Pardon My French: Une Grande Insulte

We, Franco-Americans (no, it’s not just bad canned pasta for kids) are mad as enfer and we’re not going to take for a very much longer period! Complètement!

What are we furieux about now? “Domestic” Champagne? Pesky German invaders? Every other country’s foreign policy? No, you’re thinking of the homeland French-those cork-sniffers couldn’t win a war if they fought against themselves.

What we, the French who have immigrated to your fine country, are ready to slap you with our gloves about is the use of “Pardon my French” to excuse one’s use of profanity. The socially-questionable words excused as French are not of French origin, so why is the term used?

Users of American lexicon have eliminated other older terms that were derogatory toward others, like our Jews and African Americans. The Jewish ones are mostly about bargaining, and the African American ones have to do with appearance, mostly. For some reason, “Dutch treat,” is still OK, although it’s gotta hurt dating prospects for those wooden shoe-wearing tightwads. I have Dutch blood, too, so I can make fun of us skinflints. By the way, other countries say “going American” to mean the same thing.

But I’m also French, and so I must throw a crise de rage about the “Pardon my French” thing. Curse that Ferris Bueller! He was the worst at the abuse of the French language! Watch that offensive movie (several times, if you’d like, it’s actually quite funny) and you’ll note that after each time he says the “expression terrible,” which is French, you English copycats, the words that follow are clearly pas français, meaning NOT FRENCH! The same goes for the movie Tremors.

Sacre bleu! How long must we have our beautiful homeland, which is like Santa Barbara, California in so many ways, and our home language, which is like talking after a bug flies into your mouth in so many ways, subject to these improper uses of our language?

Us Franco-Americans are so mad, we’re supporting the boycott of the U.S. market by our fine automomakers, the très-reliable Renault, Peugot, and Citroën. Remember when you could buy our fine marques? You could use “car trouble” as an excuse for being late to work. No more! Get there on time every day, imbéciles, pardonnez mon anglais.

Think of us, and the feelings of our children next time you French kiss after enjoying French fries. Aside from getting in a big hissy-approprié, that’s all we have planned. We’re not big into that taking-action thing.