On behalf of all your (indigenus) friends abroad: A personal appeal

Please Read: A personal appeal from Datta (a name you can trust)

Friends... brothers...Kantrimen...
A terrible calamity has beset us all. A calamity not so much in itself, but in the very violation of ideals and ideas that we hold dear about foreign lands. A concept not only fermenting and frothing in our minds, but a concept much propagated and whored by the lands themselves.(fuckin Jersey Shore)

A friend of mine, nay, a friend of all, for he is a very gentle spirit, has traveled to a land far far away with the fire of unbridled promises gleaming in his eyes.
A journey for which he has toiled more than 20 years in the harsh lands of eastern "education"(the ones without happy endings), working towards each and every achievement (teacher's pet medal) just so that he may one day be accepted in the echelons of higher academia. But academia is not all that was promised, it enticed these impressionable minds with treasures of knowledge from the oldest of professions to the more modern ones, a journey sure to make a man of any mere boy.

And when that day came, he sailed (flew) from the shores of the land of spices and made his way through hell and high water (turbulence) to reach a port where he thought to have got his first taste of the much treasured promises of the land as he was lovingly caressed by the TSA. But no my friends, it was not to be, the TSA were but depraved souls themselves, looking for salvation in the promised land, caught in a purgatory they did not ask for, on the brink of heaven but resigned to be gatekeepers instead. And so they leer and paw as more innocent souls come through, making sure there was never a place that the sun did not shine on them, and when it did shine, they were right there basking in it's glory.

Enough of these depraved souls, we are talking of another. One more close to our concept of this free world. And so our man began his journey, looking to grow at last from the shackles that had withheld him in his native land, hoping to bloom like a flower, in the fertile promises the land held.

Then why is it that we stand here, on the edge of this topic, grieving for this poor man boy(?) (with our help, who knows?). He, ladies and gentlemen (and hoochie mamas) was promised so much more than academia. Promises that could not be taken lightly, promises tantamount to the sweat and blood put in to be accepted in this new land, promises wrought into the minds of the young hopefuls, who wanted nothing more than to relish within all that the land could make of them.

But what is this? There is an admission fee? And there are many of these indeed!!!
Oh Look! this poor lad has funding enough only for his academic dreams it seems!
It was never his fault, how could it be?
The Financiers never saw to all of the lad's glee!

And so here he stands, but on his knees, looking to the stark neon sign that says "Entry not Free"

But promises must stand as it ever should and though this land might have forgotten them, or has snobbed away at the idea of seeing them through, we as comrades of this shared ideal shall give this pub all the chance he can steal.
Then let this lad be bestowed upon the more promiscuous of the promises the land has made, and the one it uses most to lure their innocence in....

So I implore you, friends... brothers.. and hoochi mamas... contribute generously to the
"Send the Indian kid to the Strip Club" fund.

Let's put a smile on his face.

P.S: Also note the corollary to said fund.. the "give him spare change to be a patron in said strip club" fund.