Remembering Freedom Fries.
When France told President George Bush to “shove it,” over his single-minded adventure into Iraq, the US went ballistic, even to the point of renaming what ostensibly may be this country’s favorite potato concoction — French fries — “Freedom fries.” Yeah, it was about as stupid and juvenile as sticking out one’s tongue at an adversary, “nah, nah, nah, nah.” But such seemed the apex American intellect at the time.
After all, we had come to the European nation’s rescue twice, we were “the home of the brave” and the French clearly were not. The French, by our branding, were naught but a collection of quiche loving, wine sipping, “nattering nabobs” and “effete snobs.” Doncha know, ya’all, we were chisel-jawed rugged cowboys. Unlike the French, we had no qualms about sending our neighbor’s kids off to war and vicariously doing the High Noon thing.
Indeed, doing the High Noon thing may be a wholly apt comparison. Gary Cooper was an actor. We were play-acting. Gary Cooper stood his ground while the town folk — French — cowered behind shuttered windows. We flew the flag from our front porches, attached it to our cars, and put looped ribbon decals on our trunk lids. We were sooo brave that, in the face of all aridity and terror, we went shopping.
And sliced and diced the taxes we were willing to pay. Take that . . . you, you, you . . . French. Yeahhhh!
“Home of the brave:” what a crock of the most foul bovine excreta. Check it out. It’s all been such a tawdry demonstration of phony hypocrisy and the most shameful yellow-bellied, dirt-licking cowardice. Americans are not brave. Americans are gutless punks. Yeah you, do you feel lucky, do ya?
Fifty-one percent of “Americans” now are afraid of imprisoning those this government has been warehousing on Git-mo anywhere in their state. Afraid. Led by such outstandingly bold and brave examples as Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh and Mitch McConnell and Dick Cheney and now Harry Reid and an overwhelming majority of his senate cohorts . . . “Not in MY state!”
What the . . . ?