Julien Hoez is the editor of ‘The French Dispatch’. He wants Americans to know he, his fellow countrymen and other soft people are sick of America. Oh, well.
Wonder if he knows Americans don’t think of him at all.
Americans fly to Europe to gawk at cathedrals, sip overpriced wine, and pretend four-week vacations are normal. That’s not ‘newfound respect’; it’s just a field trip to a continent that figured out how to make leisure a human right while the rest of us are still grinding 60-hour weeks. Think of it like crashing at your buddy’s apartment for the weekend: the one who never quite finished college, has great weed, and somehow pays rent by ‘consulting.’
You love the vibe, you post the sunsets, you swear you’ll move there someday; then Monday hits and you’re back on the 6 a.m. train because rent is due and your 401(k) won’t fund itself.
This:
Whenever I read about some Euro’s smug superiority, I think about PJ O’Rourke’s classic response to a Euro effete:
“I was having dinner…in London…when eventually he got, as the Europeans always do, to the part about “Your country’s never been invaded.” And so I said, “Let me tell you who those bad guys are. They’re us. WE BE BAD. We’re the baddest-assed sons of bitches that ever jogged in Reeboks. We’re three-quarters grizzly bear and two-thirds car wreck and descended from a stock market crash on our mother’s side. You take your Germany, France, and Spain, roll them all together and it wouldn’t give us room to park our cars. We’re the big boys, Jack, the original, giant, economy-sized, new and improved butt kickers of all time. When we snort coke in Houston, people lose their hats in Cap d’Antibes. And we’ve got an American Express card credit limit higher than your piss-ant metric numbers go. You say our country’s never been invaded? You’re right, little buddy. Because I’d like to see the needle-dicked foreigners who’d have the guts to try. We drink napalm to get our hearts started in the morning. A rape and a mugging is our way of saying ‘Cheerio.’ Hell can’t hold our sock-hops.
We walk taller, talk louder, spit further, fuck longer and buy more things than you know the names of. I’d rather be a junkie in a New York City jail than king, queen, and jack of all Europeans. We eat little countries like this for breakfast and shit them out before lunch.”
The European continent is being overrun with the muzzie invaders they invited in. Hoez should be sick of that.
I’ve never heard of Hoez or The French Dispatch. That’s how irrelevant they are.