Can't quite move on yet, as the tragedy lingers in the mind and feels to me no less heartbreaking than the events of 9/11.  And in some ways this one seems worse because it cannot be explained or better understood through mitigating arguments about religion, history or politics. It can only be explained as an act of evil by the deranged made possible through the negligence of the deluded.  

 I'm hoping this will be the catalyst for meaningful action and reform.  And also feeling hopeful that Obama will take advantage of the benefits of a second term to aggressively push through long overdue legislation with strict enforcement requirements. 

That's all I'll say and hope I can resist saying more in coming days --since the few readers I have need another online opinion site like FOX NEWS needs another Tea Partying Pundit--

So, time to get back in the swing of the sophomoric silliness that, for me at least, provides some momentary relief from the un-abating grief. 

A.D.D. Entertainment 

In Association with Andy Warhol Productions

Proudly Presents

 Nine15 Second Plays 

(in search of an offer)
by A. Drifter

(Consulting room at Berggasse 19,  Vienna)

Sigmund F.: Our suffering stems from the fact that we are ruled by our unconscious and we cannot be conscious of the unconscious all the time.

Carl J.: So, other than trying to be conscious of the fact that we are ruled by an unconscious that we cannot be always conscious of--what more can we do? 

Sigmund F: Sorry, your time is up.

(Offices: Globe Theatre, Stratford on Avon)
Producer: This Hamlet guy, what's his problem?

Will: He's conflicted

Producer: Whaddya mean?

Will: He can't make up his mind.

Producer: And then what?

Will: He dies.

Producer:  That's the plot?

Will: I can put in a ghost...
Producer: I dunno...
Will: A poisoning...
Producer: Hmm...
Will: And sword fighting at the end!

Producer: I'll call you.

(Livadia Palace near Yalta, Crimea)

Franklin:  Joe wants Poland.

Joe: I want Poland.

Franklin: Okay with you Winston?

Winston: I don't trust Joe.

Franklin: Me neither, but we gotta give him something. 

Joe: I want Poland!

Franklin: Ah c'mon, Winston, it's just Poland.

Joe: I want Poland!!

Winston: Alright. But just Poland Joe.

Joe: Yes. Just Poland. 

(Breakfast nook, Graceland, Memphis Tennessee)
Bob: Dig this new chord.

Bruce: Wow. What is that?

Bob: It's got a D and a B and-- what's this one?

Bruce: I don't know.

Bob: It's a phantom note.

Bruce: A mystery note, a shadow note.

Bob: Like me, it is unknown and unknowable.

Elvis: Can one of you geniuses pass me the peanut butter.

(Locker-room, Augusta National Golf Club, Augusta Georgia)
Tiger: Phony

Phil: Adulterer

Tiger: Bogey Face

Phil: Choker

Tiger: Man-boobs

Phil: Has been

Tiger: Never was

Phil: Whoa, here comes the press...

Tiger: Nice seein ya buddy.

Phil:  Same here. Good Luck. 

(Lincoln Bedroom, White House, Washington DC)
John: I got a hot date tonite, if Jackie asks, I was with you.

Teddy: Me too, if Joan asks.

Bobby: Same here if Ethel asks.

John: What if mom asks?

Bobby: Tell her we went sailing. 

Teddy: And what if Dad asks?

John:  Oh, just tell him the truth.

(Two characters bathed in white spotlights on opposite sides of a bare stage)

Lee Harvey: Why'd you do it?
John Wilkes: Pride

Lee Harvey: Whose pride?

John Wilkes:  Southern Pride

Lee Harvey: Was it worth it?

John Wilkes:  Who knows.  Why'd you do it?

Lee Harvey:  I didn't.

(Library/Study in Monticello, Charlottesville VA)

Sally: What's that Tom?

Thomas: A Declaration.

Sally:  Of what?

Thomas:  Independence.

Sally: Who's?

Thomas: Ours. 

Sally: Independence from what?

Thomas: Tyranny, taxes, injustice, despotism, you name it.

Sally: Slavery?

Thomas: Well, I wouldn't go that far.

(On the Road to Nowhere. Heaven)
Issac: To every action there is an opposite and equal reaction.
Galileo:  Try telling that to the Pope
Issac:  Force is mass times acceleration.
Galileo: Ever hear of  The Inquisition?
Issac: A body at rest tends to stay at rest.
Galileo: Four words buddy, keep it to yourself.