WHAT HAPPENED TO AMERICANS?

What happened to Americans?

The first Americans I met were like gods and goddesses.

They had lithe bodies, amazing skin, bright clean clothes, and they exuded an eternal optimism that sprang from their kind-hearted souls.

Americans were energetic, progressive and they had wealth, and they seemed to share it.

The first American family I met came to live in our town in Ireland in the 1950s, and they seemed to have stepped out of Heaven, and everything they touched appeared to turn to gold.

When I was young my father needed a second job, as a handyman builder, and my mother had to work as a part-time cleaner, just to keep their three children in food.

Ireland in the 1950s was dark, dismal and an almost diabolical place because of the mis-rule by the Catholic Church and its lick-arse politicians.

Many Irish were in abject poverty, physically and spiritually, while this controlling church complained endlessly about godless communists yet the truth was that this catholic hegemony was far crueler.

Then these Americans arrived, and the sun shone into our wretched lives.

I was only a chisler when we, our whole family, were invited to their party on the 4th of July, some national celebration or other.

I wasn’t inclined to go as celebrations in Ireland meant endless propaganda / ‘prayers’, up and down on our knees, breeching some figurehead in the sky not to strike more misery down into our miserable lives.

The other celebrations in Ireland were sporting events where afterwards the men got mouldy drunk and returned home to beat up their wives and children, and it became unfortunately normal as a child to fall asleep to the screams of neighbour women.

But the Americans had a fresh-air welcome into their pristine clean home. They offered wholesome family fun for adults and all the children, and a feast of pumpkin pie, tick stakes, and the magic smell of coffee, and a hope, then set to burn eternal, that all our futures could be brighter.

Us children had a table all to ourselves with no adult giving us constant dos and don’ts.

But what impressed me the most was the adult table where my cleaner mother and handyman father sat beside other guests – the bank manager and his posh wife, and powerful businessmen with their well dressed trophy wives.

I was so proud of my mum and dad sitting at the top table. I knew from birth they were the greatest people on earth, and I didn’t care for the social picking-order that the catholic hierarchy entrenched so as to divide and conquer our nation. I knew my father and mother were gold, even if they had no money.

But what blew me away was the American couple. They were the prime example of courtesy, democracy and the fair-playness of treating all humans as equals.

Their servants served us, but the Americans, in their voice and words, also treated their servants as equals.

He was an architect building a big hotel in Dublin. She was a mother-of-three who had a degree, amazing to us in those dark days of Ireland that a woman could be given the opportunity to achieve third-level education, and then walk from her career to bring up a family.

She was all smiles, and enchanting. Her children were the biggest-smiling kids I had ever met. Their todays and tomorrows were full of successful sunshine and endless opportunities, and it was nothing for them to share their toys with us.

We Irish were not jealous, because these American children were so full of generosity, and we were delighted to share in their dream.

That day’s fun and laughter still echoes in my 64-year-old heart.

The American parents were so brilliant in that they allowed their children to play and enjoy life. Their father was such a kind man, who vacated the top table to talk with us children.

He didn’t talk down to us, but he treated us like equals, and he had big-eyes and full ears as he listened to and talked to each individual one of us. This great man made us all feel special.

On leaving that night, while shaking hands and hugging my mother, the American asked me would I like to go to university.

Well he might have asked me if I’d like to go to the moon because anyone in our downtrodden caste in 1950s catholic-Ireland had a better chance at a moon landing that entering the hallowed halls of learning in the couple or three universities that this supine-republic had errected.

He said I was a bright kid, and if I were to go to university he would give me one hundred pounds. Well, my mother and father nearly fainted. They could never in their life times save one hundred pounds… maybe in today’s money that equated to maybe ten thousand euro… who knows, but on that fourth of July day it was a crock of gold beyond any rainbow that we ever knew of.

No wonder I, and Ireland, and all us Irish, and all us Europeans, had a love of Americans. It wasn’t just their movie stars, but also the ordinary American captured our imaginations, and gave us hope.

But today, that love has turned sour.

Today when my eyes see an American I have to place my hand in front of them to block the ugliness of an obese creature.

The sight of an American’s body, turned from energetic and lithe to a flubbery monster, sickens my eyesight, pains my eyes, stabs my soul, and breaks my heart.

How in the speed of a few decades has the American turned from the slim, well-dress, kind-hearted body into a blob of overflowing flesh breaking out of retard clothes.

Please Americans, wake up or soon you are finished on this earth. You cannot keep uglyfying yourselves. These are you last days unless you turn from the path of the ugly monster.

Your foolish decisions upon foolish decisions to do with your diet, and your politics, could soon end your charmed life.

We, your friends, are horror-struck at what is happening to you Americans.

You, as a nation, have gone from family fun to indulge yourselves in all that is disgusting and foul.

Your obese bodies seem to be attracting all forms of wickedness that we in the innocent 1950s could never have possibly imagined.

Your cult of instant-gratification is bleeding you to an unnecessary painful death.

Once you were the most loved people on our planet, now you are bidding for the most despised.

Why? How can good-hearts turn into evil pumps?

You can blame addictions to sugar, or endless-entertainment, or shallow education, or drugs or alcohol or simple selfish greed, but whatever it is that is attacking your very soul, stop it, fight it off, and come back to being the peoples we all once loved.

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