Obligatory 9/11 Post
I took part in a memorial service this morning. It was complete with sound bites from that day and place in time. I cried. I resent having my emotions manipulated in that fashion, but there it is. Thousands of civilians, just trying to go to work. They die because our government supports an unpopular regime in Saudi Arabia. What was their involvement? They paid taxes and worked in a financial hub. Some of them were from my home town. Some of them were faces I passed in the hall of my High School, or their brothers and sisters. I recognized some of the names. I saw those towers being built, the New York skyline off in the distance like the Emerald City of OZ. I saw them fall on a television screen, live.
Fucking outrageous. Disgusting. Horrible. The price for murder is usually life in prison or death. This is true no matter if you kill one person or thousands of people. Whether or not you are ever made to pay that price is another story. We humans have always had a hang-up about numbers, but the murder of one is no less a crime.
I remember a lot more than 9/11. I remember fear and suffering as a village awakens to the thunder of hooves and the glint of sabers at Wounded Knee. I remember what the Romans meant when they said “Decimate.” I remember the stories of atrocities from Burma, and Ethiopia, and “Ethnic Cleansing”. I remember rifle fire in Ireland, and the answering blasts in London as glass showered in the streets. ... and I remember the wailing of the survivors on every continent.
Where did it start? With the Saracens and the Knights Templar? With the Hordes of Genghis Khan? With the small, sturdy brown race that pushed the Caucasians out of the Indus Valley? Who knows and who cares? It must stop!