But French crackers will sit there and wonder why I hate them to death. They can't just fuckin leave like the unasked-for, unwanted thieves they are-- no, gotta sew another hundred hecatombs of death in the motherland just because they cracker-assed feelings got hurt by they eviction. Death to France, may its masterworks be rendered rubble and its grounds be salted. I dream of a world where the Eiffel Tower has become a slag pile, and the Notre Dame Cathedral burned for the final time.