Pride

I felt very American today. Patriotic. I even detected a smile creeping over my face as I drove across town with a flag flapping proudly from my car window.

So it wasn't a US flag. It was an English banner for the World Cup. And yes- it did look a little like a wounded pigeon struggling to free itself from the clutches of a menacing black Volvo. But still, for a moment I was a part of something. Something bigger than myself. Part of a greater collective, a brotherhood of man. People who would sooner leap from a bridge than let a fellow brother down.

Of course that's just a fantasy. Not the lots of men bit. The belonging bit. Truth is, I don't belong to anything. I'm just another loon belting along Wilshire waving a piece of coloured cloth. And that's plain daft. People have been shot for less.

Which makes me fortunate I suppose. There. I am a fortunate man.

With or without brothers...