Iranian Justice? What a Joke!

On August 8, 2004, Atefeh Rajabi, a sixteen year old girl, was executed in the Iranian city of Neka. Officially, her crime was ‘acts incompatible with chastity.’ Unofficially, it was because she was a free spirit in a dogmatic theocracy, doing what she wanted and thumbing her nose at authority in the form of the stupid Iranian laws

An example had to be made and made it was as the teenager, Atefeh Rajabi dangled from the end of a crane in a square for forty-five minutes.

The late not so great Ayatollah Khomeini, was quoted as saying “There is no fun in Islam.” Obviously this is true, unless you happen to be one one the misanthropes who run the misbegotten hunk of desert called Iran.

The following is a reprint of an article I came across on the internet.

Siamack Baniameri
September 25, 2004
iranian.com

In the past twenty some years, I have seen them come and I’ve seen them go. Some live, some die, and some disappear. Some are executed, some are tortured, some are rotting in prisons, and some are rotting in hell or heaven — depends on who you talk to.

It doesn’t bother me none. They have chosen that path and they have bigger balls than you and I. They have been around for thousands of years and they’ll be around for thousands more: the rebels, revolutionaries, freedom fighters, activists, and whatnot.

But seeing her picture, hanging from a rope, broke my heart. I generally don’t give a shit, but this one, I couldn’t stomach. Dead, she looked more human than many of the living in this jungle of inhumanity.

Atefeh Rajabi was my kind of a girl: a hard-drinking, sex-loving, foul-mouthed, rebellious, defiant, seductive teenager who didn’t take shit from grownups and made no attempt to sugarcoat her demeanor the way Iranian women often do.

She was a type of a teenager who would look us straight in the eyes and tell us to go to hell. She didn’t put up with our rules and laws and traditions and social standards and religious beliefs or code of conduct. She didn’t buy any of our bullshit. She didn’t care anymore. She had enough of our crap.

Atefeh did what she liked and for that she stays on my cool-list. Atefeh’s defiance of all conceited Iranian social and cultural values is what makes her my number one girl.

Some of you are probably thinking that admiring a teenager who exhibited immoral and decadent behavior is inappropriate and sets a bad example. The only answer I have for you is what most likely Atefeh would’ve told you to fuck off. You created Atefeh and many like her. And you — that’s right, you — tie the rope around their necks every single day of their young lives.

Atefeh and many like her are byproducts of dysfunctional Iranian culture that push teenage girls underground in search of answers to some fundamental human questions and needs. A sick culture that is cherished by many of us because it feeds our egos and band-aids our defeats and deficiencies.

We have managed to deprive our teenage girls from every essence that makes them human. We have managed to take away their desires, curiosity, self-respect, wit, and the most basic instinct of every human: to seek happiness.

We get offended by Atefeh Rajabi and others like her because she challenges every fiber of our traditional pride and she questions everything that is sacred to us. Atefeh was poison to Iranian values and she needed to be silenced. And that’s exactly what we did.

While thousands of execution enthusiasts watched her little neck snap like a toothpick and her small body dangling from a rope for twenty minutes, not a single asshole said a damn thing to stop it. Boy, am I proud to be an Iranian.

I wish I knew her. Like her big brother, I can picture myself having a lively conversation with her over a shot of chilled vodka and maasto-khiaar. Would I have a drink with my teenage sister? Why the hell not!

I would’ve told her a dirty joke or two and I’m sure she would’ve matched with some of her own. I would have asked her if there was a guy in the ‘hood that she had her eyes on. I would’ve asked her who her favorite singer was or what kind of music she listened to. I would have thanked her for being who she was and kissed her small hands for no particular reason.

For many self-righteous Iranian folks who abandon Atefeh and many like her because she was a “whore” or “misfit,” take a good look at that small girl’s body hanging from a crane. This is your daughter.

MY SEXY MEETING WITH DIANA ROSS

I think I’ll write about the time I met Diana Ross. You know the lead singer of the Supremes and later solo, making dozens of record albums and some movies.

Let me start by saying that when I met Diana Ross around thirty years ago, she was a very sexy lady. Yes, I know she was skinny as a rail, but it was a very sexy rail.

Now, before I go any further, for those who don’t know, I’m a white heterosexual male and before I met Diana, I never gave much thought to her. Yes, I liked her music, some of which are classics and I thought she was attractive in a slinky sort or way, but until I met her, I had never thought of Diana Ross and sexy on the same page let alone the same sentence.

I met Diana one afternoon in Las Vegas in a home she was leasing, I happened to have built. It was a strange home, that I had been tasked with building to be a tour house the upcoming Home Builders Convention. The home was a Joint Venture between House Beautiful Magazine and the American Wood Council.

But enough about the house, this is about the siren Diana and me. She had called my office and requested the meeting. It seems she was considering buying the home and wanted to know if certain changes and additions were possible. Sounds innocent enough, doesn’t it?

When I arrived, she answered the door in a satin robe, sorry I forget the color. She was wearing her hair short then, but really it was always her intriguing face that brought out her sensuality. She suggested we go into the kitchen and I followed her. Now, admittedly, Diana is slender but her derriere is not. It showed loud and clear through the satin robe as she sauntered down the hall to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, we settled on opposite sides of the large center island, where she discussed and I wrote and sketched her thoughts about the possible renovation. We were finished in about ten minutes and after saying I would check on some things and get back with her, I thought she’d show me out. But she didn’t. Her intense gaze gave me the impression she was studying me. Was she sizing me up? Finally, she said, “I’ve been a poor host, would you like something to drink. Beer, wine, soda?”

I agreed to a beer. She pulled two cans of Miller Light out of the Sub Zero, walked over and handed one to me. She took a long swig out of hers, eyeing me as she did. But that wasn’t all. Out of the blue, she started talking about how she loved roling in the hay, having strenuous sex with a well built, well endowed men. She didn’t just say it once, but several times, rephrasing the same subject as she went.

Is she coming on to me? Nah, it couldn’t be. I wanted to jump out of my body and see what she was seeing. I knew I was fairly good looking, but I was neither well built nor well endowed. When I finished my beer and set the can down, she smiled seductively and threw both cans in the trash, then without asking retrieved two more beers. On her trip to the refrigerator the top of her robe had become rearranged and when she leaned forward I could see the protruding nipple of one of her breasts and she leaned forward a lot.

I’d like to say I was stiff as a board and hot to boot, but I was too nervous to act. I was a lamb to a lioness. For me to be able to perform, I have to be perfectly comfortable and many times with a new partner I am unsuccessful. If she wanted sex and I was reasonably sure she did, I was equally sure I would disappoint her and her probable disappointment backed me off.

When I didn’t respond in kind to her provocations, she cooled off. Soon we were back to a cordial business relationship. As she showed me to the door I said I would get back to her and she smiled and said, “Please do.”

That was the first and last time I saw the very sexy lady as I informed her the next day with a phone call the things she desired weren’t possible.

I think of that day from time to time. Is it a true story. Did I embellish it? I’m a writer, what do you think” Nevertheless I guarantee ninety percent is true.

I know it’ll never happen,but I’d just love to write Diana’s memoirs. Wouldn’t that be a kick.

Hmmm. That was fun. Maybe next time I’ll tell you about Cher

Now, while I have your attention, I want to tell you about my newest book release. It’s not romance and it’s not erotic, but it is exciting. It’s a full length mainstream action/thriller called On the Heels of Evil by D.E. Daum and ladies, it has an alpha male and two alpha females you’ll just fall in love with. It’s available at Excessica, ARE and Amazon among others. Check it out, I think you’ll be pleased.

As an added incentive, if you order On the Heels form Excessica, I will send your choice of my other eXcessica titles, Bananaz, Tattoos or Forbidden Passion.

Page Link for On the Heels of Evil