Its the middle of the summer and there's tons of Yankees with loads of their parents dough to spend, trying to burr into the local scene, which appears to have completely moved to airports and Mecca at the moment.
Criticism is rampant and there are hella theories and insults denigrating their shallow subeuropean characters. I try to defend them somewhat on the grounds that they are under the influence of the most sophisticated soul destroying propaganda machine of all time.
I explain that after years of relentless advertisements designed to make us fee insecure, we/they are a truly neurotic bunch, and therein lies the fundamental difference between the two.
How many Euros are cashing in an their dirty laundry like these Jerry Springer style confessional talk shows, or even humiliations for cash like Survivor?
After such degradation, they babble incessantly and frankly about what confusion is invading the empty spaces left over after the all the media has been jacked from their larded brains, in a pathetic search for others who can relate to their perfectly boxed in isolation.
The common experience as bridge back to reality not only is satisfied through a Big Mac, but through the sights and sounds of Charles Bridge and someone puking at the hostel.
July 4th is the day I have chosen to encourage all Europeans to grab an American, hug them and tell them that you don't hate them and that they are generally OK to be tolerate. Smile and put up with their weirdness, and understand their innocent politeness, and take pity on them.
Encourage them to spend more time in the 'old world', or they might remember you when they are old and bitter and choosing which one of you will join them on the spaceships out of here.
Here's the late great Bill Hicks enlightening on a culture that enjoys watching people getting arrested on TV to make them feel more secure.
"I'd like to make a confession," The reverend spoke upon his giggling, tipsy pasture, "it's a confession in the way of a question. Is anyone here like me in that they are compelled, obsessed, and drawn beyond their will to watch the show Cops every f*ckin' night?"
Cheers and applause.
"I'm not alone? Oh, thank God! I thought I was alone. Hello, I'm Bill and I'm a Cops watcher. 'Hello Bill.' I'm obsessed by that f*ckin' show! I can't not watch it. I'm like a guy with a sore tooth I can't stop touching' it. I've never been in so many trailer parks, ever! Each night I'm in a different one. I could buy a trailer now, I know so much about them from the show Cops. It's sick and I love it.
Every night it's the same show. A women has been beaten by her husband, her head looks like a melon. The cops are called on a domestic call 'cause the trailer next door couldn't hear the results of the American Gladiators contest over her shrieking.
"F*ck cops, send in the S.W.A.T team. She doesn't need children. That's a judgment call and I'm making' it. But it happens to be true and that gives it the force, that extra oomph. Can't support 'em, can't raise 'em, don't even love 'em.
Why don't you get the cops camera and shine it up your pussy and film the little criminal coming out. This is crime prevention. Here comes another illiterate unwanted child! Cuff him, Banano! Hunk! Hunk! Hunk!
(In Hillbilly Policeman voice) "Can you calm down on your rutting just for a couple of seconds until we can figure out this food, air deal?
(As average person). "Well who are youuuu to judge? who are yoouuu, unk, ugh, betah ugh than Jesus..."
"And she's standing up for this guy. This guy is balls deep in this whore every night and I haven't been laid in three years! It's not right!"
Complex, those yanks, yup.