August 29, 2004
Tactical Muslim Kid Avoidance Suite (TMKAS)
Some days, in the evenings when it cools off to 33 degrees Centigrade, when ALL the Jordanian, Syrian, Palastinian, Iraqi, Irani, Sudani, and Zanzibari kids are out to play, it just sometimes pays to take the back roads to the local Eppco gas station to buy a Gulf News and some chocolate. Some days you just get tired of wave after wave of brave little loving yet well-brainwashed souls coming up to you, asking: “ente fie Muslim?” (is it possible that you are Muslim)? La, la, ana mafie Muslim, no it is not possible that I am a Muslim.
Ana fie Christian, and genuflecting like the catholic I am not (protestant that I am), from my forehead to my chest. Ana fie, the only white guy in this neighbourhood. Ana fie, the oh so damn strategically placed elephant / mouse (depending on how you categorize 105kg of the pure muscle boundedness of middle age), of the Russian mafia, the missing link in what ever chain of events you care to start a rumour about, the cool-calm-collected Canadian in your neighbourhood, AND your worst: “attack-kelb”, night mare, as far as you know, my well-brainwashed little friend – you whose infant brother will fear dogs now for the rest of his life because of your little stunt of frantically pushing the poor little bastard towards Golden Guardian Angel Joki, as you went off screaming “HARAM!!!!”, running away, screaming and hollering. Pretty comical I must say ‘cept for the terrified screams of your little brother and the close up whites of eyes. Lucky for you, Golden guardian angel Joki had his muzzle and chest harness on, eh? With me holding him back, eh? Shoulda’ just sic’d him on ya, well-brainwashed poor little coward.
“Kelb! Kelb!” Dog! Dog! “Wen Kelb?” Where’s your dogs? Where’s my dogs? Where’s my two prized, show-winning Amstaffs? They’re gone from this slum area, my little friends. Yes, that’s right, wee shababs, the kelbs have both moved into choice villas respectively in Jumaira and Jebel Ali. Yes, I miss them terribly. Mother of Ahmed, I realize I no longer am providing the target for the children’s rock throwing game but you see UUM Ahmed, sometime you just have to engage the TMKAS and let it do its work subtly and effectively while you carry on living in one of the many slums of Arabia. Please get off the hood of my car Mojohamed – IT IS NOT A PARK BENCH - and stop kicking the soccer ball into the driver’s door, Mojo, thanks. Have you considered professional mental help for your little monstermuslim child, mom and dad? Ever heard of riddlin, mom and dad? Yeah, I’m the Middle East supplier – come one, come all. Wistful thinking.
So instead... the Tactical Muslim Kid Avoidance System kicks in automatically with a smile to sooth the abrubt, upfront, prevalent, soulless youthful angst yet absence of any of it really, that engulfs this particular slum of Arabia. How effective the TMKAS is has everything to with whenever Magrib (evening prayer) decides to roll around with the setting of the desert sun. Magrib thankfully gets a majority of these kids off the street and back home with mom, whose not allowed in most mosques, while daddy goes to pray along with millions of faithful, in response to the local Imam’s 200-metre, technologically-aided wail.
Much less of a workload for the TMKAS in the hour of Magrib. Following, Muslim kids return to the streets in full force. Then finally, later, bed time intervenes in intervals by age, dwindling the seething yackity flock, further reducing the TMKAS workload. The main feature of TMKAS, which is of course, very necessary here in the midst: a human-synapse-powered, precision point-to-point, back-ally instinctual navigation kit on board.
La! Ana fie ‘a different religion than Islam’ don’t ya know. And it ain’t all about the little piece of property your pals sold to the other big-nosed folks on the shore of the mediteranian, believe it or not. Religons other than islam exist in this big, big world, you know. And there’s much huger problems in the world to worry about than a real estate deal gone bad. Wanna go let your narrow-minded father know these fundamental things about life please, thanks.
Ask him this: if he really feels so strongly about it why ain’t he and all the rest of his country men back over there right now, fighting for their little piece of real estate instead of hiding out here in the Gulf making provoking, armchair comments about a thing he’s so, so far removed from? Oh wait a minute, never mind. And now, please get off the hood of my car, Mojohamed, and stop kicking the soccer ball into the driver’s door thanks. Look, there’s hundreds of cars here in the parking lot try one of those over there K? Thanks. You poor little, souless, well-brainwashed Muslim kid. Welcome to the horizontal societies of the world. See if you can evolve from your 4000 year-old barbarism before lunch tomorrow, please, thanks.
Ana fie Christian, and genuflecting like the catholic I am not (protestant that I am), from my forehead to my chest. Ana fie, the only white guy in this neighbourhood. Ana fie, the oh so damn strategically placed elephant / mouse (depending on how you categorize 105kg of the pure muscle boundedness of middle age), of the Russian mafia, the missing link in what ever chain of events you care to start a rumour about, the cool-calm-collected Canadian in your neighbourhood, AND your worst: “attack-kelb”, night mare, as far as you know, my well-brainwashed little friend – you whose infant brother will fear dogs now for the rest of his life because of your little stunt of frantically pushing the poor little bastard towards Golden Guardian Angel Joki, as you went off screaming “HARAM!!!!”, running away, screaming and hollering. Pretty comical I must say ‘cept for the terrified screams of your little brother and the close up whites of eyes. Lucky for you, Golden guardian angel Joki had his muzzle and chest harness on, eh? With me holding him back, eh? Shoulda’ just sic’d him on ya, well-brainwashed poor little coward.
“Kelb! Kelb!” Dog! Dog! “Wen Kelb?” Where’s your dogs? Where’s my dogs? Where’s my two prized, show-winning Amstaffs? They’re gone from this slum area, my little friends. Yes, that’s right, wee shababs, the kelbs have both moved into choice villas respectively in Jumaira and Jebel Ali. Yes, I miss them terribly. Mother of Ahmed, I realize I no longer am providing the target for the children’s rock throwing game but you see UUM Ahmed, sometime you just have to engage the TMKAS and let it do its work subtly and effectively while you carry on living in one of the many slums of Arabia. Please get off the hood of my car Mojohamed – IT IS NOT A PARK BENCH - and stop kicking the soccer ball into the driver’s door, Mojo, thanks. Have you considered professional mental help for your little monstermuslim child, mom and dad? Ever heard of riddlin, mom and dad? Yeah, I’m the Middle East supplier – come one, come all. Wistful thinking.
So instead... the Tactical Muslim Kid Avoidance System kicks in automatically with a smile to sooth the abrubt, upfront, prevalent, soulless youthful angst yet absence of any of it really, that engulfs this particular slum of Arabia. How effective the TMKAS is has everything to with whenever Magrib (evening prayer) decides to roll around with the setting of the desert sun. Magrib thankfully gets a majority of these kids off the street and back home with mom, whose not allowed in most mosques, while daddy goes to pray along with millions of faithful, in response to the local Imam’s 200-metre, technologically-aided wail.
Much less of a workload for the TMKAS in the hour of Magrib. Following, Muslim kids return to the streets in full force. Then finally, later, bed time intervenes in intervals by age, dwindling the seething yackity flock, further reducing the TMKAS workload. The main feature of TMKAS, which is of course, very necessary here in the midst: a human-synapse-powered, precision point-to-point, back-ally instinctual navigation kit on board.
La! Ana fie ‘a different religion than Islam’ don’t ya know. And it ain’t all about the little piece of property your pals sold to the other big-nosed folks on the shore of the mediteranian, believe it or not. Religons other than islam exist in this big, big world, you know. And there’s much huger problems in the world to worry about than a real estate deal gone bad. Wanna go let your narrow-minded father know these fundamental things about life please, thanks.
Ask him this: if he really feels so strongly about it why ain’t he and all the rest of his country men back over there right now, fighting for their little piece of real estate instead of hiding out here in the Gulf making provoking, armchair comments about a thing he’s so, so far removed from? Oh wait a minute, never mind. And now, please get off the hood of my car, Mojohamed, and stop kicking the soccer ball into the driver’s door thanks. Look, there’s hundreds of cars here in the parking lot try one of those over there K? Thanks. You poor little, souless, well-brainwashed Muslim kid. Welcome to the horizontal societies of the world. See if you can evolve from your 4000 year-old barbarism before lunch tomorrow, please, thanks.
