Barbie and I watched the documentary-like film, "United 93" last night at Power Plant. It holds a bit of sentimental value as my dear mom was airborne on September 11, 2001. She was flying Cathay to Manila via New York and Vancouver. She was on her way back home when the US officials ordered all aircrafts in US airspace to head back and land in the nearest airports. For all we know, it could've been her flight that was hijacked and used as a weapon of mass destruction.
After seeing the movie, I hold the following sentiments:
1. I salute all the passengers of United 93. I admire the courage and bravery that these people demonstrated. I was hoping to see the passenger manifest after the movie, in case the producers want to give some sort of tribute. Alas, there was none.
2. The US military, despite being the most powerful armed forces in the universe, have officials that don't have balls. Freaking cowards. Fuck the rules of engagement when we're talking terrorism and war.
3. I want to go and beat up the next Arab man I see. No racism here, just plain and simple angst. If you guys watch the movie, you'll understand.
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Damn. It's been like a day already and I still have that urge and angst. I need to find myself an Arabian punching bag.
Anyone with me here?
Let's roll.
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