A had a Moment of Weakness in which I was Scared I Lost you All, but I am Now Going to Remind you What you Mean to Me.

Sometimes I fear that the British citizens living around and interacting with me have forgotten what you all mean to me as a people. I was so affected this afternoon shortly after feeling that I had lost all of you that I called in my dangling Kermit doll for back up. Please recall certain sentiments of mine in their near-completeness.

This is more pleasurable than scones with clotted cream and elderberry juice at the orchard in Grantchester. (Did I spell that one correctly?… you know, the place a little past the ole skinny dipping hole of Virginia Wolf on the walk from Cambridge.) This is more complete than my still-no-White-Album Beatles collection (that I hope was properly gifted after I left San Francisco). This is even more handy than the sonic screwdriver that normally sits in my right hand pocket. This is what you all mean to me… in a some-not-all list. I apologise for my lack of completeness.

Your early signs of democracy included a Magna Carta … or Great Letter. But what are your people doing now to control your own chosen government? I saw the exchange rates today. You economy is going strong,.. but then why does that mean that you as a people must be so completely oppressed? Why must all you believe in this world be controlled by human-rights-negating speakers in your ear canals? Why must you have no ideas, beliefs, or intentions of your own? Why must all you know and trust be forced on you against anything you already know or want for you and yourselves? What sort of population would insist on doing what you as a whole have done to me to ANY woman? We know you would not have if you had not volunteered to give up your own free will by choice. I would prefer if you would just be your natural, beautiful selves. I think you would prefer if you would be your natural, beautiful selves. I think the world would benefit best from you if you insisted on being your natural, beautiful selves.

There was a time that Churchill taught us that Walpole’s need for Appeasement really just meant “Never negotiate with terrorists.” You know, the people who constantly tell you that your human rights will only come back after… and then say they will only come back after… and then they say after eight more months… and then they say only if you turn a mostly innocent woman into a hooker… You all know the types. You know better than to listen to them. If you want it over you need to make it over. Do it Churchill style on that one.

If someone out there insists I may only be treated with full human rights if I lie to you and tell you I was born of British blood, you know I will not lie to you … though I have known to be wrong on a few occasions. I am only human that way. In good very good company as an American everyone in both countries usually prefers to call British. There is a T.S. Elliot on one side of me and an Edward Gorey and a Julie Andrews… and, I believe, an Angela Lansbury on the other.

However, if you want to claim I am an actually part of your democratic body, I will tell your government my opinions of it. I will make your Prime Minister listen to statements as passionate (though, hopefully of different tone) than those I give our President. But, only if you ask nicely.

I am a lady. I tend to behave. Though... sometimes I barely proofread.