Adios America

The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated (OK, that line would have worked better if I hadn’t done that post about the Bears loss).

Breathe regular, P.C.H.A. fans… my extended holiday sabbatical has finally come to an end. I could make up a story about all the exciting things that have kept me away from my appointed posts, but unless you consider drinking with The Dilemma or smoking weed with the Musky Canadian exciting, I’d be lying. But all good things must come to an end.

As must all mediocre things… such as my life in Los Estados Unidos

That’s right… this and all future posts, at least for a while, will be coming to you from Ecuador. Mrs. D.S.C. and I have picked up stakes and moved the homestead to Cuenca (although we haven’t actually gotten there yet… we just got into Quito yesterday… give us a fucking break already).

So why the big move, and what does this have to do with pop culture, you fucking hippy? Obviously, there are several reasons: a desire to live in a foreign culture, a love for South America, a need to get some space between The Dilemma’s unwanted hands and my genitals. But the final straw was the malaise we were feeling with the good ole U.S.A.

It wasn’t just that the difference between what America claims to stand for and how it actually acts could stretch from Guayaquil to Valparaiso (look it up, you ignorant fuck). It wasn’t just that we are so entitled and spoiled that we make Veruca Salt look like Mahatma Gandhi. It wasn’t just that we’re so damned bored with our lives that we get excited about celebrity breakups and weight-loss television shows.

It’s just that it’s gotten so goddamn repetitive and boring. Tea Partiers are nothing but Joe McCarthy crossed with Ross Perot. The wait between decent movies can now be measured by quarters instead of weeks. 24-hour sports culture does its best to wring the drama out of any moment within the hour. Music may be good, but there’s currently no life- and culture-changing artists, and technology has made it so that there may never be again. And television… well, given that some of the best shows pick through the wreckage of all the crap that’s out there, let’s just say there’s more bad than good.

Thankfully, all of this mediocrity is greeted with enough breathless hype to keep it comical. And what can I say… I’m addicted to the empty calories of our culture in the same way that Jason Davis is addicted to twinkies and heroin (yes, I’ve watched every episode of every Celebrity Rehab… it makes me feel better when I’m drunk). And when you get that shining jewel, that Barack Obama, or Dark Knight, or Derrick Rose, or Kanye West, or Don Draper, it makes it seem like it all has a purpose, maybe even The Wendy Williams Show. Plus, we at P.C.H.A. made a solemn and irreversible vow to wade through the muck for your enjoyment, and until an Indiana Jones shows up to drink from our chalice, we’re pretty much stuck.

So don’t worry… P.C.H.A. will go on unfettered. I will be examining American culture from the outside, a safe distance from the continuous maw, while The Dilemma will continue to put his life in his hands by living in the belly of the beast. And if you ever doubted that I’m smarter and more loved by god than my partner, I got a bit of sunburn today while he was getting buried under two feet of snow.

As a one-legged Jewish lawyer said in one of the most underrated American movies of all time (Nobody’s Fool), “Vaya con huevos, my friends.”

P.S. I won’t be writing about our expat experience here, unless it has some relevance to American pop culture. But if you’re interested, the wife and I will be blogging on TravelBlog under the title “The Ecuadorian Expat Experiment”.

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