This French thing, blaming Americans for starting to get them fat, really bugged me.
If you so hate our fast food, then don't make a fast line to our fast food.
No one's shoving our tacos down your delicate palate, so don't shove this line down our throat.
We are what we eat. Here. Anywhere.
If you so value your crepes to our crap, then just say no.
To quarter pounders. To extra large fries. To tacos with everything on 'em. Or to salads with nothing on 'em. You see the salads are there too.
Only you, like us, prefer the juicy stuff.
Just say that. Sadly, most Americans admit that.
Maybe you, like some of us, would sooner look at a lawsuit than a mirror.
It's understandable, in a society that has long held itself above all others, the French must now come to terms that on eating, they are just like all others.
And it's killing them.
Our burgers. Our fries. Our milkshakes, like gastric nails in their delicate coffins.
And they can't stomach it. And they can't stomach us.
Who knew ironies could be so delicious. Or served so fast?
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