Brunhilde Liebesbombe, our Wurlitzer Prize winning journalist, reporting exclusively for the Mercury News Service.  Ogden Orffe, Howitzer Prize winning investigative photographer, accompanied her to the home of Turkish leader of the NATIONAL COALITION OF SYRIAN REVOLTING AND ODOROUS FEET (NACOSROF) in the city of Izmir.

BRUNHILDE FOR MNS:  Thank you for having us so soon after your election as head of the umm,……..NACOSROF.

HOJA:  We refer to it as the SNC for short.  Only Robert Ford could come up with a name like the other one.

MNS:  What does SNC stand for?

HOJA:  Snorting Nubile Cats.

MNS:  In reading background information about you, I was amazed to learn you are born of pure Turkish parents.

HOJA:  Actually, there’s no such thing as a pure Turkish parent.  If they were pure, my parents would look like Toshiro Mifune and Sesu Hayakawa in drag.  But, I am a Turk only in the sense that I’m not a Syrian Arab, if you know what I mean.

MNS:  How did a Turk, like you, become head of the SNC?

HOJA:  Uncle Hakan Fidan wanted it so.

MNS:  Oh, my God! That’s the feared head of the MIT.  Isn’t that Turkey’s spy agency?

HOJA:  Well, it’s not the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.  My uncle wouldn’t know how to attach toilet paper to the roller on the wall.

Mr. Fidan puts on his best face for this iconic photograph taken just before he ordered Sakine Cansiz assassinated.

MNS:  You are now elected for an unprecedented one year as head of the SNC.  How did that happen?

HOJA:  I don’t really know.  Nobody does.  My mother says the tooth fairy did it.

MNS:   Do you think it will have an impact on anything?

HOJA:  No.

MNS:  Did you come to this office with a list of priorities and can we explore what they are?

HOJA:  My first priority is to make sure the organization is properly funded to keep our members in the best European hotels.  This was a serious problem with former leaders.  Al-Khateeb was a cleric of some kind and insisted that members sleep at some mosque in Gaziantep that didn’t have running water. Ghassaan Hitto was fond of his nephew’s condo in Kurdistan.  That was not a hit with our members.  And we have new problems with that Christian Commie, George Sabra.  The government here keeps putting him up in some flophouse in Istanbul and he’s always complaining.

MNS:  Surely, you have other priorities besides your members’ hotel accommodations.

HOJA:  Like what?

MNS:  What about influence on the battlefield?

HOJA:  It doesn’t appear that’s gonna happen soon.  I just received a note from the Caliph Abu Bakr Al-Baghdaadi. Would you like me to read it to you?

MNS:  (Startled and excited)  Well, yes, of course. Please.

HOJA:  Here, let me find it in my pocket. Oh, there it is…… Okay.  “Dear Apostate, it will be my most sincere pleasure to skin you alive and stuff your pelt with straw and then hang it outside the walls of Nineveh, just like my ancestor Assur-Nasser-Pal. After that, I’m going to take your shivering Turk remains and dry them like Armenian basturma.  Conduct yourself accordingly.”  He signed it, Caliph Yusuf the Iraqi.  It doesn’t look like he’s interested in combining forces.

MNS:  Well, what about Abu Muhammad Al-Jawlaani, the leader of the Jabhat Al-Nusra?

HOJA:  He also sent me a congratulatory note.  Here, let’s see where I put it.  Here it is.  “You miserable blaspheming Turk.  Accept radical, nihilistic, militant, overly violent and retrograde Islam as your salvation or we’ll find you in your squalid Turk brothel and cut your head off with a  baker’s spatula.  Our regards to your uncle and brother Recep.”  I mean, what can I do with that?

MNS:  Well, besides keeping away from the so-called “freedom fighters”, do you have any other priorities?

HOJA:  Just keep seeing my patients.  I’m a doctor, you know.

MNS:   You mean, you treat wounded rebels who come back to Turkey after fighting the Syrian Army?

HOJA:  You must be joking.  They don’t pay for treatment and they have no insurance.  They’re also usually a bit ripe, if you know what I mean.  Anyways, I’m not a trauma physician.  I’m a chiropractor specializing in massage and aroma therapies.  When they find out I don’t know how to surgically remove a bullet, they’ll behead me.

In this exclusive photo generously given to us by Mr. Hoja, a nurse in his clinic applies aromarama to his uncle’s favorite pooch, Dweezil.  The potion contains a nice dose of opium.  This photo was sent to the ASPCA.

MNS:  We read about your experience inside Syrian prisons when you were only 15 years old.  What was that like?

HOJA:  (Picks up notes from folder titled Human Rights Watch and begins to read)  “There were butcher hooks hung from the ceiling that were stained with blood.  It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. I could hear them torturing my father next door as I was beaten fifteen times a day to the music of Lawrence Welk.  It was horrible. When they weren’t beating me with the Abercrombie and Fitch suspenders, they forced me to eat and chew hog bones before swallowing them.  Call me Ishmael.  Call me irresponsible.  Call me Mr. Tibbs. I was only able to escape to Turkey after I was forced to have sex with this smelly Circassian turnkey who kept pouring this terrible American aftershave on me called “Aqua Velva”.  I screamed at the top of my lungs.  When he fell asleep, I snuck out through the elevator shaft.  You see, we were kept 20 stories below ground in cells no wider than 2 feet and a height of no more than 8 inches.”  By the way, amazingly, my story was found to be consistent with everybody else’s.

MNS:  I don’t know. Your story sounds a bit unmooglich…..I mean…..improbable.

HOJA:  I heard that.  You’re German, aren’t you?

MNS:  Oh, I’m so tired of this. No…..(sigh)  I’m from Austria.

HOJA:  Yeah. Everybody says that.  You’re just worried about some Nuremberg thing.  Nothing wrong with being German. We liked the way you took care of your Jewish problem.  We did the same thing with about 2 million of those Armenian scum.  Should have done a better job.  So should you.  Don’t tell any one I said that.

MNS:  (Standing up)  I am appalled by your statements.  How dare you!

HOJA:  You’re not married are you?  I like zaftig dames. You remind me of this German opera singer I used to date in Hamburg.  Come on, get with it for some gemutlichkeit, Turkish style.  Hey, come on. Why leave when were just getting to know one another.  In any case, I don’t mind getting it on with your photographer. Hey, come back!

Brunhilde and Ogden immediately left his home never to return.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.