When Nas Was Illmatic

Here is a nice poem I just wrote for all my 90's kids

Back when Nas was Illmatic

There was a better time.

A time when modern life was all Rocko’s.

A time when slime was glorious.

A time when turtles ate pizza.

A time when Clarissa explained it all.

A time when Sabrina was our favorite witch.

A time when Buffy made slaying sexy.

A time when Tia and Tamera were my sisters.

A time when Bill Nye was THE science guy.

A time when we searched the world for Carmen San Diego.

A time when being phat was rad.
A time when rad was awesome.

A time when Zack loved Kelly.

A time when before bed we asked:

Are you afraid of the dark?

When Nas was Illmatic

It was a better time.

Cynic in Love

This is a piece of fiction I started. This is the very, very , very, very first write of the first section. I wanted to get an idea of how shitty it is so I know how much to change it around. Please be as mean and brutally honest as possible. I know it sucks, but it is a first draft. I love the idea so if I can get some help from other writers to make it more readable and enjoyable that would be spectacular. Thanks.

You ever meet someone and instantly want to take your fist and use them the way Chris Brown did to Rhianna? I seem to have that reaction every time I meet a new person. Some tell me I may be depressed and take that depression and turn it into hatred for people who are happy. Yeah, it is absurd to me too. I'm not depressed, I'm actually happy; people just genuinely piss me off. They don't have to do anything; just the way they look aggravates me. Most people just say I'm an asshole—when they want to be nice; I guess that's it, I'm just a cynical person and I hate almost everyone and everything.

It was always like this, my psychiatrist say it’s because my parents shunned me and didn’t love me, so it made me afraid to let anyone near me. He says “I’m emotionally scarred”, but he is a cock-stain who thinks because he has a PhD that he is better than me, so everything he says I take with a grain of salt. There is no deep reason, people just rub me the wrong way, and it has made my life difficult, and gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years. For instance, when I was a freshman at Theodore Roosevelt High School, I was eating my lunch at a table all by myself as was my usual routine. Just so you know I could have had friends, people wanted to be my friend; I just didn't want to be theirs. Anyway, I was just sitting there and some pig faced ass-hat approached me, and began to tell me something. I heard no words, it just sounded like an adult from Peanuts. The reason I couldn't hear his words was because I was just disgusted by his up turned nose and yellow teeth with a gap between the front two that you . I couldn't take it anymore, so I stood up and swung my lunch tray straight across his face. Little did I know that goofy bastard was the vice principal, and he was just walking around introducing himself to the new students? Well I never saw him again; I got to spend my freshman year in a juvenile detention center. I did hear though, that after that incident they switched to Styrofoam lunch trays.

As you can imagine, my parents were thrilled at this, so as a reward they ignored me even more, and provided as little as they were required to by law, and once I turned 18 I was on my own.

Now I'm 29, and I hate everyone more than ever. I was close to turning around my thoughts, I fell in love. Yeah, me; a giant walking rectum, fell for a woman. I can remember the day I saw her, I was walking down to the corner deli, and she was across the street walking her pug. Even from across the busy main street I could see the beauty of her figure, in that red sun dress and the way she walked showed some sort of confidence, I was stopped in my tracks. I just watched as she continued down the street, and I must say this, even though it is a cheesy saying, I hated to see her leave, but I loved to watch her go. The ass on this girl was like a sculpture, it was perfect; a nice round rump that ran into her even more stunning legs.  If I had any confidence in myself I would have ran up to her right then and there and swooped her off her feet. But confidence in my social skills was not my best attribute, in fact I was as socially inclined as a kid with Down-syndrome hooked on crystal meth. With females it was even worse. I haven't had a real girlfriend in my life. I'll pause so you asswipes can laugh, “Ha-ha: he was 29 and never had a girlfriend.”

I was determined to change; I was determined to make this girl mine. Most people laugh at the following story, but those people don’t believe in love at first sight. This is the story of finding love and the battle to keep it. This is the story of a Cynic in Love.

Pizza, Salt and Family

I wrote this for class a few semesters ago, I enjoyed it and was just talking with my little brother about it and decided to share it with everyone. Enjoy.
             My father, two brothers, sister and I all sit at the dinner table, waiting quietly for our Mother to bring our dinner to us. My mother enters the dining room wearing a nice sun dress with an apron tied around her waist, a smile on her face, and her hair perfectly done up. She places our dishes in front of each of us, then sits down to join us. My father begins talking about his day and we all listen diligently, only speaking when we are spoken to. After we eat we all stand up give our mother a kiss, thanking her for a wonderful dinner, we head off to do our homework.

No, wait. That was an episode of Leave it to Beaver. This is more how dinner really went at my house while I was growing up.

 My siblings and I come home from a long day of school (unless I was already home because of disciplinary reasons), both my parents are still at work so we head to the pantry and start snacking on all the groceries my mom just bought. When we are finished nothing is left except for pasta, a can of beans, and some Spam. We then start our “homework”. Now this consisted of the boys playing Sega Genesis, and my sister closing herself in her room away from our obnoxiousness.

                This would continue until we spotted one of our parents coming into the driveway, at which point we quickly shut of the games. We weren’t allowed to play until our homework was done so we pulled out books and pretended to read.  My dad would usually ask if we did our homework; our reply would either be “I just had to read” or “I didn’t have any”, then my dad would go on some rant about how back in his day they actually gave homework. It was the same speech every day; if only he knew that we had a shitload of homework we just chose not to do it. The stacks of progress reports hidden under my mattress say the same thing.

                When both parents are finally in the house it was time for dinner —well almost. Dad and Mom would try to figure out what we were going to eat since they were both too tired to cook.  They would then take a look in the pantry and start yelling at us that those groceries were for the whole week and how they won’t be buying anymore, so we our shit out of luck (my mom’s favorite line). This wasn’t an empty threat; she stood by it, so come Tuesday there was nothing left to eat and we starved until dinner. I guess it was our fault but we never seemed to learn our lesson.

                Around 8 pm it was decided we would order a pizza. My dad called in the order and left to go pick it up. My mom was glued to her book in the corner of the couch, the TV on but no one is paying attention to it. Now at this time my two brothers and I were probably fighting and beating each other up mom would scream and threaten us with the wooden spoon. Now that threat would shut us up because the wooden spoon hurts, but we would always thank god she didn’t have a heavy rolling pin.

 My dad walked in with the pizza after what seemed to be hours to our stomachs. We all stormed the kitchen armed with our paper plates and red paper we attacked the pie. We take our slices to the table and sit in or designated spot; mom and dad headed to the living room with theirs.

                My little brother, who sat right next to me, would constantly peer over me to try and watch the TV in the living room. I would constantly hit him, because I didn’t like anyone looking over my shoulder. My sister would hit me for hitting my brother; my little brother would hit my older brother just for the hell of it, causing my dad to come into the room and smack me over the head for starting the whole thing.  We would finish dinner and head to our room to relax for the rest of the night until it was time for bed.

                Now this was a typical night at the family dinner table; the food would change but most everything else would stay the same. Some days my sister would pour a ton of salt onto my plate thinking it would be funny, and I would have to eat it, because god forbid I wasted the food. Other nights my brother would unscrew the cap on the pepper shaker and wait for my little brother to put it on his mashed potatoes. Dinner was everything but a perfect experience at my house, but it was time spent with my siblings that has helped us remain close even though no longer living under the same roof and for that I am thankful.

Ventilation

Before reading this just know its not funny, its not full of deepness, its just me rambling. I'm sorry, I just needed to get t down and out. I promise I will have bro code part two done soon and my high-school years. Also I'm being pressured into signing up for te indie ink challenge so when I do sign up for that, ill be writing more. Oh and sorry about he format I wrote it on my phone and really really really don't feel like going to the computer to fix it.

I have something my chest and I need to move t like a tumor. Most of you who know me know that almost a year ago me and my girlfriend of nearly four years broke up. For those that didn't know that, well now you do. It has not been easy on me. You don't go from sleeping next to someone you truly love every night to getting dumped and be alright with it. It's just not how shit works. I never did anything to warrant a break up, in fact I was a great boyfriend, I was always willing to put st needs above everything, she came first. I am not romantic, far from it but I would do small things to make her happy. I thought that's what we were: happy. We were, we both thought we found our soul mates. But something happened, I'm not see how or why but she started talking to one of her friends friends and thought she kinda liked him, she told me this hoping it would spark some huge change in me, but it didn't, it just hurt, and besides what did I have to change, I was, as I said, the best boyfriend and friend to her. A few days later we took a walk in the pouring rain and she dumped me. Fuck man, me, dumped, I have no clue how, I'm the fucking man.

So a few months went by, we tried to be friends and everything was ok, but she soon wanted to get in a relationship with me, try and fix things. And I couldn't do it. I loved her still at thus point, I really still did but I was hurt once and I would not let myself to be hurt again. It played in my head when ever I was near her, I was still hurting. So I said I couldn't now but maybe sometime down the line. I really thought it was possible to be with her again, I was still in love with her, I was just too hurt at the time to try again.

Well we kept trying to be friends, it was fine but we started to fight a lot, about everything. Mind you we never fought while together, and if we did they lasted like ten minutes and we were hunky dory again. This constant fighting and constant pressure I felt under by her caused me to drift away further and further. I no longer loved her as anything but a friend. That is wild to me, we can go from being deeply in love, hoping to get married in the future to not feeling  ounce. I was afraid to say that to her, so I dragged her feeling along, and that is worse than what she did to me. I hurt her, I hate myself for hurting her. Maybe if I told her the truth when I felt I could no longer see us together the hurt I caused her would be less. If she reads this, I just want to say I'm sorry for the pain I've caused, I hope we can both find what we need in this life.

I cannot take back what I did to her, she can not take back what she did to me. We were soul mates with a future in each others arms and now we are just two souls looking for the arms of a new mate. Life is funny like that, you think you have everything figured out then you get thrown a Tim Wakefield knuckleball and you have no idea what to do with it. In life your not going to always get the pitch you want, but you have to learn how to hit whatever is thrown at you.

Long story short, we have stopped talking, who knows if we will ever speak again, she removed me from Facebook friends so she must be serious about not talking to me Hahahaha. Even with all the pain, I would not take back my time with her it was the best years of my life. She helped me through one of the darkest times of my life, and she helped me become the person I am without her who knows where I would be. She is a good person and will find someone who cares about her they way I did, and she will find happiness again. I will do the same.

One last thing to say, I want to thank all of my friends and family who have helped me through this shit. Most importantly the following people- Lauren, you have been there for me when I needed someone the most and you listened to the same bullshit over and over, thank you, you do not know how much your friendship has ment to me. Christina, you also helped me a lot, you are a good friend and I'm glad your part of my life. Mike, well mike your my best friend. And last but not least my sister Nicole, thank you. You were the first family member I told and your reaction was "do I have to beat her up?", I love you sister and I couldn't ask for a better one.

My Educational Journey Part 1- Middle School

This following blog is more for me more than you; I want to explore how I became who I am as far as education and career path. To explore what created me as a man would be a long book, so I won’t put you through that, at the moment.

The other day I was in quick check and I bumped into a person whom I hadn't seen in a while. The conversation was that one would usually have in this situation, "what are you doing?" I told him that I am majoring in English at Montclair to which he responded with laughter and “I couldn't see that ten years ago". This made me think of my journey thus far. I must admit that I never thought this would be my path either, and I think anyone who knew me just 6; years ago when I was graduating high school, would find this humorous as well. I don't even know where to start telling the journey of my education and maturation, I guess ill begin in 6th grade. This will be most likely a three part segment—let's begin.

Sixth grade was a weird one for me; it was my first year in a public school. Prior to that I was in catholic school, where I had the same classmates each year so I never really had to meet new people, I didn't even know how. I was somebody at St. Teresa's school, I had friends, I liked a girl in class and I was comfortable there, now I'm thrown into a new situation with kids who have been in school with one another for years. What the Hell was I going to do?

My parents enrolled me in the Summer Recreation program in hopes I would me people, I really only made one friend that summer, my buddy Mike who still happens to be my best friend. The first day of school I was like a fat person at a bulimics anonymous meeting. I stood out, I was new, I was unknown, and I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me, though in reality no one was looking at me, I was being ignored. Everyone was chatting with their friends discussing their summers, and I stood there alone.

I wanted to make friends, but I didn't know what to say to these kids, I never had to make friends before; this I think led to my slacking in my classes. I was so concerned on trying to make friends other than Mike; it distracted me from my school work. Not to mention on top of struggling to fit in, I was being bullied. It wasn't even a cool popular kid doing the bullying, it was some nerdy kid, who probably wasn't very popular and was trying to bully me to make himself look cooler. Mike and I stopped that noise quickly; it’s amazing what a couple nicely landed fists could do to bully preventing. These kids these days should try it instead of whining about it, but that's a different blog all together (idea!! Coming soon). I wasn’t being bullied anymore but I still had very few acquaintances. (I think it was this struggle that made me realize later in life that it’s better to have a few great friends that are always there for you than it is to have a lot of friends)

My grades slipped faster than Michael Jackson's hand down Macauly Culkin's pants. I was failing English and math. It was only the second semester and I was failing. What would they do with me? Into resource classes I went. One day I was in normal classes the next I was in special education classes, now that's a huge help on my friend making process. They may as well have just put a giant L on my head and a kick me sign on my back and save me the embarrassment.

"Oh hey Dan where were you in class"

"I'm no longer in that class, I'm now in class with the kid who still eats glue and the other kid who puts his bugers in his hair."

Now it was even harder on me to be put in special-ed classes for English than for math, I always loved writing, it had always been my Passion. I remember when I was a young tot I would write my own sports newspaper, It wasn’t very good but I loved it. It was so much fun to take my words and create something others could enjoy. Being placed in this class was like they took my Passion and Abraham Lincolned* that shit. I never wrote for fun anymore, I thought I was actually retarded; I thought I could never be a writer because I couldn't even survive in normal level classes.

I wanted to return to normal level classes, I wanted to stop feeling inferior to everyone. My return to normal English classes was a long way from the 6th grade. I was stuck in these classes for the remainder of middle school, and my love for writing drifted further and further away each year it came to a point where I hated English class and I didn't want to write at all. I was the 2008 Detroit Lions: completely defeated.

Part 2 High School, coming soon.


Glossary

Abraham Lincolned- To be killed, or destroyed by someone without warning.

Bro Codeology Volume I

Since the first two men stood upright (to celebrate this I am sure they created some sort of personalized, secret handshake and grunted a lot, some things sure don't change), there has been the existence of a secret law, well ok not secret but it is a sacred law: The Bro Code. A time honored tradition of a pact between all men which is accepted at the time they first hit puberty. It is understood that men all across the globe, regardless of culture (except those weird ones, you know who I am talking about...... Germany and Finland you odd bastards) that the laws of the code are to be followed.

To not obey these rules one faces dire consequences which can range from the electric chair to a swift kick in the dangling diamonds*. Several of these rules involve the female species because, well because we do most things to try and attract a spouse, or just a rumba partner*, whichever. In this first installment of my monthly (or not, I don't like schedules so I will write the second installment whenever I feel like it so go suck on that pancake*) Laws of The Bro-mocracy. For my swinging dick readers this should just be a brush up on the laws, but for my beautiful female readers a warning: this is a one way ticket into the mind of a man (a crazy one at that) once you begin to read you will not be able to turn back, so what I'm trying to say is enjoy and I love you, except you know who, they know who so I won't say who (not targeted to any who actually just sounded cool).

Now these rules are in no general order, after rule one the rest can go at any number, so I am just putting them in whatever order I feel like, you don't like it? Well you can go and drink bleach.

           Shall we begin our adventure? No? Really? Go fuck yourself, I'm starting without you.

Rule #1 aka the golden rule- BROS BEFORE HOES, EXCEPT AFTER C

There is no rule in modern society that is more important than this one. Your buddies come before your lady or ladies.

The rule originated in Ancient Rome during the reign of Julius Caesar. Mr. Caesar (inventor of a very tasty salad and dressing) was going steady (in ancient Rome it was termed "I'm the emperor, you can't say no, so your coming to the orgy") with a young lady who he began putting before all of his male friends, he soon had not time to go to the orgies with the homies, it was all was spent with some "bimbo from the boot", as she began being called because he place of birth was at the bottom of the country. Enough was enough, so his bro's, and yes his good friend Brutus, plotted him murder. On the Ides of March the plot came to fruition and Caesar was stabbed to death. The history books remember Caesar’s final words, "Et Tu Brute?" Translated loosely as, "you too Brutus, you filthy sonova bitch, chicken feces eating eunuch!!" This is what history remembers; but few recall Brutus' words before his blade plunged into his leader and friend, "foeminis viri", or "men before woman...... asshole".

Caesar broke the rule and paid the price, once he began getting his hot dog mustarded* by a fine young lady, he forgot about his friends. A man has friends forever and he cannot forget then regardless of how awesome the company of such a female is bros before hoes. Now there are exceptions to his rule, as there are most rules, except ones against murder.... wait scratch that even that has exceptions i.e., if you are rich (OJ Simpson), or the police (cops who killed Sean Bell). Anyway, the one main exception is if you bro is married.

This is known as the "Wife Before Life Exception". Yes, it would be nice if they could tell their wife that they don't care what they say he is going to the strip club with single Pete, the man's best friend whom she has because something "is off about him", but he can't do this. If the man and women were only dating yes he could go out with Pete and throw singles while trying to avoid getting a concussion by a pair of double D Duracell’s*, but in a marriage this leads to trouble. While dating you break up, but in marriage you divorce. Divorce can be ugly, it makes children cry, it shrinks the video game and strip club budget, and it forces you to live off of spam: sound fun? Yeah I didn't think so. So if your bro is married you must respect the wife and be grateful whenever she lets him come out and play, and don't take him to a strip club, that won't end well. Go golf or something without broads around, which is a good bro thing to do.

Another exception is the "Family Ties or Dies Exception", now this is a simple exemption. If a bro makes plans and some family issues arise and they happen to conflict with your bro-date and he has to bail, you cannot get mad. You make plans for another day then play some Xbox alone for the night, or whatever you do, I don't know you or your gay hobbies and masturbation schedules, so just do you.

Damn, rule one took up a lot of space. On to rule 2? Ok, you are the boss here we go....

Rule #2- No Thrift Store Shopping

This rule is similar to rule 1 in that it also has to do with the woman and their relationship with you and your bros. basically this is the rule that bars exes from the mating game. Also known as the "No Double Dipping", "Ex-ney On The Ex-ey", and "Sloppy Seconds? No, Thank You" rule.

Now the origins of this rule are a tad bit more mysterious, there are many theories that have been formulated by the world’s top thinkers, including myself. The following origin story is my theory and it has been based upon years of research and analysis.

In the year 202 BC, yeah I'm using BC fuck whatever they call it these days, I learned BC and I stick to it (side note, Pluto you are still a planet to me, fuck you NASA), one year after the end of Second Punic War a young Carthaginian was finally returning home to his wife and child after he had been held prisoner by the Romans for over a year (whether he escaped or was released in a prisoner transfer is still unknown to me). Excited to see their faces since he had been away fighting for so long, his child's innocent face would be quite the contrast from the blood and death he had become accustomed to in recent years.

He was barring a gifts from Rome for his family (not sure what but I think Frankincense, that shit was popular back in the day, I still don't know what the fuck it is or why anyone would want it, I assume it was an old school music player, the pre cursor to the walkman). As he approached his door he heard his wife's soft giggle, his heart began to beat quickly and a smile formed on his face, but it was soon quickly negated—A voice, a familiar voice, a voice of a man.

He dropped the gifts and burst into his home to see his wife with his best friend. Now, calmer heads prevailed and instead of ripping his friends testicles off and smacking his wife with them, which I am sure he thought about, he sat and cried for a bit. It was soon reviled to him that it had been reported he was killed in a battle, meaning his wife was free to re-marry; she did to his best friend. He was heartbroken and perplexed, why she chose his best friend of all people. He sat and thought about it for a few moments then his anger began to bubble over and he murdered them both, and then killed himself. His child was soon sacrificed to the gods in Exchange for a good harvest.

From then on it spread throughout Carthage that if you ever slept with your friends, current or ex wife the ghost of this man would come to your home and rip your internal organs out and feed them to the gods with a side of pickled beets.

So what began as folk lore soon became bro code, though it has altered in recent years to include any woman, from ones a friend has dated to ones they have had a kindergarten crush on. As long as you remain friends those women are untouchables or you risk losing a friend over. One must remember friends are more important that a silly female.

Rule 3- A Spade is a Spade, and if She Gets Paid, She Gets Paid

This rule is a mouth full, but its meaning is simple, if your bro says your girl is a whore, she is most likely a whore. Seriously, if your good friends tell you that she has had more plumbing in her than a home depot, you should heed his words or you will end up with a rash that can't be cured with some aloe.

This rule dates back to Mesopotamia when there was two bros, one of them a stone worker, the other a trader. Now the trader was known to frequent with prostitutes, while the stone worker was happily married and did not frequent the ladies of the night as often (it was Mesopotamia, they all banged hooks). One evening on the trader’s usual rendezvous with the whore he spotted the stone workers wife: she was a streetwalker. When he told his friend about it the stone worker refused to believe it.

For years this pattern continued, yet the stone worker did not buy that his beloved wife, the mother of his children, and another expected, was a pavement princess (obviously not pavement but roads were made of dirt, but "dirt princess" doesn't sound right, or does it?). He soon was forced to believe it when news began to spread that the leader decided that whore who were pregnant would be killed, and if any of them were found to be whoreing while married their husbands would be banished to the desert. Long story short, the stone worker's wife never came home and he was completely Keanu Reveesed*, and in a month’s time he died of an unknown cause, today we know this unknown cause as syphilis.

So moral of the story? If your bro says your girl is a $5 floozy, listen to him and dump her, or you will get aids and die.

Ok this will be the end of installment number one of Bro Codeology. Want more? If this is popular maybe I’ll write another on eventually. If it isn't popular I may write another one eventually just because I enjoyed writing it. Now let us review the three rules, always put dicks before chicks, except when dicks are hitched; never horizontal boogie* with a bro's ex, and don't sleep with prostitutes.... well you can sleep with them (with required helmet for your Johnson) if that's your thing, but never marry them when warned they get paid to lay by your buddies. Have a good evening and remember fellows, live by the code or die by a vicious STD or pissed off ghost. (I think they call std's something else these days too, I hate how the workday is trying to change everything I have ever learned, next thing you know they will tell me the triceratops wasn't its own dinosaur, damn these wingels* who run things)

GLOSSARY

Ok I am sure you were wondering what all the asterisks were for, right? Well those are words and phrases that I shall provide a small glossary for those who want to expand their phraseology.

Dangling diamonds- Testicles. They are precious like diamonds, if only they were as strong.

Duracell’s- Breasticles; watch out for those 9 volts; plastic surgeons make mistakes and it is not pretty

Hot dog mustarded- Getting laid, getting laid

Keanu Reveesed- Pauly Shored*

Pauly Shored- Perplexed

Rear admiral- Pitcher in the gay relationship, he navigates the seas

Rumba partner- A super Smash Brothers partner*

Suck on that pancake- Put your lips up to a large flat round areole and commence sucking

Super Smash Brothers partner- A sex partner, with no strings attached

Wingel- Catcher in a gay relationship, partner of the Rear admiral*

Osama Bin Blogin

I have no clue why it looks like two different fonts, i was typing in word and it magically turned like that, so fuck you Bill Gates, I blame you. Excuse the gramatical errors for now I was in such a rush to get this posted, I am editing it as I read it. Sorry for any difficulty this provides.

Was struggling to come up with a good topic, then a group of brave American seals put a bullet through Osama Bin Laden’s skull so with the suggestion coming from Christina Bosco (find the link to her blog at the top of my page people). I decided to go in on this topic and give MY thoughts. I do not expect you to agree with me, I do expect you to read, analyze and think about what I say and if you disagree I expect a educated discussion in the comments. If you catch any historical inaccuracies feel free to point them out to me, I am NOT a historian, just a man with an opinion, though I tend to know a lot about history. I wanted to post something funny but the current events occurring changed that. I will post something funny later on this week, maybe a fiction piece or nonfiction, but something light hearted.

Killing one man will not spell the end to this conflict. I think that our celebration of Bin Laden's death, though warranted, is a futile and pointless thing. He was nothing but one man, flesh and bone; the thing we are fighting is not man, it is something greater, it is an idea, a concept—Something that cannot be defeated. I will not give this topic the justice it deserves but I need to discuss, our misunderstandings about this man, and our blatant disrespect of the Islamic faith following 9/11. Our efforts in this war are nothing but a waste of American lives and money, chasing a man who, yes was a figurhead for Islamic Radicalism, is just that: a man.

                September 11, 2001, a day which defined our generation. I think every American remembers where they were when they heard the news that two hijacked planes slammed into the Twin Towers in the World Trade Center, another into the Pentagon and a fourth crashing in the middle of Pennsylvania. I was a freshman and I recall sitting in lunch (yes, I had lunch at like 10:30 am, 4^th period lunch, worst lunch period ever) when they made an announcement of the terrorist attacks over the loud speaker. I don’t think I will ever forget where I was, it is engraved in my memory. Our discussion went from random high school jargon to a more serious discussion; war. We knew, even as freshmen that our great nation would not sit back and let some shit brained terrorists kill thousands of Americans without any repercussion.  

When I got home and turned on the TV, the images of planes crashing into those building played over and over on every channel. People running covered in dust, running away from the crumbling towers. Images of this horrific day played all day, and night for days. These images are as clear in my mind now as they were the day I first saw them.  The man responsible: Osama Bin Laden, he was harbored by the Taliban controlled government in Afghanistan.  So in order to capture the man who devised the deadliest terror attack on American soil, we had to enter a war in Afghanistan.  This is a country where the people have only known war; since 1979 the Afghan people have been fighting outside invaders and one another.

                In 1979, the Soviet Union invaded this desolate, poor nation. Now this was during the heart of the cold war, so we saw this as an opportunity to give our hated enemy a defeat similar to ours in Vietnam. At the start we invested little money and weapons for these so called “Freedom Fighters”, but as the war between the Soviets and Afghanistan progressed our financial involvement grew. We began providing better weapons more money and training done by the Pakistanis ISA.

SIDE NOTE- Just a curious point, bin laden and his fellow Al-Qaeda were trained by Pakistan, the same place where he was hiding in his compound. Just interesting, that the Pakistani government didn’t know. Maybe it is just me though.

We began providing anti aircraft rockets to shoot down Soviet helicopters, which was a turning point in this war. Now I am not going to go into a history lesson about this war, you can research it on your own and formulate your own thoughts. Just know this, our money and weapons assisted these fighters, who we now call terrorists, which included one Osama Bin Laden. He assisted in “our” toppling of the Soviet Union arguably more than most Americans care to acknowledge. Bellow is an excerpt from an essay by rapper/political activist Immortal Technique which I feel fits my discussion, I will put a link to his full essay at the bottom of the page. I suggest you read it in order to hear a different opinion on Bin Laden, most may not agree with him (I don’t agree with everything he has to say either), though he makes several valid points. I believe strongly it is important to get as many POV’s as possible on any topic so you can form your own opinion.

After the collapse of the Dr. Najibullah’s regime, the loss of countless Afghan lives and over 20,000 Russian soldiers, Usāmah bin Muhammad bin Awad bin Lādin [there is no direct translation from Arabic to English so this is one of the many ways to spell his name, perhaps the closest translation possible] became another unpronounceable name that, to be quite honest and veer from the formal manner of journalism, nobody here gave a fuck about in 1989. The U.S. and its allies will downplay his roll, saying he just raised money, that he was not a great fighter. But he was a link, and a recognizable one that was considered as an asset to the CIA and to other intelligence services like the Pakistani ISI. In other words, he did to the Russians what we would call terrorism if it were done to us now. (Immortal Technique)

                I feel, now this is completely opinion I am not sure how I can prove it without entering the mind of Osama and the other Afghan Freedom Fighters, that we assisted in this decade long fight against Soviet invaders, and once the final Soviet soldiers retreated, so did our funding.  Now I can only help but to wonder if we put the same amount of money into the rebuilding of this poor nation as we did to help destroy it, would we have become the enemies of such a number of, now called, Terrorists. We left Afghanistan with an internal struggle for power, a struggle that would lead to civil war. Now is this the reason for us becoming radical Islam’s number one target? Or was it when the first American troops arrived in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait during the first gulf war? Regardless of the reasons, these freedom fighters were now called terrorists by the American Government.

                When we shared a common enemy with these people, they were freedom fighters, defending their home from the Bastard Communist invaders, yet once we no longer have a common enemy, they are terrorists. Then 9/11 occurred and the whole country began a rally to fight terrorism. President George W. Bush declared a war on terrorism, American citizens rallied behind this idea by waving the American flag outside their homes, on their cars and on the roads: Patriotism began to spread like wildfire. Now I just want to look at the term used for this war, “The War on Terrorism”.  This is a war with no clear enemy (though the media and government made Bin Laden the figurehead for the “enemy” in this war), it is a war fighting an idea not an actual enemy. It is similar to the fight against Communism after WWII; yes we gave the enemy label to the Soviet Union because it was the largest, most powerful Communist nation, but it was the idea of a communist state that the U.S. government was against.  

Side note—The eerie similarity between the Soviets and Osama, each was our “ally” turned enemy, the soviets during WWII, and perhaps without them making Germany Fight a two front war we would have struggled to win the war, and Osama during his fight vs. the Soviets. Shows that when there is a common enemy you will be the American Government’s friend, but when it is time for us to look good on the global stage we will declare you our enemy. A similar situation is occurring with the uprisings throughout the Middle East now, which I suppose is another blog entirely.

                Who was our enemy? The American Public, as stupid and naive as they are, decided that since these particular terrorists were Muslims all Muslims were terrorists. Irrefutable logic right? While these morons began to treat Muslim Americans differently they seem to forget that Islam is a religion of peace. Yes, there are Islamic people who are terrorists, but most of them are hard working, religious people, who would never harm anyone. Yet these Americans became singled out and harassed. For the Men the beards they grew as a symbol of their devotion to god became a way for stupid racists to spot them and harass them. The head dress worn by many woman of the faith to show their love for Allah became a symbol of how this religion oppresses women.   The faith of Islam became the public’s enemy. This country which was founded on the belief of religious freedom was now persecuting people because of their faith.

                Though this discrimination has died down recently, there have been two major controversies discriminating people of the Islamic faith. The first happened right here in our backyard.  I am sure everyone remembers the Mosque controversy in NYC, if not I shall recap what occurred. Last summer there was a proposal to purchase an abandoned Burlington Coat Factory and turn the Building into a Mosque/Community center. While the group was trying to raise funds to purchase the property the plans came to light in the public eye. Now this shouldn’t be a big deal, but this vacant building was different then all others: this was hallowed ground.

 Hold on. I have to pause and laugh at that asinine statement.

                This purposed site was two blocks away from the spot where the Twin Towers fell. Now within that same neighborhood there is an OTB (off-track betting) and a strip club. Yet Americans are fine with gambling and naked women occupying their “hallowed ground”, because what’s more American than that? Well religious freedom for one thing.  The ignorant public took this and ran with it, fueled by the moronic mass media.

SIDE NOTE- Mind you while all this was occurring, the group raising the money was not even close to the amount of money needed for the project.

                During demonstration and protests against the mosque (which was unnecessary in my mind, but it is the right of Americans to protest and if I refuse to take away the religious freedom of people, I would definitely not want to take away their right to freedom of speech and assembly) the side fighting against the mosque had no legitimate argument for the building not to be converted into a community center, so they resorted to racist rants, showing their ignorance and stupidity.  They referred to the people behind the mosque as, according to one protestor, "the same people who took down the twin towers," And that “it should be put in the Middle East” (quotes attributed to Steve Ayling, taken from a Foxnews.com Article, link at bottom). Really Steve? That is perhaps the most un-American thing you could say. You are trying to take away their right to follow the religion of their choosing. It is their right granted by the constitution, yet it is sad that these were not just the thoughts of Mr. Ayling, but of a whole group of Americans. These people were no different than the protestor’s except for their skin color and religious beliefs; they are not terrorists, they are not illegal immigrants, they are hard working Americans. Yet the protestors only saw something they did not understand, so they feared. They lumped in all people of the Islamic faith with those Islamic extremists. Instead of thinking about the situation in a logical way they allowed the hate to fuel their argument. They had no valid argument against an abandoned store becoming something meaningful to the Islamic community.

                Then in France just recently they placed a ban on women wearing anything that covers their face, this was targeted at the some 2,000 Muslim women who reside in France. The Niqab and the Burqa, are two of the headdresses worn by Muslim women as part of their religious beliefs. France’s Islamphobia led them to this ridiculous ban. In a country where Islam is the second largest religion (though not close to the Catholic population, about 5 million Muslims reside in the country) it does not appear that the government ready to acknowledge this. These women have chosen to wear the headdresses on their own will, yet France sees it as a danger. This is wrong in every way I could think of, bigotry at its finest. This would be similar if they were to ban yamakas, or not allow people to wear a cross around their neck; to take this away is to take away a person’s right to worship.

 I am still appalled that these things can occur in developed nations, and I apologize for that rant, but I feel it is necessary to show how anti-Muslim the post 9/11 world has become. But I shall return to the matter at hand, Osama Bin Laden, a man who helped the United States defeat the Soviet Union, now (and since the Clinton administration) our most wanted. Now since the Early 90’s the U.S. Government has been on a hunt for Bin Laden, but after the attacks on September 11, the hunt intensified. Bush began the deployment of American troops into Afghanistan, with the objective to overthrow the Taliban Government and to find and capture/kill Bin Laden.

After news that Bin Laden was killed, Facebook began be covered with “go America”, and “Osama’s dead” status.  Which is of course all well and dandy, because our troops have been hunting this man for years, and we finally got him; it is time to celebrate. Then I saw a status were the poster rambled for a few hundred characters and then posted this gem “We know Obama is trying to take credit for this . . . we do have stupid Americans who think he did this. Maybe we should give Bush a call and thank him”. I thought to myself really, thank Bush? I agree that Obama did nothing but listen to intelligence and give the green light on the mission— he does not deserve the credit for the killing of Osama. It was not Obama, nor was it Bush, in fact in my mind this would have been accomplished years ago if President Bush did not begin the pointless war in Iraq. This war took away crucial money, troops and weapons away from our campaign in Afghanistan, making it more difficult to find Osama. So let us not thank any politician, but let us thank the brave men and women fighting these two wars.  Not just the group of Navy Seals who actually carried out the mission, but to ever single solider who has stepped foot onto the barren landscape risking their lives for a cause which most don’t actually understand. I personally want to thank every single person in our military, you are the true heroes in all of this, and it is just a shame that politicians will use your sacrifices in order to seek their re-election. If Obama wants applause from the American public he will bring as many troops home as possible (though I know it is impossible to bring them all home because in order to help these two countries rebuild we must keep presence there.)

So Osama Bin Laden is dead what now? Is this the End of the war? No. As I said earlier this is a war without the possibility of victory, as Immortal Technique puts it,

Bin Laden may be the face of radical Islam, but he was not its only leader. His death leaves a vacuum, a place for others that may wish to find fame and at the same time satisfy their supposedly pious Muslim ego in “accepting their duty” to engage in a Jihad against someone who is occupying their country. This person who wishes to be a singular entity must remember, only a few of those have ever held true power. (Immortal Technique)

                With the death of one, another takes his place. If we were to pursue a war on this it would not end, there is a never ending supply of people that could be brainwashed into this wrong interpretation of Islam. The government would continue to ship our young men and women across the seas to fight, to kill, to destroy, to die. How many American lives are our politicians willing to waste on a futile effort? Our objective was Bin Laden and we, supposedly still waiting for proof, got him. It took ten years, and thousands of lives, but we finally have a bullet in his head. So this should be the end. We should now focus all the money on our own problems, other internal wars.

Whatever the result of the death of Bin Laden, let us never forget all those who perished on 9/11. Let us remember all the brave soldiers who gave their life. Whether you agree or disagree with the war, whether you believe the stories of what actually happened on 9/11 or if you are one of those conspiracy theorist, regardless of your skin color, regardless of your religious beliefs, regardless of your political views, and regardless of your social standing: Never forget.

Further reading----http://www.xxlmag.com/features/2011/05/the-legacy-of-bin-laden-by-immortal-technique/

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2010/08/22/supporters-opponents-ground-zero-mosque-hold-dueling-rallies/