Depending on where you left the scroll button and what resolution monitor you're using, you probably saw this photo and chuckled a little bit at the audacity of those firemen at first--thinking that was the joke. There they are, apparently doing their best Daft Punk impression in the midst of an inferno, or perhaps just falling to their knees to worship whatever Elemental Gods Russians pray to these days. Then you scrolled down, and saw the half-naked Dr. House impersonator doing what he does best: Enjoying a Sunday afternoon smoke on the porch, because fuck you, Rigor the Fire-Czar, he gets one day off a goddamn week and you can rain all the hellfire you want, it's not cutting into his "me-time."
The scene depicted is the assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan, and the world learned something that day: Four out of five Secret Service agents are bad at their jobs, but that's OK because the one that's left is really, really fucking good at it.
He's practically a goddamn action figure up there: He comes complete with Uzi (mid-cock), Italian wingtips and a mustache made out of revenge.
"Hey. Honey. Holy shit, I just had the best idea."
"What's that, darling?"
"Let's put the baby in front of the bear window. He'll lose his shit!"
"Won't that scar him for life?"
"Psh, fuck him if he can't take a joke. If God didn't want you to put babies in danger, he wouldn't have made them so stupid. Are you in or what?"
"Let's do this thing."
Things in the Kersland house were never the same after that day. When little Jonathan walked into a room, Dan and Marie quickly averted their gaze. They didn't know why, exactly, it was just as if the power had shifted in some quiet, unspoken way.
Also, the necklace of bear-teeth was pretty intimidating.
The real story of this photograph: This man has just crash-landed this helicopter in Vietnam; he's fleeing before it explodes--either because he's seen too many movies, or he's crashed too many helicopters and knows something we don't.
The story his facial expression tells: He was cruising along in his 'chopper, casually tossing Molotov cocktails out the window after lighting a never-ending chain of cigarettes with them, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a better helicopter off to the left, hit the exit button and began sprinting off to hijack the next one before the first one even hit the ground.
"...so, like I was saying: If I wanted the paper delivered every goddamn day, I'd have fucking well ordered it, wouldn't I? You keep delivering these papers and I keep throwing them away. It's like I wake up every morning to find that a stranger has littered, just once, right on my doorstep. It's bullshi- what's that? No, ignore it. It'll explode in a second and we'll both just walk away without looking. It's how these things go."
You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or find him on Twitter, Facebook and his own site, I Fight Robots or you can get a mirror and start practicing non-reaction in the face of extreme circumstances, like he's been doing non-stop for the past two days.