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Afraid Of Americans?

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"Fellow tv.commers, we cannot escape history."

-- Abraham Lincoln

Battle Cry of Freedom

Our avatar is proudly floating

  On the line and on the page,

Shout, SHOUT the battle cry of Freedom!

  Beneath it oft we've conquered,

And we'll conquer oft again!

  Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

 

CHORUS:Our TV forever!

  She's never at a loss!

Down with the Trolls

  And up with the fun!

We'll rally 'round the bonny flag,

  We'll rally once again,

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

 

Our moderators have marched

  To the rolling of the drums,

Shout, SHOUT the battle cry of Freedom!

  And the Bambi in charge cry out,

"Cum, boys, cum

  Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!--CHORUS

They have laid down their lives

  On the bloody web page not found

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

  Their motto is comply

"To moderators we shall not yield!"

  Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!--CHORUS

While Icey has responded

  And to lake has gone,

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

Our noble Khall also

  Have aided them at home, (if you know what I mean.. har har!)

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!--CHORUS

When Johnny comes marching home

When Johnny comes marching home again,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

We'll give him a hearty welcome then,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The men will cheer, the boys will shout,

The ladies they will all turn out,

And we'll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

Let love and friendship on that day,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

Their choicest treasures then display,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

And let each member touch my parts

To fill with joy the warrior's heart,

And we'll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

One question: Is Johnny Gay?

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"Fellow tv.commers, we cannot escape history."

-- Abraham Lincoln

Battle Cry of Freedom

Our avatar is proudly floating

  On the line and on the page,

Shout, SHOUT the battle cry of Freedom!

  Beneath it oft we've conquered,

And we'll conquer oft again!

  Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

 

CHORUS:Our TV forever!

  She's never at a loss!

Down with the Trolls

  And up with the fun!

We'll rally 'round the bonny flag,

  We'll rally once again,

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

 

Our moderators have marched

  To the rolling of the drums,

Shout, SHOUT the battle cry of Freedom!

  And the Bambi in charge cry out,

"Cum, boys, cum

  Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!--CHORUS

They have laid down their lives

  On the bloody web page not found

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

  Their motto is comply

"To moderators we shall not yield!"

  Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!--CHORUS

While Icey has responded

  And to lake has gone,

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!

Our noble Khall also

  Have aided them at home, (if you know what I mean.. har har!)

Shout, shout the battle cry of Freedom!--CHORUS

When Johnny comes marching home

When Johnny comes marching home again,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

We'll give him a hearty welcome then,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

The men will cheer, the boys will shout,

The ladies they will all turn out,

And we'll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

Let love and friendship on that day,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

Their choicest treasures then display,

Hurrah! Hurrah!

And let each member touch my parts

To fill with joy the warrior's heart,

And we'll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home.

One question: Is Johnny Gay?

Is Johnny Gay what?

Johnny... Who the <deleted> is Johnny?

yeah, those southereners never were too good at spelling RebEL

  • Author
yeah, those southereners never were too good at spelling RebEL

Now, I feel like an ass. It was a mistake why did you have to rub it in? :o:D

A Response to UN Euro Monkeys

monkeycomp.jpg

Obscured by the nomination of Harriet Miers for the Supreme Court… obscured by news of hurricanes, floods, fires, charges of racism based on out-of-context statements… obscured by indictments by a political hack prosecutor — is a huge fight brewing on the international stage.

U.S. State Department officials were taken off-guard at the World Summit on the Information Society, a UN meeting in Geneva. Suddenly, out of the blue, our European Union “allies” joined forces with a bunch of third world countries — demanding that we, the United States of America, give up control of the Internet. The EU announced a “new cooperation model” to replace the U.S.-based Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers. They want an international system controlled by the UN. A lot of countries are mad that America “got on the Internet first,” and “gobbled up most of the available addresses,” leaving developing nations with leftovers. Negotiators from other countries say no single country ought to be the “ultimate authority” over such a vital part of the global economy.

Well, wait a minute. Who invented the Internet? No, not Algore. It was the U.S. military. America grew the Internet and now we’re asked to give it up to the UN because third-world nations — most of whose residents don’t even have phones — think it’s unfair? And the EU joins them? Well, guess what. Not going to happen; that server request has been denied. You want an Internet controlled by the UN? Go build your own in some third world country and see how far you get and call it what you want. - Rush Limbaugh

:o

  • Author
A Response to UN Euro Monkeys

monkeycomp.jpg

Obscured by the nomination of Harriet Miers for the Supreme Court… obscured by news of hurricanes, floods, fires, charges of racism based on out-of-context statements… obscured by indictments by a political hack prosecutor — is a huge fight brewing on the international stage.

U.S. State Department officials were taken off-guard at the World Summit on the Information Society, a UN meeting in Geneva. Suddenly, out of the blue, our European Union “allies” joined forces with a bunch of third world countries — demanding that we, the United States of America, give up control of the Internet. The EU announced a “new cooperation model” to replace the U.S.-based Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers. They want an international system controlled by the UN. A lot of countries are mad that America “got on the Internet first,” and “gobbled up most of the available addresses,” leaving developing nations with leftovers. Negotiators from other countries say no single country ought to be the “ultimate authority” over such a vital part of the global economy.

Well, wait a minute. Who invented the Internet? No, not Algore. It was the U.S. military. America grew the Internet and now we’re asked to give it up to the UN because third-world nations — most of whose residents don’t even have phones — think it’s unfair? And the EU joins them? Well, guess what. Not going to happen; that server request has been denied. You want an Internet controlled by the UN? Go build your own in some third world country and see how far you get and call it what you want. - Rush Limbaugh

:D

This is Afraid of Amercians? not Afraid of the EU? :o

You really quoted Limbaugh? :D You are fcking nuts! :D

A Response to UN Euro Monkeys

... - Rush Limbaugh

:D

This is Afraid of Amercians? not Afraid of the EU? :o

You really quoted Limbaugh? :D You are fcking nuts! :D

Don't be too hard on the poor guy.

Boon Mee is just trying to demonstrate why some poeple are afraid of Americans: the logical sense of Americans like Boon Mee.

  • Author
A Response to UN Euro Monkeys

... - Rush Limbaugh

:D

This is Afraid of Amercians? not Afraid of the EU? :o

You really quoted Limbaugh? :D You are fcking nuts! :D

Don't be too hard on the poor guy.

Boon Mee is just trying to demonstrate why some poeple are afraid of Americans: the logical sense of Americans like Boon Mee.

I can somtimes agree with some conservative views but Limbaugh isn't conservative he's paranoid, and that isn't a surprise considering all the pills he's poping.

A Response to UN Euro Monkeys

... - Rush Limbaugh

:D

This is Afraid of Amercians? not Afraid of the EU? :o

You really quoted Limbaugh? :D You are fcking nuts! :D

Don't be too hard on the poor guy.

Boon Mee is just trying to demonstrate why some poeple are afraid of Americans: the logical sense of Americans like Boon Mee.

:D:D:D

Print this out and read it - its criticism is just as apt as it was in 1956:

I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats

floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs

illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the

scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror

through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,

incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada &

Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront

boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks

of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of

wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of

brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer after noon in desolate

Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State

out of the moon,

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of

hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on

the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in

Newark's bleak furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no

broken hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively

vibrated at their feet in Kansas,

who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,

who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight street light smalltown

rain,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard

to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and

ash of poetry scattered in fire place Chicago,

who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their

dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,

who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos

wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,

who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild

cooking pederasty and intoxication,

who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,

who let themselves be ######ed in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,

who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,

who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose gardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering

their semen freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond

& naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed

shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual

golden threads of the craftsman's loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off

the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate ######

and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared

to sweeten the snatch of the sun rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,

who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and

Adonis of Denver-joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'

rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings &

especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up

out of basements hung over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-

ment offices,

who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open

to a room full of steamheat and opium,

who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of

the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,

who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates

of theology,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of

gibberish,

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their

heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where

they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up

clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of

sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the

ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on

negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic

European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears

and the blast of colossal steam whistles,

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or

Birmingham jazz incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find

out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver

& brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul

illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in

their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific

to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp notism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung

jury,

who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of

the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy

occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad man doom of the

wards of the madtowns of the East,

Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in

the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the

moon,

with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at

4. A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last

piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing

but a hopeful little bit of hallucination

ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the

catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the

soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together

jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking

with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come

after death,

and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of

America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to

the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

II

What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unob tainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys

sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose

buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies!

Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless

Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the

cities!

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the

specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and

manless in Moloch!

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me

out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral

nations! invincible mad houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which

exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years'

animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the

roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

III

Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland where you're madder than I am

I'm with you in Rockland where you must feel very strange

I'm with you in Rockland where you imitate the shade of my mother

I'm with you in Rockland where you've murdered your twelve secretaries

I'm with you in Rockland where you laugh at this invisible humor

I'm with you in Rockland where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I'm with you in Rockland where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I'm with you in Rockland where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

I'm with you in Rockland where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

I'm with you in Rockland where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

I'm with you in Rockland where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of the actual pingpong of

the abyss

I'm with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die

ungodly in an armed madhouse

I'm with you in Rockland where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a

cross in the void

I'm with you in Rockland where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against

the fascist national Golgotha

I'm with you in Rockland where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from

the superhuman tomb

I'm with you in Rockland where there are twenty-five-thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas

of the Internationale

I'm with you in Rockland where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs

all night and won't let us sleep

I'm with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the

roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run

outside O starry spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free

I'm with you in Rockland in my dreams you walk dripping from a seajourney on the highway across America in tears

to the door of my cottage in the Western night

Howl

You been smoking some of those 'way-out Woodbines' again, Tommy? :o

You been smoking some of those 'way-out Woodbines' again, Tommy? :o

Don't you think it rather curious that people like Ginsberg, Lenny Bruce or even Bob Dylan did, as a minority, smoke funny tobacco, but then went on to become great critics of American society.

Nowerdays almost everyone takes a puff - even Presidents - but where are the new generation of great American critics?

Stoned in Burger King?

Or drunk in a Manhattan bar?

Or just googling after BGs in BKK?

You been smoking some of those 'way-out Woodbines' again, Tommy? :o

Nowerdays almost everyone takes a puff - even Presidents [/b]- but where are the new generation of great American critics?

I remember Alan Clarke being asked if he was up for the job of PM, he said "nah, I inhaled" :D

  • Author
You been smoking some of those 'way-out Woodbines' again, Tommy? :o

Nowerdays almost everyone takes a puff - even Presidents [/b]- but where are the new generation of great American critics?

I remember Alan Clarke being asked if he was up for the job of PM, he said "nah, I inhaled" :D

Yeah and Bush snorted. I always thought it funny Bushists would downplay the drug use of one President but scream and yell abou the drug abuse of another President.

Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

Anyone who is impacted by Americans' attitude toward them IS intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

Anyone who is impacted by Americans' attitude toward them IS intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

But doesn't the dollar impact everyone?

Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

Anyone who is impacted by Americans' attitude toward them IS intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

But doesn't the dollar impact everyone?

I think you are in denial and have tried to unconsciously change the topic rather than to end your delusion....good luck....and I have met at least one person who is not impacted by the dollar so the answer to your question is, "No."

Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

Anyone who is impacted by Americans' attitude toward them IS intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

But doesn't the dollar impact everyone?

I think you are in denial and have tried to unconsciously change the topic rather than to end your delusion....good luck....and I have met at least one person who is not impacted by the dollar so the answer to your question is, "No."

You know, a prime symptom of being in denial, is actually accusing those who disagree with you, of your own inadequacies.

Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

Anyone who is impacted by Americans' attitude toward them IS intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

But doesn't the dollar impact everyone?

I think you are in denial and have tried to unconsciously change the topic rather than to end your delusion....good luck....and I have met at least one person who is not impacted by the dollar so the answer to your question is, "No."

You know, a prime symptom of being in denial, is actually accusing those who disagree with you, of your own inadequacies.

The confessional is closed now? so you're confiding in me...I'm touched...and won't betray your trust.

Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

Anyone who is impacted by Americans' attitude toward them IS intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

But doesn't the dollar impact everyone?

I think you are in denial and have tried to unconsciously change the topic rather than to end your delusion....good luck....and I have met at least one person who is not impacted by the dollar so the answer to your question is, "No."

You know, a prime symptom of being in denial, is actually accusing those who disagree with you, of your own inadequacies.

The confessional is closed now? so you're confiding in me...I'm touched...and won't betray your trust.

No, Chownah, doesn't work.

A competent rice farmer you may be, but my confessor - never.

Only fully paid up members of the hands-on school have a chance - and then I'm fussy.

  • Author
Been thinking about this whilst eating my breakfast this morning:

I suppose why some people are afraid of Americans is exactly the same reason they are afraid of other countrymen from lands that have, or have had, colonial ambitions.

They are adverse to the Americans who project the attitude that if you don’t talk “American”, like hamburger and understand baseball, then you are intellectually, culturally and morally inferior.

This criticism of course also applies to e.g. the British with their language, chips and cricket, or to the French with Francaise, Brie and the mysteries of Petanque.

This assumption that “Charlie”, the “Fuzzy-Wuzzies” or the “Towel-Heads” are inferior has been one of the justifications, for most acts of colonialism.

The terrible irony is that non-Americans have absolutely no doubts in which country intellectual, cultural and moral inferiority lies.

I think you're on to something here TM but how would you explain the lack of fear over countries like Russia and Japan?

Eeek!    This won't do. Let's have a recount! :o

Help me to understand you. I don't get it, I might just be slow but help me out here.

In this modern G_Dless world we live in today, that survey is paramount to heresy! :D

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