Some infidel facts about water

As a welcome-present for my closest friend, Tetrapilotomos, who just returned from a visit to Rome and the Vatican - where he has put in some thousand good words for a poor poor Member of the Italian Parliament, thus trying to make sure the humble victim of loneliness would soon receive forgiveness from God and his wife -, I shall give in to his request to demonstrate how to cut one post into four.

All right then.
To start with the beginning.

Piece one.

Here are some so-called facts for all those still tending to rely on science-based expertise.
Being published on Bloom’s Day, it is, of course, infidel stuff for all those claiming to know that water-shortage in Turkey has been intelligently designed approximately 10.000 years ago.

All my posts "Crushed" by Ingsoc

:-) No post tonight.

Spent all blogging time at Crushed by Ingsoc.

But tomorrow night.

Ah, it will be a tiny little story.

About what?

Ah, well, about . . .

a) water and no water,

b) a mayor who is a prime-example for that in some countries no career would fail due to incompetence,

c) a prime minister who does not like people exaggerating

and

d) about people who might soon ask their prime minister the same ... :)

Baykal takes Brecht's advice

Recently Mr. Baykal has already been congratulated on his and his (sic!) Party's tremendous election triumph. But one can not often enough repeat it.

According to our absolutely honest and trustworthy source, for approximately 80 per cent of the Turkish people Deniz the Magnificent is the outstanding thinker and theoretican who has fully mastered Atatürk's revolutionary ideas; he is the sagacious leader of his Party and people who is possessed of brilliant wisdom, unusual insight and refined art of leadership; and he is the real leader of the people who has unboundedly lofty virtues.

TDN's Yusuf Kanli seems not able to accept Mr. Baykal's victory. Mr. Kanli is even mocking about Deniz the Magnificent.

But we know better.
Mr. Baykal and his (sic!) CHP won.
Not enough to drive Mr. Erdogan to Kars, where he could work as extra at the revolutionary local theatre, when it is next time snowing.

But - and nobody could deny: Only about 30 per cent more, and Mr. Baykal and his (sic!) Party would even have won the absolute majority.

Now, why did / COULD this not happen?
Officially one could hear all those arguments Mr. Kanli is mocking about.
One should not blame him, though. He does not know better. He CAN not know better.

Fortunately we can and DO.

According to my closest friend's either omnipresent and absolutely honest and trustworthy source, who's deep throat knows the büyükbaba - not to muddle up with Büyükanit - thus again: who knows the grandfather whose cousin's grandson's aunt knows the sister of a very very influential editor of Cumhurriyet, Deniz the Magnificent has told this extraordinary influential beacon of independant and unbribable Turkish journalism - sub rosa and off the records - the ultimate reason why him and his (sic!) Party would not get - at least - 98,9 per cent of the votes: "The stupid people did not vote for us. But at the next election WE shall turn the table. WE elect a new people."

The very very influential editor has not been seen, since. Influenza, it says.

It's as simple as that

Another nice little gem has been flowing into the feather of the champion first ever winning the Flann O'Brien Price.
It's somehow a pars pro toto for the daily secrets being published.

Ah, and - perhaps - it is about the time you are to be introduced to one of my closest friend's "ceterum censeos":

Banquo knew before

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s
In deepest consequence.

In German it sounds even more impressive (and not only because "Death is a master from Germany")

Oft, uns in Elend zu verlocken
Erzählen Wahrheit uns des Dunkels Schergen,
Gewinnen uns durch ehrlich Spiel im Kleinen,
Um uns in größten Dingen zu verraten.

Shakespeare, McBeth 1.,3

Victim of Loneliness

Here you will find a nice tiny story about a poor poor Italian Member of Parliament (MP) who according to his own words would just not have known what to do with all this snow-white loneliness.
Some ignorant people might not really understand that "loneliness is a very serious thing, and the life of a MP can be a very hard life."
My closest friend immediately took a plane to Rome.
- After all, Signor Mele lives closer to God and his wife than the intelligently designed Republican primate who recently received forgiveness from God and his wife. My old friend Ratze will give this victim of loneliness a private audience and afterwards Signor Mele's reputation will be as immaculate as . . .
- Tetrapilotomos!!!!
. . . hm, . . . as snow from the Aetna. . . . You are worse than the worst chaperone.

Büyükanit or The Name of the General

Just about to assure you that the Turkish military (slogan: Peace at home – Peace in the World) have not yet changed their understanding of democracy, by recommending to read this and this, my closest friend happened to drop in.

- Ah, General Büyükanit remembering his people of what party is de facto ruling Turkey?

- General Büyükanit is doing nothing but his duty.

- Which is – according to George Bernard Shaw – what a stupid man always declares when doing something he is ashamed of.

- Let’s be serious, Tetrapilotomos. There have 46,59 per cent been voting for the AKP.

- Thus 53,41 per cent voted for a putsch. Which is, by the way, bigger a margin than George Bush once could let his little brother organise in Florida.

- What are you going to tell, then?

- Nomen est omen, would you agree?

- Hm.

- Nomina sunt omina?

- Yes, yes , ...

- So let's look at Büyükanit.

- Oh, please, Tetrapilotomos, no jokes with names.

- I am just trying to inform those of your readers who unlike you are fluent in spoken and written English, but like you do not speak Turkish.

- We shall speak about this later on; without any emotional blockade and off the records. Go on then.

- All right, to cut it short: büyük means great; anit means memorial; thus, Büyükanit means Great memorial.

- Ah, isn’t it nice to have - even being - one’s own memorial in one’s lifetime?!

- I have not finished, yet. Would you agree that language is magic?

- I do, for the first time after a long interval.

- Now, a Turkish native speaker would perhaps know better. But, one can read General Greatmemorial’s name Büyük-anit and/or Büyü-kanit.

- Interesting. And what does this teach my readers?

- büyü means sorcery / witchcraft / witchery / wizardry; kanit means evidence / proof / argument; thus, Büyükanit means f.e. Evidence of Wizardry.

- And what is the essential inheritent interior essence which is hidden in the root of the kernel of everything, and thus in your words?

- Depending on what spell General Büyükanit will be casting when it’s coming to presidential election, once the Turkish people might build him a memorial – perhaps even in their collective memory.

Cave Cihan, Mr. Erdoğan!

Forget about what I have been posting yesterday.
Of course, Tayyip Erdoğan is the winner of election in Turkey.

Congratulations, Mr. Erdoğan.

I, me and myself do not have any doubt of your integrity.
My closest friend, though - a writer who would not write for reasons I shall probably never understand - just murmured: "He should not forget forget the mission of July 30th, 2003."

"Well", I said when watching the first photo he showed me from his REUTERS-archive, "not everybody on this planet is a horseman."

"For sure", Tetrapilotomos smiled, "and the photos , OF COURSE, would not have been published in Zaman."
"But why?" I asked. "It's not a shame to get in trouble with a horse."

"Hm, Turkish journalists know pretty well to use the scissors in their mind (brain)."

"Actually, Tetrapilotomos, I think some Turkish journalists are very brave. Much more brave, indeed, than I'd be."

"Well, Sean, it's not because of the horse alone. It's because of the horse's name."

"C'mon, Tetrapilotomos, what was or is the horse's name?!"

"Cihan."

"Sounds nice."

"Indeed, it does. But would you like to be unhorsed by the 'World'?"

Congratulations, Mr. Baykal!

Less shock but awful awe let me wait until tonight so that I could listen on the 266th anniversary of Vivaldi's death to his oratorio Juditha Turkey triumphans* while congratulating the greatest Turkish politician of all times, Mr. Deniz Baykal, on his and his (sic) party's tremendous election triumph last Sunday.

No doubt that Turkey's next Prime Minister and President (the rest of the world just would not know the real facts, yet) would dispense lenity to horrific ignorants like Yusuf Kanli, although such smocks not being able to read the auspices, would surely deserve to enjoy (at least) the next legislative period on water and bread old as the hills.

Isn't Wikepedia wrong and doesn't Article 301 in fact read: "A person who publicly denigrates Deniz the Magnificent, shall be punishable by imprisonment of between 48 months and four years"?

No doubt either Mr. Baykal could say: "It's not correct that Deniz Baykal is the greatest politician ever born on Turkish soil. True is however that there has never been a greater politician."

* Don't believe what you will read at Wikepedia. Here you get the real historical fact: Juditha Turkey triumphans (RV 644), composed in 1716, is one of his masterpieces. It was commissioned to celebrate the victory of the Turks under the command of one predecessor of Deniz the Magnificant (Baykal) against the Republic of Venice.

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!

Turkey in a Nutshell

These are interesting times for the Turkish people. And, no doubt, the times will get not less interesting after today's election.

For those not familiar to Turkish politics, and those who are and therefore would not know how to put into a nutshell what Turkish politics is about, I recommend reading the following masterpieces by Mustafa Akyol and Burak Bekdil in chronological order:
Akyol's artwork published July 12th, Bekdil's reply (July 18th), and Akyol's "sequel" (July 21st).

And - as it's election day - in my next post I shall let you know who my closest friend and I'd vote to become winner of the Flann O'Brian Prize.
Yes, I could right now, but I do not wish to get accused of manipulating my readers' opinion making. :)

Variatio delectat

Instead of delivering wise words about about not impossible advantages of proper education, I decided to take a glass of Toreldego to the balcony, and while smoking, enjoying a fresh nightly breeze (only 25°C around midnight) and watching the stars to reflect on the three lines I read a couple of minutes ago in Pessoa's "Book of Unrest ".

Carpe noctem. :)

Who is dumb then?

Amazing coincidence? Two days ago I titled a post "From Privilege to Prejudice".

Reading this article you will be able to understand my surprise.

My first reaction: Raising brows; corners of my mouth starting an expedition to my ear-lobes; rolling a cigarette, entering the balcony and while smoking watching a film made in the studios of my brain, finally sighing: Think of Voltaire, Sean. Don't let this post become an epos. Cut it short.

And here I am. Trying to cut it short, the more as unlike quite a few journalists on this planet I am quite convinced that many if not most readers are wise enough to form an opinion themselves.

Therefore just a few thoughts I find worth to get their own post next week.
1. What is the controverse about? It's about an educational and therefore social problem of (not only!) the Turkish society.
2. Censorship would not change anything for the better.
3. Why would such a reality (?) show become such a "success"?
4. Why would one find in an Turkish English Daily so many Americanisms?
5. Dumb or not dumb ... is not the question! ... Shall we bet the producers of this magnificent show are men?! :-)

The Peace of the Night.

The BBC, the Queen & God and his wife

As everybody knows 218 years ago a few French stormed the Bastille because they were sick to death of their king and wanted to get what they deserved.15 years later they got an emperor.
For sure a grand reason for a national holiday.
I could go on and on to praise the French, but topicality has priority. Let’s therefore speak about the BBC, the Queen, God and his wife.
Ten million readers of the braking news I posted July 12^th – whilst in Ulster Orangemen were celebrating their (sic) victory in a battle which took place 99 years and two days before the French started their (sic) Revolution, the latter of which is another term for replacing a king by an emperor – have asked, why the BBC somehow gave away the greatest story for the past 2020 or even 10.000 years, by mentioning it in a subordinate clause.
I confess I had no idea. This afternoon, though, I had just finished mowing the meadow, and relaxed by supporting the fight against terror (not my definition for smoking, but my former Chancellor’s of the Exchequer), when my closest friend entered the peaceful scenery.

And this was the dialogue designing itself intelligently.

- Sean. ... Heureka!
- What did you find out, Tetrapilotomos?
- Well, actually it is unfortunately not me who deserves the laurel wreath, but my source. And, of course, I should never write about.
- Your source?
- Absolutely honest, trustworthy and of an august lineage.
- Hear ye! And this middle of July.
- I shall ignore your attempt to mock me. To cut it short, let’s start this way: You watched Her Majesty in this so-called trailer, in which the BBC allegedly mixed end and beginning?
- Hm.
- Guess, why she was in such a hurry.
- They made a big fuss of it. Meanwhile everyone knows that ...
- Ha. Everybody thinks he knows. You know I am far from taking any conspiracy theory ...
- Tetrapilotomos, what is what your source found out!
- Patience, Sean, is a tree the roots of which taste bitter, but ...
- Did you ever read “With Burning Patience”?
- Skármeta’s homage to Neruda, who would not know? By the way, July 12th was Neruda’s 103rd birthday.
- Yes, yes, and Thoreau’s 190th. And July 8th everybody celebrated the 185th anniversary of Shelley’s dead, ...
- Celebrated?
- Tetrapilotomos!
- Be it, no poetry! Primitive prosa to extinguish your burning patience,
1.: Intelligent designed primate confirms he received foregiveness by God and his wife.
2.: Her Majesty immediately measuring the dimension intervenes.

HM: You must not write this. Imagine the Redeemer knocking at Vatican’s doors, saying “It’s me, Jesus!” - Benedict would order to take this deranged brother of the Lord to the loony bin.
BBC: But if we don’t write others will do. What will people say? Everybody knows we are simply the best!? But in such a ...
HM: All right gentleman. We allow you to hide the message by using ambiguous syntax.
BBC: Majesty, you are the Queen, but we do never use ambiguous syntax.
HM: Quod licet Iovi non licet bovi. And now arrange a date: Carpe diem.
And so – according to the motto “If you can’t beat them confuse them”, 3. the time-all conspiracy was set rolling.
They did not even stop from quoting the intelligent designed primate wrongly in the third but last paragraph, by now untruly and misleadingly writing my instead of his.

At this point I was completely confused and therefore asked: But why?

- Well, BBC readers would not notice the hidden sensation; at the most they would smile, shrug their shoulders and think it’s due to ambiguous syntax. Her majesty, though, knew better. And that’s why one could see her in damn a hurry in this trailer.
She was to give an audience ten minutes later - to God and his wife.

The Peace of the Night!