Berdoo is still fresh in the American News Cycle.  We poke around with sticks, until we keep unearthing the same familiar rotten thing; after we watch the anchor-vultures pry up something ghastly again, for the third time, we go on to other stuff.  It becomes boring.  The teddy bear, again.  We don’t want to dwell on our own perversity too much, but we’ve got to admit that packaged stories of atrocities are full of intriguing stuff, dumpsters that we love to pick through in public.

This one’s got entertainment potential – I’m sure that the scriptwriters are already trudging through the sketches for the Movie.  Perhaps it should be called Narcissus Unchained.  I call dibs.

It has the character of a horrific Flash Mob, a stunningly pointless piece of Performance Art.  We know that there was a Season’s Party being held during the day at a rented hall; that an employee seems to have left with a huff, and the couple donned their Resentment Gear and act out the screenshots of “True Lies,” not as mysterious secret undercover agents, but as new parents of a six-month-old, whom they dropped off at grandma’s house before they ran through their fifteen minutes of fame.

I smell ressentiment, and not just because I’ve been to college and know how to misuse the word.  If something merits so much attention and planning and sacrifice, it’s reasonable to expect that mature and balanced adults will direct it towards something of great value.  To endanger one’s life, it would be expected to be that of summary value.

These people seem completely immature, empty, valueless.  They sacrificed their duty to a small child, as parents, for – for what, exactly?  Was it an outburst of wrath in a folie a deux, or was it some sort of terrorism?  What SORT of terrorism – how am I supposed to be terrified, me, right here?  Of going to County Health Department Christmas Parties?  I am not sure I would not already be terrified of such things.How do we – you, me, us – protect ourselves against such people?  The closest word in American jargon to these folks is fucktard – An extraordinarily stupid person, especially one that causes harm.

It’s no wonder the popular entertainment world is beset by zombies – for zombies are merely fucktards with a backstory.  If there is a terrorist message, that is it – beware these knucklehead lunatics.

The only alternative explanation is that their operation was like a bomb that went off prematurely.  Somehow, this Holiday Party triggered the detonation – and it was not a fizzle, as the wife joined the husband in the atrocity.

But thousands of rounds were left unfired, hundreds of bombs left undetonated.  Like the fucktard Tsarnaev brothers of the Boston Marathon Bombing, one of whom ended his earthly being as a speed-bump, this one didn’t go off as planned, thank God.

Could it even be a distraction, a diversion pulled off by the dumb bunnies of the group, whom they were glad to get rid of?  If not, why San Bernardino?

But what do we do?