Few days offer such a smorgasbord of mismatched emotions and misplaced xenophobia quite like September 11. At this point the itinerary is almost routine. News broadcasts and articles offer reflection in between stories of a faraway natural disaster and the size of Kanye's poop (spoiler alert, he's been getting his fiber). Sporting events will parade out any first responders yet to be claimed by asbestos for the singing of the national anthem, moment of silence, and back to watching grown men move a ball around a field. That one co-worker who twists the most tangential of relations into a story about how 9/11 really made him depressed for a solid week because he loves America THIS MUCH and seeing the good ol' US of A hurt in any capacity is just too much for his empathy meter to bear even though you can distinctly recall this insincere fuck literally walk over homeless people during your lunch break.
In our quest to never forget 9/11 the tragedy, we have remembered 9/11 the spectacle.
If there is anything we can be sure of memory, is that it will fade. If we don't forget that which must not be forgotten, we can be sure our children will, or their children will. There are kids in grade school for whom 9/11 is question #5 on a Social Studies test. Stated purpose becomes intent, intent open to interpretation. Revision. 'Never forget' is less a declaration and more a challenge.
In our quest to never forget 9/11 the tragedy, we have remembered 9/11 the spectacle.
If there is anything we can be sure of memory, is that it will fade. If we don't forget that which must not be forgotten, we can be sure our children will, or their children will. There are kids in grade school for whom 9/11 is question #5 on a Social Studies test. Stated purpose becomes intent, intent open to interpretation. Revision. 'Never forget' is less a declaration and more a challenge.
December 7 has gone from a day which will live in infamy to about a week removed from eight maids a-milking. Memorial Day - memory could not be more implicitly encouraged - has Animorphed™ from a day of solemnity to opening weekend for a shitty summer blockbuster reboot no one asked for. I mean, how many times are we going to allow Hollywood to fuck up the X-Men?
The memory of 9/11 is disjointed and unsure in our minds, yet we do remember. What we are remembering is clear. The why is less so.
The memory of 9/11 is disjointed and unsure in our minds, yet we do remember. What we are remembering is clear. The why is less so.
It can't be the violent loss of civilian life, as hundreds of thousands of civilians deaths in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, and a plethora of other clusterfucks masquerading as countries have passed through our news tickers with the same frequency and gravity as weather reports. Or gorillas getting shot. Kids today tell me dead gorillas are all the rage. It can't be the loss of American life specifically, as at least 10,000 Americans have been killed by drunk drivers every year for the past 30 years, yet no showings of phony solidarity or patriotism. Not too many corny, emotionally manipulative country songs about drunk driving released either.
No, no, the deaths themselves are not the reason. A large part, but a part. The spectacle of 9/11, the explosions, the fire, the screaming, the bravery, the tears, the demands for justice, the president's declaration of war on a concept (groundbreaking stuff), the star crossed lovers that are nation and unity, the divine purpose, all of it as personal for the man in Washington, D.C. as it is for the man in Washington state. The spectacle.
A somber memory is difficult to monetize. The memory of a spectacle, however, basically sells itself. You like french fries? Not anymore you don't, those are freedom fries. Here, have a flag lapel pin. Wouldn't want to confuse you with the enemy. Actually now that I think about it, I noticed you're not dressing like an asshole. Perhaps I could interest you in this all denim outfit emblazoned with American flags and bald eagles?
A somber memory is difficult to monetize. The memory of a spectacle, however, basically sells itself. You like french fries? Not anymore you don't, those are freedom fries. Here, have a flag lapel pin. Wouldn't want to confuse you with the enemy. Actually now that I think about it, I noticed you're not dressing like an asshole. Perhaps I could interest you in this all denim outfit emblazoned with American flags and bald eagles?
This is why I'm cynical. No opportunistic parasites are selling commemorative breast cancer plates or drunk driving fatality coins. But how quick were businesses big and small - businesses often championed by the American oligarchy as the very heart and soul of this country - to throw a rough sketch of the Twin Towers onto everything from fucking ties to overpriced wine? Never forget is what was asked of us. Difficult to forget something you put no effort into remembering in the first place.
So as the memory fades, as the solemn gives way to celebratory, all that remains is the spectacle.
I've never much enjoyed fireworks.
So as the memory fades, as the solemn gives way to celebratory, all that remains is the spectacle.
I've never much enjoyed fireworks.
