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For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm Wednesday Lee Friday, or [personal profile] wednes to the blog savvy. I'm a horror novelist, zombie correspondant, interviewer, opinionated progressive, and mistress of all things disturbing.

I began this blog with John because he's witty, smart, and resides "across the pond" as they say. Isn't it just like someone from the UK to refer to a fucking ocean as a pond? Yeah, it totally is.

I'm rather a gringo when it comes to places like Britain or Scotland. I don't travel. I speak one language fluently. I've been fascinated by British imports since my Uncle Rich gave me his copy of Sgt Pepper, roundabout 1975. Since then I was introduced to Monty Python, The Young Ones (thank you Mtv in the 80's), Doctor Who (I started with Tom Baker), and then later, Harry Potter, Spaced, and pretty much anything Rik Mayall is into.

As I absorbed Brit shows and modern Brit lit, I was often struck by how many phrases the Brits use that make a ton more sense than the American hodgepodge we still have the audacity to refer to as English. American English is truly the mutt of languages. It's a Borgesque assimilation of everything in its path. And once we yoink thinks from other cultures, we typically mispronounce them. Eventually, we develop the cojones to tell the originators that they're doing their own thing wrong, when we really mean we're used to the things we Americanized. Don't believe me? Go to Italy and order a pizza.

John and I hope to converse about popular culture and language, comparing and contrasting two countries who agree that red, white, and blue are the ideal colors for a flag.
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At sixteen years old, [1977 fact fans] my sister, a BOAC air stewardess, took me on almost a monthly basis to The USA. This was, I shit you not, the making of me, and a Very Big Deal. BOAC [The British Oversea Airways Corp - I know, I know. Now it's BA, like BP? Sorry] had a family deal whereby an employee could bring family members at little or no charge on overseas trips, crammed onto the jump seat, an uncomfortable drop-down table affair that was the crew's only sitting position, even on long-haul. This benefit brought me rapt attention and many show-and-tell type talks back at school, dog-tired on a Monday morning, having been to the land of Kojak, Ironside, Frank Cannon [remember him?] and of course mild-mannered Bruce Banner who you have to be super-nice to, lest he turn into the great Lou Ferringo. I did actually meet Telly Savalas once, but let's save that story for next time. I'll never forget the looks on my freinds faces as they reverentially perused my Marvel and DC purchases, while I was telling my amazed teacher all about seeing David Bowie on Soul Train. Golden years indeed, but its the little things that stay with me: The significant moments. The two large cops bustling into a US restaurant as the waitress served them their usual order without anyone saying a word: These guys were welcome in there, workers, citizens, cops.No-one minded where they went. Years later, sitting in a McDonalds on drizzly wet Bitish Wednesday at six AM, I thought of that moment, as a polioce cruiser came pulling in, making everyone hide behind their newspapers. The cops were so aware of the discomfort they brought with them that they had a little play-act going on by the time they entered, as if to demonstrate that they weren't there to arrest anyone. And of course, they checked everyone's tyres - sorry, tires for legality as they left. I'm not suggesting that folks in the US drive with unfit vehicles, but you know what I mean. You see America is the meaning of cool to us, no matter how reticent we are about that. Me, I'll admit it, embrace it and enjoy the hell out of it. From the Cramps to Criminal Minds, from John Waters to John Rambo, and especially that great story about the dangers of building on old Indian burial grounds. Compare CSI to our police prodecdural show, Waking The Dead. Acually no, don't please. We have Top Of the Tops, you have Soul Train.You get Happy Days, we got Grange Hill. I know wegot some of it right, The Pythons [some of the time] and Fawlty Towers, but only twelve episodes? Nope, I don't know why that is either. At least we got The Young Ones. Maybe they'll get back together for an anniversary. The Old Ones? Why not? Hey Rick, Vyv Bastard, Mike and Neil? Get on a plane, make a show - the airline is doing give-away plane tickets.


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July 2012

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