I never thought 14-hour plane rides would start to feel almost normal. 
But there are a lot of things I never thought would happen.

I am back in Los Angeles.

Yesterday, to help my own mental transition, I went to an Aussie Rules
footy exhibition held at UCLA.  This is an actual conversation
(probably not quite verbatim; I didn’t have a notebook) I overheard
between two of my countrymen:

Ah.  So it’s agreed, then: if you haven’t personally heard "Advance Australia Fair," logically, it does not exist.

Don’t get me wrong; ignorance about the rest of the world (much less
the basics of logic) isn’t an American thing.  I met one woman in
Queensland who proudly told me she has no interest in the rest of
Australia, much less any other country.  It simply wasn’t important to
her, and she couldn’t see why it would be.  If I spoke the local
languages better, I could probably find people like that in all 30-odd
countries I’ve visited so far, if I looked.

But America is in the unique position of greater military and economic
influence over (even when not trying actively to control) the rest of
the world.  And so you’d think we’d realize we have a much greater
obligation to try to understand the planet and base our opinions on
actual facts, examined closely.

Instead, we can’t seem to bother to understand our own constitution.  I’m hearing even people I like,
mind you, people I care about and respect, repeating things that are
disreputable dangerous rubbish, convinced that their words are the
height of patriotism.  Yes, of course, the president has the power to interpret law.  Yes, of course, the president has the power to spy on anyone, anytime.  Yes, of course, the president has the right to kidnap and torture and imprison people without trial.

I am back in Los Angeles.  But I — and all of us — are a long, long way from home.

UPDATE: Read this MLK day speech by Al Gore.  I never liked the guy much when he was in office, but ever since his political future ended, he has gone Bulworth on us and said a lot of stuff that needed to be said.

I never thought 14-hour plane rides would start to feel almost normal. 
But there are a lot of things I never thought would happen.

I am back in Los Angeles.

Yesterday, to help my own mental transition, I went to an Aussie Rules
footy exhibition held at UCLA.  This is an actual conversation
(probably not quite verbatim; I didn’t have a notebook) I overheard
between two of my countrymen:

Ah.  So it’s agreed, then: if you haven’t personally heard "Advance Australia Fair," logically, it does not exist.

Don’t get me wrong; ignorance about the rest of the world (much less
the basics of logic) isn’t an American thing.  I met one woman in
Queensland who proudly told me she has no interest in the rest of
Australia, much less any other country.  It simply wasn’t important to
her, and she couldn’t see why it would be.  If I spoke the local
languages better, I could probably find people like that in all 30-odd
countries I’ve visited so far, if I looked.

But America is in the unique position of greater military and economic
influence over (even when not trying actively to control) the rest of
the world.  And so you’d think we’d realize we have a much greater
obligation to try to understand the planet and base our opinions on
actual facts, examined closely.

Instead, we can’t seem to bother to understand our own constitution.  I’m hearing even people I like,
mind you, people I care about and respect, repeating things that are
disreputable dangerous rubbish, convinced that their words are the
height of patriotism.  Yes, of course, the president has the power to interpret law.  Yes, of course, the president has the power to spy on anyone, anytime.  Yes, of course, the president has the right to kidnap and torture and imprison people without trial.

I am back in Los Angeles.  But I — and all of us — are a long, long way from home.

UPDATE: Read this MLK day speech by Al Gore.  I never liked the guy much when he was in office, but ever since his political future ended, he has gone Bulworth on us and said a lot of stuff that needed to be said.

Rented a car this morning for the drive up to Brisbane.  Turns out Hyundai makes the southern hemisphere equivalent of the Vauxhall Blindspot.  So that'll be fun to wobble around in, assuming I survive the week.

The sales lady at RedSpot, the auto rental company named for what may soon become in one of their cars, was incredibly helpful.  She was downright happy, in fact, to rent me a "newie," although she warned I should be careful about reckless "truckies" on my way up to "Briz."

Australians talk this way a lot.  It's not some sort of debilitating neural malfunction, nor the inability to pronounce the second half of their own words which sadly afflicts the French.  It's actually a delightful habit of giving affectionate nicknames to every single thing in the universe, constantly.

These nicknames ("nickos") usually end in an "-ie" or an "-o" sound, but often include an "-er," "-s", or a bonus "-azza."

Thus, my first meal here was a "brekkie" centered around a "chokko" "bikkie."  When I dropped my sunglasses, by the time they were returned, they had become "sunnies."  And the lady at my hotel front desk actually started calling me "Bobbo."  Although I think she was joking, because she'd heard me comment on the nickos.

Even the cricket team indulges: for the next match, played at the "Gabba" (not to be confused with "Subi," the "Waca," or the "G"), players won't wear their own surnames, but diminutives like "Punter," "Marto," and "Brecks." 

Not surprisingly, their uptight British opponents are frowning, which is to say (if I am getting the hang of this) that the uppy Brittos are all frowners.  (Actually, I'm not certain that's what any actual Australian would say, even at gunpointies.  But you get the idea.)

It's the sort of cheerful habit that could make even tragic news seem perfectly fine.  I wouldn't be surprised to hear some "fresher" home from "uni" who had forgotten to wear "screenie" on his "skinno" might breeze into the kitchen and lightly tell mum that he now has a large "melanomazza" which has gone all "maliggie," with smiles all around.

This would sink in somewhat.  Then he and his mum would play rugby in the hall while eating meat pies.  

Then, after mum had won 25-24 by throwing an elbow on the last point, he would break the sad news that his "cance-o" would require "surgers" down at the "hospie" and that "dokkos" only gave him eight "weekies" to "liverazza."

After which, he would turn out to be fine.  No worries.  He'd be back on his feet, playing meat-pie hallway rugby with mummer again in no time.

Because it's like that down here.

You really, really have to spend some time in Australia.

Colin informs me that you might have noticed a little weirdness with the polls of late.

Damn, you can’t trust these Diebold machines.

He’s fixing everything, rest assured.  "Fixing"… hmm…