Two things that happened last week that I'd never have been able to say before I moved to America:
1) They filmed an episode of Sesame Street down my street, and 2) I got a visit from the White House.
Now, when I pictured the newly appointed communications director for the National Endowment for the Arts, I didn't see a well-connected, thirtysomething in hipster braces, eulogising about the First Lady's love of organic food and telling me his first job was working with Larry Clark on the set of the uber-controversial sex'n'drugs'n'STDs movie Kids. But then, as Yosi Sargent also tells me, this is the first time in history that the West Wing has been filled with people like "you and me". By which I presume he means young, left-leaning, pop-culture-savvy types, rather than just fans of Deer Hunter (the film) with tattoos on their wrists.
One of Sargent's first roles in Obama's campaign was convincing a who's who of American indie-rock bands to perform for free at fundraising rallies.
Post-inauguration, his job is to make art accessible to all Americans - although his personal mission is more focused on granting the "younger" disciplines (fashion, pop music, blogging and 'Chelle's favourite, cookery) the same artistic status as ballet, architecture and Shakespeare in the Park.
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Sound familiar? You don't need to have moved 5,569 miles to recognise that Obamamania bears more than a few similarities to Blair's Cool Britannia. Tony got Noel Gallagher and Meg Mathews clinking glasses in No 10. Barack kicked the whole thing off with Jay-Z and Beyoncé proclaiming that "Obama ran so our children could fly" at the inauguration-eve party. We weathered Geri Halliwell, Loaded magazine and a cabinet of "Blair babes". They're getting Lady Gaga, a presidential appearance on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and a federal agent who visits downtown New York lifestyle magazines to discuss how Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers will travel around struggling inner-city schools giving free bass lessons.
Really, as a self-respecting Brown-era refugee, my cynicism should have been going into overdrive at this point. If history has taught me anything, it's that once the champagne fizz has settled and the publicity shots have faded, it'll be back to business as usual: hiking up student fees and ignoring the biggest street protest in national history.
This time around, though, I'm left inspired rather than sceptical. Maybe it's because I just got PR'd by a master. Or maybe it's because Chris Smith and Tessa Jowell never spoke so passionately about getting more South American "ghetto funk" music onto the Coachella bill next summer. Or maybe it's because the United States of Awesome is just as exciting as the early days of Cool Britannia.
Yet now, of course, there's always Big Bird and Ernie down the road to keep things in check if the promises do start to slide.
Krissi Murison is music director of Nylon magazine