Papotage is French, you know. Published by a French bistro—owned by a French-American named Florent, serving up paté, gratinée, steak frites, and boudin noir for more than 18 years.
     It was only a matter of time, nous supposons, before we received the following email:

should we really be employing french words in our
everyday lives? remember, the french "stood up"
to the Nazis by eagerly rounding up their own french
Jewish citizens and delivering them, like so many fresh
pizzas, to the Nazis. you should boycott french fries,
french toast, french vanilla and french stewart. we
should also put the U.N. atop of the future World Trade
Center buildings.
i hope you choke on your bouillabaise.

Of course, our first thought was: There are two s’s in bouillabaisse, asshole. But then, deliberately misspelling a "french" word was probably his intention.
     As was, no doubt, his lowercasing of French—which is an interesting choice when you note that Nazi is capped, yet his "i" is not. (Does he hate himself as much—or as arbitrarily—as he hates the new French resistance?)
     Because his letter seems so clever, we also hate to point out that acrylimide-rich, cholestrol-laden pommes frites originated in Belgium and that egg-soaked bread on a grill comes to us from a Massachusetts man named French.
     And, as for "employing French words in our everyday lives," where would Monsieur Belliqueux’s misguided anger go if the French hadn’t given us the word terroriste? And how successful would his war be without the matériel to wage it?
     Vive la France! Vive la Paix! DeVillepin for President!