Mme Thierry Meyssan

Monday, 2 September 2002

Thierry Meyssan is a French author. Meyssan wrote a book. I don’t know what to say. I know I tried to not write anything about it b/c even bad publicity is publicity. Still it’s nine days till the anniversary and I need to write something now, not then. This should be sorted out before it interferes with any important reflection.

His book discusses theories that certain unknowable hyper-conservative parts of the US government shot a rocket into the Pentagon last year and also highjacked some planes which mostly ended up in New York the same day, as you may remember. In short, September 11th was a US conspiracy.

Now I’m mostly curious. Why is this guy still alive?

If he’s right, the weight of the US government should have fallen on him before he even got the pile of merde to his publisher. Since the French government and cops were absolutely cooperative during the post-9/11 investigation, they obviously would not have stopped it or even got in the way.

So maybe he’s not right. Now I’m still curious. Why is this guy still alive? Answers must include: he doesn’t live in the tri-state area, his home address is not easy to find, and no one in North America is taking him too seriously.

The thing is, I’ve written essays praising the assassination of the Kennedys and damning the government cops that seem so prone to killing US citizens. If there were the smallest stitch of truth, the faintest whiff of coffee, to this conspiracy theory then I’d have it up and running. I wouldn’t even be trying to make money off it. This place is called Sedition·com for a reason.

Now I’m really curious — how directly can one call for another’s murder without being responsible? Held responsible, I mean. Hamlet had no idea what the question was b/c suicide is a question that answers itself. To be: you are. Not to be: doesn’t fucking matter to you anymore.

I know I can’t write, “Kill this French fuckwad!” Besides being artless, that would be too much. That’s close to the edge of complete responsibility. The only thing that might make it moreso would be adding my annual income and offering it in cashier’s check by return post to the sender of his head. What would the international air postage on his head be, I wonder?

I might allude to him being dangerous, so very dangerous that his existence threatens us all. That might be subtle enough. Problem with that angle of course is it’s not true so I can’t write it.

So, I’m stuck. I can’t use untrue twisted psychology to make the case for his erasure b/c I’d be trading against your trust of me. I’ve never lied to you. I can’t outright ask for murder. I’d get in trouble and worse still, I might get you in trouble. And I can’t afford the plane tickets, bribes, and time off from work it would take to make it happen in person. Stuck.

I couldn’t remember the cat’s name when I started to write this. Or the title of the book. I searched Google for “French fuckwad,” sure that it would bring him up. He didn’t come up. Maybe I am stuck, but at least now and ever after if you search for “French fuckwad” you will find “Mme Thierry Meyssan.” It’s not much but I’m fairly sure Sedition·com will last longer than this French fuckwad’s notoriety.

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