The United States of France

Les Deux Magots, Paris

A Time magazine article this week makes the case, satirically, that we are all now French, whether we like it or not, as a result of the "nationalization" of the American economy.

Mmmm . . . okay. The United States of France. Sounds good to me. A 35-hour workweek. Six weeks of paid vacation time a year. Free healthcare for everyone. Magnificent art, great museums, son et lumiere shows. Clean subways. High-speed trains in all directions. Green energy. Outdoor cafes. Wonderful food, fresh-baked baguettes, 246 cheeses, and all that lovely wine. Even at lunch. Hell, maybe even breakfast. Oh and don't forget the croissants . . .

Ooh la la, baby, bring it on. C'est la vie for me!

Of course, I'm speaking with tongue in cheek. France is French, and we are us; even if Congress enacted the French Constitution tomorrow and imported Nicolas Sarkozy on the next jet to Washington, this country could never be just like that one.

And I hear tell you just cain't get no good barbecue over there no how.

But while the Time article's underlying point is a serious one, and unfavorable to the idea of becoming more like France in economic and political matters--well I say, there are worse things.

Like another Great Depression. Or a fascist, theocratic dictatorship.

I just might be humming the Marseillaise on the way to the voting booth, come November.

Aux armes enfants de la patrie, le jour de gloire est arrive . . .