Mr. King asked Mr. Belafonte whether any of his Hollywood comrades thought he may have gone too far in slurring the secretary of state and former chairman of the joint chiefs of staff just because he happens to be black man in Republican administration.

No, said Mr. Belafonte, though some of his fellow Hollywooders “thought that the public was going to have a big problem because the public does not come from the same kind of a sophisticated sense of history and all the different things that I’ve been exposed to.”

Who in the hell does Belafonte think he is?  Does he truly believe he’s justified in calling Colin Powell a “house nigger” because he “comes from a sophisticated sense of history?” Have you ever heard of such arrogance?  I’m more determined than ever to avoid anything with which this man has involvement.  He is literally saying that he and his friends think we aren’t smart enough to understand what he meant when he called Colin Powell a house nigger.

As if there is anything to understand?  As if a level of sophistication could all of a sudden open our eyes and make us say “Well, looky there, I sees it all now, Massuh Harry!  You sho am the smartses, how you done tole’ ole Unka Tom Powell to gets back in his place, fo’ sho’nuff!”

Belafonte is a piece of shit, plain and simple.  I don’t care what kind of sophistication he supposedly comes from.  He has a personal issue with Powell that is clearly political, and he reached down deep, looking for the worst thing he could think of to demonstrate his disdain, and in doing so became far worse than what he envisions Powell to be.  He’s the worst kind of racist; he hates his own if they don’t align with him politically.

Collin Levey of The Wall Street Journal provided the quote above, and they provide this one as well…

We can’t go too far along this line, though, without offering a little equal time. One of the newspaper stories of the last week recounting the contretemps recalled that though the two men have friendly relations, Mr. Powell, who is of Jamaican descent and a noted authority on Calypso music, had been known to express a judgment that Mr. Belafonte’s Calypso songs weren’t “the real thing.”

Oh...now I get it.  Powell insulted his music, and now he’s hell-bent on revenge.

I hope everyone remembers that the next time Mr. Belafonte tries to preach on one political or social topic or another.  His opinion is conditional on whether or not you like his music.

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If he’s right, and we take him out, then the streets are flooded with criminals.  If he’s wrong, then he gets to clean up the streets again.  Either way, the Iraqi people lose.

And they say we don;t need to kill this guy…

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Gun control lunatics fucking love this stuff, especially since they don’t have a friend in the current administration. What’s the cause du’jour? Ballistic fingerprinting.

For those who don’t know what this means, there are some who find it feasible to fire every gun made once at the factory and ship the casing to ___whoever___ to be stored for future potential tracking in case that firearm is used in a crime. Sounds great right? Yeah...not when you look at it.

First of all, who the hell is going to track and store these casings? Each state has different laws, AS IT SHOULD BE, and whenever the Federal government takes a law out of the hands of a state and assumes the power, it’s one more step toward the very type of government that the Left and Liberal America decry...but of course they don’t admit this.

Secondly, how is this a fingerprint? Ballistics (as it applies to criminal investigation) is nowhere near a science. It’s a best guess. If you knew how the REALLY study casings for ejection marks, you’d be horrified that anyone is ever convicted on ballistic evidence. Why? Because every shell changes the “fingerprint” as it’s fired. Every one causes some level of wear and tear on the chamber of the firearm. Each time something rubs on something else, the fingerprint changes.

Oh, but it gets better.

Every firearm I own has been tuned, to one degree or another, for better performance. The most common way to tune a semi-automatic pistol, for example, is to “throat and polish” it. What this means is, you take very fine wet sandpaper and polish the feed ramp, which lets the bullet slide up nose-first into the chamber, and you polish the chamber itself. Mine shine like mirrors. I polish them often if I use the gun at the range...it’s one of the ways to keep things running smoothly.

Now...EVERY SHELL I FIRE WILL BE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DIFFERENT FROM THE “BALLISTIC FINGERPRINT!”

I have changed the extractor in three of my guns. This is a small lever that latches on to the lip of a shell casing and pulls it out of the gun before the next round is loaded. This extractor is what leave most of the striations you’ll find on shell casings. How is “fingerprinting” my gun at the factory going to matter? It doesn’t have factory specs anymore.

As for bullets themselves...well, if you are lucky enough to find even HALF of a bullet used in a shooting, you’re lucky. Bullets are designed to either mushroom out and flatten or to disintegrate into smaller pieces. It’s what they do. Inside the barrel of most guns made in the last 100 years, there are “rifling marks,” sort of spiral grooves cut into the barrel, designed to get the bullet spinning before it leaves the gun. This keeps it more stable in flight and assures that if you aimed it right, your bullet will hit where you expect it to hit.

Guess what? You have to clean these barrels often.

When I go to the range, I shoot cheap lead bullets more than anything, due to the cost. (Yes, they recycle the CRAP out of them, BTW) This lead is soft, and bits get stuck inside the rifling all the time. I clean it with a brass brush that looks like a bottle washer, only small.

Guess what else? Every so often, I take a wooden dowel, wrap some wet sandpaper around it and lightly polish the barrel.

G’head. Fingerprint away. Waste millions of dollars on yet another stupid piece of feel-good legislation that doesn’t stop a single crime, meanwhile, instead of using the money to hire cops so he can be caught faster, the Maryland Sniper will just keep killing. Stupid motherfuckers. You want to stop gun crime? Start fucking prosecuting it. Stop bargaining gun charges down to misdemeanors. Why the hell isn’t Puff E. Diddlyfag, or whatever the frig his name is, in jail? We all know he was carrying a gun, in NYC no less. And as much as I love the boy, Eminem is another one...he pistol-whipped a guy in the middle of the street, albeit with an empty gun, but what the fuck? Why didn’t Martin Lawrence do time? Instead he gets a little richer by doing a stand-up routine on how he was carrying a piece when he went insane in Hollywood.

I remember reading a few years ago that Sharon Stone was caught carrying without a permit...this was before her big change of heart where she turned in all but one of her guns (what a show of support eh?), and of course kept her bodyguards armed...The list is probably a mile long.

The point is, all the feel-good bullshit legislation is never going to stop violent crime. You can ban guns, but the genie is already out of the bottle, and you can’t stuff it back in. You can fingerprint guns, but purely from a logistical standpoint, it seems like a monumental bureaucracy just waiting to grind to a halt and get fat off taxpayer dollars. From a technical standpoint, it’s worthless, because anyone with 1/32 of a brain can run some sandpaper around the gun and viola’...a new “fingerprint.”

I hate people. Stop trying to ban guns and go catch the damned sniper already.

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What the *fuck*?  Are we doing that again now?  Did I miss a memo where it was OK to categorize black people as “house niggers” and “field niggers” again?  Well spank my ass and call me Jenna.  I had no idea.

You know what the real crime is here?  That Harry Belafonte is bringing something other than skin color into being black.  Clearly, Powell isn’t “black” enough for him, whatever the hell that means.  And in an effort to, I imagine, shame Powell into behaving more “black,” he used what might be one of the nastiest insults you could say to a black man in recent history.  The implication here is that a house nigger would sell out his people in order to gain favor with “the man.” Worse than that, it implies that Powell hasn’t goddamned well earned the right to be where he is today.  Love him or hate him, but dammit, the man deserves his job, and calling him a “house slave” (no such term, BTW, it has always been “house nigger") is abhorrent.

In my opinion, Belafonte should be shunned.  I wouldn’t listen to a word this man had to say on anything, ever again.  No matter what he says in public to try to weasel out of this one, you know how he feels in his heart.  He sees black people in two categories; The field niggers who are banded together in oppression under the man, and the house niggers, serving the man and doing his bidding.

Shame on you, Harry Belafonte.  You make me sick.  You are what’s wrong with race relations in this country...and the fucked up thing is you went after another black man.  You just gave a green light to anyone who wants to categorize black people who work hard and get ahead as house niggers.  Great job, jackass.

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As I begin, it’s 6:56 AM. I have been asleep for quite awhile. The sun should be up, but as I look outside it’s grey. Even the sun is taking the morning off around here.

In 110 minutes, it will be 8:46 AM, Eastern time. At exactly that moment, a plane crashed in to one of the towers at the World Trade Center. Another flight was en route. Two more planes were also taken over, one headed toward the Pentagon and one that would ultimately end up in a field in rural Pennsylvania. My perspective on radical Islam would be hardened by that day, and my disgust with organized religion would be strengthened beyond anything I could have imagined.

So how do I feel about 9-11? How can I do it justice? I’m appalled. Horrified. Scared. Angry. Morbidly curious. I see it as a litmus test, I use it to judge the compassion and political leanings of people I “meet” in various places on line. Hell, I’m kind of stewing at my wife over it. We disagree on the importance and solemnity of 9-11.

I’m not one of those people who say “It happened, get over it,” or “Other countries have suffered more, this is nothing, get over it.” No. I will not get over it. I love Manhattan. If I was braver about moving and richer, and my wife didn’t hate the idea so much, I would live there. I would have a spot where I got the paper, and a favorite hot dog guy, and I would know my Korean grocer’s name, and I would know how to get to Coney Island on the train, where you could get the best sandwich and who made the best coffee. I would live a different life in NYC, because the city energizes me.

Or at least that’s how it is in my head.

Someone came along a year ago and butchered the most recognizable landscape in the word. The very face of the city...scarred forever by the wanton destruction of 3,000 people in the name of God, or rather Allah. You can look at the Toronto, Chicago or Boston skyline and maybe have to guess what it was for a second, but you always knew New York City. Those, to some, ugly square towers, reaching up above everything else, making the skyline so distinctive. I’ve always had an affinity for night photography of the city from the Jersey side...skyline stuff. I don’t know why, to be honest. Like so many other things that never leave me, a love of NYC seems to be *in* me, like either a comforting friend or a sickness.

And they scarred her. Someone hurt her. For God.

I often imagine being a janitor assigned to Cantor-Fitzgerald, or one of the lobby security guys...someone who doesn’t make much money, has a wife and maybe a child, and worked in the complex every day. Maybe one of the food service people in the mall, or the Transit Authority cop assigned to the subway station...or the person in the booth taking money for people who forgot to get a pass or buy tokens, or giving a tourist directions on how to get to Carnegie Hall from here (practice practice practice!).

I think about how these people were not evil. They were not part of a vast conspiracy against Islam, nor were they likely very politically oriented one way or another. The odds are most of them were just regular people trying desperately to stay one step ahead of a faltering economy, people who never got to reap the benefits of the tech bubble and were hearing all those big-time financiers talk about how bad things were about to get. They just wanted a job, a way to put food on the table and clothes on their backs, and they didn’t deserve to die.

People often say that America is at fault, and to some degree I know that has some truth to it. Our policies internationally have been pro-Israeli and anti-Arab for a long, long time. It started before I was ever born, and it isn’t going to change. Israel does horrible things in the Middle East, but we do horrible things all over the world, and so does EVERY organized government. It’s human. There isn’t a single government anywhere that doesn’t violate some human right or another. Everybody hurts everybody, and I guess the price we paid was the Pentagon, the WTC and Flight 93.

That doesn’t lessen my horror, or my anger, or my profound sense of loss, or my fear.

Look at it this way; What did they accomplish? Did they put a bee in the bonnet of the Great Satan and force him to re-think his ways? No, they simply awoke a sleeping beast and angered him. We’re running roughshod over the world right now, and I can’t say I give a fuck. I can’t sit here and say I don’t want Bush and Cheney to carpet bomb fucking *everyone*. I would be lying if I said I wanted to negotiate a Middle East peace accord. What I hope is that eventually we just tire of the whole thing and just annex everything south and east of China and Russia over to Turkey and down to Saudi Arabia. We’ll call it America II: The Empire Strikes Back.

I know, it’ll never happen. But for fuck’s sake aren’t we sick of this shit? “My god is better than your god, you’re a heathen because you don’t cover your ankles, you’re a sand nigger, you’re a dirty Jew, you’re a mick, spic, kike, dago, chink...” WHO GIVES A FUCK? Seriously does anyone really care, anyone who matters? What the hell is religious zealotry ever gotten anyone except heartache and destruction? Racial and religious prejudice has NEVER made a country better.  It has never promoted peace. It has never made any country’s Gross National Product increase, unless you count when France pussied out and went to work for Germany during WWII.

Racial and religious zealotry breeds intolerance.  It breeds hatred, fear and death. Most organized religion breeds hatred and fear, and only through the grace of law and power does it not create death in the civilized parts of the world. Wherever the law is a passing thought - as opposed to something that actually has power - religion brings death.

I wonder if the people aboard Flight 93 cared at all about Arab-Israeli relations that morning. Or were they just trying to get home, or to a meeting, or just getting away? Instead they ended up as mist.

Dave Barry, normally a humor columnist, wrote a wonderful column about the spot in Somerset County where Flight 93 came to rest. Part of it is very important:

Nobody on the plane meant to come here.

“I doubt that any one of them would ever set foot in Somerset County, except maybe to stop at Howard Johnson’s on the turnpike,” Miller says. “They have no roots here.”

But this is where they are. And this is where they will stay.

No bodies were recovered here, at least not as we normally think of bodies. In the cataclysmic violence of the crash, the people on Flight 93 literally disintegrated. Searchers found fragments of bones, small pieces of flesh, a hand. But no bodies.

In the grisly accounting of a jetliner crash, it comes down to pounds: The people on Flight 93 weighed a total of about 7,500 pounds. Miller supervised an intensive effort to gather their remains, some flung hundreds of yards. In the end, just 600 pounds of remains were collected; of these, 250 pounds could be identified by DNA testing and returned to the families of the passengers and crew.

Forty families, wanting to bury their loved ones. Two hundred fifty pounds of identifiable remains. (Read the full column...)

If you have a flip attitude toward 9-11, I want you to read that again. of the 7500 pounds of humanity on the plane, only 250 pounds of pieces were identified and able to be returned to the families. I want you to picture someone you love right now. Someone you love deeply, someone that, should they die today, you would feel such pain as to be unimaginable to you right now. Picture that person in your mind.

Now imagine the terror they felt seeing the ground rush up at them. Imagine their bodies blasting apart with such force that the largest piece anyone found was a single hand. Imagine them coming apart into what looks like hamburger...All in the name of God. Imagine you put them on that flight with a hug...or worse, you had a fight before they left for the airport, and you never heard from them again. They will never come home. You will never touch them. They are goop, scattered over a mile and a half of Pennsylvania countryside, in the trees, under the weeds...they hit so hard their bones turned to dust. The person you love died horribly, literally coming apart at the seams.

Now tell me we should get over it.

Fuck you.

I say Let’s Roll.  I say we get the big bombs loaded up and put an end to this shit once and for all. I imagine the only force in the world that could stop us is China, and ONLY if they could get the conscripts to truly fight. Other than that we could pretty much demolish the entire globe if we felt like it. Most of the big countries would stand with us once they saw we were serious. If the word keeps pushing the US, they might find out how bad it can get.

They beg us to help, they shun us for our beliefs. We’re the world’s police, but we’re too involved in everyone’s business. Everyone wants our money, no one wants the advice that comes with it. Fuck all of you. I’m sick of it.

Don’t EVER elect me president. I would likely do that evil comic book think and take over the world with my giant fricken’ laser beam.

Moving on...I never really think much about the Pentagon, because it is a military target, in my mind. You have to know going in that working in what is allegedly the most secure facility in the word carries some risk. Just being in the military carries risk. It’s like being a cop or a fireman...you know the risks going in, and so you assume the responsibility for them. It doesn’t really negate the tragedy of your death, but it mitigates it a little.

However, it was just as tragic, especially given the fact that a plane full of people was used, and they were pawns in a game of death...for God.

It’s all so horrible, and I’m crying and shaking with anger. It’s now 7:46. 60 minutes away from the one-year anniversary of the worst thing I have seen on American soil. I’m thinking about that film those two French guys made that showed the first Firemen reporting to the towers, and the rubble, and all that paper...and the dust.

I went looking for pictures just now, I had some specific ones in mind. They’re on my other laptop, which is carefully stored on the dining room table right now, awaiting the arrival of the Dell repair technician to fix my LCD. I can’t get to my cache of 9-11 pictures...I have hundreds. Some horrible, some that just remind me that we survive, some that are downright uplifting.

I can’t get to them. So I searched for some that would hip me make my point. I ended up reading things, looking at things, and it is now 8:35 AM.

11 minutes.

Those people on the first plane knew by now they probably weren’t going to make it, but they are still too far out to actually see Manhattan, I would imagine. Soon, though. In about 5 or 6 minutes, minus one year, they’ll have known for sure they are about to die.

In the name of God.

I will not turn on the television. I don’t want to see what they do to this day. I envision a fade off Peter Jennings looking somber into a montage of shots that cut between Ground Zero today, the field in PA and the Pentagon, maybe? Mixed in with old footage from a year ago?

No thank you. I feel what I feel all on my own, and I don’t need the television to help me feel today.

5 minutes. I bet they could see the city.

I’m sitting here blankly staring at the clock.

3 minutes. They might be able to see buildings by now.

1 minute. You know they knew. They could see the towers. They knew their fate. I hope someone on the plane at least took comfort in knowing. It’s the only solace I can imagine taking, knowing how you will die and when. At least you don’t have to fear it anymore.

Impact.

And so it began.

For every person who says “Get over it,” I want them to find this guy and say it to his face. LOOK AT HIS FACE. Look into his eyes. I can only imagine your heart is black, or hardened, if you cannot see the horror and the shock on his face. Look at him and tell me you can walk up to him and say “Get over it.”

If you truly believe you could say it to him, then I’m not sure I want to know you. I’m not sure ANYONE should want to know you. I only hope that if you suffer something like this, you gain compassion from the experience.

If that isn’t enough...it’s 9:05. Yes, it has taken me over two hours to get this down. Anyway...one year ago, the fire was so hot, people would rather jump 80 stories to their death than spend one more second trying to get out of the blaze. They chose certain death, hitting the ground at around 45 miles an hour. I have seen the photos. I will not post them, so as not to horrify anyone or trigger any trauma. I have seen photos and a video of a couple who held hands as they stepped out...one of them on fire. They never let go.

If that doesn’t soften your heart, look at the photos I will link in a moment. WARNING: they are graphic. The first shows the covered remains of a jumper. It’s not terribly bloody. You can’t see any part of the body that looks like anything. It looks like a pile of sheets. What you can see is the effect of a body hitting the pavement at 45 miles an hour. DO NOT CLICK THE LINK IF YOU THINK YOU WILL BE OFFENDED OR IT WILL UPSET YOU. If you do click it...Notice the spray pattern. That was a person. Someone who just went to work that day, and because their office was turned into a blast furnace, they were forced to jump out of the World Trade Center and fall for 7 seconds. They hit the ground at 45+ miles per hour.

The second is a still-worn shoe amidst the rubble. There is some blood, to be sure, but only the suggestion of part of a leg. The real problem in viewing the photo is your imagination. I picture the owner of that show more than the scene in front of my eyes. A person who, in all likelihood, was not rich, was not a capitalist, was not an American Devil...but was probably a working guy or girl just making a buck, paying the rent, wearing cheap sneakers and khakis with old, cheap gym socks. And this person was murdered, just for *being* on American soil...see, we have no way of knowing of that was even a US citizen. It could have been anyone...but now it’s no one.

All in the name of God.

What is the point? I do not know. I’m not that wise. All I know is I still feel a lot like I did in the weeks after the attack. I don’t talk or write about it much anymore, and after last night’s conversation with my wife, I will probably talk about it even less in the future.

I know I still want someone’s head on one of the points on top of the fence that surrounds the White House.

I know I still fear the terrorist network that has had a year to rebuild.

I know I have to fly cross-country in a week.

I know I’m scared.

I know I’m angry.

I know I’m determined to say “fuck you” to the idea of changing US foreign policy by bombing an office complex with an airplane full of travelers.

I know I’m still happier with the idea of being affiliated with this country than any other. Warts and all, I’d rather be here.

They took down the towers, but they failed in their objective. In the end, all they took were 3000 lives and a giant pile of steel and stone.

But our flag was still there.

Original comments from 2002:

monoperative
2002-09-11 03:14 am (local)

i woke up 8:46 or so, but central time. It was really fucking quiet here. It’s never this quiet. I don’t hear cars, the big drycleaning ‘factory’ next door, police cars, firetrucks, not a one. I swear even the birds aren’t making any noise.

intersection
2002-09-11 04:31 am (local)

Thanks Jim, for puting something into words a lot of people may not be able to today.

I replied to your post, but LJ has a charactor limit to replies, so my thoughts after reading your piece are RIGHT HERE…

my_illusions
2002-09-11 05:59 am (local)

Thankyou. I never read newspapers, but if they had writers like you, I just might.

Linda in KCMO

(Anonymous)
2002-09-11 06:50 am (local)

“I’m not one of those people who say “It happened, get over it,” or “Other countries have suffered more, this is nothing, get over it."”

That is something I dont understand.
How could anyone be so heartless, so bitter...?

...I dont think I want to know.

I take all of what happened to heart, because NY is my home. Today is a sad, sad day, and I dont know about the rest of the country but this place, right here… my home, will never be the same.

stark23x
2002-09-11 06:51 am (local)

Thank you.

(Anonymous)
2002-09-11 07:21 am (local)

thank you Stark

I just wanted to let you know that I was very moved by what you wrote. It made the many feelings that I and I am sure many others have had...known. There was emotion in your writing that should make one wonder about so many angles to comprehend. Thank you for something so eloquent.
from Pr1maMater1a

(Anonymous)
2002-09-11 07:41 am (local)

9/11

Thank you Stark. What you wrote was amazing and was everything I have been feeling. This is the best piece of writing on 9/11 that I have seen.

Hugs,

Susan

(Anonymous)
2002-09-11 10:12 am (local)

From BarbieCunt @ the Manson BBS

I really love your entry.

It is really touching, thank you for that Stark.

(Anonymous)
2002-09-11 11:23 am (local)

in response..

Thank you for these heartfelt words..I too began to cry and shake as I read these things..my mind reeling at thoughts of the horror so many experienced on this day and imagining their final moments. I will never understand. (meladori_magpie)

paranoimic
2002-09-11 03:30 pm (local)

thank you.

- brandie

wtrmelonpucker
2002-09-11 03:58 pm (local)

Amen!

What you have said here today, is jsut about the best thing i have seen all day long, and i have been listening, watching, and recording everything from today. Just when I think I can’t cry anymore, I read this and the tears come again.

I have a question to ask of you...I am making a tribute scrapbook album, and have asked people for their thoughts, may I include your journal entry from today? This scrapbook is for the benefit of my children who thankfully, are too young to know what has happened to thier world, but someday, I want them to know, and understand. I will not use it without your permission, but I think they will “get-it” from this!

I hope that this nation never forgets, and will always reflect on this tragedy.

*Janna*

itarilyni
2002-09-11 05:22 pm (local)

i wouldnt be able to praise what you wrote to do it justice.

(Anonymous)
2002-09-11 06:44 pm (local)

11-9.

I read only a half of your thoughts, but I dont know what to say I lost my words,I will be back later and read the rest, and mayebe I can say what I think about.but 1st I’ll think over it.
catheryna

laurafe
2002-09-11 07:01 pm (local)

jim, thank you. these are the words i have been feeling myself, yet, i didnt have the mental and vocal coordination to get them to come out clear.. i feel so much better knowing that i am not alone. i am linking this to my journal..

xoxo.

stark23x
2002-09-12 10:11 am (local)

Thanks

Thanks for everyone’s comments...I am glad I was able to string some words together that made any sense at all. The fact that people felt connected to it is really cool. I’m not a “writer” in the sense that I do it for a living, or even with regularity as a hobby, but I dabble, and the best thing any writer can ever hear is that they got through to even one person.

Janna, you have my full permission to use it...I would be (and am) honored to think that someone’s children could learn from something I wrote. Feel free to beep the swear words if you feel that’s necessary. I won’t mind!

Thanks again to everyone.

wtrmelonpucker
2002-09-13 09:47 am (local)

I’m leaving them in

Thanks Jim.
I think they will learn a lot from your words, and I’m leaving the swear words in there. It expresses the true emotions and I feel that if they were bleeped in any way, that it would take away from your feelings. I’ll just have to make sure that I let them know in no uncertain terms that they are NOT allowed to use such language! :)

*Janna*

djkittn
2002-09-14 11:12 am (local)

Hello, you don’t know me but I’m so glad I found your journal, if only to have connected with someone else’s word’s about such an experience. I have felt what it is like to know history in the making and to be honest, I don’t like it at all. It’s taken me days- hell, it’s taken a year- to gather my thoughts for my journal and I still don’t know where to start. So many words, and no way to organize it. You did a beautiful job, thank you for letting your thoughts be public.

Would you mind terribly if I added you to my friends’ list? You seem to be the kind of person whom I would like to know.

I’ve said it all year, and I’ll say it again…
I am so lucky to be alive.

Your words made me remember that. Thank you.
Crystal

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