August 23, 2011 – Tottenham was massacred, hardly the conclusion to the battle of Agincourt.
The Qaddafis are apparently back. The UN Criminal Court lied about them being in custody. Seif-al-Islam, (referred to herein-after as Seif) is alive, well and kicking off nights of debauchery with the local journalistas.
According to local sources, unreliable as they almost always are, the Qaddafis are preparing for an Alamo-type siege complete with sound score by no less than maestro John Williams (Star Wars, Jaws, Schindler’s List). The entire production is being sponsored by Sir Run Run Shaw himself after the DeLaurentiis Group determined that Italy’s former colonial association with Libya might be somewhat “disconcerting”. British Critic Remus Bilge-Squatt promised a production that was just “Boffo”, “Pure Delight” and “Socko!”, as he put it. It has been reported by BBC correspondent, Jim Muir, on RR vacation from Syria, that the Colonel, still reportedly holed up in the main seraglio of the Bab Al-Aziziyya compound, has been promised 15% of the proceeds from the profits. Rebel commanders have yet to comment on the arrangement or their willingness to participate.
Here’s what’s wrong with Syria letting in those obtuse, self-righteous, zombie-like “observers” from the UN Human Rights Commission: their missions are inevitably politicized. Come on, people. Did the commission ever investigate the 400,000-plus deaths in Iraq? What would they have found? Mmmm. Would the U.K. have voted against such an inquiry? You bet your bippee it would have. Tony Blair could be imagined standing at the bully pulpit in Parliament sincerely, emphatically, oh-so-honestly, and insistently, hammily, emotingly, “oxonianesquely”, telling the world how Britain had endured so much suffering for the sake of the human rights of the Iraqi people: “HOW DARE THEY INVESTIGATE US?” Well, anyway.
If I were Dr. Assad, I would collect the little trolls and escort them politely to the nearest airplane and kiss them goodbye. Nothing good can come of this adventure. Nothing. The numbers given for fatalities is so miniscule that the financial burden of having to conduct this investigation seems to militate against it. Aren’t there really big massacres taking place in Africa? Throw them out, Dr. Bashar! Heraus! If you don’t have the mean-streak necessary for this kind of thing, then, have FM. Mouallem do it. I’ll do it. Love to. Just send me an e-mail.
“Human Rights Activists”, (read anti-government salafist, takfiri, jihadist Sunni sympathizers who haven’t been in Syria for 20 years), claim that 500 security and military people have been killed in the unrest. Does that mean that the “PRO-DEMOCRACY, PEACEFUL DEMONSTRATORS” have been firing weapons at SAR soldiers? Did we see pictures of peace-loving demonstrators throwing the bodies of security personnel into the Orontes River? Did we see the civilized inhabitants of Deir El-Zor chopping a security man into pieces in front of a calmly-held cellphone camera? Yes. Yes. These people are so lucky that I, the reincarnated Ruknuddin Baybars Al-Bunduqdari, was not there to exact vengeance for the murder of those brave young men by a mob of ignorant, repugnant, mephitic sub-humans, Morlocks really, unworthy of a grub’s life atop the manure heap which is their pathetic little city. Dr. Assad! You gotta get tough, real tough.
It is with great honour, that SPerpectives introduces its new annual award for politically visible, but really withered, pedophiles. Named afrer the super-fictional British pederast, pedophile, buggerer-extraordinaire, Lord Athol “No-sire, No!” Graybeard, this award celebrates the shamelessness of age – especially when the recipient is one whose flailing hands, full-throated public exhortations, greasy dyed pompadour, jiggly-wiggly waistline, shiny fangs and Rabelaisian opinion of himself point only in one direction – to the very well-lit abyss of refulgent opprobrium. No man, but this man deserves the ANNUAL GRAYBEARD LEGENDARY PEDOPHILE AWARD. Who is it? Come on. There is only one man on the world stage today who is a “fit” for our requirements in order to embrace this coveted prize. DOMINIQUE STRAUSS-KAHN? No. He’s just a candidate for the WILLIAM CLINTON SEX ADDICT AWARD. While the French would, certainly, be an ethnic group capable of producing consistent champions in the field of sexual perversion, this year the award must go to none other than the run-away victor, the SUPREMO DI SUPREMI, THE CAPO DI TUTTI CAPI, the PRINCEPS PRINCIPII, the DUCE DI CASTRATI MILANESI, SILVIO BERLUSCONI!!! The blooming PM of Italy!! (ringing applause with screams of approbation)
But had it not been for one very young and meretricious Moroccan girl, his Boccaccio-like forays into the world of decayed, eroded and nihilistic conscience would never have come to light. She claimed, oh so sheepishly, that nothing ever came of their relationship, as she pocketed a cool $500,000 Euros. Sheepish, indeed! As the compliant ewe for this ancient ram’s depraved, concupiscent instincts, she became the poster child for all innocent, money-grubbing, goldbricking, slacking symbols of a great generation of slick lolitas. Thank you, Mademoiselle. Apply to Harvard. And congratulations, Silvio! ZIAD ABU FADEL, ESQ.