What are Americans thinking? Every time I visit the Land of the Free I try to figure this out, and a one-week visit to the Boston area recently provided the latest random sample of the national preoccupations. Now back in London, I wonder whether we all inhabit the same planet.

As Iraq moves uncertainly toward what President George W. Bush calls "soverny," U.S. News and World Report splashed a cover story on "Makeover Nation" - not Iraq's makeover but the plastic surgery craze in America. Mom, Dad and preteen daughter posed for the cover picture, all smiling with bandages on their noses. Time magazine chose to look back 60 years to D-Day. Other high-profile magazines focused on muscle-building, the supposed bonanza of housing prices and the Kama Sutra.

Iraq surfaced only through Attorney General John Ashcroft's latest terrorism warning - the frisson lasted just 60 seconds, until the next shocker headline: "New research shows smoking may be good for you!" Ashcroft's announcement left the public in its usual confused torpor. One serious commentator resorted to citing a Saturday Night Live skit on Ashcroft's vague pronouncements: "Now that I've said that, you can ignore it and go about your business."

As Michael Moore might ask, "What is going on here?"

In my frantic week of meetings and meals with a couple of lawyers, two doctors, a teacher, a graphic designer, an airline pilot, a Boston Globe columnist, a Russian human rights activist and assorted Red Sox fans, Iraq entered the conversation maybe twice, and for less than a minute both times.

By contrast, ridicule of Islam and Iraq dominated the outrageous morning talk shows. Iraq has at least become prime-time comic material. A Boston disc jockey took calls from listeners, mixing real and spoof callers. To the raucous laughter of chums and guests in the studio, one spoofer reminisced about their childhood together: “You went into radio. I joined the Army and went to M.P. school. I'm just back from Baghdad where I kicked some serious butt with them I-rackians.”

But this was mild compared to Don Imus, who found the name of the new Iraqi prime minister, Iyad Alawi, side-splitting. Imus interrupted his newscaster twice: "I give Iyad-Iyad-Iyad about five minutes in that job. I'd rather be Whoopi Goldberg's proctologist."

Observing American television at yearly intervals makes it clear that the networks are catering to the national attention deficit disorder, hoping to hold their fickle audiences for at least a minute. Over a hotel breakfast I viewed a five-second CNN item on a bomb in Baghdad as the news crawl at the foot of the screen asked: "Got intestinal worms?" It didn't say what to do about them if you did and I didn't wait for details.

The advertising that followed was bad enough. A new over-the-counter tablet has been released, it seems, to cure the latest national plague, yellow toenails due to fungal infection.

Even the local weatherman couldn't settle for good news: "Pollen count down, mold count up!"

My head was spinning and my stomach was churning. I turned it off and went back to sleep.

One innovation is the new attempt to make radio advertising more honest. The fine print now must also be included in sales pitches. The clever advertisers compress their caveats in rapid-fire delivery, all pauses cut out in the editing room. It would be amusing if it were not such a cynical circumvention of the law. I listened hard to the possible side effects of one medication and decided not to try it when the voice got to "andlossofcontrolofthebowels."

I can report that suburban life on the East Coast is safe for democracy in a Stepford Wives kind of way. Gas-guzzling SUVs, mostly black and very shiny, creep along the roads like funeral processions. Crime is unknown in these parts so the idle police have been transformed into revenue generators. They lie in wait for drivers moving at more than a snail's pace. One stretch of Route 20 leading to Marlborough, Massachusetts, shifts the speed limit between 25 and 45 miles per hour no less than 11 times in 10 miles, or about 16 kilometers. Violations are payable on the spot. Major credit cards accepted.

Finally, it was reassuring to find that Red Sox fans are still America's most delusional sports enthusiasts. "Is this the year?" they ask each other wistfully. "Is this the year?" I sat in the right field bleachers for several hours one evening and thought I was at a food fest, not a baseball game. The Red Sox went down 15-2 to Oakland as fans batted beach balls around and scuttled down and back non-stop with more beer, more hot dogs, more fried dough. The pinguid revelry had little to do with baseball. Perhaps they needed to avert their attention.

Michael Johnson, a former correspondent for Business Week and The Associated Press, has lived in London for 20 years.

Copyright © 2004 the International Herald Tribune

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