Except me. Ha ha!

Yes, certain people we know disgust me. You know who you are, you filthy gas cooker. A five hour gap of nothingness leads to a man having a lot of time to think about things and mull things over. I used to admire you - nay, respect you - but now I see you for who you are.

Now that's off the pectorals, let's get on with real life. Apparently, Thanksgiving's coming up, so hooray for that. It could quite possibly be the highlight of my month. I shall celebrate it by reciting the "Star Spangled Banner". Or the Riot Act, which is probably more appropriate given America of today.

So, who IS a true American hero? The answer is, folks, we just don't know. Every country has its' symbolic icons; France had Napoleon, Germany had Hitler, and Britain had Margaret Thatcher. I'm sure there are more illiterate people than George W. Bush, but I'll be damned if I can think of any. A simple leader for a simple country? Who knows.

I mean, I have a lot of time for Americans. Most of the ones I've come across are pleasant enough, seemingly with their head in the clouds, which is a good place to be. I guess trashy (yet absorbing) television has got to have an effect on the majority. Any country that produces such unique talents as, erm, Bill Gates, has to be applauded.

I just wonder how the American economy actually is. Is it stable? Or is it more floppy than (no, there won't be an erotic connotation on my journal. Take it somewhere else) Morrissey's old hairdo? I'd love to live in America. It seems so relaxing, there almost seems as if there's a multitude of money swarming around the place that Britain could only dream of. People seem to live in so much comfort and ease (apart from the odd sniper/paedophile/rapist/redneck). It's sickening.

My future home. East Coast, 2004. See you then.