The 9/11 Memorial

The time is approaching for the tenth anniversary of 9/11.
Now you may be thinking that Bin Laden did it, the US government did it, it was the Illuminati, it was caused by negative Earth Energies, it was aliens hell bent on revenge for all that rubbish we broadcast on the satellite TV etc. etc. But, no matter what your theory for who was responsible for 9/11, no one can deny that the deaths of all those people was a massive human tragedy.
People like to mark the anniversaries of tragic events, like deaths, with some sort of fitting memorial. Usually these are designed to bring us closer to the spirit of the dead person or people, for example, going to a place that they enjoyed and lighting candles or singing their favorite song.
Not in this case. Whoever designed this piece of crap decided a little differently. In honour of the thousands of people who died on that day, many in states of extreme terror and pain inside collapsing burning buildings, this person decided that a fitting tribute would be to encourage mourning loved ones to spend their hard-earned cash on some crappy bits of cheap metal glued together badly to look a little bit like the twin towers. Adding in a few candles, it looks a bit like the buildings are on fire.
Brilliant. So this will achieve what exactly?
For the people holding the memorial with this statuette: instead of remembering the happy, positive, fun things about their loved one's life, they just get to relive the trauma of their horrible death, and wallow in their own pain and misery as a result, thus making them less happy.
For the spirits of the dead people - if you believe in them - they will also be quite unhappy about it, I mean they died horribly in the twin towers, so how is an image of them going to be enjoyable or help them reconnect with their living families?
(As an aside, I expect Jesus feels the same way about crosses. If you were pondering returning to the land of the living, would you want to come back to humanity, if humanity had spent 2000 years sculpting images of the device they used to torture you to death?)

For the people who designed and built this hideous effigy: Riches. Current retail price is about $18 from the NY Fire Department, though this will likely increase as we get closer to the anniversary. Manufacturing cost, probably a few pennies, since it was made in some sweat shop in China.

Twilight Eyes - Book review

Dean Koontz's Twilight Eyes is brilliant!
A novel set in a world where some "humans" are in fact strange otherworldly goblin beings, invisible to most of the population but visible to our hero Slim.
From an early age he has embarked on a one man war against these strange creatures, who seem only interested in slowly wiping out humans and thriving on our suffering.
Slim has a variety of psychic powers, as do some of the other characters he meets along the way, so the book is packed with visions, prophecies and other psychic phenomena.
Warning to anyone who is a little sensitive - this is a dark book and there are lots of grim gorey bits. It is not light reading.
The only real problem with this book is that the main character is a little unbelievable. He's only 17 yet appears to have the wit and intelligence of someone in their mid-30s. This discrepancy is commented on in the book, alluding to his very unusual childhood and goblin war maiking him "grow up fast" but this can't explain how he seems to have the vocabulary of an Oxford professor.
Nonetheless a brilliant story that will appeal to anyone interested in the powers of the unknown, alien races and fans of the show Carnivale.

Quote from my next book (3)

His office was in the spare room of his house, and of course there was no electronic kit. The layout of the office, equipment in it, and even the furniture, would not have looked out of place in the 19th century. Well, except for the tape player. The walls were lined with dark wood pannelling reminiscent of some stately home; there was an ornate picture rail below which hung mostly rennaissance paintings (though there were only two modern pieces: a large photo of Blackpool taken from offshore somewhere, just before the bombing), and another photo of the current President of Europe, Bearnard Cody, which he would throw darts at when he was feeling frustrated. He had filing cabinets (for storing the few things he really did need to write down) that were wooden, with old fashioned locks to which he kept the keys on his person at all times; a large oak desk with Gillow chairs, salvaged from some of the wreckage of the bombing, and an ornate standard lamp that ran on paraffin.
All in all he had a plush office that, in times gone by, would have been favoured by the elite class that he now sought to destroy. He was pleased with the irony of this. Queen Victoria had once sat in the chair he now slouched on. She would meet with the judges and the lawyers in Lancaster castle and help preside over cases, and help direct the future of the law in England. Her legacy was to bring England struggling from the Industrial Revolution into the beginnings of the information age that had now gone so wrong. Could she have envisaged this world, Boon wondered? She reigned during the time when the telephone was invented; now there was instant video and voice communication all over the planet. She ruled over the British Empire that. despite its faults, brought so much prosperity to the third world. Now, Britain was no more, there were only five countries, that same spirit of imperialism brought war and suffering all around the globe and Boon longed for a more localised world. Victoria's age invented the car, and aeroplanes were the stuff of science fiction. Now even the poorest had cars and the richest had cars that could fly; 12 hours was all it took to get to the other side of the world. Coal and oil production begun to really take off under her leadership, bringing an unimaginable energy revolution. Now there was nuclear fusion energy that was millions of times more powerful. The Victorians started the process of running censuses and monitoring the population, but they knew almost nothing about the lower classes. Now, governments could know anything about any of their citizens in an instant, including their genetic code and hiding from this was almost impossible.
Did she know where all this was heading? Did Queen Vic look out over her realm and wish she knew every tiny detail about her people? Did she want the Empire to just grow, and grow, and grow? Did she wish she could talk to anyone in the world in an instant?
Of course she did. The elite ruled the world from way back before her day. She was just the latest in a long line of rulers of England who joined the ranks of the elite. For centuries the world had been controlled by small groups of very powerful people, having secret meetings in very plush houses. "The only difference now", thought Boon aloud, "is that they have nothing to hide any more. All the cards are on the table. We citizens are actively 'subjects'. We do what they want and they watch us to make sure we are doing it. That's not a secret anymore. It's very difficult to hide. every time you go outdoors, log on, get on the telephone, use any kind of machinery, they are watching, and they're ready to dock you a week's pay if you do something minor and have you shot if you do something major. And in the meantime the wars rage on all around the globe and the only winners will be the elite themselves, from all the five sides, who have probably planned the whole thing together secretly since the war."
This was the mantra of the Freedom Party, and not the first time Boon had spoken it aloud to himself, but in light of his recent experience the words seemed more real to him. He felt a release from the harrowing tribulations of earth-bound life that he could not possibly have imagined before, the notion that he had the power to depart from his body. The perpetual sadness that had gripped him since the bombing, that relentless feeling of powerlessness and resignedness to a dreadful fate, had lifted a little. He was feeling positive, he could see his work really going somewhere, and for the first time in years, he really had the notion that his work might make a dent in the elite and bring a little more freedom for the ordinary people. This made him smile, and he pressed play on the stereo to be met by a wall of sound: hypnotic techno beats that sped up his mind and reinforced his rebellious, cunning nature.