Ideations of Violence

PART 2/6

Yeah, I'm the one ideating on violence.

And so are you.  

So don't try to pretend.  

You live in a culture saturated in images of violence.  

You take them in daily and you digest them, and you spit them back out like a baby bird regurgitator.

The difference between you and me is that I went away and studied the subject.  

You didn't know that a playwright must become an expert on violence?  

How else to properly depict it on the stage?  

When I say 'properly depict', I don't mean like the callow action movies you flock to you in your habitual dependence on Hollywood.  

I don't mean the puerile entertainments you call sport but which are actually just massive exercises in theatre where muscled men oil themselves up, wear speedos, and ram their bodies into each other but wrestling fans aren't gay?  

In this limited case, I'm not even talking about your actual addiction to the sport of American football, a concussion factory with which you have permanently damaged the brains of five generations of American men in succession, thereby permanently altering the course of world history, you gambling addicted pigs.

No, I'm talking about the sorts of depictions of violence that make you want to puke on your shoes right there in your $150 seat.

That's the sort of theatre I wish for my fellow Americans; the sort that disturbs their sleep for a week.

I spent a lot of money learning how to make you puke on your shoes, you desperate little entertainment-hound, you, so why would I forfeit my life to a bunch of know-nothing fascists before I pull out all the proverbial stops?