Patriotism, Shame, and Snookie

            Because I had already been to Europe and “seen the light,” I used to be one of those people who love to rag on the US and pretend to hate it. Like many other wannabe Europeans, I couldn’t understand why we insist on using feet and inches and still haven’t adopted the metric system. I also hated (and continue to hate) how we neglect the part of our constitution that clearly advocates a “separation of church and state.” These things baffled me and led me to resent my homeland, turning me into one of those annoying “well in France they do it like this” people. Friends often had to remind me that we weren’t in France so I should just shut up about how the French do things.

            However, the longer I have been away from home, the more I have come to appreciate certain things about the US. I appreciate our ability to form a decent line, an art that has been lost on the French. I appreciate the fact that as Americans we have the choice between 45 different flavors of soda and 39 varieties of chips, and the way that we smother everything we eat with cheese. Most importantly, I appreciate the fact that in the US you can walk around in public in nothing more than basketball shorts and a wife-beater without attracting dirty looks. For some reason, the French prefer to stay bundled up beneath coats and scarves when it’s 75 degrees out, and they expect you to do the same.

            Although I have found a new appreciation for my beloved US of A, it has also dawned on me why the rest of the world hates us. As tourists, Americans are often times both loud and obnoxious, and many find it hard to understand why things in other countries can’t be like how they are back home (“what do you mean there are no free refills? And how on earth do you guys not have ranch dressing?”). Our government likes to play super-hero and meddles with things that shouldn’t be meddled with, usually with horrific results (see: Vietnam War or Iraq for further details). More importantly, and the single biggest reason why the rest of the world deservedly hates us, is that we produce this:

 

Yes, sadly to say, the plague has spread across the Atlantic, reaching all the way to Paris. You can imagine my surprise and absolute terror upon unsuspectingly coming face to face with a life-size poster of the disgusting she-beast swamp donkey currently known as “Snookie”. It seems that part of the reason why I left the US has followed me to France, like some kind of parasitic and psychotic ex-wife or an over-zealous tax collector. I still have no idea what the hell a “snookie” is, nor do I care. I just want to never see that thing’s face again. She looks like she rolled around in a bag of Cheetos©.

As a side note, the previously mentioned encounter with a deformed oompa-loompa got me thinking: what would a French or Italian version of Jersey Shore be like? Considering many average French and Italian men already spend 4 hours a day in front of the mirror going through cologne and pomade like they are going out of style, I am really curious to see what their version of a Guido would be like. Then again, for the sake of the human race, lets not find out.