Nothing but the truth. Even if against me.

Nothing but the truth. Even if against me.



Friday, October 14, 2016

The Hariri dumpster: Judas's decaying glory

The Hariri debacle is a textbook example of vacuous Lebanese leadership built not on merit, not on vision, not on principles, not on political savvy....but on money around which the vultures hover as long as there is money to be had. So when the money inevitably evaporates, so goes with it the political empire. Politics in Lebanon is an empty shell. If it ever has a substance, it is money and corruption, tribalism and religiosity and bigotry.

When the Hariri clan had Saudi money, its members became prime ministers and members of parliament, they bought everyone's allegiance, including Syrian dictators, Iranian terrorists, and US university brownnosers like Harvard University. Just give them money and they'll name a building after you in Cambridge, Massachusetts, even if you are a fat illiterate building contractor. Issam Fares, another billionaire illiterate clone of Hariri, albeit of the Greek-Orthodox cult, did the exact same thing with Tufts University in Medford, Massachusetts. Fares even founded a research institute at Tufts that started out with the partial name of "Lebanese Studies", only to devolve quickly into an Israeli think-tank that deleted "Lebanese" from the name of the august research cesspool. Tufts didn't care if lemurs worked there; they got the money and they named the building, laughing all the way to the bank.

Men like Hariri and Fares make money the old fashioned way: Ass-kissing, cheating, backstabbing, dealing under the table, betraying everything that stands in the way of making money. They are clones of Donald Trump, who is in effect an American version of Rafik Hariri: Illiterate, building contractor, with ideas - if any were to occur in their brains - from the Bronze Age, and who make their way through life and on to power by all means possible, including vile and base practices.

Rafik Hariri, the now defunct fat bastard who rode the Saudi-Syrian-American treason against Lebanon in the 1980s and 1990s to become Mr. Lebanon, was himself an illiterate building contractor who happened to build palaces to the Saudi royals instead of building ugly buildings that deform the Lebanese countryside. He is gone now of course, but he left behind him a number of children who divvied up his money and whom he chained, like himself, to the Saudi leash.

Hariri loved Assad of Syria. He loved Hezbollah and Hassan Nasrallah. They brought him to power and he was forever grateful. He even allowed Hezbollah to grow its arsenal inside Lebanon - all flown from Tehran to Damascus, then ferried by land across Lebanon's de-virginized borders to the south where Hezbollah is supposedly liberating Palestine. This was, of course, in violation of the Taif Agreement which brought Hariri to power in 1991. In every international venue, Hariri defended Hezbollah as a legitimate "resistance", even as Hezbollah violated every notion of sovereignty and conducted every possible illegal activity such as drug smuggling in Latin America, diamond trading in Africa, terrorist bombings in Lebanon and across the globe. Like an idiot Judas, Hariri thought that 30 silvers were the paramount criterion: He could buy and sell anyone and anything, and he thought he could rebuild Lebanon under the Syrian and Iranian occupation boots.

But like all Judases, their time always comes up to reckon. And, when the fat idiot realized he could not really rebuild Lebanon with the Syrians breathing down his spineless neck, he began twitching. When puppets start twitching, their puppeteers notice. So when Hariri twitched, the Syrian Assad regime took note and quickly instructed its Iranian appendage, Hezbollah, to blow Hariri's brain up. And so they did. They blew up the fat bastard in downtown Beirut as he was conniving with the Americans to screw the Syrians. The Americans began distancing themselves from Syria and Saudi Arabia in the wake of September 11.

Hariri is now gone. The Saudis are becoming poorer by the day and the Kingdom is on the verge of internal strife. Their oil is worthless, and the pipeline has dried up. Hariri's Saudi Oger, now run by his son Saad, is laying off people. His fortune - once close to $40 billion, essentially Lebanon's national debt since he pilfered downtown Beirut from its rightful owners - is now close to $600 million. His brother Bahaa' wants his share of Dad's piggy bank. His sister Bahia, the Hijab-wrapped up Member of Parliament, is laying off her bodyguards. Hariri's Solidere employees have not been paid in months. The Hariri empire is in bankruptcy. When money dries up, lovers split up. Hariri's former lovers have dumped him. The Syrians and the Iranians killed him (Rafik) and have now become the Hariri clan's foremost enemies. The Saudis have kicked Saad out of their inner circle, and he is running like a headless chicken, begging his former enemies people to become his allies against his former allies. Funny how winners become losers when the building blocks of their empire are made of paper money, not principles.

I love the fact that Syria is crumbling on the heads of its Baathist Arabist people. I love the fact that Saudi Arabia that funded Yasser Arafat's destruction of Lebanon is now itself on the verge of a civil war and disintegration. Libya's Qaddafi, Lebanon's number 1 enemy is dead and his country is in ruin. All the Arab Islamic enemies of Lebanon are in disarray. I wish this continues for a few decades and that every Arab Islamic cesspool become infected and decays into oblivion. Their catastrophe is my uplifting. Their war is my peace. Their suffering is my redemption out of the decades of suffering they inflicted to my small country that had harbored them, defended them, and tried to coexist with them. But they - like all primitive people - see weakness in kindness, and vulnerability in tolerance and openness.

May the Hariri empire collapse on top of Hezbollah. May Saad die in the arms of Hassan, and may a giant tsunami, like the one of 555 AD, rush from the Mediterranean to carry them all and their filthy slums into eternal oblivion. I am going to pour myself a glass of arack and enjoy the view from my mountaintop.

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