This brick outside the WWII museum caught my eye. I decided to think about Eddie Simpson. I didn’t think I’d ever learn, but a few moments on the life of a forgotten serviceman, a faceless name, couldn’t hurt.
I took a picture of the name, thought about it as I walked to the car, thought about him, Eddie Simpson, as I drove home. “There had to have been more than one Edward Simpson,” I thought.
I googled the exact quote from the brick and found that a man, WIlliam Overstreet, who, in 1944, flew under the arches of the Eiffel tower to shoot down a German plane had died in December, 2013. William Overstreet. WBO.
A few google searches with both names lead me to Eddie Simpson’s story. After walking away from the crash of his P-51 Mustang, Simpson died to save the lives of French Resistance fighters; men and women he barely knew and with whom he could not converse.
this picture pisses me off so fucking much. THIS FUCKING PICTURE OF GOD DAMN COOKIE DOUGH. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT WHEN YOU BAKE FUCKING COOKIES, THEY SPREAD OUT AND ELONGATE. THESE COOKIES ARE PRACTICALLY TOUCHING EACHOTHER. THIS IS GONNA END UP BEING A DAMN COOKIE CAKE. ARE U SHITTING ME HAVE YOU NEVER BAKED COOKIES BEFORE. YOU CAN NOT BAKE 32 INDIVIDUAL COOKIES ON A PAN MADE FOR 16 MAXIMUM. motherfucker