Slap them: They're French [Archive] - ForumsHQ
Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2003 10:15 pm
Slap Them: They're French
Shut up, frogs
By Wing Chun
We live in a world divided. Even as technology shrinks the world and seems to bring us closer together -- allowing us to exchange instant messages with unseen friends on the other side of the globe; building ever smaller, ever more powerful phones we can use miles away from civilization; making sure that billions around the world get to see the Oscars live -- we citizens of the global village are rent asunder. Differences of class, faith, and sexuality divide us. One may be prejudiced against a stranger on the subway just because of the book she's reading, or a fellow patron at the movies who chooses what one feels is a substandard snack. But even in a world characterized by endless division, we must find common ground, and remember what unites us.
We all hate the French.
We don't hate French individuals, for the mere crime of being French. That would be wrong. But The French? What have they done for us lately? Or ever?
Think about it. From Italy, we enjoy delicious pasta and life-affirming works of art. From England, we inherit great literature and sprightly pop music. Even the tiny nation of Switzerland teems with the watches, chocolate, and clever little folding knives it aches to export to the New World. But I defy you to point to a single positive contribution France has made to our well-being.
Food? Surely you jest. Only the French could take a pure, unadulterated food like cheese and come up with a sodden, runny mess like brie. I suppose the principle behind escargot is that you can eat just about anything once it's been steeped in garlic, but I thought that one of the perks of being at the top of the food chain was that we could leave invertebrates off the menu.
Fashion? Riiiiight, the collections in Paris. Coco Chanel. Because no one of North American birth would ever come up with the idea of quilting or big-ass buttons. At least her legacy lives on in the form of Karl Lagerfeld, AND HIS FAN. Anyway, just admit that when you hear the phrase "French fashion," the first thing that really came to mind was a white and red striped boat-neck t-shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves, and a beret.
Music? Like the reedy song stylings of Vanessa Paradis? No, of course not. You're thinking of Stereolab. Sure, I liked that one song they did. And clearly so did they, since they re-recorded it five dozen times. And don't even mention Serge Gainsbourg, or I will light your pack of Gitanes on fire and throw it into the nearest Renault.
Film? Yes, let's absolutely give France props for taking a popular medium and systematically stripping it of any element that might -- even by accident -- entertain the audience. And how else would we ever learn about ménages à trois if not from dull, self-serious exercises like Jules et Jim? Amélie? Yeah. Amélie can suck my cock.
Language? Have you ever noticed that most of the French words and phrases that have entered the English lexicon happen to represent concepts that pretentious people like to talk about? Like "oeuvre and "genre" and "mise en scène" and "Favre" and "ménage à trois" and "au contraire"? Language of love, my ass.
Of course, one should never stereotype a whole nation of unique individuals. On the other hand, the reason clichés take hold and resonate is that they have some basis in fact. How else to explain the reputation the French have for being rude, pompous, snobbish, and smelly?
That's right, France: I said smelly! What are you going to do about a direct attack like that? Wait, I think I already know: surrender.
Shut up, frogs
By Wing Chun
We live in a world divided. Even as technology shrinks the world and seems to bring us closer together -- allowing us to exchange instant messages with unseen friends on the other side of the globe; building ever smaller, ever more powerful phones we can use miles away from civilization; making sure that billions around the world get to see the Oscars live -- we citizens of the global village are rent asunder. Differences of class, faith, and sexuality divide us. One may be prejudiced against a stranger on the subway just because of the book she's reading, or a fellow patron at the movies who chooses what one feels is a substandard snack. But even in a world characterized by endless division, we must find common ground, and remember what unites us.
We all hate the French.
We don't hate French individuals, for the mere crime of being French. That would be wrong. But The French? What have they done for us lately? Or ever?
Think about it. From Italy, we enjoy delicious pasta and life-affirming works of art. From England, we inherit great literature and sprightly pop music. Even the tiny nation of Switzerland teems with the watches, chocolate, and clever little folding knives it aches to export to the New World. But I defy you to point to a single positive contribution France has made to our well-being.
Food? Surely you jest. Only the French could take a pure, unadulterated food like cheese and come up with a sodden, runny mess like brie. I suppose the principle behind escargot is that you can eat just about anything once it's been steeped in garlic, but I thought that one of the perks of being at the top of the food chain was that we could leave invertebrates off the menu.
Fashion? Riiiiight, the collections in Paris. Coco Chanel. Because no one of North American birth would ever come up with the idea of quilting or big-ass buttons. At least her legacy lives on in the form of Karl Lagerfeld, AND HIS FAN. Anyway, just admit that when you hear the phrase "French fashion," the first thing that really came to mind was a white and red striped boat-neck t-shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves, and a beret.
Music? Like the reedy song stylings of Vanessa Paradis? No, of course not. You're thinking of Stereolab. Sure, I liked that one song they did. And clearly so did they, since they re-recorded it five dozen times. And don't even mention Serge Gainsbourg, or I will light your pack of Gitanes on fire and throw it into the nearest Renault.
Film? Yes, let's absolutely give France props for taking a popular medium and systematically stripping it of any element that might -- even by accident -- entertain the audience. And how else would we ever learn about ménages à trois if not from dull, self-serious exercises like Jules et Jim? Amélie? Yeah. Amélie can suck my cock.
Language? Have you ever noticed that most of the French words and phrases that have entered the English lexicon happen to represent concepts that pretentious people like to talk about? Like "oeuvre and "genre" and "mise en scène" and "Favre" and "ménage à trois" and "au contraire"? Language of love, my ass.
Of course, one should never stereotype a whole nation of unique individuals. On the other hand, the reason clichés take hold and resonate is that they have some basis in fact. How else to explain the reputation the French have for being rude, pompous, snobbish, and smelly?
That's right, France: I said smelly! What are you going to do about a direct attack like that? Wait, I think I already know: surrender.