The French: Pourquoi sont-ils si damn foux?

The fundamental nature of the French is most clearly seen in their periodic orgies of destruction. In England or America, shooting a policeman in the face with buckshot would be considered a definite social faux-pas, but the young men now rampaging through Paris, though of North African extraction, are acting as nothing but exemplary Frenchmen, in the great tradition of the sans-culottes and soixante-huitards.

Why do we Anglo-Saxon nations, with our wise Moderation, reverence for the Rule of Law, and Protestant Work Ethic, pretend that these lazy, oversexed, violent hyenas are, like us, ‘fellow Westerners’? Why do we allow them to share the credit for our civilization’s unparalleled achievements?

I don’t wish to be misunderstood here. I count Frenchmen among my closest friends. My mother, two of my wives and my current mistress are all French. This essay has in fact been translated from the French in which I write all my serious correspondence, poetry and philosophical reflections (for I am intoxicated by the beauty and precision of the French tongue). The world would no doubt be much the poorer were it not for De Tocqueville, Bastiat, Montesquieu, Bernanos and innumerable others who have contributed to art, philosophy and the several sciences.

But the excellence of these individuals cannot obscure an obnoxious national character, which marries alternately anarchic and totalitarian impulses (de Maistre and de Sade are here the exemplary pair) with the boundless fanaticism that centuries of popish darkness have left as their residue.

This is why I have, for the past four decades, been urging the United States and Great Britain to attack and conquer France. We must undertake a thoroughgoing national re-education, with the first decisive moves being a dismantling of the welfare state and mass deportation of the notorious Slavs who, wherever they settle, show themselves the enemies of Mankind . Allons, enfants de l’anglosphere!