An amusing (to me) post by Elijah Beaver, on his encounters with Europeans. Recommended for the wonderful photographs of himself posing by anti-American graffiti, and this final paragraph:
As a passport american, however, i get confused when huge skin heads see me on the street and scream “Hey Yankee, go home!” Do they mean me personally, or do they mean the 13 brigades in Iraq? How do i know that he doesn’t mean i should run back to my flat because it is on fire? I suppose i could go home, but then how would i be able to eat your food, take your women, and parasitize your social health care system in such abundance and with such fluidity?
As a half-Indian beast, i don’t fit in anywhere particularly, but my haughty, Roger Scruton-like expression, tweed waistcoat, and Queen’s English command respect. And when they don’t, then, by God, my expandable baton does.
Hey! Still reading my blog? I thought i was pissing into the void. Unfortunately, i’m on the job hunt again and fearful of potential employers who know how to google, so i’m self-censoring. Awful feeling…
you mean E Beaver is your real name? i assumed it was a made up name. Should i edit the entries where i’ve mentioned you? i could call you E Beaver instead? – or something else?
it was Beaver, but i’ve removes some letters to make it Elijah Beer. But we can continue using ‘Beaver’ cuz, let’s face it, it feels good coming out of our mouths and at the ends of our withered fingertips
Sorry Elberry, I thought you knew Elijah Beaver is exactly what it says on the tin. Still, I couldnt believe it at first either. Such co-incidences of reality and interesting, exotic names are rare.