Well, the Syrian regime has been on the verge of implosion for quite a while now, and it appears that many people are now taking notice of that. For despite the fact that by all objective standards, one would still expect the Syrian regime to be strong and in control, at teh very least for the lack of any serious internal contenders, the reality is the survivability of the regime, as the events of the last few years have amply demonstrated, needs to be measured on the basis of the intellectual capacity of the regime leaders, rather than any other “objective” factor. But on this basis we can safely conclude that the Syrian regime’s days are indeed numbered, even if there is no clear alternative to it but chaos.
Chaos! Oh that dreaded word. That all-too-justifiably dreaded word that is about to become a reality.
Mr. Hercules Mehlis did as he was told. He issued his report and met with journalists, and now he is back on the trail of those dastardly assassins. And by Jove, he will get them or his name is not Hercules Poirot…, I mean Mehlis, even if the outcome is chaos.
Chaos! Bittersweet chaos! Have any people ever matured into freedom without it? Damn it, if only they could. If only they could, so that freedom and blood can be equally precious and sanctified and so that neither should be sacrificed for the sake of the other.
One thing has been really bothering me of late: with all these dire predictions of mine, I am beginning to sound more and more like a doomsday prophet shouting “the end is nigh. The end is nigh.” But then, the end is nigh, and a sense of doom does fill the air. Am I supposed to ignore that and sing the praises of the Lord, be it a lion-cub or a fatherland?
Fatherland! There is no fatherland. Syria is but an empty husk, its leaders are maggots and its people flies. Flies! Flies forever attracted to their doom.