Something Funny Going On
This was another slow night for me as I checked my blog for comments and to count how many hits I'd received and from where they originated. I had jumped onto the blogging bandwagon several years earlier and I liked recording my thoughts. There was nothing interesting or unusual tonight so I wondered what to do that might reduce the boredom of being at work with no work to do. To satisfy my curiosity about Real Estate prices I began doing various Google searches for home and real estate prices, land and the like. When I searched building prices one of the topics read "Is Building Seven Evidence of Controlled Demolition." Being curious by nature I clicked on the link. It took me to an organization called Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth. Initially, I thought to just click the hell out of there as it appeared to be a site that suggested the government had something to do with 9/11, which I found to be an absolutely ridiculous assertion. Still I noticed some copy stating Building 7 was called the Solomon Building and it housed the CIA among other agencies. This peaked my interest because I remembered it was the Solomon Building that fell late in the afternoon of 9/11. Nobody mentioned before about the CIA offices being located there. This information I was just now learning of and it seemed kind of important - news worthy. Then I noticed that the video was over an hour long and thought he can't watch it at work even on a slow night. The staff had already been warned about watching videos at work. So I copied the link and email it to myself.
A short distance away, Tumbleweed grabs Dave's attention speaking the worry that's been on everybody's mind. "Hey Dave. What do you think about not having any ads?" Dave responds, "Well it sure makes the nights drag by. I'd rather be busy." "Me too." Tumbleweed responds. Dave asks, "What's your condo mortgage run?" A worry look appears on Tumbleweed's face and he replies, "It just went up $200 a month." "DAMN!" Dave shouts causing people across the floor to stop and look in their direction. "Dude, what's up with that?" Dave continues but in a more hushed voice. It was no longer a good idea to talk normally because you couldn't be sure of whose nose you might throw out of joint. "Adjustable rate." Is Tumbleweed's brief reply. He didn't even bother to mention the condo fees which also just went up with the property taxes as well. Though Real Estate was not moving like in the early part of the decade, the local government was still property taxing at the full bubble list price. Tumbleweed didn't see how he was going to make it except that his mom had given up her rental and moved in with him to split the costs of the condo. She slept in the bedroom, Tumbleweed relegated to sleeping in the living room and his entire porno collection was last seen by him descending down to the bottom of the trash chute. He sighed momentarily thinking of his now trashed collection. No way was he getting laid now he reckoned. With mom living in the condo, no porno videos, his porn channel canceled and zero money for dating even if a woman were available. He didn't have the fifty bucks hanging around in his crimped budget to go to the massage parlor either. This was especially true with the credit card bill for the Romanian trip. For Tumbleweed, life was really starting to suck. Naturally his mother was concerned about him which is why she had moved in. It was more than just to help him financially. She was trying to investigate what her son was into and why he wasn't married like his two brothers were who were both younger. Now she was bent on investigate her son by questioning him everyday before he left for work. She was retired and had plenty of time to do so. Eventually she started giving her son advice based on what he was telling her. Her advice was as good as the source and Tumbleweed didn't really see things like most people. So the information he was providing his mother caused her to give him advice that was not really in his best interest. However, it had not yet come back to haunt him.
I like to cook and regularly brought in extra food to work for anyone who was hungry. The crew especially enjoyed my oatmeal persimmon cookies not the least of whom was Tumbleweed. Recently, he could not afford to buy take out for dinner and would have gone hungry except for the food that I brought in. Tumbleweed wolfed it down too. I knew Tumbleweed was hurting and also about his mom moving in. That's got to suck I thought when I learned of the situation. I got the lowdown as usual from Randy who one day called his place to see if Tumbleweed could come to work early and the phone was answer by Tumbleweed's mom. Apparently Tumbleweed was around the corner getting something for his mother at the store. Shocked to hear a female voice at Tumbleweed's condo answering the phone, Randy pumped the woman for information in that friendly way he normally addressed people. She couldn't help but spilled her guts to him though Tumbleweed had wanted to keep it quiet out of embarrassment for having his mom as a roommate. But the cat was out of the bag now. I never mentioned it as he felt sorry for the boy all kidding aside.
The night ended early again with the last few hours of the shift mostly playing on the computers by the staff. The week was finally over and everyone was headed home for the weekend. When I awoke Saturday morning I was feeling happy to not have to drive to DC to work at least until Monday afternoon. I checked my email and among the stack was the Architect and Engineers for 9/11 Truth. I clicked onto the link then started the video. This was apparently some kind of presentation to an audience of people by a man in a three piece suit named Richard Gage. Right off the bat this was not what I was expecting. Richard Gage apparently was a well known architect who'd built many buildings, some in San Francisco - an earthquake zone. I began watching Gage give his presentation complete with slides of the 9/11 attack. However, most were things I had never seen on TV before though they seemed very credible and pertinent. This began to worry me more and more as I watched. By the time it was over, I didn't know what to do. I was angry at the ramifications of the video and at the same time terrified. If these architects were right, and it sure appeared that way to me, then this was no terrorist attack. It was treason in the highest halls of government. I felt the need to warn friends and family about this grave information that had left me stunned.
Once Monday rolled around and I was back at work I started doing what I thought was necessary. First of all, this information I had stumbled upon was not only damnable to the government, it was very credible and easy for me to comprehend. I figured this would be no problem for the editors at the paper and emailed what he knew with links to several of the editors. I sort of felt like Woodward and Bernstein helping to break this story of the century. What a moron I was at the time for being so naive. I wrote down the Architects and Engineers link and walked into my manager's office. "Can I talk to you a second Boss? I asked sitting down closing the door. "Sure. What's on your mind." I handed him the paper with the link and said. "Go here to this link, boss. These architects and engineers have undeniable proof that there was government involvement in the 9/11 attack." My manager thanked me and tried to appear genuine but for whatever reason only my boss could say for sure, nothing ever came of my attempt to warn him or anyone for that matter. My boss was only just hired in the new job and had more important things to do than investigate whether or not the government is involved in treason and mass murder. I mentioned it one more time to him that he still hadn't gotten around to checking out the link and he promised that he would surely do so. But it appeared my boss was blowing me off and the editors at the paper sure did. Their silence stunned me and felt isolated.
I sat down next to Tumbleweed sitting at his work station and said, "It looks like 9/11 was done by the government not Arabs from caves." Immediately, Tumbleweed responds, "I don't believe that Tom." I replied, "Don't believe me bro'. Check out this link put out by some architects that say the building were blown up by explosives." However, Tumbleweed again flatly responds, "I don't believe that Tom." As he finishes his words Randy is walking by and inquires, "Believe what?" Tumbleweed repeats what I had just suggested to him about the terrorist attack. "Tom believes 9/11 was done by the government, not Arab terrorists." Randy rolls his eyes a bit disgusted and asked looking towards me, "You been drinking the cool-aid? Who are you, Rosie O'Donnell?" I recalled hearing Rosie had made such assertion and I ignored them as I did not agree with many things she said or believed in general. But I responded, "Yeah, well I hear Rosie thinks the planet is round. Does that make you a flat earther?" Randy failed to see the reasoning in my statement, looked at Tumbleweed, pointed his thumb briefly towards me then drew his other hand up to his own head circling his finger round and round signaling that I was crazy. Randy walked away, Tumbleweed went back to work disturbed by my lack of patriotism and faith in the Bush administration. Eventually he would even consider reporting me to the government - just doing his part to fight terrorism especially since George Bush had stated that we should not ever accept any outrageous conspiracy theories. However once he tried to phone the terrorist hotline number that flashed across the highway as he drove home most nights, all he got was an answering machine. He didn't leave any information and hung up.
This had not gone smoothly for me. I thought I would alert my friends and coworkers about the horrible treason I'd discovered. Yet they ignored and chastised me - even Tumbleweed. One manager asked me if I would like to see a head shrinker and that the paper would pay for it. I thanked her but declined the offer.