Ah, Minneapolis. The city of lakes, the birthplace of Prince, and now—because we clearly didn’t have enough entries in the “Things Europeans Think Are Fake But Actually Happen in America” catalog—the latest setting for that quintessentially American ritual: a school shooting.
This time, we leveled up. It wasn’t a hallway. It wasn’t a cafeteria. No, friends, it was an all-school Mass. A literal house of God. The gunman didn’t just break into the temple—he went full Old Testament smiting-from-the-heavens mode, blasting through stained-glass windows. Jesus wept, and then probably ducked behind a pew.
Two children dead. Twenty others injured. Somewhere, an NRA board member is whispering, “Well, if only the priest had been packing.”
Stained Glass and Semi-Autos: The New American Gothic
Picture the scene: little kids, dressed in their crisp Catholic uniforms, practicing their best “Our Fathers,” when suddenly—RAT-TAT-TAT—communion wafers become cover fire. The gunman, dressed all in black like a goth kid who overshot Spirit Halloween, pumps out 50 to 100 rounds like he’s auditioning for a Michael Bay reboot of The Sound of Music.
And let’s pause here for a second because 50 to 100 rounds is not just a shooting—it’s cardio. That is a man committed to his craft. Meanwhile, politicians are already drafting their “thoughts and prayers” tweets, typing with the same urgency they never apply to actual legislation.
The American Trifecta: Church, Children, and Carnage
You almost have to admire the creativity. Every time we think we’ve maxed out the horror genre, America says, “Hold my beer and my AR-15.” Elementary schools? Done. High schools? Been there. Malls, theaters, bowling alleys? Yawn. But a Mass full of preschoolers and eighth graders? That’s a new one for the highlight reel of our national sickness.
And the timing—chef’s kiss. First week of school. The smell of freshly sharpened pencils in the air. Parents posting those “First Day!” photos with chalkboard signs:
“Hi! My name is Emma. I’m 7 years old. I love unicorns. And if all goes well, I’ll make it home alive today.”
Law Enforcement Did Their Thing™
SWAT rolled in. FBI suited up. State police hit the scene. And guess what? The shooter? Dead by self-inflicted wound. The classic American ending—because nothing says “cowardice with commitment” like going full Rambo on a school and then bailing before the handcuffs.
Officials assure us there’s “no ongoing threat.” Sure. Unless you count the omnipresent cultural rot, the bullet holes in stained glass, and the fact that somewhere right now, a lobbyist is Googling “Catholic School Rifle Sponsorship Opportunities.”
Governor Walz Offers Thoughts, Which We Can’t Legislate With
Governor Tim Walz called it a “horrific act of violence.” Which, yes, correct. But also: duh. At this point, calling a school shooting “horrific” is like calling water “wet.” What’s next? “This is not who we are”? Spoiler alert: It absolutely is. It’s literally what we export on CNN every six weeks.
He also said his prayers are with the victims. That’s adorable. Because prayers are exactly what stopped those bullets, right? Maybe next time we add Kevlar to the rosary beads.
The Sacred Ritual of Doing Nothing
Now let’s fast-forward a week, shall we? The candles have burned down. The hashtag #PrayForMinneapolis is trending. Fox News is calling it a “mental health crisis,” MSNBC is screaming “gun reform,” and somewhere, Ted Cruz is tweeting, “We need more doors.”
Then—poof—it’s gone. Replaced by the next outrage. The next shooting. The next headline. It’s not even shocking anymore. It’s like the pumpkin spice latte of American tragedies: seasonal, predictable, and vaguely comforting in its familiarity.
But Wait—We Can Fix This With More Guns!
You know what’s coming, right? The “solution” tour. “Arm the teachers.” Because Sister Mary Catherine with a Glock is exactly what the Gospels intended. Imagine a nun in full habit, dual-wielding pistols like she’s in Call of Duty: Vatican Ops.
And don’t forget the security upgrades! Metal detectors, bulletproof backpacks, panic buttons in the pews. Forget hymnals—kids will have tactical manuals in their desks. Pretty soon, Catholic schools will look like Fort Knox, except the gold is your second grader.
The Real Questions Nobody Wants to Ask
Why does this keep happening? Because we’ve made it normal. We fetishized guns into a religion, and now the blood sacrifice happens in an actual church. And every time someone suggests doing something—anything—we get the usual arguments:
- “Guns don’t kill people.” No, Greg, but the AR-15 sure helped.
- “If they want to kill, they’ll find a way.” Cool. Let’s make it slightly harder than “walk into a sporting goods store with cash.”
- “It’s a mental health issue.” Great. Let’s fully fund mental health care then. Crickets.
But nah, easier to clutch pearls about the sanctity of the Second Amendment than the sanctity of a child’s life.
Let’s Not Pretend We’re Shocked
You know what’s really wild? We’re shocked that this happened in Minneapolis. Why? Because when we think mass shooting, we think suburban strip mall or Texas megachurch, not a quaint Catholic school during Mass. But that’s the thing about American gun violence—it’s an equal-opportunity destroyer. Urban, rural, red state, blue state.
There’s no safe space. Not even the sanctuary. Which makes me wonder: if Jesus came back today, what are the odds he’d get shot walking into a Walmart?
The Only Thing Harder to Find Than Ammo: Accountability
Here’s the future: press conferences, crying parents, photo ops with teddy bears, and then…nothing. No ban on high-capacity magazines. No universal background checks. No meaningful change. Just rinse, repeat, reload.
Because if Sandy Hook didn’t move the needle, if Uvalde didn’t break us, if Nashville didn’t make us stop and say, “Enough,” what makes us think Annunciation Catholic School will?
But Hey, Look on the Bright Side
We’ll get a few new “hardened school security” contracts out of this. Politicians will rake in some NRA money. Cable news will milk it for ratings. And the rest of us? We’ll wait for the next one, acting surprised like a goldfish every time it happens.
Final Benediction
So here we are, America: a country where stained glass can’t stop bullets, where children say the Lord’s Prayer and then get triaged by EMTs, where the only thing more bulletproof than the shooter’s vest is our political paralysis.
And yet, tomorrow, someone will tweet: This isn’t who we are.
Oh yes, sweetheart. It is exactly who we are. And the devil? He’s not wearing Prada—he’s wearing Kevlar.