imkittymyers at hotmail dot com
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
LIFE IS A CABARET, OLD CHUM
For months now I’ve been thinking of 1930s Germany, when the Nazis' power was escalating daily, of how the rest of the world didn't want to acknowledge it so they chose not to. Rush has talked often of the American luxury of choosing not to allow the terrorism in the rest of the world to intrude upon our snug little lives. Some have loved ones in the military deployed in countries where attacks are a way of life, so they are more aware of it.
But for the majority of us, we can simply shut out the nastiness if we so choose. Watch Law & Order reruns. Go shopping. Get together with friends. And, yet, that nastiness continues to flourish unabated. How quickly we reverted to that September 10th frame of mind. Oh, we wave our flags and shed the requisite tears when recalling the horror of 9/11 ...
THEY BEGAN JUMPING NOT LONG after the first plane hit the North Tower, not long after the fire started. They kept jumping until the tower fell. They jumped through windows already broken and then, later, through windows they broke themselves. They jumped to escape the smoke and the fire; they jumped when the ceilings fell and the floors collapsed; they jumped just to breathe once more before they died. They jumped continually, from all four sides of the building, and from all floors above and around the building's fatal wound. They jumped from the offices of Marsh & McLennan, the insurance company; from the offices of Cantor Fitzgerald, the bond-trading company; from Windows on the World, the restaurant on the 106th and 107th floors—the top. For more than an hour and a half, they streamed from the building, one after another, consecutively rather than en masse, as if each individual required the sight of another individual jumping before mustering the courage to jump himself or herself. One photograph, taken at a distance, shows people jumping in perfect sequence, like parachutists, forming an arc composed of three plummeting people, evenly spaced. Indeed, there were reports that some tried parachuting, before the force generated by their fall ripped the drapes, the tablecloths, the desperately gathered fabric, from their hands. They were all, obviously, very much alive on their way down, and their way down lasted an approximate count of ten seconds. They were all, obviously, not just killed when they landed but destroyed, in body though not, one prays, in soul. One hit a fireman on the ground and killed him; the fireman's body was anointed by Father Mychal Judge, whose own death, shortly thereafter, was embraced as an example of martyrdom after the photograph—the redemptive tableau—of firefighters carrying his body from the rubble made its way around the world.
...and then we banish the nastiness from our thoughts and vote like it never happened, like terrorism isn't our problem. Yet our enemies still exist, and they still want all of us "infidels" dead. That includes all of those anti-war sympathizers, too. They're considered infidels along with the rest of us. But what the hell, life is a cabaret -- right?
"There was a cabaret and there was a master of ceremonies and there was a city called Berlin in a country called Germany. It was the end of the world...and we were fast asleep...."
No use permitting some prophet of doom
To wipe every smile away.
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,Come to the Cabaret!
Revisiting (and Reliving) 1938: The Western democracies had “seemed to give repeated proofs that they would bow to violence so long as they were not themselves directly assailed.”
8 UPDATE ... I'm not alone: You should be shocked. But, sadly, you are not.