Bring on Monday: The Republican Arc | Slate.fr

Bring on Monday: The Republican Arc | Slate.fr
Bring on Monday: The Republican Arc | Slate.fr

Reading time: 2 minutes

You see Cupid’s bow and its little arrows full of love, which make everyone fall in love instantly without ever asking questions about the chosen one of their heart? Well, the Republican bow, basically, it’s not quite the opposite, but not far off. Let’s say that if Cupid wielded the Republican bow rather than that of love, the spell would last a little less long, and quite quickly the questions of the hooked atoms would strongly arise.

Do you see William Tell’s bow? The most precise of tools that shoots arrows right into the bull’s eye without ever causing collateral damage among the most vulnerable members of a population? Well, let’s just say that if William Tell had wielded the republican bow instead, I would honestly prefer to be in the apple’s place rather than his son’s. Because the one we think would not end up as compote or tarte tatin.

No, I tell myself that to get as close as possible to the vision of the Republican arc that was put in place in this week between the two rounds, it is better to imagine Ray Charles at the final rounds of archery in a Games that are not at all Paralympic. There, suddenly, it is closer to the political reality of the moment. Everyone on the ground, in PLS.

Because if the Republican bow in 2002, 2017 or 2022 seemed to be made of reinforced titanium with an infrared binocular scope and arrows connected to GPS by Bluetooth, it is because people on the left were asked to handle it to aim at the target on the right (even when the target claimed to be neither right nor left, to end up where we know, that is to say off the ground). When we ask people on the right to do the opposite for once, it is not the same vinaigrette.

Yes, these seven days between the two rounds will have been an opportunity to verify that the democratic dignity of a part of the right and of Macronie has nothing to envy in the current quality of the waters of the Seine, and many of them have shot themselves in the foot. But alas, it is we who risk limping for a moment because of their malicious clumsiness.

Many of them have held their noses in the face of the Republican arc and instead taken big breaths of air from the side of the bazooka with its brown stench like the septic tanks of the National Rally.

On the eve of a vote made terribly indispensable by a very dispensable wearer of a cap and leather jacket from another time, the breath of a catastrophe begins to stir the hair that has stood on end. The Republican arc seems a modest toothpick in the face of the RN candidates, a tsunami of stupidity, incompetence, and danger, and undoubtedly winners of the worst political casting since the appointment to positions of responsibility of Aurore Bergé.

Yet we must hope that this thin and fragile toothpick, like the reed in Jean de la Fontaine’s fable, bends but does not break in the face of the gigantic oak, whose bark has been made as hard as stone by the racist ravings of incompetents and the permanent complacency of the media.

Yes, it’s not a joy, because from here, it looks insurmountable, this oak. And it produces acorns.

Looking forward to… Monday?

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