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Friday, November 07, 2008
Eloise in London!
We
can still conquer the world.
POETIC JUSTICE. The Lord taketh away, and the Lord giveth. He's sending our own Eloise, Rachel Lucas, to London, England, for three years. Wow. They'll never know what hit them. Forget the election. This is an occasion for pure joy. Imagine it. The nation's most plainspoken woman, no doubt sunk deep in gun withdrawal, contending with the British Empire as it continues to slide disgracefully into the sunset they once boasted would never come and now can't wait to embrace. Is she going to have even a moment's patience with the pseudo-intellectual twits, the pompous anti-Americans who forgot how to write shortly after they forgot their own and our history, the hypocrites who still sneer at "wogs" of every ethnic origin while they despise American racism, the enervated malcontents who can't manufacture a toaster that works and yet look down on all American products excepting our music, our movies, our fashion trends, and our laptops and iPhones?
It's going to be a bloody slaughter. Even she doesn't know how bad it it's going to get, how wroth she will become. It's one thing to sit in America and like the occasional Brit accent on TV or in the movies. It's quite another thing to have to live with it day after day and month after month. Until you want to scream. Cockney accents you can't understand. Oxford accents that make you want to shoot the speaker on principle just because his every word is a distinct, separate affirmation of complete and utterly baseless superiority. Sooner or later, Rachel will let them ALL know what she thinks of them, and one of the world's largest islands will subsequently sink shamefacedly into the sea. We can't wait.
When the book comes out, we think it's going to be a blend of these two classics...
A
pastiche of sophistication and sinister doings undone. With extreme prejudice.
...but better than both. The last page might very well involve the offices of a ten-gauge shotgun at teatime.
We're getting ahead of ourselves, though. Our demonic pug Eloise reminds us that Rachel has a huge hurdle to overcome. What will she do while her dogs spend the compulsory six months in quarantine? (Brit bastards.)
Our Eloise. Naughtier than the "Weenie" of the books.
Let's hope she wangles something. We know she's a resourceful gal. In the meantime, we recommend that she spend her time reading the complete works of P.G. Wodehouse and Evelyn Waugh. Britain isn't like that anymore, at all, but at least she'll know who she's vindicating when slaughter day finally arrives.
I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they finally realize what kind of an American they're dealing with.
