Beware of Zee Ugliness of Communist France

As the French elections heat up in anticipation of their culmination on Sunday, May 6^th (what kind of people hold an election on a Sunday? French people, that’s who!) it’s looking like Francois Hollande is going to replace incumbent Nicolas Sarkozy. If Sarkozy and his wife leave Elysee Palace, not only will this mean a general dropping in average hotness of first ladies (sorry Michelle Obama but Carla Bruni-Sarkozy is an actual, like, French fashion model and movie starlet and pop singer – God bless those French!) but a lot of the recent austerity measures inflicted by der Merkel mit der German Iron Fiscal Fist will most likely be overturned in exchange for a new contract geared towards boosting activity, not curtailing spending (you can’t win if you don’t play). As such and on the tail of my recent interview with an ex-KGB Russian drunk after the disgusting display of Putin weeping like a baby, I interviewed an esteemed French friend as we strolled the Champs-Elysee about what Hollande will mean for France.

“It will be ze disasterrrr! He is zee socialist!” Jesus, a Socialist President? Isn’t Socialist just another word for communist? Yes, right, USSR stood for “Union of Soviet Socialist Republic.” Good God, man, France’s gonna be falling to the red disease, same as the Russkis with their Putin who’s run the regime of Moscow for 2 decades and China, those bastions of Communist power. And Cuba. Next thing we know, France will be trading with Cuba!

“He vill charge 75% taxes on all zee people what make above one million euro each year!”

“Holy communism – how many French will that affect?”

“About .01% of the population. So not even zee 1% like in America. But it is truly le comunisme to benefit 99.99% of zee people on the backs of zee .01%, zee super minority. Zee rich have rights, like le noir et le romani, as zee liberals say, zo I do not agree, and will not be oppressed anymore!”

“What are rates now?”

“41%, up to 45%. It is a temporary tax this 75%, zey say, just to get out of debt but I sink Hollande, he lie.”

“Didn’t Sarkozy lie? Like, didn’t he say he went to, what’s that place called, Fukuyama, in Japan, after the earthquake?”

“Zat was not a lie. It was a, how do you say, anecdote, a colorful story, like an artiste expressing through words.”

Soon we found ourselves at the Arc de Triomphe, staring at the eternal flame. As I stared at that tribute to the brave men and women who fought and died in World War II, the last time the French fought a war, I started to envision what will happen to this beautiful nation once Hollande takes over.  No longer will men feel proud to hold high offices with supermodels on their arms. The country known for its fashion will instead be outfitted in standard-issue Soviet Blue jumpsuits. Kim Jong Il will visit and teach Hollande how to warp the people’s minds. 

"This must be stopped. Once the people elect one Socialist president, it's all over," I exclaimed between frantic puffs of Gauloises.

"Actually, zee president Francois Mitterand vas a member of le Parti Socialiste."

"I bet he ruined some things for France, right? Like probably made it hard for France to play fair with all the other European economies, ruin this whole Euro-debt thing, right?"

"Actually, no. Mitterand kept France in the European Monetary System, helped it along. In fact, in zee Jenkins Commission which founded zee system, zere was a Socialist representing one half of France."

"But no way will Hollande be like this Mitterand man you keep on referencing."

"Actually - he is Mitterand's, how do you say, protege, oui?"

My source pulled up a Wall Street Journal article about Sarkozy's struggles, most specifically pointing out: 

"Mr. Sarkozy was elected in 2007 on the promise that he would energize France's economy, shrink its large public sector and halve the unemployment rate to 5%. But when the global financial crisis struck in 2008, Mr. Sarkozy relied on debt to support banks and auto makers and to preserve the country's generous social-welfare system.
Although Mr. Sarkozy says he has succeeded in avoiding the pitfalls of Greece, Ireland and Portugal, which had to seek international help, he has failed to deliver on his electoral promises: Unemployment is at a 13-year high of nearly 10% and public debt is nearly 90% of the country's annual output, up from 64% in 2007."

Even more, my source pointed out that France's far-right candidate, think Rick Santorum to Sarkozy's John McCain, has refused to endorse Sarkozy, publicly declaring she will vote for NOBODY rather than endorse either of these candidates.


So now I'm confused. As my source, we'll call him Jacques, led me through the 8th Arondissement, I wondered why he's so freaked out about Hollande. This Socialist thing sounds more like a flashy name than a real affiliation with the tenets of Socialist Communism, like the way Snooki is considered a starlet or Tea Partiers claim to actually stand for some real, identifiable and actionable ideal. In fact, if anything the only difference between Hollande and Sarkozy seems to be that Hollande will eschew the pomp and circumstance of Sarkozy for actual solutions to France's current woes, in spite of the possibility of it alienating France's small population of uber-rich.


"So what's your problem with Hollande?" I asked as we rode a taxi through the city, the sweet smell of fresh baguette and spilled wine and hairy armpit wafting into our noses. With a wry smile and a twinkle behind bespectacled eyes he rambled a bunch of gibberish to the taxi driver and soon we found ourselves at a massive bank of smooth stone with an imperial view of the Eiffel Tower, the famed Esplanade du Trocadero. As the sun set behind the city, the tower started twinkling like a million flashbulbs announcing the end of another gorgeous Parisian day and the entrance of yet another soir tres chic.


"Look at that. Think of the Louvre, le Mona Lisa. Notre Dame. Brigitte Bardot. Catherine Deneuve. Audrey Tautou. Chanel and Lagerfeld. Jean Paul Gaultier. All the finest American literature, it was all written in Paris. This is a beautiful, whimsical country, mon ami, a place of flash and beauty. And just look  at Hollande. Tres embarrassment, no?"

You have a point there, sir. With that we made our way across the River Seine, from the futuristic 16th Arondissement right bank to the antiquated 15th Arrondissement left - or is it the other way, I'm very confused this place, where Socialists aren't communists and less than .01% of the population is rich by American standards. And we proceeded to get simply hammered on wine, snails, and Gran Marnier. Somewhere around midnight I was heard to scream "Le Resistance" as I navigated a rented Peugeot down a steep stairwell somewhere amidst the wailing of a deflating accordion, barrelling towards a mime who seemed to be trapped inside some type of evil invisible force field. I have a flash of being in a hard bed in a dingy apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows and curtains blowing gently through its open French doors overlooking a gothic church as a long-limbed hairy-crotched supermodel read "I love to think of those naked epochs/whose statues phoebus liked to tinge with gold/At that time men and women, lithe and strong/ tasted the thrill of love free from care and prudery". The next day I awoke on a bench in Gare de Lyon and, feeling well-rested and content as only a French wine hangover can make a man, I hopped a train to my next assignment. South, yes. I'll head south. In search of some action.France's been around long enough it knows what it's doing. Paris will always be the beautiful city of lights. They know that, in the grand scehem of things, none of this bullshit matters.

Southbound it is. Where shit's happening, yes.


- Foreign Correspondent Oscar Gam