The day had finally come. We have reached the case where a gay man was stopped on the border and was told by the border guards that he was inadmissible. I raised my hand, often resting it atop my head, as The Strap was most hesitant to call on me. As promised, I asked The Strap how the border guards ascertained that the LPR was a homosexual as during that time period, I had serious doubts that the gentleman had been broadcasting his sexuality for tout le monde to see because of the stigma that was attached to homosexuality at the time. The Strap turned to me and answered that he didn’t quite know, but that “he didn’t have to take a test, but I guess you know that”. Nooo… You think? Perhaps I should have called him on getting the facts of the case wrong after he lambasted us for not doing the readings (I had, as I am sure others had, but no one wanted to rescue his sorry person, despite the fact that he brought us KitKat’s in what I can only assume was a peace offering and attempt to raise our sugar levels to stave off our falling asleep).
I vividly recall the Frauenkirche from the time that I spent living in Dresden. That year was marked by a lack of funds to rebuild it. Nevertheless, the portion which had already been paid for stood proudly on the cobblestone street, while what appeared to be an archeological site was laid in plain view of the public directly adjacent to it. I also remember being quite moved (her heart grew three sizes that day!) when one of my friends, a native of Saxony, emailed me a picture of the Frauenkirche (left) after its external structure had been completed. I had felt as though an important milestone had been passed, although I could scarcely tell you why that was the case. Today marks the Frauenkirche's official opening, and I, for one, feel compelled to congratulate the city of Dresden in particular, and Germany as a whole. Moreover, I am in awe of the feelings which must have overwhelmed those who were alive when the original Frauenkirche had stood in what was, undeniably, the cultural capital of Germany. While there were those who lament its rebuilding, saying that it should have remained a memorial to the Dresden bombings and the senselessness of war, I believe that it was a necessary step. I think this symbolically represents a break with the past and a move towards a brighter future. I find that this is all the more noteworthy because the Frauenkirche lies securely in the former DDR. Importantly, a cross, recovered from the rubble of the decimated church, is prominently displayed as a silent reminder of what the post-bombing shell of the church had symbolised.
If the county wants me to fill out a Jury Qualification Questionnaire online, I suggest that the "link" to the questionnaire not lead me to sites such as Ebay, goodbazaar and MyShortTermLoan. Just a suggestion (which I happened to leave at the phone number they mistakenly provided me with).
You can't quite remember the details of the War of the Roses, and so you spend the majority of your Friday night researching the topic. Incidentally, I never realised that the design on the back of the 20p piece incorportated the Tudor Rose (Henry Tudor, of the House of Lancaster, joined the White Rose of York with the Red Rose of Lancaster upon marrying Elizabeth of York). The rest of the night, I might add, was spent listening to an interview of Mrs. Mubarak, (unrelatedly) how the Albanian mafia traffics women and the like.
I don't know how, I don't know why, and for that matter, I don't know how they got my name, but apparently I am being considered for a spot on the who's who list of professional women. While I don't think that they quite looked into the person they are considering, it is no skin off my nose if they want to take a gander.
I know that I have been busy as of late, but I had no idea I was so busy that I would miss something as important as this! And here I had thought American thought of nuclear proliferation as a no-no. There goes that idea. It's great that America wants to rewards its "allies", but somehow I think that Shrub has once again failed to think things through because he thinks that giving India everything short of officially recognising India as a nuclear power is a bright idea. India will not so easily play the pawn in the US's China policy, if that is what he was hoping for. Let's get something straight: "India wants civilian help because the rules were working: it is short of uranium for existing power plants". India has not only failed to put their nuclear industry under nuclear safeguards (which the NPT requires) but has also detonated nuclear weapons post-1978 (big surprise there--only a year earlier Pakistan had achieved independence). Under the agreement proposed by Shrub, India would get to decide which one of its nuclear installations would be classified as civilian, as opposed to military, and therefore which ones would be inspected by the international community (again, something that the NPT requires, although, admittedly, India hasn't signed on). This of course begs the question, if we are going to completely disregard the NPT why only do it on a piecemeal basis. Israel and Pakistan also have nuclear weapons, and they have both been long-standing US allies (the US seems to claim that India's energy needs are greater and that therefore, they should be given greater leeway). For that matter, why not extend the favour to North Korea and Iran, who are attempting to build, or have already successfully built nuclear weapons. Hell, Hiroshima was such a blast that the Americans had to do it again at Nagasaki. Wouldn't it be so much fun to allow the world to join in on the fun? For that matter, this new policy might mean financial happiness for Argentina and Brazil. Brazil has already gotten a wink and a nudge from the US on its plan to build a uranium-enrichment plant. And hell, I am sure Venezuela wouldn't mind purchasing some choice nuclear equipment from Argentina. In fact, while we are at it, let's give every state a crack at the secret formula. Because, doncha know, that will bring peace and mutual understanding to the world.
Libby has finally resigned. However, I am not quite yet satisfied. I am hoping that this is only the first sacrificial lamb. If I had my druthers, Rove would be gone. He is just as liable for what happened (and may other things, I am sure), as yet he is merely "still under investigation". I am hoping that will translate into an indictment and a resignation. Somehow, I doubt it will.
We Play at the Gym on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays
Pestilence and I once again managed to crack up those around us by our ridiculous exchanges at the gym this week. This time around, I was explaining my deep seeded hatred of the Flintstones; a hatred, I might add, which I developed and nutured since I first saw the Flintstones. Pestilence, with a look that spoke volumes, said, "you, communist". And so, in my very best exaggerated Russian accent, I turned to her, and retorted, "it iz bekos ve kommunists like steel, not rock". Now why is it that when I try willing people to fall off of their cross-trainers it never works?
Just because open and vulgar cronyism and nepotism were a-okay in Texas doesn't mean that the same goes for the international arena. Apparently, the "king" doesn't have all his clothes after all.
As many of you undoubtedly know by now, President Ahmadinejad has told a group of students that Israel must be destroyed, which has sparked widespread protest (I suggest you read the recommended section of "Have Your Say" on the subject). While I most certainly don't deny that heads of state or heads of government should go around calling for the destruction of other states (least of all because the religion or ethnicity of that state is "evil"), I believe that Israel's call to throw Iran out of the UN meritless. Taking Iran out of the international arena would accomplish little, except, perhaps, deny the Western world one of the few mechanisms it has for ever so slightly influencing Iran and giving Iran a voice that does not require action to make that voice be heard. We really don't need to make the world any more factionalised. Some cynically say that a strongly worded letter, Europe's "most potent weapon", will be Europe's response. I am not sure that more is needed for this first, and I suspect (and hope) naive, outburst on behalf of Ahmadinejad. First of all, while no Iranian senior official has publicly made such a statement in quite some time, I do believe it is common knowledge that anti-Israeli/Zionist/American rallies are still held. Moreover, he made his statement to a group of university students, each of which probably has their own, more or less fixed ideas on the subject. Not only was the statement not particularly new, but I also believe that one of many factors may or may not be involved. Ahmadinejad may be slightly naive as to how international politics function, and may not have been aware that his statement would have such an impact (although it is doubtful that he would apologise, as that would be seen as accepting Western criticism). Furthermore, Ahmadinejad may have felt more comfortable in the political arena by using the tried rhetoric which has been in existence since Israel declared statehood (and for that matter, since Jews started showing up en masse in British Palestine, buying much of the Palestinian land). Finally, I believe that Iran is a country composed of many intelligent individuals. It will not declare, or for that matter launch, a war against Israel. Ahmadinejad's role in the Iranian government is subject to the control of other governmental and religious organisations. Even if he were to desire this, I doubt the Council of Guardians or the Supreme leader would be enthusiastic to adopt this stance. Iran does not neighbour Israel. It borders both Afghanistan and Iraq. Iran might be trying to build/build up nuclear weapons, but Israel, from all signs, actually has them. Israel clearly illustrated to Iraq in 1981 what it meant to try to threaten Israel with nuclear technology. I would be surprised if Iran hadn't taken heed. Taking into consideration that I know very little about Iranian politics, I would love it if someone would tell me I am wrong, so long as they tell me why (and hopefully provide me with insightful articles).
It's not that this title isn't going to bring more porn seekers to my site, but c'est la vie (I suppose, although I feel that my mind hopes it's not going to be one of those continuing aspects of my life). As it turns out some unfortunate horny bastard found my site by googling for "punishment mother strap". It would seem that I am number 42 in line. The best part is that "the strap" in this case is my immigration law prof.
I found this little gem while perusing the Waiter Rant site. As luck would have it, one of his loyal readers has a site with almost everyone of their videos. Tiny, Pei, Miaoster, I am dying to know what is being said in the second to last video on the latter of these two sites (please watch it all the way through). As it were, these guys seem pretty popular, as is evidence my Radio 21's tribute to them. Again ladies, I would much appreciate some sort of translation. Good to know that I spent my Wednesday evening wisely neglecting Business Organisations. Oh, and lest you forget, I dug up (the original) Numa, Numa dance and song (Gary's fame has even spread to Wikipedia).
Attempt to translate a piece about the Polish judicial system from Polish to French, using both a Polish-French and French German dictionary, while listening to German radio voice overing the comments of Polish political analysts.
Strange as it may seem, this is the first quasi-political entry I had written on this blog. I, however, won't be getting into details. I merely urge you to listen what these Iraqis had to say to the BBC. I only wish that the majority of Americans could comprehend the following: the vast majority of people treasure the security of their families and their ability to provide for their families above the tentative right to vote for American-picked candidates or on the documents they draft, reluctant as they may be to voice this. On a sidenote (which just happens to be completely irrelavant), I am sorely disappointed that Lech Kaczyński was elected the President of Poland, not least for his openly religious views. I would also appreciate it if the Western media would get it into their heads that his twin brother, Jarosław, isn't going to be the Prime Minister. At least the former-Communists are finally out of office. Thank goodness for small favours.
In general I have an especially low level of respect for The Strap (and his lack of ability to use basic English grammar doesn't help. For example, a plural noun does not take the singular form of the verb!). However, my sense of self-preservation usually leads me to feign attention as he instructs me in how to commit malpractice. Today, however, we were dealing with INA §212. As luck would have it, I had to deal with several cases which feel under this statute when I worked for a non-for-profit immigration centre. In fact, one of the document I submitted to the university in order to receive credit hours for my work was on this subject. Hence, I felt completely at ease showing the full extent of my distaste for The Strap. I openly napped in class, and slouched in my chair to the point of nearly achieving a fully horizontal position. In fact, at one point The Strap interrupted himself so as to inquire if I was feeling okay, to which I hautily answered in the affirmative. At that point, I knew it was coming. I knew I would be called on, all the more so since we lack the motivation to actively participate in class. And so indeed, The Strap called on me, most likely hoping to catch me off guard. Mistake number one was when he mispronounced my first name. I immediately corrected him, and waited for him to repeat the correct pronounciation before answering the question. In hindsight perhaps I should have said, "L----, I don't feel that we are on a first name basis. Please refer to me by my surname." On the other hand, that might had gotten me into more trouble than it was worth. He had already ask three students prior to me as to what evidence they would present to immigration official in order to convince the US government to allow a convicted money launderer (who was convicted several decades earlier, but after the age of 18, and who had had a clean record since then) into the United States. Having not been fully satisfied with their answers, he thought this would give him the opportunity to talk down to me. I, however, had other plans. If I do say so myself, I answered the question beautifully, explaining, among other things, what character evidence could be presented. Suffice it to say, The Strap, upon hearing my answer, admitted that I was correct and immediately thereafter called for a break. Now the rule that you should have gotten from this fact pattern is that if I feel so completely at ease so not even to bother to feign attention, it is probably because I know the subject. For your safety and the safety of others, it might be best to leave me be under the said circumstances.
Nipple. Say it. Feel the way it rolls off your tongue. Done? Good. Now understand that ND’s mother is cuteness embodied. And yet, this word was (until recently) was one of the few words she knew in English. Why you ask? As it turns out, there is a very innocent reason: ND’s undergraduate university referred to one of the buildings on campus as “the nipple”. Now imagine a group of über-nerds trying to incorporate that word into their conversation, not necessarily subtlety. Somewhere along the line, "nipple" had acquired the new meaning of "bite me". Classy.
For reasons of over-ambition, I have read my Immigration Law homework this weekend, and came across a certain 1963 case which involved a Swiss national who was an LPR. He had made a trip, which lasted for no more than several hours. However, when he made it back to the US-Mexican border (for law's sake, I have chosen not to use the legally loaded terms of re-entered/re-admitted), he was told that he would not be allowed to come into the United States because he was excludable on the grounds that he had a psychopathic personality. When I hear that phrase, my mind automatically turns to thoughts of serial murder. However, in this case, serial murders are wholly irrelevant. As it were, he was merely homosexual. And hence had a psychopathic personality. Now I have grave issues with calling someone psychopathic on the basis of their sexual orientation, but this is not the point that I am choosing to focus on here. Instead, my question is as follows: how did the immigration officers know he was gay? This was the 1960's and there was still a huge taboo attached to homosexuality (not that this mind set doesn't persist in the United States today, but, let's face it, it was then legally enforcable beyond a prohibition on marriage) so I somehow doubt that he was "flaming" or, to put it in a completely vulgar and inappropriate way, that he asked the immigration officers if they wanted to exchange sexual favours. I think I will ask The Strap for further clarification, if only Death's amusement.
As Pestilence read my blog today, she turned to me and in her most southern hick accent said, "you know, if it weren't for us Americans, y'all'd be speaking Deutsch right now". As a matter of fact Pestilence, it seems that at least my Grandparents and I do nevertheless...
I am sure that this would make my Grandparents oh so proud. Really it would. Namely, it appears that I am a Pinko-Commie. That is to say, by European standards I am a moderate Social Democrat, but by American standards I am so far left that I have fallen off the political spectrum. Now while I have known this to be true for quite some time, I had forgotten to what extent this holds true until yesterday. We were discussing the Covenant on Social and Economic Rights, as opposed to the Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. I was amazed at the commentary put forth by the majority of my class (I would have comments, made them bend over, and have taken a jack hammer to their respective popo's, but I was busy cramming for EU Law). The most memorable remark went along the following lines: "I don't see why I should have to give up any of my property for anyone. They can get food if they work hard enough. I shouldn't have to pay for them hoarding tylenol in suitcases or stocking up on junk food. And as far as Katrina is concerned, I suppose we should help them, but it isn't as if they really have a right to assistance." Knowing my professor as I do, I am sure he will quickly revisit the subject at the beginning of class so that I can wreak my revenge upon my Capitalist Pig Comrades. Mwhahahaha.
I think that this is absolutely brilliant, although I suspect it will be altogether ineffective. Don't get me wrong--Saddam, Mother Teresa, Hitler, Bush, Gandhi and Osama make quite the Society for Traffic Law Obedience. However, somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that if I were driving down the highway and suddenly came across a giant billboard of Mother Teresa saying, "for devil's sake, don't give bribes", I just might swerve off the road from disbelief, laughing all the way. Well, that and as a pedestrian, I don't think that I could quite buy Osama telling me that he was concerned for my life. (once again, the link is to be found by clicking on the Posting Title)
While I don't quite remember the exact phrasing, the following exchange just came to mind as I reflected upon my 12 hour Wednesday. In response to my remark on my hopes of sitting down to write my International Law paper this weekend, my classmate turned to me and stated that he had a paper in his back pocket on using robots of some sort to kill terrorists, but that it was only a B paper.
Let me make one thing clear before launching into this story. I don't speak French. I may try and pretend to from time to time, but that is far from having any real knowledge of French. I took French for one month in Nice two years ago where they decided after two weeks to place in a class where the majority of speakers had been speaking French for about two years. I'm sure you can imagine my teacher's confusion when I explained that I didn't know how to speak in the simple future tense. Now let's fast forward to the present. I am currently taking French for Lawyers I, where, once again, my classmates each had over two years of French. The fact alone that I am able to understand what the professor says is a miracle. However, this also leaves me in the awkward position of being far behind my classmates, especially where vocabulary is concerned. Tonight we were practicingpassé composé. Mind you, I only learned this tense last week while trying to complete my French homework during my two hours break between EU Law and French (me? a Europhile? and a European? no....never). Hence I was a bit slow in formulating sentences on the spot in the past tense during class. And then came the big question. "What did you do on Saturday?" Just imagine the Fringlish which springed forth as I tried to explain how bogs were formed (peat moss en français anyone?), how the bodies came to be there, how they were mummified, how they were found, etc... Thankfully I wasn't questioned as in depth about my trip to the aviary, the theatre or the restaurant. I also was subject to an hour long examination on EU Law today, as set forth in the Treaty of Rome and the Treaty of Maastrict (and to some extent on Rome II). The questions, while not difficult, were such that the entire exam period, not ten minutes, could have been spent answering each of them. Afterwards, while settling down to a well deserved D-Pop (in this case Weil ich ein Mädchen bin), a highly beloved (smell the sarcasm) Republican classmate of mine (you may know him from claims such as welfare serves no other purpose than to creates poor, black, unemployed baby-makers) came up to me and, after overcoming his initial befuddledment of the wonder that is Lucilectric, asked me whether the exam had left me feeling like when the Nazi's had bombed Poland. I simply answered him with my usual blank, deadening stare, but really thought no more of it until Pestilence turned to me in disgust, amazed that I had not sent him to the graveyard for the comment. She made the point that I surely had relatives and other people close to my family die in World War II. And she is right. However, what I realised at that moment was how immune I've become to such comments. Allow me to explain by way of an only somewhat relevant tangent. This short exchange actually reminded me of a conversation I had with Pestilence when I was getting to know her as a 1L. She had said something along the lines that Americans tend to like Europeans, in that they find them exotic and have a more favourable response, for example, to someone saying that they are French than, say, Kuwaiti. I explained to her that it really depended upon which part of Europe one was from. I have only on very rare occasions seen anyone anything more than crestfallen or completely put off on learning that I am Polish. In other words, only certain European nationalities are considered "sexy" to the American public. However, the fact of the matter is that I have become accustomed to this. This also holds true for comments made to me about Poland and WWII. My German friends regularly, to this day, tease me about the fact that the Polish cavalry rode out to fight German tanks during the Blitzkrieg. The Russians and I tease each other about WWII and the Cold War. But comments on this subject are not only limited to my circle of friends. Most Americans and British people seem to be fully ignorant of the role that Polish soliders and spies played in WWII (enigma machine, anyone? what's that? Monte Cassino, you say?) and simply expect me to be thankful to them for "saving" (and by saving, they mean sacrificing to Stalin, I suppose) Poland from the Nazi's. And so, when this anti-welfare-ite made his comment on the bombing of Poland, it didn't even register as offensive. In fact, on the spectrum of comments that I have had directed at me, it was fairly mild. On further reflection, this is also tentatively linked to the thoughts which go through my head when I hear about her experiences after having come back from Germany, complete with a thick German accent and amid claims to the throne of a certain, ahem, "landlocked country in the middle of the pacific ocean". Her stories, while numerous and highly amusing, do nothing so much as to remind me of the teasing that I was subject to all throughout my public school education. By the time I had gotten to high school (which, incidentally, was the point in her academic career when she was reintroduced into American society), I had grown immune to my classmates constantly asking me if Europeans bathe, telling me that Poles are stupid and/or thieves, asking me where Poland was/where in the USSR/Russia it was located, and the like. Then again, the antics of my classmates were nowhere near as amusing those of her classmates and I had by that time temporarily tired of making asses of them (unbeknowst to them, naturally). To wrap this long-winded posting up, it brings me great joy to hear how she duped those around her in a most witty manner and that she can feel indignant on my behalf when I no longer have the sense to be.
Being the oh-so understanding person that I am, I will translate the following article (click on the posting title to view the external link) which I found while trying to escape the reality of preparing for my EU Law exam (and thus put off studying for at least another few minutes). Pestilence should find a measure of amusement to know that the following events unfurled in Sweden. There the highest court ordered a 39 year old male, who was the sperm donor for a lesbian couple, to pay child support for the three children he fathered. He now urges would-be sperm donors to refuse to sign any documents (he himself had signed documents stating that he was the father of the children in order to make them aware of their roots). Apparently the women had agreed initially to take on the entire burden of raising the children, but would allow him to make sporadic appearances in the children's lives (which I, personally, think would be a bit confusing for the youngsters, but what have you). As fate would have it, the lesbian couple broke up, and the woman who gave birth to the children brought suit for child support against the sperm donor. The head of the National Union of Equal Sexuality Rights (okay, I admit this might be called something completely different and surely more eloquent in English) Sören Andersson (with whom I happen to agree), expressed his anger at the decision of the court, stating that it should be the mother's partner who should be liable for child support as this would have been the case had the same basic facts been applied to a heterosexual couple. Perhaps I have spent far too much time in the Law School today, but this case strikes me especially amusing. This is not to say I don't sympathise with the unwary sperm donor. However, it is rare that I actually find such cases anywhere outside of my textbooks, let along in one of the most popular and well-regarded newspapers in Poland.
My glorious institution of higher education decided sometime last year (ie, while I was taking a year to take advantage of the Island) that it could not trust its [American] law students to take exams without first installing the exam software. This I think is representative of a larger problem in the US: note how you can only enter buses (the only form of public transportation in P-----, outside of a VERY limited metro system) from the front because otherwise the passengers could not be trusted to pay for their tickets. However, this is not a point on which I shall dwell. Rather, I should like to make a fuss over how this programme, far from being free of bugs, indiscriminately causes certain computers to crash. We are not talking about a problem brought about by laptops not meeting the system requirements of the software. Oh, no. That would be unfair, but nevertheless understandable. This programme managed, among other things, to disable my task manager to the point where I needed to perform a system restore (after uninstalling said vicious exam software) in order to re-enable this most vital of system tools. Now why the honours programme, which has been in place at the university since time immemorial, is now considered unacceptable is beyond me. Could they truly not have waited until a relatively bug-free version of the programme became acceptable? After all, their chosen course of action is not one which I would label as being on the edge of technological advancement.
A museum down the street from me has been showcasing a special exhibit (naturally mummified Europeans) which I have, for quite some time, wanted to see. And so, in celebration of four October birthdays, a group of my friends and I decided that we would visit the museum's oh-so-hallowed halls. The exhibit was poorly put together, and sadly, we were trying to make our escape from an exceptionally uninformed tour guide. One of the few truly interesting bits of information that was presented was only written in German--which works for Pestilence and I, but I am sure that the majority of P------'s inhabitants do not. It was about how the bodies had been discovered by German workers who initially called the police, thinking that the bodies had belonged to SS victims. The police, however, knew well enough that not their, but rather the archaeologist's expertise was needed in this situation. What I found most distasteful, however, was to be found just outside of the exhibit. There, behind a glass case, was a spongy replication of one of the corpses, wearing the exhibit's tee-shirt and hat. Scattered throughout the rest of the display were items such as coffee, which apparently these people drink, because it is "good enough to wake the dead", and the like. Call me crazy, but these seems highly disrespectful to the dead, and I can't help but think that this was just not a well-thought through ad campaign on behalf of the museum. These were people who were either murdered viciously (one girl was strangled with her own cape) or sacrificed in a brutal matter, and here we found a representation of one in marketing gear. Hmmm. Then again, I should have learned by now not to expect from P------ because that is a lost cause on a scale heretofore unheard of. I supposed, however, this was made up for by the jungle lovin' that we observed at the aviary... (here I should mention that some parents definitely showed an inability to use common sense, ie, they were trying to get their kids to offer their fingers up to the bird in a way that could not be described as anything short of sacrifice.) We also went to a good, but far from phenomenal Flamenco performance. As I have not attended theatre in the US for quite some time, I succumbed to culture shock once more. Perhaps Americans should be forced to attend a 12 step programme before they are allowed through the theatre doors (ie, step one: do not participate unless asked to do so explicitly by the performers; step two: clap only when appropriate; step three: if your children don't know how to sit still and behave themselves, don't take them to the performance; step four: a standing ovation has a specific meaning and "good job bucko" is not it; step five: such an even in such a venue neither calls on you to wear your prom dress, nor your jeans, tee-shirt and sneakers--try a little something called elegance in due measure; etc...). The woman shouted Olé repeatedly while clapping off beat (woman, this performance was not one where audience participation was asked for), to the point where I had to turn around to put her in her place. Even worse was the fact that she was teaching this poor behaviour to her two young children. I very loudly and conspicuously turned to Pestilence during the intermission and explained why this woman's behaviour was ill-mannered. Her husband merely looked at me with a look which said, "I know, I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do about it". At the end of the performance, the audience gave the performers a standing ovation, much to my confusion. Again, the performance was good, but not great, ie it did not warrant a standing ovation. The fact that one was given demeaned the very gesture of a standing ovation. Even worse, the performers did not know when to stop taking their multiple bows. I was given some degree of satisfaction, however, by the fact that my French teacher did not take part in this, thus showing her little girl proper theatre etiquette. This is not to say that I didn't have a fabulous time yesterday. I greatly enjoyed visiting the museum gorging on Ethiopiannn food, running amuck in the aviary (where I managed to pull a Cinderella-esque move by charming a beautiful Mealy Rosella), watching the Flamenco dancers dance to their two singers and guitarist, and last but not least drinking glühwein over bread pudding (my first time trying it ever) and berry cobbler. In fact, it was by far the most enjoyable set of experiences that I have had since I returned to P------.
After a woefully long hiatus, I am back in all my firebelly glory. Much to my chagrin, immigration allowed me to re-enter the country, although the immigration officer seemed a little more than wary of the fact that I had been gone for a year—after all, what USC in their right mind would do something as silly as that, London now being such a terrorist hub and all. However, this was nothing compared to the treatment that my best friend received after returning from Tehran—treatment which, I might add, only continued until they found out she was a law student. Then again, she wasn’t forced to repackage her overweight suitcases into two plastic, plaid bags, courtesy of BA (and perhaps here I should add that said bags are of the same species carried around by old, FOB Russian women). Despite the fact that I have now officially been back for two months, I am astounded by the fact that I appear to be experiencing culture shock on nearly a daily basis. Welcome to the land where ignorance is celebrated. Please check your criticism of the government at the door. War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength. Now for those of you who think that this might be a somewhat exaggerated view, allow me to depart on to you the tale of the Cable Guy, average Greater P——— resident extraordinaire. Many of you may already be familiar with this story. I finally moved into my new humble abode and, most shockingly and scandalously, decided to get cable internet. Sure enough, the cable guy came within his four hour window, calling up to my flat in advance. It turned out that I did not need to open the door to the lobby for him as The [cable] Company has a key to my apartment building so that they can better serve their many customers. This time, The Company sent someone about my age, and so, while he busied himself with tapping my cable, he became very open in his chit-chat (although frankly, I am pretty sure I never exude the aura which begs for small talk to made with me, and yet, I always seem to find myself in these situations). First he informed me that I could have been using the cable for free, as apparently my cable had never been turned off. Not wanting to touch that one (you just know that would somehow get to the character assessment people, ie for the bar exam), I declined to respond with more than a generic, store brand “hmm”. This brilliantly articulate sound was interpreted the Cable Guy as an invitation to begin a highly novel discourse. He inquired as to whether I had watched the CNN coverage of the plane that had almost crashed. I told him that I had not. To this he responded that he had been video taping it, and hence was angry that after having invested such a long period of time and effort in catching it on video, the plane had not crashed. I was shocked, but as he was bigger than I was (and—let’s be honest—he was not quite finished with setting up my internet), I tried to side step the issue by saying that I was surprised that so many people were upset by the fact that the passengers had had the ability to watch the news coverage of the events. I said that I, on the other hand, would have been thankful because that way I would have known for sure that something was being done on the ground to prevent my plane from turning into a firey ball of flames. What was said next, was equally, if not all the more so, unexpected. Without any use of a transitive, he pointedly said, "it's not that I don’t like black people, but I really think that we should stop helping the Katrina victims--they're shooting at red cross helicopters". I explained to him that many people had not had access to their medication and could have had trauma-related mental breaks and that in any case, this had not actually happened. He explained to me that it wasn't as if he cared, but the US was in a war with Iraq. As suddenly as he had said this, he turned to me and inquired as to whether my laptop was turned on. I said no, and turned it on for him. He then proceeded to start installing the software onto my computer which registered the router. In the past The Company has always left me to struggle with its not quite de-bugged registration software, and so I expressed my amazement at the change of policy. He quickly explained to me that he wasn’t required to do so, but that he “felt like it”. It must have been that I was such a oh so charming and likeminded hostess… And so he continued as the classical signs of shock took hold of my person. Again, he began with, "it's not that I don't like black people [it might be of note to mention that a mask that was clearly from Ghana was directly hanging behind him], I don't like anyone, but, um, do you know where B——— is?" I said that I did. Upon hearing this, he brightened, divulging to me that his brother, Hunter, was a racist. Apparently quite a few African-Americans have recently moved onto the Cable Guy’s street. Hunter had apparently been asking Cable Guy if he was not afraid that they would break into his house. Cable Guy explained to me that he had nothing to fear in his opinion, as the way he “figured it, with three shot guns and five boxes of shells in his bedroom alone”, he could "hold out there for quite some time”. Swell, I thought to myself. My Cable Guy is a young Timothy McVay in the making. As so the one-sided conversation continued in much of this manner. As he recounted his views on African Americans, the Japanese and mac users in general, I was reduced to making fish-face like motions, as the knowledge that I should not piss off someone who had my address, free access into my building and three shotguns prevented me from responding in any satisfying manner. He then hit me with the following: "so, com’on, you gotta hand it to Osama [joy! It seems they were on a first name basis]—the man was creative, flying those planes into the WTC". Not that he was really wrong on this last point, but really now, this does not strike me as something The Company should encourage its employees to depart to their customers. The Cable Guy clearly has spent too much time in Penn's [back] woods.
