Since January, I’ve been trying to whip up schemes that would get me across the Atlantic and living in France for the next four years. I begged Bonaparte to call our real estate agent, put our Chateau on the market and buy a small farm in the French countryside. Paris is too expensive. The Cote d’Azur is too dangerous for my pasty white “already-had-skin-cancer” epidermis. What could be better than to own a farm and grow cows and raise semolina? I’m a natural!!
I can grow cows. This is a group I made friends with a few years back while driving through Burgundy!
Bonaparte’s views on becoming farmers are somewhere between not now, not ever, and “jamais”!!
There was no Plan “B” until now.
The new President of France, Emmanuel Macron (not to be confused with “macaron”) has made a video reaching out to Americans.
Please do not call President Macron, President Macaron. I made these and I think it is high time I whip up another batch soon in honor of Macron!
He is inviting Americans to work in France! The only problem is that he is seeking out scientists. I don’t exactly qualify for the position.
However, I would make a great ambassador of sorts. A new position could be created just for moi. My job would be connecting incoming American scientists into French culture.
Why would I be a great candidate for this newly created position? Here are a few reasons!
I respect the flour. Did you see the news videos of François Fillon getting pelted with a sack of flour during his campaign? What self-respecting Frenchman or woman would do that?
What self-respecting Frenchman or woman would waste good flour like this?
I respect the flour. I use it to bake brioche and other bread, pain aux raisin and other delights. I would never waste good baking ingredients.
Pain aux raisins….
…my annual Buche de Noel–just a couple of ways I respect the flour!
My ability to make a superior sauce is a talent the French would love and appreciate and would make them welcome me with halfway open arms. I can teach the new American hires that a real sauce isn’t poured from a can or a jar.
It takes a good two hours to make a silky sauce like this!
I hang my laundry all over the house to dry. Just like the French. I never use my dryer.
And THIS is how I dry our clothes when we are in the South of France! The washing machine is in the BATHROOM!!!
This practically makes me French. I could explain to the new ex-pats that nobody has a laundry room like in America. In many cases, the washing machine is also the dryer and most clothing is air dried. I can also teach the Americans not to behave like the bozos on House Hunters International!
Don’t cry because the washing machine is in the kitchen. Look on the bright side–you can wash your dishes in it too! That’s ’cause there’s no dishwasher!
Somebody needs to explain that the French can’t dance. They save their rhythm for L’Amour!
The French may not be the greatest dancers, but..
Ohhhhh! So THAT’S why the French smoke so much!! Oh lalalalala!
I can teach the Americans not to try too hard to have French style. Either you got it or you don’t. Be yourself. Dress with your own style—that’s more French.
Um..nobody wears a beret that way. A tie is not a scarf. France is not a British Day School.
I know where to go shopping for the goods.
City Pharma. The only store the newly transplanted American will ever need. You are quite welcome!
I know how to work the big events!
Yours truly was invited to the Paris premiere of Hugo Gelin’s “Demain tout Commence”. OK. So I went as Bonaparte’s guest–but I’m still self-important!
You want to learn how to really be French my fellow Americans? Just shrug.
I can teach how to have an entire conversation without knowing how to speak French. Just shrug through every question!! It’s very Gallic!
Macron needs someone like me to show Americans how to perfect the fine art of cutting ahead in line!
My special talent kept Bonaparte and me from missing a flight from Dublin to Paris. I can teach the fine art of cutting ahead better than any French man or woman can!
Let’s get our potatoes straight. It’s frites. Not fries. OK?
..and worse never, ever call them freedom fries!
You need someone to explain to Americans that religion is no big deal to the French. All those churches and cathedrals are merely beautiful old buildings.
The French are so cool about religion that even Rabbis give the sign of the cross! (Shameless plug. Bonaparte’s cousin was in this film “The Mad Adventures of Rabbi Jacob”–it’s one of the funniest movies ever!
It would help if I took Americans on little off-the-beaten-track tours on weekends!
Every American moving to France needs to take a weekend trip to pay their respects to American troops who died for them. Never forget. I will take you there.
I may not know the words to La Marseillaise, but I do pretend to know all the words to “Pour un Flirt”! Lalalalalalalalalalala…
I can teach Americans about all the great pop songs of the 60’s and 70’s!! I know them all. It’s a great way to learn the language!
It would also help if I could explain to the Americans that jumping into bed with a relative of your better half is no big deal!
As you can see, Dany, Bonaparte’s father was having the time of his life with me! This is very French–even for the French!
Somebody needs to explain that foods like frog’s legs are old-school home-style and not disgusting!
It’s ok. You will not be hopping around after digesting these delicious little limbs!
And that Chocolate is sacred.
That pretty much sums it up!
And cheese, baguette and wine are the French equivalent of eggs, bread and milk. Think about that one!
And wine will get you through any storm better ‘n eggs, bread and milk!
Please hire me Monsieur President, so that I explain the importance of good manners upon entering and leaving an establishment!
Remember. ALWAYS say “Bonjour” when entering an establishment…and
“Au Revior” when leaving. I love Omar Sy!
And at the end of the day, we can all admire the world’s most iconic symbol of France!
Such a beautiful sight!
Whaddya think? Ya think I would do a great job??
The President of France extended his invitation and I would like to leave you with a beautiful song that is a love letter to France–Michel Polnareff’s “Lettre a France”