Do any of you know who this man is? Well, my husband and I were accosted by a couple of British journalists on the street here in Santa Monica the other day, who were wondering the very same thing about us. They showed us several pictures of celebrities, asking us to identify them. I'm ashamed to say we did a pretty piss poor job of it. Of course, I I.D.-ed Victoria Beckham and a couple of others, but out of ten pictures, our track record was less than stellar. That is, until the piece de resistance came along: A photo of the above mug. I reached deep into my amygdala, activating my medulla oblongata, cerebellum, and of course, corpus callosum, before spitting out the answer. SPOILER ALERT! DON'T READ ON UNLESS YOU WANT TO KNOW.
"Gordon Brown," I regurgitated from somewhere in the deep recesses of the Responsible/ Politically Aware/Greeting Card aisle of my brain -- aisle seven, in case you're wondering. Well, you can guess what happened next. I glowed as these proud Brits congratulated me and took my picture. Yes I preened, and maybe even gloated, a little. Of course, they took my huband's picture too, but that was only because he failed to identify David Beckham -- can't blame him, the guy's a chameleon. But the whole point of the exercise, as it turned out, was to see what sorts of faces were in people's pictorial lexicon, and which weren't...
Anyhoo, all of this got me to wondering how many Santa Monicans, Californians, Nebraskans, and even Americans could identify ol' Gordy. My guess is, probably not a whole lot. And then, even though at this point my hippocampus was getting a little tired, I started thinking about how weird it is to come from a country where the entire world knows your leader. And despises him too, but that's another story. But I mean Britain is a pretty damn important world superpower, even if they do drink too much tea. So you would think their head of state would be somewhat ubiquitous in terms of the media, right? And a friend of mine, let's call her IRMA to protect the innocent, is a British citizen who's lived most of her life in the States, but still, didn't even know the name of the new British Prime Minister, let alone being able to identify his mug shot.
So this gives me a pretty good sense that we here in America are a bunch of ethnocentric, movie star worshipping dervishes who have very little idea that the rest of the world even exists. We're like the popular cheerleader, and the rest of the world is that nerdy little kid who's president of the academic decathlon, but will never get America's phone number. The thing is, that geek is probably going to grow up to be something great, and we, the cheerleader, are going to getmarried, have a few kids, and get fat. And then the hot, rich, successful nerd won't even give us the time of day, as we, America, devours bon bons peppered with tear salt in her locked bathroom, and pines for a parallel universe.
So there you have it. A little lesson on foreign policy, reduced to a John Hughes movie.
Log in next time, when I profile several obscure world leaders. Aren't you gonna be the most worldly thing on two feet?
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