Saturday, April 15, 2017

War & Shit

Excerpts from a modern-day adaptation of a Russian Classic by Lev Belltollstoy.

Excerpts from Chapter 3
что случилось (shto sluchiloss), Sergey? I thought we cast a very strong spell on Count Donny Boy during his last visit here.
We did, my Czarsultan. But, as you know, shit can break the spell.
Yes, I know. But it has to be ingested. Orally. And not a small amount of it too.
That precisely what happened. That “most beautiful piece of chocolate cake” Count Donny devoured during his meeting with our Chinese colleague was actually prepared by an illegal immigrant working in the Count’s kitchens who wanted to send him a message.
It seems something was lost in translation.
Apparently the frosting was really good. It masked the taste.
I see. Well, no reason for this to be a total loss. Get me the recipe. For the frosting I mean. I see a huge need for it here when we begin mass producing our Soylent Brown product.
© Ammar Abdulhamid , 2017

Tuesday, April 4, 2017


Another lesser known play by the infamous British playwright Shakesmeare whom the current president of Syria, Bashar Al-Assad, believes to be of Syrian descent.  

Shamlet: Act III – Scene I, Soliloquy
To kill and how to kill my way out of this trouble,
that I got myself into through killing in the first
place I must admit, that’s the question. I can hardly
give a shit what’s more or less nobler in this regard.
Killing is how I govern, and how my father did before
me, whether by noxious fumes or a bare bodkin. Ah,
to sleep. I cannot help but dream of death and killing
whenever I sleep. Yet, I still sleep, unbothered. Let all
my militias and allies fight for me, over me and, more
importantly, over my country – that undiscovered paradise
that all are now busy destroying in an enterprise of great
depth and madness, while others, their minds numbed
in resolute indifference, are lulled into inaction. Oh Syria,
be all my sins remembered.
© Ammar Abdulhamid , 2017

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Tanks for the Chief

Certain presidents are said to be jealous of such displays of prowess... military prowess.
Excerpt from the latest novel by American author Edgar Maxwellson whose experimental writing style was often compared to that of Henry Miller. The novel is based on a long and intricate series of email exchanges between a number of troubled protagonists most of whom seem to suffer from the recently diagnosed Up-Yours Syndrome, and who include: staff members of a certain presidential campaign, high ranking military officials, foreign diplomats, psychiatrists, suicide hotline operators, fake news purveyors, hackers and an assortment of prostitutes with perennially full bladders.

While most critics tend to focus on exchanges related to the Golden Shower Scene, the excerpt below from Chapter 2 focuses on the email exchange between X and Y just at the start of their complicated affair.

Chapter 2
Campaign Staffer X
… On a related note, the President Elect was also wondering if he could have tanks and missile launchers on display during the Inauguration parade. He really wants to give his ego a further boost, and our enemies a real scare. In fact, he wants to send a clear message to one and all that, despite the unfortunate size of his hands, he’s actually far more endowed than all of them put together, and he wants to do it by speaking to them in the only language that they understand: unnecessary military spending.
Pentagon Official Y
… As regarding your request, made on behalf of the President Elect, for displaying military gear during the Inauguration, including tanks and missile launchers, it’s been our long-standing policy at the Pentagon to avoid wagging our dicks in public unless there’s an actual war going on. We’ve learned the value of this the hard way after having our balls busted by journalists, comedians, psychiatrists and other members of the civilian community. Primarily, then, this is meant both as a cost-cutting and ego-trimming measure, on the one hand, and a public embarrassment avoidance tactic on the other. Our long-range missiles aren’t what they’re use to.
Campaign Staffer X
… So, I guess there’s no question of allowing us to execute members of the other campaign while waving our dicks in the air like we don’t care. I mean in effigy of course… Not.
Pentagon Official Y
… Hey, I don’t mean to sound inappropriate, but, I really appreciate your sense of humor. It’s sooo perverse. Just like I could be, sometimes, you knonw, with my dick. Wink, wink. Nod, nod.
Sergey Kislyak
Dear X and Y,

First, one of you guys seems to have hit the Reply All button.

Second, how many times do I have to tell you, you incompetent American nincompoops, that you should BLIND copy me. That is, insert my email in the BCC line NOT the CC line.

Third, speaking of “insert,” you two should really get a room. Seriously. And stream the video on the SECURED connection.


This email was sent to you via secured Russian Embassy servers. Should you leak this email, an assortment of our Russian prostitutes will leak all over your grave.
© Ammar Abdulhamid , 2017