The Story of Elliot Rodger. By Elliot Rodger. Adnotated. Part Nine.
Congratulations on having made it this far. The source material wordcount stands at 25`282 left, 79`193 done, which is to say we've about a quarter left. I shall endeavour to cram it all into two more installments, which'd make this ninth also the penultimate ; I expect the final piece to be published either late today or else tomorrow, depending on just how busy my Sunday ends up being.
Before we proceed into the fields afar our supreme gentleman's been diligently plowing, let's take a brief moment to breathe, and while we breathe survey our tedium to date. So here we have a being made entirely of willi, to the complete exclusion rather than mere detriment of everything else. He is ruthless. Fine. He is also entirely unintelligent.ii He is just the engine, without chassis, without transmission, with a fresh tank of gas and ready to rumble. Rumble what ? Rumble where ? THIS WORLD IS SO CRUEL!
In spite of thought not actually being his field (in exactly the way giving birth is not a male's field - hey, you even have nipples, what's keeping you!) he does manage to at least diagnose the problem : he's missing a transmission ; and a chassis. He patiently waits, for decades, to be properly mounted on something ; but he isn't. He correctly identifies the authors of the outrage : his parentsiii and he numerously insists they fix the problem. Which they don't.
Eventually, having burned through a sizable portion of the gas in the tank, things come to a head. After all, he is in every substantial way just as good as every other UStard ; and in plenty of ways much better - so much better in fact that he stands to them as icon of perfection.
This is truth, not merely his statement but also mine - he is exactly the same as every other "modern democracy" "liberal" "progressive" or what-else-have-you currently speaking that language and currently living in that place, except in many ways much better and in a few ways simply perfect.iv Outside of his perfections, he is like any other man just a normal man, but - and this is the most important part - he is not exceptional, and not to be disavowed by his culture. He is characteristic for North America, and for "The Western World" and for "The Civilised World" as they find themselves in the mud leat 2016. He is as American as apple pie ever was (and no longer is). If there's any difference between any random other member of his culture and Elliot, it is because that other member comes short. It is your hypocrisy, and your cowardice, in whatever proportion, that make you not be Elliot entire. It is pointedly and most certainly not your "principles" or your "life philosophy" or anything of the sort. Those, all those, you share with him thoroughly and without defect - it's merely that he takes the horror of socialist utopia you bought into all the way to its conclusions, whereas you slyly, or ineptly, or otherwise do not. That's it, and that's all - in your best hour you can at most aspire to be as much as Elliot Rodger ; and otherwise no one will think your name worth the mention.
Such is the world that you accursed lot have built, for yourself, and for your children. Such is the world that your parents, your despicable parents unworthy of a grave or human recollection have built, for themselves and for you. There is no end of shame, and there is no end of guilt ; no end either visible or conceivable for what you have done to your own culture, to your own country and to your own lives.
Elliot is here to shine a light on all that secret, all that hidden, all that disavowed matter ; and on all that guilt and shame. It is a strong light indeed, and I am not in the slightest surprised you would avert your eyes. That aversion is, after all, how you've built your hell, and how your fathers before you set down the foundation of that hell.
I am not surprised you would avert your eyes, because I do not believe salvation of any kind or in any description is available to you. At all.
And now, we continue :
I drove to a secluded are of the parking lot at the Camino Real Marketplace nearby, my heart beating rapidly. After I had calmed down, I was overcome with the worry and fear that I would get in trouble for it. I wondered with panic if there were any cameras at the park that could have caught me in the act. The worry lasted for a few days, but eventually I became relieved that no trouble came out of it.
My mother and sister came up to Santa Barbara for my 21St Birthday. I didn’t want them to come up, but they came anyway. I suppose my mother felt sorry for me, that I would be alone on my 21St Birthday. And it’s true, I would have been alone. Isn’t that such a sad thing to contemplate? Being alone on my 21St Birthday. Most other men have huge drinking parties with their friends and girlfriends to mark their passing over the legal age limit to drink alcohol. I’ve read stories online of how exciting other men’s 21St birthdays are. I had absolutely no one to celebrate mine with. Having no friends, the only people who even wished me a happy birthday were my immediate family members.
When my mother and sister arrived in Santa Barbara, they wanted to meet up at a restaurant in State Street, but that prospect horrified me. State Street was filled with young couples walking around arm in arm as they went out on their blissful dates. I was already tortured at the fact that I was now a 21-year- old virgin. I didn’t want to torture myself anymore. I looked online for a quieter restaurant that we could meet at, a place where young couples most likely wouldn’t know about. I came across a secluded Japanese restaurant in Montecito named Sakana. I suggested this to mother, and since it was my birthday, she gave me the choice of where to eat.
I met the two of them outside the restaurant as they were waiting to be seated. I was in a sullen and depressed mood. Turning 21 as a kissless virgin was indeed a dark day. How pathetic it was, to be 21 and still a virgin while kids were having sex at the age of 14?
Well, pathetic doesn't actually mean that, but sure, why not, it's #pathetic. It's also batheticv, and other things.
The unfairness of life on this world is staggeringly horrific!
The restaurant Sakana turned out to be a very good choice. They served the most delicious Japanese food I had ever tasted in my life. They had so many creative dishes to try, and I ordered so many meals that the bill reached over $200.
For a party of three ? In 2014 ? This is pretty cheap even for the third world, isn't it ?
I eagerly devoured all of it, compensating for my sorrows with delectable food. My mother loved the restaurant as well. She had been to all of the best Japanese restaurants in LA. with her various wealthy boyfriends, and she proclaimed that Sakana topped all of them. From this point onwards, it would become a tradition for us to eat here whenever my mother came up to visit me.
After dinner, we went to the Starbucks in Montecito, and I washed the exquisite meal down with a nice warm latte.
The horror, you know ?
I never explored much of Montecito before, and I found it to be a lovely, beautiful place. It reminded me of Calabasas, though much quieter and more conservative. I figured I would be spending a lot more time there in the future.
21 Years Old
In August, I continued to build up my faith that I am destined to win the Megamillionsjackpot.
You understand ? This is what he does. For a living. This is what he does for a living, he spent the entire month of August, 216 billable hours without overtime "building up his faith". Nuts, huh ?
Except when you spent the entire month of August "raising awareness" over some dumb shit. What exactly is the difference ? "Building up his faith" + "Proclaiming to the Universe" === "Raising Awareness", hands down and no question about it. So whatcha got ? Your hopes for the introduction of "living wage" and what else ? No, don't mention the jumpstartetsy account, it isn't liable to go over well. You might end up wearing it.
It is the future that was meant for me; the perfect, happy conclusion to the tragic life I’ve had to experience in the past. I couldn’t wait to rub my status as a wealthy man right in the faces of all the people who looked down on me, and all of the girls who thought of me as unworthy. I mused that once I become wealthy, I would finally be worthy enough to all of the beautiful girls.
I spent the whole month meditating in my room or roaming around the park, visualizing the final outcome of my victory. Through the power of the law of attraction, which I had studied so intensely with the new book I found, I felt certain that I would become the winner. I looked forward to it with profound eagerness.
Changing the world through technology!
This was also the last month I had at the apartment unit I was staying in. I was set to transfer to a room in the main complex of Capri Apartments for the next school year. The conflict between Spencer and I had calmed down over the summer. He brought a few girls to his apartment, but they were all ugly, so I tried not to get jealous. I still hated him for the fact that he was able to witness how lonely and miserable my life was. I had spent an entire year in Isla Vista, Santa Barbara, and I had not had a single girl into my apartment. The pure rage and hatred I felt over that fact was enough, but to have someone like Spencer in my vicinity to judge me on it was salt on the wound. I made plans to track Spencer down once I become wealthy and arrogantly show off my new life to him. That would be the only way to get even. I wanted to show to Spencer, to show to the whole WORLD, that I had worth.
And god help poor Spencer should he fail to be adequately impressed as per the role Elliot cut out for him in his many spare hours dedicated to meditation etcetera, like for instance through not being home that day or somesuch offensive nonsense.
I didn’t think much about my imminent move to a new room, nor did I think much about who my new housemates would be. I firmly believed that I would win the lottery before then.
As a matter of practical cattle herding, add this to your handbook. Whenever moomoo behaves improvidently to a shocking degree, an investigation into the causes can not neglect the (entirely unapparent to a balanced mind) possibility that moomoo had decided some other event will, through some form of batshit crazy, entirely invalidate the item of concern. This happens a lot more often than you'd care to admit.
I would then go back to my mother’s house, show her my ticket,
Laugh if you will, then think : how many males have you to date encountered who sought, and for sure still seek, that magical golden ticket ? That certificate that'll qualify them in the eyes of womanhood (here correctly represented through the mother) ? Even should your answer be "all" you might still have come short of reality.
and buy a mansion of my own to begin a new life of heavenly bliss. One could say that I was being delusional, but my desperation for happiness was so intense that I wanted to believe that this was true. I wanted to believe that I had the POWER to invoke this into my reality. I have craved power and significance all my life, and I will stop at nothingvi to find ways of attaining it.
Before I knew it, my lease at my current room ended, and on September 5th, I transferred to the new room. Spencer and I didn’t deign to say goodbye to each other, we despised each other that much. I knew I would see him again, when I track him down to show off my wealth that I firmly believed I would attain.
I found out that my new apartment in the main complex of Capri was the same exact apartment unit that I stayed in for the first month I had in Santa Barbara: apartment #7 on Seville Street. When I moved all of my belongings in, it was all empty. The manager told me that two housemates would be moving into the second bedroom within two weeks hence. I trusted that the manager had the sense to pair me with mature people, knowing my experiences with those two barbaric housemates I had to deal with a year previously.
By the time I moved in, the jackpot had finally risen over $100 million. This was the moment of truth. I had been waiting all summer for this to happen.
Just like, years prior, he waited all summer for other, entirely similar nonsense, to happen. A book to come out, a movie to come out, a game to come out, a jackpot to come out...
Waiting. It's a way of life.
Overcome with trepidation, I spent the next week in my new room, meditating and visualizing winning the lottery very soon. I could feel the excitement I would feel once I see the six numbers on my ticket match the numbers that would be drawn. I imagined myselfjumping up and down with joy once my victory was confirmed.
On September 11th, the drawing for a jackpot worth $120 million commenced. I bought a five dollar ticket and proclaimed that this had to be mine. When I saw that the winner was from California, my heart beat like a drum. This was it. Fate was being decided right at that moment.
I didn’t win. I looked at my ticket over and over again, and then at the winning numbers. No match. It was just like what happened in March, except this was worse because I had built up anticipation for the entire summer. The winner was some guy from Riverside. He took MY money.
Because, as Karl Zigglervii correctly pointed out to you, property is theft. Why the hell not ? Might as well be, especially when it wasn't yours to begin with.
What a waste. What an injustice. I was so certain that the universe would finally grant me salvation after a life of torture and suffering. I then looked at my small, cramped room and realized that my lonely, depressing life of virginity will continue on mercilessly.
And yet, he was evidently destined for better things. He definitely, he most certainly was. Why ? Why! Because who isn't !?
You actually believe this, don't you ? That's nice. So did he.
That night, I threw a wild tantrum, screaming and crying for hours on end. I had the whole apartment to myself, so there was no one there to hear me. I raged at the entire world, thrashing at my bed with my wooden practice sword and slashing at the air with my pocket knife.
This reminds me of a (meanwhile defunct) Romanian blogger, he went by "Manowar". Ah, the good times
we I had with him. Ou sont les RAÉs d'antan!
I even downed an entire bottle of wine, and got so drunk that I spilled my wine all over my laptop, permanently destroying it. I soaked my pillow with tears as I drifted off to sleep in my lonely bed.
On the next morning, I felt so drained and depressed. I then realized that I destroyed my laptop, so I called my mother, begging her to buy me a new one. I made up the story that the laptop randomly died and I had no control over it. After some persuading, I managed to make her agree to buy me a new one.
Entomologists the world over and for generations to come will deplore that "some persuading" wasn't properly documented. Don't you wonder how it went ?
I quickly drove to Best Buy to look for a new laptop, and decided to choose a newer, updated version of the Asus laptop I had previously. As it turned out, the Best Buy in Santa Barbara didn’t have one in stock, so I had to drive all the way to Oxnard to pick one up. I paid the $1500 dollars for it, with the assurance that my mother will drive up to bring me a reimbursement in a few days.
Ahahahaah check the little Jew out! I'm half surprised he's not charging interest for the overnight outlay. Maybe that wisdom comes with age.
I had to wait a few hours for them to prepare the laptop for me,
For them to... do what ?
and while I waited I decided to go to the shooting range in Oxnard. I had the knowledge, in the back of my mind, that the Day of Retribution was very possible now. Going to the shooting range while I waited for my laptop gave me the perfect opportunity to gain some initial training in shooting guns, which will be the main weapons I use as vengeance against my enemies when the Day of Retribution ultimately comes to pass. I walked into the range, rented a handgun from the ugly old redneck cashier, and started to practice shooting at paper targets. As I fired my first few rounds, I felt so sick to the stomach. I questioned my whole life, and I looked at the gun in front of me and asked myself "What am I doing here? How could things have led to this?” I couldn’t believe my life was actually turning out this way. There I was, practicing shooting with real guns because I had a plan to carry out a massacre. Why did things have to be this way, I silently questioned myself as I looked at the handgun I was holding in front of me. I paid my fee and left the range within minutes, feeling as if I was going to be sick. I spent the rest of the waiting period at the Coffee Bean in Oxnard, where I sat by myself feeling absolutely disgusted. My whole world was twisted.
A Liberal's Progress, showing the true meaning of that vile notion of "progress" in the decay and decline of Elliot Liberalwell, the spendthrift son of a bankrupt entertainer (rather than the rich merchant in the original 1730s painting series), who comes to Isla Vista, Santa Barbara (rather than London) to study, but wastes all his time (rather than money in the English original) on luxurious living, gambling and cyberdorkage (rather than prostitution) and in consequence dies (rather than moving from Fleet Prison to Bethlem Sanitarium).
Such wow, good splendid, so carry on!
Within the following days, I spent a lot of time at the park, watching the wind blow through the trees and the children playing in the fields. I questioned the very fabric of reality.
The very fabric you see, an operation for which he is well equipped on the grounds of not being aware that he'd be poorly equipped. Problem ?
Why did this all exist? I wondered. How did life come to be? What was the nature of reality? What was my place in all of it?
Another year or two and he'll dang straight turn fifteen!
There was no point to my life anymore. I was never going to lose my virginity. I was never going to get a girlfriend. Because girls are repulsed by me, I was never going to have children and pass on my genes. The only way that I could have been worthy enough to beautiful girls is if I become wealthy at a young age,
Yeah, I hear that totally improves the genes.
and the faith I had in that happened had just been crushed. There was no hope left.
The life I could have had ceased to exist. I will never have sex, never have love, never have children. I will never be a creator, but I could be a destroyer. Life had been cruel to me. The human species had rejected me all my life, despite the fact that I am the ideal, magnificent gentleman. Life itself is twisted and disgusting, I mused. Humans are brutal animals. If I cannot thrive among them, then I will destroy them all. I didn’t want things to turn out this way. I wanted a happy, healthy life of love and sex. But if I’m unable to have such a life, then I will have no choice but to exact revenge on the society that denied it to me.
My new housemates moved into the other room of my apartment at the end of September. They didn’t know each other before they moved in, which was better for me because then they wouldn’t gang up on me. Not like they would do such a thing anyway, since my two new housemates were both timid, geeky types. One of them was a funny-looking curly haired boy named Chris Rugg, and the other was an Asian American named Jon. After the first few days of their stay, I felt content with these new housemates. They were quiet, respectful, and very friendly. And best of all, they never invited any friends over. I doubt they even had any friends. All they did was stay in their room and played video games all day. Of course, I had no desire to be friends with them, because they had absolutely nothing to offer, but I knew I would have no problems with them in my apartment, and that was the best I could hope for.
In his apartment, located in his barony of Isla Vista, one of the many holdings his father, King of All Things, gave to him as a token of humble, muted respect. Except not really, BECAUSE THE WORLD IS SO CRUEL.
But he'll fix it, he's a progressive, he has faith in himself, one way or another he'll solve those nasty problems of
patriarchy ecology equality what the fuck was it ? Oh right right, girls. Girls, and sex, and winning the lottery.
It's coming, just gotta do a little more awareness raising work before moving to radical solutions.
On Halloween weekend, I made the wise decision to go home to my mother’s house. There was no way I was going to torture myself by staying alone in my room while the entire town of Isla Vista erupted in raucous debauchery. All of the tall, hunky jocks that girls love so much will be having all of the sex and all of the fun, while an unwanted outcast like myself would rot in loneliness. I imagined that some attractive guys who only visited Isla Vista for the Halloween event will be getting laid that weekend. They’d be getting sex from just one night in Isla Vista, while I’m still a virgin after living there for over a year. It was too unfair.
Sex (at least if done well) is kind-of reminescent of uncontrolled nuclear fission, so in this sense the expectation that the more time you spend in the designated nuclear core the higher a dose of Grays you absorb is perfectly sensible. For instance the micrograms of sperm in your hair are a monotonous function of the time you spend on or around the porn set (and other parameters).
He is using this model inadequately, of course, but if you've stopped for five minutes to consider the abuse of "science" backing the various enormities in current fashion among the liberal crowd you'll perhaps do him the justice of recognizing that the mild violence he does to definitions does not even vaguely begin to compare to the scandalous rape with electrified vaginal pears and red hot flesh pincers they apply to theirs.
I wanted to punish them all. I imagined how sweet it would be to slaughter all of those evil, slutty bitches who rejected me, along with the fraternity jocks they throw themselves at. To see them all running from me in fear as I kill them left and right, that would be the ultimate retribution.
It would, wouldn't it. Certainly a damn sight more consistent than that "I'll track them all down and show them that I'm no longer poor, because in seeing they're still even now the arbiters of my life they'll be so impressed with my delusional superiority" he originally started with.
Only then would I have all the power.
This is also true, and the significance of this truth can not be overstated.
Only. ONLY armed and about to die, shooting cattle left and right, would he have "all the power" in the sense of any sort of power. You live in a world that disavows power, entirely, completely, any power at all. I know, if for no other reason then because of the way you squirm when I display mine to any degree, you'd think someone salted slugs. Even the fetish of power, entirely hollow, devoid of any actual power, still worries you.
You wish to wonder idly "What caused Elliot Rodgers' Isla Vista Day of Retribution" ? Go right ahead, wonder idly. You wish to know what actually caused it ? That's an entirely hopeless endeavour. The guy was disturbed, and profoundly so. You'll never know. But ask me what would make one who isn't disturbed behave exactly in the same manner and I'll tell you the truth you purposefully avoid and strictly do not wish to hear : living without access to power is uninteresting to most people. The better of them will actually do something about it - and the more perfect, the more refined in its idiocy the world you built, the more strictly will that something copy insanity in its manifestation.
Aren't you glad you didn't ask.
They treated me like an insignificant little mouse, but on the Day of Retribution, I would be a God to them.
Have you ever had occasion to see these obnoxious shits the moment there's shots fired, by the way ? I know of no better illustration of USian subhumanity than that fear. He's right : the moment he took the rifle out and started popping lightbulbs left and right, he was a God to them. Moreso than any god they ever knew or ever had ; from somewhere in their dried out souls faith suddenly erupted, strong and loud. They were converted, however briefly, to the most absolute kind of belief, the belief of the old testament, the belief contained in an Ark of Covenant floating on a lake of adrenaline. They believed, and they worshipped. Oh, how they worshipped. Like never before, and like never again, the insignificant little mice gave their soul to him while audibly pissing their fear out in gushes through their suddenly permeable skin.
"Bitch, why's your skin leaking ?"
"I found God!"
They will be the mice, and I will be the predator. I considered setting the date for the Day of Retribution to be the next Halloween of 2013. That would give me a year to prepare, but I soon dismissed it. If the Day of Retribution were to happen, it would have to be on a normal weekend. There would be too many cops walking around during an event like Halloween, and cops are the only ones who could hinder my plans.
I spent the time at mother’s house relaxing and trying to forget about Halloween. I drank some of my mother’s delicious wine until I was too buzzed to think about how much fun everyone else my age was having on that night.
I didn’t even bother to register for college classes that semester. There was no point. I believed that I would either fulfill my dream of becoming wealthy at a young age in order to be worthy enough to attract beautiful women, or exact my revenge upon the world and die in the process to escape punishment. There was no other path for me.
Of course, I ”registered” for some classes, but only to keep up the pretense to my parents that I was still attending college. If they somehow found out that I had dropped my classes right after registering for them, they would have stopped all of their support for me, and my life would have to end right then and there. Thankfully, I was a good liar.
During the Autumn of 2012, I had all the time in the world to figure out how I was going to triumph against the society that was torturing me. I spent a lot of time at the library in Goleta, just a few miles away from Isla Vista. At the library, I read countless books on history, business, and philosophy, learning as much as I could. It was better than staying at home in my room. Besides, I didn’t want my housemates to find out that I wasn’t going to college. That would be embarrassing, and I always cared about what others thought about me, even my nerdy housemates.
I continued to visit the website of the Megamillions lottery. I still clung to the hope that it may rise above $100 million again and I would be the winner. So far, I saw that as my only way out of my horrible situation.
My situation was indeed horrible. I couldn’t leave the house without seeing a young couple walking around somewhere. Everywhere I went, I was all by myself, while other young people had friends and girlfriends. I was ashamed to show myself to the world. Even though I wore expensive designer clothes, what was the point if girl’s still weren’t attracted to me? No one respects a man who is unable to get a woman.
Like who, Alexander the Great ? He was pretty well respected - not to mention that he had accomplished a lot more and a lot sooner than our "get rich young" American (and just in case you think dick-age measuring contests are something novel, Julius Cesar reportedly cried as a 30yo virgin over the grave of that selfsame Alexander because look how much other people have accomplished with their girlfriend/mother/India, and the world is SO cruel). Besides, all Hadrianus ever got was Antinous, and while he doesn't seem to have wanted either else or more ; nevertheless he was well respected. At least by me, that's gotta cunt for something, neh ?
A man wearing shorts and a T-shirt would be seen as superior to me if he walks into a store with a beautiful girl on his arm and I walk in all alone. A man having a beautiful girl by his side shows the world that he is worth something, because obviously that beautiful girl sees some sort of worth in him. If a man is all alone, people get the impression that girls are repulsed by him, and therefore he is a worthless loser.
Don't you kinda wonder where he got these strange ideas ? Rap videos ?
I saw winning the lottery as the only way out, and I became so frustrated when the Megamillions jackpot kept resetting. In the end of November, the jackpot was very close to getting high enough, but then it sank to the bottom once again. It was at this point that I learned about the Powerball lottery. The Powerball hadn’t yet come to California, so I knew nothing about it before. I looked at the website and saw that the jackpot was over $500 million!
Ahaha good lord. It hadn't... come!
These people currently inhabit that land where, not even two centuries ago, "get up and get it" was the law of the land. California was built by 49ers so that this derp can wait for The Coming of The Powerball.
Doesn't it just make you want to break things ? The world is so cruel!
California didn’t have a Powerball lottery, so in order to buy a ticket, I would have to drive all the way to Arizona.
Earlier in that day, as I drove through Isla Vista, I saw this one particular young couple that stood out from the rest only because the girl looked absolutely perfect. She was tall, blonde, and sexy. She would have towered over me in height, and her boyfriend of course towered over her. They were both wearing beach gear, and the girl was in her bikini, showing off to everyone her sensual, erection-causing body. Her blonde hair was wet from swimming in the ocean, and it only made her look more arousing. The two of them were holding hands, and it was clear that they were in love. I saw the boyfriend place his hand on the girl’s ass, and when he did this the girl looked at him and smiled with delight. That guy was in heaven. I can only imagine how amazing it must be to have sex with a girl like that. I had to witness everything I wanted but could not have. It made me feel dizzy with anguish.
I immediately thought about that couple, and how impossible it was for me to have the same experience as that guy. Impossible, as I was at that point. But it would be possible for me to get a tall, blonde, sexy girlfriend if I was a multi-millionaire! Oh yes, it would be very possible. Becoming a multi- millionaire is the ONLY way I could have such an experience, and winning the lottery was the ONLY way I could become a multi-millionaire at my age. As I stared at the Powerball jackpot that was over $500 million, I knew that I HAD to win it.
And yet he's not renting by the hour. That 6k bankroll of his would have afforded at least a couple all night sessions with whatever blonde, tall, etcetera call girl of his choice. Look what's on tap as of today : perfectly dumbfounded looking blondy from VIP Escorts, "serving the Isla Vista area" ; aparently faceless (but blond hair) pair of tits from Ryan Stone Companions, ready to go in Santa Barbara generally. Either of these definitely have more than just one Arizona-looking blondies on staff, and we've not even looked at craigslist, backpage, the fucking bulletin boards in all the dorms scl etc. What the fuck already, if you needed multi-millions to lay a blondy where would one find all the social media experts and software entrepreneur-revolutionaries ?
It was midnight when I had this revelation, and the drawing was on the following day. The only way I could get a ticket before the drawing was if I left for Arizona right then and there. And so that is exactly what I did. I quickly looked up the best route on Google Maps, packed some food into my backpack, and took off.
The sun rose as I crossed the long stretch of desert in between Palm Springs and the border of Arizona. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
And to think, if it weren't for the Powerball he'd never had seen it. Possibly the only person dedicated enough to cross state lines in the middle of the night to get a ticket.
When I saw the sun creeping up before me in the horizon, igniting the clouds with its orange glow, I proclaimed that sunrise as the sunrise of my destiny.
Recall that old voice ?
Having cheated Death during the Night of Shooting Stars, you find yourself as far from your village of Sweet Water as old Falagar's magic could take you.
Three years have passed while Falagar imparted what knowledge he could to train you in your chosen professions. But the time came at last when he could teach you no more, and you have ventured into the world to seek your fame and fortune.
Now, a world away from your lost home, you have stumbled across evidence of a terrible conspiracy, involving a new religious cult. Five letters from King Roland to his wife Catherine, and a letter from the King of the Devils to a wicked traitor named Sulman have turned up in an abandoned goblin camp. Your fate seems inextricably bound to these letters and that awful Night ; and your role in the events to come may be larger than anyone could imagine!
The tools you have are but a small sum of gold, your wits and a lot of potential. The roads ahead are infinite and all the choices are yours to make - so choose wisely!
Spoiler : Archibald did it all.
I was riding towards my destiny, to obtain the record-breaking Powerball ticket of $500 million!
As I drove, I thought about every event in my life that led up to that journey. I considered that journey as the ultimate culmination of the tragic suffering and sexual starvation I had to go through for so long. That Powerball jackpot was meant for me. Once I won it, I’d be able to have my beautiful blonde girlfriend, I’d be able to show the world that girls consider me worthy, I’d be able to show the world how superior I am. And of course, I would be able to live above everyone who has wronged me, and rub it all in their faces as a form of gratifying vengeance. That was my ultimate purpose in life, my reason for living.
Don't laugh, the whole cruddy edifice of subprime mortgages on one hand and mcmansions on the other is entirely fueled of you-being-Elliot.
I didn’t win. It was almost the same scenario that I suffered through in March, except this one was twice as devastating.
He doesn't have a very judicious relationships with numbers, does he ? It's almost like listening to Hilary Clinton/Hussein Bahamas/George Bush/etcetera. Why "twice" ? How was this measured ? Is it really thrice or time-and-a-half ?
Iliteracy, innumeracy and fatuous ignorance, the three ills that compose "liberalism", as understood in the colonies. At least they're not insensitive! That ought to count for something, neh ?
When I finally arrived home from the long trip, I immediately went to bed after not sleeping for so long. It was very difficult to stay awake on the road, but I managed to do it due to the severe importance of the journey. The Powerball drawing occurred while I slept, and my last thought before drifting off to sleep was that when I woke up, I would be a multi-millionaire, and my life would be saved. I slept for a very long time, and when I awakened it was already the morning after the drawing. I was overcome with anxiety. I was so confident and certain that I would win before the drawing occurred, but once that point in time had passed, I feared the result. I feared that I might not have won. I spent the next three days in my room, trying to garner enough courage to check the winning numbers that would determine my fate. After realizing how much time I was wasting, I visited the Powerball website to see the result. At the very first second of viewing the webpage, I caught a brief glimpse of it before closing it out of fear and panic. In that brief glimpse, I saw that there were three winning tickets, and one of them was in Arizona! My heart started beating rapidly. That had to be me! I thought, with hope and excitement welling up inside my whole body.
The religious experience of the powerball.
There was an Arizona winner, and I had bought my ticket in Arizona. After that long, emotional journey; driving toward the sunrise in the middle of the desert, fighting off sleep just to get there in time, visualizing my whole future before me, with a beautiful blonde girlfriend and the children I would have with her...
O god that's objectionable.
Please don't ever fuck any Elliots, ladies. It's bad for the environment ; and worse for you.
After all that, who else could the winner be but me? It was meant for me. It was fate, destiny. I took out my tickets, of which I had purchased fifty,
The figure of destiny. 50 were the tickets of Elliot the Modern Democracy Prophet, and the number of the tickets was 50. 49 thou shalt not count, except if then proceed to 50. 52 is right out.
and sifted through them to find the one that matched the winning numbers. I felt dizzy and ecstatic as I did it, feeling so certain that my victory will be confirmed. When I reached the end of my stack of tickets, I didn’t find any that matched. For the first few moments, I couldn’t even believe what was happening. I looked through all of my tickets again and again and again, and still, nothing. I didn’t win.
Fifty was the number of the looks, and there were as many agains, counting together also to 50.
I sat very quiet and still in my desk chair for a long time, all of the emotion swept out of me. I didn’t react with rage or anguish. I just sat there, cold and dead, mentally trying to contemplate what I had just done. I had driven all the way to Arizona just to buy lottery tickets, because I was so desperate for a happy life in which girls would be attracted to me; I was so certain I would win, building up all that hope, only to have it shattered right before me at just that moment.
I then drove out of my apartment and made my way to the Girsh Park. I had to be somewhere peaceful. Along the way, I saw couples strolling along the streets of Isla Vista, walking arm in arm; I saw groups of good looking young people walking together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. I felt completely dead inside, and torment racked my entire body, as I realized that I now had no chance to rise above them. I lost.
And as I revel in his cold, defeated desperation I look around and I see yours. Because you also lost, and in the same way, and for the same exact reasons, and to the same degree. Not just this, or that, but everything you ever had, everything your forefathers ever left you, as well as the possibility even, no matter how remote, of any kind of future. You're now in that phase where you're selling prestigious gravestones to upstarts willing to pretend their parents were buried there - even if in fact their corpses were eaten by coyotes. You're in that phase, and like all things it too will pass.
But hey, at least you're not full of rage. Just very quietly and still, sitting at your desk, completely dead inside. That's gotta c... eh, who're we kiddin'.
When I got to the park I sat in my car for hours, crying and crying and crying. I wailed with agony. My tears streamed down my face and stained my collar. I couldn’t take it anymore. Feeling the need to talk to someone, I called the only people I had in my life: My parents. I called them both, first my mother and then my father, and I told them both how much I was suffering from my loneliness, and my utter realization that I had no hope of ever having a happy life. I told them that they must be ashamed of me, that I was a 21 year old virgin who is unable to get a girlfriend or making any friends whatsoever. I was not the son any parent would want. My tantrum to my parents on the phone deeply disturbed them, and they arranged for me to see my psychiatrist, Dr. Charles Sophy, when I return home for the winter break.
Dr. Charles J. Sophy, FACN. 50 yo spending a lot to try and look like he's 30. He even has a website, seems he mostly does couple counselling. He's mildly famous (in the lawyer trade) for trying to sue the IRS into allowing him and his alt-wife (Bruce H. Voss) to both deduct mortgage payments, as if they weren't a married couple. The result of the case was that live-in gay friends are now explicitly limited in exactly the same way married couples are.
As the phrase that I had coined goes: If I cannot join them, I will rise above them;
He coined this. In his spare time.
and if I cannot rise above them, I will destroy them. I’ve been trying to join and be accepted among the beautiful, popular people all my life, but it was to no avail. They have always treated me like scum. Girls have always deemed me unworthy of their love and sex. I tried to overthrow them by gaining wealth at a young age, from trying to come up with invention ideas, to contemplating writing an epic story, and finally to trying to win the lottery. At this point, the prospect of overthrowing them seemed hopeless.
It's just... I'm here laughing convulsively, I just... oh lordy. He tried to come up with invention ideas. He. He tried. Invention ideas. My even can't even.
The final solution to triumph over my enemies was to destroy them, to carry out my Day of Retribution, to exact my ultimate and devastating vengeance against all of the popular young people who never accepted me, and against all women for rejecting me and starving me of love and sex.
At this point, it fully dawned on me that the possibility of having to resort to exacting this Retribution was more real than ever before.
And the present time is later than all times prior!
Without the prospect of becoming wealthy at a young age, I had nothing to live for now.
You know ?
Imagine if he actually had sex, somehow, and thereby discovered that most young girls could comfortably fit his sex as well as a friend's. It wouldn't even be stretching.
I was going to be a virgin outcast forever. I realized that I had to start planning and preparing for the Day of Retribution, even though I hadn’t yet had any idea of what day that would be.
My first act of preparation was the purchase my first handgun. I did this quickly and hastily, at a local gun shop called Goleta Gun and Supply. I had already done some research on handguns, and I decided to purchase the Glock 34 semiautomatic pistol, an efficient and highly accurate weapon. I signed all of the papers and was told that my pickup day was in mid-December. That fell in nicely, because that was when I was planning on staying in Santa Barbara till. After I picked up the handgun,
You realise he just spent the entire hold interval in meditation, locked away in his room. What monk ever manages such ?
I brought it back to my room and felt a new sense of power. I was now armed. Who’s the alpha male now, bitches? I thought to myself, regarding all of the girls who’ve looked down on me in the past.
Yeah, that's totally how it works.
I quickly admired my new weapon before locking it up in my safe and preparing to go back to my hometown for the winter break.
He had nothing to live for. And a safe.
I didn’t attend the Lemelson’s Christmas party that year, nor would I ever again. The only person I ever really hung out with at those parties was James, and James was no longer my friend. It would have been extremely awkward to be there while James is there, knowing that the two of us, who used to be old friends since first grade, would be avoiding each other. It would be a foul and bitter experience, and I had already gone through enough anguish in the last few months.
A few days before Christmas, I took off with my mother and sister for another vacation in England. She had called me a month previously to tell me about it. At first, I didn’t want to go, knowing that I will feel miserable about going on a vacation without a girlfriend to experience it with me, along with the shame of having to once again appear to my relatives in a fashion that I was unsatisfied with. A year had passed since the last trip, and I was in exactly the same position in life. I had nothing for my grandmothers to be proud of. No girlfriend, no future prospects, no life at all to talk about.
The one thing that persuaded me to go was the fact that my mother planned to have us travel on Virgin Atlantic Upper Class, the highest form of travel the airline offers. I hadn’t traveled First Class for a long time, and I just couldn’t refuse such an offer. I have always had a penchant for luxury, opulence, and prestige; and traveling on Virgin Atlantic Upper Class would give me that experience, if only for a short time. After all of the anguish I had been through, I figured I needed a sense of respite by going on this luxurious vacation. For just this one brief period of my life, since I speculated that my life could very well be ending soon, I decided to try my best to forget about everything and indulge myself in every way I could on this trip to England.
Before we took off, we spent some time at the exclusive Upper Class lounge at the LAX airport. There was a buffet with all sorts of goodies for me to pick at, and I had my fill of smoked salmon and champagne. While there, I had a discussion with my mother about whether I had any more hope in my life, and what I could possibly do to get what I want in life.
As holders of First Class tickets, we skipped to the front of the line as we boarded the plane, and I took great satisfaction as I passed by all of the other people who flew economy, giving all of the younger passengers a cocky little smirk whenever they looked at me.
Now if the plane also left earlier for you than for them, you'd almost have something. How the airlines managed to parlay this "wait in your seat in the airplane for them to get in" vs "wait in your seat in the terminal to get in" into some sort of luxurious opulent prestige is beyond comprehension. What fucking difference does it make, you're still waiting. Whether you go in first and wait after or wait first and go in after, you're still fucking waiting.
Once I had settled in my big, luxurious bed-seat in the First Class cabin, I had even more champagne, followed by an exquisite dinner of steak and potatoes, and some red wine to wash it all down. I ordered glass after glass of red wine during the whole ride, and became quite drunk as I watched a few movies, one of them being the new Ice Age movie which I found quite funny.
When we arrived, we were chauffeured in a limousine to our hotel in Colchester. This time, we stayed at the Holiday Inn, which was very similar to the hotel on the last trip. Our relatives, even Ah Mah who rarely left the house in her old age, came to our hotel to greet us. We then went to their house, where Aunt Min had cooked a nice dinner for us. I felt so amazed to be back in England again. It had been a whole year since the last trip, but I felt as if nothing had happened. Nothing had improved in my life, that’s for sure. I was in the exact same position as I had been on the year before, and a year before that... and so on. I was now a 21-year-old virgin, still suffering the same injustices of the world. I tried not to think about it, for the sake of enjoying my trip, but the angst was too overwhelming.
Our hotel served the same type of exquisite breakfast buffet as the hotel we stayed in last year,
We call it The Dependably Exquisite. Nevermind the meanings of the terms.
and once again I took delight in indulging in the endless amounts of pork sausages, croissants, ham, bacon, and every other delectable treat at the buffet;
Nothing over five pounds a bucket at the local supermarket. You know, luxurious opulent prestige.
every single morning. For this vacation, I mostly stayed at the hotel, relaxing and trying to establish a sense of peace and serenity.
When my family went on a tour through London, I refused to go. There was no point. I would just be miserable from having to be alone while other men walked around there with girlfriends. I proclaimed to them all that I will never go for a night out in London unless I had a beautiful girlfriend on my arm.
Presumably to be produced like Momotaro, by peeling peaches.
While they were in London, I stayed at the relative’s house with my grandma Ah Mah. Ah Mah cooked me a delicious dinner, just like she did when I was a little child living in the Old Rectory in England. I drank a whole bottle of wine that night, and I was quite drunk by the time they came back from London.
We did manage to visit grandma Jinx during this trip. Before we left back to America, uncle Andrew drove us to Smarden, Kent to visit her at her house. I hadn’t been to grandma Jinx’s house since I was ten years old, and it looked exactly the same. Grandma Jinx asked me a lot of questions about my life, as she always did. I had to stiffly pretend that everything was going well, and it pained me that I had nothing going for me to boast about. I hated being the shameful grandson. I bet cousin George was living a better life than me. I’m sure he had a lot to say that made grandma Jinx proud.
All in all, it was a relaxing, peaceful, and luxurious trip. I didn’t regret going. From the way my life was going, I needed something like that to fill in as one my last few enjoyments. On the way home, we spent time at the Upper Class lounge at Heathrow Airport, and this lounge was even more impressive than the one in LAX. They had all sorts of luxury food, and a whole bar full of every drink one could imagine. On the way home, I had multiple glasses of red wine again before drifting off to a nice, drunken sleep. As we were about to land in LA, our plane hovered around the city for a while, waiting for the traffic on the runway to clear up below. While the plane hovered, I filmed a few videos of the entire city of LA. It was quite an experience, to look down upon such a city. Everything looked so small, and the people and cars looked like little insects. I briefly fantasized about being a god as I looked down upon them all. I imagined having the power to destroy everything below with destructive, supernatural powers. It made for a fine scenario, worthy of being discussed with James Ellis, if only he were still my friend.
On New Year’s Eve, I stayed at my mother’s house, feeling lonely and miserable. I believe father and Soumaya went to Antje Twinn’s house again. There was no way I would go there again after the incident that occurred the year before. I found it quite hilarious that everything during this holiday was playing outjust the same way as it played out in the previous year; the trip to England, father and Soumaya attending the same party at the Twinn’s house, my same miserable, lonely, virgin status. Indeed, my life was moving in vicious circle of torment with no way out. The only thing that got me through it all was my hope that there was a way out, and that hope had been shattered too many times. I couldn’t live like this anymore. I knew that if things continue to be the same, I would have to carry out my ultimate Retribution and die in the process. I didn’t want to die. I fear death, but death is better than living such a miserable, insignificant life.
Which is strictly true. There are worse things than death. Living in a "modern democracy" certainly qualifies.
I remained in my hometown for a couple of weeks, and then I went back to Santa Barbara, the place of beauty and romance that I’ve had to suffer in lonely hell. I only signed up for online classes for the Spring semester, but that was only to placate my parents. I didn’t see the point in even bothering with college anymore. Having to walk through SBCC with all of those beautiful girls strutting around in their revealing shorts, showing off their sexy legs... It is torture, because I know that they would all reject me.
There are so many beautiful girls in Santa Barbara, but not one of them ever wanted to be my girlfriend. Life would have been so perfect there if only girls were attracted to me.
For the month of January 2013, I stayed in my room all the time, assessing my situation. I brooded and contemplated about everything. I could hear all of those happy young people partying and enjoying themselves as the new semester came to a start. I mused that I should be out there, experiencing a happy, healthy college life with a group of friends, meeting up with girls and sleeping with them, just like all other guys did in college. I thought about how it was almost two years since I had moved to Santa Barbara, and that only made my rage and frustration grow. As I listened to all of those young people having so much fun right outside my window, my hatred of them all for not accepting me only festered and boiled inside me, filling me with immense pain.
At one point, I looked out my window and saw couples strolling around the street, on their way to some party. They probably slept with each other that night.
Seems a safe bet. After all, they have to sleep somewhere.
The sight made me feel so inferior, like a little mouse. I felt like I was at the bottom of the food chain. I couldn’t fathom how I had to endure such a painful life. On that same night, I looked at the Powerball again, and saw that the jackpot had risen to over $100 million. This prompted me to drive to Arizona again, in another desperate attempt to become instantly wealthy so that I could attract beautiful girls and live the life I want. After all of the rejection and mistreatment I’ve experienced at the hands of women, I knew that becoming wealthy was the only way I could become worthy of them, and so my obsession with becoming wealthy at a young age came back in full force for the first few months of 2013.
By the month of April, I had driven to Arizona three more times,
Well... it is a beautiful drive. Beauty is SO cruel.
making a total of four trips to Arizona in my lifetime, just to buy lottery tickets out of intense desperation, believing it to be my only hope of attaining the life I desire, the life I know I’m worthy of. I kept dreaming of the life I would have once I won; the beautiful blonde girlfriend, the luxurious mansion with a magnificent view, all of the exotic cars I would drive to impress girls. It gave me hope. It gave me something to live for.
That hope was shattered after each attempt. None of the tickets I bought on those trips fulfilled my dreams.
Did yours ?
No, you heard me. Did any of the tickets you bought with the sweat of your brow fulfill your dreams ? Did they ? Was the college ticket what it promised to be ? Leave aside the pretense you're not buying lottery tickets - of course you are, that's all you're doing, from SSN to "getting a promotion", it's all jam tomorrow.
So, did they deliver, these tickets ? No ?
The reason I kept going, even after I didn’t win, was because I truly believed I was supposed to win.
Exactly. Self esteem, it's called, right ? Well, Elliot had it. In spades, he had it. For all his inferiority complexes, he had more of it than both the mean and the average of his population. Apparently these two aren't contradictory, but can rather easily coexist. Who knew.
I wanted to believe it because I wanted something to live for. I needed to have hope. I knew that if I lost all of my hope, I would have nothing to live for but revenge. Any chance of having a happy life would be doomed.
At the end of March, when I checked my last set of tickets that I had bought from my last trip to Arizona, and saw that I didn’t win, any hope I had of becoming wealthy at a young age was finally and indefinitely shattered. It fully dawned on me that the life I had envisioned for myself would never come to pass. The children I would have in the future with a beautiful blonde girlfriend ceased to exist, as if they were murdered. There won’t be any beautiful blonde girlfriend for me now. No girl would be my girlfriend unless I had great wealth... I learned that from my life of being rejected. I was doomed to a life of lonely virginity.
In April, the Powerball lottery was introduced in the state of California, so if I ever wanted to play it again I would no longer have to drive to Arizona. However, I was so shaken by not winning in the last few months that I gave up on it for a while, but eventually I would have episodes of little surges of hope in which I’d buy a few tickets, just to have something to hope for as I endure the last few months of my torturous life. All of those little surges of hope, of course, would be shattered as well.
Incidentally, let's do a little mental money laundering.
From the site of the megamillions thing, we find that one dollars buys you : jackpot * 1/258`890`850 + 1`000`000 * 1/18`492`204 + 5`000 * 1/739`688 + 500 * 1/52`835 + 50 * 1/10`720 + 5 * 1/766 + 5 * 1/473 + 2 * 1/56 + 1 * 1/21. Given that the jackpot currently is 58 million (the cash option, we're not interested in their "annuity" misrepresentation) the net value of every bought ticket is 0.399428263, corresponding to a loss of about 60%. From this we know that the AML/KYC bullshit is less than 60% effective, which is to say that out of every dollar stolen, delapidated, or otherwise produced from selling underage hookers and "illegal substances" at least 40 cents remain with their "criminal" yet rightful owners. Because otherwise, you'd see droves of weird azn kids buying lottery tickets for thousands and thousands of dollars, that's why.
O which reminds me, didn't Jennifer Lopez' mom win the lottery like three times in a row ? Bitch evidently needs better estate attorneys, seriously now.
During this Spring of 2013, I began to seriously think about planning the Day of Retribution. My next step towards planning for it was to buy my second handgun, a Sig Sauer P226. It is of a much higher quality than the Glock, and a lot more efficient. In turn, it was also a lot more expensive. My Glock 34 was around $700 dollars, whereas my new Sig Sauer P226 was $1100.
These prices were of no concern to me, however. When I first moved to Santa Barbara and experienced all of those horrible revelations about the nature of humanity, I knew that something like the Day of Retribution could very well happen if the world continued to mistreat me. I began to carefully save up all of the money that my parent’s and grandmothers were sending me. It was an ample amount to live on, leaving me with a lot left over to build up in my bank account. When I hit the $5000 dollar mark, which was fairly soon after my move to Santa Barbara, I decided never to go under it, deeming that $5000 was enough to buy all of the supplies and equipment I would need if I had to do something like this. The Day of Retribution had always been in the back of my mind as a final solution if all else failed in my life, ever since I had moved to Santa Barbara. As it so happened, all else did indeed fail. Women continued to reject me and mistreat me, and I remained an unwanted virgin.
For the last months of Spring, I went home a lot because the loneliness in Santa Barbara was too stifling. Going home to visit my parents was always an emotional refuge for me. During these trips home, I spent a lot of time with my little brother Jazz. My father let me drive his Mercedes SUV while I was in town,
Dude who made "Oh my god", the movie, and then married chick that did "Les Vraies Housewives" somehow affords a Mercedes SUV. This is nothing short of scandalous, not to mention unsustainable. But the gravy train has been slowing down for two or three consecutive generations, and is just about to pull over. Forever.
and I often took Jazz on outings with it. On these outings, I began to really bond with the boy. We went to places like Barnes & Noble, the playground at the park, and local cafés where I treated him to coffee and pastries. The parks I took him to were Serrania Park and the Woodland Hills recreation center. I like to watch him play in the playground at these parks, because those were the exact same playgrounds I played in when I was his age... When my life as actually happy. As I watched him, I dreamed about that happy life I used to live, before my whole world turned to darkness.
I realized how much different my brother Jazz was from me at that age. While I was shy, short, and physically weak; Jazz was tall for his age and very social. He had no problem going up to other boys at the playground and making instant friends. I began to form a bitter envy towards him, though I hid it really well. My little brother had all the potential to grow up to be a popular kid and live the life I was never able to live. I cursed the world for granting my little brother Jazz so many more advantages than me. I tried not to let this ruin my relationship with him. My little brother really looked up to me. He was one of the few people who treated me with adoration, and that made me feel at least a small twinge of self-worth. It was quite surprising that he respected me so much, since I had nothing in my life to boast about to him. He even asked me once if I had ever had a girlfriend, and I angrily told him that the matter was none of his concern. I didn’t want to admit to him that girl’s thought I was a loser. If he found out about that, he would respect me less. In order to boost his high opinion of me, I often sugarcoated all of my early accomplishments, such as telling him that I was an expert skateboarder and video game player.
People having a high opinion of me is what I’ve always wanted in life. It has always been of the utmost importance.
See also items III and IV on the correct Maslow pyramid.
This is why my life has been so miserable, because no one has ever had a high opinion of me. My little brother Jazz was the only one who had such an opinion, and that is why I enjoyed spending so much time with him, despite my envy of his social advantages.
During one of my frequent visits home in late Spring, I reunited with my old friends Philip and Addison. I hadn’t seen them since the night I emotionally cried in front of them at the Getty museum in the beginning of 2012. This reunion was sparked by the political and philosophic conversations I had been having with Addison over Facebook.
I briefly thought I want to read those. Then I got a hold of myself.
I decided to meet them at Philip’s house, where we would make plans for an outing around Malibu and LA. I brought my father’s Mercedes SUV to use as our mode of transportation. First, we went to Point Dume in Malibu, where Addison used to live. Going there brought back bitter memories of my previous conflict with Addison. The three of us hiked to the very tip of Point Dume, where there was a cliff that overlooked the beach.
After Malibu, we decided to have dinner at the BOA Steakhouse in Santa Monica. Driving through Santa Monica was an extremely infuriating experience, just like it had always been. There were so many good looking young couples walking about, enjoying the pretty night life that the attractive city had to offer. Groups of young people walked about in their little cliques. It reminded me to State Street in Santa Barbara, as well as Isla Vista. As I watched all of those obnoxious boys walking around with their beautiful blonde girlfriends, I wanted to run them all over with my father’s Mercedes SUV. I fantasized about how delightful that would be. To literally crush their lives to a pulp, just like they had crushed mine. I tried as hard as I could to hide my envy-fueled rage from Philip and Addison. Philip was easy to fool, but Addison could tell how enraged I was. Addison knew me all too well.
In Santa Barbara, I spent almost all of my time in my room, brooding. I began building on all of my philosophical views and theories about the world. I had to question why things were the way they were. The world is so twisted, and I wanted answers.
I hated all of those obnoxious, boisterous men who were able to enjoy pleasurable sex lives with beautiful girls, but I hated the girl’s even more, because they were the ones who chose those men instead of me. It was their choice. They are the ones who deprived me of love and sex.
My hatred and rage towards all women festered inside me like a plague. Their very existence is the cause of all of my torture, pain and suffering throughout my life. My life turned into a living hell after I started desiring them when I hit puberty. I desire them intensely, but I could never have them. I could never have the experience of holding hands with a beautiful girl and walking on a moonlit beach, I could never embrace a girlfriend and feel her warmth and love, I could never have passionate sex with a girl and drift off to sleep with her sexy body beside me. Women deemed me unworthy of having them, and so they deprived me of an enjoyable youth, while giving their love and sex to other boys. In all of those years I suffered a life of sexual starvation and unfulfilled desires. I will never get those years back. My life has been wasted, all because women hate me so much.
All I had ever wanted was to love women, but their behavior has only earned my hatred. I want to have sex with them, and make them feel good, but they would be disgusted at the prospect. They have no sexual attraction towards me. It is such an injustice, and I vehemently questioned why things had to be this way. Why do women behave like vicious, stupid, cruel animals who take delight in my suffering and starvation? Why do they have a perverted sexual attraction for the most brutish of men instead of gentlemen of intelligence?
We shall call this The Question.
I concluded that women are flawed. There is something mentally wrong with the way their brains are wired, as if they haven’t evolved from animal-like thinking. They are incapable of reason or thinking rationally. They are like animals, completely controlled by their primal, depraved emotions and impulses. That is why they are attracted to barbaric, wild, beast-like men. They are beasts themselves. Beasts should not be able to have any rights in a civilized society. If their wickedness is not contained, the whole of humanity will be held back from advancement to a more civilized state. Women should not have the right to choose who to mate with. That choice should be made for them by civilized men of intelligence. If women had the freedom to choose which men to mate with, like they do today, they would breed with stupid, degenerate men, which would only produce stupid, degenerate offspring.
Not only is this view the law of the land in most of today's world (both by geographic area and by population count), but it has been uninterruptedly since the dawn of time the law of the land in most of the world (both by geographic area and by population count). On the strength of that historical record, the continuation of the current fashions seems altogether improbable.
This in turn would hinder the advancement of humanity. Not only hinder it, but devolve humanity completely. Women are like a plague that must be quarantined. When I came to this brilliant, perfect revelation, I felt like everything was now clear to me, in a bitter, twisted way. I am one of the few people on this world who has the intelligence to see this. I am like a god, and my purpose is to exact ultimate Retribution on all of the impurities I see in the world.
The Spring of 2013 was also the time when I came across the website PUAHate.com.
Seems we now have a source for all those "perfect revelations" (somewhat neither in character nor in the style of our supreme gentleman, as we have learned to know and love over these past lo many thousands of very similar words) : he read them on some website. Therefore he will call them His Revelations. Much like you know, ~everyone else reading things on websites.
It is a forum full of men who are starved of sex, just like me. Many of them have their own theories of what women are attracted to, and many of them share my hatred of women, though unlike me they would be too cowardly to act on it.
He knows. He knows. Even he knows. Dumb as rocks Elliot, "Superball hadn't come to California so I never heard of it" Elliot, "can't find way out of a box of hookers" Elliot nevertheless still knows your dark little secret. Where will you hide now ? What will you do now ?
Reading the posts on that website only confirmed many of the theories I had about how wicked and degenerate women really are. Most of the people on that website have extremely stupid opinions that I found very frustrating, but I found a few to be quite insightful.
The website PUAHate is very depressing. It shows just how bleak and cruel the world is due of the evilness of women. I tried to show it to my parents, to give them some sort dose of reality as to why I am so miserable. They never understood why I am so miserable. They have always had the delusion that everything is going well for me, especially my father. When I sent the link of PUAHate.com to my parents, none of them even bothered to look at the posts on there.
After a Spring season spent in absolute despair while other young people lived healthy lives of sexual pleasure, summer arrived. Summer is even worse than Spring, especially in Santa Barbara. Flocks of hot, young girls go out in their shorts and bikini’s, further tantalizing my sex-starved body every time I look at them. Knowing that they gleefully show off their desirable forms, yet they would never give me a chance to be their boyfriend only increased my already boiling hatred towards all women. I could not leave my apartment without seeing at least a few of them. The only place I could go where I could be at peace was the Lake Park in Goleta. I spent a lot of time there, trying to establish a sense peace and serenity whenever my loneliness in Isla Vista became too unbearable. As I looked at all of the beautiful trees around me, and the towering mountains in the background, I wondered how a world so beautiful can be such a dark and cruel place. Indeed, a beautiful environment is the darkest hell if you have to experience it all alone, while other men get to enjoy the company of women.
I had nothing left to live for but revenge. Women must be punished for their crimes of rejecting such a magnificent gentleman as myself. All of those popular boys must be punished for enjoying heavenly lives and having sex with all the girls while I had to suffer in lonely virginity. It was already June, and I had been living in Santa Barbara for two years. Two whole years. I lived in a college town full of young, attractive students who partied and had sex all the time, and I didn’t get to experience any of it. No one invited me to any parties, and in all the times I went out by myself to Isla Vista, none of the beautiful blonde girls showed any interest in having sex with me. Not one girl.
You know ?
And in all the god damned times I went to cafes for coffee, not once did the waitresses open up their top to show me their tits. Well, except that one time. And that other time. And... well actually...
Hm. Cafes are so debauched.
These are crimes than cannot go unpunished. The more I thought about all these injustices that were dealt to me, the more eager I became for revenge. It’s all I had left. I didn’t want to die, but I knew that I had to kill myself after I exacted my revenge to avoid getting captured and imprisoned.
For a while, I had been deciding on whether I would exact my Retribution in Isla Vista or at Santa Barbara City College. In both places, I had suffered greatly at the hands of everyone there. I have seen attractive young couples walking around in both places, and those were my targets. I wanted to kill as many attractive young couples as I possibly could.
After a lot of thinking, I came to the conclusion that the Day of Retribution will take place in Isla Vista. On weekend nights, the streets of Isla Vista are always flooded with young couples and good-looking popular kids walking to their parties. What better place is there to exact my Retribution on my enemies? Every time I walked around Isla Vista, trying to meet girls or fit in with popular kids, I’ve only been treated with disdain, as if I’m an inferior mouse. On the Day of Retribution, the tables will indeed turn, I mused to myself. I will be a god, and they will all be animals that I can slaughter. They are animals... They behave like animals, and I will slaughter them like the animals they are.
It came to a point where I had to set a date for the Day of Retribution. I originally considered doing it on the Halloween of 2013. That is when the entire town erupts in raucous partying. There would literally be thousands of people crowded together who I could kill with ease, and the goal was to kill everyone in Isla Vista, to utterly destroy that wretched town. But then, after seeing footage of previous Halloween events on Youtube, I saw that there were too many cops walking around. It would be too risky. One gunshot from a cop will end everything. The Day of Retribution would have to be on a normal party weekend, so I set it for some time during November of 2013.
This goal would give me five months to plan and prepare. Five more months of life, but then again I wouldn’t even call it life. The existence I’ve had on this world during the last eight years is anything but life. A feeling of overwhelming dizziness and anxiety swept over me. I was actually going to die. I couldn’t believe it. Then I realized that my life was already over anyway. I was never going to lose my virginity; I was never going to experience love and sex; I was never going to have children. This final act of Retribution is the only thing I could do. It was very hard to come to terms with this fact. I felt very trapped and lost.
Can you believe this guy ?
I hated the feeling of being trapped and lost. I wanted a way out, but I saw none. I had already spent two years in Santa Barbara, and I was still a virgin. There was no way I could ever attract a girl without becoming extremely wealthy, and all of my prospects of becoming wealthy at a young age seemed impossible now.
In the beginning of summer, I went on a few walks around Isla Vista during daylight hours. While on these walks, I saw so many attractive young people walking around in their little groups, having the time of their lives. Some of the guys in those groups weren’t even good looking, while I am good looking. I couldn’t understand how they could be accepted, while I wasn’t. I furiously questioned why I haven’t been able to have such experiences after living in Isla Vista for two years. It was unfathomable.
I wanted answers. I wanted to know why it had to come to this. If only one pretty girl had shown some form of attraction to me, the Day of Retribution would never happen. I’d never even consider it. The Day of Retribution is mainly my war against women for rejecting me and depriving me of sex and love. If only one girl had given me a chance, tried to get to know me, let me take her out on a date... None of this would have to happen. It was so hard to accept that things would have to resort to me having to perform this act of Retribution I was planning.
For what it's worth, I don't believe this to be correct.
While I visited home, my parents, along with my psychiatrist Dr. Charles Sophy, arranged for a counsellor to meet me frequently and help me out with my life. His name was Gavin Linderman, a clean-cut twenty five-year-old. He had a similar role to Tony, my old counsellor from the regional center back when I was nineteen, except Gavin was much younger and acted more like a friend who could take me out to places. Every time I went back to visit my parents, I would meet up with Gavin once. We usually met up at a restaurant somewhere, or went on a hike. I told him about all of my problems with girls, and all of the hardships I’ve had to face in Santa Barbara. Being familiar with Isla Vista himself, since he spent a great deal of time there when he was younger, he confirmed to me that yes, the girls in Isla Vista prefer tall, muscular, rowdy jock-type men.
Gavin was the only young person I really interacted with at the time, besides the occasional meetings with Philip and Addison. He was a good-looking guy, with a chiseled jaw and bright blonde hair. Whenever we went out to a restaurant, or anywhere that had girls, I got extremely jealous when I saw that girls were checking him out instead of me. This one girl at a restaurant in Santa Monica was staring at him the whole time we were sitting there. No girl had ever done that to me. This only made me more aware that girls did not consider me physically attractive. My hatred of the female gender could grow no stronger. It was too much.
On Father’s Day, I went with my family to the Four Season’s Resort in Westlake Village. The Four Season’s held their annual Father’s Day buffet. The place was very beautiful and opulent, and there was delicious food of all kinds to choose from. I always looked forward to events like this. Since I had no access to sex, food was my only vice. As with all buffets that I had attended, I stuffed myself tremendously, trying to sample every single thing they offered. There was pork sausage, bacon, smoked salmon, sushi, filet mignon, roast chicken, roast potatoes...
Again with the pork sausage and roast potatoes ? Just how much does West Coast cuisine suck irl ? Is he just being a klutz or do you people seriously eat boring all day ?
And I took pleasure in eating as much as I could. I filled my plate three times and devoured all of them. As I enjoyed my exquisite meal, I took in the scenery all around me; the perfectly built architecture of the building,
Do those buildings even lift ?
the pretty flowers in the gardens, the luxurious furniture and décor, the cascading fountains. It truly made me feel good, a welcome respite from all of my suffering in Santa Barbara. Respites like these make me more aware that there are so many good and beautiful things in this world to enjoy. If my status in life were better, I would think this world to be a magnificent place, and I could truly enjoy life. If I was satisfied with my circumstances in life, I would be able to enjoy this beautiful world to its fullest. I can’t be satisfied with life if I’m a virgin and girls are repulsed by me. It’s such a tragedy.
I realized that I didn’t want to give up on life in this world. I wanted to live a happy life, a life in which I could have a beautiful girlfriend and experience this amazing world with her. I decided that since my plans for the Day of Retribution wouldn’t be taking place until November, I could use the time I had during the summer to give life another chance; one last chance before the end, one last ditch effort to attain happiness.
In late June, my mother moved out of the Summit Town Homes and bought a house in West Hills. It was the first time my mother bought a house, as she had only rented in the past. The house had recently undergone a renovation, so it was practically brand new. The house had a swimming pool and was located in a nice enough area, though I would have still preferred it if my mother had gotten married to a wealthy man and moved into a mansion.
Just for the record.
I still continued to pester her to do this, and she still stubbornly refused. I will always resent my motherfor refusing to do this. If not for her sake, she should have done it for mine. Joining a family of great wealth would have truly saved my life. I would have a high enough status to attract beautiful girlfriends and live above all of my enemies. All of my horrific troubles would have been eased instantly. It is very selfish of my mother to not consider this.
With the help of Gavin, my parents arranged for me to have a couple of social skills counsellors to work with me in Santa Barbara. They would have a similar role that Gavin did, providing someone to take me out and help me practice socializing.
Why not just shoot him ?
He'd have done the same for you!
They would be like hired friends.
This would be like instameme.
Of course, I did need something like this, and I should have signed up for it when I first moved to Santa Barbara. It was a little too late at this point, I feared, but I went along with it anyway. I was so lonely in Santa Barbara, and in my loneliness I always craved having someone to talk to.
The first counsellor was a very easy going man named Karlin, who was the same age as Gavin. On my first night of meeting Karlin, he took me out to Isla Vista, but nothing came out of it. We just ended up walking around until his time was up. During our walk, I asked him if he had ever had sex with girls in Isla Vista, and he told me he had sex with four girls! I was very jealous. Karlin was half Hawaiian and half Mexican, and he wasn’t that good looking. How on earth could he have managed to sleep with four girls in Isla Vista, while I had been there for two years and had none? It seemed absolutely preposterous. I didn’t want to see him at all after I found this out.
The second counsellor that was assigned to help me was a girl named Sasha. She was only a year older than me. Sasha was the first young girl I had interacted with in the entire time I stayed in Santa Barbara, and she was only hired to talk to me. How pathetic is that? At first, I didn’t want to have a female counsellor, but when I was introduced to her, I saw that she was quite a pretty looking blonde. I couldn’t refuse the opportunity to hang out with a blonde girl, despite the fact that she was a hired friend. It was the only time in my life that I had the experience of spending time with a girl my age, and even though it was all fake, I really enjoyed it. I felt so much better about life after each time we met. But then, I thought about how unfair it was that I could only get a fake little taste of such an experience, while other men get to do such a thing every single day with their girlfriends. Eventually, Sasha had to move out of Santa Barbara, and I decided not to have any more female counsellors. It has the same effect as hiring a prostitute, I imagine.
Wait, he actually knew these exist ?! Incredible.
It temporarily feels good for the moment, but afterward it makes one feel like a pathetic loser for having to hire a girl when other men could get the experience for free.
People (by which we mean short, dorky, corky, funny fellows who always wanted to pretend they were an architect) do this same routine about parking, "why should I pay when if I apply myself, I could get it for free". As if fucking garages just fall out of the sky, and there actually exists such a thing as free in nature. Socialist logic.
In July, I spent a lot of time exercising in my room in a final effort to appear as attractive as possible to girls. I proposed that after two weeks of rigorous exercising, I will try my hardest to go out in Isla Vista and do everything I can to meet a girl and lose my virginity. It had been a long time since I went out to Isla Vista by myself, but I knew that I had to do it. I had nothing to lose, and my whole life was on the line. Before would set the definite decision to plan the Day of Retribution, I wanted to give women and humanity one more chance to accept me and give me a chance to have a pleasurable youth. I resolved that if I go out to Isla Vista for this final time, and I still end up going back to my room as a lonely virgin, I will have no choice but to plan my Retribution.
I even attended college at SBCC again. I signed up for a summer sociology class and attended it for a week, before dropping it out of the familiar frustration of girls talking to other boys instead of me.
This last ditch effort of desperation to once again try to live an enjoyable college life in Isla Vista came to an ultimate and devastating culmination on Saturday night, July 20th, just a few days before my 22nd Birthday.
It was the day that I decided to go out in Isla Vista in an attempt to lose my virginity before I turned 22. That was the only thing that could have saved me. I was giving the female gender one last chance to provide me with the pleasures I deserved from them.
I was too nervous to go out there sober, so I bought a bottle of vodka and took a few shots to garner enough courage to walk out at such an hour. I had taken one too many, for by the time I reached Del Playa Street, my head was clouded with drunkenness. At the start, it benefited me greatly. I saw lots of good looking popular kids socializing in groups all over the place, and if I wasn’t drunk it would have intimidated me too much. I was so drunk that I walked right into a wild house party that was taking place on Del Playa. They had a DJ playing annoying hip hop music that all the young people liked these days, and there was a ping pong table set up where lots of popular kids were playing "beer pong”, a crude drinking game.
There were about one hundred people at that party, and everyone was socializing with a group of friends except for me. I walked around in my drunken confidence for a few moments, helped myself to the beer they had, and tried to act like a normal party-goer. I soon became frustrated that no one was paying any attention to me, particularly the girls. I saw girls talking to other guys who looked like obnoxious slobs, but none of them showed any interest in me. As my frustration grew, so did my anger. I came across this Asian guy who was talking to a white girl. The sight of that filled me with rage. I always felt as if white girls thought less of me because I was half-Asian, but then I see this white girl at the party talking to a full-blooded Asian. I never had that kind of attention from a white girl! And white girls are the only girls I’m attracted to, especially the blondes. How could an ugly Asian attract the attention ofa white girl, while a beautiful Eurasian like myself never had any attention from them? I thought with rage. I glared at them for a bit, and then decided I had been insulted enough. I angrily walked toward them and bumped the Asian guy aside, trying to act cocky and arrogant to both the boy and the girl. My drunken state got the better of me, and I almost fell over to the floor after a few minutes of this. They said something along the lines that I was very drunk and that I needed to get some water, so I angrily left them and went out to the front yard, where the main partying happened. Rage fumed inside me as I realized that I just walked away from that confrontation, so I rushed back into the house and spitefully insulted the Asian before walking outside again.
I stood awkwardly in the front yard for a bit, realizing how pathetic I looked all by myself when everyone was partying around me. To calm down, I climbed up onto a wooden ledge that bordered the street and plunged down on one of the chairs there. Isla Vista was at its wildest state at that time, and I saw lots of guys walking around with hot blonde girls on their arm. It fueled me with rage, as it always had. I should be one of those guys, but no blonde girls gave me that chance. I looked down at all of them, and in my drunken carelessness, extended my arm out and pretended to shoot them all, laughing giddily as I did it. Eventually, some partiers climbed up onto the ledge. They were all obnoxious, rowdy boys whom I’ve always despised. A couple of pretty girls came up and talked to them, but not to me. They all started socializing right next to me, and none of the girls paid any attention to me. I rose from my chair and tried to act arrogant and cocky toward them, throwing insults at everyone. They only laughed at me and started insulting me back. That was the last straw, I had taken enough insults that night. A dark, hate-fueled rage overcame my entire being, and I tried to push as many of them as I could from the 10-foot ledge. My main target was the girls. I wanted to punish them for talking to the obnoxious boys instead of me. It was one of the most foolish and rash things I ever did, and I almost risked everything in doing it, but I was so drunk with rage that I didn’t care. I failed to push any of them from the ledge, and the boys started to push me, which resulted in me being the one to fall onto the street. When I landed, I felt a snap in my ankle, followed by a stinging pain. I slowly got up and found that I couldn’t even walk. I had to stumble, and stumble I did. I tried to get away from there as fast as I could.
Not that many people can stumble on their own power with a snapped ankle.
Then again, not that many people could follow in this nuts footsteps, or as Pascal put it "all the ills of this world come from the fact that men can't sit quietly in a room". Apparently Pascal never met Elliot.
As I stumbled a few yards down Del Playa with my shattered leg, I realized that someone had stolen my Gucci sunglasses that my mother had given me. I loved those sunglasses, and had to get them back. I vehemently turned around
He vehemently turned around.
and staggered back towards the party. At that point, I was so drunk that I forgot where the party was, and ended up walking onto the front yard of the house next to it, demanding to know who took my sunglasses. The people in this house must have been friends with the ones I previously fought with, for they greeted me with vicious hostility.
Yea. Either friends, or otherwise "of the same species" - seeing how some drunk beligerently vehementing around your front yard uninvited tends to elicit about the same response throughout the various races and cultures, now or ever.
They called me names like ”faggot” and ”pussy”, typical things those types of scumbags would say. A whole group of the obnoxious brutes came up and dragged me onto their driveway, pushing and hitting me. I wanted to fight and kill them all. I managed to throw one punch toward the main attacker, but that only caused them to beat me even more. I fell to the ground where they started kicking me and punching me in the face. Eventually, some other people from the street broke up the fight. I managed to have the strength to stand up and stagger away.
It was the first time in my life that I had been truly beaten up physically to the point where my face was bruised up. I had suffered a lot of bullying in my life, but most of it wasn’t physical. I had never been beaten and humiliated that badly. Everyone in Isla Vista saw what happened, and it was truly horrific.
So he's not even "never been punched".
The worst part of this whole ordeal was not getting beaten up, oh no. It was the fact that no one showed any concern.
Wouldn't you expect a 22 year old virgin/savant to piss his pants at the mere whiff of the possibility, at the mere sound of a can of whupass being opened somewhere within a hundred paces ? Well, apparently Elliot dun give a shit.
There was only one group who helped me to the end of Del Playa, but after that they abandoned me. Not one girl offered to help me as I stumbled home with a broken leg, beaten and bloody. If girls had been attracted to me, they would have offered to walk me to my room and take care of me.
Story time : when I was about 13, walking over to schoolviii during late Autumn I slid on a bit of ice and broke my arm in the tumble. A rather pretty medschool girl did see me fall, and asked me if I'm okay. I told her I broke my armix and she walked me to the (nearby, Cluj has a huge medical-school-campuses-and-teaching-hospitals complex) orthopedic clinic, where she waited for me while they put my arm in a cast. So I showed up to school a coupla hours late, and with a cast on my arm, which totally blew my parents away when the school called them to tell them (no cellphones at the time). I dun know what became of the girl - I have this vague memory of her visiting my place later, or maybe we went there for some reason as part of the day's proceedings, I don't remember - but in any case, let the permanent record show that women aren't all bad. On the contrary!
And thanks, whoever you were. I had no idea at the time, nor did it occur to me at any point up until now, but apparently such behaviours have a preventive effect against mass shootings! Which means you're a heroine, and share some of the blame for there never being a mass shooting in that city at any point in its history to date.
They would have even offered to sleep with me to make me feel better.
Dude got a busted ankle and all he can think of is sex ? What the fuck is wrong with a blowjob already!
But no, not one girl showed an ounce of concern for me. They didn’t care. No one cared about me. I was all alone.
As I got to my room, I was so traumatized that I called the only people in the world I knew, my parents and my sister. Yes, I even called my sister, someone I never got along with.
This was never explained nor documented!
I sulked for a long time, and then I reached up to my neck to feel my special golden necklace, and I felt nothing there. In the midst of the fight, one of those horrible punks had snatched off my special golden necklace that my grandma Ah Mah had given me! That necklace was one of the most special items I had, and now one of those evil, wretched thugs will be selling it to buy drugs. I broke down in anguish and wailed in agony, crying and crying until I passed out in my bed, all alone.
Well, technically, he might also be selling it to pay for the next kegger where rando drunkards will act belligerently for no reason and generally lose their shit.
Either that or drugs, I guess it's an even toss.
When I woke up the next morning, my leg was in absolute agony. It was purple and swollen, and I could not even stumble anymore. I had to crawl. Being fully sober, all of my anxiety came back. It became very clear to me what had happened. I felt enraged by everything, but also fearful that I might get in trouble. I did try to push girls off of a ledge and threatened to kill all of those people, which could implicate me. I had to concoct a fairly altered story to explain to the police, who would inevitably have to interview me once I got to the hospital and reported my injury.
Really ?! You have to talk to the police for breaking your ankle ?! Da fuck totalitarian police state you got going over there!
My father drove up to Santa Barbara to bring me to the hospital. Two police did interview me, and I told them that those boys deliberately pushed me off of the ledge after I acted ”cocky” towards them. I didn’t mention the girls at all. I expressed to the police of my wishes that they should all be punished for this. The police then went to interview them, and they had their own version of the story. Since there was no actual evidence, the whole case was shortly dismissed.
The physician at the hospital put me in a temporary cast and gave me crutches. On top of all other things in the world that made me feel inferior, I was now a cripple. I felt so defeated and broken. To my horror, the physician said that I would have to be in crutches for the next six weeks, and I might have to get surgery.
The leg that broke was my left leg, so I was still able to drive. Shortly after the incident, I drove home to spend the rest of the summer recovering. It was a depressing drive. I had never felt so defeated and wronged in my life. I had actually gone out to a party in Isla Vista, hoping that I would be walking back to my room in triumph with a beautiful girl on my arm, but instead I stumbled back to my room with a shattered leg and shattered hopes.
Yeah, I totally can't understand how geting plastered and then trying to push some girls off a ledge and threatening bloody murder resulted in a broken lateral malleolus rather than a torn frenulum. Entirely unexpected, incomprehensible and no one could have predictible.
My 22nd Birthday was a miserable experience. I sat around at my mother’s house, staring at my broken leg, feeling so pathetic for being a cripple, as well as a 22-year-old virgin.
Not to mention a non-white azn with a small penisx and no money except for some and no hope and no life and pork sausages are so crude.
My mother bought me a new golden necklace to replace the one that was stolen from me, as she knew how heartbroken I was about losing it.
22 Years Old
The highly unjust experience of being beaten and humiliated in front of everyone in Isla Vista,
Such nonsense. Nobody cares enough to remember he got beaten. The socially insignificant always harbor these strange delusions of attention, somehow "everyone" cares to witness whatever humiliation, and index it away to be remembered later, as if anyone ever gives a shit. These kids can't remember the things they deliberately are trying to learn for exams yet they're going to recall the participants in each and every drunken bout of violence of the thousand or so available any given weekend, and on top of that exactly how well each scored, is the theory ? Preposterous. People routinely forget even the names of the people they're fucking - often enough even before the very act is complete!
and their subsequent lack of concern for my well-being, was the last and final straw. I actually gave them all one last chance to accept me, to give me a reason not to hate them, and they devastatingly blew it back in my face.
See, this is the problem : he wants to be the lord, and as such he rightfully sees everyone to be burdened with an obligation to buy their life back from him. This is exactly the same view of every socialism ever - which is why you're sending those tax declarations to the USG.IRS each year. You're buying back your life, one year at a time, except for some reason you think it's better to be buying it back from an abstract "government" than from a personal Elliot (while at the same time insistently trying to forget much better alternatives exist).
So... have you given Elliot a reason not to hate you today ?
I gave the world too many chances. It was time for Retribution.
I went into surgery in the beginning of August. After visiting the local orthopedist, he recommended that I have my broken ankle surgically screwed in place instead of waiting for it to heal by itself.
In no small part because he's in the business of making money and growing the economy, not in the business of fixing fucking ankles. You want your ankle fixed, go to a witch doctor.
I decided to go through with it, just so I could be out of crutches sooner. My mother drove me to the hospital early in the morning, and I was wrought with fear. I had never been through such a thing in my life. They put me to sleep with anesthesia, and when I woke up my leg burned with pain, though the pain medication they injected in me afterward helped ease this. A new cast was placed on my leg. I didn’t even want to think about what it looked like underneath. I was told that they screwed in a titanium plate to hold the fractured bone in place, and it required six screws. I rested in the hospital for a few hours before I was allowed to go home, under the instructions that I would have to keep my leg raised at all times for the next week.
Shortly after my surgery, my mother and sister went on a vacation to Hawaii. They had been planning this for a long time, and of course I refused to go with them when they initially asked me months before. My mother didn’t want me to stay in her house all alone in the crippled state that I was in. Taking care of the house in such a condition would be too difficult, and there would be no one there to provide immediate assistance in case of an emergency. I asked father if I could stay at his house, but Soumaya was having some of her relatives staying for the summer, so she refused to let me stay there because it would be "too much for her to handle”, despite the fact that father’s house had six bedrooms and plenty of space for me to occupy. Father, of course, gave in to Soumaya’s rules as he always had. My respect for him was already so low that it couldn’t get any lower because of this.
Due to this little difficulty, my mother booked me a hotel room at Extended Stay America in Woodland Hills. I was content with this. The hotel was comfortable enough, and my mother stocked me with a lot of food for the week that I would be there. It provided a nice atmosphere to recover from the horrific experiences I had just recently endured. The only thing I disliked about this hotel was that it was located right across the street from Taft High School, so whenever I looked out the window I saw a place that had caused me great suffering in the distant past. I thought about the bullying I received at Taft, and in a way my experience there was quite similar to what had just happened to me on that fateful night in Isla Vista. I was bullied by thugs, and the girls adored the bullies instead of me. Indeed, a very similar scenario.
We somehow weren't reading the same text or somesuch, I don't seem to recall any bullying going on at Taft. Elliot is hereby docked one bullying claim.
Only now, I was ready and capable of fighting back against the cruelty of women. Back when I was a weak and timid boy at Taft High School, I was powerless and frightened, having to resort to hiding in a life of playing video games.
Well, at least he did get some toons to level cap, in the process Making America Great Again and helping the economy exactly in the manner twelve year olds do.
All of the suffering, loneliness, rejection, and humiliation I had to experience since then had strengthened me. The hatred that festered inside me in all of those years leading up to this point had empowered me in a dark, twisted way. I was now armed with weapons, possessed great intelligence and philosophical insight, with the willpower to exact the most catastrophic act of vengeance the world will ever see.
I spent the next week in that hotel room brooding about the injustices of life and my place in the world. It fully dawned on me that I would now have to bring about the Day of Retribution. There was no other hope. I mused that once I descend upon Isla Vista, armed with my weapons and my burning hatred, I would definitely make sure to target the people who lived in that house I was attacked in. The plan was to destroy the entirety of Isla Vista, and kill every single person in it, or at least kill as many popular young people I could before the police arrive and I’d have to kill myself.
I felt so shocked and overwhelmed upon realizing that it was definitely going to resort to this. I was going to die soon, and that in itself was hard to accept. I didn’t want to die, but I would have no choice. Vengeance is the only path; all other paths had been closed shut. I thought it to be such a tragedy that I was actually going to wage war against women and all of humanity. But then again, women’s rejection of me was a declaration of war.
If he worked for the Department of State, you couldn't tell the difference.
They insulted me by deeming me inferior of their love and sex. They hate me, and I will return that hatred one-thousand fold. I will inflict suffering on everyone in Isla Vista, just like they have made me suffer. In the past, I have always been at their mercy, and I was given none. On the Day of Retribution, everyone will be at my mercy, and in turn I will show them no mercy at all. My Retribution will be so devastating that it will shake the very foundations of the world.
It may even make the Powerball raise in the West!
My broken leg was a setback, of course. Even with surgery, I’d have to be in crutches for six weeks, and even after that it would take a while to be able to walk normally again. I figured I won’t be walking normally until October. There was no way I’d be well enough to prepare for the Day of Retribution by November. There was too little time. I made a new plan to set the ultimate and final date for the Day of Retribution to be at the end of the Spring of 2014. This would give me plenty of time to prepare. The Day of Retribution was now my whole reason for living. It’s all I have to live for. This act of deadly vengeance against the people who have wronged me is my sole purpose on this world. I needed as much time as possible in order to plan it efficiently.
Postponing the Day of Retribution also gave me a few more months of life. Perhaps I would also use that time to look for a way out. I have always been itching for a way out of this, and even with the recent events that had occurred, a small part of me still clung to that inkling of hope.
Gavin came to visit me at the hotel, and he was welcome company. It was really getting lonely there, though it was definitely better than being lonely in Isla Vista. The two of us sat down for three hours in my hotel room to have an important conversation. I explained to him my finely altered version of everything that happened on that night in Isla Vista. He didn’t seem surprised. When he was my age, he used to go up to Isla Vista quite often. He told me that the kind of brutal, rowdy atmosphere I’ve witnessed was part of the culture there. The boisterous, wild frat boys get all of the beautiful girls, and everyone is looking for a fight, like the vicious animals they are. He said it was a truth I had to accept, advising me to move out of there. I couldn’t accept this truth, because it was unjust. I couldn’t let such evil exist, and I will not run away from it by moving out of there. I will either thrive there, or destroy the place utterly. Since I failed to thrive there, I had no choice but to plan my Retribution.
When my mother came back from Hawaii, I went to stay at her house for the next month, until my leg healed enough for me to lose the crutches. I didn’t want to go back to Santa Barbara while still in crutches, it would be too humiliating, and I had felt humiliated enough there already.
For the first week after surgery, my leg suffered intense searing pain, though that searing pain was nothing compared to the hatred that burned in my heart. During that time, I could barely leave my bed, because whenever I did, the blood rushed to my leg and triggered the pain. For the entire time that I was in the hotel, I stayed in my bed like a vegetable. After that initial week, the pain subsided, and I was able to move about on my crutches with greater ease. I often did laps around my mother’s backyard as a way of venting my anger, sometimes swinging my crutches around as if they were swords, slashing at all of the enemies who had wronged me in life.
The month that I spent at mother’s house was very relaxing, and I tried my best to calm myself down as time passed. I spent a lot of time watching movies, reading books, introspecting, and contemplating about life. I stayed in the house all the time, for I despised having to go out and be seen as a cripple. I already felt insecure enough about myself for being a lonely virgin. Being seen as a cripple was too much salt on the wound.
Gavin came to visit me again, and this time we sat in my mother’s dining room to have yet another important conversation about my life and where I was going. He tried to advise me again to move out of Isla Vista, but I refused to hear it. I moved to Isla Vista with the goal of losing my virginity and attaining the life I desire. If I’m unable to have it, I will destroy it. I will never run away in defeat.
My parents arranged for us to have a conference with my Psychiatrist, Dr. Charles Sophy. I set out with my mother to meet father outside Dr. Sophy’s house in Beverly Hills, and when we got there we were surprised to see that Soumaya had come for the conference too. This presented a conflict, because Soumaya and my mother had recently had an argument due to Soumaya refusing to let me stay at father’s house during my mother’s trip to Hawaii. For more than half of the conversation, the doctor spent time resolving this petty conflict instead of addressing the troubles that I was going through.
Well, seeing how Dr. Sophy is really a divorce psychologist, and considering the past history of adults omitting to tell people it was Elliot's birthay party, we could also surmise that the boy was just taken along as a prop, and really the visit was mostly about getting the two women to simmer down.
When we finally did get to my situation, Dr. Sophy ended up giving me the same useless advice that every other psychiatrist, psychologist, and counsellor had given me in the past. I don’t know why my parents wasted money on therapy, as it will never help me in my struggle against such a cruel and unjust world. The doctor ended up dismissing it by prescribing me a controversial medication, Risperidone. After researching this medication, I found that it was the absolute wrong thing for me to take. I refused to take it, and I never saw Dr. Sophy again after that.
Actually, antipsychotics were definitely the way to go, and risperdal is specifically indicated for irritable autists with OCD and/or psychosis. Solid diagnosis.
Towards the end of the month, my mother invited Maddy and Mo Humpreys over for dinner. Mother had recently been reconnecting with her old friend Mo. Maddy had just graduated from USC, a university renowned for its abundance of spoiled, bratty students who partied all the time, very similar to UCSB. I often call USC the ”University of Spoiled Cunts”, just like I call UCSB the ”University of California’s Spoiled Brats”. Brilliant, fitting nicknames!
Couldn't have done it better myself. I think we shall call these The Nicknames, after some nicknames Elliot himself coined. The world is so meta!
Before Maddy came, I stalked her Facebook for a bit, and I saw that she was the exact image of everything I hated in women. She was a popular, spoiled USC girl who partied with her hot, beautiful blonde-haired clique of friends. All of them looked like absolute cunts, and my hatred for them all grew from each picture I saw on her profile. They were the kind of beautiful, popular people who lived pleasurable lives and would look down on me as inferior scum, never accepting me as one of them. They were my enemies. They represented everything that was wrong with this world. Maddy was my first friend in America. As a child, I played with her as an equal. Now she was my enemy. I would take great delight in torturing and flaying her and every single one of her spoiled, obnoxious evil friends. When she and her mother came to eat dinner with us, I had to keep calm as I hobbled out of my room on my crutches to greet them.
That relaxing month at mother’s was like the comfort before the storm. Once I go back to Santa Barbara, fully recovered, the final dark chapter of my life will commence. I dreaded what will come of it.
After six weeks of hobbling about on crutches whenever I had to go somewhere, I visited my orthopedist, asking if it was finally time for me to walk without them. After examining my leg, he agreed that I can proceed to a ”walking cast”. This would enable me to limp around, without crutches, though I would have to use a cane. Though uncomfortable, it was much, much better than having to go about on those damnable crutches. When I got home, I delightedly practiced moving around with this new setup.
Before long, my mother said I was now well enough to return to Santa Barbara. My new college classes were starting soon anyway, though she didn’t know that I had only signed up for online classes for the Autumn semester out of fear that I might have to start college while still crippled. She had grown tired of having to deal with me, as she always was in the past. I spent a few more days at mother’s with my walking cast and cane before she made me go back to Santa Barbara, telling me I can return to visit in two weeks.
I made my ominous drive back to Santa Barbara, and as I drove I thought about all of the injustices I had to face in the last two years I had spent there. Injustices that had never been set right. Now was the time to set them right. Now was the time for Retribution.
Can you imagine how this guy drives ?
When I got back to my apartment, I saw that my housemates Chris and Jon had moved out. A pity, as they were the most pleasant housemates I could have hoped for. I feared what my new ones would be like, and I was told they would be coming in a few weeks. I had the place to myself for that period, which suited me well. I refused to leave my room at all until I was able to at least lose my walking cast. I spent the time doing the same thing I did at mother’s house. I watched a lot of movies, and sat around contemplating my future.
Upon my visit home, I went to see my orthopedist for one last time, and he told me I can finally walk without any cast around my leg, though I would need the cane for a few more weeks. I was content with this, as I didn’t mind the cane that much. It had a peculiar elegance about it.
On that same weekend, I met up with Philip and Addison. We had been planning to meet during the summer, but I had to postpone it because of my terrible injury. I took them out in my father’s Mercedes SUV, and we went on another one of our adventures around Los Angeles. First, we went to an exquisite Japanese restaurant on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood. I was thankful I didn’t see any young couples my age there, most of them were older than us. Afterwards, we went to Griffith Park Observatory, under Philip’s suggestion. Going there brought back memories, both good and bad. It was ever a tradition for the three of us to go there, as we had been so many times. The place provided an expansive view of the city of LA. At night it was absolutely exquisite. The Griffith Park Observatory was truly a wondrous place to admire the beauty of the world... but the whole experience was ruined, of course, by the sight of so many young couples kissing there, right under the stars. Those boys must have been in heaven, to experience such a place with their beautiful girlfriends.
Seeing all of those young couples at Griffith Park filled me with rage for the rest of the night. It reminded me of the injustices I have to face in life, and my war against it all. When I drove down the hill from the Observatory, I saw more young couples walking around, and I had the desire to run them over with the Mercedes as a sweet act of revenge. I already planned to use the Mercedes SUV as one of my weapons on the Day of Retribution, since Isla Vista on weekend nights was always filled with my enemies walking right in the middle of the road. They would be easy targets.
After the disastrous experience at Griffith Park,
I suppose he was bullied.
But that's ok, or at least it could have been worse. For instance, were he a girl, he would have been raped.
No, seriously, I saw the statistics, somewhere between half and 150% of all the women alive were raped by their friends in very similar circumstances. It's a fact because some dizzy twats said so on their livehornal.
we decided to take a late night trip all the way to Palos Verdes, just to admire the scenery. I had never been down there, and Addison told me it was a peaceful, quiet, and exquisite place that provided an extraordinary view. When we arrived at a beach park in Palos Verdes that overlooked the ocean, Philip had fallen asleep, so it was just me and Addison who went out to walk around. I took an instant liking to the place, and explored it as much as I could, even though I was still limping with my cane. As the two of us looked up at the stars, we had a few insightful conversations. Addison told me more about his experiences among the popular kids of Malibu, in which I still envied him greatly for. I told him about all of my newfound philosophical views regarding women, and how I believe they are mentally flawed and need to be contained. He didn’t show any hint of how he felt about this. Addison told me that I was a person of high intelligence, and that I shouldn’t waste it by doing something "rash”. I believe he had a suspicion that I was indeed planning on massacring my enemies and then killing myself. Of course he would have that suspicion... In a way I think he knew me better than anyone else. I am indeed an intelligent person, but the cruelty of this world gives me no choice but to exact my Retribution. I tactfully told Addison that I had no intentions of "doing anything stupid”. That was my last conversation with him. It was also the last time I ever saw Philip and Addison.
I also went to meet with my father’s friend Dale Launer on that weekend. Dale Launer is a successful Hollywood screenwriter and producer who owns a nice house in the Pacific Palisades. Dale and my father have been friends for many years. When I was a child, father sometimes took me to dinner parties at his house. I hadn’t seen Dale since I was a child, but within the last few months I began to have email conversations with him after he found out I was having trouble with girls. He wanted to help me overcome my troubles because he is a so-called expert with women. He even showed me pictures of all of the gorgeous women he has dated in his life, and there were a lot of them. This man truly lived.
A few men who are successful with women have offered me help and advice about this in the past, but nothing ever came of it. I suppose they want to help because it would be a boost to their already big egos, and also because they feel sorry for me. People should feel sorry for me. My life is so pathetic, and I hate the world for forcing me to suffer it. I feel sorry for myself.
In truth, there is nothing men like Dale can really do to help me attract girls and lose my virginity. They can’t mind-control girls to be attracted to me. It’s all girls’ fault for not having any sexual attraction towards me.
Amusingly enough, his "philosophies of life and ideals" regarding mating seem to be, other than deeply infantile, rather feminine. He wants to be woo'd off his feet by a strong, tall (and blonde) Amazon.
In a sense Elliot's sad life is a loud testament to the failure of [what currently passes for] feminism. Where are all the roars at, bitchez ? I can not hear you roar.
My brief friendship with Dale would, however, spark a few more interesting email conversations where I confide to him about how cruel I think women are by nature. He would only be amused by this. Of course he would be amused. Women were never cruel to him. They gave him sex and love all his life.
Women running a selective scam ? Hm.
I had an argument with Soumaya while I was visiting father’s house. It started when she began to boast that my brother Jazz was recently signed by an agent to act in T.V. commercials. She said that by the time he is my age, he will be a successful actor. I talked about how Jazz was already so socially savvy for his age, and how I’ve always envied him for it. She told me he will never have any problems with girls, and will lose his virginity while he’s young. I had to sit there and listen to the bitch tell me that my little brother will grow up enjoying the life I’ve always craved for, but missed out on. It is very unfair how some boys are able to live such pleasurable lives while I never had any taste of itxi, and now it has been confirmed to me that my little brother will become one of them. He will become a popular kid who gets all the girls. Girls will love him. He will become one of my enemies.
That was the day that I decided I would have to kill him on the Day of Retribution. I will not allow the boy to surpass me at everything, to live the life I’ve always wanted. It’s not fair that he has the chance to have a pleasurable life while I’ve been denied it. It will be a hard thing to do, because I had really bonded with my little brother in the last year, and he respected and looked up to me. But I would have to do it. If I can’t live a pleasurable life, then neither will he! I will not let him put my legacy to shame.
Wwwwait... what ?!
In order to kill Jazz, I would have to kill Soumaya too, but that will be easy. All I would need to do is think about all of the hurtful things she had said to me in that past as I plunge my knife into her neck. But what if father is in the house to stop me? Would I have to kill him too? That would be too much. I remember, when I was a child, I had dreams about my father dying, and I woke up crying to my mother, in which she would comfort me and tell me that it was just a dream. How could my life have resorted to the point where I am the one to kill my own father? I felt sick to my stomach.
I concluded that I would have to set the Day of Retribution during a time when my father is out of the country, on one of his business trips. It would be too risky to try to kill him. I might hesitate at the last second.
When I thought about all of this, I truly did feel sick. I felt a shiver run through me. My whole world had become so twisted and wrong. I didn’t want it to come to this. I desperately wanted a way out.
If only someone could mind-control women...
To make me feel more confident, my mother provided me with a better car to drive in Santa Barbara, a BMW 3 series Coupe. I had always wanted this, since I cared a lot about my appearance. I had been asking my parents for a more upper-class car ever since I found out that there was a car hierarchy, and that some students at my college drove better cars than others. Now I was one of the students with a better, high-class car.
Having a nicer car than most other students my age did indeed make me feel more confident. Mother should have bought this car for me when I first moved to Santa Barbara. It made me feel better about going out more while I was there. This, coupled with my newly healed leg, gave me one last twinge of hope as the remaining months of 2013 passed.
For those last remaining months, my extreme desperation and desire for happiness took hold of me, knowing full well how my life will turn out if I don’t get what I want.
This, incidentally, is how it usually goes - most insane murderers are actually, earnestly, and desperately, fighting against the badly internalized superego.
I went out every single day, just to put myself out there in the world in order to see what opportunities arise. I explored the entirety of Santa Barbara and Montecito, and it fully dawned on me what a beautiful environment I had been living in. However, a beautiful environment is the darkest hell if I have to experience it all alone. That fact that I had wasted the last two years in such a beautiful place filled me with anguish. I thought about what an enjoyable life I could have had, if only girls were attracted to me.
Two new housemates moved into my apartment for the Autumn semester. They were two foreign Asian students who attended UCSB. These were the biggest nerds I had ever seen, and they were both very ugly with annoying voices. My last two housemates, Chris and Jon, were nerds as well, but at least they were friendly and pleasant. These two new ones were utterly repulsive, and one of them had a very rebellious demeanor about him. He went out of his way to start arguments with me whenever I raised the issue of the noise he made. Hell, even living with Spencer was more pleasant than these two idiots. I knew that when the Day of Retribution came, I would have to kill my housemates to get them out of the way. If they were pleasant to live with, I would regret having to kill them, but due to their behavior I now had no regrets about such a prospect. In fact, I’d even enjoy stabbing them both to death while they slept.
I was assigned a new counsellor to meet with me every week in Santa Barbara, since Karlin and Sasha no longer worked for that company. My new counsellor was named Robert, a UCSB student who is one year older than me. I had coffee with him a few times, and we went volunteering together twice, in an effort to get me out of my room and doing activities. Nothing conducive to attaining the life I desire came out of these meetings, but the social interaction he provided was pleasant, and it gave me an outlet to express myself.
I visited my mother’s house quite often in the Autumn. To my extreme rage, I discovered that my sister now had a boyfriend, and that she had lost her virginity. She had casually "dated” boys in the past, but never to the serious extent that she did with this one. This one was a half White, half Mexican named Samuel, and I immediately took an intense disliking to him when I was first introduced to him. He seemed like the typical obnoxious slob that most young girls are sexually attracted to. Georgia invited him to my mother’s house all the time, and it angered me to watch him lurking about, eating my mother’s food and drinks, and making use of my mother’s house. He was freeloading off my mother, and she didn’t even realize it.
I eventually grew to hate him after I heard him having sex with my sister.
I arrived at the house one day, my mother being at work, and heard the sounds of Samuel plunging his penis into my sister’s vagina through her closed room door, along with my sister’s moans.
Young girls have so much suction!
Nevertheless, someone should tell the kids to open the door, and generally do it on a bed like normal people. Who the fuck ever heard of using a door as a condom before!
I stood there and listened to it all. So my sister, who was four years younger than me, managed to lose her virginity before I did. It reminded me of how pathetic I was, that at the age of twenty-two, I was still a virgin. I hated her boyfriend as well. My sister said that he’s been with other girls before her, and I’m sure he lost his virginity at a much younger age. It is such an injustice. The slob doesn’t even have a car, and he is able to get girlfriends, while I drive a BMW and get no attention from any girls whatsoever.
My sister even showed me a picture of one of his ex-girlfriends, a pretty brunette white girl. My hatred towards him only intensified after that. I refused to speak to him whenever he came over, and I constantly pestered my mother to ban him from the house, but she refused to heed my demands. Even worse, she constantly talked about him admiringly. He reminded me of Leo Bubenheim, a typical obnoxious boy who has been able to experience a great sex life from a young age. An enemy had now infiltrated the household of my mother, the one place in the whole world where I’ve always sought refuge from injustice. Things were getting too out of hand.
Grandma Jinx came to visit father’s house in late October. When she last visited, she resolved an intense conflict between me, my father, and Soumaya. In a way, this recent visit paralleled the last one, since I was having conflicts with Soumaya this time as well, just not to the same extreme.
I went over to father’s house to see my grandmother. She suggested that I take her out for a coffee, and I knew just the place. I took her to Barnes & Noble at the Calabasas Commons, a place of great significance in my past. While there, I showed her all of the spots I had spent time at years ago. Afterward, before I said my goodbye, a feeling of sadness swept over me, as I knew that was most likely the final farewell.
On Halloween, I found it hard to believe how fast time had gone by. I remember how on the last Halloween I had considered exacting my Retribution on this very day. Time indeed will inevitably pass, and soon enough my fate will have to be decided. I went home to my mother’s on Halloween, of course. I wouldn’t be able to stand being alone in my Isla Vista room while all of that partying happened around me. It was the exact same scenario as last year. In the afternoon, I saw a new psychologist, Dr. Randy Gold. In truth, he was my old psychologist whom I visited briefly when I was only thirteen. That was back when my life was just starting to fall into this dark path, and now I was still in the same position, except that the dark path was soon going to reach its climactic end. After my therapy session, I got drunk in my mother’s hot tub, trying not to think about all of the fun and sex that other young people were having that night.
Nothing came out of my desperate outings in Santa Barbara during the last months of 2013. Girls still didn’t show any interest in me. I drove to SBCC a lot, even though I was only signed up for online classes. While there, I saw other boys who had inferior cars driving around with hot girls in their passenger seats. I have a BMW and never had any hot girl in my passenger seat. Not once.
Noted : BMWs suck for tail.
It only made me fume with rage. Santa Barbara was such a beautiful town, but I could go nowhere without being insulted by my enemies. The mere sight of them enjoying their happy lives was an insult to me, because I deserve it more than them.
One place of refuge I often went to was the Coffee Bean in Montecito. It was located in a beautiful little town center, and most of the couples there were older than me. It provided a quiet and peaceful place for me to contemplate and brood.
On the eve of my last day in Santa Barbara, before I went home for the winter break, I went to the Sandpiper Golf Course in Goleta to watch the sunset. It was my usual sunset spot, and on that evening the shape of the clouds on the horizon made it exceptionally beautiful. I basked in its radiance as I stood there, wondering with despair how a world so beautiful could be so cruel. And then, one final insult came along, as if the world was taking one last spiteful lash at me. A young couple came and stood near me, making out with each other as they watched the very same sunset. There were lots of other people there as well, for it was quite a unique sunset. All of them must have had thoughts of admiration towards the couple, and thoughts of contempt towards me because I was all alone and unwanted. I have lived such an unnatural life, devoid of love, sex, and pleasure. Watching sunsets was one of the few joys I had left, and now that too was taken from me. How can I enjoy a sunset anymore, knowing that other men get to enjoy them with their beautiful girlfriends at their side? There was no more life for me to live.
It gets quite superb in its climax, this story. Elliot wants to know how could he enjoy watching the sunset, knowing his enemies also see the same sun set. Isn't this utterly poetic, almost Shakespearian in force ?
During the winter break, I was able to experience one final respite before 2014 came, the year my sad story will at last come to its tragic end. My mother and sister planned another trip to England at the end of December, this time for two weeks. For those two weeks, I stayed at my mother’s house by myself, taking advantage of the time to have one last period of relaxation and peace.
They decided to take my sister’s boyfriend Samuel to England with them, and upon hearing this I became very infuriated. Samuel was my enemy, someone who has enjoyed a happy life of sex while I have starved for years. And now my own mother was paying for his ticket to England, something he doesn’t deserve. I felt so betrayed by my mother because of this. She should have been more considerate for how I would feel. I am her son, and she should be on my side. But then again, my mother is a woman, and women are all mentally ill.
You'd expect mental illness to be an excuse from evildom, no ?
There was no way she could possibly understand my point of view.
I attended my father’s Christmas party during this winter break. At the party, I ran into Karl Champley. I hadn’t seen him since he hired me to work on his house years ago, and it was nice to speak with him again. I felt very bitter and ashamed, having to appear to all of my father’s friends as the same awkward, unwanted outcast I had always been. Some of them asked me about my life in Santa Barbara, and a few even asked if I had a girlfriend. I had to suffer having to tell them that no, I don’t have a girlfriend because girls are not attracted to me. I wished I could tell them all that I had an amazing life there, with a girlfriend who would be with me at that very party. I wish I could have made them all proud of me, but of course, I had nothing about me to be proud of.
Well... he did drive to Arizona to buy lottery tickets. Four times. I guess maybe they wouldn't be impressed of these attempts of his to invent inventions and things.
The only solace I had for that shame was the knowledge that I will soon rectify everything on the Day of Retribution.
My mother told me that I can have one bottle of wine from her pantry while she was away, and on New Year’s Eve I chose to open the best one in the lot, a fine vintage that I slowly sipped throughout the night as I stayed at my mother’s house, all alone. I knew that other young popular people were having the time of their lives that night, partying the night away. As I sipped my wine alone, in the moonlit darkness of my mother’s backyard, I assured myself that soon I will have my revenge on all of those young popular people. Soon...
After a restless sleep, I arose from my bed early on New Year’s Day, 2014. This was the final year. This was the year in which everything will come to a close. In this year, I will finally have my closure, my vengeance, my retribution! My whole tragic life had led to this, and I was ready.
I had been rejected, insulted, humiliated, cast out, bullied, starved, tortured, and ridiculed for far too long. Humanity is a cruel and brutal species, and the only thing I could do to even the score was to return that cruelty one-thousand fold. Women’s rejection of me is a declaration of war, and if it’s war they want, then war they shall have. It will be a war that will result in their complete and utter annihilation. I will deliver a blow to my enemies that will be so catastrophic it will redefine the very essence of human nature.
But there's nigh on four billion of them!
It was time to plot exactly what I will do on the Day of Retribution. I will be a god, punishing women and all of humanity for their depravity. I will finely deliver to them all of the pain and suffering they’ve dealt to me for so long.
The first thing I had to consider was the exact date it will take place. Valentine’s Day would have been very fitting, since it was the holiday that made me feel the most miserable and insulted, the holiday in which young couples celebrated their happy lives together. The problem was that Valentine’s Day was only a month away. I needed more time than that. Also, on Valentine’s Day most young couples will be spread out in various restaurants in the city instead of being packed together at parties in Isla Vista. Another option was Deltopia, a day in which many young people pour in from all over the state to have a spring break party on Del Playa Street. I figured this would be the perfect day to attack Isla Vista, but after watching Youtube videos of previous Deltopia parties, I saw that there were way too many cops walking around on such an event. It would be impossible to kill enough of my enemies before being dispatched by those damnable cops.
I wanted to set an exact date, on a normal Isla Vista party weekend, and once I set that date I will never change it. After a lot of thinking and consideration, I concluded to bring about the Day of Retribution on Saturday, April 26, 2014.
In the first months of 2014, which are the last months of my life, I tried to make the most out of every day. There was no a single day where I stayed in my room. Every morning, I set out in my BMW to go on adventures around the vicinity of Santa Barbara and Montecito, and I wouldn’t return until late in the night. I went on hikes in the mountains of Montecito, wandered around aimlessly in beautiful parks, took strolls along the beach, sipped lattes at various cafes, and watched the sunset at my many contemplation spots, staying there until the stars lit up the night sky. Every time I did this though, there was no escaping the sight of young couples doing the exact same thing together. It made me even more eager for the Day of Retribution to come. My life was a living hell, and that hell needed to come to an end.
I had enough extra money saved up to live comfortably and indulgently before I die. I didn’t spend all of it though, for I still needed supplies that were vital to my plans. First, I needed to buy a third handgun, just in case one of them jams. I needed two working handguns at the same time, as that was how I planned to commit suicide; with two simultaneous shots to the head. I also needed to buy magazine clips and ammunition, as well as knives and carrying cases for my equipment.
Even in the first months of 2014, leading up to the tragic day in April, the little twinge of hope inside me never faded. It remained, as if it were tiny, flickering flame of a candle in a dark room. I suppose that little flame is what prompted me to actually attend the two Spring Semester classes I registered for at SBCC. That lasted a good two weeks, before I realized how pointless it was and dropped them. There was no hope now, and I had to accept it.
After going through every single fantasy I had about how I would punish my enemies, I started to detail all of my exact plans for how the Day of Retribution will play out.
On the day before the Day of Retribution, I will start the First Phase of my vengeance: Silently killing as many people as I can around Isla Vista by luring them into my apartment through some form of trickery. The first people I would have to kill are my two housemates, to secure the entire apartment for myself as my personal torture and killing chamber. After that, I will start luring people into my apartment, knock them out with a hammer, and slit their throats. I will torture some of the good looking people before I kill them, assuming that the good looking ones had the best sex lives. All of that pleasure they had in life, I will punish by bringing them pain and suffering. I have lived a life of pain and suffering, and it was time to bring that pain to people who actually deserve it. I will cut them, flay them, strip all the skin off their flesh, and pour boiling water all over them while they are still alive, as well as any other form of torture I could possibly think of.
He obviously has no fucking idea how much trouble skinning a long pig actually is.
When they are dead, I will behead them and keep their heads in a bag, for their heads will play a major role in the final phase. This First Phase will represent my vengeance against all of the men who have had pleasurable sex lives while I’ve had to suffer. Things will be fair once I make them suffer as I did. I will finally even the score.
The Second Phase will take place on the Day of Retribution itself, just before the climactic massacre. The Second Phase will represent my War on Women. I will punish all females for the crime of depriving me of sex. They have starved me of sex for my entire youth, and gave that pleasure to other men. In doing so, they took many years of my life away. I cannot kill every single female on earth, but I can deliver a devastating blow that will shake all of them to the core of their wicked hearts. I will attack the very girls who represent everything I hate in the female gender: The hottest sorority of UCSB. After doing a lot of extensive research within the last year, I found out that the sorority with the most beautiful girls is Alpha Phi Sorority. I know exactly where their house is, and I’ve sat outside it in my car to stalk them many times. Alpha Phi sorority is full of hot, beautiful blonde girls; the kind of girls I’ve always desired but was never able to have because they all look down on me. They are all spoiled, heartless, wicked bitches. They think they are superior to me, and if I ever tried to ask one on a date, they would reject me cruelly.
He never actually tried, however. But... he knows nevertheless.
Shocking as it may be, this behaviour is actually a lot more common than you realise.
I will sneak into their house at around 9:00 pm. on the Day of Retribution, just before all of the partying starts, and slaughter every single one of them with my guns and knives. If I have time, I will set their whole house on fire. Then we shall see who the superior one really is!
The Final Phase of the Day of Retribution will be my ultimate showdown in the streets of Isla Vista. On the morning before, I will drive down to my father’s house to kill my little brother, denying him of the chance to grow up to surpass me, along with my stepmother Soumaya, as she will be in the way. My father will be away on one of his business trips, so thankfully I won’t have to deal with him. If he didn’t go away on that trip, I might even have to postpone the whole plan because of my fear that I might hesitate if I have to kill him. Once I’ve taken care of my brother and stepmother, I will switch over to the Mercedes SUV, and drive it back up to Isla Vista. I will use it as one of my killing machines against my enemies. An SUV will cause a lot more damage than my BMW coupe.
After I have killed all of the sorority girls at the Alpha Phi House, I will quickly get into the the SUV before the police arrive, assuming they would arrive within 3 minutes.
This is just about the shittiest plan I've ever seen. This guy evidently hasn't planed as much as a breakfast in his entire life.
I will then make my way to Del Playa, splattering as many of my enemies as I can with the SUV, and shooting anyone I don’t splatter.
Yeah, one hand on the wheel, another hand on the stick, third and fourth hand waving semiautomatic pistols with no recoil firing self-homing bullets, and the fifth hand he'll use to alternately jack off with and change the radio stations.
Maybe he should also rig a luxurious loveseat on the rooftop of the SUV, adding a long broomstick and a nigger-rigged cable something or the other to extend the controls all the way to his prestigious position on the roof of the car. That way he could sunbathe while drive-by-shooting.
I wonder if they have any cymbals on sale anywhere.
I can only imagine how sweet it will be to ram the SUV into all of those groups of popular young people who I’ve always witnessed walking right in the middle of the road as if they are better than everyone else. When they are writhing in pain, their bodies broken and dying after I splatter them, they will fully realize their crimes.
Once I reach Del Playa Street, I will dump the bag of severed heads I had saved from my previous victims, proclaiming to everyone how much I’ve made them all suffer. Once they see all of their friend’s heads roll onto the street, everyone will fear me as the powerful god I am. I will then start massacring everyone on Del Playa Street. I will pull up next to a house party and fire bullets at everyone partying on the front yard. I will specifically target the good looking people, and all of the couples. After I have destroyed a house party, I will continue down Del Playa, destroying everything and everyone. When I see the first police car come to their rescue, I will drive away as fast as I can, shooting and ramming anyone in my path until I find a suitable place to finally end my life.
To end my life, I will quickly swallow all of the Xanax and Vicodin pills I have left,
Ahahahaha oy vey.
along with an ample amount of hard liquor. Immediately after imbibing this mixture, I will shoot myself in the head with two of my handguns simultaneously. If the gunshots don’t kill me, the deadly drug mixture eventually will.
Yeah, that's exactly how it works.
I understand why he didn't plan to shoot himself in the stomach now : it would lead to all the deadly mixture possibly leaking out.
I will not suffer being captured and sent to prison.
I must plan this very efficiently. Nothing can go wrong. It needs to be perfect.
It is... pretty close, I guess ?
This is now my sole purpose on this world. My plans will come to fruition, and I mustn’t let anyone stop me.
On the week leading up to date I set for the Day of Retribution, I uploaded several videos onto Youtube in order to express my views and feelings to the world, though I don’t plan on uploading my ultimate video until minutes before the attack, because on that video I will talk about exactly why I’m doing this.
I titled one of the videos I uploaded "Why do girls hate me so much?” in which I ask the entire population of women the question I’ve wanted to ask them for so many years. Why do they hate me so much? Why have they never fancied me? Why do they give their love and sex to other men, but not me, even though I deserve them more? In the video, I show that I am the perfect, magnificent gentleman, worthy of having a beautiful girlfriend, making the world see how unreasonable it is that I’ve had to struggle all my life to get a girlfriend. It is my attempt to reason with the female gender, to ask them why they have mistreated me. I was hoping I would get some sort of answer from girls. In fact, a small part of me was even hoping that a girl would see the video and contact me to give me a chance to go on a date.
Is "hey baby, I'm thinking of pulling an Elliot, would you date me to save the world ?" a thing yet ?
That alone would have prevented the Day of Retribution, if one girl had just given me one chance. But no... As expected, I got absolutely no response from any girls. The only responses I got were from other men who called me names and made fun of me. Women don’t care about me at all. They won’t even deign to tell my why they’ve mistreated me. This just shows how evil and sadistic they are. Oh well, they will realize the gravity of their crimes when I slaughter them all on the Day of Retribution. How dare they reject a magnificent gentleman like me!
As April 26th drew ever closer, I prepared myself to the fullest extent. All I had left to do was finish writing this story and film my final video. But then, on Thursday, April 24th, I woke up with a terrible cold. I rarely ever get colds! I’ve always had a strong immune system. It was as if fate itself was trying to stop me from doing it. But what other reason do I have for living? Alas, there was no way I could carry out my plans if I had a cold.
Or a stubbed toe. Vicodin doesn't work if you have stubbed toes.
Everything had to be perfect. In addition, I found out that father had arrived home two days earlier than he originally said he would, so if I had indeed went forth with my plans, I would have had to kill my father, which I wouldn’t be mentally prepared for.
I hastily decided to postpone it to Saturday, May 24th, 2014. I would definitely be fully recovered from my cold by then. This will also give me a few more weeks of life, and more time to prepare. A few days earlier, I felt so ready to finally strike back at women and humanity, with all my rage and hatred. I was profoundly eager to do it! But for some strange reason, having a few more weeks of life made me feel relieved. I took in a deep breath and relaxed. Coupled with my hate-fueled eagerness to carry out my act of revenge, there was also an extreme sense of fear inside me. Part of me still didn’t want to do it. It will mean my death, and I have always been afraid of death.
I didn’t want to be in Isla Vista on April 26th, the day I previously planned on carrying out my plans. Hearing all of my enemies partying and having a good time on the day I was supposed to kill them all would be too much to bear. I immediately called my mother and asked her if I can stay at her house for the whole weekend, exaggerating my illness so that she would let me. While there, I visited the doctor to ask about the condition of my cold, and spent the weekend in deep, peaceful contemplation.
Upon my return to Santa Barbara, I assured to myself that this was it. May 24th, 2014 was the final date. There is no postponing it anymore, no backing out. If I don’t do this, then I only have a future filled with more loneliness and rejection ahead of me, devoid of sex, love, and enjoyment. I have to do it. It’s the only thing I can do. May 24th, is the absolute last weekend in the Spring semester in which I can carry out this plan efficiently. After May 24th, the Spring semester at SBCC will end, and all of the SBCC students will go back to their hometowns, which means less enemies to kill in Isla Vista. Sure, UCSB would still be in session, but I want to kill both UCSB and SBCC students. The Day of Retribution is my sole purpose on this world, and I am ready.
After only a week passed since I uploaded those videos on Youtube, I heard a knock on my apartment door. I opened it to see about seven police officers asking for me. As soon as I saw those cops, the biggest fear I had ever felt in my life overcame me. I had the striking and devastating fear that someone had somehow discovered what I was planning to do,
Somehow, you know ? The world is so cunning!
and reported me for it. If that was the case, the police would have searched my room, found all of my guns and weapons, along with my writings about what I plan to do with them. I would have been thrown in jail, denied of the chance to exact revenge on my enemies. I can’t imagine a hell darker than that. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but it was so close.
The world is so close!
Apparently, someone saw my videos and became instantly suspicious of me. They called some sort of health agency, who called the police to check up on me. The police told me it was my mother who called them, but my mother told me it was the health agency. My mother had watched the videos and was very disturbed by them. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know the full truth of who called the police on me. The police interrogated me outside for a few minutes, asking me if I had suicidal thoughts. I tactfully told them that it was all a misunderstanding, and they finally left. If they had demanded to search my room... That would have ended everything. For a few horrible seconds I thought it was all over. When they left, the biggest wave of relief swept over me. It was so scary.
It was all because of the videos. I must have expressed too much anger in them. I immediately took most of them off of Youtube, and planned to reupload them a few days before the Day of Retribution. This incident made me realize that I needed to be extra careful. I can’t let anyone become suspicious of me. All it takes is for one person to call the police and tell them that they think I’m going to perpetrate a shooting, and the police will be coming to my door again, demanding to search my room. For the next few days, I felt extremely fearful that they could show up anytime. I kept one of my handguns with a few loaded magazines near me just in case such a thing did happen. If they did show up, I would have to try to quickly shoot them all and escape out the back window.
Yeah, this is exactyly how it works. Solid plan AAA++ would SWAT again.
I would then have to perform a hasty mockery of my plans, with the police on my tail. That will ruin everything. Thankfully, all suspicion of me was dropped after I took down the videos from Youtube, and the police never came back.
During the last few weeks of my life, I continued my daily adventures around town, trying to experience as much of the world as I could before I die. Upon doing this, I realized that the only world I can possibly ever experience is a twisted world of constant suffering. No matter where I go, I have to face all of the same injustices. Young couples are everywhere! They constantly remind me of what I have lacked all my life. I cannot go out of my room without seeing a young couple that would make me feel envious and enraged. How dare those girls give their love and sex to those other men and not me, I constantly think when I see young couples. There is nowhere in the world I can go anymore. There is no more life to live. The Day of Retribution is all I have. It is the final solution to all of the injustices of this twisted world. By doing this, I will set right all of the wrongs I’ve had to face in my sorry excuse of a life.
Every single time I’ve seen a guy walk around with his beautiful girlfriend, I’ve always wanted to kill them both in the most painful way possible. They deserve it. They must be punished. The males deserve to be punished for living a better and more pleasurable life than me, and the females deserve to be punished for giving that pleasurable life to those males instead of me. On the Day of Retribution, I will finally be able to punish them ALL.
When I think about the amazing and blissful life I could have lived if only females were sexually attracted to me, my entire being burns with hatred. They denied me a happy life, and in return I will take away all of their lives. It is only fair.
And equitable. Social Justice Forever! Hasta la Victoria etc etc.
I am not part of the human race. Humanity has rejected me. The females of the human species have never wanted to mate with me, so how could I possibly consider myself part of humanity?
By this token there are some Great Danes that are part of humanity. Not to mention German Shepherds and other various dogs, horses, dolphins and whatnot. Turns out women are quite accepting, for some reason.
Humanity has never accepted me among them, and now I know why. I am more than human. I am superior to them all. I am Elliot Rodger... Magnificent, glorious, supreme, eminent... Divine!
I'm totally lifting this.
I am the closest thing there is to a living god.
Well.. while that lasts, anyway.
Humanity is a disgusting, depraved, and evil species. It is my purpose to punish them all. I will purify the world of everything that is wrong with it. On the Day of Retribution, I will truly be a powerful god, punishing everyone I deem to be impure and depraved.
And that is how my tragic life ends. Who would have thought my life will turn out this way? I didn’t. There was a time when I thought this world was a good and happy place. As a child, my whole world was innocent. It wasn’t until I went through puberty and started desiring girls that my whole life turned into a living hell. I desired girls, but girls never desired me back. There is something very wrong with that. It is an injustice that cannot go unpunished. There is no way I could live a happy life with such a scenario.
Not only did I have to waste my entire youth suffering in loneliness and unfulfilled desire,
Dear gods, living or otherwise, is he going to actually do a whole recapitulatio in the same unbearable monotone ? Sigh!
but I had to live with the knowledge that other boys my age were able to have all of the experiences I craved for. It is absolutely unfair and unjust. In addition, I had to suffer the shame of other boys respecting me less because I didn’t get any girls. Everyone knew I was a virgin. Everyone knew how undesirable I was to girls, and I hated everyone just for knowing it. I want people to think that girls adore me. I want to feel worthy. There is no pride in living as a lonely, unwanted outcast. I wouldn’t even call it living.
I am not meant to live such a pathetic, miserable life. That is not my place in this world. I will not bow down and accept such a horrific fate. If humanity will not give me a worthy place among them, then I will destroy them all. I am better than all of them. I am a god. Exacting my Retribution is my way of proving my true worth to the world.
In the midst of my suffering, I have been able to see the world much clearer than others. I have vision that other people lack. Through my suffering, I have been able to see just how twisted and wrong this world really is. The current state of humanity is what makes it wrong. I look at the human race and I see only vileness and depravity, all because of an act known as... sexuality...
Sex is by far the most evil concept in existence. The fact that life itself exists through sex just proves that life is flawed. The act of sex gives human beings a tremendous amount of pleasure. Pleasure they don’t deserve. No one deserves to experience so much pleasure, especially since some humans get to experience it while some are denied it. When a man has sex with a beautiful woman, he probably feels like he is in heaven. But the world is not supposed to be heaven. For some humans to actually be able to feel such heights of heavenly pleasure is selfish and hedonistic.
The ultimate evil behind sexuality is the human female. They are the main instigators of sex. They control which men get it and which men don’t.
Women are flawed creatures, and my mistreatment at their hands has made me realize this sad truth. There is something very twisted and wrong with the way their brains are wired. They think like beasts, and in truth, they are beasts. Women are incapable of having morals or thinking rationally. They are completely controlled by their depraved emotions and vile sexual impulses. Because of this, the men who do get to experience the pleasures of sex and the privilege of breeding are the men who women are sexually attracted to... the stupid, degenerate, obnoxious men. I have observed this all my life. The most beautiful of women choose to mate with the most brutal of men, instead of magnificent gentlemen like myself.
Women should not have the right to choose who to mate and breed with. That decision should be made for them by rational men of intelligence. If women continue to have rights, they will only hinder the advancement of the human race by breeding with degenerate men and creating stupid, degenerate offspring. This will cause humanity to become even more depraved with each generation. Women have more power in human society than they deserve, all because of sex. There is no creature more evil and depraved than the human female.
Women are like a plague. They don’t deserve to have any rights. Their wickedness must be contained in order prevent future generations from falling to degeneracy. Women are vicious, evil, barbaric animals, and they need to be treated as such.
In fully realizing these truths about the world, I have created the ultimate and perfect ideology of how a fair and pure world would work. In an ideal world, sexuality would not exist. It must be outlawed. In a world without sex, humanity will be pure and civilized. Men will grow up healthily, without having to worry about such a barbaric act. All men will grow up fair and equal, because no man will be able to experience the pleasures of sex while others are denied it. The human race will evolve to an entirely new level of civilization, completely devoid of all the impurity and degeneracy that exists today.
Check out Maddox irl - he wants to put cock cages on all teh bois.
In order to completely abolish sex, women themselves would have to be abolished. All women must be quarantined like the plague they are, so that they can be used in a manner that actually benefits a civilized society. In order carry this out, there must exist a new and powerful type of government, under the control of one divine ruler, such as myself.
It was just an example.
The ruler that establishes this new order would have complete control over every aspect of society, in order to direct it towards a good and pure place.
Or at least you know, stop feeling bad about himself. Either way, really.
At the disposal of this government, there needs to be a highly trained army of fanatically loyal troops, in order to enforce such revolutionary laws.
Wouldn't it be easier to just get a girlfriend ?
The first strike against women will be to quarantine all of them in concentration camps. At these camps, the vast majority of the female population will be deliberately starved to death. That would be an efficient and fitting way to kill them all off.
And we'll call it The Hot Babe Camp.
I would take great pleasure and satisfaction in condemning every single woman on earth to starve to death. I would have an enormous tower built just for myself, where I can oversee the entire concentration camp and gleefully watch them all die. If I can’t have them, no one will, I’d imagine thinking to myself as I oversee this. Women represent everything that is unfair with this world, and in order to make the world a fair place, they must all be eradicated.
Well, the Tower of Exclusive Donuts seems a much better plan than the BMW, really. I think he might get a little bit of female attention in the circumstances described.
A few women would be spared, however, for the sake of reproduction. These women would be kept and bred in secret labs. There, they will be artificially inseminated with sperm samples in order to produce offspring. Their depraved nature will slowly be bred out of them in time.
Future generations of men would be oblivious to these remaining women’s existence, and that is for the best. If a man grows up without knowing of the existence of women, there will be no desire for sex.
Ahahaha really ?
Sexuality will completely cease to exist. Love will cease to exist. There will no longer be any imprint of such concepts in the human psyche. It is the only way to purify the world.
In such a pure world, the man’s mind can develop to greater heights than ever before.
Or if not, at least all butts will be significantly looser than ever before.
Future generations will live their lives free of having to worry about the barbarity of sex and women, which will enable them to expand their intelligence and advance the human race to a state of perfect civilization.
It is such a shameful pity that my ideal world cannot be created. I realized long ago that there is no way I could possibly rise to such a level of power in my lifetime, with the way the world is now. Such a thing will never become a reality for me, but it did give me something to fantasize about as I burned with hatred towards all women for rejecting me throughout the years. This whole viewpoint and ideology of abolishing sex stems from being deprived of it all my life. If I cannot have it, I will do everything I can to DESTROY IT.
My orchestration of the Day of Retribution is my attempt to do everything, in my power, to destroy everything I cannot have. All of those beautiful girls I’ve desired so much in my life, but can never have because they despise and loathe me, I will destroy. All of those popular people who live hedonistic lives of pleasure, I will destroy, because they never accepted me as one of them. I will kill them all and make them suffer, just as they have made me suffer. It is only fair.
Why do things have to be this way? I’m sure that is the question everyone will be asking after the Day of Retribution is over. They will all be asking why. Indeed, why? That is the question I’ve had for everyone throughout all my years of suffering. Why was I condemned to live a life of misery and worthlessness while other men were able to experience the pleasures of sex and love with women? Why do things have to be this way? I ask all of you.
All I ever wanted was to love women, and in turn to be loved by them back. Their behavior towards me has only earned my hatred, and rightfully so! I am the true victim in all of this. I am the good guy. Humanity struck at me first by condemning me to experience so much suffering. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t start this war... I wasn’t the one who struck first... But I will finish it by striking back. I will punish everyone. And it will be beautiful. Finally, at long last, I can show the world my true worth.
And this concludes our text...xii awww, what's the matter ? Oh, I'm sorry, were you promised another part ? Did you detrimentally rely on that promise ? How cruel. Now go, and bear in mind that Augustine's famous and well practiced "Let me repent, o Lord, and let it be tomorrow" works perfectly well each and every single day until the last.———
- There are two components to the functioning human, and will is the more important of them. [↩]
- It's not that he's dumb per se, it's that he simply does not have any faculty of thought, much in the way the interstellar void is not specifically cold but merely completely incapable of being to any degree warm. [↩]
- Ah! Il tuo vecchio genitor - tu non sai quanto soffri'...
Dio mi guido'! Dio miiiiiiii.... guidooooo'! [↩]
- I do not say "perfect" idly. One sign that Elliot is truly perfect is that his perfection actually transcends culture : his attitude to the other sex is not merely the perfect Christian notion of chastity, but it is also the correct Muslim behaviour for a male his age. Do you know what the Coran says you should do if a hot hussy strips in your presence ? Yeah, that's right, you should stand and walk away.
Moreover, had he managed to resolve his rage he quite possibly would have spontaneously transcended - as far as renunciation of the flesh goes, Elliot is quite the little bodhisattva. Oh, you've not noticed that ? Prythee, what does he do every time he encounters a girl his flesh is interested in ? That's right, he quietly walks away. Is this not exactly what the book says, whichever book you wish to pick ? Can you get any other teenager to even vaguely approximate the behaviour, as a deliberate, selfless act ? Note that he is a paragon of sprezzatura, his rejection of the temptations of the flesh is to him effortless and in a hundred and ten thousand words not even worth the mention ONCE!
He does it like it's nothing, more importantly like there's no alternative even conceivable, and yet you can't even notice how far above what you could do (except if you had to, then you can't) he actually finds himself. Funny how that goes. [↩]
- Yes, yes, this exists. Comes from bathos. [↩]
- nothing*, where *=pretty much anything. Water similarly "will stop at nothing" in its quest of reaching the lowest potential energy level - with the exception of course of one inch of dirt. It'll stop at that. [↩]
- Or wait, was it Dale Engels ? I can never keep all these aluminum siding gurus & experts in matters names straight in my head. One of the two. Or maybe it was Billy Mays. [↩]
- Yea, I often walked to school, it was about a mile downhill. Pleasant walk. [↩]
- It's unmistakable, your limb emits this specific report of "being encased in a tight iron sheet". [↩]
- Do you appreciate how lucky he is, by the way, that through never having had sex he never got to find out that no, the three inches and change* he tickles with three fingers are just barely inadequate for the intended purpose. Much like everything else about him.
* It must be just about 3 to 4 inches. He has three strikes against : first that he's tiny by nature ; second that he's the wrong ethnicity ; and third that he's a retard. Each of these shaves about an inch say, and the average is 6 and a half if memory serves. [↩]
- What about Sarah!
There's this very typical sliding from something to nothing and from one meaning to another and in general, Elliot has all the mental acuity of a discarded saucepan. [↩]
- Let's have some statistics : of the 6`656 total sentences, 1`967 start with "I ". Good enough ?
If not, "sex" (including derivatives) appears barely 200 times, which is relatively low (it seems a lot higher due to the incredible aridity and conceptual poverty of the text) ; whereas girl appears 540 times and James appears 155 times. Fuck is mentioned five times, and the whole Carlin list (shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker and tits) appears 2 + 0 + 5 + 4 + 0 + 0 + 0 = 11 times.
Supreme gentleman, you know ? [↩]
Friday, 24 April 2020
I think that every thing posted was actually very logical.
But, what about this, suppose you were to create an awesome title?
I am not saying your idea is not solid, but what if you added a post title that makes people want more? I mean "The Story of Elliot Rodger. By Elliot Rodger. Adnotated. Part Nine" is kinda boring. You could look at Yahoo's home page and watch how they create post headlines to get people to click.
In my opinion, it might make your website a little bit more interesting.
Friday, 24 April 2020
Da' vaca-i doamna ma-ta. Bine, mai ? Animalule!
Wednesday, 16 December 2020
For a party of three ? In 2014 ? This is pretty cheap even for the third world, isn't it ?
I stumbled on your site while I was searching for Sakana Sushi and I found the comment you wrote up there ridiculous.
I think you need to get your fact right before writing something like that on the public. Most of the 3rd world countries are underdeveloped economically or just starting to develop and the people there barely afford to survive let alone indulge in a $200 meals. Wow. I'm a working class and the last time I treated my family of 5 was about $60-70 max at a Japanese Restaurant.
It seems to me that clearly you came from a well off family that $200 meal is nothing to you.
Wednesday, 16 December 2020
"Family" (in the sense of inheritance you imply) has relatively little to do with wealth in these days of rambunctious socialism. (Though "family" in the sense of progeniture is still the marker of poverty among they in a certain way afflicted it always was, today just as much as in the days of the potato famine. Even though back then the affliction was dubbed "catholicism" or "being Irish" whereas today the nominal conventions differ, the substance's unchanged.) "The third world" as an imaginary locus never had nor will ever have anything to do with either urban habits or more generally the passtimes of the elite.
All that aside, eating out is not, nor ever was, nor ever should be a proletarian activity. It's fine and dandy that you occasionally treat your indigent family of five to whatever it is you can get ; but your scrounging is of no interest to the world, nor your experience relevant to anyone beyond yourself, nor do you have, properly speaking, any business whatsoever involving yourself (or rather, purporting to involve yourself) in this whole business. Legend has it that a certain Mr. Bourdieu one day was flattered to discover he's his whole life spoken prose ; this is scant excuse to proceed to writing it.
As far as actual people are concerned, doing actual things -- not you nor your narrow circle of lame would-be people, trying to imitate peoplehood and peopleship as best you manage -- a hundred dollars or so a head is a sort of baseline. In summa : very very far from daring to propose what I should do, see instead your own place, enjoy the happy meal, and shut the fuck up about "how things are", for you don't belong here, but are just (for a time) tolerated, especially while quiet.
Wednesday, 16 December 2020
@Mircea Popescu: omfg three paragraphs? For one comment?! In 2020?!? It seems to me you come from a well-off mind, I can only afford two words for that sort of shit.
@anonymous weirdo: wtf dood.
Wednesday, 16 December 2020
Turns out I'm rich beyond compare.