My forefathers saturated what were once pristine fields of this great nation with the blood of British regulars. It’s a fine proud history for the birth of any republic. The French did it differently. The French stormed a fortress guarded by old soldiers who had been permanently disfigured in combat. The French rounded up every fop with a patch and powdered wig and made them kneel under a blade. When they ran out of white wigs, they started killing their brothers in arms. It was a gory revolution, filled with tales of both cowardice and bravery, weakness and strength, glory and shame. And while the first attempt didn’t quite hold, France eventually slayed the hydra of tyranny. Happy Bastille Day, France. Here’s a playlist for those psychotic mobs who bought you your freedom.
