THE IRANIAN CONNECTION

The princess met up with a bunch of Iranian bloggers, accompanied by blogger family members. Dressed in a tight short scarlet manteau, bright orange leggings, tan gladiator sandals decorated with metal orange and tan flowers, a long flowy neon yellow-green scarf and rayban aviators, she looked like a poster child for Iranian urban women subverting the mandatory hijab laws to their own tastes and style. She also looked like a large friendly parrot wearing shiny sunglasses. She recounted her evening:

-I told them my mom is a famous blogger in Canada, and she blogs in English.

I paused, and mentally ran over the remarks I have made re Thenewcomers Weblog. How did I give the impression that it was a famous blog? The princess was still talking.

-How many followers do you have?

I am not ashamed to admit that I knew the precise figure by heart. I told her.

“How many followers does Khers have?” she asked, naming one of the more popular Farsi-language blogs. I did not know the exact figure but I could guess: “Oh, probably thousands.” The princess seemed disappointed, so I gave a little explanation: “Blogging is far more popular in Iran than in Canada, you know. You have seen how many more people there are here, and how much they love to talk and argue.” She did not seem convinced by the relative populations statistical diversion. I was about to give her my little lecture about how the worth of a blog is not determined by the number of its followers, but thought better of it, since I realised quickly how stupid and pretentious the phrase “the worth of a blog” sounds.

***

The Golden Boy loves “Massoum”, because Massoum lent him an awesome xbox controller and taught him a whole bunch of new techniques in Mortal Kombat. “Massoum is the nicest guy in the whole world!” he declares, his eyes swerving and glittering madly. “I love him!”

I remember “John”, husband of a now ex-friend who had visited us in Halifax a couple of times last year, and remind the Golden Boy: “Do you remember John, who taught you how to play Plants vs. Zombies? And you kept saying you love John?” It was true, Gentle Reader- the Golden Boy had declared “I love John” in front of a houseful of guests, causing the poor bastard who probably never had such a show of affection publicly made to him in his life turn bright red and choke up. “You can’t just love any dude who teaches you how to play a video game.” The Golden Boy thought about what I said for a moment, and then yelled “Yes I can!”

Oh well. I suppose it is a good a criteria for falling in love as any else.

KHERS

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