Bleeding Las Vegas

Fans of good music began fleeing the country music festival before the shooting even started.

Luckily, people with working ear drums were already fleeing the country music festival before the shooting even started.


Apparently unable to find a 24-hour earmuffs store, one man’s reply to loud music keeping him up at night was rather over the top, when some old white dude named Stephen Paddock went Rambo on a country music festival and shot approximately ninety ga-zillion people.  Or a few hundred.  Either way it was a shitload.  And just like that, a place dubbed “Sin City” was naive no more about the evils of the world.  Not to mention the dangers of awful music.

But this Paddock guy was up to some serious business.  You don’t take twenty automatic rifles and tripods to a strategically set up location in a hotel room overlooking a giant helpless crowd by accident.  It was like shooting hicks in a barrel.  That’s why the casualties were so staggeringly high.  Paddock murked 59 people including himself, but also left over 500 others what’s been referred to as “wounded.”  I don’t know what that term means here exactly.  It can’t be that he shot 500 other muthafuckas, can it?  So are they counting every bump and bruise incurred by fleeing bumpkins as among the “wounded” as well?  Dammit I demand accuracy for my mass shootings score card.

Because boy does this mass shooting rank up there with the all-time greats.  It’s on the Mount Rushmore of mass shootings, which used to consist of Columbine, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, and Pulse.  I guess this Vegas massacre will have to replace Columbine now though since that was way back in the nineties.  I mean, who have you shot for me lately?  Vegas has also earned the distinction among the fearsome foursome as the new champion of the most people killed, so at least Paddock’s family can take some comfort in his record-breaking performance.

And that Paddock family tree has more than a few dead branches.  Not only was his dad a mentally unstable bank robber and prison escapist on the FBI’s Top Ten Most Wanted list, but did you see that dumbass beard his brother had?  What an asshole.

And speaking of assholes, that was what my thoughts centered around initially after hearing about the shooting, “Please be a right-wing asshole and not a left-wing asshole.”  That’s how much politics has poisoned everything.  And here we are two weeks later and the only thing we can safely determine is that Paddock was an asshole.  That’s undeniable.  But what side of the fence his asshole sat on remains inconclusive.

ISIS lamely tried to take credit for Paddock’s seemingly motiveless shooting spree, but their fifteen minutes of Jihad are just about up.  They don’t have enough cache or beheadings to be newsworthy or taken seriously anymore.  But thorough searches of Paddock’s homes and background didn’t provide any known affiliations with any other extremist groups either.  And as a sixty-something year-old rich white guy, he’s ironically a long shot to be the typical lone gunman or school shooter.  Much like the baffling reasons people listen to country music in the first place, this Vegas shooting is a total mystery.

One mystery that has eluded authorities thus far I believe I can shed some light on however.  Not concerning Paddock’s possible group ties, but rather his specific motive for such an uncontrollable murderous rage towards Las Vegas.  It’s easy to spot because I’m actually well-acquainted with the feeling.  He must have bet on Conor too.


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