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Monday, July 14, 2003

 

Wayback Dept.



IN HONOR OF BASTILLE DAY, I am reposting this entry from March of this year. Enjoy. Or should I say, appréciez.

"Going to war without France is like going duck hunting without your accordion."
--attributed to US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld

"How true," I thought. "And how funny."

So I took the marble notebook in which my jokes are birthed and went down to the local brasserie to have a cup of coffee and formulate my own set of anti-French and/or German jokes. I'm nothing if not an interpreter/Channeler of the zeitgeist, and the prevailing mood is that right now we hate the Froggies and the Krauties, who say mean things behind our backs and sabotage our attempts at bombing the living shit out of a bad guy surrounded by thousands of human shields with similarly amusing mustaches.

As Marie, my lovely French waitress took my coffee order, I scribbled:
Going to war without France is like fucking a French waitress before she brings your baguette.

I thought she might have seen my scribblings after I chuckled to myself. So I crossed out "France" and "French" and replaced them with "Germany" and "Germans." Realizing "baguette" is a little nonsensical in its new context, I crossed it out and replaced it too.

Then I read the edited result aloud, in hushed tones, as if absentmindedly forgetting that Marie was hovering nearby:
Going to war without France Germany is like fucking a French German waitress before she brings your strudel.

She laughed, then grabbed my pen and made her own edit:
Going to war without France Germany is like fucking a French German waitress before she brings your strudel concentration camp.

I laughed and crinkled my nose. "I get where you're coming from, but how about this?"
Going to war without France Germany is like fucking a French German waitress before she brings your strudel concentration camp ten-seater oven.

Marie nearly spilled the coffee she'd brought me. "Your English is much better than mine." Her lilting French accent was sexy and endearing.

"I would hope so. I've been practicing since I was thirteen" She laughed because it was obvious I'd grown up in America and had been speaking American since about two years old, just like any other child without severe developmental disorders.

She again took my pen and made an edit:
Going to war without France Germany is like fucking a French German waitress before she brings your strudel concentration camp ten-seater oven The Germans, under Hitler, tried to exterminate the Jews, killing six millions before falling to the Allied Forces in World War II.

I nodded and laughed at her spelling mistakes. Again, I took the pen. My edit:
Going to war without France Germany is like fucking a French German waitress before she brings your strudel concentration camp ten-seater oven The Germans, under Hitler, tried to exterminate the Jews, killing six millions before falling to the Allied Forces in World War II. Making love to a French waitress is like seeing the world with the eyes of a newborn baby, after she brings you a baguette.

Marie read this sentence solemnly and left the table. I turned back to my notebook.

Then she returned with a baguette and a come-hither stare that was particular to neither the American nor the French culture. It was a look owned only by those about to be joined in a passionate coupling.

We left the baguette and the notebook and secreted off to the employee washroom, narrowly avoiding being discovered by several pastry chefs in tall white hats. I nearly tripped over the bidet as I fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

The French's refusal to get on board with our war plans was the furthest thing from my mind.

I wondered if my trip to the Bavarian beer hall up the street would end with a similar sense of international cooperation.

Go America.

[God, it's just as true today as it was then, isn't it? As I am fond of saying, the Truth has no expiration date.]



About this site

This is the internet home of Mark Lisanti, a Los Angeles writer sometimes known as Bunsen. He is the founding editor of Defamer, a weblog about Hollywood, where he now serves in the nebulous capacity of "editor-at-large."
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