As observers, limited to the evidence presented to our eyes and ears as we regard ongoing stories, we have to take a lot for granted. I can testify, as I wrote, that life can change; instantly, in between two heartbeats! We must accept, categorically, that apart from things which happen in front of our eyes, we have to take someone’s word for what happened. 99.9999 (recurring) percent of the world’s sentient population, even those connected in the most tenuous of ways saw video recordings or read the reports of one of those two jets literally swerving, aligning themselves with their targets, the Twin Towers. There is no finer proof besides that of something which was covered by independent people, whose quick reflexes filmed a very silent moment as the tragedy unfurled. I myself sat stunned as the smoke, flames and more smoke billowed ever higher into that superb cloudless sky: and I watched on live t.v. as the slow, remorseless calamity unfolded as first one, and then the other tower, shorn of the physical integrity which had been provided by the steel cored structure, as it literally bent and fractured under the heat of the jet fuel-powered fires: finally groaned, failed, and majestically accelerated straight down towards Ground Zero.
I wrote on my own site, in memoriam of one person who died; and I learnt of the simple life of that woman, in the time before a fanatic stated that she, along with 2,995 others should die. I took whatever information I could from records, from recorded family details, and I posted that small insignificant story as part of a blogger’s project, to prove that they were remembered, that they did not die in vain. Those who read it, and those who read the follow-up piece about one of the six sections of the girders, supposed to form the London remembrance to that awful day, lay for weeks in a scrapyard, before the powers-that-be were finally shamed into the provision of a tiny scrap of land, tucked away behind the London Aquatic Centre in the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. Instead of being slap-bang in the middle of all those swanky buildings which were supposed to ‘bring us all together, in celebration of the Olympic ideals’ or some other diarrhoea-laden garbage; the visitor, the searcher after knowledge and of how the Capital City of these Nations treats its indelible memories; has to wend their way over a car-park, around the sides of a busy road, in order to find this tiny scrap of land, to find the Girders placed almost grudgingly, as an afterthought. This monument, which should have been centre-stage and floodlit from the moment it was erected, is treated almost the same as some would treat a distant family relative, slightly dodgy, ill-tempered and of a dubious reputation; remembered but shuttled out of sight; almost as though the City and Capital itself knew, but was ashamed to admit that that had actually happened.
But of course, as usual; I digress. I wished to explore the difference between what we could verify with our own eyes and ears; and what we inhale into our minds from sources often so slanted, biased and opposed to the truth as has actually been seen and verified by truly independent observers. I followed a straightforward commentary piece by James Delingpole, and found myself entranced and ensconced in the blog-based story of the Timeline of the Hamas Gaza beach operation by a writer named Thomas Wictor. Read it, and make up your own mind if he has managed to separate truth from fiction, make your mind up if he has convinced YOU that the death of those four youngsters was the result of Israeli bombardment, or the cynical manipulation of a compliant and complaisant Western News Media by the terrorist Hamas, the enemy of everything Israel stands for, including its very existence.