(I AM NOT SELLING DONALD TRUMP’S STOLEN HAIRPIECE. STOP EMAILING ME.)
This carpet doesn’t fly but it is lucky and will bring you riches!
This carpet was my grandparents’ and it was in their house for years before they gave it to my mom and then it was in my house growing up.
It’s from Seattle’s iconic Frederick & Nelson department store circa the 1950’s and my great-grandfather used to play solitaire, which he cheated at (I think grandma said he used to run liquor in from Canada to a downtown speakeasy during Prohibition?), while drinking Jack Daniels neat seated at a card table upon it.
He used to shuffle his feet when he wasn’t shuffling the cards and wore down the tufts to the backing, at which point my grandparents turned the carpet 180° and then he wore it down until he died, so the other side isn’t as bad as the side shown in the picture.
My mom gave me the rug about a decade ago and it languished in a damp garage until I moved about four years ago and I realized I could put it down on the floor in the new garage and then call the garage a shop.
I know shop sounds pretentious, but I’m not a man so it can’t be a man cave and it’s not a craft space because I cut and sand wood, not needlepoint and knitting, and workshop makes it sound like I house a cluster of feral MFA’s out there.
As the granddaughter of a State Department foreign service officer and the daughter of an amazing bullshitter, the true story is that my grandfather scored the carpet from the former U.S. Ambassador to Iran, who received it as a personal gift from the Shah, who gave it to him as a gift in thanks for the Central Intelligence Agency’s help in releasing questionable cables right before the coup d’état.
(Funny aside: The Russian FSB, née KGB, used similar tactics in the 2016 U.S. election!)
From the Shah’s personal collection, he claimed it was the very carpet Ali stood upon in Medina when he took Telha and Zobier’s hand and became Fourth Caliph and as such, it was especially blessed.
Not long after my divorce a few years back international bandits heard of the carpet, traced the carpet to me, invaded my home, rolled me up in it, and kidnapped me to a small village in Fünfvenue where they turned me transgender.
Seizing upon their opportunity to create an invisible sleeper agent to hasten the end of the decadent West, they attempted to indoctrinate me with jihadi passion before sending me naked and rolled to the House of Saud as an exotic court concubine, but while I did acquire a few broken phrases of Arabic I still find it impossible to read and spent most of my days nodding along with my instructors as we read what might have been text lifted from cookbooks for all I know.
Imagine my surprise when I returned home after fleeing into the desert on caravan with the carpet slung over the pommel of my camel’s saddle and making my way to Dubai where I turned tricks on the carpet in alleyways and cheap hotels to acquire sufficient funds for clothing and airfare home, only to discover that I liked being trans on account of the fact that the forced feminization hormones they fed me during captivity gave me boobs and I really liked having boobs on my body.
Now that I’m recently transitioned I’ve come to realize how rich I am in life experience and that the next step on my journey is the re-configuration of my penis into a vulva and vagina.
This surgery is not without its costs and the cost is about $30,000 when you include time off and underemployment from future work, travel, lodging, after-care supplies and checkups, and potential revision work, which is amazingly exactly how much the carpet is going for.
The riches the carpet might bring to you could be like mine, where you could be kidnapped by bandits and turned transgender or you could have it cleaned and repaired, and sell it at auction for least $100,000 at a significant profit or, and this is a wild idea, don’t clean and repair it and point out how the sawdust, dirt, and odd smells and stains are all part of the patina from travelling through the time and the space of half of the world, and set a reserve price of $1,000,000.
What type of person would purchase such a fine and rare artifact at auction?
Why, any number of people heading to Washington, D.C. with more money than sense and who want to do nothing more than impress each other and the folks back home instead of governing a pluralistic, heterogeneous society and feel they could do that by telling their cocktail party guests that they are standing on a one-of-a-kind carpet once owned by a certified Muslim dictator.
I would auction it myself that way but cash is king right now and I need the cash quick to become a queen.
If you wish to forego an escrow and would rather meet in person to consummate this transaction, I am willing to travel to and within select countries at your pre-paid expense, and deliver it in person with the caveat I will attend the actual exchange with armed guards.
Public key available upon request.
(P.S. – Family heirloom Masonic sword also available, $50 USD obo.)