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The War Nerd September 4, 2003
Corsica: Beware of Scooters
By Gary Brecher Browse author Email
Page 2 of 3
On to something a little lighter, like I promised. Iraq was getting me down, so I decided to find the most harmless little no-contact, flag-football war in the world and write it up. I figured it had to be one of the little boutique wars in Europe, so I looked them all up. It blew me away how many of them there are over there. Like the Basques.

When's the last time you heard about the Basque war of liberation?

Hell, when's the last time you thought about Basques, period? Last I heard they were all herding sheep in Nevada, poor bastards.

Turns out the Basques claim a chunk of land in southern France and northern Spain, and a few of them are willing to kill for it. But kill in a fag-ass Eurotrash way. The Basque rebel "army," ETA, has been officially at war with Spain for 20-odd years. Every year they set off a couple of lame little bombs and kill some poor Spanish cop or mayor on his way to work. The idea with this kind of war isn't to win battles. There are no battles. It's just to make the papers and the tv news a couple of times a year. Just to keep ETA's name out there. It's war the way a Hollywood agent would do it.

The whole thing is unreal, because the Spanish Guardia Civil (sort of a cross between the Mounties and the FBI) knows the name of every last member of ETA. There's only a few hundred of them anyway. The Spanish could kill every last one in a few hours. But they're too "nice." Which means too pathetic, too weak, too just plain cowardly. So they let these guys plant a few bombs, kill a few cops, and arrest one every now and then.

Try that shit in a real country, like anyplace in East Asia, and your relatives will be insisting on a closed coffin at your funeral next week, because the cops won't kill you fast and easy. They frown on amateur terrorism out there.

But in Europe you can get away with this crap for decades. It just proves what I'm always saying: the world is goin' Fag Planet faster than the leading man in your high-school drama class.

But it gets worse. Reading up on all the fake liberation armies in Europe, I realized that the Basques are the goddamn Wehrmacht compared to some of the other backyard rebels they've got over there. There are bowling teams scarier than these armies. They're what my grandpa used to call "brush-poppers," cowards who popped up behind a hedge and shot you in the back.

It was a tough call picking the dumbest and fakest one of all. There were some real beauties, like the Scottish Something-or-other army, and the Catalonian People's Something...I'm still not sure where Catalan is on the map, never mind why these guys think it should have its own anthem and license plates. You read up on all this stupid shit from America and you think why don't the fuckers just move if they don't like the neighbors? All this crap about "countries" smaller than Kern County. And uglier, if that's physically possible.

And who's the fakest of them all? The envelope, please.... Ladies and gentlemen, our winner is the FLNC!

Never heard of them? I don't blame you. Well, for starters, FLNC stands for "Fronte di Liberazione Naziunale di a Corsica."

Now if you know anything about war, you should have recognized one word, "Corsica." Corsica's just a little island between France and Italy, but it did produce one guy who was pretty good at war. Short guy, funny hat, name of "Bonaparte." Yeah, him.

Unfortunately Corsican military glory began and ended with the Little Corporal. But they do have this "war" for independence (from the French), run by the FLNC. This pitiful excuse for a war officially started in 1976, when the FLNC made a big announcement and ran up the Corsican flag. The FLNC supposedly has 600 soldiers, but they never shoot anybody except each other. That's why they won the title as lamest army in the world: they never, ever try to kill the French troops in Corsica, but they're savage murderers when it comes to each other.

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Gary Brecher
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Email Gary at, but, more importantly, buy his book.

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Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops : Courtesy of Sergey the Tweeker


Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops
Automotive Section
We’re happy to introduce a new column in which we publish Moscow’s raw radio communications, courtesy of a Russian amateur radio enthusiast. This issue, eXile readers are given a peek into the secret conversations of Moscow’s traffic police, the notorious "GAIshniki."

Eleven Years of Threats: The eXile's Incredible Journey
Feature Story By The eXile
Good Night, and Bad Luck: In a nation terrorized by its own government, one newspaper dared to fart in its face. Get out your hankies, cuz we’re taking a look back at the impossible crises we overcame.

Your Letters
Russia's freedom-loving free market martyr Mikhail Khodorkovsky answers some of this week's letters, and he's got nothing but praise for President Medvedev.

Clubbing Adventures Through Time
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eXile club reviewer Babooshka takes a trip through time with the ghost of Moscow clubbing past, present and future, and true to form, gets laid in the process.

The Fortnight Spin
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Jared comes out with yet another roundup of upcoming bardak sessions.

Your Letters
Richard Gere tackles this week's letters. Now reformed, he fights for gerbil rights all around the world.

13 Toxic Talents: Hollywood’s Worst Polluters
America By Eileen Jones
Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...


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