Mahmoud Ahmadinejad Elected?

Sorry for taking so long to write. After leaving Mumbai, in a hurry I must say, I headed to Tehran for the elections. I brought my all green suit since I was told it was going to be green as St. Patty's day!

The day started off like any usual day in Tehran. I left my dingy hotel room and hailed a cab to the closest polling station. Hey when in Tehran do as the Tehranians do--vote. I showed up in green and inked my vote for the other fellow whose name I cannot pronounce.

The streets were full of happy Iranians soaked in their favorite cologne to cover up their ungodly stench. It didn't work, the place still smelled like a Mexican whore house or so I'm told. We were dancing in the street and beating each other with palm leaves. They can party like crazy people over there.

When the polling stations closed, a man with a bullhorn blurted out in true Farsi gibberish that Ahmadinejad was defeated. Not so fast my friend! The man fighting to bring Member's Only jackets back into style was not going down quietly.

Soon police and soldiers entered the polling stations and began burning all of the ballots. The crowd reacted with blood lust to the news that Ahmadinejad was elected in a land slide. Palm leaves were exchanged for rocks, Molotov cocktails, swords, a medieval mace, and midgets.

Midgets and rocks soon flew through the air to the fear and dismay of the police and soldiers. A General announced that his men would begin using live ammunition if the crowd continued to use the feared weapon of little people. The crowd responded with a wave of small hands and feet flying through the air. I have to give it up to the little people, they were pissed! They flew through the air with teeth gnashing ready to tear apart any Achilles tendon they could find.

The police reacted violently and sent in the Iranian first armored division. Men on Vespa motor scooters roared into town at an amazing 20 mph with a shooter riding "bitch". The scene was something out of a bad Meatloaf video. I was laughing hysterically by this point. I could not believe my eyes. Can you believe midget bombs and Vespa armor! And we fear these people. I say let them have nukes, they'll accidentally cross a few wires and it is free oil for the world!

I began shouting in Zulu, as it seemed appropriate, and attacked a soldier with a mop. He wet himself and fled on a Vespa ambulance to the nearest field hospital. The scene was out of hand. When the bullets flew, I headed back to my hotel and snatched my trusty bottle of whiskey from the cutout Koran I carried into the country. (Travel tip--they won't search a Koran, so you can hide anything you want in there.)

The night passed with bond fires of little people lighting up the sky. The Iranian first armored division, Vespa mounted, was in full retreat. But the crowd would not relent. I of course was transmitting all of this data on my secure satellite phone back to all of the news networks. I'm sure you saw my footage on all of the major cable and television shows.

The crowd eventually dispersed to my dismay, but thankfully it was only for morning prayers. They were back at daylight armed with new weapons of mass destruction. I guess the midget population was pretty thinned out, so they armed themselves with goats. Some engineer even managed to produce a goat catapult. Future Kabobs soon blocked out the morning sun.

The police and army returned with a vengeance. This time they were mounted inside of old VW beetles. The scene turned ugly. There were head scarves and beards flying everywhere. A secondary riot broke out when it was discovered that Tehran's entire inventory of cigarettes was used up. The crowd blamed Admadinejad for their lack of smokes and charged the army and police. That's when the bloodshed turned the brown streets red.

I kept sending all of my reports back home, but soon the military traced the signal to my phone. My door was kicked in and I was rudely taken from my room. They drove me to the country and strapped me to a camel. They pointed it towards Iraq and slapped its ass. It must have run quickly because it only took me a day and a half to reach a United States Special Forces team deep inside the Iranian border. They were kind enough to call in a Black Hawk helicopter for my rescue.

The Black Hawk pilots dropped me off at Baghdad International Airport where I was able to catch a ride home on General Odierno's personal jet. I'm glad to be home, but I will never be able to cleanse the image of evil midgets flying through the air. Oh well. I've applied for a return visa to Tehran, but I suspect that it will be denied. I'll keep you updated.