I like to bring a drink into a meeting and get blackout as much as the next guy, but then again my meetings generally consist of debating the ethics of posting shit pics or strategizing how to best market and sell our amazing Rowdy Gentleman products that only communists hate. Over at the United Nations I assume they do slightly more important things, and I do mean slightly.
The United States on Monday called for drunk diplomats to be barred from United Nations’ budget negotiations.
Dammit, I was hoping the Americans were the ones showing up to the UN shitfaced. I guess we stopped doing that after we walked in drunk back in 2002/2003 and said, “Fuck all y’all, we’re invading Iraq. See this picture of a truck? That’s a mobile weapons lab. YES IT IS, FRANCE! Suck a dick! ‘MERICA OUT!” Colin Powell is so eloquent.
But really, we should be the ones showing up drunk, considering how many fucks America generally gives about the UN.
“We make the modest proposal that the negotiating rooms should in future be an inebriation-free zone,” Joseph Torsella, deputy US ambassador for management and reform, told the UN General Assembly’s budget committee.
“Guys you really need to stop showing up to chapter drunk. Please.”
Good to know the UN is run like a state school fraternity.
The United States is not calling for a ban on alcohol just on drunks, US officials said.
Some envoys have turned up for talks “falling down drunk,” said one diplomat, speaking on condition of anonymity.
Why you would invite the Irish to a budget meeting is beyond me. They aren’t exactly historically renowned bookkeepers. Was it their turn or something?
“On one occasion the note-taker who was meant to be recording the talks was so intoxicated he had to be replaced,” said another. Both spoke on condition of anonymity.
God I wish I could have seen that meeting.
(*Conference Room, United Nations HQ*)
Diplomat 1: Alright then it’s settled, I think we made some great progress today. Can I have our last budget amendment read back to me?
(*Note Taker is asleep, head down on the table, with an empty glass of scotch next to him*)
Diplomat 1: Are you…are you asleep?
(*Note Taker shoots up awake, completely shitfaced*)
Note Taker: Wha…wha..what? PFFFFFTTTT no!
Diplomat 1: Good God. Are you drunk!?!
Note Taker: Am I drunk? Uh no. Are you a dick? Uh yes.
Diplomat 1: Whatever, just read back the last budget amendment, please.
Note Taker: (*stalling*) You didn’t say the magic word.
Diplomat 1: I literally did. You didn’t write a single thing, did you? How much have you had to drink?
(*Diplomat 2 looks under the table, pulls out an empty decanter*)
Diplomat 2: Sir it looks like he had the decanter.
Note Taker: Who’s got a dick antler!?! That’s just fuckin’ impressive. I’d mount that shit on my wall.
Diplomat 1: Why in the hell would you drink that much at an official budget committee meeting!?!
Note Taker: Because it’s boooorrrrrringggg and gayyyyyyyyy. Guuuhhhhhh this suuuuuuuckkksss.
Diplomat 1: Get him out of here.
(*Note Taker springs out of his chair defensively, grabs the empty decanter, breaks it on the table, and starts threatening the diplomats*)
Note Taker: You can’t take me to Earth jail! Get back! GET BACK!
(*Note Taker throws up all over himself and passes out*)
Diplomat 1: If I’m being honest, I’ve been to a lot of less productive meetings than this one here at the UN.
The United Nations: where whatever’s the opposite of amazing happens.