Memorial Day is characterized by the beach, BBQ and cold beer—but the meaning of the holiday must never be lost in the festivities. Regardless of political stance or government views, there is absolutely no doubt that those who volunteer to serve in our country’s armed forces are selfless, dedicated and extraordinarily brave.

Those who choose to leave their friends and families in defense of the United States sacrifice daily. They sacrifice time with their loved ones. They sacrifice their bodies and their safety—and some have given the ultimate sacrifice, and never returned home.

As the military begins scaling back troop levels in Iraq and Afghanistan, soldiers face a new set of challenges: assimilating back into civilian life. The scars of combat extend beyond those you can see, and our men and women coming home deserve every ounce of our support as they adjust to life on the home front.

All of us here at PR/PR hope you had a fun and safe Memorial Day, and remember the meaning behind the holiday.

The cyclical nature of life is funny to me. When I was in my early teens, I considered my mom one of my closest friends. We talked a lot, we spent an inordinate amount of time together — she was one of the most important people in my life.

And then the stereotypical relationship shift hits a bit later in high school. More time is spent with friends and acquaintances, conversations are fewer in number and shorter in length — for some reason possibly only ascribed to the nuances of life, spending time with your mom becomes less ‘cool’ at 18.

At 28, however, my relationship with my mom is even stronger than it was when I was younger. Maybe it’s because we have more in common, or maybe as you age you gain more of an appreciation for your family once the excitement of pulling all-nighters and devoting all of your available time to your friends wears off. I look forward to the evenings wear I can hangout with mom — whether it’s working on a new recipe she found or kicking back with a Sweetwater 420 and watching baseball at the neighborhood bar.

The period in my life that I spent primarily in my social circle taught me how important family is, and I’m thankful for my mom each and every day.

Out in the sticks somewhere in Nevada, rancher Cliven Bundy is breathing a massive sigh of relief. It’s not that often that you get out-bigoted in a span of three days, but that’s exactly what happened Saturday. In this week’s edition of Racists Caught on Tape, Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling managed to knock Bundy out of the news cycle with his own brand of sheer, unabashed racism—recorded in a phone call to his mistress—V. Stiviano.  

The released recordings allegedly contain Sterling channeling his inner Jim Crow, spouting off hateful rhetoric about Stiviano ‘associating with black people’ and demanding that she refrain from bringing them to Clippers games or broadcasting photos—the ones in question containing Magic Johnson and Dodgers outfielder Matt Kemp—on her Instagram. 

He then proceeds to go on a doddering rant about cultural perceptions and the implications of associating with minorities, the ‘problems’ that certain races have with others—even going as far to expound on the ‘differences’ between black and white Jews. 

The sound you hear is me repeatedly bashing my head against the keyboard and screaming to the heavens. It is abhorrent enough to even maintain this worldview, but an owner of an NBA franchise espousing this nonsense—a league comprised of over 75% minorities—seems absolutely unreal. There’s something to be said about the generational divide in beliefs that still exists in America—Sterling is 80 years old—but circumstantially, this entire scenario is difficult to comprehend. 

The Clippers players have now been forced into an unfortunate and unenviable position: fighting to stay alive in the playoffs for themselves and their fan-base, but cashing checks issued by a man who holds these repulsive beliefs. As walking off the court or refusing to play isn’t a feasible option—they are players under contract, and punishing their fans for their awful owner would be unfortunate—the Clippers staged their own silent protest on Sunday: removing their warm-up jerseys and tossing them on center-court in solidarity, and wearing their shirts inside-out.

The NBA and the ownership brass are now faced with an important decision: do they remove Donald Sterling from his role as owner—if they even have the legal recourse to do so—and if they don’t, what will be the impact on the Clippers and the National Basketball Association as a whole?

With the firestorm ignited by Sterling’s comments and the widespread condemnation of this man and his beliefs from all corners of society, it is abundantly clear that something has to be done, because allowing an individual that feels this way to maintain an ownership position sends an abysmal message, and tarnishes the league’s reputation entirely.

They were crossing the finish line, many of them reveling in the achievement of a lifelong goal—when all hell broke loose. What followed was a horrifying scene of confusion and chaos that left three people dead and 267 injured.

Today is the one year anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombings, one of the most heart-wrenching and harrowing days in American history. A celebratory day in Beantown—Patriot’s Day—violently disrupted by two individuals with ghastly plans to promote a ghastly socio-political agenda.

I vividly remember one of my friends in Boston posting on Facebook about ‘something terrible happening on Boylston Street’ and the disorder that enveloped the city for the next 48 hours. The entire situation unfolding just seemed surreal—and on the anniversary of such a tragic day, has still yet to be reconciled in the minds of many that it actually occurred.

Today we remember those who lost their lives, those who were seriously injured—and thank the first-responders who jumped to assist without a moment of hesitation. Their swift actions possibly prevented further casualties or events. I believe I speak for many when I say I hope another day like this never occurs again.     

Some say Hollywood has no shame. Others rationalize actors’ sometimes bizarre behavior as just one of the many idiosyncrasies that accompanies artists—but I’m sure both camps have no explanation or real grasp on what may be the creepiest coup de grâce in publicity stunt memory: James Franco’s underage girl Instagram scandal. 

Last week it leaked that detailed Franco’s Instagram dialogue with a 17 year old girl that he had met outside his Broadway show, and revealed his attempts to get her to meet him at his hotel room. Franco is no stranger to Hollyweirdness, but the prospect of a critically acclaimed actor at the height of his career seeking out underage girls online is especially troubling.

Until you add-in the publicity factor.

After owning up to and apologizing for the online outrage, rumors began to circulate that the entire thing was an inexplicable ruse concocted to promote Franco’s upcoming film Palo Alto, a story of a soccer coach who engages in an illegal affair with an underage girl. I’ve seen all of the customary PR fodder, but masquerading as an online predator in some odd viral-marketing campaign to promote a movie has to be the lowest of the low.

James Franco has yet to acknowledge that the entire debacle was a farce, but updating his Twitter with ‘I HOPE PARENTS KEEP THEIR KIDS AWAY FROM ME’ just reeks of attention-seeking insincerity. I’m a fan of Franco’s work—particularly his role as ‘Alien’ in Spring Breakers—but regardless if this story is proved false or he really is a predatory weirdo, I think I’m saying sayonara. No project is worth stooping to such a level, and I don’t have to explain why attempting to pick-up underage girls is vile. 

I suppose time will tell the truth of it, but the court of public opinion seems to have already convicted Franco of PR-hound of the highest order. Either way, the whole story is strange, and can only serve to hurt him in the long run.