A couple of weeks ago, I asked my son Julius` classteacher, if they would be interested in a 30 minute lecture on Denmark, as we both were growing tired being asked over and over again of our originate; the classic american ignorance almost as present as the arrogance.
She was very glad and open to my suggestion, so one friday morning, I went with Julius to school, and said: "Gather round ye little sheep, and let bwana tell you of Denmark". And I did: I told them about the iceage, the stoneage, about Thor and Frei and how those names runs through history and across borders, I told them about the proud 400 feet hotdogselling Skymountain, about Kings and Queens, about taxes and welfare, of Copenhagen and The westcoast, about school and soccer, about Lego and HC Andersen, I tought them to say A Æ U I Æ Å Å Æ Ø which made them laugh and then it was time for me to stop and have a litte Q&A, as they call it. Question and Answers. They were few, but one stood out though. A little chubby boy called Eddy asked:
"Oh so you are from Denmark...", dragging the name out: "D e n m a r k", tasting it.
"Yes" Julius answered "I told a 100 times."
"But" said Eddy "...but I thought you said K-Mart"

For those of you hwo doesnt know K-MART, its a large chain of hardwaremarkets. But imagine, inside this kid, the pictures he has had for months. This poor family living in K- Mart, talking K-Martish, imagine his parents frustration over their son insisting on the fact that they have a boy from K-Mart in his class, and dad going: "Its allright son I also had an invisble friend when I was your age", and then after having the kid tugged in, concerned and considering to call a shrink before the weekend golf tournament. There should be no interventions.

dannebrog after hostile corperate takeover:
http://www.irving.dubuque.k12.ia.us/Fundraiser/k_mart-logo.jpg