OK, Actually I lied, but this is after all only a blog. As we know, blogs are mostly lies. Just stream of consciousness ones. But there are a group of Iranians I actually do find myself hating.
I hate those Iranians who show up late to a concert, and have better seats than mine.
I hate those Iranians who drive Benzes, and tell you that they don’t particularly like the car all that much.
I hate those Iranians who tell you they live in Bel Air, but then you find out it’s an apartment with a roommate.
I hate Iranians who insist you try this new drink they’ve invented, called the “Persian Surprise”.
I hate Iranians who look right at you, blink a lot and then and insist, “No, I am Italian.”
I hate Iranians who smell like Ghormeh Sabzi after Raquetball.
I hate Iranians who pretend they are dumb.
I hate Iranians who like Baseball.
I hate Iranians who think they could actually be DJ’s (DJ Rameen Excluded)
I hate Iranians who own “Mediterranean Cuisine” restaurants.
I hate Iranians who have been here for 30 years and esteel eenseest on tokking like dees!
I hate Iranians who march in the same NY streets to protest the movie 300, but can’t seem to schedule it when Ahmadinejad is visiting.
I hate Iranians who start web-based petitions that collect fake emails.
I hate those Iranians who live well, in Iran, and don’t complain. I don’t blame them, but I hate them.
I hate Iranians who are actually free, and still can’t speak out a simple NO.
But most of all, I hate Iranians who hate Iranians. And before Bacheh Porroo can say it, yes, therefore, I must hate myself. And you know what? Especially these days, I find, that I kind of do.
Which actually sucks. I think I need that “Persian Surprise” drink after all!
