Every Day Is 9/11. That's Exactly The Problem.

9/11/2001: A resident of NYFC gets culturally enriched by the Diversity.

I'm a guy. And while I assent to cultural tradition, if you're one too, or you've got a husband, boyfriend, son, or father, you've probably caught on that we really aren't built to care a helluva lot about anniversaries and other such dates.

Saber-tooth in those bushes? You have my full attention.
Hot steak dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy? You had me at steak.
Same spot on the calendar as one 365 days ago, or some multiple thereof? Zzzzzzzzzz

You're fighting upstream against the way our brains are wired on all three levels: human, monkey, and lizard.

And the fact is, at all three levels of my brain, every day is 9/11.
Yesterday was.
Tomorrow will be.
Today is just a happy conjunction of reality and the construct of the Gregorian calendar.
Nothing more nor less.

Because the murdering, semi-literate goat-humpers who perpetrated the act we remember are still out there.
We (you, me, Western civilization, etc.) haven't delivered to them the Third Punic War level of recompense they richly deserve, because reasons. Mostly bullshit ones, at that.

It's too much.
Hey, fuckwit, they wiped out international air travel for months, vaporized billions in the economy of every nation in the world, including the ones least able to absorb that, not just ours in the U.S., engendering a decade-plus series of wars and thousands to tens of thousands of casualties, that really hasn't stopped since they started circa the 7th Century, and won't until we end the problem, by ending the problem children.
Sorry if that unvarnished reality spoils your breakfast, but shit happens.

It's mean.
Really, dipshit? Meaner than destroying the lives of thousands of strangers in the service of your child-molesting leader, and his fanatical devotion to an imaginary death-cult deity?
Meaner than setting buildings on fire, and subjecting thousands of strangers to slow torture by fire, smoke, and worst of all, the time to contemplate the full hopelessness of their situation, such that they'd rather, in hundreds of cases, try flying from the 80th floor of a skyscraper rather than burn to death, or wait to be crushed under hundreds of tons of smoking rubble, screaming all the way to the impact at the bottom?
Okay, you win. I hereby concede that justice demands that every fanatical follower of theirs, including their bomb-toting children, should only be lit on fire, and kicked out of an aircraft at altitude, to scream in unspeakable agony the entire way until impact. Call it Hammurabi 2.0.
Happy now?

That's not who we are.
You got a mouse in your pocket, soy-boi?
Who we are is a disgrace. Who we should be, are the guys who nuked Mecca and Medina, same day, then slaughtered everything left after that, in a feat worthy of Genghis Khan, and then introduced endangered species to graze there in perpetuity, so as to have enough lions and crocodiles handy to feed any stragglers to for the next few centuries.

They aren't all like the terrorists.
Really? That's why the "moderates" cheer and hand out candy when the "fanatics" kill your fellow citizens? How many times will you have to be jihaded by "moderates" who experience Sudden Jihadi Syndrome™, in San Bernardino, or Ft. Hood, or Tennessee, or a hundred other places, before the penny finally drops for you?
By their own doctrine, they're either fanatics, or apostates.
Moderate is a western invention, like unicorns and the Easter Bunny.
You could look it up.

Have a nice big steaming hot cup of Reality, Snowflake:
 

Fanatical Muslims give the other 1% a bad name.

When we should have been whole-heartedly focused on depriving their civil rights, with high explosives, until there wasn't even a single breeding pair left in captivity, we instead had undisguised opportunists waiting to violate our civil rights, submitting us to indignities and violations that would have made Heinrich Himmler and his acolytes salivate, if not progress to actually lewdly abusing themselves in public. Groping my underpants and forcing me to walk shoeless to board a plane hasn't stopped a single terrorist incident ever, nor ever will.
Meanwhile, the recidivism rate for those granted a new .223 caliber third eye in their foreheads is still running at a flawless perfect 0%, every single time it's tried. Suck on that mathematical reality, and get back to me.

We have the spectacle of entire nations self-destructing under the onslaught of "refugees", suspiciously all military-aged males, minus women and children, streaming from every not-at-war Turd World Shitholia and Trashcanistan, raping entire populations in plain sight, for decades, with the full approval of the authorities, and pillaging the cultural heritage of the entire civilized world. And Stockholm Syndrome times Battered Wives' Syndrome is alive and well; but not just in Stockholm, but in Berlinistan, Londonistan, Paristan, Romistan, Rotherham, Chemnitz, and every other future no-go zone in the caliphate that's spreading like cancer from Spitzbergen to Sicily.
To Syracuse.
To San Diego.
Let me know when realization dawns for you.

Charles Martel, Ferdinand of Spain, Vlad The Hero, and the entire interred Knights of Malta are twirling in their graves so hard it should be gyroscopically spinning the planet out of solar orbit.

And we elected an illegal alien jihadist here, who spent most of a decade denying the obvious truth before everyone's lying eyes: we know who the problem is, we know where the problem is, we have the means to solve it, but none dare speak that, or they'll be fact-shamed for their truthiness, and banished from the public square.

When Ann Coulter nailed it on 9/12 or so, the shrieks hit pitches that were heard by dogs in space.

"We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity."

I'm far less missionary-minded: I'd settle for 2 out of 3, and add "kill them all, burn their homes, slaughter their livestock, salt their fields, and throw the corpses in their wells, after we crap in them." If they have spiritual aspirations, that's just fine. And the sooner we arrange that meeting for them with God to be face-to-face, the better for all concerned.

But I'm sentimental like that.

Remember 9/11??
You must be joking.

The half-assed, half-witted, half-stepping pseudo-response to 9/11 has ensured that every day is 9/11.

Ask a thousand English girls enslaved for sex in their own country, and passed around like so much white meat. For a decade, while Britistani officialdom watched.
(Dear British pussies: you should be hunting down like Adolph Eichmann, and beheading, on YouTube and LiveLeak, with dull rusty saws, every public official who did that, and putting their freshly-severed heads on London Bridge, but you're all women now, the best part of your DNA ran down the legs of French ladies of your grandfathers' era in the countryside outside Verdun, and you deserve the butt-raping you'll be getting in your own towns until you fix that. If ever. If you're too squeamish, maybe you can hire it out to the Gurkhas, but it still needs getting done. Sorry about the shoe fitting and all.)
Ask numbers beyond account stabbed, shot, or run over in France.
Ask the women of Germany and Sweden and Norway, gang-raped in 100% of cases by the very same swarthy "Asian" hordes of rapefugees they foolishly welcomed into their homelands.

So far, outside of a few divisions of veterans of places like Samar, Mogadishu, Fallujah, Anbar province and the like, and a handful of Americans armed with rolled up newspapers and butter knives on a flight over Shanksville PA until it ended as a smoking hole in the ground, we haven't done nearly enough, and until we do, we're going to keep remembering, and re-living, the unspeakable agony of that day, until either there's no one left who cares, given that they're all bowing five times a day facing Mecca; or until there's no one left to do it to humanity again, ever, for all time.

When someone tells you they're coming for you, take them at their word.
If it's going to come down to that, it's always better to be the one twisting the bayonet, rather than the one impaled on the end.

Sooner or later, you're going to figure that out.
Hopefully, the light will dawn while you still have the means to make a choice in the matter.

Mo doesn't like Western civilization? Wants to bring about global sharia?
I'm your Huckleberry.
I'll see your jihad, and raise you the Last Crusade. I'm all in, in fact.
So quit dicking around, and flop that last card.

"Let's roll."