Gilets Jaunes: The End of Dystopia | WHAT REALLY HAPPENED


Gilets Jaunes: The End of Dystopia

The French are the best. The men don’t get fat. The women don’t sleep alone. The kids are well-behaved. They have the best architecture, the best way of living, best bread, best wine, best olive oil, best cooking, some of the best writing, films, painting, poetry, perfume – and women. They also excel in revolutions. Each revolution of theirs is a peach, perfect, round and juicy. They open a new epoch for mankind.

Just thinking of a French revolution makes me feel young, for I remember the previous one, in May 1968, and it was a beauty, the revolution of Forbidden to Forbid. It ushered us into the short-living paradise of permissible. Believe it or not, we could freely flirt with the opposite sex, we could smoke in the pubs and cafés, we could have a drink and drive. We could rent a room for small price, and roam Europe for $5 a day. Workers weren’t fired, jobs were aplenty, there were no one-year contracts, parking was free and gasoline cheap. Oh yes, and the cotton was high.

Previously, the world had been hard, cold and rigid – more or less the way it is now, with prohibitions overtaking permissions. Half a century had passed since then, and the world is ripe for a new French revolution – and it came, the GJ rising. And in time for Christmas, making it an excellent gift for us all.

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