The Airing of Grievances
Thursday, November 11, 2004
John Ashcroft is an Asshole
I know, I know, you knew that already. But his recent comment about terror being a done deal really pisses me the hell off. I mean really, how callous and irresponsible can you be?

Listen, I work in Times Square and the sense that a terrorist attack could hit us at any moment is incredibly palpable. The place is total chaos virtually 24/7, and it's nearly impossible to instill any type of real order or to stop some crazy fucks who are willing to die. And this joker wants to go and say everything is hunky dory? Well, trust me, it's not. Fuck. Him.

Honestly, I'm very far from a Chicken Little, about as far from it as one can get. That being said, at least once a week, I hear a noise outside that's too loud, or see a plane flying just a little too low, and I get that incredible sinking feeling that something truly awful is about to occur. Perhaps I'm somewhat scarred from having been a few blocks away from when the planes hit the Towers, and having seen scores of people choose to give life one more shot by jumping ninety stories rather than burning to death, but you know what, it's no just me. Whenever it happens, you look at folks around you and just about everyone has the same feeling of sheer panic going on. You can see it all over their eyes. All over their tensed up bodies. And all over that collective sigh of relief you feel once it's clear that nothing is amiss. Invariably, eye contact is made. Reassuring nods exchanged. The next step taken.

In any event, the most telling example of the sheer, well, terror that folks still feel was the day of the Blackout. Forty-eight story state-of-the-art building. This amenity. That amenity. Whatever amenity you can think of. The works. Shit, I think they re-circulate fresh air in the place like eight times a day. All those perks and just like that electricity is totally lost out of nowhere. Phones dead. Elevators down. Tension coursing through the place.

Time to hit the stairs. Chaos my friends. Complete and utter chaos. Folks losing all types of rationality. People just genuinely terrified. All types of crazy rumors floating around. As a not so funny aside, the thing that absolutely killed me was that once folks were outside the building, a good deal of them just stood there looking up. Me? I walked westward to the river. All the while thinking that it makes a helluva lot sense to freak the fuck out the whole way out and then just stand right nearby to catch the action in case the deal blows up. Highly intelligent. To be honest, if you catch it doing that routine I really wouldn't be able to work up too much sympathy for you. C'mon now. You think the place might be bombed or whatever, it just may be a good idea to skeddadle, no?

Anyways, my point is that Times Square is an absolute mess, and so is the psyche of just about everyone who spends their days in the area. Maybe not something that is right on the surface, but nevertheless something that is very much there. Listen, I'm certainly no fear mongerer, and it sucks that our country is so gripped by it, but still, certain things just are what they are, and this is one of 'em. The reality of the situation is that Times Square is a target. A very real one. And I'm sure you won't find any of the folks who infest the place daily, who think otherwise. So in conclusion, I have a suggestion for you Mr. Ashcroft. Go take a hot vat of grease and shove it up your ass. And leave it there. Forever.

There, that feels better. Much.
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