Grist for the Mill

32 dead. 26 injured.

"Virginia Tech" now means something else. Just as "Columbine" does.

On the radio, it's stated that its the worst "single-shooter" massacre in the nation's history.

And my jaw tightens.

Rewind to the first Bush administration (at the time, we didn't see it as a "golden age," but it looks more and more like it these days--"Bully Pulpit" meant something else then.). I was working on a comedy album with a bunch of local writers and actors. We called ourselves "The Synaptic Anarchy Playhouse" and the album would eventually be titled "Relish the Thought." I'm sure there's a copy of it collecting dust in a bargain bin somewhere in this country. I know of one "comedy DJ" who pretty regularly plays something from it every now and again. For the participants, however, we invested so much time in the thing that its relative worth in our eyes dropped precipitously over the years. But a critical listen not too long ago showed glimmers of merit even with an outlook encrusted with jade. It's not as bad as we think it is. It's not as clever as it should have been, either. It's a compromise.

I was writing with Dan "The Man" on it. Dan would show up with an over-arching theme. And we'd go from there: I'd free-associate in the car and he'd embellish and eventually we'd have a skit that we'd think was really funny and then fall out of love with after a week or so...until it was performed and then we'd marvel at what good actors can do with "stale" material.

One day, Dan walked in and announced this concept: "How the Media Celebrates and Immortalizes Psychosis." Ha! Yeah! Good one! I started free-associating. We'd do a news report of a postal worker shooting up a fast-food restaurant, building it up until its revealed that the shooter didn't kill quite as many people as was initially rumored and the story, in turn, falls off the headlines coverage. That set the situation up and the two of us started embellishing. The restaurant became "Big Boy Chucky's" after a ubiquitous burger chain not found in Washington State, with its cherubic statuary that we used for a bit where the newscasters seemed to be showing more concern for the damage inflicted on it than the victims. The postal worker was portrayed in a stand-off with police threatening to dunk his head in a deep-fat fryer unless his demands were met--one of which was to produce a tv-version of his life-story called "They Make us Wear These Shorts!" There were interviews with a representative of a firearms enthusiast's organization, who opined that the whole thing could have been avoided if all the customers were carrying. And a former teacher of the shooter--a nun, Sister Mary-Louise Evidentia Stigmata--remembered the postal worker being an "over-achiever." Then, as soon as its revealed that it's not "The Most Peace-Time Kills Caused with an Automatic Weapon in a Dining Area" the anchor loses interest and cuts away from the local reporter who is frantically trying to build up the story again...but to no avail. "How the Media Celebrates and Immortalizes Psychosis." Funny bit.

Except every time it happens.

And it happens regularly. Dan and I would mention it to each other the first five times there was an eerie parallel, and there was always an eerie parallel. It would be a postal worker some times. A disgruntled worker, certainly. And, of course, the media would milk it for all it was worth. Their coverage was consistent from incident to incident, we noticed, sometimes using phrasing we mockingly used in the skit. Time and again. We'd mention it bitterly. Then we just stopped talking about it. It was uncomfortable to talk about. There was an element of shame to it. The topic had been done...to death.

And so, today: "The Worst 'Single-Shooter' Massacre in the Nation's History." I get an e-mail about parallels from another member of the group. Yup. I noticed. My stomach, in knots, noticed. I also told him I thought it was easy and we had been a little obvious to mock the news media about their coverage of things like this. I said it was like calling a dog four-legged. Or Imus a boor.

And it'll happen again. But I'm left with the fervent wish that next time that one of these...people...would get their priorities straight and simply cut to the chase. The unfortunate thing about these incidents is they always end up shooting themselves last.

When it's where they should be starting.

It would save everybody a lot of grief.