In all the hubbub over Georgia trying to convince Russia that no means no, a bunch of other states want to move out of Mom and Dad's basement, despite the free rent. Greenland's story is the most compelling to me.
First, you have the first public act of sarcasm in human history. I knew about the Vikings and their love of funny hats,
but who knew they were so edgy? Now they're like the Janeane Garofalo of ancient empires.
The one thing that connects these in utero nations is their need for a leader. Someone with the fiery charisma and wild-eyed antisocial nature to really bring their new independence into sharp relief. And that is why I think I'm the perfect new king - or prime minister, or premier, I'm not too choosy about titles - for Greenland.
Other candidates may have stronger backgrounds in diplomacy, or management. But what I bring to the prow of the Greenland schooner is iconoclasm.
You want crazy ideas? Deal with these: I don't think Cypress is a real country. I think Vladimir Putin, deep down, wishes he'd never abandoned his ballet lessons. I believe dragons are the solution to the world's dependency on oil. Bunny rabbits represent all that is evil and unholy. Penny loafers are ugly, but make excellent doorstops.
It's this sort of nowhere-near-center thinking that will make Greenland a power player in the 21st century. With my firm hand on Greenland's mane I shall lead its gallop past other upstarts like Venezuela, Gibbon, and Papua New Guinea. Who will know how to deal with our truth? Together, Greenland, we will captivate the imaginations of the 24-hour news networks, and the PR will be fantastic, and unending. Tourism will skyrocket with my creation of the "Snow-Shoveling Championships," to take place annually until all the snow melts.
But then we won't need the snow, because the natural beauty of our great nation will finally be laid bare before the lustful eyes of the other nations. The U.N. will clamor to move its office to our southern coast, if only to make vacationing more convenient. Decades away, you say? Not if we start burning coal right now. Aerosol sprays, bans on recycling, subsidies for the use of plastics - as your leader I will do everything in my power to expedite global warming.
And when the seas rise, and the sun beats down mercilessly on the middle of the planet (now extending into southern Canada and the Russian steppe), people will flock to Greenland, and we shall be the new Global Empire. All this is possible if you make me your president, or "Snowman on High," or whatever your CEO designation may be.
Sure, there's a constitution to draft, and wigs to wear, and a war of independence and all that to be accomplished. And what of a national anthem (I suggest "Don't Stop Believing," by Journey)? But I hate wigs, and my penmanship is dreadful. Let's let the pinhead beareaucrats handle the details. In the meantime I'll be telling Denmark to go fuck itself, and leading a pack of Greenlanders toward the harbor, where we'll dump box after box of danishes into the icy Atlantic ocean.
Danishes, by the way, are my least favorite pastry. They're sticky, and they often contain fruit, which has no business within a sugary treat. So nuts to them, and nuts to you, Denmark. Greenland forever!