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October 30, 2009

Dear Fellow Pawns;

Since November 1st, 1993 I have lived a lie that I can no longer go on with. I have started each of the last 5842 days by convincing myself that McDonald's would bring back the Double ZestaBurger--if only for a limited time and at only select locations. It was the only way I could get myself out of bed and through the day.

Alas, I can no longer lie to myself about my future. I now accept that it is bleak. I do not control my destiny, nor my happiness. Like all of you, I am just a pawn in McDonald's global marketing plan. The same company that has returned the McRib 580 limited times in the last 16 years has never given my well-being a second thought.

Well, congratulations, you win. McDonald's 1, FlashCam 0. You have killed my will, spirit and soul; now my body will follow.

Luckily, I will be going to a better place. A place where my happiness won't be controlled by a multi-national conglomeration of fry cooks in cheap suits. While my body will be buried in the same ground where Ray Kroc's is surely spinning; my soul will be with his in heaven. Not here in purgatory controlled by the whims of MBA's from Hamburger U.

Together Ray and I will forever feast on that delicious ambrosia, the Double Zesta Burger.

Sincerely,

FlashCam

P.S. If I didn't go on a murderous rampage prior to my suicide, could you do it for me? It must have slipped my mind.

That kept me amused

To Whomever Found My Body;

Mom, if that's you reading this: I was actually murdered, my corpse was desecrated by those "damn, dirty, faggot-jew-muslim-hippie gypsies" you always warned us as kids about, they made me write this note to cover up their horrible, heinous crime and you should stop reading now.

If you're reading this and you're not my mother, then most likely I am hanging by a noose from the rafters with a smile on my face, a zucchini up my ass and covered in a wad of jiz and nacho cheese.

Damn it, I wish I wouldn't have kicked the chair so far or tied the noose so tight. Maybe I should have just sprung for a whore. Kendall, you cheap, dumb dead bastard.

Oh well, at least I died doing something I loved: Asphyxiating myself while watching Blue's Clues.

I knew I should have had a spotter.

Kendall

P.S. Please don't look in the closet.

jesus, fresh from the news, it cant be...

"To Whomever Found My Body;

Mom, if that's you reading this: I was actually murdered, my corpse was desecrated by those "damn, dirty, faggot-jew-muslim-hippie gypsies" you always warned us as kids about, they made me write this note to cover up their horrible, heinous crime and you should stop reading now.

If you're reading this and you're not my mother, then most likely I am hanging by a noose from the rafters with a smile on my face, a zucchini up my ass and covered in a wad of jiz and nacho cheese.

Damn it, I wish I wouldn't have kicked the chair so far or tied the noose so tight. Maybe I should have just sprung for a whore. chuck norris, you cheap, dumb dead bastard.

Oh well, at least I died doing something I loved: Asphyxiating myself while watching Blue's Clues.

I knew I should have had a spotter.

chuck norris

P.S. All those gay pornos aren't mine.
P.P.S. And I was superimposed."

im going to hell now, aren't i. shit.

October 30, 2009
Dear Friends;

Mostly, this note is to that devious cunt Crazy4Clay69 who I thought was my best friend and who definitely won't be reading this. That's because that nasty twat committed suicide. Good riddance psycho-bitch.

Ever since we became online friends, I was constantly posting to reassure that neurotic snatch about our friendship. How much did I need her? "More than anything". Would I do anything for her? "Absolutely". And then that nutty skank set me up and fucked me over by asking what I'd do if she died.

Unthinkingly, I posted "I'd kill myself."

To which she replied, "Rely?"

To which I replied, "yes really;)"

To which she replied, "I meant to type, 'Really?'"

To which I replied, "I know what you meant, silly<8)"

To which she replied "Really?"

To which I replied "Really what? Did I know you meant 'Really?' when you typed 'Rely?' Or did I really mean I'd kill myself?"

To which she tried to reply, but the thread was too long and we had to start a new post. In the end I convinced Crazy4Clay69 that I would indeed kill myself if she died.

What the fuck were you thinking catbyte? You spend your whole life trying not to die in a jihad or as a religious sacrifice and then you piss it all away by casually agreeing to an online suicide pact. God damn it.

Sure, sure, I could clear out my temporary internet files, stop accepting cookies, sign up for a new journal and leave my old online world behind. But anyone who has spent even 2 minutes reading my blog knows that's not how I roll. I live up to my responsibilities, even when they technically aren't my doing (see my "Errrr!!!!! Blockbuster Late Fees" entry on September 6).

So, to all of you who have enjoyed my journal, I must say thank you, good-bye and be sure to sign my guestbook.

There is no emoticon to express how much I hate that cunt.

catbyte

P.S. Please don't look in the closet.

Listen Up Dumbfucks:

Most people kill themselves because of a mental condition. This is true in my case too. The condition I suffer from is that I am not normal, I am not like everyone of you "sane" people.

I am not normal in the sense that I am not like every other one of you brain-dead zombies. I can think. I can reason intelligently. I can observe and learn from life. I can make my own decisions and follow through on them. And I can do these without any aid from celebrities, T.V., radio or MySpace. Unfortunately, every one of you shit-brained lemmings seem to lack these skills and I can't fucking take it any more.

Since everyone else in this world is a fucking retarded drone who revels in their ignorance and unintelligence, I must put an end to my misery. I truly wish I was normal. I wish I could be a fucking retarded sponge like all of you. I wish I could have the same conversations day in and day out about sports, politics and "how about that weather huh?". But I can't.

Sure you'll see this note and say H-K-S's the crazy one. You have to it's the only way you can go on thinking you're sane and your pathetic life is meaningful. Go ahead, call me the weirdo like everyone else surely will. Then, return to your happiness of everyday mindless monotony.

My only wish is that the bullet I put into my brain doesn't kill me but only leaves me brain dead. For if ignorance is bliss and everyone of you fuck-for-brains is truly happy, then living a life without a brain stem in a coma, devoid of any cognitive ability must surely be utopia.

Leave My Machine Plugged In You Fucking Retards,

H-K-S

P.S. I superglued all my orifices shut so you coroner pricks can't steal my fillings or sex up my corpse.

HAHAHA

Here's mine:

October 30, 2009

To Whomever Found My Body;

Mom, if that's you reading this: I was actually murdered, my corpse was desecrated by those "damn, dirty, faggot-jew-muslim-hippie gypsies" you always warned us as kids about, they made me write this note to cover up their horrible, heinous crime and you should stop reading now.

If you're reading this and you're not my mother, then most likely I am hanging by a noose from the rafters with a smile on my face, a zucchini up my ass and covered in a wad of jiz and nacho cheese.

Damn it, I wish I wouldn't have kicked the chair so far or tied the noose so tight. Maybe I should have just sprung for a whore. gman12, you cheap, dumb dead bastard.

Oh well, at least I died doing something I loved: Asphyxiating myself while watching Blue's Clues.

I knew I should have had a spotter.

gman12

P.S. Please mail my cable bill. It's on the credenza.

October 31, 2009
Dear World;

I wish everyone could know the pain I live with every day of my miserable life. Alas no, statistics tell me that only 1 in every 30,000 adult males has a penis less than 4 inches long and 2 inches around. Only they, my wee wienied brethren can even begin to understand the hurt I feel when I step up to a urinal and the stream of urine is only slightly smaller than the 3.28 inch long, 1.67 inch wide wanker from which it trickles.

I have tried pumps, creams, exercises, pulling, begging, pleading and god forbid; even praying. Nothing works, not even marginally on my miniscule member. So, everyday I try to lie to the world about possessing a petite pecker by peeling out in my Corvette, strutting around in expensive suits, talking about my mansion, dating strippers to show the world my virility and constantly crowing about my colossal cock.

But my Armani suits are just expensive costumes to hide my teeny-tiny tallywacker. My gigantic house is where I sit alone with my dwarf johnson. And the truth is the only thing I can stretch when it comes to my freakishly feeble frankfurter. Day in and day out I used to ask myself, "John Everyman, what would jesus do with a small penis?"

After hours of reading the bible, searching my soul and peering at my puny prick, I know now that there is no savior, at least not for my snack sized sex stub.

John Everyman

P.S. I hope all that jesus and god and heaven bullshit is real.

Here's mine I was called Jesus Christ the III