The French in America. Like a good French boy, he had taken Le-American-Speak, or the part of high school that is used to titillate American adolescents that they, themselves, are actually super-heros who run around the alleyways of downtown literate Gotham in their underpants. I never kid. They have to know this is bad. Oh, they do. Know. But good or bad does not concern them. In fact, there is nothing that concerns them. Maybe what they are going to wear, and the hair needs to be perfect. But what is going on behind those eyes. Absolutely nothing. If you looked inside, it would be a vast abyss. It might be best if we all just gave the lot of them new cars. They would go away. They could only come back to visit when they reach a hundred years. Then, they have to leave, get on the bus. There is your answer. But where do they go to. Canada.