Barf in the UAE!

Readers rave: "Useless!" "Confusing!" "Willfully obscure." "Nearly incomprehensible." "Give me a break: you think you even _have_ readers? You only update this thing once a year!"

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Location: Sharjah, United Arab Emirates

Some uncouth readers may think that by "Barf," I'm referrring to the colloquial Americanism for vomit. In fact, dear reader, I mean no such thing. Barf is a marvellous Iranian product, a detergent that makes clothes so white, they're just like barf! (Which, of course, is Persian for 'snow.') I pray for your eternal souls, you poor ignorant things.

16 February 2006

“DANES!!! Danes Danes Danes” a voice screamed in Battuta’s head. He shook himself awake. In those last terrifying moments the Vikings’ swords had shrunk, their terrible beards disappeared, hard calloused hands turning soft and holding… pens? He licked his lips and thought he tasted butter.

The dreams lingered as he prepared coffee from beans flown across a world so different than that of his birth. Bad dreams had been coming clear and steady for several years now, a swirl: bushes burning the homes of others, burning treasured traditions, burning but claiming to build, murderous vice-leaders, towers falling, and now, now… Danes. “Danes. Danes. Danes. Danes,” a thought that slapped against his brain with stupefying regularity like a scratched techno disc. “All madness.”

Madness: the world consuming itself, becoming chaos, as if all Hindu gods had at once become manifest, gods of flight and of war and of destruction, many-handed gods, gods of water and lakes, gods of building. Those gods in particular now lived on this desert plain, this former seabed, this seabed-to-return if the gods of global warmth once again have their way, as it now is certain they will. As the hands of humans turn dirt concrete, pile it ever-higher into spaces newly filled with gaudy idiocy, in the ocean other sentient beings muse their days away, their traffic problems so distant from the daily clash of Sheikh Zayed Road.

6 Comments:

Blogger Champagne Socialist said...

I don't get the butter reference...?

6:10 AM  
Blogger BarfUser said...

Danish butter. Bad cartoons. Bad butter.

7:41 AM  
Blogger Videos by Professor Howdy said...

.
There is a time for everything,
a season for every activity
under heaven. A time to be
born and a time to die. A
time to plant and a time to
harvest. A time to kill and
a time to heal. A time to
tear down and a time to
rebuild. A time to cry and
a time to laugh. A time to
grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones
and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a
time to turn away. A time to
search and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to
throw away. A time to tear
and a time to mend. A time
to be quiet and a time to
speak up. A time to love
and a time to hate. A time
for war and a time for peace.

May this be
your time to laugh,
embrace & receive
personal peace,
Dr. Howdy

7:44 AM  
Blogger grapeshisha said...

Just reading your blog for the first time. Parts of this made me laugh out loud.

10:19 AM  
Blogger BarfUser said...

Spiffy! I plan my vast output to continue at its current pace.

12:57 PM  
Blogger Champagne Socialist said...

this pace is fine, just fine.

10:56 PM  

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