[embedyt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_JOGmXpe5I[/embedyt]Marquel, TPVs NYTimes Distance Carnage Section correspondent was taking pictures of cats when he read French Premier Declares ‘War’ on Radical Islam as Paris Girds for Rally. Law enforcement officials appealed to the public to help find Hayat Boumeddiene, the girlfriend of Amedy Coulibaly, who took hostages at a banlieu kosher supermarket.
Marquel couldn’t suppress his surprise. A kosher supermarket? Chopped liver in exchange? Tasteless brisket? Kasha varnishkes? Maybe kishke. Known these days by faux Jews as stuffed derma. How did this poor French Muslim from the banlieues know she was in the right section. Marquel didn’t know how he’d find a proper hostage in a kosher market or even if they had a hostage section. But any smart kosher Parisian businessman should know to have one.
Why not a Jewish bank or a grand magasin? They’re filled with rich Jews. This woman was an idiot. Strangely, Marquel felt more angry at the incompetence of the terrorists than the massacre itself. Marquel could remember when a good hostage crisis could last a week with barely a casualty. But these idiots turned the entire world against them because they lacked training.
No more nostalgia, Marquel resolved. Everybody is searching for this woman. But the attack wasn’t against Jews. It was a magazine that published satire. Specifically jokes about Muslims. Marquel gulped. But also about every other conceivable group in the world. They probably made fun of elephants by showing them having anal sex with Mohammed. With their trunks. Ew. A clear insult to elephants. But then why pick on the Jews? Most Jews don’t know which end is up when it comes to elephants. Everybody knows Jews are a cat people. Something convenient, easy to flush, and requiring little attention. Marquel thought the whole world must be going crazy.
The world had come together, it seemed. For how long? Marquel hoped desperately that this would be a turning point. He’d felt that before but this time it was definitely and unmistakably stronger. Only time will tell if the Times can maintain its attention span. Perhaps the entire staff should take Ritalin for a month.
Meanwhile Marquel wanted to get to the root of the matter. He called Mufi who was right in the middle of his annual reprise of the Beijing banquet he gives for the Chinese ruling committee every year.
“This year it was like a gustatory pun” he told me. “I served dim sum of dim sum. Thousands of tiny dim sums instead of your standard two spring rolls. Little tiny miniature dim sums that fill an individual bowl. Quite a hit.
Over five dynasties and no one had ever created it. Lo mein of lo mein. Same principle. The hit was curry of curry. That was the biggest hit.”
I interrupted him to ask about the Paris tragedy. “What’s going on Mufi? Just more of the same? Do they want a war over a magazine?” I asked.
“No it’s much more general than that. Their religion, which isn’t Islam in the slightest, is all they have after domination for their oil by the West. Caricatures and offenses of all they have left is kind of a default for all their many complaints. But talk to Chuck L’experte, he’s in New York right now. He left me a note. Let me see. Washington Square at 2. Go down there. You’ll find him easily. I promise you.”
I went to Washington Square. For a sub zero day there were a lot of people. A guy played a Steinway while a vinyl clad woman climbed up and down a pole with no goal apparently in mind.
I found Chuck right away. “Chuck! I’m Marquel, a friend of Mufi’s!” I exclaimed.
“Sorry, I’m Norman Epstein. I don’t know any Mufi” he said.
How could I have made that mistake. He was supposed to be instantly recognizable. But everyone had a French accent. So again I spotted him right away. I decided I’d be more formal. “M L’Expèrt, I’m Mufi’s friend.”.
“Sorry, my name’s not L’Expèrt.” He said with a Gallic shrug.
“C’est une blague, oui?” He asked if I were joking.
He looked at me with contempt. He switched to English do demonstrate my idiocy. “Sir, today everyone here is Charlie. You, you, too, are Charlie aren’t you?” He asked.
He pointed across the crowd. “Eet weel be very deeficult today, monsieur.”
“May I ask who you are looking for? Zee French community here ees relatively small.”
“Yes, Chuck L’Expèrt.” I said.
He pointed to the arch where a man with no sign was being interviewed. “Zat ees heem. Very distinguished. Très bien connu.”
“I thought today it might seem self promotional. I am, after all, actually Charlie.”
He gave me a warm Gallic embrace which are the warmest of all and I hoped it wouldn’t end. But he stopped and answered, “we can only hope, and work, for it to last a long time. We can’t afford to lose this one. “
“That’s a start,” he said, “You’re very important.”
Marquel, where you at the rally today? I was there
i was there too
moi aussi. je suis charlie
the world should come together against violence and extremism of any kind
yes. we should stop the violence
well said
Well, oui et no, Charlie was there. Wasn’t that the point?