Become a Fan
One thing I’ve noticed lately: people don’t read newspapers, and don’t follow the news anymore. They don’t trust the media. This is not surprising, considering what has happened to the media in the last few years.
Since 911, I assume most mainstream news to be some form of disinformation, especially when it comes from Associated Press. I assume that behind every story lies another story.
Another thing I’ve noticed: dead women don’t talk. But they certainly are talked ABOUT. I like to imagine I am these women. For example:
Imagine you are Chandra Levy. You are going out with a Democratic Congressman, who dumps you. Imagine you receive a phone call or a visit from someone who asks you if you would like to provide them with information on Gary Condit. You go to meet that person in the park. You die.
Guilt for your death is laid at Condit’s door, by people like Barbara Olson.
Imagine you are Barbara Olson, conservative commentator, Washington lawyer, wife of the US Solicitor General and -- TV gossip monger. Talk about wearing many hats. Imagine you are also the well-known author of two “best sellers” attacking the Clintons, and a frequent guest on Larry King Live and another news analysis programs. By the way, both books are libellous and bizarre, and appear to have been written by committee, aime at a rightwing audience which apparently will believe just about anything as long as it’s anti-liberal. They accuse Bill and Hilary Clinton of engineering (and failing to bring off) a socialist plot to destroy America. The praise on the dust jacket comes from extreme rightwing newspapers like the National Review and the Toronto Sun, as well as Rush Limbaugh.
The rest is, as they say, “history“. Barbara Olson happened to be one of the passengers aboard Flight 77 that crashed into the Pentagon on September 11, 2001, just two days before her second Clinton-bashing book was due to be published. Imagine you are Olson, aboard that t fatal flight, phoning your husband, Ted, and describing the knife-wielding Middle Eastern terrorists who have hijacked the plane. You ask, “What should I tell the pilot to do?“ although the pilot is standing right next to you, supposedly, among the passengers who have been herded by a few madmen wielding box-cutters, to the rear of the plane.
Imagine being snuffed out, minutes later, when AA flight 77 hits its target, although no one has ever seen photos of this happening. There are an awful lot of irregularities surrounding this plane crash, including photographs that seem to indicate it was not a Boeing 757 that hit the Pentagon, but a much smaller, ground-hugging, high speed military jet. This jet which may have also fired a missile just ahead of impact. Where is the evidence? That’s just it: where is the evidence? These photos are on the internet and you can look that them. They are very thought-provoking.
If the fighter plane that appears on that video image is real, and chances are we will never know, then Barbara Olson did NOT die aboard Flight 77. And if she’s not dead, where is she?
Two days after 9/11, Olson’s colleague, conservative commentator Anne Coulter, wrote a nauseating tribute to her friend in the National Review. The column was much-quoted in the press, as part of the rhetorical build up to the revenge bombing of civilians in Afghanistan. In her column, Coulter refers to the Olsons and how deeply in love they were. After painting a portrait of a bereaved husband in mourning for his best friend, she goes on to scream for vengeance against Muslims. If you can ignore its horrible consequences, this widely-quoted piece of yellow journalism is actually in hilarious bad taste. Coulter imagines a scenario in which her heroic pal Olson goes down fighting -- as she attacks the hijackers on the plane with her fingernails and tears out their eyes before the fatal plunge. It’s a scene truly worthy of the worst of Hollywood disaster flicks. But the fact is, if you read this column in the light of the photos that show a much smaller plane hit the Pentagon, you can imagine how Coulter put together this fiction, and why.
After you’ve seen the blurry but nevertheless disturbing image of the small plane approaching the Pentagon at ground level, and read certain accounts of how the government and the FBI took charge at the scene of the disaster, you begin to see “Olson and Coulter” in an entirely different light: as purveyors of a false story that led to war in Afghanistan and paved the way for war in Iraq.
Maybe Barbara and Ted were NOT such a happy couple, after all? Otherwise, why would Ann Coulter make such a point of their perfect marriage, as a sugary prelude to issuing a bloodthirsty call for bombing civilians in Afghanistan? Excuse me, but even conservative journalists must follow certain rules. You don’t write a column expressing grief for a friend and admiration for her “perfect marriage,” then dream up a fantasy scenario about her death, and then segue into screaming for the expansion of hate and mass murder -- unless you have some very good reason for stirring up hysteria. Not only is it in bad taste, it makes NO sense -- unless you are unbelievably cynical and lacking in feeling, as Ms. Coulter obviously is, and unless you have a good reason to want to confuse and deceive the public.
My guess is that the truth is very ironic. My guess is that the administration would not have seized all the photos and hidden the black box without a very good reason. If you believe in the fighter plane theory, which is supported by photographic evidence, then either Barbara Olson is alive somewhere, living off the proceeds of her last and greatest stunt as a reporter: her famous phone call from Flight 77. Or alternatively, Barbara Olson is dead, along with the other passengers on that flight -- in which case, how and where did they die if not at the Pentagon?
One thing is for sure. Her husband Ted and his friends in government know. And they have certainly benefited from that final phone call, of which there is also no record.
It really is interesting what you can pin on a dead woman.
Too bad dead women can’t speak for themselves. If I were going into journalism these days, I would make sure I had plenty of contacts in the psychic world. I would publish what they told me and call it fiction, and it would still be closer to the truth than what we’re getting from the media.