A famous anecdote relates that during the mid-1980s, an intoxicated [Mick]Jagger phoned [Charlie] Watts’ hotel room in the middle of the night asking "Where’s my drummer?". Watts reportedly got up, shaved, dressed in a suit, put on a tie and freshly shined shoes, descended the stairs, and punched Jagger in the face, saying: "Don’t ever call me your drummer again. You’re my fucking singer!"
Cotula odorifera. Hablando de palabras bonitas.
Why the loving respect for soldiers? Militaries cultivate every instinct, every crime that decent people abhor. Why is this thought noble? In basic training in the Marines, I learned how to stab a bayonet into a sentry´s kidney so that the agony and sudden loss of blood pressure would quickly silence him. And how to garrote him with my forearm, while at once pulling him backward and throwing my weight onto his head, snapping his neck. Shoot an enemy in the stomach, not the head, we learned, as this will strain his medical services.