Imagine if you will a complete inversion of a boorish American on St. Patrick’s Day. Imagine an Irishman who aggressively celebrates the Fourth of July with unabashed gusto, who desperately tries to claim the significance of some alleged 1/32 American heritage, who wears a shirt with an eagle turning into an American flag and who drinks a specialty red, white, and blue novelty beverage until he collapses in a pool of tricolor vomit. Imagine some guy so invested in a superficial, touristy version of Americaness that he will nervously call the side with his $20 “authentic” hamburger “freedom fires” out of fear of offending. Imagine a guy who upon meeting any American will try to strike up a friendly conversation by asking them what their favorite gun is and talking about how personally inspiring he finds Abraham Lincoln.
You must understand, as you prepare to read the May 24th entry of this novel, that this Irishman is Bram Stoker.
I thought this was going to be a serious post about American identity politics and then you slapped me in the face with that ending.
in vietnam i saw a cowboy themed restaurant which server horsemeat.
it makes sense if you think about it
I don’t know how to tell you this, but the superficial, touristy version of Americanness that you’ve sketched out is in fact indistinguishable from the real thing.
