I was told to get to it with wishes for the bad year, so here I am.
For starters, I extend my best wishes of bad health to our loathsome Reis. I’ve noticed that he’s been dragging his slippers recently, just as I do. May he get lockjaw of the knees soon. I would hate to die before witnessing his decline at least…
You see to what levels of politics we have descended… to one where we hope a roof tile will fall off the roof.
When I hear the satisfied stomach rumblings of our national Ottoman concerning his meetings with the great and the small of this world, or the surrealistic exchanges about armed military or police repression, be they aimed at Palestine or the yellow-vested French, I sit in front of my TV set praying that a pigeon will relieve himself on him, or even worse that I don’t intend to reveal to you.
In partnership with the old leaders of our nationalistic parties here, he’s decided once again to go and strong arm his way in Syria, now that Trump has handed over his title of Pacifier in Chief.
I don’t forget it is forbidden to remember that a lot of exiles from the ancient Ottoman Empire settled in Anatolia after the First Republican Father of Turkey caused the disappearance of the Armenians. Erdogan is promising the same thing to Syrians in exile, once the Kurds are “buried” (a popular word, these days.) That should please Bachar no end.
He promises Little Mehmet that he won’t die there, or only as a national martyr. Apparently, there are lots of bearded ones ready to die in his place, same as in Afrin. A good war, just in time for the municipal elections, now there is something that should renew the ties between nationalist, as usual… Turkey’s history can be read in its cemeteries. In this bad year of 2019, I wish them all to rot in hell.
How do you expect me to express good wishes in all this darkness, and with everything that lurks in the future?
All right, I will express the wish anyway that those who are in jail may be released soon and that some among you, across the world, may help them to do so, or at least write to them…
And a special wish for one Kurd who knows a thing or two about snubbing his nose at his jailers.
And for you, readers of this magazine that allows my ill humor to run free, I wish, on behalf of our small team, that the centrigual forces waving flags, 5 stars, vests and truncheons in Europe, are not preparing for you tomorrows a la turca.
Illustration: A cat in Istanbul by Chris T.
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