Kobe Bryant was undeniably one of the best basketball players who ever lived.
During his 20-year career with the Los Angeles Lakers, he won five NBA championships, two Olympic gold medals, four NBA All-Star Game MVP awards, and he was a two-time NBA scoring champion, and the overall league MVP in 2008.
Conventional wisdom would tell us that Kobe Bryant was an exceptionally talented man.
On April 26th, 1986, at approximately 1:30 a.m., a call ran into one of the fire stations in Pripyat.
“Fire Department”
“Hello, Ivankov?”
“Yes. Yes?”
“You’ve been called to Pripyat… Hello?”
“Yes. Yes, I can hear you.”
“At the nuclear plant over there, in the third and fourth blocks. The roof is on fire.”
For me, books are the most fascinating objects that our species have ever created. I regularly marvel at the fact that a piece of wood can safely contain a slice of a person’s mind and transfer it into someone else’s brain.
Amoral is a word that I started to deeply dislike lately.
People say it all the time. We use it to describe the jerk who jumps the line, the political candidate we haven’t voted for, or our friend’s friend who’s doing something we would never do. When someone doesn’t act according to our own set of values, we label them amoral. Valueless.