Our country’s government is broken beyond repair. The partisan hacks in Washington couldn’t care less about their constituents—about the decent, hard-working individuals who elected them in the first place. The only thing that concerns them is latching on to the latest mass shooting and using it to score a few cheap political points. That’s why there’s no doubt in my mind Congress is going to politicize the unspeakable tragedy I’m about to perpetrate.
Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal, it makes no difference. Once I turn this shopping center into a nightmarish blood bath for reasons that will never be understood, every single U.S. representative will use some aspect of the carnage I cause to justify a piece of legislation they happen to be sponsoring. Before the sweet, cleansing blood of the innocent has even dried, congressional leaders will deploy their customary spin tactics and co-opt my impending massacre for their own political gains.
How dare you use my future victims as pawns in some political chess match!
That’s just how our government operates, folks. Wake up and smell the wretched stench of humanity.
Every few weeks it’s the same old story: a deeply unstable individual like myself stockpiles a militia’s worth of assault weapons and unleashes unfathomable violence in a public space. Like a food court. Like the food court at the Colony Square Mall on Dresden Avenue. Then prominent members of the House and Senate will express faux outrage, tweet a one-size-fits-all message of condolence, and demand whatever reforms coincide with their party’s platform.
Considering how ubiquitous this narrative has become, I guarantee you that every single bought-and-sold bureaucrat will waste zero time before pointing fingers and disrespecting the memories of the men, women, and children I’ll be systematically mowing down in a matter of minutes.
How dare you use my future victims as pawns in some political chess match! They’re doomed to be indiscriminately targeted and ruthlessly slain so that I might achieve divine ascension, not so they can become bargaining chips in your fat-cat backdoor dealings.
As citizens of the world’s greatest democracy, it’s imperative we begin supporting candidates who will break the electoral binary and resist the urge to scrutinize how I’ve been able to procure hundreds of handguns, rifles, and rounds of ammunition without being subjected to a single background check. Or perhaps we should propose legislation to slash our federal representatives’ paychecks until they recognize how utterly powerless they are to prevent the rampage that was set in motion the minute I parked my unregistered van outside of Dick’s Sporting Goods. We must stand together and in booming unison declare that we’re not going to take it anymore.
I can’t take it anymore.
Realistically, however, I fear there’s nothing we can do. When asked to comment on the barbaric nature of my imminent crime, politicians will inevitably lean on the same hollow talking points and fail once again to offer substantive guidance. Expecting accountability from this Congress is even more hopeless than trying to escape this building alive.
In fact, I suppose the only way this problem could get any worse is if our government just started ignoring mass shootings entirely.