|
.......
|
 Shahscam! Dad, I hope you are not planning on coming to America anytime soon February 12, 2002 The Iranian 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 track). 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 asking questions: "Education?" "None." "Skills?" "Nope." "Savings?" "In the pickle jar next to the window." "Job?" "Less." 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 jar. "Boy, you are money. You are gold. You are my man." "What are you talking about?" "Your parents are worth a lot of money." "They are?" "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." "Isn't
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." "Shut up." 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
without hesitation. "Listen dad, I hope you are not planning on coming to America anytime soon." "Why?" "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?"
 |
|
|
|
Web design by BTC Consultants
Internet server: Global Publishing Group