Explaining Thanksgiving...

Now that the rush of Thanksgiving is over, I have a moment to reflect on the holiday and what it means. Not in the way you think, though. But more like, what the heck is it anyway.

This was brought home to me before I left Australia to come back to The Porch for the holiday. A person in the room there wished me a Happy Thanksgiving while I was at home. Casual enough wish here in the US, but definitely learned behavior (almost wrote "behaviour" there!) in The Land Down Under.

Here is an actual conversation I had right before I left:

Me: "Thanks, guy! I'm looking forward to some turkey and cranberry sauce, too!"

Aussie 1: "I've heard that."

Me: "Yes, it's a tradition from the first Thanksgiving."

Aussie 2: (joining in) "First Thanksgiving?"

Me: "Yeah! You know: 1621. The Mayflower. The Pligrims. Indians and the first harvest."

Aussie 1: "Pilgrims?"

By now there is complete silence is in the room and I'm standing there with about 15 pairs of Australian eyes turned on me like a particularly succulent meat pie.

Me: (laughing uncomfortably) "Ummm. They came from England and landed at Plymouth Rock."

(blank stares)

Me: (continuing) "You know, in Massachusetts. And they wore black wide-brimmed hats. Big white collars and, ummm, buckle... shoes." (fading into silence)

By then I was really hoping for a stampede of kangaroos in the room or something to divert their attention from the American fairy tale it seemed I was spinning.

That or they were just jealous of our traditions. Yeah, that's it.

- Farmer Ted.

Observing the Aussies: Flora and fauna...

Nowhere do I know I'm not at home than the plants and animals in The Land Down Under.

I've thought about going to a zoo but figured why bother? I can hardly pronounce the names of animals let alone recognize what they might look like (except for kangaroos, which I've never seen live in Australia and so think that it's a big joke being played on the world by their tourism industry).

Given that it's spring versus fall in the northern climes, I tripped over some sort of creature on the steps at work the other day. It looked vaguely like a catepillar but was so hairy and frightening I'm only guessing that's what it was short of having at it with a bottle of Nair.

I tried not to scream.

What really brought the difference in animals home occurred while stumbling around the The Rocks in Sydney, when on Argyle Street I came across a little childrens boutique with toys in the window. One item displayed was one of those books for toddlers: You know, those fabric ones with cute puffy animals on the pages for you to identify with your child? As I looked at more closely I just stared, rubbing my eyes because I thought my night at The Lord Nelson had come back to haunt me.

Within the cottony soft pages of the book was not a single animal I knew.

I tried not to scream.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Clothing...

Okay, so we all have to wear something. But one thing I've noticed is that "something" is the watchword here in Australia.

Perhaps it's because the southern hemisphere is six-months behind the clothes-leading northern hemisphere. After all, it's not like they say "We saw Kate Moss on the runways of Perth and she looked FABULOUS!!" Maybe it's because in a country that is 90% outback, if all you're going to see are kangaroos it's not like you have to wear your best frock to the occasion. Yaknowaddamean?

Yes, Australia is the catch up kid when it comes to what to wear and a poster child for "What Not to Wear". If only because no one's quite sure what look they're trying to pull off. Let's just call the look "Eclectic Wagga Wagga."

This even extends to other areas.

My friend Carrie came here to visit, traveling Australia and then on to New Zealand. She is quite a hedonist and, ahem, thoroughly enjoyed herself. However she did have one comparison point between Australian men and New Zealand men. I won't exactly say what it was, but I will point out that Australia took notice by the introduction of the male Wonderbra called the "Wonderjock". I kid you not. And let me just say that, according to Carrie, it still won't help.

But there is one thing that saves Australia: the people. I will grudgingly admit that it is a nation of, for the most part, extremely fit and attractive people.

If only they would learn the joys of natural fabrics.

- Farmer Ted

"Midnight Express" come to life...

Unbeknownst to my US brethren, a drug war of the most nefarious kind is being waged at the airports and shipping ports of the US. The federally appointed Drug Czar is losing sleep over it. TSA inspectors are on high alert to search passengers for it. Profiling is running unchecked and unchallenged for "mules" carrying it.

I'm talking about Vegemite(R), of course.

According to a spokesperson for Kraft in Australia, the US Government has undertaken a policy of blocking, confiscating, and destroying any Vegemite attempting to reach US shores. This includes stopping Australians landing in the US and performing searches of their personal effects looking for the innocuous dark brown jar with the bright bio hazard-yellow lid.

"WFT?!?" you are very correct in asking as any reasonable person would (except for anyone who's actually eaten the stuff - yuk). It seems that Vegemite contains the additive folate, which has many health benefits including being key in the initial phases of fetal development in pregnant women. However in the US, folate can only be added to baked goods and cereals. So that, in the eyes of the dreaded Folic Acid Mafia, means anyone carrying it needs to be leaned on. And hard.

"Dat's right!" rasps the Pillsbury Pop'n'Fresh Doughboy followed by his signature giggle. "Cross us and we'll stuff you in an industrial baking oven for 20 minutes on an ungreased cookie sheet just to teach you a lesson! (giggle)"

And yes, you would also be right in thinking why the hell are they concentrating men, money, and materiel on scoring The Big Vegemite Haul when there are illegal drugs hidden in Tickle-me Elmos, aliens and possibly dirty weapons they keep on scaring us about streaming into the country virtually unchecked?

Only the makers of Wonder Bread know for sure.

- Farmer Ted

To have and to hold? Yeah, right...

Q: What's black and brown and looks good on an attorney?
A: A doberman pinscher.

How can you avoid the Sir Paul McCartney/Heather Mills bust up in the news. After claiming the divorce would be amicable for the sake of their daughter, one quoted source said that after a "furious row" two months ago the tone of the divorce proceedings turned ugly, putting Mrs Mills-McCartney on the the scent of all that dough like Jethro Bodine after a passle of Granny's hog jowls.

But I know where it all really came from: her lawyers.

Draw up a chair, I'm gonna tell you a story about the divorce of a male friend of mine who was in a similar situation. Wife, young daugther, not rich but with a couple of houses they'd purchased together (they both worked long hours). Their divorce started friendly enough with both agreeing that for their daughter it would be as non-stressful as possible.

This lasted until their first visits to their lawyers. My friend related how his lawyer kept saying things like "You know if you do this or say that, you stand a better position to get the thing." He didn't pay any attention until suddenly from out of his wife's camp, similar type requests began surfacing. Bitter court claims ensued and because of it the divorce dragged out making everyone the loser.

Except the laywers that is. Who sat there racking up billable hours in my friends case; and most likely a share of the spoils as well in the McCartney/Mills case.

You can just see Heather Mills' lawyer, JD degrees (and past victims heads) on the wall behind him, like a real-life Grima Wormtongue leaning over her shoulder, rubbing his dry stick like hands together and whispering whispering "You say he took an occasional sleeping pill when he was having trouble sleeping? You poor dear living with a man who's a drug addict. You deserve compensation for that pain and suffering. Yessss. Yessss."

There oughta be a law.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Food...

I think the Aussies fall somewhere between England and the US when it comes to food. Not that the US is in any stretch of the imagination the land of haute cuisine, but I do think because of the large immigrant makeup of what makes the (now) 300 million people there has been an amazing diversity in American cuisine.

So what's here, my countrymen back home might ask?

Well I think the oddest thing they eat here is what they affectionately call "meat pies." Now once any Americans reading this get their minds out of the gutter (shame on you!), they are actually hand-sized tarts of flaky crust containing a meat gravy mixture.

And are they ever available here! You can get them flash frozen, from street vendors, and from bakeries. Served with gravy on top, with a side salad, and in a plate of mushy peas (don't get me started). They come filled with beef, chicken, lamb, or even vegetarian. For lunch. For dinner. On the run. They are considered the height of deliciousness and people here will drive miles to go to a bakery that makes "the best meat pies."

Can any American even think of using the words "best", "meat", and "pie" together in a sentence other than to say "I had a Swanson pot pie last night and meat was so nasty it was the best feeling to throw it away."

Another thing they do that cracks me up is sell you slices of bread in coffee shops and such for about, oh, $3 for 2 toasted slices. Of course, this price is in Australian dollars which means you really paid about 45-cents US, so that makes it more palatable. But when I first expressed astonishment at seeing this displayed in a bakery case I was met with that blank "WTF!" look I'm so used to these days.

What I'd love to do is turn them loose at Jim's Steaks on South Street in Philadelphia. Once faced with that greasy array of options and a sweaty tattooed overweight grill guy braying"Waddayawantandmakeitfastoryousegotodaendofdaline!" they'll crumble like the crust on one of their meat pies.

Then I'll have my revenge.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: On the road...

I mean they do it all over the world. Driving, I mean. Only here they take it to a form not seen since Exit 11 off the New Jersey Turnpike.

First off? No solid lines between traffic. Yep. All the roads, including the major ones simply have the same white dashed lines all over, punctuated from time-to-time with cement curb-height bumps where the center would be, designed to be just at the right height to rip the exhaust system clean off your car.

Want more road danger? Their telephone poles on the side of the road, called Stobie poles, are made of concrete and steel. That's right, hit one of those and say hello to Jesus, my friend. Some people say it's because the termite problem is so bad that wooden poles wouldn't last. I say, it's the reason there are only 25 million people on this whole continent: It's some sort of perverse population control mechanism devised by the roads department.

Then there's the fact that there are cars here you will not find anywhere in the world. Not because they're unique, just that everywhere else junked them long ago. I'm talking Gremlins, Novas, Ford Fairlanes. It's a veritable "Island of Mis-fit Cars." You know, that Christmas stop-action island where Santa left toys too weird to give as gifts? Like the train engine with square wheels? That's what Australia is for cars. Maybe it's the climate. Maybe Santa has an extra large sleigh. But here they are. Death traps moving on four wheels since these things were long before safety devices. Again, population control.

Finally there's a maneuver I call the "dart and switch", where they dart out of a side road in the teeth of solid wall of oncoming traffic and switch right into your lane going well below the speed limit. I saw one get their come-uppance yesterday when they didn't switch quite fast enough from the dart and got sideswiped by one of the on-coming cars. "NOVICE!!!" an old lady screamed out her car window as she disappeared in a cloud of noxious fumes.

Yep, these guys play for keeps here.

Of course, Australians seem to accept all this with the same stolid incuriosity they meet all such things that puzzle the rest of the world: With a bright "G'day, mate!" and a cheery wave.

Meanwhile, I'm terrified some AMC Alliance will misjudge the dart, have it's brake system ripped out by those median bumps, hit a concrete and steel telephone pole and wind up careening into me.

Now THAT, gentle readers, is terror.

- Farmer Ted