There once was a group of men at a coffee shop, laughing with old jokes, with masculinity and proper jesting.
They upon the topic of wars and Armenia, jested so well about the war of Armenia against Persia that they seemed to entertain the masses. So proud of their culture they could do so.
Then, a true Armenian walked into the coffee shop purchasing nothing but a croissant with pistachio glaze and nuts.
Do you know, he said, with fixed eye and jingling his keys as he ate his pistachios, with raised finger, you are wrong, we won that war.
Oh, said the group. We didn’t know. Sorry, they said, looking down humiliated.