Listen Up Dumbfucks:
Most people kill themselves because of a mental condition. This is true in my case too. The condition I suffer from is that I am not normal, I am not like everyone of you "sane" people.
I am not normal in the sense that I am not like every other one of you brain-dead zombies. I can think. I can reason intelligently. I can observe and learn from life. I can make my own decisions and follow through on them. And I can do these without any aid from internet, tv, radio or newspapers. Unfortunately, every one of you shit-brained lemmings seem to lack these skills and I can't fucking take it any more.
Since everyone else in this world is a fucking retarded drone who revels in their ignorance and unintelligence, I must put an end to my misery. I truly wish I was normal. I wish I could be a fucking retarded sponge like all of you. I wish I could have the same conversations day in and day out about up-to-dateness, lifestyle, entertainement, sports, travelling, health, fun, psychology and "how about love huh?". But I can't.
Sure you'll see this note and say Dirt Dog's the crazy one.You have to it's the only way you can go on thinking you're sane and your pathetic life is meaningful. Go ahead, call me the weirdo like everyone else surely will. Then, return to your happiness of everyday mindless monotony.
My only wish is that the bullet I put into my brain doesn't kill me but only leaves me brain dead. For if ignorance is bliss and everyone of you fuck-for-brains is truly happy, then living a life without a brain stem in a coma, devoid of any cognitive ability must surely be utopia.
Leave My Machine Plugged In You Fucking Retards.
P.S. You fucking cremate me and I'm going poltergeist on your ass!!!
Dear World,
I am not some psychotic fuck or pathetic loser trying to end my miserable, piece of shit existence. Nor am I one of these pussies using suicide as a cry for help. I am not protesting anything, not mad at the world, not drunk and playing with my gun, and I am not any of the other stupid reasons people kill themselves. I have a good reason.
I just snorted not 1, but 2 lines of coke off of not 2, but 3 hookers' chests. Then we all 4 made sweet beautiful love. The kind of sweet beautiful love they sing rap songs about and outlaw in southern states. Then we washed, rinsed and repeated until we were all dehydrated. Life is good.
So, tonight I kill myself as king of the world. Literally, things cannot get better. I have reached the pinnacle of life, and not just my life, but the zenith of existence itself. Bliss, Nirvana, Utopia. I am at the top of the mountain pissing down on the rest of you. Unfortunately, the days ahead of me will never be as good as tonight. So I have nothing to look forward to.
It is truly the best night that could and will ever be, which is why my life must end tonight. Life can now only get worse. Nothing is left for me here in this world. I already won. Every seemingly joyous moment from here forward would be compared to tonight and fall miserably short. So, I'm going out on top, high as hell, feeling good, and my seed spread in and among three beautiful women.
It was good to be me.
P.S. If you get a collect call from a cow in India in the next couple of years, accept the charges.
Dear World;
I wish everyone could know the pain I live with every day of my miserable life. Alas no, statistics tell me that only 1 in every 30,000 adult males has a penis less than 4 inches long and 2 inches around. Only they, my wee wienied brethren can even begin to understand the hurt I feel when I step up to a urinal and the stream of urine is only slightly smaller than the 3.28 inch long, 1.67 inch wide wanker from which it trickles.
I have tried pumps, creams, exercises, pulling, begging, pleading and god forbid; even praying. Nothing works, not even marginally on my miniscule member. So, everyday I try to lie to the world about possessing a petite pecker by peeling out in my Corvette, strutting around in expensive suits, talking about my mansion, dating strippers to show the world my virility and constantly crowing about my colossal cock.
But my Armani suits are just expensive costumes to hide my teeny-tiny tallywacker. My gigantic house is where I sit alone with my dwarf johnson. And the truth is the only thing I can stretch when it comes to my freakishly feeble frankfurter. Day in and day out I used to ask myself what would jesus do with a small penis?"
After hours of reading the bible, searching my soul and peering at my puny prick, I know now that there is no savior, at least not for my snack sized sex stub.
P.S. If I didn't go on a murderous rampage prior to my suicide, could you do it for me? It must have slipped my mind.
To Whomever Found My Body;
Mom, if that's you reading this: I was actually murdered, my corpse was desecrated by those "damn, dirty, faggot-jew-muslim-hippie gypsies" you always warned us as kids about, they made me write this note to cover up their horrible, heinous crime and you should stop reading now.
If you're reading this and you're not my mother, then most likely I am hanging by a noose from the rafters with a smile on my face, a zucchini up my ass and covered in a wad of jiz and nacho cheese.
Damn it, I wish I wouldn't have kicked the chair so far or tied the noose so tight. Maybe I should have just sprung for a whore, you cheap, dumb dead bastard.
Oh well, at least I died doing something I loved: Asphyxiating myself while watching Blue's Clues.
I knew I should have had a spotter.
P.S. Tell everyone I'm not psychotic.
Dear Friends;
Mostly, this note is to that devious cunt Crazy4Clay69 who I thought was my best friend and who definitely won't be reading this. That's because that nasty twat committed suicide. Good riddance psycho-bitch.
Ever since we became online friends, I was constantly posting to reassure that neurotic snatch about our friendship. How much did I need her? "More than anything". Would I do anything for her? "Absolutely". And then that nutty skank set me up and fucked me over by asking what I'd do if she died.
Unthinkingly, I posted "I'd kill myself."
To which she replied, "Rely?"
To which I replied, "yes really
"
To which she replied, "I meant to type, 'Really?'"
To which I replied, "I know what you meant, silly<8)"
To which she replied "Really?"
To which I replied "Really what? Did I know you meant 'Really?' when you typed 'Rely?' Or did I really mean I'd kill myself?"
To which she tried to reply, but the thread was too long and we had to start a new post. In the end I convinced Crazy4Clay69 that I would indeed kill myself if she died.
What the fuck were you thinking? You spend your whole life trying not to die in a jihad or as a religious sacrifice and then you piss it all away by casually agreeing to an online suicide pact. God damn it.
Sure, sure, I could clear out my temporary internet files, stop accepting cookies, sign up for a new journal and leave my old online world behind. But anyone who has spent even 2 minutes reading my blog knows that's not how I roll. I live up to my responsibilities, even when they technically aren't my doing (see my "Errrr!!!!! Blockbuster Late Fees" entry on September 6).
So, to all of you who have enjoyed my journal, I must say thank you, good-bye and be sure to sign my guestbook.
There is no emoticon to express how much I hate that cunt.
P.S. All those gay pornos aren't mine.
P.P.S. And I was superimposed.
Dear "World";
Pursuant to an online suicide petition I electronically signed prior to this election, I must kill myself. Unfortunately, my views lost at the ballot box. With a clearer mind, I see my beliefs weren't exactly worth dying for, or even moving to Canada over. Actually, the goals and ideals I have for a society can still be achieved even though the election didn't go exactly how I wanted it to.
Nevertheless, I did affix my e-signature to that e-suicide petition and made my life conditional on the outcome of this election. Maybe a death ultimatum wasn't the best way to convince the electorate that my choices were the most environmentally sound, economically prudent and altruistically just. Or just maybe those cocksucker voters wanted to see if I really would do it.
Obviously, in hindsight, a status quo TV ad calling someone a communist heroin addict who drives pre-teens across state lines to get abortions would have swayed more votes. In any case, I knew what I was doing when I briefly scrolled the Terms and Conditions box, checked 'Accept', clicked on 'Submit' and digitally added 'a name' to that database. I had visions of grandeur.
I still remember the picture in my high school history book of that Vietnamese monk setting himself on fire and thinking 'How fucking cool is that?' But I guess protesting the illegal invasion of your country, protecting a thousand year old culture and trying to prevent the slaughter of your fellow citizens is probably a more noble cause to die for than anything that will ever find its way onto a ballot.
If only I had realized that prior to Tuesday.
P.S. If my sister's still dating interacially, tell her she can now get married.
Türkisch
Bitte
warten Sie w�hrend Ihre Meldung versendet wird!
17.08.2009, 00:08
Diri dilini, ölü sözlerde gezdiren Unixxx
