When I was younger I wanted to be a lot of things, an astronaut, rich, a dinosaur, etc. Now that I’ve aged a bit and achieved none of these dreams, I’ve become not only depressed but more importantly a realist. This new worldview has also changed my dreams. Now all I want to be is Italian. This is because when you are Italian, you are born with some pretty killer preemptive rights.
1) The Right to be as loud and incorrect as possible.
This is absolutely an awesome privilege to have if you were lucky enough to be born an Italian. Imagine having the right of passage to scream at your peers with literally no regard to their opinions, and then have this behavior be acceptable? Wow. You could be in a group of people talking about how genocide is horrible and an Italian will have the swagger and confidence to bark in your face about how genocide is not actually devastating to human life, and that it is actually rather beneficial for it. Completely ludacris. These people will get within a lady bug’s length of your face, throwing out more hand gestures than Hellen Keller, and thats when it happens. You become intoxicated with the pleasant smell of Axe body spray, as well the scent of leftover chicken piccata, which smoothy rolls off of Anthony’s breath because thats what he wolfed down for lunch at the construction site he runs out on Staten Island.
2) The Right to Being Tan.
If one or both of your parents have sauce running through their veins (homemade, not Prego) theres a more than definite chance that you came out of the womb with the gift of melanin and probably posses a Dean Martin-esque complexion. Some guys have all the luck. I am completely envious of this characteristic. If I even expose myself to direct sunlight for over 12 minutes I look Ryan Reynolds in Deadpool. FYI, theres probably not gonna be a beautiful woman who sees through this hideous exterior of mine for the compassionate guy I supposedly am. But this isn’t about me. Back to the master-race. The best part about the right to be tan is that in just 16 short years little Giovanni is gonna be able to get an awesome tribal piece inked on his right bicep to pull his look together. In no-time he’ll be walking around shirtless regardless of weather conditions.
3) The Right to Rock Ed Hardy Clothing.
You wanna walk around looking like a chandelier with limbs? Newsflash buddy, unless you’re a Paesan don’t even think about it. For the very affordable cost of $103, Italians get to purchase Ed Hardy clothing at the department stores who still regrettably push these products like it’s 2004. I CANNOT fathom how lucky you are to be able to garnish these shirts a total of 3 times before all of sequence design falls off in your mom’s washing machine. Worth every penny.
After reading these rights that are God-given to all Italians, if you still do not understand how incredible it is to have a bloodline from the greatest country in the world, you my friend are clinically insane.