Makimachine

Ännu en lista jag hittade på facebook, denna gång ett diskussioninlägg av en amerikanska:

RESPECT THE CHEESE FORM

If you're from Topeka, you can go to Kansas City. If you're from Kansas
City, you can go to
Chicago. If you¼re from Chicago, you can go to New York. But if you're
from Manhattan, where
can you go?
By the time I was 35 I had to go to Sweden just to calm down.
These are not the people who drill holes in cheese and yodel. They are
not a fondue people. Their
trains are often late, their mountains are unimpressive and their
chocolate is adequate at best.
No. These are the people who brought you The Nobel Prize, the Volvo,
the smörgåsbord, free day
care, suicide and full frontal nudity. These are the blondes. Enormous
Blonde Herring-scented
Nauseatingly Fair-minded Nymphomaniacs in Clogs.
Most Swedish women are named Lena, and all Swedish men are named Jan.
One day I was using the osthyvel (special cheese slicer) on a hunk of
Jarlsberg, and Lena, Lina and
Lene stared yelling at me. "That looks like a ski-slope!" Apparently it
is of great importance that
every slice attempt to "even out" the cheese level. All Swedes are
brought up to do so. I call this
disturbing episode: "Respect the Cheese Form!"
"Lågom" means "not too little, not too much. Just Right." The Middle
Road. Social Democracy.
Cheese. Same thing.
Sweden has an extremely active yogurt culture. Almost frantic. Choose
between "filmjölk", kefir,
and yogurt. Yogurt is available in Japanese style, Russian style,
"farmer" style, "normal" style and
liquid style, each in a stupefying array of flavors, including
cloudberry. Filmjölk tastes sourer, but
frankly I don't understand the difference. You can buy no fat, low fat,
medium low fat, medium fat,
medium-high and "call your cardiologist" versions of all these things
as well as "long" filmjölk,
whatever that is.
Swedish people travel with sheets and towels. They cannot be stopped.
You can try saying; "You
don't need to bring your sheets and towels. I have everything here" but
they will bring them all the
same.
If you go on a vacation with a Swede, watch out, because when exposed
to direct sunlight, they tend
to burst into flame.
You can buy herring in any gas station.
Swedes squeeze food out of tubes. Among many other choices, liver pate,
mushroom/cheese spread,
crab paste, and the infamous "Kalle's Kaviar" (lumpfish roe) are very
popular. My favorite is black
pepper/cognac. There are special gizmos in refrigerators to hold the
tubes. They squirt this stuff onto
the knäckebröd (crispbread) which they store in the special cupboard
above the fridge. For an
average of fourteen years. It keeps rather well.
Beer is available in strong, medium and light versions. The most
oft-spoken words are "En stor
stark." A big strong one.
Many of my friends, both men and women, use "snuss." Chewing tobacco.
Stuffed into their gums,
this results in a distinctive, puffy demeanor.
Whatever their sex life may include, Swedish people sleep in single
beds. Peculiar. But cozy.
Swedes eat a lot of korv (hot dogs) with mos (mashed potatoes) on top.
When they speak English
they invariably say, "smashed potatoes" and I can't correct them; it's
too charming. Then there are
the ketchup udders. At every korv kiosk (hot dog stand) there is a
shocking lineup of assorted
mustards and ketchups, each in a long, squeezable rubber udder. There's
no other way to describe
them. Udders.
Christmas means one thing. Festive Pigs.
Eye drops are illegal. Crazy glue is illegal.
I love Sweden. It's boring, but in a good way.
On every street there are five or six hair "salonger." Most have
frightening English names, like
"Klipper Crazy." I am convinced they're a front for some illegal
activity. Because if they're for real,
it's surprising that anyone has a hair left on their head?
Dentists get mad at you because you don't "toothpick", not because you
don't floss.
Toilet paper is packaged in gigantic, 24 roll bales, wrapped in clear
plastic with a handle on top.
People run around in public with these, constantly and shamelessly.
There's something called the Swedish standard, and it's pretty high.
Fairness and Equality means
that you can buy a very good Merlot in Lappland. This is part of the
Swedish standard. Liquor is
sold only in state-run stores, called "SystemBolaget", or, as it's more
popularly known, "Systemet."
The System. The System closes at 6, and is closed on Saturday and
Sunday. The most Swedish
thing one can do is to go to Systemet on Friday at 5 p.m. You will take
a "nummerlapp" (a number
from the Turn-o-Matic) and wait calmly and patiently for your turn to
insure a desperately rowdy
weekend. The Turn-o-Matic is an invention of which the Swedes are very
proud. Even at the police
station you have to take a "nummerlapp." And wait. Enterprising drunks
outside the shop might sell
you a low number for a few kronor. Otherwise, bring literature.
The most serious television news shows interview political figures with
a charming and homey
milieu, including flowered curtains, blond wood, colorful pillows,
pastries and coffee. On doilies.
Mac Neill Lehrer take note: Ashcroft? Why not Cinnamon Buns? Wouldn't
Condoleeza Rice enjoy a
cannoli?
Even after years of psychotherapy, my most burning issue is a complete
lack of patience. Seemingly,
Sweden has been designed especially to help me learn this virtue. There
are not enough people in
Sweden. Even at fancy restaurants, some element is always self
-service. It's not uncommon to clear
one's own table. The salad, bread and water are on the sideboard. Help
yourself. No. Help me.
The waitress, the cashier, the mechanic, the cleaning lady and you are
all equals. Not only is the
customer not always right, they're just plain lucky to receive service
of any kind.
I had a conversation with immigration.
It went something like this:
LR: I'm an American citizen, but I want to buy a house in Sweden. What
are the rules for residency
here?
IM: So you're married to a Swede?
LR: No, I'm not married.
IM: Oh, so you're living with a Swedish man.
LR: No. But I once was married to a Swedish man.
IM: Okay, then!
LR: But we divorced in 1985.
IM: That's too bad.
LR: You're telling me.
IM: So, you have children in Sweden? Swedish children?
LR: No. No children.
IM: No children? Oh, well. Perhaps a Swedish company employs you.
LR: No, not employed.
IM: No job?
LR: I'm freelance.
IM: silence.
LR: But I have a lot of friends here.
IM: Oh, friends don't count.
LR: silence.
IM: But what reason could you possibly have to want to live here?
LR: You make me feel like I have no reason to want to live at all.
Wait. I have an ex mother-in-law in Helsingborg.
IM: That doesn't mean anything.
LR: But she loves me very much!
IM: Look, we here in Sweden are very liberal. You don't have to be
married. But to live here you
have to have a serious relationship. Like for a couple of months.
LR: A couple of months? Is that all you people care about? Sex? I have
to be having Swedish sex?
IM: Well, yeah!
LR: I'll see what I can do.
The city of Gothenburg was built on highly absorbent clay. Legend has
it that this clay makes one
sink in and stay. There might be something to that because I am still
here.