Zero:An Investigation into 9/11

Posted on September 11, 2008 by willyloman

Part 1

rest after break

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Filed under: 911 investigations, fake war on terror | Tagged: ,

« 9/11 Fundamentalism Inside the Surge »

22 Responses

  1. Jan, on September 11th, 2008 at 11:58 pm Said:

    up to part 7 and already seen different and more detail pictures than I’ve seen before……. will watch the other parts tomorrow…… something that is so discussed even overseas must be worrying bush and his vampires……

  2. Rolland Miller, on September 12th, 2008 at 10:02 am Said:

    9/11 was a False Flag Operation; America attacked itself!
    There is no other explanation

  3. csnet, on September 12th, 2008 at 1:56 pm Said:

    Thank-you for posting these clips.

    I have created a page that allows full screen viewing of all 9 Zero YouTube clips on my server.

    Click to open that page.

    The Full Screen icon is at the bottom of each clip window next to the Volume icon.

  4. csnet, on September 12th, 2008 at 9:28 pm Said:

    Part 10 or 10 is missing above.

    In the meantime, I embeded both these 9 clips and another set of all 10 clips at the link contained in my last post so viewers can see all of parts 9 and 10.

  5. Amerikagulag, on September 13th, 2008 at 1:39 am Said:

    This is the best documentary thus far. Please cache these videos for posterity. They will be attacked by the New World Order.

    Hitler’s Reichtag fire was an inside job. So was 911.

  6. willyloman, on September 13th, 2008 at 8:22 am Said:

    Thanks Amerikagulag, but I don’t know how to cache these videos. If you tell me how, I will be glad to do it.

  7. Let's Discuss This New 9/11 Doc - Grasscity.com Forums, on September 13th, 2008 at 5:27 pm Said:

    [...] New 9/11 Doc A new Italian produced 9/11 movie questioning the "official story". Zero: An Investigation into 9/11 I did not want to post in the other 9/11 thread, because that is focused on the "Inside [...]

  8. SCOTT ALLEN HUMPHREY, on September 13th, 2008 at 8:32 pm Said:

    I payed a visit to GRASSCITY.COM FORUMS. I think their all stoned. They were all noding out. Jimi Hendricks All Along The Watchtower was playin.
    The air was thick with the acrid smell of a strange smoke. It filled my lungs. suddenly, I felt so at peace, and I became one with the world. I was filled with love. I want to go pick lovely flowers. but first, I must go to Mcdonalds for a big mac, large fries, a choclatr shake, and apple pie. I want to be one with apple pie.

  9. Jan, on September 14th, 2008 at 1:26 pm Said:

    LOL….. Scott Humphrey….. what’s it like to be ‘one with apple pie’…. like pie in the sky?

  10. SCOTT ALLEN HUMPHREY, on September 14th, 2008 at 6:03 pm Said:

    It has something to do with having the minchies. You remember the munchies don’t you Jan?

  11. Jan, on September 14th, 2008 at 9:20 pm Said:

    When I was a kid, I always had the munchies… good appetite and , as a girl, access to the kitchen to help prepare food and lick bowls……. and clean up the dishes….. nothing like a sweet reddish peach with the juice dripping down your chin …. the sweetness tastes so fresh and perfect…. and the pear trees, ahhh is there anything as wonderful as the tender sweetness and skin of a ripe pear? and hot from the sun?
    Or a tomatoe plucked off a vine and eaten on the spot? your entire body rejoices while eating it. it was wonderful to excite my senses with the real tastes of things…. never liked to camoflauge food….. Yeah… munchies….

  12. SCOTT ALLEN HUMPHREY, on September 14th, 2008 at 10:48 pm Said:

    You know Jan, I just now had to think , cause I forgot, how old I am.
    I was born in June-52, so im 56. right? In reading your reflections of the past (above) it occures to me you and I are probably the elders here. I know I don’t act like one most of the time. And I make no excuses for that. It’s my nature. I can’t help myself. The good news is, when they weighed me at the Dr’s office two weeks ago, my weight is only 187 lbs not bad for a 6 footer. But my brain stopped maturing at somewhere around 30. And you know, we never trusted anyone over 30. So I refused to go there. That may help explain why I get so emotional about certain subjects. I’ve been some sort of radical most of my life. I could have been a much better person than I turned out, but I just couldn’t except
    certain things being the way they are. Or, things not being how they should.

    I had a lot of trouble after I was finally discharged from the army. I just could get excited about things, or take anything as serious as other’s did. Like in employment situations where there would be certain other’s acting like what they were task’ed with, was a damm serious situation and they were always so fucking serious about stuff, that I saw as bullshit. From my point of vire, noone was going to get killed. And that to me made all the difference. A year earlier I had been in a situation where people were dying, being maimed, and thst actually was fucking serious to me. And I can still to this dsy recasll how much I worried not just for myself, but for the other guys I served with. But after comming home, and seeing how people were acting so serious about stuff thst I just couldn’t understand, And they were not being paid enough to take all that so seriously, and I knew nobody was going to be killed off, so I had problems fitting into all that and finding my place here in this world. And you know what Jan, I still havent found my place. I still feel like an outsider. Like, I don’t belong anywhere. And im pretty sure it is all due to my year in vietnam. It altered my thinking. I just can’t still, get serious about most things, like other normal people can and do. I can’t tell you all the things I do, that I shouldn’t, and the things I don’t do, that I should.

    But you know what? That old fimillure feelling from my vietnam days is back. And now, I got something to take serious, and somehow, I feel alive all over agsin. I havent felt like this inside for, I got to stop and count, 1970 to now. fuck!!!! 38 years ago. shit. God I haden’t realized how many years ago it was. shiiiit!!! I know I come on too strong, and overbearing most of the time, it’s becasuse im scared but nor necessairly for my own ass but for all the others who I know and care about. I have fsmily, and for the most part, their not even awasre of what is going on around them. In this country, I mean.

    You and I can remember good days growing up in this country. You and I are kids from the late 1950’s, and the 1960’s. The leave it to beaver generation. These younger one’s don’t have that. I think, something great was lost on that friday, November 22, 1963 and the end days began from there and slowly pregressed to where we are now. And my serious state of mind, has returned. It feels good though, to turn around, and look behind. Funny, this last paragraph was really all I wanted to say.
    I really think a lot of you Jan dear. I just wanted you to know that, for what ever it’s worth. And I just felt like telling you so.

  13. Jan, on September 15th, 2008 at 1:58 pm Said:

    Hello Scott Humphrey, I have read this post four times and each time it amazes me how you can relate your feelings…. that is hard to do. You must be very aware of your inner self and that is a good thing. Again… I tell you…. you should write short stories … fiction, based on previous experiences and your view of them today. Maybe that is where YOU are. Your grammar is OK but for writing purposes, you can find almost anything on a web ….. just type in question and hit go.

    It makes me feel good to know you like me. I must say, I always look foward to your comments…. like looking for a neighbor who I have come to admire and care about.
    Speaking of having found one’s place is a touchy subject and most people feel the same way as you do. Really….
    Being close to a family unit, having neighbors who stick with you through thick and thin…. is having a place to belong… being an insider… that doesn’t happen much anymore… People move away as easily as changing shoes…. kin people live miles and miles away… communication by phone does not really connect to lasting memories.
    I hear many people talking about feeling on the outside of things….. It isn’t just you…. or a few of us…. I have several friends that have lost (through death) their circle of close kin and friends and they speak of feeling ON the outside of everything now… no connections that mean anything anymore… they have to make new ones and that takes time and effort.

    I can’t say I went to war…. didn’t believe in fabricated war then and still don’t. 1963…. yeah… it started downhill then.
    Why we didn’t pull down the wh then is beyond me. It was shock at its best. WE still believed … In America, but when KIng and Robert were murdered, we should have known….
    It was sung about … in our music…. as far as it got…..

    OK… this is far too long… and boring…
    go to word and write… anything…. go back to it tomorrow and rearrange it and add to it…. cut and paste… the next day, your busy mind will have thought of more to add to your character… put it in… writing is a redo over and over again process and ‘word’ makes that so easy now…. you will look forward to being with your character….. who will begin to ‘tell’ you what he/she wants to do… enjoy it. You can do hundreds of pages and still rearrange it when ever you want…. or save as and put new copy in a different name so that you can have a new version to change if you want to keep orginal for reference. Guess you know all that.
    You will probably have very real characters who are as tender as a kitten at times and as fierce as an angry lion the next moment…. just like you. Interesting characters.

  14. SCOTT ALLEN HUMPHREY, on September 15th, 2008 at 5:01 pm Said:

    You know Jan, last nite after i hit the submit comment button below, then i thought you may take all wrong what i said, like i was hittn on you, a sort of like, h e y baby wusssup. All day i been bracing for a verbal asswhuppun from ya. but it was your previous post, that took me back to those days and made me think back to the 1962 era which i remember and today i drove past that neiborhood. Its a ghetto now. A combat zone.
    it was an all chathloc dominated area then. Sacrid heart school, and church, the rectories are all still there. ooooh the memories. the before kennedy assanation era. I still get emotional about that.

  15. Jan, on September 15th, 2008 at 7:48 pm Said:

    Hey Scott…. You got a good story going there…. going back to your neighborhood… sitting in your car and seeing glimpses of the people and their smiles and worries as they were pre-1962.. .. then come out of yesterday and tell what you see now and how it makes you feel… what do you see? Are the people still moving about in a groupie sort of fashion (although the groups are diferent from 1962)? does it seem like the people know each other? like they did in the 1960’s? and wonder where the old neighborhood moved to? what happened to the people?
    you might have a book there…
    I read something that brought up deep emotions a while ago. Richard Wright of Pink Floyd died yesterday at age 65…. ‘The Wall’, DArk Side of the Moon’ and so many others… so many nights I listened to them… the pain and confusion in their voices….. the sounds !!! ahhhh I used to have quite a collection of records…. gone now… (that is another story)
    I don’t like hunks of my memories torn away…. and revealed as aging and passing away bits of humanity…. nooo at least they should live forever and always be pounding down the walls….

    NO…. it did not occur to me that you were ‘hitting’ on me…..
    It did occur to me that you like communicating and maybe you feel connected to some of the regulars here… like me… you certainly admire Willyloman and a few other men I have heard you say favorable things about… its just normal that you can say ‘nicer’ things to a woman…. that is just the way things are and that is the way I took it…. so don’t worry ….
    keep commenting…. and Scott…. write….
    the feelings you had when you saw your old neighborhood… remember the moment and type out each running thought even though it comes out as a wild mixture of jumbled thoughts… save that and then do a save as and save it under a separate name. Take the 2nd ’save’ and start adding to it… like if you typed out ‘porch steps had pots of herbs’…… place you curser at end of that particular fragment and add more detail like ’she had to constantly pretend to threaten teh cats to keep them from chewing up her ’step-garden’ but everyone knew she really planted them for the neighborhood strays’ then you later add maybe “she was the neighborhood grouch and us kids gave her plenty of space but we couldn’t help but watch her … she was such a curosity’……. anyway… eventually you will have written a wonderful memory saga…… anyway… enough of my rantings… nite

  16. SCOTT ALLEN HUMPHREY, on September 15th, 2008 at 10:47 pm Said:

    This is the memories I had today of the 1700 block of south 14th st which intersects with East Cook st.

    On the courner was the murphy family. Old Irish Catholic family.
    Isabelle the oldest sister, her husband dead from keoran war was head of household. Her sister Ann, and their brother tom, we called him Uncle tom.
    Uncle tom was a postal employee. Uncle tom had two dogs, brownie, and chunky. I don’t remember what Isabelle did. I think she was professionally employed out of the Illinois Atty Gen’s Office. Aunt ann stayed home and ran the house. Isabelle had two kids, older than me. An Irish red headed girl with alot of freckles, rita marie was her name, Isabelle’s daughter. Mike Otoole Isabella’s son, was a graduate of the sacret heart griffin high school class of 1962. Mike went into the U S M C
    and flew F-4 phantoms in viet nam. IN NOVEMBER 1966, Mike was shot down somewhere south of Hanoi by a sam. He is an MIA . His name is !st lt MIKE
    OTOOLE. He is 6ft tall, and wore a flat top haircut, was bright red (orange)headed. He ran track, and played foot ball at griffin. All us kids looked up to Mike. He was always good to all us kids. Ill never forget how he looked in that green whool uniform, with his wings upon his chest. He loved flying, and was so humbley proud. He was an officer in the naval/marine service, and he was a gentleman. Ill never forget him. Big Mike Otoole.I cry like a baby when I remember Mike. They lived on the courner. The house has been gone now for years. The house is still vivid in my memory. That is where I go to see it and remember. I can go to the exact spot where I last saw mike Otoole.

    Thats but one family, who lived in the 1700 block of South 17th St.

  17. SCOTT ALLEN HUMPHREY, on September 16th, 2008 at 8:54 am Said:

    CORRECTION TO ABOVE: Isabelle’s daughter, Mike Otoole’s sister, her name was Mary Ellen, not Rita Marie. Rita Marie Colobrusco, lived next door to the Otoole-murphy house. Second house from the courner. Then, next door to colobrusco’s,(third house)was Rita Cici.

  18. Jan, on September 16th, 2008 at 8:58 am Said:

    Scott, That next to last sentence could be your first… the start….. the last sentence is very good for the last one…. like maybe a series of stories about 1700 block of 17th Street. What does the house look like? Can you see Mike walking into his house and mayby turning around and smiling at you…. you sit in your car… and 1700 block of South 17th Street slowly comes alive. who delivers the papers? are there bikes parked at various places? is someone running up to speak to MIke?
    Just from your first draft, I want to know more about big Mike… and his family and neighborhood…. because you as a young boy (14 years old) was so impressed by him… your writen images come alive…. the reader can feel your hurt and anger about Mike being a MIA….. you cap his name… you want to bring him back and honor him by telling his story. Did he have a girlfriend or many young lady admirers?
    As you add to Mike’s story (it is really yours and your old neighborhood but maybe it is more Mike’s because he could be your main character. a fine one) (NO… it is your story because it is seen through your eyes… probably have some more sensual people to tell about and maybe a few ornary ones)

    Don’t print entire parts of your ’story’ on this blog or anywhere on the internet…. you have a great start and you don’t want ‘it’ stolen and maybe published by someone else.
    keep writing !!!

  19. Jan, on September 16th, 2008 at 9:02 am Said:

    Scott, just saw your post about name corretion… see !!! it is all coming back…. some things will always be a blur and that is fine… a 14 year old does not hold on to info of no interest to him… the blurry parts can be admitted to … it makes the story more interesting to know some things are like a foggy glimpse….. keep going…

  20. SCOTT ALLEN HUMPHREY, on September 16th, 2008 at 12:36 pm Said:

    Here is another story, not of the 1700 block of so 17th, but of that side of town. It was a mixed neiborhood of black and white folks. our side of town was from 11th st to the Illinois central rr tracks further east. accross the rr there was yet another part of town, but these days, were only concerned with from 11th st, to 18th street (now martin luther king drive)

    our part of town was covered (fire protection) by station 5, engine 5. All the pumpers in the spfld fire dept were nice new shinny red American Lafrance. two arerial ladders were ALF open cab types. Station 5 however, had something different. station 5 was maned by all black firefighters and enging 5 was a C-60 series conventional cab chevrolet, PAINTED WHITE!
    I think there is something racially suspissious about that. The all black station 5, has the only non ALF and it’s painted white. Now you tell me that isn’t suspissious. Engine 5 however was the coolest lookin rig in the entire dept. Those guys at station 5 kept her lookin pristine! Had a beautiful chrome grill, two cones sticking out on either side.
    Engine 5 was lost responding to a lumber yard fire on a cold Jan night in 1968. heading west on cook st, comming up on 8th, a southbound car slid on ice at the intersection, engine 5’s driver, hit the brakes, she slid hard into the curb, and rolled over. Capt Clarence senior, ridding on the back board, fell off, was seriously injured, and never recovered. He spent the rest of his like suffering painfull back problems. His daughter, candice, sat next to me in 5th, 6′th grade, and we both went to spfld south east high. candy went on the become a Ill state representitive FOR THAT DISTRICT. A good Democrat Hooora!!! We still talk today. I always remember in our talks, to pay tribute to good ole ENGINE 5! Capt senior is still with us!
    Fires were a major source of intertainment for all us kids. And in the 1960’s, we had a lot of them on our side of town.

  21. Jan, on September 16th, 2008 at 9:47 pm Said:

    A white fire truck !!! What a story !!! You have so many stories to tell… and yeah… that could be suspicious…

    hope you are copying your comments into your ‘word’ program…..

    I have a call… get back to you later……

  22. Jan, on September 17th, 2008 at 8:01 am Said:

    Remember the corner groceries…… small and mostly plank wooden floors that sometimes had saw dust sprinkled on them? The vegetable trucks that came be selling their crops?
    My old neighborhood was in a smaller city and was mixed…. there were a few dogs who ran loose…. we had one… everyone knew him… he never had a ‘real’ fight….maybe some slight struggles….. most free roaming dogs learned that they didn’t need to fight… they had their own yard and when out of ‘it’ , the outside space was everybodies…. they knew the difference and respected the rights of other dogs in the ‘open’ areas. I watched ‘Muges’ sniff the exterior of another dog’s yard… he would ‘mark’ wide around it but he would not enter the denied area. If a neighbor’s dog welcomed him, he would enter and they would ‘talk’ for a while and then Muges would trudge on toward another adventure with us. Guess he weighted about 50 lbs… he wasn’t a wimp and I think he was quite a ladies man…. I think he was fed table scraps and sometimes caned dog food… he might have gone hungry a few nights…. bless his heart… compared to modern days , he did not have it easy… but he was active and happy and had his own kindom and the run of the house….. he slept on the floor… never saw him on any of the furniture… mama wouldn’t allow it and Dad would have had him stay outside if he had his way…. he wasn’t a pet… he was a companion and part of the family… when we had it rough (and often)… he had it rough…. I had brothers and he followed them everywhere…. to school … when they went in, he came home. He generally met them about time for school to be let out…. when they started highschool, he stopped going…. guess he thought the big loud crowds was no fun…. he was properly tagged and collared but he didn’t see a vet very often…. he loved his baths, outside in a big galvanized tub… soap bubbles up to his chin… for a brief minute, he was wonderfully clean… then after rolling in the grass, he was almost dirty again but he still smelled better. My brothers could tell crazy stories abut him… how he protected them, how he stood up to a crazy big jawled bull dog and backed him down… not a scratch on him. HOw he helped them on their paper routes; he knew which customers gave him treats and he made sure their paper was on the porch….
    he lived for 17 years and died in his sleep… outside while waiting for my brothers to come home. I think of him often… he seemed to laugh a lot and seldom barked but when he did, it was a bonafied warning and we paid attention. I say ‘bark’ but it was really a series of growls… I think he only truely barked when he was asking to come in. When he was truely giving a ‘right now’ warning, he didn’t growl…. he stood and walked toward the danger … his short hair on the back of his neck would be sitting straight up… his head aimed forward and dead serious… his curled tail would be cocked as far back on his back as possible…. the danger could be a snake, a stranger coming up on the porch steps (he always knew the sound of kin or friends), or a stranger approaching my brothers on their goings and comings….. he never attacked… he didn’t have to.
    guess you could say we had a dangerous dog, according to the times now…. but my brothers , neighbors, friends and kin would fight you for saying it. He never hurt anyone … but we aren’t sure how many times he prevented someone he cared about from being hurt or robbed or mistreated. he was a hero… unadorned by ribbons or rewards… he was loved and he knew it.

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