Emmanuel Macron was playing a violent video game and losing. The zombies were just too fast and somehow they were getting smart. Macron thought they had no brains. He was the leader of France – surely he should always win the game against the enemy.
“I blame the children!” Emmanuel said to a long hollow room, once owned by one of the fascist kings of France, Louis the 2000th. His voice echoed back through time! “My name is Emmanuel, which is one of the many names of Jesus. I and my parents were good Catholics. I am not garbage! My name tells me that I must be a god and always in the right! I will tell the parents of France to keep their kids locked up without supper, send them to bed nice and early, and if they try to loiter on the streets of Paris, I will declare martial law. My good friend – a brother from another mother – Justin Trudeau did the same to his filthy childish people. Lock ‘em up and take away their money and brand them as bad – that way the leader appears good!”
Emmanuel put his game on “Pause” and poured himself a tall glass of champagne before looking out the tall window, down into the streets of Paris.
“Mon Dieu! The streets are burning! I must go on vacation! Maybe to Algiers? No, too soon – and now they’re coming here! I must ban video games and rap music and anything children like. I am an adult, and when the streets of Paris burn, I am the hose!”
He downed his champagne, cracked open the window, unzipped his pants, and let loose a golden stream that would douse all the freedoms and equalities and fraternities of La France.
Louis the Sun King laughed in his grave, and sipped a Burgundy Chardonnay from 1711, Year of Our Lord, Satan.