بعضی دوست داردند خود را گول بزنند. بعضی هم میخواهند دیگران را گول بزنند. هردو دسته هم بر یک مورد توافق دارند: خواستههای جنبش سبز در چهارچوب قانون اساسی کنونی دست یافتنی میباشند
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گروه نظامی سیاسی عقاب ایران مصرانه در آستانه تعیین سریع روز رستاخیز میباشد
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TORA BORA
Must you use a most unimaginative derogatory name such as 'Akmed' to refer to all of us?
I was getting on a flight to start my vacation. When I approached my seat, a nice Texan lady in the seat next to mine started eyeing me with a bit of suspicion. "What's wrong with you?... Your hair is all... dark and ethnic. Your eyes are so... not blue... so demonic. You look so... unlike us. Oh my god! I'm scared." Before I could react she began screaming frantically: "Marshal! Air marshal!" A mean-looking large man and a tiny one trying to look mean by chewing a toothpick jumped out of their seats, pulled out their Tasers, approached and assumed shooting postures. "Don't move, scumbag," yelled the large one
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STORY
“It happened last night, in his sleep,” she said
There are good days and bad days, even good years and bad years. But then, there are years like the year my son was born. It was the same year my father died. Who knows how these years are supposed to be called? A simple ringtone started this all. It was my mother. Father’s stroke was two months behind us and everything, like in fairy tales, was going to work out just fine. Father was going to wake up one morning, remembering us and remembering who he was and we were going to talk about the past the same way we used to tell a story with happy ending
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Amir Zamanifar sent me this picture back in March 2005. I met Amir through my writings when he was in Rasht and he was a brilliant young man
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Deal or no deal? And does the new Basilj leader have some grievances with Ahmadinejad?
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POETRY
یارب ار زاهد مکار نهد چهره به خاک
نیک داند که کند خاک پلیدی را پاک
دامن آلوده، تن آلوده، ردا آلوده
این بود زاد ره رجعت او در فتراک
ظاهرش پاک و درون ناک و عمل در لاک است
نییتاش ناسره، معجون ریا، جوهره ناک
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POETRY
In honor of Lotfi Zadeh an old friend and wonderful soul
Strolling on a foggy night,
Talking to Zadeh, a witty scientist,
I discovered how fuzzy our minds are.
When I told him that my lover wore red silk
He asked me: 'What shade of red?'
I said: 'Well, it was not maroon or magenta or pink,
But a sexy red just a little lighter than the stoplight
That freezes people in their tracks.'
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