In this country, you can walk into a shopping mall food court and stop to get a cheap, shopping mall food court gyro at the shopping mall food court Greek restaurant. And who might you find working behind the counter? A bumptious Ukranian lass? A bumptious Ukranian lass, no less, not long in this country from "the old country" and a pregnant bumptious Ukranian lass at that.

Quicker than you can say "Doss ve dunno ya. Areviderche, Stalin! Why yes, I AM the Nikita Kruschev of carnal knowledge!" you're back in the utility kitchen makin' out with her.

THAT'S America. And that's what I love about America.

But then she's all like, "No. I must stop this. My new husband. The baby. The bylaws of Eurobrides.com forbid it."

And you're like, "Whatever, Anna Karenina. All I wanted was my gyro to go anyways."

And then you get your gyro to go, and some chick in gym shorts in the food court is all like, "Hey, have you tried that water massage down on the second level?"

And you're like, "Water massage? Sister, didn't you just see me coming out of that utility kitchen after making out with that pregnant bumptious Ukranian lass? Did you not just SEE that? After seeing that, WHAT, in the name of all that is holy, makes you think 'water massage?' Jeezum Crow, can't you give it a rest!"

And that is also what I love about America.

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Read more about America's love affair with gyros.