The Master

He truly should have taught so many people, Saddam, Qhaddafi, Charles Taylor, Milosevic heck even Bush Jr shoulda sat down on The Master's lap and took notes on how to dominate and abuse power.

Admit it, when it comes to what he does, he does it best...

Regan, Bush Sr., Clinton, Bush Jr., Obama, 5 presidents there, 3 Republicans and 2 Democrats, from all sides of the political spectrum...they all loved him.

War Hero, Economic Reformer, Political Reformer, Charming Diplomat, Absent Minded Joker, Ageless Geriatric, Survived countless assassination attempts...He took us when we were on the doors of Economic Liberalization, and arrived with us to the Nuclear ages and surfed the IT Revolution, Built Bridges, highways, hospitals, a subway system, and the Master still Rules...

Yet we still hate his guts to the core, and we refuse to accept him.

Why?

actually...what we should be asking ourselves is Why not?

Just a Thought

Like Toy Soldiers

As the night whispered its eerie song under the moon, they all had their eyes locked on anything that moved. Its been hours since any movement took place in their field of vision. They almost alerted HQ of activity when an owl fluttered away from a tree nestled in the foliage.

They all had dreams, dreams where they would make their loved ones proud, where they would feel like

they made a difference. Like Toy Soldiers they followed what they thought was their calling.

But now, they are faced with the harsh reality, that there is no glory in war, just misery and regret. It slowly creeps up in your perception like doubt. But then, comes a significant event that allows it to strike so profoundly the creep turns into a p

ounce, that devours your entire mind…

The only way out of here, is in a Body Bag…

They’ve been duped…fooled and played with, like Toy Soldiers…

They march and make formations, strip weapons and train like warriors, eat anything and survive the harshest conditions, all for what…to end up in enemy crosshairs who are as casual as taking your life as a teenager playing Call of Duty..

All for what?

To be killed..killed along with many of their brothers who endured the same pain they did..who had the same lost hopes they did, he was talked into it like they did and fooled into being cannon fodder for beef between two politicians that will keep sending off more fools to their death. Until when, until he looks like a murderer for killing so many of his nation’s sons, only then..will they sit down and sort out their differences on paper and do what politicians are really supposed to do.

But then what? Who is going to bring back those brothers we lost? The body parts forever maimed, the horrific scenes, who is going to undo the damage?

Was it worth it tayeb?

Was there no other way of doing it?

He walked in complete darkness seeing only whatever the moon reflected its light over. He felt no fear, not that it was not scary, nor that because he was the bravest of them all. It was far simpler than that,

He had himself, and he was willingly accepting his fate,

A Himself he had never knew existed before. A Himself that was driven internally, that needed not any form of external drive or passion, that required no acceptance or approval from anything else God has created. A fully self-sufficient self that required nothing external to exist and be. Whatever he required, he could provide for himself, whatever solutions he needed, he could come up with and execute himself.

He achieved that when he realized that he would die in this huge field surrounded by trenches on both sides. His Government is too hot headed to back down, while the enemy is fighting to protect its right to exist. The price of stubbornness comes at a very expensive price…his life,

And there is nothing he can do about it but to accept it,

A lot changes when you know you are about to die. No last minute miracles, no grand exit, no glamorous soundtrack, no slow motion…nothing..just the sound of bullets piercing you like a rotten peach, maybe your own screams of pain..pain you have never felt before, that’s all.

When that certainty hits you, its over..you turn into a brave fighting machine that has sold the world and everything in it. You decide to provoke Doom and Fate into taking you sooner, by doing something what others would call “brave” when in reality it is nothing but Rage, and that is exactly what your commanders want you to do.

If you die, you will bemartyred, if you survive that stunt of sheer idiocy you just pulled, you will be decorated with a medal, maybe even promoted to a higher rank and expected to do it again…

And again…

Why the lunacy? I think I would have just rather been martyred rather than go at it again and again and watch more buddies die and be maimed in the ugliest ways possible.

What if you survive that, after the war is over? Can you go about your life again? Knowing you killed someone/? Not one, probably at least ten…ten widows made, at least ten children orphaned all for what? A slogan your commanders talked you into believing?

There are no Rambos in real life, Just Caskets flying home, flags and a 21 gun salute.

To every Commander in Chief that has commanded a nation to go to war; May you eternally be fuel to the eternal fire of Hell.

GTA 5 : Escape from Reno

On a dry and hot autumn afternoon in Reno, Clive our gumshoe like , Max-Paynish Anti-hero was minding his own business driving back to his small inconveniently located Office above a sex shop on South Virginia Street. It was the only thing he can find at the finances he can provide,

Clive our former compulsive gambler lost a lot of money in Reno, Race Tracks, Casinos, Slot Machines and backdoor poker games; you name it, he lost it there. Of course as every typical compulsive gambler, he went to loan sharks, shylocks and even borrowed from the mob. Despite losing every nickel he owed to people who were downright mean and worked you like a xylophone in pre-school, all these people wouldn’t hesitate to sell your kidneys to get their money back. He decided to stick around to prove good faith to his creditors and pick up a few odd jobs to repay them. He wanted to cut back on costs so the office space above the sex shop just did about fine. He would meet most of his clients out of office and the only reason he rented the place out was to register for a private eye license with the state of Nevada.

So as he was going back to the office to edit some photos he took on his camera, he received a phone call from Ramirez, a thug that worked for “Fat Boy” Pintolo, they called him Pintolo after the shoes he always wore, he was a trekker that loved going up for walks in the Sierra Mountains with someone that needed to disappear and come down without them. It was pretty odd for a big guy his size to actually enjoy exercise…he was Fat, not Obese, not chubby, downright in your face FAT. Not your stereotypical dapper type mobster. Gotti and Castellano, these people were movie material, he was more of the real deal.

Ramirez told him that he had till midnight to pay the 200 Gs he owed. He could barely come up with 50 of that, he thought of paying them that to buy time. Instead of letting them know he was short at the drop at midnight, he decided to test the waters with Ramirez on the phone.

“I Can come up with 50 tonight, I’ll bring up the rest within the next couple of weeks, keep the vig running on what I still owe”

Ramirez replied in the scariest latino thug accent he can come up with…

“:Hey Esse…if you don’t come up with 200 Large in the next eight hours you’d better skip town chicco…cause Pintolo wont settle for any less Gringo…If I were you..run for it…we will get you anyways this is 200 Gs we are talking about, but hey…Im feeling a bit generous, consider this a 6 hour head start, show us how far can you run”

Now that is something pretty scary for someone to hear, even Clive who has lived most of his life within such circles. He knows it isn’t anything personal, his life will be nothing but a precedent for Pintolos Business…bail out on paying and an example will be made of you. The only reason Ramirez was generous enough to give Clive the so called head start was mere courtesy. Crooks respected people like Clive, Professional, Respectful and all action no talk…But hey, A Mans gotta make a living no?

Clive decided he would make a dash for it, and wire the 50 Gs he had to Ramirez’s pawn shop down in Spanish Springs. He really tried to make Reno work for him, cause he was good at it…but unfortunately for him, it wasn’t his loaf of bread. He will have to make it elsewhere. That’s if he made it alive out of his debacle with Pintolo.

As he parked his banged up brown Impala in front of the Sex Shop. Meeks the landlord popped out of nowhere as he always does. He reminded him of the evil landlord Jim Carrey in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. Not that he is a Jim Carrey fan, but he liked people who didn’t let courtesy get in the way of achieving their legitimate needs. Meeks was a real Jew when it came to money…he would haunt Clive everywhere when the rent was due. There was one month where he actually popped up while Clive was having an after work drink at a shabby neighbourhood bar and told the bar tender not to pour him any drinks cause Clive should be paying his rent. Like I said…a Real Motherfucker.

Meeks put it quite clear to Clive, if he doesn’t pay the rent by tomorrow morning, he is going to call his lawyer and serve him with an eviction notice. Clive just went back into his car and drove off to the nearest highway…this town is useless he thought…

Clive had no idea where to go, he literally had no place to go so he decided to leave it up to Fate. Although Clive hated not being in control –probably just like anyone whos a take charge type of person- He really had no other choice. He just wished that if anyone comes after him, that his movements wouldn’t be predictable enough…that’s why his best shot was to leave it to Fate…I mean, can you get any less predictable?

He Stopped at a roadhouse 4 hours later when his car was running out of Gas and looked into his wallet…7 Dollars…He put his car into park in a convenient parking spot by the Roadhouse and shut off the engine for his very last time with this car. Good Riddance. He spent an hour or so scouring the cars coming into the Roadhouse. Most of them were trucks and motorcycles, he couldn’t drive either. He was looking for something economic, Japanese or Korean so that it can cover more distance with the gas in it..he had no money to fill it up.

Nothing…

He hitched a ride with a trucker headed for Vegas carrying Fish, he simply introduced himself as Bob…a Builder looking for jobs in Vegas, with the Casinos popping up there like HIV in Africa, it seemed like a sensible thing to claim you are going to Vegas for Construction Works. The trucker was a man of amicable demeanour, and they sang along to The Future by Leonard Cohen together when it randomly popped up on the radio.

“When they Said…Repent…Repent..I wonder What they Meant”

Truth of the fact is, he knew what they meant…and just like most people who try, circumstances didn’t really help because its always realized a little too late. Theres nothing more convincing than a Mobster wanting to trade in your life for 200K to make you wish you just worked at a DVD store. Problem is, you only have 2 hours now to do it…its almost 10 pm.

He got off at the intersection of Interstate 15 and 515 , he didn’t want to end up in the hands of a union worker who had mob ties. Pintolo would hear of it in a matter of minutes, and would probably hire some crazy Chinaman with gambling debts to take Clive out, and in case you have never been to Vegas, Crazy Chinamen in Debt are PLENTY over there.

“I need a Car” he thought, best bet was a Casino Parking Lot where he’d pose as a valet..a high roller would tip close to 200 $ in a major casino and drop the keys to the first person giving him attention, And Yellow Ferrari man with a belly couldn’t have been a better pick. I think I wrote about Lamborghinis before…But Ferraris are different…even ask Jeremy Clarkson if you don’t believe me..the only problems with Ferraris is when you try to honk…it sounds so gay…but hey, who is being picky when you are planning your Great Escape? He tried taking care of logistics before Leaving Las Vegas ( Telephone, food, hygiene etc..) almost everything was taken care of, but then came a tricky question..Phonebooth or Cellular? Phonebooth would do for now…he talked to Sutherland, an old friend from the war ( here I mean Iraq and not Vietnam…this isn’t the 90’s anymore) to explain the shit he’s got himself into. Sutherland offered willingness to help but how can Clive go all the way to New York in a Yellow Ferrari and 200 Dollars? Sutherland gave him the number of someone reliable in Vegas…His name was Fonzy, Clive also got an address just in case Fonzy didn’t pick up the phone.

He gave Fonzy’s place a shot and was surprised to find a pretty woman opening the Door..her name was Knatalya..apparently Fonzy is dead…and Knatalya was his niece..she was a Blackjack Dealer at Bill’s Gambling Hall ( A lame Casino in-front of Caesar’s Palace) and she preferred being called Knat

“Like the Bug..” Clive Joked

“No…that’s Gnat, not Knat” She shot back

“Whatever, now you got me all tongue tied..”

Clive realized he cant run forever…but what can he do? Where can he come up with 200 Thousand Dollars?

“In Vegas…are You kidding?”

I know that’s what you are thinking as well, but believe me when you are in trouble, the most obvious solution sometimes escapes you like Harry Houdini. Knat being a sucker for adventure and tall mysterious men decided to tag along and help him…Doing a Casino needs Two..when you come to think of it, anything that works needs two…it brings balance..and there’s two of everything, but that’s not our story here and now.

Five minutes away from where Fonzy used to live, a couple of Police Cruisers swerved into the rear view, sirens blaring and lights flashing.. about time Yellow Ferrari man reported his car stolen. He knew the police cruisers were beefed up under the hood, and outrunning them would be easy game, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the Pursuit Police cars would be up against him…either in the form of a black and white Corvette or Charger.. He recalled the days when he used to Drive a Dodge Charger for the Law, back in Montana…He was one of two police chasers in the State. He knew all the tricks, but basically you can never outrun the law, you were simply going to have to take it off road, or Intrastate, but then you would get state police involved and that makes it real big..you will either end up behind bars, riddled with bullets, or crashing…or…all three. He took it up back on Interstate 515 to give himself leeway for speed, the street cruisers followed him like flies to a carcass. He realized it was the wrong move when he saw police lights flashing in front of him as well as behind him.

He stopped at the Roadblock, got out of the car hands behind his head and hit the ground on his knees.

“I’m Unarmed” He yelled. Approximately 5 State Troopers and fifteen or so Vegas County Police officers lunged at him like a quarterback in the superbowl. Placed him in handcuffs and the back of a police cruiser. He figured being in custody would save him from Pintolo, for a few days at least. In County he can call up a lawyer and get bail since theres no flight risk for someone worth 200 Dollars but he would have to be very fast because Pintolo probably would have the Chinaman waiting for him right outside the precinct. But nobody would off him in-front of the station.

Upon his release he shot for Bill’s Gambling Hall where Knat worked. He decided not to work the place so that Knat doesn’t lose her job, she argued otherwise saying if the loot was big enough she doesn’t need to work again, plus shes an insider there so its better to work this joint than anywhere else.

She made sense,

On with it…

Between the both of them, all the angles were figured out..all but the fact that Ramirez was already spreading word to all the town’s Chinamen how Pintolo is willing to pay big money for whomever would “Keep Clive Alive”

Now that all the pieces are in place, Here is where things get very interesting…This is the end of GTA 5…The way GTA – 6 pans out will be upto you..Follow me on Twitter (Fodz)…tell me how GTA 6 goes, and favorable feedback will make it in GTA 6

GTA 6 is out on November 6^th and Thank You all for making this blog what it is

Land of Confusion: Cairo 2010

I Must have dreamed a thousand dreams,
been haunted by a million screams,

But I can hear the marching feet,

Moving into the street...

Now did you read the news today,
They say the Danger's gone away,
But I can see the fires still alight,
Burning, into the Night....

Theres too many Men, Too many people, making too many problems...
And not much love to go around...

Cant you see this is the land of confusion
This is the world we live in, and these are the hands we're given,
USE THEM AND LETS START TRYING

To make this a place worth living in...

Oh Superman where are you now?
when everything's gone wrong somehow?
Those Men of Steel...

The Men in Power...

Are losing control by the hour..

THIS IS THE TIME
THIS IS THE PLACE
Where we work for the future...
Still theres not much love to go round...
Tell me why is this the land of confusion...

This is the place we live in...
And these are the Dreams we're given...

MAKE THEM AND LETS STOP WHINING...
To make it a place worth living in...

I wont be coming home tonight...

My Generation SHOULD make it right

They're just making promises

We know, that they'll never keep..

Cause theres too many men, too many people, making too many problems

And theres not much love to go around...

Cant you see this is the land of confusion

Now this is the land we live in,

And these are the names we're given

USE THEM AND LETS STOP CRYING

To make it a place worth fighting for...

STAND UP AND LETS START SHOWING

Just where our lives are going to...

Written by Mike Rutherford for Genesis in 1986

Re-edited for Cairo 2010 by Osiris Kane

Ginger

Ginger, such a delightful hue,
Ya Mozza, you Possess...a certain hotness nobody could ever assess...

I imagined fantasies, for You I can create, even you cant concieve with that lovely red headed head of yours.

Its a Shame we never got the chance...I'll keep You in mind, and who knows...Fate might have its ways,
Maybe
But till then...balash el 2alam fel nafs dah...beybawaz el 2alb el safi..mesh 7elw 3aleeki wallahi...maybe I'll tell you a thing or two about that if we get together sometime...
So long Babe, Keep em swooning...you're good at it
Osiris Kane

Now Watch Me Shut this thing Down!

Thursday:

Sahel is always a pretty sight in summer, hot cars, girls in skimpy swim-wear, fancy clubs and Mediterranean beaches...Thats what its all about. The money that pours into that stretch of coast during the months of June, July and until recently August is incredible. Between promotions, advertising, Sponsorship and downright marketing, its a consumerists wet-dream with a new and improved lazy sea breeze for a limited time only.

To other people it surely is about a lot more, or totally different things, but Sahel, just like the rest of the world is a playground, so many players playing so many different games, depending on the game you play you see it the way you see it. But that doesn't mean thats how it is seen by everyone, And that my fellow reader is what makes the world beautiful.

Armando Bond - Pitbull's alter ego was supposed to shut the whole thing down. His employers didnt get to see a dime of the money that is being poured in Sahel, yet in the same time the people who taste this money at the end of the day are surely going to protect their interests with their lives. Quite a formidable opponent to Mr Armando Bond.

Armando never faced the ruthlessness and relentlessness of "The Nomads" who were protecting the Sahel. They act like saints, and play as your friends, with their dark and smiling faces...leer you in until you are close enough, close enough to receive a hit that will impact too close to home...and this is where you fall, never to rise up again.

Armando roared in a Grey Chevy Cobalt dressed in a grey silk suit with a femme fatale riding shotgun, her name was Leon Blackwater, she was his local contact that flew in especially from the Emirates for this job. Leon knew one of the Sahel Barons and was the link that would introduce Armando to the Baron...his name was Donald Maccha......

"So Armando, are we clear on what are we supposed to do?" asked Maccha, while chewing on a Red Macedonian Apple in his hand. He was a very careless man that was extremely high maintenance. He walked around wearing nothing but velvety black briefs and a golden talisman dangling over his chest by the delicate gold necklace that interrupted the flow of his body hair, apple in hand and his mouth full of apple, a few bits dangled on the shag Feng Shuei like carpet that he bought from an auction in Sotheby's.

"Issei Sagawa used to shoot his load on this carpet.....get a bunch of pretty girls to play twister on it for a night and you will end up nine months later with an army of lil cannibal sonsofbitches"

It seems like Maccha was the only one who saw any form of humor in this sick joke. He decided to get to the point. Okay then Mr.Bond...I wish you all the success in this endeavor...

Armando replied : Mr. Maccha, it's a pleasure doing business with you.

With that said, Armando and Blackwater headed across the black marble foyer of the San Stefano Penthouse and took the elevator down to the garage.

" So where are we headed first Armando?" inquired Leon Blackwater

"Diplo..."

Friday

Armando woke up the next day in a hammock nestled under a shady shrub with nothing but his pants and sunglasses on. He realized he was in Diplo, but he forgot how he managed to end up here...he slowly recalled the events of the day before, and then paused when he realized what happened.

On their way on the road they were stopped at a checkpoint notoriously known for its thoroughness. It was midway between Alexandria and Diplo at a town called El Hammam, which mind you, in Arabic means The Bathroom. They got searched randomly and the police found a cache of firearms in the trunk, typical Armando who just loves being downright flashy. His flair always got the best of him many times...and this was one of them. They refrained from searching him and went straight to trying to cuff him , bad move..

Armando pulled what is known in tradecraft as a "sWordfish" which entails simultaneously shooting two assailants on either side of you, inspired by John Travolta in the film with the same name. Shot a third in the station bunker window who was aiming an AK 47 at him, and then shot several shots at the pickup turned police patrol vehicle locally known as "Box" or "Atari" in an exchange of gunfire between the ever so cocky desert eagle in his hand that is known to jam more often than not, and a Mother of a Cannon installed in the back of the Box...it was called the Killer Box since the ministry of interior had them installed as standard in all similar units to ward off any violent citizens. Not exactly Human Rights Friendly but alot has changed since Mr. M died in office.

The Chevy Cobalt burst into a ball of flames instantly when the shells from the killerbox made contact. Leon Blackwater shokran ba2a lets not ask... she was in the car.

He looked back at the Killerbox and noticed that it was a woman who was shooting...lets call her Octopussy.

Octopussy jumped off the Killerbox and sped to a Red Lamborghini parked right after the checkpoint.

Armando tried catching up with her in a white Peugeot 405 police car.

No Match...

The Peugeot was parked outside the chalet he was in. he could tell it was diplo from the distinct silence and americanized English yelled by kids on bikes zipping by the chalet every now and then.

With his mission failed and his partner lost, it was going to be very hard talking to Maccha and his associates and telling them how he fucked up. He decided to go after Octopussy, I mean how many Red Lambos can you find in Sahel??

He found one in Marina 6 and knocked on the door...it was Octopussy...she was with a bunch of ad execs all surrounded with brown Macdonalds Paperbags...one of them had a paperbag on his head and had the eyes cut out, they called him "Habby Meel". He grabbed Octopussy by the arm and pulled her outta the house.

"Thats no way to treat a lady"

" I treat ladykillers any way I want"

"That was collateral damage"

"حات حصليها عموما"

He handcuffed her to him and jumped into her Red lambo...

Lamborghini's are very hard to drive, theyre very wide...you are stooped down too low and you should be very careful with the accelerator.

After drifting left, right and almost moving sideways a couple of times on the coast way the Lambo veneered to stability with its underlayers bolting forward. Bound for Marassi, Armando and Octopussy tugged at one another whenever Armando needed to shift gears. She was quite an amicable woman, polite, discreetly pretty...soft spoken and smiling, you would find it very hard to beleive that last night she was shooting from a killerbox fe lagnet el 7amam...for today, she really looks like just another girl in sahel.

When they arrived at Marassi they headed straight for the clubhouse, Armando had to go kill Le Boeuf...the Nomad Leader. On his way in, Armando felt his heart sink...a familiar feeling he hasnt felt in a while...could it be?

could it be that Giselle Zero is here?

There she was...Giselle Zero, never seen or heard of since what happened between her and King. She was seated at a huge table, surrounded by many friends with a birthday cake infront of her. She was wearing a Tiara and looked like such a Doll. her kind smile showed when she glimpsed Armando.

Armando went towards her direction tugging Octopussy in tow...

"Happy Birthday Giselle..."he said...

"Thank You Armando...Im so happy you could make it,"

"I didnt come for you honestly, Im here to take care of Business"

"Well it seems that business is doing you good, I see it has you quite cuffed..."

"Indeed it has Giselle...Indeed it has..."

"Well I hope you are okay 3omooman"

"Dont worry about me.." he said" "this is always going to be how I live my life...."

And then he uttered his very famous line

"My life's a Moovie....Call me Scorsese"

The next few minutes were a blur to everyone. Strobe Lights shearing your perception at two times a second, Thundering and Booming music lurching its force at everyone from a very impressive collection of speakers and blouse rippers. The music wasnt the only thing that was smashing for so where the tables, The music wasnt the only thing that made people dash, so were the bullets and ricochets...all mixed up in a mosaic of light and dark, loud and mute...It was a disaster...

But Le Boeuf was dead...

thats all that mattered to Armando

Saturday

With Le Boeuf dead, The Nomads would fight off one another in this horrendous vacuum of power...this would be a good chance for Maccha's men to ward in on the loot and start the Gang Wars of Sahel. And that was how Armando Bond Shut Sahel Down.

Give the Man a Vanilla Flavored Cigar to smoke on the Beach for tomorrow is Sunday.

A little sincerity never hurt anyone

He always felt that he saw things in a different light, not that he sees things period. He thought it was insight, not Schizophrenia. He always pitied people who were crazy. Thought they should all be killed off with the disabled and elderly. No room in this world for the weak. It’s a dog-eat dog world, a pond where the big fish feed on the little fish, and this tiny realization has just put him at the bottom of the feeding chain.

Nobody must know.

He must always be composed, to be reliable, reserved to make less mistakes, and wise to give people the guidance they need. He wanted to create a smoke screen, so that people don’t see into him..and realize he is what he used to call a loony.

He realized that seeing things that aren’t really there doesn’t confuse him, it makes things clearer, that he doesn’t need pity, rather than he should be an example. For even if as a regular person he is merely mediocre ( which is not the case with him) he had more to deal with. He has achieved more. He covers the same ground the next regular fellow does but with greater effort. If he has reached where he is today with this secret disability, this means he has far greater potential than what we see on the surface.

When Mr. Adham pops up, it doesn’t confuse him. He doesn’t spend all his time wondering whether when he meets you if you are real or just a product of his very overactive and creative mind, that would be downright distracting, he merely understands something his mind is trying to tell him, since even the mind presents the unreasonable and the illogical with complete reason and logic. A paternal figure appearing in reality like Mr. Adham is nothing more than his mind telling him, he lacks guidance, and trust. It tells him how much he hates his father, his older brother, his Boss, teachers and his President.

As the new reality of things was tinting his new shades of perception, he trodded down the street to his car, smoking a cigarette, jawbreaker in mouth. He spotted a lovely girl heading into a supermarket, he recognized her from the crowd he sees all the time, she seemed so out of place he wondered if she was again a mind trick until he saw her interacting with the store clerk. She grabbed a pack of Jawbreakers, sour cinnamon flavoured. She ripped the pack open and tossed one into her mouth as she left the store. There he stood, on the other side of the glass door, The impeccably dressed man of her dreams with a Jawbreaker in his mouth. All she could do is smile and laugh, hoping he would make a move.

He arrived at the place early, he had agreed to meet Christmas and Thomas Jones at Jacko’s at nine, they would try to make the best of showing up early by going in without a reservation. He left a good impression at the door with the bouncer due to his mannerism and commendable attire.

Jacko’s was a new friendly vibed bar at The Emperor 1850 a floating boat in Zamalek, it was owned by Jacques Zohny, a Halabi Syrian who’s family came to Egypt fleeing the Asad Regime in Syria, looking for better opportunities elsewhere. He was a very amicable man of refined tastes who was loved by all. The Boat included many venues catering to different tastes. Although The Emperor mostly housed restaurants and a hall for special functions and events there always was a bar. The Emperor gathered a refined crowd of all ages, mostly socialites. It was very normal that young people leaving the bar would bump into family acquaintances and try to turn a very awkward situation normal. Riad’s parents however were too estranged to know of his escapades, furthermore, they knew it all, so nothing would come as a shock to them, their son is a hardcore dirty cop with bad habits, could it really get any worse?

Christmas and Thomas came on time, Riad was seated at the bar in his coat, scarf was rolled up on the bar beside him. His back was facing the rest of the place. He was smoking a cigarette and nestling what seems to be a low balled glass full of whiskey and two half melted ice-cubes. He didn’t apologize for starting without them although they weren’t late. He had too much on his mind to be apologetic. Although he never wanted anyone to give him the extra care, He needed the world to accommodate him right now.

Later that night when the place started filling up, he started seeing more and more familiar faces. Real faces not ones his mind came up with. He always was a confident person and thrived on big crowds. He just felt like wanting to be recluse. Not out of fear, rather than comfort, but his confidence was a lot more than usual. He felt that he is perceiving on a far more superior level. So anyone or anything going on at the place was automatically inferior.

Jinx joined them close to the end, she had a lot of work to do, It was already past midnight and almost everyone was too merrily drunk to sharply scrutinize. It was a Sunday and hence Karaoke Night.

They sang four songs..

He hadn’t had that much fun in a long time.

He finally felt that he can reach security he longed for…not in a person, he was always looking in the wrong place. It was security from within himself that he was searching for, and it was right under his nose.

Look around you Riad, are these the people you always wanted to be like? Didn’t you start drinking to fit in with them? Didn’t you start doing drugs? Seducing their women? Just to try to convince yourself you are better…you fooled everyone, and congrats you are now the social legend you always dreamed of becoming, you never sought their acceptance. You sought your own acceptance, you wanted to sleep at night content with who and what you are, Not what they perceive you to be.

* * *

A few weeks later, she was at a wedding, in a White Knee length dress. Her friends and stylish mother all told her not to wear white to a wedding out of fear of overshadowing the bride, even if the bride is prettier it is still considered rude, Sally however takes no precaution to anyone’s favor. She stood in a not so secluded corner by a high table among a few good acquaintances, some were single, some came as a couple, some came without their better halves, She met Jawbreaker there and couldn’t believe her eyes. When he was clearly approaching her, she almost fainted.

He stood in front of her and reciprocated the smile she gave him in front of the store a few weeks back. She gladly asked him “Sour Cinnamon?”

“Strawberry” he replied…

Cafe at Sevres - Babylon

It was a warm April afternoon in Paris, the World Health Organization just announced raising the Alert on H1N1 to that of a global pandemic, and they both couldnt care less.

He was an American, some engineer that thought of making a good buck in the petroleum industry by utilizing his expertise in isolation to protect the arms supporting oil rigs underwater. He used to be one of those divers who use Oxy-Acetylene torches underwater, one of the highest paid hourly wages on earth. these guys are paid 1,000 Dollars by the hour on works underwater. It's highly dangerous work because the fumes that come out of fusing Oxygen with acetylene react instantly with water making a highly toxic compound, don't ask me how they get exposed to it when they inhale from a tank, and their skin is protected by wet- suits , but they just happen to get paid earth's most expensive hourly wage. He now works as a consultant for one of the worlds largest companies that build off shore oil rigs.

She was raised in Grenoble - France , moved to Paris after graduation, she was of Polish Origin, and works fe sherket ba7s we tankeeb, A Business that if properly financed holds no risk whatsoever on anyone but the financier, who most of the time are some already filthy rich individuals with a fever for black gold.

They met after almost 6 months of hard longing, when they first met, sparks flew instantly and one thing led to another. As usual with out of town romances, everything back home was disregarded, meaning his loving wife and his life long battle with nymphomania that he always lost at the beckoning of a lustful woman.
He wasnt honest with her, cause he couldnt be honest with himself, he thought it was love, thats how the worm of infidelity always plants its pod into the minds of weak men.

She most certainly looked as hot as polish girls did, the problem with the hot ones from Danzig, is that they always are just hot, no further appeal than that. So to have one with a proper education and a promising career, well wow, dont you agree?

She loved America with a passion, I mean in 2009, who really didnt? Obama being the poster boy of the free world replacing lil' Bush, the global culture being hoarded with Americana between " How I met your Mother" and "Grey's Anatomy", it was the perfect setting for anyone who lived in some form of opression at any point in time to fall in love with the Western Knight of Human Freedom and Global Justice, and lets not forget, that Poles are the Jews of Europe. Did I also mention how much the French love Obama?

He was a Huge stocky man of Sheer bulk, you can tell he had a Herculean body back during varsity years, fair skin that turned pink and blue eyes comparable to Frank Sinatra's . His Southwestern origins made the French appealing, all about sophistication to compensate for a childhood lost in conservatism and Taboos.

She had legs that went on forever, Jet black hair, and a complexion that resembled a bleached Skeleton.

" I had a talk with her, she is going to her Uncle up in Maine with the Kids, and said her lawyer will contact me..."
" I am sorry Gordy, I really Am..."
" It's Okay Paula, it was bound to come anyways, Laura and I, we havent been the same in quite a while, She has become so consumed with her job, she forgets to pick the children up from the bus stop...John had to walk two miles in snow one day after waiting for her for up to two hours, and that is just an example of the one dimensional self centeredness I have to deal with ever since she got that promotion, she picks up phone calls in the middle of us making love, and just excuses herself with a Sorry, I have to take this..." his voice shrivled up into some sort of a whine, that couldnt come out of a sheer alpha male like Bruce Leiter..

When I overheard that I absolutely related and sympathized with the man

He gathered his composure up and tried to elaborate on how he felt, after taking a sip of the wine in his glass, and crunching on the fresh brown bread that came with their platter of smoked salmon. He looked at me as i smiled back apologetically when the smoke of my cigarette invaded their moment of intimacy...
That was the only contact I had made with the legendary Felix G. Leiter of the CIA.

For those of you who have never made introduction to the man seated in the table infront of me, This man is a very close friend of 007, not only have they forged a friendship in the past 40 plus years during the cold war, they always worked closely and were deemed one of the most formidable channels that defined the ironclad relationship between Langley and Whitehall.

As for Paula, well i can guess at least ten different Eastern European Intelligence Agencies that could have put her up to this. These people have become far smarter, and more formidable foes than the old picture we have created for them back when Berlin fell to the West. For ever since, these people have been engaging themselves into constant learning and experience exchanges now that the world has no enemy, that was back in the nineties.
Now, they dont plant someone where they want them, they recruit the people they need, think of it as outsourcing. And it all came down to an April afternoon in a cafe close to Sevres - Babylon metro station on Ave Raspail.
And thats my take on Paris for you my friends, a setting for lovely love stories, fine dining, art galleries, and fashion labels, a City with its own history, culture, and standing... an International Megacity, with International Relations of its own, along with iconic paraphernalia, ranging from loaves of Baguette, bicycles, berets, sidewalk cafes, statues created from the spoils of World War II, Edith Piaff and one hell of a metro network... a playground for Corporations and Governments alike, that are sleeping together in one bed, anywhere in the world...A fatal combination for anyone who dares stand between them, and their interests.

Osiris Kane, Signing Off, From Sevres-Babylon.
photo courtesy of - National Geographic