Today marked the twentieth anniversary of the Battle of Mogadishu. Shughart and Gordon will never be unseated from their Throne of Badassery, at least not in my mind.
|A toast of blood from a writer's cluttered workspace.|
And so I am melancholy, though grateful, and offer up a toast of blood (Bull's Blood, mind, not actual O+ or anything) for all the fallen tonight. For all the fallen, but especially for all those who've stood shoulder to shoulder with their brothers and shed blood or given their lives for them.
I've always believed that the best way to honor the dead is by living and cherishing each breath. I may not succeed each day, but it's what I strive for. But for tonight, the melancholy is welcome.