The Young Child

Once upon a time in the nation of Sweden, one of the most peaceful and minority-friendly nations in the world, there lived a middle-aged anti-nationalist lady named Pseudo-intellectual of Moral Superiority, but to make things simple, we shall be referring to her by her nickname: PMS.

PMS was politically active and efficently so. Her constant protesting had made some truly major changes to how Sweden celebrates their national day, or “independence day” – that is to say that the country had practically stopped doing it entirely, because celebrating ones own country had at that point been classified as offensive towards the country’s many immigrants.

One sunny afternoon, PMS was standing on the town square, demonstrating and spreading her propaganda which she believed would prove just how great a nation Sweden is. Suddenly, she was approached by a young, dark-skinned child with a red baseball cap. He looked at her with bemused eyes. His name was Muhammed. He asked her:

“So you believe that you should ban your own national day because you believe people like me will be offended by it?”

“Why yes,” exclaimed PMS, as if it was utterly obvious. “A country can’t celebrate itself or have it’s own traditions. That’s racist and intolerant.”


“Of course. I mean believeing that we’re our own country with our own traditions and customs is incredibly arrogant and offensive towards all the people who immigrate here. Isn’t that obvious?”

Muhammed shook his head.

“Um, no actually. I think it’s deplorable that you’re getting progressively more scared of celebrating your own traditions. If anything, you should celebrate them more and not try to erase age-old customs only because you live in the delusion that you will offend foreigners by singing the national anthem or some such. Your twisted belief that everything a country does to celebrate itself is going to offend minorities such as myself, that’s what makes me feel really hurt! Stubbornly idiotic anti-nationalists like yourself need to realize that all immigrants and foreigners aren’t some childish death machines that see racism and xenophobia in everyone and everything. I’m sure you think you have noble intentions but I think it’s terrible that you abandon your age-old traditions solely for the sake of *us*!”

PMS stared at the boy.

“You think we should celebrate our independence day?”

“Yes!” Muhammed said and grinned widely.

PMS frowned.

“Well then logically that means YOU are intolerant too! Honestly, how dare you be so racist towards yourself? You should be ashamed of yourself you patriotic little nationalist-shit! Get out of my sight!”

“Patrio…? Racist l…? I’m not even a Sw…” Muhammed stuttered, but could not finish.

“I said get out of my sight!” PMS yelled. “My God, the nerve of some people!”

Muhammed rolled his eyes and walked away with nothing else to say. PMS then stood alone on the town square on that sunny day, muttering and murmuring to herself:

“Patriotism… Age old customs… Pah! Who does he think he is? I’m frickin’ moral and therefor never wrong, damnit.” She chuckled arrogantly. “People are so proud of how loving, magnanimous and stainless I am.” She chuckled some more.

And so she lived happily (in the illusion that she was God’s gift to minorities everywhere in the country) ever after.


If you’re not a Swedish citizen, you probably didn’t ge this short story as much as you could have. But maybe there are other countries infested with idiots who see racism in everything; racism that the actual minorities in their country do not see. It’s a funny world we inhabit.