As an Iranian American, I know we are one of the most law-abiding citizen groups in this multicultural country and one of the most successful minority groups in America.
I myself came here for the first time 44 years ago, when your Melania was only two years old! I didn’t have a rich dad who could simply sign over to me a million dollars for start-up money for my future. I came to this country with a suitcase in my hand, $2,100 in my pocket, and a burning desire in my heart to succeed. And, I have succeeded, especially educationally. I can proudly say that the only C on all of my academic transcripts relates to my having Hepatitis C!
I have been working as well as studying since day one of coming to this country. The number of odd jobs I have had to sweat through during my early learning student years is higher than the number of executive orders you have issued in only the first week of your learning your presidency, all done with the swift, effortless motion of your pen. Oddly, the titles of my jobs all end up with letters “er”: car hopper, dishwasher, pizza deliverer, truck driver, waiter, and building cleaner. However, now I end it all with an “or,” a college professor!
I cannot remember ever being even mischievous, let alone being accused of committing any crime, especially ones that may jeopardize the safety of this country. To be honest though, the only heinous crimes I have committed so far—deaf be the ear of the Satan—are: sneaking into Costco for free food samples, squeezing Charmin in a grocery store, treating my puppy like a dog, putting garbage trash in the recycle bin, and God forgive me, faking a seizure in an all-women’s aerobics class, hoping one of them would volunteer to give me mouth-to-mouth necessitation! Alas, this was heartbreakingly to no avail!
I tried my hardest to assimilate into the pop culture of this country. You should have seen me wearing my torn jeans down to my knees, carrying a boom box on my shoulder, wearing my hat sideways, listening to “Who Let the Dogs Out” while eating a cheeseburger. What could be more American than that?
I have kept a record of my income tax filings for each and every year and paid more than my fair share, so much so that in a couple of years, the IRS sent me a check for overpayment. I felt like a sacrificial lamb that even the butcher cried for, or like a tree that the chain saw felt sorry for! By the way, have you paid your fair share and will we ever know?
And, should you wonder what that ugly looking thing is in my backyard wrapped in a black vinyl cover; rest easy. Please don’t get the wrong idea like some of my neighbors did. No, no. no, it is not a portable bomb-making apparatus; it’s called a Weber gas grill!