Over the weekend, this Marvel movie.....the Infinity War....was released, and in the middle of it....Peter Parker (aka....Spiderman) dies. It's a nobel moment.
Across the nation, because of the blunt way that the movie ends...unfinished, with a dozen-odd character gone or dead, I suspect this week that a number of snowflake folks will be calling up their psychological counselor and asking for a 45-minute session.
You can imagine this scene....you asked for a special meeting over a grief situation. The doc is sitting there...you got a tissue or two....a tear forming up. The doctor asks you about which friend or relative who died, and you start jabbering away about Peter Parker or Spiderman. He lets you talk for maybe three minutes, then he leans forward and says...."You know that Spiderman is not real....right?"
Then you go on about Nick Fury being gone, and Doctor Strange. Around the 40th minute of this session, the doc suggests that maybe you ought to take a vacation, and just get away for a while. But you say it's so hard, and you just can't accept Spiderman dying like this. It's so unfair.
Normally, if you grew up in Alabama, you'd be fairly grief-stricken over a relative or neighbor passing. You'd probably shed even a tear over a former governor passing away. You'd be upset over most of co-workers who passed on. In fact, you'd be grief-stricken over your dog passing, or even some of your more friendly cows who might have gotten struck by lightning. Most Alabama folks however....just don't get very grief-stricken over imaginary people having passed on.
My brother in this case....if some snowflake had hyped up this whole chatter and their great grief.....would suggest to the guy that he's bailing hay this Saturday, and a whole eight hours of hauling hay would help to get the grief out of your system. I'd tend to agree. And at least with hay-hauling, you wouldn't have to pay some psychological counselor ninety dollars.