|Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.|
What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?
Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
|03 May 2004||Morgen Todt|| How does it feel, being finally unlatched from pain? i am here to welcome you.
i've greeted many.
If you nursed one unacted wish before, if you loved someone who ignored you, here that yen has already been fulfilled to the point of sorest satiation. Find it well-stowed in the gelid honeyed aspic of collective memory. This is not the zone of Desires Transacted. Here lies the zone of Desires Recalled.
Maybe you wish you had once wisely broken a rule...
or brought an end to your own life. ~Done.
Everyone and you are interchangeable, best friends. You have entered a domain of ease and genius known as Play. Competition has become forever expunged.
Here, everyone's achievement becomes Everyone's, circular. The glad ironies pile up, and our useless bodies right along with them.
|29 Apr 2004||Morgen Todt||The more i investigate the non-realm that lies just beyond, beneath or throughout the non-realm i think we're in, the more i'm convinced that it will take the Heart of Antigone to continue. i suppose part of the reason for that is it requires courage to not be seduced by the comfort level generated by this particular illusion. Isn't it easier to just lay back and slap-slide into the daily grind of discorporation? And then there's the cultural conditioning which proclaims, "This is it! What you see is what you get." Now, let's think about that for a moment. What we see is what we get. Hmmm...
We can't see electrons. We can't see a virus. We can't see getting an honest profit participation in anything we write -- and yet we still believe these things exist.
Which brings me to God. Isn't it strange that we can look up at a night sky, at a majestic mountain, at the inane beauty of this very websight, and have trouble believing in God?
But i digress.
|29 Apr 2004||Mouchette||MY SUICIDE
Cut the eyes out of my head - Tear my tongue out if I speak. Raise up your camera, raise up the lights - feed the evil and the weak. Hear me now, my tongue is in your ear, the center of your body is the place I hide the fear I lost of suicide ...
Suck the hatred from my mouth - Raise the dead man that you found, Seal the black mud in my lungs, leave me down here drowning with the wasted and the stunned, Leave me now as I choke and writhe, but feel my body stuck upon the dull and pointless knife of my suicide ...
Remove my face from in your mirror, sift my grey hair in the fire. Now mock me for the suffering I fake, leave me naked on the carpet, leave my drunken body splayed. See me now, my broken fingers search your mouth for the drugged and senseless words that are seducing me back home into my suicide ...
I hate you all for what I've done, I hate you for the texture and the color of your skin, I hate your whispered breath upon my neck, I hate you for your love and I hate you for sex. Feel me now, I'm growing in your insides, the warm feelings that you bring contain the seed now flowering into my suicide ...
|28 Apr 2004||Some old slapper who loves to hate Mouchette||Hey Morgen Todt, don't worry too much about that good feeling of "love" you have for strangers. That feeling will soon fade away and you will be back to your old hating self in no time. What you think is an epiphany is very temporary.
Life doing the best that it can eh? How do you know they're doing the best they can? It's impossible for someone to do life half assed? Or quarter assed?
And Mouchette, shame on you for putting Morgen's answer in your favourites section. How cliche! What's the matter with you? The answers you put in your favourite section are all STUPID!!!!
|27 Apr 2004||Morgen Todt||Krisha still had vivid memories of when her mind was a quiet, useful ally -- a handy-dandy accessory that would discreetly remind her not to stick her little Krisha fingers into light sockets. But that was long ago. Krisha's mind was now in full revolt. One moment it would be idling nicely, waiting to notice, judge, critique or consider -- then, without warning, like a spider monkey on metha-amphetamines, it would start thinking ugly, angry, snarling monstrosities.
Krisha didn't know what to do. It was the only mind she had. And then she realized, it was out of her control because it was never her mind. It was just some scanning mechanism generated by billions of years of evolution, genetics, and conditioning.
That made Krisha feel better. At least until #*&^ #&$^ ^# mEeP ^%$^&!#^grrrrr %^%_+ +*&^) &% MWHA-HA-HA!&&*( &^ *&*&78=07 WHOOO-gaa !$^& )argeep++tynoop! &*
|26 Apr 2004||Morgen Todt||i recently found myself in a room with a group of complete strangers. As each one spoke, i noticed i was making a snap judgement about that person. Sometimes the judgement was warm and appreciative. But more often, it was of the "Fuck, what a vacuum tube this guy is" variety. At first i was troubled by this ugly mental reflex. But then i was hit with a flash of insight. As i gazed around the room i realized that if each person was animated by the same energy -call it God, call it carbon-based, chemical doowhackies -- then each person was essentially Life doing the best that it can. Suddenly my judgements were replaced by a pervasive feeling of love.
Emboldened by my epiphany, i meditated upon a relative with whom i'd recently had difficult relations. i visualized this person not as an arrogant dickslap winter-wooskie, but as "life doing the best that it can." Which is when my insight grew deeper...
I now believe that the ability to suspend judgement and flow love works really well with complete strangers.
|14 Apr 2004||Ghost of Lucy Cortina (Phil)||I very rarely look at Mouchie's death-kit these days, but I'm glad I do. It was in fact a post by, I think, Elaine, that touched me and prompted me to post on this occasion. I also see and am shocked to learn that my now dead alter-ego, Lucy Cortina, (as if MY big ego would ever die!), is now on the famous users list. Yay! For someone like me, that is like winning 20 lotteries, and American Idol 2.
I am going to leave an email address this time, but before any Lucy booby-stalkers start celebrating, it IS an address that I use very little.
I miss being Lucy Cortina. It was such fun. I loved being inside a girls body. Hang on... that sounds rude. I must stress that I would NEVER want to be inside a poosy.
Not being Lucy anymore is like a starvation. It's like Pavarotti on a diet. Sat at the cafe, and suddenly the phone rings:
"Step away from the chocolate muffin..." (and cake, and cookies, and doughnuts, and fries, and tiramissu, and potato chips...)
Anyway, that's what it's like.
I hear that Lucy's rival, Titney Spears, is doing a suicide, yes a suicide scene in her next music video. How dare she!!! She is stealing all of her ideas from the suicide kit, and most importantly, the now deceased Lucy Cortina! Ok, Britney CAN be sexy, she can have large boobies (since theyre not real anyway), and she can have blonde hair (or red, or black, or whatever colour it currently is...)
But suicide is not her thing - she has never experienced true suicidal hell in all her life. Suicide is OUR realm, not hers.
*As a point of interest, if a man squeezed Britney's fillets, would that be considered as cheating? (since her fillets are not real anyway?)
Ok, I shouldn't push this any longer, so I will end my monthly mouchette visit here. Feel free to email me anyone...
Take care darlings,
|12 Apr 2004||Joyce||Believe your emotional vampire personality disordered histrionic sister that a)you will never get a boyfriend b)that everyone will hate you c)that you are butt ugly and gawky d)that you will be the laughing stock in high school e)that your nose is way too big and your feet are flippers f)that you are a clutz g)allow her to destroy all of your friendships that you are wierd and perverted without defending yourself h)let her snoop through all of your things so she can rat on you to your mom i) believe her when she tells you that you were an oops never meant to be born j) let her blame you for everything that went wrong with her relationship with her mother when mom dies k) listen to her laments about having a bunch of hicks for a family and that your brother is a retard l) laugh when she sings perverted songs about your father and mother m)allow her to molest you and promise not to tell anyone n)believe it when she says you are toad eyes and should hide because you are ugly o)believe it when she is anorexic and shoves lettuce under the table ledge and tells you she is pretty and little and small and you are a big gawky failure p) believe her that you are the one who has not been a good sister q)allow her to come to your wedding and interview your maid of honor so she can blackmail you r)allow her access to your children s)let her meet the guys you are dating so she can ruin those relationships t) follow her advice to dye your hair blonde, wear pale pink lipstick and not eat u) allow her to stuff as much popcorn into your mouth as she would really like v) always give her home made Christmas gifts that she will turn into accounts of your being cheap and selfish w) accept the blame when she accuses you of not showing up for dinner when she never invited you in the first place x) allow her to see something you are especially proud of - like a college degree or diamond tennis bracelet y) let her become friends with your ex-husband so she can side with him z)let her steal all of your ideas from writing published poetry, playing guitar, working as a secretary, planting a secret garden, and being an individual. From A to Z you see my sister's the ultimate suicide for any young girl.|
|06 Apr 2004||Chris||Lots of boys list one of their reasons (or their only reason for that matter) of wanting to commit suicide as their girlfriend or just a girl. I read some posts by certain girls which I never understand...
I make no secret of the fact that I don't, never have and never will understand women. My mom, & other girls I meet and the strange way their mind works is as much a mystery to me today as it was on the first day I started processing stuff in my mind and I accept the fact that it will always remain that way. I find comfort in the knowledge that most men are in the same boat as me and no logic, rhyme or reason can be found in the female thought process. I have tried, I really have. I read the book 'Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus' from cover to cover to try and learn to understand what makes the other half tick but to no avail. At my college, females outnumber males by a great number, but contrary to what you may imagine that only deepens the mystery known as woman.
The internet which is a source of enlightenment for everything else doesn't help but it can be a place where you can find kindred spirits sharing their take on the female mindset. The other day I was browsing and came across something which, if nothing else, made me aware that I am in a huge worldwide club of baffled men. Read this translation of 'Femtalk' and see how familiar it sounds.
Yes= No; No= Yes; Maybe= No; We need= I want; I'm sorry= You'll be sorry; We need to talk= I need to complain; Sure= go ahead; I don't want you to see my butt fat= Tell me I'm beautiful; Do what you want= You'll pay for this later; I'm not upset= Of course I'm upset, you moron!; Are you listening to me?= Too late, you're dead!; You have to learn to communicate= Just agree with me; Be romantic, turn out the lights= I have flabby thighs; You're so... manly= You need to shave and sweat a lot; Do you love me?= I'm going to ask you for something very expensive; It's your decision= The correct decision should be obvious by now; You're certainly very attentive tonight= Is sex all you ever think about?; I'll be ready in a minute= Kick off your shoes and find a good game on TV; How much do you love me?= I did something today that you're really not going to like.
And here are some things most men would like women to know but are too scared to tell them.
Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down, we need it up you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down; Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way; Crying is blackmail; Ask for what you want... let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!; Yes and No are perfecly adequate answers to almost every question; A headache which lasts for seventeen months is a problem, see a doctor; Anything we said six months ago is inadmissable in an argument; If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing", we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle; You have too many shoes; I am in shape. Round is a shape!
Of course there must be the reverse side of the coin and I am certain that there are similar lists which apply to men out there. I'm sure that someone like elaine can enlighten us all on the subject...
See ya girlies...
|27 Mar 2004||Max||"A Chinaman
went to sleep
dreamed he was
when he awoke,
he asked himself,
Am I a butterfly
dreaming that I am a man?
I love this quote, despite the fact that some people might think it corny. Do you know that you have control over what is real and what is not far more that you believe you do? (Although you might at first say obviously not, on account of how this is worded, that is not entirely true.)
|24 Mar 2004||Kylie Minogue||Your life feels different to you, once you greet Death and understand your heart's position. You wear your life like a garment from the mission bundle-sale ever after ---
lightly because you realize you never paid for it,
cherishingly because you know you won't ever come by such a bargain again.
|17 Mar 2004||Chris||Negative writing, a lot of times, actually constitutes a lot more creativity. It is interesting to watch a writer going through the weaving of trying to tell why something sucks without just saying that it sucks. To say why something is great, somehow takes less creativity.
My dear elaine: me, you, billy the freak, anyone else who writes on this site? We're all saying the same thing actually but me and you and the 'gang' (a term which I don't like but I used because you did) weave the words so that anyone who reads our stuff will realise that life is shit while others say it's outright shit. So to say the truth no one's story here is worth telling cos it's all the same shit! Just one satement I didn't like: "I'm talking complete shit" because you aren't. You're just expressing your thoughts, saying the truth and being honest, and there's nothing better than being honest. Yes, charity and good as written in the bible really exists, but only from a girl like you who's got the balls (excuse the biological pun) to be fucking honest...
... for those who are not honest are full of dirty little secrets, and dirty little secrets introduce you to blackmail.
I think there are things you should know about blackmail, in case it comes tapping at your door. There's what it does to you, and then there's what it makes you do. I used to think I knew what I could be made to do.
Blackmail doesn't work the way I always thought it would, if I ever gave it a thought. It doesn't smash through the clean pane of a life like a stone through a window. It's always an inside job, the most intimate of crimes. Somebody in the house has left that little window open, just a snick. The person who leaves the window open doesn't know why. Or else doesn't want to know. From outside a hand reaches into the gap, and the window creaks wide. Cold air comes rushing in. I see that hand now, each time I shut my eyes to sleep. Sometimes it's heavy and alien, the hand of a stranger. I can count the hairs on the knuckles. But on other nights I feel the fingers move and I know they are my own.
You have to search for the person who left the window open, down all the alleys of yourself. In the end you'll get there. You'll learn how you betrayed yourself in the moment that seemed like any other moment. Solution? Don't be too self-centred and egoistic. You think you can cope on your own but you will only end up hurting yourself.
When blackmail comes into your house you can learn to live with it, feeding it as little as you dare, trying to guess what it will take to make it go away before it gets too big. Then you begin to realize that it will never go away. The more you feed it, the stronger it grows. Why should you feel guilty unless you've got something to hide? Why should you be afraid? Watch me shake out your life in front of you. You know what's in there, don't you? See what comes.
Some blackmailers just want money. That's frightening, but at least you know where you are, and that a wad of used money is what you are talking about. I haven't got money.
The others put on pressure without letting you know what they want. They steer you where you don't want to go, but in a way that's so intimate you have to give in. They know more about you than you know about yourself. The pressure comes from what they don't say. They wait and wait until you can't wait anymore, and you'll do anything to know why they've come. It begins to seem like freedom.
When blackmail comes tapping at the door, get up and open it. There'll be no one there. Just the yawn of a black night, with wind in it but no stars. Already there's wind hurrying through the house, licking the back of your knees as you stare out. Where is it coming from? That window at the back. Someone's around there already and through the slender gap like an eel. Already the curtains are whipping up, the doors are buckling, and the floorboards pitch and toss like the planks of a boat.
The wind blows harder and your house begins to move on a sea that was always there, beneath the crust of the land. And you're afraid, but you are already beginning to move with it. I'm afraid, very afraid... but not from you my dear elaine. Throwing shit at me feels so good! It's when the 'sweet', 'virgin', 'friendly' girl from inside my house comes to give me a gentle hug and kiss that I start to feel threatened and afraid... cos I know that blackmail is near. So please, just bring your criticism on. Make me feel safe... And anyways, like Billy the Freak, your writing makes me horny!
Yours Truly: Chris! (and yes, like you, I wrote and took your statements at the end of another god damned bad, fucking, hell of a day well out of context of life- cos I'm only existing- and I really don't know if my thoughts are egoistic. What I know is that I'm a very, very angry person, fucked in the head, schizophrenic, and mental, and this time I had to get it out somewhere, on someone... before I go crazier)
See ya all... I don't know when, where or how!
|16 Mar 2004||billy the freak||man-o-man elaine the vigorous insight you spoke in your last entry made me horny... are you cute? i bet you are.
now chris, putting people down, because they may not be as creative as you isn't right.
however, i enjoy your posts immensely and they do spit flames on to the board. i blame myself for the lackluster in the kit, i wish i could post more often.
joe lee, all i can say is you are one sick fuck i thought i was twisted. i read your post about going to hell and laughed so hard the pepsi i was drinking came out my nose.
and last but not least kids, have you realized that mouchette is not just a message board, but a interactive piece of art? well, more like an art gallery that not only lets you enjoy what you're seeing but will often ask your opinion. look everywhere. and check out the links in the m.org.ue some are pretty interesting.
"come play with me" says mouchette. captivated by her beauty i can't help but frolic through her halls.
|13 Mar 2004||billy the freak|| a friend of mine commited suicide yesterday. i helped him. i knew he was going to do it. it was obvious when the day before he gave me his playstation2 and all his games.
"here billy. i know you been saving up to get a playstation2, just hold on to the money, you can have mine."
"wait a minute. you're giving that to me?"
"you're not going to come back here next week and say you want that shit back."
"no. just enjoy it as much as i did."
i knew then he was going to snuff it. that playstation was his pride and joy. he got lost in those games so he didn't have to think about the real world. a streetlight went on in my vacant lot of a mind.
"man, it's about time cid."
"about time for what?"
"you know. you decided to kill yourself right."
"don't try to talk me out of it billy. i made up my mind."
"i wouldn't do such a thing. i agree with you.
"you want me to die."
"no. you want to die and i support your decision. i mean, your girlfriend left you, your mom and dad both died in a car accident on the way to bail you out of jail for public drunkeness, you lost your job, oh and didn't somebody poison your dog? yeah, i would want to die too."
he sat down and started to cry. he filled up about a bucket and a half with tears. he just kept saying i wanna die... i wanna die... and pounded the side of his head. he was breaking down. it was time to put my plan into action.
"so when did you want to do it cid?"
"i was going to do it tomorrow afternoon."
"well okay, but let me ask you something don't you think that if you were going to take the dive wouldn't you want to do it it the most pleasurable way possible?"
"what do you mean?"
"well what makes you happy cid?"
"i haven't been happy in a long time billy."
"what's made you happy in the past."
"well, my mom and dad always put up a pinyata on my birthday as a kid. i always was happy on my birthday."
"that's it cid."
"i'll tell you at the dinner, let's get a hamburger my treat."
i told him that i could make his last moments as happy as possible for a price.
he gave me access to his bank account. i cleaned it out. hell he didn't need it! i set his suicide up with with a birthday theme. we had a party on the apartment roof. no one came except me and and a bum who was happy to get free beer. i got some cake and ice cream, party hats, banners, gifts, and everything to make his last birthday special. the finishing touch was i turned him into a human pinyata so when he hit the ground he would bust open and candy and small toys would pour out.
"wow billy, i didn't know i could be so excited about death."
"hey with me you get your dollars worth. any way it's your birthday you deserve to be excited."
"billy thanks for everything but today is not my birthday, it's my deathday"
he started to laugh. i started to laugh. the bum started to laugh because everyone else was laughing. the moment was surreal. he must have thought it was time to go because he blew out his candles and stood on the edge of the roof and fell into eternity. i looked down and saw that the christians already showed up. they helped themselves to the candy and and munched on the thought that cid went to hell and in the bitter sweet moment i realised that I was going to hell.
|08 Mar 2004||elaine||Nice job Chris, for critisizing the rest of the world who can't help being dull in their agony, even if it is self centered and fake. I'm sure i'm just in a terrible mood and will regret taking it out on you soon, but honestly, find your buzz somewhere else. Mouchette.org isn''t here to entertain YOU, it's here for people to tell their stories and find sympathy and compassion in others. Imaginary or no.
I take that back. It's here for people to give mouchette advice on elements to include in her revolutionary new toy. Except people have turned it into a "typical" suicide message board. Maybe because they need that?
Maybe. Get over yourself and your witty stories, not everyone can measure up to the likes of you and the "gang" but they don't deserve your scorn.
Yes, i'm taking your one little statement at the end of another god damned entry way of out context and taking too much from it. I guess i'm just bothered by people's innate tendancy towards self-absorption. Does it bother you?
It kills me.
This isn't a new thought, but occurs to me that an obsession with suicide is really an obsession with oneself turned morbid. "People dont love ME. I'M ugly. I will always be alone. ME." Your parents/significant other beats you, reason to be sad, maybe. But get out, just leave. You're depressed for these reasons because you see the way they can do that to you as a reflection of your own personality. And so back to ME.
And maybe that's just me, but that's how i see the thoughts i used to have about suicide as. And i see it reflected every day in almost everyone close to me who hates themselves and wants to die. My friend who's impatient again at the hospital for cutting herself, my friend who wants to die because a girl doesn't love him, so many more their stories are all the same' it's not worth telling.
I'm talking complete shit, but i know it must bother someone else. It drives me crazy, how i can't step outside my own world and my own concerns even for a minute. Ulterior motives, is charity like they speak of in the bible real?
I give up. I'm sorry to have started that way. I'm sorry to post this, but some things need to be said before I go crazy. ME. Again. I wonder if someday i'll be able to understand my own hypocracy. No, not understand. Take. I wonder if some day i'll be able to take my own fucking egoism.
|06 Mar 2004||Chris||Someone performed a favour for me the other day and when I thanked him he replied: "no problem, it was the least I could do". Read that again out loud and then think about what he actually told me. Have you come to the same conclusion as I did... he had analysed all of his options, thought about everything that he could have done for me, sorted out every alternative and discarded every last one except the very least. Yes, what he so proudly told me was, that of all the things he could have done as a favour for me, the one that he chose was the minimum that he could get away with, while still saying that he had done something. Of course what he meant was, more less, the exact opposite of what the bare words really mean and he became suitably flustered (enough to amuse me anyway) when I asked him what the most he could have done would have been.
Anyway, because I have little else to think about, I took to pondering other common phrases, for example what do you know for sure about the phrase 'with all due respect'? I can tell you that in ninety nine point nine per-cent of cases what will follow those words, when they are directed at you, is proof that the speaker thinks that no respect is due to you at all. He will promptly tear to pieces; a) your opinion, b) your character or c) your appearance. What springs to mind when someone prefaces what they are to tell you with these words: 'to tell the honest truth...' as opposed to the barefaced lies and cunning half truths that they normally tell you? Ask yourself why, if this is an honest person speaking, does he or she feel compelled to convince you that what they are telling is true... But then, normal people are all the same: big, fat, happy liers who want to live through the next twenty-four hours, make cash out of your simplicity and cover their weirdness and shit under the cover of love and art, making us feel suicidal all the time!
Finally, to a different subject but still related (loosely) to words... mouchette.org has descended into, how shall we say, obnoxious, weird, repetitive words! I read everyone's posts and I understand and sympathise with everyone of you... but you're all saying the same thing! There were times when I was criticised because of my writings, but come tell me that now! We need to put some zest and life back into mouchette.org or it will become just like all the other suicide boards. Felicia The Great, Billy The Freak, Phil, take note (and come back) and for God's sake Dr.Jelly, either release Joe Lee from the physchiatric ward or at least just let him use the internet service, cos we need him! (Whatever you do, just keep him off any kind of medication, he's more sane without it than with it, we all are...)
See ya in an (ironically) livelier mouchette.org...
|18 Feb 2004||Dr. Jelly||To whom it may concern:
Mr. Joe Lee is a patient of mine who recently suffered a massive psychotic breakdown. He sneaked into staff's lunge on several occasions using the internet service. We are currently keeping him locked up so as to stop his demented internet advices.
Learning from Mr. Lee's medical records, he have a long history of characteristic roleplaying. Mr. Lee once stole a white coat and impersonated a doctor in our clinic and treated patients. (while the real doctor was on vacation) As a result of his treatments, five out of seven patients commited suicide. Mr. Lee never recieved any professional medical trainings, and he is in no position to answer any questions.
We are very shocked at his reckless behaviors, apparently he is shocked too... literally shocked, in shock therapy. He will be locked away for a long time until his next mental evaluation.
Please accept our sincere apologies,
Je l. ly, MD
|12 Feb 2004||Bryan||If you ask me the best way to kill yourself would be to become a writer... excuse me try to become a writer. Even better think of yourself as a poet. Only write poetry. Amass enough poems for a book, photocopy them, attain addresses for publishers of this type of genre and just wait. Fill in your time betweeen with the ordinary daily activities people call life, or attempt this. Because you know you will fail. After months of no replies and actually enjoying delving into emotions, thoughts, even worlds you never knew existed. You become an addict, spending hours describing how the light reflects in splendor between two panes of glass, or how a soldier has to euthanize a friend with a mortal wound. Once entrapped in this creative paradox your mind will split into two camps, one mystified by the new world you have found in poetry and the other bitterly fighting off the enticement of death from all the rejection. By the time you want to share your creative endeavors with someone, you will find no one... and soon it will be over. I know this isn't the shortest process, but i believe will be successful eventually|
|12 Feb 2004||Joe Lee||I killed myself last week, I am sending this email from hell. Let me tell yall, hell is not too bad at all. It's about 69 F all year round with cable TV and universal internet access. Yes, you can send email to the devil making suggestions... but most likely you will get an auto-reply telling you "Go fuck yourself!"
The devil is building a brand new casino and whore-house down here with human skulls. Very psychedelic and hiphop, with architecture Frank L. Wright making the blue print... He sure did a great job making the transition from the building to the environment.
Also, arts' greatest... Picasso is waiting for you. His bloody paintings are as good as they get now days. His recent project is making heaven in hell!
My favorite is 'Holy Angels getting sued from raping a bloody whore in the hell's court' - a 3 dimensional painting made from cow intestine and Picasso's own bloody-shit!
You pussies really don't want to die don't you? Fuckin eh! Mentally weak bastards too weak to die or live.
Making pussy ass comments such as " Oh, I really want to kill myself, my life is shit, I feel soooo depressed... blah, blah, blahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"
You sure have a lot of fucking time to write on this shit, JUST DO IT ALREADY!!
Fuck, it's for your own good. You little 13 year old pussy shit piss me off. If only I know where you live, I will go over take my shotgun and blow your fucking head off. Then... I will fuck your aesophagus or your airway or whatever them anatomical neck-holes called. Then... I will jizz and pee inside your lung, stomach, or whatever them damn holes connected into.
That's how a real man or woman die! with the first class ticket to hell.
If you hurry, you might make to the grand opening ceremony of devil's whore-house with guest singer Elvis and Jimi -devil's child- Hendrix... Finally you can see Hendrix smash his guitar and pour gasoline on someone's head!
What the hell you might say? Yes, I am in hell mother fuckers!
|07 Feb 2004||Leonardius Mackellar||Something wonderful has happened to me. i was caught up in 7th heaven. There sat all the gods in assembly. By special grace i was granted the privilege of making a wish. "Wilt thou," said Mercury, "have youth or beauty or power or a long life or the most beautiful maiden... or any of the other glories we have in the chest? Choose, but only one thing." For a moment i was at loss. Then i addressed myself to the gods as follows: "Most honorable contemporaries, i choose this one thing, that i may always have the laugh on my side." Not one of the gods said a word; on the contrary, they all began to laugh. From this i concluded that my wish was granted, and found that the gods knew how to express themselves with taste; for it would hardly have been suitable for them to have answered gravely: "Thy wish is granted." ~Soren|