Thus Spoke Zan Oosta

God created Iranian women to look good and to fix men

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Thus Spoke Zan Oosta
by Hamid Taghavi
25-Oct-2009
 

Once upon a time, a nice gal who was getting restless about running out of time for finding serious marital prospects went to Zan Oosta, her cynical but experienced friend who put it to her thusly:

“Cast the broadest net that you can, aiming to catch the biggest and best but be ready to settle for the bottom feeders. For increased chances, string along a few, put them through hell and whoever lasts the longest is the one nature selected for you through its law of survival of the dumbest.

“Put up the sweetest, most innocent face, and act like an angel who has never been looked at, let alone violated. Cover up the tracks of your past relationships. Remove all traces of the other men because some men dabble a little in double standards. They think if a woman does what made them studs she is a slut. If they find out their woman has ever been touched they'll fall into a state of deadly despondence requiring immediate paramedic attention by tastefully attired and properly fragranced personnel, either that or another upgrade to their vehicular obsession. They're fragile that way. They still think their mothers are virgins and they are products of the Immaculate Conception.

“The secret with these men is to make them feel like the titans that they think they are, the coolest, best dressed, most talented, and highly desired. In reality, we all know it is the Iranian women are who are all those. So, say things that he wants to hear. Intentionally mistake him for Brad Pitt once in a while. Let him do all the talking because it gives him the illusion this is a sign of things to come. Pepper the conversation with ‘oh you know soooo much, Brad!’ In time he’ll learn how little he knows. Laugh at all his dumb jokes. Slap your knee and proclaim your day isn’t complete until he has forced the sun up with his humor and boundless knowledge. Stare at him often with puppy eyes so adoringly that when you leave he’ll say to himself: ‘Wow, I didn’t know I was such a spectacular stud. I might have to turn it down a notch to prevent mass suicide of admirers.’ They like modest girls so tell him you don’t need a big wedding, only 800 guests, 1000 tops. Keep your ambitions in check. Your moment will arrive and your patience will be rewarded handsomely.

“Once married, unleash your inner boss. Release the fury. Let the fixing games begin. Dominate the conversation. If he starts talking interrupt. If in public finish his sentences for him. Do not worry about fairness. If you do 94 to 98 percent of the talking you are still well below what wives generally average. Years later when you go to counseling complain about how he never contributes to the conversation and you have to do 94 to 98 percent of the talking.

“If he ever gives you a single flower instead of a double-double bouquet worthy of a Da Vinci painting issue implicit threats such as ‘all options are on the table’ and ‘Lorena Bobbit proved that deficits don’t matter.’ Never miss a chance to tell him he was your bottom choice and how you gave up more upscale suitors to settle for a factory reject like him. Always find flaws with the way he dresses. When he sleeps squirt some ketchup on his clean shirts and the next day start a fight over how sloppy he is. Secretly discard his ties that don’t meet your standards. If he asks yell at him that you are sick of finding everything for him. Take cash out of his wallet without telling and if he complains make a point of him being a penniless scoundrel. As a preventive measure point out a pretty woman and ask if he finds her attractive. He will inevitably claim she is ugly. That way, if he ever divorces you he’ll never be with her because he once called her ugly.

“You don't have to break him first to remake him in your own image because most men are already broken. And don't try to fix him before marriage either because taking the cork out of the bottle before it’s time spoils the wine. You’ll either spook him away or lose the patient. In fact, you probably can't fix him after marriage either but you must try as it’s the funnest thing you’ll ever do. Once he is hooked on your rice-based dinners and your ability to organize his socks you are firmly in charge. Then fix him and fix him good. Fix him hard and fix him often.

“Iranian men were broken when God formulated their DNA. Then they were broken some more by spoilage when their mommies bathed them in milk and wrapped them in silk so their delicate natures wouldn't bruise. As if that wasn’t enough those mommies kept calling them soosool tala which is why circumcision is done, a mining expedition to expose all the gold. Later they got more broken when their daddies slapped them around because it is a shortcut to proper upbringing and it shows the son who the Rostam is in the house. And a little more when the government beat them up any time the boys tippytoed into affairs not their business, such as politics. Then some more when they landed abroad but the herds of the skinny models they expected at their feet upon arrival didn’t materialize. Then they were broken beyond repair when through ceaseless ambition and well-paying jobs, they became arrogantly confident, disposing of any urge to improve.

“There is no medical cure for them. Neither books nor spiritual advisors can save the day. There is only one group with the magical power to fix Iranian men. God created Iranian women to look good and to fix men. Onward and upward, sister, because you ain't perfect until you walk around with a broken woolly mammal on your arm to show other women you got your toy to repair while they are still hunting for their own repair jobs. So, aim high and shoot low because, too many broken men, too little time.

“Have you got all that, honey?”

Somewhere else, a guy who had successfully finished the stud phase was panicking that the horse race was about to end and yet he hadn't gone home with a Triple Crown worthy of pleasing the ever unappeasable mommy. So he went to Oosta, a cynical but wise friend who spoke thusly:

“Time is running out. You are balding in places that you never had hair to begin with, and all your places that have no business entertaining follicles are sprouting enough hair to afro all of the Sixties. Your flabby belly is making a point that designer belts are pointless because you can't see through the hanging donut around your waist. Your breasts will soon need their own uplifting engineering experience unless you get a reverse boob job which you won't because you're too macho to even let a reluctant doctor examine that same area your mommy once thought golden.

“In short, you are leaking oil, have too many miles, your tires are threadbare and you are out of warranty. Look hard and grab whoever you can. If she moves, propose. If she doesn’t move show her a designer bag and go ‘Gucci Gucci Gucci’! If she still doesn’t move call an ambulance. She’s dead. And the dead might soon be the only ones willing to date you.

“Cast the broadest net you can for Iranian women, but don't leave out other minorities and majorities as backups. Still, if you are interested in getting anywhere in life there is just one solution. Only Iranian women will put up with your imagined superiority, your inferior personality, your exterior inferiority and your compulsive superficiality. Never mind that all along they were hoping to land a doctor so they would earn the title ‘Khanoom Doctor' the easy way. You might be able to net one since the fierce competition for the coveted doctor prize makes it hard to land one without being equally accomplished or from royal blood. That is good news for you, or else you'd have to grow two curled horns and butt heads with other rams on rocky summits, fighting over the remaining female ram who has got that uh-oh look on her face: ‘I'm supposed to do WHAT with that numbskull who just butted heads with other numskulls for two weeks in a row?’

“Until you have her trapped in the cage of marriage and disfigured her body with the birth of your spawn, treat her like a princess, like an infallible angel, like the Miss Universe, like God's gift to mankind, like you can't spend another darn tootin' minute without her. Play those songs that call dokhtar iroony all the highest accolades in the book. Point at her while you sing along in case she forgets she’s the dokhtar iroony in the song.

“Tell them dumb jokes. The dumber the better. They like silly men. Give them single flowers. They find it romantic. Flaunt your knowledge of useless trivia. Women enjoy a man who knows a thing or two about the Pythagorean Theorem of isosceles triangles and the lifestyle of that swine who caused the flu.

“The day after the wedding throw out those songs and the royal treatment. Stop behaving yourself because you are exhausted from all that effort during the courtship. Walk around in your most unappealing, undersized underwear, letting your big belly hang out. Why hide all the saggy flab you worked so hard to build around you when you can gross her out back into the kitchen?

“You don’t need to be funny anymore, or talk, because it is she who will be doing all the talking, thank you very much. Pretend you are listening but be careful because paying attention to an incessant talker is like staring at the sun. Many men have fried their brains attempting the feat. The overload is too much on the brain. It will shut down and go into a coma to protect its circuitry. Keep your mind elsewhere but make random noises once in a while to give the impression that you are listening. If you can limit her talking to 94 to 98 percent you are already ahead of the game and other men will envy you. Spend all your cash drinking with your buddies because she’ll take what’s left as you sleep.

“Do not do any housework! Your momma didn’t raise a son to blemish his beautiful hands washing dishes. It is your God-given right as an Iranian man to spread in front of the TV all day, watching football with other flab-master buddies. She can clean and cook while you beer-burp and scream obscenities at those inept players in the telecast who surely can hear you. They obviously aren't as strong and athletic as you even though they have zero body fat and you have zero body anything else. Everyone knows you know more than those professional athletes even though the closest you ever got to a football field was for that auto auction in the stadium. She'll take your loafing, smile at your friends while feeding them, and as soon as they leave your behind will morph into grass. You’ll be arguing who did what. She’ll educate you on how she turned away all those top notch suitors to be with a lazy son of a pimp like you whose family’s rottenness can be traced to what your second-aunt-in-law did a century ago.

“Then for the rest of your life she’ll be fixing you. You are not going to change one bit because it’s more fun watching her try in futility. If by some freak of nature you change, her job is done and she'll leave you anyway for that perfect doctor who by now is divorced and looking a fixer to take care of his brats. And that, if you are lucky, is your futures in a nutshell because the only way you both will be happy is to be miserable as long as it is in the company of the person who causes the misery. So, aim low and shoot even lower, for life is too long and your nostrils don’t match.

“Have you got all that, sonny?”

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more from Hamid Taghavi
 
Hamid Taghavi

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by Hamid Taghavi on

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Esther

Oh no!

by Esther on

Of course, if all truths were self-evident, Zan Oosta (and you) would be out of business.  And we wouldn't want that.  Although I am having trouble imagining i.com with a designated advice column ... . :)


Hamid Taghavi

Esther

by Hamid Taghavi on

I just had this nightmare in which Zan Oosta stopped assuming all truths are self-evident and stated the finer points about flab. Then she took it one step further, providing quality advice instead of scheming.  Akmed over there and his counterpart learned to build character instead of bigger nets, chose to find themselves before a mate, and became happier when their worlds replaced material goods sporting 1 year expiration dates with timeless poetry.  And then my preachy article was moved to the advice column and people stopped reading it.  That’s when I woke up in a cold sweat.  It was horrible.


Esther

Hamid

by Esther on

From an other majority point of view, do you think Zan Oosta could advise Akmed that even those of us who appreciate dark and ethnic hair and not blue eyes, do not appreciate flabby bellies and breasts that may be larger than our skinny model ones?  On the bright side, we may buy our own Gucci bags, and we may even forego them altogether if Akmed promises to read Persian poetry to us (which is more than we can hope for from other majority men who, especially after the wedding, are really not very dissimilar :).


Hamid Taghavi

anonymous111.2

by Hamid Taghavi on

The closest I ever came to money in conjunction with writing was when I was offered not to write.  Eventually JJ got tired of paying and allowed me to write again.  Thank you for reading and more importantly the flattery.


anonymous111.2

Nicely written

by anonymous111.2 on

Do you write professionally?


Hamid Taghavi

Ahmad_

by Hamid Taghavi on

Today I play the observer part.  If weddings go down as the result of a piece of satire perhaps divorces would too!   Thanks for reading and being a good sport.


ahmad_

Hamid

by ahmad_ on

As your name suggests you are also an iranian man. So where do you fit in all of these description, which by the way are mostly true.

And I guess we will be seeing less of those wedding videos of Iranian couples on this site thanks to your outpouring of care and compassion for poor Iranian men. LOL


Hamid Taghavi

Ari

by Hamid Taghavi on

No ouch.  No ouch.  Just a little fun.  The objects in the mirror are a lot funner than they appear.  Thank you for reading.


Hamid Taghavi

MPD

by Hamid Taghavi on

Thank you thank you thank you.  I'm glad you enjoyed it.


Hamid Taghavi

AminP

by Hamid Taghavi on

Thank you for reading.  You wouldn't be the AminP that I know, would you?


Ari Siletz

Ouch!

by Ari Siletz on

Hillarious funhouse mirror. Wait a sec, that's the real...? Chasbid.

Multiple Personality Disorder

Excellent, excellent, exellent

by Multiple Personality Disorder on

I am jealous.  No, make it envious.


AminP

Aivalla Hamid

by AminP on

Bravo Hamid. Great writing.


Hamid Taghavi

Ariane

by Hamid Taghavi on

If we only had a manual... life would be so good!  Thanks for reading and the nice words.


Hamid Taghavi

Holly

by Hamid Taghavi on

I enjoyed the video.  The shot of the mechanic and his cup of tea + sugar cubes on the radiator is priceless.  Thanks for posting it.


default

Hilarous

by ariane on

Tremendously enjoyed reading this piece. It is SO TRUE!!!

It's like a manual you need to be with you at all times.

Thanks and god bless! 

 

 


HollyUSA

Hamid jan

by HollyUSA on

After I read this, I went and read the LA wedding post from a while ago. Hilarious! You are a very talented writer and I'll be sure to follow your blogs. So please don't 'starve' us.

Going by your stories, I suspect you live in LA or are well familiar with the hamvatans there. If so, you'll find this video humorous (if you haven't seen it already that is). Itried to post it but for some reason it wouldn't embed.

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmiTeLtDrlk

Thanks again.


Hamid Taghavi

Shifteh

by Hamid Taghavi on

We'll have to ask JJ but I think it's real and a stock photo, and it does tell stories.  He came up with a good one for this article (good taste, JJ).  And many thanks for reading, Shifteh khanom.


yolanda

......

by yolanda on

Thank you, Hamid,

       LOL! Thank you for finding the loopholes, thank you!!!....actually, being quiet or not being able to finish a conversation is not that bad. He is better than a talkative person who lies a lot.

Thank you for the article, which is entertaining and "educational"! You have torn both sides apart, OMG!

thanks,

 

 


shifteh

Is that picture for real?!

by shifteh on

After i read this piece, which was absolutely funny, i looked at the picture again.  And, this time, those pairs of eyes had some stories to tell!

Agha Hamid, job well done!  Great read.


Hamid Taghavi

Yolanda

by Hamid Taghavi on

Some day I'll write about the one male friend who can talk the ears off an entire city because he is clinically incapable of finishing a conversation on his own.  Thank you for reading and enjoying.  As for Oosta's geometric analogies, would it have helped if he had said "right isosceles triangle"?  Because the theorem applies to both right and right isosceles.  It just goes to show women aren't always right.  Sometimes they are right isosceles.  But I'm still impressed.  Bravo.


yolanda

.....

by yolanda on

Thank you for the very entertaining story! Thank you! It is very funny! I agree with you 100% that girls talk way more than guys! Sometimes girls can talk the guys' ears off!

I thought Pythagorean theorem applies only to right triangles, not isosceles triangles:

//en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pythagorean_theorem

thanks,

 


Hamid Taghavi

Holly

by Hamid Taghavi on

I'm glad you see the attempt at fairness. Thank you for reading.


Hamid Taghavi

Natalia

by Hamid Taghavi on

Thank you for reading and the kind words.


HollyUSA

Fantastic Hamid!

by HollyUSA on

Excellent job. And very fair. Thank you.


Natalia Alvarado-Alvarez

Wow!

by Natalia Alvarado-Alvarez on

Now that is what I call writing

ناتاليا