Salaams Val and Faheema. Wax nin ah oon salaamayaa majirto. Maanta si kalaa la ii haya.

Salaams JB. Horta ninyahow xalay baan rabay inaan kula soo xidhiidhee, Somaliland Space Channel ayaa iga baxay ee, let me send you money and you buy me the card. I still have Raad, Universal, Horn Cable and Somaliland National TV; but I think all will ask for subscription soon. Hadaad lacagta cunto, you know where your ceeb will be plastered. Ceebtaa safar raacday is no more. Ceebtaa SOL raacday weeye! ---------------- On your question, let it not be missed by any of you that Xinn is held with high esteem on my part and I do care about what he says. I infact wanted to have him as a close confidante and advisor on matters of high importance, until he obligated the task of setting my to-do-list with menacing intrusion. He may well feel I have been a bad patient, defaulter on therapy and treatment. He may rue his decision to extend a helping hand to an ungrateful and insufferable character. Yet, I am not given to dishing out easy delights to fools and those who take me for granted. Hence, he shouldn't have expected me to go on holiday both in mind and mouth. Not after his series of below-par commentaries on an imaginary peace caravan. And not after excoriating me for daring to record proceedings of sensible events under the pants of couples. He should not hope for even a glacial peace, now!! the swords are drawn out wide and open. Ngonge If I have decried her baloneys for a long time, I must commend madam for the serene mind of these days. It is her, not me.

^Morning Don king!

Originally posted by *BOB: War Ninkan maad bilcaan Waamo uga doontaan intaan ka badan looma adkeesan karee Agaa...ama hadii kale idaacada maaweelada caruurta geeya...Nuune ninku waa tolee aan saan udhaano ina aaboow.... Peace, Love & Unity. Sheikh-BOB (what an Oxymoron) I was in South Africa just before the Ramadan and runtii thought of looking for you. I was in Pretoria for 3 days. The bilcaan was with me and perhaps next time I come over you will meet your Dumaashidaa. Odayga haka caayin dee, dayday ma ahe!

Many thanks serenity. But there is a vast ground between hopefulness and delusion. Intersting you say Xinn is neutral. What does that mean in the current situation in Somalia? Is he neutral when it comes to Ethiopian intervention in Somalia? To TFG and Islamic fighters? That wasn't my impression. I will love to hear from him. Waaba arin kale oo adag, haduu yidhaa I am neutral of what is going on in the Bakaara Market. Sophist, my obsession is to preserve that status of his. It looks he is losing ground by the day. I know he is a gentleman and have said he is among a dewindling stock of wise men. This is an attempt to conserve him.

Monday's Workshop After three sessions, the Bantu man next to me, a man I found to be very pleasant and well-behaved, started to bleed. The blood gushed out of his nose. I picked tissue papers and put on his nose and rushed him to the toilet. After helping him wash the blood, and wiping his forehead, I left him outside to rest. Twenty minutes later, he came in and sat on his designated table- next to me again. He thanked and then we had this exchange. Bantu Man: Thank you so much. You are? (I told him). And which organisation are you from? A&T: I am a freelance heckler at SOL. (kidding. I told him the right thing). And you? Bantu man: I am from NAPLWHA (national association of people living with HIV/AIDS). My heart sank in horror! Was I washing the blood of an HIV+ man? I put my hands in my pockets and rubbed them inside thoroughly, as I couldn’t disappoint him by running to the washroom. Then without me asking, he followed up with the following. “The NAPLWHA is actually an umbrella of many sub-organisations. I am from MSM.” A&T: O! I see. If you may,…what is the full name of your organisation? Bantu man: Men who have sex with men (MSM). I gave him a grin of horror. It is one thing to write about disgusting things in SOL. It is quite another to face the unthinkable just after Ramadaan. I faked someone on the other side was calling me, stood up, walked out, and then ran like hell to the rest room. In search of hot water and soap!

JB, validating how I felt about your position on South Somalia. Just on the other thread, you agreed with Nuune there is no hope in peace deals wedded outside Somalia. See! the problem is you are acting, and sometimes forget to get your acts right- like all bad liers do! Adigu waxaa tahay kuwii la yidhii: Baadida ninbaa kula daydaya daala kaa badane Oo aan hadana dooneheyn inaad hesho daa'im abidkaaye

JB, When it comes to issues in South Somalia, your situation is more like "la jir - iskana jir". Laguma aaminayo adiga!

Repent XINN! Repent! This multi-faceted missive is to dear friend Xinn, whose acumen has dimmed over the year. It is a last-ditch effort to save one of the last Somali gentlemen who is under-going an emotional and intellectual obscelescene born out of idiopathic factors. ------------------------------------------------- For heavens sake, you are not Xaaji Xundjuf- the zany secessionist who wields slogans of ‘way dhaqaaqday Somaliland’ and ‘down with the F.aqa.sh’ with such macabre allure. You are not the delinquent juvenile Dhulqarneyn who relishes in splashing dung to satisfy his blazing odium for certain Somali clans. And who refuses to speak to anyone without making sure he is equipped with debilitating verses from one of the white-guys he is told were great. You are not General Duke, the serial rapist of truth, intent on forcing us to genuflect to an octogenarian playing dirty skirt to perennial enemy. You are not even Oodweyne, that raconteur- who cons cheery youngsters in SOL with vacuous pronouncements devoid of any sagacity, but whose unassailable mastery of the Queen’s language more than offsets for his luck of substance. You are not in their pedigree, or at least that is what I think of you. You belong to a distinguished club of people endowed with intellect and objective thinking. You are in the pedigree of CHE et al. Or at least, you have belonged there until your inordinate fascination with falsehoods and likelihoods got the better of you and you shunned exploring fundamental dialectic on how to regain lost freedom. Until your wilful under-understanding made you follow sonorous rings of peace that never were! Until your strategic ‘naivety’ and convenient ‘pragmatism’ took you to the level of brewing delectable illusions for dreamy easiness! Wake up! And repent Xinn! There is no peace in Djibouti. There won’t be peace in Nairobi. Peace will come out of the barrel of the gun. It is a cruel proposition, but a factual one, nonetheless. You chose to subordinate your judgement to a pre-determined image of you as a peace-lover. That image will still be preserved if you set out to articulate why you don’t see peace coming out of the daily shenanigans and shady deals in lavish conference rooms. It is not too late! You well understand that Sheikh Sharif’s initial modesty has yielded to the glamour and comfort of the profile of public life fate hurtled him into. You must view the fight for re-liberation and the way forward for peace in Somalia with a Manichean simplicity. It is the good guys against the bad guys! The phase we are in now is where we talk about sovereignty and regaining our independence. The next phase is where we need to debate whether we need this or that group, ideology, interpretation, or system. Just look at the fundamental things here: There is no possibility of reconciliation when one party to the deal is tied at the joints to the enemy whose interest vitally conflicts with that of Somalia. Unless your good Sheik -who you will agree, has lost his muse ever since he dropped his turbine in favour of a suit- is going to give in and append his signature to something like the Versailles treaty in WWI; what is on offer is not even half of what he refused in Kartoum well before thousands of young men were sacrificed. He is already a part to a watcher-averse political voluptuary, and anything is possible, I should know. Unless you don’t intend to continue the ruse on the need to accommodate the obligatory political players as you often portray the TFG thugs; you know there is nowhere in the history of the world, where the traitors who came with the occupying enemy had morphed into rulers of a freed nation! What Marshal Petain and the Vichy’s didn’t get, Abdullahi Yusuf won’t get! Repent Xinn! Repent! On a personal note, that you are rummaging for the brace in your conjugal expedition must not result in an imposition of a magisterial censure on my bed-time stories. In many ways, it is not your mistake. If the SOL women would have shunned you like they did to me, you wouldn’t have had the trouble of proving your worth to anybody! You would have said what you think is right, not what you think is politically correct! I personally resent latter-day Salafist who seeks to set boundaries to my pen. And does so with a righteous aplomb! I, son of Tolka, friend of CARA, must oblige this angry maar-collector from the East???????????! My foot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think is a robust and well articulated response. I,however,don't think the mediocre Kenyan lawyer should have been given that much attention.

Originally posted by Valenteenah: To me, what came across in the story was that, for whatever reason, Ayaanle was not willing to allay his wife's fears properly or permanently. In fact some of his 'assurances' (like the part where they are arguing in front of their respective families) seemed designed to make Ugbaad look and feel even more irrational. Now, a man who is not capable of making his wife feel cherished or secure has failed in his duty as a husband. He doesn't deserve the beautiful, loyal and loving Ugbaad. Don't you agree? I disagree. What if Ayaanle feels she is petulant and ungrateful,and don't want to set a precedence where she will take for granted what she has. What if he is doing a lot of work to keep his families living standard and barely rests. Shouldn't you try to see why he is aloof and what other factors are involved before you pass judgment? Characteristic of dear Cara,she once again thinks all women are perfect and must have good reasons for whatever evil things they do. When will CARA et al be emancipated from the poor-wronged-women complex and become impartial?

Originally posted by * Prince *: So, it's clear now that the so-called Djibouti talks have proved to be just maaweelo iyo shimbirayahow heesa!. ... the only outcome of the plot was the alliance oo la kala jebiyay, Shiekh Sharif and his brother Dahir Aweys oo madaxa la isku geliyay. Well, Don't tell that to all-knowing XINN. He should have buried himself in shame along with his demagoguery about peace caravan.Instead, he may well come out and tell us another Sheekooy sheeko. Dammit! Nothing to trumpet about,but I did say the whole purpose of the talks were to weaken the opposition. Now,tell me if Shiek Sharif's signature matters anymore?

Originally posted by peasant: AT still peddling his sick stories!.....man shagging wheelchair bound chick, benevolent hooker and etc...This shid is never ending.. Waraa quraan saar baad u bahantahay waryaa waxaas ka baxoo, is seven really impossible? I know it is on the upper end. Laakiin, I want xaasleeyda to reflect on their honeymoons. of course, mohamed might have been extra careful and might have used double. KK- gabdhaha masaakiinta ah ee la isu soo maydh-maydhayo for the Aross, need to insist for HIV test, and should take time to know who they are marrying. Val, the other side of the story is that despitehis worthless nature, how mohamed was still victimised just because he is a somali and his name if not his act is an islamic one.

Emperor- de nin weyn beenaalaa tahay lama yidhaa. take it or leave it, it is true. When it is not, I don't say it is. Go and review all posts. Of course when I say true, I mean something I have witnessed or have been told to me by reliable people. What I mean by true is that the stories are not FICTION (from my imagination). I don't want to take credit for what is not mine. Xinnow- adeer nigis ku majiree maad isha marisisd! dee wixii lama galaan ah anaa ku soo qori "NOT for under 16 and Xinn". Never cease to be amazed by the IQ level of Val. "Stoic aloofness" ku lahaa. How many others (including me) have seen that angle of the story. She got the main issue.

VISCOSITY OF HIS ROOTS (A short Story) “Save something for you fiancée. You told me you are marrying next month” Kistet, the Ethiopian girl told him, after disposing the pile of seven condoms they used in the course of the passionate night. She put dark shades on his eyes as he leaned back on the pillow made of ostrich feathers, and started dipping drops of cold strawberry yoghurt into his gaping mouth. Usually, he doesn’t mind her jokes. As a riposte, for instance, he would have relayed to her the exchanges between Roble and Ibtilo some years back. Ibtilo, concerned by the licentious behaviour of Roble, asked, “Why do you waste your spawn everywhere. Instead of wasting on bed sheets and blankets of dark rooms, why can’t you conserve it, and get an Engineer or a Doctor boy or girl.” Roble: “You are right. I fully understand what you are implying. Let me assure you that that is exactly my intention. But, you must know I am getting rid of the navvies (labourers) for now.” But, the words of his mother on the telephone from the distant home village struck his head. His mind lost its peace. “Son, you are Muslim. You are grown up now. Yes, your first marriage might not have worked. But that doesn’t mean your next won’t. May God’s wrath descend onto you if you commit any sin!” He values what his old-fashioned but thoughtful mother says. The bad joke of Kistet tore apart the little self-worth he felt. He yielded to the temptations of the hot moments with the nubile Kistet. When he first met her at the front desk of the hotel reception, he thought she actually looked like a Somali. She was short, slim, and chocolate-colour. She thought he is one of the home boys. But looking at his identity card, she questioned her earlier judgement. “Your name is Mohamed. Are you an Oromo?” she said. “No. I am not. I am a Somali.” Six months later, they were good friends. She knew all about him and his family. He knew she had a boyfriend who deserted her after going to London. She joked, “You Somali’s seem to pass the oceans with ease. When will you go to London? Maybe, you will find him for me.” Well into their seventh month, that night arrived. As she finished her duty and prepared to leave, she asked if he can see her off. He felt obliged and accompanied her up to the Taxi station. Waiting for the Taxi, a bystander asked him whether the national TV will be broadcasting tonight’s big game. “Which one?” Mohamed asked, “The one between Turkey and England. England must win to qualify.” The man said. Mohamed quickly decided to watch the match. He didn’t want to miss the misery of the English. He relishes when those loud-mouths are silenced. He asked Kistet if she can keep him company as he watches the game in a nearby Sportsbar. She accepted. There was no looking back from that day onwards. They hardly spent a night without one another. He cheated himself that it was a temporary transgression, which will end soon when he finally settles to marry the decent Somali girl waiting for him. Things turned to take an ugly turn when Kistet introduced him to Major Atakilti Nigusse, head of the central intelligence unit as her elder brother. Mohamed greeted him nervously, wondering if the same hands he shook are soaked with the blood of his fellow Somali’s wantonly killed by Ethiopian army in his country of origin. But what he heard was even more freighting. Major Atakilti, displayed his pistol, and chuckling, he said, “take care of the young sister. She says you are about to get married. If she is happy with you, why not? If she cries in anger for a single day, you will be crying for eternity. Ah! Ah! Ah! I am kidding.” Until she uttered the excruciating words, as they lied back on one of their many furtive beds, in the middle of the night, Mohamed genuinely felt there is no reason why he has to disdain this prize of destiny. She was hot, humorous and munificent in her love. She sang for him in her local language with irresistible charm: As they stare at you from head to heel, Tell them to spare your eyes and teeth If they still insist in gazing at it, with their covetous eyes Please! Please! Tell them ‘fine, but my heart is hers’ He could no longer take any more iniquitous jokes. He quickly dressed up and left the room. He vowed there will be no more contact between them. Yet, a week before his supposed wedding, he was in La gazelle night club with her. She wore white pyjamas and jumped up and down on the stage under the giant Plasma screen. But, his self-hate for being a paltry incapable of containing his corporeal desires subsided when he saw the big Sheik, with elongated beard twisting it like no one does, next to her. The Shiek was a superb dancer, matching every beat thrown at the large screen on the wall with awe-inspiring efficacy: The Rap, Meringue, Tango, Ragge and even to Gosaye’s ‘Evangadi’ - the melancholic rhythm played in the dim floor of the sweltering Night club, mimicking the love-making rituals of the Hamer people in southern tip of Ethiopia. He felt consecrated. “If the Sheik can do this, God will forgive me for misbehaving”, he thought. The joy was short-lived as he soon greeted the Sheikh. “Sheikh, Aslaamu Calykum. I am…” He extended his hand for a greeting; The midnight crescendo was deafening. The Sheikh supported his ear with his left hand, and leaned forward. “What?” “Sheikh, Asalaamu calykum” “I don’t speak Arabic. Sorry” The Sheikh told him. “How come?” he inquired, little bit irritated. “I am Sikh. I am Indian.” So, after all, all the rationalizing was in vain. At about the same time, he saw Major Atakilti entering the club, looking drunk and fractious. Mohamed ejected through the back door and run for his life. What he couldn’t stop for fear of God, it seems he would stop for fear of a human. Last night, Kistet told him her brother was asking too many questions about the lifestyle of Mohamed. “Why does he live in a Hotel for so long? For over a year? Can the small money he gets from the NGO he works for really allow him to live so prolifically?” Mohamed knew there was nothing of value that he got from Kistet that would help his suffering people in Somalia. He also knew he wasn’t really in it for anything outside fleshly motivations. But, somehow he felt his soul needed to be saved for a moment from the enormous guilt that was chewing it. “I tried my best to help my people. I hate this Ethiopians, and I will hurt them in all ways I am capable of. And if I have to err for the cause, it is worth the pain” He said. He reached to his pocket and got hold of his cell phone. “Ayan, hello, where are you?” “In Nairobi, she said. Why do you pretend you don’t know?” His fiancée asked, “I need to get out of Ethiopia. I am now renting a car to get to the border. Kindly make sure you get the right papers and come and help me cross to Kenya”. “I will. I am sure you must have good reasons to be in such hurry. I will speak to Wali and we will be coming soon. Don’t worry.” She said, grateful the long wait is over. Then, his phone rang again. It was Kistet. “I am happy you left the club. My brother and his soldiers are in bad mood and I lied to them. I think you should keep a low profile for a while. Anyway, see you tomorrow night in Gojjo restaurant. I will tell you more.” “Kistet, I will be in touch soon. I will tell you where I am. And surely, you will join me.” He meant it. Somehow, he felt he will be happy with her in Nairobi. His thighs shuddered at the thought of her salacious strides in the bedroom. He also knew there is no way he will marry her. He respects and honestly likes his roots. The next morning the Zemen newspaper carried this story in the front page: POLICE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR AL-SHABAB- AL ISLAMIYA OPERATIVE IN ADDIS ABABA. His name was said to be Mohamed Abdirahman Siraaje. The police warned the public that ‘Mohamed’ may just be one of many names they think he uses, and asked people to be vigilant and careful as the man is believed to be a ring leader of a cell of dangerous Islamic terrorists from Somalia who are planning a major attack to disrupt the celebration of the Ethiopian Millennium. Mohamed woke up only to see Agnes, the Kamba prostitute he slept with last night, has no hair. He knew he is safe. He is in Nairobi. Three weeks later, I was given an invitation card for the wedding of Ayan and Mohamed in Safari Hotel. As the bride and groom held hand-in-hand and approached the decorated perch, I looked at the eye of the ecstatic Ayan and wondered if she knows all the things I know. In commiseration, I almost decided to tell her.

Typical Arab, indeed, Afro is a wonderful lady. I thank you for seeing something of her in me. Beesaani-You know how to make a friend happy. Waxaan ku idhi, the man who is married to Ugbaad is fed up. He is saying farahaan ka qaadayaa. What do you think?

Friends- Afro, DS Nuune, and Ngonge- thanks for the generosity in your summary. All of you are firmly in my bag and I don't expect less from you. I would like to see the impartials like Dhulqarneyn come in to comment. And of course Xaaji Xundjuf (provided JB translates to him correctly). Afro- I infact haven't told the whole story. I am tempted to add one more episode of what Ugbaad did to her man the other night. Soon to come.

Adoring Ugbaad (A True Story) She raised the killer metal chunk and aimed for his skull. Her eyes were in tears as she knew her acts are in contravention of her religion, her values and her interests. Much more, her son will be an orphan soon. The man who slumbered peacefully on the bed had no idea of what was going on. He couldn’t suspect it coming. The last time he talked to his wife was when they justified their connubial bond by relentlessly swapping all they had for the night. In fact, that wasn’t the last thing he would have remembered had someone cared to wake him up and ask him, moments before his impending death. It was what he saw in the mirror in the toilet. Feeling a sharp nagging pain at the back, just under his shoulders, he turned and looked at the gaping wounds on his back. He smiled graciously. For a moment he wondered whether he has to tease her. “You need to cut your long nails. They are lethal” he wanted to say. But he didn’t. Nothing did he know of what was in store. Then, he was awakened by the wailing cry of Ugbaad, who kept on alternately kissing his feet and his head, shedding a sea of tears. “I killed you. I killed you. Go away Satan! Go away Satan! What have I done?” she cried at the top of her voice. Not fully aware of what is going on, Ayaanle saw, through misty eyes, her beautiful face. It evoked memories of their first night together, before she became the mother of his two kids –Yasiin and Muna: The tiny room in Hotel Paradiso. Yes, it was there, where he finally took her after six months of waiting. Because his friends told him that it was really the first night or never, he ate very well and finalised his preparations with two cups of milk. They told him the more he drinks, the more he delivers. “The milk is not fresh today. As a good client, I need to tell you. Will you wait for until 9:00 a.m when I will get the new consignment?” The grocery owner asked him. “No. 9:00 a.m is late. Give me what you have. It should be fine.” After they reclined on the Sofa near the ‘arena’, and have gone through some of the formalities, Ayaanle rushed to the toilet which was so close because the room was so tiny. His stomach was churning and turning, giving odd sounds. He felt like letting all the stocks inside go. And yet the embarrassment was to be even more damning. He can’t let his temporary intestinal complications destroy his intrinsic worth. He is known as a shy and good young man by everyone. If he could manage to get such an accolade by keeping his mouth shut, why allow his a$$ humiliate him? -especially when it mattered so much. He can lose her, but not his dignity. He came out of the toilet with sweaty forehead. “What is wrong with you?” She asked. “Nothing. It is hot inside.” He replied. “So, tell me. Who told you I said you only married me because you lost Ismahaan?” “Why are you bringing the story of Ismahaan and irrelevant personalities into this?” he asked in rage. He wanted to unfetter himself from the biting hell in the inner tract. So, he thought, the right moment of salvation has arrived. The moment of deliverance. He spitted on her face, accused her of rumour-mongering, wagged his fingers admonishing her not to ever mention the name of Ismahaan and kicked her out of the room number 205. As soon as she left, he lunged to the toilet panting. For him, it was the exigency of the moment and the need to be respectable that dictated the innovative move. For her, it marked the start of her sustained problem that led her to cut his head after nearly three years. She knows he doesn’t love her. In truth, he does. And when she confronted him in front of his families and at times her families, questioning his care, she always lost. “Have I abused you, physically, verbally, or in another way ever?” He would ask, “No. You didn’t. But you have abused me mentally and emotionally.” “How? When?" "Every minute of the day. The way you look at me. The way you talk to me. It all tells me I am here just because you think I should be. Not because you want me.” “How do you want me to show that I love you? That I care about you?” “It is too late. The damage to my head is done.” “Have I ever declined a request you made? Or have I ever sounded like I wanted somebody else?” he asked, “Decline my request?!! O! The lucky ones are told “…No dear, I won’t give you”. Me, I am like the slave who should be given all he asks because God will punish the owner if he doesn’t take care of him.” She would grumble and continue, “You buy me everything. But that is not important. And you, wanting another women? I never saw a hint of it. I think you hate all women because of me.” Fully awake, he was perplexed. He was alive, but she was saying he is dead. Then, to his dismay, she told him all that happened. “I wanted to kill you tonight. Please forgive me my husband.” Her tears flowed, as she kept on hugging and kissing him. “I wanted to be your wife. I still want to be. But, I think I am just a slave. I think I am here just because you are a good man who wants to sacrifice his happiness for the sake of me. I admire your kindness and mercy but that not what I would have liked.” He asked, “Fine. I know you think I am not returning your love in equal measure. But why did you think of killing me? Especially when I least suspected?” She cried, “Please don’t hate me for this. When you told me I can go and take rest with my family, because we have been having bad time of late, I thought the final valediction has dawned. I am a wicked person. And I am ready to accept a divorce.” He reminded her it was her request that she goes to her family, after she gave him three days ultimatum to cut the nuptial manacle and ‘set her free from the hell she was in’. “Yes, I still ask for a divorce. I can’t live like this.” She said. And she stood up for a prayer.

LONG LIVE MAX! I want that gentleman back! He was lovely. Sad NGONGE was among the ones who incriminated him in his last days. The old man carries no attachment to anyone. If I am kicked out today, he will probably write my obituray withour caring to ask how I died and who killed me. Down with Ngonge! Slogans are the new thing.

layzie G, you can't be choosy about ISlam. It is a package. You take or leave it. You don't want to be told not to go to a night-club? because it is against individual right? You said "The reason why I reject this notion of islamic state is because sooner or later it will turn out to be puritan style of believe." Fine, what is wrong with the puritan style of belief? i am not talking about how it is practised by some. I mean the principles. You sound like a brainwashed young girl. Not that I don't share some of your concerns about islamic gropus including Alshabab, but that your state of mind is not prepared to condemn and go out of the corrupt agnostic lifestyles of the west. You seem enamoured by vapid declarations of freedom and liberty. LG- iimaankaagu khatar buu ku jiraa walaal. And this negro basketballer you hang around as aviatar won't rescue you on the day of judgement. Xinn is copied for his comments. If he can't answer, i will take your statements to Nur for his analysis.

Originally posted by -Serenity-: Xiin, this is all your fault, you have reduced A&T to these ridiculous plotless stories that say nothing beyond the obvious! This is not a story dear serene. It was a live commentary from home on what was happening during the EID. I think Xinn is celebrating prematurely.

Ciid wanaagsan to all of you KenTan Somali's. CL, this is not an insult. It means happy EID. Smiles at Malika, wondering where she was for the Ciid! Edit welcome back Sayid. Hope things are fine with you and your family. Hope you won't take this a deliberate khashifaad! Ama in suuqa lagaa xidhayo.

I enjoyed the article by Matt. Harsh but truthful. And felt I should this one too! ---------------------------------------- Please put Sarah Palin out of her agony - Newsweek September 29th, 2008 Palin Is Ready? Please. McCain says that he always puts country first. In this important case, that is simply not true. Fareed Zakaria, NEWSWEEK Will someone please put Sarah Palin out of her agony? Is it too much to ask that she come to realize that she wants, in that wonderful phrase in American politics, "to spend more time with her family"? Having stayed in purdah for weeks, she finally agreed to a third interview. CBS's Katie Couric questioned her in her trademark sympathetic style. It didn't help. When asked how living in the state closest to Russia gave her foreign-policy experience, Palin responded thus: "It's very important when you consider even national-security issues with Russia as Putin rears his head and comes into the airspace of the United States of America. Where—where do they go? It's Alaska. It's just right over the border. It is from Alaska that we send those out to make sure that an eye is being kept on this very powerful nation, Russia, because they are right there. They are right next to—to our state." There is, of course, the sheer absurdity of the premise. Two weeks ago I flew to Tokyo, crossing over the North Pole. Does that make me an expert on Santa Claus? (Thanks, Jon Stewart.) But even beyond that, read the rest of her response. "It is from Alaska that we send out those …" What does this mean? This is not an isolated example. Palin has been given a set of talking points by campaign advisers, simple ideological mantras that she repeats and repeats as long as she can. ("We mustn't blink.") But if forced off those rehearsed lines, what she has to say is often, quite frankly, gibberish. Couric asked her a smart question about the proposed $700 billion bailout of the American financial sector. It was designed to see if Palin understood that the problem in this crisis is that credit and liquidity in the financial system has dried up, and that that's why, in the estimation of Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson and Fed chairman Ben Bernanke, the government needs to step in to buy up Wall Street's most toxic liabilities. Here's the entire exchange: COURIC: Why isn't it better, Governor Palin, to spend $700 billion helping middle-class families who are struggling with health care, housing, gas and groceries; allow them to spend more and put more money into the economy instead of helping these big financial institutions that played a role in creating this mess? PALIN: That's why I say I, like every American I'm speaking with, were ill about this position that we have been put in where it is the taxpayers looking to bail out. But ultimately, what the bailout does is help those who are concerned about the health-care reform that is needed to help shore up our economy, helping the—it's got to be all about job creation, too, shoring up our economy and putting it back on the right track. So health-care reform and reducing taxes and reining in spending has got to accompany tax reductions and tax relief for Americans. And trade, we've got to see trade as opportunity, not as a competitive, scary thing. But one in five jobs being created in the trade sector today, we've got to look at that as more opportunity. All those things under the umbrella of job creation. This bailout is a part of that. This is nonsense—a vapid emptying out of every catchphrase about economics that came into her head. Some commentators, like CNN's Campbell Brown, have argued that it's sexist to keep Sarah Palin under wraps, as if she were a delicate flower who might wilt under the bright lights of the modern media. But the more Palin talks, the more we see that it may not be sexism but common sense that's causing the McCain campaign to treat her like a time bomb. Can we now admit the obvious? Sarah Palin is utterly unqualified to be vice president. She is a feisty, charismatic politician who has done some good things in Alaska. But she has never spent a day thinking about any important national or international issue, and this is a hell of a time to start. The next administration is going to face a set of challenges unlike any in recent memory. There is an ongoing military operation in Iraq that still costs $10 billion a month, a war against the Taliban in Afghanistan and Pakistan that is not going well and is not easily fixed. Iran, Russia and Venezuela present tough strategic challenges. Domestically, the bailout and reform of the financial industry will take years and hundreds of billions of dollars. Health-care costs, unless curtailed, will bankrupt the federal government. Social Security, immigration, collapsing infrastructure and education are all going to get much worse if they are not handled soon. And the American government is stretched to the limit. Between the Bush tax cuts, homeland-security needs, Iraq, Afghanistan and the bailout, the budget is looking bleak. Plus, within a few years, the retirement of the baby boomers begins with its massive and rising costs (in the trillions). Obviously these are very serious challenges and constraints. In these times, for John McCain to have chosen this person to be his running mate is fundamentally irresponsible. McCain says that he always puts country first. In this important case, it is simply not true. ------------------------------------------ One Response to “Please put Sarah Palin out of her agony - Newsweek” 1. Anonymous says: Poor Palin…McSame is brutalizing this woman's life!! This lady literally knows nothing about American politics - the republicans, who are full of talented politicians screwed up this time! This lady doesn't even know what a VP does! I doubt if she know what a governor does Have mercy on her with Biden on Thursday… I think what Biden should do is…take her to back stage and do to her what Bush did to the American economy and international reputation! I am certain she can handle that - she might even be pro in that!!…her looks says it all!

Originally posted by Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar: quote:Originally posted by hamza9163: MMS, why is this fellow allowed to post so much insults? No moderation? Waala hadalnay the concerned brother, and if he continues the way his actions on this site are currently, then we have to take other means. The following conversation captures MMA's dilemma, I guess. After Axmed-dheere was informed of the abuse done to his fiancee by another man, he asked her to show him right away. All along he was swearing that he will obliterate the man who dared to say bad things to her. At one point he was even wondering who will bury his victim, because surely he will finish him. He shrugged and settled for the option of informing the Municipality to take the body. Then they reached where the man was. Standing acorss the street was a big man flexing his muscles. Axmed's mouth opened in disbelief. Then, he knew he can't hold back. He rushed forward wagging his finger and shouting "you man, you man, are you going to behave or not?" [he left the girl standing on the otherside of the road]. As he got closer to the abusive man, the man simply asked him "what if I don't behave?" in a low voice. "I will behave" Axmed replied. The moral of the story is that MMA has been wagging the finger for so long that one wonders if it is not wise for him to just behave! This is not a call for banning DQ by the way. But reminding him privately abusing clans (with insinuations) is against the rules of the site. If no one is above the law, then DQ shouldn't be!

I am astounded by the audacity of LB (lug-Buur). He tried to outmanouver the Tigre man in Jigjiga and nearly succeed. If he hadn't taken the initiative to oust the real demons of the region- people like Da'ud, Cabdi Iley and co., he may have survived for another three months until the next session of the parliament. The law says only the parliament can impeach the president, but see what happens when Towolde and the tigre's are angry with you. That is what some people here say a "regional State".