I Heart Denmark – Dear Vice

Dear Vice,
I’m moving to Copenhagen!
I just visited a friend there. She lives on Istedgrade, halfway between the junkie church and Kebabistan. Really. The kebab place is called Kebabistan! Ha! You can’t miss either of those landmarks. And that’s where you’ll find me for the rest of my life: tiptoeing around used needles and broken bottles.

Because Copenhagen has it all.

Firstly, everyone speaks English. It’s like a game for them, they love that shit. Just throw out some slang and some curse words—i.e. “That’s the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”—and you’ll be the life of the party.

And the women—every friggin last one of them—are blonde and beautiful. As one friend phrased it, Danish girls are very open and outgoing. And by “open and outgoing” she meant alcoholic and slutty.
They take it like champs and give it even harder. For fuck’s sake, they open beer bottles with their teeth with an ease that silently mocks you.

But even if you can’t get laid—and if you can’t get laid in Copenhagen you might as well be a eunuch—there’s hardcore porno on TV every night. Basic cable. And I don’t mean Cinemax dry-humping, I’m talking about raw, dirty double penetration. Every night. In your living room.

But that’s just the beginning. Copenhagen also has Tivoli, the oldest theme park in the world, smack in the middle of the city. Don’t knock it until you try it, my friend. We went straight from the Carlsberg Brewery to Tivoli’s rollercoaster. It was like I died fucking a supermodel and woke up in heaven’s hot tub. Only on a rollercoaster. Drunk.

I heard Michael Jackson wanted to buy Tivoli but the city told him to fuck off. And any city that sticks it to MJ is okay in my book.

One night I went to some artsy hipster party in an abandoned candy factory and it could have been Brooklyn with the hip-hop duo who played and the country cover band. But in Brooklyn kids can dance. The Danish are so unfortunately arrhythmic they could barely clap with the beat. But they looked good nonetheless. And those bastards can drink!

That’s why I’m moving to Copenhagen. Because even though I was the only dark-haired, bearded dude I saw, at least I can dance. And that’s more than those fucking Vikings can say for themselves.

Even if they invented porno.

Sincerely,
A.P. Smith

PS- Everyone in Demark is friends with or cousins of or walked the dog of Lars von Trier. Don’t believe them for a second. They lie. If Denmark had some other claim to fame no one would have to lie about living next to Lars von Douche.