Sisters are Doin’ it for Themselves

Posted on September 19, 2012

0


Enough is enough and enough is too much.

This just in.  Women are not only fed up to the eyeslots in their Burkhas and Hijabs, but are fighting back against the pigs that are oppressing them – in Iran of all places!

Hojatoleslam – emphasis on the ‘slam’ part – Ali Beheshti, admits that a woman he harangued for improper attire, kicked his sorry ass up one side of the dirt road and down the other.   The Iranian Cleric POS whines to the state run organ of fables, fabrication and official dogma, that he was merely minding someone else’s business – in this case, telling a woman that she was dressing slutty and she went ape crazy on him.

According to Mehr – the Iranian State run daily, Ali Beheshti said he encountered the woman in the street while on his way to the mosque in the town of Shahmirzad, and asked her to cover herself up, to which she replied “you, cover your eyes,” according to Mehr.  The cleric repeated his warning, which he said prompted her to insult and push him.

She might have actually told him to go get himself a nice cup of ‘Shut the F*%k Up’ to which he may have asked “Where might I find such a cup of this beverage you recommend”.   Which is probably when she told him “Don’t bother, I’ll make you one right here on the spot!”

The official story has the Imam describing what happened next as thus:

“I fell on my back on the floor,” Beheshti said in the report.   (So did I when I read this).

“I don’t know what happened after that, all I could feel was the kicks of this woman who was insulting me and attacking me.”

Hahahahahahaha. Hahahahahahahaha.  Excuse me for a moment while I wipe the tears from my eye…from convulsive laughter.

Wonder if she also gave him a stiff ‘Hee -Jab’ and a Left upper cut?

What a damn cry baby, this first cousin of a Hyena.   He’s lucky that woman was in a good mood that day.   He might not have lived to tell about the not so refreshing can of Whoop Ass he was served.   Pardon me if the storyline somewhat reminds me of the lyrics to that great Lieber and Stoller classic, ‘Love Potion No. 9′:

“I didn’t know if it was day or night
I started kissin’ everything in sight
But when I kissed a cop down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion Number Nine”

O.K. not that close, but I like it anyway.  Sue me.

All right, boomers, how about this one from Paul Revere and the Raiders:

Kicks just keep gettin’ harder to find
(Oh, you don’t need kicks, girl)
And all your kicks ain’t bringin’ you peace of mind
(You just need help, girl)
Before you find out it’s too late, girl
You better get straight

Would you believe, “These Boots were made for Walkin'”???

Fine, then, You people are tough to please.   I just try to have a little fun with a story about a woman who’s sick of being told what’s what every day of her miserable life and goes WWF on Mr. Ali Butinsky, and…

… don’t look at me like that!

The story has a happy ending to go along with the happy beginning and happy middle.   She rolled up on the bastard and sent his male dominance, Shariah law enforcing butt on an all expenses paid trip to the hospital for three luxurious days and nights.

The Iranian press discloses with chagrin and regret, that this incident is far from uncommon in Iran. This woman is the good kind of Heroin.   The kind with an e on the end – Heroine.

But either way, she provided me with my fix for the day, maybe for the year – nobody might top it.   She’d be the kind of immigrant we would welcome here in America.   Someone that won’t take Guano from puffed up authoritarians.

Think of her as a role model – not just for you women – though she certainly is, but for all of us.   If we awarded her an honorary ‘set’ of well, you know, Huevos? – we’d have to deliver them on a flatbed double trailer.

Apparently this son of a Camel’s patoot, Beheshti, is a glutton for punishment (and a total idiot).   The Iranian cleric said it was his religious duty to apply the principle of “commanding right and forbidding wrong,” and that he would continue to do so even after living through what he called “the worst day of my life.”   

Guess what, you clown – for the women who have to deal with vermin like you, every day is crummy.

One can only hope that the next ‘worst day of his life’ –  is his last.

Advertisements