Hey, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab.

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."

– Benjamin Franklin, Historical Review Of Pennsylvania.

Hard words, but important ones. Right now, nearly two weeks after the obscene attacks on the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington, we are already facing a crossroads in how we are going to define our national character in a time of unthinkable crisis.

For me, the morning of September 11th was actually the ass-end of the night of September 10th. Like most mornings, I was at the end of my work day, having just updated the site. I was surfing a bit, checking other sites to see if there was anything interesting brewing anywhere. The big news was still the Sunday night Lincoln Center presentation about LORD OF THE RINGS, and we put up a ton of Toronto reviews, as well. Harry was working on his DEVIL’S BACKBONE review and his coverage of the final night of QT5. I posted stories about the Vin Diesel/DAREDEVIL rumors, the casting of Sam Rockwell in CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND, X-MEN 2, Jeunet and TINTIN, Dean Cain/SUPERMAN rumors, tidbits about John Williams and Moby and EPISODE 2, and an AICN Comics column.

Seemed important then.

And as I’m surfing around, I happen to go past the CHUD Message Boards, and way down on a thread I’m reading, there’s a single post: “A single plane has struck the World Trade Center.”

That was all.

I clicked back over to the AICN Administration site, clicked onto one of our Talk Backs. There’s another message. “A plane just hit the World Trade Center. WTF?!”

I remember walking out to the front room of the Labs and turning on the television. 25, Fox News Channel. And there it is, the image that all of us have burned into the very marrow of our bones now.

One of the towers of the Trade Center, smoking, a huge hole in it, like it’s been shot in the heart. That plume of smoke made me flash immediately to an event that I actually watched happen live, the Challenger explosion. Something about the rising cloud, the shape of it, the simple wrongness of its being, it made me flash back, and I got a sick feeling all at once.

I sat down and watched for a minute, maybe a minute and a half, and I don’t remember what was said. I don’t remember what they were talking about. I was just so stunned by what I was seeing, so confused by it.

I walked back into my room, hopped on AOL IM, and asked Harry if he’d seen the images. “What images?” he asked. I told him a plane had hit the towers, told him there’d been some sort of terrible accident. As he turned on his television, I heard Henchman Mongo up and shuffling about the Labs.

“Hey, turn on your TV, man. Check out Fox News.” He mumbled something about how early it was, and I walked back out to the front room.

I watched the image for a few minutes, trying to imagine what could have led a plane so disastrously off course. It just didn’t seem possible. And when the second plane came rushing in to strike the second tower, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry out at first because it simply didn’t process. It didn’t look like I expected it to look, and no matter how many times people say it did, it didn’t look like something out of a movie. I can’t think of a single movie image that’s ever conveyed so much sheer horror with such simple purity. Plane, building, everything’s different.

And it was. Like a light switch had been thrown, the world was suddenly different. I began to curse loudly, shocked, hoping that if just came up with the right magic combination of filth, time might roll back and I might unsee that second strike.

And from that point forward, the morning was like a horrible dream, a slow-motion sprint, as I talked with Harry and Mongo and John Robie and my girlfriend and Harry Lime and then more friends, and then I started trying to call the East coast, and I got through on one or two numbers, heard the voices of friends, moved quickly to another number. Then the circuits started jamming as more people were waking up and turning on their televisions, as more people started realizing just what was going on. And during every call, I sat in front of the set. I saw the first tower fall, and I found myself cursing again, the only defense I could mount to the intense obscenity of what I was already sure had happened. Someone had dropped the Towers on purpose. And the second one went down, and I just stopped. I just stopped making calls. I stopped taking calls. I stopped cursing. I stopped reacting. I just... stopped.

Mongo didn’t go to work. Harry Lime did. Lots of people did. Most of them turned around and went right back home. One friend, a cable guy on a no pay/disconnect route, refused to go shut people off. “They need their news today. They need their TV.” I considered leaving the house, but I didn’t want to move from the coverage. That long day stretched into a long first night. I spent much of the night on the phone with my girl. She’s not from the United States originally, and she sounded as if she couldn’t absorb what had happened, like this wasn’t allowed to happen in America. For most everyone I spoke to, there was some degree of this. My mother e-mailed me about my father, who was in New York on business, and I had several hours of incredible tension before finally learning that he was okay, that he had been diverted from the city, that he ended up, of all places, in the Ben & Jerry’s factory, where he spent the whole tour trying to call us and tell us he was okay. When I found out where he’d been, I actually laughed, and the sound shocked me. In the span of that one day, I hadn’t laughed once, something that literally never happens. And the sound felt wrong, sounded wrong, like it couldn’t possibly be time for that.

And that first night stretched into the next day, and I finally passed out for a few fitful hours of sleep. Under the best of circumstances, I’m a hopeless insomniac. Add something like this into the mix, and I found myself numb from exhaustion. Maybe that helped in some way. Maybe it insulated me. I knew people who spent the first few days hysterical, exposed and emotionally raw. I wasn’t immobilized by what happened. I was functional, and it was like something in me disconnected enough to let me go through the motions, do what I needed to. That Thursday afternoon, I had a pitch meeting scheduled on a writing job, and I found myself in Santa Monica, talking with the president of a company, explaining my thoughts on an upcoming sequel. And it was like part of me sat outside myself, watching Harry Lime and I, amazed by how focused we were, how we were able to discuss the characters and the previous films, not distracted at all. From that perspective, it was a good meeting. On the inside, though, one part of me was screaming at the top of my lungs, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!? PEOPLE ARE DEAD!! PEOPLE DIED, AND YOU’RE ACTING LIKE THIS MATTERS, LIKE ANY OF THIS WILL EVER MATTER AGAIN!! And in the car on the way home, I kept this face on, stayed focused enough to drive back to Hollywood, and then I drove to my girlfriend’s house, finally able to see her, finally able to find basic human comfort with someone close to me. And for the first time, I got real sleep. I got lost that night in dreams of what had happened, what had been lost. I dreamed I was on the observation deck of the second tower. I dreamed I rode the building down. I dreamed that I had forever to realize what was coming, and when I woke up, it was morning, and I was practically dripping, terrified.

Harry and I talked about what to do, about whether to push ahead, and how to handle things. He wrote his CITIZEN KANE review. John Robie wrote his brilliant PUMPKIN review. New Line released a new online documentary about Bree. Things were quiet, even as we started to hear questions and comments from readers and from inside the industry. Certain titles came up immediately. SPIDER-MAN. MEN IN BLACK 2. FIGHT CLUB. I still couldn’t find my voice, didn’t contribute more than a few words here or there. I didn't feel ready to even begin to have the conversation about what is or isn't sensitive, what would or wouldn't be offensive. Should we take the Trade Center out of films? Should we CG it in until we rebuild? Do we leave it but put an opening title card explaining? Does anyone really need this explained, and if they do, does anyone have an explanation good enough?

What finally got me ready to write again, though, was simple. I was offended. Not by an image I saw or a song I heard. Quite the opposite, in fact. Let me tell you what offends me. There's been a number of stories that got me vaguely worked up, but one particular piece scared me... made me really sit up and take notice. I read an article over on Launch.com, the first place that reported the actions of Clear Channel, the largest radio network in the country, and they published the full list of 150 songs that were taken off the air for the 1,170 stations they own. When I read this list, I found myself getting angry, and for the first time since the shocking early morning of the 11th, I wasn’t mad at some vague, undefined enemy, some shadowy terrorist, but instead at someone here in America.

AC/DC, "Shot Down In Flames," "Shoot To Thrill," "Dirty Deeds," "Highway To Hell," "Safe In New York City," "TNT," "Hell's Bells"; Ad Libs, "The Boy From New York City"; Alice In Chains, "Rooster," "Sea Of Sorrow," "Down In A Hole," "Them Bone"; Alien Ant Farm, "Smooth Criminal"; Animals, "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place"; Louis Armstrong, "What A Wonderful World"; Bangles, "Walk Like An Egyptian"; Barenaked Ladies, "Falling For The First Time"; Fontella Bass, "Rescue Me"; Beastie Boys, "Sure Shot," "Sabotage"; Beatles, "A Day In The Life," "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds," "Ticket To Ride," "Obla Di, Obla Da"; Pat Benatar, "Hit Me with Your Best Shot," "Love Is A Battlefield"; Black Sabbath, "War Pigs," "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath," "Suicide Solution"; Blood, Sweat & Tears, "And When I Die"; Blue Oyster Cult, "Burnin' For You"; Boston, "Smokin"; Brooklyn Bridge, "Worst That Could Happen"; Arthur Brown, "Fire"; Jackson Browne, "Doctor My Eyes"; Bush, "Speed Kills"; Chi-Lites, "Have You Seen Her"; Dave Clark Five, "Bits And Pieces"; Petula Clark, "A Sign Of The Times"; the Clash, "Rock The Casbah"; Phil Collins, "In the Air Tonight"; Sam Cooke, "Wonder World"; Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Travelin' Band"; Cult, "Fire Woman"; Bobby Darin, "Mack The Knife"; Skeeter Davis, "End Of The World"; Neil Diamond, "America"; Dio, "Holy Diver"; Doors, "The End"; Drifters, "On Broadway"; Drowning Pool, "Bodies"; Bob Dylan, "Knockin' On Heaven's Door"; Everclear, "Santa Monica"; Shelly Fabares, "Johnny Angel"; Filter, "Hey Man, Nice Shot"; Foo Fighters, "Learn To Fly"; Fuel, "Bad Day"; Peter Gabriel, "When You're Falling"; Gap Band, "You Dropped A Bomb On Me"; Godsmack, "Bad Religion"; Norman Greenbaum, "Spirit In The Sky"; Green Day, "Brain Stew"; Guns N' Roses, "Knockin' On Heaven's Door"; Happenings, "See You In September"; Jimi Hendrix, "Hey Joe"; Herman's Hermits, "Wonder World"; Hollies, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother"; Buddy Holly & the Crickets, "That'll Be The Day"; Jan & Dean, "Dead Man's Curve"; Billy Joel, "Only The Good Die Young"; Elton John, "Benny & The Jets," "Daniel," "Rocket Man"; Judas Priest, "Some Heads Are Gonna Roll"; Kansas, "Dust In The Wind"; Carole King, "I Feel The Earth Move"; Korn, "Falling Away From Me"; Lenny Kravitz, "Fly Away"; Led Zeppelin, "Stairway To Heaven"; John Lennon, "Imagine"; Jerry Lee Lewis, "Great Balls Of Fire"; Limp Bizkit, "Break Stuff"; Local H, "Bound For The Floor"; Los Bravos, "Black Is Black"; Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Tuesday's Gone"; Dave Matthews Band, "Crash Into Me"; Paul McCartney & Wings, "Live And Let Die"; Barry McGuire, "Eve Of Destruction"; Don McLean, "American Pie"; Steve Miller, "Jet Airliner"; Megadeth, "Dread And The Fugitive," "Sweating Bullets"; John Mellencamp, "Crumbling Down," "I'm On Fire"; Martha & the Vandellas, "Nowhere To Run," "Dancing In The Streets"; Metallica, "Seek And Destroy," "Harvester Or Sorrow," "Enter Sandman," "Fade To Black"; Alanis Morissette, "Ironic"; Mudvayne, "Death Blooms"; Rick Nelson, "Travelin' Man"; Nena, "99 Luft Balloons/99 Red Balloons"; Nine Inch Nails, "Head Like A Hole"; Oingo Boingo, "Dead Man's Party"; Paper Lace, "The Night Chicago Died"; John Parr, "St. Elmo's Fire"; Peter & Gordon, "I Go To Pieces," "A World Without Love"; Peter, Paul, & Mary, "Blowin' In The Wind," "Leavin' On A Jet Plane"; Tom Petty, "Free Fallin'"; Pink Floyd, "Run Like Hell," "Mother"; P.O.D., "Boom"; Elvis Presley, "(You're The) Devil In Disguise"; Pretenders, "My City Was Gone"; Queen, "Another One Bites The Dust," "Killer Queen"; Rage Against The Machine, all songs; Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Aeroplane," "Under The Bridge"; R.E.M., "It's The End Of The World As We Know It"; Rolling Stones, "Ruby Tuesday"; Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels, "Devil With The Blue Dress"; Saliva, "Click Click Boom"; Santana, "Evil Ways"; Savage Garden, "Crash And Burn"; Simon & Garfunkel, "Bridge Over Troubled Water"; Frank Sinatra, "New York, New York"; Slipknot, "Left Behind," "Wait And Bleed"; Smashing Pumpkins, "Bullet With Butterfly Wings"; Soundgarden, "Blow Up The Outside World," "Fell On Black Days," "Black Hole Sun"; Bruce Springsteen, "I'm On Fire," "Goin' Down," "War"; Edwin Starr, "War"; Steam, "Na Na Na Na Hey Hey"; Cat Stevens, "Peace Train," "Morning Has Broken"; Stone Temple Pilots, "Big Bang Baby," "Dead And Bloated"; Sugar Ray, "Fly"; Surfaris, "Wipeout"; System Of A Down, "Chop Suey!"; Talking Heads, "Burning Down the House"; James Taylor, "Fire And Rain"; Temple Of The Dog, "Say Hello To Heaven"; Third Eye Blind, "Jumper"; Three Degrees, "When Will I See You Again"; 3 Doors Down, "Duck and Run"; 311, "Down"; Tool, "Intolerance"; Tramps, "Disco Inferno"; U2, "Sunday Bloody Sunday"; Van Halen, "Jump," "Dancing In The Streets"; J. Frank Wilson, "Last Kiss"; Yager & Evans, "In The Year 2525"; Youngbloods, "Get Together"; and the Zombies, "She's Not There."

I’ve heard the arguments. “It’s not a ban. Nobody banned those songs.” One of our own Talk Backers posted a link to another site's in-depth breakdown of what's going on. Some reader named Matthew called me at home before 8:00 this morning, bristling, indignant, and practically ordered me to go check out Clear Channel's official site, and I did. But just because nobody's called this a ban doesn't mean there's nothing wrong with suddenly limiting a nation of adults from having their own reactions, from being in charge of their own grief. They say this isn't a ban. Tell that to the first disc jockey who gets shitcanned for playing John Lennon’s “Imagine” or Louis Armstrong’s “What A Wonderful World.” Tell that to the people who would gain strength or solace from “Day In The Life” or “Bridge Over Troubled Water” or “Peace Train” or “Fire and Rain.” Explain why it wouldn’t help to turn up “Sunday Bloody Sunday” full blast and rage along with Bono. Tell me this is okay on any level, and I’ll tell you this: freedom is the one thing we have that automatically makes us the winners of this whole thing. We are being attacked because we are a beacon of freedom. We are hated and feared because of the freedoms that make us so strong. Our freedom is one of our defining characteristics, and the moment we begin to voluntarily sacrifice that freedom... to anyone... no matter how misguided they are in thinking they’re helping... we are turning our backs on the very things that make us who we are.

A few things happened between me working up my righteous head of anger and me sitting down tonight, though. First, I talked to Harry, and we came up with an idea. Then, as we were working on our idea, I managed to tune in to tonight's DAILY SHOW, the first time Jon Stewart's been on the air since all this began. What he said moved me, and as much as I've been impressed by David Letterman and Conan O'Brien so far, it was Stewart who just became my single favorite speaker in all of late night. One of our Talk Backers was kind enough to transcribe part of what Stewart said, and I'd like to share it with you:

"'Subliminable' is not a punch line anymore. One day it will become that again. Lord willing, it'll become that again, because it means we've ridden out the storm. But the main reason that I wanted to speak tonight is not to tell you what the show's going to be, not to tell you about all the incredibly brave people that are here in New York and in Washington and around the country, but we've had an unendurable pain. And I just wanted to tell you why I grieve, but why I don't despair... (voice breaking, sobbing) I'm sorry... (long pause) Luckily we can edit this. (brief laughter from audience) One of my first memories is of Martin Luther King being shot. I was five. And if you wonder if this feeling will pass... when I was five and he was shot, here's what I remember about it: I was in a school in Trenton, and they shut the lights off, and we got to sit under our desks, and we thought that was really cool. And they gave us cottage cheese. (laughter from audience) Which was a cold lunch because there was rioting, but we didn't know that. We just thought, 'My God, we get to sit under our desks and eat cottage cheese.' (laughter from audience) And that's what I remember about it. And that was a tremendous test of this country's fabric. And this country's had many tests before that and after that. And the reason I don't despair is because this attack happened. It's not a dream. But the AFTERMATH of it... it's light, it's democracy. We've already won. They can't shut that down. They live in chaos, and chaos can't sustain itself. It never could. It's too easy, and it's too unsatisfying. The view from my apartment was the World Trade Center... (sniffs, long pause) and now it's gone. And they ATTACKED it. This SYMBOL of American ingenuity and strength and labor and imagination and commerce, and it is GONE. But you know what the view is now? The Statue of Liberty. The view from the south of Manhattan is now The Statue of Liberty. You can't beat that."

Goddamn right, Jon. And God bless you for saying so. And so it is that now, tonight, I find myself ready to get back to work. Harry and I are busy working on a special series of articles for next week in which we are going to get out of the way and instead of trying to tell Hollywood where they should be headed, we're going to put our fingers to the wind and let others do the talking. For the first time since this all began, I feel like there's something I can do. I feel like there's something positive I can be part of. One thing has become clear to us over the last few days as we've been working on this... the people who work in Hollywood are no different from you. If you've ever had some illusion about the men and women who create and star in and produce and package and sell the entertainment you watch and read and play and listen to, some illusion that they were above the fray, not part of the day to day real world that you and I inhabit, let me correct you of that misperception. They are human, and they are hurt, and they are confused, and they are angry, and they are going through everything you are. They have family that was affected by this. They lost loved ones. They are just as desperate as you are to find some way to make this all better, and just as sure as you are that there are no easy answers. And hopefully next week, we'll be able to show you exactly what it is we're talking about.

Until then...

"Moriarty" out.