The End of the 00s: The Most Disturbing Sense Of Gratitude, by Dave Bry

by The End of the 00s

Needless to say, the most famous date of the 00s was a terrible day for lots of reasons. The death and destruction, the fear, the realization that people hated Americans enough to kill themselves in order to kill us too. Looking back, one of the terrible things that followed that terrible day felt, at the time, like the most comforting thing-the only comforting thing, really, about it at all. It was the great respect and affection I felt for Rudy Giuliani.

That day, while-well, you know what happened-and while the United States government was exposing itself as confused and incompetent and of no help at all, the mayor of the city where I lived came on TV and made feel better. I watched him on the screen-this man who I thought was a closed-minded, freedom-squelching, paternalistic bully of a politician-and I thought, thank you, Rudy Giuliani. Rudy Giuliani, racist despot, thank you.

Worst of all, it was just that paternalism that I was thankful for. Someone, on this frighteningly chaotic day, was taking control. Calm, strong control. And that’s what I wanted. Not knowing what was going on, not knowing what to do, I wanted someone to tell me what was going on, and to tell me what to do. While so many other people on the TV that day spoke in grave tones and struggled to project an air of authority, the mayor spoke plainly and honestly, and did project an air of authority. He stood up.

This is not fun to think about. It gives me a clearer understanding than I would probably want to have of how a public could fall under the rule of fascism. What if, in the ensuing days, planes had kept flying into skyscrapers? What if terrorists had kept blowing stuff up? How quickly would we have, would I have, lined up and, I don’t know, registered for an ID card, put on a uniform, submitted to retina scan? I’d like to think “not immediately”? But I don’t really know.

This is one of the very grimmest things about remembering that grim, grim day. For the rest of my life, I think, whenever I see Rudy Giuliani’s face on the television or in a magazine or wherever, along with all the anger and disgust and other appropriately negative emotions, I will remember again, and feel a sense of gratitude. And that sucks.