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

Merry Christmas

Since everyone gets to show off celebrating blogging for 2 years, I guess I am entitled to show off my 4 years of Blogging, wow...I'm a veteran...4 years solid and going...

Merry Christmas !

Confessions of a Corporate Hitman

My name is Howard Fry, and I am a Corporate Hitman. I work for companies that require covert action with competitors in order to secure their interests. In the past Seven years I have worked hard to earn a reputation allowing me to compete globally. I have succeeded.

My line of work exposes me to matters that the exposure thereof, would bring severe detriment to serious business players, of course confidentiality is a cornerstone of my work ethic, hence the names of persons, companies and events have been altered in order to preserve such confidentiality.

I was hired by a global pharmaceutical company called Sidley – Remington (SR), who were developing a drug that treats Anger. Since a lot of people could live a lot better with less anger with their lives, the company could make billions with such a breakthrough. SR Pharma is engaged into fierce head to head competition with another global company working on a similar compound. That company is called Phizing.

Phizing had a vacancy open for chief compliance officer for Middle East North Africa. Basically what a compliance officer does, is check that all the company’s dealings are done legally and ethically. Pharmaceutical companies spend a lot of money making sure their operations do not bring about negative exposure. Of course, for a compliance officer to do his job properly, he would have unlimited access to all company information. After securing that position, for being the most qualified candidate for that job, I began making inquiries into the company’s marketing practices in Dubai. Since Pharmaceutical companies are prohibited from advertising their products, marketing is quite different in this sector. It involves awareness programs and collaboration with patients to create brand equity. Some of these programs and collaborations create appeal by offering value added to the patients or health care professionals ( doctors, pharmacists, nurses etc…). Should it be found out that a patient of professional has selected a company product based STRICTLY on the value added, then this act would be unethical. Such practices should merely attract the attention of the target, where the assessment should then be made based on medical criteria since at the end of the day this isn’t a fizzy drink or a candy bar.
This is all small talk and the least of any pharmaceutical company’s worries. The real trouble lies in corruption. Government officials especially this part of the world are very keen on getting kickbacks from Big Pharma, who not only have no problem in catering to such needs in exchange of a favourable position versus the competition, but such companies have allocated millions for that reason in particular. Of course, for such engagements to occur and everyone to be happy, these engagements take on a very sophisticated structure.

Let’s say for example, SR Pharmaceuticals would like to expand its market share in a specific country, one of the options would be to win a tender bid to provide government hospitals and clinics with a specific drug, but in order to procure such a position, SR would have to not only have a better product with proven efficacy, but would also have to provide it CHEAPER than the competition. But what if the Tender Committee awards the bid to SR, without justification?
What if the head of the committee actually is a silent shareholder in a market research company, the clients of which, would include pharmaceutical companies.
What if the bidder uses this market research company for the purposes of the tender in order to better understand the market it is serving? And of course would have to pay that company certain “consultancy fees?”
But then a legitimate question that would be asked by a compliance officer is: “ Do we really need market research to supply the government with painkillers? And if we do, do we really need to pay them 35,000 Dollars a month?”
If we also do need to do that as well, is it necessary to pay these fees to a bank account in the favor of that company’s lawyer in the Cayman Islands?

In order to answer the said questions, I met up with the Commercial Manager for Intercontinental Operations based in Zurich. His name is Alfred Braun.
Braun has been in service of the company for over 35 years, he was there since the cold war. He is Swiss of German origin, and very little is known of his past, prior to joining Phizing. A lot of people below him, seem to be making it to places above him, and he is very close to retirement. His not so brief tenure in that function has also given him unlimited access to secretly held info. Not only that, but has given him a say in the decision making process of the sensitive and not so sensitive matters.

All of the Company’s Intercontinental Operations pour back into Zurich in one way or another, so any dirt there would eventually be okayed by this old frail yet incredibly alert man. This man was isolated, lonely and about to be sent out into the cold…for good. We met in Zurich under the premise of regular work in early 2006, where joint smoking breaks, a small souvenir from the middle east and small talk eventually led to dinner and drinks at a downtown bistro during my trip. I also touched base during that trip with a discreet arms dealer based in Geneva, his name is Amir Nassif.
After Dinner and Drinks with Braun, Braun shared with me a few instances where the company did things I am sure they wouldn’t be keen on sharing with the public or even myself, one of which was a specific manager we have in Russia, handling our tenders in some of the “Stans”(Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, etc…) who has consistently favored a key opinion leader in Oncology ( Cancer) as a consultant to the company’s tenders in one of the Stans. It’s okay, the guy can be good. The problem is, he is also consultant to the Russian Health Minister and has a desk at the ministry. He received consistent monthly payments from Phizing averaging 5,000 Dollars a time, for the past 3 years. Such payments should have been okayed by the compliance department since the guy serves an official government post, even if he is merely a consultant to the ministry.

What makes this all the more interesting is how corrupt the system in Russia is, since a few weeks later I head on to Moscow, meet that opinion leader, who has an office adjacent to the minister himself. I explained the situation when he interrupted me saying that he is not a government official and has no affiliation whatsoever with the Russian Ministry of Health.
I asked him if he can provide that in writing.

The following day I find a package delivered to me at the lobby of the hotel I am staying in. In that package is a letter from the Russian Ministry of Health, signed and sealed by the Ministers office saying that Yuri Popov has nothing to do with the Ministry, and no affiliation whatsoever on both official and unofficial levels.
Funny them Russians. They tell you to go fuck off, and we help you get your way, so don’t try to be a moralist when you also are moved by the bottom line.

Braun and I later met in Paris, that was the last time I saw him for he crashed his rented car a year later in New Jersey.
Back to Amir Nassif….
Nassif is a very respected man in his community. His gentle and courteous demeanor always gave people the best he had.
Being a Christian in Europe was being like a native, he used that to his benefit and led a very incognito lifestyle to avoid tabloids back home. At the office by 8 am in bed by 10 pm. Rarely went out in the middle of the week, if he did it was for business reasons.

When I was in town, it was quite the exception, he made sure we had a good time. He had a set of cars in his garage that guaranteed that. One day it was the Scalgetti, the other it was the Bentley Azure, and in between was the S-class Benz modified by AMG. He warned me that my current client was up to no good, and told me of a compound they were trying to get FDA approval for that had the possibility of reversing the Oncogene growth process. Basically molecule SR-432-15-04 made cancer tumors shrink, and feed on themselves until they are no more.
What is so not good about that? Well, before coming up with that molecule, they did come up with 7 others…all of which cost too much to throw into the bin and have to be released, with a 10 year patent coming for each of them…that means we wont see this miracle cure on the market before 70 years time. Braun wanted to come clean with that, and that is why he is being distanced. I later found out that the car crash in Jersey came after Braun was rumored to be talking to the press..the NY times specifically.
Amir Gave me an offer I can’t refuse. Get the molecule, and he will give me 10% of what he would get when he sells it.
Not bad for someone my age, but it looks fishy, I will need a good reason to come up with the money, I will need a stable job, outside of the industry…

“Would you like to retire in the FMCG Business Howard?”
Like I said..T’was an offer I cant refuse…

See You there

Postscript: On being a Dead Man

" The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled, is convincing the World he doesnt exist"

- Verbal Kint-

I'd like to take this oppertunity to turn back the clock to 1995, the world finally sighed relief now that Bosnia was over, we were all fascinated with the British Royal Family's debacles and tuned to CNN as if we were watching some soap opera, Rednex were big, and so was Saturday Night...
It also was the year Mel Gibson and Julia Roberts did some random movie called Conspiracy Theory. Max ( Mel Gibson's Character) was a deluded taxi driver that wrote newsletters about conspiracies - he noticed with his twisted mind - involving the practices of the US Government.

Max, along with a few other similar characters that popped up in Hollywood Movies at later stages trigger something inside you...an urge to live out your wildest fantasies, with no limits...bring out your dreams to reality..pick a piece of how you see the world, and show it to the rest of the world, saying...this is how i see the world, whaddya think...?

What if a dead man can do that? what if a dead man still roams among the living? can we hold him accountable to what he does? hey he's dead...but to us, he's living flesh, thinking, feeling...and most importantly...doing...

I don't think you are getting this, let me explain more....

We all have Egos the size of hot air balloons, actually theres alot more in common than just size. A hot air balloon, in order to serve the purpose it has been created for has to be over-inflated, has to be full of hot air, and if deflated takes up alot less space in existence than what we have allocated for it. The more over inflated the balloon is, and the hotter the air, the higher places it goes.

What is any man's most basic threat? Death...a certainty we all fear and dread. probably the only Bad thing you can ascertain for sure is going to befall you. this thought controls you, moves you, motivates you...its your driving force...its one of the givens that compose what you would call your "basic understandings of life"
We seek pleasures just in case we die tomorrow, our lives wouldnt be in vain, we'd find something to say, i didnt die in vain, there was meaning to my life, Im not just an organism God created and killed off. Which, really is nothing but the truth, but our Egos, sorry hot air balloons prevent us from accepting that.

But what if you really can put things into prespective? that you are just an organism God created, smiteable, like a cockroach in a dirty bathroom.
What if you get over yourself, and have managed to liberate yourself from that consuming thought, and managed to focus on tapping into your potential, you are a cockroach with a Mind, not a brain, a mind...a cortex? folds of grey matter under your skull...a character, a personality, taste, opinions, abilities...not only to survive..but to prosper during your survival.

what if you have your death early on in life...get over it and move on, live your life with a sigh of relief now that the worst is over? relief comes from "re-live"
What would you do?

Have a Jag? an Aston Martin?
Buy a Jet, fly everywhere on Earth?
Buy an Island? in Switzerland?
Roam the streets of Paris after midnight, walking above a cemetary?
Surround yourself by pretty people and Gorgeous women?
Work in a risky business? for the kicks?
start a Gang? do drive bys?
become a movie star?
a teacher?
a writer?
a mad scientist?
a bald Evil Genius in a grey outfit?
have a secret Lair?
a Secret Agent?
a Cop?
an Assassin?

What would you do?
lets take it to the end....for a bigger take on things and getting the big picture...
What if you do all that? whats next?
where is the end? the peak? the punchline? the climax?

See? Death makes alot of sense, doesnt it?
accept it...
Just Die...
*Smiles Confidently*
See you on the Other Side...

His Whole Life Flashed Before Your Eyes

April 22nd 1979
16:00 Local Time Markaz Nasser , Bani Swaif , Egypt

A Black Western Sahara Scarab that’s managed to migrate eastwards to the Nile Valley was minding its own business in the middle of town. Seeking solace in the town's dirt paved roads. Its bold and slightly bluish black color provided contrast to the town’s regular hues of yellow and brown. You wouldn’t mistake it for litter, since the town wasn’t really that big on consumer consumption to actually litter. Everything in this town was either sold in brown paper bags or plastic ones. Some products came in no packaging at all. Its only been nine years since Nasser ( the namesake of this town and neighboring area) has passed away, and his successor’s historically infamous “open door policy” still remained in big mega cities spawning inhabitants surpassing 5 million such as Cairo and Alexandria.

Towns like Markaz Nasser still felt a lot like Nasser’s Egypt. They all thanked Nasser and his fellow comrades for the revolution not so long ago. For it gave the chance for people like Hag Abdel Dayem, the chance to dream, that their sons may have a life far better than they did.
That is why, Hag Abdel Dayem kept all his sons in school. Abdel Nasser’s dreams and efforts for education to all, will not go in vain.
That is why, Hag Abdel Dayem, took up a Miiry job at the Waste Water Authority in addition to his Iron workshop. He’d rather make the extra money his children normally would have made, than deprive them from what he longed for…

An Education.

Of all his sons, he favored Sayed. He was pretty stand up and took to responsibility well. Instead of playing football with his friends after school, he would help his father at the workshop. Any extra hours were spent over books under a lamppost, some of the books were in the curriculum, other were for his own mental expansion. The Hag, had no worries over Sayed, he didn’t even fear the influence of the Brotherhood, he knew that his son knew God well enough than to fall victim to the brand of God the Brotherhood were selling.

AbdelRahman his youngest, nicknamed Abood ( not a very original nickname) was the most he fretted over. Abood barely passed every school year and was always getting into trouble with other kids at school. Wasn’t very keen on studying the Koran. His excuse was that his tutor from the mosque always smelt like sweat.
Although Abood was quite young and the Hag knew, this is just childhood delinquency he was very keen on disciplining Abood, he always believed that a bad apple in the barrel makes the whole barrel go bad.

Abood was always passionate about one thing though. He’d never leave a car enter the markaz without running after it like a rabid dog. That past time of course, given his age has long since withered away.
Abood skipped school today, and went with a couple of friends behind the gas station, where they were sniffing thinner, in the midst of their hydrocarbon induced stupor, while one of his friends was puking his not so full guts out, Abood noticed a girl, probably his age in her stain dabbed garb that was once a rosy red, and your not so standard –yet commonly found- issued Zanooba flipflop , slapping against her heels with every stride. Fawzeyya, was balancing a huge aluminum pot over her head with a rag covering the lid. He could smell Molokheyya.

ممكن ملخية؟
إختشي ياض عيب

You know where this conversation went, I’ll give you a hint, one of them was not happy about it.

Abood was too high to notice the blood on his pants. His mother wasn’t.
To avoid scandal, Abood was shipped off to Port Said to work with his Maternal Uncle in trucking.


December 6th 1990
22:45 Local Time – Portsaid Free Zone

Abood, now known as “Abdo el Dayem” sat with fellow truckers on a local ahwa overlooking the canal. They were playing backgammon and smoking shisha. One of them had Hashish in his, the rest refrained from joining today, since some of them were due on night drives, and as for the others…well let’s just say, they didn’t want to make a daily habit out of it, for financial reasons.

Abdo el Dayem thought about home sometimes, but selectively drowned out those thoughts. He felt guilt but wouldn’t identify with it. He wasn’t there when Fawzeyya’s family barged into their house, and demanded retribution.
Hag Abdel Dayem, always an honorable man, who always displayed accountability for once had to be a coward, He loved Abood too much to hand him over to the wrath of the Men in Fawzeyya’s family. He then claimed that Abood ran away, and knows nothing of his whereabouts. The Hag had to calm them down.
Seeing that his older son Sayed was the example of the good son, Fawzeyya’s family were willing to let it all go , if Fawzeyya and Sayed be wed.
Although it was very unorthodox to reach such an agreement, in some circles considered incestuous, both parties were blinded by interest. Abdel Dayem blinded by fear from scandal, and Fawzeyya’s family seeking an opportunity out of mishap.
It seemed like the right thing to do.

Abdo el Dayem didn’t know of this until years later, when things cooled down, and was visited impromptu by Sayed himself. Abdo’s Subconscious, clouded his supposed guilt and cloaked it as rage. Rage for defying God, and how dare his brother not only approve of, but participate in such vile practice, it offended him to the extent he ended the visit quite abruptly with an outburst of all the damnations and cuss words he knew. That was five years ago. And he never saw or heard of his family since. Now almost a veteran in trucking out of Port Said, he’s started a hidden career of smuggling, out of the free zone with some colleagues. It was mostly legitimate merchandise, that evaded customs thanks to Abdo. Some smugglers would actually wear the merchandise out of the free zone. But that would take them days or weeks. Abdo merely had a hidden compartment that held close to 600 Articles of clothing if folded properly. He would have them out in two hours.

As he was planning his big break, and his debut in the Port Said smuggling underworld, little did he know that plans he wouldn’t be happy about were brewing elsewhere.

In a world of dog eat dog, where people know no loyalties but to their own well being, earlier that morning a colleague was being held captive at the Free Zone Police Station. Who in order to save his own skin, told them of Abdo’s intentions.

The fellow trucker nestling a “goozah” loaded with Hashish from el Aarish knew of it, but wanted Abdo to fall into the trap, one less competitor out of the way was always a good chance. Although the sense of camaraderie was quite apparent in this bunch as in similar bunches, one always saved his skin, and went by the saying: “ I love you but never more than I love myself”

As Abdo started the road to make his delivery, he looked to blister pack of pills laying on the dashboard. He contemplated wether he would want to entertain his drive by drug induced euphoria, at the expense of “Baraka” on what might be a perilous yet routine journey. After not that much contemplation he decided what the heck, it’s a long drive, he could use the fun.
He popped his usual dose of half the strip, and slipped a tape of Mahmoud el Husseiny into the almost defunct cassette player nestled to the right of the steering wheel.

كوكا كوكا كوكا.....كوكا كوكا كوكا....جوجوجوجوجوجوجوووووو!

The incomprehensible scat of sha3bi music would actually make Louie Armstrong and Louie Reed and all the other Louies and cool cats of the blues –dead or alive – toss and turn in their beds or graves alike.

Tasteless, so tasteless…its enjoyable. Some fans of El Hussieny actually argue that hes actually saying “Kokkak Kokkak Kokkak”, rather than “Kooka Kooka Kooka” which colloquially would mean “Your Cocaine” repeatedly.
Opponents to the claim merely say, this guy caters to an audience that can’t afford to even see a gram of Cocaine, so its impossible that he would actually be referring to “Keif el Melook” as Cocaine is known in these circles. But when you come to think of it, most hip hop stars sing of a lifestyle strictly privy to the ambitions of their audience and never truly realized in real life.

Speaking of Cocaine would fast forward us nineteen years into the story, where Abdo has relocated to Cairo, went into the cocaine business with the hefty profits he made off clothes smuggling out of the free zone, fell into deep beef with the “Batneyya” Dealers who retail the drug in Cairo and had to lay low in order to stay alive, and has been working as a “Mallaki” Driver for six months on a model 2001 BMW 520i for some Consulting Engineer.
He can’t really say the job is a step back, its good legitimate pay, and he practically does nothing but lounge in the driver’s seat all day. When it gets too boring he smokes up a pre rolled joint of Hashish. Of course it is nothing like the glory days of the past, when he was el Me3alem 3abdo, and had an army of minions ready to kill for El Me3alem, but still, at least he gets to stay alive.


October 18th 2009
08:45 am
6th October Bridge – Heliopolis Direction – after suspended extension

Driving to “ana shareb segara bonni” Abdo takes a steep turn with the BMW at a viciously dangerous speed. Very simply put, he is of a school of driving that believes high speed maneuvering is the only indicator of a driver’s skill. Nothing else. Up ahead a 2006 Honda City is trying to slowly overtake a microbus hogging the right lane. Although like any place in most of the world, Cairo reserves the right lane for slow speed drivers, where overtaking should be done from a driver’s left. However in Abdo’s school of driving ( which, mind you is adopted by a lot of frustrated drivers) the Right lane is always seen as an opportunity for speeding. This opinion has been formulated out of consistent traffic occupying the left lane where slow drivers occupy the left lane out of choice and congest traffic coming from behind.

Abdo made a premature judgment call and assumed the Honda City wont overtake, and just cruise in parallel to the microbus, causing a mandatory cruise control if you may call it such for the rest of rear-coming traffic. Abdo, being the impatient “Faloosa” he is, saw a literally very narrow opportunity to pass from the microbus’s right, which in order to take, would compel the microbus to violently veer to the left, where the Honda City would follow suit.

At the same time, the Honda driver was planning to occupy the same space on the bridge that Abdo was planning on occupying after his near deadly maneuver, and I am sure you know that the laws of physics on planet earth cannot allow to different bodies to occupy the same space, in layman’s terms..a car crash was inevitable.

Once both Abdo and the Honda Driver simultaneously discovered the others intentions… 2 seconds of Absolute Chaos erupted on the eternally congested bridge.

It was the type of chaos that makes one’s life flash before one’s eyes, as if it were a final review of one’s life. It’s a moment of evaluation that transcends what we understand as time. Although it is not a comprehensive flash, meaning that one’s entire life does not flash before one’s eyes, rather than the most significant events that led the life to take the route it eventually took. Of course the editing of these images is very subjective and done by one’s current state of mind and what that current state of mind sees as relevant or important. That current state of mind, being in the director’s chair directing your perception of things, ultimately has full control of the entire display with what it may entail of image quality and speed, color shades, tints and of course accompanying soundtrack and/or musical score. What also makes it all the more interesting is how the director might indulge in continuity errors such as playing a piece of music as soundtrack to a specific memory that was actually composed after that event took place *think Techno Music playing to a battle in WWI*

In elaboration to that, it is likely that a content man going through this ordeal ( the ordeal being the realization that he is about die) see the positive significant events of his life *snapshot of content man getting married, followed by one of buying new house, and a series of other pleasant events of significant sentimental value including but not necessarily limited to daughter graduating, a day at the beach with the family, a memorable childhood moment with a now dead parent all displayed slowly with fluid and fluff sequence motion with Louie Armstrong’s “ what a wonderful world” in the background, …you get the drift, don’t you?*

I am also confident that you can already assume that Abdo is not exactly a man content with what he has done with his life, and hence the timeless film reel of events his state of mind showed him was more foreboding and tormenting than that of your content man displayed above.
Something more like the story of his life portrayed above, with all the regrets and fuck ups he had to endure as a result of following his whims and indulgence in Hedonism.

So let’s just pause the image of the crash for a minute…just one Femto Second before impact…and then allow it to reverse at 48 frames per second, *enter divine miracle, that downplays event from Demise to Near Death Experience Status*

Was the torment caused by watching a “bad” life flash before your eyes intense enough to have you repent your ways if you were given a second chance on life? Or would such repenting be short lived, for like a day or two… will you even remember this near death experience tomorrow? At five O clock today when boss sends you for some other random errand?

I mean, there’s always the option of downgrading the event to “ Not Deadly But Permanently Incapacitating” Where you lose a limb or two, maybe even permanent disfigurement…maybe that would remind Abdo from this day forward that any minute after the crash is a blessing that he should invest appropriately. That seems fair. But who am I to decide..that’s Fate’s Job.. In other words…God’s Will.

It was God’s Will that the crash was never to occur, *insert moans of objection by carnage lovers* and that both Abdo and the Honda driver escape this event unscathed…both of them living to die another day…barely remembering it days later…

This is up here for one of the event participants to remember,
Always remember…