I had to look at Mr. Yazdi's background, and wanted to make a few comments.
1- October 1st is around the corner, and the populace has experienced enough disillusionments, and I believe that it is best not to get their hopes too high. It is typically to the advantage of the circles of power to have a disillusioned populace.
2- Mr. Yazdi's background has one constant theme: He has been surprisingly opportunistic when it comes to his investments' history! Almost invariably, the investments have happened after a crisis in a country (e.g. Iran after khordad 42, Russia after collapse ofthe Soviet Union, Iraq after the collapse of theregime, etc.) and/or after some major changes in Tax laws (Florida and CA. after major tax breaks to Aviation companies, Belgium after contracts betweenPahlavis and them, etc.)
3- Finally, it is difficult to believe that such investments could have been successful (during the time frames mentioned in Mr. Yazdi's background), unless there were major connections (party) to people of influence (primarily in the governmental securityagencies and may be even corrupt politicians.)
The above comments, by no means, are intended to belittle the professional success of Mr. Yazdi. However, much remains to be proven as to how he has managed to get major companies (started and operated)during such turbulent times. We should take a look at Iraq, and find only one example of a company that is not connected to the circles of power (e.g. securityagencies), and able to operate a business in Iraq!
Your comments are correct in saying that we should not consider them idiots, …[but] take a look at the background in CONTEXT. He must be a shrewd business person with a lot of connections to have been able to do what he is claiming. I'd like to find out more about the details (where the devil resides.)
Tehran is abuzz with excited whispers. You can’t avoid feeling that a wave has started. Of course, we all know our dear rulers are not going to disappear simply because Mr. Yazdi has decided to grace us with his presence. And this gets me even more irritated with the proverbial Toms and Daisies of this world.
Fitzgerald had them pegged. Aren’t they really the callous ones who don’t even show up for the funerals? You don’t start something if there are no viable plans in works to see it successfully to the end. Which makes me even more suspicious of an October surprise in the making. No matter though; a bold initiative nonetheless. Such is life. One has to start from somewhere!
We’ll see what happens. Can’t trust much of anything these days. Somehow, I am becoming convinced that I live too terribly close to Ovid’s “House of Rumour,”
There is a place at the centre of the World, between the zones of earth, sea, and sky, at the boundary of the three worlds. From here, whatever exists is seen, however far away, and every voice reaches listening ears. Rumour lives there, choosing a house for herself on a high mountain summit, adding innumerable entrances, a thousand openings, and no doors to bar the threshold. It is open night and day: and is all of sounding bronze. All rustles with noise, echoes voices, and repeats what is heard. There is no peace within: no silence anywhere. Yet there is no clamour, only the subdued murmur of voices, like the waves of the sea, if you hear them far off, or like the sound of distant thunder when Jupiter makes the dark clouds rumble.
Crowds fill the hallways: a fickle populace comes and goes, and, mingling truth randomly with fiction, a thousand rumours wander, and confused words circulate. Of these, some fill idle ears with chatter, others carry tales, and the author adds something new to what is heard. Here is Credulity, here is rash Error, empty Delight, and alarming Fear, sudden Sedition, and Murmurings of doubtful origin. Rumour herself sees everything that happens in the heavens, throughout the ocean, and on land, and inquires about everything on earth.
Fitzgerald had them pegged. Aren’t they really the callous ones who don’t even show up for the funerals? You don’t start something if there are no viable plans in works to see it successfully to the end. Which makes me even more suspicious of an October surprise in the making. No matter though; a bold initiative nonetheless. Such is life. One has to start from somewhere!
We’ll see what happens. Can’t trust much of anything these days. Somehow, I am becoming convinced that I live too terribly close to Ovid’s “House of Rumour,”
There is a place at the centre of the World, between the zones of earth, sea, and sky, at the boundary of the three worlds. From here, whatever exists is seen, however far away, and every voice reaches listening ears. Rumour lives there, choosing a house for herself on a high mountain summit, adding innumerable entrances, a thousand openings, and no doors to bar the threshold. It is open night and day: and is all of sounding bronze. All rustles with noise, echoes voices, and repeats what is heard. There is no peace within: no silence anywhere. Yet there is no clamour, only the subdued murmur of voices, like the waves of the sea, if you hear them far off, or like the sound of distant thunder when Jupiter makes the dark clouds rumble.
Crowds fill the hallways: a fickle populace comes and goes, and, mingling truth randomly with fiction, a thousand rumours wander, and confused words circulate. Of these, some fill idle ears with chatter, others carry tales, and the author adds something new to what is heard. Here is Credulity, here is rash Error, empty Delight, and alarming Fear, sudden Sedition, and Murmurings of doubtful origin. Rumour herself sees everything that happens in the heavens, throughout the ocean, and on land, and inquires about everything on earth.
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