Conquered By Intercontinental Corn Dogs

DISCLAIMER: Please note that the following work is a piece of (hopefully) humorous, tongue firmly planted in cheek, satire. Shallowgenepool doesn't truly prescribe to the notions portrayed in said satirical work. As a result, Shallow provides the following statement to anyone offended by this work:

Oh, get a sense of humor! I bet you're about as fun as a 5 day old corpse at an orgy, unless you're into that kind of thing, in which case eeew! There is no hope for you, you humorless perv!

I happen to agree with the example, of the French and France when it comes to picking a fight with another country and I think I have more than enough reasons to make my case.

You see, when I was in high school I made the mistake of taking four years of Advanced Placement French. In terms of applying what I learned to everyday life, being able to ask, "Where is the restroom," en Francais has been about as useful as a condom dispenser in a convent. Still, as a curious teen who was fascinated by other cultures, I decided to try to learn something interesting in between conjugating the verb etre, learning the French names for farm animals, and discovering that the Pepe Le Pew cartoons that I loved were actually a pretty good reflection of French society. So, after four long years of being emersed in the French language, culture, and history, I came to one conclusion. The French people, and France basically suck. It is for this reason that I suggest that we the people of the United States declare war on France and I will do my best to make a case for obliterating these snail eating, cheese sniffing, chain-smoking, bathing phobic, surrender babies off the face of the planet.

A lot of people will tell you that the French people are arrogant and rude. My French teacher, who lived and taught in France for many years confirmed this. Per ma prof, Madame Bell (her real name and a really nice lady), the French people consider their culture and language superior to all others, this is ESPECIALLY true with Americans, who they see as the inbred, trailer park cousins of the English. This low view of Americans leads them to treat us with a barely (if at all) concealed distain.

One thing that we share with the French is the idea that everyone should speak our language. However, even if we have to resort to hand gestures and pop culture references we Americans usually and good-naturedly try to muddle our way through when someone is trying to communicate with us in a language other than English. Now, the situation is a lot different when a non-French speaking American goes into a business that's not typically visited by tourists in France. Instead of experiencing a good-natured attempt to be understood the American is likely going to be treated like a French whore with a nasty case of genital warts after she's been identified as the patient zero that infected half of a village in the French countryside. In other words, good luck because Monsieur Pierre in his customer service role will likely look at you like he wants to shove the Eiffel Tower up your bum just to hear you squeal like a pig. Even though a significant number of the French have a decent working knowledge of the English language, the best a non French speaking American can hope for is that Pierre will like take their money (probably overcharging), give them what the came in for with at best indifferent service, and then immediately insult the American the minute they walk out the door.

In their conceit, the French will tell you that they have the best food on the planet. Since our French class rarely had more than eight students and Madame Bell was a gifted cook, she was able to prepare authentic French food for the class once a year at her home with her equally talented and French cuosine versed husband. So, I can attest to the fact that the French know their way around a kitchen. HOWEVER, I would put the food served at a good California taco truck or a small family owned Italian place in Chicago, Detroit, or New York up against anything the best French chef can prepare. So, is their food good? Yes. Is it better than anyone else's? Fuck No! Keep in mind that they eat escargot, or snails (also known as snot in a half-shell or snot to go). So who are they to judge who has the best food? Frankly, I think the chain smoking of the French populace has warped their taste buds to the point that they'd eat the rectal discharge of a plague ridden rat if it was served on a toasted baguette and paired with a wine that complements rodent excrement.

France also receives a lot of undeserved hype in the love department because they have erroneously been bequeathed with the reputation for having some of the most romantic places and being some of the most romantic people on Earth. However, I would argue that romance and all things romantic are subjective and no one place has a monopoly on locations or people that make a person get tingly below their navel equator.

Of course, France is known for romantic spots such as the Eiffel Tower and the Champs Elysees. I don't get it. Frankly (no pun intended), the Eiffel Tower looks like it was built by a toddler using Tinker Toys who has a bright future ahead of him designing butt plugs for those of discerning and/or disconcerting taste (if you were born after 1990 feel free to Google Tinker Toys). As to romantic locations, I would assert that we Americans are exceptionally good at finding romantic locals and are great improvisors in taking a venue that isn't romantic and turning it into a rendezvous point that'll tighten the front of his Levi's and moisten her nickers just as easy as a moonlit stroll on the Champs Elysees in less than thirty seconds. For example, how much woo has been pitched in the backseat of a Camaro, or in the upstairs bathroom at a senior year kegger party? We Americans have plenty of places that are romantic, and if just such a place like a moonlit night on the beach isn't available, we can use our imaginations and the picture of the sailboat above the toilet to put us there while we deflower each other in that small space between the door and the towel holder.

Probably the biggest exaggeration about the French is that they are filled with romantic people. Sorry, according to Madame Bell, French men:

1. Tend to be, "Handsy" and could write the book on how to sexually harass and be totally inappropriate with a complete stranger. If they did write this book, I'm guessing a certain politician(s) could write the introduction with the caption, "Ignore It If They Refuse. They Really Want You To Grab Them By The Mommy Parts."

2. Stink. Between the chain smoking and an indifferent relationship with the shower, French men are definitely oozing something and it isn't sex appeal.

In short, the French people are about as successful romantically as Pepe Le Pew and for the same reasons. They're pushy and their barely passing acquaintance with frequent bathing make them a bit too odorous to be true Don Juans.

As to romantic people, we're Americans, and all you have to do is put a few beers or a couple of strawberry daiquiris in us and we gain both romantic confidence and a less than picky idea of who is worthy of fucking from bar close to the hazy hungover fallout of trying to remember your one night stand's name while searching for your underwear. As to locale, I would assert that we're just not picky. If a picturesque place to make love isn't available, we're just as happy going down on each other on a sleeping bag inside a park gazebo.

Now, if my argument hasn't convinced you to declare war on France yet, let me offer one last argument. The war would be virtually bloodless. Why? It's simply a matter of taking advantage of France's seemingly uncontrollable and immediate compulsion to surrender to anything German. Don't believe me? Keep in mind that they surrendered with barely a sneeze to the Germans TWICE in less than forty years. Fuck, when the rest of the world entered the World Wars, even the French Canadians felt the pull of France's compulsion to raise a white flag and called in sick.

Keeping these historical precedents in mind, conquering France could be accomplished simply by opening a few Wienerschnitzels in strategic places around the country such as near the home of France's president, Elysee Palace, the Luxemburg Palace, home of the French senate, and their military headquarters located at Hexagon Balard in Paris. How would this be successful you may ask? Simple. It's because just the sight of anything German in their country makes the French font du pee-pee in their pantalons and give up. My guess is that France's president would be on the phone to the United Nations in less than a week after seeing the newly opened Wienerschnitzel's first, "Two for Three Euro's Chili Dog Special" trying to set up a day and time to hand over the keys to the nation and formally surrender to the nation that deployed the intercontinental corn dogs on their soil.

Of course, since we haven't had a solid win in the war department since the second world war, the US of A would happily take this one. In conclusion, it is my considered, opinion that we should declare war on France. We would actually be doing them a favor by introducing them to such modern wonders as daily showering, the surgeon general's warning about smoking, and that when a woman says, "No" she means "No," Francois. In addition, we would beat a nation with more evil intentions from taking over France because if history has taught us anything, it's that France is always a nation ripe for the taking. Just imagine if North Korea or Iran were to open a few Volkswagen dealerships around France. The French people would find themselves under the control of an Axis of Evil nation and as annoying as they are, no one deserves that.