The withdrawal from Afghanistan is the the most genuine "the buck stops here", that I can remember. He ripped off the bandaid and it was the right call
This story concerns war and death, if you want to avoid those kinds of things.
I was 18 years old. I was an Infantryman in the US Army and had been in Afghanistan for a few months, when my platoon responded to an IED strike on another platoon in my company, while they were doing a dismounted patrol.
A guy riding a donkey laden with explosives made his way to the center of their staggered column formation (effectively two spaced out lines on opposite sides of the street), before detonating the explosives. It was particularly effective, because walls on either side forced the column in tighter than normal.
This point begins my memories, which are mostly a disjointed collection of visual snapshots.
The first thing I remember is the smell, which I can't accurately describe, but burned meat, chemicals, and some kind of feces is the closest I can get. It is easily the clearest part of the memory.
The next thing I remember is seeing the severed foot of the man responsible laying in the middle of the road and my immediate and overwhelming impulse was to kick it, since it was the only tangible evidence of a 'responsible' party. There were also two generally recognizable bodies in the ditch, as well as several casualties receiving medical care.
From this point it is a series of vignettes. One, I was setting down my radio pack and very clearly telling the lieutenant where it was, since the medics needed extra hands. Another is seeing one of the casualties smoking a cigarette. The last, and clearest visual memory was holding the hand of one of the casualties as we waited for the medevac bird, and trying to keep the mood light be telling him "hey, at least you don't have to walk back to base". I have no clue if he responded.
I have absolutely no memories following that day, for probably months, until another, somewhat less traumatic situation took place.
But yeah, that is the day that pretty much all of my emotions died. On my wedding day, I felt just a flicker of happiness. The only emotion I feel with any intensity whatsoever is occasionally anger.
That's about all, I'm willing to answer questions of anyone is curious.
I love The Oatmeal, but yeah, this one's a miss
I don't think I'm describing my question clearly. I'm imagining a 2" thick cutting board made up of 4, 6"×12" end grain slices from the beam.
Every end grain cutting board I've ever seen is comprised of many individual pieces from like .5"×.5" up to like 2"×2" at the largest.
Is checking the only risk from using very large pieces, like I want to?
Ohhhhhh the bernoulli effect?
Why so far from the window?
Another point of pride I forgot to mention, this was an impulse project, so I didn't have a plan, just kinda fumbled my way through it, making decisions as necessary. I'm especially pleased with the taper on the legs, think that adds a bit of grace to an otherwise chunky table
Dr. Disrespect, there was a couple year period where the insane, over-the-top masculinity shtick was entertaining to me. Eventually I drifted away from the games that brought me to him in the first place.
Very recently, news broke that he had sexually explicit conversations with a minor on twitch.
My wife's grandma makes "pretzel salad", which is crushed pretzel sticks that are tossed with a mixture of margarine and cream cheese, I think, then baked until crispy then crumbled.
In the meantime, cream cheese, maybe whipped cream?, sugar, a few other onesies and twosies, and canned shredded pineapple are mixed into an unholy slop.
Then, when is time to serve, the crumbles are mixed in with the slop and there you go. Salad.