Getting Ready for the Bullshit
New York City residents aren't consulted much about their feelings about 9/11. We are always represented by a same-old same-old bunch like Potato Head Pataki, the governor; Droopy-eyed Charles Schumer, the rather dumb-looking and acting Democrat Senator; Ray Kelly, the little shanty Irish police commissioner; or Rudi "Let 'Em Eat Cake" Guiliani, the mayor at the time of 9/11 who got his ass scared shitless when he was doing his "mayor rushing to the scene of the catastophe for his next 5-minute teevee sound byte and photo-op" thing when one of the many buildings that fell that day started falling all around him and his henchmen sidekicks--you never saw a mayor move so fast in your life--to the safety of his getaway limo and got the hell out of there, did he. Back during the peak of Rudi's mayoral reign, he hit a streak of bad luck. First, he got prostate cancer and then Donna Hanover did a walk on him--taking that dopey-looking son with her. Donna Hanover was a really classy catch for old Rude Rudi, except after he married her and she bore him that son she hit the skids in the ratings department and gradually lost her foothold in the top slots on the big network channels and ended up with a show on one of the cable women's channels. Like I say, having Rudi's only son tore her looks down to the point, prostate-packing Rudi went on the make for a Donna Hanover replacement. Rudi found one--why, she was right there on his own staff; son of a bitch! Donna found out about this other woman and packed her bags and split from old Rudi, as noted above, soon serving him those divorce papers that let all the cats out of his bag to the point his 9/11 publicity faded and they stopped interviewing him for awhile about his heroic actions of those sad days. But during tomorrow's "sorry" celebrations here in NYC, Rudi's heroic image will be redesigned and he'll be lisping out his silly uninformed bullshit all over our teevee screens. Oh God, what a horrible day tomorrow here in NYC will be. True New Yorkers know what I'm saying.
A woman who saved my ass in terms of career one time just died of intestinal cancer. Just like that. One day she was told she had cancer and a few months later she quits her radiation therapy, says it hurts worse than the cancer, returns to the NYC apartment in which she had lived since her parents moved into it when she was 3 or 4--40 years she had lived in this apartment and with the brave individuality that made her important to me, she died peacefully.
After 9/11, I talked to this woman about it, knowing she lived pretty close to the WTC, though several blocks north of it but still in its shadow--I mean when you were down around City Hall or the Chambers Street area, the WTC loomed up over you as you looked south down there. Or, hell, even on up the few blocks to my old BLOHO neighborhood on Spring and Greenwich streets, the giant of the WTC's shadow's head was touching your feet. And then, the next neighborhood south of my old neighborhood was where this woman lived. She could stand outside her apartment look south and look right into the eyes of the WTC. I mean, in all of that part of downtown Manhattan, even over the Brooklyn Bridge along the whole Brooklyn riverfront, the WTC loomed over you. So, knowing that, I ask her about her experience during 9/11. She said she had been late for work that morning and as she was just rushing out of the shower and then rushing to dry off and hurriedly put her clothes on, she heard an explosion. Even her building shook a little. It was shocking enough it stopped her from rushing and she looked out her apartment's tiny back window. She couldn't see anything, just the walls of the city swimming pool just behind her apartment building. She went ahead and finished dressing and was just calling work when she heard and felt the second explosion. This time she ran out the door to hurry down to the street, find out what the explosions were, and then rush to the subway and get on to work. She said as she came around the corner of her building and got ready to cross Seventh Avenue to go to the subway station, she looked toward the WTC and saw all hell breaking loose way on down Seventh after it turned into Varick. First of all people were pouring fast out of the Houston Street subway station. Then she saw both towers were on fire. What happened? What happened? Nobody seemed to know. Suddenly there were sirens, then rushing fire engines and police cars and ambulances rushing downtown from all over uptown and midtown. Everyone around her, hundreds of New Yorkers were stopped, facing the WTC, frozen in their tracks with wonder, forced to watch it, one of the most dramatic events to ever happen in modern-times New York City, though at the time, like what happens around most fires or building collapses, etc., in this city, nobody really knew what the hell was going on--nor, I might add, did the people tucked away in their enclosed teevee or radio studios know what the hell was going on either. And certainly the mayor and the damn governor had no idea what was going on. She said they all just stood and watched and then, what seemed like hours later, she saw the first tower start falling. In her way she said, "The sky was radiantly blue and the smoking towers were clearly visible, I mean distinctly visible, and I watched with my mouth hanging open, and then, when the tower started dropping--I mean it was totally a filmic experience--I mean as if cinematically directed--falling and then seriously so. That's when a lot of us just started screaming in amazement." Then they saw the first tower go down and leave behind a huge cloud of dust, a raw greyish boiling tumbling up from that diving wreckage to start piling up and up to bloom into what resembled an Atomic Bomb cloud, that macabre dust cloud cyclonically blown up but out, too, as this colossal structure--its offices were the size of football fields--and it was coming down at the speed of the airliner that was the cause of it all, 600 miles per hour at the end there, and then the whole ground shook as the shockwave arrived and the explosion swept over them and she said the air suddenly turned vile. As the tumblings of the last lickings of the dust storm dribbled over them, she said the sweet air of that beautiful NYC morning turned to the sour contaminated air breathed out upon them by that first building and all its occupants as it gave up its ghost and ghosts. By the time the second tower turned into dust, she was back in her apartment trying to call the office except by then all the telephone lines were blaring busy signals since the telephone lines in and around the WTC were being swallowed up and ground to dust by the buildings falling--plus electricity started going off down there. And then there were cops everywhere and people streaming up from downtown, some looking really like ghosts all covered in the dust that enveloped them while they were literally running for their very lives--and this was thousands of New Yorkers--who knows how many thousands of ordinary citizens just simply going to work that morning were aimed that way and had to run for their frigging lives? And I said, "What still haunts you about that day?" "That odor," she replied. "It's still in the air, or at least it's still in my subconscious smelling. I taste it at night while I'm sleeping as though it's in the pillowcases. I can't open my bedroom window anymore because I swear that odor is blowing in the air through the window--yes, it's still in the air...human bodies are in that air, too, and that frightens me. Several thousand of us breathed in the flesh and innards turned to dust of our fellow human beings--but also, just think of how many animals were killed in those buildings going down." Our concerns that day were for lives. We didn't immediately demand a war of revenge on the bastards who did it; we were concerned about how many of us had had our existences ended permanently by whoever the hell did it. So this fine woman died Friday night a week ago in the apartment where long after 9/11 she smelled and tasted that death-tinged air blowing up her way from those destroyed towers. Hey, Christy Todd Whitman, Georgie Porgie's handpicked rich lady New Jersey spoiled rich brat lady governor for his supermodern environmental division, assured us all--you know how New Jerseyan's love to get back at New Yorkers--to whom jokes about New Jerseyans is the same as the Kerryman jokes over in Cork in merry ole Ireland, so maybe Christy was joking when she assured New Yorkers the air around Ground Zero, remember, the original battlefield now in the War Against the Terrerists, was perfectly safe to breathe. Why, hell, Christy herself took a big deep breath of air over on her New Jersey horse farm and declared all air in all of America perfectly save to gulp down fearlessly. Shit, come on, all you fools, let's take a deep breath of good ole pure Ground Zero air. So it makes you gag a bit, hell, all air does that. I mean, and I'm not kidding, how would the governor of New Jersey know dick shit about clean air? New Jersey has some of the foulest air in the nation. Sorry, but it's true--and some of that's been blowing over New York City for over a hundred years now. Hey, what I'm driving at is, I can't help thinking that maybe her continuing to live so close to that nightmare location and breathing that crappy air for several days there after it happened had something to do with the cancer that has just taken her away from us--hell, I could smell and taste that bittersweet air here in my Midtown apartment--and I'm several miles from that site. Only when the "president" hit town and did his poobahing all over the place, did I begin to see this as another trick job on New Yorkers by this incompetent fool who has got no more of a clue as to run a huge government than he had about running an oil company with one of the Bin Ladins.
"Yes sirree, Bob," the "president" hooted the day of his triumphant march down to the hallowed Ground Zero, "we're with all our Yankee friends here in 'liberal' Jew York City today to--er, ah, what's that, Unka Dick?--me, like Jesse Jackson? Naw, Unka Dick, I didn't call 'em hymies, come on, it is Jew York City, that's a joke, sir, come on--I mean look at this little mayor guy here who's constantly pecking at me for money--he says this here warfare has wrecked New York City's budget--well, hellfire, come on, this ain't nothing compared to what we've got planned for that asshole Saddam Hussein who I'll be damned if I let go free like my old wimpy Pappy did--er, ah, heh-heh-heh, sorry, folks, we're having a little inside joking up here, like that there calling Jew York City...heh-heh-heh, folks, there I went and told the same joke again, but anyway, mah feller Amuricans, I'm here wearing this fireman's outfit to show you folks that we're gonna catch whoever did this and believe me, whew boy, we're gonna fry their asses good when we do, and we will, folks, you can bet the house on that--and the terrerists, that's what these Arabs are, folks, terrerists, and even those bastards who flew them planes into our sacred buildings, we're gonna git them, too, dammit, and fry their asses...what's that, Karl? those guys died in the plane crashes--what are you calling me, Karl, a dumbass, speaking that damn German like you do?--OK, so what do I tell these creepy New Yorkers--what, war...war? yeah, I like that, war, dammit...My fellow Yankees...er, I mean Jew Yorkers, this mean war of course, a war on terrerists...damn, folks, I'm on a mission directed on me by the Holy Big Daddy in the sky himself, folks, and he says and I say we are going to war--hell, we're at WAR, right now, folks...damn right. Y'all don't have to take so many pictures of me here in this fireman's outfit--here take one of me leading these firemen into the burning building, you know, with my hatchet raised up. Anyway, New Yorkers, we gonna do a heck of a job, don't y'all worry." And that was that until our billionaire mayor insulted us by allowing those creepy Repugnicans here to hold their stupid convention here right in the wake of 9/11.
Tomorrow marks the fifth anniversary of the day the Arab jihad squad bent on bringing down the World Trade Center since 1990 actually brought it down. Papers detailing the plans to attack the World Trade Center were found in the room of the assassinator, Nosair (remember Nose Hair?), of Rabbi (phony as hell) Meyer Kahane, the nice New York Jewish boy who had started his whacky reaction bullshit during the Civil Rights era in this country when he founded the Jewish Defense League here in NYC in order to protect orthodox Jews from being attacked by bitter Black Panther-type blacks and Young Lord-type Hispanics--you know, come on, the Jews were the landlords and storeowners in Harlem, Spanish Harlem, Bed-Sty, Flatbush--but then, this is another NYC story most folks remember nothing about. "Nose Hair" miraculously beat the rap on this foul deed and left the court free from charges he murdered Kahane--only in Amurica, as Don King would bullshit ya. Read about Nosair and his connection with the infamous Ali Mohammed (another CIA and FBI creature) here on rotten.com:
I include this here just to give you an example of how sordid and interrelated all these players in our War on Terrerists are; how intertwined they are with the CIA, with Saudi Arabia, and with the Bushes. Here's information these scumbags had back in 1990 that showed the intent of all this so-called Al Queda terrorist movement against the US of A. It originated in Egypt it appears from this rotten.com piece (and who knows how referentially authentic this questioning piece is?). Originating in Egypt though in cahoots with the Saudi Arabia jihadists who were going to Afghanistan to help kill invading Soviets with their Taliban brothers (no sisters, I don't believe; are Muslim women allowed to participate in jihad planning? Yes, I know they can be suicide bombers. I wonder, do they get 10,000 virgin boys when they go to Mohammed's Sacred Cave in the Invisible Sky?) and, yes, with their US CIA buddies, CIA special forces in Afghanistan, too. Yes, isn't it interesting how all of these current War on Terrerists enemies are directly connected to the CIA, the Department of Defense, and in a lot of cases, the Bush family. This is what I'm attempting to show. Whether the info is propaganda or investigative reporting, it all points to the US of A as a major player in all of this mess from the very beginning. Back in 1990, US intelligence knew exactly what these birds were up to; in fact, and this is my conjecture, I think the CIA is responsible for all of this shit; I think they know all about all of this from the get-go. What a sleazy and filthy thing the CIA is and has been since its creation by Allan Dulles back after WWII at the beginning of the Cold War with the Commie Russkies. Remember how we bugged their embassies and then we'd get pissed when we found out our embassy in Moscow was totally bugged by the KGB? Such totally inane bullshit these spy assholes get us into. It's the power they control; it's the power they use to keep their names in the entertainment spotlite. Look at most Hollywood and Burbank heroes; they are all some kind of secret agents for some big CIA-type agency--Special Forces shit. Hollywood has to promote this propaganda shit; if they don't, Congress has the power to ruin them--remember the black lists during the McCarthy days of sham and shame.
To me, these are days of sham and shame still going on. Tomorrow, we here in NYC will have to endure some horrible remembrances. First of all, the ballsiest man on the planet, Georgie Porgie himself, our appointed "president," is coming to town to ballyhoo it up down at Ground Zero, now referred to as the first battleground of the War on Terrerists. This fact alone pisses me, a New Yorker, off. How dare this little prissy rich brat come here and pretend to be our leader in preventing this from ever happening again while 80 or so percent of us here in NYC believe, hell we know full well, it can happen here again and most of us all know it will happen here again if they need it to happen again. As Greg Pallast says about the government's role in the New Orleans disaster, it's not that the government or Georgie Porgie's gang caused it to happen, it's just that they became like vultures when they saw the political-control possibilities of it as it was happening and the New World Order political changes they could affect by simply ignoring the fact that they knew New Orleans could be blown assunder by the levees collapsing--every damn body that lives or ever lived in New Orleans were convinced, like Christy Todd Whitman convinced New Yorkers that it was fine to breathe in the air the day Ground Zero was created, by the government that those levees were perfectly A-OK and though New Orleans was below sea level, not to worry those Army Corps of Engineer levees would withhold even a hard slap from the broad hand of God Almighty himself.
The True Heroes of 9/11
Whoever you think the true heroes of 9/11 were, I'm here to say it wasn't Georgie Porgie--remember, he was reading My Pet Goat to a bunch of Florida kiddies before he flew off to the safety of a Nebraska SAC base. It wasn't Unka Dick. He was safe and secure in his secret bunker. It wasn't Rudi Guiliani--he was shacked up with one of his assistant babes probably--or embroiled in his dirty-laundry divorce from Donna Hanover (who Rudi thought was his prize show-biz catch, you know, an on-the-way-up teevee personality he could use to show-biz his way all the way to the presidency of the US)--anyway, whatever Rudi was doing that day, he was being more the goat than the hero.
In fact, the true heroes of 9/11 weren't all the firefighters and fat-bellied cops either--as a matter of fact, they did more harm than good that day, though not their fault--the incompetence and sloppy preparedness (the antithesis of the Boy Scout's motto "Be Prepared") on the part of the municipal government, all those rich pampered bums on the City Council and in the mayor's office--the firemen's and the cops's communications systems were all F-ed up--they had no way to communicate with each other, their signals got crossed--commands got scrambled--orders were statically impossible to hear--in other words these "rescuers" were left to their own devices on that day--and while the fat-bellied, device-burdened cops were running like hell to get away from the WTC, check out films taken at the time of the huge dust clouds and watch how many cops are running out from the dust while noticeably the firemen are dutifully entering the soon-to-be tumbling down chaos, to the point that at one point, firemen and building security people were telling people to go back to their offices until further notice--or giving all-clear signals just before the first tower began to collapse--or implode, which is what all the buildings that collapsed that day actually did; perfect implosions--they couldn't have been set better by an expert demolition team.
No, the true heroes of 9/11: the people who worked in the World Trade Center--the people who were at their desks on time--the average Joes and Janes of NYC--hardworking, thinking, hell, now I work at the World Trade Center, on top of the world--it doesn't get any better than this! YES, THOSE PEOPLE WERE THE TRUE HEROES OF THAT DAY--ESPECIALLY THE PEOPLE WHO ESCAPED IT ALL STILL ALIVE AND KICKING!!!!!!
That's right. The true heroes of that day were the over 14,000 people who got out of those towers before they imploded and became mostly dust, vile, toxic, deadly dust that now seems will go on killing far into the future AND MAYBE STILL KILL EVENTUALLY SOME OF THOSE HEROIC PEOPLE WHO SAVED THEIR OWN LIVES ON THAT FATAL DAY.
There were actually only (and I use "only" not in disrespect but in a comparative sense) 2950 people killed that day, and that included the several hundred people who died in the airliners that hit the towers. I think the fact that 14,000-plus people escaped with their lives that day, some coming down from 100s of floors, in the dark, in the smoke, in the fear that your next step may be your last one.
Tomorrow will be a sad day for me and a lot of other New Yorkers. The media will play it up wrong. They will relate it the War on Terrerists; they will trumpet Bush's glory rather than call for his arrest as a war criminal as a crook and as a mismanaging CEO, because our government now is a business and this fool destroys businesses as easily as he has no compunction about dropping 500-lb weapons of mass destruction on a neighborhood of Iraqi citizens, leveling their homes, rendering their neighborhood obsolete and leaving them homeless in their own land, their own once marvelous city on the Tigres and Euphrates rivers, in once a place called Babylon, a place that some say all civilization began.
I refuse to watch television or listen to the radio tomorrow. Instead I may go under the earphones in my recording area and write some songs of protest. I certainly won't champion people I hate and who I don't respect at all as heroes...and it has nothing to do with my American Patriotism. It has to do with New York City being my home and it's about me being an individual who has no trouble seeing clearly through all of this bullshit, through even the pretenses they are giving me for being afraid; hell no, I'm not afraid, certainly not of a lying little pissant phony Texan who has certainly decided he has monarchical rights over my individuality, over my right to privacy, over all of my rights guaranteed me by a thing called The Bill of Rights, which gives all of us the right to kick this "president" out on his ass, then bust him, and jail him--with the support of our own militias, that right to bear arms given us--not the right to bear arms on an everyday basis, but the right to take up arms and go against a government gone mad, which this present-day US of A one certainly has. It's gone off its rocker. So hospitalize it at least if you don't believe in Capital punishment like our "president" certainly does.
for The Daily Growler
PS: I am not usually a Greg Pallast booster, but I watched him today on local teevee personality Gil Noble's show called Like It Is and he was talking about New Orleans--where I once lived and worked--and where much to my surprise he once lived and worked, too. And what a crying shame New Orleans is now. Yes, people, we should all be marching down to New Orleans and forcing these sorry Neo-Con assholes to allow people back to their homes or land or back into public housing--Yep, that's right, the asshole City of New Orleans government arm-in-arm with FEMA are forbidding people who lived into their project apartments that did not suffer any water damage and very little wind damage to go back to them; in fact, the city has spent millions of dollars boarding these apartments up with metal doors and plates over the windows. All of these assholes, including Mayor Negan, by God, whose incompetence led to a lot of the people with no way to evacuate NOLA, from the "president" and horsey set Brown and this Chertoff asshole on down to Negan and the governor of Lawsbanana, should do some hard-labor time over this; in fact, why not put 'em on a chain gang and make them rebuild the levees--or at least start rebuilding houses for the true citizens of New Orleans and not making plans to turn New Orleans, as Greg Pallast backs me up on this, into a, as Greg says, "Six Flags Over New Orleans," surrounded by timeshare towering luxury condos--and with those architecturally fascinating old project buildings, and I know the beautiful old Lafitte Projects buildings from personally being in them many a night and day as a social worker, well, you have three guesses and two don't count as to what these sorry bastards have planned for them: they are going to restore them as luxury town houses and condos--oh what a glorious day it will be as the White Folks retake New Orleans and restore it to those glorious White Days when New Orleans was the largest port for receiving and selling slaves and the white man ruled and the South was Risen High, almost to that fine heaven old Big Daddy Jehovah has on high for White Folks--no blacks? Why, remember, as with our first Constitution, black folks ain't full human beings, so what do you think about them getting into an exclusive heaven? Yeah, about like they're gonna get back into their homes and or rebuilding on their land in New Orleans anytime soon.
New Orleans makes me madder than 9/11. Such bullshit. We just can't fall for it. It's time to smart up.
The Daily Growler Offers Tribute to:
Patty Berg, one of the founders of the Ladies Professional Golf Association, died today.
Lucky Thompson, a great jazz saxophonist, died a week or so ago--I first heard him on one of the greatest albums made in the early bebop days, a Miles Davis LP issued as a 10-inch Lp on Prestige entitled Walkin'--credited as the Miles Davis All-Stars. It contained just two compositions, Richard Carpenter's bebop classic "Walkin'" and Dizzy Gillespie's "Blue 'n Boogie." A half hour of jamming by some of the greatest jazz artists of those early 1950s, a young Miles Davis leader and on trumpet, J.J. Johnson on trombone, Percy Heath on bass, Kenny Clarke on drums, and a dude named Horace Silver on the piano. Somebody else was supposed to play tenor sax on that album, maybe young Sonny Rollins, but instead, Miles called on a saxman named Lucky Thompson, and he filled the bill to perfection showing himself brilliantly capable by taking two extremely multichorused solos on each of these wonderfully played jazz classics. Check this album out; it's been reissued on CD along with some added tracks from that same time.