I was going to write the weekly blog about something funny. Maybe about husbands or diets or my allergy to milk and what it does to my social skills.
I was going to write the weekly blog about TV shows, summer reads, or how to write a steamy love scene in your next romance novel.
I was going to write the weekly blog about my persnickety ways, my attempt to be alluring, my dislike for boiled okra.
I was going to write the weekly blog on something outrageous, maybe about how nothing over a size 16 should be called petite or iffy body piercings for women over fifty or a dozen nifty things I found on Pinterest to do with old pantyhose.
But I usually write my blog on Sunday mornings and post it on Mondays at 6 am and I woke up this Sunday to find the world had gone crazy again.
Some lunatic took it upon himself to rid his part of the world of people he did not like and took the lives of over fifty people just because he deemed himself better than them.
Some loser who aspired to a radical group that didn’t know he existed, some wife beating, egotistical nobody who grew up to be the epitome of the school yard bully went into a bar/night club and took the lives of others just because his soul and mind were full of hate and loathing.
He should have pointed the gun at himself first.
I was going to write the weekly blog on some silly nonsense, a play on words, a jumble of sentences to make my readers laugh or giggle or ponder the world around us.
I just couldn’t find my funny this morning.