There was a bomber in Texas who murdered several strangers with package bombs left on their doorsteps. He blew himself up just before he was captured. I don't think we ever got an explanation of his motivation. It's really rare, but it does happen.
The fact is that most of us are alive simply because no one has decided to kill us yet. There is no complete safety in this life, so you may as well take reasonable precautions and chill. Enjoy your life.
I'm afraid so. There are a lot of people still fighting our Civil War, the one that supposedly ended over 150 years ago. Even without those troglodytes, there is a distinct cultural difference between the North and South, as I think there is in many countries. We tend to rub each other the wrong way sometimes.
Old joke about the difference. Walk up to a Southerner's house, and they say, "can I help you?" Walk up to a Yankee's house, and it's, "whaddya want?"
Someone who will treat you well won't need to tell you that they will treat you well. It's kind of like how liars and scammers make a big deal about how honest they are. Another big clue is that he was telling you this while both of you were with other people. He cheats on one partner, he'd cheat on you, too.
Texan here. Yankee is definitely not a neutral word to refer to everyone from the USA. Some people down here will fight you over it, but most would just give you a confused look.
I've always understood gringo to mean white person, especially one who can't speak Spanish. The term is sometimes used in Mexican restaurants to let the staff know that you can't deal with too many jalapeños.
Good. I like seeing these busted institutions doing more to make themselves irrelevant and obsolete. Try alienating still more peeps, folks, yer doing fine.
I've rewatched Haven several times. I love everything about it, the characters, the acting, the writing, the music, and the overall vibe. It somehow manages to be tragic, terrifying, and wholesome, all at once.
It was taught in my first grade class in the early 1970s.
I like to refer to using the bidet as cleaning my undercarriage.
Also, a can of cheap shaving cream to spray on the tub wall. It's a fun, soothing distraction for a little one. I used to sometimes defuse my kid's tantrums like that.
Mrs Bradshaw's Handbook, by Terry Pratchett comes to mind, although I suspect you aren't looking for a book about a train journey through an imaginary landscape.
I was just thinking recently about the time I got a faceful of strychnine as a small child prowling through the hall closet while my grandma's back was turned. It was just sitting on the shelf, white powder in a little glass jar, no safety cap, no Mr Yuck sticker. It might not have even had a label. I happened to knock it over, and I can still remember the taste nearly sixty years later. We used to live so dangerously.
How to tell your husband doesn't love you when it's far too late.