The end may be nigh-er than you can imagine.

All of you sweet and (relatively) innocent beer-loving sorts, secure in the blanket of “we can make it after all” fantasies that your parents taught you, likely cannot begin to comprehend that our world is built on shifting sands which are ever subject to the vagaries of those noisy and unappealing  people down at the other end of the bar.

That comforting lie is about to crumble before your eyes.

The termination of diplomatic relations with the fine (albeit a bit quirky) nation of Belgium, a bullet we dodged four years ago, is very likely imminent. The Belgians might have considered the first invasion of a hapless hoard of classically “Ugly Americans” as an aberration to be tolerated in the interest of international harmony, but a second such disruption of common decency and acceptable behavior is not likely to be forgiven.

Stock up on Rochefort and Westmalle while you can.  After the Big One, the Other One, Cruella and the rest of their motley crew disrupt the quiet streets of Brugges a second time, you might not see their like again for a generation or more.

Way back when the world was fresh and bright and new and hope still lived, “The Yanks Are Coming!” was a cry of joy everywhere in Europe. These Yanks, this time? Not nearly so much.

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