
Rolling out of my crib before dawn today (I was in it long before the charlatans Harris and Trump began their theatrical “debate”), it being another September 11th, I wondered where Dick Cheney was.
And I was still wondering where Elmer Gantry was, having received the previous day a form message from RFK, Jr.’s faith-based engagement team leader, Rev. Wendy Silvers, that she was conducting a “pop-up” prayer service for the great Ciceronians’ debate, with Bobby Kennedy in the press room, rooting for his boy Donald. Cheney and Harris vs. Kennedy and Trump. A tag-team match perfect for the World Wrestling Federation (WWF).
I had just dreamed, or so I thought, that Cheney was out night-riding his white stallion across the Wyoming hills, long gun tight aside his saddle, cowboy hat slung back with a full moon shining on his melonic noggin, sea-shells in his ears as he grooved from side-to-side to the music of that other Kamala Harris endorser, Taylor Swift. It’s always wonderful, wonderful, oh so wonderful to get political advice from a fully-clothed warmonger and a scantily-clad diva.
In my dream I heard another voice as night rider Dick ripped off his earphones and pulled back on the reins. “Dick, Dick,” an eerie voice rang out:
‘If you want to save your soul from hell a-riding on our range,
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride
-try’ng to catch the devil’s herd
Across these endless skies’
Yippee-yi-ay, yippee-yi-o,
The ghost herd in the sky.
That was it, I threw my old clothes on and headed up the hill to the lake to clear my mind of such a nasty flic. Dick hadn’t changed his ways since 2001, except to embrace Democratic war making instead of Republican. Actually, that’s wrong, for as Mr. Neocon, a signer of the bloodthirsty neo-conservative document the Project for the New American Century, he always welcomed and got bipartisan support to attack Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, and Iran.
The neo-cons who run the Democrats and Republicans alike, and whose document “Rebuilding America’s Defenses” most interestingly stated long before COVID-19 that “advanced forms of biological warfare that can ‘target’ specific genotypes may transform biological warfare from the realm of terror to a politically useful tool.”
You don’t say.
There was no need for these neocons to mention the Palestinians, of course, for their slaughter was guaranteed, not only because so many neocons held dual Israeli-U.S. citizenship, but because of all the Israel Lobby money flowing into the pockets of Congress. As for the Russians, attacking them was as American as cherry pie, for they were always coming to get us, just as those sneaky Chinese had their eyes on seizing California.
It was still semi-dark as I walked, with just the fingertips of a rosy-fingered dawn raising its hand over East Mountain. At the lake’s edge, two men in woolen caps and parkas sat meditating facing the mist-rising lake. I wondered why. Were they seeking personal peace of mind or illumination about the ruthless ways of their government? As I walked, I talked to myself and my own ghosts, watching as I went the disappearing vapor and the sky slowly turning blue.
I remembered that September 11, 2001 was also a very blue day until the black clouds flew in and that sparkling morning turned to smoke and dust as the three World Trade Center buildings were brought down by controlled demolition, not airplanes.
But where was Dick Cheney that morning? Not out on the range, no siree. He was riding herd on another roundup. He had taken control of the U.S. government under a Continuity of Government (COG) declaration, as Peter Dale Scott has documented:
Within hours of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on Sept. 11, 2001, Dick Cheney in effect took command of the national security operations of the federal government. Quickly and instinctively, he began to act in response to two longstanding beliefs: that the great dangers facing the United States justified almost any response, whether or not legal; and that the presidency needed vastly to enhance its authority, which had been unjustifiably and dangerously weakened in the post-Vietnam, post-Watergate years.
James Mann has argued that COG implementation was the “hidden backdrop” to Cheney’s actions on 9/11, when he “urged President Bush to stay out of Washington,” and later removed himself to more than one “’undisclosed location’”.
Scott and authors James Mann and James Bamford further show how Cheney and his buddy Donald Rumsfeld of “unknown unknowns” fame were for a long time part of the permanent hidden national security apparatus that runs the country as presidents like Bush, Obama, Trump, and Biden enter and exit the White House and are falsely held up as leading the nation. “Cheney and Rumsfeld had previously been preparing for almost two decades, as central figures in the secret agency planning for so-called Continuity of Government (COG),” writes Scott. “It was revealed in the 1980s that these plans aimed at granting a president emergency powers, uncurbed by congressional restraints, to intervene abroad, and also to detain large numbers of those who might protest such actions.”
Unlike this morning when I saw Cheney riding the range, on the morning of September 11, 2001, Cheney was in the Presidential Emergency Operations Center (PEOC) beneath the White House. What exactly he was doing there I will leave to the reader’s research initiative. The great researcher David Ray Griffin’s many books about the attacks of that day would be a good place to start. Let’s just say he wasn’t listening to pop music, not presidential recommender Taylor Swift anyway, for she was just eleven years old that day. She was probably dreaming of writing her political music, Phil Ochs style.
Have you ever noticed how in all the presidential debates since 2001, the truth about what happened on September 11, 2001 is never discussed? It is just assumed that the government’s version of events is true. It is a third rail of American politics; mention it and your goose is cooked.
Just this morning at the 23rd anniversary memorial service of September 11th in NYC, Donald Trump and Kamala Harris shook hands. (Anthony Fauci would be outraged, having said that “I don’t think people should ever shake hands again.”) Was that handshake some sort of tacit agreement never to broach the subject of September 11th during the campaign? To suggest that both the attacks of that day and the subsequent anthrax attacks were linked inside jobs sounds so conspiratorial. That’s a voter turnoff.
Even I find accusing the U.S. government of a false flag attack conspiratorial, since that’s exactly what it is, as I wrote years ago about the linguistic mind-control used to convince Americans that they are ruled by a secret cabal of ghost writers in the sky. My words:
In summary form, I will list the language I believe “made up the minds” of those who have refused to examine the government’s claims about the September 11 attacks and the subsequent anthrax attacks.
It’s getting dark now, the sun is setting and shimmering across the lake. Shadows are falling, but to quote Dylan, “it’s not dark yet but it’s getting there.” I hope to dream again tonight as I rock in my crib, not about Cheney and his ilk, not about Trump or Harris and the Spectacle, but maybe just about the lovely lapping lake I listened to today, thinking of Yeats’ poem, “The Lake of Innisfree,” set in the land of my ancestors, hearing its cadence that flows like a prayer. It is always the poets who remind us that words can be used to traumatize or transport one into a beautiful dreamer.
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
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This article was originally published on the author’s blog site, Behind the Curtain.
Edward Curtin is a prominent author, researcher and sociologist based in Western Massachusetts. He is a Research Associate of the Centre for Research on Globalization (CRG).
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