On being Norwegian

To be sociologically accurate, I am but half Norwegian; my father sprung from the marginally more sunny British Isles (Think of the guy on top of the tall tower in Trafalgar Square) with enough Irish filling in to make Dad hanker for green beer on March 17, and perhaps an unsung but large fraction of German. Thus this blog is serving as an outlet for a large reservoir of dark Norwegian humor which would be promptly edited out of the annual Chuckles and Nina report. Really, I say, what you can expect of a nationality of which the most famous work of art was captioned by San Francisco cartoonist Bizarro. He has the painter saying, "I can't decide whether to name it 'The Scream' or 'I can't remember if I turned the iron off'