Can We Rise Above it All?
It’s ironic that the anniversary of our country’s worst day is picnic perfect. An exact replica of the day it went down. Crisp, cool morning. Sun showing large, as bright as it can be. Deep blue sky. All of these awful 9/11 anniversaries fall on beautiful days. Why?
The bomb machine got a-rollin’ five years ago, which was good because the we had so many of those things sittin in warehouses gettin rusty. Either we take over a couple of countries, or we take out a few million squirrels for sport.
Afgani was too easy, still plenty of fireworks left in the inventory. Iraq was next. We never liked ya, or your leader and his nasty ‘stache. And we’re sure your fertile crescent was full of freshly picked terrorists.
We know yer bent on killing us, building those weapons of mass destruction. Why else would ya kick Mr. Blix outta your labs? Did he hurt your pride? If ya wouldn't have gassed those nice Kurds, we wouldn't be suspicious.
If that’s not good enough, our hidden camera shows your trucks moving in and out of clearly marked anthrax labs. Clear as day. White clouds of powder trailing them as they sped off to their missile silos. But that evidence wasn’t good enough for the Frenchys, Germanics or the Reds. Our CIA even asked a few folks to verify it all, fer crissakes. What other evidence to ya need, nuclear fallout?
We have bombs to drop and time’s a-wastin.
It’s simple. If you don't like us, you’re a terrorist. And we have a zero-tolerance policy with terrorists. You say bad things about us in the press, we take you outta the game. That way, you can’t make anthrax because you’re in jail and your friends have no arms.
Enjoy a few final laps in your presidential pool, because you’re fired. Mr. President. Bombs drop in 48.
Satire on a somber day like today may infurate a few. I mean no disrespect. I was right in the heart of that scary day. I was in a subway car underneath the towers as terrified people told us of the second plane that just hit. All the headshots of missing people posted up the days after. The horrifying burning smell. The teary phone calls from friends and family.
Awful fucking day, week, year. It's still awful. Five years later. And if you knew someone in one of those towers, I can't imagine the pain. Can't even come close. My heart goes out to you.
But I wouldn't be real if I didn't express how I felt about the quagmire our country is in right now. I was in favor of the war when it began, but I’ve come to realize that war isn’t solving anything. I was wrong.
I don’t have a clear answer, it's apparent that nobody does. But one thing is clear, war is old thinking. We need new thinking. And there isn't a better country for that thinking to start.
G
The bomb machine got a-rollin’ five years ago, which was good because the we had so many of those things sittin in warehouses gettin rusty. Either we take over a couple of countries, or we take out a few million squirrels for sport.
Afgani was too easy, still plenty of fireworks left in the inventory. Iraq was next. We never liked ya, or your leader and his nasty ‘stache. And we’re sure your fertile crescent was full of freshly picked terrorists.
We know yer bent on killing us, building those weapons of mass destruction. Why else would ya kick Mr. Blix outta your labs? Did he hurt your pride? If ya wouldn't have gassed those nice Kurds, we wouldn't be suspicious.
If that’s not good enough, our hidden camera shows your trucks moving in and out of clearly marked anthrax labs. Clear as day. White clouds of powder trailing them as they sped off to their missile silos. But that evidence wasn’t good enough for the Frenchys, Germanics or the Reds. Our CIA even asked a few folks to verify it all, fer crissakes. What other evidence to ya need, nuclear fallout?
We have bombs to drop and time’s a-wastin.
It’s simple. If you don't like us, you’re a terrorist. And we have a zero-tolerance policy with terrorists. You say bad things about us in the press, we take you outta the game. That way, you can’t make anthrax because you’re in jail and your friends have no arms.
Enjoy a few final laps in your presidential pool, because you’re fired. Mr. President. Bombs drop in 48.
Satire on a somber day like today may infurate a few. I mean no disrespect. I was right in the heart of that scary day. I was in a subway car underneath the towers as terrified people told us of the second plane that just hit. All the headshots of missing people posted up the days after. The horrifying burning smell. The teary phone calls from friends and family.
Awful fucking day, week, year. It's still awful. Five years later. And if you knew someone in one of those towers, I can't imagine the pain. Can't even come close. My heart goes out to you.
But I wouldn't be real if I didn't express how I felt about the quagmire our country is in right now. I was in favor of the war when it began, but I’ve come to realize that war isn’t solving anything. I was wrong.
I don’t have a clear answer, it's apparent that nobody does. But one thing is clear, war is old thinking. We need new thinking. And there isn't a better country for that thinking to start.
G
posted by Greg Monaco at 12:30 PM
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