Josh Kjenner (American)
The other day, I decided that maybe my teeth could use a little less uniformity and a lot more serration. After replacing my toothpaste with syrup, my toothbrush with a ball of icing, and my floss with a skillsaw blade, I then thought: hey, why not wash this devastating glucose spike down with a jug of tea? And why not do all of this while listening to Oasis and wearing the Union Jack for a cape?
You’re probably wondering what the **** is wrong with me. Well actually, nothing; none of that actually happened. But assuming it was real, you’d probably be thinking: did this guy catch brain AIDS from Adam Rozenhart? Since I can assure you I wouldn’t touch Mr Rozenhart with a ten-foot pole unless it was covered in Freon-coated machetes, I can assure you that’s not very damn likely.
Oasis
No, in actuality, I’ve come to realize that I have a growing passion for all things British, and the most logical way I can think of to express this would be to immerse myself in as many British stereotypes as humanly possible, dignity and hygiene be damned.
My love for limeys (and the accompanying gingivitis) has been steadily growing for quite some time. As you can probably deduce from my extremely common and easily pronounced last name, I’m one quarter Welsh, so I guess my Limey Fever has been as much God- as Scary Spice-given. And while I may be a tad biased, I think that Britons have the best culture going, hands down.
Killer zombies: British horror movie "28 Days Later" (2002)
Who is there to compete with? The US? I have three words for you: Uncle mother****in’ Kracker. I love industrial techno music as much as the next guy, but seriously Germany—enough is enough. And Singapore? A nation of pigeon-holers. And ****, do I hate pigeon-holers.
Britain, on the other hand, has it all. There’s the BBC, a publicly-funded media network that manages to not waste billions of dollars while putting out higher quality programs than you’d find at a Trappers game.
There’s also great music aplenty, running all over the stylistic gamut. Take The Streets for example; is it ever nice to hear a rapper talking about something besides his 65-inch rims, Xbox, cheeba, diamond earrings, and his pimped-out Escalade.
Those crazy Brits have even managed to come up with some pretty stellar flicks. Any movie in which making out and death by eye gouging happen within ten seconds of each other (as it did in the zombie-riffic 28 Days Later) earns a solid A+ from this cat.
And the best part about all of these cultural contributions: they’re all presented with a typical British dry sense of humour, a cool accent, and loads of righteous slang, some of which I think I might pick up. I need a new word for “girls,” and I think that “birds” might just be the word to fill that soul-consuming void.
Zombies, ugly teeth, crazy, incoherent slang—it seems we could all benefit from being a little more British. What do you think about that, Guv-nah?
http://www.gateway.ualberta.ca/view.php?aid=2008