🇺🇸 The Stairwell That Should Not Have Been There
Ladder 6 left Chinatown that morning. The Pride of Chinatown. Captain Jay Jonas and five men: Sal D’Agostino, Matt Komorowski, Mike Meldrum, Bill Butler, Tommy Falco.
They went up the North Tower in Stairwell B. Gear on their backs. Twenty-seventh floor when the South Tower came down.
The order came. Get out.
On the way down they found a woman who could not take another step.
Josephine Harris. Fifty-nine. Bookkeeper for the Port Authority on the 73rd floor. A widow. She had already walked fifty-three flights on a bad leg. At twenty she stopped.
Tommy Falco looked at his captain.
“Cap, what do you want to do with her?”
They were running for their lives. They took her anyway. One step. Both feet. One step. Both feet. People behind them and had to squeeze past.
At the fourth floor her legs gave out. She told them to leave her.
They did not.
Jonas went looking for a chair. He was a few feet from the stairwell door when the North Tower started to come down.
It took thirteen seconds.
Jonas said the building peeled away around them like a banana. Above them, no one in that stairwell lived. Below them, in the lobby, almost no one lived. They were sitting in the only piece that held. Fourth floor to first.
Fourteen people were in that stretch of stairs. The six from Ladder 6. Josephine. A battalion chief. A Port Authority K-9 officer whose dog did not make it.
Jonas later said if she had been faster, they would have been in the lobby. If they had left her, they would have been lower, or gone.
They called her their guardian angel.
Josephine died in 2011. She was sixty-nine. The six men from Ladder 6 were her pallbearers. They lifted her one more time.
A Hero That Trusted His Intuition.
The problem wasn’t that Morgan Stanley didn’t believe him.
Rick Rescorla had already been right once. After the 1993 basement bombing of the World Trade Center, the firm’s security chief walked the towers, studied the site, and reached a conclusion most people preferred not to hear: the World Trade Center was still a target. Next time, he said, it would not be a truck. It would be an airplane.
An airplane. In a 1993 report.
Executives listened. Then they looked at the lease.
Morgan Stanley was the largest tenant in the complex—twenty-two floors of the South Tower, thousands of brokers, and a trading infrastructure that could not be packed into boxes and wheeled across the Hudson.
They literally made it a trading center.
The contract with the Port Authority ran until 2006. Walking away from premium Manhattan space of that scale would have meant penalties measured in the hundreds of millions, plus the operational chaos of relocating an entire downtown machine. So the company stayed.
Rescorla adjusted. If they could not leave the building, they would learn to escape it.
He built a protocol and treated it like doctrine. Unannounced drills. No exemptions. Brokers who billed by the minute were pulled off their desks and sent into the stairwells two by two, starting from the top floors, leaving a lane for firefighters coming the other way.
People complained. He did not care. Practice, he believed, was the only thing that would beat panic.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, American Airlines Flight 11 hit the North Tower. From the 44th floor of the South Tower, Rescorla could see the fire. Then the Port Authority came over the speakers: the South Tower was secure. Stay at your desks.
Rescorla grabbed a bullhorn and ignored them.
He started the drill his people already knew by heart. Floor by floor, two by two, down the stairs. He sang as he moved—Cornish songs from childhood, then “God Bless America”—keeping the line moving, refusing to let the stairwell become a stampede. Seventeen minutes later, the second plane struck the South Tower.
By then, most of Morgan Stanley was already on the way out.
Of the 2,687 employees in the building that morning, all but 13 survived.
It was stunning.
Rescorla could have been outside with them. He went back up instead. Colleagues told him to leave. He said he would, as soon as he was sure no one was left behind.
He was last seen around the 10th floor, heading higher.
The South Tower fell at 9:59 a.m. They never found him.
He was one of the 13.
He was a hero in every sense of the word.
Remember Rick Rescorla, he remembered for us.
Took me almost a full week, but I’ve finally finished the Fauci Diaries. It is a look inside the state/corporatist system possibly without precedent. It doesn’t provide the entire picture of events but it is remarkably candid.
The first spin on this book is partially correct: it’s an exercise in vanity. True. But there is much more here. It’s the story of the descent of a soul at every stage of decline: social climbing, egomania, megalomania, duplicity, self deception, intensifying levels of malice, exhaustion using courtiers as salve, and ending in total defeat realized only inchoately.
Reading it is a remarkable experience. It’s obviously not well written but that is a strength, a bit like how the “Blair Witch Project” is scarier due to its low budget. It’s raw and painful, alarming and shocking, and ultimately speaks to much more than the life of the author. It’s really a window into systemic corruption of nearly all the commanding heights of society itself, and offers a devastating indictment of the ruling class in government, media, science, and industry.
Does Fauci catch on that the media is using him as much as he is using them, that is, that he inhabited a world of fakery? Maybe but he decides early on that it is only choice. He has to keep it up else his whole world crumbles. This Icarus just kept flapping his wings without realizing that they were melting.
Another feature that stands out: It was always political theater and never about science. Multiple times, Fauci overrides evidence in favor of messaging toward his preferred political and industrial end.
Then you have this strange and persistent obsession of Fauci of maintaining social position with daily infusions of assurance that he is great, loved, admired, admitted to all the right parties, attended all the best events, with a contacts list that included the world’s rich, famous, and powerful. This is all he had to assure himself of his grand life. Even in the end, he does not seem to realize the role he played in upending the very system to which he so desperately wanted to belong.
Yes, nearly every page makes me angry but finishing it leaves me with something I had not expected; something like the sadness you feel in a Gothic novel when a promising life takes a terrible turn toward perdition and somehow cannot find the escape from that path.
The Picture of Dorian Grey also comes to mind. Fauci guarded his reputation as a scientist just as Dorian guarded his seeming youth. To do so required a costly exchange. In both stories, the status of the soul (represented by the painting for Dorian) belies appearances.
Nowhere could he have anticipated during the writing of the book that six years after his apotheosis that he would be trapped in a chair in a Senate chamber, ashen and defeated, surrounded by silent lawyers, his accusers on all sides, pleading the 5th amendment 111 times.
The wings completely melted. De profundis clamavi.
I invite you and everyone to spend time with this book for the ages.
https://t.co/LClU1nL4kK
Dr Fauci and Mr. Science
The Fauci files reveal not just a sociopathic narcissist, but also a pathological schizophrenic.
For years, Fauci was assuring the public of Covid narratives that he either knew were untrue, or knew little about.
He posed as a non-partisan, even as he collaborated with the leftwing cable news grandees and liberal columnists to hound his enemies and magnify his godhead.
From the virus’s origins and effects of the lockdowns, to the efficacy of the mRNA vaccinations to the always changing 0/1/2 masks wearing protocols, Fauci used his massive government agency, and sycophantic media, to promote his always fluid narratives by punishing enemies and rewarding friends—on the basis of their loyalty to Dr. “I represent science”.
He seemed to be obsessed with firing White House Covid advisor Scott Atlas, and demonizing Jay Bhattacharya, Sunetra Gupta and Martin Kulldorff—for the crimes of questioning the Fauci party line.
These critics were not radical “let it rip” herd immunologists as the Fauci camp caricatured them, but circumspect, cost-to-benefit doctors and savvy health policy analysts.
Their views, if embraced, might have avoided a multibillion-dollar global shutdown that wrecked economies—especially derailing the booming 4th quarter 2019 Trump economy—increased the death toll, destroyed millions of livelihoods, harmed perhaps permanently the education of millions U.S. children, and was hardly based on the “science”.
And what exactly were the so-called extremist views of Atlas, Bhattacharya, and others?
Healthy children were not at great risk from Covid—but keeping them isolated drained away key resources from the elderly and sick who certainly were vulnerable.
And the nationwide school closures had profound negative effects on children and teens as did the lockdowns on the general population.
Substance and familial abuse soared, small businesses were ruined, and children’s formative educational years were lost.
24/7 mask wearing was neither practical nor necessary as opposed to their beneficial use by health care workers in close proximities.
The experimental mRNA vaccinations may have initially saved lives, but they were not, as billed by Fauci and the pharmaceutical companies, lasting protection from either infectiousness or being infected.
And certainly the repeated booster regimens for some could pose serious health risks.
Herd immunity was not some crank idea, as the Fauci school libeled these experts, but, along with the initial vaccinations, were time-tested medical realities that would mitigate the toxicity of the pandemic.
We have seen a lot of obscene hoaxes recently that changed national events: the loony Jussie Smollett caper; the phony “Steele dossier”; the “51 intelligence authorities” and the Russian-produced Hunter Biden laptop con; and the media fabricated effigy of Joe Biden as “fit as a fiddle”.
But Fauci’s effort to attribute the virus to a bat or pangolin publicly, while privately accepting from his own consultants that it likely was birthed in the Wuhan lab’s gain of function research—which he had helped to support via Peter Daszak—and the policies that resulted from that initial lie, proved literally for thousands a matter of life and death.
The Sun has only 22 galactic orbits left.
Earth races around the Sun at ~67,000 mph (107,000 km/h), giving us our familiar 365.25-day year and changing seasons.
But the Sun is in motion too—hurtling through the Milky Way at ~514,000 mph (828,000 km/h) on a grand orbit around the galactic center. One complete lap, known as a cosmic year, takes roughly 225–230 million years.
When the Sun finished its most recent galactic orbit, the earliest dinosaurs were just beginning to roam Earth.
Since its birth ~4.6 billion years ago, our star has completed about 20 such orbits.
Stellar models predict the Sun will keep fusing hydrogen in its core for another ~5 billion years before it swells into a red giant and eventually fades into a white dwarf. At its current orbital speed, that leaves roughly 22 more laps around the Milky Way.
Each cosmic year sweeps the entire Solar System tens of thousands of light-years across the galaxy—through dense spiral arms rich with star-forming regions, past ancient globular clusters, and amid countless other stars.
Continents drift, mountains rise and erode, entire species evolve and vanish—all within a tiny fraction of one galactic circuit.
Human civilization, from the first cities to today’s digital age, has existed for less than 0.001% of a single cosmic year.
We are passengers on a star halfway through its ~10-billion-year galactic journey across a 100,000-light-year-wide disk—witnessing just the briefest sliver of one ongoing lap in an unimaginably vast cosmic dance.
NEW DRUG ALERT FOR DOGS – FDA JUST APPROVED A YEAR-LONG POISON INJECTION
Dr. Maginess is sounding the alarm on **Bravecto Quantum** — the new injectable PESTICIDE “flea & tick shot” that is causing SEIZURES and DEATH.
It pumps a pesticide straight into your dog’s body… and it lasts **12 full months**.
“As a veterinarian, I find this new drug deeply concerning. Injecting a pesticide into your dog that lasts a full year is a 12-month gamble with your dog’s nervous system. We already have documented seizures, tremors, even **fatalities** from drugs in this class.”
Once it’s in? You can’t just wash it off. You can’t reverse it. All you can do is watch and hope.
**Your dog’s blood becomes toxic for a YEAR.**
**Their nervous system pays the price.**
This isn’t protection — it’s Russian roulette with your best friend.
**DO NOT let your vet talk you into this.**
Share this before another dog suffers.
Former BlackRock fund manager Ed Dowd on how private equity has infested veterinarian offices, encouraging "vaccines" that cause (expensive) health problems:
"they know the vaccines are going to cause problems for dogs and cats to come back in to get treated for whatever"
"And... when I go to the beach on Maui, that's where I take the pulse of the average human who doesn't know anything. And the numbers of stories of people with cat and dog issues for seven-year-old dogs and cats because they got them vaccinated and because they're like, I have to put my dog to sleep. I don't have four grand for X, Y, Z—"
Dave Collum: "I spent $1,200 yesterday at the vet"
Dowd: "There you go"
This clip of Dowd (@DowdEdward), a former BlackRock fund manager and co-founder of Phinance Technologies, is taken from a discussion with Michael Farris (@CoffeeandaMike) and Dave Collum (@DavidBCollum) posted to Rumble on May 10, 2026.
There’s an even nicer one opening in Miami that’s focused on “no seed oils” organic etc. It’ll be opening to public next week, in Brickell!
Hypebeast grocer phenom is the new food hall
Wait... I’ve been overpaying for microwave popcorn my whole life for WHAT? 🍿
No chemicals, no crazy cleanup, just a paper bag and some butter. My kids are obsessed and my wallet is happy. Is this the ultimate snack hack or what?