So I’m woken on 4/20 by a cat who wants his breakfast. I crawl out of bed, habitually turn on the TV to MSNBC only to discover that a lone gunman is holding up NASA’s Johnson Space Center. Huh? After blinking for a while, and knowing that I will be accused of cynicism and a lack of the correct piety in the face of TV death, a flight of fancy winged its unbidden way across my consciousness that maybe the guy was planning to hi-jack a spaceship, but had gone to the wrong place.
(And my cynicism might not be so deep-seated if the outpourings of the news media weren’t so pompously inaccurate. No one, from Fox News to The Huffington Post seems to know the difference between a serial killer and a mass murderer, and that the psychoses involved are vastly different.)
The secret word is Enterprise
(And my cynicism might not be so deep-seated if the outpourings of the news media weren’t so pompously inaccurate. No one, from Fox News to The Huffington Post seems to know the difference between a serial killer and a mass murderer, and that the psychoses involved are vastly different.)
The secret word is Enterprise
.JPG)
4 comments:
Do you really have no feelings? This is about people dying? How would you like to be killed in a random shooting. I bet you wouldn't find that so funny.
I think the problem here is that the feelings I have don't conform to the standard maudlin playbook. And the thought of being shot at random is, on somedays, quite appealing.
If it were at all possible to steal a spaceship, there'd be a queue.
Me first!
people die every day. every minute, every fucking second. in ways sometimes too horrible to even imagine, let alone ponder whether you'd want it to happen to you. what do you suggest, anonymous the first? that we all spend our days in permanent states of mourning, hair torn, garments rent, wailing with tear-stained faces?
grow up. death is *part* of life. even untimely death. get a grip before you have a nervous breakdown.
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