The Great Shasta Massacre of 2010

This isnt exactly very political in nature like most of my posts are but im nursing a buzzed like feeling though I have not imbibed any alcohol tonight and felt like writing this down.  I must begin by saying that I went to see Our Town at Pioneer Theatre tonight.  VERY dissapointed.  The show had no plot.  None.  It was just a bunch of people living out their daily lives in a small town around the turn of the 20th century.  What is really weird about this show is that ive seen it before, in junior high to be precise.  It wasnt until the beginning of the third act when the narrator mentioned something about it being 1914 and everyone locks their doors because they have all heard of residential burglary.  That sparked my memory from sitting in the auditorium of Roosevelt-Lincoln Jr. High somewhere in the middle of the theatre wondering why if everyone locked their doors in 1914 did people still not do it in the 90′s?  This brought up a bunch of other memories of Jr. High including one 10 minute time when I got to play stand-in-spotlight-operator while some girl went to the bathroom.  I must have put it out of my head since it is pretty much a waste of 2 1/2 hours of life.  I read some reviews online raving about how good it is but my friend Tom said that must be because most people forget about it and then accidentally go see it again.  Together with Tom, I walked to the train feeling like less of a person for seeing that play.  Normally I feel rather good about myself after attending the theatre, I feel like I have bettered my existence by being a patron of the arts, that I am more cultured if you will.  I dont feel as if I was the only one as this is the only play I have ever been to where the audience did not give a standing ovation.

Ok, now to tie this monologue in with this posts title.  The play was a great juxtaposition to a conversation my friend Tom and I had with our friend JC.  We had a pre-show dinner at Big Ed’s where we told JC about our afternoon last Saturday shooting up soda cans in the desert.  Tom described in detail how I lined up several Shasta cans and then stood about 3 feet away holding my pistol sideways and blew them away ‘gangland style’.