Those voices are speaking about the mass shooting du jour in the United States, which has left several dead and dozens injured in west Texas. It’s the Lone Star state’s second widely publicized mass shooting of August, which is a shame: if it had just one more on its punch card, it could have earned a free sandwich.
Just hours earlier at the University of North Carolina – Charlotte, one was killed and three others were wounded at an off-campus party, where a gunman must have been inspired by so many college students taking shots.
And the night before in Alabama, in an event that wasn’t even worthy of pushing you to be notified, at least 6 people, aged 15 to 18, were fired upon at the end of a high school football game. The Friday Night Lights were flashing blue and red.
None of this should be news to you. Everyday people being casually murdered by a bullet entering their body is just as routinely and predictably unpredictable as a weatherman’s forecast: “Well, Tonya, there may be some darkness headed our way, with a good chance of showers over the next few days.”
None of this is particularly surprising, either. If I told you a dozen people had been shot last year in a Minneapolis AMC during a screening of “Gotti,” the only thing that might seem unbelievable is that twelve people were watching “Gotti.”
I’m not just sad, or afraid, or angry, or numb, or righteously indignant. I am all of those things, but above all, I am bored. It is boring reading the same Mad Libbed articles where the only blanks to complete were the city and the headcount. It is boring listening to sheriffs struggle to spell their last names at press conferences. And it is boring having to record an episode about this, but please subscribe.
I don’t like the fact that every time some man opens fire, I feel like I’m watching another episode of “Bar Rescue,” which, at some point, will probably have an episode about someone being rescued from a bar they were shot at.
The problem with that, is even that episode would be a rerun, because in 2013, the owner of a bar that Jon Taffer rescued in Nashville did shoot and kill a country singer because he was smoking a cigarette inside. It doesn’t matter if you install a new-point-of-sale system if you let the old POS stick around.
I don’t want to be murdered by a stranger’s gun on the way to work, or while I’m picking up my laundry, or if I’m at a music festival, or for that matter, a garlic festival, which is something I already wouldn’t want to be caught dead at, which sounds like a callous joke, but I’m serious: it’s not like we’re able to pick and choose where we’re going to get blown away.
A weekend in Vegas? A nightclub? A McDonald’s, a mosque, a Post Office, latch key. It’s anywhere and it’s everywhere when you’re living in Grand Theft Auto 5, and the developers are incapable of releasing a patch for a glitch that’s been around all the way back since the original PlayStation version, and you just want the game to end.