Swearing fealty for a piece of paper

Well, today was finally the day for my "citizenship ceremony". Pretty fast turnaround, and I only just got the official letter (which you had to fill out, saying whether you'd committed various crimes, joined the Communist Party or served in some armed force or other since the interview, which would've required a very active life on my part, given that that was barely a week ago) on Saturday. So, off I set to Detroit:

One of the things you had to do was hand in your Green Card, so here it is.  It served me well, lo these past 20-odd years (actually this one was just the past ten, because you have to renew it every decade, which is actually the reason I decided to go for citizenship, because it's about as much trouble to renew the card as become a citizen.

Unfortunately, you're not allowed to take in your cell phone (because you could use it to set off a bomb, said one of the parking attendants, fresh off relieving me of $15 and my car key) so I didn't take any pictures of the inside of the above building, which is a shame because it's beautiful.  Check it out here.  (The only thing that spoils it is that the last and largest portrait in a complete set of pictures of the presidents is this ghastly visage.)  The actual ceremony took a while, mainly because we had to wait for the judge.  While we were doing so people circulated with forms to register to vote (watch out Trump, here I come!) and info on getting a US passport.  I asked one of them about Dual Citizenship and I _think_ I now have it, because she said (a) it depends on the country (and I checked, and according to The Internet, all it takes to get a dual citizenship with another country if you're a British Citizen (okay, "Subject") is to acquire the other citizenship.  Apparently the UK is fine with open marriages) and (b) she said she had _THREE_ (which would be "triple citizenship" I suppose).  Anyway, they only ask for your Green Card, they don't make you hand over any passports.  When the judge finally did come, he regaled us with tales of his Irish Immigrant parents (and how they did so much better than their siblings who went to England, Scotland, Canada or Australia - so sucks to you, Commonwealth!) and expressed sympathy with Muslim immigrants who have to face the kind of accusations of terrorism that were accusations of Communism in the McCarthyite days of his parents' arrival.  Finally, we all got to stand, raise our right hands and say all kinds of things (I substituted "rhubarb rhubarb" when it came to the part about promising to take up arms if asked) and then we were called up one at a time to get our certificates.  (The Judge got his young, also pasty white assistant/clerk to read out the names of each person so they could come up and shake the Judge's hand (all but the woman in full burka).  I half suspect that he did that so he wouldn't have to be the one mangling all the Indian/Arabic/Turkish names.  The poor young guy was practically sweating over some of them.  After he'd heroically struggled through one RIDICULOUSLY long Indian name (and its owner had recognized it and started the trip towards the judge) the whole room spontaneously applauded.) And here's mine, along with the tiny flag they handed out, in the expectation that we would be suddenly rabidly patriotic.  All in all, a bit anticlimactic.  But now I get to serve on juries!  Yay!