Tag: Police Terror

IN OUR STARS

     They are singing that old sweet song in Turkey again, the big, black lie song. Play it again, Tayyip. Except no one listens to you anymore. You, the nation’s prime prevaricator, cannot fool any of the people any more of the time with your nonsensical flights of fancy. The last one did you in, the vintage Jewish-conspiracy alibi last played by your fellow fascist-moustache up north in Turkish Diaspora-land. You have nothing left. Your thugs have taken over. None of us can escape our past. And you cannot escape your future.

     Now your primary objective seems to be maiming, and, if appropriate, killing the nation’s youth. It is no secret. We see the cops whose inhuman behavior seems to be from another planet, perhaps Pennsylvania. We see the street gangs that dress like you. These are your thug-people, presumably doing their bloody work in the name of your bizarre hallucination of what Allah would like. Hitler had his Sturmabteilung, the SA Brownshirts, who also specialized in street violence. And they didn’t like Jews either. You and yours are definitely of their ilk.

     You call it self-defense—against terrorists, or against foreign powers, or against alcoholics, or against Europe, or against doctors, or against the European Union, or against the Divan Hotel or against, why not?, the Jewish Diaspora. But your nose is much too long now, growing and getting bloodier by the day. It is all so unsightly. Your idiot puppets like the so-called media, and outright jerks Mutlu, Guler, and Atalay and assorted other boobs you’ve scraped up from obscurity still chirp in your choir. You might be so deluded to call it loyalty. But they are nitwits—you know it, we know it, the world knows it. And that’s what nitwits do, chirp nonsense, your nonsense. This is some poor excuse of a government.

     Lies, beatings, gassings, shootings, stabbings, slashings, ooof, it’s disgusting and it’s enough! Isn’t it enough? Yet you and your goons persist. For hoodlums like your thugs, even funeral processions are targets. Surely you are joking about being a prime minister. Crime minister maybe, but leading a nation’s people, never. In the great tradition of tragic figures, you will end alone. And you will become comic. That is inevitable. It’s already happening. America is laughing at you on evening TV. Don’t worry, your reaction is normal. Bullies hate humor. Laughs threaten them. So it’s quite alright that you might feel oddly out of sorts. When someone laughs at a bully, the game is over. Turkey is alone too, at least your Turkey. Thanks to you and yours Turkey is a rogue state. Inhuman, conscienceless police violence. A craven army that allows the government to destroy it every time it beats a kid in the street. Rampaging violence on the order of Pinochet. Mayhem in the streets on a Hitlerian scale. Mass arrests to intimidate. It’s all part of the endgame. The increasing chaos only hastens your end. History says so. Your government is drowning in blood while grasping at straws.

     And it’s all coming home to roost on your well-protected roof top. The world has seen the pictures of the machine gunners dressed in black that protect you. You will need ten million more of them. The end is nearing. You will begin to hear helicopters in the night. This is how you will leave. Under cover of darkness. And no one will care. You will vanish like the night.

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Cem Ryan

12 July 2013

The Fall of Saigon, 29 April 1975.

Evacuation of CIA station personnel from roof of US embassy.

July 15, 2013
ERDOĞAN ON THE HORNS

They threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horns o’ the moon,
Shouting their emulation.
Coriolanus, William Shakespeare

The ferocious antics of the prime minister over the past three weeks—or has it been three years or eleven?—made me think about hamburgers. And then bulls. Ever dangerous, always charging blindly ahead, the same instinctive tactic wired into their incomplete animal brains, always completely predictable, always ending up on the table….. chopped meat.

With boring redundancy Erdoğan has shouted the blame to everyone and everything but his own splendid self. Now angry all the time, he yelled his strange, twisted, deceit-filled story to the world. Like Coriolanus, another tragic hero not properly educated to power, Erdoğan followed down the same doomed path: “What his breast forged, that his tongue must vent.” And he did, and the world exploded in outrage as his country had before. The prime minister’s outrageous claims and preposterous intrigues, his and his advisors lies and subterfuges, it was all too, too much.

The world is appalled. And what does the prime minister and his lackeys do next? Why they attack the world. What else? For no one understands democracy like the prime minister of Turkey. New York City police killed seventeen people in the Occupy Wall Street battle, Tayyip asserts
in full or feigned ignorance of the facts. (None were killed.) And so it continues to this moment. What can you do with people like this? Such a bunch that gives even criminality a bad name.

Now the beleaguered one claims that the police were correct in gassing most of central Istanbul. The lapdog Istanbul police chief earlier asserted that the police had won a victory greater than Gallipoli. Not only did the police gas unarmed, peaceful protesters but according to Erdoğan they had a “natural right” to do so. Why? Because they were fighting against “systematic violence.” One wonders what books Erdoğan has been
reading to present such a bizarre argument. Perhaps he skimmed through his wife’s new book, The Psychology of Dictatorship? In this day, in this world with the sordid legacy of using gas as a weapon, what leader in his or her right mind would launch such an offensive attack against the citizenry? Wanton, widespread violence occupies his mind and he threatens more and harsher attacks, excuse me, defensive measures.

Who talks to this man? Who recommended this horrific retaliation policy based on a ludicrous label of terrorism. This trick has been done already with the fantasy conspiracies that destroyed the Turkish military. It’s a nonsense. Everyone knows it. Who says to him, Look Tayyip, you are destroying yourself with all these garbage lies and threats. Don’t be a bull!

Instead, these low-level operators shout their emulation and clap their hands, thrilled with the sounds of their own magnificence. “Don’t worry beloved leader,” they coo, “your people will believe only you and certainly not their lying eyes?” And just to be sure, they arrest doctors, lawyers, journalists, and threaten and fine television channels and draft legislation to control the social media, the great “menace” according to their beloved leader. And all of it in front of the world’s eyes-wide-open. Ah, it’s so tiresome writing about these people.

They had planned to reach 2023, the centennial year anniversary of the establishment of Atatürk’s republic. Of course, all memory of Atatürk would have disappeared by then. And surely they would have reveled in its destruction. The journey had begun with Erdoğan’s first election victory in 2003. He gave a balcony acceptance speech and wore a tie of green, Islamic green. I have never forgotten that moment. Nor have I forgotten the flood of rich and famous flocking to his favor. But that was then.

And this is now. I will never forget these stirring days and the heroism of the youth of Turkey in their struggle for the future promised to them by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. He also prophesied that they would have to fight for it. And so they now fight. And they know his fighting words by heart. And like good soldiers of Mustafa Kemal, they know the enemy. I will never forget the beautiful women in smart dresses getting gassed by the fascist police, not flinching, and emerging even more lovely. The polite, embattled young men, resolute and courageous in the face of brutal
police attacks. Young people of all ages participating in this war of liberation from a religious fascist government. All of this will surely serve as a model for youth around the world who also suffer from the policies of arrogant men and women wearing thousand dollar suits. These young Turkish people are bringing a renaissance to their country, a flourishing spirit of gentility and grace the while being falsely accused of the vilest acts by a desperate regime. But the truth has been revealed through the overwhelming power of technology and the amazing facility of youth. And the government can only resort to a policy of unabashed lying. I will not forget any of these astonishing things. Certainly not the complete inability of the Turkish government and its supporters to understand this spontaneous combustion of youthful energy which is nonnegotiable. It is obvious these young people will continue for as long as it takes. And surely the process will continue to confound all the “experts,” so don’t bother watching the talking TV heads. Ah, the brilliant, unifying generality of it all. It resides outside the bounds of politics, religion, wealth, business, national borders, and surely government itself. It’s in the realm of hopes, expectations, peace, youth, friendship and, I’ll say it, love.
What revolutionary group has ever established hot lines for injured animals? None. Except this one. And such attention to detail characterizes this movement and is why its success is inevitable. Lastly, how wonderful is the incredible resilience of the spirit and principles of Mustaf Kemal Atatürk, an unstoppable, singular man for the ages who remains both the stuff of dreams and the driving spiritual force to forge this better, this much better future. For all these people, the young, the older, the departed, I shout out loud my emulation and admiration. Your dreams are hanging on the horns of the moon. Seize them. No more words needed.

Cem Ryan, Ph.D
Istanbul
19 June 2013

June 19, 2013
IF THEY ARE NOT TURKISH, WHAT ARE THEY?

Good question. I have already discussed the negative side of the proposition in my article They Are Not Turkish. But everything needs a name, even in a country like Turkey. In Turkey, people that drink beer are called drunks (ayyaşlar). People that love their natural environment, particularly trees, are called looters, pillagers or plunderers (çapulcular). Brave sons and daughters that serve in the military are called boiled sheep heads (kelleler). At least that’s what I learned from listening to the Turkish prime minister. In fact, I have learned much of my Turkish from listening to the prime minister. For example, in the past if I wanted to gain someone’s attention I would say, Pardon,” just like the French and English do. But I learned from him that it was much more effective to just shout ULAN!!!

Yes, everything needs a name. After all, didn’t God command Adam to name every beast of the field and bird of the sky? Of course he did. So am I not a man? Of course I am. Having un-named AKP gives me a God-given responsibility to rename them, doesn’t it? Of course it does. It might even be a sin not to since we all must go about God’s work every day. I can’t just call them Non-Turks or Non-humans, can I? No, of course not. That would be disrespectful.

At first I thought about animals or birds or fish. But there is something about the way animals and birds and fish behave that wouldn’t suit AKP. And I didn’t want to be insulting. So I thought a little lower and smaller, microscopically. Bacteria, perhaps? But much bacteria does good things, like causing fermentation to make beer, wine, whisky, rakı and even ayran. Obviously more research was required. And so I plunged into my library of science textbooks. And Eureka! like Archimedes I found it. An entire chapter about bad bacteria. And I found an appropriate one.

It’s a streptococcus pyogene. It sounds a little like the pepper gas that is now part of the rich atmosphere of Istanbul. In fact, it’s a bacteria that causes a terrible disease called necrotizing fasciitis. It’s obviously a fascist kind of bacteria so that fits. Sadly, it results in more than 650,000 invasive infections per year with a mortality rate of 25%. Left untreated it kills completely. This horrid little thing is often called flesh-eating bacteria. Its progress is rapid and terrifying: reddening skin quickly turns to violet, swelling, blisters and pustules develop, the flesh under the skin dies, finally muscle and skin tissue is consumed. Surgery, usually amputation, is the only solution.

So there you have it. They, the AKP members, are definitely not Turkish. But they are, in my scientific 0pinion, definitely streptococcus pyogenes, all-consuming fascists like their fellow bacteria specie. Their former political species was the A.K.P. (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi) wherein, sadly, there was neither justice nor development. So the members, neither Turkish nor human nor animal nor vegetable nor mineral, are now consigned to a much more appropriate specie. It’s the least I could do. After all, everyone deserves an appropriate name, don’t they?

Cem Ryan, Ph.D.
Istanbul
11 June 2013, the darkest day in the history of the Republic of Turkey

Streptococcus Pyogenes

June 12, 2013
Police terror in Holland, Turkish worker hospitalized

Dutch police attacked a Turkish worker who called the police to complain a bus driver who refused to pay a parking fee.

Dutch police attacked a Turkish worker who called the police to complain a bus driver who refused to pay a parking fee.

Ayhan Erbudak who has lived in Holland for 30 years, was hospitalized as a result of the “police terror” and faces the risk of becoming paralyzed.

The recent violence comes after two Turkish businessmen were slaughtered in the broad daylight in Holland and one died in prison as a result of police torture in Belgium in last few weeks.

Europe nowadays becomes a focus for the racist and violent crimes.

Terrifying incident started when Erbudak called the police to complain a bus driver who did not pay the parking lot.

Erbudak said police reacted horribly to him, saying “is it worth to call the police for such a small issue?”

Police then badly beat Erbudak who opposed that police want to send the bus driver without paying the money. Erbudak’s backbone was broken during the attack.

He said the police told him, “you deserved this” although he said he could not breath. “The police took me to the station under such conditions,” he said.

After his testimony at the police station, he was released. Erbudak had to stay in hospital for two days. His wife, Saniye Erbudak who witnessed the violence, said that she’s mentally depressed.

Erbudak said he would sue the police and defend for his rights.

An Afgan migrant also died of a heart attack after police harshly treated him in the same place where Erbudak was exposed to the police terror.

Source: www.worldbulletin.net, 19 August 2009

September 11, 2009