Zamboni Exlusive: Iranian Ayatollah’s “Scarlet Letter” to Obama Leaked
Washington–The 2009 alleged correspondence between Supreme Iranian Leader Ayatollah Khomeini and U.S. executives, the first since a spurt of letters during the 1979 Iraninan Revolution, raised intriguiging questions, to be sure. As one of his first initiatives in Office, President Obama reached out to his highness Khomeini in the hopes of rekindling what had for so long been a latent dialogue. Defying expectations, the Ayatollah presented a less-cold cold shoulder in resisting the urge to utterly ignore Obamian faith.
A certain file, allegedly leaked to the Zamboni by a figure that dubs himself “CanDoCarter,” contained a letter that we have authenticated. The Khomeni letter appears below– a response to a recent Obama missive requesting aid to repel the ISIS wave. His words came as a surprise to all of us… We only ask, if you choose to continue, that the Supreme Leader’s views be respected. Our relationship with Iran rests on a thin rope… more like a string, actually:
Mr. President,
Your nation has deliberately suppressed Iranian ascenden- cy in the world order of states since our holy revolution. And now you beg of me support? I laugh now in your face, wearing a smugness to behold. You think yourself accomplished, or smart for that matter? Compare yourself to me, for I have done much and you little… you, nothing more than a beetle, me, a great ostrich; you, a glass of crushed mangos, sweet and supple yet forgettable, me, a juicy prime rib, to be lauded for the ages; you, a puddle, me, a great, bottomless toilet.
When my nation needs me very much as your people need you now, I don’t ignore them like you have. Take from me an example of just rule… for this graciousness, I expect recompense. I will contact you at a later date to collect my dues.
When my nation calls my name, I don’t ignore them. I simply cast them to the side, Mr. President Obama. I throw them in jail, let my Dobermans nap with them, force them to suck on my feet or, if I’m in a forgiving mood, personally drop them down on my palace’s spire from the royal helicopter… Since Wednesdays have been notably gusty as of late, I’ve made a point of being forgiving then. From the ground, after the flight, I still can hear their warm praises.
As long as I can have morning coffee without seeing a bomb go off somewhere along the horizon, I judge my country to be safe. My brother Mohammed… he has a pig farm two kilometers north of Tehran in the dust fields. When he asks me for loans because U.S. sanctions have reduced him to cultivating pebbles, I say no. When he asks me to drive his wife to the hospital because she needs to birth quadruplets, I say no. When he asks me to crucify his son for stealing an egg from the winter stash, I say no – I send my bodyguard Yuri. Until my brother shits dirt due to the air’s overwhelming dust saturation, I will not settle. Order consists not of oppression, but munificence, President Barack.
My people love me because I am a hands-on, compassionate ruler. Each Friday night under the moon, I walk out onto my balcony and invite all the men of Tehran to look upon me. I make the pope look like a chump. I eat my cauliflower and, at the climax of the ceremony, shove the remains on my plate over the balcony’s side. The men scatter to avoid the floating caulis. I laugh heartily, from my gut, as the crumbs tumble onto their gonads. I marvel at their genuine adoration for me. You must make them think you God.
So, to answer your question: I have done more than enough for you. Do not expect my troops to wage war beside yours Mr. President.
Supremely, Sincerely, and Never Yours,
Ayayah Khomeini