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Godot's Page

Godot's Page

Gatekeeper to the Theater of the Absurd

Monday, 3 August 2009

Oh Bibi, you marvellously miscreant asshole

What the motherfucking fuck? Why is this piece of news not making the headlines? Commentary on this is redundant.

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Monday, 13 July 2009

Damn you Google Translate...damn you to our sa7at

Ladies and Gentlemen (or shall I say borthers and sisters?), I give you Dr. Sabri Irbeihat, the 'Jordanian Minister of Culture', or, as he likes to put it the Chairman of the Executive Committee of the Supreme Jordan?):

Lest you succumb to asphyxiation due to the lack of a cogent thought, I give you the last paragraph again… not because I am half sadistic, but because I believe in the inherent positivity attained if we all shared the same level of what the fuckness:

“Once again we invite you to participate in and enjoy the cultural advancement of the status of which are to foster our development and the pursuit of Jordan seeks to accelerate the pace of rescue.”

Centuries will have passed before civilization begins to comprehend what Irbeihat, the Jordanian Minister of Culture, truly meant when he said “…to accelerate the pace of rescue.” I salute you Minister, for I do not understand what the fuck you smoked.


Saturday, 27 June 2009

On Labeling, Classifying, and Self Championing

Dear Neo-Imbecile,

The sub-culture you so lackadaisically created on the milieu of rigid social norms was originally based on a yearning to do, act, dress, and believe what you like, no matter how disparaging it would be to your affluent suit donning uncle down the street. Nowadays, I find you locked in your narrow set of preferences, your style and mannerism so tightly restrained by the perception of other neo-imbeciles around you. Restrained. The word you used to justify your cessation from conventional society has finally entered the lexicon used to describe you. Armored by your insecurity, decorated with your labeling de jour, your adulation of the ‘different’ reeks with pathetic self-proclaimed elitist exclusion. You speak pejoratively of social climbing, yet you do not realize that your words are means for your own hike upon another arbitrary ladder, you hypocritical infant. You vie to discover ‘real’ folk to pacify the suspicion that you are but another banal manufactured nobody in this, most epic of cosmic jokes.
Speak to yourself in introspection once in a while; you might discover that it is all meaningless, and nothing but a counterfeit. Maybe then you will exceed the mental capacity of a sun-dried tomato. Until then, do not approach me you toxic sack of boredom.


Thursday, 4 June 2009

Do Not Feed The Animals

And just as the air became brisk, and the moonlit grounds filled my heart with summer bliss, the seemingly ubiquitous Moderately Religious Arab (MRA) struck again to fuck it all up…

In this episode, the MRA was a scantily clad Jordanian Christian man donning the latest acid-burnt Diesel low cut denim, and a plain white slim fit shirt whose sublime designery had its thunder forlornly usurped by a blasphemously large golden cross in the pectoral area. An innocuous joke by Godot - about how Jesus would have died with his palms facing the other way had he known the quantity of tear evoking succulent cleavages he would be resting upon in a millennia’s time - seemed to have sparked yet another vastly uninformed religious debate amongst the seated few. My holier than thou sigh was brusquely interrupted by MRA’s intimation that the letter of the Bible is EXCLUSIVE to messages and anecdotes of “peace, tolerance and equality.” This man has unmistakably missed a few lines, but we’ll blame that on the Russian Standard.
While I recognize the abundance of peaceful messages in the Bible, as I do the Torah and the Koran, you my dearest of casual Christians must recognize the symmetrical abundance of hateful stone-age rhetoric as well. Allow me to share a few snippets of your concord mongering as you lament the best possible way to present me with your other cheek:

On fear, intimidation and death by stoning. What’s with monotheism and stoning man?
“Then he is to be stoned to death by all the men of the town: so you are to put away the evil from among you; and all Israel, hearing of it, will be full of fear.” Deuteronomy 21:21

On homosexuality and tolerance, couldn’t you have done away with all the graphics?
“If a man also lie with mankind, as he lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be on them.” Leviticus 20:13

On women’s rights and eternal slavery, sounds like working on the Johnny Depp’s Flying Dutchman:
"Whenever a man sells his daughter into slavery, she will not go free the way male slaves do.” Exodus 21:7

On working during the Sabbath, didn’t leave much room for interpretation there:
"For six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a holy day, a sabbath of complete rest to the Lord; whoever does any work on it shall be put to death.” Exodus 35:2

The list goes on, but as this page is dedicated to the inanity that plagues our planet, I leave you with my favorite verse from Corinthians:
“Does not even nature itself teach you that if a man has long hair, it is a dishonor to him.” Corinthians 11:14

JESUS H CHIRST! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Tickle my testes and call me Suzy! What happened to the simple yet effective “son, go get a haircut”?

With Islam in the increasingly widening crosshairs of the war on happiness, instead of a collective shift away from social forms of religion, it seems as though Christians in the Middle East are taking the opportunity to capitalize on their millennia-old PR campaign. It’s much like the I-hate-Republicans-due-to-Bush-therefore-I-will-vote-for-anything-else-that-can-breathe (or the IHRDBTIWVFAETCB) campaign that Democrats in America waged in recent times. Bad analogy I know, but I’ve wanted to say that for months now.

So my unapprised Moderately Religious Arab who happened to be a Jordanian Christian this episode, read the Biblical Scripture (and whatever other holy scripture your heart may desire), not for moral code, but because we need more skeptics out there, and nothing gets you there faster than reading those books.


We Don't Need No Thought Control

Finally, this whole separation barrier conspiracy begins to unfold. The whole thing you see, is an elaborate Zionist plan to get Pink Floyd back on stage. Seriously though, does it bother anyone else that Roger’s offer sounds more enticing than anything else we’ve heard so far?

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Tuesday, 2 June 2009

Magic to Fairytale is Like Miracle to Religion

Faith is a tricky matter for the average thinker. It is very akin to the offspring you get when Mindfuck gets Catch-22 wasted on tequila shots, smokes some meth, and has children thereafter. On the one hand, a relative increase in faith can, for instance, be explained by logic as a dire situation that leaves one with nothing but the power of the unknown Almighty to cling on to (read: desperation). However, this logically plausible situation leads to impossibly illogical ensuing beliefs. Long story short, faith is something I cannot touch, because it so often meanders into abstractly philosophical realms, which I very much enjoy debating, and I can’t say definitively that a person of spiritual faith is an auto-idiot. But if you want more than faith, like history or science however...Different story…Bring it bitch...Oh its been brung.

Reading religious texts is a favorite pastime of mine. It’s like reading about Sir Lancelot, or Zeus’ many conquests, or watching star wars. Scores of impressive protagonists, thrilling catharses, good versus evil, super powers, extra-terrestrial omnipotence, timeless comedy, and lastly, conventional wisdom oozing after every comma, period and exclamation! The story of Jonah’s 3 day excursion inside a large fish, or the humorous story of Abraham threatening to kill his son Isaac for no apparent reason (the voices told me to do it), and the story of little Jack who planted magical seeds and climbed a giant beanstalk into a land of wonders... Confusingly similar plot lines. What makes me want to use up my made-up-yet-ever-so-needed 5 lifetime murder passes all at once is the plethora of retards who want to hang me from my balls when I profess my skepticism. Bizarre.

Just as I have done the pizza topping, I have recently rediscovered the moderately socio-religious Arab (read: hung over Arab overwhelmed by bouts of cosmic guilt). In this recent encounter, the moderately socio-religious Arab was a Jordanian Moslem, and a big believer in the social forms that religion so often takes, such as same-religion marriage, or sacrificing goats after a great achievement. He consistently lectures me about monotheistic religion as a means of salvation whilst pouring Russian Standard Vodka down his throat. What is scarier is the collective zombie-like nod of endorsement reciprocated by most others in the sitting. It’s very much like what living in a horror flick written by Franz Kafka about scary American suburbia would feel like. Eerie stuff. “See,” he says, “I am like you, I enjoy Vodka, but I believe Religion tells us what’s right from wrong, what to believe and how to act. It doesn’t say anywhere that I can’t drink, it says I can’t kill and shit, so I don't do it. It is law” Let us ignore the militantly odious train of thought that this man has so horrifically spawned, and let's pretend he is a colossally charming doorstop that shouldn’t offend us.

So let me get this straight, you take literal interpretations of what social interactions should be like from the same tome you read about a guy called Noah whom once upon a time, so craftily filled a wooden boat with a pair from each species and sailed the seas to save the world? The same manuscript a talking snake seduced man to eat an apple. Whatever the fuck that means. Fantastic. Rupunzel’s uber ponytail might as well have made an appearance.

The moderately socio-religious Arab is often in that state of limbo because she is so afraid of venturing introspectively into taboo subjects such as religion, preferring the status quo to the anxiety riddled world of logic that could liberate her of the past umpteen years’ worth of ‘belief.’ She is so afraid of what her findings might be, and how her livelihood could go on if her beliefs were even slightly rendered implausible.

This is not a post against one particular religion; rather it is a post against all forms of literal religious interpretation. Take the stories as symbols, and don’t go out of your way to scientifically prove them. You will fail, and Godot will castigate and then castrate you. Believe in whatever you want to believe in (Godot believes in Vedanta and Nyaya), but don’t do something silly like refute evolution or socially push your beliefs unto others. You are offending your own brain. If you want to have a scientific debate about the subject, I am ready for you, but be very prepared, I will not speak to a retard, unless she is an impossibly attractive nympho. Otherwise, just as I do not interrupt your prayer, hymn singing, wall-wailing, and goat slaughter, please refrain from giving me uninvited lectures on religious morality as I pour my whiskey and wait for that Proscuitto platter while reading Salman Rushdie after I have just finished having condom protected pre-marital sex with America’s Next Top Infidel Model.


Thursday, 28 May 2009


Be weary of the cool hot chick who is acquiescent to your initial woo. She either has genital herpes, or is on the rebound.

As an adolescent, I always wondered how a flagrantly revolting man like Dennis Rodman consistently schtupped objects of every boy/dirty old adult’s masturbatory thoughts such as Madonna, Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra. One needn’t look further than the feat that warranted his inclusion on every All-Defensive Team of the Year since the birth of Christ…he was the king of rebounds, both on and off the court. The Rebound King was a master at picking up unsuccessfully thrown objects at an arbitrary hoop. Big ups [to your?] Rod. Why else would an impossibly sexy vixen like Carmen marry an ogre with offensively large nostrils? And you can’t say penis size, she could get that sans the shackles.

As a person who is in fact not Dennis Rodman, I tend to shy away from beautifully round, bouncily firm objects falling out of nowhere. The ostensibly charming unrequited cries will, more often than not, divulge themselves in variously wicked forms of un-jazzy sensationalized drama…Don’t do it, because you are not Dennis Rodman, and because drama and lunacy ought to be synonyms…


From my experience with women in North America, which I apparently lack as judged by S (stage directions: audience laughs and swiftly heaves upon S), rebound chicks are great. In that geographically bound interchange, bodily fluids are uncompromisingly blocked by a sheath of rubber in exchange for a much-needed bout of temporary amnesia. It is done in jest, and no one gets hurt if the S&M safety guide is being aptly followed.


Chinese Democracy - LP

I have recently been handed two leather bound, lace-strap sided Moleskine notebooks as part of a redundancy package, one black, the other red. I know, the natural irony amuses me as well. “Here are a couple of hundred empty pages for you to ponder over what it truly means to be redundant…oh and thanks for all the good times!"

“Ernest Hemingway’s utensil of choice“ I was told, as though the messenger interpreted the look of disgusted puzzlement on my face with sniper precision. I was not quite as repulsed the next time I took a glimpse of said notebooks. I was overtaken by the sex appeal of fuzzy ink, unkempt words that represented so much more than a page could metaphysically handle as opposed to neatly kept compartmentalized blog…and the list of emotionally driven similes/metaphors goes on.

Glad I’m over that.

Now I have returned. Ice-clouded tumbler and unscrewed whiskey bottle stand half-empty on standby, as manifestations of self-loathing via buffoon prejudiced digital sachets soon to be splattered across this electronic wasteland are locked and ready for dispatch. Ready thyself ye heathen idiot, thy slayer Godot hath cometh.

I always thought that would have made for a greatly vindictive comeback. Feel free to fuck off till my next post in August.

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Tuesday, 17 March 2009

How Two A-rabs Win Their First Oscar/Grammy

In the spirit of desecrating all that is serious, and deprecating all that is dramatic, the Sandmonkey and I have embarked on a creative endeavor documenting the tales, trials and tribulation on the alpha-est of male heroines. The bastard child of James Bond and a semi-retarded Arab farm girl if you will. Born in Andalusia and thrown into the Rafah border, we give you ZOBRO – THE PALESTINIAN AVENGER!
This is what happens when great minds are independently bored at work:

me: Pali liberals dude. Ramalla is like the new Woodstock
Sam: tell me more
me: go to Ramalla now every ird thinks he’s so god damn enlightened, all they wanna do is smoke hash and shag to some vintage pink floyd psychedelic rock
its kind of awesome actually
except for the bit when they try too hard
Sam: lol
me: i might be moving there soon, i'll tell u all about it later today
Sam: listen, i will come visit if you let me kill hamas peoples
me: I always had this fantasy of wearing some chic mask gallivanting around the streets of Gaza with a pair of Desert Eagles .50, smoothly dodging katyushas and using those green clad retards as target practice
Sam: lol
I am in
me: then I'll move on to the IDF fucksticks who would be too busy cheering me on. Little do they realize, the masked Zoro of Falasteen does not discriminate, for they are all retards to him
Afterwards, I'll just give it to Jordan and Israel, as long as they give us passports, voting rights, and free HBO
Sam: u should write a novel
but don't call it zoro
call it ZEBRO
no no…ZOBRO!
i can see it
The Mask of Zobro
The Return of Zobro
me: Frank Miller's Zobro…starring Mickey Rourke… kick ass
Sam: who will be your arch nemesis?
I vote for Suha Arafat
She would have the snatch of doom
me: magharet j3eeta, full effects with bats and everything
the ghost of Yasin and an old decrepit Suha Arafat modeled pretty closely on Heather Mills
Sam: lol
Sam: and, like a proper Palestinian hero, you must have dozens of children
which would make a totally new franchise
Welad zobro
me: Lol! Of course, I will profile my character on a softer Ali Hasan Salameh, the 'playboy' drunkard and unsuspecting womanizer.
Sam: I like
Sam: Episode 4: Zobro vs. Tzipi
me: hahahaha
in a cathartic twist, a wasted Zobro shags tzipi after their chance encounter in the Hero/Villain Den Bar (our own version of Central Perk), or is it the other way around he wonders the following morning, shortly before committing Seppuku
me: Zobro has to be headstrong, hard willed, but conflicted. I could see a method actor pulling it off, maybe Josh Hartnett with a Versace hair cut


me: Dude, screenplay or pilot? I vote pilot turned movie with horrible critical reception ‘that never lived up to the series’ and a cult following thereafter
Sam: exactly what i am thinking
Sam: lets draw storyaords and plot lines
me: im so down
Sam: and have my people call ur people
me: set up a meeting somewhere and order food that’s not on the menu
Sam: it should be animated
We must be aware that we might end up getting gay Palestinians fan base of Zobro
me: I’m thinking nizo would be a fan
Sam: and they would be like "Zobro fills us up with Palestinian pride...to the hilt."
i am thinking nizo should be a frenemy
me: def
Sam: he likes Zobro, but can't have zobro
me: that should be his tagline in wiki notes
Sam: with one of them fighting his lust for another
dude, we would win an oscar
me: atleaaaaast a palm d'or

Stay tuned for the periodic bolgisodes: The Chronicles of Zobro: The Palestinian Avenger.

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Thursday, 12 March 2009

Shameless Cronyism and Promotion II

Remember her? She's in Gaza, she's writing, she's cool, she's future sister in law, she's Queen of Sheba.

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