I took French in high school. I can speak a tiny bit, but what has always really had me in awe of France has been their history.
The names and places that have sprung from those lands, Napoleon Bonaparte, The Sun King, Voltaire, Sartre, Rousseau, and so many more, give rise to imaginings of heroism, great thinkers and astounding ideas.
The architecture is amazing as well. Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Champs Elysees, even the catacombs of Paris, the fortresses of the Maginot Line. It’s all just astounding.
The culture is awesome, too. I only know what I know from movies and news reports, but their passionate nature gives rise to rebellion, conquest, hedonism, and an almost amusing arrogance.
What a country. What a people.
They must be destroyed.
For all the great things that these people have brought to the world, they have done one unfathomable thing, above all others that, to me, suggests they simply want to watch the world burn and will do whatever it takes to bring this about.
They take chocolate bars, put them on french bread, and call it a sandwich.
This sort of thing simply cannot be allowed. It brings into question everything, the joy of chocolate, the savoriness of bread, existence and reality themselves. It’s the ultimate insult to the taste buds that simply cannot be allowed.
I’m sorry, France. You have to go. I may visit you one day, but your madness must end before it destroys us all.