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The Turks haven't learned the British way of denying past atrocities

Turkish Government seems to be quite ridiculous in its handling of its past atrocity. They are prosecuting a world famous writer for telling the truth. Orhan Pamuk is on trial. This fearless writer talked about past Turkish government's direct involvement in "the Armenian genocide in the first world war and the killing of the Kurds in the past decade." How dare he "denigrate Turkishness"? The Turkish "democratic" government wanted Mr. Pamuk to remaim quiet regarding its painful past. However, the "ridiculous" Turkish government's inept handling of this increasingly murky situation of their atrocious past is being more fomented by their sheer stupidity, for their arranging this trial against free speech. They should have taken heed from the British or the American Government. Perhaps the Chinese, Russian, Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Israel, myriads of European and Middle-East nations along with other boastful governments around the

Aspartame and Runaway Mockeries

A colleague of my will be flying back to Prince Edward Island tomorrow. His father-in-law just passed away early this morning. A forty six year old man, six feet three inches tall, apparently healthy, and just got remarried and had a new born baby. Only three months ago cancerous tumors were found in his kidney. And in the last ninety days, tumors had spread to his entire stomach, lungs and other parts of his body. Strong morphine drips struggled to keep unbearable pain at bay. Gathering family surrounded him. They laughed amidst pain. Even the dying man himself wanted to taste his favorite drink, beer, so the wife bought a six pack for him. The man drank half a can and said, "Uh....I love this taste"! When her husband died later that day, she gave away the remaining five cans of beer to his friends and family, and asked them to celebrate the deceased's life rather than pouring tears in grief. My father died of cancer too. His was in his gall-bladder that had spread to

Harold Pinter's Nobel Lecture -- Art, Truth and Politics

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Our muffed ego, inflated arrogance spiced by willful ignorance. Can they be shattered? Can the subdued conscience be invigorated once more from the last throe of dignity that left for the humanity? Our oblivious bias, shutting the eyes and ears from seeing and hearing "blood in the streets", shrieks from an orphan or bombed apart child, widow, men, women; can eyes be plied open, and dirts in ears be cleared away? Read Pablo Neruda's following lines from a poem: And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry speak of dreams and leaves and the great volcanoes of his native land. Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets! Harold Pinter's health will not allow him to attend Nobel prize ceremony in Stockholm this year, but his pen did not stay silent. At this advanced age of his life while achieving the most coveted literary award from our contemporary world, he has nothing to lose. His foll

Feast - a Poem

Feast By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) November 12, 2005 Sea of glowing beads round and plump rising over twilight plateau where growling bear twitches its sunken eyes and hairy paws seeing a skirring pheasant trailing a fleeing rabbit Such the nature of violence in dead leaves of ancient trees where battles raging on between opposing groups of ants and fleas In the troposphere the rumbling wind hot and cold in grumbling confusion flipping up, twisting down debris, molecules enlivened tearing apart superheated turbulence pockets of air bursting out in frenzied gist Down there where bear roams and lion brawls with shrieking hyenas pitch dark crows circle above a big feast

France - Explosion in the Suburbs

France - Explosion in the Suburbs Cars are burning in Paris, suburbs and many other places in France are in chaos. Riots raging, the boiling point of anger have reached for many disheartened youths, mostly the second generation young immigrants from France's colonial past, who had had enough of their being discriminated, subjected to bold faced lies, distortions and many other shrewed political maneuvering made to keep them under perpetual poverty and distress, couldn't take insults any longer. Burning cars, destructions of properties, harming innocent people can no way to be supported, however steadfast and fare their urging may seem, but the inept French politicians like Sarkozy whose naked desires to capture the political right by using derogatory terms describing the French immigrant societies is one of the factors out of many for that the current situation has reached so much in its violent zenith. A prominent anti-racis

Conveyor Belt -- a Poem

Conveyor Belt By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) October 30, 2005 Is there nothing to write about to muse at the expense of voluble time? What is it to write? Has the world sucked in all the remaining desire for a story to be renewed? Or foretold in vigorous charm? All one can see is oceanic depression in mid level ridge as the sea spreading and washed out sediments gorged inside earth like a large conveyor belt carrying all the filths, impurities, human destructions into the warmth of deepening earth See these gift baskets, immaculate ribbons from haven, merrily glistening And look at these crispy notes dollars, yens, euros, takas, rupees, silver coins, loonies, toonies, discolored paishas, chiming dimes smart cards, credit cards roars of laughter, moans of agonies overspilled hatred corner to corner hand in hand with Halloween costumes Goblins and make believe ghosts nudging the would be assassins, the human bombs, mechanized torpedoes blowing up ever

Mud -- a Poem

Mud By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) Summer 2005 Mix of Sun and cloud today's weather So defiant, so proud thunder chatter You walk under hot sun cloudless sky raging blue not a bird in sight boorish road splashing hue Here, the world is quiet a lazy day of summer wind blows now and then one or two Ford or Hummer rushes by green traffic light and empty parking lot while homeless and hermits gawk at colorful plot Thank God or Devil we are not there where flesh ripped off bones innocence vaporized in fiery flare and dreads for more blood hones under yearning retribution eye for an eye, blood for blood no end in sight for this illusion world is covered with irresolute mud!

Sound of Suave Lore -- a Poem

Sound of Suave Lore By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) October 27, 2005 Rush, rush, rush the way and bring me slush of clay Silly rhyme, meaningless rhythm on a day of rain and chasm Suave gentlemen walking by hand in hand with gorgeous sly lady and children carrying bags clapping, laughing amidst bickering nags You stand there like an wavering tree staring at the empty lobby spotless floor, uniformed bellmen chattering away a day of brewed zen Sound of guitar, piano muffled washing lonesome spirit and baffled heart in a sweeping flush as if clay of slush or slush of clay rush the way to a rhythmic lore Don't you dare to snore on an empty floor!

Europeans declare bird flu 'a global threat'

I don't have to be a scaremonger, the progression of bird flu from Asian nations to Europe and its eventual future migration to every corner of our world is beginning to rattle nerve of many, including mine. No real antidote, anti-virus medicine exists, only "Tamiflu" that according to World Health Organization "could minimize the potency of the illness but was not an effective vaccine against it" Europe started to move in stockpiling Tamiflu, but what about the poor Asian nations? What is the plan in saving millions and millions of citizens of Asian, African and South American nations? Is there really a viable plan to combat a potentially man annihilating virus in place? Would we be caught, again, in our pants down to our ankle, bare naked, like the Katrina romped Louisiana's backyard, front yard, or the devastating earthquake leveling Balakot in Pakistan, destroying all those poorly made homes, buildings that were no match for a 7.6 earthquake? Or would i

Harold Pinter Wins Nobel Prize in Literature

I have not read any of Harold Pinter's writings, and heard his name just for the first time early this morning when the Nobel prize committee announced his name as this year's award winner in literature. A few strokes on my keyboard brought me the following acceptance speech by this British author, it was given at Wilfred Owen Award ceremony earlier this year. Read this speech and you will see how courageous this writer is whose honesty reveals itself in every paragraph. If you are like me so much in dark in world literature, perhaps it is a good time picking up one or two of Harold Pinter's published books. Regards, Sohel Wilfred Owen Award Speech - 18 th March 2005 This is a true honour. Wilfred Owen was a great poet. He articulated the tragedy, the horror and indeed the pity – of war – in a way no other poet has. Yet we have learnt nothing. Nearly 100 years after his death the world has become more savage, more bru

Angela Merkel: Politician Who Can Show a Flash of Steel

Ms. Merkel's assend to the top in German political scene is quite interesting. As a student of physics she must have keen eyes and ears for natural laws of our world, and perhaps could bring Germany a long sought equilibriam between two bitterly divided factions, the right and left into a common ground. Is it too much to ask for? Her pro-war stance certainly is disturbing, but perhaps that can prove to be usual misstep of many politicians in their journey toward maturity. Regards, Sohel Angela Merkel: Politician Who Can Show a Flash of Steel By MARK LANDLER FRANKFURT, Oct. 10 - On Nov. 9, 1989, the day the Berlin Wall fell, Angela Merkel made her weekly visit to a sauna. Hours later, she caught up with thousands of East Germans, who were streaming jubilantly into the West. It was not the last time her rendezvous with German history was delayed. On Monday, three weeks after a deadlocked election that she had once been expected to win handily, Mrs. Merkel finall

The Timeless Truth .........

Authoritarian way of silencing opposing views cannot be part of modernity, it is like the old days of powerful creationists thumping their voluminous religious texts decidedly, squishing lights out of any vigorous debate requested by the then tormented Darwinists. It seems, at least on the surface, that today's "Intelligent Design" proponents are quite different from their scraggy fundamentalist predecessors, they make "use of generally accepted scientific data and agrees that falsification, not revelation, is the acid test of scientific validity." "Today, Darwinian fundamentalists fight to keep the evidence of intelligent design in the diversity of life on earth out of the classroom, because that would be at odds with a strictly materialist view of the world. Eighty years ago, the thought controllers wanted no Darwin; today's thought controllers want only Darwin. In both cases, the dominant attitude is authoritarian and closed-minded -- the opposit