Sunday, January 29, 2012

Mittens Speaks French

Knowing how to speak French can kill a Presidential campaign. Just ask John Kerry. While running for President in 2004 there were multiple soundbites floating around of Kerry speaking French. The Republicans learned that Americans tended to view someone who speaks French as 'elitist' and 'out of touch.' Worse still was the fact that many Americans thought Kerry LOOKED French as well. This information, coming on the heels of the 2003 ban on FRENCH fries at lunchrooms all over America due to France's refusal to support our invasion of Iraq, was basically the political kiss of death for Kerry. Now, political foes of Mitt Romney are using his ability to speak French against him in an effort to derail his campaign for the White House. Drudging up a video which shows Romney speaking French in an informational video for volunteers for the 2002 Olympic Games in Salt Lake City, they hope to paint him as an elitist or, even worse, a SOCIALIST! Even though another contender for the Republican nomination for President, Jon Huntsman, also speaks a foreign language (Chinese), but apparently that is seen as an asset rather than a liability since we owe China a ton of coin. There is also no downside to harassing someone for their ability to speak French because there is no French lobbyist organization to push back against the criticism, nor does the French government give a crap that they're being called Elitist Snobs because, well, let's face it, they are Elitist Snobs.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Mammography à la Française

I had my very first mammogram ever today, and I feel compelled to comment on how such delicate matters are handled in France. Once again, no drape or covering was supplied to me in the changing room. I was simply asked to take off 'everything above the waist' and step out into the exam area. Me and my breasts were then then unceremoniously (and without so much as a drink to loosen me up) manhandled by a petite woman who was shockingly strong for her size. Feeling as if I had just checked into an all female prison, I was then left to wait, topless and alone, while the doctor looked over my films. After an agonizing ten minutes, he came in the room, introducted himself and shook my hand as if we were meeting at a cocktail party. He then proceeded to explain the results of my mammo. I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but all I could think of was how I was still topless, and cold. Really, really cold. At the end of his diatribe, he once again shook my hand and then took his leave. I'm guessing this isn't how mammos go in the States, but I can't be sure 'cause I've never had one done there.