Wednesday, December 17, 2008

The shoedown.

I think people have lost sight of what’s really important with the pediassault in explosive Iraq. People keep talking about it being a statement of defiance, a single, comprehensive declaration that encompasses the worldwide resentment towards the American warmonger.

Well fear not sheep, your Shepard is here to keep you from straying and to focus on what is truly important pertaining to this little display.

If the shoes fits

Allow me to toss my shoe into the ring with some insights that will lace everything together nice and tight.

1.) First things first, can anyone tell me what brand the weapon of choice was? I feel that if he had used a pair of Nike’s famous Airforce Ones he would have enjoyed better air time which would have improved his chances of hitting the shoe on the head. Maybe a heavier shoe like a Timberland would have helped due to its excess weight. It would have dipped at the right time to ensure success. Remember no steel toes because he would have never gotten them through the metal detectors.

2.) All the major shoe oligarchs of the world are kicking themselves, think about the kind of brand equity they would have built if it was their lovechild that was hurled across the room.
Jimmy Choo- Knock any man of his feet.
Timberland - Let your shoes do the talking.
Nike - Just shoe it.
Just Shoe it : To throw footwear at something or someone to express disgust, disdain or disinterest. Words to live by.
Their global sales would have gone up, especially in markets such as North Korea, Venezuela, Iran, Palestine (if they could get them through the Israeli Blockades) and Pakistan just to name a few.They could have come up with their own line Nike AOEs ( Axis of Evil) and Jimmy Choo AOE ( Access the Evil in you) . Come to think of it people in Africa and India might even start wearing shoes. Ships transporting shoes beware of Somali pirates.

3.) Last but not least… where are the shoes that were heard and seen around the world? I am sure that currently it is vigorously being tested for traces of chemical weapons. Then it has to be ruled out as a weapon of mass destruction before it can be released into the wonderful world of eBay. Those shoes are the keys to stamping out this current financial impediment. Put it on eBay, some rich sovereign wealth fund will buy it under the guise of a wise investment. The money generated is a shoe in to :

1.) To kick the financial crisis in the face. The wealth fund money that will be raised to buy them will be enough to saturate the liquidity of financial institues galore.

2.)It will give the now flourishing shoe industry denizens a well deserved raise from 10 cents a day to 15 cents a day( that’s stimulating the economy right there). Yes children that's one more grain of rice you can purchase.

Eventually wherever the shoes do land, their proud owner can sleep well knowing that they double footedly saved the global economy and made their own shoeprints in the sands of history.
Till then think about what could have been :

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Fear and Loathing in Beirut

Whenever most rational people approach certain milestones they are overwhelmed with a cacophony of emotions. So as I approached the impending quarter of a century old milestone I did what any member of the rationally inept and emotionally immature are socially pre-conditioned or genetically pre-disposed do (a lot of pre-words present in this pre-lude) Therefore I prescribed to the notion that a pre-dictable trip ( I use that word with pre-cision )down the rabbit hole , into the heart of darkness, to break on through to the other side was imminent ( how pre-sumptuous and pre-dictable to use three pre-valent cultural references in a row in this little pre-amble).

I pre-sent to you …..

Fear and Loathing in Beirut
Quillock and I were graced with the effervescent presence of Irah and embarked deep into the depths of an irresponsible binge saturated with a delectable mix grill of uppers, downers, screamers, laughers, Al-Maaza, mashawi, Hommous with Awarma, Tabouleh, eggs, cheese, wine and cupcakes.
As much as we would love to take you through a play by play up to the minute account of what transpired, we can’t! You had to have been there! However all is not lost I give you my word (whatever that is worth) that you will definitely be privy to the participants’ special commentary version.
Painting a picture is overrated, it limits the imagination, who the fuck needs boundaries? Prime example Israel and that other country, I want to say Palestine? Anyways enough digression so instead of painting you a picture I am going to play you a song , more accurately going to give you the soundtrack listing to this epic excursion in hedonism.
1.) Massive Attack – Discography -Favorite Tracks – Teardrop, Angel, Inertia Creeps and my personal favorite Dissolved Girl.
2.) Oasis – Definitely Maybe – Special mention to the track “Do you know what I mean” ( I know it’s not on this album).
3.) Soap Kills – Lebanese Trip Hop – Unfortunately they have disbanded but music the music keeps you trippin and hoppin.
4.) K&D Sessions Volume 1 and 2 – Doesn’t get better than Kruder and Dorfmeister
5.) Burial – Nominee for the Mercury music prize this year
6.) Interpol – Rest My Chemistry
7.) Seasick Steve – Dog House Blues
8.) Eric Clapton – Cocaine – He is just stating the obvious
9.) Dub Qawalli – Nusrat Fateh Ali haunting us from the grave
10.) A Tribe called Quest – The Love Movement
11.) Katachafire - Collie Herb Man - It's good Karam,good Marijuana
I could go on but the last orgasmic rhapsody belongs to a small unknown group from England
a.) Experience
b.) Experience Expanded
c.) Music for the Jilted Generation
d.) Fat of the Land
e.) Always outnumbered never outgunned
You know what? The albums needed to be listed because when you are all searching out of space to find another race fuelled by Lebanon’s finest candy, you will have a moment of clarity in between the rambunctious music… and in that moment of serenity you will thank us for having car bombed this one single minded thought into your conscious, sub conscious, ID, EGO and SUPER EGO


For the rest of this rant there will be periodical reminders of cette fact.

Skit 1 – Night Hawks at the Diner
Location 1 – Roadsters Diner, Downtown
Characters : Prank , Quillock , Irah and Charbel
Background : Prank and Irah haven’t slept in 24 hours because they are absolutely ecstatic ( yes it is exactly what you think it is , you guys are right on the fucking money ! )Quillock has the sagacity of a spiritual leader from this day on he will be known as Guru Getsomebirdsmanstoned
Irah to Charbel : I would like the Brunch special please…
Charbel : How would you like your eggs sir ?
Irah : Cheese !
And Scene


Skit 2 – Are you talking to me?
Characters: Prank, Irah and Taxi Driver
Location: 7 am outside BO18
Background : After a pleasant evening that involved being submerged in a parallel universe and frog heads, Prank and Irah float out of this particular rabbit hole aiming to get back to their hotel room to awaken a slumbering Quillock. As with any country taxi drivers are an enterprising race with a specific skill set that consists of extortion, mediocre pimping and social commentary on the status quo. We being the diligent travelers and hustlers of our own repute collated all the pertinent information that was required to ensure that we were not ripped off. A simple function will explain this

Trip from B018 to hotel = 10,000 lira ( nothing more)
Prank to Taxi Driver: Bonjour, we would like to go to Ramada Downtown
Taxi Driver: Of course my friend !
Prank: How much ?
Taxi Driver: 15,000 lira
Prank: No! Too much! We will only pay 10,000 lira
Taxi Driver: No! No! It far!
Prank: No! It’s not far, fine we walk!
Taxi Driver: Ok, ok, come I take you !
Prank: Ok but only for 10,000 we are not paying anything more!
Irah (invaluable input as always): Ok! You take us and we will pay 8,000 lira only!
Prank and Taxi Driver both look at Irah as if he had asked us to work out the square root of pi in our heads.
And Scene


That will be the last little anecdote because trying to remember these little chickpeas of substance induced miscommunication has been quite problematic. Plus even if by some miracle ( the scope of this particular miracle would qualify it as one of Christmasesque proportions) we did recall every misadventure this particular post would morph into an indefinite posting in a Middle Eastern war zone which loses its appeal after sometime. All I have to say is that I couldn’t have planned a better deconstruction of a milestone than this little sin binge because as you know the best laid plans never worked out for mice or men.


Monday, November 10, 2008

An Ode to Bouda

Oh Bouda, with your feline face upon a tanned Iranian body and Baywatch dirty blonde hair. There you sit, beautiful like a Persian twat…cat, cat, I meant cat….tapping away at your computer, probably facebooking or looking at Vogue online.

How I long to spend endless hours with you discussing geopolitical issues and the meaning of life. I know, I know, you’d probably just stare at me with complete and utter vacancy but that isn’t the point is it?

What? I’m supposed to be a good listener? Now, what the fuck am I going to listen for? Your discussion on what you’re wearing or your personal problems (you’ve probably got Daddy issues)?

Seriously, I don’t think this is going to work, Bouda. If you really think I’m going to listen to endless drivel about the state of affairs in “The Hills” then you’ve got another fuckin’ thing coming.

Ohhhhh, but you’re so delightful. Ohhhhh, the confusion, the pain….I don’t know, which way to turn…but I know which way to turn you….that’s it lovely, you face the wall and I’ll be back in a tick after I’ve brushed my teeth.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Abandon hope all ye who enter here

The idea of hell has been forged into our core belief system since we entered this meat space we call life. As infants we were baptized, circumcised, anaesthetized, ritualized, iodized, and immunized with the single minded intention of saving us from all the future sins that we would all eventually commit. I have left out infanticide on the aforementioned list because that particular treat was reserved for those fine specimens that were committing sins as infants ( which makes old Lucifer very proud) or those who were born the wrong gender ( you didn’t think I was going to leave that little delectable nugget of truth out?).

Fire, Brimstone, Demons of unimaginable horror, all efficiently managed by a severely sun burnt, horny (i.e. with horns) gentleman with a tail and an oversized gardening tool called Satan aka Lucifer or by the moniker he is more popularly and universally known as… Dick Cheney.

That little postcard of eternal damnation strikes fear into the hearts of most regular people, but I ask you is that the scariest depiction of hell we could conceptualize?

Hell has lost its edge; Hell historically was always used as a deterrent against bad behavior. I look around and all I see is bad fucking behavior so it is time that we put the "bad motherfucker" back into hell. Hell needs to be the Sam Jackson version of hell. We need to come up with a hell so bad, so terrifying that it will scare the gays straight, it will scare the thieves to find alternative employment, it will scare the adulterers into monogamy, it will scare the U.S. government into admitting that there were no WMDs and it will scare all of us into actually acknowledging that “The Big G “is all powerful so that he doesn’t banish us into eternal damnation at this particular venue.

Keeping this in mind I have decided to present to thee my top ten list of scary ass hell in no particular order just of the top of my head.

Prank goes to Hell

1.) Trapped in a room with the women of “The View” during a collective that time of the month.
2.) Teaching George Dubya calculus.
3.) Tom Cruise’s wife
4.) Being trapped in George Lucas’s Double chin.
5.) C-Bar.
6.) Being shackled in a basement and being forced to watch re-runs of The Teletubbies.
7.) Being in powder form around Keith Richards.
8.) Organizing Lebanese elections of any kind.
9.) Being trapped in a public outhouse sandwiched between George Michael and Elton John
10.) Trying to say the full name of any South Indian quickly.

You are looking at this list and laughing at the insanity of it and thinking to yourselves “This is not half as bad as fire and brimstone”. I want you to take a look at the list above and add one small word at the end, just one small word “FOREVER”. Now look at the list again. Do you hear that? that is the sound of you all soiling yourselves. The fear is overwhelming ,the thought of being Tom Cruise’s wife FOREVER, C-BAR FOREVER, Subrumaniumakkarajuaribukeralitispongallamvindaloojohn FOREVER !

That children, is the Mac book of Hell , no spam , no spyware, no screw ups, pure unadulterated damnation at its worst.

Quillock and I would like to extend an invitation to you all to come up with your idea of hell and we will collect and collate then provide you with 20 possible new residences for the Overlord of Darkness - Dick Cheney.

People, this needs to be done, we need to do this for our children and our children’s children so that those puny rat bastards will truly know fear, we owe them this much.

Do you hear that ? That is the sound of Bouda showering ! Please close your eyes and marinate over that thought for as long you like.

Rupac: Trans-gender, gangsta crap

Over the last ten years something has bothered me so much so that I can sincerely say I’d like to ban it. Not because it is offensive or I’m conservative but simply because it creates a paradoxical cycle of audible shit.

Yes, children – I’m talking about Rap, R’n’B and Hip Hop. It sucks cock for the lack of a better term. Don’t get me wrong, when Rap originated it was different and creative and meant something. There was a message and it was powerful. Who can forget the likes of Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest or Grand Master Flash? Society changing and infectious. And Rhythm and Blues was the domain of some of the most creative black songwriters the world ever saw. Subsequently, good, old white folk took over and adapted it – including the likes of The Rolling Stones.

But now….now it is just prose about money, diamonds, shagging or masculinity over a series of bleeps or samples of great tunes they didn’t write.

“Oh man, you heard the latest joint by Timbaland? Go out and buy it.”

Errmm, no. If I wanted to listen to music that should be the backdrop to a 1980’s Atari computer game, I would use a mind rubber to delete what grey matter I have and live in a mental asylum.

All the braggadocio and spastic talk that only middle class white American teenagers seem to relate to seems as primitive as a caveman, masturbating over a breast shaped rock.

I’m sure there are exceptions but none of it (original or sampled) seems like it is something that will be listened to in 20 years time with affection. Hmmmmmm, how to spice it up and make it more interesting….???

Well, perhaps nobody knows this but the late Tupac Shakur spent one long night with Ru Paul 13 years ago. The result was Rupac, the illegitimate, hermaphrodite spawn of this vile relationship that involved candlesticks, knuckle dusters and 17 broken Trojan condoms.

I believe that new audiences would be attracted to a dull genre if this transgender, gangsta rapper/rappess were to make music.

What a refreshing tone for Rap music. A male with an adjacent front opening, singing about how he/she attracts young men only to reveal a browned cucumber as an unfortunate bedfellow. Perhaps a song about the joys of having anal sex with young men or having to deal with a period as well as erections….there are so many possibilities. I think Jay-Z or Puff Daddy or whoever the latest, great producer is should actively search for Rupac and await the amazing results.

Ohhhh, the freestyle potential. Could you imagine it? Rupac and Eminem face-off against each other to the point that they get so angry with one another that they end up wrestling. The wrestling would begin aggressive enough in earnest but it would devolve into some rabid, confused, sexual pile. White on black, cock on munge or cock up bum.

I’m sure the same insipid hicks who watch American Idol instead of living their lives would tune in. How could Simon Cowell ever turn Rupac away? He wouldn’t. He would be blown away by the true life story of a black, she-male trying to make it through everyday life and he would ensure that the sympathy votes would go to her/him.

Cue end of Rap

Simon: “Do you really want my opinion, Rupac? Well, I think that was the most amazing performance by a double, genitalled individual I’ve ever seen. In fact, that is the only performance by a twat, cocked person I’ve ever seen!”

Audience laughs and cries at the sweet irony of it all.

Either that or just ban shit music altogether. Bundle it all up like a toxic debt from Lehmann Brothers and sell it to Mars. It’d be better off in a vacuum.

Sex moment sponsored by Jizz Bathroom Cleaner

There’s nothing more soul-appeasing for myself, Prank and Elie than hating just about everything. But there is one thing that we all genuinely LOVE. And that thing is a solid piece of attractive, walking office estrogen. Now, before any female readers roll their eyes and go “how typical of a chauvinist male” ask yourself one question – “Are you really that ugly?”

Anyway, for the sake of argument, let’s call this lovely lady intern, Bouda. Ahhhhhhhh, Bouda – like a lovely breath of fresh air, strolling into the office every morning doing menial, meaningless tasks. Perhaps it’s because she probably couldn’t cope with anything more than making cups of coffee but who cares? Since when did intellect ever come into raw, sexual attraction? And please don’t tell me it’s about the conversation – unless you’ve grown female funny parts in the last minute then that doesn’t wash with me.

Regardless, Bouda is on course for a sensual, sexual education that is likely to end up in the ejection of 3 cubic centimeters of my jasmine coloured love splash on her sodden front garden.

Friday, November 7, 2008

New Asia, Where have all the Asians gooooone ?

Before this next rant, I would just like to make one thing clear , reading our last exercises of cathartic expression it seems that we are waging our own "War on Terror" on the fine denizens of the Levant.... let me be the first to clear things up... NO ONE IS SAFE ! So dispel any notions you might have that we are... for the lack of a more inappropriate word .... Racist ! Actually not only are we racist but we are sexist, creaturist, elitist and extra terrestrialist. So once again NO ONE IS SAFE ! If there is a new species or extra terrestrial life form that is discovered rest assured that jokes will be born , au naturel.

On that note without much futher ado about nothing ....

New Asia , where are all the Asians ?

New Asia Bar: swanky, classy, house music but not the good kind, mini skirts, drinks fit for royalty ( just price wise) and of course a place for Dubai's very own buttonly challenged to congregate in a proverbial table/bottle measuring contest. I feel this doesn't paint a vivid enough picture so I present to you :

Shoo you think you can party ? The only reality show worth watching.

Disclaimer : The characters in this show are as real as global warming, and bear resemblance to a majority of the population of this city, there is absolutely no coincidence here because it is intended. No Tree Dwellers we harmed during the witnessing of this show.

Elie 1 ( shockingly enough , top three buttons missing, hair of a chestal nature in all its glory): Shoo ? No one is looking at me , how can I get more attention ? Ahh oui ... If i order a large bottle of Moet and hold my glass in the air and move around that should work.

Elie 2 also thinking to himself ( yes that top button crime spree is spreading fast): Shoo !?! Look at that guy... kisikhtak ! There are more people around the area of his table..... Bien Sur ! I'll order a Magnum bottle of Dom Perignon as well as a flaming sambucca, this way I can hold the glass as well as the shot glass in the air and move around!

An so on and so forth, if there was one word I could use to describe New Asia it would have to be an incubator.
An Incubator is an apparatus where pre-mature infants are kept in a controlled environment for protection and care. It makes sense (especially since I came up with the analogy) and because of all the underdeveloped conversational and thinking skills , only in an environment like this would the " The Tree Dwellers" (as Quillock so aptly named them) flourish and be protected from depth and substance ( not the kind we all like to abuse).

However I will say this New Asia bar is a testament to showcasing the wonders of minimalist material use. In the words of the eternal and occasionally brilliant Joey Tribianni " It's amazing how they can do so much with so little material".

I need a drink !

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Ergo Ego

Me. I am me. I cannot be anything but me. Prank and myself live in our world. A world viewed through the lens of our mind’s critical eye. The environment that surrounds us is a millionaire’s playground and within that playground exists a media agency with a reputation that precedes itself. A reputation for fine work and creativity.

But beneath the surface of eccentricity and egos, resides a highly sexualized and juvenile clan known only to the those in our world as “The tree dwellers”. Indeed, those in the know, realize that ‘the dwellers’ perpetuate an expanding bubble of their own, externalizing the frailties of their psyche through aviator sunglasses and badly thought out fashion statements.

Their call is unique and heard from miles around. “Shooooo….shooooo”. Their ears prick up like desert foxes in an infertile land and at the first sign of a potential self-aggrandized statement, the clan strut the halls, alleyways and dungeons of our agency smelling for sex like it was a shit in a gold plated living room.

Useless information is passed around the agency in a bid to create a positive morale including 15 different ways to tie a shoe lace. One day the revolution will happen and when it does, I and Prank will lead the desire for change. The fact that the revolution may not actually happen in our beloved, quasi-oriental city is neither the point or for you to question. Follow us on our journey through space and time….

A credit crunchy tale of two cities

The time is now , the time is right for us to release this little cathardic expression of celebrating the human spirit ( Pls read previous line in most sarcastic tone of voice divinely possible. This will set the tone for all future rants). My partner in crime, not in sin have been residents of this "city" for a while now , me longer than him, and it is safe to say that we are Dubaiist.
The very definition of Dubaiism - Is prejuidicial discrimination of everything that this "city" aspires towards or fosters in terms of celebrating spectacular mediocrity.

Now it is credit crunch time... how is the world adapting to their subujugation to third world country wealth ? Keeping in light of the reduced purchasing power of consumers in London, the fine tradesmen of the black,clandestine pharamceutical industry have started offering a "Credit Crunch Special" yes I couldn't even begin to make this up, even if I tried. "Credit Crunch Special" is a bargain in its' purest form. I urge you to research and find out what it is.

In Dubai the fine male specimens of the Levant are practicing thriftiness in their own unique way... due to the global credit crunch they have realised that the best way to excercise their credit crunch induced right to a more modest existence is by eliminating the use of the top three buttons on all their shirts. This small but effective practice reduces the cost of their designer labels exponentially. More importantly this gives the members of the opposite and same sex a view of the goods.

Times are hard , you need to do your part !

Saturday, November 1, 2008

There should be some message welcoming you

At this point in time, my proverbial partner in crime has not made his presence felt. However I have it on good authority that he is planning something on whalian proportions. Therefore what this blog is about , what we are trying to say , what is our purpose all these grand existential exercises in narcisissm shall be revealed during the course of this week. Till then start drinking bitches ! we have one more day to intoxicate beyond reproach !