If I was a guitar... (Which I've been, before, a few lives ago. You all KNOW that.)
Islam wasn't involved in the events of September 11, 2001, in case you're someone who believes that. Fool. So sorry for that.
I have badges and memories that confirm that all for me.
The media lies. And repeats lies. Until YOU believe them.
So, I'd be open-tuned, as a guitar.
Restrictions are for The Fearful. Bible-belters. They LOVE fear.
(Fear? Not me. I don't react well to it. I tend to freak initially, then I get calm, re-evaluate, deploy emergency blankets and first-aid dressings, logic, something effective. It's weird.)
Grizzly Bear? Done it. Hypothermia? Been there. Unless you have a personal wolf-pack armed with ninja swords, UFOs AND rattlesnakes, I'm not afraid of you. Most lawyers can't take a good ol' 'neck-shakin.' It feels relaxing, until it breaks suddenly. Then they cave, as their breath calms. softly. I've always enjoyed that part of it.
I digress...
Just try it... I HAVE an emergency blanket. Several, actually. Dispersed. Strategically. (Like my throwing knives and shuriken.)
So the firemen and the police were dukin' it out on Church Street, behind Trinity Church, a few minutes after Giuliani put the smack-down on all the idle hands. Maybe November 1st or 2nd... 75 of each (NYPD, FDNY, and PAPD) down to 25 or something like that, it was a dangerous place to be and all. They didn't react well.
All I need is the air that I breathe. (Bush's White House and Christine Whitman's EPA made sure I sucked some serious asbestos and myriad chemicals burning incessantly, ones that'd never been found before. Ever. (Did I say 'ever?') Yeah, I breathed THOSE. Asbestos was just the beginning.)
I counted 17 armored cars lined up on The Avenue of The Finest from west to east, obviously empty, tall on their axles, idling just in front of the NYPD headquarters. Seemingly bored. What's going on?
Armored cars? There must be money about.
But there they were, solemn, waiting. The drivers seemed peeved.
I was in a climbing harness for safety, drilling a wall for an antenna mount.
(They'd just busted the firemen and the ironworkers trying to bust open the Bank of Nova Scotia vault, found intact, chalk full of gold and silver. They (They?) found early evidence of obvious cutting and prying, and snuck in cameras. They DO that. It was all on closed-circuit TV, in case the defense had a differing story to tell.)
It was a balmy sunny day, but late in fall. We'd been there so long that we were inured to the security and the other BS. The roof we were working on was a few hundred feet south and east of Tower 1's old place... across Broadway, but obviously UNDER the shadow of the World Trade Center towers. Too close, but undamaged. The roof aggregate was river rock. It'd been steam-cleaned by the FBI contractors, like everything was, but it wasn't really clean. There were pieces. It was a 'cleared roof.'
Did I mention it was sunny day? It was. Sweet and humid.
But I still felt like shit, strapped in up there, occasionally watching the cranes in The Pit. That's what we all called it.
Then the melee broke out, and I could hear it 400+ feet in the air to the SE, on the rooftop across and down from the NASDAQ Building. It was unavoidable. Fracases carry.
Inexplicably, I was full of nausea. On the ledge above Lower Manhattan, 400 feet up. Probably not the best place to be when feeling sick. Or irritated. I felt both. I just felt wrongish. So I 'called in sick' while I was working. And everyone knew something was going on, not just with me, but everywhere in that sector.
It didn't pass the 'smell test.' Something was fishy. But not literally.
Underneath the WTC was hundred of billions in gold. $230 million worth was recovered.
Where IS all that gold? When the the riot hit full peak, the armored cars pulled into the pit, and they disappeared into the tunnel under WTC4 with a purpose.
I didn't see them again, and no record of them ever coming out exists. Hundreds of billions.
Gone.
And you wonder what 9/11 was about? It was a heist. On multiple levels.
Billions and billions.
I found a taxi up near Houston Street, and bought a few t-shirts at a kiosk before I got in.
And then I wondered if the news would cover the gold rescue. They didn't.
It disappeared that day.
I still find the power chords.
If my brakes fail, or I go of a cliff, or I'm ever involved in something nefarious, according to the authorities, it's bullshit. Completely. I've spread out the evidence, fuckers.
I saw it. It happened. Someone stole 17 armored cars worth of gold from Ground Zero.
Do I have to be more specific in my accusation?
The Carlyle Group bought a gold mine in November 2001. Do your research.
E Minor strum at 4/8 time.
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