Why settle for great when you can make something better?

Strangely enough, I was eating a blueberry bagel and drinking a hazelnut cappuccino while… Strangely enough, I was eating a blueberry bagel and drinking a hazelnut cappuccino while reading Descartes when I noticed an issue of The Pitt News opened to the Opinions Section.

It was the April 12 edition, and I laid down my Descartes — if only for a second — to find that I was not only an obviously liberal bastard through and through, but also maybe a homosexual.

This was not the first time I contemplated my sexual preference. I had been experimenting for years now, but I never thought my breakfast habits would be so revealing.

I could not stare the facts in the eyes anymore and deny it. It is true — I am gay — there can be no other explanation for my preference for hazelnut cappuccinos.

Coming to terms with my sexuality, I moved to the more pressing and important point of Christian Brubaker’s column.

Constant critics of U.S. foreign policy, such as myself, do not realize how wonderful this country is. They are so preoccupied with criticizing the United States that they neglect to recognize just how fortunate they are to be citizens of a country that provides them with liberties they would have few other places.

I have heard this claim before and have long been accused of maintaining such a view. And though I cannot speak for all devoted critics of our fine country, allow me to state my view of our United States.

You might be surprised to find that it does not begin in a suburb of an American city, however. Nor does it find its origins in liberal literature or youthful rebellion.

My experience with the United States begins as a Bosnian refugee for two years, sleeping on the floor of a dorm room-sized area alongside my mom, brother and two cousins whose parents remained in occupied Sarajevo.

Next to opening the door of our room one day and unexpectedly seeing my dad standing there — for the first time since we got word he was in a concentration camp — the happiest moment of my life was hearing that the United States of America had granted all of us political asylum, regarding our case as serious and worthy enough to welcome us into the country.

Coming off the plane, I literally fought with my cousin and brother to be the first to set foot on American soil. I was 11 years old and knew what it meant to be here.

Ten years later, I have not forgotten. A year and a half ago, my then-15-year-old brother was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. His condition required an immediate liver transplant and, in the Children’s Hospital here at UPMC, he underwent a surgery that granted him a new liver and a new life. The transplant could only have been provided in a handful of places in the world — Bosnia, of course, was not one of them.

I understand the greatness of our country; I’ve lived it. I am acutely aware of not only that it is wonderful, but also why it is wonderful and unique — and I know so from personal experiences.

But I also understand its flaws, and I do not think that I should refrain from inquiring why we were immediately involved in Kuwait and why we allowed damn near a million people to die in Rwanda just because I am American.

Therefore, I harbor no illusions about our United States — not because I do not realize how great she is — but because I also realize how great she can be.

I suppose, every week, I could do some research and talk about how Egypt’s, Russia’s or Paraguay’s foreign policies are lacking. But only we are in the position to use our tremendous power and influence to direct the world; Zimbabwe’s foreign policies are not usually of global consequence — ours are.

Or instead of talking about what we can do better, I could use my column to praise our every move. Then, we could all have more material to sit around and masturbate to about just how great our great United States is — to hell with what could be done to make it even better.

If anyone needs reminding of why the United States is great, point him or her in my direction.

Just don’t expect me to say she couldn’t be greater.

Direct questions about Pedja’s sexuality to pej3@pitt.edu