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.