From The Atlantic, which once waxed eloquently about cannibalism, comes the sad story of a rootless cosmopolitan who sprung from somewhere, lived on the Left Coast, drifted to New York, and now pollutes Paris. She’s glad she left “America.”
There hasn’t been a day since Donald Trump was elected in 2016 that I haven’t been thankful that I live in France, and not in the United States. Gun violence, white-supremacist militias, the shamelessly voiced opinions that all lives don’t matter—and that if you die from COVID-19, well, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles—fill me with dread. So does climate-change denial while the West Coast, where I was born and raised, goes up in smoke.
It does not really improve from there. Her few decent points about France are lost in her hatred of France, her worship of other misfits like herself – especially those prone to terrorism against Europeans, and her lies about the US. There’s mention of her parents, who may(?) live separately, her children, who live in different nations, and of course, herself; nothing about a husband. Funny.
The good news is that the US (and the remains of America) lost one of 100 million incompatible malcontents! The bad news is France gained one more. Net-zero for the West, really. 2033…
Here’s an idea for a post, essay, or book: Why America Left Me: Demographics Were Better, Especially Then.