— David Letterman

Listen in on media "chatter" these days and you'll find that the American public's collective ire has been diverted, at least temporarily, from the so-called "axis of evil" to an old, familiar apex of irritation — France.

Historically one of the United States' closest allies, France has in recent weeks achieved the dubious distinction of eclipsing Michael Jackson as a target of ridicule and mistrust for its vocal opposition to pre-emptive military action in Iraq by the United States.

It doesn't necessarily matter that other allied nations feel the same. Germany, for one, was equally resistant to idea of deploying defense forces to Turkey because doing so might undermine ongoing diplomatic negotiations.

No, it is the French — with whom Americans have always shared such a maddening love-hate relationship — who are taking the brunt of the bashing from pundits, politicos and Internet posters in the United States. From Rumsfeld and McCain to Letterman and Leno, a surprisingly broad strip of the American populace has found the old Frog-stomping boots a comfortable fit.

Syndicated columnists are decrying the French lack of gratitude to the country that helped liberate it from the Nazis in World War II. Politicians and religious organizations across America have called for boycotts of French wine and cheese. Poking fun at France's supposed fade as a global power, a much circulated column by National Review Online editor Jonah Goldberg last summer referred to France as "the Betamax of world history."

"I hear the French are sending military consultants into Iraq. Yeah, they have a lot of expertise when it comes to surrendering."

— unknown

Historians argue that America's relationship with France has always been fraught with irony and complication.

When the American colonists sought to free themselves from British rule, they courted Britain's old enemies, the French, for support, a curious choice in some regards in that France itself was ruled by a monarch.

To French intellectuals and critics of the then-ruling Bourbons, America came to represent the Enlightenment ideals of freedom, natural rights and rational reform of government — ideals that would soon inspire the French Revolution of 1789. France's Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen and America's Bill of Rights — both drawing heavily on the doctrine of natural rights — were signed within a month of each other.

The paths of the two nations diverged greatly, of course. The United State's participation in World War II and its subsequent evolution into a superpower radically changed the dynamic between the countries.

Essayists have noted that as America's global influence expanded, particularly after the fall of the Soviet Union, France increasingly defined itself in opposition to U.S. interests, be they military, economic or cultural. As Chris Suellentrop wrote recently for Slate.com: France thinks "its sacred duty is to check American power by publicly and ostentatiously objecting to it from without."

Or, as magazine editor Bill Harby puts it: "It's in (French) genes to spout their opinions about everything."

Harby recently returned to Hawai'i after a six-month stay in Paris. He says that despite escalating tensions between France and the United States, people there made clear distinctions between the American people and the American government.

"My friends there were mostly perplexed," Harby says. "It was mostly, 'Why is (Bush) doing this?' It was mostly about Bush. There's the sense that he doesn't know Europe and he doesn't care.

"There has always been a love-hate relationship," Harby says. "A lot of French people love American culture — rock 'n' roll, blue jeans, fast food — but they think the American government is incredibly arrogant."

"You know why the French don't want to bomb Saddam Hussein? Because he hates America, he loves mistresses and he wears a beret. He is French, people!"

— Conan O'Brien

So strong is anti-French sentiment in some quarters that even restaurant menus have become battle grounds. At Cubbie's in North Carolina, french fries have been renamed "freedom fries" — a move that harkens back to World War II when, in some "patriotic" establishments, sauerkraut became "liberty cabbage" and hamburger became "liberty steak." (Never mind that french fries — pommes frites — actually are Alsatian or Belgian.)

"I think what we're seeing is a reaction to a very stressful time for Americans," says David Meyer, a substitute teacher with both French and U.S. nationality. "Although I think France has very good reasons for its current stance, I also think there's a feeling among Americans that (France is) sort of playing a political game with our security. I think the bashing comes from a kind of frustration with that."

The annual Gallup Poll Social Series Update on World Affairs, released this month, reported a 17-point increase in "unfavorable opinions" of France by Americans. Last year, 70 to 79 percent of Americans polled said they had a favorable opinion of France; 12 to 20 percent reported unfavorable attitudes.

This year, only 59 percent said they have a favorable attitude toward France, while 33 percent reported a negative view. This, according to Gallup, represents the lowest U.S. opinion of France in a decade.

The Internet search engine Google provides another gauge of America's unhappiness with France: On it, a search for "cheese-eating surrender monkeys" turns up more than 6,000 results.

The term, first uttered by Groundskeeper Willie on "The Simpsons," was resurrected in Goldberg's National Review Online column, and has quickly replaced "Frogs" as the French disparagement du jour.

"What we're seeing is scapegoating of the French," says Richard Rapson, a University of Hawai'i American studies professor specializing in U.S. cultural and intellectual history. "There could be hundreds of other countries that disagree with our interests, but it's the French that have been singled out."

Why? Rapson says stereotyping and a clash of cultural values have contributed to an ongoing tension between the two nations. Recent disagreements, while rooted in specific political issues, provide ready-made opportunities to exacerbate those tensions.

"The French represent an alternative view of how to live life, one that is extremely successful and valued around the world," Rapson says. "They believe in the life of the mind, and they are a more sensual culture. They have 35-hour work weeks and long vacations. They have welfare and healthcare policies that we don't.

"We see them as snooty, superior and arrogant, and they see us as materialistic, less-refined, uncouth," he says. "They've always made us uncomfortable with ourselves, just as we do to them."

Rapson recognizes some common themes in many of the jokes about the French.

"A lot of it is, 'We saved you, you ungrateful pigs,' " he says. "A lot of the jokes and comments revolve around the notion that we're courageous and they're cowards. There's also the thought that we're tougher and they're more effeminate and effete."

Many characterizations go well beyond that, of course. A Web site called BashFrance (http://bashfrance.blogspot.com) contains a sizeable archive of middle- and low-brow anti-French humor targeting alleged French problems with anti-Semitism, hygiene, and once again, France's purported penchant for surrender ("How many Frenchmen does it take to defend Paris? Nobody knows, they have never tried").