My Mulleted Friend

I've got this Friend in Cube City that I don't know very well. We really don't work together very much at all. I don't know what to make of him. He seems very professional on the outside. But on the inside, the man is insane. Let's take a look inside his Facebook, shall we?

Most of my Friend's posts on Facebook are about business insights. But every now and then, he either hits the vodka or forgets where he is (or perhaps both) and posts all sorts of freakshow entries. In the past week, he's posted several angry-emotional-reflective musings on his impending divorce. He's done the same with other highly personal information, like the pain his father is enduring with a terminal illness. He's even gone so far as to post photos of his father totally jacked up on pain meds and lying unaware in a lonely, sterile, white hospital bed.

WHOA. NELLY. When things like this happen and I need to make sense of them, I usually think of mullets. It's like business in the front, raging frizzy lunatic in the back. I cannot imagine what my Friend is going through. He's got stress, to say the least, but his posts make my hair stand on end.