I like Vodka. I also like potatoes. Potatoes and Vodka come from Russia. I like Russia.

Das vidanja. I don't know if I spelled that right, but neither do you because we don't use the same alphabet. So if you're a racist, cultural elitist who doesn't believe in alphabetic relativism then maybe you don't belong in California. Or maybe you do. Or maybe I'm no one to tell you where you belong because you are a human being and that would be both condescending and disrespectful. And so I apologize. And I Love you.

But you're racist, and you hate Russia because of a thing called the Cold War that most of us weren't even alive for. Some of you might consider Russians some potato fermenting, Czar Nicholas deposing, painted egg inside of a painted egg hiding, katorshka eating, Sputnik deploying, Bolshevik revolutionizing arms dealer to Mexico.

And that's not fair to the people that aren't those things. The few that represent the many. If you're not white, according to my studies at the University of Negrolous Radicalness, you do not experience this phenomenon on a tangible level.

... do you think that I feel sorry for you because sometimes when you go to La Bodega on 3rd Ave., people accuse YOU of being responsible for taking Aztlan? Well. I do. But that's besides the point.

My dear Russians. Matios doesn't blame you for the invasion of South Ossetia. Matios is angered by the stereo-typing. IF FOR NOTHING ELSE, then for the fact that you are the home of the Caucusus mountains.

And it confuses me when I see CAUCasians ... who don't realize they get the name for their socially constructed race from Russia (That place called the CAUCUSUS MOUNTAINS.) ... hating each other. Because then it's like ... no ... you're pale skinned, blue eyed and ski mountains too.

Hmm. So what am I really trying to say? Because as of now my intention seems unclear. That. I'm actually drunk. And the vodka got me thinking. Sike. But. What if that was true. Eff. That'd be a trip.