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A few centuries ago, there was an infamous revolution which supposedly finally cut ties between Great Britain…England…and the “American colonies.” But, I am starting to think the whole historical scandal was a big dust cloud of deception, like one elaborate magic trick, like the (British) Pilgrims and the Indi–er, Native Americans. As a kid, I was fed the story of some pleasant Thanksgiving union forming between two bands of foreigners…only to grow up and hear other stories of slaughter and deception.
Since that time, there have been a few “British invasions,” though only one is really ever talked about on a regular basis. If someone says “British invasion,” many quickly think of music in the 1960s, of a group I personally don’t treasure or dare to emulate. Sure, they had some good songs, real thought-provokers. But, they also had plenty that lead to suspicion of other things, and that’s enough to turn me away, to raise my defenses.
But, there are other British invasions that slip past the average eye.
PBS television is translated as the Public Broadcasting…what is the S, again? Service? System? I forget, and it’s not mentioned as often as it was in my youth. Whatever PBS is, I’m inclined to say it’s more likely the lavishly Paid British Sideswipe of television. How much of PBS programming includes a British voice, location and/or actor/actress? I’d say at least half. I’m sure, if I closely look at the credits of shows/features without a distinct British voice, I’d find other British elements woven into the fabric. So, it’s not really some American invention; it’s the USA’s shade of the BBC.
In general, within the acting world, how many American-character roles are filled by British actors (including MAAAANY Middle-Eastern folks with distinctly British accents) forced to adopt American accents? SO many. That, alone, is an invasion. It’s blinding.
The “British Empire” has its hands in so many countries, including Australia. So, even the lesser appearance of Australian goods–a certain wafer cookie covered in chocolate and other flavored frostings and the recently promoted “Kinder Bueno chocolate bar” (which is more hazelnut ooze than chocolate and, thus, an insult to chocolate bars from companies like Hershey)–in American stores suggests British infiltration.
Ever since the wedding of Prince William and his beloved Kate, Haribo gummy candies have been widely advertised and more frequently seen around the USA. Coincidence? Hardly. [I grew up knowing names like Brach’s, Mars, Hershey, Jolly Ranchers, Cadbury (which is distinctly British, as well) and Jelly Belly. I never heard of Haribo until it was mentioned during the wedding proceedings; suddenly commercials are popping up everywhere.]
And, why is it I’m watching soccer games with distinctly British commentators calling the plays for teams with places of origin which sound rather familiar, rather close to USA soil? How DID the USA get Seattle, Washington…while some region I don’t even know “across the pond” also has a Seattle team? Where is this other Seattle (soccer team’s homeland)? And, did it’s origin precede the one in the USA? [And, isn’t it interesting both Seattles get the status of hosting sports teams. They could have picked one of the many other Washington state cities to be the home of the Seahawks and Mariners…but went with Seattle.] If so…could Seattle of Washington be merely a photocopy or dust cast from across the ocean? What if Seattle of Washington is secretly a British outpost within the USA?
So…land of the free? Huh. I don’t think so. All that patriotism and Fourth-of-July crap. Hooey. It’s no wonder the USA gets into so much conflict and crumbles its own house of cards. It’s Shakespeare’s other stage! It’s a show piece. It’s a TV-show set. It’s drama. Americans are frequently having troubles Upstairs and Downstairs; you don’t have to live Downton to see that. It’s comedy. The USA IS Seinfeld, a “show about nothing.” It’s coffee with celebrities, though the classification of “celebrity” has drifted so low that anyone who is seen online is considered one, now. You could just be a blip on someone’s sweeping camera-phone and become a celebrity overnight. You didn’t want to be famous, but someone made you…someone captured and used you.
The British could have instigated the Boston Tea Party. They could arm the USA, give the Americans all the push they need to start or enter a war with Russia or whoever, step back and watch the fireworks. Do the British get involved in every war? Why bother when they can watch the action on TV?…when they can program the world?
There’s a character in the cartoon universe of the Teen Titans, known as Control Freak, who likes to change channels and alter reality to suit is ever-changing interests. I’m inclined to think that’s what’s really “across the pond” from the USA, a deceptively controlling entity using every other nation for their amusement, allowing their own kind to feed off the remains of past conflicts and fuel the empire like one huge colony of ants.
There’s an expression that says “two heads are better than one.” I, for one, have enough trouble just managing my own head. Why would I want two? Yet, having a worthy partner who can complete your faulty sentences and help balance the load, so to speak, is certainly a blessing. But, in political terms…and possibly historical, mythical terms…two heads…or FACES might suggest something more sinister, more crooked, more evil.
Another expression tries to persuade you to accept “the lesser of two evils.” Why stop at two? Who picked that number? Isn’t that a perfect example of a trickster stepping back to let some fool take the blame for his or her mischief? It wasn’t me; it was her/him! And, point away from yourself.
We only get two hands. So, I suppose it would be hard to point at more than one target…well, we COULD point at two; couldn’t we? [Yet, magicians widely use one hand to distract while the other snatches something away, making viewers think it vanished.] So, why not say “the least of three?” Too messy? Or, maybe, “Great Britain” doesn’t want to split the prize three ways. It’s easier to focus on one pawn than it would be to juggle two. A bully doesn’t target more than one prey in any situation, even if he/she has many prey to pester.
The British use a gesture of two fingers, the middle and index fingers, to insult someone who offends or otherwise irritates them; it’s some historical reference to archers preserving their fingers at a time when others were losing their digits to savage opponents. The American variation just uses the middle finger to “flip (someone) the bird.” Now, while some would think it’s better to be number one than number two, isn’t a number two, a poop, more widely known and discussed than a number one, a tinkle? [Pardon my vivid choice of words.] A number-two pencil is the most widely used, at least, by kids in school. And, wouldn’t that make number two more popular than number one? Why is it GREAT Britain while the United States are just loosely UNITED (barely unified on anything other than an a really old contract, like so many marriages that can barely hold together if they don’t shatter painfully)? What did THEY do to get so GREAT? And, if the USA is so proud to be American, why isn’t it the Grand United States or Amazing United States (considering how much the word “amazing” is thrown around without genuine feeling)?
On Star Trek: The Next Generation, who is “number two?” Picard, the BRITISH Captain (with a supposedly French name?) holds top rank, followed by Jonathan Frakes as “Number One,” William Riker. But, who is number two? I’d have to guess Data, who is technically not human but widely used in the series. He steals more scenes than Riker, who makes quite a name for himself, especially when Troi is around. I’d say Data is more popular than Riker; wouldn’t you? And, Data is not “Number One.”
If you so much as wave a red, white and blue flag that features fifty stars and think you’re something special, you’re not. I don’t need to tell you that. There are countless British intelligence agents waiting to make a fool out of you…or already have. You’re nothing but a Baboo waiting to be deported somewhere because of a mistake in paperwork. And, I’m right there with you, feeling like quite the little fool.
God bless America? Who came up with that unfulfilling bit of wishful thinking? A Brit, I bet. Humph.
Let this be a lesson to ye all. The greatest isn’t the one in the spotlight; that’s just the pawn, flashing gilded lies, false trophies. The true master (defined as controller, not a title of respect) lurks in the shadows, unseen, reaping the benefits.
I say, old chaps. I’m not the master of my domain, but I’m going to try and Thames my fury with a cup of tea. Jolly Good soda. Right?
Smoke me a kipper. I’ll be back for breakfast. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
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