Entertainment

She was kind enough not to slash tires or bust windows. She just wanted to leave a sweet little message for psychotic posterity.

This is part one of a nine-part series of interviews SOFREP conducted with SEAL Team-Six founder Richard “Demo Dick” Marcinko

Silence felt harmless at the bar that night, just another beer-soaked pause between cops, until it metastasized into a body on cold asphalt and a lesson written in blood about how evil rarely needs accomplices, just witnesses who decide it is not their problem.

Creativity doesn’t die with age. Youth brings raw invention. Age brings tested insight. Different lanes, same engine, shaped by experience and memory.

Delta Force isn’t just about elite operations; sometimes it’s about surviving the noxious fumes of Chill-D’s ass and the absurd camaraderie that comes with it.

Pipehitters delivers relentless, research-heavy zombie warfighting while turning Yaël Sion’s story into a hard lesson on how isolation and arrogance get people hurt, and why trust, connection, and the team are the only way elite operators survive the long grind.

It is time to stop ducking, stop passing the hourglass, and grab the helm with both hands, because 2026 can either crouch in the splash zone of other people’s mistakes or steer this ship straight into calmer water by choosing bold, disciplined action over another year of survival advice.

Adventure has its own discipline: it makes you earn every mile, read every piece of water, and accept that the best days are sometimes the ones where you catch nothing except the truth about why you came.

America has always been a beautiful, loud, half-broken experiment run by argumentative primates, and the only reason it keeps surviving its own dumpster fires is because enough people keep choosing the hard option, speaking up when power tells them to shut up.

Holiday cheer in uniform is surviving “mandatory fun” on mystery meat and bad decisions, then realizing the only thing keeping it all from going off the rails is the same foul mouthed camaraderie that has carried us through worse.

The cold sat with them like an old debt, unpaid and unspoken, while Christmas passed quietly somewhere far enough away to feel almost merciful.

Amidst the surreal backdrop of Cheyanne Mountain, crammed with soldiers in Santa hats tracking the Fat Man for eager callers, I found a unique camaraderie and a poignant reminder of the holiday’s enduring spirit.