That we’re not French, of course.
One can feel for the French. After all, their decline has not been pretty, with their empire, their power, even their language (once the second tongue of the world’s educated elites) all in rapid retreat. And even worse, with the Anglo-Saxon barbarian in ascent. But to understand is not to forgive, helas. Thus provoked, I continue: Oh, to have been born to a nation that at the time of its great revolution produced a Madison instead of a Robespierre. To have been born to a republic that amid its great mid-19th century crisis produced Lincoln instead of the comical Napoleon III. To have been born to a people that in the first invasion of Nazi-held territory — Operation Torch, the 1942 allied invasion of North Africa — were firing in on the Nazis rather than out on the allies. One can almost see “Casablanca’s” Captain Renault half-heartedly ordering a cannon or two fired on allied ships in order to please Major Strasser, and then welcoming the Americans and the British ashore when the unpleasantness was over.
(via the diplomad)
One Comment
What’s even better is diplomad’s skewering of the hypocrisy of the perfidious French. It amazes me we’ve ever considered those rat bastards to be allies. The sooner we write them off, the better.