POINT
The Washington Post Declares War on Iran
The Post's unquestioning service to empire is all too familiar. Back in the 1980s, the paper made a habit of playing stenographer to the Reagan administration as it justified its murderous intervention in Central America. Reagan falsely claimed that the US had to train and arm the despicable Contra rebel army against Nicaragua because the country's leadership was channeling Soviet weapons to neighboring El Salvador in a bid to destabilize U.S. client states in the entire region. The Washington Post editorial writers never wavered from that fabricated line, not even when they feigned outrage at the scandalous Iran-Contra scheme by Reagan's subordinates to fund the war on Nicaragua in violation of a Congressional ban.
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SCRIPT
A one-woman performance art piece
I stopped wearing a hejab at twelve, and at thirteen my clothing style
gradually grew shorter. I thought that the entire point of hejab was to
blend a woman with her surroundings, and if my surroundings exercised
their right to bear skin, shouldnŒt my hejab follow in pursuit? For a while it worked, but the longer time passed since I wore my
hejab, the more and more I felt like a sore thumb. I felt displaced,
homeless, and when I sought safety, I would crawl onto my bed and drape
my blanket over my entire head and body. Even today, when I remember
the empty act of praying, I don't remember the foreign words or the
unexplained movements so much as I remember the light, see-through
cloak that enveloped me, embraced me, and if I had any faith in God
during my five daily prayers, it was in the feeling that as long as I
was engulfed by his hejab, I was safe.
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LOVE
يکی از نام های شناخته شده در فرهنگ ما «مجنون» است؛ هم به عنوان نام ديگر «ابن قيس» ی که عاشق زنی به نام «ليلی» می شود و قصه ی عاشقی اش بر سر زبان ها می افتد، و هم به عنوان صفتی برای آن ها که عقل درستی ندارند. اين کلمه از عربی به فرهنگ ما آمده و در آن فرهنگ به معناي «جن زده» بکار می رود و به کسی نسبت داده می شود که حرکات عجيب و غريبی انجام دهد که با رفتارهای عادی مردمان زمانه اش همخوانی نداشته باشد.
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CRUEL
Destruction of the Bahai cemetery in Yazd
by Anonymous
I know not what it is that has overcome this land and nation. With the passing of each day, one notices more and more manifestations of weakness and desperation amongst those who reign powerful. It is as though a wellspring of the uttermost degrees of anger and hatred is gushing out of the depths of their beings. They are lost in a frenzy of bewilderment as to the manner in which to employ all that rage and fury. Their animosity towards the Bahais goes back a long, long, way: they captured the Bahais; killed them; looted their homes and belongings; and fancied that they could extinguish the Divine Light of Truth. But, they did not succeed!
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During a Press Briefing on January 9, 2003 in Manila, Philippines; a reporter asked then Under Secretary for Arms Control and International Security John Bolton a question: "On Iraq; the arms inspectors have not found any specific weapons of mass destruction that you've been outlining so far. What would be the justification for the U.S. Government to take military action if indeed it does?"
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FOR SALE
And how much for a grave?
Recently I read an interesting article about Iranian security forces
discovering a tunnel that apparently lead to the British Embassy in
Iran. I found the whole affair extremely interesting, not so much
because of the cloak and dagger stuff, but because the Iranian
authorities among other things, accused the Brits of using the tunnel
to bring in prostitutes into the embassy. I was naturally
flabbergasted by this insolence of the British embassy staff. How dare
they doing this in the Islamic Republic? Don't they know that
prostitution is illegal in Iran? Don't they know that the wise rulers
of the Islamic Republic allow temporary marriages (from a few hours to
many weeks or months, depending on one's stamina)? But what can you
expect of these foreigners? They don't know much about the country. So
I have taken it upon myself to educate them on how the Islamic Republic
functions.
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Revolutionary Guards are terrorists, but it's founder can teach in the United States
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Let's get the most important issue out of the way: Apparently I've been
drinking the wrong wine: Merlot is out and Shiraz is in if your name is
not Sally but Sadaf. Phew...thanks Mr. Bahmani...To think that all this
time, I wasn't doing what Iranian women do. (For the record, my comment
on well done steak and Merlot was SARCASTIC. I'm a quarter French. My
French ancestors would
nefrin me if they ever caught me eating a piece of meat
mal cuvee!)
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As an Iranian girl, it is so hard not to get obsessed with getting married. There is so much pressure from our families and from society but it also seems like a lot of it is internal. I want to get married, I want to share my life with someone, I want to have children - but before I can do that successfully, I need to learn how to love myself.
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Donna Haghigat Jou has been missing since June 23, 2007 and her Family misses her much.
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FILM
A screenplay by Ren A. Hakim
Interestingly Hollywood may well discover a new and interesting version of the legendary tale of Xerxes and Esther thanks to a script written by a beautiful American actor/writer of Iraqi heritage: Ren A. Hakim. All the more interesting is that Hakim's script is titled
Xerxes and tries to take a look at this story from the perspective of the King whose reign saw the expansion of the Persian Empire to its pinnacle and during which the Palace of Persepolis was to be completed as an architectural Imperial legacy for future generations before its fatal destruction and burning centuries later by Alexander the Great.
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In February 2007 when Stop Child Execution Petition and website at www.stopchildexecutions.com
were launched we were aware of 25 recorded cases of children awaiting
execution in Iran. Due to highened awareness about the subject within
Iran every month parents and lawyers of more children in Iran have
contacted SCE and others asking for help.
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ساعت سه و نیم با جی قرار گذاشته بودم در پاپ مترو نزدیک ایستگاه قطار لیورپول.پنج دقیقه دیر رسیدم چون یک ایستگاه قطار را اشتباهی سوار شده بودم .شب قرار بود برای مسافرت دو هفته ای به هلند و چند جای دیگر برود .دو ساعتی با هم گپ زدیم و طبق معمول پر از لذت و شادی برایم بود ، محور حرفها از شیما و مارینا ، از پروژه تواب سازی و نیروهای اپوزوسیون و از جزیره و ایرانی هایی که هنوز در دنیای آزاد در سال پنجاه و هفت مانده اند و دنیا را سیاه و سفید می بینند بود .
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STORY
Whoever I may be, I know that now I’m the precise and perfect meaning of my name
I don’t know the meaning of my name. But I know one thing: my name is entirely what I am. Already, I’ve forgotten the name that’s given to me. Maybe if I think harder, I’ll remember it. Yet I feel no urge to look for it: it was like all those things that must have been lost, those that must have been gone and set free in formlessness. I shaped my new name on my own, though. First, it was simply an insignificant speck of pollen among thousands of other specks, drifting around in the air, searching for the pistil. I waved at that very spec and it floated toward me. “Just don’t forget to water me everyday,” it whispered.
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