What Do Penn State's Joe Paterno and New Republic's Marty Peretz Have In Common Other Than Clearly Being Over the Hill?
Nick Gillespie | September 27, 2006, 9:11am
Answer: They're starting to shit themselves in public. JoePa had to sprint off the field during last saturday's game with Ohio State to avoid a colonic catastrophe equal to the shellacking the Nittany Lions were taking on the field. TNR owner and "Spine" blogger Marty Peretz is enacting the cyberspatial equivalent of Paterno's runs with posts such as this one on French jokes:
Let me assure you though that I am not a Francophobe. It is true that for a few years in recent times I have not bought French wines. But I did drink the ones I had in my cellar. In any case, there is some silliness in what follows. But there is also some wisdom, wisdom garnered from historical experience. If you are a Francophile, you may not want to read this. It's your choice. Feel free to send this to friends if you like. That's how I saw it in the first place...
"Going to war without France is like going deer hunting without your accordion." --Norman Schwartzkopf
"We can stand here like the French, or we can do something about it." --Marge Simpson
"As far as I'm concerned, war always means failure." --Jacques Chirac, President of France
"As far as France is concerned, you're right." --Rush Limbaugh
"The only time France wants us to go to war is when the German Army is sitting in Paris sipping coffee." --Regis Philbin
More here.
Mark VIII | September 27, 2006, 11:33am | #
Ok. The following story is true. I've already posted it on here so apologies to anyone that read it before.
About two months ago, it was my three year anniversary with my better half so I surprised her with a trip to Paris. In the evening, we decided to revisit a small restaurant off the the Rue de Rivolis as we had eaten there when we first got together.
So, we were in there and everything was going to plan. I enjoyed my French Onion soup and was looking forward to my moules frites. To our left there was a pleasant, middle aged American couple who, despite cliches to the contrary, were nothing but polite and considerate. The waiter on the other hand, a genuine parisian in too tight trousers, was a complete tool. Although moderately polite to my goodself he was horrible to the Yanks. They did their best to order in French, laughing nervously, and he shot them down, tutting, barking at them in French and rolling his eyes. It was really embarrassing.
So, our food came, we ate it and the Americans were still waiting on their order. They asked politely twice and euro-weenie brushed them aside. On the third occasion, by which time they must have been waiting for nearly an hour, the American gentleman asked 'Excuse me, but where is our food?'
The frenchie sneered down his nose 'I have already told you. It iz coming.'
The American looked at the waiter, looked at his wife, looked at me and then back at the waiter. He then said:
'So's Christmas you asshole. Now go cook my steak'
In the words of Mastercard...priceless. My girlfriend almost spat out her red wine.
As i said at the time - America 1 France 0. Still, the waiter probably peed in his bernaise sauce.