That was the caption for the start of my day, shitty, mildly irritating but funny at the same time.
And then I heard about the Manchester terrorist attack.
One would think that there cannot be any gradation in horror. But there is.
The very choice of the target is sickeningly evil. A concert attended by excited pre-teens. For some of them their first concert ever.
For some of them their last concert ever.
With no possibility of bringing the perpetrator to justice. But how do you bring justice to the maimed, to the broken relatives of the dead, to the stunned community?
This sad, deluded, sick person is dead. Vapourised into nothingness. It was an undeservedly quick death for the bastard. He is nothing now and we shall not mention him anymore, because that would keep him alive for the little bit longer that he should not be granted.
What he believed in is also nothing. A mirage. An illusion. A cancer.
What is very real is the hurt and distress and inability to comprehend for those who are left behind.
What is very real is the 22 gaping holes in the universes of hundreds of people for whom 23 May 2017 will not gradually becomes a distant, less painful memory.
What is very real is a new, less colourful, more traumatic life for the scores of injured kids, teens and adults for whom 23 May will remain the essence of evil.
My thoughts are very much with them right now.
My car door handle is crying today.