President Clinton mind-melding with Greek Prime Minister Costas Simitis after the decision

Athens (UVP): In response to charges that their language has become obsolete, and faced with the pressures of an incomprehensible populace, the Greek Parliament voted yesterday to abandon the use of their three thousand year-old tongue.

"Its greek to me," Prime Minister Costas Simitis said of his former language. "I'll be glad to see it go."

The decision to drop Greek as the national language has been years in the making. Communication within the country had become increasingly difficult over the last few decades, as Greek citizens grew weary of the difficult, unfamiliar pronunciations, and an archaic alphabet that one man called "just plain silly." Over the last few years, millions of Greek citizens, fed up with their difficult tongue, had resorted to communicating through hand and facial gestures. Experts referred to the situation as "a modern day Babel."

 

After a brief flirtation with Esperanto in the mid 1970's, Greeks finally realized that their language was too old-fashioned, and had to be updated. "We couldn't compete with these hot new languages like Basque and Serbo-Croatian" said Greek Nobel Laureate Sonny Nictakus. "Towards the end, we couldn't remember what half our words meant any more."

When asked what language Greeks would choose to fill the void, Mr. Simitis, temporarily communicating through Dutch Sign Language, said only "we'd like to keep our options open." Language minister Georgios Popadopolos elaborated: "We've had offers from some of the heavy hitters: French, Russian, and English. But there have also been some interesting proposals from smaller tongues, like Inuit, Lappish, and Tagalog." He added: "We want to make sure everyone gets heard."

European insiders have suggested that the Greeks' language difficulties have been responsible for their embarrassing delay in joining the EU. "We've been trying to translate the EU legal documents into Greek for years," said one ambassador who wished to remain anonymous, "but its like trying to do differential equations on an abacus."

 

University of Athens professor Fassilis Penetratis tried to put a more positive spin on the big change, pointing to the increased academic interest in dead languages. "There's a certain nobility in retired languages," he said at his villa on the island of Crete. "Look at Latin, and Sanskrit. We just didn't feel like we could reach that level of respect for our language until we finally let the thing go." He added: "anyway, nobody's been able to understand each other for seven or eight years now. Something had to be done."

Duke Greek, Greece's ambassador to Ultraville and otherwise known as the "Greek Duke," repeated the sentiment that this decision is long overdue. "So many of our letters had been stolen anyway, like Pi, all those fraternity and sorority ones, and that Prince guy's new name too. We couldn't keep track anymore, so we just gave up." Obviously saddened from the discussion, the Duke paused, and then added: "You know what it was like trying to find a computer keyboard with all those fuckingletters on it?"

 

With such a unique opportunity to bring themselves up to speed with the rest of the world, Greeks are having a hard time deciding which linguistic route to take. Some of the more radical proposals circulating the country call for Greeks to adopt a computer language, like HTML, or C++ as their native tongue. But one naysayer summed up the potential problems: "Sure, we'd be able to execute major applications off the top of our heads, but how do you say 'I have to take a dump' in JavaScript?" Indeed, the situation Greeks find themselves in has its potential pitfalls.

The mighty Zeus expresses
his feelings on the Greek language.

Greece enjoyed a brief period of prosperity in the first half of the first millennium BC, but soon sunk into a several-thousand-year slump. Aside from the occasional pita pocket and gyro, the world hasn't heard much from the Greeks lately. In order to "get things going," the Greek people briefly considered abandoning their country in the early part of this century, before ultimately deciding against it. Officials hit on the language issue as the heart of their problem when they observed happy foreign tourists chatting away in their native tongues. "They seemed so confident, articulate, and self assured" explained Popadopolos. "And here we were walking around speaking Greek to each other. It was embarrassing." He paused for a moment, wiped a tear from his bronzed cheek, and added "Hellas, its time we let it go."

 



 

Myanmar: Teeming with Cossacks
(and loving it!)

The opulent caravan stretches along this modern highway in Eastern Kazakhstan for what seems like miles. Over a hundred royal attendants, six hundred raging Cossacks, and countless horses are participating in the glorious spectacle unseen since the dawn of the 20th century, which will eventually bring Czars Peter the Great and Alexander II Nikolaivich to the sprawling city of Rangoon.

The two leaders have been purchased by the Burmese government through an online service known simply, even elegantly, as "Czar Bazaar". A novel concept in the internet business world, Czar Bazaar Inc. offers actual genetic clones of famous Russian leaders to the private, government and nonprofit sectors.

"Czar Bazaar" is the brainchild of the meaty, yet not too salty twenty-something
e-enterpreneur Gavin Missilelock. A brash young maverick with football sized ears, Missilelock can hardly contain his frenzied ardor over the prospects of his fledgling company.

"We're providing the ultimate service to our customers with Czar Bazaar. We live in an age of choices, an age of free will, and I think people are really starting to have issues with that. Bad issues. I mean, they may not want to admit it, but what they want, what they need, is somebody to reign over their lives with despotic control."

When pressed over whether this will mean the eradication of freewill for mankind, Missilelock added:

"Maybe, and for the better, I say, because... well for one thing, I know that I'd never part with my new Catherine the Great. We went to Denny's this morning and the waitress is like 'scrambled or poached?', 'regular or eggstraordinaire?', 'bacon or sausage?', 'white or wheat?'. See what I mean?? So I just sat back and let Catherine take care of it. I wound up having a cheese omelet with wheat toast and a side of smoked Caspian sturgeon. And here's the kicker, man... Sturgeon wasn't even on the fucking menu! So if people want to argue with that, and say I'm what's wrong with the internet then they can just go choke on my e-dust. 'Cuz that's where they'll be. In my e-dust, I mean."

 

Perhaps; but breakfast isn't nation building, and the nearest Denny's is in Kuala Lumpur. Nonetheless, Burmese officials are confident that their two new acquisitions will bring calm and order to the chaotic social maelstrom called Rangoon.

Observers of the Czarist caravan are not so optimistic, however. While both Czars recognize their servants, Cossacks, and horses, only Alex appears to vaguely comprehend the cryogenic processes that brought them to this point.

Sources close to "Czar Bazaar Inc.", have suggested that Peter the Great is actually a bargain basement Beta-Prototype with incomplete genetic code and, much to the chagrin of Burmese officials, an unequivocally juvenile mind.

Royal attendants have remarked negatively on Peter's unusual proclivities to gleeful flatulence, and his unhealthy fixation on the word "nimblenuts," which he usually insists on being called. The Burmese Prime Minister remains unbowed by the rumors. "It does not matter if one's a little screwy, we've made our tyrannical bed and we're more than happy to lie in it." On that note, the inveterate P.M. drifted off into a peaceful, dreamy slumber.

In light of this unsettling chapter in human events, we suggest you do the same.


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