The journey towards greater political correctness is one I generally support. You don’t get to be racist or sexist anymore? How sad for you.
I’ve never fully understood mental illness. Never experienced it, I suppose. I’ve experienced funks, usually on a Sunday evening. I’ve been sad, really sad sometimes. But that’s it. I’ve been able to deal with it most of the time after a couple of Jocko Willink motivational videos and achieving something in my day. Clawing back the control through creating something, or tending to tasks in my house, or even sometimes just taking my son to the park.
The front door creaks open worryingly. Steven and Amy peer in hopefully, and once they’re certain nothing will fall on their heads, they step inside and take a deep breath. For better or worse, they’re home.
It was Belfast, the early 1990s. Two Special Forces types, the type they usually deny exist are tuning a high velocity sniper rifle. Several streets away, an equally incendiary and important figure in the IRA was sitting in the back of a car pulling up to an embassy. Shane, the younger of the two was peering through the sight. He turned to his captain, who was wiping his brow and mustache of sweat and looking down with contempt at inner city Belfast.
Phil Anselmo, Lead Singer of Pantera, turned 50 years old.
The men dug while the woman sewed, a typical scene.