Supplemental: Live and direct from Paris, France!

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2014

The planet’s most foppish person: Until today, there was still a debate on a very basic question.

As of today, that debate has been settled. Rather plainly, Pamela Druckerman is the most foppish person on Earth.

As usual, Druckerman’s New York Times column is live and direct from Paris, France, scene of her various conquests and musings. She has lived in Paris for something like a dozen years with her (inevitably) British husband, who doesn’t seem able to spell his own last name.

According to the leading authorities, the husband in question—Simon Kuper—“writes about sports ‘from an anthropologic perspective.’” We’ve seen no one explain why you’d go to Paris to do something like that.

As for Druckerman, she has steadily documented her greatness since decamping for Paris. Examples:

In 2012, she wrote a best-selling book about the fact that French children and parents are just so much better than ours. The year before, she wrote an autobiographical thriller for (what else?) Marie Claire:

September 10, 2011
How I Planned a MÉNAGE À TROIS
When Pamela Druckerman's husband asked for a threesome for his 40th birthday, she reluctantly agreed, on one condition—that she pick the other woman.
By Pamela Druckerman

Warning: the piece goes on and on and on. No one has ever finished it.

Last year, Druckerman published a piece in the New York Times about the delicate task of doing psychotherapy in French. In this morning’s piddlerich column, she helps us see just how different everything is over there:

DRUCKERMAN (11/11/14): Even the rituals of friendship are different here. The Canadian writer Jean-Benoît Nadeau, who just spent a year in Paris, says there are clues that a French person wants to befriend you: She tells you about her family; she uses self-deprecating humor; and she admits that she likes her job. There’s also the fact that she speaks to you at all. Unlike North Americans, “the French have no compunction about not talking to you.”

Those French! They’re nothing like us!

Druckerman had been documenting her difference for quite a long time now. Today, though, the foppish pundit settled our longest-running dispute with the very subject of her column.

Druckerman’s column starts like this, headline included:

DRUCKERMAN: How to Be French

I have an unusual item on my to-do list, wedged between home repairs and unwritten thank-you notes: Become French. I’ve begun the long process of gathering documents to apply for French citizenship.

I’ll remain American, too, of course. I’d be a dual citizen. But becoming French would bring perks. I could vote in French and European elections, stand in faster lines at some airports, work anywhere in the European Union and—crucially—make my children French, too.

But adopting a new nationality, even one from the place I’ve lived for more than 10 years, raises existential issues. I’ve gotten used to being a foreigner. I’m not sure I’m ready to abandon my otherness, which has become an identity in itself.

Tremendous volumes of nonsense follow. But Druckerman ended the longest-running dispute with her reference to the “existential issues” involved in her attempt to abandon her otherness.

At that point, we had a winner. Rather plainly, Pamela Druckerman is most foppish of all!

It’s astounding that the New York Times wants to publish drivel like this. More depressing is the reverence which gets extended through comments.

Readers bow to the obvious greatness of the Parisian analyst. Do you want to know why there’s no hope for the world?

Just read the Druckerman comments!

Poor Druckerman! She wrestles today with the existential questions raised by her otherness, which has become an identity in itself.

Across the nation, enthralled Times readers continue to swallow her cant.