Of Fat Men and Frenchmen

I am always amused that Republicans think they can be friends with Democrats and their media toadies. They think back to best buds of yesteryear, like Sam Nunn or Scoop Jackson, or when Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neil drank beer together. There is an air of desperation about it all, like so many Sally Fields: "You like me, you really like me!"

Except they don't. Oh, they will pretend to be pals when it's politically expedient, like when they're setting up a softie candidate for the presidential nomination, only to commence evisceration the very next morning (hello, John McCain, are you there?). Or when, say, a Teddy Kennedy needed George Bush on board for No Child Left Behind. He was all sweetness and light, but as soon as the ink was dry, he reverted to form as the poster boy for Bush haters everywhere.

And then there's this:

Arguably, Christie gave the election to Obama with the famous bro-hug. Note that this weird, sideways facing posture is surely the result of both men wanting to face towards the press corps. What Obama gained is clear enough, but Christie? He thought he had a new friend, and it never hurts when that friend is POTUS, right?

How naive, and now Christie knows just how much so. The Justice Department, which has been nothing if not Obama's lapdog, is now probing not one but two Christie-related scandals. (They apparently have plenty of time on their hands given their indifference to the IRS scandal, among others.) One, of course, is a traffic jam, clearly a matter of federal import. The other is the possible misallocation of Hurricane Sandy funds. (I happen to view the latter somewhat more seriously, but that's another matter.)

The point is, Republicans, I'm talking to you. Stop being such idiotic fools. Hellooo, McFly. Democrats are not your friends. They hate you and think you're evil. Get over your Stockholm Syndrome and grow a pair.

And so the Frenchman, Hollande. They play by a different set of rules in France, don't they? Imagine a place where absolutely no personal judgements were passed on any sort of personal behavior. A liberal paradise, non? Welcome to modern France, where matters libertine are confused with sophistication.

A little background is called for. For the moment, let's look past the fact that Hollande, a bespectacled socialist class-warrior, has five, count 'em, five names. Francois Gerard Georges Nicolas Hollande. For the moment.

For a long time, Hollande dated this woman:

Segolene Royal

They had four kids together, but marriage seemed like a hopelessly provincial thing to do, so they never bothered...

Then, Hollande started cheating on Royal with this woman, a political journalist (cue bad John Edwards memories):

 

Valerie Trierweiler

Soon, he blew off Royal and Trierweiler moved in. None of this bothered the French, because they then elected Hollande as president. Trierweiler became First Lady, because in France being the president's main squeeze is close enough (see marriage, provincial). Trierweiler receives all the perks that any First Lady would, including staff, cars, all expenses paid travel, etc.

Now, it seems Hollande is cheating on Trierweiler with this woman:

Julie Gayet

Still with me? I hope so, because it gets better. It is now unclear whether Trierweiler gets to keep playing First Lady. That appears to be up to Hollande. I'm sure that conversation will go well. Hey, Val, got a minute? I'm dumping you for someone else, and, oh, would you mind moving out of the palace by tomorrow?

Does Gayet get to become the new First Lady? Hell if I know. What I do know is that Hollande's approval rating has actually ticked up, a possible referendum on Gayet's hotness. Or maybe the French are just a nation of dissolute layabouts and we should try very hard not to be like them.