"Can't wait to get some tea up in me."
Don't even get me started on the tea. You stole that from the Orient, then made it your staple beverage. By the way it's actually called China. Had been for a long time when you gave it your little nickname.
But it was never about the tea as much as it was continent-envy. There you were, the most powerful nation on the globe, stuck on a tiny island that gets pissed on 300 days of the year. India? Africa? If it was a giant landmass, you were going to park a small army of accountants in the middle of it, and politely inform all the bothersome brown inhabitants that you like two lumps, and to hurry it up, pip, pip!
Think American Culture's Dumb?
Maybe McDonald's isn't the height of culinary innovation (again, that would be the Twinkie). Maybe we did spend the last couple of decades flooding the globe with action movies starring steroid-fueled human cartoons.
But let's talk about England's version of culture. Huzzah to The Rolling Stones for having listened to American blues. Shakespeare is your one irrefutable claim to cultural legitimacy. At this point, I'd like to mention that nobody at the time knew what Shakespeare was talking about. He wrote his plays, whose plots he ripped off, using words that he was pretty much making up on the spot. Of course he looks like a genius now. You let him make up half of your damn language off the top of his head.
Just making shit up.
I could go on a tangent about how your national cuisine is boiled kidney and peas with a dash of self-loathing, but I'd like to strike a personal note. I've worked for the English before. I know for a fact that the only things the English respond to is beer, more beer and then either buggery or street brawling. And that's just during work hours. I worked for all sorts of Brits from all of the social stratum:
These are your options.
1. The rectally collapsed posh.
2. The insecure, backstabbing middle class whose only goal in life is to get invited anywhere leather covers chairs.
3. And of course, the psychotic hooligans, which bleed into the upper two tiers whenever there's a game on.
All they ever did was talk about soccer, fight about soccer and watch soccer drunk. They'd watch games at 10 in the morning, stumble into work drunk and proceed to insult everyone. You can take the lad out of England, but you can't take the haughty, imperialist alcoholic out of the lad.
The subtle differences between American and British children.
Wow. I feel better. Who's next? What are you looking at Guatemala? You think you're above it all?
Go read John Devore's weekly Right Wing Pinko column for Playboy.com.