Last night, one of the cable movie channels was playing the second remake of King Kong, featuring Jessica Lange in a performance she probably would like to forget. We laughed over the cheesy special effects and snickered at the hippie-redux political message of big oil as big gorilla. It was amusing until the latter part of the movie, when King Kong scales the WTC.
All I could think of was 9/11, the people who were in the building and the thousands who died. The unique arched facade was preserved on film, but my mind saw the shattered remnants that rose like wind-stripped trees above the smoking mound of debris. The famous world globe sculpture stood mutely in the center of the plaza where millions of feet once walked, and I could picture the smashed remnants that have come to represent the WTC to me now. As Kong climbed up the side of one tower and leapt across to the other, I imagined those who were trapped at the Windows on the World Restaurant, beyond rescue and without hope. My imagination replayed the often seen image of the crash, the bright orange fireball splayed out for a moment in the shape of the airplane's nose.
What is now only a movie image was destroyed by a group of madmen who sincerely believe that the world will be at peace when all the world is Islamic. Because they think they do God' work, they think that any and all actions are justified. Not a religion, these people have joined a cult that has spread across the globe, hell-bent on their mission because of a sickly distorted view of God. We are fighting for our lives, for our way of life and for our rights. The neo-cons see the diseased forest while the peaceniks see one tree that just happens to be whole.
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