On Mallory Square in Key West, Florida, tourists slurp sugary rum drinks through curvy straws and snap photographs of the sunset. Circus performers walk on stilts, swallow swords, and juggle flames. Among the chaos, a man cradles a guitar like a newborn in his shaky hands, and belts out the lyrics to "The Star Spangled Banner." Men with gold watches pitch him the occasional dollar, but no one spares a second to notice the crossed rifles painted on his pale skin, the Purple Heart pinned to the collar of his white shirt, or the scar beneath his right eye from the bullet that buzzed him as he slithered snail-like through the lush vegetation and mountains of Afghanistan. And no one notices the track marks radiating up his too-skinny arms or the roar of his unfed belly.
By Michael Comoroto
by Andrew Bates
There are certain unspoken rules amongst aficionados of media. One must always have a personal list of at least ten favorite works to call “the best” when called upon by others. When topics such as Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey come up, they must immediately refute them as terrible and trite. Using your cell phone in a dark movie theater is sacrilege. The arguably most important rule, and the one that is most common amongst media absorption, is that one must not reveal important dramatic turn of events.
In other words, tag your spoilers.
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