We really are facing a unique time as Americans. Not since the heyday of Vice President Dan Quayle have we had a government so easy to mock relentlessly. Florida in the 2000 election has nothing on Freedom Fries.

Unless you're hiding under a rock, and one could hardly blame you if you were, you've heard that the U.S. House of Representatives changed the name of "French Toast" and "French Fries" in the house cafeteria to "Freedom Toast" and "Freedom Fries," because those damn Frenchies are being so difficult with their whole "not wanting war" stance. This decision is more than worth it's comedic weight in Idaho gold. The French kiss and French tickler jokes have been coming fast and furious, but I have to relate a personal story, one that I fear has betrayed both my conscience and my country.

You see, I went out for breakfast today. I had to drop my car off to get the oil changed, and had some time to kill up in Evanston. So I ambled off to the New Orleans-styled Dixie Kitchen and Bait Shop, and was confronted with the specials for the day. The "Big Easy" had two eggs, bacon or sausage, potatoes, and pancakes, for a very reasonable $3.99. However, two items down was the same meal, but with French toast instead of pancakes. Somehow, I was drawn to this simple substitution, which resulted in a dish wittily called "The French Quarter." While I've reconciled the idea of war in my head, apparently my heart knows differently, because I couldn't resist the idea of thick slices of bread dipped in egg and fried on a griddle, with a smattering of powdered sugar and covered in syrup. It was unpatriotic, but delicious. And did I mention unpatriotic? Maybe that explains the crappy service I got, as my server must have seen me for the traitor that I am. Anyway, it's only a matter of time before every greasey diner has a video camera, before every McDonald's drive-thru patches it's audio directly to John Ashcroft's office.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to the inevitable anti-war brunch buffets this weekend.