Some people look at a flag swaying in a breeze at the White House, and they say "that's America". Me, whenever I see an American flag hung in the window of a basement apartment, by guys with better things to do with their money than buy curtains, I say that's America to me.

In America, there are 51 states, or maybe it's 80 by now? Does England count? I'm not quite sure. The one thing I am sure of though, is if I am standing in a warehouse standing beside a time clock, and a guy is punching in for his best friend, who is too hungover to get out of bed, I'm standing in America: the makeover capital of the world. The place where a young man has to answer in his heart, a question: what do you love more, your girlfriend, or your car? And where that young man can buy a beat-up car for $300, but has to spend a thousand to insure it. Where else can even a paper boy can auction the film rights to a book?

A woman on an assembly line works out her overtime in her head to infinity. At the exact same moment, her husband gets into a car accident, because he's looking at a girl in a tube top. In America, where spelling doesn't count, people's pets do! Where else can a guy get a job riding a whale at marine land, but in America?

In America, a guy's girlfriend breaks up with him over the phone. So he gets a gun, and kills the Principal. Everyone is sad, until they get the day off. Next week, another guy, another gal, another "we can still be friends" phone call, uh-oh, the Assistant Principal gets it. And everyone's sad, because they don't get the day off. Because he's just the Assistant Principal.

America, a land of oppurtunity. Yes, that great lumbering beast that journeys tirelessly, stops only to eat a club house sandwich, pick it's teeth with a matchbook cover, and fall asleep with the tv on. Again, America, a place for Americans.