All of us, victims.

Well, hello! It's true—we haven't written in nearly a month. It's also true that that's not likely to change. However, while we may have taken a break, the world certainly hasn't. And, while we have no idea what's going on in said world because we no longer have the luxury of a workless workday to peruse the onlines, we still occasionally do come across a diamond in the rough. Or, in this case, diamonds in the rough. Well, actually, they're not really diamonds. They're more like pieces from Lainie Kazan's QVC collection.

The point is, you probably thought not much could be more horrific than last month's terrible tragedy at Virginia Tech. We're here to proudly tell you you would be wrong. Very, very wrong.

Without further brouhaha, then, please enjoy Nervous Breakdown's Tribute to Tributes to the Victims of the Virginia Tech Massacre. We begin with our favorite and proceed from there in order of favorite finally ending with our favorite. Peace be with you.


Ian said...

If I were one of those victims, I would come back from the dead and kick every one of their asses.

Or maybe I would just haunt their synthesizers. I would manifest as a shapeless white groin pain every time a C minor chord was played.

ureallyannoyme said...

I'm picturing "Virginia Tech: The Musical." First act features vignettes of various, unidentified students as they go about their routines that morning. Suddenly, the stage lights go dark; the only sounds are gunshots, and the only light comes from the muzzle flash. The first act closes with simultaneous, softly lit performances by two groups of students weaving "There is no sunset in Virginia" with "I can't even begin to understand."

Second act takes you through the next few weeks as students interact with their friends and families. Play climaxes when it's revealed that all of the students who sang "There is no sunset" were among those killed (as there will never be another sunset for them, of course), and the interaction had taken place in the minds of the loved ones left behind.

The group of students who sang "I can't even imagine" aren't VTech students at all, but students at other universities, as identified by their various school sweatshirts. (Signifying the randomness of what happened, and how it easily could have been them. Natch.)

It's "Our Town" but with a Quentin Tarantino-esque twist.

What? You don't like?? We can sell champagne splits for $60 during intermission. We'll make a fortune!

Steelygrape said...

You're always worth the wait!

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