FIFTH POST – OCTOBER 9, 2012 – SYRPER AWARDS HILLARY CLINTON "WHITE ELEPHANT OF THE YEAR AWARD"

FIFTH POST – OCTOBER 9, 2012 SYRIAN PERSPECTIVE AWARDS HILLARY CLINTON “WHITE ELEPHANT OF THE YEAR AWARD”; STATE DEPARTMENT WILL SEND “LIAR OF THE YEAR” NOMINEE SUSAN RICE TO ACCEPT

This is the Taj Mahal of embassies.  The largest of them all in Baghdad along the Tigris River.  It was to house a thousands of spies.  As it stands, there is one aging butler, a craven ambassador and a bunch of “hunkered down” marines.

It is called “Xanadu” by those who recite Coleridge; by those who remember William Randolph Hearst; by those who can sniff a living, breathing architectural disaster.  Syrian Perspective is proud to award the “WHITE ELEPHANT OF THE YEAR AWARD” to the United States Department of State for its contribution to mankind’s addictive pursuit of folly.  No Ozymandias could have conceived of this monstrous, tasteless, chintzy tiara bejewelled with rhinestones atop a bedizened, old French maquerelle…. cheap perfume and all.


This papier-mache replica of the Ganish Pachyderm will be set on the East Lawn of the American Embassy – courtesy of Syrian Perspective, of course.  
   

As our readers will note from the photo above, the American Embassy in Baghdad is designed, not only for comfort, shock and awe, but also to keep those pesky suicide bombers away from its imposing facade.  Typical in its classic American design, it evokes images of huge malls in the center of vast parking lots.  It also reminds one of those shopping areas on gaudy cruise ships, money changers, lingerie, millinery, haberdashery and what not.  Prince Charles has called it “a diplomatic salute to the aristocratic brothel of yore”.        

But what would an architectural triumph be without its inhabitants?  We, at SyrPer, believe that Brett McGurk should have been made ambassador to Iraq.  He had all the ties to CIA and the croquet-playing crowd in Alexandria.  He had sexually titillating contacts with women he eventually would marry – a real downer for those paparazzi prowling on Abu-Nuwas Avenue.  And he would have looked great amid all the pomp of what was to become an empty mausoleum, a large men’s store with dusty mannequins:

 
No, Roderick Usher he’s not.  But, you know, he might have looked alright in a smoking jacket.

But, even better was Ryan Crocker who was formerly the U.S. ambassador to Iraq and Afghanistan.  His recent citation for drunk driving would have been a perfect career blemish for a diplomat exiled to a gigantic gulag in the middle of a war-torn citadel like Baghdad.  What a shame!

But, let’s introduce Robert Stephen Beecroft, the now-approved ambassador to Iraq.  We have learned that he was selected because of his ability to tolerate long periods of isolation.  Before joining the diplomatic corps, he was a chimp-minder in Antarctica at the McMurdo Sound Animal Research Institute.  In Vietnam, where he served nobly, he was a Long Range Recon Patrol infantryman where he spent weeks scouting for NVA officers and rice caravans.  Later in life, he was an inspector for the CanAm Highway at Point Yukon II.  Nobody could match his qualifications for an ambassadorship to Iraq.

   
Ambassador Beecroft seen here just after a six-month trek in Greenland.  He appears somewhat disoriented after being flown from Godthaab to Washington D.C. to accept his nomination.   

Susan Rice, Psycho-Liar Extraordinaire, has been tasked with accepting the prize at SyrPer’s offices in Newark, New Jersey.  We will keep you informed.  She stated that she was “excited” to represent the U.S. at the award ceremony.  But we knew she was just lying.

To conclude this report, we must direct our readers to Shelley’s immortal poem, Ozymandias:

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away”.

And what the blazes is that stupid advertisement to my right? Z