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Afghanistan's Little Known Neighbors

Categories: Current Events
Added: Mon Oct 01 06:00:00 +0000 2001Views: 16,552
Rating: 3.00 (1 vote)
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Submitted by humor-source
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Afghanistan’s Little Known Neighbors


In its heyday, the Soviet Union held many satellites in sway. But as communism
waned, larger territories reverted to rule by their ethnic populations, while
smaller lots were sold to the highest bidder in an attempt to raise capital for
Russia’s starved economy. American and Western European entrepreneurs were able
to snap up the Baltic Avenues of the post cold war era for little more than
Monopoly money. Most such properties are too small to be shown on maps, being
mere closet space relative to the larger principalities. But with the eruption
of the Afghani conflict, the CIA has shown increasing interest in these unknown
Central Asian hamlets and the surprising social experiments to which they have
become home.


Jeffbeckistan – With the music market gone Top 40 and the days of the ten
minute power solo consigned to history’s dustbin, those of the shoulder length
hair whose fingers never stop moving have found themselves with no place to go
when the last roadie has fallen down the stairs with their doublenecks and the
last bar has closed. Originally founded by the League of Drafty Guitarists (so
named for the holes in their leopardskin leotards), Jeffbeckistan has become a
giant woodshed where the licks are always polished and the amps all go to
eleven. Its chief export, the hammer-on, still flounders on the open market,
but is beginning to gain favor as a cheap and ecologically sound method of
insecticide. Pledging neutrality, Jeffbeckistan has vowed not to turn down its
stereos whether asked by the Taliban or the Western Coalition. Citizens of
Jeffbeckistan may be contacted by posting to alt.spandex.frayed.


Nervouswreckistan – Not surprisingly, Nervouswreckistan is located just next
door to Jeffbeckistan. Founded by Dr. Morris Abramowitz, a psychiatrist
specializing in anxiety and panic disorders, Nervouswreckistan is famous for
its couch-shaped gardens and underground falafel stands. Although rarely seen
in public, its citizens lead a full and active life as Internet trolls, and
have stockpiled an impressive collection of Dr. Who videos.


What-the-heckistan – Few modern people cleaning out junk drawers and back
closets have failed to exclaim, "What the heck is that?" Bigger than a bread
box but smaller than a football field, What-the-heckistan has become the
world’s largest gift and chotchka shop, a haven for the wretched refuse of
planned obsolescence economies. Its Capitol Building, made of 100,000
matchsticks glued together, remains sparsely furnished in the hope that if they
just keep dusting it off, sooner or later someone’s bound to stop in and nab
it. Their national emblem, a motor from a 1952 Erector set, is their free gift
to anyone who recognizes what the heck it is. Their standard, a green Chia Pet
running free amidst a field of mood rings and spats organizers, is sewn
together from a gigaload of Crazy Eddie mousepads unearthed by archeologists
working beneath the Vatican.


Noneckistan – Tired of watching UFO worshippers self-destruct in the land of
camembert and ticklers, the French have enacted tough new anti-cult legislation
allowing them to guillotine adherents of minority religions. Rusty from disuse
are not just the guillotines, but also the guillotine operators, who during
gentler times are employed as sushi chefs, moyhels, and auto body repairmen.
Their skills still vacationing somewhere in the southland, their collective
hands sporting a bad case of the Vin Rue shakes, these purveyors of the "half
Antoinette" are responsible for many botched beheadings. Though technically
still among the living, partially decapitated French cultists lack a certain
panache or je ne sais quois, and have therefore been banished to Noneckistan,
where they can lead the same lives of quiet desperation as other Frenchmen,
albeit with less style and debauchery. This reviewer found their baguettes
limpid, their crepes engaging, and their Nanettes a definite a no-no.


Bigbumistan – No one has ever seen a Swiss with a big bum. Many have attributed
this to the Swiss penchant for balance and perfection. But there was in fact an
outbreak of big bums in the Zurich of the late eighties, and it was only
quashed by deporting many citizens to – you guessed it – Bigbumistan. Known for
their cheekiness throughout Central Asia, the Bigbumistanis subsist on a diet
of yak butter and Hostess Snowballs, the latter flown in by international aid
workers under the condition that the Bigbumistanis don’t crash parties in
neighboring states. While this uneasy truce seems rife with codependency, no
one is ready to break the cycle just yet.


Badcheckistan – Political scientists have described this curious township as
having a communist economic system with a capitalist fig leaf: Everything has
its price, everything is paid for by check, and none of the checks are any
good. Nor does anyone expect them to be. Rather, it all seems to be some
elaborate system of social queues designed to highlight people’s indebtedness
to one another, without the faintest hope of ever reckoning such debts. Nothing
could be ruder than to fail to offer a check in payment for some goods or
services, and yet nothing could be ruder than to actually make good on the
funds. Eager to prove that they are honest in the worst way, Badcheckistanis
will insist on giving you three forms of i.d. and a blood sample before asking
you to accept their personal check; but this won’t prevent said check from
bouncing higher than a superball on meth. Badcheckistan does have a banking
system, but it seems to have zero liquidity, being based on a treasury of old
railway timetables, most of which are inaccurate. The making of kites is the
chief occupation among the citizenry, all of whom seem remarkably content.


Bedcheckistan – Run by former proprietors of British boys’ schools,
Bedcheckistan boasts some of the oddest customs in all Central Asia. At
midnight citizens are checked to determine whether they are alone in their own
beds. While this is rarely the case, those who do find themselves so hobbled
are paired with other citizens, unless it is Corporal Punishment Night, in
which case group activities ensue. If traveling to Bedcheckistan, be sure and
bring a cattle prod.


Stanthemanistan – During the frothy market of the late nineteen-nineties,
neither tulip bulbs nor baseball cards were actually traded on the NASDAQ; but
after an initial offering at a mere eight dollars, shares of stanmusiel.com
soared well past two hundred in the first day of trading. While hindsight
suggests that their business model was flawed, no one can deny the rugged
entrepreneurial spirit behind this online firm specializing in baseball
paraphernalia from a bygone era. When the market tanked, thousands of Americans
realized they were paying more than half their rent to store collections of
faded trading cards, moldy first-baseman’s mitts, autographed jockstraps, and
major chunks of long-demolished stadiums. By cashing in all their shares of
what had become a penny stock, the remaining employees of stanmusiel.com, now
holed up in a single basement apartment in Queens, New York, were able to found
Stanthemanistan, a home for wayward baseball souvenirs. Regrettably, most of
this young nation is still taken up by the remains of Comiskey Park. Hence the
Stanthemanistanis have sought to rent yet more storage space from neighboring
Nervouswreckistan, but so far they have been unable to get the
Nervouswreckistanis to come out of their caves and discuss the matter.


Western intelligence operatives are still studying the peculiar habits and
customs of these Central Asian mini-satellites or "asteroids," convinced that
through extensive leafleting and the playing of Madonna’s "Material Girl" over
short wave radio, they can convert these newest members of the international
community to the allied cause. However one local Sir Oracle, speaking from an
undisclosed location under condition of anonymity, was quoted as saying "We
have enough big bums right where we are thank-you-very-much.


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Latest Comments
Poop Head
Oct 27, 08:52
Somebody must have passed out!
Please Stop Giving Me Tickets!
Aug 30, 05:30
Yeah, I'm sure that'll change the cop's mind.
Boredom at Walmart
Jun 8, 16:48
ha ha
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