French people

It's not so easy in Europe.

I talk to my Indian friends, you know, can a Pakistani become an Englishman? Can a Turk become a German? Can an Algerian become a Frenchman? Not so easy.

And so what happens in European countries is that the socialism excludes these ethnic groups that are not seen as part of the tribe, not seen as pulling their weight.

And the other thing about Nordic socialism, the heaviest taxes fall on the middle class.

He stays in his car.

He sees all these Frenchmen very obviously and loudly swarm the building.

But Geraldine has scooted right the fuck out of there.

And he's like, oh, I'm following her.

I mean, you don't see rhetoric like that.

you know, I pay attention to French politics, you know, even on the far left with Jean-Luc Mélenchon or the far right with Marine Le Pen, neither of them would ever descend to that kind of divisive rhetoric.

For them, at least in theory, we're all French, even if we might disagree on, you know, the way forward.

Yeah, but we're hegemonic.

That's the difference.

We don't have any of that.

So that's the context.

So 3,000 Frenchmen dying, that's like on a weekend whenever the Germans get up.

And then they very much influence everything in France.

So they're very much behind the French Revolution, which is meant to destroy altar and throne, to destroy Christendom, to destroy the Catholic order that Christ the King established.

And of course, that is even increased greater in 1917 with the Bolshevik Revolution, which continues to be an extension of that Freemasonic Revolution.

It's one and the same.

She's coming to our aid, the aid of her spiritual children.

And as the devil increases his attack, so she increases and augments her aid, of course, always greater than the enemy.

And so after the French Revolution in 1830, you get the Rue de Bac, the Miraculous Medal, when she appears at Catherine Laboure.

And just the Miraculous Medal already is a great, great powerful sign because what's on the front is Our Lady giving out all the grace to the world.

There is a kind of tonic dispensed in certain of our prohibition states by licensed drugstores, and carried by suffering patients in small black bottles, secreted in their hip pockets like deadly weapons, which indeed they are, whence possibly we get the term hipped as descriptive of the ailment of the sufferer, which does not exactly mellow the disposition of the consumer, whatever glow it may impart to his countenance.

One morning I found myself on my way from Natchitoches in Louisiana, a lovely survival of the picturesque old French trading post, a perfect home of roses, both human and floral, which will ever remain a garden spot in my memory, to Shreveport.

It was in the middle of May, and the whole country was a delight to the eye, with its lovely greens and lush spring coloring.

I was returning from a lecture before the state normal school, and while sitting in the smoking car enjoying my weed, was introduced to a gentleman.

I would rather lecture before the inmates of a deaf and dumb asylum with a sore thumb.

The company aboard a transatlantic liner is always, to say the least, mixed in the matter of nationality.

And while one might be willing to make a stab at being witty before a gathering all English, all French, all German, or Pan-American, woe be unto him who vaingloriously attacks the risibles of a multitude made up of all these widely varying racial elements.

Their standards of humor are as widely divergent as are their several racial strains, and one might as well try to sit on four stools at once with perfect composure as expect to find the chair under such conditions comfortable.

During the Napoleonic Wars...

A brash British captain pushes his ship and crew to their limits in pursuit of a formidable French war vessel around South America.

This is directed by Peter Weir.

This is photographed by Russell Boyd.

And by kids, I mean the small one that loses his arm and the one that passes at the end.

I'm not sure how.

If he was shot by cannon fire, if he was attacked by a French navalman.

He

Flourish.

My lord protector, so it please your grace, Here are the articles of contracted peace Between our sovereign and the French King Charles For eighteen months concluded by consent.

reads

in premise it is agreed between the french king charles and william de la pole marquess of suffolk ambassador for henry king of england But the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter unto Rainier, King of Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England, ere the 30th of May next ensuing.

Come, let us in, and with all speed provide to see her coronation be performed."

king henry the sixth queen margaret and suffolk

brave peers of england pillars of the state to you duke hamfrey must unload his grief your grief the common grief of all the land What did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coin, and people in the wars? Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's coal and summer's parting heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits To keep by policy what Henry got? Have you yourselves— Somerset, Buckingham, brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick—received deep scars in France and Normandy? Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, With all the learned council of the realm, Studied so long, sat in the council-house early and late, Debating to and fro how France and Frenchmen Might be kept in awe? And had his highness in his infancy Crowned in Paris in despite of foes? And shall these labours and these honours die? Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our council die? O peers of England, Shameful is this league, fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, blotting your names from books of memory, raising the characters of your renown, defacing monuments of conquered France, and doing all as all had never been.

Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, this penuration with such circumstance? For France, tis ours, and we will keep it still.

Bayezid had spent the better part of a decade absorbing Ottoman territory across the Balkans and Anatolia at a pace that alarmed everyone around him.

He'd crushed a crusading army of Hungarians, French, and other Western knights at Nicopolis in 1396, a victory so complete that it effectively ended, for a generation, any serious European appetite for another crusade against the Ottomans.

And by the turn of the century, he had Constantinople itself under a slow, grinding siege, squeezing the last life out of a Byzantine capital that had already been shrinking around its own walls for a hundred years.

Put yourself for a second in the position of a European monarch in the year 1400, watching this happen from a safe distance.

But...

Like, the Frenchmen that I have had sex with, which is only one.

They're like, oh, I'm fucking right now.

I'm fucking.