Thought Stream...

...Last year when I lived in Canada for five months I befriended a middle-aged retired Navy diver and current explosive ordinance expert. We naturally gravitated toward each other as we were both intelligent, pragmatic Americans surrounded by a bunch of ex-Canadian military, most of whom were in their sixties, some of whom spoke mostly French, all of them ignorant bigots. As the months went by I made perhaps the most significant coming-of-age discovery through my new friend: As Ron Burgundy says, "I love scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly..."

Seriously, when you acquire a taste for scotch, you begin to taste the Elixir-of-the-God's, or Christ Juice as I like to call it. Does anyone else want to get down on their knees and start pleasing Jesus? Feel his salvation all over your face? (The entire clip is genius, but for relevant purposes, it's the 1:35 mark).

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I realized I never formally wrote about my experiences in Iran or posted any pictures. (Or did I?). It was the most unique experience of my life, and for the first time ever, I felt what is was like to want to fight and possibly die for a cause. Of course after 9/11 I was pretty geared up, which most likely influenced my enlightening, yet short-stint in the military several years later. However, the problems with our ensuing police actions were 1) What the fuck did Colin Powell's ethereal UN presentation kicking off our unfortunate relationship with Iraq have to do with terrorist hijackers? 2) While I was deeply upset and infuriated - still am - at those terrorist attacks, the reality was that it did not directly influence my way of life. I still had college classes. I didn't lose my job. I could still drink underage. I didn't lose any freedoms.

The distinct difference came during my civilian tour in Iran when I experienced first-hand the horrors that accompany a totalitarian theocracy: An inability for men to wear shorts in public and much more severe the clothing requirements for woman. The censorship of literature, publications, the media, etc (ie. no freedom of speech). The accounts - and visual scars - from family members and friends who have been detained and beaten for talking with the opposite sex or drinking alcohol. The well-known accounts of the Basij (a militia group) raiding dorms and raping females and murdering both sexes. The blood-stained concrete where just a day ago a protester(s) of the government and elections were shot.

I could go on and I will when I decide to write about my experience, but my point is the difference between our war on terrorism and what I experienced in Iran is the difference between intangible and tangible. Terrorists are these ghosts that no one can see and rarely ever rear their heads in the civilized world, but something that 'should be feared at all times.' The situation in Iran is an ongoing oppression that is clear to anyone who enters. Now I'm not saying we shouldn't be doing something proactive about the aforementioned ghosts, but how do you fight a few bad apples among us all? There is no good answer... it's very difficult. However, my experience in Iran directly affected me and continues to affect many many good people who I care about dearly.



(A rarely addressed irony is that Iran is like a vacation in Del Boca Vista compared to the fucking travesty that is Saudi Arabia and many other Islamic nations).

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Sahar just got home and per the norm the first words out of her mouth were -imagine the voice of an abusive Cinderella mouse, "Take your clothes off bitch!!" Then she grabbed my crotch and growled, "I own thisss." I can only cover these bruises for so long... Gotta love the Fridays though. Last Saturday we had rare after-party at our A.P.T. and like clockwork, Brain bought way more alcohol than was needed and now I will be drinking a bunch of his typical leftover Bud Lights.

Tomorrow we'll be attending an ugly sweater party, which is somewhat painful since it is like the most overused cliche amongst young professional Lincoln Park douche bags, but a lot of my friends will be there so I will swallow my pride and attend fully-wooled. (My young pro friends who live in Lincoln Park.. you aren't d-bags.. mostly).

Ok beer beer beer.