I'm sick and tired of bloggers. Stop it for God's sake! Instead of hiding behind your computer all day and all night and telling others to go “lengesh kon,” get your skinny ass out there and mix it up. Blow up some cars and burn down some buildings. Get in a fistfight with a revolutionary guardsman, chase down a Basiji in a dark alley and smack him around a little bit … you gutless, keyboard warrior.
I'm sick and tired of Iranian women who write about their childhood memories. Okay, okay, we get it: you were born in Iran, things were good at first, then it became bad, then you moved abroad and you were confused and then you found a boyfriend and your parents made your life a living hell. Who cares? It's overdone. Write about something else. We are bored.
I'm sick and tired of the Googosh-Aghdashloo's feud. Ladies, please control your hormones. Like any healthy Iranian man, when it comes to psychotic quarrels between two women, I expect to see a catfight followed by a wet T-shirt contest and mud wrestling. What's going on here? Can we please get two Iranian women in their twenties to call each other names instead of two women in their fifties? That should be illegal.
And you know what I'm sick and tired of? I'm sick and tired of rose, orange and velvet revolutions. The world has gone gay. “Oh, we were out there on the streets, passing on roses, kissing and singing.” Well, fuck you. What happened to good old-fashioned revolutions when you went out there, kicked ass and got even with people you don't like? What happened to burning tires, throwing rocks, Molotov cocktails and smashing windows? What happened to the smell of teargas, sweat and blood?
I'm sick and tired of expats who go to Iran once a year to bring back Persian rugs and flash their undeserving American or EU passports at their relatives who are trapped in that country. You might think you're cool, but people in Iran think you're an asshole.
Why don't you stay in Iran for a while? Get four jobs like everybody else; feed your family meat and chicken once a month and inhale Tehran's polluted air for a year or two. See how it feels to run around for three days to payoff your water and electricity bills and to get slapped by a bearded twenty-year-old for wearing a sleeveless shirt.
I'm sick and tired of petitions. Here is an idea: how about a petition to end all petitions? Better yet: how about a petition to let you shoot the next guy who asks you to sign a petition? I'm in. Where do I sign?
I'm sick and tired of LA Irooni male singers in their fifties who hire sixteen-year-old models to dance in their music videos while singing to them, “Why don't you tell me you love me … “
Dude, she does not love you. You are the same age as her grandpa. You are a pedophile. You can go to jail for this.
I'm sick and tired of people who start every sentence with, “Ghorboonet beram.” These words mean that you will sacrifice your life for me. Bullshit. You will not come anywhere near the vicinity of sacrificing yourself for me or anybody else. Stop kissing ass. We come from a gutless culture that throws around meaningless flattering words to confirm sincerity. Stop it, we are not impressed.
I'm sick and tired of rich Iranian aghazadehs who convert their questionable fortunes from rials to dollasr and buy multi-million dollar homes in Beverly Hills and Brentwood. You wanna impress us? Invest in a haircut and personal hygiene products. Take a shower for God's sake. Gohrmeh Sabzi is not a perfume, chewing a gum will not hide your bad breath and using an underarm deodorant will increase your chances of scoring with women.
And lastly, I'm sick and tired of chain emails that invite Iranians to participate in a referendum to bring democracy to Iran. Sure, I'm all for it and I vote for anarchy. Please make a note of my vote and do not bother me again.