Not too terribly long ago, someone handed me a piece of paper and on that piece of paper was an amount of money that would have made my checking account do a spit-take of gleeful proportions, and all I had to do to get my hands on said sum was promise to write such-and-such-many words over the next three years — and move to Metropolis. It's a funny thing, looking in the Mirror of Erised, 'cause you think it's gonna be one thing, but then when you're standing there, it's something so familiar it might as well be the mirror in your very own bedroom. So, I handed back the paper and said, "Thank you for thinking I'm worth this risk. But I'm sorry, I can't." And I flew back home, where I belong, to snuggle up to the people who make my life my life.
If I could live anywhere in the world, it would be right here. One day, maybe I'll get that sheep farm in Wales I've been dreaming about. Or that flat in London. But for now, it's Chestnut Mountain for me.
The only other place that comes close is Pawnee.
Pawnee: The Paris of America. Pawnee: The Akron of Southwest Indiana. Pawnee: Welcome, German soldiers. (After the Nazis took France, our Mayor kind of panicked.) Pawnee: the factory fire capital of America. Pawnee: Welcome, Vietnamese soldiers. Pawnee: engage with Zorp. (For a brief time in the 70s, our town was taken over by a cult.) Pawnee: Zorp is dead; long live Zorp. Pawnee: It’s safe to be here now. Pawnee: Birthplace of Julia Roberts. (That was a lie. She sued, and so we had to change it.) Pawnee: Home of the world-famous Julia Roberts lawsuit. Pawnee: Welcome, Taliban soldiers. And finally, our current slogan: Pawnee, first in friendship, fourth in obesity.