Chapter 3: Jordanians " The Hair Shirts "

THE HAIR SHIRTS


You need a Polo shirt, Diesel Jeans, Clarks shoes, and a Breitling. You need a BMW or an SUV, a BB, a so-called exquisite taste, and a 5-number car plate. These are the pre-requisites to the League of Extraordinary men and women. If you have the pre-requisites, then you're eligible for entry.
Self-haters who denounce everything around them. Jordanians by virtue of a document, and if given the chance they'll be anything but. They claim superiority to a world that fed them. They are disgusted by a nation that never stopped giving them. To them, this country can't do anything right. As the movie of the Jordanian life flickers before there eyes they fail to see anything but the black spots and the hidden signatures. They've succumbed to the notion that their survival stems from their distance from this society. They welcome foreigners with a cry for help. They'll bash everything they see to overcome their insecurities, and lack of self-respect.
they're overwhelmed with reality. Oblivious to the concept of classes. Everyone needs to be Upper Class. You need to get your morning coffee at Starbucks, watch your movies at Zara Center's, have your Shisha in Lemon, and NOT read your books in Books@cafe. You're unrecognizable to them if your net worth of apparel covering your body is less than 200 JD. They'll sing Odes of the wonders of the countries they visited, and compare it to the nothingness they see in Jordan. They have a soft spot for Lebanon. It's their best bid to achieve social immortality.
If you want to see them, look around you. They are the ones sitting on tables talking to each other in English, dropping a "ca va" every once in awhile. They are the ones staring at you, from the corner of their eyes, somewhere near the belt, for an eye contact with the masses hurts their superiority.
They love their version of Jordan. One in which they only see themselves. One in which everybody dines in a hotel and shops in a mall. One that breathes vanity and exists in their fantasy.
They have a keen interest in arts, but they can't tell the difference between a melody and a fart. They are the farthest there is from sophistication, but they definitely look the part. They are the parasites growing around ministers, and the country's blood-sucking sinisters. For them, narcissism is a religion, humility is fascism, and a nation is a minority of Gods and a majority of enslaved and ripe humans put there to glorify their mere existence. 
They dread the crawling of the easter Ammanites to their Green Zone. Down the years they retreated from Jabal Al Hussein, Jabal Amman, Shmeisani and Rabieh. They are still fighting for there lives in Sweifieh, while they still have a stronghold in Abdoun and Deir Ghbar! A counter attack has been recently launched at Jabal Amman, but it remains to be seen who will eventually prevail.
If you're rich, you're not necessarily one of them. However, you need to keep spotting yourself. As your humanity and your connection with reality is at stake. You have the choice. You can become superior by overcoming your superiority, or dwell in the hole of self-worship and shoot yourself to oblivion. To the dumpster of history.