You know how I know my country is better than yours? Because during Carnaval, instead of getting news about destruction and hell, there is a collage of asses all over the pages of our most respected newspapers. This is our "national passion" (sounds better in Portuguese) and there is no other time where this is made more evident than during Carnaval. Nothing else is news, nothing else matters except the overall size and shape of the country's most voluptuous women who parade themselves about wearing as little as possible (this is practically a rule) so that everyone can see their assets - literally.
You know how I know my President is better than yours? Because while the rest of the world's presidents are scratching their heads trying to figure out what to do about the financial crisis, running hither thither and yon making war and/or signing treaties, our President throws condoms at large crowds of rowdy, and for all intents and purposes, naked throngs of heathens.
You know how I know my city smells better than yours? Because while yours may smell of whatever it is your country majors in, mine at this very moment reeks of human existence. There is no denying that some serious shit went down these last couple of days, or that there weren't enough toilets to go around. Our streets smell of the stench of humanity reminiscent of perhaps what the streets of Sodom and Gomorrah must have smelled like after one of their bawdy celebrations. I won't get into detail here - so unnecessary - but I'm pretty sure you get the general idea.
What we need right about now is a flood of water to wash out the "mementos" of this celebration from our city. I'm thinking it should be a natural one, just lots of rain and water. But if that's not possible, then at least send in the planes and helicopters to spray the entire city with disinfectant and water - because really, people, this is just nasty.