The other Jewish Elvis in Cajun country

As I sometimes do on my exciting weekends, I went to the library today. My memory is generally terrible, but there was a book recommendation I received in September, which stuck in my mind and I was determined to finally check it out. I remembered this recommendation, an account of the French Indochina War (or, as the Vietnamese put it, "The time we kicked the shit out of the Frogs to warm up for the Yankees") by a French-born journalist, I think due to the compromising position I was in at the time of the recommendation.

You see, when I came down to Baton Rouge in September for my pre-employment drug screening/humiliation part of the drill was dropping my pants and grabbing my ankles for the doctor. As the Cajun MD inspected me to make sure I was, indeed, a consciencious wiper, he started rattling off books by journalists and especially recommended the one I picked up today.

Thanks, doc, I hope the book is more pleasant than the exam.