Thursday, August 03, 2006

Aucun Sherlock de Merde

Dominique de Villepin, the former French foreign minister and current prime minister, is a strutting, weasly, quasi-Napoleon-wannabe (without the militarism), as well as a lying, back-stabbing, anti-American Eurochauvanist (which, I guess, is a windy way of saying he's, well, French). But one appellation you can not hang on the man is that he's got snail-snot for brains.

His successor as foreign minister, on the othe hand, had it coming out his ears, as well as his mouth, today:

Days after calling Iran a "stabilizing" force in the Middle East, French Foreign Minister Philippe Douste-Blazy issued a statement harshly criticizing Iran's call on Thursday to destroy Israel.

"I totally condemn these words," Douste-Blazy said on France-Inter radio, in response to Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's statement Thursday that the solution to the current Middle East crisis was to destroy Israel.

"Peace and security in Lebanon and its borders has to be preserved by the Lebanese government and people. Deployment of foreign forces is not acceptable in any shape unless it is just, based on UN rules and preserves the unity and territorial integrity of Lebanon," he said.

The words are "absolutely unacceptable on anyone's part, especially from a head of state," Douste-Blazy said.

Douste-Blazy said that the crisis had presented an opportunity for Iran to "show that it can play a positive and stabilizing role in the region," but added that Ahmadinejad's statement "confirmed that this is not the case."

Am I the only one who is reminded by this guy's name of the early human reproduction segment of high school biology class? Never mind.

I don't marvel at D-B's naïf-like whiplash. Ahmadinejad has only been raving about wiping Israel off the face of the planet for the past year since his "election." Why would a bloody French diplomat, much less the chief one, locked in endless rounds of futile nuclear negotiations with the government Ahmadinejad fronts, possibly have heard about it? And now he's shocked and disappointed that Iran didn't live up to the fantasy standard he had constructed for them in his own thermos-full-of-pleghm mind.

This week, anyway. All it would take to win back D-B would be another Iranian poobah - a "moderate" ayatollah - apologizing for their "president's" latest outburst and bloviating exactly what the "international community" wants to hear, and the mullahgarchy would once again be a "partner for peace" and major seat at the table of the "regional settlement" D-B would doubtless want to convene.

The sad truth for the latest winner of the Captain Louis Renault award is that it is doubtful that the Iranians pay any attention to what he says, because by his very idiotic fecklessness, and that of the government he represents and the continental culture of socialist decadence and obsessive appeasement he typifies, they don't have to listen to him, much less heed the words he says. They have contempt for him and France and the EU; as far as they're concerned Westerners like D-B are already dhimmis just waiting to be conquered. Just like Hitler dismissed any remaining threat from Neville Chamberlain and Eduard Daladier after the Munich Conference, so the mullahs have stopped taking such diplidiots seriously.

Even sadder, and more ominous for us, is that by deferring to the EUnuchs on dealing with Iran's nuclear ambitions, the Bush Administration has vastly diminished its own Middle East "street cred," painstakingly regained in the invasion of Iraq, as well. Teheran cannot ignore us because of our status as benevolent global hegemon, but they are convinced that they can and will defeat us and drive us from the Middle East altogether based upon one core article of faith: that we do not possess the will to resist them.

Without proven fangs behind it, diplomacy with dictators cannot succeed and usually proves to be counterproductive and easily exploited. The French were already openly toothless. Now their top diplomat has shown himself to be utterly clueless as well.

It's somehow fitting, in a perverse sort of way.