Brain Dead Theatre
The First Annual Screening Of The Terri Schiavo Story
Ms. Aussie Flapper Girl's unwillingness to watch the Terri Schiavo story for the second time was vitriolic to say the least...
But first a slight prologue.
Having stirred from morning slumber after a heavily intoxicated friday night, several slumberers (mainly KidPod and I) decided to order the film ondemand.
Flapper Girl was hesitant to see it but, alas, it was too late. The Schiavo movie had started and we quickly realized that this was a docudrama told from the pro-life side of the story.
KidPod and I were in for a treat. The movie is a four hour ordeal starting from Terri's birth and leading up to her death and legacy as expounded by a colorful cast of inbred characters which include:
Six Tits McGee
Terri Schiavo's Fat Friends
And more people whose pictures remain a fortunate mystery on the internet.
The docudrama is so long and so bloated with self-importance and denial that we adored it immediately, although I cannot lie--during hour 3 we did become listless except for shouts of, "when are you going to DIE YOU BITCH!!"
Ms. Aussie Flapper Girl cracked under the pressure and was successfully driven mad when we decided to do an immediate repeat showing of The Terri Schiavo Story, now with many characters and lines memorized.
We decided there and then that The Terri Schiavo Story is our new Rocky Horror Picture Show, and that we will dress up like the characters, recite lines, and make a Terri Schiavo coloring book.
Terri Schiavo is a great reminder for us all, a reminder that nothing matters, God is dead, nobody can change the world, and Michael Schiavo totally killed her with his evil mustache twirl.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
Can't Hate Everything