Country Dating Profiles

Where politics is cold, love is warm.

Can you guess who wrote which one?
(It’s painfully easy.)

Chill guy, super powerful, crazy rich, really hot, great sense of humor. Ordering pizza after sex is mandatory. Preference: anything that moves. If you curvy that’s all good; big is beautiful. I’ll be more attracted to you if you blindly agree with me and support everything I do even when I’m wrong.


You think you’re worthy to breathe the same air I breathe? You insignificant beast. Love me. Praise me. Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me. You’re less than dirt. Pathetic, pitiful, powerless. Tell me how much you want me, pig. You’re just the jackal howling at my door. My love is a gift you are not worthy to receive. I grant you mercy because I take pity on creatures of lesser intellect, beauty, and purity. Perish, worm.

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MAGA: Let’s Own That Commie Cuck

(Read the prologue)

My jaw throbbed and I tasted blood on my tongue. Hair fell into my face when I met China’s steely eyes with a white-hot glare.

“That hurt, you little shit.” Except he was far from little. Nearly my height, he was lean and built like a mannequin in an Abercrombie & Fitch.

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The Life and Times of North Korea: Nuclear Crisis

“They must be made to believe that we are about to collapse, that they will inherit more maggots than they can count, more bodies than they can bury, more disease than they can cure, more chaos than they can stomach. They are convinced that we are weak, on our last legs, about to collapse? Let them; let them worry every night when they go into their warm beds that we are about to hold our breaths until our wasted bodies fall across their doorstep.” – From Inspector O (James Church)

March 1993

A fluorescent bulb flickered spontaneously, the only light in the white, windowless room. It hadn’t been long, but North Korea’s muscles already felt stiff in that hard chair. The adrenaline kept his mind off of it.

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The Anti-America Game

A blazing red Bel Air convertible barreled down the street, roof pulled all the way back and engine roaring. On the car’s bumper, a sticker that read CAPITALISM KILLS.

Want to talk about anti-Americanism, Cuba, or anything else related to this post? Be sure to check out the Discussion at the end of the story and share your thoughts.

A blazing red Bel Air convertible barreled down the street, roof pulled all the way back and engine roaring. Little flags on each side of the hood danced wildly in the rushing air. On the car’s bumper, a sticker that read CAPITALISM KILLS.

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There’s a Lot of Bad Blood in This Strait

“He’ll choke you until you submit.”

Recently, the United States announced it would deliver an arms package to Taiwan. Simple, right? Not really;  there are layers, and we all know how dangerous those can be.

America leaned back against the polished wooden chair and drummed his fingers against his knees. “This is weird. We’ve never done this before, have we?”

“Why would we? You only hold secret meetings with other countries, isn’t that right?” Taiwan’s voice was like coffee with just cream; you didn’t realize that it was bitter until you thought about it enough.

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BRICS at the Beach

Russia, India, Brazil, South Africa, and China have a weekend getaway.

It’s summer! And what better way to celebrate friendship and financial anxiety than a trip to the beach?

Clad in their finest swimwear, India, Brazil, and South Africa stood firmly in a line on the deck and waited for Russia to speak, like they were soldiers awaiting orders.

“On this trip, everyone will be wearing protection at all times.” Russia’s voice was commanding as she wielded a bottle of sunscreen in her hand like it was a sword. “I don’t care if you ‘don’t burn.’ The sun is evil and it will kill you.” The other women jumped at the force behind Russia’s accusation. “Now, who wants to rub lotion all over my back?” India threw up her hand.

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