Dad, I hope you are not planning on coming to America anytime soon
February 12, 2002
All the money in the world won't buy happiness, so they say. I would like to
form my own opinion on the subject but I am missing the important ingredient, which
is the money part. I can tell you this much, being poor doesn't buy happiness either.
I've been running around like crazy trying to catch up with them unhappy millionaires.
Being an Iranian doesn't help either since you are judged mostly by the size of your
wallet rather then the size of your character. For a guy like me who has neither
money nor character, life is hell. I could probably rob a bank. However the idea
is doomed since I'm not tough enough to survive slammers and I would like to keep
my rear end function as an exit only.
My dismal financial situation needed to be addressed immediately. I was sick and
tired of being poor and needed a comprehensive financial plan to get myself back
on track (not that I was ever on track. I don't even know what it's liked to be on
It was time for action so I called an old friend, Jamshid, who happens to be a very
successful financial whiz specializing in Iranian immigrants. He has not only made
a fortune for himself, he also has helped many Iranians achieve financial independence
by pointing them to the right direction.
I contacted Jamshid and explained my desire to join ranks with the rest of them hairy
BMW-driving brothers. He agreed to meet me at my residence.
Jamshid walked inside my trailer home and sat on a broken
chair by the kitchen table. He looked around and whispered, "Ouch!"
He opened up his briefcase, pulled out a yellow note pad, an expensive pen, and started
"In the pickle jar next to the window."
Jamshid looked up and gave me a look that had a flavor of sympathy and disgust.
"Dude, you are fucked!"
"Thanks Jamshid joon for the vote of confidence."
Jamshid rubbed his face and scratched his head. After a long and heavy silence, he
hesitantly asked, "Are your parents US citizens?"
"Yeah but they don't live here. They live in Iran."
"Are they getting Social Security and Medicare?"
"No. As I said they don't live here."
Jamshid's eyes opened wide like a little kid who has just discovered the hidden candy
"Boy, you are money. You are gold. You are my man."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your parents are worth a lot of money."
"Hell yeah; They get $700 each for Social Security. That's fourteen hundred
bucks a month. They live in Iran so they don't need it. You keep the money... "
"Wait, my parents have not worked a day in America. They have never contributed
to the Social Security fund. I don't think its right for them to get free money specially
when other people's hard-earned money is taken and given to them."
Jamshid looked at me like I was an idiot.
"Please show me where the bathroom is. I need to puke. What the hell are you
talking about? The U.S. government is giving away free money. You don't question
free money! You take it. Everybody is doing it. Are you crazy?"
Jamshid reached in his pocket and handed me his business card.
"Now remember, your parents will qualify for Medicare. You will send me their
Medicare numbers. I have a network of Iranian doctors. You know: chiropractors, dentists,
and acupuncturists. We will set them up for visits after visits. They don't physically
have to be there. I will send you $1,000 cash in return every month. If the government
people call and ask questions, just tell them your parents are very sick and need
constant medical attention. We will setup everything else."
that called insurance fraud?" I asked.
Jamshid ignored me.
"Okay. Now you have to claim your parents as dependents on your income tax."
"Wait. I told you they don't live here. How can I claim my parents when I don't
pay a dime to support them? As a matter of fact, they support me."
Jamshid reached inside his briefcase and gave me a brochure.
"Now, here comes my favorite part: Credit cards. In this brochure you will find
names and addresses of five different banks, which will issue your parents credit
cards. They issue credit cards to baboons with social security numbers. You will
order five credit cards for $3,000 credit limit each; then you will get cash advance
on all of them. That will give you $15,000 cash. You then throw away the bills and
don't worry about a thing. This will go against your parents credit which makes no
difference since they don't live here anyway."
"Wait, isn't that called credit card fraud?"
"Whatever; One last thing and this one is big: we will register a business under
your parents names and my banker friend, Sergio (Gholam), will help you get a few
hundred thousand dollars loan for the business. As soon as the loan is approved,
on behalf of your parents, you will file chapter eleven and close the company. Cha
ching! We just made a cool $200,000."
"Wait, wouldn't they put you in jail for that?"
"Not me. But your parents will. So you make sure they are not planning on coming
to U.S. for a while. Call me when you got everything setup. GHORBOONET, MAA RAFTEEM."
I picked up the phone and called my parents in Iran.
"Dad? It's me."
"I have no more money to send you," dad said
"Listen dad, I hope you are not planning on coming to America anytime soon."
"Well, the U.S. government just announced that all Iranian Americans who live
in Iran will be detained and trial in military courts as soon as they set foot in
U.S. soil. I also saw you and mom's pictures on FBI's most wanted list. I just wanted
to make sure you are not gonna come here for a while."
No answer for a few seconds, "You're scamming again, aren't you?"