The human brain is a truly remarkable piece of matter. From this seemingly unthinking collection of tissues and proteins emerges an inexplicably powerful force that built the pyramids, landed us on the moon, and cured polio. It contains a memory that rivals the most intricately designed computer systems on the planet; a memory that, for everyone here, is able to recall what you were doing on America’s darkest day over two decades ago. Yet, for some reason, it remains conveniently unable to recall where you were when my dirtbike was stolen from outside of our stacked duplex last Thursday.
Seems weird, doesn’t it?
You all know that my Yamaha TT-R230 had been parked in the same spot since August, but it suddenly disappeared at some point in the afternoon when I had to meet with my parole officer, and none of you can tell me where you were at the time. Yet, I have detected sharply contrasting abilities from all of you that cast severe doubt on this weirdly targeted lapse in very recent recollection. Justin, you and I recently had a conversation in which you told me how vividly you remember watching the second plane hit the South Tower on the rolling TV in Pre-Algebra class 23 years ago, but suddenly your memory is a little hazy regarding your activity from just a few days ago? And you expect me to believe this?
And what about you, Darren? You had commented to me how sick the four-stroke SOHC on my Yamaha was when I first brought it home (a sentiment with which I wholly and humbly agreed,) yet your sudden lapse in memory regarding its disappearance juxtaposes sharply with the faded “Never Forget” bumper sticker on the back of your 2015 Ford Fiesta. I’m not asking for much, Darren. I’m only asking for you to apply the same resolute determinism in not forgetting a tragedy befalling your beloved cohabitator that you do an attack that claimed the lives of over 3,000 of your fellow citizens. You owe it to them as much as you owe it to me.
So let’s all have an honest look inward, and understand that we are perfectly capable of applying the same brainpower to amass details regarding our duplex’s 9/11 (my dirtbike being stolen) that we’ve been using for our country’s 9/11. Then, and only then, will we be able to rest easily, and more importantly, I’ll have my fucking dirtbike back.