What if France is real? We always ask the opposite (all of us, always), but we never ask this question. What if it turns out to exist? What if France is a real place? With real people? And real gas stations? And real ants building real little anthills and making that “haw haw haw” noise the French always allegedly make? (Sorry, I don’t know how to spell the noise.)
Well, it would imply that baguettes also exist.
It would imply that the Eiffel Tower also exists.
It would imply that Eiffel 65, presumably named in part after the Eiffel Tower, also exists.
It would imply that the singer in Eiffel 65 has a blue house with a blue window, which would in turn imply that said house and said window exist.
It would imply that berets exist.
It would imply that mimes exist, or at least their doppelgängers.
It would imply that there is a South of France, which would imply that Ingrid Michaelson’s song, “You and I,” is not about an acid trip.
It would imply that flights to France are not flights to one’s doom and that I should probably stop trying to save people from getting on them at the airport.
It would imply that I’m going to have a much more difficult court case than I thought.
It would imply that I should maybe try to reach a settlement with the FAA.
It would imply that Formula 1 exists.
