Attention Indignant Persians: please read http://stuffblackpeoplehate.com/why-you-shouldnt-read-this-blog before reading this entry and getting your magic carpet in a knot. Thanks.
The Georgetown Waterfront is one of that only places in DC that doesn’t suck anymore. From March – October, you can hobble your angry ass down to Georgetown Waterfront Park and enjoy drinks outdoors by the water, grab insanely expensive food (with insanely-er bad service) from Sequoia restaurant, and watch scantily clad women walk between M Street and the water while pretending to be indignant about the negative sexual attention they draw to themselves.
Unfortunately, there is one thing about the waterfront that sucks: Persians.
The favorite pastime of the sons of rich Persian oil and IT barons is to get a bunch of their greasy Ferrari-jacket-wearing douchebag friends together, hop on a Sea Ray, and park that motherfucker on the improvised dock in front of the harbor. I’ve included a diagram below to point out the interesting sights you’ll see there:
Figure 1: Click on the image to zoom in
When you park your boat at the dock, you’re within sight of the many women sitting around the bars and restaurants looking for dudes on boats to fuck, but you’re not close enough for them to distinguish your youthful awesomeness from the 50+ year old rich white dudes who’ve also parked their Sea Rays and are gallivanting about in the company of their Stepford wives, Abercrombie sons, and golden fucking retrievers.
So what’s the prospective Persian suitor to do? Blast god awful techno music, of course! Somehow, these sandbags* have convinced themselves that a perpetually alternating woofer-thump and stochattic cymbal is precisely what makes the pussy go “ooh whee.” After all, if it works in porno, it must work in real life. Techno music is so effective at attracting women, in fact, that you never see any women on a Persian boat. This is because their reaction to the electronica, combined with the pungent stank of the Persians’ Sex Panther cologne, has caused all women in the area to orgasm so hard that they literally disappear into thin air.
Figure 2: Persians do not realize this is a comedy
Surprisingly, water-borne Persians are by far the least annoying type of youthful sandbag. That’s because they save their atrocious A-game behavior for the club.
Persians are very easy to spot at a club. Just look for the following telltale signs:
1.) Hair. On a Persian, it will invariably have at least 3 or 4 thousand pounds of gel in it. Nothing drives the ladies wild like a grown man looking like an olive-skinned anime character who may or may not have dynamite strapped to his chest underneath his…
2.) Armani Exchange** Shirt. What better way to say “I’m a pompous shitbrick” than by letting everyone know you paid $60 for a lousy t-shirt? None, dammit!. It’d be rude to actually go up to girls and say “hey, I’m rich. I got a $60 t-shirt”, so instead the Persian takes the humble route and buys the shirt with ‘ARMANI EXCHANGE’ or ‘A|X’ in shiny silver 1,418,071 point font across the chest.
Figure 3: Asshole
This in-your-face fluorescent logo makes it noticeable even in the awesome presence of his…
3.) Jacket of Random Italianness. Girls love Italian shit – sports cars, shoes, handbags, ice – so your Persian ass had damn well better make sure your outfit includes an Italian element. The best way to do this is by wearing a jacket featuring an easily recognizable Italian theme. This is why you see mongoloid sandbags wearing red Ferrari jackets, or red/white/green jackets with an Italian flag and the word ‘Italia’ written in giant retard print across the back.
Figure 4: Asshole, Stage 2
This jacket is never a normal length jacket – it always stops a couple inches above the waist so that a.) it looks like a genuine racing jacket, and b.) it doesn’t cover up the logo on his…
4.) Horrifyingly Expensive Designer Jeans. That’s right folks, only Diesel or True Religion jeans are worthy of encasing the decidedly flat and hairy buttcheeks of the sandbag in their sweet denimy embrace. Wearing anything else would say to the ladies “my jeans cost less than $250, so there’s no way I’d be able to buy you a new set of tits every three years.”
Figure 5: Why would you want pants with a picture of a crane attacking your cornhole?
The sandbag stands tall and proud as the ladies take in the jeans’ fake fade, giant pre-cut holes, and painted-on wrinkle patterns…and they have to practically FIGHT themselves not to jump right on his cock when they see his…
5.) Shoes of Random Italianness. The shoes must always match the jacket in both color and refined sportiness, so the Persian sandbag will be seen wearing some sort of Ferrari-brand Pumas at least 110% of the time. Don’t be afraid if you accidentally scuff his shoes though, because Puma-related homicides are exclusively committed by black people.
*This is what I call douchebags from the middle east.
**I’ll admit that I own a lot of shit from Armani Exchange. But unless you get within six inches of me, you’ll never know it, because I’d sooner die than buy the shit where the AX label is clearly visible