Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Over?

I came home tonight to the news that the GOP Convention apparently used as part of their convention wrap-up Grand presentation footage of 9/11. Including people jumping to their deaths from the Towers. Footage is here if you feel you need proof.

I haven't watched it. I will not watch it. Readers of this Journal and my web site know that I was in the city that day -- that I saw it all unfold not via the distance of a television screen, but out my office window. I knew rescue workers who raced to the scene hoping to find survivors. I knew people who died. For weeks, the sound of sirens made me wake in a cold sweat, crying. I was treated, years after, for PTSD from that day, and still have rather specific triggery reactions to sirens or sudden loud noises, or the visual of planes crashing.

To use footage of this event, to make use of the murder of thousands of innocents for political gain and call it a "tribute"?

No. A thousand and a thousand more times fuck no.

Five Things make Friday Round-up

1. It is hot. And humid. And the sun is far too bright. Although I would like TS Hanna to move herself out into the ocean and leave us the hell alone, I would not mind if she sent us some clouds as she goes.

2. There are few things more amusing -- and yet very very sad -- than a startled cat snarfing wet food out his nose. Poor Boomer. He spent the next few minutes trying to clear his nose by sneezing, repeatedly.

3. Screw politics -- it's Football Season! I missed the Giants opening game because of a previous social obligation, but *woot*! Although I am scarred and careful about expecting anything beyond what actually happens, damn they looked good! *crosses fingers and makes offering to the football fairy*

4. Because I'm obviously not busy enough, a New Opportunity just showed up. Could be lots of fun, in the "giggle madly and make people nervous" kind of way. More if it happens.

5. And now, having had Good Conversation with Madame Editrix* on Cosa Nostradamus stuff and taken possession of my grocery delivery, it's back to work....




*okay, yeah, telephone conversations are work, they just don't feel like work.