September 11th was a Tuesday

There’s a huge body of people who live in growing denial of events, and stand upon burnt and blood-sodden ground that is slowly sinking into the sands of Time.

They vocalize a litany of fear, uncertainty, and doubt that streams from their subconscious – a manifest projection of all their archetypal confusion and world-view.

As they repeat the evidence of their disconnection over and over again it becomes their chant, a magical charm to ward off Evil, and they regress behind imaginary walls and paralytic self-sheltering. They are the Villagers of September 10th past.

They know the Monster’s name and they are afraid to invoke it. Unwilling to speak it, their fear drives them to appease it.

In the labyrinth of their confusion they believe they can make diplomacy with the Minotaur. Hoping to slake its thirst for blood they are prepared to send ten, twenty, or forty virgins to the lip of the Volcano.  Stockholm-syndrome has its way with them. They fear that which might identify them: Point away, point away! They are ready to send a whole Civilization into the inferno to save themselves – but they are already in the fire.
Holding protest signs like strings of Garlic, too small and weak to fight against Terror, the Villagers clamor instead to seek shelter beneath the ruthless walls of The Hatred itself – that is no shelter.

A Hatred that casually and lustily destroyed the lives of over two thousand small innocents, working people with families who were simply going about their business. A Hatred that danced upon its millipede feat in the befouled streets of its diseased home and sang from it’s hundred Hydra-heads with shrill voices of gloating, as thousands perished in flames, in falling, and in smokey rubble.

The Villagers of September 10th plead, “Please do not harm us – we are like you.”  But they are only small, Little Hatreds – nothing like the big blood-lust.

The insatiable Hatred will take their Life and laugh, and laugh again as they give up the lives of others, while the Hatred remains at the banquet of blood, hungry for more.

The Fallacy of Social Justice…

…and it’s blind adherents: “Social Justice” is essentially Jihad for “Progressive” warriors, and Political Correctness is the Sharia Law they wish to impose on everybody. They act open-minded but are so far from it that it’s like a self-illuminated Möbius loop infinitely turning in a collapsing neutrino – the gravity is so immensely dense no light can escape, just as no light can be shed upon the blankness and emptiness of their still-born thoughts. Walkers in self-imposed condition white.