9-11-01 MUCH DIED

Yeah . . . “much died” –  not “many.”   Many did die that day, and are still dying because of it,  but 9-11 was the day I realized much had died.   Much of America had already died.

And on that day I began to grieve.

Because gravity and kerosene  (JP-8 fuel)  do NOT do this:

911-gone-bldg

 

So reason Number 1  that I began to grieve is because about a year or so earlier,  a pretty good-sized passenger plane crashed into the upper floors of a high-rise building – in  Italy.    Those floors and the immediate adjacent floors burned after the crash.   Totally believable.

It burned for a day or so,   but that building did NOT disintegrate,  it did not disappear in a free-fall collapse,    it was not pulverized into a fine dust cloud,  and that Italian  high-rise building remained standing.

Construction analysts,  chemical engineers,  architects,  experts from around the world, those who knew of the very special, newly invented Japanese  steel that could resist damage, deformation, and burning  from anything    (anything short of a  —   you know)  . . .  They all rushed to  our aid with their studies.

Their reports were unwanted.    Their reports spoiled the “story.”      This info is still around,  but it’s been so intermingled with official de-bunkers,  that I have no links for you.   I’m not even interested in the details anymore.      I’m getting too old to mingle observable facts with misdirection.

 

Reason  Number 2 that I began to grieve:

Perky young lady,  British reporter assigned to America,  perhaps her first BIG story!

Top of the hour, 5:00 p.m.  she got her chance!

brit-1

At 5:00 p.m.  she got to make her Live Report from NYC about the “ongoing story.”    And what did she tell the world?     That,  oh, my,  a third building had just collapsed.     “I’m standing in front of where Building 7 stood . . . ”

Only it was still standing.   She wasn’t looking behind her.   It was still standing.   The arrow above her head was added to a screen shot later, pointing out to us where Building 7 still stood.

She moves a little –

brit-2-bigger

De-bunkers have moved in on this anomaly, mostly with sleight-of-hand verbal tricks.  But  I saw this live on TV on that day;  I remember thinking how odd the timing was.

Because at 5:00 she told us the building had fallen.    Live feed was cut, suddenly.   Back to the studio.

And then, at 5:20,  the building began to fall.

 “Where were you on 9-11?”     We are supposed to ask ourselves this, to keep us in a state of emotional “unity.”       I was alone at home that day.    Two members of my immediate family were far away,   one in California (more than 2,500 miles away!)    and Hubbie away in the Far Far North.    Those two called me a couple times.  They were alarmed and they were scared.    My daughter even asked if I thought she should go to work that morning –   but by then I had seen the odd and inexplicable things that were being played out on the television screens.

This was going to be a one-time event.    A one-time opportunity.

It was the new narrative, the new story that they were constructing for us, with vivid images and terrible, emotionally wrenching close-ups of victims.   It wasn’t news reporting.  It was story-telling.

And you’d better not contradict that story.

I’ll give you reason Number 3  (for my grief)  a  few postings  later,  when I explain why I don’t fly.

flying

 

(On  airplanes, that is!)

 

Because there was one more grievous thing waiting for us on 9-11.

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