It's 9/11, again.

This gets personal for me. Maybe not as personal as someone who was in NYC eight years ago today. But it still pisses me off.

In 2001, I was married to Nancy (wife #3) who was a TWA flight attendant.
Her brother lives in Clinton, NJ and she had her vacation to visit him planned nine months in advance.
We flew back to Newark NJ on about 9/15, one of the first days that the airplanes started flying again.
After three days in NJ, I said that I couldn't be this close to an event of this magnitude and not go to see it.
And so we did. We spent the day in Manhattan. Down where the WTC was, it was horrible. It was still burning at the site. I expected to smell rotting human flesh. After all, over three thousand American souls were strewn all over the place only a few days before. It smelled like an electrical motor that had overheated and burned up. Every time that a fire truck went by, which was often, everybody stopped and applauded them as they went by. It brought tears to my eyes. It still does, even now, just thinking about that very emotional event. Everywhere that you went, there were flyers posted on walls and telephone poles. On every surface available there were all of these pleas with pictures on them asking whether you had seen so-n-so in a hospital or wherever. It was really hard to cope with. Almost as hard as being in Viet Nam.
All I really want to know is, after eight years, why in the hell is Osama's ass not tacked up on some Seal Team's shithouse wall yet?