GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #798: I DID 9/11

 A while back, sometime in maybe 2011, I wrote an article asking the question, "What if Osama bin Laden didn't do 9/11?" And then I went into the reasons why he might have been a patsy and even wrote a little about his so-called confession. But honestly? I think it was my guilt. I didn't want someone taking the fall for the real perpetrator.

Because I did 9/11.

I didn't mean for it to happen that way. I certainly didn't want planes to crash into the WTC and the Pentagon. I never wanted 2,000-ish people to die that day.

I think I might have powers. There is some circumstantial evidence for this, just like there is for possibly dying in January 2020 and not noticing. Or accidentally winding up in a parallel universe. You know, stuff I'd never, never, never claim happened to me. Ever. Especially not in a column called Goodnight, Fuckers.

But I can kill people with my mind. Let me give you an example. When I was in high school one of my brothers liked to play with the kid who lived a couple of doors down. I forget what happened between the two of them, but the kid's dad marched over to my place (while I wasn't there), and screamed at my grandmother. He cursed at her. Shouted how my brother was not allowed over there anymore. He even called my grandma a cocksucker. Not conversationally, either. At the top of his lungs. Later, when she told me about it, she couldn't bring herself to say the "cock" part of cocksucker, but I got the idea. It burned me up. If I *had* been there, I would have pushed that fucker backwards off my porch, and if he looked like he was going to get up, I'd jump down the three steps and land with both feet on his balls. You're all not used to me being irrationally angry. I'm a very mellow middle-aged man now. But I was furious back then.

I wished, with all my might, that the piece of shit would die.

Two weeks later, he did.

This has happened a total of three times in my life, when I have wished someone was dead and they died no later than two weeks after. It can't be anyone, though. It has to be someone I know and who knows me. (Believe me, I've tried with a certain former president.) I have never wished someone I know dead and they didn't die swiftly thereafter. So it's a power I've sworn off of. Someone has to fuck me over really, really bad to get me to wish them dead.

What does this have to do with me doing 9/11?

I remember thinking about the state of the world in the year 2001, and I remember that even though we were in very, very good shape as a nation, every goddam motherfucker on the TV and radio bitched and moaned about nonissues. It was all bullshit, and I got sick and tired of hearing it. So I wished with all my might that they'd finally have something real to complain about.

The date of that wish was September 1, 2001.

I'd been thinking more along the lines of a financial crisis. Like, maybe another depression. Never in a thousand years would I have wanted something so bad that it changed the course of the world irrevocably, costing so many human lives not just on the day of, but in the seemingly endless war that resulted from the madness.

Fuck.

EVERYONE'S GOT ONE #1: WHAT IF OSAMA DIDN'T DO IT?

Welcome to the first installment of my new opinions column, “Everyone’s Got One.” You know, as in the old phrase about assholes and such. I thought it a fitting title, especially since I’ve been wondering just how I was going to replace FBJ on Fridays. I hope this semi-regular feature will do just that.

What will I talk about? Anything that crosses my mind. For my first act, though, I thought I’d go big or go home. Why not stir shit up?


The other day, a very reactionary know-it-all, everything-is-black-or-white co-worker was asked if President Obama should release photos of arch-villain Osama bin Laden’s corpse to the public. Immediately, he said that the president should do exactly that. However, he said it within earshot of another co-worker, equally reactionary, but on the opposite side of the fence. She responded by saying that she wanted the news to stop showing pictures of Americans celebrating the bin Laden’s death.


My own knee jerked at this, and I thought this last comment was a bit too weak. Why not celebrate the death of a horrible man? All people are not equal, and I’m not talking about human rights, here. Not all viewpoints are valid, and bin Laden had a very ugly perspective. There’s no doubt about it. He was utter scum, and the world is a better place without him. Though America declared war against terrorism, it was really a war against one man: bin Laden. While his death will in no way hinder our military excursions overseas, it’s still an important victory. If Americans wanted to celebrate his death, go for it.


I was about to mention these things, but then another thought occurred to me. Let me get this out of the way right here: I oppose the death penalty. When I was in high school, I was all about murdering murders in the name of retribution, but as strange as it may seem to a lot of people, I’ve mellowed with age. I’ve thought about things a lot more. I’ve become more reasonable. What it comes down to is this: far too many people are executed only to have new evidence uncovered years later proving their innocence. Granted, some of the bastards on death row had it coming, but if we have made a single solitary mistake, we have failed. We have become murderers ourselves. This price is too high for us as a society to pay.


Having said that, the thought that occurred to me before I so rudely interrupted myself was this: WHAT IF OSAMA DIDN’T DO IT? Think back to September 11th. I know it’s not a pleasant thing to do, but for the sake of argument, give it a try. Try to remember what it was like during those days when they took the planes out of the sky.


How much do you remember about the detective work that led to Osama bin Laden? Not much, I’ll bet. Most people were so swept up in swift and immediate revenge that they didn’t consider much. They would have snapped at any piece of evidence, no matter how circumstantial.


And the evidence against Al Qaeda was circumstantial, indeed. But it seemed like we were on the right track. And bin Laden was the leader of this group, so he had to know something, right?


The defining moment for most Americans came when bin Laden took credit for 9/11 himself. That seems like pretty condemning evidence at first, but ask any detective who has worked a serial killing. How many nutbags come forward claiming to have been the killer?


Bin Laden could have been just another nutbag. Why not claim credit? He delivered the biggest blow against America in all of its history. Who, from that part of the world, wouldn’t want mad props like that? It’s the ultimate in street cred.


And that’s it. That’s all we have to go on. Suddenly, bin Laden was the most wanted man in the world . . . all on his own say-so. Outlandish? Maybe. But what if, America, we found out after a while that Osama bin Laden was just the figurehead, that someone far more insidious actually came up with the blueprint for 9/11? What then?


Things aren’t so cut and dry, folks. There are no more cowboys, and some of the bad guys wear white hats.

See?  White hat.

That’s a pretty heavy thing to lay on you, and I don’t blame your skepticism. Your kids will be more likely to play devil’s advocate on this one, though. Who knows? Maybe you’ll live long enough to see some of what I’ve just said happen.


Do I believe bin Laden did it? Yeah, I’m pretty sure he did. Even if he didn’t, only a colossal asshole would claim credit for taking down the Twin Towers. Besides, think of all the aid and succor he gave to Al Qaeda, who are definitely our enemies, all of those years. So one way or the other, he got what he deserved. Goodbye and good riddance.


But you should really think about these things before going off half-cocked. How certain are you about the way the world works? Can you really, beyond a shadow of a doubt, know what’s really happening without being an actual witness?


P.S. I wasn’t going to go into this part, but this kind of bothered me about the whole workplace exchange. The second co-worker in question then went on to talk about how America goes on and on about protecting freedoms and democracy and such, and then they rabidly turn on someone and celebrate something as awful as death.


All right, freedom and democracy and all of that crap is a part of the American rhetoric, but I don’t recall any of the Founding Fathers talking about how all life is sacred. Big surprise: it’s not. Some people are more worthy of life than others. For example, I may be biased, but I believe myself to be much worthier of breathing the air on this planet than, say, John Wayne Gacy. I think Stephen King has earned his space on this earth while child molesters rank much farther below him. Albert Einstein has a lot more value to our society than Josef Stalin.


A friend of mine once told me that he judged societies by whether or not it was still permissible to decapitate people in their culture. If the answer is yes, then they are not civilized enough to join the rest of us at the world table.

You know, that sounds like a good rule to me.


P.P.S. Do I think we should see pictures of Osama’s corpse? You bet, but that’s probably because I’m a sick fuck. I’m curious, man! I bought a coffee table book of crime scene photos because I wanted to know what might—just might!—be in store for me someday.


Do I believe it should be mandatory to see these pictures? As in, you’re not patriotic if you don’t get off on these babies? No. I take a pro-choice attitude with my life: if you don’t want to look, you don’t have to.


P.P.P.S. Shit, this is kind of long for a first column. I think I’ll try to keep it much shorter in the future . . . .

FEARLESS FIGHTING MIDGETS OF THE ARMED FORCES: A history

Many different military units have been forgotten by all but history buffs for one reason or another. Alexander the Great’s rape troops who sexually violated men on the losing side of a battle. The Buffalo Soldiers of the American West. And now, the rarely researched midget troops of the U.S. military. Very few “little people” served together at the same time, but their likes have a distinguished history of service in various wars. It is unfortunate that their courage and honor have been ignored, but this will be the case no longer.





The earliest known midget to enter service was Napoleon Keene, a performer in a traveling medicine show until he joined the Army in 1862. According to records, the recruiting officer laughed at young Mr. Keene and attempted to turn him away. Keene was not one to be trifled with, as an arrest record would show (over the course of two years in three different states, he’d been arrested seven times for brawling), and he proceeded to batter the recruiting officer with his fists. He was arrested by soldiers, but when the matter came up in court, it was decided that Keene would be put to better use in a Union Army uniform.




The road to Gettysburg was difficult for Keene, who was barely over three feet tall. He could not keep up with the other men and was soon relegated to the care of Thomas “Strongman” Burns, a seven-foot tall giant known for his prodigious strength. He carried Keene in a harness on his back until occasion for battle came upon them.




It was at Gettysburg where they met their demise. Burns was decapitated by a cannon ball, and Keene was shot down coming to the aid of a drummer boy named Henry Smith. The midget was posthumously commended for this act of bravery, which spared the young boy’s life, but memory dimmed too soon, and he was forgotten by all but one.




In World War I, twin midgets, Daniel and Donald O’Leary, whose older, normal-sized brother died fighting the Germans, decided to lie about their age (sixteen) to enlist in the fight against the Kaiser. If they’d gone to any other recruitment office, who is to say what might have happened? But the brothers met with an aged veteran of the Civil War by the name of Henry Smith, who remembered well the midget who had saved his life at Gettysburg. He had no difficulty in accepting the brothers O’Leary into the United States Army.




They fought the Germans bravely, and to everyone’s surprise, both emerged alive at the end of the war and heavily decorated to boot. Daniel, however, was never able to cope with the horrors he’d seen, and after a long struggle with alcoholism, he shot himself in 1927. His brother lived a long and happy life which ended in 1962. He was survived by two sons of average height, twins, who were proud of their father’s heroism.




Timothy Duff had no Henry Smith to aid his recruitment in 1941. Eager to defend his country in the wake of Pearl Harbor, Duff attempted to enlist and was promptly turned away because of his height. He was tenacious, however, and he tried many other branches of the military. The Army said no, the Rangers laughed at him, the Navy politely refused him, but he managed to convince the Air Force he’d be an excellent machine-gunner. His size made him a perfect fit for the planes, and he was soon flying missions in German airspace.




Unfortunately, his plane was shot down in 1942, and all traces of him ceased until 1945, when American troops discovered documentation of his extermination in the ovens of Buchenwald.




Duff was not the only American midget to serve in the Greatest War. William Takeshido, a Harvard graduate and master of theatre and languages, was recruited by the U.S. Government to spy on Hirohito. At first he protested this honor due to the treatment of his parents in a Japanese-American concentration camp, but he accepted the offered challenge provided his mother and father were granted their freedom. The government agreed and was true to its word, and Takeshido was bound for Tokyo, where he quickly gained Hirohito’s trust. Unfortunately, a bodyguard became suspicious, and the ruse was soon discovered, as no record of Takeshido’s birth or citizenship could be found. He was swiftly beheaded by the Emperor’s bodyguard. The head, it is rumored, is still traveling Japan as a curiosity, now pickled in a jar.




It wasn’t until 9/11 that another midget sought service with the U.S. military. Josh McQueen, lifetime resident of New York City, was there to see the Twin Towers fall, and he was one of the first to join the hunt for Osama bin Laden. The recruiters, desperate for soldiers, asked him no questions and sent him immediately to Afghanistan, where he still serves as an American soldier.




“I’m going to get bin Laden myself if I have to,” McQueen says. “That son of a b***h killed my countrymen. I’ll die before letting him walk free.”




Good luck, Sgt. McQueen. Your country depends on you.