Remembered: The day that changed the universe forever™ (Pub-friendly) [The Rockall Times]

Editorial note: We are pleased this morning to offer readers our special coverage of The day that changed the universe forever™. Below is an account of events today on Rockall on the fifth anniversary of 9/11. This is followed by Kieren McCarthy's moving analysis of the tragic events of 9/11, as published in The Rockall Times on 4 November 2002 — just five days before the first anniversary.

An unsettling silence this morning descended on the sacred islet of Rockall as a melancholy, mist-shrouded sun rose on the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center.

At Rockall's Edward VIII dockside — normally the scene of market day hustle-and-bustle as cheery fishwives indulge in their traditional pursuits of haddock-worrying and bare-knuckle boxing — the early morning sounds of wet herring hitting granite to the sound of a merry jig on the electric hornpipe were replaced by the gentle sobbing of horny-handed trawlermen quietly lamenting the dead.

In Rockall's bourse, too, the normally energetic trade in guano futures and gilt-edged haddock bonds was suspended during one minute's emotional silence as besuited traders contemplated the fragility of life and their own mortality.

At 10am, the town hall's flag was solemnly lowered to half-mast while a lone bugler trumpeted The star-spangled banner just before a flypast by five F-16s of the Rockall Air National Guard — one for every year which has passed since the World Trade Center's twin towers unexpectedly fell over.

In Rockall's Fighting Dog and Pikey, meanwhile, grim-faced locals tearfully recalled where they were on The day that America lost its innocence™.

"I was in the bookies," noted Arthur "Chalky" Black, quiety supping a Britannia fighting sherry in the pub's snug. "Had a fiver on Naomi Campbell Bitchslap in the 3.15 at St Kilda. Pretty good odds, too, I seem to remember, although the going was a bit soft."

"Yeah, I had a tenner on Bitchslap, too," chipped in Davey Leveret, propped against the bar quaffing a foaming flagon of Olde Wifebeater. "There was a stewards' enquiry, wasn't there, over allegations that the jockey had 'excessively beaten his mount with a BlackBerry PDA'?"

"Nah, it was a mobile phone," chipped in a youth throwing a week's wages into the 9/11 Jihad Heaven fruitie. "I remember it specifically, cos I was watching summat on TV about some ragheads crashing a plane into some building in America and me mate Joe runs in and says: 'Turn over to the racing channel cos I've got twenty quid on Naomi Campbell Bitchslap in the 3.15 at St Kilda and Winston from the bookshop says the jockey's up on an 'excessively beating his mount with a mobile phone' rap."

"That's right," confirmed Winston Kenyatta Simba — aka "Brian" — practising Rastafarian and bookshop proprieter. "I was slipping the wife a length in the flat above the shop and Jamala the shop assistant runs up and is screaming about the 3.15 at St Kilda and I say: 'Can't you see I am currently pleasuring my woman?' and she says: 'No, you don't understand; there's a stewards' enquiry, so I reckon you've lost the 50 quid you had on Naomi Campbell Bitchslap,' so I immediately disengage and rush down the bookies..."

"Ah, that's why you were wearing a dressing gown when Joe saw you in the street," exclaimed our gambling youth as he ascended the NYFD Stairwell of Death towards the £100 "Ground Zero" bonus. "Didn't your missus leave you over that?"

"Yeah," sighed Winston. "When I got home to break the terrible news that I had indeed lost £50 in the 3.15 at St Kilda I found her in bed with Jamala. She told me: 'Well, since you weren't prepared to stick around long anough to totally satisfy me as a woman, I found someone who was.'"

"They're still together, aren't they?" enquired Davey Leveret, waving his empty glass at landlord Vince.

"They are. They've got a successful Brazilian Macumba supplies shop in Black Turbot Lane," confirmed Winston.

"Not the one that sells magic dildos and stuff?" asked Vince as he delivered Leveret's second pint of Wifebeater.

"That's right," replied Winston. "One insertion of the 'Baron Samedi' confers upon the owner lifelong immunity to terrorist attack and sexually-transmitted diseases."

"Does it work?" asked Vince, nervously flicking through the 300 satellite channels of Twin Towers memorial broadcasts.

"Well, I used one on my current woman and to date she has not been decapitated by al-Qaeda and her love tube is as fresh as a bouquet of freshly-cut sensi..."

"Jesus," interjected Vince, angrily stabbing at the TV remote. "What the fuc*k's happened to the racing channel? All I can see is loads of frigging burning skyscrapers. I've got a pony riding on Abi Titmuss's Beef Curtains in the 2.30 at St Kilda..."

Remembered: The day that changed the universe forever™

It was a day that will stand in infamy, a day that no one, not even an Alzheimer's sufferer, will ever forget. But it is also one that we must remember. Forever.

How many of us can purge our minds of that violent image of the plane violating the twin towers of freedom? I will tell you: none. And as we watch the mindlessly pornographic footage again and again in the hope of divining some meaning from this madness, how many of us has looked deep into themselves and thought: why are we so cruel to ourselves, our own race? Again, the answer is none.

A recent survey confirmed what we all knew: that the sight of innocent men and women — purchasers of DVD players and washing powder just like you and me — clinging to the guts of the building until they decided it was better to fall to their deaths than risk the burning red hot fire is something that has had a greater impact on the world that any previous historical event, including The Big Bang.

As we watch the images of weeping victims, their lives ruined, until the videotape grows thin and the lines flicker on the screen like so many lives that were snuffed out, we should all reflect on how awful it was and, if we can, try to allow ourselves to pretend we can feel the same emotions.

Tens of hundreds of billions of gallons of innocence were lost that day. From the streets of Belfast, to the forests of Sierra Leone, the hills of Colombia and the casbah of Algiers, people who had never seen or even heard of such inhumanity broke down on their knees. And they all cried out in one voice: tell me more, tell me of the pain and suffering that others have been through, let me spend money on assorted 9/11 memorabilia, let me cry also, because I'm hurting too.

It is hard to even imagine that humankind will continue on this planet. But it will and it must, if only to make sure that some good came out of evil. We must learn of course — learn that we should not, must not, destroy each other in pointless acts of violence. Learn that only by constantly reviewing it and allowing ourselves the humanity to almost enjoy the sight of others' misery can we expect to improve ourselves.

We must link the experience with the most deep-rooted aspects of our psyche so we can never think a thought or buy a good without allowing our emotions to take control over our rational minds. It should be the duty of every man to watch the pictures and try to cry, cup their balls and stroke their penises, to attach the events of 9/11 to our sexual identity. Only in this way can we hope to properly understand the terrible, awful time that happened so quickly — too quickly.

We must unite as a race and stand behind the government of the country most affected — the United States. This is the defining moment for our race and every race. Let us hope that next time innocents are murdered they are not in English-speaking countries or captured on camera. In the meantime, we must keeping watching those taped news reports, however painful it may be.

Remembered: The day that changed the universe forever™

Remembered: The day that changed the universe forever™

Lest we forget: