Hotel California (Hotel Abbotabadia)

On 2 May 2011, America again fooled the entire world with news we knew were untrue; that of Osama bin Laden’s state-sponsored assassination at the hands of CIA’s hit squad which violated Pakistan’s airspace to conduct its unintelligent business.

Just like Pearl Harbour and 9/11, the clandestine operation at Abbotabad too begs for answers which, I assure you, we will never get from the MIC (military industrial complex). You see, major charges trumped up against OBL were dropped once the thirst of the American public for ‘enemy blood’ was quenched and Obama’s flagging popularity at home received a shot in the arm.

As of this writing, they are busy doctoring OBL’s pictures, much like those moon landing photographs of 1969 which had so many inconsistencies that NASA never bothered satisfactorily explaining to the sceptics. But people will believe in anything the spin doctors working for the lying governments throw at them. My life is simple; I treat official truth in my patent-pending way: by laughing at it aloud while rolling on the floor.

Many years ago, when I first heard the Eagles’ global hit ‘Hotel California’ (Grammy winner for best record of the year), I was bowled over not only by the fine musicianship and immaculate production standards of this country-rock outfit but also by their writing ability as evidenced in other songs from the album of the same name.

Back then the lyrics seemed to talk about a fancy hotel with a unique policy: ‘you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave’. Now, who in his youth would not wish to land at such a fortunate spot? Many of my friends took things quite literally, crossed the Atlantic to live the American dream, and got themselves blonde wives who home-delivered to them two things: great matrimonial grief and confused children. Years later, most men from the same group returned to Pakistan quite empty-handed in every sense of the word. Their American wet dream had dried up.

Repeated playbacks of ‘Hotel California’ caused my chrome cassette tape emulsion to nearly wear out but it finally dawned upon me that while to the casual listener ‘Hotel California’ represented a tale of a road-wearied man entrapped in a terrifying but appealing lavish hotel, in reality it symbolized the destructive pleasure-seeking culture of America. Justifiably, Don Henley (singer, songwriter, drummer of the Eagles) called it ‘our interpretation of the high life in Los Angeles’ and ‘a song about the dark underbelly of the American dream and about excess in America, which is something we knew a lot about.’

Anton LaVey, a Satanist, in the balcony

Little did I realize back then that years later, none other than the ‘most wanted terrorist in the world’, Osama bin Laden, would check into a house in Abbotabad (Pakistan) in a manner which would attract the attention of seals that the American navy would not want inside Lahore zoo’s pond.

The entire world’s focus was quickly diverted—away from failing capitalism and bankrupting economies—towards a defiant Arab from the royal family of Saudi Arabia. We were told that Pakistan’s army knew about OBL’s opulent accommodation right next to its military academy and that some Islamist sympathizers had made sure he evaded detection by the CIA.

Then we were shown video footage of a huge compound being strafed and raided by the US navy commandos who returned, after completing the ‘successful mission’, back to Afghanistan with a unique trophy: OBL’s dead body which they later buried in a novel way into an unknown sea. I believe the Arab did not go to the bottom of the Arabian Sea.

The roach motel they showed us did not have bullet marks or shattered windows, the neighbours told conflicting stories about how the stealth helicopter was intentionally shot down to make it appear as if a great battle between the American attackers and al-CIAda (note my spellings) had taken place. The media kept humming the tune that the White Washed House of Washing Town composed for them, and the US and her allies kept making excuses for not bringing OBL’s body home for burial with full military dishonour.

It is politically correct to believe that OBL, along with his rather large family checked into a luxury villa in Abbotabad and remained there undetected and quite in control of al-CIAda for five long years without being tracked by those who could not track the 9/11 jet airliners flying about in the most protected airspace in the world. And since OBL was such an able man, by Allah, he deserves to be remembered as a tired traveller in my parody called Hotel Abbotabadia.

OBL was not from Abbotabad and probably never lived there. The Eagles’ too were not from California but they successfully captured in a song what ran through their minds as they drove around Los Angeles at night to review their broken Hollywood dreams.

I am not from Abbotabad but years ago I spent a few days in a house on the slopes overlooking the PMA (Pakistan Military Academy). Much like the Eagles, I too have been able to capture the spirit of that fateful night in my parody. What I mean by certain words, phrases and names used in my parody is up to the reader to find out.

In Chicago, many people called Cook County jail ‘Hotel California’ because it is on California Street. In an interview, Eagles’ Don Henley was asked to explain why he sang the following lines when he knew that wine was not a distilled spirit but rather a fermented alcoholic drink:

So I called up the captain / Please bring me my wine / He said, “We haven't had that spirit here since 1969.”

The Beverly Hills Hotel (Sunset Boulevard, LA)

Henley replied, "Thanks for the tutorial and, no, you're not the first to bring this to my attention—and you're not the first to completely misinterpret the lyric and miss the metaphor. Believe me; I've consumed enough alcoholic beverages in my time to know how they are made and what the proper nomenclature is. But that line in the song has little or nothing to do with alcoholic beverages. It's a socio-political statement. My only regret would be having to explain it in detail to you, which would defeat the purpose of using literary devices in song-writing and lower the discussion to some silly and irrelevant argument about chemical processes.”

The text of my parody appeared to me in a dream in which I saw terrifying commandos marching to the tune of a famous song. The icing on the cake was that instead of the Eagles, it was a military brass band that played ‘Hotel California’. And God, it sounded very soldierly.

I dedicate Hotel Abbotabadia to those who turn a blind eye to universal American aggression, do not mind NATO’s involvement, do not clobber the UN Security Council for acting like a poodle, and to those who arm the extremists and support Pakistani establishment’s collusion in this utterly useless global war of error (G-WOE) being waged in our continent. The original Hotel California (for those who are new to this classic cut):


Please click on the karaoke track of Hotel California and sing along the following lyrics for maximum pleasure: 

Hotel Abbotabadia

VERSE:
Said a Pak desi, "Hai oye,

Colonel Rind has no hair!”

Bomb-scare and militias

Climbing up through the stairs

Up ahead was resistance, I saw a bearded delight

The lads got angry ‘cause at night we pimped

One more puff, chilled Bud light

There he stood in the stairway

I heard the Colonel yell

“And he’s limping, that’s OBL

Langley’s agent of neo-con hell!”

Then he bit off my handle

And he shoved me away

There were khakis down on second floor

Beards shouted, “God’s great!”

CHORUS:
Hell comes to the Intel Abbotabadia

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)

Such a lonely base

Plenty of boom at the Intel Abbotabadia

Any time, O yaar (any time, O yaar)

Find your copter here

VERSE:
Radar is stealthily busted

We got the Pentagon’s pants

We got a lot of pretty witty boys, that we call 'friends'

Its a trance in the bomb yard

Sweet C4 pets

Some plan to dismember

Some plan pious bets

So I hauled up the captain,

“Please bring me my Wyne”

He said, "We haven't had that idiot here since M. Ayub Khan's time!"

Be still our bosses are flying out from Ghan base

Shake you up in the middle of the night

Must you say your prayers?

CHORUS:
Hell comes to the Intel Abbotabadia

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)

Such a lonely base

They lovin' it all at the Intel Abbotabadia

Want a nicer prize? (want a nicer prize?)

Bring your Ali bhais

VERSE:
Choppers on the ceiling

A sting campaign and lies

And he says, "We're all just pensioners here since Gitmo is not that nice"

And in the oval chambers they gather up to meet

They back it with their lying eyes, throw the dust in eyes of khakis

The last thing I remember, Dick was running like a whore

I had to plant fake evidence, get my rear back to the shore

"Relax", said the Gates-man, “We're programmed to deceive

You can poo anywhere you like, but you can never pee."

Guitar LEAD:
TeeoN teeoN teeoN teeoN teeeeooooo ooooN...

Tooo...ooon...ooon...ooon...ooon...ooo...aannn...(until fade)

©Tahir Gul Hasan 2011 Under no circumstances must anyone use my parody for a musical performance or recording in any medium. Violators will be fully prostituted.
Photo credits:
http://uk.ask.com/wiki/Hotel_California
http://www.jesus-is-savior.com/False%20Religions/Wicca%20&%20Witchcraft/anton_lavey2.htm
http://www.nevermindthebuspass.com/happiness-archive/classic-album-covers/classic-album-covers-hotel-california-the-eagles/