You know what we could use right now? Kitties. Lots of kitties, running around and playing and discovering their new world and being totally adorable. We could use that, the innocence of kitties, their unbridled joy, the knowledge that not everything is an absolute shambles, the hope that there’s still a future out there when we all survive this mess.

But we don’t have any kitties available at the moment, so we’ll have to settle for basketball.

There’s an enthusiasm in college basketball you won’t find anywhere else, a hothouse of thousands of fans jammed into an arena, the pace of a game turning on a moment, then turning again the next. Find that in a behemoth football stadium.

Or really, find it where you can, because we can all use all the joy we can get in these dark times, and if you’re the kind of person who finds joy in taunting the decrepit prediction skills of friends, then you’ll find joy in the Stinque Braquet, hosted as ever by Braquet Dowager Mellbell.

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Just when everybody thought things couldn’t get any worse, Donald Trump peed on the Oval Office rug.

Nobody saw it coming. Trump hadn’t consulted with advisers before deciding to take a leak on the rug in the White House. He didn’t really decide, for that matter. He just felt like it.

And then he took a picture of it. And posted it to Twitter.

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It’s clear Melania didn’t agree to the FLOTUS gig and never liked being in the same city with Trumpfuck.

And it’s also clear no one cares or is surprised that Trump runs with hookers and porn artists.

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M*A*S*H of course, and his narration of the New York documentary by Ric Burns was masterful. It’s part of the reason I moved here.

So, we’re still talking about it.

It’s been a couple weeks, a couple weeks since lives were taken, a couple weeks since lives were taken because of our collective inability to prevent lives from being taken, and we’re still talking about it.

As we should be.

That we’re still talking about it, about lives being taken that we could have prevented, that it’s notable we’re still talking about it, that we’re amazed to still be talking about it, is such a condemnation of what once was God’s Country that we should be trembling at the depth of our fall from grace. We should be ashamed, forever ashamed, at how much we have desecrated the values we once held dear, these self-evident truths, the first of which was life.

But at least we’re still talking about it.

So let’s talk about it.

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Seventeen people were gunned down in cold blood at a high school last week.

This is a preventable tragedy. We know it’s preventable because nations around the world prevent it. In cases like Australia and the UK, it took a tragedy to spur action. But action followed, and the tragedy was not repeated.

In America, action does not follow. America allows the slaughter of innocents. If anything, America makes the next slaughter easier than the last.

This is not news.

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“Millions of NRA members and not one has shot up a school,” we were actuallied on Facebook today. “That’s a fact.”

About five million, more or less. They pay their forty bucks a year to “help us defend your Second Amendment freedom whenever and wherever it comes under attack.”

Their money, along with that of weapons manufacturers, is funneled into politicians who work tirelessly to do nothing — or worse — to solve a problem that has killed 1.5 million Americans since 1968.

They are all accessories to murder.

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