You may have heard: SHARI’AH IS COMING! SHARI’AH IS COMING!
All because a group of New York Muslims want to build a MOSQUE AT GROUND ZERO!
Only it’s not exactly a mosque—tho’ the Cordoba Institute will contain a mosque—and it’s not at the former World Trade Center site.
Still, I wondered just where this vessel of Mohammadean infiltration was—not just on the map, but in terms of the neighborhood.
This is the general area:
If I had any kind of skillz, I’d be able to put a little doohickey in there to show you exactly where the building is, but you’re smart, you can see that it’s right at the tip of the red arrow on Park Place.
But what does it look like, really?
(Apologies for the poor quality of all shots to follow; I shot these on the fly over my lunch hour with my point-and-shoot . Click on any of the shots or of the maps to make big. Or at least, visible.)
So here it is: 45-47 Park Place, located between Church and West Broadway, two blocks north of Vesey (which is itself the northern border of the re-construction zone).
I think the above shot is 45, and this one, 47:
Regardless, the building itself was denied landmark status today, which means it can be torn down for the HEADQUARTERS OF JIHAD!
And what else occupies such sacred territory?
In short, a bar and a market—the ‘Amish Market’.
Lots of bars and markets in the ‘shadow of Ground Zero’:
And sundry other shops:
There are Starbucks and pizza joints, Chinese and Korean and French and Japanese restaurants. . .
And, of course, let’s not forget this spot, south of Ground Zero:
And that lingerie shop? Advertises ‘peep show’ in its window.
Where is this in relation to the site?
This is what you see from the proposed Cordoba Institute site:
Not exactly ‘looming over’ Ground Zero.
And dhimmis have their places, too:
And the quiet spots:
What does this all mean?
I don’t know. What does it mean to have a department store—Century 21—-adjacent to the site? What does it mean you can buy t-shirts and baseball caps and coffee and pizza and sushi and hot dogs and pretzels and *gasp* halal food around and next to and overlooking the place where almost 3000 people died?
A place in the middle of the largest city of the country, a city which never stops, never sleeps, where people may pause and mourn and reflect—and live.
I have been so tremendously angry at those current- and former- and half-politicians and pundits and alleged civil rights organizations who and which spew fear and loathing, trying to make us afraid and mean and small.
So let me, uncharacteristically, respond to anger with affection, even love:
This is my city; this is New York City.
It is big and it is tough, but it isn’t mean, and it shouldn’t be small.
Let us be large, let us be mixed-up and loud and jostling and gesturing and Jewish and Muslim and Christian and Hindu and Sikh and Voudou and pagan and heretic and agnostic and atheist and conservative and liberal and radical and apathetic and hustling and napping and dancing and falling down and flirting and singing and praying and chanting and arguing and mourning and laughing and embracing and letting go and everything everything everything that we have always been and always became and always will be.
Let us be all of that and everything more. Let us be New York City.
And I’ll refrain from telling the loathsome lot of you to fuck off. Even though that’s a New York thing to do, too.