My name is Keith Kerkland. I am a regular man who does regular things like eat buttered noodles and watch the Flintstones live-action movie with my two chihuahuas. A simple man to Darcy and Alice (my ‘huahuas), a man of reason with sensibility and love for my country to all. But love for MY country is where the hearts stop. So, for the love of God, please do not ask me about Albania.
Stop asking me where Albania is. I don’t know. I don’t care. Alban-get-out-of-my-life-ia is more like it. I bought a flare gun and the next person to ask me to point to Albania on a map is getting a sweet flash of orange to the jaw and cheek. (Probably, I don’t know how well this thing aims). I bet that I could hit Albania on a map with it though.
Once people find out that I hate Albania, they usually have trouble letting it go. “What don’t you like about Albania?” The short answer is all of it. I have actively, to the best of my ability, prevented myself from learning about Albania. I do not know the year that it became an official country, and when people ask I try give a different date every time (It was founded in 1997). I tell them that I can’t stand for a country that, in 2009, made it illegal to love adult contemporary. Imagine the sad, soulless schmucks in Albania that have never heard Adele’s “21.”
I curse the Albanian government nightly. I should say that by “nightly” I don’t mean in Albanian time; Albanian time follows a 25-hour clock (most likely). Do I know who the current prime minister of Albania is? Get out of my face right now before you get flared. I don’t know ANY of the leaders of Albania, present or past. Who even founded Albania? A lemur? Two lemurs? Three lemurs in a trench coat that called themselves Mr. Lemur? And what about Albanians themselves? Are there Albanian children? Are they the terrible product of generations of Mr. Lemur breeding with the women of that desolate nations I shudder at the thought.
Having refused to ever google photos of Albania, (I would think that) the most disturbing sight to behold is the number of children in sweatpants. The number of children in leisure wear might even make you question the validity of the Mr. Lemur theory. How could lemurs have founded this nightmare when tods in joggers so clearly run the place? One might even wonder if two toddlers in Baby Phat track suits were the actual pilgrims of Albania, after leading a group of likeminded babies from Limbo. If it WERE toddlers instead of Mr. Lemur, I bet that their names were Atticus and Cortland. Albania definitely seems like a real Atticus and Cortland thing to do, deciding to ruin Europe for the rest of the toddlers that were happy not living in a baby’s creation of hell on Earth. I hate Atticus and Cortland as much as I hate the people that ask me where Albania is.
By now you are probably coming to terms with the fact that Albania is the least important sub-country as voted by all other countries (probably), just as I did many years ago. Rejoice, the hard part is over. Having finally been awoken to the acrid scent creeping from Southeastern Europe, hopefully you can learn from my example and actively reject Albania at every turn. Hopefully you can take my hand as we walk into this new world and spread factual (I don’t care either way) information about a country voted by me as “the number one most likely place to be obliterated in my many night dreams.”
Is that not enough? Think about it this way: For every person that tells Keith Kerkland that they love the great black hole of Albania I will shoot one flare randomly into a crowd of teenagers at the American Eagle by my house. I don’t want to ruin back to school jean shopping for you like Albanians ruined back to school jean shopping for me, but I don’t see any other way.
Please, for the love of Mr. Lemur, do the right thing.
Keith Kerkland is an author and editor with http://www.thatsdark.ca.