A Spanish saying that translates to: "For the Money, The Monkey Dances."
While many people fit the description, my monkey du jour is Hassan Sabra.
I saw the cover of his respected magazine today and he had Michel Aoun featured with a photoshopped Iranian flag patterned foulard draped around his neck. I guess the idea of Aoun being in bed with the Syrians didn't fly, so Sabra is resorting to the other "bo3"*. Apparently people don't forget 15 years of Syrian-enforced exile so easily. I mean what does it tell you when even Al-Shiraa readers don't believe the story?
But why is he a dancing monkey?
I remember Hassan Sabra of the early 90's; his son used to play soccer with us when the father performed his weekly pilgrimage to Chtaura. Actually, Junior broke his arm once and that was when I learned that when bones break, they actually break break. As in break in two pieces break. But enough with my childhood traumas.
My point is that Hassan Sabra used to have his tongue so far up Ghazi Kenaan's ass he could taste his lunch. Today he's a "courageous journalist." Who's fooling whom?
But dancing monkeys are not completely useless. You can always use them to gauge whose propaganda machine has the deepest pockets at any given time.
*The bo3 is the Lebanese version of the Chupacabras.