That Which is Good and Right About America
My husband would say it's "John-by-god-Wayne", just to get a rise out of me, but the indisputable truth is that cheese dip best represents all that is good and right, noble and true about this great and demented country of his.
And not just any cheese dip. I'm talking Ro-tel & Velveeta cheese dip. Manna of the trailer park. Do not--I mean, don't even--email me from anywhere outside the USA to tell me that the dip your local Mexican eatery serves up is more authentic than this, like I don't know what real queso is. In the first place, unless you are emailing from Mexico, the menu at your local eatery bears little resemblance to anything really Mexican, no matter how many little painted skeletons are adorning the place. In the second place, I'm not talking about Mexican cheese dip or, more properly, Tex-Mex cheese dip (going to Mexico and asking for cheese dip will get you the same look I imagine you'd get for requesting sweet and sour chicken balls in Beijing). I am sorry to get testy, but a few months ago I posted how there's nothing like a southern peach, and y'all got all defensive on my ass, like I was turning my back on all the other fruits and nations of the world. Let us not compare peaches and apples, people. I stand by my words: there is nothing like a southern peach. Or Ro-tel cheese dip. Deal with it.
I have been scouring the blogosphere for good Irish blogs, in anticipation of our trip in the new year. The other day, I came across Cashmere Boots, a Southern Californian living in Dublin. She was cringing over a news report that Texans were experimenting with fried coke. I say, power to them. This is the kind of envelope-pushing that both put a man on the moon and brought us pancake-on-a-stick and it needs to be celebrated.
I don't have the cringe factor. Americans don't embarass me in the world way that they can other Americans. And they don't frighten me, the way they do everyone else in the world, because living here among them, instead of being on the outside looking in, gives a more nuanced perspective than one gets from the media. I learned in very short order that the country and the nation are two very separate entities, and usually it is the latter that gets projected onto the global village tv screen.
My husband would like me to demonstrate just a little more apprehension. He will rattle off conspiracy theories and civil rights violations and gets frustrated that I am not more visibly upset. It' s not that I am unconcerned about these things, it's just that I grew up in a culture that was virulently anti-american, and George W. Bush notwithstanding, I have yet to see anything as bad or as shocking as what I was brought up to believe about the place. Patrick acts like it's news that the American military-industrial complex is inclined toward facism. That power corrupts is not exactly earthshattering to me. I am still marvelling, ten years later, at how much works in this country, in spite of it.
Cheese dip, for instance. In cheese dip, I trust.
Now, in case you skipped the link above, go and watch Jon-by-god-Stewart discuss pancake-on-a-stick. Also deserving of the title of this post. Jon Stewart, too.
Filed under: america
Technorati Tags:
america, what is it good for, pancake on a stick, fried coke, cashmere boots, the daily show, ro-tel cheese dip
My husband would say it's "John-by-god-Wayne", just to get a rise out of me, but the indisputable truth is that cheese dip best represents all that is good and right, noble and true about this great and demented country of his.
And not just any cheese dip. I'm talking Ro-tel & Velveeta cheese dip. Manna of the trailer park. Do not--I mean, don't even--email me from anywhere outside the USA to tell me that the dip your local Mexican eatery serves up is more authentic than this, like I don't know what real queso is. In the first place, unless you are emailing from Mexico, the menu at your local eatery bears little resemblance to anything really Mexican, no matter how many little painted skeletons are adorning the place. In the second place, I'm not talking about Mexican cheese dip or, more properly, Tex-Mex cheese dip (going to Mexico and asking for cheese dip will get you the same look I imagine you'd get for requesting sweet and sour chicken balls in Beijing). I am sorry to get testy, but a few months ago I posted how there's nothing like a southern peach, and y'all got all defensive on my ass, like I was turning my back on all the other fruits and nations of the world. Let us not compare peaches and apples, people. I stand by my words: there is nothing like a southern peach. Or Ro-tel cheese dip. Deal with it.
I have been scouring the blogosphere for good Irish blogs, in anticipation of our trip in the new year. The other day, I came across Cashmere Boots, a Southern Californian living in Dublin. She was cringing over a news report that Texans were experimenting with fried coke. I say, power to them. This is the kind of envelope-pushing that both put a man on the moon and brought us pancake-on-a-stick and it needs to be celebrated.
I don't have the cringe factor. Americans don't embarass me in the world way that they can other Americans. And they don't frighten me, the way they do everyone else in the world, because living here among them, instead of being on the outside looking in, gives a more nuanced perspective than one gets from the media. I learned in very short order that the country and the nation are two very separate entities, and usually it is the latter that gets projected onto the global village tv screen.
My husband would like me to demonstrate just a little more apprehension. He will rattle off conspiracy theories and civil rights violations and gets frustrated that I am not more visibly upset. It' s not that I am unconcerned about these things, it's just that I grew up in a culture that was virulently anti-american, and George W. Bush notwithstanding, I have yet to see anything as bad or as shocking as what I was brought up to believe about the place. Patrick acts like it's news that the American military-industrial complex is inclined toward facism. That power corrupts is not exactly earthshattering to me. I am still marvelling, ten years later, at how much works in this country, in spite of it.
Cheese dip, for instance. In cheese dip, I trust.
Now, in case you skipped the link above, go and watch Jon-by-god-Stewart discuss pancake-on-a-stick. Also deserving of the title of this post. Jon Stewart, too.
Filed under: america
Technorati Tags:
america, what is it good for, pancake on a stick, fried coke, cashmere boots, the daily show, ro-tel cheese dip
2 Comments:
I have to agree with you, nothing beats ro-tel and velveeta cheese dip-- one of the many things I miss from America! But I still can't get my head around fried coke...
Thanks for coming by my blog and the acknowledgment in your post :)
Unbelievable that you got this so, so very wrong.
Dolly Parton is all that is right and good about America.
John Wayne was a *republican*.
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