December 8, 2011 – With all the talk about Turkey’s blood-curdling threats to “possibly” invade, “maybe intervene”, “perhaps get involved militarily”, you would think the Turks would have done something by now.  In truth, the Turks are devoid of any credibility and are playing islamist games to shore up what good will they are able to preserve.   When the Russian navy appeared off the shores of Syria in full battle formation accompanied by the nuclear powered aircraft carrier, Kuznetsov, and nuclear submarines, the jig was up (so to speak) and the Turks snuggled back into
their shell.

Syria is continuing to concentrate her armed forces on the northern borders with many successful weapons-smuggling interdictions evincing Ankara’s cynical plunge into the world of state-sponsored terrorism.  But two can play at that game.  If the Turks refuse to relent and revert to their traditional maliciousness,  Syria will have no choice but to deliver any weapons the armed forces intercept to the PKK in northern Kurdistani Iraq.  It is hard to imagine the Turks wanting to ratchet up the tension with their powerful neighbor to the south – not to mention Iran and Russia.  With Europe folding in on itself economically, do the Turks think there is anyone who can help?  The zionist entity is notorious for not sticking its neck out for anyone; but if that happens, there go Turkey’s islamist credentials like so much hay in a windstorm.  The U.S. cannot tolerate another foreign war – public sentiment so much against it that Obama would be committing political sepuku if he even suggested it. 
French Ambassador to Damascus, Eric Chevallier, trying to explain why he came back to the Syrian capital: “You know, it’s the islamist (sic) charm of the country.”  
I talked last night to Albert Issa, a good friend in Damascus.  The phone line was crackly which made the exchange somewhat difficult.  But, Albert said to me that if that “dog, Ford” comes to Bab Touma, he might be crucified rather than greeted with the customary levantine garlands.  Christians and secular Sunnis alike, do not appreciate his style of fomenting discord. I did not ask about that sanctimonious, self-righteous mushbrained high mucketymuck frog, Eric Chevallier, but could easily figure out that he too would be given the old swift kick in the pants.  
MERCURY NEWS SERVICE CULTURAL EXCLUSIVE – THE TEN BEST RESTAURANTS IN THE DETROIT AREA,  Mustapha Mond, roving food critic reporting from the Motor City
When I’m asked about the Detroit area, a city and suburbs I rarely visit only because no person in his right mind would actually live there, I immediately contact individuals I call “floaters” – people of excellent taste who actually live there but who float in another universe if only to survive the myriad insults to their intelligence and sensibilities.  I called the editor of SyrianPerspective, one named Ziad, who very generously gave his time to address the burning issue of the day:  Which are Detroit’s best eateries?  Here’s his list in descending order:
1.  OLD COUNTRY BUFFET.  Located anywhere white trash can be found,  this all-you-can-eat monument to American comfort food wins by a long stride.  Imagine having an aunt Bertha who suffers from food allergies so pernicious she can no longer taste or smell what she cooks. Now, imagine her preparing the Thanksgiving feast in which you plan to indulge yourself.  That’s the magic of Old Country Buffet.  For only $9.00, you can ritually bathe in your fantasies of a life without limitations; where you can balance four plates on your forearm, all heavy with a cornucopia of slipslop delectables, as you teeter and totter recklessly and shamelessly between rows of ovaloid, obese gluttons shoveling achromatous mashed radishes down their gullets in a frenzy of insatiable starch-lust.  With no music to interfere with the experience, save the droning snorts from the tableful of behemoths seated to your left and right,  you can sit without any fear of offense since none could possibly be taken in this emporium of unbridled boorishness.
The buffet is arranged simply enough so that even a macaque can find something appropriate to dollop on to his platter.  One of the curious sensations a visitor feels is that he has had this food before, but somewhere else.  Was it the high school cafeteria?  The Polish wedding in Highland Park?  The army mess hall in Afghanistan?  Somehow, it brings back memories deeply embedded in your recycle bin.  Sometimes its the rapacious assault on the Banquet t.v. dinners in the basement freezer when everyone thought they had been consumed in an earlier era.  Maybe the gnawing urge to finally open that Chef Boyardee ravioli can or the one next to it: the Sloppy Joe tin that’s been gathering dust for aeons, which brings into the light of day those ancient feelings of youthful decay you thought you sloughed off after your B.A. degree.  Hmmm. 
Old Country Buffet is the best bargain in our area and makes the Lark seem like a bowling alley bar. The Lark, with its pretentious claims to continental purity, its French haut cuisine and visual minimalism, leaves the diner completely unsatisfied. At the Lark, you can eat lunch and wind up two hours later at the hospital with malnutrition.  
When I asked Ziad how many stars he would give the Old Country Buffet, he responded, “Why, Five.”  He then smiled and said: “Of course, in this system the maximum is 50.”