DEFYING STEREOTYPES

I would rather be playing guitar or swimming in the ocean. Politics repulses me as an unwinnable game of tug-of-war where multiple ropes are tied together like a starfish, a game where its participants revel in the "process" rather than actually achieve a solution so that we can all get on with our lives. I run a growing business—therefore I would prefer not to risk it and my financial security by rocking the boat. But I cannot in good conscience turn a blind eye simply because I eat well today and no one I know died on 9/11.

I have been convinced that in addition to crazy Muslim fanatics, 9/11 required certain hands and materials of the US government and military for it to have transpired as it did. Over the past three months I have taken the painful personal journey that transforms one from being a (seemingly) well-informed Bush voter who went along with what the complicit media presented as the 9/11 facts; to now being confident that the official story was impossible. And driven out of my despair and shame, I the vengeful betrayed, vow to do my part to find the truth and expose the perpetraitors, whoever they may be.

I am a registered Republican. I voted for Bush twice. I have never voted for a Democrat in my life and don’t intend to anytime soon. I am not associated with any political organization and don’t attend rallies. I hate symbolism. I do not use illegal drugs. I supported both wars and I support the military—often during these past few years I’ve considered enlisting in hope that it would get my life on track while doing something productive and patriotic.

This has been a painfully emotional process, from the initial revelation to wondering if what I am doing will help or hurt my country. I reread the Declaration of Independence and became fortified that yes, I am a true American patriot guided by the pursuit of truth. Thus I pledge my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor by taking this stand even when the straight white male’s gilded future likely awaits me if I would just play along by turning a blind eye.

My conscience does not allow this; it tells me that now is the time for brave men to stand up, even if their knees tremble and they know that in the vague mist up ahead that is the future there will be much pain, irreversible change, and possibly ruin. But brave men know that they are not the problem, that duty is always thrust upon the harmless good, and that sometimes they must leave the people, places, and possessions which have great meaning for them, in order that a world may still exist for these sacred microcosms.

THE PROCESS

I just want answers, the straight story. I want the truth and I can handle the truth! To ignore the egregious duplicitous atrocity of 9/11 is to allow whatever sinister forces who implemented it to cross the threshold to a new level of impunity. If they can pass off a fraud right in front of our eyes, and then once the shock has worn off we sense what really has been done, but do not act—then we bow to them and implicitly sanction them to commit worse and bigger crimes in the future.

I don’t have all the 9/11 facts, I am not an investigative journalist with secret contacts who can give me access to bombshell documents. I am a young entrepreneur, a writer and musician, an athlete, an independent man who has had those fleeting dreams of achieving some sort of heroic glory for the world. And perhaps after countless false starts and wrong turns this is the opportunity to be my best, to serve my country in the name of truth: by following my conscience which has ached along with my soul these past months; by disregarding party affiliation; by using the means at my disposal to plant that immaculate seed of doubt in other like-minded rational people that starts the inevitable chain-reaction which derails the 9/11 construct.

There may be dark days ahead if enough of the population accepts these thoughtcrimes against the government-media complex. For there to exist two widely believed versions of 9/11 truth would birth an elephant far too big to fit in our living room. Some sort of revolution will transpire—I pray it is peaceful and that at the end our nation will be stronger for having rid itself of its internal monsters.

DOUBT & STEEL

Or do I make a fatal mistake? Are the demons at the top too large and powerful? Are the minions too numerous and widespread? Is the dream of America dead and should I just shut my mouth, be thankful I’m in the position I’m in rather than some Third World peasant farmer? Should I shut my mouth and be a good consumer and go shop? Is that all a man who isn’t some mumbling burnout, but who dares demand answers from the wrong people in his quest for truth—is that all he’s good for? To drink the wine he’s lucky enough to have as his lot to drink, to abandon the sacred principles that when adopted can transform men from all corners of the globe into patriotic Americans?

Well, I will not trade in our founding principles and tune out, I will not watch reality TV marathons, I will not obsess over the new cell phone, I will not shop ’til I drop. Nor will I give up hope like so many people who abandon themselves into a jaded sense of powerlessness, disappearing into a life perhaps freer on the surface but which is really steered by a resigned nature.

Are we not driven toward truth, even when it is extremely painful? Do we not in calling ourselves patriotic Americans obligate ourselves not to turn a blind eye when injustice occurs in our midst? An American bears the heritage of slave liberators and Nazi fighters, our greatness lies in the power of common individuals coming together to do unbelievable good.

It is not our fault that our enemies have made their way into power in our own country—but it is our sacred duty to find them and remove them. I don’t know who they are but by way of 9/11 I do know that they exist. Together we can do what cannot be done alone, when people on the left and right stop squabbling over distracting issues like abortion and marijuana while the sick power brokers diagram their next salvo. For if they are willing to hit us once, what’s to stop them from hitting us again harder?

To be clear: I am very wary of the company 9/11 truthers keep—I have no affinity for the ragtag collection of discontented socialists and miscellaneous burnouts roaming the streets of various anti- protests. I think they are hateful, incoherent, ungrateful, and destructive caricatures. I am a functional, hardworking, independent American who seeks to expose the hidden evil men who think they can steer the world according to their kingly whims—and grimy leftists leaping in the street only fuel their arrogant self-image.

-Professor Polyester, October 2005