There’s a uniquely American efficiency to how we process mass shootings. As if the country were run by a bureaucratic vending machine that now just spits out blood instead of soda. Insert thoughts. Receive prayers. Try again tomorrow.
Today’s patriotic performance art featured not one but two active shooter incidents. First, the Grand Sierra Resort casino in Reno—because of course Nevada—where three people died and several were injured. Then, just to keep coastal elitists in the loop, a second act unfolded at 345 Park Avenue in New York City. Five people dead. One NYPD officer among them. The building still stood. So did the flags—at half-mast, for 12–18 hours, or however long it takes before the NFL kicks off and we all start pretending we care about Taylor Swift again.
No motive has been confirmed, but let’s be honest: in America, motive is decorative. Like parsley on a mass grave.
We already know what happens next. We’ve choreographed it. Every official statement, every press conference, every gutless cable news panel featuring a sheriff, a senator, and someone’s mom Skyping in from a living room shrine built out of teddy bears and bullet casings. It’s all part of the pageantry.
Cue the soundbites:
- “Our thoughts and prayers go out to the victims…”
- “This is not who we are.”
- “Now is not the time for politics.”
It’s a script. We’ve got it laminated. The only thing missing is a laugh track.
Meanwhile, the Grand Sierra Resort has resumed operations. Guests can gamble, drink, and contemplate mortality under flickering fluorescent lights. The Park Avenue skyscraper is temporarily closed, but the Starbucks in the lobby is expected to reopen tomorrow. We are a country that worships continuity, even if it’s covered in blood.
And the politicians? They appear on cue like mascots in a dystopian halftime show.
- One senator recommends “hardening our schools,” even though today’s shooting happened at a casino and a high-rise office building.
- Another blames mental illness, as if every other country doesn’t also have depression, anxiety, and violent urges without casually turning breakfast meetings into combat zones.
- And someone from the NRA tweets a Bible verse over a photo of an AR-15, because nothing says sacred like the murder weapon of choice for domestic terrorists.
The news anchors try to keep a straight face.
“America reels from tragedy,” they say, as if reeling were still physically possible. We’ve stopped reeling. We metabolize grief like caffeine now—burning through it by noon, shaky but functional, and ready for more.
The data is numbing, so we’ve stopped listening.
There have been more mass shootings in 2025 than days in the year.
The most common cause of death for American children? Guns.
The most popular response? Absolutely nothing.
Because nothing is the policy.
Nothing is bipartisan.
Nothing has donors.
Nothing offends no one and kills everyone.
It’s tempting to satirize the absurdity of it—if only satire hadn’t already been shot dead in aisle five. What do you say about a nation where “shelter-in-place” alerts trend on social media more often than album releases? Where kids practice active shooter drills between math class and lunch? Where metal detectors are cheaper than counselors, and Kevlar backpacks are a back-to-school essential?
This isn’t dysfunction. It’s design.
The body count is the feature, not the glitch.
We don’t ban guns—we ban books.
We don’t track bullets—we track library cards.
We don’t protect lives—we protect “lifestyles,” which is code for unchecked paranoia wrapped in the Second Amendment like a loaded security blanket.
And through it all, we still have the gall to call ourselves civilized. Advanced. Developed. As if the metric for modernity were how many different ways we can mass-produce death before brunch.
The casinos will reopen. The skyscrapers will clean their lobbies. The blood will be mopped up and disinfected, while the trauma lingers in the air ducts like black mold.
We will forget their names.
Until the next shooting.
And the next one.
And the one after that.
Because America isn’t broken.
It’s performing exactly as intended.
Final Thought:
In a country where gunfire is background noise and grief is a policy platform, the real miracle isn’t survival—it’s that we still pretend surprise.