Harry and Izmir's Excellent Blogventure

Egypt totally rocks!!! Tune in to Harry and Izmir's Excellent Blogventure and get disoriented in Cairo, the capital of disorientalism.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Hmmm... Maybe I should have taken to monkey with me on my trip down south. Izmir really hates to travel, though. He has gotten cranky recently. I think he knows that he is getting old. He has these crazy nightmares wherein a hooded lemur, representing the eerie spectre of lesser-primate mortality, beckons him with his opposable thumb. When Izmir approaches, the Lemur pelts him with poo. This is the poo of death.

Seasonal Defective Disorder

Goddamn... Dr. Harry just got back from Luxor. He locked up the computer while he was away, so I haven't been able to post. Or look at monkey porn. Also, I ran out of booze a week or two ago. It has been a difficult time. Now he is here, so these important activities are once again possible. If I wasn't so depressed, I might even be bit enthusiastic.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Merry Christmas

A Very Izzy Christmas

So, it is the New Year and you are probably asking yourself, “Why doesn’t Dr. Harry ever write anything topical? Why does it always feel his columns are beamed down from Mars with no reference to the time, place, or sexual orientation of the reader?” To all of you out there in readerland who were thinking these exact thoughts I say, “Hah Hah! Only dorks live in readerland!”
But seriously, I have been enjoying a bit of eggnog and as a result am actually feeling a bit of the holiday spirit. So, without further delay, I give you this year’s Very Izzy Christmas report.
I had a great time this Christmas. As usual, I put coal in Izmir’s stocking and he put poo in mine. And then we started drinking. After a few eye-opening glasses of morning eggnog, we were in such good spirits that we began to sing such old favorites as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus, and Silent Nacht. This last tune I especially enjoy. We do a bilingual version. I’m not sure where Izmir learned German; he is quite good at it, though. Izzy acquires languages almost as easily as he acquires STD’s.
Actually, I don’t really have much more to say about the holidays. It is hard to get in the spirit while I am here in Cairo. I’m not sure why, but nobody ever seems to care too much about Christmas around here. Maybe it has something to do with this “Islam” stuff I keep hearing about. I should probably look into this…but for the time being I will write about something that interests me a bit more, namely graduate school and the Algerian War of Independence.

Applications, Crap-lications

Much to Izmir’s chagrin, I have recovered from my post-Christmas hangover and am currently working on my graduate school applications. He believes that it is forbidden to do any work between Christmas and New Year’s. In fact, he believes it is forbidden to do just about anything during this week except drink copious amounts of eggnog and puke on the Christmas decorations.
However, after several hours of filling in online forms and trying to figure out exactly what my purpose really is so that I can write a “Statement of Purpose” about it, I too am ready to start throwing back the nog. A few years ago, when I was applying to the CASA program, I wrote a “Statement of Porpoise”. It was mostly about my pet dolphin. For some reason they didn’t let me in.
Izmir is lucky. He has never had to apply to anything. All the great things he has done in his life have just kind of fallen into his lap. Like the time he was passed out drunk in the gutter along the Champs-Elysées. Jacques Chirac saw him from his limo and recognized Izmir from their days fighting in Algeria. He picked him up, cleaned him off, and then gave him a state dinner and a medal for bravery. Afterwards, Izmir told me this story:
“I was passed out drunk in the gutter in Oran one day when a group of French soldiers started kicking me and calling me Pepé le Peu. Thankfully their commander intervened and, when he learned that I spoke Arabic and French, hired me to be their interpreter. Later on he realized I was a smelly monkey and began to regret his decision, but by that time we were in the thick of the fighting and there was no time to find someone else. Anyway, I saved the lives of our entire battalion one day when I convinced a large group of enemy soldiers that we were in fact a wandering band of existentialist poets from the Basque region, and that Mr. Chirac was actually a mutated weasel-man from the planet Zorgdor. For that, I was admitted to the legion of honor.”
Jacques actually called Izmir the other day to ask if he wanted to serve with the “peace” keeping force in Lebanon. He turned him down. This is probably a good thing, since Izmir hates peace. I’m pretty sure he would be able to get the civil war going again within a week of his arrival in Beirut.

Crappy New Years!

I have a little more space to fill here, so I was thinking I would give everyone a run-down of the hottest spots for New Year’s parties this year. I then realized that in fact this magazine will not be published until after the first of January, and so the list would not be of much use. I also realized (or rather Izmir reminded me) that I am a loser and as such do not know where any cool New Year’s parties are. Likewise, if you have read to this point you are probably also a loser (and a resident of readerland) and as such have no need for cool parties.
Losers and otherwise, stay tuned next month for Izmir’s Valentine’s Day Guide to Monkey Love.

Saturday, December 16, 2006


Izmir was pretty pleased with that architecture article. Izmir likes to think about buildings and ponder the prospects of them falling down. He also enjoys reflecting upon the possibility that a new building might be really ugly. He calls this line of thought anarchitecture.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Flaming Towers of Poo

Hey, it's been a while since the monkey got to write anything! What can I say, I have been busy.
So, while sitting around the house and thinking about cute monkey chicks I occasionally boot up the ol' internet and search for snotty yet brilliant articles about architecture.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Happy Monkey Day!

Izmir and I are going to a Thanksgiving party tonight. You know; turkey, football, and a few people you don’t really like. Plus a lot of people you do like. That is what Thanksgiving is for me, anyway. Izmir doesn’t like anyone, so in that sense Thanksgiving is no different from any other day for him. He does enjoy carving the turkey, though. Where Izmir comes from, people eat monkeys. Whenever a large dead animal is present he gets kind of smug, because he has managed to avoid that fate. At this point, I don’t think anyone would be interested in eating him, unless they like the taste of old monkey flesh soaked in gin and cheap cigarettes.
A few years ago we were having Thanksgiving at my parent’s house when Izmir got the brilliant idea to hide inside the turkey. He jumped out just as my dad was about to carve it, wearing his fez and smoking a cigarette. Best Thanksgiving ever.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

White and Nerdy

To this day, three different friends have emailed me a link to watch “Weird” Al Yankovic’s White and Nerdy on Google Video. What does this mean? Well, I guess that my love for Mr. Yankovic is well known. As well as my appreciation of awesome pop hip-hop songs. And of course, my general nerdiness.
Unfortunately, my internet connection is not fast enough to watch the video online. I am currently downloading it, though. Izmir is very excited. Which is weird, cause he doesn’t usually like pop music. I think he is just looking forward to the opportunity to make fun of me.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

A bit of verse...

“A monkey’s lament is a lemur’s convent”

Such was the nonsense Izmir was spouting about when I arrived home yesterday morn. It seems he had become enamored of some eighteenth century verse, and was aspiring to imitate its flowery and baroque phrases.
I told him to pipe down and get back to work. We have begun our own company, Izmir and myself. We are in the import-export business, and we are currently preparing a shipment of 500 plastic pyramids to a dealer in Singapore. Izmir has proved himself quite adept at this business, which I am thankful for. Writing worthless trash about imaginary animals has not been paying the bills recently.

“Once over the hill one dost naren’t look back”

What does that mean? Is that even English? I don’t know. I think I need a nap. Or a drink. Or a nap, than a drink, then another nap.
The problem with my going into business is that I frequently hear, in my own head, the voice of my father, nagging me;
“I can’t believe my son turned out to be a capitalist rapscallion. I raised him on a good diet of Marx, Gramsci, and Dr. Seuss. And here he is, becoming rich off the blood, sweat, and post-nasal drip of the working class.”
Then I try to explain that I am running a Fair Trade business but he just kind of looks away and starts humming the Internationale. You see the kind of crap I have to put up with? Disobedient monkeys and eerie surrealist day dreams. I wonder how I stay so sane…