I’m surrounded by two, big black dogs, and I don’t mean that in the Churchillian sense of the blues, but in the reality of two eighty-five pounders, big toothed, big headed creatures. Man’s best friend? Forget two meals in succession for the beasts and you become their Plan B.
Talk about Boomtown Rats and their prophecy in, “I Don’t Like Mondays, I want to shoot the whole day down!” News came this morning of the French shootings. Honestly, haven’t we been through this already? I had forgotten about the French police and the deportation of kids during the German occupation. How the Germans wanted just the grown-ups, but Rene Bousquet, hand raised like an eager pupil, urged that kids join parents to Sobibor.
Where is Sobibor? It’s right next to Mordor. Look it up if you don’t believe me.
Anyhow, as someone who, like you, believes that gastronomy reflects ideology and culture, what relationships exist between the food of France and its, um, spotty record on racism? I think that if you’re sitting at the table and preoccupied with what’s on the plate, you might notice the faces at the windows, but you might care more about the grub, like Beef Bourguignon, than the grubby like Rene Bousquet. However, and this is really important and I’m not saying it will be on Friday’s quiz, but it might, the awareness of suffering occurs even though the person experiencing it may not possess its consciousness.
The result? The French pick at their food! Hence, they stay slim.
So, if you follow me here, the thin appearance of the French, especially the women, is the physiognomy of an unconscious awareness of the racism of the society. To raise awareness or consciousness will carry with it, concomitantly, a desire to do something about the grubby.
Less grub, even more weight loss.
Vive le France!
Here we have Exhibit A.