|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?
|08 Apr 2003||the new and improved billy the freak||wow! in my absence i have become a double agent. lucy, i believe has become a weapon of mass destruction, bush is the bad guy, saddam is the good guy, danny keaton will get his ass kicked if he says i have homosexual charm again. so what should i do? i'll do my best.|
|07 Apr 2003||Lucy Cortina||As I sat eating breakfast this morning - 1 sausage ad 2 boiled eggs (*oh!*) - I had a sudden, and shocking moment of fearful realisation. My inflatables (breasts, that is - what else?) are ENORMOUS. I have become accustomed to sellotaping two bin bags together as a bra fow a while now, yet this is not what I see when the modern singers of today perform on music shows, like Christina Aguilera. That's because she doesn't have a bra - she never wears any clothes.
I flicked through my copy of Spanking Digest, but found nothing. So I picked up my latest copy of Incontinence Weekly and spotted the page I was looking for:
"Psychic Pam - able to read the cosmic breastial powers, and tell you things about yourself that you already know".
The phone number was £50 a minute, but as I was depertae (and I can foward the bill to Super Secret Spy Sex), I tapped in the number on my phone.
The tones for each number are different, so to amuse myself I tried playing "Frere Jacques" on the keypad, when suddenly a stern voice yelled "I am not able to read your breasts at the moment, I am dealing with a client named Pamela Anderson". Here we go I thought, I will be on this phone waiting all day if she's reading Pammy's tits. A tune started playing on the phone. It was Britney Spears' hit "Baby one more time". I ran into the cupbord, grabbed my old school uniform and did the dance moves to this incredible work-of-art of-a-song. By the time the psychic answered the phone, I was sweating like a waterfall and my breasts had already shrunk 3 sizes. And it hit me! They only needed a little of the gas inside them releasing! I guess you could call them little "breast farts". And the dancing had helped the wind escape. So, my breasts have farted, and shrunk, all because of a Britney Spears record (It shocked me too!). I guess I better follow the wise one and book myself into a clinic as soon as possible. No tits = no career. Although Britney is the biggest tit I have ever seen, so I guess that's a contraception. I mean contradiction!
There's never a happy end to a happy ending!
|03 Apr 2003||Lucy Cortina||I'm sorry Danny, but with my boobs, I don't want to..let's say "agitate" the situation. This is one mission Lucy's boobs will be taking a back-seat on.
Drunk, in the back of some dodgy Pakistani London-cabbie's taxi, yelling "Are youshh Osamshh Bin Binbag?"
|02 Apr 2003||Danny Keaton||Lucy, come in Lucy. This is the D Train calling Lucy Cortina. Ive been trapped in some kind of worm hole, the entire SSSS brigades boobs are enlarging! This strange natural wonder will spread to the earth realm unless i stop it. You must help me Lucy, to fight this evil for the sake of humanity!|
|02 Apr 2003||Chris||Some say that we're insane because we talk about suicide. I'll prove them wrong. We are living a fucked up life in a fucked up world with fucked up people (like George.W.Bush & Saddam Hussein) all around. Here's what these people do and here's....
The De-Creation Story
In the beginning was the earth,
and the earth was beautiful
But the people living on the earth said,
"Let us build skyscrapers
So they paved the earth with concrete
and said "It is good!"
On the second day,
the people looked at the rivers and said
"Let us dump our sewage into the waters."
So they filled the waters with sludge
and said "It is good!"
On the third day,
the people looked at the forests and said,
"Let us cut down the trees
and build things."
So they leveled the forests
and said "It is good!"
On the fourth day
the people saw the animals and said,
"Let us kill them for sport and money."
So they destroyed the animals
and said "It is good!"
On the fifth day
the people felt the cool breeze and said,
"Let us burn our garbage
and let the breeze blow it away."
So they filled the air with carbon
and said "It is good!"
On the sixth day,
the people saw other nations and said,
"Let us build missiles
in case misunderstandings arise."
So they filled the land with missile sites
and said "It is good!"
On the seventh day,
the earth was quiet and deathly silent
for the people were no more
And it was good!
You see!, your own neighbour is trying to kill you! Why give him the satisfaction? Kill yourself and if possibly your enemy with you. Glory to the Iraqi who blew himself up and another four American soldiers with him!
On a different note:
After having one of mine in the 'favourite' section I think it's high time I gave you my e-mail address. Drop a line on anything I write or anything you want at GuziChris@hotmail.com
|02 Apr 2003||Felicia||It was foggy this morning. I went down the long front porch steps and found a lizard (salamander) scurrying under my house slipper. I picked it up and it practically flew out of my hand and attached to my night robe. I screamed and the little varmint took a wet dookie on me. The salamander was brave as it stared at me with its beady little eyes. In one second, he jumped off into the rose bush, then headed off to some adventurous journey far, far away, never to be seen again. Later, the fog cleared and I can see the boats passing under the Golden Gate Bridge. At a distance, I can see a big sillouette of Ghirardelli Square and the Coit Tower. A beautiful morning in April as I sip my morning herbal tea.
...and a new day which is absolutely ...breathtaking.
|01 Apr 2003||Lucy Cortina||INQUIRY INTO THE DEMISE OF "BILLY" AKA. TONY BLAIR:
He was indeed found slumped on the bathroom floor, surrounded by pill-bottles.
On closer inspection, the bottles were found to contain labelling of a suggestive nature: they were infact laxatives - 2 bottles of Ex-Lax, 2 bottles of Immodium plus, and one containing muscle growth powder.
This draws conclusion to the suspicions of many Americans, that indeed Bush *does* suffer from the fast-food binge-stick.
Billy had infact been ejected from George Dubya Bush's arse.
It does not, however, explain the reasons why Billy (Blair) leaped from the bathroom floor and proceeded to flap his arms like a chicken and yell "They're here! The weapons of mass destruction!"
We soon realised that he was not referring to Mrs SadMa'm Insane, who earlier this week had confessed, "I could tell you where my hubby's been hiding his weapon of mass destruction!"
He was infact referring to the 2 bulbous objects staring him in the face - my cleavage.
He escaped through the fire exit. Actually, he dived into the toilet.
We are tracking his movements using ultra-sensitive radar (a ribbed condom) and we believe he is currently residing in warm and moist Australian bush land (No, not Kylie Minogue or Nicole Kidman). We expect devastating fires to ignite anytime in the *coming* week.
The investigation continues...
Lucy Cortina, Agent 00 oh oh what a feeling! of the SSSS.
|31 Mar 2003||Felicia Is a Lola||I question myself about that once in the blue moon and wonder how these women ever handled their breasts? Back in the medieval times my relatives were more tribal. And a fig leaf was used for covering or whatever else it was used for. My tribal relatives used to have their bosoms hang all day and not have a care in the world. They would throw coconuts to whoever bothered them about their hanging casabas, and that would end the quarrel.
As with Britney, changing the subject, I have to give her credit for making extra money exposing her boobies, exploiting her light implanted belly button, and her no care attitude to shake her ass. I see a jealous woman, as myself, throw a speeding coconut, 98 miles per hour towards her. Justin Timberlake screams outloud, "Britney!! Duck!!" As the coconut barely grazes her, a Pepsi truck drives by, one mile north, the driver gets startled by the big thump at his door. Through nervous reaction, he swerves, hits a squirrel, and the truck falls into a ditch, which later rolls into the Atlantic ocean. All this and Britney only loses her credibility with Pepsi Cola and the rest is over...
...all because of a flying coconut.
|30 Mar 2003||Chris||Previously I have written suicide ways which I frankly don't know why they have been put in the 'cruel jokes' section. Sometimes suicide is not necessary and it's better to kill the people bugging you than yourself. Here are...
Five Ways To Kill A Man
There are many cumbersome ways to kill a man
You can make him carry a plank of wood to the top of a hill and nail him to it.
To do this properly you require a crowd of people wearing sandles, a cock that crows, a cloak to dissect, a sponge, some vinegar and one man to hammer the nails home.
Or you can take a length of steel,
shaped and chased in a traditional way,
and attempt to pierce the metal cage he wears.
But for this you need white horses,
English trees, men with bows and arrows,
at least two flags, a prince, and a castle to hold your banquet in.
Dispensing with nobility, you may, if the wind allows
blow gas at him. But then you need
a mile of mud sliced through with ditches,
not to mention black boots, bomb craters,
more mud, a plague of rats, a dozen songs
and some round hats of steel.
In an age of aeroplanes, you may fly
miles above your victim and dispose of him by pressing one small switch. All you then require is an ocean to separate you, two systems of government, a nation's scientists, several factories, a psychopath and land that no one needs for several years.
These are, as I began, cumbersome ways
to kill a man. Simpler, direct, and much more neat is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle of the twentieth century, and leave him there.
If these Five ways are too complicated, suicide is the way......
|29 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||Warm bosoms, I quite agree. That's why the likes of Fakey Britney Spears are such cold-harted bitches, you don't get the same guarantee when you shove pieces of cold slimey chicken into your goods.
Warm-blooded, warm-breasted, and a whole lotta ass :)
|28 Mar 2003||Felicia||Three cheers to all human-kind, Lucy! The driving force of the key to happiness are warm bosoms along with a warm heart!|
|28 Mar 2003||Marius Mackellar|| Where are you wounded girls, with bruised faces and blackened eyes?
Break open your glass doors, welcome the whirling debris...
Carve your name there in the marble and concrete.
Kill idiot violence, punish greed, punish me. Run naked through the streets stabbing bloody eyes and scream. i pray for you murderous,
i pray for you well-honed and clean. i pray for you any way your violent nature needs you to be... And i praise your name.
i praise the taste of the word on my tongue, and i praise your righteous, rising hate. i praise your soft lips, and i praise your revenge.
i praise your tenderness and your skin, and i praise your pure, uncorruptible pain.
i like you like this, lying there on your side. i praise the scars on your body, and i praise your black mirrored eyes.
So rise above the garbage. Leave me where i fall.
Rise above the wreckage.
Kill anything that walks.
Free from your past, free of your future too, there's nothing left to rise above but you.
Show me your ocean red, kiss the scars that stain my neck, drug me with insights untrue.
But i own a photograph, you lie there naked on your back, safe in a stone house on the sea.
There's nothing true and nothing's real, but i remember one clear feeling, warmth beside your gentle company.
When i lay dying upon some bed, i hope that you'll remember this:
the only one i want to see is You.
~AnGeL Of LiGhT
|27 Mar 2003||Michael Mackellar||INOSTUS. ~In possibility everything is possible. For this reason, it is possible to become lost in possibility in all sorts of ways, but primarily in two. The first takes the form of desiring, craving; the other takes the form of the melancholy-imaginary (hope/fear of anxiety). Legends and fairy tales tell of the knight who suddenly sees a rare bird and chases after it, because it seems at first to be very close; but it flies again, and when night comes, he finds himself separated from his companions and lost within the wilderness where he now is.
So it is with all desire's possibility. Instead of taking the possibility back into necessity, he chases after possibility... and at last cannot find his way back to himself. In melancholy the opposite takes place in much the same way. Melancholically enamored, the individual pursues one of anxiety's possibilities, which finally leads him away from himself so that he is a victim of anxiety or a victim of that about which he was anxious lest he be overcome...
No more negativity. The illness has passed. Again.
|24 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||There's nothing more that brings a tear to my bosom than hearing that my beauty (s) saved another soul, Felicia.
Let breasts continue to save lives, as were they designed for.
It's amazing that breasts can bring so much joy to this world.
Someone once said of Kylie Minogue: "You can't plan your career around your ass" (but you can plan your private life around it!)
But breasts are a whole different kettle of bras, they can rebuild this shattered world.
3 cheers for breasts!
|23 Mar 2003||Felicia - Your Guardian Angel in Disquise||My offered suggestion. The world is a mess. The only way you can get out of this deep blue funk is by breathing. I see and hear people saying that committing suicide is stupid and they never tell you why. Committing suicide is too much of an easy way out. It's about as simple as opening a can of soda and drinking it. When people ask how they should kill themselves, it is because they are afraid to even attempt it. I can offer all the solutions in how one can kill themselves and offer imaginative ideas in how you can do it in a "dramatic way". But that would defeat my purpose in helping you. You know, I was walking one morning on an unpaved sidewalk in a city we always call "the place that Frank left his heart at" and happened to look at the Golden Gate Bridge. San Francisco is the place I call home and I have many friends here. Though I am not homosexual, I have many homosexual friends and love all of them. I was talking to my friend Jimmy one day and he told me that I lacked common sense. I said, "Why?" Well, he said my place is a mess and it looked like shit, my home life is in shambles, my family sucks, and my Iguana is always starving. One day, I wanted to kill myself because I felt like it. Then I went to the search engine and found this website. Then I read about Lucy Cortina and Billy the Freak's conversations, back and fourth, and it made me feel much better. Though I think Lucy Cortina may think that I have a few screws loose and she lost all respect for me, doesn't mean I can't look at her talented chats back and fourth with cool famous people with her momentous episodes of boob jokes. I laughed my ass off and said, "Gee, life is pleasant after all! So you see, committing suicide is not fun. My friend, my young one, my old one, age doesn't matter, I feel your pain. If you can find one thing that makes you happy, go for it. Because you missed out on many things and people bring you down, doesn't mean you should end your life. It's sad to say that it will not bring someone close to you or love you more. You would just be a statistic. My suggestion is this, try something that you never attempted doing by taking a plane to a different town or country and see the world. If you can't afford it, save for it. I know that running away from your problems never helps, but taking a trip to see other countries or cities never hurt. Then explore what it would be like in a place that you never experienced before. My friend, life is full of new experiences. Look how beautiful it is in the sky at night and look out at the stars. Make a wish on every shooting one, and believe that wish. Its when you dont believe that you often fail. Wish yourself out of this deep blue funk and write the wildest things that you want to do. Buy a journal and write your dreams down. Do it as a favor for me? Please?
And by the way, dont let the state of the world get you down. Dont even think of it, just think of you for a change and relax. And first start with breathing better and treating yourself to a nice cool glass of ice water. Please! Dont drown yourself! Because you will not be breathing!!! Purchase a set of headphones and listen to your favorite songs. The world around you can be put on hold for just a moment and remember try not to analyze it so much. Just relax.
|23 Mar 2003||Felicia||My definition of W A R is quite simple. I think of it as two spoiled little boys fighting over ownership of an expensive toy gun. Both parents of the boys hate each other. Neither party likes each other nor they both make a mountain out of a molehill. Hatred becomes the conclusion of the situation. Big WARS like the ones we face now all derive from the mentality. Jealous and spoiled grown up boys trying to conquer the world creating dissension for everyone and peddling each others governmental assets on missiles and military equipment, rather than helping the unfortunate starving economy and unstructured businesses rebuild. With all the useless spending spent on shells I would have bought a mansion and a yacht, along with a Porsche Boxter. Useless spending? No wasted time, unnecessary loss of lives, and less mansions with yachts.
Bombs or mansions? Take your pick. Gosh?! I would have had great boob surgery by now and had a reservation table at Lizas party. Opps! Forgot, she cancelled out because of the war fiasco darn!
|21 Mar 2003||Mary-Annette Mackellar||SO DAMN INSANE.
Some of us are weak, and some endure.
Some people live their lives with a violence that is pure and clean. But i saw a man cry once, down on his knees, in a corner of a darkening cell, and his pain meant nothing to me. But i was younger then, and young men never cry. When i walked out in the sun i was strong, clear-minded and Blind.
Remove my hand from your pocket. Pluck my eye from your socket. i am your secret sharer. Bleeding beneath your covers. Show me the texture of your pregnant tongue. Prepare my mind with abortion. Drown me with rose scented honey-milk. Configure my soul with your voice of silk. Why am i so cruel? Why do i Love you? Why are you so beautiful? ...Because you are cruel. ~m.gira
|18 Mar 2003||Lucy Cortina||What if I decide to rent my boobs, Danny?
I was faxed earlier today from Sadham Insane requesting the purchase of atomic weapons. He needs them as protection. I hope agent Billy succeeds soon. My mind is all cofuzzled as to what to do.
To rent, or not to rent, that is the question.
Although, didn't they say Shakespare was gay? Damn, that cancels out asking him for breastial advice.
Meanwhile I've been observing movements within Buckingham palace. Prince Charles' aide has resigned following an internal probe. He used to perform duties such as squeezing the prince's toothpase onto a brush for him.
I asked Charles if he could add further to the situation.
He's unavailable for comment.
Because he's stuck on the toilet, waiting for someone to come and wipe his ass.
|15 Mar 2003||Danny Keaton||..continued...
we have our top agent, Billy, disguised as Tony Blair, carefully working his homosexual charms on BUSH (which is not as easy as it may sound). Well, he's been stuck up BUSH's arse for long enough now, anyway.
Daniel Keaton of the SSSS, the biggest branch of Infostream.Inc.
|15 Mar 2003||Danny Keaton||Dr Kildare, Lucy, is currently busy on an important project.
Our Infostream scientist, known as Herbert Egg, has been developing and refining his new invention the "boob-bomb" (not to be confused with the "Sex-bomb"). Undoubtedly YOU, Lucy, will be first in line to test out this wonderful, er, accessory.
Herbert had the gruelling task of placing boob-bomb bras on the chests of our model agents, and so your problem was overlooked, Lucy.
But never fear - we shall send someone as soon as we can. Your breasts are Infostream's biggest "assets" to the agency in all my 26 years of being an SSSS agent. They will be saved, like Iraq, you can count on that. Well, unless of course our arch-nemesis "BUSH" cannot be stopped.