I, for one, have reservations about the phoenix. It burns to a crisp, only to readily resurrect. Always has, always will. Not once. Not twice. But always and forever, since the beginning of time. And from the looks of it, ad infinitum.
As if that weren’t enough, the fowl is so treasured and gets so much critical acclaim for its peculiarity that the “great people of Lebanon” have assumed it as their symbol, if not their envoy.
In truth, my concerns are not really reservations as much as a question, and a simple one in fact: Is that bird ever going to learn, or is it going to smugly keep setting itself aflame?
Our affairs are very much phoenixian (not phoenician; that is forbidden in its birthplace). The state. Security. Sovereignty. The law. Democracy. Arms. Economy. Justice. Elections. The presidency, naturally. They often perish, and in our skewed minds will surely rise again. Supposedly. We lament the death but console ourselves with the conviction that they will be reborn. Alive or dead, heaven knows. And we are proud of that, no less.
Back to that simple question: Is that bird ever going to learn, considering the infinite repetitiveness? It doesn’t look like it.
The phoenix is therefore, a jackass.