Dream State

It was the first time my grandma was going to sit behind the wheels of a 400 horsepower engine equipped with a nitro tank. I questioned my decision but then I looked into her age lined face and I knew it was too late to back out now. The engine roared to life and off we went. She gripped the wheel tightly in her hands as she stared unblinkingly at the road ahead of her. We came to our first major intersection and I held on to my seat as I instructed her on merging techniques. I was starting to breath normally by the time we got to the fifth intersection. This one included a set of train tracks for the local tram. It was a six point intersection with traffic flowing in 12 different directions. I needed her to take the road leading into the tunnel. I explained that she needed to keep her eye on the road she needed and forget all the other roads. It was difficult for even an experienced driver to maneuver this intersection. The light turned green and off she went.

The car careened as she twisted the steering wheel to face the intersection she needed. My soul was left behind as her foot didn't ease off the accelerator. My hand grabbed the steering wheel as I yelled for her to slow down. I twisted it this way and that barely missing cars that were making their way unto the expressway ahead. I looked up in horror as I saw the red unblinking light of traffic jammed cars. I told my grandmother we are going to die. I held her head to my chest as my POV shifted from my body to my soul.

I watched from above my body as the car lost control and collided with the cement piers holding the flyover above the road. I watched as cracks begun to appear. I watched as the first pieces of cement begun to disintegrate and rain down on my car. I watched as I felt my body shutting down its function. My soul felt released and uninhibited.

I was emerging from a pool of water. There was a man standing by a set of clothes and he smiled as he looked at me. I felt more than saw my grandmother emerge from the water. I have been here before. Last time I was sent back. I looked at the broad shouldered man as he patiently waited for me. I opened my mouth to ask if I was dead. He smiled at me again. "Leyla! Leyla," came my mother's voice. She was on the other side of the pool. She looked confused as she beckoned me to the edge. " I am not of the living mama, " I told her. My eyes were swimming in tears as I knew this time I was not going to see her again. My mother shook her head at me. She looked past me to the man at the edge of the pool. Her face crumpled as its dawned on her that I wasn't coming towards her, I was making my way to the man. My heart was gripped in fear and I cried in agony knowing what awaits me. I never looked back to my mother but I heard her pitiful cries and invocations of the Lord's name. The man placed the garment around my body as he once again smiled at me.

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I dreamt this last night and awoke with my eyes flush with tears. The image is so vivid that I had to write it down because it is rare that I dream and far more rare that I can remember the details.

A Motivational Dubya?

You ever heard of the series of seminars known as "Get Motivated"? It is geared to people who want to step up their game when it comes to selling themselves/their ideas/their products. Our former President, George W Bush Jr, and his wife are the newest addition to this year's circuit. They are supposedly going to earn over $100,000/hour long speech they give.

What I find interesting is this guy is actually going to promote the myth that you don't have to be competent to accomplish something. He went from being a C student in college, drinking and drug problems, failure at running a bunch of business to being a president for TWO terms of one of the most powerful nation in the world! Lets not forget he left office with a 22% approval rating.

So for all you people who live in the South, be sure to avail yourself to the talk he will give today in Ft Worth Texas. He will be joined on stage by Rudy Guiliani, Colin Powell and Terry Bradshaw. Make sure you carry a thick pad of paper and pen and write dammit. This man is a genius to have duped Americans into voting for him for two successive terms with all the baggage he carries. Either that or just get the name of his publicist.

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Stabbed in the back II

Mahad stood stock still like a mannequin in a store front. His mind was stuck in a rut........What just happened? His gaze fell upon the pieces of the vase scattered on the carpet. It was a reflection of what was happening to his world. He silently walked to the edge of the bed and sat with his head cradled in hands. It couldn't be! She couldn't have found out, could she? Timiro's face kept materializing in front of him and he could almost touch the betrayal etched in her face. The laugh lines that he had learned to look for every time she broke out in a smile were obscured by the harsh and rigid form her face took on.

Suddenly something clicked and Mahad mobilized. He needed his phone, where was it? He looked at his bedside, her bedside, under the bed. Nope not there. He grabbed the home phone and dialed his mobile. He cocked his ear but still no sound. Mahad moved about the room peering this way and that and finally deduced that the phone must be somewhere else in the house. He called it again as he stepped out of the room. There! He could hear it. It was lying by the top of the staircase. As his eyes fell upon the screen, his worst fear was realized. Timiro must have read the text messages.

Next thing Mahad knew, he was flying down the stairs with his towel on. It was as he was yanking the front door open that he realized he had to at least get some clothes on. Bounding back up the stairs Mahad started strategizing. Ok all is not lost, Timiro suspects but she doesn't know everything. Right now she is thinking of the worst case scenario which was far from the truth.......yea yea.....I just need to get to her. Pulling open the drawers, Mahad slipped into his jeans and threw on his UMASS sweatshirt. He grabbed his phone and car keys as he hurried out the house. The car was still out front so she must have either gone with someone else or used public transport. There was only one place Timiro was going to go when she was distraught; her mother's.

Mahad called ahead to the airport and booked the first flight out of London. She couldn't get to her parent's before he talked to her. They have been waiting for this opportunity for months. He needed to hurry. Time was of the essence. It was do or die. This was for all the marbles and he knew this was one wrong he had to fix no matter what it took. Twenty minutes later and still alive, Mahad sprinted through the airport to get onboard the plane. He run through lines, explanations, justifications, excuses, conciliations, you name it Mahad analyzed the situation and the probability of its success. As the pilot announced the descent, Mahad said a silent prayer to God. His life depended on this moment. His actions in the next hour were going to determine the rest of his life. There were countless ways he could screw this up, a single word or phrase would send him to his doom.

Mahad, if you asked people who knew him, was a confident SOB. He was the type of guy who you sent to the negotiating table when you needed miracles to occur. His tongue was sweeter than honey and he understood his power, which made him a force to be reckoned with. But, today he felt like he was walking the last green mile. He mulled over his predicament as the taxi made its way to the train station. His eyes scrolled down the arrival timetable of the trains (on his Iphone) trying to figure out which one Timiro was on. He narrowed it down to two trains with the first one arriving in ten minutes. The taxi pulled up to the train station and Mahad handed the cabbie a note but didn't stick around for the change.

His feet felt heavy with lead as he criss-crossed the mass of people making their way to the exits. Mahad stood on the platform and scanned every head that alighted from the train. He was a foot taller than most people so this was an easy task, what wasn't easy was the staccato beat that pounded in his chest. He felt his body tense up and sweat poured out of his pores. Then his stomach dropped as he caught sight of Timiro's head bent in submission as she let herself be carried along by the masses. Mahad took a step forward and before he could make his move, her head rose and her eyes bore into his very soul. His breath caught in his throat as he fought the urge to turn tail and hide in shame. She stood forlorn as people pushed and shoved past her. He stood waiting as his willed his soul to carry his message to her. To tell her that nothing happened. To tell her that he was weak and had succumbed. To tell her that he hadn't betrayed her. He hadn't deserted her. Her sacrifices mattered. Her love mattered. She mattered!

Stabbed in the back

Timiro lay her head against the glass and stared sightlessly as the landscape zoomed by her. She was on a train heading home to her mother in Manchester. She took a deep breath as she tried to suppress the anguish in her heart. She had been in her own house a few hours ago and now she was homeless and husbandless. Life can be so trifling at times. She closed her eyes as she retraced her morning.

She had awoken to a bright sunny day in London which was a blessing for that time of year. The sun streamed through the window lighting up the room and waking her up. She peered sleepily at her husband who was sick with the flu. He seemed to be slumbering peaceful so Alhamdullilah he must be on the mend. Slowly putting her foot on the ground Timiro run down the list of things she ought to do today. The kids needs to be dropped at school, she needed to pick up some grocery, she had a GP appointment and she also need to go pick up her husband's suits from the cleaners. He was going back to work tomorrow and she knew he would require his power suit.

Timiro bustled around the house for the next couple hours getting the kids ready and when she finally was ready to leave the house she went to check on her hubby. He was still sleeping bless his heart. Timiro moved closer to check his temperature and noticed his phone blinking. She reached down to move it out of the way and place it on the table so as not wake him when something on the screen flashed for attention. It was a text message, no a few text messages. Something told Timiro to open it but she didn't dare. She had moved past that now. She was at a better place when it came to her husband, but still something nagged at her. As she left the room Timiro realized that she still had the phone in her hand.

"Hey baby. I missed you. Call me when you get this message."

"Hey hope you feeling better. I was thinking about you. Call me."

"Hey wondering what you are doing. Can't wait to talk to you"

Her mind reeled with shock as her knees suddenly felt weak. Timiro grasped the banister for support as she reread the messages. Was he cheating on her? Disbelief was quickly followed by anger. How dare he? After all the effort she put forward? How could he do that? Timiro felt sick to her stomach and slowly let her body slide to the ground. Her mind stopped functioning as a wave of pain followed by righteous anger washed over her. It wasn't possible......It just wasn't. What did she do wrong? What was missing in their marriage? Why didn't he talk to her about it?

Questions upon questions flooded her mind but none had an answer. She wanted to wake him and shake the answers out of him when her little girl's voice called for her. Timiro's mind focused on her child's voice as she wiped the angry tears from her eyes. She got up slowly using the banister as support and made it downstairs. She bundled the kids in the car and drove them to school. She called her GP and cancelled her appointment. She came home and grabbed a bag from the closet. She marched upstairs not mindful of any noise she caused. Walking into their bedroom she saw that he was awake. There was no one on the bed. Timiro opened her bag and started throwing things in there. Shirt, skirts, abaya, bras, panties, hijabs, tights, perfumes. It all went in helter skelter. She didn't care if there was order or disorder. Her life was over! Her marriage was over!

She heard the bathroom door open and turned her malicious eyes to her husband. His smile froze on his lips as he took in the scene. Crash! Timiro threw the vase by her bedside across the room at him.

" How could you? This is the thanks I get for marrying you and sticking it out for all these years? Fuck you! I hope she is a disease ridden piece of trash! I hope you die! Don't you come close to me.......I can't stand looking at you!"

Timiro yanked her bag from the floor and proceeded to bulldoze her way out of the room. She grabbed her purse and keys on her way out the door and with tears streaming down her eyes she walked to the nearest train station. She figured she had an hours head start on him before the shock wore off and her husband came looking for her.

She got off at Euston station and proceeded to the ticketing area. She got the earliest train to Manchester. She didn't let her mind catch up with her body till she sat herself in her seat, but now an hour into the journey she couldn't help but recall everything vividly. She wondered if he will come looking or what the kids will say when they come home and found her gone? She slowly let her body heave the anguish out of her as her sobs racked her body. Her insides felt gutted and worse she knew that there was no turning back now. The story had been written and the ink had dried.

Are you a snitch?

If you saw a crime being committed would you tell the authority? Would you tell the authority even if you know the person is of your race/qabil/clan/family? Would you tell the authority even if you know that you are placing your life in danger?

I have heard of so many crimes that happen within our community and there are witnesses who can identify the perps but they keep their mouths shut. This is not a spectacle found only in Somalis but also in the African American, Latino, African, Pakistani, basically most immigrant communities.

I have always wondered why we bundle up the perps and send them somewhere else to evade the authorities. Don't we ever put ourselves in the victim's family shoes? How would you feel if you loved one was hurt and there were plenty of people who saw it but no one came forward. You are left wondering if there is any justice in this world.

We should stop this STOP SNITCHING campaign. Seriously, its our own people we are hurting by protecting these thugs and killers. Trust me you are doing them a disservice by protecting them from the consequences of their crimes. I am sure its really hard to see someone you love being incarcerated especially if you are the tool behind that but please think of the victim's family and SNITCH!

Snow on the ground

Its snowing in October. I am so looking into those school in the Caribbean now.

I have something I have to do but don't want to do. How does one resolve having two minds about something? Xuujo socooto!

I wish I could throw a fit!

As a child it is so much easier to get what you want. You throw a tantrum and if all goes well the adult will get tired of shushing you and giving you time outs and hand you your heart's desire. As an adult it is much difficult to get what you want especially if its something you cannot/aren't supposed to have. What do you do then to quench your heart's desire?

Oh lawd give me strength :)

Eid Mubarak Ya Muslimin

This is probably the last day before Eid. Inshallah I hope we have all reaped the benefits of this blessed month. There are a couple reminders though. One, Inshallah is that whatever you were doing in Ramadhan that was good that you continue in the same fashion after Ramadhan. The other is that we remember to fast the first 6 days of Shawwal. This holds great rewards.

Here are a couple duas to say leading up to Eid-ul-Fitr:

Before last Iftar:

Oh Allah, please accept all of my prayers, fasting, and remembrance of You during this blessed month.Please forgive me for the shortcomings in my worship and help me improve by next Ramadan.Ya Allah, help me continue the good habits I have acquired during Ramadan.Oh Allah, please make me of the righteous, the guided, and those You love.Ya Allah, please guide me and my family to the Straight Path and help us become excellent Muslims for Your sake.I worship only You and only from You do I seek help. Please increase Your bounty for me.

For EID:

Ya Allah, open our hearts towards our neighbors.Ya Allah, open the hearts of our neighbors towards us.Ya Allah, unite the Muslims in the USA and the world to serve Allah's creation to please Him.Ya Allah, give Sabr (patience) and freedom to the innocent prisoners and guide those who are at fault.Ya Allah, You take care of the oppressed. Please help the oppressed in Palestine, Kashmir, Afghanistan, Iraq, India, Chechnya, Somalia and other parts of the world.Ya Allah, guide oppressors to the right path and move the hearts of extremists from the harmful path.Ya Allah, give wisdom to our leaders; accept their sacrifice; bless them with more courage.

I pray that we all have a wonderful Eid in an Islamic fashion.

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Thought of the day

I saw this and thought to myself how times have changed. I miss the days when my mom asked me where I came from when I strolled in, not that I came home at odd hours, its just that I had a guilty look. I remember once during winter, I walked in with chapped lips that I had been licking all day and my mom thought I had been snogging some poor fella. I had to give her a good 15 mins explaination as to why my lips looked red and irritated.

Now that I have proved myself to be a miskiin she doesn't check up on me as she used to. At times she even gives me a wide berth making me feel guilty when I arrive home anytime after midnight. Cherish those moments gals (I can't believe I am saying that) for when your momma stops asking you where you have been it means its time for you to get hitched to a band-wagon.

My book of rhymes

I luv Nas. I am by no means anything as creative as he is or MOS DEF/TALIB/BLACK ICE/TAALAM etc but I can string a few sentences together. Here are a few of these so called sentences from my book of rhymes.

Forever in turmoil

pursuant of your affection

residing in eternal

limbo awaiting

anticipating your every need

Forever yours

never my own

searching faithfully

for my love

for our love

Forever looking

hoping to find

a mirror that will

reflect the truth

of you and I

Forever mine

yours no more

alas, I have

always known

it was all for

naught.

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Hear me

and allow me to become your resounding board

allow me to strum the strings that used to be us

found between then and now

allow me then to relive the sweet sorrow

Listen to me

and allow my voice to reverb within your soul

as I beat out my agony on your drums

hoping you understand that

I am but a dancer without a soul

a writer without a scroll

an orchestra without a horn

Listen to me

as I beat out life's rhythms with my shackles

hear as the bass merges with the treble

as the blood adds to the sound

as the beats rise and fall.

Silence

as you finally hear that

all I want is to be free.

This was a piece written after reading another person's poem.

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Do we ever cross paths in a different life

Do you recognize me then

or can I form a new identity

one which will mirror your desires

mingle with your flesh

dance with your soul

and sleep in your warmth.

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Like a lotus in a swamp

a beautiful friend is a find

You dry my tears with your words

and set me on my way with your charm

I love your big graceful hands

thats guide me through rain or sun

I am forever glad to have found the one

who'll be there even when I am down.

Listening to Arias

I have spent all day listening to Arias because I can and its the only time that my mind finds peace. Most of my fam and friends think I am an odd ball whenever I go to catch my fav opera at the local house. I think if I lived in New York I would probably be broke from buying tickets all the time. I remember when I went to Sydney, my delight at being in THE FAMED OPERA HOUSE and sitting in my chair. It was like a dream come true. I can't wait for next season because there are a couple shows I want to catch, like Strauss' Salome and Puccini's La Boheme. For now here is a sample of one of those arias that people know but don't recognize as being part of Rossini's The Barber of Seville.

Taraweh Prayers

This will be short and sweet. I was ruminating on how some people act when they are at the mosque. To me, a mosque is a place of worship and not a daycare center. If you are a mother and your child is fussy or needs constant attention, I don't think it is fair for you to bring it to the mosque where your attention should be on worship. I like kids but I do think that it is intolerable to have six/seven children do nothing but fuss/walk around/play in front of you when you are praying and listening to Khutbah. I have the same problem during Juma prayers but it is significantly worse when its day in and out. I specifically cherish my Taraweh prayers and don't want to leave the masjid feeling like my attention was elsewhere the whole entire time.

Please leave your children at home or if you can't just stay home with them. It is after all Sunnah.

Ramadhan Kareem

Its our version of new year. What is your resolution this year?

Mine is to find inner peace. My history is littered with people who have used and abused me and my nature. I have always said in my mind that they are forgiven and that I harbor no ill feelings towards it. I now realize that was all a facade. Deep down I loathe these people and wish them nothing but evil things. So this Ramadhan, I will attempt to really try to forgive these people.

There is a hadith about two brothers in Islam standing in front of God during the day of judgement. One is the oppressor and the other is the oppressee (not a word but you catch my drift). The oppressed brother asks God to take all the good deeds from the oppressor and give them to him. God did this. Then the oppressed brother asks God to take all his bad deeds and give them to the oppressor. God instead gives him a glimpse of Heaven. There is a big beautiful house in his line of vision and the brother asks God if the house belongs to a prophet? shahid? most righteous? sahaba? God says no that is your house if you forgive your brother for his deeds. The brother forgave his oppressor.

I have to attempt to forgive and it is difficult because I hold all the things that hurt me deep within. I don't let anyone know about it and the times when I do let it out via tears I hide in my room when the whole house is asleep. It is only in forgiving others that I can face Allah and ask for forgiveness.

When asking Allah for forgiveness it has to come from the bottom of your heart. You should liken the feeling to drowning. Imagine yourself lost in sea with only a plank of wood keeping you afloat. Then your plank breaks apart and you start drowning. As you head dips under you move your legs and come up gasping for air, then you go right back down. This is repeated several times till your energy is spent and you finally accept your fate. As the light on the surface of the water slowly dims you find that little reserve of energy to get back to the surface and take a gulp of air. You should ask God for forgiveness as if its that last bit of air before you drown. It should come from some primal level of survival, and it is in this moment that some people shed tears.

I wish you all a wonderful Ramadhan and good luck with your resolutions.

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Apology to My Unborn-Bassey Ikpi

I fear that you will never sleep
that like these fingers long and too thin
to hold rings or commitments
you will inherit your mother’s insomnia

your father's restless spirit

Child, I wish I could quiet all your questions
tell you the exact number of stars in the sky
Wish I could show you where the moon goes at sunrise
I want to give you one morning worth rising for
I pray that you will close your eyes
see the world through the only thing

I have fit to pass down to you
this heart of a dreamer

But I want you stronger sooner
want you kind and brave
want you unafraid to fight
for what you believe and need
want you beautiful and free
want you nothing like your mother
this girl trembling before each new day
this girl frightened of herself

love this girl who finds the word ‘woman’

a cloak too heavy to don most days
you deserve someone who wears the moniker like banner
carries easy like sun in summer
but, child, what can I tell you of peace
when you were probably conceived in a cacophony of questions

Still, I think of you as possible
can feel the breath of God light against your skin
can hear you, softness, eyes closed laughing
real as the beating staccato against my chest

I wish that we are not too much like shadow and brick
voices thrown against walls
these hands are tired of building

I want you to like me
To know me
To know me now
In moments like this
your mother lays awake
watching, yet, another morning from the wrong side
practicing slow this breathing that will one day usher you into this world

I still fear that you will never know sleep
but I know that I need your laughter

need the gentle curve of your fingers
need your eyes locked on mine
need you here,

now

for balance

I still think you deserve more than
this threat of me as your mother
still attempting her own world of colored things
but child, just promise me that you will be, eventually
I need your possibility
like I need a night worth sleeping for

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The end

Muna drummed her fingers to Drake's new song as she skirted Shoreview. She was feeling good after watching a movie with a friend and spending some quality time. Her feet weren't as sore any more and neither was her back. She stretched her right foot tentatively to reach the brake pedals and a pain shot through her leg. Muna cursed loudly and adjusted her seat to prevent any more pain. Another shot of pain went through her body and this time it wasn't in her foot. Muna grabbed at her chest. It felt like needles piercing her veins. She removed her foot from the gas pedal and breathed deeply. One breath.....two breath......she slowly felt the band easing on her chest.

As she relaxed, she eased her foot back on the gas pedal. Her right eye suddenly went dark. Muna's instinct told her to pull over but she again breathed. One breath.........two breath............three breath.........four breath. Still her right eye remained sightless. Muna knew it would be another 5 minutes before she could pull into her garage. Her mind started sprinting ahead of her thoughts. Hospital......ER........pull over.........call mom.............call 911............drive faster..............pull over..................drive to the ER.

Her breath was coming in gasps. She couldn't draw in any air no matter how wide she opened her mouth. The world was losing color and her partial vision narrowed. It was nearly over. "Did I pray today?" No. Did I read the Quran? No. God let me live and I will be the most devout believer there ever was. Muna was wheezing now as her bronchioles constricted. I love life. I have much to do. Not now. Muna grabbed at her shirt collar. She could feel her grip on the world loosening. The car was banking to the right and she barely had any strength left in her body.

Muna in her purple dress with a doll standing in front of a house. Beep! Muna crying on the phone with her sister before flying to USA. Screech! Muna kissing her grandma's forehead before the kafan covered her forever. Crash! Muna in a kafan in the earth.Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Muna in complete darkness awaiting.

There is a war going on outside,

no man is safe from,

you can run

but you can't hide forever

from me

-Mobb Deep

Jawaahir Dance

Last night I went with my friend to watch the Jawaahir dance group perform at the Southern theatre by Seven Corners in Minneapolis. There were some parts of the performance that I didn't quiet enjoy but for the most part it was very well done. There was a live band playing and I loved loved the oud player. I swear I was in tears when he was singing. The other song wasn't bad either and off course the tabla solo was excellent. One of the violin players looked familiar, till I realized he is a presenter on public access TV.

Cassandra has a very subtle dance style and unless you realize that, you are likely to discount her as not so good. I loved her performance especially the arm and finger movements. They were mesmerizing. The show is still going on till the end of this week and on Wednesday its pay as you are able. It is very informal because you can meet the dancers at the end of the perfomance and talk with the them.

Its been a while since I danced to arabic tunes and watching the show made me hunger for it. So, my friend and I are going to attend a belly dancing class just for kicks. I am pretty sure I can still learn a few things especially the figure eight shake. So for all you MPLS guys, check out the show and hope you like the music as much as I did.

Mother Nature is the best teacher

There is a new science in town and its known as Biomimicry. It is the science of emulating nature to create human technology that is cost effective and in tune with leaving mutualistically with the rest of the living organisms on earth. Humans are the biggest consumers on earth and to add insult to injury we are wasteful. To minimize our impact on earth some scientist/technologist have taken it upon themselves to study nature and model solutions to human problems from these studies.

Nature is very resourceful and never wasteful. Take for example the lotus never gets dirty even though it grows in swampy areas. Why is that? Most people think its because it is smooth but in reality the lotus leaves have bumps on them that resemble a mountainscape. Therefore when dirt particle rests on the leaves they teether on these bumps, and when it rains the drops of water are able to cart them off the leaves as a rolling snow balls would pick up leaves. Thusly paints companies are trying to mimic this effect and some have accomplished them.

So next time you are outside, study nature. You might just find the solution to drought or famine in the microscopic/macroscopic world of mother nature.

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Changes

For the first time in months I awoke without feeling lethargic. I hope this is the start of many days like this. I was actually contempleting going to an accupuncturist and having my Chi analyzed. I still might but for now I want to relish the feeling of energy coursing through my veins. Have a wonderful Friday folks. One more week to Ramadhan!

Ever think about crows?

They are those pesky birds that are forever cawing at someone. They leave their poop all over your car just after you have washed it. They are mostly disliked till Joshua Klein came up with this genius idea of building a vending machine that is mutually beneficial to both our species (crows and humans).

During his talk Joshua Klein mentions a University of Washington study on crows. So I proceeded to look this up even though I distinctly remember listening to a show on NPR about crows. Professor Marzluff asked his students to wear a caveman mask whenever they tagged the crows. Why would he do that you ask? Well, because once, when someone was trying to get rid of a crow near their home they were forever cawed by the crows in the neighborhood and pretty soon it caught on and even crows that weren't in the neighborhood recognized him. So Marzluff performed the experiment and proved that crows recognized the caveman mask even when it was upside down.

So next time you think about killing a crow think about this two distinct stories about crows.

He gets sworn in today

Ahmedinejad gets sworn in today as president elect of Iran. Its a sad day and I hope that by some miracle or rather he doesn't fulfill his oath. By the by, seem like US is ok with working with him, after calling him the elected president of Iran when they can tell that he stole the election. I am disappointed in Obama from not taking a stance against Ahmedinejad's presidency.