Nearly all the posts are bilingual.
Presque tous les articles sont bilingues.

English spoken. On parle français. (وكمان منفهم عربي، حبيبي)

Most of this blog's contents is subject to copyright. For instance, many of the latest illustrations I've made myself. I'm the cooperative type. If you intend to borrow some material, please contact me by leaving a comment. :-)
La plupart du contenu de ce blog est soumis aux droits d'auteurs. Par exemple, nombre des illustrations les plus récentes sont faites par moi. Je suis du genre coulant. Si vous comptez emprunter du contenu, SVP contactez-moi en laissant un commentaire. :-)

Friday, April 4, 2008

Conar the Barbarabian

A merry "folkloric tradition" in my beautiful and lovely country, is that when the local cow-boys are feeling joyful, they do the "moodirne" equivalent of brandishing the sword in the air (or of doing the ever classic dance of the sabres, like in weddings): they draw the "klashin" and fire away in the air, yoo-hoo-loo-loo-loo!
We'd gotten used to it during the war, what with the total anarchy and all. We're getting re-used to it today. On both sides without distinction (anyways, old chap, do they only know what it means, to have distinction?), when a "rayyess" shows up on TV and makes a dashing, smashing, very manly speech, his enthusiastic fans abound in lost bullets... and collateral victims! One or two casualties every few days.
But what are a few deaths, but a small price for preserving our beautiful traditions, right? ):-P
At any rate, this proves two things:
1-Anarchy is back, with a feeling of total impunity that's flaunted in broad daylight.
2-A large number of weapons are also present in broad daylight. "With a little bit o' blumen' luck", me fair laydee, I'll soon be cured from the nostalgia that I've kept for my tumultuous and oh so exciting childhood, bang-bang, takapoom, SBOW!
When the local Conan brandishes its sword, it perpetuates an old custom, consisting of suggesting with utter manliness: "I'm afraid that mine might be smaller than yours, so I'm compensating."
Big guns, big cars, big cigars, big bellies... big wives?
"Big katastroffe, large kalamity!" - (Lyrics from the song "Nié khatim Natasha"...)

Une "joyeuse tradition folklorique" dans mon beau et charmant pays, c'est que quand les cow-boys locaux se sentent joyeux, ils font l'équivalent "moudirne" de brandir le sabre en l'air (ou de faire la très classique danse des sabres, comme aux mariages): ils dégainent le "klashin" et tirent en l'air, you-hou-lou-lou-lou!
On s'y était habitué pendant la guerre, à l'époque de l'anarchie complète. On s'y réhabitue aujourd'hui. Dans les deux camps sans distinction (de toute façon, être distingué, savent-ils seulement ce que cela signifie, old boy?), lorsqu'un "rayyiss" apparaît à la télé et fait un discours bien senti, percutant, très viril, ses fans enthousiastes multiplient les balles perdues... et les victimes collatérales! Tous les quelques jours, il y a un ou deux morts.
Mais que sont quelques morts comme prix pour la préservation de nos belles traditions, n'est-ce pas? ):-P
Cela prouve en tout cas deux choses:
1-L'anarchie est bien là, avec un sentiment d'impunité totale qui s'étale au grand jour.
2-Un grand nombre d'armes sont aussi en circulation au grand jour. Avec un peu de "chance", my fair lady, je vais bientôt soigner la nostalgie que j'ai gardé de mon enfance tumultueuse, et ô combien excitante, pan-pan, tacapoum, SBOW!
Lorsque le Conan local brandit sa grosse épée, il perpétue une vieille coutume, consistant à suggérer mâlement: "J'ai peur que la mienne soit moins grosse que la tienne, alors je compense."
Gros calibres, grosses voitures, gros cigares, gros ventres... grosses épouses?
"Grosse katastroffe, grande kalamité!" - (Paroles de la chanson "Nié khatim Natasha"...)

2 comments:

Johnnie Walker said...

Those sound like some strange traditions, the kind of thing you'd expect to find on Deadwood.

I've always wondered about that wild firing in the air - I mean, the bullets have got to fall somewhere.

I have never actually seen a gun fired before, and have never even held a real one.

Maybe you should think about emigrating somewhere civilized? ;-)

Pascal [P-04referent] said...

I'm thinking, I'm thinking! ;-)

Seriously now, I've already made one failed attempt. Long -and boring- story. Most likely not the last one I'll make!

But it's never simple. Especially when half of your family and roots are in this country. But if it keeps smothering its elites (not such a fancy term, considering the local average!), then I'll do what most of the elites have already done for the past 33 years. "Go west, to the greener pastures of the great plains." California or Normandy, I'm not sure yet... On a whole different planet, that's for sure!

To think there are some tourists who WANT TO COME and visit our "beautiful and exotic countries"! The world is full of loons, I'm tellin' ya.

"I have never actually seen a gun fired before, and have never even held a real one."

Trust me, you haven't lost a thing. Especially cells of your inner ear! :-P

"I mean, the bullets have got to fall somewhere."

Gee, do you think perhaps they don't care? :-(
My father once saw a very disturbing scene in his youth: some genius wanted to break records at a wedding, so to make even more noise he threw lit dynamite sticks in the air. The last one he didn't throw quickly enough. Oh, he survived... but with a missing hand.
Reminds me of that silly Tex Avery series: Einstone, lonely genius of the prehistoric era.

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