dear (imaginably numbered) readers,
i never got around to concluding - or even reasonably updating - my (perhaps only relatively/quasi) epic indian tale, and fear the task shall have to wait for an even rainier day. (i'm having trouble falling asleep in this harlem summer heat.) alas - the winds have swept us to another shore, where other tales await...
it is not altogether illicitly embarrassing to arrive on the shores of popondetta in a magenta loincloth and shirtless collar only to suddenly remember you've shamelessly forgotten your felt tipped boots (just as the king begins to unveil the red carpet in your honour). such are the trappings - and benefits - of international travel. though an age of ever increasing cultural monotony is slowly dawning upon us tech-savvy, youtubing, globe-trotting heathen, you can still get away with quite a bit under the simple tried and weather-true "that's how we do shiite in my part of the world." 'my' part almost always entailing a national territorial affair, you can usually pull the wool over many a wanker's eyes - provided you spit with confidence (and that almost goes for us Yanks as well... though don't get too excited - tis only because the Indians are surprisingly pro-american that i'm feeling rather generous in my bloated generalizations). "why are you wearing those stupid plaid shorts with that blasted pink shirt," they first asked me upon arrival in france some many years ago. "because that's how all the gangster yankeedoodles get down," i replied in turn. they each cooed and offered me a cigarette (mind you - this was long before it went up to 5.20euro/pack).
the point of these ramblings is that one is often more protected by the veil of fettered nationalism than one imagines. if some indigent frog blames the iraq war on overweight 13 year old americans that watch too much television, you respond in turn with an elegy on the vendee or petain's naked tuesday night amblings along the banks of the allier (please quote me). on the flip side, however, every national has the god-given right to take .17% of the credit for any admirable individual undertaking of his country's past. this includes everything from pasteurization to penal code, which we all know the irish invented.
nationalism - or national pride on an individual scale - can easily be oversimplified as such. (whether one has the confidence to back the bushwank up is another matter.) if one is ambiguously cunning enough, it is almost possible to be forgiven any national crime from an individual perspective, e.g. "that german guy's a really cool guy" - or - "he's probably just austrian" (which, as we all know, forgives very little to nada...). race, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. (i'm tired - to be continued)
