Quran Versus Bible – 2

Read part 1  here.

On my way back home, a classmate asked me to escort him to his house.

The poor child’s father had failed to show up to take his young child who was scared of street wolves of Sodomite Saudi Arabia to go home alone at noon, when the streets are deserted & dangerous.

I’m a Terminator. I immediately grabbed that opportunity. It was going to make my trip back to home a little longer but I’m a servant of women & children.

In our way, we found an ice-cream shop that was luckily open at an otherwise nap time in Dammam.

We bought cone ice-cream and enjoyed licking it on our way home.

I did that on next day, also, and my nose-bleeding stopped.

Jesus saved my life with two cones of ice-cream costing 1 Rial, while I had saved a poor child of a rich industrialist who was afraid of Sodomites so common on Saudi streets due to lack of women rights there.

But my blog also consists of some Quran Studies.

I was born in Saudi Arabia to two immigrant parents. My mom was kind-of a refugee — she had run away from evil JI (Jamaat-e-Islami), a religio-political party who stalked her husband and her husband used to feed those dogs from his poor children’s money.

In Dammam, I studied in Saudi public schools, which are part schools, part religious seminaries teaching Wahabism, a puritanical creed of Islam and the mother ideology of all terrorist organizations, including IS (Islamic State).

Besides learning Arabic and Quran — Muslims’ only holy book — we were also taught unholy Islamic books called Hadith (statements falsely attributed to Muhammad), Sunnat (religious customs & traditions also falsely attributed to Muhammad), Tafseer (false interpretation of Quran, false translations of Quran”s difficult words and false “reasons” given to certain parts of Quran to tame their obvious commandments according to their liking), Seerat (dubious history of Islam that doesn’t make sense) and Fiqah.

Literally, “Fiqah” means “understanding”, but it’s translated as “Islamic jurisprudence”.

The truth is that Fiqah is more like a cobweb of useless, obsolete conclusions and rulings using dubious methods.

Thanks to further radicalization by convicted dangerous, rebellious religious criminals and heretics like Imam Hanbal, ibn-e-Taymiya, and Imam Abdul Wahhab, Fiqah and the whole of Islam is now a labyrinth in which one can enter but not exit for thousands of years until Heracles comes to his rescue and damages the labyrinth, which USA, Russia, China and the rest of the world combined can’t dismantle.

Beside all these false, man-made magic (false religion), we were taught and practiced Wahabi Islam.

As if all above was not enough, they set up extra radicalization classes to recruit for Afghan Jihad of 80s.

I’ll eat my hat if the world powers can as much as stop this destructive, Satanic ideology in its tracks, let alone terminate it.

So here I come. THE Terminator of all problems. It was not a lie when I claimed in 2008 that I was working on the technology to build heaven.

You can read my theory with interesting details in my posts. My theory – in a nutshell – goes something like this:

The world lived in TOTAL peace & harmony until Lamech, which is a Jewish word that means “The Mighty”, showed lust in a beautiful women called Adah, which is another Jewish word that means “beautiful”.

After having his son from her, he married another woman named Zilla, which means “rib”.

A man hardens his heart since his early adolescence and stops crying. He becomes evil: selfish & violent like Cain. He transforms from Dr. Jackyll to Mr. Hyde.

The solution is that the man marry his soulmate and receive the  Baptism of Love.

This marriage of True Love fills man’s heart with love (the Holy Spirit), which covers over a multitude of wrongs, as Bible says.

Since Lamech (also called Nimrod – “Rebel on God”) never married his soulmate and lied about Zilla, he remained evil & violent.

He also Christened himself “Enoch” to fool the Jews who used to follow the tradition of Cain whose name the Lord had changed to “Seth” after he was baptized by marrying his soulmate, Asia.

Lamech then walked with God (obeyed his wives) for 300 years but then the soulmates of his wives showed up. He killed them and that violence on the part of Lamech exposed his lies and his wives killed him because it is written,

“Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man.”


Quran Versus Bible – 2

Losing My Soulmate – 3

This memoir starts from  The Flight From Casablanca.  Thank you.

Before going to Morocco in 1997, my ATM card expired and I was sent a new one. I took both to Morocco.

At the time of my departure flight back to Jeddah, Omar tried to win some money — now that he had lost my friendship.

I used to pay him Dh200 per day beside bearing all expenses. On top of that, I had given him a Yashica camera and some other gifts plus Dh3000 for his hospitality and honest service in 1996.

But he interpreted my generosity as foolishness. He kept saying bad things about Monia and Immouzzer and thought of forcing me to marry his poor sister, Khadija.

It’s written that if someone slaps you on your right cheek, also offer him your left cheek.

People misunderstand this commandment and most simply consider it a foolish advice. It’s neither a foolish advice to be ignored nor to be implemented by men.

It’s just good news freeing us from worrying about our safety.. Letting Jesus take care of that.

Or as one blogger aptly put it, “Christianity is not about rolling over and taking it.”

I had indeed let Omar play his tricks on me but it doesn’t mean that he owned me. That’s why my Lord arranged for our breakup.

Omar crossed his limits but still had greed in Dh3000 as if he had served me with any honesty.

He thought he was smart and I was a fool.

He arranged a free taxi to drop me at the airport and I accepted that cunning taxi driver and their perfect trap.

On our way to the airport, he shamelessly asked me Dh3000 gift of “good, honest service”. I took out the expired card and punched the pin code.

The ATM machine confiscated the card and referred me to the bank manager. We went in.

The manager looked at my passport, opened the machine and returned the expired card to me but he failed to understand what was wrong with the card.

He must also have doubted the cunning taxi driver and the over-zealous Omar.

I promised Omar to check with my bank to see what was wrong with that damn card and went to Jeddah never to come back to him.

And why should I?

What good he had done to make me remember him?

I arrived Jeddah airport in the wee hours of Thursday, July 3, 1997.

In the above referenced post, you can read about getting caught red-handed trying to smuggle pornography into the holy lands of Saudi Arabia.

I first refused their generous offer of letting me go in case I honestly told them what was in them.

It’s not that they were curious to know. It was about giving up my right to know and the Freedom of Expression of the porn stars.

All I had to do was acknowledge their right to look inside people’s stuff and tell them what they could see & hear. To accept man-made laws, Jesus be damned.

I refused.

I insisted they were computer data reels and there was nothing wrong in them.

They kindly informed me about their media office that had the capability to put the reels back in VHS cases and look inside their contents.

I still firmly insisted they could not find a sin against me — their media office and their holy king be damned.

After some two hours, a nice officer from the media office came to ask me whether I was under the influence of drugs.

I denied.

They called me into the media office and showed me a clip of naked women playing & enjoying themselves.

“Do you acknowledge that this is the stuff you were hiding?” They asked.

“Yes I do,” was my careless answer.

They filled some forms and charged me a fine of 3000 Rials, confiscated my passport and referred me to the customs office on Saturday as Thursday & Friday used to be the weekend.

The customs office sent me to the legal office. There, I met another nice judge.

He told me about Dr. Muhammad Abdo Yamani, the ex-Petroleum Minister who used to work for my employer, Dallah Group, and handle their charity work.

He gave me a full week to bring a letter from Dr. Yamani to close the case then & there.

I knew about Dr. Yamani and had personally helped some poor employees write applications to Dr. Yamani.

But the voice of enigma asked me to ignore that good advice and I obeyed, without fully understanding His plans.

Instead of one week, I went after two full weeks on July 19, 1997.

The nice judge, seeing no letter from Dr. Yamani despite 2 full weeks, advised me to visit APS (Airport Police Station), where he had already forwarded my file.


Losing My Soulmate – 3

Finding My Soulmate – 7

This story begins .here.

I had my next vacations in 1995.

And God gave me the next hint, “She’s in a small Arabic country” and I planned a trip to Jordan.

When I was a boy, a Pakistani barber once told me nymphs and mermaids lived in Jordan.

But my second elder brother, Zakir, wanted me to visit Pakistan to help him complete heirship document for our deceased parents.

I first got a tourist visa to Jordan and then went on a week’s trip to Pakistan and stayed at al-Andalus House, our eldest brother’s house.

My Pakistan mission failed.

Hamid was watching.

He’s always watching me… closely yet secretly.

He discreetly called Abid and tipped to him to hold me for one more week, to completely lay waste to my 2-weeks’ vacations.

Abid had reasons to like that tip.

I consulted Zakir using Abid’s telephone and he advised me to get another week from my employer. I again used Abid’s line to call my employer in Jeddah and got another week.

I kept that a secret.

Abid’s wife doesn’t understand Arabic and I had made all calls in Arabic.

I went to ALIA (Royal Jordanian)’s office and postponed my flight to Jordan by one week.

After Abid dropped me off at airport with a wicked, wide smile across his face, I waited a while for him to return home.

Then I called him from inside the airport and told him about extension in vacations and how I used his phone, his house, his wife and him to drop me in his car.

I told him there were no flights to Jeddah, I was going to Amman.

He was dumbfounded and had nothing to say.

Upon my safe arrival to Amman and getting some rest, I asked a taxi driver about Air ALIA’s office to confirm my flight back to Jeddah.

He confused me when he mentioned a hill in the address of their offices. I asked him to take me to that office on a hill.

I found a very beautiful damsel in the office and her name was Taghreed (birdsong or chirp).

I asked her out but she was a conservative girl who marry whoever their parents choose for them.

Instead of feeling mercy for her, I felt insulted. I used to feel frustrated with Burqa-clad girls of Saudi Arabia who go into a black head-to-toe turban since age 6.

My anger kindled against women.

I first asked the taxi driver to show me a “good” girl, a prostitute who doesn’t mind extra-marital sex.

He asked me to wait for him till 9pm.

He took me to a night club.

There were two girls wearing shorts and dancing on some romantic music. We were alone there with a Saudi rich client.

After enjoying their dance show, I went out. The taxi driver had told me they were expensive and I couldn’t compete with that rich Saudi.

I left both girls to the asshole.

We then went on a tour of the ruins of the Romans, the ruins of Petra and the ruins or the dead sea of Sodom & Gomorrah and reached Aqaba.

There was a hill in Aqaba also.

I went there but it was another desert and just a tad better than the ruins of Petra.

Then my anger kindled against God.

He had fooled me. There were no girls in Bursa de Turkey nor on any hill or mountain of Jordan.

I asked a local taxi driver to show me a cheating wife.

Yes, a cheating wife.

He knew 3.

The first was occupied.

The second was no longer in business.

The third asked us to wait for her husband to go out to drink.

We waited and waited and waited but her stupid husband won’t go out to drink that night.

At last, I lost hope.

I told my young, handsome taxi driver that if he failed to find me a girl that night, I was going to fuck him instead!

He looked at me with eyes wide open out of fear…

then we burst into a laugh!

The first taxi driver had ripped me off all money and there were no international ATM machines in Jordan.

This story continues .here.

Finding My Soulmate – 7

The Necessity for Computers To Understand Hamid (1987)

I got a funny brother, Hamid.

It’s good to know Hamid.

Whatever amazing things I’ve learned in life, this strange brother was actually the reason behind it.

Secret, subtle reason.

Sometimes evil reason.

In 1987, he enrolled in a FORTRAN course to crack the puzzle of computer programming.

He got stuck at first assignment.

We used to share the room. After dinner, he asked me if I was interested in learning computer programming.

I was excited.

He gave me a 10 minute introduction and then gave me his assignment to solve.

I wrote a solution. It was slightly different from his solution.

The problem was simple: Given the formula for calculating Force, F=m*a, calculate F, if m=5 and a=3.

This is what my brother wrote:

F = m * a
m = 5
a = 3
write (F)

But the computer won’t understand and kept printing garbage.

Computers process commands sequentially, so I put the values of “m” and “a” first, then the formula to calculate “F”. Like this:

m = 5
a = 3
F = m * a
write (F)

It worked.

Now I have been working on the Programming Puzzle since then.

I went on and tried enrolling in Computer Science but it was off limits for non-Saudis.

I enrolled in a FORTRAN course but I realized it was a very limited language. FORTRAN stands for FORmula TRANslation.

I went to the central library and found a delicious programming book, TRS-80 BASIC With Business Applications.

BASIC provides ability to manipulate more than numbers.

But the problem was how to teach computers to understand Hamid.

What was missing? How could even a child understand things but a computer cannot?

How come even a mosquito knows what it’s doing but billion-dollar machines with AI (Artificial Intelligence) don’t know what they’re doing?

They keep telling us that our brain is a huge neural network so if we keep building larger and larger neural nets (which basically compare two images and tell us how similar or different they are), then eventually, computers will accidentally gain understanding.

Because “intelligence” is a magic to them which comes accidently if we keep building ever larger ANNs (Artificial Neural Nets).

They believe in magic so they proceed like magicians and keep cooking weird stuff that strikes fear and awe in the audience as well as the investors.

So last year, the total investment in AI reached a staggering figure of $8.5 billion.

The most impressive achievement: AlphaGO, a computer that can play GO, a board game.

Does it even know it’s playing a game?

Can it choose not to play or even not to win?


Computers still don’t understand Hamid.

And the scientists are not working on making them understand Hamid.

That’s what’s wrong with AI.

We need to appreciate Hamid’s finding. And work on it as I did since 1987.

Then we will find.

The Necessity for Computers To Understand Hamid (1987)

Finding My Soulmate – 4

This story begins here.

God reveals That Girl!

She’s 51 years old while I’m 29. Oh my, she’s so beautiful and perfect and her voice..

Her voice is the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.

She offers her daughter to me but I’m interested in the mother and we fall in love..

Me: 🙂
Pritima: 🙂
God: 😉

I start meeting Dr. Pritima regularly.

I make sure I wear best perfume and I dress to impress and my magic was .. working wonders.

God had shown me a movie to teach me a few more etiquettes of handling ladies. It was the Hollywood movie, Fright Night. I learned the taste of good dress and gentleman manners from the vampire!

Remember what he says to Charlie: “Don’t lose your temper, Charlie.. It isn’t polite!”

How cool, how mindful.. Jerry Dandrige is definitely the epitome of a gentleman!

One day, Pritima asks me to visit her after hours.

When I arrive at her gynaecology clinic at closing time, I notice how it’s crowded.

The Filipino attendant smiles when she sees me. I ask her to tell Dr. Pritima that I could come some other day.

She tells me Pritima had been waiting for me since morning.

Then she goes in to announce my arrival.

She returns with an even wider smile “No, she’ll meet you today and right away in a few minutes.”

I’m fully aware today is our big day. We’ll have a romantic dinner during which I’ll express my love.

I’m not even feeling anxious..

I’m feeling confident.

It’s interesting how young people do not worry. I mean I had no idea where we could go for a dinner but I still was cool.

I tell God age is not a problem and I’m not interested in having children. The population explosion had its worst effects on the Saudi economy. I try to tell God about true love and population explosion problem and He likes that.

After a while, a patient comes out and the attendant calls me in.

Some patients were curious to see a male visitor in that department who didn’t fit. All Dr. Pritima’s male visitors used to be either pharmaceutical agents with bulky bags or doctors but this guy..

This guy looked and smelled like a date!

Dating is considered a taboo in Saudi Arabia and all patients were female and envied Dr. Pritima.

I went in.

She was wearing a very beautiful dress.

She apologized for unexpected number of patients.

I told her I didn’t mind.

We talked for a while. The attendant brought us tea.

She took a sip. She was looking for proper words.

After a few more sips while perusing her book of appointments, she asked me if I could visit her on Thursday 2pm (in 1995, Thursdays used to be half days and the first day of weekends in Saudi Arabia.)

She thought a lunch would be a more appropriate time, especially in a country like Saudi Arabia.

“Sure, it’s a date.”, I agreed. We could spend some more time together because of the weekend, I thought.

This story continues here.

Finding My Soulmate – 4

Finding My Soulmate-2

This story begins here.

My brother Rashid must have regretted rejecting KSU. In KSU, he could have studied Economics in Arabic, which we all speak fluently, instead of studying it in far, far Istanbul in stupid, alien Turkish language which is of no use outside Turkey.

But I respected his choices and tried to play the good brother.

As soon as I finished setting him in his Indian friends’ apartment, God reminded me of THAT GIRL and gave me the next hint. He told me she was on some picturesque mountain top.

I forgot the great Briefing by my good work colleagues about Istanbul’s prostitutes and went to a travel company and asked the agent about nearest tourist mountain city.

He put me on a bus to Bursa.

But Bursa was anything but beautiful. All I found were buses honking their horns in the congested traffic due to Hajj holidays and Baqar Eid festivals (animal sacrifices).

It’s so disgusting a season that it’s alone a reason for a guy like me to thank God for sacrificing His son.

Jesus saved us from a lot of filth but Christians are unaware; they really need to Google on Islamic feast of sacrifices or come experience it first hand.

I was disappointed and confused in Bursa. I could find THAT GIRL nowhere. I went back to travel company and went ahead to Izmir. I found a small zoo there and afterwards, ran into a Syrian cart-pusher selling lemonade.

He refused to take any money from me and gave me two more free especial cups for finally finding someone who spoke Arabic. The poor guy must have suffered his share of Turks’ racism!

He wanted to thank God. Wasn’t a good guy to ask about girls and prostitutes, though.

Then I ran into a bad Kurd guy. I asked him about a place to find bad girls. He cursed me for coming all the way to Izmir looking for bad girls.. instead of the “Colorful Istanbul”.

He was right. How could I forget the Briefing?

I rushed back to Istanbul but by the time I reached it, it was 12am, June 4. And it was bloody cold; I was shivering.

I went to my brother’s apartment without delay and they took good care of me.

They also made sure I was kept away from the bad girls (ugh!) and they all came to see me off at bloody Ataturk Airport at 10am as my flight back to Jeddah was at 1pm.

Such people make you wonder why you paid them $220 and not just $25 they had asked to install a telephone line!

After I returned safe & sound to Jeddah, my bank, NCB ripped me off $1000 traveller checks I had not used and deposited with them.

For a whole year I tried to recover my lost deposit and also to give Rashid an ATM that would work in Turkey without success.

Hamid was closely watching me through my little sister, who found my predicament very amusing. She also found my failure to find a bad girl in Turkey equally amusing.

My brother Hamid then took that opportunity and asked me to leave Rashid and his financial problems to him.

Turned out he knew everything about money transfer and banking stuff.

God told me He let NCB bank rip me off to punish me for listening to my friends instead of trusting Him!

Well, at least I can say I helped solve Rashid’s problems!

This story continues here .

Finding My Soulmate-2

The Son of Woman

In January 1992, I went to visit Pakistan with mom and my little sister. This was my first vacations after landing my first job with Dallah Group in February, 1991.

My brother Hamid joined us shortly thereafter. He’s an interesting brother.

Since his arrival, he was in search of a song he had heard and found amusing.

He only remembered its rhythm and a few lyrics. Since I had never heard it, I couldn’t help him find it.

A girl of 10 used to come and go freely in our house because our mom loved her for some reason. Her name was Fahmida.

Hamid once asked her about the song and sang the small part he remembered,

“Tu patang heh kisi aur ki”
(you are someone else’s kite)

It made her burst into a laugh!

Hamid, the Mr. Smart, was embarrassed. After a while, she caught her breath and corrected Hamid: It’s not patang (kite) but pasand (like).

She then told him song’s name as well as the name of the Indian movie, DIL HEH KEH MANTA NAHI (MY HEART JUST WON’T ACCEPT).

That movie is an Indian remake of Hollywood movie, IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT.

Little did Hamid know God was going to make that movie and its song come live in his life. Hamid had been signed up for THE DIVINE COMEDY, which he rather sees as THE DIVINE TRAGEDY because it hurts him.

My flight back was scheduled earlier and went through Dhahran and I returned with my sister, while mom stayed behind with my brother, Hamid, (who figures out prominently in my life).

A few days later, I went to Airport Dhahran to receive mom who had decided to go through Dhahran back to Jeddah with me. My brother, Asim, who used to live in Dhahran, had given me his car to bring mom home.

I waited until all passengers came out but my mom didn’t come out. I gently asked the security guard to let me in to see why my mom had not come out.

I found her in the legal office. She was being interrogated by two officers. They told me my mom possessed 100 copies of magic. Traficking in magic carries death penalty in the holy lands of Saudi Arabia.

I looked at those pages and found some verses of Quran. I showed them those verses and asked them how that could be magic?

They looked intently, consulted with each other and knew they had no chance of winning the case and released mom.

Mom then told me she wasn’t sorry for her loss of those pages. She used to feel sorry for the millions of poor visitors and pilgrims who were harassed by these insolent customs officers who used to ruthlessly tear apart their luggage in search of non-existent drugs and left them crying without compensation.

It was then that I decided I was going to challenge them one day to prosecute me and God called me Son of Woman.

Hence, my crime described in my blog post, “The Flight from Casablanca”.

The Son of Woman