|
I'm back on American soil, after a month in the Land of Wombats, Good Beer, and Mad-Cow-Free Beef. And I have two things to say:
First, THANK YOU ALL who propped me up before leaving (I have a terrible fear of flying). You all helped, believe me, and I thank you.
Second: If you don't read The Age, you should. This left-leaning Aussie newspaper is a fairly accurate reflection of the majority of Australians with whom I spoke re U.S. politics. Be of good cheer, my fellow Yanks: The concensus is still this: They love the American people, and are able to separate the people from the evil fascist regime under which we are forced to live. Ditto the one Pom (Brit) with whom I shared a two-hour chat during the seemingly-interminable flight from Sydney to San Francisco; she waited for my cue, and, when it was clear I was no fan of Chimpy McSmirk, opened the discussion on U.S. policy with the observation of what a "terrible little man" * is.
Upshot: They DO realize over there that we're not all asinine nongs. And all but one (a misguided Liberal voter) commiserated mightily, and with the same sense of confusion over the unexpected re-election of Little Johnny "No, I Don't Look Anything Like Dick Cheney" Howard; i.e., "How can XXX Million Australians Be So DUMB as 58,000,000-plus Americans?"
Oh, wait -- I suppose I have a third thing to say:
I'm sad... dejected... forelorn... empty... gutted inside... having left my life partner at the airport gate, AGAIN, nearly two days ago. Folks, if you truly believe that everyone should be allowed to live and let live -- if you believe that I am as good as you are -- then you will pester your Senators and House rep endlessly to legalize same-sex sponsorship for immigration purposes. I'm not even asking for marriage rights! -- all I want is to be able to live in my own country, with the woman I love, legally. Is that so much to ask? I promise, we'll work hard, pay our taxes, vote Democratic, and not cause any trouble, if you'll just go to bat for us. I don't think that's so much to ask, to let my other half into the U.S., do you?
If you don't go to bat for us, well, then I will be just one more dedicated lefty you'll lose, permanently, from American soil. When the time comes that we just can't be apart any longer, I won't have any other choice, will I?
That said, I just wanted to let you all know I'm home, having survived a total of 28 hours' flying (both ways, not including stopovers), and to reassure you, especially on this day after the coronation of the Bastard King, that We, The People, are NOT hated so much as we might fear (well, at least not in a country stuck in the same sinking, stinking boat).
I'd like to say it's nice to be back... I'd like to say that it was nice when the U.S. Customs agent greeted me with a hearty "Welcome home!"... but, if you want to know the truth, I'd rather be back sitting on a little blue couch in Bonbeach, sipping a happy cuppa while watching the early-morning news, and asking my lover what a "swish knees-up" is.*
S.
* It's not dirty, you pervert. "Swish" means "glamourous," and a "knees-up" is a party; thus, a "swish knees-up" is a high-falootin' to-do.
|