Feb. 1st, 2003

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When the clock radio switched itself on this morning, the first words I could make out were, "we have to interrupt our live coverage briefly to identify the station." That's when I knew something was very wrong.

Now I just feel sick. And tired of the fear, the pain, the rage, the grief. I'd like a little joy, please, and maybe a green salad to start.

Tonight is going to be difficult and dreadful, with the moments of silence, and the toasts to their memory.

In 1986, the networks played the same footage over and over, just as they did in September 2001. I'm not turning the television on. At least this time, none of their kids were watching it as it happened.

And the conspiracy nuts are going to be out in force, especially since one was an Israeli. Why isn't it legal to torture these lunatics to death?

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