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World December 5, 2007
 
Sarkozy: The Ghost of Ariel Sharon
By Thierry Marignac Browse author
 
 

PARIS—I’ve been asked by The eXile to give an on-the-ground report from the strike-zone in France. I’ll tell you what’s going on. This bunch of privileged chinovniki assholes who never did much else besides waiting it out until freaking retirement at around age 45 while the rest of us slaved to death trying to survive in the private sector, they decided once again to play fun and games with our already-shitty livelihood. Well, I have news for them: Sarkozy the Hungarian Dwarf, whom they helped elect with their antics, is not a student of Bush or Giuliani, but a fervent disciple of Ariel Sharon. He believes that this mess is profitable, the bloodier the better. This is the same motherfucker who started the upheaval in the banlieues to get elected just 18 months later. What made you think your fat unionist ass full of Ricard would make him flinch? 

Sarkozy will send the shock troops to kick your demonstrating behinds. Ready to make you work, for a change. And all that dole you accumulated for decades at the Sécurité Sociale, and through various “Comités d’entreprise”—that don’t mean shit. He’s always got pension funds as backup, dummy! Your retirement pension is history, period. And it’s about time you learned about the facts of life. See, the Hungarian Dwarf has no shame; he doesn’t give a flying fuck about your Fine Republic, with its peculiarities and its welfare state. He got a guy on foreign affairs who openly works as though he was leading the foreign policy of Israel. He’s gonna remind you that your real Boss is not gaining weight and jerking off at your local Union headquarters, or the watering hole next to it. The real boss is home, kicking ass in his office. Yours. 

I for one won’t cry over your lost perks. Apart from being a pain in the neck for the rest of general population, you’re a bunch of Ricard-marinated slackers, all too happy to let the Socialists rob us for decades. You’re also thick-headed citizens, supporting the war on drugs, long prison sentences, TV reality shows, family values. I don’t recall seeing any of you out in the street when your Fine Republic, with a Fine Socialist Prime minister, robbed us starving artists—motherfucking real people who have to hustle in the bustle—of our 20% tax break. So I’m gonna sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

The Hungarian Dwarf will buy off half of your leaders who are all sellouts who will do backflips before him as soon they see dollar signs. The population in general, and justifiably so, was never with you. See, in our streets, we have no unions, the cops kick ass and take names, and when you’re sick no one gives you methadone. So if you’re not in the best of health, well too bad, motherfucker, you should take better care of yourself. While at the first sign of your Ricard-livers giving out — so much time to drink during strikes — they send ambulances to get you in a nice bed, where you’re X-rayed and given opiates. The Hungarian Dwarf’s gonna change all that. He ain’t funding your cirrhosis no more. The Hungarian Dwarf will brow-beat the rest of your leaders, because resentment against your striking asses grows by the hour, robbing the rest of us of our much needed narcotics-and-liquor budget, making life impossible. You deserve the Dwarf. You made him what he is. Your two-bit Unionists are not to be overlooked in half-assed street battles with students. But you motherfuckers don’t realize the dwarf started the French Intifadah in the Paris suburbs, he lives on this shit. He’ll send jack-booted SWAT teams to kick-start your slacking asses back to work. So about time you took your hands off your dicks. And you will get screwed by the pension funds. Wake up, bitch. It’s the 21st century.


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