Nazanin's Tale: Three Years In An Iranian Prison

...for protesting an Iman's edict that all women should wear the long scarf.

I didn't want to...so I protested.

Three days later...the patrol came...

She tells her tale of rape and torture coldly, calmly.  But if you can hold still your rage at the 1:45 mark, when Nazanin rolls up her left leg to show you what's left of it, well...you're a better person than I am.

Or you are perhaps a fan of Barack Obama and his appeasement policies towards a government that would treat its womenfolk this way:





Posted on Maryam Namazie's blog...

Incidentally, when see a regime that can act so cruelly towards their own people, how can any thinking person doubt they will fulfill their vow wipe Israel off the map and incinerate its Jewish population, as soon as they are able?

Again, ask Barack Obama.  He claims to be a thinking person, yet does nothing about the atrocities above, and the atrocities that are yet to come.  Maybe he has an answer...

Go to Ms. Namazie's place, and read through her blog. She's an ardent foe of Islamic fundamentalism, and provides plenty of first-person testimony.  Not for the faint of heart.  But if you like painful love poetry from deep in the heart of Islamic terror...

In this Dead-End
~ by Ahmad Shamlou:

They smell your breath, lest you had uttered ‘I love you’.
They smell your heart!
Strange times are these my dear.

They flog love at a roadblock corner.
Love is better off hidden in a closet at home.

In this crooked dead-end of twisting chill
they kindle their fire with our song and poetry.

Do not risk thinking.
Strange times are these my dear.

He who bangs on the door late at night
has come to kill the light.
Light is better off hidden in a closet at home.

Now here are the butchers
stationed at the cross-roads
with clubs and cleavers stained in blood.

Strange times are these my dear.

And they excise smiles from our lips and songs from our mouths.
Joy is better off hidden in a closet at home.

Barbequed canaries on a fire of lilies and jasmine
strange times are these my dear.

Satan, intoxicated and victorious
sits at our funeral feast.
god is better off hidden in a closet at home.