Justice or insulting Kerinçsizness?

Smiling like a Cheshire cat from one ear to the other, today Tetrapilotomos asked me to read the following:

Turkish police arrested 33 persons who were actively involved in ultranationalist activities. Some of them are quite high profile. Retired general Veli Küçük, who has been in the news since the Susurluk case, some mafia leaders, the notarious lawyer Mr. Kerincsiz, Aksam columnist Güler Kömürcü, Sevgi Erenerol, spokeswoman for the Turkish Orthodox Patriarchate - one opposed to the Fener Greek Patriarchate- are among the arrested ones...

I did and said: Interesting. And what's the amusing part about?

Spake Tetrapilotomos:

"I cannot remember that - and if so when - it happened in past decades that by reading a news I thought I were dreaming.
Therefore, I have been visiting this entry of Erkan's blog, at least twice every day, since.
Not that I wouldn't rely on Erkan who is the best journalistic source one can find in Turkey; no, it's just that I was anxious the good news could emerge as one of my daydreams, that I had become victim of my wishful thinking.

Now, after seven days I have decided to believe my eyes

The infamous Kemal Kerinçsiz arrested. What a pleasure, what a delight! Once again, filled with joy my heart is rising like a falcon up to the sky!
The neurotic who would fill complaints against dozens of Turkish journalists and authors inculpating them of insulting Turkishness, the pettifogging moron who'd sue the moon if only he could, whenever this planet's celestial neighbour dares to not appear exactly in the shape as is determinated in the Turkish flag, facing a trial himself! Ah, I wish him good health so that he may be able to enjoy the rest of his life behind bars."

Said I:

"Aside from that I remember that once you wished him to lose all his teeth except one for permanent toothache, as an admirer of Mr Kerinçsiz you will be aware of that the honourable gentleman heads the Büyük Hukukçular Birliği (Great Union of Jurists), which is responsible for most article 301-trials. One if not all of his approximately 700 dear colleagues and brothers in mind will do their best to turn the table and file a complaint against the prosecutors for insulting Kerinçsizness.

By the way, my dear Tetrapilotomos, I do start to understand why you would never write what you are thinking."


And here, for the beginning, a bit more about Operation Ergenekon.

Literary afternoon

That he knew human nature well, and that he had adopted the only course which could place him in a prominent light, and would enable him to separate himself from society of ordinary herd of men, whom he held in considerable contempt.

Here I stopped reading out, and asked my friend: "Do you think, this hits the mark?"

Taking his silence was consent, I went on:

There was a heartlessness in his character, a spirit of gay misanthropy, a cynical, depreciating view of society, an absence of high-minded generous sentiment, a treacherous versatility, and deep powers of deceit.

"And? Doesn't it ..." At this moment I realized that Tetrapilotomos was enjoying his afternoon nap in my wing chair.

The more surprised I felt when suddenly I heard the sleeper declamate as if his voice were centuries old:

"I looked for no less, my lord, from your High Magnificence, and I have to tell you that the boon I have asked and your liberality has granted is that you shall dub me knight to-morrow morning, and that to-night I shall watch my arms in the chapel of this your castle; thus tomorrow, as I have said, will be accomplished what I so much desire, enabling me lawfully to roam through all the four quarters of the world seeking adventures on behalf of those in distress, as is the duty of chivalry and of knights-errant like, whose ambition is directed to such deeds."

Kafka, the Kremlin and Kasparov

"Am in Erzurum. The
worshippers to dead
sardines' heads are
forming a
supranational elite.
Until soon,
kind regards,
Tetrapilotomos."

You remember this message I received November 16th?

Well, since, I had been living lovely quiet days, snapping at the chance to rereading parts of the correspondence between Voltaire and Frederic II., Saramago's The Seeing, and, after all, listening to Harry Rowohlt reading the complete volume of Sterne's Tristram Shandy, altogether 23 hours and 24 minutes on 22 CDs which had been last year's Christmas present.

There had been but five more messages, each containing of three words: Am in Istanbul, Am in Stockholm, Am in Moscow, Am in Bern. The last arrived Wednesday evening: Am in Lisbon.

Now, tonight watching the beginning of Kafka's "Castle", who drops in?
Right. My closest friend.

Here I am.

Welcome back, Tetrapilotomos. How ...

Ah, Kafka's Kremlin. Ulrich Mühe is brilliant in the Kasparov role.

You did not have a date with Mary Jo?

No.

Tetrapilotomos! Kafka took his last dwelling six feet under almost 40 years before Kasparov made his first move by leaving his first dame.

Are you sure?

A strong tea, Tetrapilotomos?

Yes. As K. awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed into an asteroid; in 1983 this asteroid would be discovered by Randolph Kirk and Donald Rudy who would name it 3412 Kafka, and in the same year "Amerika" would be published. Sean, don't you understand? It's a gig.....

Coming to think of it I do hastily agree. Otherwise, in a minute you'll tell Flann O'Brien is Kafka's reincarnation.

Was.

Is. Anyway, it's lovely to have you back, my friend. It was so quiet and I missed you so much.

Alright, seriously: But you will agree if Kafka were Russian, he would be a Costumbrista writer, won't you?

Would he be a Costumbrista writer, he were Mexican.

Why? Take it as an ingredient of globalisation ... or, this may please you more, of Omnium.

*

Well, actually I had intended to watch the film and afterwards to hear Tetrapilotomos telling a few (!) tales of his trip.
Instead, I did see nothing of the film, and ... the rest you know.

Now I am tired. Suppose tomorrow I'll need nerves of steel.

The peace of the night.


- - -

For those interested to read a little more about the (unfinished) novel, the film and its director: Voilà.

More about Kafka - and surprisingly not bad for the beginning - you find here.

And for those who could not get enough, highly commended: The Kafka Project.

The Importance of being E(a)rnest

Mr Ernest W. Chambers once again proves the importance of his being: The 70-year-old Senator of Nebraska (U.S.A.) sues God.

My closest friend Tetrapilotomos first reaction: "I am relieved Mr Chambers did not sue God's wife, too. The more I am looking forward to the trial. It would be interesting to see how Mrs. God manages the earthly affairs, while her husband is living behind bars in his own country."

To be fair against Mr Akyol

It's not easy to lose twice in row.

Therefore here, to be fair against Mr. Akyol, quasi with open visor an announcement.

But let's first read the final passage of his reply to Mr Bekdil:

This “theory of taqiyya,” which Mr. Bekdil repeatedly refers to, is an “unfalsifiable” idea, to use a term coined by political philosopher Karl Popper. What this means is that the person accused with “taqiyya” can never falsify that. The more he rejects the accusation that he is willing to destroy the secular republic, the more the ultra-secularists become convinced about the imagined conspiracy he supposedly cooks up. It is like believing that all top politicians are freemasons; the fact they deny this would only prove how effectively the secret brotherhood works. It is a pity that such an immature paranoia is shared not only by the superficial demagogues of secular fundamentalism, but also otherwise reasonable and sophisticated minds like Mr. Bekdil. I am sure he can do better than that.

Hope this was green enough, and everybody could read.

Now, there is (almost) no doubt that Mr Akyol is a talented writer. I should like to compare him with my friend Tetrapilotomos, a writer who would not write for reasons that I shall probably never understand.
Anyway, if I did so and came to the conclusion that ... that ... that Mr Akyol were more talented than Tetrapilotomos, (I suppose) according to Mr Akyol (who seems to have read Karl Popper) this would be unfalsifiable.

This said, I promise Mr. Akyol that next time he will raise his sword ... hm ... his feather (what a picture in these times!) to take up the cudgels for praising so-called intelligent design, he will be asked to falsify, that is: to prove or declare false.

The Peace of the Night.

Postscriptum: Apropos "mature paranoia", Mr Akyol. Do you think Mr Bekdil is psychotic? Language, Sir, language!

And be careful with your answer.
As Tetrapilotomos uses to say: I do always mean what I say, but I wouldn't say all I mean.

Pestering Problem

Just to keep you informed about the most important problem keeping 70 million Turks on tenterhooks.

Having read this and this and this you might murmur like Tetrapilotomos:
"I did not see one single tiny hair, one could cut into four pieces."

Good to have somebody to cut the problem in pieces . . .

Güle gidin!

Being distracted from posting by my closest friend who unfortunately managed to implicate me in a discussion without any emotional blockade about prophets, quad negations, pleonasms and redudancy, I leave the field to the first Flann O'Brian Prize Winner.

Your turn, Mr. Bekdil!


And now
The Peace of the Night.

Güle gidin!

In dubio pro Bekdil AND Akyol

As promised in the (hopefully not) last post, here is the jury's result:

The Flann O'Brien Prize Winner is ...

- Sean!?!
- Yes, Tetrapilotomos?
- Who do you think deserves the prize?
- Actually, I could not decide. Both, Mr. Akyol and Mr. Bekdil deserve it.
- I fear, Mr. Akyol would not appreciate to share the prize.
- Why shouldn't he?
- He is missionary, while deep in Mr. Bekdil's heart the serpent "Sarcasm" is darting. Mr. Akyol seriously believes in what he is writing, while Mr. Bekdil does not take himself too serious.
- Hm, Flann O'Brien is not missionary at all. Would you say, Mr. Akyol is not as amusing as Mr. Bekdil?
- I said Mr. Akyol would not be amused to share any prize.
- So, let's wait with the decision, until Mr. Bekdil offers his reply to Mr. Akyol's reply to his, Mr. Bekdil's, reply.
- There won't be a reply to Mr. Akyol's reply to Mr. Bekdil's reply.
- ?
- Mr. Bekdil knows very well that Mr. Akyol would let nobody have the last say, the more when this "Nobody" is an agnostic.
- But there were none of his 2.185 words indecent. And, missionary?! He seemed even glad and proud being able to tell that "the Diyanet, the offical religious body, announced last year that it would cleanse the hadith tradition (the reported sayings and deeds of the prophet) from remarks that humiliate women".
- In other words, Mr. Akyol accepts without protest that the reported sayings and deeds of the prophet would be censored. This is either blasphemy or ...
- Hold on, Tetrapilotomos! The prophet reportedly said this and did that. And you know as well as God and his wife would know that some reporters' skills are ... are ... let's call it suboptimal.
- Well, anyway, I should never write this, but I do hope there would no peaceloving colleague of the late Ayatollah Lankarani come to know of this passage in Mr. Akyol's masterpiece. I mean, it would be blasphemy to think that the prophet did not instruct all good men to beat up their wives whenever they feel like, wouldn't it?
- Hm, what did the friendly looking old man say the other year when there was a two weeks or so campaign for not beating up one's wife in Turkish media: A man who does not beat his wife, is not a man.
- There you are, this humble man surely had studied and internalised the sura important for his character building. And now, suddenly and out of the blue should be wrong what has been right for the past 1387 years?! But we are slightly extravagating. Now, who deserves the prize?
- Be it: Burak Bekdil.
- Why? Because he wrote just one article containing 1.741 words, while Mr. Akyol cast 2.185 pearls for swine?
- No. Because Mr. Bekdil is a true humourist.
- Wrong. Mustafa Akyol is much funnier. And he is an intelligently designed primate.
- He did not explicitly say so. Besides, according to my daughter, who is presently writing her master thesis about Dandyism in the English and French literature of the late 19th century Mr. Akyol might be a fine specimen for Dandyism; by seemingly promoting the idea that there is or has been a potter who's first name is/has not been Harry who about 10.000 years ago took a clot of loam, designed a being, shortly afterwards took a rib of this being and formed him a female so that he would always have something to beat up, Mr. Akyol wins lots of plaudit and praise, while in fact by doing so he is covering his world weariness by making fun of all these poor stupid idiots in the classical sense.
- Mr. Akyol may have some dandyesk attitudes, but I do seriously think he believes what he is writing about intelligent design.
- Couldn't it be that he anticipates the change of wind and that soon there will be enforced intellgently designed biology curricula, and therefore is trimming his sails?
- Is there anything Mr. Yesbut would not anticipate? By the way, nobody, I repeat, nobody could yet thoroughly explain the difference between opportunism and pragmatism.
- Mr. Yesbut?
- Well, you would often if not mostly find Mr. Akyol initially praise any Mr. Siyahyol's opinion with oriental amplification, and after the comma there would follow a but.
-Who is Mr. Siyahyol, Tetrapilotomos?
- Everybody who is not Mr. Akyol.
- ?
- Akyol means White Path. And therefore all those not of Mr. Whitepath's opinion are walking on the black path.
- Doesn't siyah colloquially also mean the same as afyon?
- I don't like dilettantes secretly consulting dictionaries. Neither I know if Mr. Akyol ever got stoned by opium. Actually I think he’d prefer cannabis, but, of course, would probably not inhalate.
- Do you know Mr. Akyol?
- Only by his writing.
- And you think you are fair with what you are talking here?
- Unlike Mr. Akyol I know that I could err.
- Ah, Tetrapilotomos, before we are getting from Pontius to Pilade, let’s make a compromise.
- All right. So, let's award Burak Bekdil the Flann O’Brien Prize, and Mr. Akyol the Huysman & Wilde Prize.

Hurra, we got it!