As the final touches went on the most ridiculous charade since the last time the CIA tried to paint pro-communist pro-Mossadegh slogans on Tehran shop windows and walls, the embarrassment that the un-reasonably self appointed, thug, election thieves have to now deal with is the utter ridiculousness of “The Kiss”.
Last time, Khamenei outright bussed his former chauffeur and laundry picker-upper, and favorite firing squad triggerman. Possibly catching that titillating bit of the corner of the lip. 3 times as is customary in most Arab countries, and all the rage in Iran, these days, and even at country club social events in the US. 3 kisses is ultra cool. I think they are even going to release it this season on “Entourage”.
This time though, the invisible cloak wearing all-seeing, all knowing Supreme Burrito (small donkey, not the tasty Mexican sandwich) clearly still pissed at the recent audacity of his protege cum iocus, refused, almost stopped the smiling slobbering sloth, finally granting the least of all erogenous zones, a quick dry peck on the left shoulder.
This is the moment, I would like everyone to remember. Sear it in your brains. Not as the endorsement it was meant to be, but as the karmic kiss of death, that hopefully will befall these two. In their sleep. Soon. I have asked all my skier buddies to momentarily replace the word Snow in “Think Snow”.
As Iranians, we don’t often agree. We rarely acknowledge the slightest common direction. But I think the time is ripe, and the majority of us, including the best people in the world for once, can all agree on the quick elimination of these two stools, from the bowels of our country. Double-flush to be safe. Talk about erasing pages in history books!
Those who will automatically disagree, should look carefully at the symbolism of the silky translucent robes that Khamenei and ilk wear. Their smiles say, “I’m too Sexy for this robe. Too sexy it hurts (you)”.
But since we are Iranians, we are presumably not yet quite evolved enough to know better, and so we are to this day, at this writing, still actually considering God, enslaved by all that great pig-meat-fearing mumbo-jumbo of simple luck as fate. Really, in this day and age! Even after all the betrayal God has foisted upon us?
But I am not here to change everyone, as Iranian as that might seem, for that would be truly (and traditionally) dictatorial. I will offer instead, that if my fellow Iranians still insist on clinging on to that great cling-on superstition of the universe (uranus?), I offer, let’s go full heresy trial, and let God actually decide.
Toss them into the Sea of Green and see how long they float!
