The streets shook beneath a hail of body parts and the dust of toppled towers buried our nation beneath a new layer of fear. Since that day in September, our balding Eagle has suffered a partially self-inflicted tail spin from which it has yet, to fully recover.
Time and again, when not the victims of an actual terrorist attack, we are relentlessly bombarded by the word Terror.
Press release upon press release, our color-coded-scare-system works as though designed by that little boy with shark-toothed wolves on his brand new little brain.
Whatever happened to that little boy?
The next attack could be executed by anyone—a neighbor, a best friend or that lurking little sister—how well does one really know those people? The threat of emmiment danger hovers just out of eye and earshot.
Did you hear something?
Caught in the crossfire of a Ratings War between media Titans bilking the PR for the Almighty Bottom Line, we linger in distraction while habeas corpus hangs gutted by a PATRIOT Act.
With cameras penetrating our privacy and technology suiting up into thought-police uniform, no sideshow could eclipse the recent growth-spurt of Big Brother who looks like he’s got much growing left.