French fried

In one of the more humorous examples of Google bombing, a search for the phrase "French Military Victories" returns the following web page:

Did you mean: french military defeats

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Ah yes, the ever popular sport of bashing the French is clearly alive and healthier than ever. Last week's episode of Cold Case wrote the latest chapter in this tired, mindless game. The main character, a heartless, take no prisoners business mogul, yelled into his cell phone at his imaginary work lackey, "Do you just expect me to surrender like the French?" Usually, when a scene occurs in a television drama, it means something; we're supposed to pay close attention to it, because it has some significance in the overall plot. Yet, as I finished watching the painfully inane conclusion, it became apparent that the early French comment bore no impact whatsoever on the plot. It simply excreted itself unnecessarily, out of context and out of sync with the rest of the program.

Perhaps the writer was English.

Or more likely, the writer and/or director needed an easy target in hopes that their audience would not find themselves lost in boredom. "Ha ha, yeah, surrender like the French. That's so like them Frenchy cowards. I like this show," utter the mindless masses as their T-shirts collect Cheeto dust.

For the record, I don't have any particular allegiance to France. I claim heritage from multiple European countries, but am completely un-Franco genetic. I really don't even know any French people. Every so often, I play golf with a fellow possessing the surname of Blanchard. That's about as deep as my French roots go. And I'd hardly be genuine here if I asserted that I've never jokingly piled on those beret wearing, wine guzzling arteests. Look, there I go again.

One highly bothersome aspect about berating the French is that it's just too easy. More to the issue is the eagerness at which nearly every American slides so effortlessly and gratuitously into this activity. Verbal French flogging had permeated its way into those that normally consider themselves above that sort of thing. After the French rightly refused to send troops into the political and tactical quicksand of Iraq, the anti-French sentiment reached an all time high. Just as Americans renamed the Frankfurter, the Hamburger and the Daschund during Hitler's brief reign, some of our most enlightened citizens recently decided that "French fries" was a tremendous abomination of the language and must be severed at once. So they became freedom fries.

Are you kidding me? Are we really in a new millennium?

But what is most troublesome is the potential - undoubtedly already realized in large segments of the population - of ignorance. If the highly uneducated and the highly educated both believe the same drivel, then something has gone terribly wrong. And it is my substantial fear that we are raising an entire generation of morons who truly believe that the French have never won anything on a military battlefield. Considering the state of education in this country, that's a very real possibility, made all the more ironic by the fact that France has notched more individual battle victories than any other country in recorded history.

Granted, the recent history of France's national defense isn't so great. How'd that Maginot Line thing work out, Jean Pierre? Not so good? Can't imagine why. Couldn't have been that few hundred miles of unprotected border with Belgium, now could it?

Even so, I find myself with an intrinsic desire to defend the French, largely due to a particular streak within me that intensely dislikes idiotic fads. In other words, I'm not so much pro-France as I am anti-anti-French. In any case, I can sympathize with them and understand why they became the lovable, bumbling pacifists that they are today.

Between the time leading up to the French Revolution, the revolution itself and Napoleon's reign afterwards, France had endured about 30 straight years of the most horrific bloodshed imaginable. Entire generations of men were lost. Rotting corpses were strewn about. The smell of decaying flesh was a constant.

So after 1815, the French were understandably tired of death and destruction on their own soil. Non-violent methods of solving disputes became part of the culture. Of course, 100 years later, they were forced into another war, which became the most ghastly conflict in history. In many ways, WWI was more atrocious than WWII for the endless trench warfare, the use of chemical weapons and the like.

So when WWII started, the French really weren't ready, either militarily or in spirit. The Nazi war machine steam rolled France, along with everyone else. The Germans were miles ahead of every other country in terms of military technology, including the US. The only reason America was able to compete with Germany was because of the time to prepare, granted by a really big body of water known as the Atlantic Ocean - a luxury the French obviously did not have. And even when the allies launched their response against the Nazis, they were still behind in nearly every aspect of military technology. The Nazis were defeated by shear numbers. So we can consider ourselves lucky that we were a pond away from Germany during that time, or else ... I don't even want to think about it.

And during the American Revolution, who do you think supplied 80 percent of the gunpowder used by the colonists to fight the British? You guessed it - France. They probably did it more to defeat the British more than as an alliance to the fledgling colonists, but they did it nonetheless.

The point is, the French used to kick a ton off ass on the battlefield, and we as Americans owe much of our existence to them. So instead of removing the word "French" from our collective lexicon, I propose adding it to a number of terms, in honor of their bravery throughout the years.

From now on, drag racing shall be referred to as "French racing."

Deer hunting shall henceforth be known as "French kissing." Firing a shotgun at any time shall be called "Frenching."

Budweiser must be renamed "French white wine."

And fixing one's own automobile on one's own property shall be renamed "Making sweet love to all things France."

So then, after Buck Yarlboro gets done with another day of French racing, he can take some time off in the back woods with his buddies to engage in a few days of serious French kissing. When he gets back, he'll open a few cans of French white wine and do some Frenching at the empties before he pops open his hood and makes sweet love to all things France.

Retentit délicieux! Vive le France!

Evan Redmon is a manager of a public golf course in Washington, D.C. and writes a few things about stuff sometimes. Contact him at evanredmon@yahoo.com if you really want.