THIRD POST – MARCH 25, 2013 – RIAD AL-AS’AD ON DEATH WATCH LIST;

THIRD POST – MARCH 25, 2013 – RIAD AL-AS’AD JUST A MINUTE AWAY FROM HELL; TURKISH DOCTORS INCOMPETENT, UNABLE TO STOP BLEEDING; AL-AS’AD IN COMA. 

FLAGELLA FLAWSON’S FIRST APPEARANCE ON SYRPER’S WILDLY POPULAR “CAST IRON CHEF PRESENTS”.

Our raspberries go out to all those who care about this scoundrel and traitor.  Only SyrPer told you the hard facts this morning. Oh, those sly spokesmen for the FSA tried to paint a story of “recovery” for the injured former Colonel.  But they couldn’t fool us because we have people right on the scene telling us exactly what happened.  Al-As’ad’s car double-parked next to another at Mayaadeen, southeast of Deir El-Zor City.  He was not blown up in the city.  No.  He can’t go there because our troops would arrest him.  Then,  the other car went “BOOM!” and Al-As’ad was found lying down in the back of the car with his leg blown off and bleeding profusely.  There were no doctors around (the terrorists chased them away) and he had to be driven to the Turkish side for some quack treatment.  They couldn’t take him to Mayadeen because the city is under SAA control.  Like Anthony Shadid, the feckless NYT rodent reporter, he was in inoperable condition at time of his arrival.  He is now in a coma.  Boo hoo hoo.  Boo hoo hoo.

 
Syrian soldiers in Mayaadeen, Deir El-Zor, calmly guard the streets of the city.  There is much delight about the news coming from near the airport. Incidentally, it’s an airport for crop dusters. Yawn.

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FLAGELLA FLAWSON’S FIRST APPEARANCE ON SYRPER’S WILDLY POPULAR “CAST IRON CHEF PRESENTS”.

 

 “Oh, I know what you’re looking at, you naughty little scamps!”, Flagella tells her audience with a wink and a smile. “You don’t care a whit about what I’m cooking, do you?”

After bravura performances by Cast Iron Chef’s, Snobby Filay, Barrio Fatale and Ephemeral LeGassy,  the Honourable Flagella Flawson (she’s really Jewish)  regales our very discriminating audience with her charm and superb appreciation for all things culinary.  Here’s one of her favorite recipes from her adopted homeland of England.  Flagella is of Eastern European Jewish origin having learned, like Nicolas Sarkozy, Madeleine Albright and Alfred E. Newman, that she has Ashkenazi ancestors.  

“You know, England is not world renowned for its cuisine.  And I think that’s unfair.  Here is a recipe that will thrill you especially during those cold winter months.  My father, who was a conservative Military Policeman (MP)  and former head of the Spandexchecker (or something) would beg my mother to make him this delicious dish:  SCOTTISH RADISH RUBBISH RELISH!

 

Flagella is committed to the symbolism of food and physiology as this pose clearly indicates.  The Scottish Radish Rubbish Relish is just below.

My papa was a real thrifty Jew.  My mother, from the Salmon family, was a Scottish Jewess and even stingier.  They often played a game called “Frugal Frog?” where players go to a local market and torment grocers with haggling strategies.  We learned to use all foods in our house which my dad called “merchandise”.  Whenever my mother would go shopping she would make the local Lebanese stock boy roll 150 lbs of radishes in a wheelbarrow to our home in Cardiff where she would begin preparations for my father’s most cherished meal – and then, not tip him!  She enjoyed watching him snarl at her.  “Those silly Arabs”, she would say. Ha ha ha.  Here’s how we do it:

INGREDIENTS:

150 lbs of nice, full, round, luscious, curvy, salacious radishes
No salt or any hint of flavoring! (That would be un-English)
A soupcon of saltpeter (If none available, use dust)
A loaf of old bread (greenish if possible)
Surgical masks, diving goggles  

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Have Lebanese stock boy crush radishes in large, alumineum canister;
2. If Lebanese stock boy collapses from fumes, drag his body to the street lest you get stuck with the chit;   
3. Mix in saltpeter or dust;
4. Toss in loaf of old bread.
5. Cook over stove at 250 centigrade until radish turns to soup;
6. Serve in bowl with radish stem garnish.
7. Provide nose-pincers and swimming goggles for fumes. (Clothespins will do, also)
  
My father never enjoyed this dish with friends.  He jealously guarded it and only shared it with other Military Policemen, although, they never really looked like coppers.  Well, that’s it.  I hope you’ll enjoy your next radish dish.  And stop looking at me like that!  I’m not some tart, you know.      

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