situation. However, for more than a decade, ever since the institution of the WNBA, our reputation for logic has steadily declined. And maybe I’m missing something, but for the sake of America, we really need someone to finally explain the point of the WNBA.

Obviously, the WNBA is a sensitive subject – people with vaginas (namely, women) often get upset when the league is labeled “boring,” “boobilicious,” or “like the NBA, just without talent.” And while all these labels might be politically incorrect, one is still left to question the point of the league. I mean, it certainly doesn’t compare to the NBA in terms of raw competition. And young women can already look up to female astronauts and strippers as role models. What then, I ask, does the WNBA accomplish?

Once again, I don’t want to be an asshole, but I also don’t want America to totally lose its reputation for logic. And who knows? Maybe abolishing the WNBA altogether isn’t the best answer. Maybe we simply need to change their uniforms to bikinis – we might throw up a few times, but the games would still be a lot more interesting to watch.

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I know I’ve mentioned this one previously, but our prime window of opportunity is now closing! I still don’t want this woman to be president, but damn if America doesn’t need to see her nip.

God. Please. I don’t ask for much. Just one wardrobe malfunction.

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With the long awaited “Sex And The City” movie coming out this past weekend, Americans are once again wooed into a fantasy land, protected from the harsh realities of sexual intercourse in our country. Aside from the simple fact that most Americans are ugly (at least relative to “Sex And The City” characters), sex in America is riddled with problems – such as STDs and the possibility of childbirth. Thus, in order to balance out the movie’s idealistic representation of sex, America needs a reality TV spinoff called “STDs In The City.”

Even though America is a relatively sexually unadventurous country, there exist a fair number of carriers (ie, girls who wear pink Uggs, dudes who rock athletic bands on their forearms, and even Senator Larry Craig), who have kept the STD train chugging along. Regardless of whether the “Sex And The City” characters can be categorized as such carriers, the film certainly turns a blind eye to their very existence. While this is probably essential for the film’s entertainment, it’s setting Americans up for future disappointment – not to mention redness and itching.

Perhaps a reality series called “STDs In The City” would be kinda difficult to watch, particularly with the close up shots of genital warts that might roll over the opening credits. But if America continues to buy the “Sex And The City” hype and not be wary of potential carriers, then the STD train isn’t going to be stopping any time in the near future. Of course, if you don’t mind a little redness and itching, maybe STDs aren’t that big a deal.

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My fellow Americans, the rise of our douchebag population is out of control. Not only do we see an increasing number of douchebags in our news and politics, but the signs of douchebaggery are everywhere – elevated sales of men’s hair gel, more tanning salons popping every day, and of course, the fact that Carson Daly, a douchebag amongst douchebags, still hasn’t been assassinated. However, in order to stop the rise of douchebaggery in America before it’s too late, we need to hit the douchebags where it hurts them most. Thus, for the sake of America, and preserving a culture that’s semi-tolerable, we need to place a limit on the number of collars that douchebags can pop each year.

Although such a limit might be difficult to enforce, it would most certainly ensure the gradual demise of the douchebag population. After all, if douchebags were not able to communicate their level of douchebaggery through their number of popped collars (nor inspire potential douchebags of the future), their douchebag identities would be jeopardized. Chaos, in turn, would set in amongst the entire douchebag population.

Certainly, they might find other ways to communicate, athletic bands on the forearm for example, but by the time they re-grouped, the potency of their douchebaggery would be severely fractured. Plus, douchebags are notorious for having limited to no problem-solving abilities.

Many might argue that America faces greater problems than the rise of our douchebag population. And while I can’t entirely disagree, I must ask for Americans to be sensitive to those whose lives have been directly affected by douchebags – parents whose children have become douchebags, siblings who have witnessed a brother become a douchebag, and of course, those unfortunate Americans who have become douchebags without even realizing it.

Who knows? Maybe those dissenters are right. Maybe America should be spending all of our time fixing our economy and dealing with our image/problems in the world system. However – and forgive me for being blunt – what’s the point of securing a “better America,” if our country becomes overrun by douchebags?

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Like it or not, there is a fairly good chance that Senator John McCain will become the next president of the United States of America. While there are indeed worse possibilities (Shaquille O’Neal, Hannibal Lector, and Hillary Clinton come to mind), America has the right to know exactly what we’re getting long before we hypothetically ever get it. Thus, for the sake of America, we need Senator John McCain to remove his makeup and reveal he’s a dinosaur.

Although many Americans would contend that the age of our presidential candidates is irrelevant to their candidacy, surely it would be a game changer to learn that McCain is in fact a dinosaur. Just like there are limits on the number of times you can make fun of a homeless person before being attacked, there must also be a limit on the age of our presidents. After all, since the majority of dinosaurs in the world (excluding the hosts of 60 Minutes) are already extinct, there’s a fairly solid chance that McCain could die during his presidency. While that would be cool if the vice president was elected by the people (preferably, the same educated elitists who support the likes of Barack Obama), that’s simply not the case. Rather, his VP will probably be someone who the Republican Party feel is the strongest counterpart to their Presidentosaurus – a gay-hating, gun-bearing, abortion-loving toddler, for example.

I’m not saying McCain could never be a fine president. Hell, I’m not even saying he’s definitively not a human being. However, from my novice perspective, it just seems that McCain bears a stronger resemblance to a triceratops than to Fred Flinstone. Thus, I ask: isn’t about time he took of the makeup and told us the truth?

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America is filled to the brim with show-offs - dudes who drive tricked-out cars with diamonds in the grill, chicks who get breast enhancements with the goal of blue-balling bystanders, and of course, those over-controlling, douchebag parents with bumper stickers that read “My son/daughter is an honor roll student” (Reality check, Moms and Dads. Your son/daughter is probably also suicidal.) But to be honest, the individual American isn’t to blame.

Rather, we should point our fingers, as we often do, at our country’s music industry - for it has consistently promoted and rewarded one egotistic show-off after another. What’s more, if the music industry got America into this mess, it’s their responsibility to get us out. Thus, for the sake of America, we need MC Hammer, whose hit song “Can’t Touch This” set the tone for an industry of show-offs, to finally let someone touch it.

Although recent years have given rise to shit loads of rappers with nothing to offer except a swagger, a few pounds of bling, and hodgepodge of STDs, “Can’t Touch This” cemented the Hammerman’s place at the top of the show-off pyramid. The popularity of the song not only inspired many Americans to try and touch the Hammerman (at concerts, at charity events, even through the television screen), but it directly led to the growth of a show-off culture - to a point where even fat chicks began thinking they were desirable, many of whom constructed wardrobes that revolve around ill-fitting tube tops and gold necklaces that spell out their names.

I am not saying that MC Hammer was wrong to tell Americans that they couldn’t touch it - after all, the “it” belongs to the Hammerman and nobody else. However, if he let down his guard just once and finally let someone touch it, then maybe Americans would follow his lead and stop being such obnoxious show offs. Then, we could concentrate on more important things - like figuring out whether we can find MC Hammer’s ridiculous clothes on Ebay.

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In a recent Shit America Needs article, in which I suggested McDonald’s should change it’s slogan to “C’mon, You’re Fat Anyway,” I discussed how Americans have lost a good deal of trust for corporate America. However, this problem extends to peer-to-peer relationships, as well, wherein Americans have become increasingly distrustful of their neighbors, friends, and even local marijuana dealers. Although the exact source of this problem is difficult to locate, it’s likely that it began with small acts of deceit, which have snowballed into something far greater. What’s more, these small acts of deceit most definitely continue to this day, and must be addressed before Americans lose the entirety of trust for their peers. Thus, as the first step in the salvation of peer-to-peer trust, we need Americans to only use the phrase “LOL” when they are legitimately laughing out loud.

Although such a mandate might seem trivial to some, it is essential for our popular abbreviations to set the tone of peer-to-peer trust - particularly as Americans shift towards a dialect that is entirely composed of abbreviations, or
“abreevs.” Within the next decade, after all, I imagine Americans will no longer use full sentences, but just catchy abbreevs created by anorexic teenagers who spend 24/7 on AIM and Blackberry messenger. Additionally, from a pure humanitarian perspective, it is quite hurtful when someone overuses the phrase “LOL” to a point where it’s clear that they were never laughing (or have been completely wasted) throughout the duration of your conversation(s).

Naturally, it would take time for Americans to respect that “LOL” can only be used when legitimately laughing out loud. But when that occurs, peer-to-peer trust in America would be on a steady path towards salvation, and the future of abbreviations would be brighter, and more meaningful, than ever imagined.

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America is a tremendously wasteful society. We throw away uneaten food, we don’t recycle as often we should, and as recent environment enthusiast Sheryl Crowe pointed out, we use more than one ply of toilet paper when wiping our asses in the bathroom - for shame, America. Although not every example of wastefulness can be easily remedied, I can think of one example, which angers Americans on a daily basis, that can be remedied in a synch: the excess number of handicapped parking spaces in lots across the country.

Although I am certainly sensitive to special requirements of handicapped Americans, it is quite obvious that we have gone overboard in awarding them premier parking lot real estate. America, sooner or later, needs to address our country’s habitual problem of wastefulness, and taking shit away from handicapped Americans seems like a terrific place to start. After all, they already have their own Olympics, and many of them get to sit around in comfortable chairs all day - isn’t it about time we leveled the playing field?

In closing, I would like to point out that I am not, in fact, an asshole. I just play one to get chicks (usually not handicapped ones).

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