If I’d died when the World Trade Center fell nine years ago, right about now I’d be rising from my grave in anger. I’d descend on followers of the Tea Party and the other Islamaphobes who’re making an issue of the “Mosque” that isn’t a mosque, but is planned to be a cultural center open to all faiths. I would raise my voice, if I still had one after lying nine years dead, and I would shout at the top of my lungs, making sure that all who heard me understood my anger and wrath.