dr. strangelove, or: how I learned to stop worrying and love the British

How I love British understatement.

I really do believe it to be one of their most charming characteristics. In discussing the horror of the recent bombings, the British have maintained that difficult quality of not getting outrageously hysterical. It's as if they are remarking on a terrible case of white flies the neighbor's begonia has been subjected to. At worst, when they are really riled, it seems more like accounts on golfing from St. Andrews than descriptions of pure evil. God bless 'em, every one.

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