The world would be a much better place if everyone weren't so wound up and uptight, walking around with frowns and acting as if they have bananas stuffed into their tight, blackened buttholes.

The world would be much more relaxed and less hostile if Irish protestors (Micks) would simply pay Dublin hookers to remove the bananas from their red, inflamed buttholes.

Frustration runs amuck, black people are so fucking loud that you can hear them approaching from three blocks away, sandniggers are flying planes into buildings and making their shoes into bombs, and Asians refuse to stop eating dog meat. Did I mention that Latinos smell like bean burritos?

I think beer is the ultimate cure for all the frustration. Nothing helps me forget about the insanities of the world like swallowing drinks at the neighborhood bar. Alcohol is God's medicine, it's the ultimate cure.

There are even references in the Book of Matthew were this skinny Jewish guy named Jesus hung out with local hooknosed, drunks and got sloshed before the Holy Spirit left him.

And I'm sure that if we could re-live that part of history we will find that he and his drunken, hooknosed disciples often drank cases of Bud at a time and when they were fucked up and woozy they would retreat to the Holy Temple and put grams of cocaine in their nostrils.

I often find that as I become more drunk, ordinary things become amusing, like the word "butthole" or "burrito" or people's nationalities and skin color.

There's this Ukrainian bartender Billy I know at one of the local hangouts who has an unusually large Ukrainian head. His head is too big for his body because the water his mother drank when she was pregnant with him was full of glowing nuclear wastes and other mini-microbes.

None of the patrons will comment on Billy's abnormally sized skull or ask why his mother's would drink, bathe and wash Billy's underwear in the mini-microbe filled village water. But as we keep pouring the drinks, we begin to stare and point and laugh out loud because alcohol takes away our defenses and we can't help but laugh and shout "Bigheaded Billy!" And all Bigheaded Billy can do is humble himself and keep serving us drinks because he knows that the tip money will pay for the operation that will reduce the size of his unusually large skull.

And if you saw this guy you would have no choice but to laugh yourself to tears and Bigheaded Billy tries to be tough and pretend that his feelings aren't hurt. But he doesn't make eye contact with any of us because he knows what we are all laughing at. I bet he secretly wishes he could put that large Ukrainian head of his into the ground like an ostrich or sneak into the urine-stained bar bathroom and put 16 grams of coke in his big Ukrainian nostrils.

And as I'm typing this essay from the computer lab at school these two Indian chicks have taken seats next to me and as I laugh uncontrollably at what I am writing I can't help to think that they must think that I am laughing at their Apu-like accents, or the "Ben Hur"-like robes they are wearing, or perhaps those huge red dots on their foreheads. Please forgive my racism.

But just before I got crack on Bigheaded Billy during Happy Hour, I usually visit this old sandnigger who works in a roachcoach in Center City. He is blind in one eye and his ears are pointed. It's not something that I call attention to like my Dominican friend's teeth but when this sandnigger stares at me with his personal defect glaring, I can't help but remember Big Headed Billy with his "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown!" sized skull; then I laugh, and then the sandnigger laughs, and then I laugh even harder because secretly I really am laughing at his eye and he's laughing at the mini-microbes he just slipped into my food.

And his wife is this heavy-set, round sandniggerette with a huge, black mole on her nose and you can't help but feel sorry for the two of them stuffed in that foul-smelling food truck for eight hours a day, him slipping mini-microbes into the food and her picking at that huge, black, cancerous mole on her nose.

And there's this Dominican guy from my job named Raul who's missing four of his front teeth and when he laughs or smiles he tries to cover up the huge hole in his mouth with his fattened upper lip. When Raul and I go to bars and get drunk he always ends up being the butt end of the joke because when I get drunk I can't help but speak my mind and it's not unusual for me to openly draw attention to his missing teeth and when I laugh, he laughs, and then I laugh even harder because he is exposing the gaping hole on his gums.

And when I am too drunk I always notice how urban blacks use the word "motherfucker" in every other sentence. But to ignorant blacks "motherfucker" becomes "muh-fucka" and when people speak Ebonics to me thinking I am going to speak that shit back I simply laugh uncontrollably because I have absolutely no idea what they have just told me but I will answer with "word!" or "das-wassup!" to make it look like I know what they fuck they are talking about.

And there's this Ukrainian guy at the bar I go to and when I've had a shitty day I will finish m'drinks and laugh to tears because I know that his head is too large and all the new patrons will avoid making eye contact with Billy because they will be tempted to ask how his head got so big.

I am a much happier person because I can find another's defect and exploit it. I will continue to do this until somebody decides they've had enough of my evil humor and does me the favor of killing me. Until then, look for huge Ukrainian heads, make fun of Ebonics, and tease dirty, mini-microbe infected sandniggers in food carts.