This is how that week went for me. I've corrected a couple of typos, but otherwise the posts are unchanged. And I've included the smallish "unrelated" posts. They are all, apparently unrelated or not, part of the same document.
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: WTC Disaster Message-ID: <Xns911973C6678A0awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> adaldan@nit.it.invalid (Anna Feruglio Dal Dan) wrote in news:1ezktjb.uear7hvmhxeaN%adaldan@nit.it.invalid: > Please tell me you're all all right. If this is terrorism, it's worked on me. I'm sitting here shaking, fighting back tears. I was on my way to work -- literally right across the street from both towers. The first sign was the cornball people looking up -- I had my headphones on and so didn't hear anything -- the pure blue sky was filled with an awful brown gray smoke -- strangely there were what looked like pieces of papers floating everywhere in the smoke -- it looked like a horrific version of one of those ticker-tape parades they have for the Yankees -- I walked a bit further and the full scope of the first horror became clear -- the top floors of the north side of the north tower -- maybe ten floors completely collapsed in -- flames roaring from all sides of the tower -- that awful brown gray smoke -- omigod I thought -- then a guy on the street reported the incredible -- that he had seen a plane plow into the tower -- omigod -- shades of the Empire State Building -- stunning -- a few more blocks to work -- faces, stunned turned skyward -- almost getting run over as I crossed the street -- a strange silence -- no sirens -- too soon to even grasp what had happened -- the entrance to our building -- people gathered outside, looking up at the awful smoke and flames -- I take the elevator to the 7th floor, I'm the first one in, I open the office ... Suddenly another huge blast, outside the windows shit is flying everywhere -- glass, huge shards of metal -- omigod -- I literally think the tower is falling -- or will fall -- i run for it -- down seven flights and out of the building -- cops are screaming at people to run run run people are screaming in horror staring blanking looking up stunned i remember i've left everything in my office i stupidly make one feeble attempt to go get it and get my head chewed off by one fucking wound up cop and i decide i have to head home my family will be scared shitless i have to call them i try to find a pay phone but every one of them all the way up broadway for over a mile every pay phone has ten people lined up finally i get home i manage to get through to my mother in seattle my i can't get hold of others i can't get out of manhattan my brother calls we are watching tv together when i learn the first tower has fallen omigod -- apart from all the other horrors -- my building my job i'm sorry for such selfish thoughts -- but i probably don't have a job -- well fuck it I'm Alive -- we watch the other tower fall live on T.V. I start crying, sobbing, my brother trying to calm me down ... yeah ok terrorism works i'm sorry to say it but it does... Ok. I'm better now. OK. It will be OK. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: WTC Disaster Message-ID: <Xns9119923A23BA4awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> Kip Williams <kipw@home.com> wrote in news:3B9E53EA.E291EEE4@home.com: > Vicki Rosenzweig wrote: > >> The weird thing is, I'm all the way uptown--really--which means >> that, from here, the sky is blue and beautiful. I *know* the island >> I'm on is closed down, and I went "oh shit" an hour ago when I >> heard something fly low overhead, but I'm getting everything by >> telephone and radio, same as the rest of you. When I can get a phone >> line. > > Here I am in Virginia, and a few minutes ago, a plane went over, > loudly. Most days, that's just business as usual. Today, it was the > only one. What was that about? I don't know, I'm just glad the sound > went away. The jets over Mahnattan are U.S. warplanes. Everytime I hear one, I go out on the deck and look. It's bizarre. Like footage from the middle east. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: WTC Disaster Message-ID: <Xns9119923DE4519awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> denebeim@deepthot.org (Jay Denebeim) wrote in news:9nlilp$bc4$2@dent.deepthot.org: > In article <Xns911973C6678A0awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240>, > Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> wrote: > >>yeah ok terrorism works i'm sorry to say it but it does... > > That depends on your definition of 'works'. Does it scare people? > Yes. Does it piss them off? Yes. Does it get you what you want? > No. Did it hurt us in a way that would keep us from kicking their > ass? No. > > They have started a war. They will lose this war. They, their > famlies, everyone they know, will die. The US will do whatever it > takes to ensure that this won't happen again. I have trouble > imagining how anyone could consider this 'working'. Right, well, I'm sure that's all correct, but I mean terrorism working in terms of causing terror. I can assure you, I was terrified. As for what comes after that, well, that's another story. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: Possible Airstrikes? Message-ID: <Xns9119B9D88C7FCawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> dbilek@mediaone.net (David T. Bilek) wrote in news:3b9e8878.314033307@nntp.we.mediaone.net: > Just being broadcast now are explosions around Kabul, Afghanistan. > Reports of tracer fire into the sky. The reporter on the scene is > describing the detonations as similar to those resulting from > cruise missle attacks he has witnessed. I hope to gawd this isn't the U.S. Not yet. Not now. I must tell you that I am most discomfitted by all this talk of "This Is War!! Bomb The Fuckers!!" The sirens are still wailing outside my apartment. They haven't stopped all day. If people are going to agitate for war, could you at least Hold Your Fire until those of us here in Manhattan have a chance to get the fuck out of NYC? Oh, what the fuck. After dinner I'm heading down to dba to tilt one or two back. May as well be doing that when the Big One goes off. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: The Streets of Manhattan. Message-ID: <Xns9119E67EE2F6Bawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> About 7:00pm, I went for a walk, heading south down 1st Avenue toward dba. Not that I thought anybody would be there, but I needed to get out. The cats know there is something incredibly weird going on. They're driving me nuts. I can't watch the T.V. anymore. I'm tired of talking on the phone, telling people I'm OK, and what It Was Like. It's a beautiful New York City evening. Warm but not muggy. The sky is perfectly blue. The first oddity you notice is the number of people on the street. There are tons of them walking ... somewhere ... I don't know. There are twenty people lined up for the bus across the street. I notice they have 2nd Avenue blocked off below 14th Street. All day emergency vehicles have been racing south on 2nd. It's one of the main southbound streets. Flares in the street. 5 or 6 of them in a string across 2nd Avenue. An unmarked black sedan, windows tinted black, a flashing light in its windshield, siren blazing. The trash cans across 2nd Avenue are moved and the car races on south, toward what used to be the WTC. I cut over to 1st Avenue. Emergency vehicles race north toward Beth Israel on 15th Street, and Bellevue, one of the major trauma centers in the city. Walking south, all the stores are open, T.V. sets are set up out on the street with small knots of people standing there watching the old but unbelievable news. Yes, this is New York City. They say we are tough, We Will Survive and all the rest of it, but I must tell you people seem terribly subdued, staring at the T.V.'s. Further south, the beautiful blue sky is blotted out, from the horizon up maybe 30 degrees. A wall of smoke. An astonishing amount of smoke. Unbelievable. I can't believe there can still be that much smoke ten hours after the first hit. It's just astonishing. I was in Seattle back when Mt. St. Helens blew so many years ago. This is that same, strange feeling of disbelief. You just can't hardly believe stuff like this happens. Further south. Restaurants are open. Some are full. Some are completely empty. I get the weird idea that the empty ones must be tainted somehow. I don't know how. They don't seem to be the Wrong Ethnicity or anything. Maybe people just don't like those restaurants. Maybe things aren't really as strange as they seem. I walk past the Islamic Council of America, the first floor of a smallish building right on First. The lights are on, the reader board, There Is No God But Allah, is lit up. The door is open, being held open by the silhouette of a man talking animatedly to a bearded man standing on the sidewalk. The man in the door seems to be blocking the door, keeping the man from going in. Maybe it is my imagination. I study the building closely as I walk past. I imagine there are a good many frightened Americans in there. I hope nothing happens to them tonight. I think they will be OK. People on the street don't seem angry. It just doesn't seem possible to be angry yet. I'm sure there will be plenty of anger soon. All the cross streets are blocked off. This is most confusing to me, until I realize that they've done that in order to keep the major north/south streets open for all the emergency traffic I've been seeing. I note the cops guarding the intersections are not "real" cops. They are auxiliaries and cadets from the Police Academy up on 20th or so. They've had to call out the baby cops even. I think not for the first time today that I'll be surprised if we even have a Fire Department left in this city. I just know there were hundreds of rescuers in those two buildings when they went down. I wonder about the guys from little Engine No. 5 that lives in the little stationhouse right across the street from my building. There is a small crowd at dba. Naturally they are smoking, talking animatedly, watching the T.V. I find Danny Lieberman on the back terrace. We share a drink and war stories. Suddenly I want to get back home. I've seen enough. Walking back north, the strangest thing... sirens coming up first, I turn and watch, there are like ten huge tow trucks racing up First and they are towing... half demolished, ash-covered Coca-Cola delivery trucks, Snapple, there is a garbage truck, a fucking solid iron garbage truck all beat to shit. Oh. They are cleaning up. They have started clearing up the mess. Taking the easy stuff first, I guess, the stuff that's still towable. I detour toward the little stationhouse for Little Engine No. 5. I see a fire truck blocking traffic, as it always does when it returns from a fire, backing back into its little garage. So I walk past intending to say something to the guys but then I notice the truck is not Engine No. 5. It's Engine No. 293. WTF? Never heard of it. Never seen it. Where the hell is little Engine No. 5? All the firemen are gathered around obviously comparing notes in a very grave fashion. I suddenly feel incapable of saying anything that wouldn't Just Be In The Way. I continue on. I buy a cup of coffee, as if I'm not already jazzed enough. I call my brother on the West Coast. We almost get into a ridiculous argument about What Needs To Be Done. I feel like I only have this false choice. We Must Blow The Shit Out Of Them. Yeah. OK. We probably have to do that. But I think we also have to find a way to make ... well, you know what, I think I have to speak out about this false choice we are being offered, but I can't do it tonight. Later. I won't be able to avoid it because the false choice is the only one we are going to be offered. At some point people have to speak out for trying to make America not so fucking hateful to so many other people in the world. That does not mean appeasement. That's the false choice, and we can't settle for it. Oh, by the way, Mary Kay, your little "Morningwhatever Crescent" book is in my backpack down there in my office somewhere. I was going to mail it this morning. If my office still exists, and if I'm ever able to get back into it and get my backpack, I will surely mail you your book then. U.S. warplanes in the skies over Manhattan. I'm signing off for a while. Out. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: Ted Olson's Wife On Plane Message-ID: <Xns911A2E8FBB3Fawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> Kristopher <eoslives@net-link.net> wrote in news:3b9f1783$0$1524$bbae4d71@news.net-link.net: > gfarber@savvy.com wrote: >> >> Ted Olson, now US Solicitor General, formerly of Florida >> infamy, formerly well-known conservative lawyer, spoke >> with his wife on her cell phone, as the plane angled in >> to crash. Other people had the same experience. (Their children >> are talking on CBS right now.) > > Barbara Olson. > > I'm waiting to see if someone on rasff will say they > deserved it. Thank you for that. How nice of you to say so. It's almost 4:30am here and I haven't been able to even think about sleep. My head is locked into T.V. images playing over and over again. Had a whiskey. Didn't help. Can't talk on the phone anymore. All conversations come round to Here's What We Have To Do Now, God damn it. Yeah. Fine. I can't listen to it now. Tell me about it later. I just want to go to sleep and I can't. Don't feel anything really. Except a splitting headache. I can close my eyes but I can't close my brain. Well, others are going to have a much worse day today than I'm going to have. I feel lucky. I guess. Not really, in fact, but I don't feel unlucky either. I don't feel much of anything. The really creepy thing is that all the sirens have stopped. Reports from the hospitals indicate an eerie, terrible calm. I thought earlier today that there was, in fact, going to be plenty of blood. I think the vast majority of those who were destined to make it have made it. There will be some found alive, I hope. But not anywhere near enough to overwhelm the hospitals. If only there was a way for that to be. I'd love to see the ambulances lining up outside Beth Israel. I'm pretty sure I won't. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: The Streets of Manhattan. Message-ID: <Xns911AD1906B9E9awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> "Kate Schaefer" <kate@oz.net> wrote in news:9nouc2$6dr$0@216.39.145.104: > "Hal O'Brien" <argyll@earthlink.net> wrote in message > news:MPG.16098b505b28c422989744@news.ware.net... >> >> Michael, for what it's worth, I'm finding your writing some of the >> best "you are there" reporting, in any medium. >> >> Thank you for very much, even if we all feel bad about what you're >> writing about. > > Me too. I've been printing Michael's posts out as I read them, and > I'm setting them aside in a book I've been writing in for one of my > granddaughters, for when she's grown. Thanks you guys. Unfortunately I'm still trying to turn my brain off. I was out walking earlier but can't really summon the energy or concentration to write. I haven't slept for something like 36 hours. My psychiatrist friend calling from London prescribes plenty of scotch -- enough to switch the brain off. I'm talked out. I'm walked out. I don't drink much, actually, but tonight I think I will drink until I pass out which should probably take about a shot and a half. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: The Streets of Manhattan. Message-ID: <Xns911B6B11F5CF1awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> David Dyer-Bennet <dd-b@dd-b.net> wrote in news:m2sndromq5.fsf@gw.dd-b.net: > Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> writes: > >> "Kate Schaefer" <kate@oz.net> wrote in >> news:9nouc2$6dr$0@216.39.145.104: >> >> > "Hal O'Brien" <argyll@earthlink.net> wrote in message >> > news:MPG.16098b505b28c422989744@news.ware.net... >> >> >> >> Michael, for what it's worth, I'm finding your writing some of >> >> the best "you are there" reporting, in any medium. >> >> >> >> Thank you for very much, even if we all feel bad about what >> >> you're writing about. >> > >> > Me too. I've been printing Michael's posts out as I read them, >> > and I'm setting them aside in a book I've been writing in for >> > one of my granddaughters, for when she's grown. >> >> Thanks you guys. Unfortunately I'm still trying to turn my brain >> off. I was out walking earlier but can't really summon the energy >> or concentration to write. I haven't slept for something like 36 >> hours. My psychiatrist friend calling from London prescribes >> plenty of scotch -- enough to switch the brain off. I'm talked >> out. I'm walked out. I don't drink much, actually, but tonight I >> think I will drink until I pass out which should probably take >> about a shot and a half. > > Drinking until you pass out sounds good -- most especially if it'll > take so little. If it takes the normal amount it's not such a > wonderful idea I don't think. Maybe better than "sleeping pills" > anyway, though. Well, the scotch, applied generously and with Emergency Room speed and efficiency, worked quite well. I want to thank whatever element of nature it was that gave the human brain the ability to occasionally check out of reality. My mental lights went out probably about ten. About five in the morning, I had a minor episode involving the dry heaves to which I applied a glass of fresh water. The water solved the "dry" part, most satisfyingly, I must say. I hate, um, "parking my groceries" and haven't done it for quite some time, can't remember the last time. But this morning... you know that feeling you get once the emergency of the upchuck has settled down ... you stand (or kneel) there, breathing in the acid smell ... that feeling of oh, yeah, ok, that's better, in fact, much better, I actually might feel like a human being again, where's the toothpaste... This was a most satisfying feeling. I suppose I could say It Was Like Vomiting Out Some Of the Poison, only it wasn't. It was like, you know, vomiting out some of the booze. Which was just fine by me. The cats woke me up again at 7:30am with their little "Meeps?" which translates roughly to: "Get your lazy human ass out of bed and get my breakfast." After the morning ablutions and other necessities were taken care of, went out for some coffee (caffeinated, please) and various pastry treats. 14th Street is a nightmare. 14th is a major East-West route on Manhattan anyway, but at the moment it is also the boundary between Open and Closed Manhattan. Everything south is Verboten for all vehicles except Emergency and/or Other Authorized types. The intersections of the north- south avenues in my neighborhood, 1st & 2nd, are blocked off with police barricades and there are a number of New York State Troopers posted at each. What an odd site they are to me. I don't travel the highways much outside the city as I don't have a car so I don't often see the troopers with their gray uniforms and Smokey hats, and their gray cars. I prefer seeing them to seeing the National Guard hum-vees which I was seeing the First Night. The presence of the National Guard was a bit too disturbing for that particular moment. Not that the Guard was unwelcome or that I feared the troops or anything, but, you know, one rather expects to encounter ghastly giant fire-breathing Japanese-speaking prehistoric monsters whenever one sees the military racing up and down the avenues. So, yeah, I'll stick with Smokey. Speaking of smokey, the Wall of Smoke to the south... about 7:30 this morning, it was heading up the East River... my sympathies to our friends on Long Island (Brooklyn, Queens, etc.) Yesterday afternoon, the wind had changed and brought some of the smoke straight up Mahnattan to my house. It was most unpleasant and I had to feel some gratitude for the fact that the smoke column is normally spending some of its time over the various bodies of water that surround lower Manhattan. One hopes it is dropping some of the crap into the drink before spreading over all the neighborhoods. According to the T.V., something terribly weird is going on at the moment over on Staten Island. They are looking for A Car. All the schools, it was just announced, are in a "Lock Down Situation". I almost can't think about it. I mean, what can one do? The possibilities are, um, invigorating to think about, so I guess I probably won't think about them until they Know More. But like I was sayin'... 14th is packed with people (not normal except on parade and fireworks occasions) and with cars (not particularly unusual, especially in the morning). I walk east and check out Engine House No. 5 across the street as I pass. The engine in there is still marked "292" (I was incorrect the other day when I said it was "293"). Last night, on the T.V., there was a firefighter talking about how he had lost most of his company. He said he was from "Ladder 5", which stopped me for a moment, but then I realized there is a difference between Ladder 5 and Engine 5. I believe "Ladder 5" would have been one of those long trucks with the huge extension ladder on a trailer. Not that I feel glad that it was Ladder 5. Naturally, I would have preferred it if it wasn't anybody at all. And now the T.V. informs me they are looking for A Red Car over there on Staten Island. Gee. Sure hope they find it. Pretty Soon. This is the saddest part... as I turn and start up 1st toward the Dunkin' Donuts, I start seeing Those Little Posters. They are taped to the glass reader boards of the phone (dubiously named) booths. They are attached to Post Office drop-boxes. They are taped to store windows. You've seen them: a picture of the smiling Family Member, often holding one or two of the kids, sometimes the description and contact information are printed neatly in bold, magic-marker type print. Sometimes the information is desperately scrawled. These are are obviously people From The Hood. We are a mile or so from Ground Zero. It seems unlikely the hope in posting these in the Hood is that a Dazed Survivor would be wandering around here and thereby be recognized from his/her poster. I must tell you that these posters are very difficult to look at. The vast majority of those who put them up are obviously in desperate straits at the moment, and things, for most of them, will only get worse for their broken hearts over the next few days or weeks. I hope each of them gets the best of luck, but I think most of them won't. The Dunkin' Donuts is packed with young, nice- but bedraggled-looking doctors. They are from Beth Israel across the street from the donut shop. One stands politely aside and invites the doctors to step ahead in line. On the way back... and I swear to you I am not making this up... this is exactly how it happened... I turn the corner back onto 14th and start back up toward my house. There in front of the firehouse is parked a little Engine. No. 292 looks just like No. 5 so it could be they've just pulled 292 out of the garage for some reason. Traffic blocks my view of the lower part of the engine so I hurry ahead. Traffic breaks for a moment, clouds parting, and there she is: Little Engine No. 5. She's battered to shit and covered with gray soot but she's obviously still in there willing to Go At It, If Necessary. There is a large water nozzle on top, turned up, pointing skyward. Somebody has attached a pole to it and, naturally, there from the top of the pole is a large, crisp, clean American flag fluttering in the morning sun. What I feel at that moment is, I think, the best definition of patriotism. After breakfast and some clean-up, I'm going to go out and see if there is anybody who needs any help. Maybe St. Vincent's is looking for some volunteers to do any old grunt work. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: The Streets of Manhattan. Message-ID: <Xns911BEE56125CAawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> David Dyer-Bennet <dd-b@dd-b.net> wrote in news:m28zfjf3qh.fsf@gw.dd-b.net: > Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> writes: > >> this is exactly how it happened... I turn the corner back onto >> 14th and start back up toward my house. There in front of the >> firehouse is parked a little Engine. >> >> No. 292 looks just like No. 5 so it could be they've just pulled >> 292 out of the garage for some reason. Traffic blocks my view of >> the lower part of the engine so I hurry ahead. Traffic breaks for >> a moment, clouds parting, and there she is: Little Engine No. 5. >> She's battered to shit and covered with gray soot but she's >> obviously still in there willing to Go At It, If Necessary. There >> is a large water nozzle on top, turned up, pointing skyward. >> Somebody has attached a pole to it and, naturally, there from the >> top of the pole is a large, crisp, clean American flag fluttering >> in the morning sun. >> >> What I feel at that moment is, I think, the best definition of >> patriotism. > > How excellent. You see? Not all efforts to do good are suicidal; > heck, they're not all futile, even. Hooray for No. 5! AND for > No. 292 and the rest of them, too. Earlier today, I walked by Engine 5 again. One of the members of her company was washing her down and, actually, she wasn't looking too banged up. I think she may have had some side windows blown or broken out, she seemed to be missing some of her hoses or other equipment, but beyond that, once you washed the crap off, she didn't look too bad at all. Ironically, and I had noticed this before, but had forgotten it, No. 5, for whatever weird reason, has always had one of those little plastic models of Godzilla affixed above her cab, like he's driving or something. Beats me. FDNY companies often decorate their trucks in various idiosyncratic ways. Later, walking along 14th again, I noticed 5 was back in her garage and a pile of flowers was growing outside the stationhouse. I have a photo of the front of the stationhouse. At some point maybe I'll try to get it up on a web site in case anybody is interested. Anyway, I went by and the pile of flowers and notes were thank-yous from the neighborhood, which was something of a relief. One of the firemen was standing in the stationhouse door so I talked to him for awhile. It develops that No. 292 was having a "sleep-over" at No. 5's house. 292 is a fire company in Brooklyn that came over to cover No. 5's balliwick while 5 was engaged to the south. And so, briefly, the Hood was protected by No. 292. Thanks, boys! However, after further conversation with the stationhouse fellow, I discovered and am saddened to report that Engine Company Number 5 is missing two members of its company, lost in one of the tower collapses, I'm not sure which. I found out this sad news during my first conversation, earlier today, and returning just now from dinner with some friends, I checked in and the two "Fivers" are still missing. I wished the fireman Best Luck with his missing comrade, and he thanked me with genuine kindliness and appreciation, but I think, honestly, it was nevertheless something of a ritual for both of us. I don't think either of us thought their luck would be best. So, yeah, OK, it was a bit of a ritual, but it seemed a necessary one. More to talk about from today, but that's the only really important thing I had to say. I'm beat, and suffering slightly from the salubrious effects of two Peach Daquiri's, so I think I'll knock off for tonight. My boss and I may attempt an expedition into the Forbidden Zone tomorrow, if they allow people in who have businesses down there. There's some chance they'll actually allow us in, but not much. Even if they do, they surely will not let us into our building. I'm pretty sure if we ever get in there, it will be for about ten minutes, at most. "Grab shit and go", will no doubt be the commandment. I think there is very little chance we will be in that building again; it may not even be standing anymore. It was half a block from ground zero, after all. And now they've caught some people who apparently were trying to hijack two more airliners, one each out of JFK and LaGuardia. Say, how about a little something for your nerves? -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: Jonathan learnt to walk today Message-ID: <Xns911C9BF50CEDCawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> Alison Scott <alison@kittywompus.com> wrote in news:dvk4qt4i2k7m8kabrqn00b4kc8stieel6e@4ax.com: > I appreciate that this is off topic because Jonathan isn't a cat, > but I thought people might like to hear some good news. Well, but, perhaps with some early intervention he might be convinced he *is* a cat?? But, however, I congratulate him on achieving something with two legs that for cats usually requires four. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: The Sweepings-Up of History. Message-ID: <Xns911CD2951A725awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> I want to express my personal gratitude to those people around the planet who have taken the time today, September 14, 2001, to show their sympathy for the citizens of New York City, Washington D.C., and others of my fellow USAns. Naturally, one is most especially appreciative of the support of one's immediate neighbors and so I want to nod particularly in the direction of our friends to the north, the Canadians. As I watched that Mountie (I believe he was a Mountie) singing my national anthem there in Ottawa, I had occasion to think back a little bit in time. Back, actually, to the circumstances surrounding the composition of that very anthem. I don't know what name the British and the Canadians have for it, but in this country we call it the War of 1812. In 1814, two years into that war, elements of the British army marched into Washington, chased out branches of our federal government, and then set fire to most or all of our government buildings ... the Capitol, the building we now call the White House, and so forth. Oh, it was a nasty business. Well, nasty being a relative term, of course, inasmuch as the torching of Washington, D.C. by the British Army was not a thing they just thought up on the spot, but was rather a bit of planned retribution -- revenge for the burning of York, the burg now called Toronto, which the American army had earlier perpetrated on the Canadians. Only, of course, the Americans had not confined themselves to simply burning government buildings, but had burned and looted all of York, civilian homes and businesses included. A few days later, the British were moving on Baltimore, guarded by Fort McHenry, above which a giant American flag flew. On the night of September 13-14, 1814, British forces bombarded the fort, which bombardment being observed by one Francis Scott Key, Esq., who, by the dawn's early light of September 14, 1814, saw that his nation's flag was still there... that the fort and therefore Baltimore itself had survived the British bombardment. Whereupon Mssr. Key was moved to compose a poem, 187 years ago today. SF Fantastic Visions of the Future: 187 years from now, an American tenor singing the national anthem of some nation we are, at this moment, getting ready to flatten -- singing in honor of the deep and abiding friendship between our two peoples. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: Gay Hero: Re: Mark Bingham story Message-ID: <Xns911D45FF8B25Fawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> liscarey@mediaone.net (Lis Carey) wrote in news:911DBE2liscareymediaonenet@24.91.0.74: > a horrible accident. That being the case, staying put in the second > tower was the _sensible_ thing to do: keep out of the street, where > there were flying embers and debris coming down, and rescue workers > trying to get in to rescue the people in the first tower. You're right, of course. Naturally, however, a lot of stuff about the world has changed over the last few days, one of those things for me being that, from now on, no matter what anybody else tells me, I will always head quickly and quietly for the stairwell and keep moving downward, no matter what, until I get to the street, at which point I will move quickly and quietly away from the building, as far away as I need to get in order to assure myself that I am safe. Safe, at least, from having my building fall on my head. A few years ago, I purchased an item called an "Evac-U8", a little cannister about the size of a can of Coke which contains a smoke hood and a pretty intense filtration system that will, with luck, give you about 20 minutes of time in a poisonously smoke-filled environment. I carried this with me in my backpack for quite some time as I moved around Manhattan. Now it just sits parked next to my bed here in my apartment on the fourth floor. Not a bad place for it, of course, but now it goes back into my pack and starts traveling with me again on my trips around Manhattan. If, god forbid, I had found myself above the smoke and flames the other day, I think the phrase "annoyed with myself" for having stopped carrying that little cannister would have been something of an understatement. Not that having it with me would have guaranteed getting down to the floors below the smoke -- for all we know there were no stairwells left intact. Still, I would have hated myself for having so thoroughly screwed that particular pooch. Not arguing with you, of course. Just telling you how it's going to be for me, from now on. My assumption from now on is that the building is coming down and that I'm getting the hell out and away. No matter what anybody else tells me. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Smoke Hoods (was: Gay Hero: Re: Mark Bingham) Message-ID: <Xns911D5AA7B4D99awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> liscarey@mediaone.net (Lis Carey) wrote in news:911D5C3CCliscareymediaonenet@24.91.0.74: > awnbreel@panix.com (Michael R Weholt) wrote in ><Xns911D45FF8B25Fawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240>: > >>A few years ago, I purchased an item called an "Evac-U8", a little >>cannister about the size of a can of Coke which contains a smoke >>hood and a pretty intense filtration system that will, with luck, >>give you about 20 minutes of time in a poisonously smoke-filled >>environment. I carried this with me in my backpack for quite some >>time as I moved around Manhattan. Now it just sits parked next to >>my bed here in my apartment on the fourth floor. Not a bad place >>for it, of course, but now it goes back into my pack and starts >>traveling with me again on my trips around Manhattan. If, god >>forbid, I had found myself above the smoke and flames the other >>day, I think the phrase "annoyed with myself" for having stopped >>carrying that little cannister would have been something of an >>understatement. Not that having it with me would have guaranteed >>getting down to the floors below the smoke -- for all we know there >>were no stairwells left intact. Still, I would have hated myself >>for having so thoroughly screwed that particular pooch. > > Where'd you get it, how long ago, what was the cost? I found it online and ordered it by phone about 2 years ago from a Fireman's & Emergency Worker's Supply House, the name of which I cannot recall but I know it was in Ohio. At the time, it was the device most highly rated in the category just short of actually carrying an oxygen supply around with you (which is pretty impractical). There may be better devices now. But google for the name "Evac-U8", or "smoke hoods" (the technical name for the device). This manufacturer is in Vancouver BC, I believe, let me check... Oh, OK, here's some info from the side of the cannister: Brookdale International Systems, Inc. "To Order Technical Information or User's Manual Call 1-604-324-EVAC" But, frankly, you're probably just better off finding a place to order one online, or, if you have a local Emergency Worker's Supply Shop, go visit it. As I recall, the cost was $75-$80, which sounds steep but will seem cheap at 47 times the cost in the event you ever really need it. Incidentally, I bought it on account of my well-known Fear of Flying, and after reading some research published in a flying professionals journal. The Europeans (at the time) were considering a regulation requiring airlines to provide smoke hoods to their passengers. I don't know what the regulators decided, but the research was convincing: under a certain set of conditions (none of which applied here, of course) a smoke hood would mean the difference between surviving or perishing in an airliner, um, incident. The report told a couple of scary stories. I researched and bought my smoke hood immediately. Also, not that this would make the slightest difference to me in deciding which unit to purchase, I think they replace your "Evac-U8" unit for free, if you provide a letter from your local Fire Department testifying that your Evac-U8 saved your charmed ass from death by smoke inhalation or fire. You are supposed to replace the unit every 4 or 5 years, I guess. There is an expiration date on the unit, so if you are ordering over the phone, you might want to make sure the expiration date isn't, you know, sometime next week. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: One World Trade!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Message-ID: <Xns911EA87665A5awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> P Nielsen Hayden <pnh@panix.com> wrote in news:slrn9qa1o4.7tl.pnh@panix3.panix.com: > On Sun, 16 Sep 2001 17:14:02 GMT, > Matthew B. Tepper <oyþ@earthlink.net> wrote: >> P Nielsen Hayden <pnh@panix.com> wrote in >> news:slrn9q9mfi.aom.pnh@panix3.panix.com: >> >>> On Wed, 12 Sep 2001 14:59:30 GMT, >>> Matthew B. Tepper <oyþ@earthlink.net> wrote: >>> >>>> What was that line in "Casablanca" where Rick tells Major >>>> Strasser that there are some parts of New York that the Germans >>>> would not want to try to occupy? Obviously it's a reference to >>>> Harlem >>> >>> Not at all obviously. Harlem was far from being New York's >>> toughest or most violent neighborhood in 1941, just as it's far >>> from being that today. >> >> Shoot, you're right -- that's what comes of me looking at the line >> with a '60s sensibility! (The first time I visited New York, in >> 1965, my parents let me generally run around on my own, but told >> me to stay away from what they called "the tough parts of town" >> because "someone might bop you on the head.") The Bowery, then? > > Offhand, for 1941, I would guess Hell's Kitchen, the old > (pre-Lincoln- Center) West Side, and a lot of areas close to the > docks. I was going to post earlier, but my memory is so notoriously full of holes I doubted myself about this... I have a vague recollection that the reference in "Casablanca" is to Brooklyn in particular, not New York City in general. I'll have to take note whenever I see the movie for the, I dunno', 87th time. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: My Political View Message-ID: <Xns911FAB657F4C0awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> Jo@bluejo.demon.co.uk (Jo Walton) wrote in news:1000754748snz@bluejo.demon.co.uk: > "Defenceless under the night > our world in stupor lies; > yet dotted everywhere, > ironic points of light > flash out wherever the Just > exchange their messages. > May I, composed like them > of Eros and of dust, > beleaguered by the same > negation and despair, > show an affirming flame." > > W.H. Auden, "September 2nd, 1939" Speaking of art amidst the horror, I was in the Forbidden Zone this morning. My second trip down there, actually. I was stopped at the corner of Nassau and, I think it must've been Liberty Street. Looking West up Liberty I was stunned by the sight of the remains of the southern "skin" of 2 WTC (the southern tower, the second one hit, the first to fall). On T.V., you can see some skeletal remains still standing, those familiar "ribs" or "fingers" of metal that defined the facade of the towers. From ground level, these remains actually go up ten floors or so. The bright silver is gone; the color is now a sort of burnt rust color. The ribs are twisted. The air they rise into is brown and smoky. It is really, *really* creepy. It looks like a set designer's vision of what the city looks like after the orbiting battlecruisers have swept the face of the planet with their death rays. Our building is just inside the Truly Forbidden Zone. It appears to have survived. It appears to be relatively undamaged. But we have no idea when we will ever be allowed in there. It is not only in the scene of the disaster, it's in the middle of the crime scene. For all I effing know, the second suicide pilot's head is sitting jack-o-lantern-like on our 7th floor ledge. *Sigh*. They say the best thing to do is to Return To Your Routine. Gawd, I can't tell you how much I wish I *could* do that. Right now, I'd even settle for some idea of *if* I will *ever* be able to. Thankfully, nobody in our office was hurt, but I mean... in a way, we would almost be better off if the building *had* been destroyed. No, I don't really mean that, I guess, but at least then we would know how to proceed. We would know that we had to write the whole thing off and start over. As things stand... who the hell even knows how I will spend tomorrow? Literally. I'll have this or that to do, I guess. We don't have letterhead. We don't have checks. We can't make withholding deposits without the preprinted coupons. We can't do squat. Gawd, give me my mindless tedious routine. If only I had a boring job to go to. I went to the General Post Office today. Our post office was right next to WTC and will be closed, well, who the hell knows when it will be open again, if ever? And even when it does open, if ever, will it have a place it can deliver our mail? Church Street Station (our P.O.) and two other whole post offices down there are closed. All mail for all three of those P.O.'s (serving probably the most densely populated business district in the country) is being held for pickup at the G.P.O. You go into a small room with three windows. Each closed post office gets one window. It's a mad-house. You give your name to an Intrepid P.O. Employee and then you wait until they are able to find your stuff and then, somehow, above all the racket, you hear your name being called. I compliment the P.O. workers at the G.P.O., they are managing with good humor under very difficult circumstances. But this has been the worst part of Returning To Normal. Well, that and not knowing what the hell is going on with the building. A friend is taking me to a movie tonight, thank gawd. I said: "I don't care what movie. I'll settle for any mindless movie that doesn't go 'boom'. No, not never once, please." -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom
Subject: Re: My Political View
Message-ID: <Xns911FB3F97A1B9awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240>
"Kate Schaefer" <kate@oz.net> wrote in
news:9o5pi8$297$0@216.39.145.104:
> "Michael R Weholt" <awnbreel@panix.com> wrote in message
> news:Xns911FAB657F4C0awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240...
> [...]
>
>> A friend is taking me to a movie tonight, thank gawd. I said: "I
>> don't care what movie. I'll settle for any mindless movie that
>> doesn't go 'boom'. No, not never once, please."
>
> I recommend froth. I took two Astaire-Rogers movies ("Shall We
> Dance" and "Top Hat") out of the library and watched them on my
> stepdaughter's television, startling the hell out of her and
> eventually seducing her into watching them with me.
Thanks to you and Nancy, but the winner is...
"Jeepers Creepers"
On the theory that it is dopey fun horror and that any "BOO!" moments
will have a homeopathic effect.
We even considered "Ghosts of Mars" on the theory that all the
explosions were on another planet.
But. No.
--
mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: A small WTC question: possibly irrelevant, largely apolitical Message-ID: <Xns912055F7A76D9awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> sstezel@erols.com (Shane Stezelberger) wrote in news:3ba72954.2964027@news.erols.com: > If it is not too immodest, may I ask where the debris is being > taken? Fresh Kills landfill, somewhere else on Long Island, etc.? Some of it is being taken away by barge, as well. I'm not sure where they are taking it, but they tell us wherever it is, they are sorting through it for clues. > On a related note, how did the museums of lower Manhattan cope with > all ofthe smoke and dust? (I do not know the city very well: maybe > the Smithsonian Indian annex If you are talking about the Native American Museum down in the old Customs House, I was down there right next to it yesterday and there wasn't too much dust. I doubt there would be much damage. More in danger in that area would be the Holocaust Museum which is further West, much more exposed, and a good deal more fragile looking than the old Customs House. But I hasten to add that it is still some goodly distance from Ground Zero. > and the Lower East Side Tenement Museum were closest. This is a good deal North of GZ and it seems unlikely to me that it would have been harmed. > How damaged was Trinity Church? Saw it yesterday from two short blocks up Wall Street. It appears undamaged, though dusty. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom
Subject: Re: My Political View
Message-ID: <Xns912068EBD2CDBawnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240>
Michael Kube-McDowell <K-Mac@sff.net> wrote in
news:tvIp7.146$3d2.14522@bgtnsc06-news.ops.worldnet.att.net:
> On 17 Sep 2001 21:22:16 GMT, "Kate Schaefer" <kate@oz.net>
> carefully left the following thoughtprints where they could be
> seen:
>
>>"Michael R Weholt" <awnbreel@panix.com> wrote in message
>>news:Xns911FAB657F4C0awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240... [...]
>>
>>> A friend is taking me to a movie tonight, thank gawd. I said: "I
>>> don't care what movie. I'll settle for any mindless movie that
>>> doesn't go 'boom'. No, not never once, please."
>>
>>I recommend froth. I took two Astaire-Rogers movies ("Shall We
>>Dance" and "Top Hat") out of the library and watched them on my
>>stepdaughter's television, startling the hell out of her and
>>eventually seducing her into watching them with me.
>>
>
> We finally turned off the news Saturday night and pulled TOY STORY
> 2 off the shelf. It felt good to laugh--the way my facial muscles
> felt after the movie told me that for days on end I hadn't even
> been smiling.
It turned out that for my friend and I, "Jeepers Creepers" was just the
ticket.
This is one of those movies you don't want to hear anything about before
you go see it. You want to just, you know, wander in off the street and
watch it with your mind as something of a tabula rasa about it.
This is neither a recommendation nor an antirecommendation. It is only
that I'm glad I went to see that movie last night.
--
mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Re: Political agendas (notes from my journal) Message-ID: <Xns912099F2AC575awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> Randolph Fritz <randolph@panix.com> wrote in news:slrn9qeuln.1jl.randolph@panix2.panix.com: > My god. Do these people have any capability for original thought? Yeah, well, I'll tell you one thing... sitting here in The City With The Bulls-Eye Painted On Its Forehead, I'd like to be hearing about something other than the same old Failed Solutions. I heard Sen. McCain talking the other day about, you know, maybe taking a look at why there is such fertile ground around the world for such hatred of the USA. I think he is the first official in the U.S. Government I've heard say anything even remotely like that, although I'm sure others *must* have. Oh, wait. These people hate freedom. That's right. I forgot my lines there for a minute. -- mrw
From: Michael R Weholt <awnbreel@panix.com> Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.fandom Subject: Thanks. Message-ID: <Xns9120DAAED9210awnbreelpanix@166.84.0.240> Um, I went to the NYC rasf* gathering at dba this evening, walked in and was greeted by a number of hands reaching out to me which I took in my own hand more or less sequentially, I guess, and I was just tremendously moved by people doing that, reaching out like that, and, fannishly, I responded totally incompetently in the flesh and so I just wanted say here, thank you for that kindness. It meant a tremendous lot to me. I want to thank fandom in general, raseff in particular for all those who have written kind and/or supportive things to me over the last week, either in posts or in email -- I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to all of you, but, you know, thank you very much. I'm proud to be a member of fandom. Oh, wait. This is only raseff. Never mind. ;-) In other news, I found out this evening I will be able to sneak into the office building tomorrow morning and retrieve my laptop, which, in the end, is all that really matters. ;-) And in other other news, I walked by Engine 5's stationhouse today and there was some High-Falutin' Photography Team out there taking pictures and I queried the P.A. who told me Vanity Fair is doing a spread in an upcoming issue on all the tributes NYC neighborhoods have made to their local firehouses. So, you know, Little Engine No. 5 may be an upcoming cover girl soon, if you are interested. Sadly, but not surprisingly, the two members of Engine Company No. 5 are still missing. Gawd and/or God Bless Them. -- mrw