It be that day again...

That day in which lubbers of all walks o' life throw down their briefcases 'n tear off their ties and, fer one day, indulge themselves in the bonnie life of a buccaneer.  Aye, one day be too short a time, 'n there be many of us who wish we could life The Life Piratical all three-hunnred an sixty-fer days.

On this most awspishuss day, I be moved to write on a subject that gets me blood a'boilin.  I be referrin', o' course, to them sneaky-folk from the Orient, them sable-clad knife-throwin' bilge rats what don't talk.  I mean them ninjases, y'see.  (Some o' them be han'some beauties, but they're still lily-livered bilge rats, I say!)

Ye may ask, Why talk about ninjases on a day what's dedicated to pirates?  I'll tell ye--because opposin' ninjases is at the very core of piratehood.

What be a ninja?  A ninja be a 'ssasin, and a 'sassin be a man what kills ye when ye don' see him.  Them ninjases always go on about their precious honor, 'n duty, but that be the long 'n short of it--he's a man what kills ya from be'ind.  (It don' seem quite honorable to me, but what do I know--I be only a pirate.)  They're always blendin' in ter things, bein' invisible and such.  Ye never hears a ninja talkin'.  Even in battle they may give a shout when they hits ye, or they gives one o' them funny little bows, but they never talks.  (There'd never be a Talk Like A Ninja day, bein' that it'd consist o' sittin' around sayin' naught.)  An they have them rigid codes of honor and stuff, not guidelines like the Pirate's Code but bloody rigid things, things like if'n they gone and done something daft they have t' cut open their own bellies. 

So ye see, ninjases stand fer rigid and repressive rules, fer silence, fer standing 'round with no-one seein', and fer cowardly ways o' killins.  Arrr!  Unnatural things, all.  Standin' up to the ninja way of life is what pirates are for, matey.

--Where a ninja be representin' repressive rules, pirates have no rules 'cept the Code, and even the Code we bend a little.  Pirates be free!  Ye'd never see a pirate cuttin' his own belly open because he failed his cap'n.  (The cap'n might shoot him where he stands, or keelhaul him, or let him 'kiss the gunner's daughter' for a bit--but that's a different story.)

--Where a ninja be shy 'n silent all t' time, pirates live to let the world know of their presence.  Be it shoutin' a lusty 'YARRR!,' or firin' one's blunderbuss in t' air, or lettin' loose with a broadside of long nines while lettin' one's signature Jolly Roger flap in the rigging: pirates be about the assertion of self-identity.  Make a noise, 'n let the world know yer here!

(This 'un's me own Jolly Roger, t' furl from me dirigible, the F.A.S. Pandemonium.  Yarrr!)

--Where a ninja always be blendin' in 't things, pirates like to stand out.  We be comfortable in our identity.  Confidence be the word, matey.  Don't be afraid t' stand out, t' wear a flashy silk sash or a gold-embroidered coat or even a bit o' mascara.  No point in dissapearin' into the background all t' time.

--Where a ninja will kill ye from be'ind, so ye never see the face o' the man what's killin' ye, a pirate is no lily-livered 'ssasin.  Pirates kill ye from t' front, with cutlass or blunderbuss, or from across the water with the big twenty-fours.  If we kill ye, ye'll know we're killing ye.  (Ye might even call it more sportsman-like that way... 'ceptin we use so much powder that it's not really sportsman-like at all.)

It be a sad commentary of our times what how the ninja way of life has crept into everyday living, matey.  So, fer this one day a year, cast off your ninjaish ways.  Be free, be unfettered, be bold and unshackled.  Cut a reel, or dance a hornpipe.  Throw a cup of grog in the face of the nearest lubber.  Quit yer job.  Kiss that buxom wench ye've been wantin' to kiss.  Pick a fight, or finish one.  Shout yer name to the skies above with a crash of thunder and cannon.

Make a noise, me hearties, and pull wi' a will!

They set up a television playing the news in the Student Center, by the Unispan, and a small crowd of students gathered around it, staring. The second tower had collapsed in the time it took me to get from my car to the Center.

My Intro to Philosophy class had a low turnout, but administration had not yet officially canceled classes--so tossing aside his lecture notes, my Philosophy professor asked us, "Why would someone fly a plane into a building on purpose? What kind of beliefs does it take for a human being to do that to other human beings?" We discussed and debated this for the duration of the class.

If you climbed to the top of the Library tower and looked out the western windows, you could see the smoke, dark against the obscenely blue sky. Driving home from school, it was hard to resist the temptation to watch the sky. It was so clear that day, but seemed to be menacing with hidden dangers.  We didn't know what else might be coming.

A month or so later, a plane crashed in Queens. Later we found out it was just pilot error, but nobody knew that at the time--everyone thought the attacks had begun again. Several students left my Linguistics class in hysterics.

We were all so very afraid.

You don't have to show me endless loops and reminders of the attacks in order for me to "Never Forget."

(Related Reading:  1 and 2)