Why is LGF a must read every day? Because of links to stories like this:

Hill could hear Rescorla issuing orders through the bullhorn. He was calm and collected, never raising his voice. Then Hill heard him break into song:

Men of Cornwall stop your dreaming;
Can't you see their spearpoints gleaming?
See their warriors' pennants streaming
To this battlefield.
Men of Cornwall stand ye steady;
It cannot be ever said ye
for the battle were not ready;
Stand and never yield!

Rescorla came back on the phone. "Pack a bag and get up here," he said. "You can be my consultant again." He added that the Port Authority was telling him not to evacuate and to order people to stay at their desks.

"What'd you say?" Hill asked.

"I said, 'Piss off, you son of a bitch,' " Rescorla replied. "Everything above where that plane hit is going to collapse, and it's going to take the whole building with it. I'm getting my people the fuck out of here." Then he said, "I got to go. Get your shit in one basket and get ready to come up."

Hill turned back to the TV and, within minutes, saw the second plane execute a sharp left turn and plunge into the south tower. Susan saw it, too, and frantically phoned her husband's office. No one answered.

About fifteen minutes later, the phone rang. It was Rick. She burst into tears and couldn't talk.

"Stop crying," he told her. "I have to get these people out safely. If something should happen to me, I want you to know I've never been happier. You made my life."

And this outstanding Esquire article:

In the picture, he departs from this earth like an arrow. Although he has not chosen his fate, he appears to have, in his last instants of life, embraced it. If he were not falling, he might very well be flying. He appears relaxed, hurtling through the air. He appears comfortable in the grip of unimaginable motion. He does not appear intimidated by gravity's divine suction or by what awaits him. His arms are by his side, only slightly outriggered. His left leg is bent at the knee, almost casually. His white shirt, or jacket, or frock, is billowing free of his black pants. His black high-tops are still on his feet. In all the other pictures, the people who did what he did—who jumped—appear to be struggling against horrific discrepancies of scale. They are made puny by the backdrop of the towers, which loom like colossi, and then by the event itself. Some of them are shirtless; their shoes fly off as they flail and fall; they look confused, as though trying to swim down the side of a mountain. The man in the picture, by contrast, is perfectly vertical, and so is in accord with the lines of the buildings behind him. He splits them, bisects them: Everything to the left of him in the picture is the North Tower; everything to the right, the South. Though oblivious to the geometric balance he has achieved, he is the essential element in the creation of a new flag, a banner composed entirely of steel bars shining in the sun. Some people who look at the picture see stoicism, willpower, a portrait of resignation; others see something else—something discordant and therefore terrible: freedom. There is something almost rebellious in the man's posture, as though once faced with the inevitability of death, he decided to get on with it; as though he were a missile, a spear, bent on attaining his own end. He is, fifteen seconds past 9:41 a.m. EST, the moment the picture is taken, in the clutches of pure physics, accelerating at a rate of thirty-two feet per second squared. He will soon be traveling at upwards of 150 miles per hour, and he is upside down. In the picture, he is frozen; in his life outside the frame, he drops and keeps dropping until he disappears.

Tomorrow marks the second year of the cowardly attacks on the towers. I remember watching them burn and fall from Brooklyn. I have a deep feeling that we've forgotten. We have forgotten the feeling we had of anger, disbelief, and resolve.

Alot has happened in two years, we have toppled Saddam and the Taliban, although our job is hardly complete. We have seen a dramatic change in our daily lives, such as increased airport security (although I can't necessarily say that it's for the better), a bulked-up Air Marshal program (that is better, regardless of what's reported), and a new, cabinet level agency.

I believe in my heart that George Bush has the best interests of our country at heart. I believe that the ongoing war in Iraq is an extension of the war againt Militant Islam. I further feel that the Dems are doing their damnest to make these events a political issue when surely it is not. It is a battle that must be undertaken now, in Iraq, or tomorrow in New York.

Granted, I have selfish reasons to fight this war now, I have a seven-year old son who is one of the three lights of my life. I don't want him to fight this war in ten years when we could end it now or in the near future. I served my country and feel deep pride in that, but I have no desire to see my own child enlist to fight a war that we put off.

The current topic for editorial writers is the deficits that we are now running and the fact that we're pushing them off on our kids. I sure as hell know that my kids would rather work at paying down the deficit than have to fight al-Qaeda when they've had ten years to recruit and upgrade their weapons.

I wish they would show the events of that day from 8:00 AM til 11:00 PM just as they happened that day, uncut and raw. From the horrific pictures of people forced to end their lives from jumping out of the towers, to the collapse of 7 World Trade Center. Perhaps some people who have chosen to forget will watch and feel the ember growing a little brighter. Maybe they'll actually rethink the positions they have developed in the last year and understand that this country could turn very quickly into Israel. Imagine being fearful of getting on a bus or subway for fear that the person next to you is intent on the destruction of you and your children simply because you are not a Muslim.

When you wake tomorrow remember what occurred on the same day in 2001. Remember the passengers of those planes as the screamed across Manhattan at 1,000 feet and the horror of the realization of what was about to happen. Remember the 3,000 people who were murdered by a satanic group of men for being non-Muslim.

If you don't agree with any of the reasons I stated, at least just remember.