People Say the Darndest Things

(or: Cheese is important to me) 

I am not a very hateful person, I hope you guys know. I am a very angry person, but I usually try not to expend too much effort on hating anyone/anything-- that requires a vast amount of anger over a long period of time, and while that person/thing isn't there. That is energy I could put towards keeping myself alive.

But I really hate this phrase:

“Well, good thing we're in America, huh?”

It's not really that I hate the phrase itself (I'll concede that America's not a terrible place to be) but I really, really, really, really-- I cannot tell you how many “really”s I would need to write in order to express the degree of my hatred towards this phrase, as such a number doesn't exist-- hate it when used under certain circumstances.

I am Korean. In truth, I'd like to call myself Canadian, but when I say that, people ask me, “No, what are you?” as if I hadn't understood the question, when, really, they didn't understand what I meant by my answer (by the way, I am a human. That is what I am) and my response ends up being “I'm Korean” in a defeated tone, anyway, so let's stick with that. I am Korean and, while it's not always a wonderful thing, my reactions to certain events will reflect that Korean heritage. It's no fault of mine; I was raised by two people who grew up in Korea, and they were the biggest influence on my personality in my developing years, so I sometimes act Korean.

For instance, I dislike writing names in red, and I don't consider a slap to the face a light joke between friends. In Korea, you only write a person's name in red if they're dead, and a slap to the face is just offensive. What's wrong with you, American teenagers? I really don't appreciate it. No, none of the readers of this blog whom I know personally have ever hit me, but it seems to be acceptable to some. The fact of the matter is, I am uncomfortable with both, and sometimes I just feel the need to bring it up. No problem, right? I was raised by Korean people, and in Korea, these things just aren't done. All good so far, right?

But, whenever I try to bring these up, whether I'm telling a friend not to write my name in red or asking them not to hit me in the goddamn face (they've since stopped, but the use of the phrase hasn't gone away), the response I get is never a polite, “Oh, sorry about that. I'll try not to do that from now on.”

No. The answer I get is invariably, “Well, good thing we're in America, huh?” followed by an optional “USA! USA!” depending on where this exchange is taking place.

Now, I have no problem with patriotism. People need something to distract themselves with when another society is brought up in the news. But does this have to extend into pride in your ignorance of other countries? Not only are you proud of the fact that you have no idea about the social customs of another person, you refuse to accommodate them. As if your place of birth entitles you to be an ass.

I'm not saying you have to obsessively research the nuanced customs of every ethnic person you know. No, that's led to the War on Christmas and the silent, self-struggle of Christianity in accepting this multi-cultured world, and that's just dumb. You will be ignorant about some things. You are human, and that's okay. I can't say otherwise, because I am also human. All I ask is that if the person is your friend, whom you've know for a while, and has brought it up politely-- politely, mind you-- that your actions conflict a bit with their social comfort, then please, just politely agree to stop doing that, and it'll be fine.

Even if you are polite, smile, nod and say, “Oh, sorry about that. I'll try to stop doing that in front of you,” you will not spontaneously combust.

No matter how you choose to deal with it, do not say, “Well, good thing we're in America, huh?”

(self-entitled little...)

Because, too bad not everyone who lives in America is an American.

Thank you.

In fact, this doesn't even apply only to Americans. All of you. I'm asking this of all of you. Be polite. Just... please. 

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Do you guys think you can handle another rant?

Yes?

Yay!

No?

Too bad.

I got two more comin'. So just skip down to my final comments if you don't feel like reading, 'kay?

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There is this delightful girl who is also on staff at my school's magazine. Every morning, when we're told to stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance to this wonderful country of freedom (because, as a citizen of this country, you're obligated to swear fealty to a piece of fabric you can buy for a buck), she always claims that she refuses “to pledge allegiance to a land of corruption.” Sometimes, she'll refuse to stand and get shouted at, either by one of the editors or by the supervising teacher.

It's really a wonderful way to start every other day at school.

It's not. I hope you all could perceive my sarcasm, because I hardly find people or countries delightful or wonderful. If at all.

In any case, I think I would have agreed with her and sympathized a couple of years ago, but now... Now, all the little teenagers screaming for independence and fighting against the norm... I find it very futile, and a little bit amusing, if I'm able to find that much sentiment at 8:30 in the morning.

That isn't to say I don't understand it at all. Even I sometimes find myself dreaming of the freedom of adulthood, though I doubt I'll ever find it. But that's not my point.

My point is that she truly is very sour about it. All she has to do is stand up to show respect. No one's going to shout at her for not saying the pledge-- everyone recognizes that countries are corrupt, anyway-- but it's just the lack of respect.

Do I respect America? I may have to give a begrudging “Yes.” Perhaps I do, the idea of it, and it's accomplishments. America's been able to do some great things, some terrible things, and some downright embarrassing things. But it's a country that's populated by humans. What do you expect, eh?

But I am a little sad that she tries so hard to rebel. I'm not trying to be motherly, or patronizing, or snarky (well... not completely. Not towards her, anyway). What I mean is, why does she feel the need to vocalize her opinion of America? Every morning? Even the most adamant patriots recognize that America just sucks sometimes (though they somehow feel a sort of misplaced pride in it).

Again, she doesn't have to say the pledge out loud. She won't get in trouble for that. She just needs to stand up and think about how intelligent she is for not being fooled by the media and politicians.

Besides, it's not like she'd really be pledging to a land of corruption. The pledge is someone swearing their allegiance to a flag and what the flag represents. And the flag represents freedom, and equality through struggle. So, in pledging allegiance, she is not swearing fidelity to a country of oafish politicians, massive consumerism, football and fat kids. She's swearing allegiance to a magical land where everyone's equal and healthy and happy and loving. In this country, democracy works, and people aren't subconsciously unforgiving racists, and everyone loves each other. Money grows on trees and every week, cake and pie and cookies fall from the sky onto millions of kind, accepting, intelligent, and artistic individuals who are productive and innovative.

It's like Oz, or Narnia, this wonderful country of America.

So don't be afraid to pledge you're allegiance. It's all a farce, anyway, but it's nice to pretend.

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I came upon a rather unsettling discovery yesterday, and even now it makes me feel ill.

Loss. I feel loss, like something that was vitally important to my childhood was wrenched away from me while I wasn't looking.

The discovery?

American cheese isn't real cheese.

Ha! Just kidding!

The joke here is that I totally mean it.

I feel like I've been lied to. By an entire country.

Okay, so, yeah, I grew up in Canada, that magical nation just north of the good ol' US of A, so maybe I should've known this, as Canada's really just a lesser-known version of America, but this really hit me hard.

American cheese isn't real cheese. You know, it can't legally be sold as cheese. In the US. American cheese cannot be sold as “cheese” in America. No, it has to be labeled as processed cheese, or some other term that lets people know it's not real cheese. Did you know it's called plastic cheese in the UK? That sh*t ain't real cheese.

I mean, I never liked American cheese that much anyway-- I prefer white cheeses, myself. But I've always thought, you know, that it was an actual cheese, or maybe a type of cheese. There are different types of cheddar, right? I thought it was like that. I thought it was a type of cheddar with freedom and fireworks and reality TV and unicorn sh*t mixed in, you know?

They recently added a deli line to my school's cafeteria. Like, the ladies take bread, put some turkey or ham or chicken on it, cheese, slap some lettuce, tomatoes, onions, some mayo if you're weird (I like mayo) in front of you. And they put it under a panini press and it's legit food, and it tastes like food. Quality stuff, as far as cafeteria food goes. And the most popular cheese to put on these sandwiches? American. (I usually go for provolone or mozzarella. I have seen a couple people who don't know what provolone is. Am I weird for letting that bother me? You know what? Leave me alone.)

I always thought it was a nice patriotic gesture. American kids eating American cheese, and all is right with the world. And it is, in a way. Processed meat stuff, processed bread stuff, processed soup stuff, processed I-don't-know-what-the-f*ck-that-is-maybe-you-shouldn't-eat-it stuff. It's very American, okay. But if you're going to put a nationality in the name of of a food, it's like you're trying to define that nation's cuisine, and, in a way, the nation itself, through that food. French bread, Swiss chocolate, Belgian waffles. Good stuff, all of it.

But then you've got American cheese. Processed whatsit made of milk, some semi-edible by-product a farm sold for cheap and whatever was on the floor that didn't have eyes and wasn't moving.

So, it turns out, Kraft's patriotic, trumpet-filled marketing campaign wasn't just a ploy to exploit the people's love for their country. “Kraft, the American cheese” is truly American cheese.

America, land of the free, home of the brave, country of democracy and capitalism, victor of wars and second to no country.

America.

Land of processed cheese, and we are proud.

But, seriously, no. Don't call it cheese. It ain't cheese. Call it sandwich slices or processed dairy product-- whatever the cheap stuff has in fine print. Because that ain't cheese and I will not stand for it.

FINAL COMMENTS.

SKIP TO HERE IF YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE READING THAT CRAP

So, I will pretend as if I have more than, say, three readers (if that) and ask you guys to comment on any (or all) of the following questions:

a) What kind of cheese do you like best? It's okay to say American (EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOT A REAL CHEESE).

b) If you don't like cheese, tell me why you don't. In case you're answer's something like, “It smells,” tell me about an embarrassing incident that involved cheese. Or any incident. Just comment.

c) What terribly politically incorrect/socially unacceptable atrocity have I written this time? Feel free to ignore all rules of grammar, punctuation, spelling and capitalization, and use as many internet abbreviations as you wish.

d) Should the name of this blog be changed to “Complaints and Grievances”?