Not many people know this but many Iranians mourned 9/11. Yeb you heard we stood out in the cold and had a candle vigil. We knew what it felt like to be zero grounded.
And guess what? Our friggin ground Zero keeps following our tail around the globe. Sticks to our shoes like a chewing gum. Messes with us on happiest days. Son’s birthday. The first big date. Like it’s got one of those radar-tracking systems they put on rental cars. Comes up when you least expect it and says – Gotcha.
You think I’m kidding? Just follow me to the airport and see who gets RANDOMly selected for the security check?
I don’t know what kind of Karma shit we pulled. I don’t know maybe messed up some Babylonian priests three thousand years ago and those mothers passed the curse of Babel to us. Because I tell you – when one Iranian hears another and we need to fix the country it just comes out as: Bla Bla! or maybe when we took the cursed Darya-e-Nour diamond off our Indian cousins we got all the damnation that went with it.
If you wanna hear my story, you’ll have to get your foot dirty and follow me down the rabbit hole.
Our story starts with Jeff Rohani, or Jafar Behnamloo Rohani if you want his full name. Known to his Iranian friends as Mashty Jafar . Poor Mashty did three jobs to get through college and worked his socks off for seven years. He was the first in and last one out of the office. A total whiz in futures trading (very ironic) but he finally gets time to see the outside world, goes out once and dates a cocktail waitress, balances his Chi and gets some colour back on his cheeks. Two days later he’s in the office and talking to his buddy again (that would be me) on the phone this time about another date with this new total knockout Brazilian (a BEYONCE look alike) and wham the building shakes and the tower is hit. Panic. Panic. He can’t go down and fire is coming up. He now has to make a choice. Jump or get burnt? So he’s standing on a ledge and talking to me (Mr master mind!) asks me for advice. “Shall I jump Asghar? I’m going to jump” he says. To which I answered “bache magar khol shodi toro khoda napar?” And a second later he jumps and I heard him fall!
Shit- it took me five years of therapy to get over that! The fact that I told him not to didn’t help! He jumps and ends up as one of the jumping men of 9/11 and his body never to be found, except that being Iranian they chased his tail back to his family and tried to stick it to him beyond the grave!
After his funeral I went home and for four weeks cried like a baby. If I hadn’t cancelled our fishing Holiday we would be watching 9/11 reruns and would say: “shit Mashti that was almost you” but that didn’t happen. Did it?
Walking in a daze for weeks, I went to a Zoo. I saw a Chimp on her own and she had her finger in her privates. You see in the wild Chimps keep doing each other to get reassurance, like hey one chimp does it and says I’m here to protect you. The poor thing on her own didn’t have that so she had to stick her finger in there herself. That’s how I felt. Iranian in New York after 9/11 walking late in Central Park like I was a chimp, like I had to hold my jewels as nothing else made me feel alright! I guess finger in our privates equivalent for us humans is belief in God! Any such illusions disappeared after that episode.
What is really sad is that Mashty who was raised by an aunt had lost his parents in the Iranian ground Zero.
You might ask what Iranian ground zero?
So you only care when it happens to you! Right?
Back in 78, the religious nut jobs under the order of mother of all evils the original anti-Christ (I am talking about the very famous one and only A.KH. like voldemort I dare not repeat his name or he may pop up like an evil jinny from beyond the grave!) ordered his thugs to barricade the doors of a cinema in the lovely city of Abadan, Iran and burn 400 people alive. He did this to ignite the Islamic revolution by blaming it on the King’s security service. It worked. Poor Mashti Jafar’s parents who thought they were lucky for getting Gran to baby-sit got melted to the carpet and had to be scooped out. The Islamic fundamentalists then took over the country. A week earlier Jimmy Carter, Dennis Healey, and Giscard d’Estaing (The French bloke) decided hey let’s get rid of the king he is getting too cocky in OPEC and do it before the Russians take over with their lefties (they still had the cold war) so they backed this mother of all antidotes his holy A.KH.
Its like having chemotherapy because you don’t want hair on your ass!
Two years later they realized they seriously messed up and backed Saddam to attack Iran and got Mashti’s cousins killed. Ten years and a million lives went pufffff in the air.
After the revolution every ass-hole who was digging tarmac for the city folks because he couldn’t add one and one together put their two and two together and turned religious and started blowing things up for the fundamentalists. All over Middle East they thought “This is fucking great”, we could take over a country just like the Iranian nut jobs. That is how (with some CIA funding of course against the Russians) the world ended up with Osamas in every city.
I could go on forever. Jeff’s family were like hitting the Euro million lottery of bad lucks. His uncle, a lefty gets ordered by his thick-glassed mentor that they are now going to support this Goddamn Mullah A.KH. And never mind that he’s a backward moron, it’s for the greater good, the Mullah will go back to his prayers and they’ll rule the country as worshipped Gods of proletarians! Boy, were they seriously stupid and got screwed. Six month later they were both hanging off a noose, alongside another six thousand of any other kind that wasn’t a A.KH gooney!
His noosed uncle had turned lefty when the Americans send the CIA and did the Operation Ajax in the 50s. That’s when they threw an elected Government because the Prime Minister Mossadegh wanted the Iranian oil money for Iranians! How cheeky!
His uncle watched his uncle get shot. In Iran every uncle has an uncle!
But if you ask me, I’ll say we sit on ground zero. It’s the ground where the curse of oil is. You would think there wouldn’t be anything more blessed than just pumping out money out of the ground. You’d be wrong. It’s no blessing at all when generation after generation they hold a country hostage and have some thugs doing the dirty on you. And if you think we’re just a bunch of peasants who can’t think for ourselves remember this, before the revolution we had the works, good writers, scientists, mini skirts, and Vidal Sassoon hairdos and money in our pockets. When those guys took over we were forced from that to woman looking like black crows, Ak47s, hangings, torture, War, poverty faster than a Bugatti does naught to sixty.
You remember that next time you pump your SUV and think about the price of OIL!