September 11th

You can't find Osama bin Laden? Oh, really? You can't? I'm sorry...I don't mean to come across as skeptical, or pissy, or even downright hostile. But are you sure you're really looking?

According to the ABC docudrama that aired last night, you've had Osama in your grasp several times recently. But suddenly he's become elusive, uncatchable, a superhero the likes of which we've not seen before! He's rich and tall and somewhat fetching really. Wow. How cool. Maybe, just maybe, it might be better for you to keep him "out there"...keep us off balance, frightened.

Why would you do that? Well, let's think. This wouldn't be a power grab, would it? You're infamous for exploiting the American public's fear...expanding the power of the government to save us from casually-defined "enemies." Government entities leap from the tops of tall buildings to protect us. The IRS, one of the most tyrannical organizations on the face of the planet, the bottom quarter of the graduating class clad in red-white-and-blue spandex, has unilateral power to come after anyone, to freeze our assets, to torture us until we bleed...without mercy, without oversight. The Department of Social Services watches over us..."Doc, please, let us know about any broken bones, about any bruises, uncombed hair, cavities."

Now you want to monitor our phone calls, our friendships, our opinions. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? I know who you are. You're the frat boy who walked me home from the college party to "protect" me...didn't have anything to do with your agenda, did it? You're the C-average Ivy League fuckers, legacies all! You've used 9/11 to gleefully expand the power of the state...to increase your own personal power. You, of course, know what's right. For you. Bastards! People are slowly, very slowly, figuring you out.

I live a stone's throw from NORAD, the North American Air Defense Command. On 9/11/2001, I had F-16s flying overhead all day long. You know what I feared most? Not Osama and his band of thugs, or wayward planes or nuclear bombs, but George W. hanging out in my back yard "protecting" me. Fuck you, frat rat, swaggering drugstore cowboy, and all of your slight-of-penis asshole friends. Unfortunately for you, I know your kind.