The Return of the King

Yesterday King Abdulla returned from a six month medical leave somewhere in the bowels of Mordor.  In what has to have been the best coverage of a motorcade entrance ever, His Highness was treated to quite the elaborate show of jubilant nationalism.  Young hobbits in boy-scout-style regalia, orcs rowed up in their baldricks dancing Ardha and elven girls in berga’a lining the roads with posters like HH was a Beatle. All this blossoming was cultivated (and concentrated) along the roads running all the way from the airport to his palace.  A route I know from studying the map in the front of the book.

And most of the way, his bodyguards ran, flapping their flippers and hop-skipping along the concrete like nervous dwarves.

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Does this green-fingering mean anything in the current compost-climate (i.e. let the political rot burn off into some fine fertile soil) of the region?

I hope (think) not. What lies ahead off the roads uncovered by the cameras?

When something (change) does happen (may it be peaceful), I hope this guy will be there to celebrate:

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