30 Days Minus 2 of Writing, Day 8: French

What is it with the French?

They’ve given us so much. Renoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. Steak au Poivre and Champagne. Catherine Deneuve and Sophie Marceau. The Eiffel Tower and Statue of Liberty. The French kiss and ménage à trois. A language that can make any phrase sound sexy.

sophie marceau

This is Sophie Marceau. She’s French. That is all.

Sophie (sipping absinthe outside the Louvre): “Pardon, monsieur, votre putain d’animal a chié sur mon soulier.”

American tourist (wearing khaki shorts, white knee socks, and black loafers): “Thank you, and you are an incredibly attractive woman. Have sex with me and Catherine Deneuve now, and marry me later.”

Sophie: “I just told you that your dog shit on my shoe, idiot! I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were Gérard Depardieu.”

American tourist (picking his nose): “Oh, it sounded nicer in your foreign accent.”

The French reek of good culture. Until you get to their love of the American comedian Jerry Lewis.

Lewis may be a comedic icon, but he isn’t funny.

Yes, he seems affable. Yes, I admire the amazing work he’s done on behalf of the Muscular Dystrophy Association.

But his famous “Hey lady!” routine? Or the pratfalls?

Not funny, just infantile.

This is Jerry Lewis. He is not French. That is all.

This is Jerry Lewis. He is not French. That is all.

The French, however, love him. In 2006, the French Minister of Culture awarded Lewis the Légion d’honneur, calling him the “French people’s favorite clown.”

Not Robin Williams. Not Jim Gaffigan. Not Bryan Regan, Jerry Seinfeld, Jim Carrey, Ben Stiller, Jake Johansen, Jack Black, Eddie Murphy or Richard Pryor. Not anybody who makes me laugh so hard I feel like my face is going to fall off. Not even Bobcat Goldthwait.

Lewis.

The comedian whose entire career has consisted of acting like a mentally disabled spastic and falling over, often on his co-stars.

I can’t wrap my head around the concept. It’s like the French are kissing us lightly on one cheek, and then slapping us on the other.

I’d still like to live in Paris, of course. I was there once, and fell madly in love with its pastries.

I wonder if Sophie has a room for rent?

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Let’s be honest here: I’m stretched to my limit as I try to keep up with this blogging challenge hosted by Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese. Yesterday, I barely had time to read the posts and comment, let alone work. And I still can’t find a way to comment on any blogs that use the same comment form used by P.J., Nora Blithe and Nathanael. As a result, I’m frustrated, depressed, filled with anxiety, and nauseous.

No, it’s nauseated. Proper grammar is essential, even at a time like this.

Anyway, this challenge is like the Bataan Death March of writing.

See you again tomorrow. If you survive today.

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Post-Apocalyptic Survival Tips Include Canned Tamales, Will Smith

If you’re reading this post, you survived the Mayan Apocalypse.

Congratulations, and Happy New Baktun, the Mayan’s 14th age.

Now you need to start scrounging around for bottled water and canned food.

I recommend Hormel canned tamales for post-apocalyptic meals.

I recommend Hormel canned tamales for post-apocalyptic meals.

Any water will do, although I recommend imported sparkly water like Perrier or San Pellegrino because it’s classy. If you can also get your hands on a SodaStream machine, fantastic. The Cola’s good and just pennies on the dollar compared to pre-made soda. The Swiss marketed the hell out of the SodaStream this holiday season, so I’d search for packages about the size of a Swiss breadbox under Christmas trees in burned-out middle-class neighborhoods.

As for canned goods, ConAgra’s Ranch Style Beans are flavorful and filling, and Libby’s corned beef tastes like buttered meat. But Hormel beef tamales — the ones soaked in greasy red-chile sauce and wrapped in paper — are out-of-this-world tasty after you’ve been hiking all day in the shattered ruins of civilization. Eat them right out of the can after warming them up over a fire fueled by books, which you won’t have time to read anyway.

Don’t worry about clogging your heart with fatty foods. This is no time to go granola on your diet. You’re in full-on survival mode. Eat all the meat and sugar you want, and chase it with cigars and whiskey if it makes you feel good.

Your next task is to start looking for a mate to help you re-populate the world. Or at least to keep you warm at night and help you fend off looters and zombies.

Nobody can help you survive the ruination of civilization like Denzel Washington.

Nobody can help you survive the ruination of civilization and re-populate the Earth like Denzel Washington. He’s got it going on.

If you’re a woman, look for Will Smith or Denzel Washington. They have previous post-apocalyptic experience, wield a shotgun ably, and are as charming as hell. There’s no reason I can think of why you should suffer through the end times with somebody who doesn’t have a nice smile and a great bedside manner.

For men, I can’t recommend anybody in particular. You’ll know you’ve found the right woman if she’s wearing a samurai sword, carrying a pocketful of early pregnancy tests, wearing a torn cotton shirt, and her chest glistens when it heaves. And it will be heaving, trust me. As long as you’re not shooting blanks from your groital region, this self-sufficient baby-making factory is ready for you. Especially if you happen to look like Denzel or Will.

Fuel’s going to be a big problem in the New Age.

You’ll probably be driving an amor-plated Chevy Silverado or Ford F-350 with a machine-gun mounted in the bed Rat-Patrol style, so you’re going to need a lot of gas — more than you can siphon from the tanks of the useless Toyota Priuses and other battery-powered kids’ toys cluttering up the roads. There will be gas stations everywhere and no waiting lines, but the problem is that there won’t be any electricity to pump it out of the underground tanks.

Locate a generator to run a pump as soon as possible.

That won’t be a problem if you’re in a state like Idaho, Arizona, Montana, Wyoming, Texas or Utah. Poke around in backyards, where you’ll find a generator near every concrete survival bunker that didn’t take a direct hit from a fiery comet.

Don’t worry about battling debunked owners for the generator. They will have gotten drunk on homemade sour mash and shot one another dead arguing about whether the Founding Fathers would’ve approved of the 15th and 19th Constitutional Amendments, which gave blacks and women the right to vote. Strict Constitutionalists have strong feelings about the intentions of Founding Fathers, who apparently wrote the Constitution right after they finished the Bible and didn’t think much of anybody who wasn’t an old white man.

If you’re living in a more progressive state, it will be easy to find an abandoned Starbucks or a decent deli, but correspondingly hard to find a bunker. Head instead toward the wreckage of your nearest Home Depot or Lowe’s for a generator. You’ll also find a handy stash of survival tools while you’re there. Things like rope, clamps, hooks, hoists and chains, which you can use to build a fort and might also find helpful when you and your new partner get serious about working on being fruitful and multiplying.

You'll probably never see Will Smith at a Wal-Mart until the world's been pelted with fiery comets and he sets up an encampment there.

You’ll never see Will Smith at a Wal-Mart until the world’s been destroyed by fiery comets and he sets up a survival camp there.

You’ll eventually meet other survivors of the Mayan Apocalypse. When you do, I’d suggest banding together to build an RV encampment in the parking lot of a relatively intact Super Wal-Mart. In fact, there may already be one there waiting for you.

You’ll meet some weird people there — many of them toothless and wearing belly shirts even though they’re 100 pounds overweight — but there should be enough food, clothes and dry goods inside to keep your new society going for the next 395 years, which is when the next Mayan Apocalypse and 15th Baktun starts.

Until then, good luck and Godspeed.

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School Attacks in China, Connecticut Emphasize America’s Need For Strict Gun Control

Less than an hour after reading about the slaughter of 26 people at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut on Friday, I read a post by conservative writer blaming the shooting and others like it on a liberal conspiracy to undo the Second Amendment and take away our Constitutional right to keep and bear arms.

Actually, it was a re-post of a post, shared by a woman who found it credible enough to share it with her circle of friends.

And so it is with America. We have become a nation of people so willfully paranoid, ignorant and politically divided that large numbers of us accept that so-called liberals are so godless, evil, and hellbent on destroying the United States they’re willing to hire madmen to to create chaos and then use that chaos to usher in a new world order. A world order without our precious handguns, assault rifles and automatic weapons, which have somehow gotten weirdly linked to patriotism and Jesus, as if Jesus would’ve waived the Stars and Stripes and handed out handguns along with bread and fish at the Sermon on the Mount.

“Blessed are the peacemakers — the 9mm Berettas and Glocks — for they shall guard the children of the kingdom of God.”

It was such a ludicrous thought that I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t been troubled with sorrow about the deaths of the victims, especially the children. I wanted to comment on the post — angrily type “YOU FUCKING IDIOT” or “WHY IS IT THAT MORONS LIKE YOU NEVER GET SHOT AND CLEANSE THE GENETIC POOL?” But I held back, sticking to a vow I made about a year ago to remain silent for 24 hours whenever a shooting takes place, partly out of respect for the victims, and partly so I don’t go off half-cocked — pardon the expression — and say something I regret.

There are many causes for what happened at Sandy Hook, including untreated or poorly treated mental illness and American’s morbid fascination with guns, violence and celebrity. The shooter apparently was obsessed with guns and put a bullet in the head of his own mother, who was a gun enthusiast herself.

But I also blame our lack of gun control for the magnitude of the slaughter.

Yes, I agree with conservatives that there will always be violent, angry criminals in the world who can’t be controlled by the rule of law. I also agree that we need to focus much more of our time and tax dollars on improving our nation’s mental health services to help prevent these enraged and often deranged people from going on killing sprees.

But I disagree that a reasonable solution is to put armed guards in every school, mall or public building. Nor is it to arm ourselves in self-defense. I don’t want teachers wearing sidearms. I don’t want Santa to have to move his pistol out of the way before kids sit on his lap at the mall. I don’t want to have to carry a concealed weapon under my jacket when I drive to the grocery store at midnight to get ice cream.

Gun advocates argue that it’s people who kill people and not guns, and that if we take make guns illegal, then only criminals will have guns, creating terror for the rest of us.

But they’re wrong. Laughably so.

Adding more guns to the mix would only make the problem worse, because gun statistics are almost irrefutable: Guns create far more problems than they solve. Guns do little more than turn us into super-efficient murdering machines, whether it means accidentally shooting your little brother, deliberately shooting your estranged wife or turning the weapon on yourself. Claim what you want about how guns make us safer, but it’s hard to kill or wound 13, 49 or 70 people with a knife or a single-shot firearm. That sort of mayhem takes a military-grade weapon.

Consider what happened in a little-publicized attack at a school in central China just a day before the school shooting in Connecticut, for example. There, 22 school children and an elderly woman were hurt by a mentally ill, knife-wielding man.

Hurt, not killed.

Nobody died. Some people were badly wounded, but those kids get to live. The kids in Connecticut don’t, and the only difference between them is the weapon used. The gun.

I believe we need to follow Europe’s lead and implement strict gun controls, especially on handguns, assault rifles and automatic weapons. I would support a Constitutional amendment if that what it takes. We’ve amended the Constitution before, and it’s generally worked out very well for America despite initial resistance.

The Sandy Hook shootings, like the recent shootings in Aurora, brought tears of sorrow to my eyes. All those kids killed, and their poor families left with such sorrow. All those Christmas gifts under the trees that will go unopened.

It’s heartbreaking.

I hope this latest incident leads to change. I’m tired of the killing. I’ve had enough. I want it to stop.

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America Is At Civil War And Returning To The Wild, Wild West Isn’t The Solution

I hope both my friend and foes will forgive me, but I can’t let the recent shootings here in Denver pass without comment, so I’m going to be unusually serious for a moment.

In case you haven’t heard yet — I can’t imagine that’s possible — a crazy gunman who styled himself after The Joker in Batman used an Ak-47 assault rifle to kill 12 people and injure 58 others at a midnight showing of the new Dark Knight movie. It’s one of the worst shootings in U.S. history, and a scant, unlucky 13 years since the Columbine shooting spree here left 13 people dead.

I know many people disagree with me, but I believe America has a serious gun problem. A problem so serious, that I’m going to argue we’re at civil war.

I also know that many champions of the 2nd Amendment feel the solution to our gun violence is to liberalize our gun laws, allowing us all to carry weapons for self-defense in case we’re attacked by a nut or the Nazis, or both.

But I don’t want to return our nation to its revolutionary roots, or even to the legal free-for-all represented by the Wild, Wild West. I don’t want to live in Dodge City and risk re-enacting the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral every time I go to the movies.

Here’s why I believe we have a problem, and what I believe we need to do about it:

The U.S. has the highest rate of private gun ownership in the world, according to GunPolicy.org. It’s estimated we now own roughly 270-300 million guns, nearly one for every man, woman and child.

We bought more than 14 million guns in 2009, more guns than are carried by the active armies of the top 21 countries in the world combined, according to FBI stats quoted in Ammoland Gun News. The magazine estimated we also bought billions of rounds of ammo to load those guns. Americans buy about 56 percent of the guns made worldwide every year, and own roughly half of the world’s private arsenal of 650 million guns and more weapons than the 225 million guns held by law enforcement and military forces, according to a 2007 report by the Geneva-based Graduate Institute of International Studies.

America has the highest rate of gun-related injuries in the world among developed nations, according the 2002 academic study “Gun Violence: The Real Cost.” There were 52,447 deliberate and 23,237 accidental non-fatal gunshot injuries in the United States during 2000, according to the National Center for Injury Prevention and Control.

America also has the highest rate of gun-related deaths among its peers in the industrialized world, according to an academic review by the National Academy of Science. Our rate of gun-related deaths is eight times higher than it is in countries that are economically and politically similar.

About 9,000 people were murdered with guns here last year, according to the FBI. Our overall firearm-related death rate is the world’s 12th highest, just behind Mexico’s — home of the infamously brutal drug wars — and countries like South Africa, Columbia and El Salvador, according to the Centers for Disease Control.

But stats aren’t the issue here.

I’m just sick and tired of living in a country where people can’t go to school or a movie or work without worrying whether they’re going to get mowed down or blown up by some gun-crazed nut, frequently a religious or political fundamentalist/conservative of one sort or another. It’s frightening and depressing, and on an emotional level I feel like we’re out of control, especially if more and more ordinary citizens are going to start packing heat when they’re at the mall.

America has a serious gun problem. Our love of guns is irrational, and our fear of government oppression or a Japanese, Russian or Nazi invasion is even more irrational given the size and power of our military force, which is unparalleled.

Look at the issue from a global perspective: Some 7,500 people have died in battles so far this year in Syria, leading the United Nations to declare that it’s engaged in a civil war. But we murdered 10,000 of our own, and shot tens of thousands more.

As far as I’m concerned, we’re also at civil war.

And as far as I’m concerned, it isn’t reasonable for everybody to carry a sidearm to keep the violence in check. Cowboys and settlers tried that more than 100 years ago and abandoned the idea because it led to lawlessness and frontier justice, which wasn’t justice at all, just wanton, destabilizing violence. And nobody will ever convince me that any civilian needs to own an AK-47 assault rifle, a 100-round magazine clip, and 6,000 rounds of ammo. That’s insane, as recent events surely demonstrate.

So I don’t know about anybody else, but I don’t want to live like the Hatfields and McCoys.

Those heady days of America’s youth are gone, thankfully, and it’s time for us take the next step in our maturation as a nation. The only reasonable solution to our problem is to repeal or radically re-write the 2nd Amendment, make guns and ammo much harder to get, and implement the strictest-possible gun controls. They work in Europe, and they’ll work here.

That’s what I believe. And if you don’t like it, you’ll have to pry my smoking, hot pen from my dead, cold fingers to stop me from saying it. Or writing it, whatever. Stop being so picky.

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Let Freedom Ring!

Nobody’s free.

I like to think I am, of course. Most Americans do, especially on a day like today, which was just an ordinary Fourth of July like every other Fourth of July until we kicked England’s ass in the American Revolution and made it Independence Day, the Fourth of July.

But what is freedom?

America. Fuck, yeah.

If it means doing whatever I want, whenever I want, then I haven’t been free since…well, not since I was one-half of a zygote swimming toward ecstasy. All I have to do to remind myself that I’m not free is glance at my cable TV bill. Given what I’m paying to watch House Hunters International and American Pickers, I’d say America is more the Land of the Fee than the Land of the Free.

Part of the problem is that freedom is poorly defined.

To the 13th-century Scottish knight William Wallace and his rowdy band of haggis-eating troublemakers, for instance, freedom meant squirming out from under British rule, not to mention letting their stout naughty bits dangle loosely beneath their kilts. We fought the American Revolution nearly 400 years later for similar reasons, although our puritanical Yankees dressed modestly in breeches and waistcoats even while graciously allowing some of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” Militia of the day to boldly stick feathers in their caps and call them macaroni—a subtle nod to the period’s cutting-edge Italian fashion designers.

But there are many other measures of freedom in addition to rebelling against a nation that loves its monarchs, grossly overcooks its vegetables and uses silly, unintelligible words and phrases like codswallop, arse-over-tit, sally forth, rumpy pumpy, peckish and shambolic.

Consider issues like civil liberties, freedom of the press, lack of government corruption and business regulations, for example.

How do silly men like this get to be dictators of countries like North Korea?

By these standards, America performs well globally, especially compared to the world’s most peckish and shambolic countries like North Korea and Somalia, which suffer from a lagging tourist trade because of their routine muggings, false imprisonments, terrorist bombings and land mines. Uzbekistan in Central Asia isn’t the most idyllic honeymoon destination either, partly because it gets shot at all the time by marauders in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, which fiercely compete with it for the title of World’s Most Awesome Scrabble Word Ever.

Still, America’s freedom is trending downward, according to studies like Freedom House’s annual Freedom Report or the Wall Street Journal’s Index of Economic Freedom. We routinely fall behind arguably socialist countries like Canada, Norway, Finland, Sweden, Ireland, Portugal, Uruguay and Bardados. We’re also trailing Liechtenstein, and I don’t even know where Liechtenstein is. I’d Google it, but I’m afraid to because Liechtenstein sounds pretty dirty, like something I’d only do if I was insanely horny or really, really drunk. I don’t want to end up on a website that gives my computer a virus.

An international group called Reporters Without Borders ranked our press 20th out of 178 on its Press Freedom Index because our military routinely cites “security concerns” to squelch issues of legitimate public interest. Our electorate’s failure to root out government corruption and ballot-box manipulation puts us behind most of Europe in politics.

African Americans have more opportunities than white Americans to receive free room and boarding thanks to the U.S. justice system’s bias against minorities.

We also lock more people behind bars than any other democracy on the planet. Americans imprison about 743 people per 100,000 residents, a grossly disproportionate number of them blacks and other minorities, because, hey, some people will rob you with a six-gun and some with a fountain pen, but it’s only the ones who don’t look like the old, white men who run this country that we’re concerned about, and what’s wrong with a little harmless white-collar crime anyway? Bankers will be bankers, those scamps, never-you-mind about the resulting taxpayer bailouts, failed home mortgages and unemployment.

In case you’re curious, our incarceration rate compares to 577 per 100,000 people in second-place Russia—the Motherland of Communist oppression, for God’s sake!—and a scant 32 in low-ranked India. Although to be fair, many people would rather be thrown into a cell than forced to work in a computer help center in steamy Bangalore fielding idiotic questions like, “The instructions say to press any key. But I don’t see an Any Key on my keyboard. What do I do now?”

So how does America stack up against other countries when it comes to less tangible freedoms like health care, opportunity to be upwardly social mobile, and what President Franklin D. Roosevelt called “freedom from want?”

We are one of the wealthiest nations on the planet, but about 14 percent of U.S. residents live under the poverty line, compared to 1 percent in Taiwan and roughly half that amount in most of Europe. We work more hours a week than anybody in the world except the Japanese, get far fewer vacation days from our employers, have more trouble breaking out of the social class we’re born into and have less access to basic health care—even under President Obama’s new health care plan—than most people who live in similarly wealthy nations. Swedes, for example, live longer than Americans, enjoy lower infant mortality rates, are guaranteed six weeks of paid vacation, and are given 13 months of paid maternity leave to split between the parents. Oh, by the way, those parents can be husband and wife, husband and husband or wife and wife, shattering American’s claim to being the most religiously free nation in the galaxy.

Now who seems more free?

Astute political conservatives will object to these “facts,” of course.

For instance, they will correctly point out that American furniture doesn’t require as much assembly as that IKEA crap, and that the McLutefisk isn’t nearly as tasty as McDonald’s Quarter Pounder, which is known as the 113.4-McGram-a-Bun in Sweden. They’ll also note that not everybody wants to name their son Magnus, let alone attend compulsory ABBA concerts twice a year in their Volvo, even if it’s a shiny black S80, one of the finest, most stylish automobiles in the world (are you hearing what I’m saying about potential sponsorships, Volvo’s marketing department?). And they’ll say it all while standing in front of an American flag waved by an Iraqi war veteran and paid for by Donald Trump while a children’s choir sings God Bless America, so that your eyes well with patriotic tears as you realize that God Himself reached down from the firmament and handpicked us to lead the world’s tired, poor huddled masses to the land of milk of honey—just as long as they don’t do it by scaling the Great Wall of America, the 12-foot-tall, 670-mile long barricade separating America from Mexico along our southern border.

So where does that leave us in this lengthy discussion of freedom on Independence Day?

Frankly, it’s hard to say. As I said earlier, freedom’s elusive.

America might make Mitt Romney, a living version of the Ken doll, it’s next president.

At times like these, I often turn to the folksy, down-to-earth wisdom of songwriters like Kris Kristofferson, who wrote that “freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” But that seems a skosh gloomy for Independence Day.

I suggest we modify the lyric to “freedom’s just another ‘scuse to break out the booze,” and then sit back with our good friend Jack Daniels to ruminate on the inspiring words of Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney, who may or may not have been sipping the juice himself when he told a heckler at the Iowa State Fair that, “I believe in an America where millions of Americans believe in an America that’s the America millions of Americans believe in. That’s the America I love.”

Yep, I can drink to that, all right.

Already am, in fact. How could I not?

God bless America, and let freedom ring.

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