Posted on 09/22/2001 10:44:56 PM PDT by Luis Gonzalez
This is madness.
I can't get my mind around it.
I can't seem to get the images to maintain perspective. My eyes are constantly trying to convince my mind that it is a movie, all the while; my mind is trying to convince my soul that it is a nightmare. But movies and nightmares end, and these images will do neither.
There are no words that can explain the dull, unformed mass of pain that has come to rest permanently in the very center of my soul. It throbs like it's alive, and it twists and burns my insides at will, and at the sight of the buildings, and the people, and the families with so little hope.
I've tried to write, for days now I have tried, but the words blur, and the keys fade from sight. My hands tremble and my heart is heavy inside me. For days now, I go through the motions of going through the motions. I work, I drive, I brush my teeth, I eat, and I do all those things that I do everyday, all the normal things that I do in my life, and at the end of the day, I can't remember doing any of it. All I can remember are the faces of the people; the beautiful American faces of our people, covered with soot, covered with tears, or covered with both, holding the pictures of their loved ones, and asking why.
I look at their faces, the faces in those pictures, and I can't tell whether they are northerners, southerners, liberals, conservatives, immigrants, or natural-born. I can't tell if they are gay, or straight, pro-choice, or pro-life...and I don't care, they are all my brothers and sisters, and savages who hate us simply because of what America stands for, have murdered them.
Perhaps in that rubble that used to be a symbol of American power lays the body of an adversary, someone with whom I have disagreed on many a topic, someone whose core beliefs violently collide with mine. Perhaps the cement, glass, and steel buried that adversary. Today, I would give anything at all, just to be there, at the mountain of rubble, looking for my adversary, my brother, and help him or her walk away. Every person buried in the rubble, killed by the hate mongers, was my brother.
I mourn the loss of my brothers and sisters. I mourn for the children who cry in the night, longing for the comfort and the warmth that only comes from the arms of their Mommy, or their Daddy. My heart goes out to the parent at home, coping with their own loss, and trying to ease their children's pain.
I mourn the loss of our innocence.
We felt safe in our bastion of Liberty, we felt untouchable behind the ramparts we watched. This is home, and this is sanctuary to all who seek freedom.
But the ramparts have been breached, and the Barbarians stand at the gate, the war has come home. The time for tears comes to an end.
There's a rumble building up from the depths of this wounded land, rising from every home on every street in every city across the nation. A sound both pained and angered, a sound emanating from the Earth beneath our feet, rising to the firmaments, a people enraged, a people united in purpose and determination.
The forces of hatred underestimated my people. They don't know Americans very well.
They seem to have forgotten what we are capable of when united in a just cause.
They have forgotten what America did in the war to end all wars; they forget what Americans accomplished when they made the world safe for Democracy. And our resolve then pales in comparison to our resolve now, our abilities then pale in comparison to our abilities today.
Make no mistake; this is our war, not the world's war. This war isn't about our relationship with Israel, but rather about our ability as a nation to freely associate. It isn't about our actions in the Persian Gulf during Desert Storm, but rather about our freedom to protect our national interests and defend our allies.
This is about our way of life, our beliefs, and our future. But most of all, this is about our freedom, and about the fact that we stand in the way of the spread of a malignant, stagnant ideology throughout the Middle East and ultimately, the world. These savages hate our lifestyle, they hate us for having the temerity to be free, and they hate that we stand against everything they believe in. They hate, and that hatred was brought to fruition on a beautiful, autumn morning in New York and the District of Columbia.
This war, thus far fought on foreign soil, has now spilled American blood on American soil, and with one devastating act of subhuman savagery, has brought us to our knees. At least, that's what our enemies think. They rejoice in the streets, and praise their blood-stained Pagan gods, celebrating the murder of innocent, unarmed, unsuspecting wives, daughters, children and old people. They celebrate cowardice and call it a victory. They fail to notice that we are kneeling in prayer, we are praying for our fallen and for their families. We are praying for the very soul of our Nation, and we are praying for the strength to hoist high His terrible swift sword, and for the determination to swing it wide, with horrific consequences.
They have won nothing.
From these ashes, from the still smoldering ruins left behind by the cowardly attacks of these unspeakable bastards, from the shattered pieces of humanity buried in the rubble, there will rise America, like a magnificent star-spangled Phoenix, blazing across the beautiful halcyon skies above the fruited plains. From every corner of this land, you can hear the cry of rage of a giant, awakened and moving with a single-mindedness seldom before seen; to defend our shores, to avenge our dead, and to wage war and wreak havoc upon our enemies, upon their leaders, their cities, and their way of life.
Behold the unspeakable fury of the giant awakened; behold the righteous rage of my people united, let the minions of hate know that we are coming, and Hell is coming with us.
Let the world watch and tremble.
Let history bear witness to the coming events.
Let this be our finest hour.
Gob Bless America, God bless us all.
Thamk you, brother.
Thank you Luis, for the whole-souled words touching our hearts.
...let the minions of hate know that we are coming, and Hell is coming with us.
5.56mm
I have said from the beginning of this thing, that if there is ANY connection to the Castro brothers (which I HOPE there is)...
We take them out too!
Let's just FINISH it!
Beautifully done Luis...
A FINE effort!
Hey! It didn't stop me from acting like an idiot and not giving Billie credit.
What's lower than a slacker anyway?
This is wonderful Luis. Thank you for speaking for so many of us.
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