My friends and I were sitting, all bored, and we decided to write a song! We managed to write one epic line. It’s a bit of a dramatic one, so I don’t think anyone below Mohammad Abdu or Abdull Ruwaishid could pull it off.

The first line goes like, “انت شيطاااان بهيئة بشر.. آآآ.. آآآ..آآآه” and after that we got the infamous writer’s block. I’d like your help to finish our song. If each of you could drop a line completeing it, or completeting it after the comment above you I’d really appreciate it.

End of transmission.

I recently had a conversation with a friend that followed with the conclusion that it’s all about the money. We all want it, and when we get what we want, we want even more. Also, the deeper you venture into any money making business your heart gets colder, less emotional and you tend to think of everything business-wise.

Whether it’s the friendly barber who’s intention is eventually to make a profit out of you, sugarcoated or not, or it’s that shop where you’re considered a “loyal, favorite customer”.

In a friend’s case, it was the charity thing he had going in the name of his parents. He started the monthly transfer to the charity and agreed on a period of 10 months. Once those 10 months passed, the charity was bound to ask for a renewal. The trick however was in the question which was “Sir, your monthly transfer has stopped. Would you like if we start it again?”.

Note how a tone implying there was an error causing the monthly transfer to stop was used rather than a simple, straight forward question that would’ve made it clear to the subscriber that the agreed upon period has ended. It’s all business. In this case, it was about reeling the customer in in a clever, “business” way.

End of transmission.

As some of you know I’ve been hooked on twitter for quite some time. It’s easier than blogging, much shorter, instant and with the 140 character limit you don’t really need to phrase your sentences that well. It’s straight forward and allows you to interact with your fellow bloggers more directly.

Think of the fun conversations you have with any blogger in their comments section minus the need of the sugarcoating that’s an actual blog post.[suspic on twitter]

All in all it’s very fun, but the funniest thing to me is what I cleverly call “الرياء الالكتروني”. It’s Ramadan, people are working over time on their prayers and good deeds to please their God in this holy month and it’s all reported on twitter before and after each deed. The question is, does الرياء apply on twitter? [Link to a scholar's say on the general subject]

End of transmission.

I was delighted to be at the avenues today with many beautiful people there, reminding me how beautiful Kuwaitis are. I came to that conclusion because I had a discussion earlier about the average beauty of Arab countries’ nationals. After a visit to the avenues, I realized that we have a lot of beautiful people. By people I mean girls, the guys were too busy grabbing their crotches randomly and itching.

That’s why I decided to spread awareness. I don’t know whether it’s a primitive sign to initiate a mating dance, or they’re simply filthy and have herpes.

The best advice I can give to you lads is one that my math teacher in the 8th grade screamed at the top of his lungs to a kid sitting in the back corner feeling himself up. He screamed “!هد الهووووز”.

End of transmission.

This is more of a threat than a lesson.

If I see one more person parking their cart in the middle of an isle blocking the way for everyone, I will commit rape and murder. If you have a baby in there, I will steal your shopping cart and push it into oncoming traffic while hysterically laughing. I then will pick up your baby, take off my cigar, turn to the camera and say “plastic or paper?”.

Who the hell blocks the entrance door to the co-op to check out crap I don’t care about? To those who do, I will go demolition derby on your asses. You’ve been warned, Kuwait.

End of transmission.

I sincerely believe that area’s roads was designed by a high, senile ape who was in a hurry. I shit you not. It was like a maze that made me curse the area and its people.

I’d love to be politically correct, but the farther you go from the capital the shittier it gets. I don’t know if it’s the government’s negligence or the fact that every public facility is abused and raped more there. I suffered physically, mentally and emotionally as I cruised down Gharb Aljileeb.

To start things off, the area’s blocks are designed like battle forts. You need to be a trojan horse in order to sneak in. I wasted an entire hour finding the entrance to the said area, and finding an entrance to the block I wanted after a respectable amount of time finding the block itself. What I mean by castles is that an entire, huge block has two tiny, well hidden entrances, period. One of them seems to be a school’s parking lot, but at the end there’s a small gap to enter the magical block.

After entering the said block, you see an overwhelming amount of houses and all of its residents have to use 2 tiny entrances with blatant disregard to the concepts of rush hours, the population of the block and my honorable visit to them. It’s so stupidly designed that everyone takes the wrong(other lane’s) U-turns because the distribution of entrances, roundabouts and everything else is simply impractical. These observations coming from a guy who doesn’t know dick about engineering cities.

They also have those creepy ice cream truck like grocey stores. I wonder why they always have green neon lights.

The main point is that whoever designed that area should have his knees beaten with a bat, followed by a respectable amount of lowblows with a pointy brick, then they should be left for 15 minutes to see them suffer and finally after that they should be shot in the head.

End of transmission.

I’ve realized that any girl that drives this car is immediately hot to me. Contact your local dealers, I want more of you out there.

I do like many other cars on girls, but this one’s special because it doesn’t stand out much but remains sexy.

End of transmission.

Obviously everyone’s aware with the situation that occured in Jahra, and naturally the chaos that came with it.

We’re a very filthy rich country, an entire country, that can’t deal with one alarming situation professionaly and efficiently?  A blood bank begging for blood through blackberry messenger messages, news updates arriving through blackberry messages before TV and loads of people socially capitalizing on this event with rumors as valid news. Sticking “والله واعلم” at the end doesn’t justify a thing, mind you. What bothered me the most was how people were emphasizing on the tribe the alleged fire starter belonged to, in all of the BBMs. That’s simply beyond wrong.

From my understanding, the Jahra hospital is over flooded with MP’s, TV crews, victim’s families along with a shitload of useless bystanders standing in the way. Also, random citizens are organizing and guiding the ambulances through hospital entries because there’s no actual action plan. According to an MP, an ambulance driver didn’t know the way to Jahra hospital and was asking for directions.

Apparently we’re a perfect country clear of hazards, diseases, racism, bad management and all that is wrong with the world, Kuwait is utopia. Who needs an action plan?

My only hope is that the MP’s would capitalize on this tragic situation not by sending condolences, not by going out on TV with prayers and kind words but by taking actual action to prevent this from happening again. An entire country paralyzed infront of one emergency?

The hospital’s air conditioning broke down for the love of fuck, that should be their first clue.

End of transmission.

Quantity: 4

Condition: Very good, they just need a bit of cleaning.

Reason for selling: replaced them with another set of rims.

They’re originally for the Range Rover 2002-Current Year models, but they work and look very good for older Range Rovers. They also fit Land Rover Discovery’s perfectly.

If you’re interested, contact me at suspic@hotmail.com.

End of transmission.

This is a picture of a cafe’s menu in the free zone.

End of transmission.