Burning bridges to the 21st century

British people are often fond of levelling completely unfounded accusations against other peoples (a). One that I've heard from time to time is that Americans are too soft on their political figures, refusing to satire them in anything more than a loving way. Here's a clip that goes against that:



(a) They also claim that we are incapable of irony -- such as the irony of someone from the United States criticising an entire island of people for their perceived-by-him tendency to criticise large groups of people.

Bumbling second-class conditions are the new hotness

"Like much of America these days, the airline industry feels tired, worn down, and old.

That is surprising in a country that often likes to think of itself as the best.

Arguably, it once was, but the airline industry - like the health system, like schools, roads - you name it, feels like it is just creaking along and leaving its passengers ever more frustrated."

Good times

Hooray, the U.S. economy is going to shit and taking the world down with it. It's about damn time we had a good 'ol fashioned global recession. Ideally, on this end of the water they'll elect a Conservative to office and he'll destroy... uhm... I'm not sure what's left to destroy. Perhaps he could somehow make the trains in Wales be older.

And moustaches would come back. Me and Mr. Phin are ready.

Yeah, he has that effect on a lot of us

A young girl expresses the sentiment of many to GW Bush.

You know, it's none of your business who is maith liom

Here's a strange but generally true fact about Americans: We don't like it when you ask us who we're voting for.

"That can't possibly be true," you're saying. Americans post signs in their front yards, they slap bumper stickers on their cars, they wear T-shirts and badges and hats with the name of their chosen candidate gaudily emblazoned on them. They spend hour after hour after hour consuming incessant political coverage and writing MISPELED ALL CAPZ RANTING on internet message boards.

But, see, no one's asking them to do that.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Americans like to think that we are somehow above the political fray. So it is traditionally bad form to ask an American point blank who he or she will vote for. You are asking him or her to pick sides. You are asking him or her to no longer be an American but a certain kind of American. It's part of that "all men are created equal" thing. Our sentimental attachment to ideology. Our ridiculous beliefhope that we can actually live up to the stuff we promised ourselves 232 years ago.

Give us three minutes in a conversation and we will happily place ourselves in countless little defining boxes, but ask us who we're voting for and it makes us uncomfortable.

Our friends in the Home Nations, though, tend not to get this. People keep asking me who I plan to vote for. That information is readily available in this journal, on my Facebook profile, and in the way I will say things like: "I like candidates who want to set actual carbon emissions targets, rather than being sort of vague and asking people to take a totally ridiculous and non-binding pledge to reduce global warming, or simply ignoring the issue entirely." But I don't feel comfortable sharing that information with someone who asks. Yes, I'm being duplicitous. I don't care.

With around 9.5 months to go before the election, and a good seven months before I actually know who I will vote for (I know who I want to vote for now, but the outcomes of the summer conventions may change my options) I am already having to deal with the trick of constantly answering a question that is to me uncomfortable.

Generally, I am choosing to give people a tedious explanation of American etiquette rather than uttering a three-syllable surname. But Monday I found myself forced to answer the question, under the strangest of circumstances: an Irish exam.

Actually, the exam managed to squeeze in two questions that I find uncomfortable.
The second question is one that asks my opinion of George W. Bush. I'm probably in a minority on this one, but I am of some ancient mentality that the U.S. president deserves some level of automatic respect. Plus he's a fellow Texan. And I tend to mentally separate the seemingly likeable man and his insanely stupid policies. So when faced with the question: "What do you think of George W. Bush?" I usually try to answer with something along the lines of: "Well, he is the fairly elected president of the United States. And whatever I might feel for the individual, I respect the system he represents."

But I don't know how to say these things in Irish. So, when I heard Bushy's name wrapped in a string of soft consonants I knew the question that was being asked but not how to answer it.

"Well..." I sighed.

Then I realised that failure to answer the question would convey not a desire to maintain a facade of political ambiguity, but a lack of language comprehension. And I thought about the fact that my Irish teacher had said that if the examiners strayed from the set list of questions we were given to study, it was a sign things were going well and the examiners were trying to convince themselves to give the highest mark. With this kicking I my brain I forced myself to spit out an embarrassingly simple answer:

"Ní mhaith liom George Bush" (I do not like George Bush)

"Damn it," I thought. "I've sold my integrity for a high mark. I have no shame. I hate this. I just want to get out of here."

But then the other examiner, my Irish teacher, hit me with one last question. I was already in the mode of mentally shutting down, so I understood only two words. The question sounded like this: "Lafafa fahahafaha Clinton nó faha wahafa Obama?"

I answered the question, thanked the examiners and then left the room knowing that I had simultaneously passed a course and let my country down.

Best internet comment I've seen in months

Found on the BBC's Have Your Say forum:

"Bush + Clinton + Bush + Clinton = Change?"

Hopefully Hillary Clinton reads this blog

A few weeks ago, I came up with the brilliant money-making scheme of trying to set myself up as a Welsh-language pundit for the upcoming U.S. election. At first I thought to pitch the idea to Barn, but I already write for them, so I know they haven't got any money.

Then I thought I might take back the mean things I've said about Y Byd's total and embarrassing incompetence, and try to work myself into their good graces in time for their March launch date. But then they "revised" their launch date again -- because they are totally and embarrassingly incompetent. (a)

The BBC might throw me on the radio in a pinch, I thought, but my strange fanatical devotion to the Beeb means I would want to actually prepare. I don't have the time or energy to be a legitimate pundit. Especially considering that my first reaction to Mike Huckabee's winning Iowa was: "Who the hell is Mike Huckabee?"

I'm not the only one who thinks that, though. John Bolton today on the BBC referred to Huckabee as "Mike Huckleberry." For our friends in the Home Nations, Huckleberry Hound is a cartoon character who personifies the Southern simpleton. Bolton's flub is apropos; Huckabee doesn't believe in evolution.

On the whole, I am not nearly interested enough in the election to do any punditing (at least, that's the case now. BBC Cymru, please check back with me in summer).

That said, the other night I found myself pondering the fate of poor Hillary Clinton. Some part of me likes Hillary (b) because she reminds me ever so slightly of my mom. Here's a picture of my mother planning an attack on a village in the Philippines. See the resemblance? But the difference between my mom and Hillary is that people like my mom.

Look at any internet forum that relates to Hillary and one word will show up over and over: Bitch.

Usually it will be written in all caps, followed by exclamation marks. For reasons that aren't wholly clear, a large number of Americans despise Hillary. Vehemently. With vitriol and venom. And even still I feel I am understating it. Think of that girlfriend you had who made you so angry that you were literally paralyzed with rage. This is how American conservatives feel about Hillary. Their eyes roll back, they go into spitting fits.

Knowing this doesn't make her particularly appealing to people like me, who feel abandoned by the American experience. While Hillary is almost certainly the best qualified of any candidate -- Democrat or Republican -- the fact that she is likely to perpetuate and possibly escalate the ridiculous polarization of America makes her unappealing.

Barack Obama, meanwhile, has Oprah's endorsement. Oprah is our queen. Except, whereas Britons doubt the head of their church is actually divine, Americans know that Oprah is holy. If the Blessed Virgin Mary were to return to Earth for just a day, she would spend half of it waiting in queue for tickets to Oprah's Christmas show.

So, our gal Hillary needs to sort out her image problem. At 4 a.m. Monday, amid an essay-fuelled panic, I suddenly came up with the answer: She should embrace it.

Although getting teary-eyed helps to show she's a real person, I think the best way for Hillary to combat her reputation as a bitch is to cheekily embrace being a bitch.

If I were her campaign manager, at her next debate I would have her wait for John Edwards to bait her on an issue. In her response she would say something like: "John, if you keep that up, I'll cut you with my devil claws." Then she would turn to the camera and quickly (and with a certain degree of apathy) make cat claws with her hand. In the likely confused silence that followed, she would say nonchalantly: "Well, that's what everyone thinks of me." And then she would go about answering the question in her usual way.

We would then work in similar little comments at stump speeches. Possibly even go so far as playing Elton John's "The Bitch is Back" as she takes to the stage.

Pundits always want to tell you something the candidate hasn't. With Hillary acknowledging her bitchiness, the punditry would likely then focus on the fact that she is actually a swell person (which, reportedly, she actually is). Bill, and Hillary's staff, would underline this by always speaking positively of her.

By summer, the perception of Hillary as a bitch would be watered down to the extent that it wouldn't hurt her as badly. By that time, everyone but Obama will likely have fallen away and she will be able to contend for the Democratic nomination without having it be so much a contest of Really Likeable Guy That Oprah Approves Of verses Soul-Stealing Bitch of an Ex-girlfriend.

Damn, I'm a genius. You're welcome Hillary.

Of course, all that said, if I were in Minnesota on 5 February (when primary elections are held in the Land of 10,000 Lakes and 23 other states), I'd be voting for Obama.

There's no way I'd disobey the word of Oprah.

-------------------------------
(a) For those of you outside the Welsh-language world, Y Byd is a Welsh-language daily newspaper that has failed to launch for nigh eight years. Every so often they will claim they are close to launch. Then they "revise" those plans and push things back further. All the while, they keep selling subscriptions.
My claim that they are incompetent is giving them the benefit of the doubt. In truth, I sometimes suspect it is a scheme playing on the desperate hopes of Welsh speakers who want so much to see their language grow that they will hand over £156 ($300) for a subscription. Personally, I think Y Byd should be investigated. But when I broach the subject in Welsh, the general response from friends is akin to one's standing up in chapel and shouting: "Well, for fuck's sake! This Jesus fella's not going to show up this week either, is he?!"

(b) I once had a news manager who got really frustrated with journalism's a habit of using women's first names in second reference rather than their last names. So, whereas Tiger Woods would be referred to as "Woods" throughout a story, Michelle Wie would be referred to as "Michelle." The manager suggested this was a sign of our ingrained sexism. There may be something to that claim, but since said manager was a woman, I ignored her. For her sake, though, I'll point out that my use of "Hillary" on second reference is done for the sake of distinguishing her from the other famous Clinton.

Don't forget your passport, visa or astrological chart

Huw's recent story of arriving in the United States reminded me of one of my favourite immigration experiences, from the happy pre-9/11 days when Americans didn't fear having to come into their own country.

It used to be the case that a driver's license was all a U.S. citizen needed to get into or out of either Mexico or Canada. Crossing the border was a simple act of walking through a maze of scary barbed-wire fences, self-consciously fixing your hair when you saw the sign that said "YOU ARE BEING FILMED," and then showing your driver's license to a member of the always helpful U.S. Border Patrol. The officers were more nightclub bouncers than anything else, sitting on little stools and half-heartedly analyzing people's licences to check that they weren't fakes.

In the San Ysidro checkpoint one night, the guy in queue in front of me somehow managed to draw the officer's suspicion and was asked: "What's your sign?"

"My... huh?" asked the guy.

"Your sign, my friend. What is it?" the officer asked.

"Uhm. That's not it?" the man asked, pointing at his license.

"No. What's your astrological sign?"

"I don't think I have one of those."

"Everybody has an astrological sign. You know, astrology. That thing where you find out what's going to happen in your life based on what the stars and planets are doing."

"Oh. Uhm. I don't believe in that stuff."

"I don't believe in it, either. But I know my sign," the officer said. Then, nodding to several large Border Patrol blokes with dogs: "Here's your license back. Go have a chat with my friends over there."

The guy did as he was told and I stepped forward to the officer, holding out my license.

"I'm a Pisces," I said.

"I'm a Sagittarius," he said, waving me on and not even looking at my license.

Is America ready...

The other day I was watching Samantha Bee's "Daily Show" report on whether America is ready for a female president, and the thing that struck me was the fact that all the news orginizations were asking the same question in pretty much the same way, and how stupid this was.

Bee did a good job of pointing out the stupidity of the question by responding to it with stupidity (the best part in her report is when the feminist talking head breaks in mid-sentence to help Bee choose a blouse), but when you think about it, even the phrasing of the question is stupid.

By asking, "Is America ready for a woman president?" the question suggests that a woman president is a bad thing. Almost always when the phrase "Is America ready for..." is used, it is followed by something bad: "Is America ready for terroist attack?"; "Is America ready for a major flu outbreak?"; "Is America ready for the next Tom Cruise film?"

When is that phrase ever used for something good? When has the media ever asked: "Is America ready for more cuddly teddy bears?"; "Is America ready for a hug?"; "Is America ready for free Hostess Cupcakes? Can the nation withstand yet another onslaught of chocolatey snacky deliciousness?"

Mike Stonecreek reports

When I worked in local television news one of the things I hated most were health reports. More often than not, they were shockingly uninformative and the only reason the newscast carried them is because they were sponsored. In America's free press, the sponsor is king.

This video might not make any sense to international viewers, or indeed anyone who hasn't spent several years working (read: "suffering") in American local media, but Adam and my dad will get it, and blogging is all about targeting a narrow audience.

Were it real, of course, this report would be twice as long and even more useless. And because it would be sponsored we would drop actual news to ensure that it aired: "Oops. The show's running heavy, I'm going to axe this stuff about the crumbling American economy to make space for health."

I am particularly tickled with my choice of news guy name.

25-21

Twelve points down and only five minutes left -- why did we take a penalty kick over kicking for touch and attempting a try? My only guess is that the USA knew it was going to lose and decided that a nine-point loss was better than a 12-point loss.

As it happens, we only lost by four. The 25-21 final score is respectable but not what I think the USA was capable of. They didn't seem to start playing rugby until the second half. As usual, we suffered from a lack of experienced players and intelligent strategy (why did Ngwenya not get the ball more?). The USA seems to split between playing a game designed for two types of team -- a power team and an endurance team. It is neither at the moment. It's frustrating because our next and final match is against South Africa and only the most deluded fan would think we could win that one.

(Although, Tonga performed well against South Africa and we performed well against Tonga...)

I'm sure my neighbours will be looking at me funny for a while, because I was screaming at the television throughout the second half. Hopefully they were able to figure out that I was screaming at rugby and not just stomping around my living room in a homicidal rage.

I think the thing that frustrates me most is the number of guys in the United States who don't make the NFL cut who would make brilliant rugby players (assuming they improved their fitness and learned to check their egos a bit). I hate New Zealand so much and it just twists a knife in my gut to know that I come from a country that could present a team to destroy the All Blacks, but doesn't.

You cut me USA. You cut me deep

I am presently watching the USA lose to Samoa and I am in a rage. Why do we even show up to this fucking thing?

I've been thinking about this a lot over the World Cup. There are so many minnow teams who have to break their backs and their bank accounts just to attend a World Cup, only to get thrashed by a bunch of pro teams. I realise that there is a certain poetic justice to the USA getting slammed around in international competition, but you have to wonder: what's the point?

U-S-A

A while back, I suggested that if the United States could score a try against either England or South Africa, they could go home feeling that their campaign had been successful.

With only one match played, the United States' World Cup campaign has been successful.

A 28-10 defeat doesn't really leave one screaming "Do you believe in unlikelihoods?!", but today's USA vs. England match turned out better than I think anyone could have realistically hoped.

First off, we scored a try. Tongan-born Utah resident* Matekitonga Moeakiola trundled across the try line in the 74th minute, which leads to another reason to be happy. In the final, most exhausting minutes of the match, the United States, with only a handful of pro players, appeared more fit and into the match than England's all-pro squad.

Earlier in the day, Japan (the only team the U.S. has ever beat in the history of the World Cup) was clobbered 91-3 by Australia and New Zealand stomped all over Italy 76-14 -- it was generally expected that the United States would meet a similar fate. But instead they held England off and forced them to treat the U.S. as a legitimate threat (something France failed to do against Argentina the night previous). Even the blatantly pro-England announcers found themselves forced to extend respect to the U.S. team by the end of it.

The U.S. should now go into its match against Tonga with a tremendous amount of confidence. Tonga is beatable for them. Afterward, a win against Samoa is unlikely, but not impossible. If those two things happened, though, it would be the Eagles' most successful World Cup ever. Right now it feels just barely maybe possible.

The USA-South Africa match, however, is almost certainly going to be brutal. I think the U.S. goal for that one should simply to avoid getting any players killed.

*Hmm, Tongan-born Utah resident. What religion's he then? Holla, Mormons.

L'Étoile du Nord

In watching/reading news coverage of Wednesday's bridge collapse, and e-mailing back and forth with friends, I have been reminded of the things that endear me to the state and area that I am wont to call home.

On this side of the water, more often than not when something happens in America, news crews manage to find the dumbest person in town and talk to him. If this were one's only exposure to the United States, it would make sense that some people don't like the Yanqui -- seemingly Americans are incapable of putting together coherent sentences. So it was refreshing to see so many Twin Cities residents speaking coherently and without the sense of melodrama we've come to expect in these sorts of things. If you watch this video clip of survivors, you'll notice a lack of "Oh my God!"-type exclamations. By and large this is how Minnesotans are. They're not comedy stoic as Garrison Keillor portrays them, but there is an overall tendency to take things in stride.

It's something that often manifests itself in the Minnesota sense of humour. Eric's response to my e-mail yesterday was simply: "Want to come over tonight and grill some meats? Don't take 35 to get here."

Post tragedy, that appears to be the biggest concern for Twin Citians at the moment -- how to get around. The core road network (the Twin Cities is deceptively named; it actually consists of dozens of cities stretching out across 13 counties and two states. So when one speaks of "the core" they are generally speaking of the 15- to 20-mile radius with Minneapolis-St. Paul as its centre) was established in the mid- and late-1960s, when the Twin Cities were more aptly named. According to Sara's dad, who has worked in a municipal function for some time, when 35W was first laid out some people suggested making it bigger than necessary, so as to deal with any growth in the city's population. The general response to such a plan, however, was something along the lines of: "Who the hell would move here?"

Back then, the population of what is now the core was just a bit over 1.2 million. These days, the same area holds some 2 million people, with an additional 1.5 million in the surrounding areas. Good times.

The road network as it runs through Minneapolis appears to have been drawn up by a drunkard. And for people commuting from north or south of the city, at least once a day they think to themselves: "Cripes, is this really the ONLY major north-south route? Who the hell thought this was a good idea?"

Or, rather, they used to think that, because now that route is gone. It's not completely gone, but it is seriously disrupted at a key point and it's going to be that way for years. The thousands of people that used to travel across the 35W bridge will now be dispersed to other routes, all of which were frustratingly slow and outdated before the collapse.

Unfortunately, lack of investment in public transportation (the whole of the Twin Cities area has only a single 12-mile light rail line*) means that there isn't really any alternative to driving and sitting in traffic. Add to this the fact that the Twin Cities has the second highest rate of congestion growth in the United States, and you're talking happy, happy fun time for all. Suddenly Arriva trains don't seem quite as bad.

*Before the collapse, optimistic types were hoping to see a second line built by 2014. That will almost certainly be pushed back as money is diverted to inspect and improve the state's bridges.

Fácil

I am amused by this story, about a BBC duo who plan to spend a fortnight travelling across the United States speaking only Spanish.

It reminds me a bit of the Popeth yn Gymraeg challenge of a few years ago, in which Ifor ap Glyn went around these parts using only Welsh. But the Spanish-in-the-USA challenge is considerably easier -- especially when you look at the BBC crew's route. I reckon that one could perform the same task following a route that hugs the U.S.-Canada border; running through places like San Antonio, El Paso, and Nogales will be a cakewalk.

I want the BBC to pay me to do really easy things. Send me to Ireland to discover whether I can find any people who drink Guinness. Lock me in a room with a naked Reese Witherspoon to discover whether I find her attractive.

Spanish speakers can follow their journey via a BBC blog.

Winning the hearts and minds

Quickly, a few things referenced in a pub conversation I had last night:
- George Carlin's seven dirty words
- According to a recent USA Today story, Tijuana's murder rate is considerably lower than I stated. It is now down to one person killed every day. And only two kidnappings a week! Book your holidays now.

The highlight of the evening was having Sara Huws' friend look me right in the eye and tell me that she hated Americans. I thought only Germans did that. Our friends across the North Sea are perfectly happy to state things so bluntly*: "You are American? There are 27 reasons I do not like Americans. I will list them for you..."

I find that I get to spend a lot of time talking about America these days. More so than when I lived in Portsmouth, I think. The Welsh are particularly regionalist in a nation-state of regionalists. I've pointed out before how eager Britons are to illustrate their differences with other Britons living 10 miles away. In Wales, and especially within the Welsh-language community, with its multiplicitous dialectical variances, that mindset is intensified. A big part of any conversation in Welsh is where you're from. This applies to everyone, not just outsiders, and location is often very specific. For example, here is an actual conversation from last night:
FFION: "So where are you living now?"
ME: "Here. In Cardiff."
FFION: "Where in Cardiff?"
ME: "Oh, up in Danescourt."
MAIR: "It's not really Danescourt, though, is it?"
CHRIS: "The Danescourt station's, like, two seconds away."
MAIR: "But it's not Danescourt. That's across the road. He lives in Radyr Way."
ME: "No one knows where Radyr Way is, though."
MAIR: "I do."

And then Ffion told me that she hated Americans. That's a little less common. Although it is exhausting to talk about where I'm from all the time, most people don't have that many bad things to say about the place. New York is lovely, Florida's lovely. Once met a person from Missouri, or maybe it was Kansas, or Idaho, or one of those places, and they were lovely, too. People have their criticisms, many of which are valid, but for the most part I don't run into too many individuals who stare at me and tell me that they can't stand me because of their perception of who I am.

I always feel stupid and false when forced to defend the United States. It's not a place I'm particularly proud of at the moment. But it's where I'm from, and in Wales, where location is identity, criticism of place is criticism of the individual.

I run into that criticism from time to time and I do my best not to respond to it negatively. Like a lot of things, it's usually misunderstanding. For example, it struck me that Ffion didn't get American sarcasm. That's not to say that she doesn't understand sarcasm, but that she doesn't understand it coming from Americans. Sarcasm depends a lot on your understanding of the speaker. If you think of me as an ignorant, oversure ass-hole who revels in violence, you probably are going to miss the joke when I tell you that San Diegans take tremendous pride in the fact that their police force has the highest number of officer-involved shootings in the country.

Her question of whether I knew anyone who had killed a person reminded me of when I first moved to Minnesota and someone asked if we had cars in Texas.

But we all do that, I suppose. I have trouble accepting that French people can be funny. I base my knowledge of Germany on having met only eight actual Germans. And I sometimes find myself wondering whether people from North Wales are retarded**.

It worked out in the end, though. I got a hug as I was leaving the pub (the look on Chris' face when that happened was priceless). I'm winning the hearts and minds, one heart and mind at a time. I think the U.S. government should send me a stipend.

* I'm not the only to notice. It was pointed out in an episode of "The Simpsons" once. In this clip, a German is in a hostel, listing what's wrong with America. It is scarily familiar to an actual experience I had several years ago, when a German was telling me how the European Union would crush the United States.

**That's a joke -- put there because the majority of my friends here are Gogs (people from North Wales) and I'm starting to pick up elements of their insufferable dialect in my speech.

War Story Shows American Way

My latest column is out. It walks a little close to patriotism, but I think it works OK. Yes, I did learn about the story from "Coast." Neil Oliver is my hero.

I'm trying to guess which angry e-mail I'll get first: someone upset at my jab at Texas public education, or someone from the Navy upset at my believing the British.

Lots of little places

One of the little thorns in my side of living in Britain is the fact that Britons tend to have a homogeneous view of the United States. A bit like people from New York City, they tend to believe that the great expanse of the country is the same from top to bottom, shore to shore. Meanwhile, they are desperate to tell you how completely different they are from the people living 10 miles down the road.

Yesterday's post about the Watson's girl, and Ordovicius' response got me thinking about regionalism in the United States.

If you live in the United States, what's something unique about where you live? Obscure is good -- if you can think of things that people from other parts of your state wouldn't know about, that's even better.

Point Anthony

In my last post I challenged Anthony to come up with 10 things about Italy that Americans should be thankful for. Here they are:

1) Bocce- fun for all, needs no athletic ability and can be played with a Moretti La Rossa in your hand.

2) Frank Sinatra- or should we thank organized crime for funding his career?

3) Pinky rings- masculine when worn by a 300-pound man named Vito.

4) DeNiro, Pacino, Pesci, insert any other Italian actor who starred in sterotypical mob movie that we all love and hate so much.

5) Kissing other men without it being considered gay.

6) That small area of most major cities referred to as "Litle Italy" - Where else can you buy 3 pounds of fresh mozzerella and a stick of pepperoni and it's considered a snack?

7) Great sports heroes like Joe Dimaggio, Yogi Berra and Rocky Marciano.

8) My grandma's lasagna- if you've had it this wouldn't even be a debatable point.

9) Radio Flyer red wagon was invented by an Italian- it was un-American not to have one of those as a kid.

10) And America itself- I will ignore some of the controversy and go with the popular belief that an Italian, Christopher Columbus discovered America.

No. 5 is my favourite. The points battle between Anthony and Dan now stands 2-2. I would award more points to Anthony for this, but that would be unfair since Dan only earned one point for losing everything in a fire.

Maybe there are two Chris Copes attending Cardiff University

A few days ago, I was contacted by a writer from Gair Rhydd, Cardiff University's student newspaper, who was doing a story about anti-Americanism in the United Kingdom. She asked me to comment about my experiences and I responded with a rambling e-mail that I later put into a blog post.

The story came out today and I am happy to say that I got a mention. Unfortunately, the story claims I am from Florida and has me saying something I didn't say:

"Chris Cope, a student from Florida, adds: “We are loosely confederated individuals. We share very little commonality aside from our participation in the State. Our social experiences are vast, our heritages unique, and our sense of ‘us’ is predicated on none of ‘us’ being anything particular at all.”"

The quote attributed to me is similar to something I said ("...the United States could be broken into hundreds of different little nations... But the 'melting pot' mentality still holds for us -- we are a single people because we say we are"), but far more eloquent. "Loosely confederated individuals," "commonality," "predicated" -- that's some fancy wordsmithery right there. I would never be able use "predicated" in the right context. Like "obsequious," it's a word I'd like to have in my lexicon, but don't.

When I first read the quote attributed to me, I thought: "Man, the guy who actually said that (presumably he's from Florida?) is going to be pissed."

But perhaps the confidence that comes from being able to use "predicated" off the cuff results in your not really caring whether student newspapers misquote you.

Or perhaps the quote was a logical extension of that British thing of repeating back to me things I've just said. British people seem to think that an American accent makes words wrong, so if, for example, I say that I'm going up to Bangor on the weekend they'll say: "Oh, you mean Bangor."

Yes, of course I mean Bangor. That's why I said "Bangor."

So perhaps the article's writer saw my quote and thought: "Oh, certainly he meant to use fancy words like 'loosely confederated individuals.'"

Or, perhaps there is another Chris Cope studying at Cardiff University and he is hella smart, yo.

I guess it doesn't matter all that much. The day after I wrote about my experiences, I found myself at Kalla Bella -- an Italian restaurant in Llandaf -- with our waiter going on and on about how much he loved America.

"America! I love it! I love it!"

I run into that reaction from time to time here and never really know how to respond. I usually just try to think of something good about that person's country: "Yeah, well, thanks to Italians for, uhm*, really good food and the state of New York, and running booze during prohibition."

*Point to Anthony if he can list 10 things that Americans should be thankful to Italy for.