Charlie Pierce has a great piece up detailing the efforts of the right to use the opening of the George W. Bush Presidential Library as an occasion to give Dubya a mulligan on 9/11 by repeating the mantra that “he kept us safe” afterwards.
Thus do we confront what we can call The Great Mulligan, which is granted by the dimmer lights in the chandelier to the president and to the national security team — Hi, Condi! — who presided over the most massive intelligence failure in American history, and over the greatest loss of life to an enemy attack on American soil since everybody hugged it out at Appomattox. This has popped up from time to time in the years since it became obvious what a complete and utter failure the Bush presidency really was. Sorry we lied you into a war, but we kept you safe. Sorry we demolished American values, and just about every shred of American moral credibility in the world, but we kept you safe. Sorry we let New Orleans drown, but we kept you safe. Sorry we allowed the national economy to blow up, but we kept you safe. In fact, if you sent C-Plus Augustus into his own museum, and had him take that interactive quiz, and provided he didn’t break a thumb trying to get a Diet Coke out of the exhibit, his answer to everything would be I kept you safe.
Can’t say the Rev. doesn’t still have It. The NYPD decides that midnight is an excellent time to take down the Occupy Wall Street medical tent, protesters link arms around it, an unpleasant tenseness envelops all concerned, and PRESTO, there’s Jesse Jackson, right there, linking arms like the old pro he is. All livestreamed, of course. And, God bless’em, up on YouTube, instantly. Cops confer, disperse. Elated bwa-ha-has and empowered discovery by young lady: we can do stuff!
Imagine the despair of the lieutenant or inspector who thought, “we told those @#^&!s no structures, and THAT’S A STRUCTURE!” only to find himself face to face with the very Reverend Mr. Big Stuff, fresh from the unveiling of the statue of HIS FRIEND Martin Luther King, on the Mall in DC, yesterday. And he pops up here. At midnight. Instantly.
Now the loo, or D.I., whoever is stuffing that white shirt, as the kids call him, is looking like a dick.* A failed dick. But the Rev. Jackson, with whom we’ve had our problems from time to time, is definitely smelling like a rose.
Maybe they should try to get him into one of those matador costumes.
*Moving in on the medical tent? At midnight? Any argument that it wasn’t a dick move will be met with vociferous disagreement and last night’s gnocchi, which were a little heavy but make pretty good missiles. Hey, I didn’t take a vow of non-violence.
It’s been mighty exciting these past two weeks here at the Polly digs in lower Manhattan, but being able to witness the expression of free speech being quashed from our very own balcony is the sort of fantasy a girl can hardly believe could ever be fulfilled, and yet it happened!
Bernard-Henri Lévy starts off well enough in defense of his pal, IMF Director Dominique Strauss-Kahn, who is accused of sexually assaulting a worker at the Hotel Sofitel in New York:
I do not know what actually happened Saturday, the day before yesterday, in the room of the now famous Hotel Sofitel in New York.
Lévy should have stopped there. But he went on:
I do not know—but, on the other hand, it would be nice to know, and without delay—how a chambermaid could have walked in alone, contrary to the habitual practice of most of New York’s grand hotels of sending a “cleaning brigade” of two people, into the room of one of the most closely watched figures on the planet.
Oh, so now the “chambermaid” is under suspicion for going about her duties without an escort? Lévy again:
This morning, I hold it against the American judge who, by delivering him to the crowd of photo hounds, pretended to take him for a subject of justice like any other.
Well, he is “a subject of justice like any other.” At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.
The cheering could be heard by the time I got to Broadway: “USA! USA!,” sometimes varied with “FUCK O-SA-MA!” or a few times, in sing-song, “GUESS who’s DE—EAD!” It was probably about one AM, and bunches of mostly young people were coming down Broadway, crossing Park Row, and heading down Vesey Street, over which the Twin Towers had loomed almost ten years ago.
Call me easily distracted. Two September 11 rallies, one pro-, and one anti-. I could have gone to the one with such luminaries of Bigotopia as Pam Gellar and Andrew Breitbart, but I was waylaid by these citizens hashing it out in the streets, and just never made it to the Bigs.
Pity, too! I missed running into delightful people such as these.
The reality of the 9/11 NYC Mosque Protest, via Pam Geller:
The nice, cuddly America that Pam and the NYC Mosque protesters haul out of mothballs at Christmas, see behind their eyelids when they go to sleep at night, and claim they want to “take back” from the Libtard Socialists:
Dear friends, May I ask you to be silent for ten seconds? Just be silent and listen. Ten seconds. And listen… What we hear are the sounds of life in the greatest city on earth.
No place in the world, no place in human history, is as richly varied and vibrant and dynamic as New York City. You hear the cars, you hear the people, you hear them rushing to their various destinations, you hear the sounds of business and of pleasure, you hear the cheers, you hear the cries, the buzzing sounds of human activity. And that is how it should be.
Always. Now close your eyes – I know it’s a beautiful day, but close your eyes. I have been told that this day nine years ago was just such a beautiful day—remember, or try to remember, or try to imagine the sounds which were heard here on this spot under this same blue sky exactly nine years ago. The sound of shock, the sound of destruction, the sound of panic, the sound of pain, the sound of terror.
Did New York deserve this? Did America deserve this? Did the West deserve this? What, my friends, would you say to people who argue that New York, that America, that the West had itself to blame for those horrible sounds?
Greetings, my friends! We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember, my friends; future events such as these will affect you in the future. You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, the unexplainable; that is why you are here. And now for the first time we are bringing to you the full story of what happened on that fateful day. We are giving you all the evidence, based only on the secret testimonies of the miserable souls who survived this terrifying ordeal. The incidents, the places, my friends, we can not keep this a secret any longer; let us punish the guilty, let us reward the innocent. My friends, can your heart stand the shocking facts about grave robbers from outer space?
Heh. Under the headline “Taking Over the Streets?” Derbyshire at NRO publishes photos from an email fan which the writer avers are “an accurate picture of every Friday afternoon in several locations throughout New York City where there are mosques with a large number of Muslims that cannot fit into the mosque.” Rather than verify the images up-front, he milks their Wholly Speculative Outrage Content, then leaves it to his readers to do his journalism for him:
If this kind of obstruction of roads and sidewalks is really going on in Nurse Bloomberg’s city — where a restaurateur can get a four-digit fine for placing a chair on the sidewalk without the proper permit — it’s a disgrace. But give me the facts, someone, please.
Another interview from the rally against the Not The Ground Zero Mosque.
When asked about Salman Hamdani, the Muslim police cadet/ EMT who died at Ground Zero trying to save lives, and whether his mother deserved a place near Ground Zero to pray for her son, the answer to the guy on the left is plain: NO!
Manning the barricades at the (not)Ground Zero Rally, was an Indian gentleman wearing a Gandhi T-shirt. I found him arguing heatedly with a couple of young men, also from the great subcontinent, who, after this encounter, turned to me and said, “I hope you’re putting this up on YouTube.” Your servant, guys!
Bottom line: This was your Joe-Basic Tea Party rally, minus most of the Gadsden flags and plus EXTRA anger and different costumery. It was, shall we say, intimate; there were fewer people, it seemed, than the last Tea Party rally in Manhattan, and that one didn’t fill up the space allotted it, either. The rain was only sporadic until after Pamela Gellar’s Mosquetastic Hyster-0-Rama exploitation fantasy concluded, so the unimpressive crowd can’t be blamed on that.
I’m convinced this mosque was Obama’s idea. The notion of it and its location. I think he knows he’ll be a one-term president and wants as much destruction to the American psyche as possible. The legacy this man is now establishing is a continuation of the terrorism unleashed in the 90s and defined by 9/11.