Never Forget
With one minute left, the Buckeyes lost there best opportunity in the past three years to win a nationally televised game of import. I had to watch it on ESPN360 because our Comcast cable blows. I doubt I'll invest any more emotional capitol into the rest of the season. It kind of feels like part of me is dying off. I'm sure Matt can relate to that feeling, though probably inspired by heart-attack moreso than ennui.
Monolith is this weekend, and Megan Rowley is in town, and my car broke down early in the summer so I had to spend my Monolith money on that. I spent the day better arranging my room upstairs, and my friends spent the day getting rained on before a bunch of the most hipster of bands, and that's just the way it was.
Scannell and I were able to re-up the FB-chat line on 9/11 pt. 8, which was timely enough, because it meant we were able to share our ranting in real time for the first time ever--I think.
This whole 9/11 business. I'll never forget the way that my group of friends hung out that evening to make the time pass more easily, but I'll also never forget the way our president lied and manipulated our fears afterward.
The attacks might have brought the nation together in a soggy soup of "America the Beautiful" sung out during 7th inning stretches, but the cynical politics that inspired the attacks are the very same that helped destroy the unity we wax poetic about eight years later.
Many Americans make it to 9/11/8 or 9/11/9 or /10, and they remember where they were and maybe they try to go through the day with an extra smile on their face and more compassion for their fellow man, and that's great. But the reason it happened in the first place was because we were too lazy as citizens to re-examine the political realities of our day; to take it upon ourselves to right the direction of our ship. It seems a tragedy in its own right when an anniversary like this can pass and so many Americans still refuse to reconsider the politics that put us in this mess.
It is important to remember our collective humanity. If there can be only one day a year that can inspire sober meditation on the fragility and interconnectedness of life, then at least there is one day. But 9/11 was much more than the tragedy of 3,000 Americans dying as they did: It was also the tragedy of our own political ignorance, and our impotence to do anything about it.
Sayeth my boy: "What the fuck does it mean, 'never forget'? That people died? That America's bubble was punctured? 'Never forget' the day we were almost forced to question our entire existence as Americans, as capitalists? 'Never forget' the way we were told to respond--to buy shit? 'Never forget' people died. It's not as if people aren't dying right now of disease, starvation; dying in poverty; dying a lonely death because they've lost aspects of what it means to live a life with dignity.... 'Never forget' AIDS, then. And 'never forget' people don't have clean drinking water and access to proper sanitation."
If we'd remembered all that before it happened--if we'd remembered that we were on track for energy independence beginning in the 1970's; if we'd remembered that we had permanent military bases in Saudi Arabia for little reason other than to secure our crude interests; if we'd remembered that we were friends with Saddam before we were enemies with Saddam--maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe Bush would have been a one term blot on America's record. Maybe I wouldn't have spent my later adolescence pounding my head against walls. Maybe my best friend wouldn't have been driven out of his home country by its jingoism. Maybe Adrienne Morelli wouldn't have tried to defend the war in Iraq on my Facebook wall; wouldn't have made the argument that she has insider information; that the media lied about the absence of WMD's in Iraq.
"Let's not forget the American's killed for no reason on this day eight years ago."
Glenn Beck's America and my America are the same Americas: A nation of idiots, eight years later, and for whatever pathetic reason, I have the insatiable urge to commemorate these days like I do, here, or there, or wherever, and with little consequence other than it's off my back. I need to get this off my back.
Monolith is this weekend, and Megan Rowley is in town, and my car broke down early in the summer so I had to spend my Monolith money on that. I spent the day better arranging my room upstairs, and my friends spent the day getting rained on before a bunch of the most hipster of bands, and that's just the way it was.
Scannell and I were able to re-up the FB-chat line on 9/11 pt. 8, which was timely enough, because it meant we were able to share our ranting in real time for the first time ever--I think.
This whole 9/11 business. I'll never forget the way that my group of friends hung out that evening to make the time pass more easily, but I'll also never forget the way our president lied and manipulated our fears afterward.
The attacks might have brought the nation together in a soggy soup of "America the Beautiful" sung out during 7th inning stretches, but the cynical politics that inspired the attacks are the very same that helped destroy the unity we wax poetic about eight years later.
Many Americans make it to 9/11/8 or 9/11/9 or /10, and they remember where they were and maybe they try to go through the day with an extra smile on their face and more compassion for their fellow man, and that's great. But the reason it happened in the first place was because we were too lazy as citizens to re-examine the political realities of our day; to take it upon ourselves to right the direction of our ship. It seems a tragedy in its own right when an anniversary like this can pass and so many Americans still refuse to reconsider the politics that put us in this mess.
It is important to remember our collective humanity. If there can be only one day a year that can inspire sober meditation on the fragility and interconnectedness of life, then at least there is one day. But 9/11 was much more than the tragedy of 3,000 Americans dying as they did: It was also the tragedy of our own political ignorance, and our impotence to do anything about it.
Sayeth my boy: "What the fuck does it mean, 'never forget'? That people died? That America's bubble was punctured? 'Never forget' the day we were almost forced to question our entire existence as Americans, as capitalists? 'Never forget' the way we were told to respond--to buy shit? 'Never forget' people died. It's not as if people aren't dying right now of disease, starvation; dying in poverty; dying a lonely death because they've lost aspects of what it means to live a life with dignity.... 'Never forget' AIDS, then. And 'never forget' people don't have clean drinking water and access to proper sanitation."
If we'd remembered all that before it happened--if we'd remembered that we were on track for energy independence beginning in the 1970's; if we'd remembered that we had permanent military bases in Saudi Arabia for little reason other than to secure our crude interests; if we'd remembered that we were friends with Saddam before we were enemies with Saddam--maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe Bush would have been a one term blot on America's record. Maybe I wouldn't have spent my later adolescence pounding my head against walls. Maybe my best friend wouldn't have been driven out of his home country by its jingoism. Maybe Adrienne Morelli wouldn't have tried to defend the war in Iraq on my Facebook wall; wouldn't have made the argument that she has insider information; that the media lied about the absence of WMD's in Iraq.
"Let's not forget the American's killed for no reason on this day eight years ago."
Glenn Beck's America and my America are the same Americas: A nation of idiots, eight years later, and for whatever pathetic reason, I have the insatiable urge to commemorate these days like I do, here, or there, or wherever, and with little consequence other than it's off my back. I need to get this off my back.