Hunter S. Thompson On The Terrorist Attacks Of September 11, 2001.
Well, that time of year has been and gone for another 12 months, this time a little more poignant than most — The 15th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Don’t worry, I’ll continue writing about our trip to South America at some stage, I just wanted to remember this, so I’m posting it now. I’m not a politically-minded person, I just wanted a permanent link to this article for my own reference, so what better place than on my own blog?
Anyone who knows me would know that one of my favourite writers/authors/journalists is the late, great Hunter S. Thompson. Hell, I’ve even named a few posts in my blog after pieces he wrote. Thompson is no longer alive, he took himself out with a shot to the head in 2005, but if he hadn’t then, he probably would have by now anyway, with the reality being that either Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton will be president of the USA in a matter of months.
When I was trying to find articles or news stories to write about for my work at the beginning of the week it was a bit of a struggle, because my work is based in New York and I need to write interesting pieces to cater to a young American market, but all I could seem to come across were either 9/11 stories or news about Hillary Clinton’s health. That’s it. It almost seemed like it was a legal requirement to include a 9/11 reference in absolutely every piece of journalism published.
But then I stumbled upon this, a piece Thompson wrote in his weekly column, “Hey, Rube,” for ESPN.com’s Page 2. Reading this piece 15 years later sounds like it must’ve been written in hindsight, but when you consider that it was written over a period of 24 hours, from September 11-12, 2001, it seems nothing short of a prophecy. The details you already know, but when he starts talking about war, he was eerily accurate:
By Hunter S. Thompson
Page 2 columnist
It was just after dawn in Woody Creek, Colo., when the first plane hit the World Trade Center in New York City on Tuesday morning, and as usual I was writing about sports. But not for long. Football suddenly seemed irrelevant, compared to the scenes of destruction and utter devastation coming out of New York on TV.
Even ESPN was broadcasting war news. It was the worst disaster in the history of the United States, including Pearl Harbor, the San Francisco earthquake and probably the Battle of Antietam in 1862, when 23,000 were slaughtered in one day.
The Battle of the World Trade Center lasted about 99 minutes and cost 20,000 lives in two hours (according to unofficial estimates as of midnight Tuesday). The final numbers, including those from the supposedly impregnable Pentagon, across the Potomac River from Washington, likely will be higher. Anything that kills 300 trained firefighters in two hours is a world-class disaster.
And it was not even Bombs that caused this massive damage. No nuclear missiles were launched from any foreign soil, no enemy bombers flew over New York and Washington to rain death on innocent Americans. No. It was four commercial jetliners.
They were the first flights of the day from American and United Airlines, piloted by skilled and loyal U.S. citizens, and there was nothing suspicious about them when they took off from Newark, N.J., and Dulles in D.C. and Logan in Boston on routine cross-country flights to the West Coast with fully-loaded fuel tanks — which would soon explode on impact and utterly destroy the world-famous Twin Towers of downtown Manhattan’s World Trade Center. Boom! Boom! Just like that.
The towers are gone now, reduced to bloody rubble, along with all hopes for Peace in Our Time, in the United States or any other country. Make no mistake about it: We are At War now — with somebody — and we will stay At War with that mysterious Enemy for the rest of our lives.
It will be a Religious War, a sort of Christian Jihad, fueled by religious hatred and led by merciless fanatics on both sides. It will be guerilla warfare on a global scale, with no front lines and no identifiable enemy. Osama bin Laden may be a primitive “figurehead” — or even dead, for all we know — but whoever put those All-American jet planes loaded with All-American fuel into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon did it with chilling precision and accuracy. The second one was a dead-on bullseye. Straight into the middle of the skyscraper.
Nothing — even George Bush’s $350 billion “Star Wars” missile defense system — could have prevented Tuesday’s attack, and it cost next to nothing to pull off. Fewer than 20 unarmed Suicide soldiers from some apparently primitive country somewhere on the other side of the world took out the World Trade Center and half the Pentagon with three quick and costless strikes on one day. The efficiency of it was terrifying.
We are going to punish somebody for this attack, but just who or what will be blown to smithereens for it is hard to say. Maybe Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan or Iraq, or possibly all three at once. Who knows? Not even the Generals in what remains of the Pentagon or the New York papers calling for WAR seem to know who did it or where to look for them.
This is going to be a very expensive war, and Victory is not guaranteed — for anyone, and certainly not for anyone as baffled as George W. Bush. All he knows is that his father started the war a long time ago, and that he, the goofy child-President, has been chosen by Fate and the global Oil industry to finish it Now. He will declare a National Security Emergency and clamp down Hard on Everybody, no matter where they live or why. If the guilty won’t hold up their hands and confess, he and the Generals will ferret them out by force.
Good luck. He is in for a profoundly difficult job — armed as he is with no credible Military Intelligence, no witnesses and only the ghost of Bin Laden to blame for the tragedy.
OK. It is 24 hours later now, and we are not getting much information about the Five Ws of this thing.
The numbers out of the Pentagon are baffling, as if Military Censorship has already been imposed on the media. It is ominous. The only news on TV comes from weeping victims and ignorant speculators.
The lid is on. Loose Lips Sink Ships. Don’t say anything that might give aid to The Enemy.
•Dr. Hunter S. Thompson’s books include Hell’s Angels, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72, The Proud Highway, Better Than Sex and The Rum Diary. His new book, Fear and Loathing in America, has just been released. A regular contributor to various national and international publications, Thompson now lives in a fortified compound near Aspen, Colo. His column, “Hey, Rube,” appears each Monday on Page 2.
Damn, that is prescient, real foresight. This is why I love reading anything the man has written, whether it be on sports, politics or just rambling, drug-fueled escapades.
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