Tag Archives: 9/11/2001

Hunter S. Thompson’s 9/11 Essay Is Still Chillingly Accurate 16 Years Later

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Hunter S. Thompson’s 9/11 Essay Is Still Chillingly Accurate 16 Years Later

“This is going to be a very expensive war, and Victory is not guaranteed ― for anyone,” he wrote.

However, writer Hunter S. Thompson turned out to be amazingly prescient.

Shortly after the tragedy, the famed gonzo journalist wrote an essay for ESPN.com where he laid out his thoughts on what could happen in this new era.

Sixteen years later, his remarks are still chillingly accurate:

“Boom! Boom! Just like that. The towers are gone now, reduced to bloody rubble, along with all hopes for Peace in Our Time, in the United States or any other country.

“Make no mistake about it: We are At War now ― with somebody ― and we will stay At War with that mysterious Enemy for the rest of our lives. It will be a Religious War, a sort of Christian Jihad, fueled by religious hatred and led by merciless fanatics on both sides. It will be guerilla warfare on a global scale, with no front lines and no identifiable enemy.”

HO NEW/REUTERS
Writer Hunter S. Thompson predicted “guerilla warfare on a global scale, with no front lines and no identifiable enemy” after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks.
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Thompson wrote that the United States is “going to punish somebody for this attack, but just who or what will be blown to smithereens for it is hard to say.”

He continued:

“Maybe Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan or Iraq, or possibly all three at once. Who knows? Not even the Generals in what remains of the Pentagon or the New York papers calling for WAR seem to know who did it or where to look for them.”

Thompson, who died in 2005 from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, also laid out how then-President George W. Bush would react to the attack and how his decisions would affect the lives of everyday Americans.

“This is going to be a very expensive war, and Victory is not guaranteed ― for anyone, and certainly not for anyone as baffled as George W. Bush. All he knows is that his father started the war a long time ago, and that he, the goofy child-President, has been chosen by Fate and the global Oil industry to finish it Now.

“He will declare a National Security Emergency and clamp down Hard on Everybody, no matter where they live or why. If the guilty won’t hold up their hands and confess, he and the Generals will ferret them out by force. Good luck. He is in for a profoundly difficult job ― armed as he is with no credible Military Intelligence, no witnesses and only the ghost of Bin Laden to blame for the tragedy.”

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WE VISITED AND ARCHIVED THE NYC STREETS NAMED AFTER 9/11 VICTIMS

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WE VISITED AND ARCHIVED THE NYC STREETS NAMED

AFTER 9/11 VICTIMS

By Sonja Sharp

On the sweaty September morning I went to visit Doris Torres and Angel Juarbe, the weather was warm and the skies as eerily clear and blue as the day they were killed. Except it’s Sunday, not Tuesday, and this is not Manhattan but the Bronx. At the corner of Doris Torres Way and Angel Luis Juarbe, Jr. Avenue in the Melrose section of the South Bronx, mostly everyone appeared already drunk.

Like many of New York’s sacred dead, Angel Luis Juarbe, Jr. was a firefighter. Doris Torres was an office worker. Both died 13 years ago this week, in the aftermath of the terror attacks of September 11, 2001. Both names haunt New York City’s urban landscape in quasi-official limbo, on the city’s records but not its maps, sometimes on its street signs, clinging to the periphery of its collective memory. Not quite forgotten—to forget them would be blasphemous—but not really remembered either.

By all rights, the opposite should be true: Juarbe and Torres number among more than 400 of the nearly 3000 9/11 dead whose names are not only on carved on the popular Downtown Manhattan site where their lives were cut short, but cemented onto honorary stretches of concrete where those lives were once conducted, ghost streets like theirs scattered across the five boroughs. Most are forlorn byways on forgotten edges of the city where no tourist has ever intentionally stopped to pay respects.

Staten Island alone is home to almost 200 of them.

Salman Hamdani Way EMT, NYPD Cadet 9-11-01 is a random, lonely corner of a brick-and-leaf lined maze of residential streets in deepest Flushing. 9/11/01 Hero – Abe (Averemel) Zelmanowitz Way is the western edge of an overgrown traffic circle on Kings Highway, rededicated in 2007 with someone else’s name on the plaque. A few people remember the story of how he sacrificed his life to stay by the side of his paraplegic colleague. His family must live right here, they muse.

“I remember reading about him,” said former neighbor Elise Matis, who stopped in the turnabout to chat with a friend early Sunday. “It’s tragic,” she conceded, but that was then. “Everybody’s involved in their own lives now.”

A group of 14 year olds folding their underwear together inside the laundromat at 147th Street and Wales Avenue in the Bronx agrees, it was sad. Very sad. Lots of people died or whatever. We were born, they say, and wave their boxer-briefs like handkerchiefs against the window on Doris Torres Way toward the murals of Firefighter Angel Luis Juarbe, Jr.

“I think about it every day,“ said 25-year-old Zev between long, slow sips from a bottle of beer, one hand on the stroller where her three-year-old son naped while the clothes spun in the wash. “I remember I was in class [at a vocational school on Wall Street] and I saw people running away covered in ash. Human ash,“ she added, as an afterthought.

She’d never heard of Doris Torres, and only knew Angel Juarbe from his mural.

Rosie Perez, 43, knew Angel better, and wanted her picture taken with the neighborhood’s fallen hero, of whom there are two adjacent murals. In one, a square-jawed firefighter backed by the statue of liberty and a translucent American flag overlooks a fire engine careening down a suburban street toward the smouldering World Trade Center, a billboard for the musical Stomp further orienting us to the New York of the early aughts. In the other, a baby-faced young man smiles from beneath a black firefighter’s helmet like the one he undoubtedly wore when he charged into the wreckage 13 years ago.

Rosie’s sweat smelled like gin. She posed: chin down, hip out. I asked whether she also knew Doris Torres, who also died heroically in the aftermath of 9/11, on whose honorary street we were technically standing. She ran back to her floor to help her coworkers and later succumbed to severe burns. Rosie stared at me blankly. I pointed to the street sign.

“Angel and I even have the same birthday,” she replied, pulling me back toward the mural. “We grew up together.”