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Libano...

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Who's Foreigner?

The Commander in Shit has vomited. Sorry, spoken. Well, he's bloody concerned of "foreign" interference in Lebanon, i.e. the Syrian one. Now I'm 1000000% with leaving Lebanon rot in the shit they got themselves in, they deserve it for just being bloody stupid. And I am against the useless barking of the Syrian officials. But historically and racially and all those terminologically speaking, Syrians and Lebanese are of the same bloody Semitic race, have the same fucking Phoeniciano-Aramaic blood, speak the same blasted Arabic language and have the same crap of a cuisine. In a nutshell, we're one same bloody shit. So, White Fuck of the White House, two continents and 3 seas away, who's more "foreigner"?

The Christians - Words

Nihilism - Still Standing

Today I'm being personal, nihilistic, to be more accurate. Those who read my site every once in a while won't find that unusual.

Ramadan makes one see the world in a totally different perspective. Meaning that it annihilates even the last shred of optimism one gets in your everyday life in the Axis, where we're having false siren alarms and 100 bombardment news on the hour. The funny thing (well, when I say funny...) is that during last year war, we were devastated at the mere idea of possible war, but now that we're at it, it's more like: "They can all kiss my arse. The whole lot of them. On both sides".

Anyway, Ramadan is different, it's the month of fraud, lies, double tricks, sham and bloody common theft in the name of Virtue. It's like: OK we go all year long playing silly buggers, and now we freakin' fast (well, when I say fast...) and blind ole God will wipe away all the silly buggers we've been playing at for the last year. Bad news: THERE IS NO GOD.

Ramadan is the month of eating. Pigging, more likely. The worst image I can recollect is that of people rushing to an open buffet like pigs, pushing and biting and pissing on the pig behind (person, same thing). Even in normal circumstances it's not a nice thing to see, it can do serious damage to the uninitiated lad or lass, something not even therapy can cure. Let alone now, that it seems I've caught anorexia and I puke at the simple idea of toast. I try to keep indoors, I really must eat and I don't need any more scenes to put me incurably sick. Otherwise I'll be roaming around with a transfusion real soon.

Last, but not least, Ramadan is the month of TV. Yup, that's it. You get more bad drama per hour than a Mexican telenovellas channel at prime time. And life revolves around TV until dusk when every one gets a break because it's pigging time. The funniest bit is when everybody is saying they'll be slimming in Ramadan, and end up some 10 pounds fatter. And then come bloody asking me how come I'm shedding weight since I'm not even fasting. Wrong again, I am fasting, my mind is.

Another One

Ramadan has crept in again. Well, now that it's here: welcome to the month of Syrian TV, Syrian Drama, Syrian Comedy, Syrian-Kuwaiti Sitcom, Syrian-Egyptian Film, Syrian-Lebanese Show, Syrian-Saudi Conflict, Syrian-Syrian Candid Camera. Oh, yes. And food.

Before I Forget...

Happy Birthday to My Blog!...

Happy Birthday to My Blog!...

P.S. Photo nicked from here.

Angelina Jolie in Syria

Heard it two days ago on radio, but became official today as even the tabloid announced it. Angelina Jolie has been on an incognito visit to some of Syria's Iraqi refugee camps on behalf of her work as Goodwill Ambassador to UNHCR. Hopefully her voice will be heard.

LiterNet

A nice Romanian cultural site where a writer friend of mine has posted some of his writings. Yes, I do know famous people, which doesn't mean I'm going to forgive him for not giving me a signed copy of his freaking book, nor that I'm going to tell which of them writers he is in the first place. Anyway, a nice site, if one's interested in Romanian contemporary culture (which is quite good, if you ask me, seen from all perspectives).
Oh, let's say the Gods have punished my friend since he chose going on vacations to Greece the same day the fires ignited. Hope he's fine, though, wouldn't want him incinerated before I get a chance at lynching him.

Shame on You, Syrians!

A play last night. Unfortunately I haven't neither the vocabulary nor the cheek for putting here enough swear words to describe it. Huge disappointment. And a shock at the bad taste, but hey, I knew it's bad taste, that's what they know best, and that's what sells best with this gutter people of my own.
The biggest repulsion shock came when the idiot lead character, dressed as Bin fucking Laden compared himself to Santa Claus, and reached the concussion that HE's a terrorist only for being Muslim. Worst shock when a full audience applauded him with passion instead of spitting him on the spot! I cannot express my repulsion, after years and years of degrading of all feelings towards this blasted people, this came as a mortal hit. I know they're bad taste, shams, double-crooks that'll steal you as soon as think of you. But I never thought they would have become binladinites. For one moment I realised all the crap The Bushit is selling has some real solid ground. How can you cheer the comparison of Bin Laden to Santa Clause? Santa is the spirit of sharing and giving, gives hope and dreams to children, albeit American Imperialist ones. And the other is the worst that could have happened to Arabs and Muslims alike, and THEY FUCKING CHEER HIM! Every person with at least one nano-pound of Arabism should slay Laden on sight, and every person who is one fraction of Muslim should have yelled Jihad against Bin Laden instead of joining him.
Repulsion and shock. I always knew my people to be dumb and I always knew that there will never come a time for my people to line up with the rest of humans, or at least to reach status as fully humans. Now I know the only solution is eradication, as subhumans cheering destruction and death to other people deserve whatever is coming to them.

Lady D'Arbanville

Don't understand exacly what he had in mind when he wrote it, but I love the song. Enjoy.

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Latest Conspiracy Theory

OK, this one is fresh: newest rumor has it that the Iraqi refugees in Syria in fact are payed by the US big time money to undermine the Syrian economy (which is sublime, nevertheless totally nonexistent). Yes. Well, after all refugees were either CIA, or Mosad, or both, and other such nonsense, now we get this one. One question springs to mined though: 99.9% of the refugees literally got to Syria only wearing their underwear (under the djellaba/burka), so where the hell do they get money from to afford American made SUV's and 2000$/month apartments Central Damascus?

Night Watch

Paul Kidby is the official Discworld books illustrator. His first cover art was that of "Night Watch", the superb dark story of a revolution-coup in the familiar revolutions-coups tradition of the past century. Alas, this was the first book not to be illustrated by Master Josh Kirby, as he had passed away the previous year. The inspiration was Rembrandt's Night Watch painting. I'll post the two works, hoping that somehow I convinced even a little bit trying this book which I consider worth a read. To make a small confession: it was the only Discworld book that made me cry, with bitter tears, as I too have had the same feelings in some distant moment in one corner of the Multiverse.

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O Brother, Where Art Thou?

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organized religion = organized crime

It occured to me yesterday.

Everybody Has a Syrian Relative

The eternally Angry Arab (the illumination source of a handful of Mid-Eastern bloggers, I'll develop the idea later) cited an article pretending Bin Laden is actually... Syrian. Well, his mother is, therefore he shouldn't ever again be refereed to as an Saudi, please everyone!
This is understandable, the guy just want to join the ever-growing line of celebs with Syrian origins like Seinfeld, Apple's Steve Jobs, Apollodorus of Damascus, Me...
The ugly part is that he just gave The Bush a serious motive to shift blame of World Tterrorism on Syria, in his trademark hare-brained reasoning he's kindly accustomed us to. Now to move to the next level towards attacking Iran, he just have to prove that Bin Laden is Ahmedinejad's cousin.

Obituary

Last night, after discovering our Syrians blocked YouTube, I viciously murdered my proxy in a regrettable access of fury. Forgive me, o stupid little impediment of my PC, that have denied me access to most of the world for years, constricted me to being scrutinised and watched by the vigilant hounds of un-democracy. I do not regret my crime!

P.S. in other words, my IP must have changed.

In Memoriam

April 3 1924 - July 1 2004

Anouar Brahem

to Renegade

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My Other President

It may or may be not known that I have Romanian citizenship as well. That makes me Null Citizen, since it's hard being on both Axis of Evil and Washington London Bucharest Axis. I think I didn't mention him much as I regarded him as an ugly family secret, the one you like keeping in the closet. But, hell, I voted for this guy, can you imagine that? As always I was compelled to vote for the lesser evil. Sometimes I wonder...

Stumbled onto this site while browsing Ben Heine's great cartoons. These two caught my attention:

This is Ben Heine's version. I understand he must have heard Basescu's notorious "Greater Firefly" quote.

In this other cartoon by Uruguay cartoonist EDEN he slightly reminds of a parrot. Another representative thing, since he often yells "You parrot!" at those journalists that don't kiss his ring. Of course, this is the lightest of insults he uses when confronting the mass media.

Zorba and the Cherries

A friend named M was a big time Marxist. He used to go rummaging for old socialist and communist magazines in all second hand bookshops. There were and still are plenty of books on the subject in your average bookshop, but his idea was taking class war to the extreme by refusing to buy anything new. When with the second Intifada, he joined demonstrations and protests and boycotts (I remember a hip bourgeois friend who used to boycott all things American because that was hip at the time). M was who first told me of Coelho. Of course, that didn't mean I actually fell for his writings, my opinion of him is much similar to that which I hold for Dan Brown. Zorba is another book M was fond of. He kept reminding me of the episode of Zorba and the cherries, for the deep philosophic meaning it held.
The Zorba character once relates how he was fond of cherries, nay, he was addicted to cherries. Thus he decided to release himself from his addiction by resorting to extreme measures. He fulled himself with cherries until he fell so sick that he couldn't bare see cherries anymore. M's opinion about the episode was that one should release oneself from flesh' desires no matter how high the cost. I, on the other hand, only saw the anecdotal side of the story.
It's odd that I've encountered this anecdote so often. Maybe if M had not spoken, I wouldn't have noticed. The story isn't an easy one to read, yet every one seems to remember Zorba's cherries. Zorba and the cherries have became folklore.

Syria in a Nutshell

Far from mainstream stereotype conception, I feel this Syria Day poster captured the essence of all things Syrian. Thanks to Orwa for the link and good luck with his exhibition.

An Age of Mourning Shall this Be

a reply to sasa

Time. Time heals. Time erases. Time forgets. Time remembers.
In 1967 we suffered humiliation. We were defeated. We lost. Ever since we've licked our wounds, we've cried our condition, our heart broke from our self-pity. We've sulked in the darkness, lived in our glorious illusions. Glorious illusions... glorious victories only exist in the loser's vocabulary. We've lost. We've lost our most important thing. Our Soul. We've surrendered it unconditionally.
I write late because I forgot the anniversary. This anniversary, in fact, doesn't mean a thing to myself. Maybe because, although a stranger to my mind, far away from my time line, I haven't surrendered. So why commemorate something that didn't happen yet?
I was born two decades after 1967. I was born into the Lebanese Civil War. I was born into the Intifada. I was born into the Gulf Wars. I know nothing of what happened back in 1967. I only know the two sides of the propaganda. And I know it doesn't mean anything to myself because I haven't surrendered yet. I didn't surrender my soul to sulking, regretting, fatalism and nihilism. I haven't lost faith in secularism and nationalism. I haven't fallen for the sweet illusions of faith' Ever After Rewards. There is no yesterday and no tomorrow where I live. There is only NOW. And NOW I haven't surrendered.
Yes we should mourn on this day. We should mourn not for our brave dead, our heroes, our land. We should mourn for our Soul that we've lost without a battle, that we've surrendered. Until we wake and claim it back, our Soul, our Identity, our Ideal, until then we deserve none less. Until then we shall mourn.

Speachless

... y-yes... whatever...

Well...

I believe...

I believe I'm alive, or at least got along with the idea so far.
I believe there are no gods. And if there actually are, they're sick and tired of us humans.
I don't believe in religions. I believe they're the precursors of political parties.
I believe those who put their faith into hocus-pocus Judgment Day, Rapture and 72 sex-less Houri to be beyond idiocy. How can one believe so feverishly in things nonexistent rather than believing one's own eyes?
I believe in folklore, tradition, mythology. These are the true voice of history.
I believe in Art. Impressionism, most of all. Don't know why.
I believe I would like to own a Van Gogh. I should find a time portal, I can't figure any other way to actually acquiring one.
I believe Metropolitan Museum i a good thing. I don't be live it's nice for it being so far away.
I don't like that the Bushmerican won't let me visit the Museum for my being Arab.
I am proud for being in the Axis of Evil. I am Syrian, but I don't believe that we're Arab.
I believe that were we truly Arab, Saudi Arabia wouldn't treat us like shit.
I believe we're Tamerlane's bastards. And Tamerlane's bastards is better than Mohammed's bastards.
I believe that we Romanians are Syrians. Cornelius believes this one too.
I believe we Syrians are over-tolerant. Tolerant isn't superior. Just tolerant.
I believe Lebanese to be stark stupid for putting their trust in all their former Syrian-puppets, present US-puppets, politicians. A puppet is a puppet is a puppet...
I believe I wouldn't trust Junblat as far as I can spit. I believe neither his mother would.
I believe Politics is a whore.
I don't believe Syria is responsible with Hariri's assassination. Don't get me wrong, I don't believe our boys are smart enough to come up with such a plan. Too Hollywood-ish, if you ask me.
I don't believe Syria and Israel are going to war. As I said before, this is because I don't trust either side not to betray (their own people) and sign treaties behind the scenes.
I believe though, that if a war were to start, it would be another unnecessary bloodshed in our Humanity's long history of carnage.
I believe I should visit Iran now, as it still exists.
I believe Bush has the sex-appeal of a gibbon, and I truly feel for Mrs. Bush. My sympathies...
I believe Miss Condi to be spineless for accepting to play the puppet of the Supermachist White Man.
I believe I might have some respect for Rumsfeld and Powell, now that I don't see their faces that often. I still believe I want to see them in court in Haga.
I believe I don't like pundits. Of all sorts.
I believe World is much plainer than it seems. You just have to see it to understand. However, it's much easier to keep sleeping this bi-polar Marvel Comics World that's been poured into our brain than actually see how deep the rabbit hole goes.
I don't believe the World to be divided in Good and Evil, Black and White. I believe it's a whole array of gray shades.
I believe under all that nihilism, fatalism, cynicism and pessimism, I'm just too idealistic...

Utter Stupidity?

How much more cretin could this Syrian Regime be? Before every godamned UN report regarding the euthanasiation of Harriri (and a good ridance it was!) they have to totaly fuck everything and blow up another car and their chance to prove their innocence. Really by now, one expects they might have learned their lesson, ever an arse learns on the third mistake!

Sorry, did I say Syrian Regime? I meant the Cheddar Revolution.

A Case for Adultery

Note: the following is based on my reasoning and life philosophy. I never claimed being a prophet or even wise. So beat it, before saying anything!

Sooo...
I cannot but feel your average neocon will enjoy this one. Or maybe not, as your average neocon Evangelical not only has managed interdicting abortion but would happily vote for stoning to death law against adultery. Which make them equal to the Wahhabi. I keep seeing similarities, the only difference is in dress, actually. A comment made by grega&gar on Further Left:

"...Since the very term "Al-Qaeda" is a term dreamed up by the neocons to describe their imaginary enemy as a terrorist network rather than the helter skelter, unallied terrorist pockets it was in 2000 in order to justify reentering the daily life of the middle east, I think the question is meaningless..."

Therefore...

My case here is, in a most paradoxical way, about Islam's acceptance of adultery. No, not an Islam advocate, far from it, but in this cycle of "Islamic Syria", I thought I should bring up the idea.

Been talking with an Abou El Nour theologist, or woman sheik (yes!) some days ago, and we brought up the subject. Now the woman is fanatic big time, and only speaks in tongues, therefore, I take her quoting Koran as true.

As it seems, the "adultery legislation" was included into Koran after a man came complaining to Mohamed about finding his wife in flagrante, and to his greater shock was sent away to bring witnesses to his claim. Now, legislation is pretty clear: for someone to be condemned for adultery, they should be first caught red handed, by no less than 4 eye witnesses, and be subjected to the "thread test", as in a tread should be passed between the two bodies to verify whether there is penetration.

So...

To put two and two together, my simplistic churl mind understands this: one can do as much adultery as one likes spending time in Hell, as long as it's done quietly, and as long as one isn't caught red handed by four eye witnesses. Knowing the average Syrian (I cannot guarantee Arab) man's mentality, four is a good number, as four are enough to hold him still without being too much beaten.

The second part about adultery: in the case a man and woman are caught red handed in the above mentioned way, no matter how impossible this might seem, they are given the chance to be forgiven, if they chose getting married. If not, to the lashes! Or stones, depending whether they're single or not.

So...

Back to my churl mind and interpretation: one can sin as much as one wants, and knowing your average Arab sangre caliente, I should say this is good, quite very good. As long as it's done discreetly.

Theory is a good thing, but facts are wholly different. Knowing both Syria and most of the neighbouring countries, I can pretty well draw a picture of the actual state of things regarding adultery.

In Syria: a couple is caught red handed, the witness is beaten to silence.

In Jordan: a couple is caught in flagrante, all the neighboring families kill their daughters to wash the dishonour.

In Saudi Arabia: a couple is caught in the act, the witnesses are invited to turn the thing into an orgy.

In Iran: a woman is suspected of sinning, she's stoned to death on the spot.

Again, I'm not an advocate of Islam, but since all the above mentioned countries (without Syria, we've been officially excommunicated last Feast) claim literal application of Sharia, why do they apply different laws to different cases? Or is it something with the blood and genes, as in once a Middle Eastern you must bugger all conventions, including ingnoring this last one?

The Thinking Person's Blog

I was tagged last week by Arima. This came as a surprise to me, especially since my ideas have turned media these past month. It is a great honour and quite flattering that my ideas do have a resonance in this huge digital scream. In return I will post the blogs that make me think, and the original rules from The Thinking Blog

Should you choose to participate, please make sure you pass this list of rules to the blogs you are tagging. I thought it would be appropriate to include them with the meme.The participation rules are simple:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,

2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,

3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).

My nominees are as follows:

American Wars: Riliescu doesn't speek nor opinate on his blog. He just collects all the media about nowadays atrocities, clloects it and leave it to ourselves to decide and think about it twice.

Not in His Name: Virgil Johnson is the opposite of Riliescu, the angry activist, fighting the falshood of nowadays society and culture through his words, eager for a world where if not equal, at least we can all call ourselves humans.

Middle East Street: Although I know the Angry Anarchist won another prize, I feel that another one is welcomed and well deserved.

I Cite: Although I'm new to this blog, I find Jodi Dean has some interesting insights about politics, in particular, and life in general.

thoughtstreaming: Troutsky is intelligent, clever and sarcastic. You can get that one from his profile. And from his writings, if you fail figuring the pun.

Desert Peace: Steve is The Activist. He's more dedicated to the Palestinian cause than us Arabs. I fell we should start learning from him. I've said this before, and I'll keep on saying it. He asked for his nomination to be removed, in order for other bloggers to get their chance. I cannot remove him, but I will give accord him a Silver Award.

There are many other blogs I would like to mention, in fact all that are on my blogroll, because, heck, this is why I keep them there.

In Lack of Anything Else to Post...

... I'm posting this pic I took yesterday at Khan Asaad Pacha. I'll be back shortly. Arima, I didn't forget you, I'm sorry for the delay.

Two More

Two more gifts for Syria's Day: featured country this week on National Geographic and an editorial on Syria News acclaiming Independence Day as day of all Syrians, far from religion, ethnicity and political adherence.

Many happy returns!

Happy Birthday, Syria

Today is our National Independence Day as a moden western defined nation. No, I'm not going to be cynical, therefore, I'll dedicate my post to Syria, a country, a "nation", an entity.

Ruins at Ugarit

Palmyra

The Eastern Minaret, Omayad Mosque

Maalula

Passageway, Saidnaya

Romanesque Hall, Craq des Chevaliers

Marqab Fortress

Bougainvillea Garden, Dmascus

Bazar at Night, Damascus

Easter Sermon

Dabke Folcloric Dance

Ficus Trees, Lataquia

Art

Seen Ghost in the Shell Innocence, but still trying to figure it out. If you thought the first one was philosophy, wait till you see this one. I guess I'll have to watch it some other 5 or 6 times to find some tread for solving it. Another fine thing that I enjoyed was it's heavy "film noir" atmosphere which reminded me of Blade Runner, the ultimate SF noir masterpiece, in my book.

Well, I'll leave you with some eye-candies from both films, just a small reminder why Japanese Anime should be glorified. Chapeau!

Red Herring

Sometimes I wonder of my name. Puppeteer. Derived from "Ghost in the Shell" vilain, The Puppet Master, who in fact is anything but a villain, as great Japanese Anime go. You know, the ones who everybody is human, natural and subjected to such human phenomena like change.

But lately, I wonder why haven't I named myself otherwise. Like Red Herring, for instance. Or Ohma, or even Cactus Repubilc Citizen (because we don't have bannanas in Syria, only cactus)... Just a thought.

Islamic... Syria?

I'm having some heck of a dilemma lately. My usual domain of inquiry lies within mythology mostly, it is there that I seek the facts interesting enough to keep me thirsty for more. It is there, quite paradoxically that I sometimes find the most appropriate answers for today's problems. History repeats, isn't it? First time should have been a tragedy, second time definitely a comedy. But a tragic one, nevertheless.
As some things recently clarified some rather obscures issues, some other questions were risen, questions whose answers aren't most likely to be totally satisfying. But I'll leave that for some other post, what I've said until now is more than enough for my introduction.
My way to work each day passes through the transportal (whatever that is) center of Damascus. Ironically, as it weren't enough, that same center is the universitarian center. The Baramke, for non-dhimis. Counting people on my daily routine road, it occurred to myself that women on the streets might be easily categorised. I tried doing so in the following drawing. Anyway, here goes.

P.S. To enlarge, click here.
to be continued...

Breaking News

In an unprecedented way, Colonel Moammar Qaddafi, the Lybian Leader, have won the latest elections with a 99% of votes.

Very Personal Post

I got these by email last night:

Now this one here is the Omayad Square in Center Damascus. This masterspiece of a tunnel took some 6 years until now and is yet to be accomplished. We had a joke back in the 90's with Bush Sr. asking God whether he'll live to see world democracy. I don't think I'll live to see the Omayad Square finished.

April's Fool Beauty King

While talking with Orwa tonight, we bumped into this annoying dilemma: who is more rightful to be crowned Beauty King of Middle Eastern politics? I know mocking some one's physical traits isn't the most orthodox of things, yet, these guys aren't exactly orthodox themselves. So, everybody vote: who should be April's Fool Beauty King of Mid East?

Ohma

This here is Ohma. I've mentioned more than once lately how impressed I was with Miyazaki's Nausicaa, one of the most philosophic stories that I read. The character that left the deepest mark upon my soul is Ohma, the Warrior God of Plague. Maybe because he is by far the most tragic of all characters, or maybe because he's closest of my concept of godhood: a human made entity, disappointed of it's creators and creation, thus retired and forgotten, until humans stirred it's peaceful slumber and summoned him up to help with their murderous ways. Tragic because he was the cause of the war in the first place, he was a creation of death and horror, and yet always conscious of his cursed existence.

This is Ohma, Arbitrator, Warrior and Judge. From now on, he will be my profile icon.

Out of Service

Still out, down, you name it. Mind lost, whom finds please kindly keep. Anyway, one uncertainity blurs my ravings: I need to convert some music files to mp3's. I've tried baptism and shahada, but none worked so far.
Stop.

Trance + Opera

Not Wagner, though.

Eternity.mp3-matt ...

Raving Still

I am working these days. Working hard, I might add, since, what the hell, even in my Third World Cactus Republic on the fringes of transition we need money for transport, at least, if not for other Bourgeois pleasures or activities.

Well, I've been working, as I pointed out, on some rather more than annoying illustrations of a more than aphonical person that calls itself an "artist". But leaving behind the gossiping part, the thing that infuriated me about these illustrations were some rather unorthodox depictions of nature and animals. Well, I felt that in a certain one, instead of encouraging love of nature, it depicted a lion in a cage with two brats happily throwing a stick at it.

Now leaving alone the whole "compassion for humans first" issue, and my Gaya idea that animals live peacefully and don't destroy their environment, I did mention in an older post that my recent reading of "Nausicaa" only opened my eyes to things unobserved. But the whole meaning of my raving on Rave and Wagner is that sometimes I cannot but feel that if anything deserving to be put in a Zoo, it should be humans.

Good Night.

Raving

Motto: There are two ways I see space: on Wagner and on RAVE!

Royksoepp - what e...

Random Thinking

To Cornelius

I think. I think therefore I should exist. But truly...

Is there such thing as existence? Is there sense to our beliefs, our actions? Our thoughts...

I left God alone these past months. I left complaining to God alone long time ago. Gods are mere creations of the human mind, projections of the human self, in it's flaws and imperfections. No, it's useless complaining to a god. It would be a most foolish way of rhetoric to one's self, as gods are the monsters of one's subconscious, unconscious, you name it.

Humans created their gods to have some one to perpetually blame, a scapegoat - like Syria, in recent times, but which fortunately doesn't make it a god! - but, the fools, they ended overloading the poor devils with their hopes as well. To explain how useless that is, compare with putting all your hopes in a dresser.

Cornelius told me some time ago how my cosmogonies gave him great immunity, as rarely he finds anything to shock him anymore. This time, I won't write another universe. I'll deconstruct this one. What do I know about it? Only uncertainties and speculations and lies. Should I believe them? Should one believe without questioning? In an age of Apocalypse and death, corporations and slavery under the mask of "liberation", should this worthless disease that calls itself "humanity" believe without questioning? Should it stop it's fury of overfeeding it's greed and hunger for more and more, more low worthless stuff for it's low worthless self? Should it open those long shut eyes rotten with puss of brain-washing? brain that doesn't serve humanity any good, mind, since it was the first of it's features to be left behind so willingly and easily. Should it wake up on this last desperate hour?

No.

No, it would be pointless to reach it's long petrified heart and grab it from the clutches of it's self-inflicted sleep of indolence. No good, would come from it, not after centuries of lies and destruction that we even have the guts not to recognize. Not when we have those blasted gods to scapegoat for our stupid actions. Not when we have hordes of rotting priests to put the smallest rebellious thought of doubt to sleep with tall tales of our saviours that our beloved gods will send in the last hours of despair. Our beloved gods...

We created our beloved gods. Then we made up a nice cosmogony, not as nice as mine, a decent cosmogony, to fool the fool with these new gods. We created our gods. Then we told the story once, and twice and a thousand times until we believed it ourselves. We created our gods. Then we passed on our story throughout the generations, and we ourselves being long lost, the story outlived us and the gods outlived us, and the generations forgot us but remembered their gods. We created our gods. Then different tribes with different variations of lies started spreading their hate on basis that their gods being the rightful gods. We created our gods. Wars were started, led, dictated by the most righteous of the gods. We created our gods. All sorts of schizophrenics pretended prophecy and god-illumination, smoking lights and holy spirits inseminating virgins, holy wars and spread of belief. Through sword, through word, through stone, through martyrdom and entertainment at Circus Maximus. In the name of "our gods". We created our gods. Crimes were committed as dictated by the gods. We created our gods! Countries were destroyed as dictated by the prophecies of our gods. We created our gods! Animals, plants, holy pure lives were wasted for our gods commended us to be fruitful. We created our gods! Man reached the Moon. We created our gods! The human genome was broken, the code was hacked, we became gods, we ARE gods. WE CREATED OUR GODS! Yet 6 billion parasites are ever- ready, just waiting for one right the moment to kill each others in the name of OUR GODS!

WE CREATED OUR GODS!!!

We created our gods, they were to be our slaves, our scapegoats for every foolish mistake we might have made. We are today the scapegoats of our gods, our own creation, the slaves of a stupid illusion we engineered ourselves. We deserve our cynic existence, even only for being bloody stupid, by all gods! we do deserve it. And we'll only see our foolishness on Judgment Day, when we'll understand there's no Judgment Day, no Messiah, Jesus or Mahdi to absolute us. There will be only us. Each one, alone, with his own self.

Capitalism

The Great Constant of Treachery

World politics is a heck of a thing. It's like a great spider weaving it's net, weaving and weaving, covering the space around it with it's thick poisonous web of blindness. A whore, that's what she's called in Romania. A great illusionist for the simple minded, that's rather what it inspires me.
Let me return to last summer: Hezbollah and Israel get into one of those usual border skirmishes. Israel starts bombing the borders. Then starts bombing inside the borders. Then Lebanon is a hell. Then US lets Israel continue it's bombing for more than a month. Then bombing stops and everybody becomes a winner (everybody except the Lebanese). Then Hezbollah rises it's political demands. On the other hand, Saudi Wahhabia plants the seeds of inter-Islamic intolerance. Then news gets out Saudi Wahhabi is behind the last war on the Shi'ite in South Lebanon. More news gets out that Saudi and Israeli are in bed. Then Saddam plays hangman. Then Shit Wahhabia seeses the occasion to declare Jihad on Safavid and on Iran, declares their apostasy on the spot. Every Sunni ass-head turns red eyed to his life long Shi'ite neighbour. Intolerance over hate and disgust. Worst kind of pejoratives used when refereed to Iran and Shi'ite. Bushmerica threatens Iran, now that it won full cooperation of Sunni rag-heads. Two barges in the Persian Gulf. Fatah and Hammas kill each other like cretins that they are, and convince the whole world once and for all how much they care about the whole Palestinian cause and people. Then, breaking news, the Safavid and Rag-head Wahhabia are meeting, shaking hands, hugging and kissing (each other's arse). Who's in bed with who?

Once, some long monthes ago, I was asked what I thought about Nasrallah and the great leadesr of the Arab pseudo-World. I only said that they sold us all, and already spent the money.

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

Like before Fowles, one month ago, I find myself speechless when confronted with beauty. My cynic self tells this might be due to our lives so bereft of all think pleasant, but before this beauty, even my self ceases to be cynical.

To better understand the reason this story left such a deep mark upon my soul, I should resort to more thorough explanations. Since longer than I can mark as a distinct point in time, the things I see sadden me. The misery, pain, humiliation. They enrage me, a deep silent painful feeling. A feeling which is not and never will be directed to my fellow humans. Yes. Human pain does not impress me, as I have passed long ago that final frontier of fatality, considering that we deserve every bad thing our fate sends us. Every reaction has it's cause in our greedy meddling, we should not, nay, we haven't the right to complain, nor plea for compassion nor sentiment. We do not deserve what this Great Spirit we call Earth has offered us so generously. I, thus, have reached the ultimate conclusion, same as Miyazaki, who put it in Nausicaa's words: everything is a lie, there isn't any truth neither in our noble causes nor in our filthy means; civilization, culture, humanity are nothing but the perverted imagination of our pervert minds, have not even the value of the smallest of maggots; we are but the cancer that pollute this world. Yes, the very same words used by the Matrix to describe us, such deep hurtful truth. I, by contrast with Nausicaa, have a cynical mind, and go further within my nihilistic beliefs: I believe there is no point of change anymore, the sooner we get to the end, the better for this world. It has endured enough.

Lebanese Diplomacy

Walid Jumblat spoke! This is taken from his speech during the Harriri Comemoration on Valentine's Day: "...We came to the Freedom Square to say to you, o tyrant of Damascus, o monkey not known by nature; o snake that other snakes flee from; o whale rejected by the seas; o monster from the monsters of wilderness; o creature of half-men; o product of Israel over the remains of South Lebanon and the people of South Lebanon; o liar and Hajjaj [bin Yusuf] in Iraq; o murderer and killer in Syria and Lebanon."

Some diplomats, those Lebanese, you have to admit! Please, Walid Bec, o great feudal lord of all Socialists of Lebanon, next time you flee the Lebanese Justice to Syria, accept me as a humble disciple of your great oratory eloquence!

Puppeteer's Garden

May be or may not be so known that I have an almost obsessive passion for ficus, especially banyans (I did leave clues all the way for those with detective insight). Out of sheer blind patriotism (the Damascene balcony plants part), or maybe just lack of imagination, I don't know nor care. I just find fascination contemplating these sub-equatorial sacred giants adapt to every impossible life condition. From Mother country India and Sumatra to faraway Argentina, passing through Middle East (Syria included, of course - the bit about patriotism, right? Alex) all the way to Poland, and quite healthy, I assure you. Wouldn't be surprised to find some on Mars.
Therefore, let this be the first official announcement for my upcoming photo campaign : 1001 Banyan.

Everybody is welcomed to visit and leave his/her suggestions.

Scapegoating

These days it seems Syria is your usual scapegoat. Well, Syria and El Niño, since it's still quite impossible to blame Syria for crop freeze in California, although it's not to be entirely ruled out. Therefore, stick it into Syria's fold. As a whole, the idea is comic, well, in a tragic sense, and old, since the Bushmerica did accustom us with it's incapability of assuming responsibilities and it's constant obsession to blame others for it's total incompetence (remember the episode when Iraq was blamed for 9/11 when total failure in Afghanistan became imminent). Nothing new, that is. Although I have a strange feeling that this new series of usual accusations is related somehow with Brammertz's praise for Syria's total collaboration with the investigators and it's absence from the Black List of uncooperative countries, which, as rumors go, seems to be containing the whole Axis of Good.
What I'm still waiting to see is the end of this auction for Syria. Who will pay more: Europe via Iran, or Saudi Wahhabi Arabia, through Bushmerican invasion?

Fowles' Maggot

It is hard writing about a book. It is hard writing about a life or a literary style. It is hard writing about anything other than politics in this war infested present tense. Let alone writing about something so sublime I can't find a proper word to describe. A maggot, that's what it is, just like writer John Fowles defined it himself, a fancy.

My City

A few years ago I bought my first digital cam, or actually my first cam period. I had a vision. A dream, or maybe just a strange feeling of melancholy. I want to document or chronicle everything I know. So I know. Just for myself. Nothing noble. I want to remember, and I want to remember the way I remember. Everything. This is my city.

O, Fortuna!

"Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno, Regnabo"

I reign, I reigned, I am without reign, I shall reign

Did I Hear Rumsfeld?

Someone commented that it should be interesting seeing a pic with Hangman and Rumsfeld. As'ad already did that, and I take the liberty to borrow the masterpiece. A bit blurry, but please pardon me.

To Arima

Arima,

I have for some time now censoring problems, and unfortunately I cannot comment on the other blogs, especially on the new version ones. C'est la vie.

I read your posts about the picture and I admit that I was intrigued when first seeing it and knowing your thinking, which is the reasonable, inquiring, well informed critique, and has nothing to do with this ostentatious bravado of some half-wits, like Hrisi, or Waffa Sultan, or...

Arima, the problem nowadays is that in this crazy war against "fundamentalism", impersonated by Islam this time around (it was Communism back in the '50), the self-proclaimed liberals have become more radicalists than Zarqawi. Attacks over attacks, heck, a blogger I know and respect was subjected to death threats for his reasonable opinions about Islam. It seems they weren't "liberal" enough to please. In this liberal-as-in-curse-Islam world, the shortest way to fame is by throwing biased outrageous undocumented libels at Islam. And fueling the Wahhabi in the process. This is what daughter of Somalian Warlord Hrisi Ali does. When I saw "Submission", I thought it to be made by some amateur Westerner who never got out of his native town, let alone country, and has the same amount of knowledge about Islam as Bush' knowledge about diplomacy. To know it was made by a Muslim, it only makes the film more of a joke.

And now that you wrote about the book, it seems it's the oppressed sexual complexes of someone eager to have sex before getting married, thus making this the Great issue of Islam. If she was for real, she would have attacked the real concerns, as in the mad fatwas against the Shiites, declaring their apostasy, the arrogance of the clerics who interpret laws and label as "bida'a" anything they feel like, with no basis, translate and transfigure Quran as it suit their pockets, instigate for violence against Danish cartoons instead of uniting everyone in defending the Iraqi or Palestinians. Transform Saddam into a Symbol.

There are many critics of nowadays Islam. Yes, too many. But those that do it using their brains become immune, if not respected. Like Adel Imam.

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The one on the left is Hangman. The other one is the "moderate" Saudi King.
(courtesy of the Angry Arab)