In the cast of a play I did a few years back was an elderly woman who played “Grandma.” She seemed nice enough, a bit befuddled, perhaps. In other words, if she had remembered her correct lines, I’d have probably died of shock.
Anyway, Grandma had a habit of sending email forwards to the cast. They were stupid, but whatever, she had discovered the wonder of the Interwebs. So, bully for Grandma, I’d say. Bully.
Then one day, I received a forwarded email addressed just to me – not the usual list of suspects. Curious, I opened it. Inside was this diatribe against immigrants… and not just illegal ones (not that that would matter to me). I started to to read it and was confused. What about me made this wacky old broad think that I’d actually be interested in some racist rant? And to top it off, the thing was like, really loooong. Heh.
Later, I found out that the entire cast received the email (Grandma, that trickster, BCC’d everyone). In fact, my friend who had just joined the play thought it was a passive-aggressive way to get her to quit the show (she’s Hispanic). She and others complained; the director did nothing, even though we were all completely uncomfortable.
So, what’s the moral of the story? I have no idea. Why does every story have to have a moral? I don’t get get paid for this; get your morals elsewhere, Mr. Needy.