The Story of Elliot Rodger. By Elliot Rodger. Adnotated. Part Four.
Don't you just miss the days of animated GIFs ? But anyway, we begin!
16 Years Old
As summer’s end drew closer, I became more and more depressed. My life had gotten so lonely, and playing WoW barely made up for it. My mother noticed this and proposed that I get together with Philip again. She called Philip’s mother Kathy to arrange a meetup. And so Philip came over twice during that summer. I quite liked seeing him again... it was two years since the last time we spoke. Though he had no interest in my video games, he enjoyed playing in my mother’s swimming pool.
I had one playdate with Jeffrey as well. Philip and his family went on a vacation to Catalina, and Jeffrey wanted to stay at home. I went to his house for a sleepover with just him there. Jeffrey had changed a lot. He was now Fourteen, and he told me he had a girlfriend. I was shocked, amazed, and envious. I wondered how an immature brat like Jeffrey could have a girlfriend at such a young age. I had the dreaded suspicion that he had already had sex with her, and I tried not to think about it. I was deeply jealous, but for the sake of our past friendship and the good times we had together in the past, I hid that envy well enough.
Eleventh Grade at Independence began. I still took the bus to school, as I had no desire to learn how to drive at that age. I was way too afraid of even trying it out. Driving is something that adults are supposed to do, and I still felt like a child.
I continued on with my lonely routine of doing my schoolwork in the morning and playing WoW with James, Steve, and Mark for the rest of the time. I gave no thought to my future at all. I just lived in the moment, in my comfort zone.
My sex drive was at its peak at this age. Whenever I got back from school, I had to masturbate. The urge was too strong. During my masturbation sessions I often built elaborate fantasies in my mind that I had a hot, blonde-haired girlfriend to have passionate sex with; almost like having an imaginary girlfriend. I told no one about this. In fact, I didn’t talk to my parents at all about my sexual development. I felt too guilty and embarrassed about it. Whenever they probed me, I lied to them, telling them that I had no sex drive. My mother once caught me looking at pictures of girls online, and I franticly had to convince her that I stumbled on those pictures by accident.
I also noticed that my voice was getting deeper. I was starting to sound like an actual teenager. The last stages of puberty were over.
If you comprehend the point of Bar Mitzvahi you perhaps wonder how this kid was spared that indignity, or else how did he forget to count it amongst his mitzvot (you know, the substance of all that "little did I know then" foreboding). Unless, of course, the text is the product of an unrelated adult, whose involvement with the whole thing is not emotional nor personal, and who therefore simply forgot about that detail.
Halo 3 came out in November. I got my mother to buy it for me on the very day it was released. I had a lot of fun playing it while drinking the special mountain dew flavor that was released with the game;
You have got to be kidding me. They actually did this ?!
Mountain Dew Game Fuel, it was called. The game definitely lived up to its expectations, and to my surprise I found myself playing it more than WoW for the first couple of weeks.
Father suffered through a deep financial setback because of his movie. Could things get any worsefor me?
Well... you could suffer through a "deep setback"... eh nevermind. The whole "others don't actually exist - just like I don't actually exist" bit of the narcissist is done well.ii
As a result, my father abruptly cut off all of the child-support payments he was paying my mother. My mother was forced to find a better-payingjob to make up for it, and she had to move out of her house to a condominium close by.
Let's take a short (lol!) breather here to discuss the nutty child support legal device as it presently exists (in some parts of the world).
So historically, the English idea of childhood was that it were a liability, not in any sense a boon. Having children was seen as a serious impairment, for the woman that had them ; for the family that had them ; and for the community that had themiii. Alcoholism was similarly an affliction, but comparatively a lesser one. How any of this makes sense you're not to ask me - I already said these people are English and therefore I already said they're dumber than a box of hammers and entirely fucking crazy altogether.iv In any case, this resulted in two practical control mechanisms - "abstinence" was taken from mainstream Catholic doctrine and turned into a shambling locomotive horror of its own ; and blodgelt was taken from ancient Germanic practice and turned into a ... "well you broke her, pay up". That it originally compensated a family for unintentional death was lost, or "remetabolized" let's say, into compensating a family (and community) for intentional life. All's well that ends well, neh ?
Things just flew from there, through the slow churn of "precedent" and "tradition", ending up what they are today : the approximate equivalent of a large block of crystal sugar someone put in your livingroom twenty years ago. There's some stains and erosions on in from where you spilled various liquids as you stumbled on it over the decades ; ants ate parts here and there. It's an abstract, nonsensical sculpture that still impedes free movement in and the quiet enjoyment of your livingroom. Nevertheless (especially if you're the sort of mentally stunted Anglotard) you perceive it is "inextricably linked to your history", which in a very nutty reading I suppose it is, and so there it stays.
Nevertheless, the problems of the scheme in contemporaneity are very serious. One such problem is that it creates the well documented responsibility triangle : the man pays the woman ; but the woman has to perform for the government. This is entirely similar to how health insurance became an exercise in insanity : the government pays the insurer ; but the insurer has to perform for the insured. It is entirely unfeasible to build stable systems out of three parts that have split party and counterparty amongst them. Like it or not, be it politically palatable or not, the only way anything of this nature may work is if the woman has no recourse, and continued payments depend on her continued performance (which is incidentally how sane societies do it, and have always done it).
Another such problem is that extraction, like any extraction, is a matter of violence - and violence readily sours relationships. I had a friend, a bright lovely brunette that was an excellent earner and perfect company - who had a hole half the size of her huge heart torn into her because some court in Romania ordered her father to pay her mother some pittancev, which simply made the man hate her. She loved her father, just like any girl does, except moreso (she had a lot of heart), but all he could see was the instrument of his rape at the hands of some SOPS or other (communist Romania as opposed to socialist "Western World", for all the difference it makes).
The girl was worth a cool, hard million as easy as a dimevi - if anyone who ever owned her would have ever considered selling her ; which no one did consider. Nevertheless, the sad situation stood that the cost of significantly improving your million dollar asset would have been... fifty dollars. Fifty dollars, per month, years ago. How do you send money into the past ? Which is why I say : it is very likely a better idea to sell the children off at auction after a divorce, than to persevere in the current nonsense. No, I'm serious : just take them from the parents, strip them naked, tie them to a post and take bids. It will result in better adjusted children, happier marriages and a less dysfunctional society overall.
Then again... none of these are your actual goals, are they. Okay.
Thankfully, Rob Lemelson offered her a job in his production company, Elemental Productions. This newjob enabled my mother to make enough money to live comfortably. We hadn’t seen the Lemelsons much since the last time we went trick-or-treating with them years ago. It was good to reconnect with them.
This guy Rob is starting to look pretty cool by now, huh ? Just you wait until you hear he's actually a... cultural anthropologist. Specializing in, please be seated and fasten your seatbelts for this, transcultural psychiatry. Southeast Asian studies, particularly Indonesia. He even keeps a blog - which is not terrible.
I missed mother living in an actual house, but at least the new place was a condominium, with more luxuries than the apartment we once lived in. The condominium had three bedrooms, and my room had its own bathroom. The bad part about this condominium was its location in Canoga Park, a lower-class area. I hated telling people that my mother lived in Canoga Park. It was highly embarrassing for me. But alas, in that lonely and depressing stage of my life, there was no one really to tell, and I barely cared about what people thought of me anyway. I was a complete dork, stuck in my own little world.
An exchange student from France moved into my father’s house. His name was Max Bonon, a cultured, outgoing nineteen-year-old French guy. His parents are very wealthy hotel owners, and he would be staying with us for a few months while he studies English at Pierce College. At first, I wasn’t so sure about having this young person lurking about, but we soon developed a good friendship. He always invited me to play cards with him after dinner, and though Soumaya didn’t let me drink alcohol, he would always sneak me a beer. It was really nice to have that regular social interaction. I became really fond of Max.
In just two weeks after Max arrived, we got the news that Soumaya’s father died in Morocco. Soumaya immediately left for Morroco, and she took baby Jazz with her. Though I was really sad about the death of Soumaya’s father, as he was a very kind and generous man, I was glad to see Soumaya gone. Father’s whole household changed for the better. I started to love going to father’s house, especially with Max there. He was like an older brother to me.
My mother became really close friends with the Lemelsons due to her new job. Every year, they have an extravagant Christmas party at their newly built mansion in the Palisades, and we would now be invited to it. James also went to the party, and I had a pleasant time hanging out with him and Noah.
During one week at father’s after the New Year, father had to leave for his work. For that week it was just me, my sister, and Max in the house. The three of us had a lot of fun together. Max took us to Universal Studios. Father allowed him to drive the big Lexus, for which I was a bit jealous. The last time I was at the Universal Studios amusement park was when I just moved to America. Mother took us to the Universal city walk a couple of times, but never the amusement park. I went on all of the rides, including the infamous Jurassic Park ride that I was rejected from going on when I was a child.
When father came back, we talked to him about our time at Universal Studios. He suggested that we all go to Six Flags. The four of us set out for it the next day. Six Flags was the biggest amusement park I’ve ever been to. I was awed by all the gigantic roller coaster rides. Max, my father, and even my little sister were all eager to tackle the largest roller coasters. I was the only one who was scared out of my mind. Max talked me into it, so I nervously gave all of the rides a try, and ended up having some fun.
To my chagrin, my father decided to take up motorcycle riding. He pulled up to the house one day in a roaring Harley Davidson, and I was completely baffled. I suppose it was due to some mid-life crisis he was going through. A motorcycle... Really? Alex Bubenheim got him into it. He and Alex would then ride their motorcycles all the time. He kept insisting that he take me on the motorcycle whenever we went out, instead of going in the car. This would be too embarrassing for me, and I adamantly refused to ever go on the motorcycle.
But... why ?!
I went with mother to the red carpet premiere of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. This was my fourth premiere. Going to premieres were always an uplifting experience for me. The movie was quite a disappointment, however, and I much preferred the classic Indiana Jones films. The next day, I told some of my teachers that I went to this premiere, and they were very shocked. I bet I was the first kid at that school who has done such prestigious things.
Speaking of all this prestigious prestige, do you recall the class issues dorkage ? Now you know where these people come from : they're failed Elliots.
Soumaya and Jazz returned from Morocco. I was happy to see my baby brother again, but not so happy to see Soumaya. Things were a lot better at father’s house when she was gone. Soon after she came back, we started getting into various arguments again, which embarrassed me in front of Max.
In the Spring, something horrible happened that will haunt me forever. We met up with the Bubenheims at the Sagebrush Cantina in Calabasas, and a friend of Pollina’s was there with them, named Nicole, a girl around my age. She sat next to Leo the whole time, and by the end of the dinner, the two of them were making out. Twelve-year-old Leo was making out with a girl who was almost my age. Not only does Leo have a better social life, but now he was making out with girls, AT AGE TWELVE! They made out for a long time, and I could see them tongue kiss. They knew I was watching with envy, and they still did it. I bet that lucky bastard took great satisfaction from my envy. There I was, watching a boy four years younger than me experience everything I’ve longed for... to kiss a girl... to be worthy of a girl’s attraction. On that day, I developed a vicious hatred for Leo that will never go away.
For the record, whenever I hear someone whining about say public sex, this is what I think about. Because this is what it is, what.
A few days later, Max went home to France, never to come back again. I was deeply saddened by this. For the brief period that Max was staying at father’s house, I enjoyed life a lot more. He was a big part of my life there. He drove me to places when father and Soumaya were busy, we played card games and had pleasant conversations after dinner, and we always took walks to the top of the hill overlooking father’s neighborhood, which I called the Overlook.
I call this Unsurprising.
Most importantly, he made me feel less lonely. I was very saddened by his departure.
Another horrible experience concerning the Bubenheims occurred. We were having dinner at their house, like we usually did. At the end of the dinner, a few of Pollina’s friends came over. They were all popular, good looking girls and boys. They were the kind of people who I’ve always had the desire to be a part of, but was never able to fit in with. Popular kids... cool kids. When I heard them talking about their awesome lives and their parties, I had a breakdown right then and there. I realized how much I’ve been missing out in my life, and I cried in front of everyone. I felt like I would never have a life as good as theirs. I told everyone that I wanted to commit suicide. Father, Soumaya, Alex, and Karina talked to me for three hours to cheer me up.
You would think it strange that he has such intense feelings yet doesn't apply the obvious resolution available for them : go up to these betters, prostrate himself and beg them to accept him as their slave. He'll do anything, just as long as they use him. Why not ?
The behaviour is innate in females, even if not usually this explicit, but apparently boys, and especially boys with serious development retardation, don't quite figure it out on their own. So it then falls upon the parents - during those three fucking hours Soumaya, Alex and Katrina talked to him, what they should have been fucking saying were variations of the theme of, "take off your clothes, crawl to them on hands and knees and lick their shoewear."
Why not ?
Oh wait, when I laugh at the idiot for thinking WoW is like life++ you agree with me, but when it comes to life actually not being watered down WoW, WoW-without-magic you suddenly get left behind ? Who the fuck said everyone, everyone gets to choose a character, and they're all equal characters all capable of making it to level 60 ? That's the difference between WoW and life : that a) you don't get to choose, anything ; and that b) your Calender Pastamancer can't get past level 16 for being your Calender Pastamancer. Were it someone else's, it'd go further, but for being yours it's stuck there.
Oh wait, WoW actually is a better life ? Well now. This is what you have in common with a developmentally retarded mass murderer. Enjoy the rest of it. (I hear they're coming out with a new expansion soon.)
Eleventh Grade at Independence ended. Like the previous year, my time at the school went by like a blur. I didn’t talk to anyone. I barely considered it a part of my life. I just did the work that I was required to do while I waited for the bus to take me home.
Once summer started, I sank into a major depression. My feelings of inferiority were intensified by the recent events with the Bubenheims. The Bubenheims were family friends... but now they represented the very thing that destroyed my whole life and took away my happiness.
It was at this time that I was just beginning to realize, with a lot of clarity, how truly unfair my life is. I compared myself to other teenagers and became very angry that they were able to experience all of the things I’ve desired, while I was left out of it. I never had the experience of going to a party with other teenagers, I never had my first kiss, I never held hands with a girl, I never lost my virginity. In the past, I felt so inferior and weak from all of the bullying that I just accepted my lonely life and dealt with it by playing WoW, but at this point I started to question why I was condemned to suffer such misery.
There was nothing I could really do about my unfair life situation.
He is right, by the way. "[Within the confines of WoW as re-enacted by a large club of WoW-reenactors known as the United States], there was nothing he could do about his unfair life situation." Exactly correct statement.
Note that I'm not saying he's your fault. On the contrary, he's not something missing, he's not a void. He's no kind of fault, he's an accomplishment.vii What I am saying is that he is your better son, your crowning achievement. The truer one, the closer to the trunk one, the more correct reflection, the more similar. He is your one true son. The best "modern democracy", "western civilisation", "liberal society" etc can possibly produce is Elliot Rodger exactly in the way the best outcome of playing the lottery is hitting the jackpot.
This is why he's so concerning for you, but guess what - If you don't like him, there are a few bits of delusion you need to let go.
I felt completely powerless. The only way I could deal with it was to continue to drown all of my troubles with my online games. I played WoW really hard, leveling two new characters to 70. At mother’s house, I sometimes played it for fourteen hours a day. James, Steve, and Mark would alwaysjoke that there was never a time that they saw me offline. I was known as the guy who was ”always on WoW”.
My laptop was getting slower and slower. It wasn’t a very powerful laptop, but it was the only computer I had to play WoW on. This was really frustrating me, because eventually it became so slow that it ruined my gaming experience. I kept pestering my mother and father to get me a faster laptop that was more efficient for gaming.
For my 17th Birthday, my parents agreed to split the funds for a new laptop. My mother took me to Best Buy to choose it out, and I found the perfect one. It was a larger, highly efficient dark-colored laptop designed for gaming. After we bought it, we had dinner at the Japanese restaurant Kabuki on Ventura Boulevard, the same restaurant my mother took me to after my 5th Grade graduation.
17 Years Old
Father told me that Max invited me to visit him in France for three weeks. I would have to travel there alone, and Max would pick me up at the airport near his hometown of Montpellier.
Wait. He did what ?!
At first I was very anxious about it, and I was about to say no. Father talked me into it, saying that I was lucky to have an opportunity like this. I really missed Max, and I wanted to see him again, so I quickly made the decision to go.
I left around the beginning of August. This was my first time traveling alone, and I didn’t know what to expect. Father signed me up to have supervised travel assistance to help me along the way, otherwise I would get lost in the airport. On the way there, I made a stop in Frankfurt, Germany to transfer planes. Germany became another country I can add to the list of places I’ve been.
Motherfucking god damned Frankfurt. So I get the tickets from airline guy, who very serviable tells me "gate 50 sir". I proceed through customs and immigrations, go past the likely gates, because they were numbered 10 through 19, keep going, eventually we're out of the international airport proper and moving into gates 70+, but there was no 50. So I'm at the end and go back through customs, the guy is puzzled, but whatever, looks at my passport, and I walk again thinking I missed it. Nope. No 50. On the third pass immigration guy is "what the fuck are you actually doing ?!" So I explain, and he opens my boarding pass for me : "Gate fifty!" he says excitedly, as he points at 15, "not fiftee".
Fuck your mother. I guess I also need supervised travel assistance because Hesse homeboys decided to rename the fucking numerals over there.
Amusingly enough, this was at least my 20th time going through FRA, because for the longest while before Istanbul took over the job of default hub for my travels, Frankfurt held that honor. There's even a little steakhouse I used to patronize for their perfect schnitzels, I imagine it still stands even though I can't remember the address anymore. Anyway - neither wit nor experience can either supplement for lack of sleep or save one from airport confusion.
When I arrived at the airport in France, I waited for a few hours and finally Max showed up. I was really happy to see him. I couldn’t believe I was actually in France again.
Max and I stayed at his grandmother’s house in Montpellier. Montpellier was an exquisite city, with a romantic and cultured vibe to it. It was such a pity that I was too caught up in my own world to truly appreciate it at the time.
Max introduced me to his life in France. I met with some of his friends and we went to bars together. In France, the legal drinking age is 16, so I was able to drink alcohol at a bar. It was astounding! For those three weeks, I had the faintest taste of what life was like for normal young people. The experience of hanging out with a group of young people, boys and girls, and enjoying life was something I never did before. It really turned my whole world around, for that short amount of time. So this is what everyone else gets to experience, I thought to myself with jealousy. I felt a sense of happiness and bliss that I hadn’t felt since childhood, when life was good.
During the trip, we visited the town of Arles where we stayed in the hotel that Max’s family owns. Max told me about all of the sexual experiences he had. I never knew he had such an active sex life. The more he talked to me about it, the more envious I became. I questioned to myself why he got to experience such an amazing life, while I had to suffer so much loneliness and humiliation. I was introduced to some of the girls he had sex with in the past, and they were all pretty. On top of that, his family was extremely wealthy and they owned a sprawling mansion in the countryside. Where’s the justice? I thought.
"Justice", you see.
Why couldn’t I have been born into that life? I envied Max so much. His life must have been heaven on earth. Despite my envy of Max, I couldn’t hate him, at least at that time. He was the only popular young person who ever reached out to me. He invited me to visit his home, and he treated me like a friend. For that, I will always have a grudging respect for Max Bonon.
After three weeks in France doing exciting social things, I returned to my lonely life in the US, where I became even more depressed than I was in the beginning of summer, especially after getting a taste of what life was truly like for normal people. I knew I could never live such a pleasurable life, and the knowledge haunted me. I was back to my routine of World of Warcraft. At least the new expansion was coming out soon, and I tried to look forward to that.
When Twelfth Grade began, I made a vow to finish high school before the month of March. The high school system at Independence allows students to work at their own pace, so the more extra work I did, the sooner I could graduate. I was always depressed and bored for the few hours a day I had to spend there, and I disliked all of the degenerate, low-class students there. They repulsed me. I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could, and it became my goal for the year. At the end of school time every day I asked my teachers to give me extra homework assignments, and I stopped myself from playing WoW until I completed them.
The second expansion for World of Warcraft finally released, called Wrath of the Lich King. When I got home from school, I wanted the game so badly. Mother wasn’t home from work yet, so she couldn’t drive me. I decided to walk all the way to Best Buy to pick up the game. It was a long walk that took almost an hour.
For fucks sake! Yesterday, took girl out (or I suppose more properly would be to say she took me out) to see photo studios. We walked to the first one - lovely weather over here. It was a six mile hike, which we covered in about an hour and a half, going at a rather pleasant pace. And then we walked some more. At the end of a ten mile walk for the day, we were nicely warmed up, in no sense tired. A long walk goes well over twenty miles, five-ish hours straight up. We do that sometimes, too.
People generally have got to get out of this "long walk is going to the bathroom" mindset. There's really nothing better you could do to your body than walking it.
On the way home I was very hungry and stopped at Panda Express to eat lunch. Planet Cyber was right next to that Panda Express, so I walked in there for a few seconds to reminisce about better times before hurrying home to install the game. Once it was installed, James and I played it together all afternoon.
I found out that one of my teachers at Independence, Mr. Perales, also played WoW. From then on, the two of us would talk about the game every day. It was nice to have someone at school to talk to, and I enjoyed telling him about my daily progression with my character. This made my time at school a lot less mundane and boring.
He said mundane. Think about that for a second!
James, Steve, and Mark were the closest thing I had to a group of friends. I played with them online almost every day. We had so many adventures in WoW as a group, and yet... I felt like the outcast of the group. Steve and Mark only considered me an online friend, never a real friend. I found out that the three of them had WoW meet-ups at one of their houses a lot, and they never invited me.
"I always used to play cleric with my group of friends, but one day some other kid showed up and they said they wanted to try out his cleric character. I was kind of sad about it but didn't say anything until one of them undid his zipper and called my name (I was in the kitchen sobbing to myself). When I rushed over he said to get under the table and start doing irl service (they had a large round table with all the screens back to back on it). I got myself under there between their feet like a good doggy and sucked them all off as many times as they wanted. From then on, there was always a place for me playing cleric, just... not the same kind as all the others."
Seriously now. There's always cocksucking.
Sometimes, when I would be playing with them online, I would find out that they were all together in real life, and I was the only one left out. Whenever they did this, I acted bitter towards them through the game, but they didn’t even care. Even in the World of Warcraft, I was an outcast, alone and unwanted.
The more lonely I felt, the more angry I became. The anger slowly built up inside me throughout all of the dark years. Even after the release of the new WoW expansion, I noticed that the game’s ability to alleviate my sense of loneliness was starting to fade. I began to feel lonely even while playing it, and I often broke down into tears in the middle of my WoW sessions. I began to ask myself what the point was in playing this game anymore. I spent less and less time playing it.
One day I found some posts on the internet about teenagers having sex, and I was once again reminded of the life I had been denied. I felt that no girl would ever want to have sex with me... And I developed extreme feelings of envy, hatred, and anger towards anyone who has a sex life. I saw them as the enemy. I felt condemned to live a life of lonely celibacy while other boys were allowed to experience the pleasures of sex, all because girls didn’t want me. I felt inferior and undesirable. This time, however, I couldn’t just stand by and accept such an injustice anymore. I refused to continue hiding away from the world and forgetting about all the insults it dealt to me.
I began to have fantasies of becoming very powerful and stopping everyone from having sex. I wanted to take their sex away from them, just like they took it away from me. I saw sex as an evil and barbaric act, all because I was unable to have it. This was the major turning point. My anger made me stronger inside. This was when I formed my ideas that sex should be outlawed. It is the only way to make the world a fair and just place. If I can’t have it, I will destroy it. That’s the conclusion I came to, right then and there.
Seems reasonable.
I spent more time studying the world, seeing the world for the horrible, unfair place it is. I then had the revelation that just because I was condemned to suffer a life of loneliness and rejection, doesn’t mean I am insignificant. I have an exceptionally high level of intelligence.
You have got to be kidding me ?!
I see the world differently than anyone else. Because of all of the injustices I went through and the worldview I developed because of them, I must be destined for greatness. I must be destined to change the world, to shape it into an image that suits me!
Totally, makes sense. Solicitam recuperarea investitiei. viii
At the beginning of the winter break, I decided to quit playing World of Warcraft entirely. On my last day on the game, I had a long, emotional conversation with James where I opened up about all of my troubles. I told him about all my newfound views of the world, and my belief that sex must be abolished. He seemed to be supportive of my stance, and I was glad that he understood me. It was a very memorable day.
My father’s movie was released, but it did not do well at all. He was only able to get it released in a few select theatres, and no one was interested in seeing it. He stupidly invested all of his money into the movie, and he got absolutely nothing out of it. This caused him to fall into a financial crisis that he will be stuck in for a long time. I was annoyed that he kept having to make it clear to us that he was now in a ”financial crisis”. He talked about it all the time, and it was embarrassing.
What a bitter coincidence, that right at the point when my life fell even deeper into agony, my father is cursed with this financial crisis.
Yeah, "cursed" is totally the right word. It's because he wasn't born into a better kind of life, you understand.
This sort of insight is what extremely high intelligence begets one!
Right at the time when I needed my father’s support the most, he lost all of his assets.
Which were the entirety of his substance.
Don't laugh, it's true. Go thee forth, unbeliever, Thomas that must touch to see, and find yourself a father. Then see what he's made of. Then repent.
It was as if some malevolent being cursed me with bad luck. I truly had no advantage at all. The universe was not kind to me.
I tell you, being a malevolent being was never this satisfying.
I formed an ideology in my head of how the world should work. I was fueled both by my desire to destroy all of the injustices of the world, and to exact revenge on everyone I envy and hate. I decided that my destiny in life is to rise to power so I can impose my ideology on the world and set everything right.
See ?
By the way : mass murder is the necessary cognate of socialism. If your goal is for "nobody to suffer", the only stable solution is to simply kill everyone.
I was only seventeen, I have plenty of time. I thought to myself. I spent all of my time studying in my room, reading books about history, politics, and sociology, trying to learn as much as I can.
I became a new person, furiously driven by a goal. My torment would continue, but I had something to live for. I felt empowered.
I went over to James’s house to have a sleepover. Usually when I went there we spent the whole time playing WoW, with the exception of walking to town for lunch. Because I quit WoW, this was the first time we had to find other things to do. We spent most of the time going on walks around the Palisades town center, or along the Palisades Bluffs, talking about our views of the world and our hopes and dreams.
Guy has a girlfriend and he doesn't even know it. Poor James - if this nut wants to play WoW, James will play WoW. If this nut doesn't want to play WoW anymore, James will go on walks or whatever the fuck else.
How is this fair!!! James should have found himself a nice guy, rather than going around on the cock carousel with this jerk-ass of a natural alpha bad boy. Fuck.
I AM SO ENRAGED NAO I WILL GO KILL SOME CHICKENS AND THANGS!!11
I told him more about my hatred of people who have sex. James quickly deduced the reason for why I was so fervent about abolishing sex... that in truth I really want to have sex but I feel like I can never have it, so I wish to take it away from everyone else. He read me very well. I had to admit that he was right. That is the exact reason for it.
I fulfilled my vow of finishing high school by March. In fact, I finished a bit earlier than I expected — in mid-February. I completed so many homework assignments towards the end, especially since I no longer played WOW. I was glad to be done with it. School was finally over. Not having to go to school anymore gave me a lot of free time to think and brood.
As time progressed, I realized how hopeless everything in my life was. The chances that I will ever rise to power and right the wrongs of the world were extremely slim.
Inasmuch as it's a matter of chances, you'd expect they'd better be slim, yes.
I had absolutely no idea or plan of how to acquire any sort of power. It was naive of me to think that I could one day become a dictator. The only thing I could do was fantasize about it.
One day! :D
I suspect we may well be done with the idiotic intro and actually be proceeding into the promised heart of this lulzmine. Speaking of which : Hemingway said, write down your novel, then delete the first chapter. He was right you know.
My whole world twisted even deeper into darkness and despair as my depressing life continued on.
I think a friend's small brother might have dated this exact chick at some point.
He picked her up on livejournal if memory serves.
My hatred for people who have sex festered inside me like a plague. I frequently went on walks around town to brood over how hopeless and unfair everything was. It was better than being stuck in my room all the time. When I saw young couples walking around at the mall, my anger and hatred intensified greatly. It was the worst torture ever to see them making out and being intimate. My life, if you can call it a life, was living hell.
My parents quickly took note of how radical I was becoming, and they made a hasty plan to change my life. Of course, that is what they claimed. I think they were just trying to find a way to get rid of me because I was too hard to deal with. Soumaya was going back to Morocco, and they decided to send me with her. It was the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard.
Actually not such a terrible plan, even if yes, it's pretty evident they're trying to somehow rid themselves of the shithead.
They announced this to me at a café near my mother’s house. I was expecting something extreme, something drastic, but this? It completely caught me off guard. Morocco? They think I’ll be happy there?
No, actually, they're not really concerned with that. They just figure that either he finds buttlove among the goatfuckers, or else exhausts himself blowing up sand dunes or some shit.
I furiously thought with disbelief. I was devastated, and for a moment I couldn’t even speak. The last thing I wanted was to hide away in a backwater country with nothing to do, while all of my peers enjoy life in the US. I didn’t want to run away from my troubles in the US, I wanted to confront them. I just didn’t know how. Going to Morocco was the absolute worst solution for me, and they intended for me to stay there for a long time.
After hearing this news, I felt a sense of urgency that I had never felt before. They already had a plane ticket ready for me, and I was scheduled to leave in five days. My immediate goal was to stop my parents from sending me to Morocco. Throwing a tantrum with my mother didn’t work. She was set on this.
I spent the remaining five days at father’s house. While there, I chose not to protest at all, because I knew it wouldn’t work. They will force me onto that plane one way or another. I decided to keep quiet and devise a plan of escape. I bided my time, and didn’t talk much to father or Soumaya during those last few days. The plan I came up with was to run away on the morning before the flight, walk all the way to my mother’s condo, and hide in a secret spot on the roof. It would be a place where they least expected me to be.
I kept quiet in the last couple of days to throw off their suspicion, but that backfired and made them even more suspicious. I suppose they expected me to protest about going, and my silence made them think I was up to something.
Well, with a supreme gentleman of such fine intelligence, one just never knows.
Meanwhile back on planet non-WoW, just about every six year old that's slightly less dumb than a bucket of fish roe manages to figure out that the reason mom always knew when he was up to no good as a five year old is because he was being so damned quiet about it. But narcissism does come with an innate inability to internally represent the other in any meaningful sense.
When the time came, I decided to get up at 4:00 am. to prepare. To my dismay, I noticed that my father set an alarm on the front door. I was planning to run away at 6:00 am, when the garbage truck arrived, because the noise from the truck would mask any noise I make while leaving. The alarm, however, would definitely alert father and Soumaya. I got too nervous and abandoned that idea. Instead, I waited until everyone woke up and had breakfast. My plan was ruined by the alarm, and I had to come up with a new plan fast! I had little time left. I innocently told father I wanted to go on a small walk before the departure, and as soon as I exited the front door, I bolted at full speed. It was hasty, but I had to do something. I didn’t think father would catch on to my deception so quickly... After only clearing one block, I looked behind my shoulder and saw father chasing after me. All of my hope collapsed then and there, and I lost all of the fight in me. I stopped running and put my head down in defeat. Soumaya came in the car minutes later, and they both took me home. The plan failed. I was going to Morocco.
And to think he could have been a dictator, and soundly won the war on sex (fraternizing with the enemy or no fraternizing with the enemy!)
The journey to Morocco was the most horrendous travel experience I’ve ever had. It was just me, Soumaya, and four-year-old Jazz. Jazz kept screaming and vomiting on the plane, Soumaya was in a sour mood, and I was completely miserable. I thought my whole life was all over. I had nothing to look forward to in the future. I wanted to die.
Once I got there I felt like all of the life in me had drained out. I was so defeated. I couldn’t help but cry all the time, even in front of Soumaya’s relatives. Khadija didn’t understand why I was so upset, and she got offended that I was crying on the first day at her house. It was a complete disaster.
Traditionally, a concern about young brides.
I kept dreaming of home. I thought of the prospect of being able to return home, and a small hope sparked in me. I kept emailing my mother frequently, telling her how much I hated being there and how much I cried all the time. I told her that if she would give me one more chance and enable me to come home, I will try harder to lead a better life and become a person she could be proud of. After a week of doing this, mother gave in and flew to Morocco to take me home. I won. I was going home.
That poor woman.
Also, I retroactively win the argument with diana_coman. Go me!
When I returned to the US, I felt so relieved that I forgot about my troubles for a few days and relaxed. It was good to be back home. This is where my fight is, right here in the US, and nowhere else. The sense of elation I felt soon wore off. My lonely life as a social outcast resumed.
I continued going on my usual long walks every day, feeling angry and hateful towards the world. During mother’s week, I would walk to the mall and sit on the balcony overlooking the food court next to the AMC theatres. There I would see all of the young couples lining up to see a movie, and I boiled with hatred. During father’s week, I walked to the Calabasas Commons nearby, and sometimes I rode my bicycle. I also walked up the hill near my father’s house to the Overlook. I spent a lot of time up there, contemplating about my life and fantasizing about becoming powerful enough to punish everyone I hate.
On one dreadful day, when I was riding my bicycle near Calabasas, a group of popular teenagers in an SUV drove by and made fun of me. I suppose my appearance didn’t help with that. I looked exactly like the outcast I was. I was still wearing plain polo shirts and khaki pants at the time, covered with a blue zip up hoodie and a black baseball cap. It was a torturous experience, and the pain I felt from it never went away. All I wanted was to fit in with those popular kids who lived such pleasurable lives, but instead I was ridiculed and reviled by them. They made me feel so inferior and undesirable. I will never forget that experience. It was burned into my memory.
Good.
My misery became harder and harder to bear, and none of my parents understood my plight. My father thought that all was well with me. How could he be so blind? He was so caught up in his failing work that he didn’t care about how my life was turning out. I cursed him for it. My father never made any effort to prepare me for facing such a cruel world. He never taught me how to attract girls. He never warned me that if I didn’t attract girls at an early age, my life would fall into a miserable pit of despair! Again... How could he be so blind? I asked myself constantly.
Born in comfortable circumstances in the anglotard world. How else ?
I don't, for the record, disagree with Elliot's notion at all. The father is a much greater failure than the son, and I'm sure the grandfather knew so. I also hope - for the sake of everything right and good in the world - the grandfather said so, but that's a minor point.
It all came to a climax on one of the days that I walked to the Calabasas Commons. I treaded through the area with my head down, all alone, in a state of complete despair about my life. I looked around me and saw lots of young couples holding hands and groups of good looking teenage boys and girls walking together and having fun on their Saturday night out. I saw all of those teenagers enjoying their pleasurable lives together, while I was all alone. They were enjoying everything I couldn’t have. I was filled with intense anguish, and I quickly ran all the way back to father’s house with tears pouring down my cheeks. Once I got home I had a breakdown and cried for hours and hours into the night.
Stay tuned, our foray into the void continues momentarily.
———- From that film about exactly this, with Jenna Elfman playing the grown up yoga blondy (except they didn't want to make her an aspiring model/actress/singer/newswoman because you know, Mosfilm) :
Okay, okay. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. Take a break. Take a break.
I suck. They're gonna take away my yarmulke.No, no, no, you-- you don't suck.
I suck.Okay. Yes, you do. You suck. But that's okay. You're supposed to suck. This isn't a talent contest, this is a rite of passage. I mean, this happens in all cultures. It's about you being years old. God knew that your voice was gonna change when you were . There's a reason why you gotta do your haftorah at this age. It's a challenge. God is challenging you. He's calling you a chump. So you gotta come back at him. So you gotta say, "Hey, hashem, you think You can scare me with a little, uh, biblical Hebrew... just 'cause my balls haven't dropped yet?' I'm serious. I'm serious. You gotta show Him what Alan Klein's made of.
How?By sucking with style. Embrace the suckiness. Just say, "I love that I suck."
[↩]
- Oh, you thought narcissism doesn't make sense ? Bwahahaha. Of course it does! Like any mental imbalance, it makes perfect sense in its own terms, which is why the pseudoscience of psychology is a) so close to literary criticism, hence Lacan and other lulzproducts aaaand b) even permitted among civilised people.
As far as the narcissists own mental process goes, they take that ancient, perfectly sound observation re government,
The only way the government of another may be accepted is in the manner I accept it : inasmuch as it in no way differs from my very own will, I accept it in that I can not see it. Inasmuch as I at all see it, I immediately proceed to destroy what can be seen of it - and if that process brings further parts into view they shall be destroyed too.
and apply it outside of scope, which is to say to people.
They can do this without thinking it's batshit insane because they're not mentally advanced enough to actually have government in their heads, yet the mechanism still exists, so in very biological style it just attaches itself to the closest approximation of what it was supposed to attach to. A vague dissatisfaction, sense of loss and etc does remain, but it lacks any way to attach to anything.
As the narcissist lacks sufficient self respect to notice, and to tolerate (in reverse order, we're discussing psychology) differences within himself, he lacks the basis upon which to build tolerance for other people. "[Unlike Eve,] Alice has small tits, but that's ok." ; "[Unlike the model of her in my head], Mom isn't interested in George Lucas, but that's ok." - all this, as well as the mere possibility of it, rests squarely on
"I thought I needed to shit, but apparently I don't ?! AND THAT IS OK!", with its many variations, "you'd think your outfit makes me horny - it doesn't", "I suppose I should care about chinchillas - turns out I don't" and so on and so forth.Which ties directly into the earlier discussion about souls : a narcissist can't be forgiven (by God I mean), because he lacks the capacity of having been forgiven, which happens to be a perfectly fine functional definition of a soul in context. Ironically, the hebrew God as retold by the Christian sect can make stones so hard he himself can't lift (to heaven). We call them narcissists. Why he would - ask Daniel, not me. [↩]
- This deeply held belief is actually both cause for the spread of the various Reformation movements in parts of Europe outside of the batshit crazy line (you may know it as the Hajnal line) and profoundly related to the insane sort of capitalism that "Western" Europe ended up with, through the interplay of inheritance laws and requirements of capital accumulation. [↩]
- Not that the Russians don't have skoptsy for instance - but in that case it's culturally marginal. [↩]
- It might have been as high as fifty bucks a month - if that. Romanian monetary values at the time were truly ridiculous. [↩]
- Oh, you're unfamiliar with this worldview where women are property, and assessed as such ? It is unfortunate that you've allowed yourself to become this lost from reality ; please wake up to sense. [↩]
- As it is often the case with those who die - they tend to be the betters of those left behind. [↩]
- Literally, "we are selling X - we want to be paid what we spent on it". Dumbass Romaniana. [↩]
