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June 12, 2016 Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, missing for more than half adecade, died last week at the hands of an assassin.He’d been living quietly in St. Joseph, Missouriunder the pseudonym Robert B. McCoy. According toinvestigators, he’d taken in a former colleague, Mahdi Mostafavi. Friends say Mister Mostafavi,who'd legally changed his name to LeRoy Neiman, had fallen on hard times after the collapse of theIranian Theocracy and Ahmadinejad was letting him stay in the Victorian-style home he had leased in aquiet, tree-lined neighborhood. At ten in the morning on the day of his death, Ahmadinejad was ona ladder hanging a print of da Vinci's
The LastSupper
when Mister Mostafavi entered with a pistol,shouted, "Sic semper tyrannis!" and fired two shotsand fled. Ahmadinejad’s fourth wife, Candy, heard the shots and called police. She reported his lastwords to be "Rosebud." Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was an anomaly, a mysterywrapped in an enigma slowly sinking into a deep muddy quagmire. Beloved by thousands, hated by millions, there was never a dull moment when he wasat Iran's helm. What were the influences in hislife? What social forces propelled him to becomethe most talked-about man in Iran, the man 99% ofPersian women voted as "the guy least likely to geta sympathy fuck from me?"He was born of Jewish-Scotch-Irish-Armenian parentsin Aradan, Iran. Aradan is famous for two things:dog food and house painters. When he was five, hisUncle Krikor, a senior supervisor at Aradan DogFood Plant Number 5 and a part-time house-painter, promised to get young Mahmoud "a good job on theassembly line" as soon as he celebrated his bar mitzvah. But his mother was heard to remark that
she didn't want any more Saburjians (the familysurname) "humping dog food." She sent him off tolive with her Jewish-Gypsy cousins in Azerbaijan.He remained there eight years until Uncle Krikorkeeled over from emphysema.The Mahmoud who came back as a teenager was verydifferent from the sweet little six-year-old boythe family remembered. Now he was described as a"shifty little weasel" who never looked you in theeye and someone you had to hide your wallet from whenever you took a shower. Some family members blamed the Jew-Gypsies. Professor Fawaz YounisFirouzbacht, a Senior Fellow at the AmericanEnterprise Institute and a recognized authority onIranian Jew-Gypsies, commented, "those people canreally fuck you up." Indeed, after Mahmoud returned, one Aradan resident recalled he taughtevery boy in the neighborhood how to pick pocketsand every girl how to do the strip tease. It wasthen that his Uncle Koorken stepped in and ponied up the cash to send him off to Teheran to truck-driving school. He told Mahmoud's mother that thedrug dealers are paying "big bucks" for long-hauldrivers. Hearing that made her very happy.So off Mahmoud went to Teheran, a suitcase in hishand and a song in his heart. Unfortunately, thiswas the time of the uprising against the Shah. And Mahmoud, by chance or design, fell in with a coupleof ne'er-do-wells named Mirdami and Habibollah.These two con artists had concocted a get-rich-quick plan: take over the American Embassy and hold it for ransom. Mahmoud, being a country boy justoff the proverbial turnip truck, thought it sounded like a really neat idea, so he said, "Is it okayfor me to write home and tell my mom?" Well, the rest is history. The US Embassy hostagething jump-started Mahmoud's career as a professional terrorist, torturer and all-around
thug. Over the next thirty years he rose in theranks of the revolutionaries right up to Presidentof the Islamic Republic. It was a heady time. His mother bragged to all her friends in the tea circleabout her "big-shot son, the President."Interestingly enough, he never learned to drive adiesel truck.But you know the saying, whatever goes up, mustcome down. And Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's Presidencycrashed like a bowling ball on a fat man's big toethe day General Salehi changed sides and pledged his support to Mehdi Karroubi. Mahmoud saw thehandwriting on the wall, quickly donned theemergency burka he had hanging in his office closetand made a beeline for the Armenian border.Soon enough, in the euphoria of the mass executionsof Mullahs in Teheran, the world lost sight of him.But every so often, there would be tidbits ofinformation referred to in the National Enquirer as"Mahmoud sightings." There was the unnamed naked male in a grainy Czech porn film who had an uncannyresemblance to you-know-who. There was the middle-aged pick-pocket in Rome who lost his temper and beat up four Gypsy kids for "crowding him out."There was the strange man in the public park inDenver who bragged to a group of drunks that heused to be the "Prince of Persia." And finally,there was the shakey little man with the accent whoshowed up at a US Serviceman's funeral in Kentuckywith a "God Hates Fags" sign.Strangely enough, when the St. Joseph police firstarrived at the scene, they referred to the decedentas an "unidentified male." It wasn't until two dayslater that they found out Robert B. McCoy was infact the former Iranian dictator. And this is howit happened. It seems at the time of the US Embassytakeover, Mahmoud was sent to the Soviet Embassywith a "You Assholes Are Next!" message. He was
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