Oops!... He Did It Again

Seen on Chrystie Street in NYC

Dear Mr. Rudolph Giuliani and those of your ilk, the American public refuses to be so easily swayed (as you might dream about in your sleep and during club meetings) and we also refuse to live in fear.

From an AP article titled Giuliani: No Domestic Terror Attacks Under Bush published January 8, 2010:

"The Republican said of Obama on ABC's "Good Morning America" that "what he should be doing is following the right things that Bush did."

While saying he believes Obama "turned the corner" on understanding the nature of terrorism when he publicly declared the U.S. at war, Giuliani added that Obama has plenty of room to improve on terrorism.

"We had no domestic attacks under Bush," Giuliani said. "We've had one under Obama."

... Bush replaced Clinton in the White House on Jan. 20, 2001, or almost eight months before the al-Qaida sponsored attacks.

When Giuliani was questioned later Friday about his statement, he explained to CNN's Wolf Blitzer that he misspoke."

. . . . . . . .

Following is a chilling poem by Wislawa Szymborska and it points to the fact that life is obviously both precious and unpredictable. But if we as a country continue to have an Us versus Them mentality and if we as a country continue to build walls against everyone and against everything, then our citizens are not truly living. No matter how hard it is to imagine, we simply cannot kowtow to fear and the fear mongers among us.

THE TERRORIST,

HE'S WATCHING

The bomb in the bar will explode at thirteen twenty.

Now it's just thirteen sixteen.

There's still time for some to go in,

and some to come out.

The terrorist has already crossed the street.

The distance keeps him out of danger,

and what a view - just like the movies:

A woman in a yellow jacket, she's going in.

A man in dark glasses, he's coming out.

Teenagers in jeans, they're talking.

Thirteen seventeen and four seconds.

The short one, he's lucky, he's getting on a scooter,

but the tall one, he's going in.

Thirteen seventeen and forty seconds.

That girl, she's walking along with a green ribbon in her

hair.

But then a bus suddenly pulls in front of her.

Thirteen eighteen.

The girl's gone.

Was she that dumb, did she go in or not,

we'll see when they carry them out.

Thirteen nineteen.

Somehow no one's going in.

Another guy, fat, bald, is leaving, though.

Wait a second, looks like he's looking for something in his

pockets and

at thirteen twenty minus ten seconds

he goes back in for his crummy gloves.

Thirteen twenty exactly.

This waiting, it's taking forever.

Any second now.

No, not yet.

Yes, now.

The bomb, it explodes.