Et maintenant ces abrutis haïssent les Allemands !

pendus_Jq-Callot

Jacques CALLOT, “Grandes Misères de la Guerre”, 1633, British Museum.
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Partout les arrières petits-enfants des adeptes de la Terreur ne rêvent que de ça… Ils ont haï les protestants, et puis ils ont haï les nobles, et haï les ci-devant, et haï les vendéens, et haï les bourgeois, et haï les riches, et haï les juifs, et haï les arabes, et haï les hutus et les tutsis, et haï les chiites et les sunni, et haïs les …. bon allez j’arrête vous avez compris.

Avant ils haïssaient les boches et maintenant j’entends à la radio qu’ils haïssent les allemands… Mon Dieu, pardonnez-leur car ils ne savent pas ce qu’ils font (ni ce qu’ils disent)…

C’est toujours la même vieille histoire du bouc émissaire dont a parlé magnifiquement René Girard. Et ça tourne en boucle depuis la nuit des temps parce qu’ils n’ont pas de cerveau. Juste des tripes. Des tripes qui sentent mauvais comme tous les abats. Ils ont le front bas des sans-culotte et c’est pour ça que l’avenir est sombre. Comme disait le vieux Bob Dylan, it’s a rain’s a-gonna fall…

Les paroles ci-dessous pour ceux à qui ça rappelle de bons souvenirs…

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
And where have you been my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s you gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue eyed son?
And what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
I heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you meet my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded in hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

And what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what’ll you do now my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest
Where the people are a many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and speak it and think it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my songs well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

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