Today it is snowballs. Tomorrow it could be anvils, a piano that falls on your head and makes your teeth turn into its keys, a photorealistic tunnel and roadway painted on a brick wall, or worse.
You're right – this actually *isn't* a place of honor.
* I thought esteemed deeds were commemorated here, but that was wrong.
* The message wasn't about treasure, it was about danger. That's on me.
* I won't sugarcoat it – the danger is still present, and now it's in your body.
Fathers. Husbands. These titles are reserved for white men.
The men slaughtered by the US on the other hand are savages, barbarians, drug dealers, terrorists.