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What crisis?
If I could just get my hands on her, politics would be the last thing on her mind

April 19, 2002
The Iranian

A group of young, well-to-do Iranian intellectuals were sitting at a table in Starbucks. Girls in little cute bellbottoms, guys with George Clooney haircuts and goatees, BMWs parked outside, tall Espresso Supremos in hand, cell phones lined up on the table. It was all so sexy. A political discussion on the Middle East crisis was flaring out of control. Passion and anger fill the room. The air was heavy. People were going at it. Everybody was an expert.

I was sitting with them not because I know anything about politics or give a shit about Israel or Palestine. I was there cause I had my eyes on this little cute girl with the biggest you-know-whats. She is my dream girl. A petite Iranian babe, groomed in all the right places -- biggest brown eyes, and a smile that lights up the bedroom (did I say bedroom? I meant the room). She is passionate about Israel and her so-called boyfriend is pro-Palestine. They were arguing like a married couple. I was enjoying the whole thing. This was good stuff.

I thought, "Boy, If I could just get my hands on her, politics would be the last thing on her mind."

As you can tell by now, I find politics sickening. I specially don't care much about the current Middle East crisis. What crisis? This has been going on for years. How did it become a crisis all of a sudden? The reason I don't care is because I'm not there. Hey, shoot me, at least I'm honest. My philosophy is "mind over matter"; if you don't mind it doesn't matter. Besides, I have more pressing issues on my mind at the moment, like how to get this little Iranian honey into my apartment.

I got a feeling that her so-called boyfriend was suspicious of my intentions toward his woman. He's a jerk. One of them Iranian dudes who knows everything. A preppy jackass with an attitude. He is rich and handsome and that makes me hate him even more. The boyfriend knew about my little nutty (fantasy island) dreams involving his girlfriend. He was giving me the look. You know? THE LOOK. Well, I don't care. He spends his time in coffee shops. I spend my time at the gym. I'm much bigger than he is. I can snap his little preppy neck with a twist of my wrist.

The boyfriend was staring at me; I was staring at his girlfriend, and drooling. He pointed at me and said, "So Siamack, what do you think about this mess?"

"What mess?"

"You know, the Middle East crisis. You must have an opinion on the subject."

Bastard got me. I could kill him. I looked at his girlfriend. She was looking at me with those incredibly adorable eyes. "Damn I'm horny," I thought to myself.

"Well, I think Israelis should kick ass," I replied, while looking at the cute girl.

She smiled at me. Score. I'm in. The whole room went quiet.

"And you call that justice?" the boyfriend said.

He wouldn't let go. He wanted a piece of me. He was trying to get me to make an ass out of myself (to accomplish that, all you have to do is to give me alcohol and step back).

"Hey man, I ain't no expert, but in order for this conflict to end, somebody has to win. So I pick Israel. They are stronger. The strong survive. It's nature's way of solving conflicts."

The girl smiled again. I flexed my biceps. Life is good.

"What kind of an idiotic theory is that?" the boyfriend exclaimed.

Under normal circumstances his body would have been floating in his coffee mug by now. However, I didn't want to turn off the girl by displaying my bad temper -- yet.

"Hey man, whatever floats your boat. I'm just expressing my opinion."

"You're a Zionist."

I didn't even know what that meant but it sounded impressive.

"Hell, whatever you say."

The girl was smiling and giving me facial expressions that said "I taste like ice-cream, big boy. Come and have some."

I felt my muscles ripping through my shirt. I wanted some of that.

"Listen, people like you make the world a difficult place to live for the rest of us intelligent beings," the boyfriend shouted.

Okay, that did it. I grabbed him by the neck and picked him off the chair like a rag doll. He started to turn blue.

"Listen man, I don't care about your politics. I don't care about your values or anything. I just wanna shack your girlfriend. That's all."

I couldn't believe I said that. Everyone in the whole coffee shop was staring at me. You could hear a pin drop. I put the guy back down on his chair. He gasped for air.

The girl looked up at me with the biggest smile and said, "I'm so flattered. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before."

Oh yeah. Who's your daddy?

"You wanna get out of here? Say we go to my apartment and discuss... politics?" I asked.

"I would love to."

I might know nothing about politics but I know the politics of human nature. As Lenin once said, "Watch the Discovery Channel, you might learn something."

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Siamack Baniameri

By Siamack Baniameri

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