I just came back from supper, which happened to be grilled brats over at a friend's barracks. If you have a choice between our mess hall and anything else, anything else will usually win. Until now. I will not, under any circumstances, even on fish head soup night, go over there if Inbred Contractor Guy is present. Because I could only tolerate this once:
You only get hangovers because America doesn't have European purity laws for its beers;
You'll never be willing to eat American beef products once you've had European beef;
The Irish need to stop holding up the European Union, and the peace and prosperity that will flow forth once it is achieved;
All Serbs all evil bloodthirsty monsters;
All Albanians are troublemakers responsible for most of the problems in Europe;
Gun control is a foregone conclusion, so I should get rid of everything I own;
Since deer don't shoot back, no civilians should have scary rifles;
The Pope is a closet Nazi;
All Catholics are closet Nazis, and responsible for all of Europe's problems;
All European governments are secretly controlled by the Vatican;
The Catholic church is actually a degenerate form of the Roman Jupiter worshipping cult.
At which point I excused myself, as kicking someone in the balls seems to invariably lead to trouble, no matter how much good it would do the gene pool.