I got to work an hour early today so I took a nice stroll over to the library to kill some time. I went to the comics section and stumbled across this monster of a book.
It sits funny on a shelf...the physical dimensions of the thing are awkward, jutting out noisily from the Essential Hulk and Spiderman, overpowering the busted up Watchman and thumbed-through Books of Magic. This cardboard monstrosity is about 30 pages long...but man...any more would be too devestating to handle.
In the Shadow of No Towers is the best possible tribute to the instant in time in which everything fucking fell to shit, the moment we gazed into cavernous gaping trough of fecal patriotism and dove in face first, screaming all the way. The paranoid wonderworld created by Spiegelman encapsulates the terror and the wonder of 9/11 within the confines of a newsprint dreamscape...a long lost Little Nemo traversing a nightmare of blood and patriotism.
This thing shook me--I'll never forget.
At work Andy had an conversation with a little boy who was afraid of terrorists. What alert are we at? Orange...Red...Pink...Puke? Will an Iraqi come at me with a bomb screaming Yiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyi!?!?! Will I dream of terrorists and fall out of bed screaming only to be coddled back to sleep by a brainwashed hate spewing Mother?
Fuck you Bush. I'll never forget.
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