Thursday, June 5, 2014

“Pavlovian Bipolar Fantasies”: Le Monde Hammers the West’s Scrotum Flat | The Kremlin Stooge

It would be understandable if the French were getting a little dizzy these days, what with their lurching back and forth on the U.S. government’s Beloved-Ally Meter between “Shits the Bed, Stupid Frog Surrender Monkeys” and “Most Excellent; I Would Not Even Mind if a Frenchman Moved Into my Neighborhood”. The last time they experienced the latter rating was throughout the reign of Sarko the American, the son of a Hungarian immigrant who rose to become Monsieur le President; admired and envied by fellow European leaders for his taste in expensive watches and beautiful women, and regarded with benevolent affection by that demographic among the American public that knew Europe was not a country (sorry, Mrs. Palin). Sarko knew how to walk the walk and talk the talk, and his eagerness to go straight for the no-fly zone and airdrop weapons to rebels without consulting NATO allies made American policymakers applaud his aggressive audacity. Sarko could be counted upon in the circle of global movers and shakers to support the American Way, because he believed in it. If les imbeciles did not do as they were told, why, you gave them one chance to straighten up and fly right. If they didn’t take it, allons-y, NATO!! (Yes, I know it’s OTAN in French, but too many people would not recognize it) Leaders make people do things they would not always do if the choice were left up to them – which, naturellement, it would be foolish to do – because they are too shortsighted and stupid to act for their own good. Yulia Latynina must have loved Nicolas Sarkozy, although I don’t know that I ever read an opinion of him from her, because he embodies every single quality of leadership that she prizes – wealth, arrogance, sociopathy, indifferent education and huge ears.

Just lately, the French have sunk progressively in western opinion downward past “Throw Them Under the Bus” and toward “Shits the Bed”, mostly due to the unpleasant surprise that is Monsieur Hollande, the current leader and Grave Disappointment. He got off to a good start with some rousing pugnacious talk against Russia during his campaign speeches, and good things were expected of him even though he was supposed to be a socialist (because, face it, nobody who matters really gives a toss what happens to the dozy population so long as they vote the right way and keep the complaining to a manageable level). However, he soon revealed his shortcomings in a variety of ways – chief among them his complete inability to stifle dissent among the proles – and went completely off the reservation with his decision to sell French Assault Carriers of the MISTRAL Class to Russia. He compounded this folly by insisting on going ahead with the sale even when the United States government hinted in terms that even a French socialist blockhead should be able to grasp that they thought it would be best if the sale were canceled in the most dramatic fashion possible, perhaps with a nice speech.

Which brings us to the current state of affairs, in which the happy party has ended tout en larmes, in tears, and American political figures accuse the French of being sneaks who are the world’s second-best at stealing American technological secrets (after The Heathen Chinee) from the laptops of visiting American businessmen, whilst they are tucking into a plate of the buttery merde the French call food, down in the restaurant. I swear, if some enterprising American would just open up a stall that sold decent pork rinds, funnel cakes and deep-fried pickles in Paris, half those poofy Frog joints would have to shut down. But I digress. Anyway, with all the contre-français vitriol blowing Europe-ward from the Last Remaining Superpower, it is small wonder that la République strikes back. And instinctively, she rubs salt in the USA’s wounds by attacking it through a particularly tender weakness – its comical, embarrassing and senseless Russophobia. Read on, as Olivier Zajec skewers the west in Le Monde, with typically Gallic sarcasm and mockery.

From the original French,

Complete story at - “Pavlovian Bipolar Fantasies”: Le Monde Hammers the West’s Scrotum Flat | The Kremlin Stooge

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