Le Matin

Parolier, compositeur et chanteur, Marwan Khoury est l’un des meilleurs artistes de la scène arabe actuelle. Durant ses spectacles donnés le week-end dernier, il a séduit le public casablancais par sa musique au romantisme débordant et sa présence remarquable. Nous l’avons rencontré pour une interview.

LE MATIN : Vous êtes chanteur et compositeur en même temps. Quel est le côté le plus proche à votre cœur ?

Marwan Khoury : J’aime les deux. Je me suis d’abord consacré à l’écriture et à la composition. Je ne me suis mis à la chanson que dernièrement, en 2004. Il faut dire que j’apprécie tout faire et j’essaie de garder une bonne image de moi quoique je fasse.

Vos compositions connaissent un grand succès auprès des artistes et du public. Quels sont les secrets de cette réussite ?

Le charisme de l’artiste, qu’il soit un chanteur ou un compositeur, est un cadeau du ciel. Cependant, la sensibilité de l’artiste et son honnêteté sont les clés de sa réussite. Il ne faut pas oublier que dans une œuvre, l’artiste partage ses émotions avec le public, il doit alors être sincère dans ce qu’il crée. Les messages qu’il transmet, eux, doivent être directs et venir du fond du cœur.

Quel est le répertoire chanté par Marwan Khoury ?

Pour résumer, c’est la chanson sentimentale, douce ou rythmée. C’est le style où je me sens le mieux car il me reflète parfaitement et exprime ma personnalité, c’est moi-même. D’autant plus que je crois que les gens, avec le rythme de vie actuel et au milieu de ce mouvement incessant, ont besoin, à un certain moment, d’écouter la chanson romantique qui les transporte dans un monde de douceur, de sentiments et de valeurs. C’est là un état d’âme qu’ils fuient quand ils ont besoin de s’éclater et de rigoler mais une fois qu’ils veulent se ressourcer, ils reviennent vers la chanson romantique.

La femme pour qui vous chantez, est-elle réelle ou imaginaire ?

Je chante pour la femme tout simplement. En tant qu’homme, je l’apprécie et en tant que Marwane, je l’apprécie énormément. La femme est ma source d’inspiration et ma cible principale en même temps. Elle est également une importante auditrice de mon art car les femmes écoutent plus les chansons que les hommes.

Quel regard portez-vous sur la chanson libanaise actuelle ?

Le Liban a une grande influence sur la musique dans la région. Je dirais qu’actuellement, il y a la chanson légère divertissante et la chanson sérieuse avec une plus grande présence pour la première. Les deux sont écoutées mais il faut encourager la chanson sérieuse. Pour moi, j’interprète une chanson qui conserve une partie de la tradition musicale de la chanson arabe classique tout en essayant de s’ouvrir sur de nouveaux horizons et de s’adapter aux nouvelles tendances, sans pour autant, se limiter à la chanson moderne.

La musique marocaine est à la mode actuellement, elle est reprise par de nombreux artistes arabes. En tant que compositeur, pensez-vous à vous en inspirer un jour ?

J’ai toujours dit que la musique marocaine se distingue par sa grande richesse et sa diversité, du côté de sa rythmique singulière. On le reconnaît même aux autres styles de la région. Mais pour s’en imprégner vraiment, il faut rester ici quelque temps pour vivre l’ambiance et la refléter dans la musique. Il y aura sans doute un prochain travail inspiré de la musique marocaine.

Est-ce que vous vous sentez mieux quand vous composez pour vous ou pour d’autres chanteurs ?

C’est le même bonheur de composer pour soi ou pour les autres. Je suis heureux quand mes chansons réussissent qu’elles soient interprétées par moi-même ou par les autres.

Votre duo avec Carole Samaha a été un véritable succès. Pensez-vous à refaire un duo avec une autre voix ?

Je n’ai pas de noms en tête mais l’idée du duo est la bienvenue avec un chanteur ou une chanteuse, avec un ou plusieurs interprètes, je n’ai jamais été contre. Il faut juste que la mélodie puisse être interprétée par deux voix. D’ailleurs, « Ya rabi » a connu un succès qui a dépassé les frontières du monde arabe. Cette chanson existe dans une version turque. En plus, de nombreux artistes turcs reprennent mes compositions, dont «Kasr Chouq», dalôuna»…. C’est une bonne chose car cela donne à la chanson une meilleure diffusion dans le monde.

Quelles sont vos nouveautés ?

Je prépare mon nouvel album qui sortira en 2010. Celui-ci comporte dix chansons. Côté compositions, j’ai préparé de nouveaux morceaux pour des chanteuses libanaises dont Carole Samaha, Elissa et Nawal Zoghbi.
——————————————————————

Confidences

Votre devise : être honnête avec soi avant de l’être avec l’autre.
La qualité que vous désirez chez une femme : la sensibilité
Ce que vous appréciez
le plus chez vos amis : la loyauté
Votre principal défaut : l’hésitation
Ce que vous auriez voulu être si vous n’avez pas été Marwan Khoury : Un coiffeur pour dames.
Votre héros dans la fiction : Shérézade
Votre héros dans la réalité : la mère
Le don de la nature que vous aimeriez avoir : le pouvoir de s’améliorer.
Votre film préféré : En général, ce sont les films américains.
Votre chanson préférée : Il y en a beaucoup, je dirais la musique classique.

هل فعلاً ستتزوّج الفنانة أليسا؟ كلا لن تتزوّج.

If you’re a business just getting your feet wet in the social media pool, here’s a lesson you don’t want to learn from experience: if it’s not worth losing business or chipping your reputation in the community, hold your tongue.

The speed, ease and freedom of broadcasting messages across social media sites can be enticing, but as a business owner, you’ve got to stop and ask yourself: is my opinion on the latest legislation relevant to my industry and if so, is it worth my time and reputation to comment on it on Facebook, Twitter or a corporate blog? Or, if on the other hand, it doesn’t directly relate to my line of work and could in fact dissuade someone who disagrees from wanting to do business with me, should I just keep my mouth shut?

It’s tempting. We have access to such a powerful, open platform. And as Americans we’re taught to speak our minds and express ourselves. But as with any marketing tactic, we should use discretion and care because after all, these social media messages are a direct reflection of our company, a virtual first impression, and just as a first-time in-person impression – there’s no way to take it back.

So, as business people we need to ask ourselves three very important questions:

1. Could my message detract one or more of my key target audiences?
2. Could the message lead to an overall negative reaction or unfavorable publicity for my company?
3. Could association with this message lead to lost business or lost interest?

If contemplating the use of social media to express thoughts on polarizing topics, a business owner should heed the advice of the firemen who used to visit all of when we were kids in elementary school (remember those Color-the-Fire-Truck coloring contests?)…Stop, Drop and Roll.

STOP and ask yourself those three important questions.
DROP the thought of tweeting about it if you answer YES to any of them.
And ROLL with it if you think the subject passes the test.

At Ballywho, we help businesses find their voice and then once they do, it’s a matter of determining which messages are most appropriate to send. Sometimes it’s easier to do than others. But should you decide to forego conventional wisdom and ditch the stop-drop-and-roll rule, prepare yourself for the potential consequences. Social media communities can be nurturing and encouraging, but if you don’t truly know your audience, your new nickname could soon become “Open mouth-insert foot.”

It’s easy to get swept up in the virtual soapbox mentality as many people do on social media sites, but remember: you’ve got a lot invested in your company and showing a little restraint and responsibility as a business leader by leaving your personal opinions just that – private and personal – can pay off in the end if you stick to using this powerful tool for what it can do best for you: marketing you and your business.

Volvemos con la música, esta vez una cantante libanesa llamada ELISSA, considerada en el mundo árabe como la número 1. Comenzó su carrera en 1992, en concurso de Lebanese Broadcasting Corporation, LBC, en el cual ganó la medalla de plata. Después de una larga ausencia, regresó en 1998 con un single español-árabe titulado Badi Doub. Su primer álbum, de mismo título,  fue uno de los más vendidos en Líbano y  Oriente medio con más de 150.000 copias.  Este éxito abrió las puertas a su participación en el Festival internacional de música de Cannes en el año 2000. Cuenta con una gran trayectoria como cantante lo que ha hecho que le otorguen innumerables reconocimientos como el “World Music Award” en Mónaco, por ser la artista libanesa que más álbumes ha vendido.  Elissa se convirtió en la imagen oficial de Pepsi en el mundo árabe  y realizó vídeos comerciales junto a Christina Aguilera  que sirvieron de promoción para la Copa Mundial de Fútbol de 2006 utilizando su gran éxito Bastannak, del cual os dejo el video para que podáis disfrutarlo.

Tiene en su haber un total de 6 discos , entre los que se puede encontrar desde increibles baladas hasta canciones con clara tendencia techno. Os dejo a continuación la discografía y algún que otro video para que podáis disfrutar de la música y, sobre todo, la voz de la cantante árabe que más me gusta. Tengo que decir que me ha sido casi imposible conseguir todas las portadas de los trabajos así que he optado por no poner las que tengo. Gracias por el interés.

• 1998: Baddi Doub
• 2000: W’akherta Ma’ak
• 2002: Ayshalak
• 2004: Ahla Donya
• 2006: Bastanak
• 2007: Ayami Beek

www.elissalb.com/

salam.

From Friday evening to Sunday night, this weekend was a conglomeration of bell-weather days that we will forever use to measure our summer of 2009 by. When we think of the year, these events will be a part of those memories. They were the last days of the season; the winding down period before my wife and daughter will have to return to school and begin the cycle of work and study all over again. We used them well, going from place to place and totally having the most awesome bitchin’ time with one another that we’ve ever had. We rock!

It all began at the close of the work week when my wife and kid came up to meet me and pick me up outside of my office for an event that we were attending. They were having a belly-dancing competition down the street you see, and Dana wanted to get a look at the caliber of shimmy that befitted those who had already made it to the big times. She’s just recently started practicing this ancient and mysterious Middle Eastern art-form and she’s eat up with becoming educated regarding everything about it.

Most days, I feel like a Sultan listening to my wife talk about what she’s learned and seeing all of the accoutrements of the genre that she brings home from the studio. At this point, I’ve had to give out three of my best camels in order to provide for her lessons but “Praise Allah!” it’s worthy of their sacrifice for it makes her REALLY, REALLY happy. This belly-dancing competition was for her and I was merely the beleaguered but devoted husband who sat patiently by her side and watched as hundreds of half-naked women writhed and twisted themselves provocatively upon the stage before me.

Of course I jest but seriously, this event was SIX HOURS LONG! I don’t know how our daughter kept it together for the whole thing because honestly after the forth hour, all I could think was that if I had to see one more woman shake her breast and ass in my face then I was going to cry. Even my wife admitted that the event was truly an endurance challenge in belly-dancing spectatorship.

We stayed until the very end at 11:30 and really, I’m glad that we did. They handed out awards after the show and it was fun to see the happiness and pride reflected on the girl’s faces who’d won them. I’ve never belly-danced in my entire life and, even though there were a few men in the competition I don’t see myself taking it up anytime soon. Still, I can appreciate the fact that it’s scientifically impossible to move boobs, hips, and legs in certain ways, yet these people did it a number of different times and made it all look so easy.

On Saturday morning I was up inexplicably at 5:00am so I figured why not go out and jog a 5K. I had read earlier in the week about one that was scheduled to be happening at a park nearby my house so I put on my running shoes and headed off in my truck to participate. I hadn’t run in probably about two years so at the very least I expected to get a few laughs at my out of shape efforts to finish without having some kind of massive and painful heart failure.

Ironically, the joke was on me even before I’d had a chance to exert myself to the point of suffering a tragic, ghastly death. As I pulled my truck into an empty parking lot I realized that I must have completely misread the news article about the run. It had happened last weekend instead of this one and those who had run in it had long ago finished leaving me as the only dumbass that morning that was standing around there wearing his jogging shoes.

In the end, it didn’t matter. I queued up some Fleet Foxes on my iPod and, as the sun came up, I enjoyed a perfectly delightful 2 mile run along the Trinity. I wish I would have had gone an entire 5K but seeing as I’m still sore while I type this two days later, I’m still proud of what I did. I mean, I could have just as easily slammed a beer while mowing the grass and called that my weekends exercise. Trust me; it wouldn’t have been the first time.

That night, we went to a Fort Worth Cats game and I don’t think that I’m being at all presumptuous when I say that THIS WAS THE BEST CATS GAME IN THE HISTORY OF TIME!!!!! True, most of it was dominated by a losing score and lackluster hitting but still, everything about the experience was true ballpark magic. For instance, I’ve seen them win Championships and I’ve been at the stadium during some other fine baseball moments but Saturday night was the first time that I’ve ever seen my kid run onto the middle of the field during the visiting team’s warm-up.

It all began with Dodger… the Cat’s mascot and most beloved figure of my daughter’s little three-year old world. He was back after winning the Mascot Olympics in Orlando, Florida and both of them were incredibly amped to be reunited with one another. In fact, Dodger was so enthused that he invited Elissa out onto the field to dance with him during the game’s 7th inning stretch.

It probably would have all worked out great and been little more than a footnote event important only to my wife and I had they not let her walk out there on her own accord. As it was, she basically bolted past Dodger and started running the bases (as she’s done after games dozens of times) while the crowd of 4,100 people erupted with laughter. I know I should have been mortified but I tragically lost my ability to be embarrassed during an awkward adolescent incident that I suffered back when I was in high school. I was just happy that my little girl was having such a wonderful time and bringing so much joy to the crowd.

Once Dodger had caught her on the field and danced with her down the first baseline, he stopped right inside the gate and gave her the biggest hug that I’ve ever seen him give my little girl. I don’t know what he was thinking inside that big cat head of his but it looked to us like our daughter’s status had gone up by about a thousand points in his regard. I’ve always loved that crazy mascot, and even though I thought that my little girl would love him too back when I first introduced her to his catness, I had no idea that they’d become such an item. It’s wonderful when I big, plush, baseball-loving cat loves your family!

To make the whole occasion even more memorable, the Cat’s 3rd baseman finished the night with a two out, full count, two run walk-off homer in the 9th. I’d pretty much given up hope of us getting a win and was sitting there just waiting for the final out when I saw the ball leap off his bat and over the fence out in left field. I almost didn’t believe my words when I turned to Dana and said: “They’ve just won the game!” If it’s possible to have a baseball related orgasm… in that instant, I had one.

On Sunday, we went out to eat at this funky little restaurant named The Rocket that’s just opened up down the street from the Cat’s stadium. It didn’t have much on the menu for vegetarians but the scene was awesome and they gave us free beer so I’ll happily give it my endorsement for the best place for my family to dine-out forever. I’m so jazzed that Fort Worth continues to get these interesting hole-in-the-wall type establishments which the main stream has yet to discover. Sometimes, I think that the best kept secret in Texas is that this town is like Austin used to be before it got littered with yuppie scum and aging Gen X’rs.

Once that was finished, we headed out to the stockyards where frontier justice and cheesy fun is still alive and well. Most people who live in this area look on this part of town as either a tourist trap or an avenue that’s littered with expensive western wear shops and overpriced honky-tonks but I see it as a great place to take a three-year old who loves horses and being the center of attention. As an example, one of the deputies stationed out by the old pig and sheep barns questioned her just to make sure that she wasn’t looking for any trouble… and she LOVED it. She probably wanted to steal his horse and ride it around all over the street.

Even thought she’d made trouble at the baseball game the night before, I could have told the man my daughter was no outlaw. She was just there to see the Pawnee Bill’s Wild West Show where they’ve got trick riders, trick shooters, trick ropers, and this guy standing on a horse and swinging a lariat rope around it and another one that’s riding by his side. You know, when I see something like this I think about all the years that I’ve wasted being an accountant. True, I hate country music but I could have been a damned good rodeo star! I’m sure of it!

Up until yesterday, I had never been to a wild-west show and now that I have, I think I’ll just make them a staple of my life forever.   I’ve been to lots of rodeos and I’ve seen plenty of cowboy movies but never before have I seen a guy do flips on a horse or tear up a newspaper with a whip. According to the singing, buckaroo that was narrating the whole extravaganza these events were all once a part of official rodeo competition. My question is, why’d they ever get rid of them in the first place? Come on! I like seeing people ride bulls just as much as the next guy but a dude shooting a balloon over his shoulder while using a mirror? How can you compete with that?

The answer is that some things you just can’t compete with. Some weekends will just be better than others even though there’s no one big event to mark them as such. Like the golden ratio first discovered by Pythagoras they are defined not by any singular aspect but by several simple but perfect components which come together to make them more memorable than most. From the belly-dancing event, to the baseball game, to the western show, everything that we did this weekend doesn’t amount to much when taken separately. It’s the fact that they all worked so well together which allowed true universal serendipity to be achieved and a gnarly good time to be had by my family.

Have you ever made a mistake and then, once you’ve committed yourself to the error done everything that you can (continuing down the path of regret) towards milking the situation for all that it is worth?  This weekend my family and I made one of those mistakes and, as with so many things, it was a pizza that broke us of our will to continue painting false smiles upon our faces.    We took one long look at the sign that read “PIZZA AND A LARGE DRINK – ONLY $40” said “Fuck this.” and ditched all pretence that any one of us was having a good time at the Six Flags water park named Hurricane Harbor. 

From the fat, obnoxious crowds (most of them with questionable grooming habits) to the rude employees, to the price of everything; all that there was to behold about Hurricane Harbor seemed to be designed just to snuff out your will to live.  We were there for almost a quarter of the day and I’m personally impressed that we were able to fake it for that long.  When Dana called bullshit on their overinflated pizza prices we left and were much happier at home doing nothing.  It’s no wonder that the company that runs it is currently under financial duress.     

Like Jesus, I’m largely without sin where this one is concerned.  I love the beach but I really dislike the very notion of getting wet.  I must have been born a cat in a previous life because I’d rather sit out in the heat for hours on end wearing a sweater than dip myself in the cool embrace of a pool of water.  I don’t know why I’m such a negative killjoy when it comes to swimming and sliding but I’ve always been that way.  Whatever the reason, I’m thankful for it because up until this point (except for one other occasion when I was much younger) it’s saved me from the experience of having to go to Hurricane Harbor.   

Dana, on the other hand can’t get enough of anything that requires swimming.  She loves to slide and splash and generally just gets herself all kinds of wet as her version of summertime fun.  That being said, she can’t be blamed for the horribleness that was our trip to Hurricane Harbor either.  She took one look at the crowds and said that we should go another day… and then the kid started to cry. 

So we’ll just blame our daughter for everything that sucked about Saturday.  It’s Elissa’s fault that we spent $100 to get in and she’s the reason that Dana only got to ride maybe three rides the whole time that we were there.  It was her selfish crying which was the only motivation for me to have to sit in water for three hours thinking: “This Park doesn’t have near enough restrooms and yet still, there’s never a line for them.  Where are all these icky, tattooed slobs peeing?”  

I feel like congratulating myself right now because, despite my personal issues with water and sanitation, I did manage to put on an outstandingly affable game-face while we were there.  I think I offered one unsolicited quip about having to pay extra to rent a tube (which is just fucking retarded) when we first got inside but other than that, I smiled and acted like it was the best place that I’d ever been.  Only when the shine began to fade from my wife’s face did I fully unleash the total and abject hatred that I felt for everything there.  

You see, my wife had come to slide (as a reward for finishing her class) and since most of the rides there require more than one person to go on them she couldn’t.  True, she might have managed to ride more if I hadn’t been watching the kid or, if the employees were doing anything to match up un-partnered guests with one another but none of that was happening.  Instead the people working there were just generally yelling at patrons for either moving too slow or too fast and I was sitting at the kiddy pool worrying about the amount of human urine in the water. 

In the end, I’m glad that the company that runs Hurricane Harbor currently has to file for bankruptcy.  I’ve never had a good time at any one of their attractions both there or across the freeway at the amusement park that they run.  My general party-pooper mindset has nothing to do with this either because I thought that Schlitterbahn was pretty nice when we went there last year and I’m practically gay when it comes to the affection that I have for Disney World.  Six Flags?  They treat their customers like crap and charge $40 for pizza and drinks.  They can go suck a dick.  

On Sunday, we went to go see a movie that I wanted to go see.  I have to use that quantifier because, since the kid was born I’ve seen exactly two types of films at the theater, one being cartoons and the other being Harry Potter.  It’s not that I especially have to go see a movie that is specifically of interest to me but it’s just really, really, nice when that happens. 

We saw 500 Days of Summer which was a film that I had at first liked only for its outstanding soundtrack (yes, everything that I knew about the movie before Sunday was based on the fact that it’s music was total hipster twee) but, after seeing it came to really appreciate for the story.  It’s not the kind of movie that you’re going to walk away from with any deep and profound insights on but it is refreshing in that it’s not just another modern day take on The Taming of the Shrew with Sandra Bullock cast in the lead.  It’s got elements drawn from that story but the ending is much more realistic… and the soundtrack kicks ass! 

I’ve got mixed emotions about seeing the music that I care about set to what is in essence a standard Hollywood love story made slightly more interesting by the ending that it possesses.  Part of me really wants the rest of the world to share in my taste in melody while the other side feels that what I love is too important to be made available to everyone.  I’m so protective of my favorite songs that I don’t even play half of what I listen to for my wife.  It’s weird.  It’s like some compositions are simply too special to me to risk having another person give me their opinion on them.  

There was a scene in the movie where the main character is telling Summer about a band that he likes and she tells him that she’s never heard of them even though it’s revealed later on that he included them on a mix-tape that he gave her.  I felt his pain in that scene.  I mean, I realize that you can’t force someone to like the same things that you like but when you give them something that speaks directly to your soul and they don’t even hear it… that stings.  I love my wife too much to put her in that same predicament.   

Anyway, all Junior High-School level musical musings aside, I’m glad that we ended our weekend with this movie.  It was good enough to at least partially make up for the metaphorical ass-rape that was Hurricane Harbor and it made me feel less like a freak because of my semi-obscure taste in song.  I’m glad that I was there with my wife because, even though I’m often reluctant to give her total access to my iPod, she’s the only one I know who would have probably understood that scenes effect on me.  

That’s just one of the 500 reasons that I love her.

 What happens when you pick a little girl up from school and say things like “ARE YOU READY TO GO SEE MONSTERS VS. ALIENS?” and “IT’S ALMOST MOVIE TIME!” for four hours straight and then go out to the field where they were supposed to be showing it only to find out that it’s too muddy and that the whole thing’s been cancelled?  I’ll tell you what.  It’s basically like sending a billion 9/11 planes crashing into your kids world, destroying their faith in everything. We had to pull of some Dora the Explorer from off of the internet we got home just to make it up to Elissa.

Of course, it didn’t help that the movie wasn’t scheduled to start until 9:00pm.  T is just about the time that we start getting her ready for bed right before she gets too tired and goes nuclear.  It also didn’t help that I showed up to the school almost two hours early in order to have diner with my wife and then made the kid walk around looking at fountains and benches for what I’m sure felt like 100 years to her.  True, she likes looking at the fountains but there’s only about three of them and that’s basically 40 minutes per fountain which is exactly 39 minutes and 30 seconds too long to make a three-year old focus on any one object.  

The school where this was being held is both the school that I graduated from and the one that my wife is now attending for her doctorate.  I’ve long since gotten over the weirdness of walking around it almost 12 years after I last desperately looked for a date or just ANYONE TO LOVE ME on that campus.  Some things have changed and some things have remained the same.  There are new buildings that have been built since the time when I was an undergrad and all of the classrooms are now filled with mysterious typing machines that the students refer to as “computers” but still… I swear that the carpet in the fucking Student Center hasn’t been replaced ever. 

I’ll be honest with you, back when I went to this university, I hated it.  Yes, the college did have a business school that was ranked 33^rd in the country but it got a big ole FAIL when it came to teaching the art of party.  During this time, all of my friends were going off to schools where they majored in Crazy during the day and beer-pong at night and I was just too poor to afford such frivolities.  I was jealous of them and I coveted their universities.  While they got to have a true college experience complete with panty-raids and weird art-house friends who wore turtlenecks all the time, I just got educated with a bunch of pasty white-guys in button down oxfords.  

These days I still look back on the experience with a little bit of bitterness but perhaps because I’ve become a different sort of selfish-prick than the selfish-prick that I was back then, I sort of like the school now.  I appreciate the fact that they have a family friendly campus that shows cartoons on a weeknight.  I’m glad that the student body is mainly made up of working people or people who just want to get their degrees with as little nuisance and interruption as possible.  I know first hand that this college will make you work your ass off (just look at Dana this semester) but it also allows you to work your ass off with less kinds of distractions than most of the other universities do. 

 As soon as Dana’s done with her doctorate I fully intend to go back to school myself.  I haven’t yet decided what I’ll major in when I return (probably business with the goal of teaching college) but I know that I can’t keep being a middle-manager and senior accountant for the rest of my life.  If I continue to have to live in the corporate world then I have no doubt that I’ll probably end up drinking myself into and early grave or going crazy, winding up wandering the streets naked and covered in feathers one night after my companies year-end are turned in.  If you don’t believe me,  please come up at see my in my office at 9:00pm next week and I’ll personally tell you how much that I love what I do for a living using as many four-letter words as is possible. 

Should we be unfortunate enough to have to remain in this area then I have no qualms about returning to this place that I once cursed for its lack of collegiate debauchery and drunk, hot chicks.  Thankfully, my days of searching out parties and hedonistic fun are long since behind me.  All I want to do now is get through my future educational experience with as little distraction as possible so that I can use as much time as my studies will allow being at home with my family.

Tonight, my wife goes to her weekly belly-dancing class (did I mention already how lucky I am to be married to her?) and I’m left by myself to entertain the kid.  Normally this wouldn’t be a problem but as of about 9:00pm last night I officially decided that I’ll be damned if I’m cramming myself into that itty-bitty Dora tent and playing Dora dolls one more time this week.  I was looking forward to taking her to an outdoor showing of Monster’s Vs. Aliens that the local college is putting on but it’s been raining all day and even if it clears up by nightfall I’m not sure if I want to go sit out in the mud and yell “Sit down and quit kicking me!” at my daughter for an hour and a half. 

I guess if the weather stays nasty then I can always fall back on my old stand-by; the mall playground.  They’ve finally gotten a new coffee shop and it’s “Not Starbucks” so that way I won’t have to feel like I’m destroying what’s left of café-culture just to have a few gulps of the old chokin’ bean while I’m watching her.  Then again, I suppose we could also go play putt-putt.  Truthfully I’m a little tired of doing the same things with her week after week but she loves going to these places and right now every single one of them is miles and miles away from her Dora tent.  She’s become such a Nazi about putting me in that tent. 

 Last night was Elissa’s dance class!  EVERYONE I KNOW IS DANCING!!!!  This is how our lives work okay?  Dana goes to dance on Thursdays to learn how to writhe seductively while the kid goes on Wednesdays to be educated in the art of prancing like a pretty ballerina or stomping like a drunken Irishman.  I know, it looks weird on paper but all of us are happy and it feels right.  We’re sticking with the prevalent social disconnect in the various ways that our family chooses to boogie for right now.  Maybe in the future we’ll all be in a musical.  Me?  I don’t dance.  I beat-box. 

Anyway, I was thankful that this class allowed me to escape the Dora tent for most of last night and besides that, I always love watching my little girl go through her routine along with all the other girls.  She’s getting quite good however it’s still really funny to watch her what with all the kicking and the falling down and the looking at herself so closely in the mirror the whole time.  She’s only three-years-old so she still has the muscular coordination of a drunk getting tazered while riding a rodeo-bull.  There isn’t much uniformity to any of the moves that they do.  I don’t care.  Elissa is having fun and I’m just glad that she listens to the teacher and doesn’t cry out in terror every time they make them plié.  Many of the others do. 

 I was very happy that my wife decided to join us at her lessons.  Dana does manage to make most of these classes but right now she’s so snowballed with high-minded things like teaching-theory and discourse-examination that she’d have had every excuse in the book to bail on us last night.  Instead she came along and said encouraging things like “Good job!” and “That was so pretty!” to Elissa in between her various sessions.  Afterwards she’d rush back to a dimly lit corner of abject patheticness and continue writing her paper.  I have no idea how she pulls off this degree of multi-tasking other than the fact that she’s a primo chick and awesome mommy.  

Next Monday begins my week of the month where I never get to leave my desk and hardly see my family and just generally get abused a lot by my work. I don’t know what the kid and I will do this evening but knowing what’s coming, I feel a certain pressure to make sure that its fun.  I probably won’t buy her a balloon like her mommy did yesterday (THE KID IS NUTS FOR BALLOONS) and I’m sure as hell not going to go back in that Dora tent tonight.  I don’t know… maybe watching a movie in the mud and being kicked to death by my daughter doesn’t sound like such a bad thing after all.

“Technically your license has been suspended but really it’s not suspended.”  Spoke the friendly lady at the other end of the 45 minute phone-call from hell.  I had called the state to ask why they had never sent me a new one after I’d stood in line and had my picture taken way the hell back in May.  Now the temporary had expired and I desperately needed a real life card that would assure both cops and beer vendors that I was old enough to drink alcohol and drive a motor vehicle. 

“What?”  I asked. 

“Well, there was a hold put on your license but it shouldn’t have been put on there.”  She said in a tone that sounded like genuine concern.  “I’m so sorry.  We should be able to get it cleared up in about 10 days.  Call back on Monday just to be sure.” 

“I need to get my truck registration taken care of and I was hoping to do that tomorrow.”  I replied being careful not to sound too annoyed.  I didn’t want my utter contempt for the Texas Department of Public safety to ruin my chances at having the latest headache that they’d given me be relieved.  “Is this going to cause problems with that?” 

“Oh.”  The lady mouthed anxiously.  “I’m afraid that it might.” 

“What if I get pulled over while you guys are still clearing this up?”  I asked.  “Am I going to be hauled off to jail?” 

“You shouldn’t.”  She answered.  “Just be polite to the police officer and explain to them the situation that you’re in and you should be okay.  You’re technically licensed although our system doesn’t register it and your temporary has expired.” 

I didn’t tell her that I had about as much faith about the cops in my area listening to reason as I would at being invited to ride on a float in the OJ Simpson Sainthood Parade with Jesus Christ and Marilyn Manson.  Instead I asked, “Is there anyway I can get put through sooner on Monday morning when I call back?  I waited on hold for over 30 minutes for this call.” 

“Yes.”  She said with satisfaction.  “The earlier that you call the less of a hold-time you will have.”

 - - o – - – o – - – o – -

Other than this annoying (but expected) trouble with my license, I’ve been a dynamic, productive and totally bitchin individual these past few days.  I got my tires changed yesterday, went and had my eyes looked at today (QUICK QUESTION:  Should you really decorate your optometry office with blurry black and white photographs?), and tomorrow I’m probably going to at least try to renew the registration for my truck.  After all, I’m technically licensed to drive and technically the TxDot website says that you don’t technically have to have your technically expired license with you to get a new sticker… technically speaking. 

I don’t know.  It’s worth trying. 

The remarkable thing about getting all of this done this week is that I’m normally really good at looking after other people but completely lousy and inept at making sure that I myself am clothed properly or fed or… well, breathing I guess.  For instance, every single month I’ll put off getting a haircut until the point at which I wake up one morning beating myself with a baseball bat because I’ve seen myself in the mirror and think that some sort of transient or hippie has broken into our house.  The dentist?  Yeah, don’t ask my wife about me going to the dentist.  Don’t ask her this ever. 

I got to pick Elissa up from school yesterday which is a rare treat for me and one that I always appreciate.  I’m glad that my wife has a schedule allowing her on most afternoons to spring our kid early from the prison camp of daycare but I truly do love going in there and getting to see what she does in her class for myself.  For instance, yesterday when I entered the room, my kid was standing outside the bathroom with her pants down around her ankles.  Apparently there was another child engaged in using it and our daughter was just thinking ahead and getting ready for when it would finally become her turn.  One of the parents said:  “She’s so smart.” to me as together we stood there waiting. She told me that she’d said this because Elissa could already spell her name and she was impressed.  Being mentioned as it was while I watched the girl dancing half naked off in a corner, it didn’t come across as I’m sure that she’d meant it to. 

When we’d left my daughter and I headed out to Kroger’s to do our weekly grocery shopping.  Why Kroger’s?  Well, they have these nifty little European looking cars affixed to their shopping carts and Elissa likes them.  We had to stalk the parking lot for what felt like forever just to find a parent that was giving one up.  I’ll keep this in my “Patient and Understanding Father” file for the next time that my daughter gets pissed at me for needing to leave the playground or stop playing dolls with her in order to bathe and feed myself.  I’ll say, “Remember when we went to Kroger’s and I looked all over for a cart with a car so that you can ride on it?” and she’ll scream at me.  She won’t care but it’ll make me feel better. 

While grocery shopping we bought all greens in order to satisfy my new dietary requirements and stave off the fast approaching fat-hood that I’ve almost let myself be destined for.  Both my wife and I have been vegetarians for many, many years but I myself often chose to supplement meat with things like beans and pasta over anything that would actually provide nourishment.  I’m pretty bad about keeping a package of microwavable crap in our freezer and just feeding off of that for days at a time.  For now though, I’m going to give salads a try and see if they’ll really help me to have more energy without turning me gay from eating the fruity little things constantly. 

Lastly, something has happened here recently which I’m not sure whether to feel happy or sad about.  You see, next to her mommy I’ve always been the secondary parent in my daughter’s mind.  For instance, if both my wife and I were hanging off a cliff over a pit of boiling lava, Elissa would first rescue my wife and then, once she’d satisfied herself that mommy was going to be okay she’d push me to my death.  I’ve just never been that important to the child and she’s let me know this on multiple occasions by telling me that she doesn’t love me  because she loves mommy too much.  Ouch! 

During the past week however, Elissa has been clinging to me and sometimes balling her eyes out at the door when I have to leave for work in the morning.  Truly I’m thrilled that I’ve finally been able to make my daughter cry regarding her fear of me leaving her but still I feel really badly for my wife.  The only reason that Dana is not number one right now is because she has to study so hard for her class these days that she isn’t around as much as she used to be.  She was the one who basically for the first two years of our daughter’s life spent every summer taking her to the zoo and practicing words with her on a daily basis .   I’m just a doofus with an accounting degree who goes and plays putt-putt with the kid from time to time.  My wife on the other hand gave birth to the most fantastic little girl on the face of the earth and now she’s about to have her doctorate.  Dana is smart, beautiful and a she’s wonderful mommy.  If I were Elissa, I’d hate me because I loved her too much as well.

As a guy who celebrates all of his life’s accomplishments by asking “Has Brad Pitt done this?” and if the answer is yes marking a point down on the “I KICK ASS!” score card that I keep in my pocket, I was rather delighted to see the cover of ‘Wired’ magazine this month.  You see, I’ve been feeling less than cool lately.  I have grey in my bead and my knees hurt 80% of the time.  Where I use to run on high octane PARTY-POWER I’m now just generally starting to fall apart in all sorts of demeaning ways that involve stuff like not being able to eat Tabasco sauce like I once could or having to get at least seven-hours sleep in order to not turn into a grumpy old dick for the entire day that follows. 

I was excited to see this magazine cover because… OMFG!!! Brad Pitt has grey in his beard!  And as if this gift wasn’t enough to provide a mini-Christmas morning for my insecure soul he’s finally starting to look a little bit older in the face!  HA!  That’s two points for my “I KICK ASS!” tally.  If only his hairline were receding then I could have scored a tri-fecta and celebrated by eating a bowl of bran cereal and popping some Tums before bedtime tonight. 

Science tells us to look for similarities when trying to find an explanation for two separate subjects who both exhibit old-fart characteristics at the same time.  Casting aside the obvious effects that being born before the release of Star Wars could have on an individual who is living out their lives as the years progress, we’re left with only one explanation… both Brad Pitt and I had a kid at the same time.  It’s simple really.  Our children are stealing the elixir of our youth and using it to play with dolls and stuffed animals while in fact we still need it so that we can continue to jump off of buildings on skateboards and inhale beer-bongs. 

 I don’t think I’m making too much with the crazy-talk when I say that if you allow it, having a child can make you decrepit before your time.  They’re all categorically insane.  They force you to squeeze yourself into tube slides and roll around with them on hardwood floors for hours on end.  They don’t feel the pain that you feel in your joints while they’re running around on the playground all bat-shit insane and making you chase them.  They just want to have fun all the time and on their terms… which is exactly how you yourself used to be before they came along. 

I remember from the time that my parents were about 30 up until they turned 55-ish they basically just stopped taking care of themselves.  I’m sure that some of this was my fault but really, when it comes down to it, one day they just stone-cold grabbed a plate of pork-chops, sat down in front of the television and never got up.  I can only guess that they had no idea what the effect of three plates of fried animal parts a day and a box of donuts every morning could have on a person because at one point I swear that I heard them both exclaim “I’m soooooooooo fat now!” in suprise before flipping the channel to see what else was on. 

These days, I’m a lot closer to 40 than I am to 30 and for the most part I’ve stayed relatively active.  I’m slightly below what the government says that I should weigh and that’s a condition that I count as only marginally acceptable when I consider the tolerance for fat-assedness that this country possesses.  I still get outside and move my arms and legs real fast occasionally but I know that I don’t do it as much as I should.  I’m slowing down and the fact that I’ve somehow rationalized and accepted this injustice to my body is something that makes me want to vomit all over everything. 

 Having a kid will tear you in a million different directions and rob you of all of your free time but allowing yourself to turn into a lard-filled, achy, dump-truck-butted, lazy person is unfair to them as well as  everyone else in the family.  While I’m sure that I’ll never have the chance to be as RIOT as I was when I was 18, 25, or even 32 years old, I intend to stop allowing little things like work and catching my breath after chasing my kid all over the place slow me down.  I need to break unhealthy lifestyle habits that I’ve gotten into since our daughter was born and I need to get back to really paying attention to the way that I eat and the things that I do.  I want to be running with Elissa when she’s as old as I am now and I want to be acting all bat-shit insane for a man over 70.  The way I see it, it’ll be payback for the hell that she’s putting me through these days on a regular basis. 

Brad Pitt and I are getting older and it’s beginning to show.  I’m sure that he wakes up some mornings after a night spent having his kids jump all over him and immediately orders up a chiropractor as well as some uppers, a holistic swami and whatever else Hollywood people chose to employ in order to make themselves so Dorian Grey all the time.  He’d be wise to start of a regimen of practical diet and exercise as well.  Starting this week that’s what I’m doing and I wouldn’t want him to have to grow old and icky while I just get more charming and fantastic year after year.

I’m not feeling very blogery today so we’ll see how this update goes.  Part of the reason for this is because of the business trip from last week.  Those things always leave me feeling fuzzy and just sort of pissed off at the world.  I’m not a homebody but if you take me away from my family and force me to think about work during breakfast, lunch and diner I tend to shut down communication-wise.  I’m sure that this is a survival technique drawn from my years of experience being surrounded by completely insane (and not in a good way) office, Dilbert-types of people. 

As with all business trips, this one was about as productive as punching yourself in the face for two days straight might possibly be.  It wasn’t that it was hostile or contentious but rather just a depressing waste of time.  Everything (excepting the plant tour where we got to look at huge piles of rock) could have easily been done over the phone at a decreased cost and lesser degree of pain to my ass.  Driving five-hours so that three senior managers and one senior staffer could sit for six hours in meetings is what most efficiency experts would term as a misallocation of resources that is categorically bogus and lame. 

Maybe if I was less jaded and more interested in my chosen profession I might see the trip in a more positive light.  I know that the team that I was traveling with felt that it was productive to have face-time with operations but I cannot honestly employ such power words to describe the experience.  I’ve been a manufacturing accountant for over a thousand years and honestly, you don’t need to have a plant tour to understand how a product is made and how it should be reported for on the financials.  If you do, then you’ve obviously got issues with abstract concepts and/or BIG PICTURE THINKING. 

Ugh. 

Okay, enough of the ickyness regarding my job.  

This weekend was more of the same.  I cleaned the house (because this class that Dana’s taking really has her under its thumb so she hadn’t had a chance to do anything while I was away) took the kid to play putt-putt and let her run amok in the play area at the mall.  I think one of my crowning achievements in daddy-hood up to this point was when I woke my daughter up from a nap by carrying her onto a carousel ride.  She was surprised and delighted… although still a little foggy headed.    I also somehow crammed my 6’4” frame into her new Dora tent multiple times to color with her and play  dolls.  I’m such an awesome husband and father that there really should be a statue erected in my honor.  Really! 

In truth, my little girl and I had fun together but I really miss my wife and I admit that I sort of let myself get frustrated with my daughter too easily this weekend.  I feel guilty about that and there’s almost no excuse for it.  It’s just hard when I spend all of my free time playing with her and she still pleads and begs for mommy and pouts when she doesn’t get to do everything that she wants.  The whole experience makes me feel like a disposable parent which (since my daughter is a very self centered three-years old) I guess is partially true… at least from her standpoint.  Still, I must find a way to rise above it all lest I disqualify myself from getting a World’s Most Awesome Dad T-shirt at some point in the future. 

Yesterday we went to see the new Harry Potter movie which was better than I had been expecting.  I don’t mean to sound like an anti-pop-culture curmudgeon but after over 100 years of having these films released, I’ve grown a little tired of the franchise.  Also, a few of the plot points up to this point in the story have been of super-retarded… even for a tale about child wizards.  Still, it was good.  I might even risk my status as a cool-guy and also my chances for having my wife repay me by going to a movie of my choosing when I state that I thought the picture was rather enjoyable… for dweebs. 

 All in all and on a scale of one to ten (with ten being a weekend where everyone that I know and love rides unicorns and farts rainbows and one being all of us just hitting one another all the time) I’d give Saturday and Sunday a five.  Spending time at the movies with both of my girls was a blast but being left alone with a surly kid who is doing everything in her power to actively express her dislike for me these days was a real buzz kill.  I also lost a koi on Sunday and that totally harshed my mellow!  At least I wasn’t out of town on business.   No matter how disjointed and spread thin that we are as a family-unit right now, at least I was with the people who are most important to me.

During lunch I started writing semi-decent screed about digital publishing before I realized that I’d explored all of my thoughts on the matter elsewhere and with more moxy.  In the end I decided to chunk the entire text.  There’s really no use restating it all again and besides, I sort of want to keep this blog more about my family and less about the inane soapbox issues that I keep in my head.  I may have wide and varied opinions about a great many issues but most of them are totally crazy and probably best kept unsaid.  I’m sure that I’m already thought of as a pedantic-retard and incredible bore so there’s really no need to encourage that type of bigoted conviction… no matter how accurate it may be. 

Instead of talk about how books should be dynamic, interactive, and free to everyone, I’ll just whine for a little bit about how I don’t want to go to Houston tomorrow.  I hate business travel.  It doesn’t matter where I’m being sent, all that I ever see are meeting rooms, crappy little offices, and the inside of hotels whos’ TV’s are all equipped with free HBO.  Anyone who ever tells you that they love being on the road for work either hates their family or is having an affair.  Why else would somebody actively choose to miss out on even one second of being with their loved ones? 

The really frustrating thing about the whole issue is that I could have probably avoided it all if I’d been just one minute late for a meeting.  Instead, I chose to be early and, as fate would have it walked in on a bunch of managers who were planning the trip.  When they asked me if I’d like to go I had no choice but to tell them “Yes.”  I mean, I have to at least pretend to like what I do for a living.  The alternative is a state of even more extreme poverty that the level at which we exist now.  We’ve both been there before and it’s just icky. 

Last night, I took my daughter out to the junior high down the street so that we could once again kick her new soccer ball around.  My wife was studying and we had nothing to do so it felt like a good time to get out of the house for a while and have a nice practice between ourselves.  In all, this only lasted for about 20 minutes before my little girl decided that she would rather climb up and down the bleachers than score goals on daddy but seriously… what the heck are you suppose to do with a three-year-old? 

Here she is depicted in a state of ascension and declension.

I’ll admit that there was a small part of me that wanted to tell her to quit playing around and practice her soccer but I held off on giving it voice.  I grew up disliking sports and didn’t discover the joy of playing them until I’d become much older.  This was mainly because I hated constantly being screamed at and chastised by my coaches, peers, and family.  Yes, I was a fat kid and I was pretty lousy at everything that I ever tried to do.  Luckily, I somehow outgrew it all and became a dynamic, jocular good-looking fellow who secretes charm and elegance out of every orifice in my body. 

Today I like a good many sports.  Baseball is my favorite but I can watch basketball, hockey, soccer, and bike riding with equal degrees of interest.  Oddly, in consideration of growing up mostly in the state of Texas, I’ve never been able to get into football.  I suppose life would be easier for me if I found even one single thing about that game interesting.  I’d probably have more friends and they’d all be less weird. 

Yesterday as my daughter walked up and down the steps of the grandstand, I sat there while below me a large rectangular football field was laid out all green and majestic.  I felt no connection to the pristine grass or yellow goal-post at each of it’s opposite ends.  Instead I focused on the clouds and on the fun that my little girl was having as she climbed.  Seeing things from this perspective, perhaps I haven’t missed out on much not being a football fan.  Perhaps, I’m living the exact life that the universe intends for me to lead.

On Mondays, while my wife is away at her weekly tennis class, I usually take my daughter out to some random playground (at the park if the temp is not face-melting, in the mall if it is) and let her run around sliding and playing .  This allows me to decompress and generally chill out by drinking a cup of coffee and spending quality time with my girl.  I enjoy watching her run around like a crazy drunken-monkey and usually look forward to doing it all day long.   It’s a nice way to begin the work-week.

Yesterday however during diner, we had some communication issues that interfered with the child’s and my ability to go out to the playground and not summon a four-horned, hell-spawn beast in the form of an adorable (yet spoiled) 3 year old.  Basically, my wife and I wanted our little girl to eat while she chose to express her displeasure at the very thought of it all by screaming, hitting and also spitting at us like a freaking redneck.  We were forced to put her in “TIME OUT” until she apologized.  Even after she had, both of us told her that she’d lost her chance at getting taken to the playground that evening. 

I always hate punishing my daughter but punishing her on a Monday night while my wife has gone off to play tennis is especially horrible.  This means that I have to figure out a way of keeping her entertained by myself and since playing with her toys usually entails making her dolls dance over and over and over again, the mere thought of sitting with her at the house is just so awful that it makes me want to cry.  In respect to her being disciplined yesterday evening, I decided to take her to the bookstore so I could read while she thumbed through whatever children’s books that she wanted to pick out. 

Now mind you, the bookstore near our house just so happens to sit right next to one of the playgrounds that I take her to and as soon as she saw the direction that we were traveling she started apologizing again and again for being such a raging jerk during dinner.  I knew that it was all a part of a pathetic effort to try and get me to change my mind about her punishment but I held fast and didn’t give in.  Instead I basically just skipped the bookstore at the last minute and went straight over to the sporting goods shop so that I could buy a soccer ball. 

You see, since we put Elissa into a soccer class for three-year-olds  that was being sponsored by the city last weekend, I figured that she’d need to practice.  What better time to practice than when Dana herself was away  practicing tennis?  We could go out there into the field next to the courts  and kick the ball back and forth.  We could do all this and yet my kid still wouldn’t have had her punishment redacted thereby (hopefully) teaching her a valuable lesson about not hitting, screaming, or acting like a phlegm hocking hillbilly during diner!  

Together we lobbed her new little pink soccer ball back and forth, played keep away and basically had more fun than anyone has ever had in the history of the world ever!  While she was still wearing her dress from school, we laughed working on her dribbling and her aim in shooting at the goal.  She’s good!  My little girl is already smart as a whip (being able to spell and read some words) so if she turns out to be a jock too, she’ll have the whole wide world on a string.  I take back what I said before… I love punishing my daughter!

Bassem Feghali, en libanesisk komiker och drag queen. Relaterat till den legendariska sångerskan Sabah (Janet Feghali), han började sin karriär genom  personifiera henne.

Han fortsatte med att utge sig för många libanesiska och världens kändisar som Nawal Al Zoughabi, Haifa Wehbe, Fairouz, Shakira, Marilyn Monroe, Britney Spears, Marwa, Nancy Ajram, Elissa och Mariam Nour, historiska siffror som Ivette Sursok Maggi Farah och Miss Libanon festtåg tävlande, som Lemita Franjieh.

Bassem Feghali är känd för sin förmåga att imitera röster, personligehter han imiterar utan läppsynkronisering. När han imiterar kvinnliga sångare, han har diet och motionerar hans röst så att han kan imitera dem bra.

Bassem gick ut från ”Studio el Fan” 1996, vann en guldmedalj och var en pristagare av ”Murex d Or-pris år 2000 som Best Monologist för året. Det genomfördes vid Anjar International Festival 2004.

Under månaden Ramadan, Bassem hade en daglig visning på LBC. Utställningen hette ”Alf Wayle Bi Layle”. Han imiterade olika arabiska artister varje dag under en hel månad. Vissa människor han imiterade var Sabah, Nawal Al Zoghbi, Fifi Abdo, Assala, Majida El Roumi osv. Bassem Fegali som Shakira på video

One good thing about returning to your original stomping grounds (mine being Cooksmills) is the inevitable wave of nostalgia to wash over you from the past. While recently rummaging through an old drawer, I happened to stumble upon an old case of CD’s–immediately summoning me to pop in my very own copy of “Dance Hits 2000″. Being the always-curious rascal that I am, I decided to do a bit of research on some old-time faves, which led to the discovery of yet another talented Canadian artist.

“Elissa” is a Toronto native and has established herself as a singer, record producer and entrepreneur. Her most popular hit, “Mamboleo” ranked #6 in Top Selling Single in Canada (1999) while “Back to Me” hit #1 in Brazil (2001).

Although the Northern starlet has not released a single since 2007, she remains active in the music industry with the launch of her own business “On Key Studios”, whose main objective is to promote Canadian artists and offer singing lessons.

In a world facing a significant economic downturn, it is imperative for the youth to be fueled by ambition and to consider entrepreneurship. It is an essential tool in managing the recession head-on and Elissa is indeed an excellent example of such trend. But let’s cut the gloomy talk & enjoy my fave video version of Mamboleo:

Tyre i Libanon. Feniciska Tyre var drottning av havet, en ö-stad som aldrig tidigare skådat. Hon växte upp rik från hennes långtgående kolonier och hennes produktion i lila-färgade textiler. Men hon attraherade och uppmärksamhet från svartsjuka erövare bland dem den babyloniska kungen Nebukadnessar och Alexander den Storre. 

Tyre är en urgammal fenicisk stad och legendariska födelseplatsen i Europa och Elissa (Dido). Känd i franskan som Sour, Tyre är en populär turistdestination. Staden har många forna platser, inkluderat dess romerska Hippodrome vilket lades till UNESCO´s lista över världsarv år 1979 (resolution 459).

Tyre grundades omkring 2750 fkr enligt Herodotus och det finns monument från så tidigt som 1300 fkr. Philo av Byblos (i Eusebius)

Tyre blev refererat många gångar av poeten Tibullus i de tre böckerna av poesi med titeln Tibullus: Elegies. Platsen nämns många gånger i det gamla testamentet. 
Tyre är också med i ett spel av Shakespeare, ”Pericles, Prince of Tyre.”
Se några bilder från ruinerna i Tyre:

Samhället i Libanon: Libanon är betydligt mer liberal och västorienterad än mänga länder i regionen.

Alkohol är billigt och fritt tillgängligt, spel är tillåtet, det finns inga kläd-koder för varken män eller kvinnor. 85 procent av kvinnorna bär inte slöja och Beirut är i där det finns fullt av resturnger, butiker och många klubbar, pubar, salonger.

Kvinnor har rätt att rösta, arbeta, gå i skolan och delta i alla former av det offentliga livet. De flesta kvinnor i Libanon föredrar att studera medicin och bli läkare, men även andra väljer undervisning som sekreterarutbildning osv.

Den libanesiska Haifa Wehbe är listad bland de 50 vackraset i världen av People Magazine.

Det libanesiska folket är kända för sin vänlighet och gästfrihet.

Konst i Libanon: juveler, mode, hantverk och musik finns det gott om i den libanesiska civilisationen. Libanon är medlem av World Intellectual Property Organisation som skyddar alla skapelser av mänsklig intelligens. Smyckessektorn räknas många kreatörer och blomstrar tillsammans med turism, mer än 60 procent av produktionen eporteras eller sälje i Libanon för besökarna.

Traditionella skogsvaror exporteras till hela mellanöstern.

Libanon handeslbeteckning: Libanon är också ett av mellanösterns nav för ett antal mjukvaro och hårdvarotillverkning. Det finns hundratals produkter och företag som exporteras till de flesta länder i mellanöstern.

Libanon säljer frukt och grönsaker till närliggande arabiska länder liksom till Italien, Frankrike och USA.

Vin pruduceras i Bekaa-dalen och exporteras till USA och större länder i Europa.

Brottslighet i Libanon: libanesiska civila rätten vilar på den franska Napoléons lag. Polis samt “Force General security” upprätthåller lag på gatorna. Människor tar sällan lagen i egna händer. Kriminalitet är mycket låg i Libanon.

Utbildning i Libanon: Utbildning är mycket viktigt för libaneser. Många föräldrar föredrar att placera sina barn i de dyraste religiösa friskolorna där de kan få moralisk vägledning.

Barn uppmuntras att lära sig, libanesiska barn växer upp med djup respekt till sina föräldrar. Högre utbildning uppmuntras och landet har bland de bästa universiteten i regionen.

Kulturen i Libanon: varierar beroende allmänt om de olika etniska grupperna som bor i Libanon. Arabism vs Phoenicianism, det skulle vara fel att inte ha med Libanons mosaik kultur. Det är en blandning av främmande kulturer från mellanöstern och väst, ett land i fullständiga kontraster och ett land som inte kan definieras av enbart en kultur.

Arkeleh

The Phoenicians

Så gott som alla är födda och uppvuxna i Libanon kommunicerar och har den libanesiska dialekten, ett modernare arabiska blandat med franska. Libanon har mer än 16 religioner som lever i harmoni, grupper av muslimer, kristna, druser, judar, marmons, ateister, bahais osv.

Cardinal Sfeir

mer än 16 religioner i Libanon!

Libanesiska städer, speciellt Beirut är västorienterad och tolerant, synpunkter från de libanesiska tenderar att vara mer släpphänta mot män och kvinnor förbindelser, och till och med ett öppnare och tolerantare gentemot homosexuella.

Libanon officiella språk är arabiska och franska. Armeniska och engelska är också utbrett och förstås av de flesta. Många libaneser talar faktist med en kombination av dessa fyra språk, oftast en arabisk-fransk blandning. Det har alltid varit viktigit att behärska andra spårk än arabiska. Många av libanons bästa läroanstalter har primär undervisning i franska eller engelska beroende på vilken skola, universitet eller högskola och förljer den franska eller amerikanska utbildningssystemet.

Gibran Khalil Gibran

Libanesisk musik är känd över hela världen för sina lugna och vilda rytmer. Traditionell folkmusik är mycket populärt som västerländska rytmer. Kanske dem mest kända är den libanesiska sångerskan Fairuz. Andra artister är Majida El Roumi, Marcel Khalife och Julia Boutros, Najwa Karam och Assi Hellani. Libanesiska artister är kande de mest populära i mellanöstern och stjärnan på scenen omfattar person som gillar Nancy Ajram, Elissa, Haifa Wehbe, Ragheb Alame, Myriam Fares, Wael Kfoury, Nawal Al Zoghbi, Carole Samaha, Marwan Khouri, Waleed Tawfeek, Amal Hijazi.

Dabke dans

Man kan lätt uppleva någon form av musik i Libanon, till exempel: rockfans kan besöka ”Nova” pub, för blues och jazzfans, ”the blue note”, techno och trancefans, ”basement” och ”B.O. 18”.

Den libanesiska nationalrätten är kibbe, en köttpaj gjord av fint malet lamm och burghul vete. Den nationella drycken är Arak, en stark anissmaksatt sprit framställd av jäst druvsaft. Den traditionella libanesiska maten börjar med en lång rad mezze och vin som är från den bördiga Bekaa dalen. Dessa inkluderar Chateau Ksara, Chateau Kefraya, Chateau Musar osv. Det mest gemensamma libanesiska ölet Almaza, som ofta dricks på stranden en varm sommardag.

Almaza öl

På grund av Libanon unika geografi, både sommar och vintersporter frodas i landet. Under hösten och våren är det ibland möjligt att ägna sig åt båda samma dag, skidor på morgonen och bada i medelhavet på eftermiddagen.

See the American flag in the picture, yet that’s what we call tolerance and multicultural living!

Vin från Libanon

Den maktfördelning mellan religiösa grupper är ett intressant problem. Man har löst detta genom att göra olika rankningar, regeringens ståndpunkter som representeras av olika religiösa grupper, per Taif överenskommelse (1989). Ordförande skall vara marionit, premiärministern måste vara sunni och talesmannen i parlamentet Shia. Skyddshelgon för Libanon är St.Maron, grundare av maronitiska kyrkan som är en dominerande sekt i landet.

Vill du veta mer om Libanon? googla på engelska inte svenska!

Lebanon or Liban in french Libano in spanish. Most Lebanese websites

are in english.

Den libanesiska sångerskan Elissa är en av de nya ansikterna av Luxoticca solglasögon (ray ban). Elissa signerade ett kontrakt med Vogue magazine för att bli fotograferad i Milano, Italien

Efter debuten av den kände libanesiska sångerskan Elissa lanserades 2007, Georges Stahl Parfums införde en ny parfym med namnet L´Eau d´Elissa, januari 2009.

Det var en sammansättning av parfymhandlare Randa Hammami från Symrise. Jag kommer att tala om parfymskaparen Randa Hammima i ett annat inlägg.

Okay, now that I’ve gotten my total disdain for everything about Starbucks out of the way, I suppose I should finally get back to writing about what I did last weekend.  I’d probably just skip it at this point but I’m OCD and EVERYTHING MUST BE DOCUMENTED!  That way, when my daughter’s grandchildren are surfing the cached web pages of their ancestors with futuristic mind control implants one day, they’ll see how hilarious their great grandfather was and it’ll instill hope in them and the spirit to rise up against their robot oppressors. 

On Sunday, Dana was of course studying, so the kid and I went out and paid a visit to the Fort Worth Zoo.  They’re celebrating their 100^th anniversary this season for which the wife and I have been member’s 99 of those years.  We’ve seen it change and grow in popularity, slowly morphing from a little visited spot of tranquility within the city towards a packed and terrifying place that’s filled with so many families who say things like:  “Look at that big hippo!” while pointing at the rhino that it can literally make your head feel like it’s going to explode. 

I’m happy for their success and even though the crowds make me feel uncomfortable these days, I still have many good memories associated with the place.  Dana and I went here on our first date and we took our daughter to her first Halloween at this zoo.  Together over the years we’ve thrown so much money towards this entity that perhaps I feel entitled to be allowed to enjoy it now without having to listen to people tell their kids all the wrong names for the animals… especially when I’m standing there trying to educate my daughter by actually READING THE FUCKING INFO THAT’S PRINTED ON THEIR EXHIBIT! 

At any rate, my kid is three and much like the average 35 year old she doesn’t give a shit what kind of animal that she’s watching.  All that she wants to do it go there, see some wildlife and have some fun!  It wouldn’t matter if she were holding an alligator or a parakeet, she just loves the fact that she’s getting to interact with a living creature that she considers both fascinating and adorable.  In her defense, she does have a healthy dose of intellectual curiosity for her age, but that often loses out when something colorful and moving is stuck in front of her face. 

One of the great things about the Fort Worth Zoo is that they actually allow you to touch many of the more docile, non-human-eating animals that they have on display there.  It’s not a full on petting zoo by any stretch of the imagination but they do offer that aspect if you should feel so inclined to poke a chicken with your finger or comb a goat with a brush.  It’s not something that holds much allure for me, but for children (and some 35 year olds) it’s like the best experience that they’ve had since the last best experience that they had when they got to do something awesome like… maybe ride in a car-shaped grocery cart or play dolls in a Dora tent.  They’re so easily amused.    

It was hotter than a very hot thing on Sunday so I made sure to keep my kid hydrated and cool.  I was happy that she found some water dripping from an ornamental cistern there and didn’t get too freaky about playing in it.  She did, once she was finished, start yelling at me that she was soaking wet and wanted to go home but I fooled her into forgetting about it all with my sinister mind game of:  “Hey, look at the otter swimming over there!” after which she was refreshed and unflappable in regards to her condition. 

We actually spent a lot of time at the fish and otter exhibit.  You see, since I built a pond of my own I’ve found that I have a new kind of respect for this sort of thing.  I no longer look at them and think thoughts such as, “Fish.  They swim.” but rather now, I’m more prone to be all technical and nerdy.  I’ll sit there and analyze the pump system for hours on end and wonder what methods they’re employing to keep the algae down.  While this is going on my daughter is of course getting antsy and generally tired of the whole scene but that’s okay…   I guess I’m pretty easily amused too. 

In the end, I think that we spent about four and a half hours at the zoo on Sunday.  We arrived during the heat of the day, visited everything that they had to offer and left at closing time.  That may be too long for most people but we were just trying to stay out of my wife’s hair long enough for her to finish up with this hellish class that she’s been in.  BTW… she did. 

Congratulations Dana!  I’m looking forward to doing stuff with you for the remainder of the summer.  It’s nice to have you back!