Two lifeguards sit on a wooden lifeguard tower by the ocean, with red rescue tubes hanging from the railing.

Unlike social conservatives, I do not expect everyone to manage their affairs according to my little peccadillos, but once you start infringing on my pursuit of happiness, that’s a different business altogether. Most of my annoyances are purely personal and do not affect the happiness of others. You may wander the boardwalks, dine on lobster rolls, and make a nuisance of yourself in general, as long as you leave me out of it, and that is mostly the way it is. People are free to pursue endless nonsense and I am free to abstain.

Close-up black-and-white portrait of a man with a beard, looking at the camera, focusing on his eyes and forehead.

I know the right path. The good path. I know it both intellectually, emotionally, and even historically, but still, I refuse to take it. It’s the path that leads to sanity and happiness. It’s right there and I decline, knowing I’m choosing a more difficult one, from which I will surely emerge bruised, battered, and torn. I know this from personal experience, and yet still, I persist. I make the poor choice.

A smiley man.

Are contract killers nothing more than a Hollywood myth, or has government-sanctioned murder been revived? We all know the routine. A highly-trained, solitary figure, using bespoke technology, martial arts proficiency, and expert marksmanship and weaponry, breaks into a secure government facility undetected and silently kills a high-profile target before slipping away unnoticed.…

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