Republican Congressman Ernest Istook is running for governor of Oklahoma. One of the hot-button issues Istook has raised is that Oklahoma should declare English its official language. The congressman also seeks such legislation at the national level.
If Istook succeeds, it will be none too soon. No news yet from Democratic incumbent Brad Henry or other Republican gubernatorial candidates on which languages they are supporting. English sure has my support, and I’m glad to know it has Istook’s, too.
Personally, I’m sick and tired of people crossing our borders, bringing with them their foreign cultures, foreign foods, and foreign languages. Melting pot, schmelting pot. Everywhere I go these days I’m surrounded by indecipherable foreign words. It boggles the mind. Let’s get this thing settled once and for all. We speak English here, thank you, and you can just take all those funny-sounding foreign words back where you came from.
I’m especially talking about French. Everywhere I turn, it’s French this and French that. We have let so many Frenchisms slip into our everyday vocabulary that I don’t know if we’re speaking English or Franglish. Come on, it’s not pants (short for the sissy French word, “pantaloons”), it’s trousers. It’s not gasoline, it’s petrol. And for English’s sake, it’s not French fries, it’s chips. Can you imagine how the British must feel when they come to America and see how the Francophiles among us have convoluted the Queen’s English on this side of the pond!
Don’t you just hate it when you hear someone order “a la carte,” or tell you they are “en route,” or ask you to give them “carte blanche,” or attempt to achieve a “coup d’etat.” Every business person wants to be an “entrepreneur.” Every cook wants to be a “gourmet.” If it’s good, it can’t just be good, it has to be “par excellence.” If it’s bad, it’s not just a mistake, it’s a “faux pas,” or even worse, a “gaffe.” Some of these words are hard to say, and they are all hard to spell. Who needs them! I’m with Rep. Istook. Why can’t we just stick to plain old English?
Of course, the place where the French have really got us in a chokehold is in the kitchen. With all their hors d’oeuvres and sautés and soufflés, everything slathered with mayonnaise and marinades. French toast. French bread. French pastry. French vanilla. French dressing. French fries. Man, those French love to eat.
The French have even infiltrated our military, so much so that I believe it has become a national security issue. Our men and women in uniform wear “camouflage,” carry “bayonets,” engage in “sabotage” and “espionage,” and have frequent “rendezvous.” (What’s the plural of rendezvous, anyway? Can’t the French get anything right?)
Even conservatives admit that they prefer it “laissez faire.” I guess the French really have won. Fait accompli.
Have you ever received an invitation to a party from some effete Francophile who noted on the card, “RSVP?” Wink, wink. Don’t think you’re fooling me, you cosmopolitan snob. I know what your little French abbreviation means. “Repondez, s’il vous plait,” my foot. It’s just another way of saying, “Only French-lovers need reply.”
The other day I was at IHOP, and the guy at the next table ordered an “omelette.” Give me a break. That’s an egg pancake around here, mister. Then the woman he was with ordered a “Spanish omelette.” Isn’t that so multi-cultural it makes you gag! This is the good ole U.S. of A. Have the Western omelette — err, I mean the Western fried egg – you French-lover.
I don’t want the soup “du jour” and I don’t want my potatoes “au gratin” and I don’t want my steaks “filet mignon.” I don’t want to wear cologne, I don’t want to watch films noir, and I don’t want to live on a cul-de-sac (well, actually, cul-de-sacs are kind of nice, but I’m no Frank, so I prefer to call them circle drives). I don’t want to be avante-garde or bon vivant or have panache or savoir faire. I just want to be a good old red-white-and-blue American.
Did you know that there are more than 13 million Frenchies, I mean French-Americans (I sure wouldn’t want to be politically incorrect) in the United States! Almost 2 million of them speak French as the primary language in their homes, according to the U.S. census. That’s right here in America! Is there any hope for our nation?
How many of them are even here lawfully? How many of them have illegally crossed the U.S.-Canadian border? When are we going to finally beef up our border security? Congress is talking about erecting a 15-foot wall along the U.S.-Mexican border, but they’ve got it all wrong. That’s not going to stop the French invasion. What we really need is a 4,000-mile wall running along the U.S.-Canadian border. It’ll cost a pretty penny, but it will be worth every dime if it helps to keep our families safe – safe from the French, and all of their French foods and French ways and funny French words.
Let’s be honest and call a frog a frog. They look different than us. They think differently than us. They talk differently than us. And they’re taking over our country, while we sit quietly by and do nothing. America is quickly becoming the Western States of the French Republic. You can’t watch TV or see a movie anymore without being bombarded with Frenchies. Robin Williams. Robert Duvall. Angelina Jolie. Ellen DeGeneres. Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Zooey Deschanel. Stephen Colbert. The list goes on and on. Back in the day, we all thought Shelley Fabares was cute as a button and we all loved Robert Goulet, but it’s gotten way out of hand.
We must draw the line somewhere, and Rep. Istook is exactly right about where. Let’s make English the official language and start cracking down on the use of all these French words in our government, our schools, and everywhere else you turn. If we don’t do something, one day all of our kids will be wearing sissy berets and going around saying “oui, oui” and “bon voyage” and “déjà vu” and “c’est la vie.”
This is America, doggonit, and as long as Lady Liberty continues to stand in New York harbor, as long as it still says “E pluribus unum” on our coins, and as long as this state is still proud to claim its Choctaw name, “Oklahoma,” then English is the only language for me. And that’s how I’m going to decide my vote in the upcoming gubernatorial election.