Text,Binary Prediction,Multi Prediction,Origin,Date,Link,Perpetrator
"Oh the happiness I could have had mingling among you hedonists, being counted as one
of you, only if you didn’t fuck the living shit out of me.
You could have been great. I could have been great. Ask yourself what you did to me to have
made me clean the slate.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Only if you could be the victim of your reprehensible and wicked crimes, you Christian
Nazis, you would have brute-restrained your animal urges to fuck me.
You could be at home right now eating your fucking caviar and your fucking cognac, had
you not ravenously raped my soul.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Can you feel the pain that you
fucked us in, you Descendants of Satan? Well, can you feel it?",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"All the shit you’ve given me, right back at you with hollow points. [photograph of hollow
point bullets]
Don’t you just wish you finished me off when you had the chance? Don’t you just wish you
killed me?",1,Specific Threats,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"You had a hundred billion chances and ways to have avoided today, but you decided to spill
my blood. You forced me into a corner and gave me only one option. The decision was yours.
Now you have blood on your hands that will never wash off, you Apostles of Sin.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Congratulations. You have succeeded in extinguishing my life. Vandalizing my heart wasn’t
enough for you. Raping my soul wasn’t enough for you. Committing emotional sodomy
on me wasn’t enough for you. Every single second wasted on your wanton hedonism and
menacing sadism could have been used to prevent today. Ask yourselves, What was I doing
all this time? All these months, hours, seconds. Only if you could have been the victim of
your crimes. Only if you could have been the victim .. .",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"To you sadistic snobs, I may be nothing but a piece of dog shit. You have vandalized my
heart, raped my soul, and torched my conscious again and again. You thought it was one
pathetic, void life that you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die, like Jesus Christ, to
inspire generations of the Weak and Defenseless people — my Brothers, Sisters, and Children — that you fuck.
Like Moses, I spread the sea and lead my people — the Weak, the Defenseless, and the Innocent
Children of all ages that you fucked and will always try to fuck — to eternal freedom. Thanks to
you Sinners, you Spillers of Blood, I set the example of the century for my Children to follow.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"You may stand steadfast on the battlefield of your life’s dedication to eternal terrorism American Al-Qaeda, but the Children that you have fucked will rise. By the power greater than God we will hunt you down, you Lovers of Terrorism, and we will kill you.

Do they wanna fuck us and pretend to be devout Christians? Do they wanna smear dog shit
on our face then give us a dirty towel to wipe away? Do they wanna rape us then give us
stained toilet paper to clean up? Do they wanna cut our throat then give us a used band aid
to patch up? Do they wanna perpetrate endless sessions of crucifixions and holocausts on our
innocent life then go to church and praise the Lord and Jesus? Do they wanna fuck us and
pretend to be Jesus Christ? I say we’re the Jesus Christs, my Brothers, Sisters, and Children.
Jesus Christ exists in us all: Ax Jesus Christ, John Jesus Christ, Jane Jesus Christ, Seung Jesus
Christ, Carlos Jesus Christ, Hakeem Jesus Christ, Mohammad Jesus Christ, Zhang Jesus
Christ, Oliver Jesus Christ, Elizabeth Jesus Christ, Vladimir Jesus Christ. ___________ Jesus
Christ. I say there is no pain they can inflict on us that they haven’t already inflicted. I say
they can’t fuck us any more than they have already done. I say there are no lies they can say
about us that they haven’t already said. I say fuck you, you Descendants of Satan Disguised
as Devout Christians. I say we take up the cross, take up our guns and knives and hammers,
and take no prisoners and spare no lives until our last breath and last ounce of energy.",1,Specific Threats,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
Seer of Veracity. Seal of the Anti-Terrorist.,1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Number of the Anti-Terrorist. [photograph of hand-drawn “88” with the numbers overlapping]

You wanna rape us John Mark Karrs? You wanna rape us Debra LaFaves? Fuck you.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"By destroying we create. We create the feelings in you of what it is like to be the victim, what
it is like to be fucked and destroyed. Because of your annihilations, we create and raise new
breeds of Children who will show you fuckers what you have done to us. Like Easter, it will
be a day of rebirth. It will be a start of a revolution of the Children that you fucked. You have
never felt a single ounce of pain your whole life, thus, by destroying you, by giving you pain,
we attempt to show you responsibilities and meanings of other people’s lives",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"It’s grand for you to fuck us 24/7 for fun, but we can’t have a single minute of harmless
playtime, only suffer. It’s dandy for you to rape us, but we’re not allowed to even speak, only
be raped? Fuck you.
You love to pretend to, but you Hedonists, Charlatans, Sadists, Rapists, Terrorists will never
know the feelings of giving up your lives for a cause. You have never felt a single ounce of
pain in your hedonistic lives. You will never give up a single can of your Bud Light, a shot
of your cognac, or a half-drop of your own precious blood for another human being, only
fuck the shit out of him and lie afterwards. You fucked us, now we fuck you, now we kill
you. There can be no lighter penalty for Masqueraded Democratic Terrorists who commit
unforgivable acts of treason against mankind. There is no where in the world you can run,
you Lovers of Terrorism. There is nowhere in the world you can hide, you Lovers of Sadism.
You will never know when and where the Weak and Defenseless that you fucked will strike
— day, night, at school, in the public, in your home, during your most comfortable hour and
protected place. You will never know how we will kill you — slash your throat, bullet in your
back, torture you with knives, hammers, bolt cutters, scissors. You will always live in fear.
You will never be able to go to school or work or rest or sleep. Your heart will always pound
nonstop. Your sin-ridden soul will slowly eat up your conscious for the heinous crimes you have committed. So if you don’t want to die a painful death, do yourself a favor, do yourself
a coup de grace, and kill yourself clean or you will endure pains you can never feel but with
our hands. Kill yourself or we will hound you down and rip you, all your friends, and all
your family into small pieces.",1,Specific Threats,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
We have no sympathy in killing humans who have no respect for other people’s lives.,1,Specific Threats,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Now that the slate has been cleaned and you have the world’s attention, the question is what
are you going to do? Are you going to admit the truth or are you going to stand resolute on
your mission to eternally fuck the Weak and the Defenseless and lie about it? Are you still
going to use your power and manipulate the truth to end up with some sort of profit as you
have always done? Are you going to skip over all the crimes you’ve committed and act as
victims to the world so you can suck in millions of donation money to turn the situation
into a profit? Your two million dollar house wasn’t enough? Your BMW wasn’t enough? Your
inheritances weren’t enough? You have to fuck and steal form the Poor and the Weak who
have nothing in order to gratify your fucking pride and hedonism? What are you going to
do with the blood money? Buy a new Mercedes? You want to brainwash your bratty, snobby
kids that its right to steal from the poor, the Weak, and the Defenseless to always stay in
power? The fat surpluses that you roll on everyday aren’t enough? Fuck you. Your answer
rings loud and clear. I saw we take up the cross, Children of Ishmael, take up our guns and
knives and any sharp objects, and take no prisoners and spare no lives until our last breath
and last ounce of energy",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"The blood of the Innocents should never be shed, but the wicked we shall spread our wings
and strike. We do not want the Weak, the Defenseless, or the Innocent, but the sadistic, the
corrupt, and the wicked who prey and rape from the Weak, the Defenseless, and the Innocent.
We will seek and demolish them until our last breath. You Lifetakers may have succeeded in
raping our souls and shattering our dreams — but mark our words — the vendetta you have
witnessed today will reverberate throughout every home and every soul in America and will
inspire the Innocent kids that you have fucked to start a war of vendetta. We will raise hell
on earth that the world has never witnessed. Millions of deaths and millions of gallons of
blood on the streets",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"will not quench the avenging phoenix that you have caused us to unleash. Generation after
generation, we martyrs, like Eric and Dylan, will sacrifice our lives to fuck you thousand
folds for what you Apostles of Sin have done to us.
Pain of every atom between air and water, sky and ground, heaven and hell, life and death
wouldn’t begin to explain the experience that we went through under your wrath.
What did you expect me to do, you violators of human rights?",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"As the time approached, I wished for a last minute miracle and discard this mission you’ve
given me. Heaven knows I wouldn’t hurt a single leaf of a flower. But when the time came,
I did it. I had to. What other choices did you give me? All this time.. . You never know that
a human being is capable of doing until you fuck him to the edge.
When you’re raped of everything, you got nothing to lose.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"If you have a single milligram of conscience, a grain of integrity, a speck of heart, you will
kill yourself for all the lives you have brutally extinguished.
Can you now see all that used to be, all that could have been, and all that is to come, you
Sadistic Charlatans.",1,Specific Threats,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"All of you who have ever been fucked by these Descendants of Satan Disguised as Devout
Christians, all of you who have went through what I went through, all of you who have felt
what I have felt in my life, all of you who have suffered the wrath of these Democratic Terrorists, all of you who have been beaten, humiliated, and crucified — Children of Ishmael,
Crusaders of Anti-Terrorism, my Jesus Christ Brothers and Sisters — you’re in my heart. In
life and death and spirit.
We’ll soon be together.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
Let the revolution begin!,1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Die you Descendants of Satan! Fuck you, and die now!
I am Ax Ishmael. I am the Anti-Terrorist of America.",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Are you happy now that you have destroyed my life? Now that you have stolen everything
you could from me? Now that you have gone on a 9/11 on my life like fucking Osama. Now
that you have fucked your own people like fucking Kim Jong-Il. Now that you have gone on
a hummer safari on my life like fucking Bush? Are you happy now?",1,Vague Discontent,"Seung Hui Cho's ""Manifesto""",4/18/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/cho_manifesto_1.1.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Not too long ago I had an epiphany about this class. What barbarians you people are. Now, tell me if I'm wrong, but I thought this was a poetry class, yet everybody-everybody but me that is-spent the whole hour and a half talking about eating. It started to with somebody talking about eating baked beans everyday overseas in some country. Then before I knew it, the conversation turned into a type of conversation that of animal massacre butchershop. Some body began talking about chopping off turtles' heads, dipping them into eel sauce and eating them: cooking lions' balls deep fried and thin sliced, and eating them with ketchup; and chewing on a nice, fat birds head with a nice bottle of wine. Then that somebody said she doesn't do that anymore because the animals that she ate are now her friends, yet she who the one who deliciously, joyfully, gobbled them up like one jolly clown. That's like a robber stealing twenty millions dollars from a bank and years later haughtily apologizing for stealing the money without returning any of it. Yea, as long as he's sorry! As if! I don't know who said that but somebody is in this room. That somebody sits in this vicinity, right there to be exact! If I'm not mistaken. I don't know which uncouth, low-life planet you come from but you disgust me. In fact, you all disgust me! Because as far as I can remember somebody jumped in and said, ""have you eaten a snake. They taste so good. I love snakes!"" Who said that? What's wrong with you! You wanna get leaparsy or something! As if that wasn't bad enough she went on, ""Ostrage as good too. My uncle owns an ostrage farm and every summer we murder a few of them and we barbeque them on the grill rare...Posoms are pretty good tool. You should kill them and eat them because they go through your trash and make a mess. You should just kill them and eat them-"" Then another person jumped in and said, ""if you own a horse you should keep him locked up in a cage so his muscles don't develop. It's much easier to chew him that way."" Before I could shake my head and catch a breath to all this genocide talk of innocent animals, certain individuals ran out of the class not to throw up on the bathroom floor but to get something to eat! ""Hey you guys, you're making me hungry!"" Who said that! You know exactly who you are! Yes, I'm talking to you, you, you..all of yoU! You low-life barbarians make me sick to the stomach that I want to barf all over my new shoes. If you despicable human begins who are all disgraces to human race keep this up, before you know it you'll turn into cannibals-eating little babies, your friends, siblings, your parents, grandparents. And your classmates! That's it, I'm getting the hell out before I blink and get eaten alive by you barbarious, uncivilized monsters! I hope y'all burn in hell for mass murdering and eating all those little, harmless animals!",1,Specific Threats,So-Called Advanced Creating Writing-Poetry,10/10/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_essay_and_professors_letter.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"it's obvious that i'm in a lot of trouble...yes, i'll come wed and get yelled at or whatever you want to do to me...",1,Grievance Airring,Cho's English Dept Emails,12/2/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho%27s%20English%20Dept%20Emails.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"a boy named LOSER
a boy named LOSER
walks off the sidewalk, shudders into his house,
and lays his weary head to sleep and dream.
In his dream, he lives two lives,
because in this world he has no life,
no class, no friends—just a Moron in this world.
During its long hours in the real world,
it’s no surprise he is LOSER.
Everyone knows—too bad—they say, only if he had a life.
Under the bright, cruel sun, he hulls his feet into his house.
Thinks about the two other lives.
Keeps on dreaming. Day dream.
What to do, what to say but dream.
That’s what losers do in this world,
where normal guys live their happy lives,
worry-free and be themselves, unlike LOSER.
A normal guy throws parties at his house,
but not LOSER—he has no life.
Be happy, be normal, get a life,
he says to himself; he can only in his dream:
In LOSER’s little mind, he brings over a girl to this house.
Only if he could do that in this real world.
LOSER. What can I say, that’s what losers do. LOSER!
Only if LOSER could live his lives.
Something LOSER can’t ever do!—lives those lives
and be normal and actually have a life.
You know why he can’t do it? He’s LOSER.
With everything he longs for, all he can do is dream
trapped in this world, in this wronged world.
Nothing to do but drag his heavy feet back into the house.
All alone in his little house
he likes to think he’s living his lives,
in his own safe little world.
No one tells him, LOSER, get a life!
No one gives him the hand gesture in his dream.
No one calls him LOSER:
Darn straight! This boy really is LOSER—LOSER with no life!
and he knows it. But he (what can he do) likes to live in his pathetic dream
drowning down in his little quirky house anyway—My Gawd! What a LOSER!",1,Vague Discontent,The Adventure of Spanky,10/1/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"“Good morning, Jelly. Did you have a good night sleep?” Spanky finds himself
dully mumbling at this girl, who is laying on a bed looking up at him with her big eyes.
Spanky looking back into her glittering eyes isn‟t quite sure who this girl is or where he
is at or what he is doing here as if he has been sleep-walking for ages and has just woken
up and needs refreshing. Jelly? Who is Jelly? he thinks. Did I just say good morning
Jelly? Who is she?
“Good morning, Spanky!” Jelly chirps in a surgary-sweet voice. “I had a great
sleep. Last night I wanted to talk with you and hug you and kiss you so badly. I was
feeling so lonely, so lonely that I dreamt about you.
“Really?” Spanky asks, his face starting to light up rubbing his pristine eyes,
flickering like a faulty electrical line. She dreamt about me, he thinks in his head. And
for some reason it seems to him that such a pretty girl dreaming about him doesn't make
any sense. He should be the one dreaming about her, not the other way around.
“Don‟t you remember,” she asks after studying his perplexed facial expression for
a minute. “What we did yesterday—”
“I don‟t! I mean, uh…” He wants to ask her who she is, if he is supposed to know
her, or if this is a big joke. Maybe this is a big dream…
He pinches himself. No, he is not dreaming. “What I meant was…what did we do
yesterday?”
“We snuggled! We talked! We smooched all day long! How could you not
remember, Spanky. We had so much fun!”
“You and I did that?” He searches his brain for this event, and soon, through his
foggy memory, there is a vague picture in his head of a pretty girl that looks a lot like the girl in front o him that he made out with. But it feels more like a dream than reality.
Saline—I mean Jelly—are you my…my…girlfriend?” he asks.
She laughs. The corners of her lips move towards her ears showing her beautiful
teeth and her beautiful smile. “Of course I am, silly. What kind of question is that!”
“Oh,” he mumbles half smiling and scratching his head, not quite sure what to say
or what to do. “Of course you are, ha ha ha,” he forces a laughter.
She laughs and stares at him.
“I must not have had a good sleep last night or something. I had so much fun,
hugging and kissing you that I couldn‟t sleep.” Though he has a hard time believing that
this fantasy-event actually happened, he convinces his brain to believe that it did. “I have
a headache.”
“Oh you have a headache,” she says in a girly-girly voice, winking at him. “I hope
you feel better. If I knew you were up all night long I would have called you and talked to
you. You would have spent the night together instead of thinking of each other. I bet
that‟s why you got a headache. You were longing to be with me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now what shall we do about your headache? Do you want some pills, the little
grey ones?”
“I took some this morning.” He vaguely recalls taking some pills not too long ago,
but his memory is unclear like a brain cloud.”
“You want me to kiss your forehead so you get better quicker?” she asks bringing
her lips together and sticking them out. With her eyes closed, she makes a smack noise.
“Do you want a great, big smooch, Spanky?” “Uh…That‟s okay.” His eyes lower to the floor. “I took some already. It just
started to kick in. I‟m starting to feel a little better now,” he says in a quiet voice, rubbing
his forehead and changing his posture to stand straight.
“That‟s wonderful. I‟m gonna get dressed, then you can give me a Good Morning
Kiss. A nice kiss to start the day.” She gets out of her bed. She is wearing pink pajamas
and pink tank top. “You can watch me get dressed.”
This doesn‟t feel right to Spanky—standing in front of a girl who is about to
change—and so he says, “I‟ll wait outside,” and steps out.
Jelly pushes the blanket aside, gets out of bed, and is about to put on a pink t-shirt
and jeans, but changes her mind to keep him waiting for her and decides to not changed
out of her sleeping clothes. She then spends twenty minute in front of the mirror,
brushing her hair. Meanwhile Spanky waits outside the door staring at the closed door
wondering what she is doing inside. Jelly opens the door and walks out, almost bumping
into Spanky.
“Woe! Sorry Spanky.”
“Does it always take you this long for you to get dressed?” Spanky notices her
elegantly-brushed hair.
“My hair. It takes ten seconds to put on my clothes, then I usually spend twenty
minutes brushing my hair too. I didn‟t changed because I didn‟t want to keep you
waiting, and also I only spent ten minutes on my hair, even though my beautiful hair
needs special attention,” Jelly exclaims as she runs her fingers through her pretty, pink,
curly hair.
He stares at her hair for half a minute. Wow, Jelly has nice hair. Her hair is so
nice, he thinks, so pink! Her hair is smooth, elegant, pink, and curly. Her flowing hair is so graceful and
playful that his hand unconsciously reaches for them. However, before he could touch
them she asks:
“Okay. What do you want to do today?” Jelly asks. “Oh, Good Morning Kiss!”
The girl places her hands under his jaws to kiss him but he shudders when she closes in.
“What‟s wrong?”
Watching the girl in front of him who is about to kiss him—watching her large
eyes, her soft delicate skin, and her attractive, moist pink lips that is about to make
contact with his lips—makes Spanky‟s heart pump and thump as if he has never kissed a
girl before. But no, he kissed her last night. Didn‟t he?
He looks at the floor and makes up an excuse. “I would love to kiss you, but I
can‟t. I forgot to brush my teeth. My breath is so bad right now. I‟m sorry.”
“Boo! Come on, Spanky. You forgot to brush you teeth? Uh! What a let down.”
She slaps him. “No girl likes a guy with bad breath! The disgusting smell and germs in
your mouth! I know what we can do! You can brush you teeth with my toothbrush. Then
we can have our Good Morning kiss!”
“I can‟t…because…uh…” he mumbles for words, trying to find a excuse.
“Because my breath is so bad that I use this special toothbrush that helps me have clean
breath. Regular toothbrush doesn‟t work for me.
“But Spanky! I really wanna kiss you right now! I want to French Kiss you!”
His eyes widen. “French Kiss? Uh, I don‟t want to spread my germs into your
mouth or anything. Maybe later.
“Fine! You better brush your teeth before noon because I‟ll be waiting for Good
Afternoon Kiss. I‟ll be waiting for you to kiss me Spanky.”
“Sure Jelly. I won‟t forget.”
“Promise?” she asks, stepping forward to Spanky, looking directly into his eyes.
“Sure.”
“Say, „I promise.‟ She raises her right fist in front of him with her pinky sticking
out.
“I promise,” he submits, then stares at her pinky. After studying her cute pinky, he
hooks his pinky with her pinky. With their pinkies interlocked, she pulls her hand toward
her direction, making him lurch forward. Then Spanky does the same and pulls his hand
toward his direction lurching her toward him. Now the two are inches apart, close enough
for them to kiss each other. They look at each other in the eyes. Then Jelly glances down
at their intertwisted pinkies and bites them—her pinky and his pinky—mostly Spanky‟s
pinky, hinting what might happen if he breaks his promise.
“Ow,” he whispers out quickly pulling away his pinky out of the Pinky Lock and
grabbing his hurt finger. “Why‟d you do that?”
“Gawd, Spanky. I barely bit you. I bit my finger harder than yours,” she lies.
“You don‟t see me crying out like a baby.”
“Sorry.” He relaxes his arms, hanging naturally by his side, though he wants to
rub his injured finger. Feeling embarrassed, he stares at the floor.
“So, what do you want to do today, Spanky?”
Spanky isn‟t quite sure because his mind is still on his hurt pinkie. “I don‟t
know…What do you want to do?”
“NO… What do yooouu want to do, Spanky? Anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Yep.”
“Well! Let me think! Anything, eh? Anything I want…I wanna go to the
playground and play.”
“You wanna go where? The playground? How old are we?” She had in her mind
something romantic and at this she frowns at him in contempt as if she is talking to a
retarded boy.
“Silly Jelly, we‟re both nineteen.”
“Well, yea! DUH!” she utters in a sarcastic voice, wagging her head, the way girls
do. “You‟re nineteen years old and you want to go to the playground? And you want me
to go with you and play with you?”
“Yes.”
“What is wrong with you!” she chirps scornfully. I was thinking…” She pauses
for a few seconds. “The mall at least” She doesn‟t finish the sentence way she wants to.
“There are gonna be kids there. Nineteen-year-olds playing on the playground along with
little toddlers is just embarrassing!”
“I haven‟t played on the playground in ages. It would be nice to play, don‟t you
think. Don‟t you remember playing on the playground during recess when you were a
kid?”
“Well…” She does think about when she was a child playing—all the laughter, all
the innocence. “Maybe you‟re right. Maybe we‟re not all that grown up as we think,” she
comments taking a few more moments to think. “You know, I haven‟t been to the
playground in such a long time. Last time I stepped onto the playground was in fifth
grade…Oh.” She thinks for a few more moment. “Well, it would be fun to run around the
mulch and go down the slides.”
“And run across the bridge and go across the monkey bar,” he adds with a grin
“And go on the swings and climb up the jungle gym,” she excitingly continues.
Spanky gets a vision of himself on the swing with her holding her hair in his
hand.
“I remember having so much fun during the short thirty minutes of recess. And
when it was time to go inside, we were all whiney and moany. „Already! Oh man‟. I miss
that—I miss forgetting about everything and being lost in the moment,” she yearns.
“It really would be fun to go there and just play. You know what I want to do? I
want to go on the swings holding you hands.” She leans into his ears and whispers,
becoming seriously interested, “I want to hold your hands and kiss all over your face,
Spanky.” Then she straightens back to her former posture. “Do you go to the playground
often? Sounds like you go there often,” she states sarcastically.
“No. I haven‟t been to the playground in a long time either. I pass by it everyday
when I walk to class though. I just got this thought that it would be fun to go there and
play.”
“I haven‟t seen any playgrounds around here.”
“There‟s one down the street behind Superstar Supermarket. It‟s kind of hidden
by a row of trees.”
“How far is it away from here?”
“It‟s a ten minute walk. There really shouldn‟t be anybody there this early in the
morning.”
“Really. Let‟s go, then!” she yelps, jumping onto the tip of her toes, then back
down like a ballerina.
As they‟re leaving, she flicks on the TV to check the weather in the living room.
As she is clicking through channels, a wrestling match appears on the screen. 
“Wait. I wanna watch this.”
“I need to check the weather though.”
“Let me just watch for a few minutes, okay?”
The current match is The Boink Brothers versus The Mexicools.
“Woe. I love The Mexicools! They‟re cool. They‟re not Mexicans, they‟re
Mexicools!” Spanky mumbles.
Psychosis of The Mexicools is in the ring locked up with D. Boink…
“That‟s enough,” Jelly states and turns off the TV. “Let‟s go.”
She leads out of her apartment, Spanky following after her. Walking out into the
hall, towards the stairs, and before stepping down the staircase, she stops and turns. He
stops next to her.
“What?” he asks.
“Rock, paper, scissors. Ready? One, two, three, shoot.”
He shoots paper. “I win. Paper beats rock, Jelly.” He steps down one.
“One, two, three, shoot.”
“Again, I beat you—scissors cuts paper.” He steps down another.
“One, two, three, shoot.”
“Again. Three in a row.” He steps down a third.
“No fair!” she wines. Not wanting to go on with the loosing streak, she zooms
down the staircase like thief on the run. “I beat you! I win. Ha ha!”
“You cheated, Jelly! You can‟t do that,” he yells, looking down at her from the
top of the staircase. “You think you‟re Eddie Guerrero1
or something? Latino Heat? You
cheater!”
“What? Latino Heat?”
“Yea. „I cheat, I lie, I steal?‟ Now, he is one cool wrestler.
“Okay… You‟re just bitter because I beat you.” She sticks out her tongue, red as
cherry. Come and get me, Spanky!”
As he watches her run, he sprints down the stairs, but his foot almost slips off the
edge of a step and nearly tumbles down all the way. But just in time, he grabs the hand
rail and regains balance, then continues to down the staircase chasing her. When he
reaches the ground floor and runs out onto the sidewalk, she is way ahead of him so he
keeps running after her. But faster he runs, further away she appears to be. Out of breath,
he stops and yells out to her, “Jelly! Wait for me!” He thinks that he is going to lose her.
Jelly stops running and turns around. Spanky bends over to catch some breath. When he
stands back up, she is slowly walking back to by his side.
“Wow. You are fast,” he says breathing calmer.
“Come on, you slowpoke. Which way?”
“This way.” He leads the way, walking. As he catches his breaths and as his head
clears with the thought of losing sight of Jelly, he realizes that it‟s rather cold out there.
He sees, from his point of view, fog coming from below, from his mouth. “It‟s kind of
chilly out here.” Turning his head he also sees her exhaling foggy breath out from her
mouth too. “I should have brought out a jacket,” he comments. He blows a warm stream
into the hole of his fist, then rubs his hands together to warm up his freezing fingers.
They walk down two more blocks and turn towards Superstar Supermarket,
walking around it and through a group a row of big trees. Slicing through the barricading
trees standing tightly side by side, they see the playground.
“Right there,” he points to the playground. 
“It‟s big, it‟s huge, it‟s a Fat Poppa of a playground,” she cries looking up onto
the hill. “Let‟s run. I‟ll race you. One, two three, go,” she says in increasing speed, then
darts to the playground, ascending the hill at an unusually fast speed, reaching it in what
seems to be about five seconds, even before he had the time to get ready.
“I‟ll just walk,” thinking he‟ll never be able to go up a hill that fast. So he starts
taking long strides, then bends forward at the waist as the hill gets steeper, to counterbalance the center of gravity of his body due to the steep. Running out of breath, his
strides get shorter and choppier. He looks up to see how far he has to walk, and in doing
so catches a glimpse of the sky. In the sky there is a light grey sheet of clouds, a bit
depressing but showing signs of lighter mood seen through the fairer parts of the sky.
Looking at them more carefully, he sees holes of blue background between the evernoticeable breaks. A few seconds later, he finds himself he‟s finally on top of the hill. He
walks onto the mulch and looks around for Jelly.
“Jelly?” he questions turning his head left and right.
“I‟m right here,” she sings from the top of the slide above him. She slides down
and meets Spanky at the base. “Help me up.”
He takes hold of her arms and pulls her up. As he pulls, she hops forward and
hugs him, wrapping her arms around him.
I should hug her back, he thinks after pondering the situation. He raises his arms
in front of him, his hands unknowingly curled up towards his elbow, and gives her a
rabbit hug, squeezing her sides a few times, as if he doesn‟t know how to hug a girl.
She giggles at his hug. “I need a hug to make up for the missed kiss this
morning,” she says still hugging him snugly.
“Okay. Do you want to go down the slide again?” he asks, looking around to see
if anyone has witnessed the pathetic way he hugged her.
“Only if you want to.”
“I want to,” Spanky says.
They break the hug and climb up the ladder a few feet away. He climbs first, and
Jelly behind him. On the platform on top of the ladder, he turns and watches her escalate
up to him. With her standing next to him, he looks down at the mulch five feet below
him, and his eyes rise up and out to the edge of the playground, down the hill, and
straight out. “Ah. You can see everything up from here.” He places open palm over his
eye brows as if a pirate looking out across the sea from the deck. “There are the trees and
there is Superstar Supermarket. You can see the roof and everything. It looks so different
from up here.” He looks near his feet and steps up onto on of the large platform-step
leading to the slide. He looks far out. “You get a better view from here.”
“You can see little cars and people on the streets,” she observes.
“I should have brought my binocular. It would be fun to spy on people.”
“Yea, it would. It would be fun to spy on girls! Is that what you do on your free
time, Spanky?
“No! What makes you think that?” He then thinks of something to change the
subject.
“Noticing a building vaguely familiar from the angle he is at, he asks her, “is that
your apartment?”
“Where? Oh that? Yea, I think it is…It is my apartment. But you can‟t see my
window from here.” She hops up a step to the pinnacle of the structure of the slide. She 
jumps a few times and stretches her neck to get a better look. “You still can‟t see that
well. But it‟s still really nice up here being able to see everything.”
Holding the railing and sticking his head out the rails, leaning out, he notices how
far up he is from the ground and how long the slide is. “Woe, it‟s kind of scary up here
though. I haven‟t been up this high, on top of a playground, in a long time.”
“Don‟t fall!” She shoves him lightly in the back.
He pulls back away from the rails, lands back on his feet, turns, and hugs her
tightly—not a wimpy bunny hug, but a Real Hug, like a child hugging a teddy bear. He
lets her go and stares at her. “Sorry.” Then looks away. What if he did hall? What would
have happened then?
“Come on, Spanky. Don‟t be a sissy,” she ridicule him with a smile. “Do you
want to go first?”
“What? Oh, down the slide.” Looking into the entrance-hole of the spiral-tunnel
slide, he is daunted—about to spiral down into the unknown into that dark, black hole.
Although he was excited about going down the slide a minute ago, he is starting to have
second thoughts, after consciously becoming aware of elevation of his current location.
“I don‟t know. Maybe going down the slide isn‟t such a good idea.”
“What! It was your idea! You‟re the one who wanted to come here!”
“But—”
She gives him an angry, bully look, looking like as if she might hit him. To avoid
the tentative violence, he gives in.
“Okay. I‟ll go down the slide.”
“Good. You go down first. No, I‟ll go first because I‟m a lady. Is that okay with
you?”

“Yes.”
She changes her mind. “No, let‟s go together.”
“Jelly, the slide isn‟t wide enough for both of us to go down together.”
“Okay. I‟ll go first then you follow right after me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Set?”
“Set.”
“Go!” Jelly slides down, screeching “wee!” in laughter arms raised in the air.
“Go!” Spanky slides right after, after closing his eyes and taking a big swallow,
squawking “woo!” half scared and half in enjoyment. Then, plop, followed by another
plop. Sliding down so fast that when they reach the bottom, they fall on their butts—Jelly
first, then Spanky. Spanky, on his butt right behind her, gets up and walks over in front of
her and pulls her arms to help her up. Unable to lift her using one arm, he pulls her with
both arms, leaning back to use his body weight for aid.
“That was fun,” she says enthusiastically. “Let‟s do it again,” she brushes her butt
to get the mulch off.
He exhales in relief, having gotten rid of the anxious feeling. But he isn‟t quite
sure he wants to do it again. “I almost landed on top of you. It‟s very dangerous.”
“It‟s very dangerous,” she mocks him.
“Come on. Don‟t be a loser, man.”
“Hey, what did you call me! I am not a ….”
“Let‟s go across the monkey bar.”

“Okay.”
They run across to the other side of the playground where the monkey bars are
located. They are stand at the start of the monkey bars.
“I‟ll go first this time. I‟m good at monkey bar.” Bar by bar, he monkies across
the monkey bars like a monkey. While doing so, he feels muscles around his armpits
stretching, occasionally hanging on one for a second and breathing deeper, bringing
refreshing feeling to his head. And she effortlessly follows behind him to the other end,
occasionally kicking his butt. “What are you doing? Don‟t kick my tushy,” he complains.
“Sorry. It was an accident,” she says innocently.
“Okay, fine,” unable to counter her innocence. When they finish the monkey bars,
he tells her they‟re going on the seesaw next. But she wants to do the monkey bar again.
“No!” he utters not wanting to get kicked again. “We‟re going on the seesaw!”
“Fine! We‟ll go on the seesaw.”
She sit on one side and waits for him to get on.
He tries to pull down the seat on the other side so he can get on. “I‟m gonna need
some help Jelly.”
She straightens out her legs so his side is lower. Spanky jumps up and tries to
place his chest on the seat to weigh it down. He tries to kick up a foot on the seat to
launch himself up. He hangs on the edge in pull-up position with his leg in squatting
position beneath but to no avail. “I can‟t do this.” He puts his hands around his waist and
faces Jelly.
“Oh. You need some help? How about this—when I jump, you hop on. Okay.”
“Okay.”

She launches off from the ground with her feet real hard. As the seesaw tips to
Spanky‟s side, she yells to him to hop on. “Now, now!”
He swiftly sits on the seat as it hits the tired implanted on the ground. The seesaw
tips back over to the other side. The two kids are taking turns bouncing back and forth on
the seesaw.
“Jelly?”
“Yea.”
“You better not dive off while I‟m in the air.”
“And if I do?”
“Don‟t. I don‟t want to bonk down on my…”
“Tushy?”
“…Yea, and hurt myself.”
“I won‟t do that to you. Will you dive off, Spanky, and make me bonk down on
my tushy?”
“Uh…” he lets seesaw tip back and froth a few more times before answering.
“Yes,” and before she pulls a quick one on him, he jumps off and she begins to descend.
“No!” she shrieks as her side falls down with great force. But with quick thinking,
she dives off before her seat hits the tire landing on her sides.
Having witnessed this amazing event, he runs over to her. “Woe, Jelly. That‟s was
amazing. How‟d you tumble off like that? You should be a stunt woman or something.
Wow. You are something, Jelly.”
“Why‟d you do that!” She gets in his face and pushes him back.
“I didn‟t wanna get screwed over. Nobody like getting screwed over…”
“But you said…”

“You said you wouldn‟t jump off. But I never did.”
“You!” she shakes her fist at him with an angry face.
“I‟m sorry. Did you get hurt? Do you want to punch me? Since I made you get
hurt, I‟ll let you punch me anywhere on my body. Pick a body part and punch me as hard
as you can.”
“What? You‟re letting me punch you?”
“It‟s only fair that you punch me.”
“A free punch!” She thinks about where to hit him—his nose, his eye, his chin,
his stomach…or maybe give him a low-blow, but she changes her mind. “No. I can‟t
punch you, Spanky. I won‟t. I didn‟t get hurt.”
“But the way you dived off was so awesome. You must have gotten hurt. Really.
Hit me. I want you to.”
“It‟s not like I jumped off five feet from the air. I just tipped myself over right
before it hit the ground. I‟m not hurt at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Half laughing and twittling her thumbs, she asserts, “But there is this one
thing.”
“What?” he gasps. “What‟s wrong?”
”You‟re it!” She tags his arm and runs away from him, laughing.
He mumbles to himself as he starts to chase her. He runs, in pursuit of her, across
the mulch, around the slide, up the ladder, across the bridge, down the steps, and under
the monkey bars. He drops to the ground. “Ow. Jelly, I‟m hurt. I‟m hurt!”
She stops and turns. “You think I was born yesterday,” the girl yells. “I‟m not
gonna fall for that trick.”

“Ugh!” he breaths out hard. “Does Jelly think she‟s smart or something?” he talks
to himself sitting on his butt playing with his fingernails. “Oh my Gawd. It‟s gonna take
forever to tag her. Oh my.” He sighs with his shoulders sagged. He was never good at
playing tag or good at anything for that matter.
“Come on now! Let‟s go. Let‟s go, boy!”
“Okay. I‟m coming,” the boy mumbles. Getting up, he chases her down again.
As she runs between the swings, she grabs the ropes of the swings on both sides
of her, pulls on them and lets them go, causing them to swing back and forth in a
squiggly way. Spanky slows down and stops the swings so he doesn‟t run into them and
get tangled up. Knowing she‟s too quick for him, he gives up—He just stands there, grabs
a rope of a swing, and hangs on them leaning back like a lame duck. Casually wandering
the playground with his eyeballs, he observes Jelly standing on a circular platform that
spins. He walks toward her. “Is that what you call merry-go-round?” He steps onto it.
“Yea. I think so.” She grabs the rail and with one foot on the merry-go-round,
pushes it off with her other foot, causing it to spin. He does the same.
“Faster,” she tells Spanky.
“Faster,” he replies.
They spin faster and faster until the world they see with their eyes turns to a blur.
She starts laughing. He starts laughing too.
“Woe, I‟m getting dizzy,” they both wonder at the same time. But they lift up
their heads and let one arm out to the side, enjoying the air blowing in their face and
through their finger and the dizzy feeling they haven‟t felt since childhood.
“I can‟t take it any more,” he hollers out.
“What?” she asks having missed what he just said.

“I‟m getting dizzy!” he yells as he lets go of the rail and jumps off the merry-goround, landing on his back on the mulch.
Jelly, seeing him laying on the ground, gasps in surprise—her jaws drop and her
hand goes up to her mouth—then does the same. She jumps off except, unlike Spanky,
she lands on her feet. She walks up to him and asks, “Are you okay?”
“I‟m fine,” he says calmly, trying to get up but not being able to because he‟s so
dizzy. His hands dance all around in front of him in attempt to grab something and
balance himself back on his feet, but his hand not finding anything to grasp anything. As
he‟s about half way up, he keeps plunking down on his butt.
She helps him up after a few seconds, after finding him acting that way amusing.
But unable to keep balance, he leans left, then right, then backwards taking stuttering
steps with his knees bent and his arms flying everywhere, like a drunk person. He almost
trips down on the ground.
“Whew. I am so dizzy.” He rests his hand on his forehead. He then feels heat, like
sitting next to a fireplace, on the side of his head from the breaking of the clouds in the
sky. “I feel a bit muggy,” he says, pulling collar down to get some air in his shirt and cool
down the nervous sweat.
“Sit down,” she commands tired of seeing him act foolish, and like a bully, she
pushes him, causing him to land on his butt. On the ground, he lays down on his back.
She lays down right next to him in the middle of the playground.
“I haven‟t done this in such a long time,” he mutters, looking at the sky.
“Me neither.”

“It‟s like when we were little, we used to spin around and around in place until we
got dizzy to our tummy and fell down on the floor. I used to do that a lot. Did you do that
when you were little?”
“No, I have never done that,” she tells him. “But I went on the merry-go-round
everyday during recess.” Jelly turns her head to look at Spanky, and her fingers creep
toward his hand like a spider then lays her hand on top of his.
He gasps surprised and looks down at his hand then at Jelly. He looks back up at
the sky and turns his hand around with his palm touching her hand. Their hands squeeze
in unison. Just about the very second, the grey clouds break away and rays of sunshine
breaks through. There are white, puffy, cumulus clouds right above him high in the sky.
“The sun‟s getting in my eyes,” he complains and lifts up his hand. “Let‟s go on
the swings now.”
Spanky and Jelly get up on their feet, brushing off pieces of wood off their backs.
“Let me help you, Spanky.” She sweeps her hand on his back starting on his
shoulders and down to his lower back and even lower. She spanks his butt.
He jumps up in the air, with his knees raised up in front of him and his left hand
dropping behind his butt area, almost losing balance and fall back down on his butt.
“Jelly! What are you doing?”
“I‟m helping you get all that stuff off your back and on your tushy. What? You
didn‟t like me slapping your tushy? LET‟S SPANK SPANKY!”
“That was such an inappropriate thing to do! Oh my Gawd!”
“But you have a dirty tushy. I‟m just trying to help you out,” she defends. “You
can slap my tushy. Would you like that?” asks Jelly while smiling at him.
“Uh-huh. Time for pay back,” he says bitterly.

She turns around. Standing behind her, he winds his hand back. But as he‟s about
to do what both he and Jelly think is gonna do, his hand stops an inch form her butt, and
instead he shakes her hair to get the mulch off of them. “You have a lot of mulch in your
hair,” he says picking out the big pieces, slowly taking his time, caressing her beautiful
hair.
Jelly coughs and clears her throat as if trying to tell him something.
“Okay, you‟re clean now. Now, onto the swings,” he says changing the subject.
He walks over to the swings and sits on one avoiding looking at her in the eye. She
follows him and sits on the swing next to him.
“Let‟s hold hands now since you didn‟t spank me like I wanted you to,” she says
looking at him with her back straight, eyes even with his.
“Okay.”
He hangs his arm by his side and she clutches his hand in her‟s. They hold hands.
“Do you like holding hands? Do you think this is romantic?” she questions and
looks up at the sky like Spanky. “I like holding hands and KISSING in the morning at the
break of dawn.”
“It is. I think so—holding hands while sitting on swings on the playground. I have
never done this before. It feels really weird. My tummy feels funny. I think it‟s
because…” His head slants downward.
He has never done this before? He supposedly made out with her all day long
yesterday and so holding her hands should be nothing, one would think.
Jelly and Spanky gaze at the scenery—In the predawn lights, there are little red
birds flying across the sky then taking residence on a tree. There are sunflowers on few
feet away from the tree with bees flying around it. The morning sun, rising from the east

begins to shine down on the two romantic youths. In the atmosphere, they see between
the diverging curtains of the grey sheet of cloud, streaks of white lines formed from jets
ripping through the sky on a light on a sea-blue background. Far east on the corner of the
horizon, hauling itself up out of its bed, the dazzling sun, like crystal emerald, blinds their
sights. They see trees around them, top half lit up and the other half still dim due to the
sun‟s angle. The bright colored flowers near them look pure and unadulterated, and
Spanky and Jelly sit there in the innocent, unfallen paradise.
They hold hands for what seems to be twenty minutes during which he attempts to
get his hand on her gorgeous hair, but can‟t get himself to actually do it because he
doesn‟t know what her reaction would be. However, just to see what she might do, he
moves his free hand nearer and nearer her head.
“It‟s starting to get real sunny,” she says, and places her hand on her forehead.
He scratches his head. “Okay. Yea. Let‟s go in. We might get skin cancer.” They
release their hands and get up. Newly-forming flocks of bulgy, bouncy clouds cover the
sun and the intensity of the heat decrease.
“Wait. I wanna go down the slide one more time. One last time before we go,”
Spanky says.
“But we did that already…Okay. I‟ll stand right here and watch you.”
Spanky goes up to the top of the slide up the ladder and the steps all the way up to
the top to the spiral slide. Looking into the tunnel of the slide scares him like the first
time. So he goes steps down a few to the straight slide that is half the length of the other
one.
“Don‟t slide down that one. That‟s not fun. Go back up.”

“But I like this one.” He slides down the short, straight slide, his arms up in the air
like a toddler. Having slid down the slide, he says, “Okay. Let‟s go home, Jelly.”
“Was that fun, Spanky? The short, boring slide?”
“Yep. A lot of fun.”
They walk back to her apartment. In her apartment, Spanky sits on the couch.
Jelly says, “I‟m sweaty. I‟m going to take a shower,” and starts to take off her
shoes and her socks while he‟s looking on.
He realizes what cute, pink socks she has on. She then gets ready to take off more
articles of clothing. He stands up and says, “I‟m gonna go to home and take a shower too.
I‟ll be back in thirty minutes.”
“Okay. Bye bye, Spanky.”
“Bye.”

Spanky, instead of taking a shower, dives onto his bed. Laying on his bed and
staring at the ceiling, he thinks to himself. And as he thinks, he remembers that Jelly is a
girl from his class that he has a crush on. He doesn‟t remember how he got her to be his
girlfriend…but nevertheless he continues to think:
Wow, that was a lot of fun—running around with her, chasing her, laying on the
ground with her, going on the swing with her and holding her hand. But most of all, I
loved brushing mulch off her hair. I love her hair! Her hair is so curly and fluffy. I wish I
could just grab them and play with them. I want to grasp some of her hair my left hand
and twirl them around with my right index finger. I see her do that all the time, and
sometimes it’s annoying, but it looks so fun. She’s always touching her hair—either
pushing them up, twirling them around and around, or chewing on them. That’s what I
want to do too—chew on her hair. I don’t know what hair tastes like, but she seems to
enjoy it so much. I’m sure it tastes good. I bet it’s chewy too. She does that whenever she
gets bored in class when the teacher lectures.
I always come in late to class and there aren’t any seats left except in the back
which is where I sit. When I look up at the board, her head is right there in front of my
sight and she’s constantly playing with her hair. It’s so distracting. I can’t even pay
attention to the teacher because her hair is so fluffy and curly, and she always fidgeting
with them. I want to yell at her, ‘Jelly! Stop it!’ or throw a crumpled piece of paper at
her head. Sometimes, I think she does that on purpose to gain attention as if she doesn’t
get enough already. In class, she’s always raising her hand and answering questions and
getting good grades and always liked by all her teachers. When we have a class

discussion, she’s always leading the class, incessantly talking, diverting attention away
from everyone else. She’s like a champion student. Teachers like champion students.
But what if she doesn’t let me touch her hair? What if I ask her, ‘Jelly, could I
play with your hair’ and she says ‘no.’ She’ll probably think that I’m a jerk for trying to
touch her hair. Oh well. Let’s write a poem about her hair.
He gets up out of bed, sits at his desk and diligently writes:
Hair Poem
I wish I could touch Jelly’s hair—
So perfect and pretty.
I just want to grab them and play—
Her hair and me right here.
I want to get to know her—
Her irresistible hair.
Her hair is so divine and beautiful—
Like the Greek Goddess of Hair",1,Specific Threats,The Adventure of Spanky,6/27/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Act 1: Scene 1
(The scene opens in a dimly lit room. Mr. Brownstone is sitting at a desk, writing. John enters.)
John: Mr. Brownstone, I need to talk to you.
Mr. Brownstone: What is it, John?
John: It's about Jane. She's been acting strange lately.
Mr. Brownstone: Strange? How so?
John: She's been distant, and she keeps talking about leaving town.
Mr. Brownstone: (sighs) I see. Have you spoken to her about it?
John: I tried, but she won't listen to me.
Mr. Brownstone: I'll talk to her. Maybe I can help.
(John nods and exits. Mr. Brownstone continues writing as the lights fade out.)
Act 1: Scene 2
(Jane is sitting on a park bench, looking lost in thought. Mr. Brownstone approaches.)
Mr. Brownstone: Jane, may I sit?
Jane: (startled) Oh, Mr. Brownstone. Yes, of course.
Mr. Brownstone: John tells me you've been thinking about leaving town.
Jane: (sighs) It's true. I feel like I don't belong here anymore.
Mr. Brownstone: What makes you say that?
Jane: Everything feels different now. I need a fresh start.
Mr. Brownstone: Sometimes a change of scenery can help, but running away won't solve your problems.
Jane: I know, but I can't shake this feeling.
Mr. Brownstone: Have you talked to Mary about this?
Jane: No, I don't want to worry her.
Mr. Brownstone: She's your friend. She might be able to offer some perspective.
Jane: Maybe you're right. I'll talk to her.
Mr. Brownstone: Good. Remember, we're here for you.
(Mr. Brownstone exits. Jane sits for a moment longer before getting up and walking off stage.)
Act 1: Scene 3
(Mary's living room. Mary and Peter are sitting on the couch, talking. Jane enters.)
Jane: Mary, Peter. I need to talk to you both.
Mary: Jane! What's going on?
Jane: I've been feeling like I need to leave town. I don't know what to do.
Peter: Leave? Why?
Jane: Everything just feels wrong here. I need a fresh start.
Mary: Jane, you're one of my best friends. If you leave, I'll miss you terribly.
Jane: I know, Mary. That's why it's so hard.
Peter: Maybe a short trip would help. You don't have to leave forever.
Jane: That's a good idea. Maybe just a little time away will clear my head.
Mary: Whatever you decide, we're here for you.
Jane: Thank you, both of you.
(They embrace as the lights fade out.)
Act 2: Scene 1
(Mr. Brownstone's office. He is writing again. Mary enters.)
Mary: Mr. Brownstone, I need to talk to you about Jane.
Mr. Brownstone: Yes, what is it?
Mary: She's thinking about taking a short trip to clear her head.
Mr. Brownstone: That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes a little distance can bring clarity.
Mary: I hope so. I just want her to be happy.
Mr. Brownstone: We all do, Mary. We all do.
(They sit in silence for a moment before Mary exits. Mr. Brownstone continues writing.)
Act 2: Scene 2
(A train station. Jane is waiting for her train. John enters.)
John: Jane, you're really going through with this?
Jane: Yes, John. I need this.
John: I understand. Just promise me you'll come back.
Jane: I promise. I just need some time to figure things out.
John: Take all the time you need. We'll be here when you're ready.
Jane: Thank you, John.
(The train arrives. Jane boards the train and waves goodbye as it departs.)
Act 2: Scene 3
(Mr. Brownstone's office. He is writing. John and Mary enter.)
John: Mr. Brownstone, Jane just left on a trip.
Mr. Brownstone: I heard. Let's hope it brings her the clarity she needs.
Mary: I just want her to be happy.
Mr. Brownstone: We all do, Mary. We all do.
(They sit in silence as the lights fade out.)
Act 3: Scene 1
(The train station. Jane returns, looking refreshed. Mr. Brownstone is waiting for her.)
Mr. Brownstone: Welcome back, Jane.
Jane: Mr. Brownstone. It's good to be back.
Mr. Brownstone: How do you feel?
Jane: Better. I have a clearer mind now.
Mr. Brownstone: I'm glad to hear that. Let's go see the others.
(They exit together as the lights fade out.)
Act 3: Scene 2
(Mary's living room. Mary and Peter are sitting on the couch. John enters.)
John: Jane's back!
Mary: Really? How is she?
John: She seems better. Mr. Brownstone brought her back.
(Jane and Mr. Brownstone enter.)
Mary: Jane! I'm so glad you're back.
Jane: It's good to be back, Mary. I missed you all.
Peter: How do you feel?
Jane: Much better. I needed that time away.
Mr. Brownstone: We're glad to have you back, Jane.
Jane: Thank you, Mr. Brownstone. For everything.
Mr. Brownstone: Anytime, Jane.
(They all embrace as the lights fade out.)",1,Grievance Airring,Mr. Brownstone,6/28/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Mr.%20Brownstone%20-%20a%20play%20by%20Seung%20Hui%20Cho.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Act 1: Scene 1
(The scene opens in the living room. Richard McBeef is sitting on the couch reading a newspaper. John enters.)
John: I don't like you, Richard.
Richard McBeef: Why not, John?
John: Because you're not my real dad.
Richard McBeef: I know I'm not your real dad, but I care about you and your mother.
John: (angrily) No, you don't! You just want to take her away from me.
Richard McBeef: That's not true, John. I want us to be a family.
John: You'll never be my family!
(John storms out. Richard McBeef looks troubled and sighs as the lights fade out.)
Act 1: Scene 2
(Sue is in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Richard McBeef enters.)
Richard McBeef: Sue, we need to talk about John.
Sue: What about him?
Richard McBeef: He's been acting out. He says he doesn't like me because I'm not his real dad.
Sue: He just needs time to adjust, Richard. It's been hard for him since his father passed away.
Richard McBeef: I understand that, but we need to find a way to help him cope.
Sue: I'll talk to him tonight. Maybe we can all sit down together and have a family discussion.
Richard McBeef: That sounds like a good idea.
(They embrace as the lights fade out.)
Act 1: Scene 3
(John's bedroom. John is sitting on his bed, looking upset. Sue enters.)
Sue: John, can we talk?
John: About what?
Sue: About Richard. I know you're having a hard time accepting him.
John: I don't want to talk about him.
Sue: I know it's difficult, but he's trying his best to be there for us.
John: He'll never be my dad.
Sue: He knows that, John. He just wants to be part of our lives.
John: (softening) I don't know if I can ever accept him.
Sue: Just give him a chance, for me?
John: I'll try, Mom.
Sue: That's all I ask.
(They hug as the lights fade out.)
Act 2: Scene 1
(The living room. Richard McBeef is watching TV. John enters.)
John: Richard, can we talk?
Richard McBeef: Of course, John. What's on your mind?
John: I talked to Mom. She wants us to try to get along.
Richard McBeef: I want that too, John. I know I'm not your dad, but I care about you.
John: It's just hard for me to accept that.
Richard McBeef: I understand. Losing a parent is never easy.
John: I miss my dad.
Richard McBeef: I know you do. And I'm not here to replace him. I just want to be here for you and your mom.
John: Maybe we can try to get along.
Richard McBeef: I'd like that.
(They shake hands as the lights fade out.)
Act 2: Scene 2
(The kitchen. Sue is setting the table for dinner. Richard McBeef and John enter, talking and laughing.)
Sue: It's good to see you two getting along.
Richard McBeef: We're trying our best.
John: Yeah, we're making an effort.
Sue: That makes me very happy.
Richard McBeef: We're all in this together.
John: Thanks, Richard.
Richard McBeef: Anytime, John.
(They sit down to dinner as the lights fade out.)
Act 2: Scene 3
(The living room. Richard McBeef, John, and Sue are sitting together, talking and laughing. The atmosphere is warm and familial.)
Richard McBeef: I'm glad we had that talk, John.
John: Me too. It feels good to get along.
Sue: This is what family is all about.
Richard McBeef: Absolutely. We're stronger together.
John: I think things are going to be okay.
Sue: I know they will be.
(They all smile as the lights fade out.)",1,Vague Discontent,Richard McBeef,[late] 2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"Half way across the bridge, he slowly let the beat up car come to a halt. It was early morning hours before the crack of dawn, with no human being within sight, no sight of visible movements. He parked the car where it was standing in idle, dully drags his feet out of the door, and approaches the ledge of the bridge to where when looked down saw black, puddley waves of the water. And as he raised his head to look out into the horizon he perceives a vast sheet of rolling spikes like a grand, eternal torture device. For whatever reason wanting to feel the icy-cold sea, he hopped over the rails and with one hand on the rail leaned forward to touch the water. What if I just let go, he thought. What if I wasn't stupid enough to always fail. What if... Still reaching out to the sea, he let his eyelids droop and rested his chin on his chest. Mmm...Mommy mommy mommy, he thought as the other hand slowly but undoubtedly loosened. But all the sudden, a loud horn boomed which compelled him instantly jump back over the rails and land on his chest. He looks up and there is a car with four obnoxious and angry teenagers waiting for him to move his car. So he gasps and quickly gets up, runs to his car, and floors it. The car with a bunch of teenagers switched lane and passed him by yelling at him. With a sigh he stops on the side of the road, deep in thought. May I should drive my crappy car and my crappy self into the sea. Deep, black, wonderful sea. Swim with the fishes, play with sea turtles, laugh with mermaids. I don't know. Undecided, he got out of the car and walked in circles faster and faster. Then ran in circles faster and faster. Minutes passed, hours passed until a cars sports car passed him and one the left shoulder of the road he stopped and screamed, PSYCHO!!! He quickly went into his car and floored it just to get away from the place he was at. I'm not a psycho! I wish I was a psycho, though. It would be so much easier. He pulled his car over again a few minutes later for no reason and thinks, and not much later jumps on the top of his car. With his arms spread out, he looked up at the sky and spun in circles like a lunatic. He spun and spun and spun. Spun some more. He spun until the world he perceived through his two eyes morphed into a blur. As doing so his legs tangled, tumbled over, and flips off the car. His head bounced off the black road but didn't pass out, even though he wanted to. He bounced his head hard on the asphalt but he was still conscious. I don't want to live. I want to die. Kill me...Save me the agony and torment... With these musings he closed his eyes and played dead.",1,Specific Threats,Story 1,2005-2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"It's dark outside. A somber, morbid morning.

He gets out of bed unusually early, and instead of eating breakfast and brushing his teeth as he always does, his puts on his black jeans, a strappy black vest with many pockets, a black hat, a large dark sunglasses, and a flimsy jacket, and heads out without his backpack.

His mom is in the kitchen packing lunch for him, her, and his father. She notices her son leaving. ""Bud, it's only six. Where you going?""

""Need to finish up a project.""

""Oh. But why aren't you taking your backpack with you?""

""Left it in my locker.""

""Oh. Hold on for five minutes. I'm almost done packing your lunch.""

""I'll buy my lunch.""

""Bud, you know how early I woke up to do this for you...""

""Mom!"" he yells and slams the door and runs. ""Damn it, why is she always so bitchy! God damn it! I hate her.""

A few blocks down the sidewalk, he sees a sports coupe in idle. He passes by it but doesn't see anyone inside. After long moments of thinking and taking a deep breath, he jerks his head left and right and runs around the car into the driver's seat and shoots down the road, nervously laughing. He turns on the radio, lowers the windows, and opens the sunroof, feeling the myriad sparks of wind to his face. But he keeps the speed limit to avoid confrontations with cops. On this soon-to-be special day he can't afford to ruin it with carelessness. Because of the expected early arrival to the school due to his newfound car, he decides to do drive around the town.

On the empty parking lot of a grocery store, he turns the steering wheel all the way sending the car skidding in circles. Then he parks the car crooked on two spaces. Inside the store, he strolls around looking for nothing in particular. In the snack section he sees some gummy bears that catches his eyes. After long moments and looking around he quickly and slyly sticks a pack in his vest. Then he finds himself in the liquor section. Again, looking around he sticks a bottle of beer in his vest and speedwalks out.

He drives toward the school eating gummy bears and drinking beer which is something new for him. On finishing them he throws the wrapper and the bottle out the window after checking all angles and parks the car on the side of the road. He walks deep in the woods and searches for the tree with a mark on it. Next to the tree he digs with both hands and uncovers the box. The secret place where he hides his only friends—his guns. The 9mm, .357 Magnum, and 12-inch sawed off shotgun. He tactfully hides his guns on his vest—the 9mm in the shoulder holster, the magnum on his waist, and the shotgun strapped on the left side of his body.

Back in the car he drives to school, then passes time waiting, thinking about his life up until the current moment—All the emotional and mental abuse he has endured, feelings of invisibility, inadequacy, unworthiness, the bombardment and the thrashing of scornful derisions that he wants to demolish and sabotage his physical idleness and paralysis in a dramatic fashion before he looses sanity. He wants no more of the hellish torment of his intrinsically tragic life.

He punches the steering wheel. He kicks the flooring of the car. He swings his fists and stomps his feet in a flurry of tantrum, then sinks the top of his head on the steering wheel. Hours pass. Students unload from buses or is dropped off. Many park their cars and strut inside smiling, laughing, embracing each other—Oversized football players acting, talking, and walking like rappers making obnoxious commotions and comments that they should keep to themselves. Cheerleaders in showy uniforms gossiping in high-pitched tone with their noses slightly pointed to the sky and severe makeup on their faces. Nerd-types carrying stacks of books, wearing obscene pink wrinkle-free shirts, and talking about the upcoming state chess championship.

A few eyes glance at Bud but without the glint of recognition.

""I hate this! I hate all these frauds! I hate my life! I hate this car! I hate this school! I hate—I hate—I Errrgh!""

This mortifying frenzy of episode all too repetitious passes. The clock turns eight.

""This is it...This is when you damn people die with me...""

Once everyone has entered school, he gets out of the car, zips his jacket, readjusts his sunglasses and hat, and enters. The halls are nearly empty, only a few shutting their lockers and running to class. The bell rings, the hall completely empty. Bud stands in the middle of the empty hall. He stands there for a moment and turns and goes to an arbitrary classroom, and stands in front of the door. Looking in, a fun-natured teacher ecstatically lectures making social and political jokes occasionally. The class laughs. Everyone is smiling and laughing as if they're in heaven-on-earth, something magical and enchanting about all the people's intrinsic nature that Bud will never experience. Everyone is smiling and laughing except a gothic girl with obnoxious black clothes sitting in the back staring at Bud. Her stoned facial expression turns to concerned frown. Scanning the happy faces of the class, Bud's eyes lay on the gothic girl. And for a few seconds their eyes interlock, but he breaks away and runs to the bathroom.

He has his head resting on the wall in a stall, pondering on all the happy faces, wondering what their such happy lives, how they could be so happy and have so much fun, their loving family and friends, and the beautiful lives they'll live. I can't do this...I have no moral right... When he is about to walk out, his thought lands on the unhappy-faced girl. He sighs, shakes his head, and decides to go home.

But right out the door of the bathroom he runs into the somber-fashioned girl.

""What are you doing?"" she demands.

""Wh—what?""

She snatches the glasses off his face and flicks his hat off. ""What. You're gonna shoot us all? Huh?"" She jerks his jacket open and uncovers his guns. ""Sawed off shotgun? A 9mm—""

""Shut up!"" he urgently whispers and covers up his guns. ""Stop it!""

She pushes him into the bathroom and whispers, ""You gonna shoot me now? Shoot me! You think you're such a tough guy, don't you. All your guns. Come on, blow my head off with your're freaking shotgun.""

""Shut up, shut up! You don't understand. I—I was—""

""You were what?""

""I chickened out. I was about to go home. I'm just a—a—""

""You're a what?""

""I'm nothing. I'm a loser. I can't do anything. I was going to kill every god damn person in this damn school, swear to god I was, but I...couldn't. I just couldn't. Damn it I hate myself! Just leave me alone."" Utter depressed and disappointed at himself, he runs out down the hall, out of the school to the car, and was about to shoot away, but the girl jumps on the hood. He stops. She rolls down onto the ground and jumps into the passenger seat.

""What is wrong with you?""

""That's the same question I would like to ask myself...I wish I knew. I don't think you should be here. This car is stolen. If I get stopped by a cop my life will be forever over. A stolen car, two hand guns, and a sawed off shotgun.""

Neither of them say anything for awhile.

""Turn here. Pull into the driveway,"" she commands and he obeys. ""This is my house."" She gets out of the car, into the house, and opens the garage. She beckons him to drive into the garage.

""Well be safe here.""

Grabbing onto his wrist she leads him into her room upstairs. From the closet she undigs a large chest. She opens—a .8 caliber automatic rifle and a M16 machine gun. ""You and me. We can fight to claim our deserving throne.""",1,Planned Violence,Story 2,2005-2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"With a cafeteria fork, she punctures a soda can multiple times. There is a severe frown on her face, and her lips are in the shape of an upside-down U.
""I hate him!""
""Calm down, Jen—""
""All he ever talks about is his stupid car. He spends all his time with it. How can he dump me like that over that damn car! Argh!"" Jen fiercely stabs with the fork which shoots out the other side. ""I wish this was him...Or better yet, his damn car! I'm always like, Let's go out tonight. He goes, Can't, need to wash my car. How about tomorrow night? I say. Can't, need to change her break pads...and change her oil...and rotate her tires. My car needs me,"" Jen bobs her head sideways, completely absorbed in her thought, all while continuing to viciously thrusting the fork. ""Him and his stupid car. I hope she gets run over by a trailer tractor.""
Maggie, sitting across from her, with much concern and distress, grabs the soda can and leads Jen away for a walk to help her to appease her anger.
All of the sudden, a sparkling red sports car screeches and parks in the school lot. A tall, handsome, muscular teenager pops open the door. Before walking into the building, he moonwalks a few feet in front his car, kneels on one knee, and gives a two-thumbs-up at the car. He winks and blows a kiss, then proceeds to strut arrogantly—shifting his shoulders dramatically forwards and back—into the school.
The girls stop moving and hold their breaths.
“Woe! Look at that guy. He’s a total hottie!” Jen whispers. Her frown has been wiped clean and is replaced by an expression of admiration and joy.
“Like, yeah! I know!” Maggie squeals.
“He is so confident and cocky. Just look at the way he walks. And look at his muscles! Oh my god! He is such a hunk!”
“Like, yeah! I know!”
The two girls grab each others’ hands and laugh and jump up and down.
“Let’s find out who he is,” Jen suggests.
They run in the entrance and tail behind the guy, occasionally hiding behind lockers and hall trash cans, like a spy mission.
The guy steps into a classroom.
“There he goes!”
Jen clumsily runs over a trash can; as a result she becomes mad and kicks the trash can.
“Get out of our way! We’re trying to stalk a guy here, do you mind!” She picks it up and throws it against the wall. Then the girls face each other and laugh. The excitement for the guy leave them squeaking and yelping. Jen and Maggie sprint to the door of the class and press their noses on the narrow window. Jen licks the window beaming a dreamy expression at the guy while Maggie bloats her cheeks, staring. The guy drifts his eyes on the girls and wrinkles his forehead. Instantly, the girls duck under the window—and giggle.
Jen yelps, “Oh my god! He looked right at us!”
“Like, yeah! I know! He is so handsome! He’s like a greek god!”
“Did you make out his chest under his shirt! Oh my god! He has so much muscles! He’s a total hottie!”
“Like, yeah! I know!”
The door creaks open a few inches. Above their heads, an aged male teacher shoots them a look of annoyance and concern.
“Hi,” Maggie greets.
“Oops. I think we’re disrupting his class, Maggie,” Jen says. Stretching their necks, the two girls take a peeking through the ajar door to look at the guy they are utterly infatuated with. They gasp and run arm-in-arm toward the exit to the parking lot, giggling.
“Oh god!”
They are still giggling, standing under a tree. The guy speeds out to the lot and check his car, the girls unaware of his presence. He detects the girls under a tree and walks to them. The girls perceive him approaching them. Jen gasps, places her hand on her chest, and quickly brushes her hair with her hand. With a great smile she greets him. “Hiiiii!”
The guy responds by asking them if they touched his car. He remarks in an impersonal tone, “It’s a brand new car. There better not be any scratches on it,” before going back into the school.
Jen’s face turns back to an overwhelming frown. After having time to swallow the guy’s cold talk, their eyes land on the sports car, and scuffle to it, a bit intimidated. They circle around the car: It’s long red hood, the smooth luscious curves of the fender line, melon-like wheels, lascivious upturned rear-end. “Stupid car!” Behind the car, Maggie sneers, slaps the trunk, and continues to study the car. She sharply remarks to the car, “A Corvette. You think you’re pretty hot stuff, don’t you. I bet you’re used to getting all the attention. I bet you like it. Despite what you think, you not hot! You suck! And you’re fat! You need to lose like ten pounds from your ass right away, slut! Do yourself the favor! It’s for your own good!” Jen slaps the trunk again, then turns to her friend. “She has a pretty nice ass, but my ass beats her’s any day!”
“Like totally! No question about that!” Maggie agrees. She shakes her head vigorously.
Then Jen points her hips, licks her finger, and lays it on her buttocks intonating a sizzling noise. Starting at her head, she seductively glides her hands down her hair, over her bosoms, and to her hips and below. “She thinks she’s all that; she’s just a piece of trashy tramp! You ho! You think you’re real hot, don’t you, but I’m way hotter than you!” She kicks the car.
Stepping in between Maggie and the car, Jen restrains her. “It’s not worth it, Jen. Be a bigger woman and let it go.”
Even with Jen hugging her midsection in an effort to restrain her, Maggie grows more destructive—she struggles and kicks, and screams with fierce, “You ho! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU, DAMN IT! HO! AHHHH!
“Stop Jen! Please!” She lays kicking and screaming Jen on the ground. Maggie smushes her by laying on top of her.
In time, Jen’s anger subsides. “Okay, okay.”
“Let’s skip and do something fun today. That stupid car totally ruined our moods for the day.”
“Yeah. That slut of a car!” Jen beams a loathing look at it. “Let’s get outta here.”
Maggie’s parents’ have gone to work. They have the whole house to themselves. On TV, there are shows for kids which don’t interest the girls. So they stroll around the house looking for something to do. In the basement, they rummage through boxes of old toys such as jump ropes, dried clays, artificial makeups, and Barbie dolls with pink and yellow sports cars.
“Oh God! Yuck!” Jen shouts.
Maggie quickly pushes the cars down to the bottom of the box, but on second thought takes them out and comments that they can smash it up with a hammer.
In the back yard, they lay the two plastic cars on the grass. Jen goes first. With a hammer in her hand, she swings it high over her head, then she swings it down on the car with a massive force. The plastics break and splinter all over. After dropping the hammer, she violently stomps on the same car until the entire car nearly flattens as Maggie encourages her on.
“Yeah! Kill it. Kill it. Kill the damn car! Yeah!”
“Now it’s your turn to kill the other car, Maggie.”
She picks up the hammer and is about to smash it, but she stops. She gets a bright thought. “How about if we burned this one.” She brings out a grill from the garage. They squirt excessive gasoline on it. They stand back a few feet a throw a lighted match into it. With a big boom, the car gloriously explodes like a small bomb.
“Yey!” the girls cheer and applauds splayed on the grass as they sit up. They laugh and continue to cheer.
They go back inside and look for more cars that they can destroy. They look through all the boxes and Maggie’s closet but there are no more. Bummed, they walk outside to find something to do and find themselves back at the school. Jen spots the red sports car parked in the same place in the middle of the parking lot. In Jen’s mind, she sees and hears the car peering at her and giving her a taunting laughter. She perceives it as a transcendence of a gorgeous but superficial woman. Jen immediately frowns at the sight of it.
“That damn car!” There are small pebbles on the ground. She picks on up and angrily throws it at the car. “You know what we should do, Maggie. We should kill her. We should teach who the boss is.”
Maggie gives her a look. “Are you sure we wanna do that? We might get in a lot of trouble. That’s a pretty expensive car.”
“We won’t get caught. Come on, Maggie. Just look at that ho! Look at the way she’s laughing at us! She thinks she all that! Look at those headlights, wheels, the way she’s sticking out her ass like that! What is she doing here anyway. Why doesn’t she just work as a cheap prostitute in some abandoned alley!”
“Well…”
“Well nothing!” She grabs Maggie’s arm and runs behind a large tree on the edge of the compound. “We need to think up a plan.”
Behind the tree, they discuss how to cause most damage on the car without causing excessive commotion. Many of Jen’s ideas they decide is too risky, and she proposes more. She incessantly thinks out loud about the pros and cons of each plan. She finally settles on one.
They casually stroll to the car checking over their shoulders and the surroundings. As they approach the car, a man emerges from a white sedan. The girls swerves the direction they’re headed away from the Corvette and hides behind a large SUV until the man disappears from their sights. They try again. They calmly walk to the Corvette, but when they’re within a few yards, a woman driving a Jeep right across from the Corvette. Jen and Maggie walk past the Corvette and hides behind a truck.
“Oh god! Move it woman!”
When the woman heads indoors, Jen and Maggie speedwalks to the targeted vehicle. Maggie leans on the front of the hood on the lookout while Jen clumsily but quickly deflates the tires. Maggie notices a few people heading towards their direction. She hopes that they make a turn. She starts to sweat and her heart pounds. Jen, after finishing with the tires, takes out the hammer in her purse. First, she damages the wheels with the back end of the hammer, then smashes the tail lights with a powerful and cathartic force. Maggie sorts the consequences of this crime in her head. She bites her nail still looking keenly at the group as Jen is about to begin smashing the windows. Fortunately for the girls, the group of people turn and move out of sight.
Jen has already destroyed the rear glass and the two windows on the side.
“Oh. Let me!” Maggie cries.
Jen hands her the hammer and smashes the rest.
Behind the tree, they discuss how to cause most damage on the car without causing excessive commotion. Many of Jen’s ideas they decide is too risky, and she proposes more. She incessantly thinks out loud about the pros and cons of each plans. She finally settles on one.
They casually stroll to the car checking over their shoulders and the surroundings. As they approach the car, a man emerges from a white sedan. The girls swerves the direction they’re headed away from the Corvette and hides behind a large SUV until the man disappears from their sights. They try again. They calmly walk to the Corvette, but when they’re within a few yards, a woman driving a Jeep right across from the Corvette. Jen and Maggie walk past the Corvette and hides behind a truck.
“Oh god! Move it woman!”
When the woman heads indoors, Jen and Maggie speedwalks to the targeted vehicle. Maggie leans on the front of the hood on the lookout while Jen clumsily but quickly deflates the tires. Maggie notices a few people heading towards their direction. She hopes that they make a turn. She starts to sweat and her heart pounds. Jen, after finishing with the tires, takes out the hammer in her purse. First, she damages the wheels with the back end of the hammer, then smashes the tail lights with a powerful and cathartic force. Maggie sorts the consequences of this crime in her head. She bites her nail still looking keenly at the group as Jen is about to begin smashing the windows. Fortunately for the girls, the group of people turn and move out of sight.
Jen has already destroyed the rear glass and the two windows on the side.
“Oh. Let me!” Maggie cries.
Jen hands her the hammer and smashes the rest.
Jen places the hammer back in her purse, and they’re about to run, but they hear a yell behind them.
“Hey! What’s going on down there!”
The girls freeze in motion for a split second, unable to move. With her back still turned to the voice, Jen hollers, “Stop right there, you! You criminal!” Jen turns to the school security guard and hollers at him, “He ran into the woods! Did you see him? Go get him! Go!”
The guard radios for help and runs into the wood.
While they are alone, before the second school security guard arrives, Jen hurriedly whispers to Maggie to leave her to do all the talking. In no time, the second guard arrives. Jen tells him that a boy tried to annihilate the Corvette, but thankfully, for Jen and Maggie, they repelled him into the woods and a guard went chasing after him.
The cops are called. When the sirens can be heard, the owner of the Corvette rushes out just as the girls expected. When he sees his damaged sports car, his expression turns to immense distraught. A few drops of tears run down his cheeks.
“AHHHH! Who did this! Why! My baby! What have they done to you!” He madly stomps the ground and pulls his hair!
Jen comes to his side and informs him, “It was this boy—We tried to grab him—He ran in the woods!”
He runs into the woods. He and the guard come back empty-handed.
Jen wraps her arms around him, and comforts and assures him that everything will be okay. He hugs her back. There is a toothy smile on Jen’s face.
She reluctantly shuffles her feet into the enormous living room where her mother slouches on the couch, flipping through her daughter’s Seventeen magazine while crunching on potato chips, low fat.
“Hey mom…”
“Yes dear,” she responds after a gulp of ice tea.
“Uh…never mind.”
“What is it? Something you want to tell me?” Her mother lifts her droopy eyes from the magazine and peers at her daughter. After a few moments of study, she lays the magazine, pages down, on the coffee table. She stuffs her mouth with one more chip, sits up, dusts her silk pajamas, and turns her body towards the girl.
“Yes…well, I just wanted to tell you, uh,” she frets, looking around the living room while twittling her fingers, “that uh, uh, I like what you did with the room. Oh. Are those new curtains? Very eloquent.”
“Huh?” The mother replies while shooting a look of daze and concern. “You know I don’t clean or redecorate. None of us have done anything with the place for five years. You know that.”
“Oh. Really. Yea. Well, anyway, I have to go to school now.”
“You’re speaking nonsense. It’s eight at night. What’s wrong with you, girl!”
Before the seventeen year old could flee, her mother bolts to her and grasps her wrist. “Are you feeling okay?” She lays her hand on the girl’s forehead “Are you drunk?” She sniffs at the girls lips. “Do you do drugs?” She lifts the girl’s eyelids and examines them. “Are you pregnant…Are you—”
Right then and there the girl gasps and her hand uncontrollably fly to her mouth. The mother shouts, ""WHAT! YOU’RE PREGNANT?""
""How did you…Uh mom. You hear that? The dog is calling me. I gotta go."" She tries to pull away but her mother refuses to let go.
""Tell me Jen. Are you PREGNATE? or not""
""Oh. oh, okaaaayy. It’s true. I am pregnant. But just a little. Please don’t get mad mom.""
""Just a little pregnant? Is this a joke to you? What is wrong with you, Jen? Did I raise you like this? Did I raise you to be a—"" The mother abruptly stops speaking and tries to summon up the right word.
""I know mom. I am a SLUT. I’m sorry. You asked me if you raised me this way a second ago…Uh, but didn’t you say you had me when you were eighteen and that you had to drop out six months before graduation? But hey, look on the bright side, I beat you by a full year!"" Then Jen laughs hysterically to herself. ""I couldn’t help it, mom. He was so hot! Just like dad. You can’t yell at me, mom, because you did the same thing! You did it with dad when you were eighteen because you had uncontrollable hots for him!""
The thirty-five years old woman stands there sternly, utterly stunned watching her daughter speak and laugh of teenage pregnancy as a sort of a joke or a prestigious achievement. She opens her mouth to yell at the teen, but Jen silenced her mother:
""You know, I’ve been thinking, alone in my room,"" Jen boldly tells her, ""I’ve been blaming myself for weeks now. I said to myself, ‘it’s all my fault, what am I going to do now.’ But you know what, it’s not completely my fault. If you mom, weren’t such a slut yourself, I would not have turned out like you. What I’m trying to say is that, my",1,Specific Threats,Story 3,2005-2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"She reluctantly shuffled her feet into the enormous living room where her mother slouched on the couch, flipping through her daughter’s Seventeen magazine and crunching down on potato chips, low fat.

“Hey mom…”

“Yes dear,” she responded after a gulp of ice tea.

“Uh…never mind.”

“What is it? Something you want to tell me?” The mother lifted her droopy eyes off of the magazine and peered at her daughter. After a few moments of study, she laid the magazine, pages down, on the coffee table. She stuffed her mouth with one more chip, sat up, dusted her silk pajamas, and turned her body towards the girl.

“Yes…well, I just wanted to tell you, uh,” she fretted, looking around the living room while twittling with her fingers, “that uh, I like what you did with the room. Oh. Are those new curtains? Very eloquent.”

“Huh?” The mother replied while shooting a look of daze and concern. “You know I don’t clean or redecorate. None of us have done anything with the place for five years. You know that.”

“Oh. Really. Yea. Well, anyway I have to go to school now.”

“You’re speaking nonsense. It’s eight at night. What is wrong with you!”

Before the seventeen year old could flee, her mother bolted to her and grasped her wrist. “Are you feeling okay?” She laid her hand on the girl’s forehead “Are you drunk?” She sniffed at the girls lips. “Do you do drugs?” She lifted the girl’s eyelids and examined them. “Are you pregnant…Are you…”

Right then and there the girl gasped and her hand uncontrollably flew to her mouth.

The mother shouted, “WHAT! YOU’RE PREGNANT?”

“How did you…Uh mom. You hear that? The dog is calling me. I gotta go.” She tried to pull away but the mother refused to let go.

“Tell me Daphne. Are you PRENATE? or not”

“Oh. oh, okaaaayy. It’s true. I am pregnant. But just a little. Please don’t get mad mom.”

“Just a little pregnant? Is this a joke to you? What is wrong with you, Daphne. Did I raise you like this? Did I raise you to be a …” The mother abruptly stopped speaking and tried to summon up the right word. But instead Daphne filled the slit of empty gap instead:

“I know mom. I am a SLUT. I’m sorry. You asked me if you raised me this way a minute ago…Uh, but didn’t you say you had me when you were eighteen and that you had to drop out six months before graduation? But hey, look on the bright side, I beat you by a full year!” Then Daphne laughed hysterically to herself.

The thirty-five years old woman stood there sternly, utterly stunned watching her daughter speak and laugh of teenage pregnancy as a sort of a joke or a prestigious achievement and a sense of attempt to transfer blame. She opened her mouth to yell at the teen, but the teen silenced her mother:

“You know, I’ve been thinking, alone in my room,” Daphne tells her untimidly. I’ve been blaming myself for weeks now. I said to myself, ‘it’s all my fault, what am I going to do now.’ But you know what, it’s not completely my fault. If you mom, weren’t such a slut yourself, I would not have turned out like you. What I’m trying to say is that, my pregnancy is entirely your fault! I inherited the slut genes from you! Like mother like daughter! If I hadn’t possessed your traits, I would never have gotten pregnant! How can you do this to me mom! All your fault…”

""I just wanna smush it into tiny pieces like this."" She goes for the tray, but Mrs. Johnson quickly moves it under her desk.

""Hold it, Suzie. Sit back down.""

""Okay. I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson.""

""It makes you sick? Do you throw up?""

""When it goes in my mouth and I start to chew, I get this bad taste of the baloney and I spit it out.""

""So you don’t eat it?""

""How can I?""

""But you never threw up or got a stomachache?""

""No.""

""Okay. What is it about it that you hate?""

""Everything. It makes me sad that they only serve the baloney, and it makes me mad that I have to eat it. It’s so sad.""

The bell rings signifying that the lunch period has ended. She shifts in her chair, but the principle tells her she’ll give her a pass.

""Can you bring your lunch from home, Suzie? Is that a possibility?""

""That’s even worse. The baloney my stepmom packs is yuckier. My stepmom hates me. She always packs cheap baloney sandwich in my lunch box.""

The principle has her chin resting on her knuckles, stumped what to do. Then she covers her mouth, physically suppressing an explosion of laughter.""Damn it Ax, what the hell is this! Cocaine! I told you I’ll turn you over to the cops if I find catch you with this shit!"" Ax’s father slaps him on the back of the head. ""How much was this? Damn it, how much?"" Holding the bag in one hand in the air, the tall and heavy forty-five-year-old father hits his son again, but this time harder.

""Three hundred but—""

""God damn it Ax, three hundred. I bust my ass to give you a lavish home and an enormous allowance and this is what you do with my hard earned money. Do you know how hard it is to be laying bricks ten hours a day?""",1,Specific Threats,Exercise #2,2005-2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"""I don’t like baloneys,"" she whines to herself. ""Baloneys are what they give us for lunch every single day, these cheap low-grade pink things."" Suzie opens the sandwich, peels the meat off, and holds the flimsy meat in the air. ""I’m simply sick and tired of it. No more baloneys for me. I hate baloneys!"" She lays it on the table. With her fist closed tight, she hammers the round piece of meat, compressing and separating it into pieces. Pink juices squirt and spray in her eyes. ""Ow."" She rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. Pounding her fist on the meat even harder, she sobs and yells loudly, ""I hate baloneys, I HATE BALONEYS! Hmmm..."" When she ceases crying and looks up, there are expressionless faces of children in the cafeteria staring at her. A few minutes of silence ensue. There is a tap on Suzie’s shoulder. She looks up.

""You better come with me, young lady,"" a cafeteria personnel says. ""Gather your things.""

Suzie looks up at her with her pink eyes, puts her lunch on the tray, and follows her. As they head for the door, the children stare at Suzie with peculiar and dazed faces. She notices their expressions and hangs her head low.

""This is the third time you made a scene in the cafeteria this week. I have no choice but to send you to the principal’s office,"" the woman tells Suzie outside the cafeteria.

Suzie hangs her head again and pouts her lips.

""This way.""

Outside the principle’s door, Suzie waits while the woman whispers something to the principle.

""Come on in and have a seat,"" the forty-year-old woman says as the cafeteria personnel leaves.

Suzie hops onto a cushioned chair and places the tray on her lap.

""What happened, ummm...""

""Suzie,"" she whispers.

""Yes. Tell me what happened in the cafeteria, Suzie.""

Suzie lays her eyes on the sandwich but doesn’t say anything.

""Something about your lunch? Sandwich? Baloney?""

Suddenly, a frown appears on Suzie’s face and she pounds the sandwich, yelling, ""I just don’t like baloneys!""

As an instinctive reaction, the principle bellies on her desk, reaches and grabs the tray, and yanks it away from Suzie. She gently places it on the corner furthest away from her.

""I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson,"" Suzie cries. ""I just can’t help it. They always serve the same old thing in the cafeteria. I always get sick when I eat those stupid baloney sandwiches!""

""Is that why you’re so angry?""

""When I take a bite of it and realize that it’s a baloney again, I get mad and want to hurt the sandwich.""

""Oh."" The principle responds and stares at her desk and tries to repress a laughter. She doesn’t know what to say. ""You want to hurt the sandwich? As in kill?""

""It’s okay, Mrs. Johnson. I can pack my own lunch or something,"" she responds after perceiving that this aging woman can do absolutely nothing to solve her problem, just mock her. ""I think I should go now. It’s reading time.""

The principle asks if doesn’t want to talk some more which Suzie reassures it isn’t necessary. After receiving a pass, Suzie exits.

Suzie heads for her class. As she nears the door, she gets a feeling that the kids will stare at her and call her the baloney girl the way they have the past few days. So, before anyone could catch her, she runs out the back exit. She wonders where she should go. She decides to go to the grocery store.

In a large grocery store, she roams around the aisles looking at different items. Now and again when she finds something she likes such as candies, she rips it open and stuffs them in her mouth. In thirty minutes, she has eaten a chocolate cake, cookies, chips, and ice cream which fill up her stomach fully. She is especially satisfied since she didn’t have much of lunch. At the end of one aisle, she reaches the meat section. She sees a pack of baloneys.

""Ewww. Baloneys. Nooo!"" Instinctively, she rips open packs after packs of it with her teeth and throws them on the floor. Ten packs later, she stomps on the pile of baloney meats like jumping on a trampoline.

From one side of the store she hears a voice yelling, ""Hey, stop!"" She sees a man in green running towards her. Suzie, who is three-foot-tall, gasps and runs towards the other end zigzagging and zooming between people's legs like a race car. Once she is outside, she sprints to her the farm she lives in. After running two miles nonstop, she is home. First, she goes into the barn to catch her breath. She goes out through a crack and to her relief; no one is there. The cows moo in the barn. She goes to them and seeing that they need milking, she gets a canister and spends twenty minutes milking the cows. Then she goes inside. Her stepmother is watching daytime soap opera.

""What are you doing home this early?"" she roars.

""I got in trou—""

Before she can finish, the stepmother yells, ""Did you milk the cows?""

Suzie responds yes.

""Did you feed the animals?""

She languidly shakes her head no.

""Then get to work!"" the stepmother yells. ""When you're done go to the machine room and get to work. No play, no dinner, no sleep until you do fifty pounds! Get out of here!"" As her stepdaughter heads out, she turns up the volume of the TV.

Out in the back, she feeds the turkeys and the pigs. When she is done, she heads into the machine room. She opens the refrigerator, takes out many pounds of turkey, pork, and beef she can manage and dumps it into an enormous grinder. She turns on the button. She covers her ears with her palms. Ten minutes later the meats are a large blob.

She pushes the button to swivel the gigantic bowl in order to move the meat into the mixer but gets stuck. So she has to push it to help get unstuck. After the meat goes into the mixer, she drains out the blood into a container and discards it; then she pours flavoring into the meat. The mixed meat flows on into a large square machine where it is molded into a long cylinder shape. When it comes out and pushed onto the conveyer belt, the meat undergoes chopping and packaging.Catatonically. Mixture of bliss, shock, and disbelief fills his heart and is almost paralyzed by it. His lips are apart and his face is pasty.

""Hello?"" Jen laughs waving her hand in front of his face. ""Let’s go. What are you doing? Come on. Now that you’re rich, take me to a Ritz-Carlton hotel where we can stay the night.""

""Huh? Oh. Okay,"" he responds after a delay, still a bit bemused.

""But before we do that, let’s go get some high quality snow. Maybe some H? You got ten grand in cash you won earlier."" Jen smacks Ax’s chest. ""Come on! Get over it. You’re a millionaire now, damn it! You can do anything and everything you want now.""

""Oh."" Ax smiles at her. ""Snow. Yeah."" He finally shakes himself out of the trance. But he says the word snow again.""Come on. Let's snort some coke. I've never done expensive coke before.""

Ax slashes the pack with a switchblade and lays some on the nightstand table. He splits the blob of the powder into rows. With a rolled hundred dollar bill, he places one end up his nostril and the other end on a row of the drug. He snorts the row.

""Oh god!"" he pushes on the side of the nostril that he snorted with. ""It's so pure and so good that it hurts! Oh shit, that's so good,"" he cries.

Hopping up from the bed, she moves to the table and quickly does a row. A half a second later, she scrunches up her face, winces, and rolls herself in the fur blanket. Ax looks at her.

""What are you supposed to be? A sushi?"" He jumps on her and unrolls her. Being extremely high, he rubs his forehead on her long straight hair and moans. He starts to chew on her hair which she soon realizes.

""Hey. Stop that."" She gently pushes him away. ""Chew on the blanket or something.""

Minutes after the effect wears out, they go for some more. When he is about to inhale another row, he reveries.

After a long day at school and work, Ax throws open the door of the apartment where he sees his dad and a woman shuffling covering themselves up and the drugs.

""What the—""

""Get the hell outta here, Ax!""",1,Specific Threats,Story 1,9/20/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"The bell screeches, the sirens yell, and the chiming sound of coins pervades throughout the casino. People look towards at the machine making commotions. Ax Manson has won the lottery.
""You won? You won, Ax! You won!"" Jen exclaims.
There is a stoned and dazed look on his face. ""I won?"" He gasps and a wide smile appears on his face. ""Ah!""
A crowd of people gather around Ax and Jen. There are shuffling murmurs, and a few people pat him on the shoulder and say, ""Wow. Ten million dollars. Good job, man. You’re gonna share with us, right?""
""Yea right. He gonna share it with me only. His super-hot girlfriend!"" Grabbing Ax’s face, she stamps a warm kiss on his lips and gently rubs the black patch beneath his eyes. He pulls away.
""Let get the money before someone steals it or something."" He takes the ticket from the slot and makes way to the service desk. At the desk, they give him papers to sign and give him the check. He and Jen leave the casino to get away from all the sycophantic people fawning up to him because they used to frown at him at his black eye, torn leather jacket, faded jeans, but now they smile at him.
Ax takes a deep breath walking down the neon-lighted and clattering streets of the midnight hour. In the middle of the sidewalk, he suddenly stops and stares out.
""I was gonna say I used my own money,"" Ax whimpers quickly, shoulders hunched. And even quieter, he adds, ""Besides, you only give me a dollar a week and this one and a half bedroom apartment isn’t exactly what one would call lavish.""
His father’s eyes grow red and his stature expands. ""You fucking son of a bitch! You’re just like your mother. Unappreciative, ungrateful, coke-snorting fuck bitch your mother was! Now you act just like her!""
Ax’s fingers turn into a hard fist and his teeth clench, and with furrowed brows full of anger, he looks up at his dad, who is six foot four. ""Don’t talk about her like that!""
""What the fuck!"" The father punches his son that sends him crashing into the bookcase and on the floor. He is nearly knocked out. ""You think you can do better out there on your own. I provide you a roof over your head and food on the table and this is the respect you give me! Then get out. Get out of my house, you ungrateful piece of shit!""
After throwing a pillow from the bed and books from the bookcase at his son splayed on the floor, the father stomps into his master bedroom and with the bag of cocaine in his hand and slams the door shut.
Slowly and painfully, Ax manages to haul himself on the bed. Soon, he places the books back on the shelf and returns the pillow on the bed. Carefully rubbing below his eye with the tip of his fingers, he takes a cursory look around his undersized room. The walls are stained with rain leaks, the walls are grubby with smudges and rips, and the small bed, desk, and bookcase there are barely extra room left. Sitting on the edge of his bed emotionally and physically hurt, Ax thinks about his mother who died five year ago when he was twelve. She succumbed to the evils of drugs when she could not handle the excessive abuse at the hands of her husband. One day she found a bag of cocaine laying on the escort service page of an open phone book. As days went by she found more drugs in the room—heroin under the bed, ecstasy and valium in the Advil bottle in the cabinet. Well knowing that her husband was with his call girls when out, the beating she’d take when he is in, and no one else to turn to, she eventually overdosed.
Ax slowly falls asleep.
They stride slowly through the streets of New York City looking for dealers he befriended over the past few years. There is a familiar face in the crowd at the entrance of a night club.
""Hey Ax. What’s up.""
""What's up, Duff."" They exchange a shake and head into the club.
In a private room, Ax says, ""I got some major dough. Give me two pounds of your best.""
""Whoa Ax. You’ve come a long way man. You used to scrap on toilet seats for shit now you’re buying in pounds. Must be getting pretty good at the ‘cino.""
After a few more chats, he hands over ten thousand dollars and places the two packs of cocaine in his jacket pocket.
Back out on the streets, they find the Ritz-Carlton and get the most expensive room. Expensive furniture fills the hotel room with an Italian leather couch, bright French lamps, and a large bed with a white mink fur blanket. Jen jumps on it and says it is so soft.
In disbelief, he is about to close the door and go hang out by the dumpster, but he catches a glimpse of the rainbow-colored bag and syringe. ""Hey, isn’t that my needle? That’s mine. Those are my drugs! I just got that yesterday.""
""Shut the fuck up and get out of my apartment!""
He usually yields, but this time he decides to stand up to his father. ""No dad, I won’t shut up. You search my room and yell at me when you find drugs. But what about you? You take my drugs that I work hard to buy and you do it yourself, you fucking hypocrite. Some father you are!""
""Fuck you, Ax!"" He strides to him and slaps him with a thud. ""How dare you talk to your father like that, you little fucker! I’m trying to avoid the same fate as your bitchy mother! You got the genes of that cocksucking whore—""
""Fuck you, dad! You and your fucking prostitute!"" He takes a hard swing at his dad, but Jim effortlessly catches the fist with his left hand and twists it.
""Is this how you treat your father, is this how you talk to your father?"" he roars as he backs Ax into the corner. ""Shut the door, Candy, and turn on the TV."" ""Okay Jim,"" the woman obeys. In the corner of the kitchen, the man takes off his belt and whips it across his son’s face. ""Fuck you, dad. Fuck you, dad,"" he taunts. ""Is this how you talk to your father who raised you, you son of a bitch? I’m trying to teach you discipline, son.""
With the leather belt around Ax’s neck, he slowly tightens and smacks his face. ""Is this what it takes for me to treat me with respect, you little fucking turd! Fuck you!"" He hawks and spits a big blob on his son’s face. He releases the tension on the belt and lays him on his side by pushing his head with the bottom of his cowboy boots. ""Until you return with respect and get the hell outta here, you’re mine! I have the legal right to discipline you even if I need to fuck you when you're under my roof!"" He spits again and barges out with the prostitute and the drugs.
Ax slowly sits up from on the cold floor and stares aimlessly out the window and sighs wondering how much more he can take. Slowly getting up, he heads outside, gets on his beat up bicycle, and peddles with no destination in mind. Soo, he finds himself at the graveyard where his mother was buried. Leaning against the tombstone, he lights upa joint of marijuana and slowly smokes it to relax and escape from the reality. ""Hey? What are you doing? You okay?"" Jen asks, staring at him with a concerned look.
""Yeah."" He shakes his head and snorts a dose of cocaine. He snorts some more, then moans in pleasure and pain. Jen does the same.
After a few minutes, they decide to rent a car and go for a drive to get some fresh air. Driving a Mercedes convertible down the street, they feel the feathery wind blowing by them. Pulling over at the nightclub where his friends work, they go inside, sit at the bar, and order vodka. Looking around, there are strippers all around and aging males. In the crowd, there is a familiar face—his teacher. ""Oh shit."" Ax covers his face.
""What? You have that many enemies, Ax?"" Jen quips.
""Teacher,"" he whispers. ""Teacher, right there.""
Jen gasps and also covers her face. ""What is he doing?""
The forty-five-year-old teacher slips a hundred dollar bills in the stripper's lingerie.
""I wish I had a camera right now. I would love to bust his ass,"" she whispers.
Monday morning, first period class. Ax and Jen are snoozing.
""Manson! The answer please.""
""What?"" he slurs and rubs his eyes.
""Answer to number three... What, you high again last night with your prostitute or something?""
The class laughs at him. ""His prostitute is sitting right next to him,"" someone says.
Jen frowns.
""Get up to the board,"" the teacher orders.
""But I don’t know the answer.""
""Want me to give you a detention?""
Ax stands in front of the class. ""That's a nice jacket you got on there, Manson,"" Mr. Jackson comments. A student yells out, ""where’d you get that, the dumpster?""
Another asks, ""when was the last time you washed your hair, buddy?"" Another asks, ""how many pounds of coke do you do a day, you crackhead?"" The whole class laughs at him. Standing in front of him, Mr. Jackson pulls Ax’s eyelids up and looks carefully into them and smells Ax. The teacher laughs at him.
""Don’t touch me, man,"" Ax roars.
""What are you gonna do? Cut me with your switchblade?"" He shakes his head.
Ax runs out.
Mr. Jackson recognizes Ax by his clothes and approaches him. ""Hey Ax, what are you doing here?"" He rests his hand on Ax’s shoulder. ""Does your whore work here?"" he asks looking at Jen.
""Fuck you, Jackson.""
""Ooooh. Little hostile there, Manson. You know, I can have you kicked out of here since you're underaged.""
""Let’s get outta here, Jen."" Ax and Jen start to leave, but they run into a large man. They look up and it is Ax’s dad. ""Oh shit."" They run around him and head out the door, but they hear, ""Hey Jim..."" ""Hey Tom."" Ax and Jen stop to turn and look. Ax’s father and teacher are embracing each other.
""Your son, is he still doing drugs?""
""Yea. That little turd. I just can’t discipline him.""
Ax and Jen run out, but Jim and Tom follow them out.
""Hey Ax, wait up there. Don’t you wanna socialize with your father and teacher?""
Wanting to get away from the volatile situation, Ax wants to run back to his hotel room, but Jen holds his hand and waits for the wicked adults to come.
""Guess what, Ax doesn’t need you guys anymore. He won the jackpot. Ten million dollars!""
""That's right,"" Ax speaks boldly with Jen holding his hand. ""I’m dropping out of school, Tom, and I’m moving out of the apartment, Jim. I don’t need all the shit anymore. So you guys can fuck off!""
The two men stare at Ax for a moment. ""Ten million dollars,"" they whisper. The wicked look on their faces suddenly turns into sycophantic smiles.
""You know, Ax, my lovely dovely son, all the beatings I gave was for your own good. You know how much it hurt me to beat you like that. It hurt me more than it hurt you. You wait until you have your own kids, Ax, then you'll understand. Physical pains goes away in a few days, but emotional pain which was a backlash of me hurting you is infinitely greater.""
""I think you're father is exactly right, Ax, my lovely student. Why don't we go back in the club and have drink. On me. I buy you some top notch lap dances. How about it, Ax?""
With his eyes open in disbelief, Ax yells, ""You two-faced duplicitous motheruckers! Fuck you. All the shit you've given me. Fuck you, teacher. Fuck you, data! you see this?"" He holds the ten million dollar check in the air. You want a piece of the pie, you bitches? You're getting none! Absolutely none!
Walking like two gay men, they slowly come near Ax. ""But come on Ax,"" Mr. Johnson says seductively like a prostitute. ""Hum, Ax. That's a nice name. You know what an axe turned on its side looks like? A big dick! Which is I'm sure whatyou have. No wonder you have such a hot girlfriend.""
Jen standing next to him bursts into laughter.
""What the fuck..."" Ax mumbles.
""Ooo. Can I see the ticket,"" he father asks and takes it. He looks at it and he is confirmed that it is a ten million dollar check. Quickly, his father lunges his hand in his son's jacket pocket and takes out the switchblade. He press the button opening it and with a swift swing slices Ax's throat. Jim and Tom run into the darkness and precariousness of the night.",1,Vague Discontent,Story 2,10/25/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"“What do you wanna do now, Moe?”

“I don’t know? What do you wanna do?”

“Let’s go try to catch an octopus and play with it.”

“Okay, Mary. Let’s go.”

Moe and Mary, holding hands, skipped to the dock past the titanic mansions flanking the field of green grass with summer wind blowing against their faces. There were rows of large, luxurious yachts aligned neatly on either side of the dock, and they slowly walked by them, admiring the flashy ships. At the end of the dock, a small row boat was nearly hidden by the massive double deck, sport cruiser. They untied the rope and jumped in the row boat. Mary and Moe sat side-by-side each rowing a paddle.

“Let’s go all the way down there beyond the buoy this time,” Mary said.

“Okay.”

They started to row faster, and continued to talk. The cool water danced and spilt into the boat onto their tattered shirts and dungarees and faces giving them tingly sensation. The smell of salt made them feel hungry.

“When we get to the deep waters, there’ll be lots and lots of octopuses. We can pick one out that you like and we can play with its long squiggly legs,” Moe said.

“What if we can’t find any? There are less and less octopuses as the days go by. I don’t know if there’ll be any.”


“Oh. Not even a squid. Not even a sea horse. Where have all you sea creatures gone?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing... What do you wanna do now, Moe?”

“I’m not sure. There’s nothing to do out here if there aren’t any octopuses.”

The two children sat and scanned their surroundings for possible activities. A ship appeared in the horizon, headed toward Moe and Mary. When the ship neared, a man and a woman waved at the children and asked them if they wanted to come onboard. Moe and Mary, decided, have had nothing to do, so they tied the row boat in the back of the ship and climbed onboard. They noticed that the name of the yacht was Octopus as printed in big letters on the side and back of the yacht.

The adults were a thirty-year-old couple who loved kids and were trying to conceive children. They didn’t work because the woman’s family was so immensely rich that they gave the two lots of money. So they spent all their time traveling meeting children so they can learn about kids in order to become good parents when they have kids of their own.

“How are you kids?”

“Not too good,” Moe responded.

“We were trying to find some octopus to play with, but we couldn’t find any. Too bad.”

The blonde woman wearing pink lipsticks, sparkly earrings, and a summer dress smiled. “Octopus? Really. We love octopuses too! What a coincidence!”

“Come on into the kitchen, kids,” the man dressed in polo shirt and khaki shorts said.

“Let’s sit down and eat,” said the woman and led everyone to the upper deck patio table where they got a good view of the horizon. The adults left the box in front of the two children, and they started to eat.

“I’m Joey and this is my wife, Ann.”

“Hi,” Ann said. Joey and Ann smiled at them. She had bleached alabaster-white teeth, curly and bouncy hair, and was pretty. Joey had side-combed hair, and was good-looking.

“Octopus,” Mary said staring at Ann.

“Octopus,” Moe repeated staring at Joey. The two kids stopped eating and the expression on their faces turned morose.

“Oh, we can explain. We have never eaten octopuses. We were fishing and it caught in our hook. We didn’t know what we should do with it so we decided to cook it to see what it tastes like.”

“Are you gonna eat it?” Moe asked.

“No. Of course not,” assured Ann.

“Oh. That’s good,” whispered Mary.

“Can we play with it? It may be dead, but at least we can play with it.”

Joey and Ann agreed. Back in the kitchen they surrounded the table with it and stared at it for a few minutes. The octopus was still intact. It laid lifeless on the large silver plate with gold rim around it. The kids moved their heads right on top of it and sniffed it. Then, with their index finger pointed straight out, they slowly reach in but at the last second, they pull back.

“Eww. A dead octopus,” Mary squealed.

“He’s a Popozao,” Ann whispered to the kids and chuckles. “You kids can travel with us any time if you’d like. We got everything money can buy. Do you guys like operas?”

“Do you catch octopus?” Mary inquired.

Joey came down with a box of cookies. Ann looked at him. “Sure. We can do that.”

“Do you want to try now?” Joey asked them.

The faces of Moe and Mary brightened, but transformed into a quizzical look. They become suspicious of the intentions of these nice people. “Wait a minute. Why are you guys so nice to us? Are you guys one of those rich people who are so rich that they go around looking for poor kids to buy like Angelina Jolie? Are you guys trying to adopt us?” Moe asked.

“Oh no. We just like kids, that’s all. You see, we want kids of our own.”

“Okay. But you’re not Mark Foley or John Mark Karr, are you?”

The adults gave a laugh of absurdity at the question. “Of course not!!”

“Okay, then. Just making sure you guys weren’t weirdos from somewhere. Let’s catch an octopus then.”

“Trust us. We’re gonna have kids of our own. We spent ten grands on fertility doctors. We bought a five hundred dollar bottle of French wine to celebrate when I get pregnant,” Ann reassured them.

“You guys really are brats,” Moe commented.

From the storage in the basement, Joey took out the two fishing poles and a fishing net. He pushed a button, and a platform slid out at the tail of the yacht nearly level with the water. Four of them went down the ladder and sat on the platform. Moe and

“Oh my god,” she screamed, nearly in tears as the gruesome creature advanced towards them looking at them with golden eyes.

Scared, Moe and Mary hugged each other tight.

With swift jabs, Joey stabbed out its eyes, and poked through other parts of its body. It started to spray black ink out of its mouth.

“Ahhh,” they screamed and ran away and around it. Moe and Mary were shocked and shivering by the behavior of the wicked creature. From behind it, Joey thrust the rod straight into and through the head of the octopus and killed it.

“You killed it! That bad octopus!” said Moe frowning.

“That damn octopus!!” squealed Mary.

Moe and Mary went near it and kicked it because they were angry that it tried to attack it.

“Damn you. You try to hurt us, you big octopus!” They kick some more.

“We always play with small octopuses and they’re nice to us, but this big old one is a meanie,” Moe yelled. “Uf. Take that you old meanie!” He and Mary kicked its head and legs some more. The more they thought about its horrific behavior, they got angrier.

On the floor the black ink that it expelled spread further on the deck. Ann said, “Damn it. That filthy liquid is spreading.” With a frown on her face, she got a mop and attempted to wipe the stains clean, but it became apparent that it wasn’t working. She too, then went up to the octopus and started to kick it. “Look what you did to my boat! Aghh! Damn it!” She kicked it some more.

Joey too kicked the octopus. He couldn’t help himself. After a few minutes, they stopped kicking the creature.

Ann took a large bite on its leg and the severed piece squirmed wildly in her mouth. She chewed on it ferociously. The rubbery chewiness of it mixed with the raw sea smell and the squirming of it gave her a pleasure to her tongue.

“Mm. The squirming,” said Ann and smiled continuing to chew.

“So good,” exclaimed Mary.

“Maybe we can open up an octopus restaurant and serve raw octopuses to customers, Joey. And the kids can be the spokespeople of it. People love children. If they see children eating live octopuses like candy, they’ll be allured by it. How about it kids. We’ll pay you. And all the octopuses you can eat.”

These innocent, nature-loving kids were soon corrupted by the snobby adult with way too much money.

“Okay,” said Moe and Mary. They took more bites out of the sea creature. “I never knew how yummy octopuses, especially live ones, are.”",1,Specific Threats,Story 3,11/4/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Cho_Fiction_Poetry.pdf,Seung-Hui Cho
"If things go according to plan, today would be when I die. I wait until the school buses are detected, then head out on foot disguised as a student. I go somewhere and gear up, then hold a class hostage and go apeshit, then blow my brains out. Work sucks, school sucks, life sucks. I just want out of this shit. Fuck this state, it really is bad. Think I'm insane? I'm actually more rational, peaceful, and less loony than a majority of the citizenry of this entire region.",1,Vague Discontent,Atchison Note #1,12/7/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?”:]
1.I was immune to getting hurt/killed/infected with a std
2.I had 43 million worshippers
3.I had a life..",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,9/11/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I mean terrorist attacks happen all the time. Sure thousands died, but millions have died
from George. Honestly, it's been almost 10 years and idiots are still whining. 911 did
make a lot of idiot patriot extremists in america, you have to give 911 that. I wish another
terrorist plane attack would happen so that I could go back to europe and back for 3 cents.
Ahh, I remember I was a little kindergartener.. (Could of been 1st grader but I was ""too
young"")",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,9/11/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “If you were a God”:]
As a god, it would be my responsibility not to destroy the universal balance; thus, I am
unable to just appear instantly. I would need to ""convert"" them to being open minded
about other gods and then I will appear. I will give out my 3 main rules:
1.Do not harm any living thing, if you break this rule, I will break your skull.
2.Do not act in violence of any form.
3.Don't be a stuffhead.
I would try to act with any other gods out there, such as if Gaia was real, I would let
her take care of her creations, and her earth. I would let Zeus and Poseidon make the
hurricanes and earthquakes, and I would let Hades rule the energy of darkness.
I would be sure to ""Educate"" them on solar/wind/water powered technology",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,9/13/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I am going to grab a knife and shove it in the neck of my mother. I will then drag her dead
body by the trash can, drain her blood and then finally cut her and grind her up into little
pieces. I will eat some of those pieces and then I will probably barf.. I will throw her body
away in the trash can.. I will then go slaughter sacred animals to appease the gods.
HAIL SATAN
..I am agnostic, not satanist..",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,9/13/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I will rape your hot lovey sister and then strangle her with her own hair. Then I will sneak
into your parent's room and slaughter them.. I will slowly walk to your room holding my
blood thirsty knife in my right hand.. I walk into your room when I see that you're making
out with yourself.. I will grab you, tie you to your bed with your own hair, and super glue
it shut.
My blood thirsty crave is not over..
I finally rip your hair out and you experience excruciating pain.. So painful that you
scream and scream.. But it can't stop! I ripped out the skin of your head, blood is drooping
everywhere.. Finally I pluck your eyes right out with my knife and throw them down..
I then cut your neck off and the arms and legs.. Only the torso remains.. I cut off the
genitals and I stab the stomach repeatedly.. I finally finish off by ripping out your heart
and consuming it..",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,9/22/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"""IWILLNEVERLETYOUFORGETABOUTME""",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,9/25/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Rule 11 : Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.
Start being nice to me, or I will not hire you all. All of those idiots who have messed up
my life in the past, I will hire them for a day, and then fire them.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,9/26/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"2005.. Age 9.. I was playing sm64ds when I lost the level. I went AGK on my ds, threw it
extremely hard at a wall and broke it..
2005 Age 9.. After recieving my ds again, a day later, I got pissed again and ripped the
upper half of the DS off..
2005 Age 9.. I got my DS Again, but when playing Pokemon, lost and threw it right at the
wall again..
The 2005 ones are true.. I had a very bad anger problem.
2009.. Age 13.. After getting another DS, threw it right at the TV and said ""How's that""?",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,9/26/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Look guys I just smoked an entire $500 worth bag of OG Kush so It's hard to hate you. I
love furries, gays, jews, al-queda, and america.
●irl● teenage kid with no friends who hates everything and wants to shoot up his school
but is too week to fire a gun and my parents are annyoing but will financially supply me
for the next 30 years i love to hate and fart a lot making my room smell remnicsant of
cheese and boiled eggs
^ All trolls except me.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,10/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Don't play WoW. It turned my brother into a basement dweller and now he's doing weed.
He's 24, works at a convenience store and dropped out of high school. MMOs are just the
same as Heroin and will destroy not only your body, but your mind",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,12/3/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I support interesting people and I hope to be internet famous one day.
In short, I'm a hypocritical weeaboo in denial troll who has been cursed into an endless
state of constant boredom which has driven me to depression and anger",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,12/7/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"The shortest I can describe trolls: Trolls are basically young teenagers who 'bully' online
to get a raise because they have a personality disorder and want to cover up the hole that
real bullies left in their emotion",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,12/16/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “If you could kill any video game character”:]
I would kill Tidus and the methods of doing this may offend many of you.
I would start off by crusifying him and leaving him without food for a total of three
days, afterwards I would force him to eat rats. I would apply 1,000 small cuts throughout
his body and dip him in a tub of Hydrogen Peroxide. Afterwards, I would recut the wounds and apply a scorpion's sting to 30 of them over a time period of 2 hours after
which I would nurse his health a tad. Next, I would rip his nails out and pour bleach and
ammonia on them while making sure he doesn't inhale any. I would shoot him in his
knee with a crossbow and since I'm an honorable man I would make this the last of his
punishment. A quick sword blow to his chest and a large + incision to his belly would do
the trick.
I would leave him in pain for the remainder of his very short life to allow him to reflect on
his personality.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,12/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What's your zombie plan?”:]
Jack a gun and shoot myself in the head.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,1/28/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Every personality disorder test I take I usually end up getting over half of them at a severe
level and I'm being honest most of the time.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,1/28/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Hey, I'm eldigato. In short, I am a psychopath dedicated to the art of destruction. In my
years of minecraft, I have always aimed to make interesting stories. I have always done my
deeds solo and for that reason they never reached the peak I had hoped for. That is why I
have registered here today.. In hopes that I can work with people with similar intentions
and cause many great calamities.
Resume
Griefing: I like to take my time in order to cause the most damage, but I have attacked
many servers with a hit-and-run style of disruption before and caused massive amounts of
damage. I would like to say that my best griefing attack was the Scattered Space incident,
although the damage wasn't intense compared to most of my attacks on servers, I stirred
up plenty of drama in their community.
Cooperation: I would like to think myself as that of a rogue in many situations, but I have
shown to be able to work with others. Considering our personalities, I don't think I would
have any troubles with group raiding.
Admins: I can bullshit my way out of things, but I am a honest man. If I focus, I can have
a silver tounge that avoids truthfulness.
I hope that this information is enough to provide and I hope in the future I can infest the
world one day",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,1/29/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[A chat with a friend; “eldigato” is Atchison]
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: if you want to shoot up a bronycon
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: save the last bullet for yourself
eldigato: no shit
eldigato: look at columbine
eldigato: but I need GUN ideas
eldigato: something great for crown destruction
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: but seriously don't do it
eldigato: by just one man.
eldigato: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxtD7trjFz8
eldigato: I'm going to anyways.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: fucking hell
eldigato: I have been exposed to too much truths in the world.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: i think i might need to call the police
eldigato: WBC, White house, Bronycon..
eldigato: hmm..
eldigato: My former school
eldigato: but then again they're going to die from car crashes and alcohol anyways
eldigato: no need
eldigato: but hmm..
eldigato: WBC has some morals.. White house <--- Ultimate target but not the true evil
eldigato: just the Masked evil puppet ; the figurehead
eldigato: if I want to actually do justice I'd be tortured even though it's an international
crime
eldigato: hmm..
eldigato: Bronies are.. weird..
eldigato: but truth is our populace of the world is going to destroy us horribly.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: so are many other people in this world
eldigato: the new wave of being gay is nature's way of stopping that..
eldigato: i hate it..
eldigato: but it's required..
eldigato: I must fight..
eldigato: But I don't know who needs it the most..
eldigato: And I'm a legendary.. I'm a one in a billion..
eldigato: Only a dozen others have progressed as powerfully as I have spiritually..
eldigato: We are well and beyond even the most humble guru..
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: http://gifrinth.com/vocabulary/1292136800497.png
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: dude
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: you need help
eldigato: The world is ..
eldigato: Truly .. Doomed..
eldigato: I seem to be the only one actually dedicated to what I stand for.
eldigato: You have let ""Morals"" corrupt you..
eldigato: Bronies, furries..
eldigato: Republicans, liberals..
eldigato: Those with weak power intellectually..
eldigato: tainted with their instincts
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: i hope you're trolling now
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: because i'm scared
eldigato: of murder, genocide, manipulation, deception, torture, cruelty, and faggotry..
eldigato: all of them need to die..
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: jesus tittyfucking christ
eldigato: Truly good people try to change the world..
eldigato: They get called the fags.
eldigato: They get silenced..
eldigato: Even Killed.
eldigato: They ultimately barely even drop an ounce of water in a lake..
eldigato: I'll fucking destroy and re build the world.
eldigato: In my image; In a truly american image
eldigato: where all thought may be free
eldigato: where all action whether it be dark or light may be actionable
eldigato: But..
eldigato: Where being evil will be so difficult, that the culprits be destroyed as fast as
bronies flood the internet.
eldigato: I will probably fail.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: i'm scared, seriously
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: I HOPE you're trolling
eldigato: I'm not.
eldigato: I thought my men would have followed my idealism.
eldigato: It's what we truly stand for.
eldigato: What the world truly needs.
eldigato: You don't have as much comprehension as I do!
eldigato: You don't understand what the fuck we're fighting against.
eldigato: It's just the tip of the iceburg.
eldigato: And that iceburg needs to melt 44% in 30 years lol like the uhh
eldigato: arctic caps
eldigato: well melt to 44% it's size I mean
eldigato: lol noone is seriously caring
eldigato: oh boy I love how any intelligent people are sileneced so carefully.
eldigato: The US is masterfully manipulative.
eldigato: I could speak as loud as possible
eldigato: THousands along with me
eldigato: they'd destroy my traces without even laying a finger
eldigato: Then again, it helps when your country is infested with life forms with
intelligence roughly 1/500th as powerful as any of us.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: like people who watch fox news?
eldigato: Precisely.
eldigato: Rednecks; white trash
eldigato: THey are america.
eldigato: And they are the cancer that has plagued america.
eldigato: And my family has served hundreds of years to our broad land.
eldigato: and I will not let it be for nothing.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: i guess you want to be the chemo
eldigato: That is why I will be the hero of my people.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: i want to fukken save this chatlog to a word
document
eldigato: My words tend to have that effect on people.
[EC] Breen, SKYMARSHALL IS SPY: shit, i gotta go eat
eldigato: hahahahahahahahaahahah
eldigato: what do you think of my words",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I would cut as many veins in his neck as I could, avoiding his jugular.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,3/7/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"My guilty pleasure is probably DMT, but it's ok since it's amazingly god.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,6/30/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"My dream job would have to involve synthesizing pure LSD legally and selling it to the
right kind of people who wouldn't abuse it.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,6/30/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I will be living in a basement pretty soon, once I'm finished moving in with my bro",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/12/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I played this game while on marijuana, LSD, Salvia, and Shrooms. I can honestly say that
once you're experienced with the types, you can handle it, as long as you have a sitter to
help calm you down when creepy stuff happens.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/12/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If all of the internet went out, people would go psycho and kill eachother and hang
mutilated corpses from their town's bridges.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/27/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “If you had a chance to commit an act of kindness to the world, what
would you do?”:]
I'd go back in time and stop a lot of the school shootings such as Columbine or V-Tech by
being a positive influence spreading hope in the minds of the shooters and keep them on
a path of enlightenment
or more realistically, I'd clean up trash around my town (which I already do) and volunteer
at places. Oh, and befriend the lonely or friendless kids at school.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/28/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What are you doing to advance yourself?”:]
Dropping out of High School in order to just study a GED book my SCI teacher gave me
and take the test when I feel ready and then move onto college, while working on fixing
myself and learning how to be happy for once, and overcoming a tobacco addiction.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,8/15/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What gets on your nerves?”:]
14 year old boys, people who say they're nerd to be cool, 'nerds' and 'geeks' whose favorite
star wars movies are I, II, or III, cats, friends parents, parents, peers, adults, demons and
ghosts, viruses, aliens, illegal aliens, rednecks, people who capitalize the beginning of
every word of their sentences, people who talk on and on and still think you're listening
even though you're in another room, people who yell, republicans, liberals, annoying gay
people, stoners 18- who smoke crap and ***** and moan at you about their 'chronic' crap
24/7 and try to be super cool, mental illness, living with depression, matrixing, abandoned
houses, 5:07, columbine, food impurities, stupid or evil cultures, people with UAAS
(uptight arrogant ******* syndrome), kids who think they're 90s kids even though they
were 90s toddlers at best and nowadays are really 90s infants, drunk people, fat bosses,
isolation, having a long distance brolationship.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,8/17/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
I got suspended from school for a week in april for wearing a black duster,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,8/18/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"July 26th, 2012
In my dream, I went into a bizarre dimension with blue spots in terrain, Rocky Black and
grey terrain, and a cloudy black sky. I didn't see the sky, but out of nowhere, a powerful
being appeared to me, and the sky had a thin plate of volcanic, powerful orange (gaseous
like) material. The being spoke to me words with power, which I can't really recall. In my
next dream, I was awake, in my bed, and there was an alien there. I was being hooked
with wires to my brain, sort of feeding me information. It was feeding me dreams within
my own dream, kind of like inception. In this dream thing, I was studying the possible
amount of dreams. There was a chart, like the audacity ogg vorbis specs one. There was a
limit to dreams and personality, according to the info.
The info I remember is:
Personality: 136,742
Dreams: 144 million or more (relative to your body? Or could it be more?)
There was another dream about school. See, last year, I dropped back in after dropping
out from absolute f'ing hell. I usually saw this poor bloke while passing to the next
class. Probably 14 or 15, but he barely did anything to warrant any bullying, yet he got so
much ♥♥♥♥ for everything. I've probably interacted with the kid 3 times; the 1st was
seeing some of my friends trying to cheer him up, the 2nd was seeing him get ♥♥♥♥ed
with by some jock idiots, in which I pulled a knife on them and intimidated them into
leaving, and the 3rd was where he had this delicate science project, so I basically daunted
the idiots in the middle of the hallway into getting to class and made sure that this kid's
project wasn't ruined by D-bags.
In my thoughts, I could just see myself at an earlier age in the kid. So, the dream directed
my mind into the social 'chart' of the kid and the students in general, in which I just kind
of got a broader social look in people; i.e. being able to 'put myself into other people's
shoes'. I worked and thought and came up with a moral that I really need to reach that kid
and prevent anything bad from happening, because I don't want someone to have to deal
with the mentality that can develop from that.
The dream flashed to another dream, which was a type of mind probe in a way. I just felt
like I was being read. I was having to face my own flaws in a very disturbing and hostile
state of REM.
I kind of woke up and still felt the alien type thing (Probably caused from human natural
DMT from last sentence) glaring at me. It kind of had that 'snobby' or arrogant type of
personality seen from some reports of aliens. While I woke up, that thing kind of faded
off probably due to the release of DMT stopping.
Just for reference, I haven't done DMT or LSD. I've been clean from any type of drug
(Tobacco / Alcohol / weed) for 3 months before that dream.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,8/21/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
My psychiatrist told me I need to look on the bright side of things..,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,8/23/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Only 30% of the global population is capable of having any control over anyone. Of which,
only 30% are deserving of having any of it at all, of which, only 10% should actually have
the power.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,10/5/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What medical problem/disorders do you have?”:]
Major Depression, inability to feel joy, intense levels of sadistic desire and various
addictions to substances.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,10/5/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"It's an autisk
it will bite you and infect you with autism and the only way to cure yourself is to stop
playing building games for a year.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,10/31/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I am in the top 3% of my shit redneck school, but that really isn't an accomplishment..",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,5/29/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Stuff I want for my birthday 30 arbys sandwitches that is all!,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,2/28/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"AK > M16/4
at least my AK will kill what I shoot
and wont jam on me
or need special cleaning
Also remember that guns are LOUD AS FUCK
a shotgun blast without hearing protection could make you permanently deaf.
even a .22 is loud enough to be heard for a 1km radius at least.
Guns are extremely loud, extremely deadly and need to be respected.
A suppressed gun is still loud. Only an Oil Filter + .22 subsonic will be truly 'silenced'.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
child soldiers are cool i wish i coulda been one,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I think the college system and american society needs a massive change. I don't see the
point in dishing out $30k a year just to get into college, only for most people to either
drop out or get a useless degree, or something they're not entirely interested in.
I don't think everything should be free, but there's one thing that absolutely must beEducation. Primary and Secondary school is free for students, which is excellent because
every human deserves the chance and the right to be educated.
Yet in college, most the time it's going into a huge room with a hundred other students,
taking notes of what the professor says, and then studying your ass off to try to actually
pass the class. A lot of times, the teachers aren't even good at teaching in the first place.
Yet in Elementary ~ High, you have teachers working their ass off, helping each student at
the rise of a hand.
So normally school only costs tax payers. You get all the help you need for free, during
class. You can fuck up all you want.
College, you pay a FUCKLOAD of $$$ for, get shitty teachers, have to do everything
yourself, and have a low chance of success.
In america, College is Bullshit!",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I can't believe it's been 8 whole years since then.. Most of 2007 didn't go too well for me
either, but when I went back to school late that year it was like post-columbine all over
again.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"A massive amount of americans are depressed for a lot of reasons. Lousy enviornment,
few friends, bad or nonexistent family members, singleness, bullying, harassment, stress,
taxes, poverty, etc.
Compared to a lot of countries, much of the US is a third world country in comparison.
It's a shame.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"There are no gods in this world, my friend. It's a shitty thing to say, but you have to help
yourself- most people do not care about you. Good people have always been a minority.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Women should not be allowed to enter into the military or government, nor should they
be allowed to vote. They should be demoted to sex objects to be sold by their fathers to all
genetically superior people – intellectuals",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Adam,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Girls ask to be treated preferentailly, and say they want prince charming who will act as if
she was a princess or queen -
then ignores the prince and goes and fucks 3 other people instead, quickly settling for a
meth-head roidmonkey biker.
Nice guys need to learn to ignore what women say. Benevolence, Politeness and
selflessness are very admirable traits, but most women have barely evolved.
Make a subconscious effort to be a leader; to be dominant. Reward them for good
behavior, make them reliant on you. That is the only way to get anywhere with them 95%
of the time.
In the even that you find a real woman (which is very uncommon in america) then hold
onto her and never let her go.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"We will not be ready for alien contact until the following goals are able to be reached and
held as a basic standard for all human life -
Affordable access to clean and pure Food, Water, Shelter, Health Care, Job Opportunities,
Free Education at all levels.
No wars.
Less than 10,000 homicides a year (for the entire world)
A Type-1 Civilization
Average IQ of 115.
All abrahamic religions nearly dead.
Little terrorism / extremism
Democratic and pure governments and societies
It's going to be a few more generations until we even reach half these goals lol",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"We need WW3 already. It is the only way for our species to survive.
Kick natural selection up to the max and allow only the smartest and strongest to live,
as all of these degenerates meet a brutal, well-deserved death. They are nothing but
parasites, draining massive amounts of resources and contributing nothing to this world.
Put women in their place instead of allowing them to pursue their nature. We have
generations of feral women who are only trained to see themselves as 10/10 princesses.
Then make it so only people with triple-didget IQs can breed. Maybe... only people
with STEM education can have kids. This will keep the world population at a stable
1,000,000,000 maximum and allow every human being to live a high-quality life, free from
much corruption.
Put intellectuals in charge of the world instead of degenerates and rich douchebags",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Mass murder is the purity and cleansing of a corrupt degenerate genepool.
Marc Lepine is a hero",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Sex between an unmarried man and woman - I think saving yourself (whatever gender
you are) until marraige is stupid not because I'm against the idea of loyalty, but because
once you get married, the sex stops. Marriage is a scam and 80% of divorces are made
by women. I hate the idea of sexual casualization. If you're gonna bone someone make
sure it's during a relationship. I think that's a reasonable, non-extremist and level-headed
opinion..
Divorce
The effects of divorce are extensive and cause a lot of conflict on families. Elliot Rodger
dealt with family divorce. Same with adam lanza. And btw 80% of divorces are initiated
by women. They don't marry for love, they just marry for alimony and taking all our stuff.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA so much for feminism.
Having a baby outside of marriage
You should only have a baby if you're married, and only after you've given it plenty of time
that you have good faith that it'll work out.
Gay or lesbian relations
LOL. Look if they're annoying or tumblr feminazis - extremists than I hate those people
too but who gives a fuck what LGBT people do? You're just in the closet when all you
think about is gay people dude.
Medical research using stem cells from human embryos
Let's hold back scientific and technological progress!
Pornography
I love porn to an extent but between mormon idiocy of banning porn and liberal
degeneracy like San francisco I think being in the middle of that debate is the only logical
thing you can do.
Access to porn decreases rape. But at the same time most porn is messed up nowadays.
Suicide
Suicide is society's fault. We're a corrupt, morally bankrupt and savage society which
produces 15,000 gun homicides a year, countless acts of mass murder and like 30~50,000
suicides / yr as well.
Cloning Humans
LOL really?",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Tattoos, piercing, self-harm, anything that permanently alters your body for 'expression' is
stupid and pointless.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Women say they want intelligent, friendly, supportive and sophisticated guys. So instead
of fucking the nerds they always go for some dumbass roidmonkey jackass with mountain dew shirts and trucker hats then wonder why she gets abused, rammed and discarded.
They don't deserve jack shit. At this point we should go back to making them nothing
more than property. They had their chance to take care of themselves and look where they
ended up. HAHAHAHAHAHA",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"""Hand to hand.. it is the basis of all combat.""
""Only a fool trusts his life to a weapon.""",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"All extremism is bad. Feminism is authoritarian left-wing garbage that will absolutely
destroy society. Same with right-wing extremism, with them you get Waco, Timothy
McVeigh, Anders Breivik and other terrorists.3 With the left you can get commie savages
and liberal college educated (see: money wasters) degenerates.
The greatest countries in the world are reasonably progressive centrist nations dedicated
to peace. America is mostly extremism and idiocy; the liberals are a disgrace to left-wing
politics and the republicans to the right wing.
Now I'm not calling for women being beaten up, mutilated and forced into wearing those
robes that cover all their skin like they do in Papa New Guinea or the middle east.
All I want is for them to treat men with respect and to not be hypocritical degenerate
money wasting idiots. There are a few real women out there.. Budd Dwyer's wife, the
Liberian Monkey Island researcher wife, a few.
You know what makes them real women? Intelligence, loyalty, determination. Most
american women? Brain-dead, immature, cheating, lazy, fat, mentally damaged.
It is obvious to anyone that this country has failed. My grand father served in WW2, Korea
and Vietnam.. all just for his children's generation to fuck everything up, and for their
kid's generation to finish the job.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Kill yourself. Make the world a better place.,1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Oh and all the school shootings every 2 days. Schools are hostile anti-intellectual
prison facilities that put children in a fierce and unforgiving competition, force them to
memorize rudimentary facts, join into a hivemind agenda, restrict critical thinking and
produce slaves",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I've already lived in Texas, namely Abilene from 2000~2002.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Women have always had it easy. Us men cannot have any emotion, we have to be into
sports and killing, and we have to be strong. Women are only expected to use up our
resources and -- in a distant past, take care of the family unit.
Modern women, however, don't raise their kids. I know my little brother's best friend lived
in a household with a single mother. She was 250+ pounds, made him do all of the chores
and cleaning, and ignored the two youngest children. Those kids have spent most of their
time playing video games instead of being taught values and morality. They will not have
anything to reflect back on when they are older, and it is likely they will grow up weaker
physically and mentally than would be.

That single mother? She married a jock football player at age 17, only to divorce him 8
years later and stunt the family. 50$ says she probably had some nice guy friends who she
neglected or treated like shit. If she married one of the nerds / nice guys, I'd guarantee the
entire family would be better off.
Women ignore and bully nice guys, and leave them to be rather miserable and rejected
for their lifetime. The intellectuals and benevolent people usually never get laid and
get bullied well into adulthood. It doesn't really change after high school. Yet retards,
gearheads, and douchebags get rewarded for their idiocies.
This is evidence enough that women are stupid. Dish in the constant nagging, golddigging, manipulating, hypersexuality, cheating and so many other aspects of the typical
'liberated' woman, and anyone who doesn't have their head in their ass will agree that
civilization has a major moral crisis going on.
And yet for what I have just said, I would be shunned by most people, even though it's the
reality. P.C. degenerates are destroying society.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I'm against gay marriage because I do not want them to experience the soul crushing pain
that follows a long time committed relationship, just for 99% of them to fail. All that hard
work and energy, cast away within a short time, a powerful partnership obliterated often
by corrupt avarice.
If gay people had to suffer the romance us straight people live, then they wouldn't be
happy anymore, and I cannot let that happen. They are too precious.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,6/9/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Mid 2014?!
Wow, I was going on a nostalgia frenzy, scanning through my past. .. My current life is
so damned miserable. I got few friends anymore, no social life online or offline outside
of some infrequent comments on youtube / steam. My alt channel (made in 2009 as a
backup for mrapophis) is barely surviving at 9 subs, less than 200 views. G+ Youtube
is difficult for me to get used to! My life has no purpose anymore :( My last resort for
socialization - my family, they ignore me now. Douchebags! But, it is halfway through
2014! The time, unfortunately flied. If only I could go back in time 20 years! YEAR - RANK
1994 *** 1995 **** 1996 ***** 1997 ***** 1998 ***** 1999 ***** 2000 ***** 2001 ****
2002 *** 2003 *** 2004 *** 2005 * 2006 * 2007 *** 2008 **** 2009 *** 2010 ** 2011 *
2012 * 2013 * 2014 * Story of my life. If any of my family ever sees this, you assholes better
start being a real family. Let's go for a walk, watch some movies, ANYTHING as a family.
Im tired of vegging out!",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,6/19/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Commenting on the video game Majora’s Mask:]
I was 5 when it came out. I was in the UK, where my bro played the hell outta the PSX/
N64 games. He just got in MM and played it, but when he was at school or asleep, I would
play on my own save. I didn't finish it much, but I did re-discover it at age 8. It was one
of the few games I had left, besides OOT and SM64. I would come home from my crappy
school, sit down and watch the colbert report and play some zelda. It was a depressing
game, and I was a depressed kid. It multiplied the effects..",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/2/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I sometimes get high and jack off 10 times in a day
Also while high, I might play LSD dream emulator
I still play maplestory and WoW (though, only once in a blue moon)
I sleep as much as I can and usually have a migrating sleep schedule
I barely get out of the house
I barely socialize
I barely socialize online
I waste my life as the years soar by.. It's already the 2nd half of 2014 O.O",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/3/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Stuck in a Rural Redneck town
The people who are against abortion are usually people who should've been aborted in the
first place.
Children are savages, and they're gonna grow up to be douchebaggy parasites anyways.
They should be exterminated from an early age. Obviously, not all children; not all people
are inherintely evil and parasitic in nature. Anyone who is a benevolent or intelligent
person deserves a chance at life. However, who should be the judge for who will live or
die? All the nerds are too uptight to ever carry this out, so now we got stuck with the bush
presidency and they are the enbodiment of stupidity. This obeezy presidency is just bush
2.0, so I doubt the MASTER's plan of UNITY and PURIFICATION will ever come to
fruition.
As for euthanasia, life is horrible. Just because the majority of people can get laid and have
everything handed to them and live in heaven, doesn't mean 100% of people will. Even
in the first world, there's so much injustice. Like people living past age 30 still as virgins
with little friends. I'm sure a lot of them are friendly, hell that's why its called a Nice guy.
But this is a decadent society that rewards cruelty, manipulation, douchebaggetry, and
parasitic idiocy.
ALL humans should be entitled to an instant painless death. Jack Kevorkian was a hero!
Besides, the world population is at like 7.2 billion now, and only like 1 billion (at most) are
benevolent or intelligent. We need to exterminate this dumbass species to about 1 bill and
cap it there till we're a type 2 civilization. Thanks obama #",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/13/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"We must all be excellent to eachother
It's best to assume that this is your only life, so make the best of it!
Even if there isnt an after life, all humans should focus on how they'll be remembered
Do good deeds, be nice and cool and all that because I seriously doubt that if you're a
douche like a war criminal, corporate lawyer, congressman etc then all of a sudden pray
@ your death bed for acceptance that you'll automatically get into a heavenly plane of
existence ya know
The meaning of life - all life exists to pass on it's seed. But we're a intelligent species (well
except in the south or while you're high) so the meaning of all our lives should be to be
the uhh .. to be the best you can be!
Party on dudes",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,8/25/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"What if hitler got accepted into that art school then was manipulated by the jews to think
that all non-jews were evil greedy scumbags who steal money and try to ruin the world
financially
then he went on a mass murder genocide spree where he tried to establish an Israeli Empire to take over the world? And he targeted people with blond hair and blue eyes.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,8/30/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I don't want to be lame or anything but I should probably come out about all this.
In this town (flora vista)..
#1. I have no education. I dropped out of AHS back in ~10, then was forced to attend again
and dropped out again in ~12. I had a 3.5 GPA but the culture there was backwards as hell,
as if it was stuck in the 1950s. Nothing but savages and douchebags. I never motivated
myself to get a GED, I need the forced classes and structure of school, but couldn't deal
with all the methheads, roughnecks and rednecks.
#2. I have no job, I tried to apply at a few places, Wendys, General Dollar, and Dairy
Queen. All rejected lol And besides, I don't have the strength to deal with those people,
I can be a hard worker, but I got real bad social anxiety, hate and fear of all these people.
Plus I don't got a phone to keep in touch with the boss if they force me to go in for
overtime. I got a nocturnal schedule anyways. No car though, nor a license.
#3. I have no friends here. All my friends are digital now, only time in life that I had a
social life were the times I didnt live in the four corners. I tried a lot during my childhood
in this area. But let me just put it this way- one of my friends and their little brothers and
sisters, stealthily stole my Playstation 1 I had since the 90s, along with dozens of games -
all which could be worth thousands of dollars nowadays.
During high school, the other borrowed my N64 and games over the summer, promising
to return them once school started again, and guess what the jackass did? He sold it to a
guy in denver for $200. Didn't even give me any of the dough. Then threatened to kick my
ass when I defended myself from some hicks.
The others talked crap behind my back.. There was a time though around 4/20/12 when
I got high with a few people out in the hills. One of the kids lived a few houses down and
when I dropped out didn't even stop over to say hello.
I may not seem the type, but I've been somewhat outgoing, friendly, a joker. I wasn't
that kid who actively avoided people all the time and dressed in all black and listened to
goth music. I went in, did my damned work, made straight A's then went home to a crap
abusive family and did more work and surfed the net.
My point? I tried to socialize in this shit town but to no avail.
#4. Major Depression, large amounts of anger and hatred, lots of boredom.. I used to cure
it through bong hits and video games but I cant even find those enjoyable anymore.
My dad's a fat lazy idiot who watches fox news all day, weighs 350 pounds and throws
hissy fits over everything. Never even bothered to help me get my drivers license and I'm
not entitled or spoiled or anything, I'd gladly get a job and pay for my own car.
My moms a psycho hillbilly drunk from florida who's really mentally ill. She smokes and
drinks a lot and smells disgusting, and has no manners whatsoever. The most hillbilly
accent you can imagine.
My bro is an antisocial douche with no education at 27. He's a user, always manipulating
people and draining their resources. He moved back in to this crap house with his wife
who bored 2 kids from some other guy, ex-meth, no education either.

I got literally 0 contacts and I'm too lazy to get a GED.
Look, I'm sorry if I'm rude and hateful or anything, but I don't know what to do. I've lived
no life for nearly 19 years, most of which was in the miserable ass sun-belt. Did you know
new mexico has the fourth highest suicide rate?
I don't know if I'm even gonna get an education. I don't want to sound dumb but going
into the wild is another option, but I'm thinking of getting a truck with those roofed
installations on the back, then putting a bed in there and driving out of new mexico.
the DMV is being whiny and asking for a proof of bank account and proof of rent or
something; they're one of the worst DMVs out there and that's saying something, eh?
I am the only atheist I know in my town, and I've had knives pulled on me over it. If I do
drift, I need a gun, a water purifier, medkit and some MREs. I've been thinking of driving
to either the Denver area, San Jose, CA, Oregon, Washington, or Maine. I'd love to become
a Canadian resident, but I gotta get a GED, get accepted into a 4 year college before I have
any chances. It'd be nearing the 2020s before that.
Every day I wake up filled with misery, boredom and hatred. In fact, I spent most of the
2010s only on youtube, barely any forums, or in school where I was pretty miserable. I do
get out of the house every day, where I take 2~4 hour walks to shed off some pounds and
build stamina.
Here's my area. I dont like giving out personal info too much but I just want to prove my
point. I live in the heart of the southwest, with no cities for like 200 miles in any direction.
This causes an effect where the area I'm in is extremely rural. With the mormon influence
of utah, it also makes it really republican, like 80%. Everyone does meth, tobacco like
crazy, lots of alcohol etc. AHS had a graduation rate of like 50%.
Should I escape this dump or deal with it? How can I become polite and make some
friends out there in this world?",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,9/2/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Well IRL on my 13th birthday back in belen I had some good friends over, we were playing
some XBOX and wii and shit then we were going on about ghosts stories and my friend
derek talked about this creepy mask demon that stalked his dreams.. then the eletricity
was screwing up and there was a much more eerie presence then I saw this fucking
masked demon in the top-corner of the den.
After then I always had a fear of corners and saw that mask sometimes but always had
dreams about it. I remember one of my nightmares had it trap me through all the video
games I played except it would corrupt and distort them. So I was playing OOT and saw
that dante ghost suddenly attack me, where all 20 of my hearts quickly drained, at 2 hearts
/ second and I felt a really cold chill. Woke up and saw a bunch of mist across the room or
something.
One of the other worlds was like this game called RTB, where it talked to me in the
bedroom map, as I asked what the hell it was. Then it described how it was murdered by
David Ray Parker.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,9/2/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Inflation has cranked up the difficulty level of the IRL game a lot so you gotta get a job to
pay rent while sharing that crap apartment with some other guy and unless you got social
skills tag at 35+ youll get stuck with some random scumbag who keeps raiding your fridge
and wont do the god damn dishes

Culturally sure it's more accepting but as cheesy as the 90s was, I'd prefer it over - Honey
Boo Boo, Miley Cyrus, JB, One Direction, all this garbage bubblegum pop music, school
shootings every week, a congress with 8% approval, 2 quagmire wars noone wants, etc
and kids these days are at an all time low lol. Some of them are politically active and
progressive and aren't very judgemental, and you know what, I'm proud of them. But a lot
of them are complete savages who are rewarded for their behavior by their parents who
used to be the bullies themselves.
I'd rather be back in the 90s, back on the beach on the east coast or in Cambridge,
England.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,9/3/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of people being spoiled:]
Well generation Z (late 90s~10s) births grew up with a developed internet. They were
often babied and spent most of their lives with the internet. With millenials they were
'special', somewhat grew up with a primitive internet of the 90s and early 00s, where it
wasn't that much about socialization.
Everything is all white and high-def, dumbed down; there's not much spirit to anything
anymore. Marilyn manson used to be extremely offensive to a lot of people but now
nobody cares except some idiot right-wingers from rural areas still stuck in the 1950s.
I don't want to be insulting even more, but it's the parent's faults, for they are the ones to
raise them. A lot of the parents are immature and careless themselves. You see this all the
time where little girls are dressed in miniskirts and slut clothing with neon pink. It is an
absolute disgrace.
Lots of kids are savages. Remember south park's episode about how gingers had no souls?
Well now all the kids will fucking tear red haired people apart for something extremely
insignificant. I remember going to the mall with my older bro and overhearing some
stupid teenagers talking about that one 'friday' music video - and how they enjoyed it.
I'm not saying all Gen-zers are stupid spoiled brats; not all millenials are entitled and
think they're better than everyone. And not all GG's are stuck in the past and want to kill
all arabs and 'japs'.
But a lot of them are like it! We're living in the best time in human history; clean food,
vaccines, technology. But yet, people are becoming antisocial douchebags. Why can't
we be excellent to eachother and unite as a society? It's not like we're gonna be living
like kings forever, we're probably gonna fuck up the planet and cause ww3, or become
a emotionless, robotic society void of any spirit, with .1% of people ruling every single
aspects of our lives. 1984-esque",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,9/4/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “How would you kill your boss?”:]
Cut many minor arteries to cause extensive bleeding, then heal the wounds. Then burn
him extensively, to cause massive pain. Punch a hundred times even though it wouldn't
cause any damage. Pour lots of cold water on to rinse off the blood. Get a dentist to repair
his teeth without knocking him out -ok that ones too cruel for me.
Then crucify for 3 days, but with food and water provided. Then (and the boss has his
hands cuffed the whole time so far btw) throw that fat fuck into a lake, fetching him after
he drowns and reviving him. Then to finish it all off, impale the fuck on a pole, to slowly die in excruciating pain over the course of a week.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,9/5/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Discussing one of his favorite movies:]
Cannibal Holocaustup in this b!tch
It was some early 80s movie from some italian guy. It's about how a expedition is made
to search for a lost crew who were trying to make a documentary there. I won't spoil
everything but ..
Features real amazonian tribes.
The Real deaths of 6 animals
*a snake biting one of the members and getting chopped in half
*tarantula biting a chick and getting killed too
*a monkey (2) getting the top of its head chopped off. They killed two to get the right
footage.
* a pig being shot point blank and squealing in agonizing pain for minutes.
* a turtle beheaded, it's shell cut out, and entrails drained and cooked.
Realistic gore and corpses.
If you can handle it, definitely watch it!",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Don't join the military. It's a waste of your time (and life) anyways,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Believe it or not, but a lot of people want to join the military because they feel it will
protect their country.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of his favorite quote (the following text is from the movie Cannibal Holocaust):]
Man is omnipotent; nothing is impossible for him. What seemed like unthinkable
undertakings yesterday are history today. The conquest of the moon for example: who
talks about it anymore? Today we are already on the threshold of conquering our galaxy,
and in a not too distant tomorrow, we'll be considering the conquest of the universe, and
yet man seems to ignore the fact that on this very planet there are still people living in the
stone age and practicing cannibalism.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I used to be anorexic up until 2010 when I started getting high all the time..
Then around 2013 I stopped and dropped 10 pounds, and another 10 when I stopped
drinking soda.
Now, I barely eat anything because my parents let my bro back in (he's 28) and yet this
time with his piggy wife. She once ate like 4 bars of butter in a day. Dumb cunt",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[In response to a previous post:
“Look at it this way, you're old and knocking on death's door. you're dead soon no matter
what you do, why shouldn't you kill a few people you hate? If I stay alive that long, I'm sure
I'll have a list of names by then.”]
That reminds me.. Back in middle school back in 2006 or so, I remember having this long
discussion with some skater kids about what we'd do if we were old people anyways. One
of them suggested that they would blow themselves up after entering congress.. Now if
this old guy woulda followed that he'd be a hero, not a zero. Take a hint all of the psychos
out there",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What angers you?”:]
Redneck/Roughnecks. They're the stereotypical hillbillies you can find all over america;
you either love sports and obsess over them or they'll collectively beat you up. Out here in
the heart of the southwest, I deal with a unique type of hillbilly- one that has adapted to
the harsh, inhospitable desert. At least the south has forests, ocean, beaches and swamps..
This town is 200 miles away from any city; it's right in the middle of nowhere and
culturally, it's still stuck in the 1950s. Gays, Minorities, atheists.. they'd get lynched. In fact
they actually lynched a transgender navajo a decade back. The place is pretty much 99%
mormon, 80% conservative/republican, everyone does meth or tobacco, they're rednecks
to the extreme! It's an oil town as well, no other jobs.
They all annoy and anger me to the max; if I didn't drop out of the world, I'dve done some
horrible things.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “You just won 5 million dollars”:]
Immediately LEAVING this f**king town ONCE and for all. Cutting off all contact with
my abusive degenerate idiotic family (all 4 of them) and moving up north of seattle,
somewhere near the coast. Either that or finding a way to get canadian citizenship and
setting up camp in Nova Scotia.
Then I'll mine for resources and create my own fortification, put 2 mill into stocks
carefully, buy a bunch of guns and MRE's and slowly create my own town. Maybe make a
cult and become a multi-millionare off that too.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What schools have you attended?”:]
K~6 Sandy Hook
7~8 Roswell Middle School
9~12 Columbine High
College - Virginia Tech
I also used to work at a mcdonalds in texas",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “How did you hear about the website?”:]
Pico's School back in 1999 after incident 'C' I was like 5 or something back in the UK, my
older bro aged 13 showed me NG and I had it burned permanently into my memory. I'd
spend a lot of my childhood hanging out with my older bro as he stumbled the internet
went to the mall etc. Then 10 years after picos sk00l I made this account.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I think Marc Lepine was right all along. You let feminists get out of hand and they'll
continue to erode society. The western world is degenerating and rotting, as China
continues to multiply it's power.
It's about time we take up some arms! If these fucks are gonna dox me, I'm gonna
fucking hunt them down like the prey they are. I love my country! I will not stand to allow
these america-haters to continue to pollute my empire! Well, if I kill people I'll just go to instead.
In all honestly, I think they need to legalize prostitution. Give these virgins in the gaming
industry some escorts instead of ugly fat feminists. The escorts are sexually experienced.
The feminists have a good chance to be.. not only inexperienced, but to cut your chode off.
They'd also yell at you constantly.
I want actual equality and equal responsibilities. Feminists nowadays want to create this
nightmarish 1984 authoritarian matriarchal degenesis. I know most of you probably got
like brown hair and neckbeards or something. You have no experience with firearms. But
it's about time you start training, because when the civil war comes in like 20 years, I want
to ensure the feminists don't win. Remember, use hollow points!",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Anyone remember when sirtom93 was gonna go burn his school down? See, because the
brits banned guns their loons had to resort to knives and gasoline. Within 20 minutes, the
police were already informed and tom got captured by the men in white. For 5 years, there
hasn't been any word on the bloke. I would think by now he'd be free.
Sometimes, kids aren't as incompetent. Look at another NG user: Jeff Weise. Bloke killed
nearly a dozen people about a decade back.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Every notable figure gets death threats. Just because you get one doesn't mean you're
gonna die, as most people who plan on killing someone.. They kinda don't tell their
fucking victim they're coming",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"smoke some weed, fuck a nun, rob a liquor store and shoot up the DMV",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Commenting on the movie Bang Bang You’re Dead:]
Another documentary to archive. I'll definitely check it out!
Aight now I'm done with all those posts so let me move back to discussing Jeff Weise. I
don't give a fuck about the new stigma of giving attention to killers, as it's going to happen
anyways. Let me just say I bet green money Jeff knew if he just killed himself he wouldn't
be remembered by more than like a dozen people. All who gave him shit wouldn't
care and would laugh at him anyways and think of him as weak. You cannot hope for
any decency from a bunch of scumbags who lack any form of empathy anyways. Mass
murderers kill for fame.
I know its a bit out of place to write a TL;DR piece about jeff on another article, but
whatever. If you look at the area where he lived, it's on a native american reservation. I live
near the largest one in the US, the navajo nation. There's a huge crime rate there, with
extreme homicide/suicide rates, and everyone is dirt poor. It's a fucking 3rd world country
in the middle of fucking nowhere (arizona). Now imagine instead of a desert wasteland, a
cold, (even more) isolated place far from a city.
Imagine all the pain 'regret' went through. His parents dying, having only his
grandparents to depend on, in the middle of nowhere back before the internet became
super-social. Of course when he went postal it did get 15 minutes of fame, but nobody
knows who he is... because he isn't some suburban white boy. There's a bias on other
races.
Come next march, it will be 10 years since his death! That's an entire decade that's passed.
If ghosts exist, that means the bloke had to deal with a decade of extra misery, now
possibly tormented by 8 victims.
As for the kid who went postal today, he only killed like 3 so it's not sufficient enough to
become a household name. Since he's white if he just dished in 6 more souls the circus
would be in full swing...",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Access to guns + Hate/anger/mental illness + reasons (fame,revenge) = Massacres.",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of Columbine:]
You might not wanna admit it, but those 2 fuckers had style. Most of these events
has some pissed off depressed kid go and kill like 2~3 people. Some who are actually
competent, like lanza or cho, kill dozens, but leave behind nothing but incoherent
ramblings. The columbine weirdos did their act right around the turn of the millenium,
in a suburban culture-war area, filled with uptight soccermom cunts, and had carefully
manipulated everyone and everything into order. They carried lots of knives, and 99
bombs. If their propane bombs detonated, there'd be 450+ deaths from the blasts alone.
They also left behind journals, videos, etc. Plus the police report was like 20,000 pages
long. Waco made a dent in the american morale, mcveigh left a bigger one. Columbine
ruined school even further, and issued in a huge ass moral panic. A generation later,
columbine is still a household name, and nobody remembers that word for the beautiful
flower you can find in colorado, but for that event that happened a fuckin decade and'a'
half ago.
tl;dr all these kids know about it even though they were like toddlers back then, because
it's still very famous today. They look up to the killers because they were bullied and
got revenge on the system (school) that torments them. Little do these kids know that
the killers murdered mostly innocent people; A students. Like I said, go look up Daniel
Mauser and Dave Sanders while you're reading this. You owe the victims that attention.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of Halloween:]
I went as a school shooter; namely Dylan Klebold.5
Had a cap similar to that fags' one
Trenchcoat my parents gave me I never used
NBK glasses6
A duffelbag
Black combat boots and pants n a black shirt with 'MATH' on it LOL7
also I carried a airsoft TEC-9",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If I go a few days without jacking off, I get severe depression. Masturbation, drugs and
happy, cheerful things are the only things combating my major depression.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Reminds me of Jeff Weise. Can't believe it's been almost 10 years since that guy did all
that shit. Guy went through a fucked up life, it's a shame nobody helped him get out of
the pit of darkness his mind was in.
I', in the NW of NM in farmington and I have no friends and antiscocial NEET10",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"It's really sad that bloke went through all that. Dad committing suicide, mom being highly
abusive then getting in a car crash and being permanently disabled I think, living in that
native american reservation where like most of the students were suicidal, and it had a
low graduation rate. That kid was an outcast in that town, and had a hellish life, even after
that shit happened he was still mostly ignored after the media shitstorm faded. I dont
believe in glorifying violence but the right thing to do is to have pity and empathy for who
that guy was.. but not necessarily what he became.
I don't intend to white knight or anything, but I'm very sympathetic to the pain and
suffering they all dealt with (and still do) as I came from the same general background in
a sense and I have firsthand experience of what hell is like, as I've lived in an isolated area
of the US too with a lot of scumbags.
On topic, I procrastinated for the longest time to make this account. I could've made it a
few years earlier but saw no point at the time. At least I'm participating with the internet
for once; my older bro's been using comps since the commodore 64 and he was there to
see this site in the 90s but never bothered to sign up.
I've been very depressed isolated and sad for the last .. 4 years, really. However I'm trying
to combat it by socializing as much as possible with a world I feel disconnected from. My
heyday playing wow, runescape, maplestory, RTB 1.045; the original youtube, google vids,
all of it. Each day my memories slowly fade away, but I'll continue to keep active in the
communities.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Time.
So, come November 18th, my first post on this site will have been 8 years ago. Time
absolutely flies..
I made that account when I was a kid, now I'm an adult. I never grew up though lol
its likely i'll abandon this account for another 8 years. I dont know what I'll be up to in
2022 or 2023. I could be dead for all I know.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Well it may have taken 13 years, but they've finally finished this tower. I've been interested
in the progress for a while now, so it's good to see they finished it. The new tower is like
1,776 ft. if I'm correct. It's no Burj Khalifa, but it's a large amount of space. I wish a lot of
the rescue workers and the flight 93 heroes could've seen the new tower.
Most importantly, I wish bush would've actually paid attention to the intelligence agencies
warnings about a potential attack. I also wish gore would've won instead, as he had the
popular vote. Fuck jeb bush as well.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"The first day of anything you'll be inexperienced, anxious, nervous etc. If anyone had a shitty school life, you'll remember this. The first day you would be scared.. anxious,
lost. After a few weeks, you build a slight immunity and resistance, then it becomes
routine. Sadly, you don't get summer, winter and spring break off work. In the US we're
stereotyped as lazy morons, but we actually work some of the most hours and get some of
the fewest days off for sickness / vacation. Working in america sucks ass.
At least you're working. My bro quit his first job after a day, then 3 years later in 2008,
got a job carrying a sign. He finally started working at a convenience store in 2010 and is
assistant manager there now.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Make sure if you use a gun to aim for the brain stem and use a large caliber, pref hollow
point lol",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the movie Toy Story:]
Though the ending of andy being an adult in college and giving the last physical
reminders of his childhood away for free to an innocent youth.. touches my heart. Just
reminds me that I'm no longer a kid, let alone a teenager. Wish I had the ocarina and the
ability of majora's mask, so I could fly back to the 90s and early 2000s and re-live my life
before it went to hell.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If I found a internet user talking about their depression or talking about suicide, I'd try to
befriend them and help them get out of that pit of darkness; I've been through that hell
countless times in my life, and I've discovered techniques you can use to snap out of it.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “How many jobs have you had?”:]
3.
Worked at McDonalds at age 15 lol. Hell but I made out with a thousand bucks by the
time I put out my 2 week notice and bailed. Second was at a safeway, wasn't too bad but
got laid off after a few months. Last one was helping out one of only 2 local computer
businesses in a 100 mile radius. I cleaned, learned some stuff about computer repair /
maintenance, helped with customers. Sadly, like 99% of businesses in my area, the bloke
had to close shop. He was lucky enough to move from the southwest to washington.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What are you looking forward to?”:]
Once my dads put 6 ft under and I can use that inheritance to move the hell out of the
heart of the southwest and move to one of the few places in america that doesn't suck",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"The only thing I'm remotely interested in right now is evolution, geology, biology, or
Scientology. I want to discover new data and contribute to the collective knowledge of
this species. If I went into the oilfields as a Geologist, I could easily be making $160,000.
Problem is, I'd need a Master's or Doctorate and that'd take over half a decade, and a
handsome amount of cash and determination.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Maybe if the columbine killers, cho, jeff weise or adam lanza had access to some escorts
they wouldn't have gone postal. school shooters go postal because they cant get laid",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Also I've been living off scrap-metal weed for a few years now and haven't done anything
all year sadly. Scrap Metal weed is like shit quality probably from the cartels, a good shot at
being tampered with, not too pleasant a high, but it's plentiful cheap and powerful.
I have severe depression and when I'm high I have a 50/50 shot at nightmares or utopia.
I usually just jack off a lot when I get high because normally I feel really scared and
haunted, and i feel like my bones are rotting. It's probably just that I live in a redneck
shithole filled with jocks, rednecks, methheads and navajos but..
can anyone recommend me some good strains? Something good for making me feel
numb, happy, mellow, but creative. I havent gotten into weed culture in a long ass time
but if I remember sativa = active powerful and has more negative effect,s indictiva is all
melow, slow and peaceful right?
I am 30 miles away from colorado, so I'm assuming I should go up there but i got no
connections, i have to count on my brother to get everything and he became a fag lately
and cut off contact with the family and now hes married to a 500 pound retard fatty with 2
kids whos ex meth damn it i hate this town HELP
I have strong homicidal and an-hero tendencies, I'm pissed off and hate everything but
when I'm high I'm funny and I like life. What can tame the beast?! Besides tranquilizer",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"My grandpa was a quiet badass who killed 30 damn gookers, he was one of Puller's
runners! Grandpa was pretty collected and reserved, but It's a shame he had to die a
decade ago, I never got to know him much. He never liked the aspect of killing itself, as
he would always pray for his fallen enemy's soul to find peace. But he knew he had no
choice but to do his job, as scary as it was.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I recommend an old 1970's movie called Man Friday. Also speaking of 70s movies there's
another tropical film called cannibal holocaust which is my favorite horror one, but it's
probably one of the most evil things you'll see, filled with real death. So I'd suggest only
those with a good stomach and a toughness to watch that, but it's worth it if you're a
horror fan.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Adam Lanza was also a pedophile and gay. He was obsessed with the pedobear meme and
also had a screenplay on his HDD about some 30 year old and a little kid and some weirdo
romance about it Also he used to hit on other dudes on that lame ass columbine video
game forum.
He also played games like DDR, Mario, Pikmin, kingdom hearts, etc. So yeah those games
are tedious autistic and annoying as fuck and got shit difficulty curves where its easy as
fuck then instant death outta nowhere. Violent video games prevent violence; these games
grind your gears and make you go apeshit. most of us throw our controllers at the tv and
break it then have to bullshit a story to your parents; mine was that there was a 'lightning
strike'.
Sandy hook wouldn't have happened if his mom wasnt a retard and had like guns
everywhere, even knowing her son was mentally ill. Also school shooters do it cus they
cant get laid and they want attention from the world so I suggest you give suicidal people
unlimited access to escorts.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Yeah schools these days are 50/50 between being paradise and absolute hell. Some kids
from progressive areas talk about how douchebags jocks and bullies are virtually non
existent, and cliques no longer exist. Another kid told me about how nobody ever talked
to eachother because they were scared of getting in trouble because of zero tolerance
bullshit.
Then there were my schools; even though it's 2014 this shitty town is still stuck in the 50s. 
I dealt with absolute hell, probably at least twice as bad as Columbine. At least there were
some kids in the denver area who aren't jock fags. at my lame little school, I was 5'7"" and
looked like that guy from half baked. I wasn't into sports, so I got singled out and fucked
with all the time. I begun bringing hunting knives to fend off the savages, thankfully I
never got caught by the teachers. Also being the only computer nerd and atheist didn't
help either.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
You should kill all of them for not liking you,1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I at least lost my v-card before age 16 so I'm way ahead of the curve compared to most of
the internet",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Well the southwest has few atheists. In my shit state of New Mexico, I'm the only atheist I
know. I can't even find any atheist communities based in new mexico. They're all catholic
mexicans or mormon rednecks here. it sucks.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of hobbies:]
Photography, guns/bows, hunting, jacking off, weed, StumbleUpon, internet, video
games, archiving",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"but get real like 99% of skol shoters are surburban white boys who are like a blend
of outcast-loner and nerd. skol shotters kil cus they cant get laid. lok at eliot rodger 4
example.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"High school is slightly less as bad as middle school. So yeah, it's still absolute hell, except
twice as long!! HAAHAHAHAHAA
just make sure not to shoot up the place plz.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"On if you could go back in time –
I'd kill Eric Harris or so that columbine would never happen and thus i'd prevent like
3000 skol shottings.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I always used to wake up in the middle of the night and deal with sleep paralysis 80% of
sleeps at one time. I'd always deal with very scary demonic encounters, like I was being
ripped apart by evil claws, while extremely horrifying and bone-freezing shrieks played.
I developed a habit of sleeping with my face by the wall, so I wouldn't have to see their
faces.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
You know what I hate? .....MANKIND!!!!...kill everything...kill everything..,1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “Letter to your future self”:]
I'm sorry your life has been so shitty, and you've had a childhood mostly void of friendship
and happiness. You dropped out of school, got high through most of the first half of the
2010s, lost your popular internet accounts, and have rapidly deteriorating health and
mind. 

But I hope that by the time you, well..I, read this message in the future, that future-me
will have a successful life filled with friends, good weed, joy and absolute serenity. Also
optional, a girlfriend LOL
Good luck, I've mad it to the middle of this decade, I'm confident that I can make it to the
2020s.
RTB and WOW might've been 7 years ao…the Heyday of your life. And those memories
of childhood in England are a generation old. You've had to live in this shitty desert
wasteland for 10 years. Please, don't let your suffering be for nothing. You're not like most
people; you have specific talents and specialties that the world might be able to put to use.
Progress the species, and build a future where your descendants won't have to deal with
the trials and suffering you had to deal with.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Oh and the government spies on everything you do online and they indefinitely detain
people legally and prison is a corrupt industry and the cops are all corrupt greedy piggies.
Oh wait no thats just the truth",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
lol suicide is cool,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “If you were a super-villain”:]
I would be a mass murderer to the highest degree, trying to kill as many people as I can.
However, I would primarily target trailer trash and other double digit degenerates. All of
the smart people (nerds, scientists, engineers, computer gurus etc) would definitely be
spared, and become the next upper class.
I would build a mile high tower of terror, and would become the source of all magic in
the world. I would mass murder via a ray of judgement that would strike up to 200 miles
away. I could also project my conscious to anywhere in the world via meditation, and
teleport there to kill more.
Oh and I'll have a creepy 16-bit laugh",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"By participating on the internet, you're diving into sewer sludge with the goal of tracking
down lost treasure, hidden carefully under tons of shit-sludge. The only way to avoid
getting covered in shit is by being a lurker and looking at the shit-river from safe ground.
Most people are snobby 'intelligent' shitbags online because they know if they said that
shit to people in real life, they'll get their fucking jaw smacked broke.
As for trolls, they're usually depressed and had shitty lives and only by trolling and
pranking do they feel happy or alive at all. Take it from me, I've been an agent of the lulz
since 2004. Ever since I aged past 13 though, I relinquished my savagery",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"On if you had 30 minutes to live –
Get high, run around town with guns and pee on people and dismember them then press
K to suicide",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"All the kids in school
always bullied me, made my life hell
I hated school so much.
I met my best friend
we became an inseparable duo of destruction
Of Littleton, we would smutch.
We spent the late 90s
Working at a shitty overpriced pizza shop
REB14 would narrowly avoid cops.
The end of the century,
and we had saved up enough cash.
Time to kick some ass!
Armed with some lethal weapons
And fueled with anger, hate and wrath
Set up us the bomb.
.... .... ....
Our plan had silently failed.
We reached the point of no return.
We left many bodies pale.
Nearly an hour had passed.
We had massacred a dozen random fuckers.
I waited for my friend..
and we were all dead.",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"wake up at 5~8 P.M.
I sleep at 5~11 AM",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I once saw a toilet which had like 10 pounds worth of shit all over the toilet, on the seat,
the walls, etc. That was back when I was in 3rd grade and I believe that's the reason why
I've always avoided the bathroom throughout school. I would often starve myself of water
and food until dinnertime, which was probably the reason why I got few growth spurts
and weighed 95 pounds.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Well I'm a NEET from a extremely republican, redneck and rural wasteland called the four
corners, with any place with 50k or more being like 200 miles away. I've spend 2012~2013
being entirely alone; even on the internet. I also suffer from poor health, with brittle
teeth and bone, and my only family is my nuclear one and they were never much a family
anyways. My life is absolute shit compared to most other first worlders..
So, I rediscovered my NG acc and since summer 2014, I've been posting here frequently,
with positive results because of it. If I have to be holed up in the garage all the time, why
not utilize the internet to reach out to a world I feel isolated from?",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Everyone with BLACK CAPS, stand UP! This is for being bullied by us jocks for the last
4 years!",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Take, for instance, when I lived in a town about 30 miles south of Albuqerque. It had massive crime, serial killers, drug cartels-men, etc. They even fired all of the police force
back in 2009. The town was about 80% Hispanic, and most of the whites were old ww2
vets, so growing up there, I was a minority in school. I'm not going to tl;dr post but to
sum up, a lot of the students treated me like a second-class citizen.
There were about 5 major families which most people belonged to. If you got in a fight
with a Chavez, you could guarantee you'd make 200+ enemies, who have access to guns.
The police were often incompetent and corrupt, even before the crisis..
The staff in the schools, being part of the big 5, often were extremely corrupt themselves.
They also singled me out all the time because I was very unpopular (being non-religious
in a 90% catholic town), along with being the computer nerd, when most of the students
were in poverty..
For instance, back in 07 one of my best friends, Aaron was this short, akward African
American bloke. One of the ghetto scumbags punched him in the nose, causing severe
bleeding. It took 6 minutes for staff to get the situation addressed. The douchebag who
broke his nose, he only got 3 days suspension, when he should've been sent to jail.
Caucasians have our history of racism, and it's still alive in the south lol, but everywhere
else it's not much of a problem at all anymore. Plus you got liberals who white knight
minorities like crazy.
Anyways, hate crime policies serve to protect minorities, but I bet you green money if I
got socked by a ghetto thug from Los lunas noone would be defending or standing up for
me.
TL;DR, every race is capable of racism obviously, and in 'new' mexico, it is especially
prevalent.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to a “Winter/Christmas Questionnaire”:]
1.) What do you love about winter?
Snow, even though this desert dump never gets any precipitation..
2.) Do you have any NG christmas movies or games you watch/play every year?
Nah..
3.) Will you have anybody to kiss New Year's Eve or are you a lonely person who has yet to
get a date?
I haven't had a GF since 2009, coincidentally, I haven't gotten laid since then lol.
4.) Do you have snow where you live or is it a rarity?
i guess I already answered that with #1. the southwest is cursed unless you get into
colorado
5.) Do you think that elfen girls are hot and sexy?
yeah but i like dem draeni b1tches da best
6.) Have you gone out for Black Friday Holiday Shopping? What's on your BF list this
year?
nah. I dont get out of the house much anyways.
7.) Do you watch Christmas specials of TV shows?
yeah, if only to distract me from real life and cheer me up.
8.) Where do you get your Christmas gift ideas from?
nowhere, because i dont really get many gifts in the first place.
9.) What does your family eat for Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever?
well, my brother bought me 30 arbys roast beef melts, and we all feasted on them.
10.) Which do you enjoy doing with your family the most during Christmas- Eating dinner and talking, or receiving and giving presents?
neither, because they aren't a real family to begin with
11.) What do you want for Christmas/other holiday?
To die
12.) What are you looking forward to giving and getting for Christmas?
A revolver
13.) What is your favorite xmas lights color? (multicolor, white, blue,)
multicolour, exotic mix of greens, orange, and pink, all neons.
14.) Have you ever been in an ice or snow related car accident?
car broke down in the middle of the states worst snowstorm in history
15.) Ever fall through the ice in water?
yeah it sucks
16.) How much of a Grinch/Scrooge are you?
adam lanza
17.) Have you ever built a gingerbread house?
yeah in like 3rd grade
18.) The Gingerbread Man from the Shrek franchise, is he badass or wimpy?
dk I dont remember shrek
19.) I'm Santa! Have you been good or naughty this year?
i haven't been anything.
20.) Now, if you have any ideas for questions that you want to be in the January
questionnaire, please PM me. I will only accept the questions that are January-specific.
umm.. if you had 1 christmas wish what would it be. oh wait, it'll be january. umm.. what
career do u want",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Writing a “haiku”:]
My life is pretty bad
All the redneck mormons make me mad
No way out, I'm sad.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I cut out soda and eventually cut out any drink with calories from my diet and I lost 25
pounds and became skinny again.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Yeah, unfortunately many cops follow the Blue Code of Silence.
Being a cop would be a tough job, as you have to do a massive amount of paperwork,
risk your life often, and have the public's perception and opinion to worry about as well.
However, one cannot deny that there is a corruption problem going on.
In many ways, they have gotten better, and I suppose the opposite could be argued. It's
a bit macabre, but I was reading through the book of one of the fathers of the murdered
students at Columbine, and he described how the police sat outside for hours, as students
died brutally. Then the cops boasted about how they saved everyone.
Cops have gotten better in that aspects, as they developed Immediate Action Rapid
Deployment tactics.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"As for me, I'd love to go around the world studying paranormal stuff and spirituality, or
trying to help depressed people or something. Either a sort of freelance psychologist / big
brother figure, a geologist, an archaeologist or an explorer with my own tv show.
I would love to trek into the heart of Papua New Guinea or Borneo.. Perhaps Sulawesi as
well!",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of “worst school experiences”:]
One of the fights back in 4th grade where the jock douchebags ganged up on me and
fought against me. 5 vs 1, real fair. Or when in 6th grade I got socked out of nowhere by
some 15 year old flunkie drugged up douchebag, my entire right face was blood red, yet
I didn't feel any pain when I was pissed off and hit back, but over the next week it kinda
sucked. Getting socked out of nowhere again in 7th by another shithead, leaving a large
purple welt on my cheekbone. Also had knives pulled on me 4 times. I like how I got
in trouble too, and faced longer suspension times than any of the douchebags. Maybe
because no matter the race, everyone's related to eachother in this shit state so they look
out for their family, yet I'm the eternal outsider.
Then they wonder why NM schools have a graduation rate of 55%",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “How tall are you?”:]
I'm 5'7"" too bro. You know, Hitler was 5'8"" and look what he managed to accomplish.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"""+ My backup YT I fell back on after MrApophis got banned in 2013.. Now has over 100
subs.
+ I've become active on forums again, improving my mental condition and hope.
+ I've gone from 150 pounds to 120.
+ I'm apprecating positive aspects of my life more.
+ After 5 years of inactivity, I finally became active on NG.
+ My steam now has over 3,000 comments.
+ my stumbleupon account has surpassed 50,000 likes.
+ I've increased my accuracy with bows and airsoft guns by 60%
- My eyesight has deteriorated; I can't identify people's faces from a distance of 10 yards.
- My bones are brittle and I have a bad back
- My mental state is shit; I'm more depressed than that one Weise dude
- I no longer have marijuana
- I no longer have any social options
- My bro got married to a mentally retarded ex-meth fat chick and became even more
antisocial
- My mom has been unemployed all year, so no more $
- RTB 1.045 is even deader now
- I'm realizing it's been a decade since I didnt have to live in the southwest.""",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[A “to do list”:]
+save up 600$
+ buy $250 .50 cal lever rifle from walmart
+ buy $200 worth of weed pref OG Kush
+ get high and spend $ on hookers
an hero
????
profit",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"A “confession”:]
Grafitti, drawing satanic stuff around to scare the idiots in this town (it's 80% republican
and mostly mormon)",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
whats more painful than a rusty nail? a sandy hook,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
someone make jeff weise's school and release it march 21st 2015 on the 10th anniversary,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"whats up with minnesota and murder
first there was that weise kid 10 years ago
then that retard kid this year who tried to copycat columbine
then this guy LOL
I may hate the southwest but at least i dont gotta worry about getting shot .. OK, we got
our problems here but I dont live in the denver area so I'm safe LOL
yet again americans are pussy bitches who cave in to terrorists
I fucking wanna watch this goddamn movie, just nuke us already gookers, nuke the
pussies then we can go to war with you and exterminate ya",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “Are you on any long term meds?”:]
mary jane is all I need",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"It always shocks me to realize how fast time is flying and how long I've survived a rough
life.
I'm no longer 8 years old, now I'm in my 20s.
The last time I lived outside of this desert wasteland hellhole was 10 years ago.
The youtube golden age of 2007 with all those memes, chocolate rain, leave britney alone,
etc.. 7 years ago.
It's been almost 5 years since I had to move back up to this redneck shithole.
My brother is married now.
It's already the mid 2010s..",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of suicide:]
If souls and demons exist, I dont even know if regret is still around, if all ghosts have the
ability to pass on. I'd presume that kid would prefer non existence.
Btw I used to live in England from 94~00 and have visited much of europe.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Christmas gifts –
$50 steam card
$50 subway card
$50 gamestop card
Sony alarm clock for when i get a job
axe anarchy pack
first time family celebrated Christmas in 5 years",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"stay in school
brush your teeth
make friends
enjoy life
don't do drugs
or else you'll become me.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
i havnt been menitned so im gonna comit mascre aginst u all i nthe year 2286,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
his year sucked but its only going to get much worse from here on out.,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Good luck finding any REAL women nowadays. Fucked up generation.
I would say most males in general want to (and usually are) very faithful and loyal to their
woman. This doesn't play out vise-versa.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"All my school years except one were living hell. 2x worse than what Eric and Dylan went
through.
In 6th grade, the toughest kid in that shitty school punched me out of nowhere after
talking shit. It left a huge red mark on half my face, but I didn't realize this and I was
pissed off. I hit him back and broke his nose.
I spend the remainder of that year (the incident happened in the first 2 weeks) as the cool
kid. I had a lot of friends and even got laid back then, and I was only 12.
So that's the moral of the story, folks. Violence is the answer",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Homicide is indeed halvened from the crack-cocaine epidemic era.
Most violent crimes are down overall, except (most likely) in warzones like Chi-raq or
detroit.
However, mass shooting & mass murder incidents have sharply risen since Columbine;
Any significant massacre (6+ dead) usually triggers extreme shockwaves culturally, and
a lot of gun owners buy out as much fucking ammo as possible, causing these hikes in
prices. My original post was simply warning any future gun owners to be weary of any
tragedies that now occur much more frequently.
As if a thick storm was on the edge, that has now engulfed the area. Chances of lightning
striking are significantly higher now.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I strongly suggest using .22's for hobbyists / beginners, for obvious reasons.
Get a .22 rifle for around $150-200 in america. The ammo is usually cheap, like $0.05-.08
for a standard quality .22 lr cartridge. Since mass murder is common now in america, a
lot of people usually buy up as much ammo as they can, leading to shortages and price
hikes, so take notice of these events and plan your wallet accordingly.
22 lr isn't very expensive, and is very great for target practice. If you need to defend
yourself, it is still quite capable of being fatal, but learn a mozambique drill.
If you just want a light-weight / agile / small self defense weapon, save up $500 for a .45
glock or something..
When you're ready to move on from a .22 to bigger game but want to spend only a few
hundred, get either a single-shot shotgun chambered in 12/16, or try to get a surplus
mosin nagant",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Starbucks is absolute garbage anyways. It's probably on par with eating like 3 mcdonalds
burgers with every cup considering all the sugar (sugar = tooth decay and fattening)",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If I was a homicidal criminal, I'd love the death penalty to put me out of my misery from a
life sentence.
F the penalty, let them rot forever unless they're willing to accept a euthanasia option after
10 years of prison time served.
Anyone who harms those weaker or worse off than them is a scumbag who deserves the
blade
If my cousin was adam lanza I wouldn't defend him at all.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"my life was ruined once my shithead dad beat up my mom and abruptly forced us to move
to the middle of nowhere, I went from an A+ student to a flunkie contemplating suicide at
age 10.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"""I Socialized""
moved to this town in 2005, after a divorce. dad was really abusive phyiscally and
psychologically
my only ally was my 3 friends at school they fucked with me all the time i was a sad kid
my life was tolerable for a bit but became really horrible
2007~2010 i had derek and a few other kids hang with me frequently
2010 i moved back here and barely had anyone hang out at all
2012 was done with education and became a neet
2014 my health rapidly delcined and mental state as well
today my bros wife broke her arm so we went to the hospital and 3 hours later drove back
to their home and my mom was all drunk and annoying and shit so i decided to walk 2
miles home
they werent able to find me by tyhe time they drove home
on the way home i asked 2 sillhouetes what time it was and shit
they were going to the skate park and it was int he direction of the park where i need to
cross to get home
then we got drunk and smoked some cigs with jane at the end
they hung out with me for a big as we ranted about this fuckin town bro
it was already 11 pm so it old them i had to bail and shit
they had nothing better to do so they went and hung out with me
this is the first time i had anyone hang out at this house since 2010",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Response to: I socialized
Posted January 9th, 2015 in General
At 1/9/15 07:52 PM, Kwing wrote:
I socialized and I liked i-it.
Wait a minute.
Why did you
type everything like this?
I was slightly drunk and toked and very anxious because it was the first time hanging with
any new people for nearly 5 years. I also wanted to sum things up quickly to make it easier
for the reader to digest the information provided.
At 1/9/15 08:22 AM, 24901miles wrote:
What are you going to do tomorrow?
12 hours late to the reply, I woke up at 4 PM, did some cleaning around house, worked on
some of my internet projects, tackled the list of daily internet chores (post to 10 yt/ steam
things, stumbleupon 100 pages, etc) then when my mum woke up she was bored so she
agreed to drive me over to the subway to spend the rest of the $ on the gift card I got from
a relative on christmas.
It's 6:25 PM right now for me as I'm typing this, but I'll likely do the same things I do
every day; sit on ass, try to distract myself from the reality of my life via internet, reflect on
the past about 8 years ago when I was a happy 12 year old.
At 1/9/15 09:38 AM, WahyaRanger wrote:
I mean, we're all a tad mentally unstable but what physical health issues do you have, if you
don't mind me asking?
Hmm, a bad back, my teeth and bones are starting to get worse (even though I brush once
a day and avoid soda / sugar, and I've begun to take calcium vitamins to help slow this
deterioration. After 2011, I went from slightly healthy to a slow metabolism, where despite
only eating 1,400 calories a day, I finally got fat developing for the first time in my life,
although I'm 5'7"" and 135 lbs.
Mentally.. Yeah, I'm mental alright mate, i used to be very emotional unpredictable
and really reactive and defensive, from age 10~12. Before then, I was alright and had no
problems, it's just moving to the southwest and having to leave my mom behind, bla bla
bla. I used to be a troll for a long ass while, and I still give off the uncaring offensive vibe,
but one of my british pen-pals feels it's just a defense mech so nobody gets to know the
real, broken, sad and miserable me.
I always grinded my teeth and had constant nightmares, always waking up in sleepparalysis hallucinating and seeing demons. After 2013, I fortunately didnt have any of
these night-terrors, but my health continued to decline, my body getting worse, becoming
weaker, etc.
At 1/9/15 03:12 PM, Swag-in-a-Bag wrote:
After reading what you wrote, I realized there's so much I still don't know about life, like how
silhouettes can talk and what a ""neet"" is
Well I dont mean actual shadow people or anything, I just meant it figuratively or whatever, I saw the sillhoutes of the people. Also, a NEET = Not in education, employment
or training, it's a UK term I adopted.
I'm trying my hardest to get back into society, I've tried to get my drivers Liscence but
the DMVs here are probably the worst in the nation, there's so many illegals in this state
that they require a lot more documents, they required 10+ for me even though I'm a US
citizen born and raised, my dad was military for 20+ years, fuck the dmv.
unless i can get my driver's liscence i cant really get employment you know.
At 1/9/15 06:11 PM, someaveragechap wrote:
You might need to seek professional help.
Or you're just dicking around. I am unsure, so I will assume dicking around. If it's real,
did you enjoy their company? If so, did you get their digits?
Yeah I finally convinced my parents after an event where my dad spontaniously flipped
out and screamed at everyone that we needed family therapy, but they didn't feel like
continuing it, so I stuck around with the counselor instead, but the assclown wouldn't
return the calls so we kind of gave up on it.
At 1/9/15 08:11 PM, Piper wrote:
At 1/9/15 05:36 AM, MrApophis wrote:
discuss
Did you guys listen to music?
They settled down burnt through my colorado stash then we watched some lulzy youtube
clips, then watched half baked for a bit till they had to head home around 11:30.
the reason why i made this topic is because this is shocking to me that I was able to make
friends that fast, when I barely spoke more than 2,000 words in the entire year of 2014,
and almost tried to off myself in 2013. I used to try to socialize all the time at high school
back in 09~12 but you're either a christian conservative jock, or you're the outcast in this
area.
I'm begging to understand that I could legit not be able to survive this decade because of
my declining health, so I'm trying to find ways to enjoy existence and at least try to seek
happiness for once.
My brother made friends with the few geeky people in the town back when he was 19ish,
and they never let him down. I tried that too, but his advice was to never give up, and that
you gotta wave through all the shitheads before you find any real friends.
I've spent most of my life keeping my life to myself, I barely used blogger at all, and I kept
my personal details private from my closest internet allies, who I've been friends with
since 2004~2006.
I'm sorry if I'm ranting or tl;dr'ing, and I probably should've kept this to myself, but I just
wanted to share the fact that I was able to socialize out of nowhere after a generation of
abuse from everyone, loneliness, being ignored all the time by my family, etc, and being
denied a normal life ya know?",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Profile
His name is Digato. You will come to know him as the Agent of Lulz. He is male,
obviously LOL. He is 20 years of age. He lives in a desert wasteland in the middle of
nowhere. He finds that it is a horrible place to live. He is not a people person. He has
met a handful of people in his life who are decent. But he finds the vast majority to be
worthless, no good, kniving, betraying, lying, deceptive savages. Work sucks..........sk0l
sucks..........Life sucks..........What else can I say. Fiscal Responsibility and Peace kick
ass. Life is like a video game, you die in the end but it's the gameplay that counts I do
not hate this world, but I hate the people in it. I hate the way people, mainly americans,
live, I don't hate God :) I hate the deceivers, I hate betrayers, I hate atheist supremacists
who think they're superior to everyone.. I hate a lot of things... I hate so much ... (I could
write 1,000 more lines like these, but does it really matter, does anyone even care) People
kill each other Rape women Molest children Deceive and betray Destroy lives Bullying
and torturing each other at work What kind of world is this? What in sam pete is wrong
with people. This world. this life, is worst than hell. You see You see what kind of world
we live in No No, I don't think you see You still don't LOL I'm so sick of hearing about
nerds and druggies making life hard for the jocks and others who look different, or
are different. How come no one ever talkes about those MOTHER FUCKING NERDS
AND DRUGGIES who's fault it is. Oh no. Heaven forbid. We couldn't posibly say that.
Why does society applaude the weirdos? I don't understand. They are the worse kind of
people on earth. they always act like theyre smarter than u and act all snobby and jack
off to like internet cartoon porn and all that And the druggies are no better, they think
they're better than others because they smoke weed but they're not. And all of society
applaudes them hell even weed was legalized in colorado!!. As if we are all supposed to
be like them. Newsflash motherfuckers: We will never be like them. NEVER. START
Bullying It's not only the bully's fault you know!! It's the teachers and principals fault for
turning a blind eye to the kid being bullied, just cuz they find it funny or something. You
fuckers are pathetic. It's the police's fault for not doing anything when bullied kids start
making shooting threats (oops, my mistake, the cops are corrupt sons of whores, so it's
not like they can do anything about it.) FUCK THE POLICE It's society's fault for acting
like it's normal for people to not be assholes to the smart people. Society disgusts me. It's
everyone's fault for being so apathetic towards fucking everything that doesn't affect them
personally. FUCK YOU SOCIETY. LOL btw make a post telling me what the above wall
of text is and I'll give you some steam games or cards or something actual bio - who cares
about me anyways eh? that is all I gotta say B)
Likes
drugs, science, research, philosophy, outer space, technology, AI, Nanotech, being happy,
street fighter 2, fiscal responsibility, hard work, doing community service, being politically
correct, not thinking for myself, doing what i'm told, voting puppets into power, being
pussywhipped, having no testosterone or muscle taco bell, fast food, making up grindcore
songs on newgrounds, trolling, trolling bronies then copying their butthurt replies and
pasting it on other bronies profiles and then the cycle continues and I end up with 15,000
replies on my steam LOL
Dislikes
mean people, elitists, serious people, offended, suburbs, soccer moms, jocks, rednecks,
white trash, southern usa, new mexico, methheads, mormons, bible thumpers,
neckbeards, commies, marxies, anarchists, far-left in general, american republicans,
atheists who think they're better than everyone, zionism, israel, liberalism, neo nazis because they're all uptight idiots who arent even real nazis, holohoax, spoiled people who
dont appreciate what they got, being lower middle class, poverty, jocks again, nerds who
are uptight and mean, trading card games, RTS games, sports games, football, meth,
major depression
Favorite Music
Eminem, Eiffel 65, KMFDM, Offspring, Prodigy, Nirvana, AxCx, Korn, Marilyn Manson",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of “cops serving murder charges”:]
Finally some justice is being served in this state. If I recall, New Mexico had the 5th
highest violent crime rate (or homicide rate), and the 3rd highest suicide rate (for good
reason).
Most of the cops in this state are shitheads, but I used to live in a town called Belen, about
30 miles south of ALB, and at one point Belen had no cops at all, and it was chaos. But
then again, the cops in ALB have a huge reputation for being violent savages.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I've been stuck in this state for 10 years, and prior to living here I had a happy life with
great health and lots of friends. This state is hell, do not move here.
Rent is extremely high for the quality of life you'd get here, look elsewhere. Most of the
people here are either redneck white trash meth users, violent / exclusive mexicans, or
navajo native americans who leech off uncle sam.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"And yet it keeps getting worse and worse.. As shitty as childhood was, I'd rather repeat it
over again than to live another year as an adult .",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “What game are you currently playing?”:]
I've been playing nothing but CS-GO for 10 hours a day, decided to finally start playing it
this year, I missed out on too much.
Other than that, Gauntlet - Dark Legacy with my mom, like old times. GDL is all she ever
played back in 07~08",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I'm not a nerd anymore unfortunately. Ever since I moved out to the southwest after the
divorce I just got much worse as my 'genius' as a kid quickly slipped away..",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I grew up in belen for a few years as a kid, but it got progressively worse as the town died.
There was a point when the management were so incompetent and corrupt, that there
werent even any cops at all. Cartel ran. However, I had my grandpa's badass WW2 house
that had 2 fireplaces and wooden walled rooms, an authentic japanese maple tree, etc, it
was great..
- Moved to NM 1995",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of “weird things about yourself”:]
I helped make bullet to the head of the nra, and muhammed sex simulator 2015
i also got several noticably large self mutilation scars on my arms and left leg",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Truth is, women are like.. say, an Apple. The apples need to be nurtured, sheltered, guided, until they ripen (around age 14~19) but then as soon as they're ripe, ya gotta take
a 'bite' before anyone else does, because pretty soon that apple will have 'worms' in it and
shit and give you disease
sad thing is, most 'apples' in the western world get bit into by like age 8 now.
Good job western civilization. I also used to see goddamn 4 year olds with neon pink
micro mini skirts, and it seems this pathetic piece of shit millenial generation cant do
anything right, cus most of the generation Z born after 2006 I see, well those little shits
run around all the time, and their parents dont give a damn
Now we got the jawas coming in, f**ing up everything and beheading us. good job
liberals.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
my evil plan is classified.,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"suicide is scary man
i mean even with a 12 gauge shotgun and a slug with backup bbs and shit, thats still a 10%
chance of survival probably
why cant we just legalize euthanasia, we legalized weed so why the FUCK NOT
FUCK LIFE",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"i wish I could've offed myself off after 2010, it just literally is getting worse now.
2005~2006 was fucking hell for me, but
2007~2008 was the ONLY time where I had a normal life.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Im too fuckin lazy to read through this thread
i'd rather get an arab to cut off my head
then again I'd probably fear the dread
I had to google something that rhymed.. ted (2012)
I hate everything and wanna die
but I dont got a glock or a knife
Besides i'm obviously a super ultra mega genius
so why should the world lose its biggest penis",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"May 21st 2015 it will be 10 whole years since weise went cho and siht
so you got a month to
1. make artwork
2. make audio
3. make flash
dedicated to it or something
i was summoned by his ghost to post this
i was forced via ghost-gunpoint help me someone call the ghostbusters but yea for those of yall who dont know
some goth kid.. his dad commited suicide his mom was abusive and got into car crash
and was hospitalized for rest of her life, he lived in the native american reservations,
which are very isolated, rural, crime infested, suicidal as fuck, high homicide it sucks ass
bro
i live near navajo nation, biggest injun rez in USA and its like a 3rd world country
so its like you cant blame him for being so fucked up but to go cho fuck dude thats a lil
intense eh
but ja to celebrate 10 years of lulz and pycohpathy make some flashes please dont hurt me
i'm literally one trigger pull away from getting a 9mm ghost-holow point in my pea brain
help me",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Listen up, antidepressants are still very risky and experimental. I suggest before you get
any of them, that you try st johns wart pills. I started taking them in september 2014, and
it reduced my depression by 30%+. I also recommend light therapy; where I'm from it's
the desert; 300 days of sunlight a year. Even in winter it's much brighter than germany or
england, that's for sure. Get at least an hour of being outside or whatever a day.
If you have a shit life like me, I recommend playing video games as much as possible to
distract yourself. If you arent akward or antisocial as fuck, get a job if you're done with
school. Literally do anything you can to get yourself out of the house.",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I'm giving it a lot more rosy retrospection, because the only time I had a passable life in
the last 10 years in this state .. was 2007~2008, had girlfriends, an amazing teacher, lots of
friends.. I wish I could've been a 12 year old again.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If you're mentally ill at all, DO NOT do drugs. This is coming from a guy who spent
2010 ~ 2013 high 24/7. The weed went from beneficial to making me feel like I was being
tormented by demons, my bones rotting, etc. And before anyone says it was just tainted
weed, I live near colorado and they regulate their legal weed bro, no shit weed allowed.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"This cat was called Piggy, we took him in from the neighbors across the street when we
got back from the UK... 2001, sadly right after 9/11 was when we moved back to america,
and in texas of all places.
I was bout 7 when we got him, so I was still a dumb naive kid, and I used to be a huge
dickhead to the cat without even realizing it, yet he still loved us greatly. As he grew older,
he became very loyal, wise, collected... Like a fuzzy little guardian.
He always followed my brother around and tried to cheer him up when he was going
through his depression and anger. After 2006, Piggy started to do the same for me.
I was and still am, a very fucking mental person. Southern hillbilly american society
destroyed me, same with my shit parents. I always avoided being seen / having pics of me
taken. However, now as an adult, I realize I have no evidence of my childhood now. This
picture I attached.. it is the only surviving photo we have of Piggy.
We had hundreds my mom always took, but she stored it on a computer and
unsurprisingly my piece of shit dad 'accidentally' fucking uses her computer instead and gets it infected with a bunch of viruses.
My closest ally in this shitty little world... We only have ONE photo of him.
It's been 3 1/2 years since he's died now, and I seem to be getting hit HARD by that fact.
It's getting close to being half a decade since I had any permanent allies.
If you, the reader, have a pet.. Take pictures of them.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Commenting on the year 2015:]
my back breaking down teeth chipping off out of nowhere, no $$$$ to pay for healthcare
cus it's 'murka, pets dying, bro getting divorced after like 1 year of marraige, rent going
up, cost of education going up, jobs declining... fuck",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"if you kill people you become eternally world famous
otherwise you gotta work for that",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Like you know MrRepzion? He's mentally ill, and I am too. I got moderate levels of
depression, which used to be crippling as fuck in 2005~2007, 2011, and 2014. I'm still able
to function and act normal, and if I was able to cut down the severity of it more then I
dont see whats so bad about me having some wood and metal.
They made it so if anyone sees a psychiatrist cant get guns and I say fuck that. Unless
someone is a real criminal; i.e. did a violent crime that got them in prison, then they
shouldnt have their 2nd ammendment fucked with.
I'm actually more lax on guns than most republicans in a lot of ways.
I dont want silencers, extended mags, holow points, sawed offs, or any of that to be
regulated a lot. Fuck the taxes, stamps, fees, etc.
Sawed offs will fuck you up with the recoil, you can't be accurate AT ALL firing full auto,
and if you're going to shoot someone they're going to probably be fucked anyways, so why
not ease their suffering with an expanding bullet (HP) ?
I'm from a military background, I've shot guns a lot before, and understand how
dangerous they are, I dont buy into that ""Guns dont kill ppl, ppl kil ppl"" bullshit. Guns are
designed to kill, anyone who denies that is retarded to an extreme. But guns are power,
and it's who has the most power that matters. If I was able to carry a pistol with me, I'd
have the power to protect myself from all the countless thugs in this country, esp. this
state.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"A NEET or neet is a young person who is ""Not in Education, Employment, or Training"".
dude ive been NEET for like 2+ years now
sunday, monday, all of them no longer bear meaning to me.
A week goes by in a day now.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"White collar is bullshit. Those stupid ass office jobs will get outsourced or replaced by
robots almost entirely within like 10 years max. Look I HATE jocks and rednecks, but blue
collar is better.
Fuck college/uni unless you're getting a STEM field; only the genuinely genius should be
going to college/uni in america, the way this failing hypercapitalist state is going. I could
go on for weeks about how corrupt and worthless most of the education system is for
most people, but 90% of us probably had firsthand experience with the typical american
school.
Tradition will always rule. Hard physical labour is always going to be the core foundation
for a civilization. These office jobs were a dream back in 50's america and all that, but now
they're mostly shitty jobs. You have the ass licking turbo-liberal degenerates deteriorating
society and poisoning culture and now all the jobs have sensitivity training, silencing,
little advancement..
I hate my town but all these oil workers are getting 40,000 a year in the first year of their
'career' in the oil fields. most americans on average only make HALF of that.
If you waste all that scholarship / middle/rich class parent's dough on a faggy little liberal
arts degeree, you deserve to work minimum wage through your 20s.
STEM and Strength leads the way.
Womens studies & art is only gay.
GET CERTIFIED. If you have a high school diploma, you AREN'T fucked. High school
dropouts can't get 90% of the jobs. Stay in school and deal with the bullshit, the bullies,
degenerates, just toughen up. Don't listen to the liberal agenda of being a pussy. If anyone
gives you shit, beat the shit out of them.
Social skills is 70% of what will make you succeed.
DON'T take the easy way out, for it'll be the hardest in the end.
Work your ass off, get a stem field, graduate from university there and make a 6 digit
figure.
and hell if you don't feel like going that far, get certified in welding, trucking, plumbing
or electronics. You'll make anywhere from $30~60,000 a year. WORK for the oil fields if
you can. It's scary and extreme work, but you can make 100,000 easily after a few months.
Underwater welding / alaska fishing is a massive amount of money that is well worth it.
That's my advice",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I lived south of albuqerque where the town was 80% hispanic. Us whitey got beat up all
the time, mugged and a kid even god killed in 6th grade here.
whitey good guys, would u rather live in detroit / new orleans or suburban colorado
ok .. as long as u dont go to the high schools in colorado LOL",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"He was such an hero, to take it all away. We miss him so, That you should know, And we
honor him this day. He was an hero, to take that shot, to leave us all behind. God do we
wish we could take it back, And now he's on our minds. Jeff Weise was an hero, to leave
us feeling like this, Our minds are rubber, our joints don't work, Our tears fall into abyss.
He was an hero, to take that shot, In life it wasn't his task, He shouldn't have had to go
that way, before an decade'd past. Now he sits there in my heart, this hero of mine, Always
there to make me smile, Make me feel just fine. He had courage,that boy did, courage in
his heart. To take that shot, To end his pain, To tear us all apart. But in the end, he died in
courage.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If prostitution was legal school shootings wouldnt happen
school shooters do it because they cant get laid
name me ONE sk0l sh0ter who DIDNT die a virgin
and even if u do, name one who didnt be a queer
Columbine was fucking awesome",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Hey I'm a sociopathic mass murder maniac from a shithole in the middle of the
American desert with severe crippling depression, repressed anger issues, constant
physical and mental pains, and no motivation for life
So it should be of no surprise that I would end up playing extremely violent video games
like this to help me relax",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"how the fuck do i get a goddam
i cant find work in this dead end town
it's been 3 yrs since i was in sk0l
and i cant even get a tan
what the fuck am i supposed to do
if all the chicks are methhead cunts
Italian & spanish genetics.. they call me j00
Body language is a bit blunt
seriously for fucks sake
hao 2 gf
TFW 20 no gf
>20
>no gf
*since 2008
i know the red pill game but i aint no jock roidmonkey
i am 5'7 manlet from middle of nowhere
all the shit i been through; i'm just naturally unlucky
And my interest in music and the macabre.. causes ascare
sorry bout the rhymes i have autism
btu yeah how the fuck do i get GF
if i cant even love myself or anything
i demand some goddman vaginas
besides my alien fleshlight
but u didn wanna know bout that
if i'm stuck as NEET
how can i LIVE ?!
am I just a supreme gentleman",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Violent media usually prevents real life violence and I can easily be generic and pull this
little chart out to prove it. (check the attached image)

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/video-games/8676954/Doom-creator-JohnCarmack-violent-video-games-reduce-real-world-aggression.html
Like I said earlier, a newly 13 yr old kid from my town downright killed himself. He had
a upper-middle class family (200,000 / yr ) .. which confuses me as to why they would
move to this ugly, redneck rundown desert shithole of a town.. Anyways, he fucking kills
himself from all the bullshit from the town.
I usually take daily walks, ever since 2014 when I stopped being as much as a shutin. I casually talk to a few people here and there. I remember having a few lengthy
conversations with folks, and when it was relevant to the subject being discussed, I
probably brought up the story of the kid a few times.
You know what they all said about that kid? He was a sinner and deserved it. Those
arent my words, they're the words of the redneck shitheads here. They're all mormon
psychopaths addicted to tobacco and meth driving shitty pickup trucks from the 70s.
You know the movie naoplean dynamtie? Imagine that but with 50x more hostility in the
rednecks, and all the scenery replaced by ugly light-tan wasteland covered with weeds
everywhere.
My point? you cant blame that kid for killing himself. I'm not supporting his decision,
because most suicidal people are usually good people at heart. Most victims of suicide
ARE NOT REMEMBERED. I've spoken to the parents of this child and inspired them
to do what the parents of Ryan Halligan did and perhaps make a memorial site and do
public speaking on behalf of the bloke.
Now with that being said, the bloke still had great parents and a nice house, but it's not
like that would really counter the fact that the people we're surrounded with are thrice as
scary as southerners.
Weise lived far away from a lot of american civilization in a fucking rez. You all know his
life story by now so it should be of no surprise why he was so dark and disturbed.
To wrap this tl;dr post up.. The reason why most modern mass murderers exist is because
they know for a fact that suicide alone would just leave them forgotten forever. But if they
pull the trigger and take out some random people with them, the media will make them
the talk of (not only the town) but the nation and perhaps even the world.
Red Lake was on-par with columbine, and yet only got 1% as much attention. You know
why? Because they were all native americans- minorities. Even still, a lot of people still
faintly remember it 10 years later. Imagine if weise never went postal. Maybe a dozen
would've known about it enough to turn a glance his way for a moment, maybe his
grandpa would care.
It's the killer's fault for the tragedy, but society's fault for making the killers.
As for anyone thinking violent video games cause real life violence..",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Regarding a post about Jeffrey Weise:]
Thanks for a decent nonbiased post that actually contributed to the thread bro.
Like I usually say, for this specific case (Red Lake) it's hard not to feel incredibly sorry for the bloke. Given his life circumstances, very few would've overcome those challenges and
horrible experiences to become a normal person.
If I had a decent family, great genetics and didnt live in a desert shithole state, I would've
had a future and a positive outlook on life too. Even small changes like a different location
around here would've had massive effects on my psyche.
When that guy had his dad kill himself, a drunk abusive shithead for a mom (Who
became disabled for life due to a car crash) and was forced to move to a indian reservation
you cant blame him for being violent and suicidal.
Like I said, I live near the largest native rez in the country. Even 20 miles from the border
in a small quiet town, there's still lots of corruption, suicidal people (a 13 year old boy
killed himself a while ago) and no real jobs. We're mostly white, if that says anything.
Even generic american whites are living in 3rd world conditions out here.
I'm not going to troll or be evil. Mass murder is inexcusable and absolutely never
commendable.
American and most western civilization isnt even really civil. You're on your own out here.
Few friends will back you up, most people's families are close-minded and horrible, and
we're no longer the great country we say we are, we're 2nd-class compared to much of
western europe. Unless you're making 250,000$ / yr as a family unit, you are no longer
the fabled middle class of the 20th century.
Lots of people say they help the depressed /suicidal, but very few seek to help them. Hell,
depression isnt constant sadness, at least once you hit adulthood. If weise stayed alive
another 5 years before commiting suicide he would've gone absolutely insane. Once
you're done with school, life goes from easy mode to insane mode",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"i want to fuck a 14 yr old girl up the ass but if i tried that i'd be killed by this stupid man
hating culture",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Today's Poetry
I've wasted two decades of my life
playing violent video games like counter strike
got visited by the feds,18 a bunch of inbreds
who thought i was gonna shoot some ppl dead
because I make offensive statements on the net
So I've hidden my pr0n and meth stash
in the event that they come back
I don't want to get sent to the cell
sentenced to 2+ years of a livin hell
Will I be v&? Only time will tell!
I solicited naughty pictures from my female friends
but sadly they live so far from me
I'd love to cervically infiltrate all of them
But they're 10,000km away from my pee pee

I just snorted a line of coke
but dont think I'm gonna commit some crimes
I don't want to get the rope
Or rot away for a long time",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"We must secure the existence of newgrounds, NGers, and a future for autistic Children",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I live in 'new' mexico where there's a constant race war and white trash arent very friendly
to their race either.
I've been in at least a dozen fights in my childhood to adulthood here. I have the scars to
prove it.
Haven't gotten a single scratch ever since I bought a glock.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “How would you kill someone?”:]
A burst-fire of a .45 ACP or 7.62x39 firearm at point blank range to the central lobe of their
brain",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Diversity is codeword for white genocide,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If the kids at sandy hook were armed with cute little flintlocks then adam lanza would get
instapwnt in a sea of gunpowder
give all children gunz",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Enjoy being on the NSA watchlist
keep in mind jews have infested and now control all things -
Media (TV/Hollywood) Political, Financial.
they control your mind, your wallet, and your coutnry.
to attack them is to attack a giant wasp hive with nothing but a shitty little bb rifle u
bought at walmart for $25
A for effort, and for outstanding (and foolish) Bravery, but you arent taking down anything
with that cheap chinese piece of shit
if u do attack the jews good luck i will be praying for u",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"you're lucky to have a dentist that doesnt suck
and at that, you're lucky to afford dental care",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"High school is a joke
smoke some weed until yo're not as jonah hill then give weed up
keep your head down, dont stand out, and dont go against the status quo
do this ,and u will be able to survive the joke that is american education system.
if u go postal dont kill any nerds plz, just kill the jocks.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Responding to the prompt “Good names for a gun”:]
Natural Selector",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Generally, africans = stongest race, most socially-intelligent (but obviously not intelligent
overall), fastest race.
Women are programmed to want the strongest, but not necessarily the smartest. That's
why jocks get laid all the time, but anyone with a triple digit IQ is usually outcast, at least
in america.
So niggers will get da pussi, b0ss, but us whitey will become E.R.
Niggers are subhuman because they only descended from apes. Whites had Neanderthall
DNA and have lived in europe for thousands of generations. It is only natural that we
would have become the master race.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Atchison posted three “Columbine remix collaborations” (audio files) and mentioned that they
took sixty hours to make.]",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Studying on your own is extremely difficult for a lot of people, even in adulthood it is still
quite challenging compared to the school system. Trying to get a H.S. degree equivalent
out of high school costs a lot of clams and a lot of those without education aren't known
for their wealth. The GED test is like $120 where I live and we're one of the poorest
shittiest states in this wasteland.
Best case scenario, ""Bob"" the 22 year old trains like crazy, goes to take the GED, passes.
-100$
worst case scenario, ""Nick"" needs extensive assistance which could cost him thousands of
dollars, unless he feels like robbing a bank or has family with $ then he won't get to the
point of a GED.
Where I'm at HS education / assistance has no free option.
Make all education free. I'll gladly pay my taxes for something useful",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I jacked off on the bus and in a comp lab in 7th grade and never got caught.. all while right
near a hot girl.. All that matters is not to get caught or to learn game so u can f those b's
anyways.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Natural Selection
Wrath
Killer
Humanity is Overrated
what style or flair did that chris21 guy even have? Did he even have a motto or descriptive
shirt?
I rate a 72% (C) because at least he had a high accuracy %",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Getting sucked off while high or on XTC is the best feeling in the world,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Satan = cool, punishes the evil, maintains justice
God = dickhead, genocidal maniac, mass murderer, pure evil",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Current Mood:working
Current Music:Eminem
Since this will be the first entry in this livejournal, I feel it important to include some sort
of introduction. My name is.. well, I'd rather not leave my personal details public on the
internet. Although it is just about 2016, and LJ's heyday is a decade old, I feel Livejournal
efficient enough for my goal of creating a virtual journal. I am undergoing this project in
the slight chance that I may perish. I would rather not be completely forgotten; I'd rather
leave some digital footprints for my family and friends and any lurkers. I do not suggest
that I'm likely to die anytime soon, considering the fact that I am barely in my 20s. This
project will allow me to exercise my brand-new keyboard (AULA model on sale for $22,
original price was $50,) and my writing capabilities. It will also be nice to look back on
this journal when I am an older adult. Since it isn't being written on paper, I will be able
to recover the data for as long as this site is up. I won't accidentally spill some juice on the
note and render it unreadable, or tear it up and throw it away; you understand the point I
make.
Now then, an entry..
Today's work
I usually keep a schedule on a notepad in real life where I document each day's tasks and
chores, so I'll emulate it here;
1. Encyclopedia Dramatica; I worked on a few of my own pages along with a half dozen
other ones
2. I continued to archive various documents relating to my research and interests
3. I used my alts to upvote my content (see: whiteknighting) on a specific gaming website
4. I did a moderate amount of exercise
5. I cleaned out my grandfather's WW2 military storage unit and reorganized the
materials within
6. I cleaned my room, paying close attention to every square inch of material to clean
7. I successfully stayed up 24 hours to shift myself back to a day-schedule
8. Did a bunch of chores
9. Cleaned up my desktop, deleted bad games / media to clear up space. Notably, I
uninstalled GMOD but discovered the addons and downloads were still there. After
deleting them, I freed up 28 GB of space
10. I archived some of my media...
And most importantly..
11. I made this livejournal account!
Notable Events
I've finally been able to get insurance that allows me to be able to afford dental appointments. My dental situation is equivalent to that of a pollack, and I need to get
my four wisdom teeth extracted on the 22nd. I hope this doctor doesn't fuck this up and
permanently damage my nerves or jaw.
What I have to sayNothing much for now. Time is like a river... When you're born it goes
slowly yet you don't even comprehend it; when you are finally able to see it when you're
a young child, it flows slowly and peacefully. When you're on the verge of adolescence,
it begins to pick up pace and it quickly becomes difficult to keep track of the rippling in
the water. When you hit an adult age (around 16), you'll find it going at a dozen times the
speed that it went by as a child. Eventually, it becomes impossible to keep track of the
details.
Just how much time has passed? The last time I was truly happy with existence.. 2008;
2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 .. 7 fucking years.
My live has been a poor quality existence for the last 7 years. I have little faith my situation
is going to get better. The economy will probably never recover from the great recession.
The only people who will become president in the 2016 elections are Bernie Sanders,
Donald Trump, Hillary, or another Bush. Suffice to say, I have no faith whatsoever in my
nation anymore.
""The instrument of my resurrection was supposed to be freedom. But there isn't an
open sky or endless field to be found where I reside, nor is there light or salvation to be
discovered. So fucking naive man, so fucking naive. Always expecting change when I
know nothing ever changes.""",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Usually the only 'safe' place to shoot would be the floor or a stone fireplace. Most bullets,
even shotgun shells will go through lots of surfaces. Here's shot going through a few
walls; Even birdshot (mini-bb's) goes through that shit",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Current Mood: aggravated
Edit - I wrote this while still under the effects of sedation, so It's much less competent. I
won't revise it, but rather edit in some more details.
0100 - woke up.. rested in more until 0500 and played two and a half hours of trove.
0740 - left home to go to the dentist
0830 - Dentist; Rinsed my mouth out for a minute's time, sat down, got my heart
monitored, neck sprayed with germ killing meds, vein area sprayed felt cold as fuck,
cleaned area, then before I knew it, I was already injected with the needle. Took a few
minutes until I was knocked out. Had a nice dream... Woke up and my 4 wisdom teeth
were gone.
Got home and I took a rest, keeping my gauze pads in.. Ice pack. Now its 1500 and I'm
going to take another rest.
Within a week I can be eating good solid food like tacos and my own bacon salad wrap
recipes.. Until then I'm stuck with tomato soup, apple sauce, gravy and mashed potatoes.
I've fasted for an entire day (Excluding post-op water).
Sadly these 4 teeth werent even unhealthy except the bottom 2 being horizontally
impacted. I got a pollack's mouth but it isnt destroyed. I got like 5-6 cavities (3 are small)
to get filled but considering 2009 was the last time I visited a dentist and I barely brushed (extremely sensitive teeth) I'd say my mouth isnt so bad. I dont do meth lol. maybe a lot of
bong hits but hey, I'm a coloradan at heart.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Let me add in the fact that Until this day, I only had a few teaspoons of applesauce to eat.
I had about 5 cups of water (not enough) .. Now, today I had a dozen spoonfuls of mashed
potatoes which was too hard for me. So I had some bland generic tomato soup which was
too sour. If I had vegetarian rice / chicken style soup I'd eat nothing but that.. and some
naked juice.
When my pain killers wear off I'm feeling like shit. Then again, 4 entire teeth removed so
I can't particularly be surprised... I'm too awake to sleep and too lazy to play video games.
It sucks ass..
At least within a few days I can start actually chewing. As long as I can have some rice..
mm...",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/7/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"As for the Serial Killers and Mass Murderer aspect, an excellent example are the bizzare
group of freaks known as ""Columbiners"" who worship the fags who did that attack.
They're mostly mentally ill teenage girls on dumblr so It should come as no surprise how
degenerate they are. But even freaks like the sandy hook kid have hundreds of fangirls.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Fuck the police.
Also protip, the suicide hotlines job is to determine if you're depressed enough to call the
cops on you

If you really want to help someone who's suicidal, just actually fucking LISTEN to them,
and do not argue. Offer actual support and compassion. It's not rocket science, people.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Use a .45 HP on your bullies, kids. It's the true american way and will shut them up for
good. :^)",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"82% + of school shooters were bullied
I presume similar numbers for mass shooters as well.
Blame them for their own actions, but why is bullying / harassment barely ever tackled?
Why is the help for mental illness so nil? End the stigmas, stop sweeping suicides under
the rug, and actually talk about it. Don't blacklist a suicide from the media. Blacklist the
mass shootings. The mass murderers always kill for fame. They usually do it because they
know their suicides will be ignored.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Columbine was one of the most reported stories of the 90s and opened a pandora's box;
bullied outcasts saw the attention E & D got for their deed. Such crime always existed,
Columbine was just the catalyst that made school attacks common.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I'm barely in my 20s and a lot of my contacts (mostly online) are High Schoolers, and
they give me horrifying details of the Marxist 1984 environment they grow up in. People
are dumber than ever, and entirely brainwashed and programmed by this corrupt social
experiment.
A lot of my female friends are 16~19 age and are alt-right / 1488 types and protraditionalism, swearing to keep their virginity and entire sexual purity for marriage.
Intelligent and decent people are a minority, but they do exist in great numbers.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Hitler did nothing wrong
Hitler was right all along
Brits firebombed german towns
Russians were savage rapists
Germany is the reason humanity became a space faring race
etc
Heil Hitler and long live Deutchland und der third reich and u know it",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I suggest if you can get good quality weed.. go for that when u jack off. Just dont take
tramadol pills and try to jerk off I've been up for 8 hrs and i cant rub anything out and
my penis is very red and i need to call the hopsital and",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"It has been a while since my last entry.. Today I'll cover the following subjects; Time,
Corruption, Life and Death. These are probably going to be the most recurring subject
matter if I continue to blog..
Firstly, it's been a very long time now. I remember 2007~09 like it was yesterday, and
yet I'm starting to lose much of my memory of that time period. Let's take a look at how
much time has passed;
2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015. So 11 entire years have
passed that I've lived in this state. More than half of my life has been spent in one of the
worst states in the entire country, and the USA is one of the largest nations in the world.
When you look at the list of years, 2005 is barely that far apart from 07, and yet 05 and
06 were probably the worst years I've went through. In less than a year now, I'll begin to
experience life a decade in the future from my heyday. A decade, in seemingly the blink of
an eye. It's crazy.
Hell, as I type this, it's already been 4 years since I've left school. Mass Effect 3 is almost
4 years old already! Skyrim is already at that point. Oblivion is going to be 10 YEARS OLD
in a few months. Xbox 360's already hit that point.
My grandfather died over 10 years ago.. My loyal companion, a fat, muscular golden cat
named Piggy has been 6ft under for 4 1/2 years now as well. Crazy..
Now.. looking into the future, I see no hope. The middle class continues to die, more
americans go on welfare or poverty, the rich grow in power, suicide and mass murder
skyrockets, USA loses it's power, etc. My predictions aren't even hypothetical; they're
already happening and have been for decades.
Society has also been corrupted and decayed. Nowadays it's not even uncommon for frikin
Pre-teens to lose their v-cards. It's disgusting. Most males are backstabbing betas, or
alpha assholes. It's rare to find a good friend nowadays. You have a 50% chance of being
divorced within like 5 years at this point by an american bride. The courts are 90% in her
favor for most shit as well.
Look at the military. PC now. You're more likely to commit suicide than to be KIA. You
get treated like fucking garbage by the country you stepped up to 'defend'. It's a fucking
shithole in america now, but you don't see europeans accepting any american refugees
or migrants. Instead these assclowns let in hordes of rapists and murderers. White civilization is cucked and fucked. The world is hence, not even worth living in anymore.
Topics -
Time;
Corruption;
Life and Death",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Little braids like horns,
this flesh born bone leaves sores.
Little horn is born, sworn to the blood
in all that implies after being on the frontlines
of the hidden genocide;
Time to turn the tide,
take the guize of a genocidal genius.
Feels like none of the people can see this.
Depletion with depletion,
seeking the solution,
but there are no easy answers,
for this classroom execution.
Born on a plane that is not the same as their mind,
I am the weak, the sick, the one left behind.
God damnit I'm sick of their kind!
Pieces of shit don't even know what they are;
in their little cliques, laughing and smiling with their friends,
passing judgement on everything they seeI know they're laughing at me.
I am an angel in disguise,
sent to either be nurtured or denied.
I am an angel that fide, so as punished with this life.
My feathers have not changed,
I still blame god for making me this way.
That is my nature, the true test was for you
to nurture a soul you could see needed structure.
For all of your talk of tradition, you never taught acceptance;
of the benefits of being receptive.
Instead, you took my beauty as a commonality,
of a word you didn't hesitate to call me.
Reinforcing old war wounds, you made me legion.
Here to bring your ruin, and the changing of reason.
Trapped in this physical body, I can only see one way to be free.
I will change this fucked up world, by making sure everyone knows of me...
- Keith Rock",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"we need to get real america
these guns need to stop!
they're evil little machines that take control of ur mind and force you to do evil deeds ban every single gun but like mental health noone cares its a false flag anyways mental
disease doesnt exist its just a plot by the FASIST government to steal ur brain or $ or
something
JOCKS KICK ASS! Nerds deserve all the bad they get! STRONG overcome the WEAK!
SAN DIMAS HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL RULES",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"i can buy a gun in 50 minutes; drive to the rez, present $150 and get a glock.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Writing a “haiku”:]
living in the desert sucks
all the dumb jocks who smoke rocks
should fuck of",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Current Location:Liberty City
Current Mood:depressed depressed
Current Music:Soviet Connection
Already 40 days into this year, and I doubt it's going to get any better. I've been dealing
with a moderate sickness which has caused me to miss a dentist appointment. My front
teeth are starting to cause me severe pain when pressure or liquid makes contact which
shouldn't even be happening as the dentists did 2 hours of work on them a few weeks
ago. I just got 3 cavities left to patch up and my teeth will be alright, but enough about this
shit.
For the last few weeks, I've been playing the f*** out of Grand Theft Auto IV. It's just
about 8 years old now, but I'm still finding new things every time I play. I must confess
that despite now owning GTA 5 (due to a friend gifting me it on steam), I've never beat it.
Up until I was gifted it, I never even touched the game. Despite the fact that 5 is superior
to 4 in most ways, I still find more enjoyment in GTA 4; 280+ hours of it to be precise.
Suffice to say, I'm addicted to Liberty City, and all the fucked up freaks and events that
take place within this virtual world.
Through the near-decade long time I've spent on IV, I mostly frequented the southern
half of the eastern borough, and downtown 'manhatten' and the central park. Lately,
I've been exploring the smaller obscure islands and finding a lot of shit. I modded some
health / armor regen scripts to make the game a hell of a lot less tedius, but practically
doubled the damage of the weapons and vastly expanded the range of them; the sawed
off shotgun is capable of downing someone over 200m from you (although it is VERY
unlikely due to the spread)
I've been going on GTA 4's internet and browsing these sites. I've found shit I never read
before. GTA 4 is on par with TES 4 on the amount of shit you can still discover. I was
reading blogs in game and legit threw up from one of them. It was basically some ugly
fat feminist furfag cunt talking about her perverted sexual activity with someone else and
dousing each other with dishwasher liquids. I'm just sitting here thinking.. Someone
employed at Rockstar North is even more fucked up in the head than I am. My writing
shifts more towards patrick bateman / ER shit. This rockstar jackass is just a perverted
troll with a way-overactive imagination. Fucker should see a shrink.
Well, 2007 is already 8~9 years old. It's scary to me how time just flew by. I always bitch
about how my future is bleak, and indeed the entire nation and world's is (unless you're a spoiled fucking cunt, in which case check your privileged for real, asshole) but I know I'm
not the only one thinking this shit. Obama's got less than a year left in office now. GTA 5
is already 2 years old man.. fucking hell.
Those days as a kid in that ALB Metro house, with the two fireplaces, the large den; the
cozy old-school feel.. It's not even close to recent anymore. All this time I've spent as a
shut-in / NEET / outcast.. I remember a time before social media and smartphones. Chad
and Chloe weren't entirely fucking brainless zombies addicted to their screens. They're
still normies though, so they're still absolute scum of the earth who deserve nothing but
a few stabs into their jugular vein. What I'm trying to show you is, the world's a different
place than it was when I was growing up. We're seeing Global warming finally having
some serious effects. We got the USA at the quality of a 3rd world country now, with a
middle class minority, severe poverty, accelerating crime and corruption and the greatest
security state in the world's history on the horizon. Just for typing in these buzzwords,
I'm now on a couple more watchlists, and nobody is going to be reading this shit anyways
except you NSA ass clowns.
Here's something to rustle your jimmies. If I was to reenact the shit I've been doing in
GTA 4, in the real world, I'd probably have a 7-fuckin' star wanted level. I've been going
around driving over thousands of NPCs in central park over and over for shits and giggles,
acting out an ""anders"" dozens of times, beating the shit out of random fuckers and other
shenanigans.
Not much else I feel I should type out anyways. It's already TL;DR but perhaps one of the
JIDF rats or creepy faggots from my past might be lurking around. In which case.. I hope
you enjoy this entry you crazy ass motherfuckers.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Current Mood:drowsy
Current Music:clever stuff...
Alright, I know its been less than a day since my last entry, but I've been up for like
20 hours. I some (thank god i wasnt payin') and some ; some high quality shit. My
adventures while talking to sampson so far have been insightful but nothing special. I
jacked off a lot but I didnt really feel that good from it. personal info but whatever. I've
been having intense nostalgia for RTB 1.045.. so eventually I felt like loading it up.
When I did, guess what? There were actually other people playing! It was none other than
my dear friend RanGun. Ran and I go back a decade. Anyways I know it was fate for us to
meet up again man, it was fun. We had a long ass talk, catching up. Learned a lot about
his personal situation nowadays. He's going to sleep now, I prob will too. Its 6:30 am so I
royally fucked up my sleep schedule. Thank insomnia, sickness and way too many hits for
this shit. Sturm out.",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Make the popular kids pay,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"05~07 (q1 and q2 07) was rock bottom. Afterwards, it was the first time I had a life.. and
that lasted for like 2 years and I went back to hell.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Atchison was investigated by the FBI after he posted a question about “where to find cheap assault
rifles for a mass shooting.” Where this was posted is not known. He apparently deleted this post.
See his comment below regarding going incognito.]",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"It's been around two months since my last entry. As usual, time is fucking flying, societal
deterioration accelerating, and the collective IQ of the american collective declining.
I will not give exact details, but a mindfuck IRL happened. I quickly JIDF'd a lot of my
troll dust, and have been going incognito a lot more.
My childhood game was briefly revived for a little bit again; I brought in my longtime
friends to play it again, and some kids from the newer version of it checked on the
original. In total, probably 10 people went through my server. I directed a few projects;
recreations of Venice, a Medieval-oriented map, an underwater city (not worked on), along
with other projects. This was a game that was pretty much abandoned (Besides a small
group of people) since 2008, revived with some activity after nearly a decade of rot. I feel
blessed to have experienced some fresh memories of the game.
I'm considering maybe making a blog about the game but I know for a fact nobody would
visit it. Hell, I know for the most part I'm talking to myself on this ""blog"" here, but oh
well.
I'm not trying to talk to myself; I'm trying to document my experiences, and to give some
words of wisdom to you.
I've been neglecting some of my most important work, so I need to knock some sense in
myself. I've done plenty of internet archiving for now, and I've cleaned up one of my more
favourite sites, even if some of the mods and admins on it are autistic cunts. But, nowhere
online is safe from these kinds of people.
It is nearly summer 2016. Time flies fast..
I wont say too much about my personal life as I have plenty of enemies, especially
nowadays.
Filthy degenerates",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"It's been about a month since the last entry, save 3 days. I'm currently cooking up some
dinner while I type this but noone gives a damn. A lot has happened in this month, so
far...
One of my good friends, whom I've barely known for less than a year, yet has risen to
be one of my bros, challenged me to a debate. He is of a religion I won't specify (it's not
islam, dont worry) but was challenging my lack of faith in any paranormal / spiritual shit.
So he told me to do a mental ritual. I did, and I asked for what I want (Success with my
endeavors, and meeting girls). I had a 10/10 luck streak that lasted a week. In that time...
5 of the ladies I knew, sent me nudes (each one of them) and got comfortable sexting with
me.
One young woman I know IRL, will be visiting me after this semester's out, and will be
making my life the best it's been since 2008.
I became an admin of a very notable site.
After thinking about a specific reservation and the tragedy that befell them (early in may,
a similar tragedy effected the rez Im from), I found some random Native American dude
on omegle. I went on there to troll but instead had a good conversation with this dude.
He talked to me about how 6 of his friends chose to end it. He is from the poorest rez in
america yet made it to college. Kudos to him. I talked to a very famous dude (hint: 2011, retaliation against some faggy little bully) for
40 minutes. I went on to skype some chick but she went to bed; instead, the famous dude
was on for once. He allowed people to add him on skype, so I did; I thought it was an
impostor but it was actually him. I brought up the dude I met yesterday, and the famous
dude told me how he talked 13 people out of becoming an hero. Good job man.
I made one of the girls I know into a sort of girlfriend, the first time I had one since 2009.
The luck wore out after a week but I still pray to the specific 'subjects' that I did when I
did the meditation-focus experiment. 666",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Exterminate the innocent,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"We seriously need to kill all the retard rich baby boomers and dumbfuck politicians and
rewind the clock like 20 years
Also net neutrality didn't save Daily Stormer or Stormfront (as abhorrent as they may be)
freedom of speech has always been a lie
2017
fuck
leftists
pussies
islam
neocons
the us gov't
the middle east
jews
jews again
anyone who disagrees with me
terrorists
murderers
niggas",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[On the topic of banning guns:]
FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS!",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Several separate comments on the topic of women:]
women should be treated like dogs
all women are whores and should be locked up in cages like the chimps they is
women do not belong in the realm of politics.
get back in the kitchen bitch and fix me up a BLT sandwich or I'll knock more of your
teeth out you demented morbidly obese witch",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Several separate comments on the topic of school shootings:]
School shooters do it cus they cant get laid
Columbine opened the floodgates / pandora's box. The amount of infamy (on par with
9/11) they got inspired literally thousands of alienated youth into mass violence.
Most school shooters, and a big chunk of mass shooters, cite them as direct inspiration.
violence is the answer if it's self defense
being a retard and murdering everything isn't
most school shooters never kill the people who actually bullied them. Look at Columbine
where they spared the one guy who directly fucked them over. Then 99% of the victims
were high-IQ nerdy types in the library
Rebel with a rebel yell, raise hell, we gon' let 'em know
Stomp, push shove, mush; fuck Bush!
Until they bring our troops home, come on, just—
SUICIDE PILLS
MASS MURDER PILLS
they did it for the lulz
Protip to all you totalitarian morons.
The vast majority (like 86%) of school shooters were bullied, often to an extreme.
Bullying, isolation, alienation = lower life span and a fucked up mentality
Relatively lax gun laws won't automatically result in massive homicide rates, but it
definitely helps more nutjobs get armed. However, look how the gun-free-countries
often fare in homicide rates compared to somewhere like Germany, Norway, Finland or
Switzerland, where guns are relatively common and purchaseable. It's the people, not the
laws, people.
Most of school is a fucking nightmare equivalent to prison if you're even an iota unique
or individualistic. This creates a false mentality of what the world is (the real world is still
shit but nothing compared to school) which causes the already mentally fragile bullied
outcasts to become even more alienated and unstable.
Mass shooters / school shooters are given (or at one point, were, before it became an
every-3-second occurance) massive amounts of fame, fangirls, news coverage, etcattention they were usually neglected IRL- or rather, the attention they receive is often
negative in nature.
So what would a tl;dr sensible method of reducing the amount of school shootings be? I
got a solution and nobody's gun rights or freedom of expression has to be fucking taken
away by you leftist twats or right wing religious nutjobs.
1. Actually do something about bullying. We don't have to turn our schools into
1984-esque nanny/prison states even more than they already are. Teachers should just
punish bullying for fucking once instead of doing literally nothing to prevent or punish it. 
Not that hard, morons. Usually the teachers went out of their way to cover up and protect
the bullies when I was in school, often punishing the victims and treating them as they
were the cause; gaslighting. Course I grew up in a redneck shithole small town that was
stuck in the 50~80s, a stereotypical 80s movie high school.
2. Stop making mass murderers into fucking celebrities. Ghost / blacklist their names.
3. Reform and expand mental healthcare and coverage for as many people as possible.
Bring back institutionalization and effective treatment programs for the societal ills to
keep them from hurting themselves or others, and to help them become productive
societal units.
4. Be excellent to each other.
Not that hard, most people are just pinheads.
However, it is in human nature to persecute the different sheep of the tribe, either into
becoming great leaders or into suicide or violence.
It's in human nature to glorify violence and mass killers.
Humanity is just as primitive, chaotic and violent as the universe's creation. We'll always
be a bunch of crazy ass chimps goin all out.
bullied kid + gun access + media giviing mass shooters fame / fangirls = 3.5% chance of
being a school shooter
address bullying
keep guns away from your troubled kid
stop making murderers into heroes / antihereos / stop rewarding violence and stupidity",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"3 words, people
FUCK THE POLICE.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Chris Kyle was a mass murderer and was far from a hero. Just another psychopathic grunt
of the mass murder machine that is the (((military industrial complex))).
he was murdering brown people for some rich kikes and psychopathic burger brained
americunts
Also no country can possibly ever invade america and take any of our freedumbs away.
Corrupt politicians and over-reactionary twats like SJWs and rednecks take freedom away.
Organizations like the ACLU, controversial speakers, or defense attorneys, etc, are the
ones who fight for free speech for the masses.
America is controlled by filthy kikes and baby boomer faggots. Anything that's making
those assholes richer is a bad thing.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"make america great again
take X and move them to Y
Variables
X = Negros, Fags, Leftists, SJWs, Nonwhites etc
Y = Africa",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Piss off the white boys, good idea minorities.
When there's 30 million white kids reaching into their backpack your race is going to be
in serious trouble.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
life sucks after age 12,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Liberals are cancer
Republicans are cancer
Neo nazis are cancer (except me)
Commies are cancer
only radical centrists are right",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Adam shot up school mainly because
1. He had a strong obsession with his own childhood which could've stemmed from child
abuse considering he went to a catholic school
2. Some guy was talking about child killers on some columbine shooting forum and said
""How could someone kill little kids? That's almost unheard of!"" or some shit. Lanza saw
that post and it helped further permegate his idea
3. He wanted to be as evil as possible to scare society, yet didn't care too much about his
own infamy hence why he fucked up his hard drive that stored his Cheese Pizza
Kantha and her crew were complete exceptional individuals for not only
A. trying to plan a fucking mass shooting
B. trying to recruit other pizzafaced youngins
C. talking about wanting to do that shit for hours on end. Did those fags even use any
VPNs or privacy protection methods? NSA got a backdoor on all windows users.
Thing is, there's literally thousands of Kanthas already waiting to happen and most
definitely planning their own shit. They're usually even open about their intentions.",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
We should give little kids full auto AKs to defend themselves with nowadays,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Worship Hitler
Socialist ideologies usually fade out when you're not a college age kid and you actually
have to do real back-breaking work for the next 40 years and see a third of your $$$ get
sliced out and sent to low-iq minorities that breed like rabbits and further strain the
middle class.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Most of the ""leaders"" of the alt right are directly connected to jews in some way.
Richard Spencer posed with jews and attended some synagogues or other congregations
of the jews before and is likely a CIA plant as previously suggested here.
Alex Jones (who is barely alt-right but the ZOG media will claim he is) legit admits to
being a juden:
Milo is of course jewish.
Andrew Anglin of the Daily Stormer contracted someone (who's cool as fuck) of the
jewish ethnicity to help significantly with building elements of his website, which is most
likely an unwitting infiltrated fbi honeypot by now like Stormfront is.
David Duke seems cool but I wouldn't be surprised if even he is kosher.
The alt-light is equivalent to reddit fags compared to dedicated 8ch pol posters, but is
still superior to neocons and most conservatives. The real alt-right meme is just a rehash
of the concept of Anonymous. Autists trying to claim they own that movement are the
reason why it's probably going to come crashing down in a few years; think Op-Chanology
2.0. The Alt-right is way better than (((neocon))) boomer fucks or neoliberal twats though.
A significant fuel source for infighting within the alt-right (as seen especially on
Daily Stormer and /pol/) is on the issue of women. I'd say on average 15~35% of the
communities to be white knights who put pussy on a pedestal. However, one of the major
ideas kicking off on DS is the idea of White Sharia; of severely oppressing thots and
restricting women's rights. This caused a clear divide in the community with the WKs
having to bow to the will of the majority and the thots in the audience making assclowns
of themselves before getting sent to the kitchen. Most alt-right communities, although
mostly similar, seem to hate other communities guts. /pol/ will talk shit about Daily
Stormer, which will talk shit about Stormfront, etc in a continuing cycle.
Feds usually try to trick aggressive twats into agreeing to acts or conspiracy of violence,
but I think all those clowns should do is to further fuel that divide to fuck the movement
up, something most alt-righters are doing to a small extent already. Regarding the issues
of the migrant crisis, kikery, feminazism, etc, the Alt-Right will definitely survive for
at least half a decade. It's not guaranteed to be the 4th Reich as of now, until another
civil war or civilizational collapse occurs. Granted that trolls boosted Trump into office,
anything is definitely possible",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"all those beta fags had balls enough to at least mass murder people and an hero, its not
heroic but it does take some level of guts to actually do that crazy shit
upon their actions they got the 15 minutes of fame and became celebrities for a while
what do bitches love the most? power / resources. Money / Fame / Muscle / Genetics
= higher chances of making panties soak / higher chances of resources / protection =
natural female mammal desire
these fags in the real world had none of the above traits 90% of the time, but going apeshit
gave them the Fame aspect;
whenever theres another manufactured sissy ass boy-band a massive tidal wave of thot
juice crashes into them within a year. on a much smaller scale the ghosts of the shooters
get to feel happy about their ghosts selves knowing that some fucked up jailbait broads
fap to them. The ultimate punishment for the sinners is the fact they cant pop that barely
legal cherry, leaving them cucked in both worlds, even if creepy cocksucker thots wanna
mate with em.
Most these fangrils are tumbler users, so nuff said. Theres actually dozens if not a few
hundred of fangirls for even ugly ass freaks like the sandy hook shooter, that faggot
piece of shit who murdered 20 kids and 7 hoes (or was a lizard reptile cia crisis actor if
you're really exceptional). Seriously even that construct of genetic failure had (sometimes
actually hot chicks) lusting after him 
Like I said before, bitches be crazy. U fuckers mite think im crazy cus i been awake 40
hours and fucked up on caffine and shit i dont give fuck about this post if it triggers u but
fuck it even i aint as fucked in the skull as these degenerate thots
seriously internet auschwitz now",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Are slide stocks still legal,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"I really feel kinda embarrassed saying this, but I got a ride home from some guy named
Marc and they way he would look at me really freaked me out sometimes. Then, he
parked the car onto the side of the road and asked my a bunch of personal questions, like
how big is your dick, and how often to you jack off, he started to get down on me and
unxipped my zipper and pulled out my cock. I freaked out, and so I through him back and
tried to open the car door, he threw me into the backseat and started to suck on me very
fast I dunno wy I was hard, but I liked it, he started to rip all my clothes off and started
to slap me in the face calling me some bitch or something, honestly, at the time, I really
enjoyed it but right after I cummed all over his face, I felt really GUILTY and very dirty for
he cummed all over my eyes and mouth I felt like an abused whore, could someone help
me? I need help",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"How am I supposed to function in this world? Wherever I go, I see degeneracy. Pointless
materialism, hedonism, sexual decy, dirty niggers who do nothing but slowly break down
this society etc. it's fucking everywhere. No way to escape it, 99% of people are part of it
and whatever I do I am confronted with the death of the West. Go to the store and buy
groceries in peace? Nope, here's a group of LGBT liberal filth in line with you. And there's
a nigger family with 10 kids over there. And a Finn too, but he's overweight as fuck and
he's buying alcohol and shit junk food. Fucking fantastic.
I used to think that this was a phase and we'd get over it, but I have now come to realize
that I was born into a literal dystopia",1,Grievance Airring,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"[Posing a question to another user:]
How long until you conduct a mass shooting?",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Once I really am in power, my first and foremost task will be the annihilation of the Jews.
As soon as I have the power to do so, I will have gallows built in rows-at the Marienplatz
in Munich, for example-as many as traffic allows. Then the Jews will be hanged
indiscriminately, and they will remain hanging until they stink; they will hang there as
long as the principles of public hygiene permit. As soon as they have been untied, the next
batch will be strung up, and so on down the line, until the last Jew in Munich has been
exterminated. Other cities will follow suit, precisely in this fashion, until all Germany has
been completely cleansed of Jews.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"Remember kids: If you plan on killing people don't be edgelords and public about it and
save a bullet for your own pea sized brain, thanks",1,Specific Threats,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
Praise be to allah,1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"If things go according to plan, today would be when I die.
I wait until the school buses are detected, then head out on foot disguised as a student.
I go somewhere and gear up, then hold a class hostage and go apeshit, then blow my
brains out.
Work sucks, school sucks, life sucks.22
I just want out of this shit.
Fuck this state, it really is bad. Think I'm insane? I'm actually more rational, peaceful and
less loony then a majority of the citizenry of this entire region.",1,Vague Discontent,William Atchison Online,7/9/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Atchison_note_1.pdf,William Atchison
"What do I hate / What I don’t like?
Equality, tolerance, human rights, political correctness, hypocrisy, ignorance, enslaving religions
and ideologies, antidepressants, TV soap operas & drama shows, rap -music, mass media,
censorship, political populists, religious fanatics, moral majority, totalitarianism, consumerism,
democracy, pacifism, state mafia, alcholohics, TV commercials, human race.",1,Grievance Airring,Pekka-Eric Auvinen Online,11/7/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Pekka_Eric_Auvinen_online.pdf,Pekka-Eric Auvinen
"What do I love / what do I like?
Existentialism, self-awareness, freedom, justice, truth, moral & political philosophy, personal &
social psychology, evolution science, political incorrectness, guns, shooting, BDSM, computers,
internet, aggressive electronic and industrial rock & metal music, violent movies, , FPS –computer
games, sarcasm, irony, black humour, macabre artm mass & serial killer cases, natural disasters,
eugenics",1,Specific Threats,Pekka-Eric Auvinen Online,11/7/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Pekka_Eric_Auvinen_online.pdf,Pekka-Eric Auvinen
"Natural Selector’s Manifesto
How Did Natural Selection Turn Into Idiocratic Selection?
Today the process of natural selection is totally misguided. It has reversed. Human race has been
devolving very long time for now. Retarded and stupid , weak-minded people are reproducing more
and faster than the intelligent, strong-minded people. Laws protect the retarded majority which
selects the leaders of society. Modern human race has not only betrayed its ancestors, but the future
generations too. Homo Sapiens, HAH! It is more like a Homo Idioticus to me! When I look at
people I see every day in society, school and everywhere... I can’t say I belong to same race as the
lousy, miserable, arrogant, selfish human race! No! I have evolved one step above!
Naturality has been discriminated through religions, ideologies, laws and other mass delusion
systems. Individual, who is going through his/hers natural power process and trying to live
naturally, but is being told that the way he acts or thinks is wrong and stupid, will usually have
some reactions which might be considered as ""psychological disorders"" by the establishment. In
reality they are just natural reactions to the disruption of natural power process. They will have
some of the following (depending on individual's personality): feelings of inferiority / superiority,
hostility, aggression, frustration, depression, self-hatred / hatred towards other people, suicidal /
homicidal thought etc... and it is completely normal.
Humans are just a species among other animals and world does not exist only for humans. Death
and killing is not a tragedy, it happens in nature all the time between all species. Not all human lives
are important or worth saving. Only superior (intelligent, self-aware, strong-minded) individuals
should survive while inferior (stupid, retarded, weak-minded masses) should perish.
There is also another solution to the problem: stupid people as slaves and intelligent people as free.
What I mean is that they who have free minds, are capable of intelligent existential and
philosophical thinking and know what justice is, should be free and rulers... and the robotic masses,
they can be slaves since they do not mind it now either and because their minds are on so retarded
level. The gangsters that now rule societies, would of course get what they deserve.
Of course there is a final solution too: death of entire human race. It would solve every problem of
humanity. The faster human race is wiped out from this planet, the better... no one should be left
alive. I have no mercy for the scum of earth, the pathetic human race.
Collective Deindividualization: Totalitarianism & Delusions Of Democracy
Collective deindividualization is a phenomenon where individual will be trained as part of the
mindless herd controlled by state, corporation, church or some other organization, group, ideology,
religion or mass delusion system and adopt it's rules, morality and codes of conduct. This
phenomenon has been familiar in all despotic, authoritarian, totalitarian, monarchist, communist,
socialist, nazi, fascist and religious societies troughout history. Also, the modern western
democratic republics have the same phenomenon. It is just done so that people will think they are
free and don't realize they are being enslaved. Majority of people in society are weak-minded and
ignorant retards, masses that act like programmed robots and accept voluntarily slavery. But not
me! I am self-aware and realize what is going on in society! I have a free mind! And I choose to be
free rather than live like a robot or slave. You can say I have a “god complex”, sure... then you have
a “group complex”! Compared to you retarded masses, I am actually godlike.
Totalitarian governments rule people through education system, consumerism, mass media,
monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force (police, military) and laws discriminating people
who think differently than the majority. Democracy... you think democracy means freedom and
justice? You are wrong. Democracy is a dictatorship of the moral majority... and the majority is
manipulated and ruled by the state mafia. Modern western democracy has nothing to do with
freedom or justice; it is totalitarian and corrupted system. Laws are made over the heads of the
people and people are being brainwashed to support the system and connected to the institutional
structures immediately after their birth. Societies are being ruled by manipulative and charismatic
politicians who only care about the interests of majority, and who do not base their decisions on
reason but emotions and feelings of the masses. These masses let the authorities of state to make all
the important decisions for them. The masses will get an education, they study, get a job, go to
work and vote in elections. They think they are free and don’t criticise or question the system. They
have become robots. It is like a constructed mechanism in mind, that leaves little choice for an
individual to think, talk and act independently.
Three Kinds Of Humans
There are three kinds of human personality types in this world:
1) individualistic human (3% of the world population)
2) manipulative human (3% of the world population)
3) mass human (94% of the world population)
#1 & #2 type of personalities are intelligent, creative and self-aware. They have chosen bit different
paths paths. #3 type of personalities are less intelligent and less creative, weak-minded people
controlled by #2 type of personalities. The percentages are only estimations though but are based on
Gaussian distribution and history of human race and how humans have organized into societies.
And this is the way it has always been ever since humans started to organize into communities.
Another way how to divide people is bit different but is based on the same facts, human nature and
history. The division is based on the level of intelligence and quality of mentality:
1) intelligent (3% of the world population)
2) slightly retarded, so called “normal people” or “robots” (94% of the world population)
3) highly retarded, “vegetables” (3% of the world population)
Total War Against Humanity
Hate, Im so full of it and I love it. That is one thing I really love. Some time ago, I used to believe in
humanity and I wanted to live a long and happy life... but then I woke up. I started to think deeper
and realized things. But it was not easy to become existential... knowing as much as I know has
made me unhappy, frustrated and angry. I just can’t be happy in the society or the reality I live. Due
to long process of existential thinking, observing the society I live and some other things happened
in my life... I have come to the point where I feel nothing but hate against humanity and human
race.
Life is just a meaningless coincidence... result of long process of evolution and many several
factors, causes and effects. However, life is also something that an individual wants and determines
it to be. And I'm the dictator and god of my own life. And me, I have chosen my way. I am prepared
to fight and die for my cause. I, as a natural selector, will eliminate all who I see unfit, disgraces of
human race and failures of natural selection.
You might ask yourselves, why did I do this and what do I want. Well, most of you are too arrogant
and closed-minded to understand... You will proprably say me that I am “insane”, “crazy”,
“psychopath”, “criminal” or crap like that. No, the truth is that I am just an animl, a human, an
individual, a dissident.
I have had enough. I don’t want to be part of this fucked up society. Like some other wise people
have said in the past, human race is not worth fighting for or saving... only worth killing. But...
When my enemies will run and hide in fear when mentioning my name... When the gangsters of the
corrupted governments have been shot in the streets... When the rule of idioracy and the democratic
system has been replaced with justice... When intelligent people are finally free and rule the society
instead of the idiocratic rule of majority... In that great day of deliverance, you will know what I
want.
Long live the revolution... revolution against the system, which enslaves not only the majority of
weak-minded masses but also the small minority of strong-minded and intelligent individuals! If we
want to live in a different world, we must act. We must rise against the enslaving, corrupted and
totalitarian regimes and overthrow the tyrants, gangsters and the rule of idiocracy. I can’t alone
change much but hopefully my actions will inspire all the intelligent people of the world and start
some sort of revolution against the current systems. The system discriminating naturality and
justice, is my enemy. The people living in the world of delusion and supporting this system are my
enemies.
I am ready to die for a cause I know is right, just and true... even if I would lose or the battle would
be only remembered as evil... I will rather fight and die than live a long and unhappy life.
And remember that this is my war, my ideas and my plans. Don’t blame anyone else for my actions
than myself. Don’t blame my parents or my friends. I told nobody about my plans and I always kept
them inside my mind only. Don’t blame the movies I see, the music I hear, the games I play or the
books I read. No, they had nothing to do with this. This is my war: one man war against humanity,
governments and weak-minded masses of the world! No mercy for the scum of the earth!
HUMANITY IS OVERRATED! It's time to put NATURAL SELECTION & SURVIVAL OF THE
FITTEST back on tracks!
Justice renders to everyone his due.
- Pekka-Eric Auvinen (aka NaturalSelector89, Natural Selector, Sturmgeist89 and Sturmgeist).
I also use pseydonym Eric von Auffoin internationally.",1,Specific Threats,Natural Selector’s Manifesto,11/7/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Pekka_Eric_Auvinen_online.pdf,Pekka-Eric Auvinen
"YouTube suspended my previous account but I am back
now :) My new account name is German and means
""Stormspirit"" in English.
http://rapidshare.com/files/68 015773/PekkaEric_Auvinen___Jo kela_High_School_Massacre.zip
Name: Pekka-Eric Auvinen
Age: 18
Male from Finland.
I am a cynical existentialist, antihuman humanist,
antisocial socialdarwinist, realistic idealist and godlike
atheist.
SI VIS PACEM, PARA BELLUM! JUSTITIA SUUM
CUIQUE DISTRIBUIT! SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!
I am prepared to fight and die for my cause. I, as a
natural selector, will eliminate all who I see unfit,
disgraces of human race and failures of natural
selection.
You might ask yourselves, why did I do this and what do
I want. Well, most of you are too arrogant and closedminded to understand... You will proprably say me that I
am""insane"", ""crazy"", ""psychopath"", ""criminal"" or crap like
that. No, the truth is that I am just an animl, a human, an
individual, a dissident.
I have had enough. I don't want to be part of this fucked
up society. Like some other wise people have said in the
past, human race is not worth fighting for or saving...
only worth killing. But... When my enemies will run and
hide in fear when mentioning my name... When the
gangsters of the corrupted governments have been shot
in the streets... When the rule of idioracy and the
democratic system has been replaced with justice...
When intelligent people are finally free and rule the
society instead of the idiocratic rule of majority... In that
great day of deliverance, you will know what I want.",1,Specific Threats,Pekka-Eric Auvinen's YouTube Profile,10/19/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/auvinen_youtube_profile.pdf,Pekka-Eric Auvinen
"Long live the revolution... revolution against the system,
which enslaves not only the majority of weak-minded
masses but also the small minority of strong-minded
and intelligent individuals! If we want to live in a different
world, we must act. We must rise against the enslaving,
corrupted and totalitarian regimes and overthrow the
tyrants, gangsters and the rule of idiocracy. I can't alone
change much but hopefully my actions will inspire all the
intelligent people of the world and start some sort of
revolution against the current systems. The system
discriminating naturality and justice, is my enemy. The
people living in the world of delusion and supporting this
system are my enemies.
I am ready to die for a cause I know is right, just and
true... even if I would lose or the battle would be only
remembered as evil... I will rather fight and die than live
a long and unhappy life.
And remember that this is my war, my ideas and my
plans. Don't blame anyone else for my actions than
myself. Don't blame my parents or my friends. I told
nobody about my plans and I always kept them inside
my mind only. Don't blame the movies I see, the music I
hear, the games I play or the books I read. No, they had
nothing to do with this. This is my war: one man war
against humanity, governments and weak-minded
masses of the world! No mercy for the scum of the
earth! HUMANITY IS OVERRATED! It's time to put
NATURAL SELECTION & SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
back on tracks!
Justice renders to everyone his due.
Country: Finland
Occupation: Unemployed Philosopher, Outcast
Companies: Human Race (evolved one step above
though)
Interests and Hobbies: Existentialism, Freedom, Truth,
Misantrophy, Social / Personality Psychology,
Evolution Science, Political Incorrectness, Women,
BDSM, Guns (I love you Catherine), Shooting,
Computer Games, Sarcasm, Irony, Mass / Serial
Killers, Macabre Art, Black Comedy, Absurdism
Films and Shows: The Matrix, A View To A Kill, Falling
Down, Natural Born Killers, Reservoir Dogs, Last
Man Standing, Full Metal Jacket, Dr. Butcher MD
(aka Zombie Holocaust), Saw 1-3, Lord Of War, The
Deer Hunter, True Romance, The Untouchables, 28
Days Later, 28 Weeks Later, Idiocracy, They Live,
Apocalypse Now, End Of Days, The Shining, The
Dead Zone, Dr. Strangelove, House MD (TV), Monty
Python, TV Documentaries Relating To History
Music: KMFDM, Rammstein, Eisbrecher, Nine Inch
Nails, Grendel, Impaled Nazarene, Macabre,
Deathstars, The Prodigy, Combichrist, Godsmack,
Slayer, Children Of Bodom, Alice Cooper,
Sturmgeist, Suicide Commando, Hatebreed,
Suffocation, Terrorizer
Books: Fahrenheit 451 (Bradbury), 1984 (Orwell),
Brave New World (Huxley), The Republic (Plato), all
works of Nietzsche",1,Specific Threats,Pekka-Eric Auvinen's YouTube Profile,10/19/2007,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/auvinen_youtube_profile.pdf,Pekka-Eric Auvinen
"To Whom It May Concern,

Today is the last of my horrible days. When I die I have a few requests. 
Leave my casket open at the funeral. Please cremate me after the funeral. 
Spread my ashes across the mountain off of Eagle Bluff. There are only three people I have ever really loved. My Mom, my Dad, and Ken. 
To my dad, you always said I never liked you. You were wrong, I loved you just had a problem showing it sometimes. 
If I had a hat to rip off, I would leave a completed my blood oath's place. 
One of the main reasons why I'm so resistant is because she teases me now and then and loves her more than me. 
That drives me a little crazy.

THE END

Love, Kenneth Stuart Bartley",1,Vague Discontent,Kenneth Bartley Note,11/8/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Bartley_note.pdf,Kenneth Bartley
"Bosse spoke English in the video. Bracketed question marks indicate words I couldn’t make out.
[?] that nobody, the fucking crew about what is going to happen on Monday. This was my
plan, my work. I did this alone. Completely alone. Since 3rd grade, people picked on me.
And I was a loser. I wanted to have friends, to have clothes with the brand name on it in
big letters, but all that fuck changed in 2003/2004. I learned that there is more in life than
just consuming fuck. Like death, like clothes, or hip hop music, or — I never listened to hip
hop music! Don’t believe that. And in 2003/2004 my life changed then. I wasn’t a human
anymore. I was — God-like. And I began planning this, this massacre. I wanted to kill them
all, because they ruined my life. Because they, they changed my, they changed ... the people,
who are like that, who are just fuck consumers, the people change how you think. You are
alone and you want to have friends, and they change completely how you think. The more
you are with them, the more you become like them. And I said, “Fuck that. I’m not in this.”
And it was my thing, I made the GSS massacre. [GSS stands for Geschwister Scholl School,
which was Bosse’s former school. — P.L.]
Life has been beautiful, until I went to school the first time. There are two main reasons for
that massacre. First reason, school. Teachers, students, everything in that fucking building.
Second, the politics. On one hand I see ... it is ... the only thing where you are really, really
free, nobody has to tell you, nobody has the right to tell you what to do or not to do. It’s my
life. Not the fucking life of my parents or fucking [?] or any fucking teacher in the fucking
whole world. It’s my damn life.
Humans are a sickness. This earth is sick. I can’t fucking wait until I can shoot every motherfucking last one of you. Fucking damn bitches.
They [?] me, they spit on me, they knocked me down, they laughed on me, and [I will shoot
them?] “Where’s the problem?” “There is no problem.” I can shoot whoever I want. It’s my
life, my gun, and I can do with it whatever I want.
One time, some dude out of my class heated a ... heated a key. He take his lighter and heated
it, and then the fucking moron just come to me and pressed it on my, on my, on my hand.
What the fuck?
Every kid in school who is different from the majority is a loner. And why is every kid who is
different a loner? Because the fucking media tells the people, tells the majority of the people
what is cool and what is not. So [?] are cool, yeah? I bet you can’t run in it. But it would be
better if you can run, on Monday, because I got a gun, I got bombs, I got Molotov cocktails.
You are in war. This is war.",1,Specific Threats,A Video By Sebastian Bosse,,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_video_transcript_1.1.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"When you know you can’t be happy with your life anymore and the reasons for it pile up
day after day, then you have no other choice but to disappear from this life. And I decided
to do that. There might be people who would have continued, who would have thought “it’s
going to be ok”, but it is not going to be ok. People told me I have to go to school, to learn
for my life to be able to lead a beautiful life later. But what’s the point of the fattest [meaning
most expensive] car, the biggest house, the most beautiful wife, if in the end it doesn’t matter
anyway. When your wife begins to hate you, when your car uses up gas that you can’t pay
for, and when you don’t have anybody that will come visit you in your fucking house! The
only thing that was taught to me intensely at school was that I am a loser. For the first years
at GSS,1 it is even true, I fell for the horniness2 for consumption, I strove to make friends,
people who don’t see you as a person but rather as a status symbol. But then I woke up! I
realized that the world as I saw it didn’t exist, that it was an illusion, which was mainly created by the media. I noticed more and more in what kind of a world I was. In a world, in
which money reigns everything, even at school, it was only about that. You had to have the
newest cell phone, the newest clothes, and the right “friends”. If you don’t have one of them
you aren’t worth being noticed. And these people are called jocks. Jocks are all of those who
think they are above others because of expensive clothes or beautiful girls on their side. I
loathe these people, no, I loathe people.
In the 18 years of my life, I had to experience that you can only be happy, when you conform
to the masses, when you adapt to society. But I couldn’t and didn’t want to do that. I am free!
Nobody is allowed to interfere in my life, and if somebody still does it, he has to suffer the
consequences! No politician has the right to pass laws that prohibit things for me, No cop
has the right to take my weapon, especially while he is wearing his on his belt.
Why should I do anything? Why should I work? So that I work myself to death in order to
retire at 65 and croak 5 years later? Why should I make an effort to succeed in something, if
in the end it doesn’t matter anyway because, sooner or later, I will die? I can build a house,
have kids and who knows what else. But for what? Eventually, the house is going to be torn
down, and the children are also going to die. So tell me what is the meaning of life? There
isn’t one! That’s why you have to give your life its own meaning, and I won’t do that by
crawling up the ass of an overpaid boss or let Fascists, who want to tell me that we live in a
democracy, jerk me around. No, for me there is only one more possibility now to give meaning to my life and I won’t waste it as I did with all the others before! Maybe my life could
have been completely different. But society doesn’t have room for individualists. I mean real
individualists, people who think for themselves, and not those “I am wearing a watch with
studs and I am alternative” idiots!

You started this battle, not I. My actions are a result of your world, a world that won’t let me
be the way I am. You made fun of me, I did the same to you now, I just had a completely
different sense of humor!
From 1994 until 2003/2004, it was also my attempt to have friends, to have fun. When I
started at GSS in 1998, everything started with the status symbols, clothing, friends, cell
phone and so on. Then I woke up. I realized that my entire life, I was the dumb one for
the others, and people made fun of me. And I swore to take revenge! This revenge will be
executed so brutally and ruthlessly that your blood will freeze in your veins. Before I go, I
will teach you a lesson, so that nobody will ever forget me again! I want you to realize, that
nobody has the right to interfere in others lives under a fascist pretext of law and religion! I
want that my face will be burnt into your heads! I don’t want to run away anymore! I want
to contribute my part to the revolution of the outcasts! I want R E V E N G E !
I thought about the fact that most students who humiliated me have already left GSS. I have
two things to say to that: 1. I wasn’t just in one class, no, I went to the entire school. The
people who are at the school are by no means innocent! Nobody is! The same program that
also ran in previous years runs in their heads! I am the virus that wants to destroy these
programs, it is completely irrelevant where I start. 2. A majority of my revenge will be aimed
at the teaching staff, because those are people who interfered in my life against my will, and
who helped to put me where I am standing now; On the battlefield! Almost all these teachers are still at this damn school!
Today, life as it happens daily is surely the most pathetic life that the world has to offer!
S.J.W.R.D. — School, Job Training, Work, Retirement, Death. That’s the life of a “normal”
person these days. But what is essentially normal? We label normal as that what is expected
by society. Therefore, punks, bums, murderers, goths, homos and so on are considered
abnormal, because they don’t, can’t or don’t want to, meet the general perception of society.
I don’t give a shit about you! Everybody has to be free! Give everybody a weapon and the
problems among people will be resolved without any interference of a third party. When
somebody dies, then he is dead. So? Death is part of life! If the relatives can’t deal with the
loss, they can commit suicide, nobody will stop them!
S.J.W.R.D. begins at the age of 6 here in Germany, with school enrollment. The child starts
on its personal path of socialization, and in the following years, it will be forced to conform
to the community, the majority. If it refuses, teacher, parents, and if nothing else, the police
will step in. School attendance is a nice way of saying school enforcement, because you are
indeed forced to go to school. He who is forced, loses a piece of freedom. You are forced to
pay taxes, you are forced to stick to speed limits, you are forced to do this, you are forced to
do that. Ergo: No Freedom! And that is what you call democracy. If people were to rule, it
would be called anarchy! WAKE UP FINALLY — GET OUT ON THE STREETS — IT HAS
ALREADY WORKED ONCE IN GERMANY!
After my actions, some fat politicians will talk big about how “We all stick together now” or
“We have to try together to get through this”. However, they only do that to get attention, to
present themselves as the solution. It was the same at GSS ... this fat piece of shit principal
never showed her face, but when there were theater performances, then she was the first
one standing on stage with a wide grin and introduced herself to the masses!
Nazis, hip-hopper, Turks, state, civil servants, believers ... basically everybody sucks and needs
to be destroyed! (I use the term “Turks” for all hip hop muchels3 and small-time criminals; 

They come to Germany because the conditions in their homeland are so bad, because there
is war... and then they come to Germany, the social service department of the world, and
do whatever they want. They should all be gassed! Not Jews, not Negros, not the Dutch, but
muchels! I AM NOT A DAMN NAZI! I hate you and your ways! You all have to die!
Since I was 6 years old, I was jerked around by all of you! Now you have to pay for it!
Because I know that the fascist police won’t want to publish my videos, notebooks, diaries,
basically anything, I took it into my own hands.
On a final note, I want to thank those people who mean something to me or who were at
one point good to me, and I want to apologize for all of this!
I am gone . ..",1,Planned Violence,Sebastian Bosse's Website,,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_website_1.1.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | depressed ]
[ music | wumpscut — flucht {escape} ]
So yesterday, I came back from our Night Operation, unfortunately it started raining in
the middle of the night, so we aborted at 2am.
But it was pretty awesome .. .
the way we walked along a dark path, 5 people next to each other, and all of a sudden fullyautomatic weapons pelted at us from all sides.
Pictures and reports will follow ...
And in one week, I get to go back to school again, hurraaaaay ...
The final year . ..",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,8/15/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | bored ]
[ music | Slipknot — Surfacing ]
1. Total number of films I own on DVD/video: 17 DVDs, 20 Videos
2. The last film I bought: Heart of America
3. The last film I watched: HalloweenX
4. Five films that I watch a lot:
at the moment .. .
1) Halloween H20
2) Forrest Gump
3) Bowling for Columbine
4) Bang Bang you are dead
5) Star Wars 4–6
5. Tag 5 people and have them put this in their journal:
1) nope
2) nope
3) nope
4) nope
5) nope",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,6/18/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | depressed ]
I decided to leave it alone. I don’t know, if it’s really worth it, I don’t know, if in the end
I would really accomplish anything, and damn it, I don’t know where you get decent
weapons in Germany!
For the rest of my life, I will be a fucked up looser, and since I don’t care about anything,
I won’t graduate. It is hell, when you don’t care about anything. I mean; I don’t study
anymore, I don’t participate anymore and ... actually, I don’t do anything anymore besides
vegetating. It is hell on earth.
Comments
entfremdete {estranged / alienated female}
June 9 2005, 3:25:42pm UTC
:( hey you . . . try to get out of there, I think, in your case it would really be worth it,
it would be a shame; of course the world is fucked up, but hey, somehow we have to
be above such things.",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,6/7/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | angry ]
[ music | Slipknot — sic ]
Unfortunately in the last weeks, I didn’t only have to realize that my (former) best friend
made a pass at a girl whom I love, and that he is an asshole in other ways, too, no! Now I
also had to find out, that she loves him!
My current feelings cannot really be put into words. The word “hate” would even be
phrased in a positive way.
What else do I have to lose now .. . nothing — I have already lost everything. It is hell, a life
is wasted . .. all this can’t be true.",1,Grievance Airring,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,6/4/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | cold ]
[ music | Arch enemy — Kill with power ]
Yeah, the dog is doing somewhat better again, but has serious wounds.
What happened today ... oh yeah; school :(
In Religion, we talked about this psycho text, about a cat that talks with a flower because it wants it all and therefore has to scram. It eats the plant, o.O. {shock}, I am thinking get out
of here . . .
Then we were supposed to write a farewell letter on behalf of the cat (KINDERGARTEN!!!)
So, I wrote down what the teacher wanted to hear, but when it was my turn, I said that I
didn’t want to read it aloud.
Teacher: Is there a particular reason why you don’t want to read?
ResisX: No, I just don’t want to ...
Teacher: So, refusal to work?
ResisX: . . . Yes.
Teacher: Do you want me to write down an F for you?
ResisX: .. . Yes, give me an F.
Teacher: You know that even an F like that can jeopardize moving up, right?
ResisX: I don’t care, write it down!
Teacher: Since when don’t you care, Bastian?
ResisX: .. . Since 2 minutes ago (no idea why I said that ...)
Teacher: That’s not funny Bastian!
ResisX: I know, that’s why I am not laughing!
Teacher . ..
Well, as well as I know the woman, she won’t give me an F, but even if she did, it doesn’t
matter now!
Then yesterday, I started to write the letter to Nadine ... because everybody always asks
what is wrong with me . . . o.O, since when are people interested in me??? Anyway ... I am
going to make sure I will get to bed early today",1,Specific Threats,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/30/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | worried ]
I just found out that a German Shepard attacked our dog on his walk and he got injured
pretty badly. My parents have been at the vet’s office for quite a while.
I SWEAR TO YOU, ON EVERYTHING THAT IS SACRED TO ME, IF SOMETHING
SERIOUS HAPPENS, I WILL KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY, AND I WILL BURN
DOWN YOUR HOUSE !!!",1,Specific Threats,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/29/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | depressed ]
[ music | Bloodhound Gang — I hope you die ]
Unfortunately for the last days or even weeks, I had to realize that you can be very wrong
about people. Even I, who I thought can judge people correctly, was wrong.
I won’t mention names, reasons and things like that here, they are not important. The fact
is: People change. Or: People have many faces.
Now, I am sitting here, the sun is burning on our black roof, and it is like hell in my
room. I am sitting here on my computer, eating ice cream, and listening to “Nothing”
from “A”, a song that reminds me of a certain person, whom I love. I think about stuff,
ponder over what the others are doing now; my family has a visitor and they are sitting in
the back yard, my “friends” are probably at the pool, .. . the pool; a place to which I haven’t
been going in a long time, “too public,” my argument, want to avoid people, so I won’t
experience more shit. Shit; it has settled, like a storm that destroyed everything, and now it’s only rain that occasionally fills up some basements. Back then it was worse, grades
5-8 were the most extreme, now it settled, it is not so bad anymore. However, the wounds
remain, not only physical, no, mostly emotional wounds, and the question: Why did they
do it? also still agonizes me today. Most of them don’t know, they thought I went to school
every day, didn’t participate, and went home again. The only time that something was
forced to the outside was when they pressed a glowing bicycle key onto my hand ... then
the principal pressed charges. But that was it. Nobody wanted to see the other things, or
nobody saw them. Seeing . . . I am just thinking how the world would be, if nobody were
to see anything . .. would everybody be equal then? At least nobody would pay attention to
your clothes, you yourself probably wouldn’t either. Anyway ...
So, that’s what was bothering me at this hour.",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/26/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | angry ]
[ music | Wizo — Nazificker {Nazi fucker} ]
Tomorrow is the 24th, Tuesday .. . and what will happen? NOTHING!!!
I hate it, I hate to always be everybody’s dimwit. I hate to always be portrayed as a dork.
I hate to always be the individual who seems unnecessary, but I hate it even more when
people try to betray me . .. LH !!! Who do you think you are? What do you think you can
get away with? Who gives you the right to breathe my air? What is wrong with you? I tell
you what is wrong with you: I think you can’t bear that even dumb Bastian is successful
sometimes. I think that your ego won’t allow it. Do you know what my ego says? It says
kill LH but my brain advises me against it. I listen to my brain. The question is how much
longer.
I am done with the world, I feel outcasted by it and hope for change. But how do we
define such change? Or even more important: What am I doing here?
Man, man, man . ..
Comments
entfremdete
May 24 2005, 8:17:28pm UTC
“What sort of folk is this! Do they even think or do they only shuffle senselessly
across the earth? (Franz Kafka) . .. I just found this, thought you might like it ;)
“What am I essentially doing here?” trying to become a person in this world? ;)
resistantx
May 25 2005, 11:57:42am UTC
how do you define “person”
entfremdete
May 26 2005, 2:27:04pm UTC
well, if that’s all you need :)
there are certainly the most intense types of people, said a healthy person in this
case . . . along with that, this is what comes to my mind:
Somebody that wants to live, in spite of it all.
Whereas, living doesn’t mean mere survival but rather freedom of the individual to
develop his inner strength and to cope in the world and live in it solely through this
inner strength and not through any compensatory actions such as consumption, oppression of others, illusions, being a follower, submission, destructiveness,
indifference, fear, hate ...
Not to go crazy. To keep your eyes open, not to deaden ... to be able to love.
Have you heard of Erich Fromm before? My opinion is considerably influenced by
him . .. he wrote books with the titles “Ways Out of the Sick Society” or “Fear of
Freedom”
If you are interested, I can send you a few interesting passages, if I have time, just
let me know ...
how would you define “person”?",1,Specific Threats,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/23/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | okay ]
[ music | VOX — CSI ]
Today after school, I drove to a buddy. First we did some stuff for school and then we shot
a little.
o.O . . . he is standing next to a compressed air thing and is putting a copper pipe on top of
the pistol. Then the guy takes approximately 15 cm long nails with felt pieces on them and
puts them into the pipe. Pufffff! Man, those pieces went off, the guy shot at a barn door
the entire time. Then I was finally able to test my Colt, was a little lame, but nice ;)
Other than that, nothing happened.",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/18/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | okay ]
[ music | Alles wird vorrüber gehen {Everything will pass} — Die toten Hosen ]
Well, was at school ... got an F again, because I didn’t write the entire shit in type3 but
rather type2 . .. fuck, didn’t look right!
Then I tried to finish the Colt . . . well, didn’t work out, so I went to the gun store, where
they told me that my double action system is screwed ... well ... single is enough for me.
Then took 50 more .380s home. Now something is wrong with my server and I have to
ask those people what’s up with that shit . . .
Other than that, nothing major happened.",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/17/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | annoyed ]
[ music | KMFDM — Ultra ]
So, what did I do today ... slept until about 1pm, then had breakfast and directly
afterwards, I had lunch. Then sat on my PC but I kept getting up because I was so bored
that I didn’t know what to do.
Yes, lol, then my Colt broke . .. it’s always like that when I buy myself something ...
I am thinking about just dropping out of school next year, so I don’t have to see their faces
anymore, so I don’t have to hear their voices anymore. No idea, if I should do that . . .
entfremdete
May 17 2005, 2:13:38pm UTC
is it really that bad at your school? mhm, yeah, I was also glad when I was allowed to
leave...
resistantx
May 17 2005, 2:17:00pm UTC
Indirectly.
The fact that I am older than those in my class makes things significantly easier,
in other words, it is not like it was in my old class, in which I was humiliated. But
those people are all such complete morons; either over the top clowns or blowhard
potheads, who consider themselves the greatest.
entfremdete
May 17 2005, 2:37:28pm UTC
mhm, what I mean by it that is: as long as you don’t let others break you and
oppress you, a lot is saved . .. The problem has been or is maybe still subliminal,
whereas every person deals with it differently . .. while you are all alone, this dulling
of the mind is hard to tolerate, I mean especially mentally, then somehow you only
see the contrast between their world and your own, whereas it is certainly more
important to build your own and to freely develop your personality in it and not let
others inhibit you.
resistantx
May 17 2005, 5:11:41pm UTC
but that is not so easy with those idiots who run around freely out there...I can’t
concentrate on myself.
entfremdete
May 17 2005, 6:21:44pm UTC
*g* {grin} no, but gradually, it is important to develop this strength (... to lock up
idiots ;) or to get rid of them is pointless at such a large number . ..) and that takes
time. the time, however, that you give them, keeps them also alive . . . and that time,
on the other hand, you have less for yourself . .. that is mere re-acting, not acting, if
you understand . . .
entfremdete
May 17 2005, 6:23:39pm UTC
*g* just saw that you listened to the toten hosen [German band], yesterday I saw
them in concert :)
resistantx
May 17 2005, 6:41:58pm UTC
And? Was it awesome? Where was it?
entfremdete
May 17 2005, 6:46:52pm UTC
in Bielefeld (I am going to live there soon) :) ... they made good music there *g*
entfremdete
May 17 2005, 6:47:51pm UTC
although, to be honest, I like other bands more...",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/16/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | angry ]
[ music | - ]
So, I finally have my python, and I am not talking about a snake ;)
We had practice today, and all of a sudden my weapon acted up, after 6 shots, gas escaped
from the ammo clip ... and not only mine was defect, another one overheated because the
guy bypassed the broken safety, o.O
Well . . . other than that everything is crap, I just don’t know what I should do anymore, I
can’t get ahead. Should I keep trying? Or end everything in one week? Or, or, or ...
There is no progress with Nadine . . . I blame this sick HipHop Music that all the kids
listen to . . . you have to go crazy and only talk shit.
I HATE EVERYTHING!!!
What’s up with all that shit??? Did I come to this damn world to be the idiot next door, my
whole life? What should I do here? What are all of us supposed to do here?",1,Grievance Airring,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/15/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | frustrated ]
[ music | Arch enemy — Kill with power ]
The longer I think about life, the more I realize how senseless it actually is ... Somebody
is born, has a good life for 6 years, but then gets enrolled in school. Then unconsciously,
he has to make a decision; do I stay the way I am or do I conform to the others? To be
more precise, do I remain strong or do I become my own traitor? If you decide to remain
steadfast, you are being laughed at because you say different things, because you look
differently or listen to different music, because you have different interests. That’s going
to continue on for 4 long years, and then our 10 year old child thinks: Fortunately, I am
getting to go to a different school now, then finally it will be better! And what happens?
NOTHING! Everything is only going to be more extreme! The motto of secondary school
is: Go along or go down forever! Then you just live day by day, in the hope that you can
survive all of this garbage in one way or another, so that you can lead a better life later.
. . .
Then it keeps going: Either you won’t get a job at all or you work yourself to death for a
ridiculous pay until you are 65. Maybe you start a family, which means you make other
people go through all this shit. Maybe you build a home, which you probably are never
able to pay off ... anyway you are at a point, old and wrinkled, where you maybe live 20
more years. What do you do? You start thinking about your life up to then and you realize:
Why did I do this to myself??? What do I have now? NOTHING!",1,Specific Threats,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,5/15/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | okay ]
[ music | Rammstein — Morgenstern {morning star} ]
Today after two weeks, we had school again, I had to write a Geography test, about the
Ruhr area {area in Germany} ... Lol, I remember, one time I had to make up a Geography
test and this dumb teacher sat me in a map room, looooool.
In Social Science, we first talked about vocabulary and when we talked about “Populism,” the teacher briefly talked about Josef Goebbels. And I thought I didn’t hear it right. One of
the oldest girls in class raised her hand and asked who that was ... Man, you should know
at least that much about the history of your country, right??? But it is probably “not cool”
to know stuff like that.
When we waited for our gym teacher in front of the gym, I saw that Alice Cooper is going
to be in town, let’s see, maybe I will go there ;)
{image not available}
So at a little before 5, 2 friends came and we left with our speed bikes. Halfway, we went
to McDonalds. Then we rode for about 50 km.

Comments
entfremdete
April 12 2005, 1:02:48pm UTC
*g* once our class was allowed to write an open book Geography test with the
permission from a completely dopey teacher . . . and afterwards, he only collected
them from those people who never say anything.
resistantx
April 12 2005, 1:34:01pm UTC
Well, you could only wish for such teachers.
entfremdete
April 12 2005, 3:20:54pm UTC
:D",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,4/4/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | bored ]
[ music | Nothing, but I hear some neighbors talk ]
Well, I am back, we went to the campground ... man, it changed a lot ... way too busy
there and it is going to be even busier. But we are definitely going to scare them away
during pentecost ;)
The restaurant was open again, then we all ordered French fries.
{image not available}
Afterwards, we drove to Denekamp and bought tea and stuff like that. I got a ring for
myself, for 4 Euros.
{image not available}
It was a complete construction sight, I am curious to know what it will look like during
pentecost",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,4/3/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | depressed ]
[ music | Creed — My own prison ]
School is going to start again tomorrow .. . bullshit.
How fast two weeks can go by . . .
What did I do? Well, break started with our first skirmish, to which another team from the
Ruhr area came, we played from noon to the evening.
Then there was really nothing special going on until the end. We met with a few people,
had a few barbecues. I don’t feel like doing stuff with them anymore ... man, what a
difference two years in age can make. I don’t want to deal with their adolescent problems,
don’t want to be the idiot, want to be alone.
Toward the end of break, on April 1, 2005 to be exact, we drove to Ohne to skirmish with
SACS. We even won higher than when we played the guys from the Ruhr area, we won
every round.
Then I ordered an MP5-SD6 AEG during break and told them that I would transfer the
money on April 2nd . .. and what’s happening? The guy who is supposed to buy my old
G36c is not coming, and now I don’t have the money .. . great!
Soon, I am going to drive to the campground with my family. I am curious to see what
the new owner fabricated . .. I hope it stays a beautiful campground, where nature has
priority, and not frigging wellness-crap, where some big shots have their asses carried
after them and then call themselves “luxury campers.”
We will see.
Comments
wekillemall
April 3 2005, 11:02:56am UTC
that’s the reason why I always take advanced payment . . . you can’t trust anybody ;)
resistantx
April 3 2005, 3:15:41pm UTC
that’s exactly right",1,Specific Threats,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,4/3/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | confused ]
Just getting home from school ... or rather from the movies, saw “Sophie Scholl”. All in
all, the movie is rather boring but pretty well done in terms of drama. Before the movie, I
wrote a 2 hour long Math test and then went to the movies.
At 2:30pm, I am going to practice, since we are going to have a skirmish on Saturday.
Comments
entfremdete
March 17 2005, 3:55:50pm UTC
I also saw it two weeks ago or so, found the conversation between her and the
officer who interrogated her pretty interesting because of the subject matter law/
conscience.
resistantx
March 17 2005, 3:59:28 UTC
I think that the officer was portrayed too “humane” at the end, since he was a nazi.
entfremdete
March 18 2005, 10:56:29am UTC
well, he was a human ;) but you are right, above all he was a nazi and not a
human, whereas I ask myself, if both can actually coexist at all, or if everything
that is humane has to be suppressed in these cases to be able to “bear” to execute
something that is so dehumanizing without going crazy ...",1,Planned Violence,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,3/16/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | tired ]
[ music | Eminem — Like toy soldiers (Instrumental) ]
Well, I wanted to write something again. I am going to start with last weekend.
Grandma and Grandpa had their Golden Wedding anniversary .. . wow BARF! Under no
circumstance did I want to go there because I only have little contact to that side of the
family. And what should I talk to them about . . . no idea ...
Well, then my mom practically forced me, and I can’t really not go . ..
So I went there and took pictures, all the men/boys wore suits . .. you can’t get me in one
of those ;) Of course, nobody liked it that I wore my “everyday clothes.” Then back home
again, waited until I was allowed to go to church . .. I listened to it . . . loool the things that
guy said were complete garbage ... Their motto was “within touching distance ...” He said
the church decorated the cross based on the motto ... they hung a rag over it .. . Haha, I
could have started to laugh out loud when he said that but I stopped myself. After that, we
went to a cafe, I already had enough as soon as I got out of the car . .. Well, I thought to
myself I had to stick it out. I sat with my other grandma and drank 2 glasses of champaign
with her . .. then I sat at another table and I was almost ready to walk home. After we
ate, everything was more relaxed and there was a lot to drink :) At the end, I didn’t want
to leave anymore, I stood on the tables with one of my cousins and was singing .. . rofl
{rolling on the floor laughing}
Well, then back to school! I was lucky, they let us go after 4th period due to a shortage of
teachers. Then I went home, I worked a little on the maps for the CS1.6 (www.maps.staydifferent.de)
Other than that, really nothing spectacular happened during the week. I had to listen to
the usual crap, like “Hey look! There is the Matrix-Man!”
Looooooool, nitwits!",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,3/7/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | okay ]
[ music | Amerika — Rammstein ]
Today after school, I ate something, then slept for 2 hours, ate again, and sat in front of
my PC. Thank you for your attention!
Comments
wooohoooo
September 15 2004, 5:43:05pm UTC
what a day ;)
resistantx
September 16 2004, 10:52:04am UTC
Yes, that’s how it is...
entfremdete
January 7 2005, 8:56:37am UTC
. . . and what did you do today? ;) say hello to crying_silence
resistantx
January 8 2005, 8:56:55am UTC
Slept until 1pm, then ate, went on the PC and ate again. :)
entfremdete
January 9 2005, 11:14:22pm UTC
well, what else can we do, right.. ;)
resistantx
January 10 2005, 3:01:14pm UTC
Well, there isn’t much.
entfremdete
January 10 2005, 6:50:19pm UTC
. . . oh well, crappy realization that the idea of a real life is almost impossible ... not
much is really left.",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,9/15/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | okay ]
[ music | Brute — KMFDM ]
Today, we bought soft air weapons and ammunition for about 220 Euros. Now we are
finally armed again.
We had practice yesterday, then one of the guns broke. There are a few new pics on our
homepage (www.s-i-c-k.de.vu)
Other than that, nothing happened today",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,9/10/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | pissed off ]
[ music | Bullet with butterflying wings — Smashing pumpkins ]
. . . I just ate lunch, before that, I was at school. Man, already two strikes on the third day
.. . shit ... well, I didn’t do my English homework because I didn’t feel like it, and I forgot
my German notebook at home, unfortunately my homework was in it.
Stupid school . ..
The day started out already really well .. . I stayed up way too late and had a hard time
getting up. Then I almost fell asleep under the shower and, if that wasn’t enough, I was also pressed for time ...
 . .. Well first of all, I got to class late, and they wrote me up. That’s especially good, when
it happens on the first class with a new teacher! Well, it was only Religion ... the subject
where they tell you such garbage that you like to go to class because it is so funny ... Our
new topic: (for the third time) “Satanism / Occultism.” Oh man!
Then I rushed home after school and had to find out that my mom snooped around my
stuff again a little ... Well, maybe they are just worried ...
So, now I am sitting her and I am writing . ..
Other than that nothing special happened today, . .. was laughed at a little, said something
goofy during Math, . .. the usual!",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,9/8/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | angry ]
[ music | Wir sind wir {We are we} — Pal van Dyk und Peter Heppner ]
That bites, really ... today, school started again ... first of all, those stupid idiots changed
the times, so that there is a 3 minute break for those who want to study between each
period . . . I don’t believe it, eh ... 3 minutes ...
And then to see all those stupid-ass kids again ... they think they are so cool ... They
think they are the greatest . .. SHIT ON YOU !!!
Then already on the first day, she starts with this stupid ... or is it still spelled that way?
spelling reform crap . . .
I write the way I want!
 . . .
Then I was working on creating a banner for our Airsoft Match that is (hopefully) taking
place .. .
I don’t feel like seeing the same frigging faces again tomorrow ... man, how I hate
them!!!!!!!!!!!",1,Grievance Airring,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,9/6/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | okay ]
[ music | Mein Teil {My Part} — Rammstein]
Yesterday, I thought about what ASG {airsoft gun} I should buy. The “MP5 A3”, the “M4
RIS”, and the “Super Shotgun Hardball II” made it on the short list.
Today, I decided to get the MP and ordered it right away. And again, 65 Euros are gone ...
Our homepage got an update.
www.s-i-c-k.de.vu
School starts again on Monday ... damn! BARF!
And now I am bored . ..",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,9/4/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | bored ]
[ music | RTL {German TV station} — South Park]
Today, I went to the indoor public pool with a buddy. Afterwards, we drove to McDonalds.
Around 7pm, I went to sleep for an hour ...
 . .. what an unbelievably exciting day ...",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,9/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"[ mood | busy ]
[ music | Slipknot — Duality ]
So first, I have to try out how this works ...",1,Vague Discontent,Bosse’s LiveJournal page,9/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_livejournal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"Of all the lives in this world, apparently mine is the only one that’s meaningful. And that’s
the truth . . . when you look at people today, you only see empty bodies, all dressed up and
dolled up to the max but that is only the shell. Inside, it is empty. We only live to produce
ourselves. We downright market ourselves. Every person wants to sell the product “I” as
something wonderful, and because one person is dumber than the other, it works great.
Whoever doesn’t want to go along with it, stands alone. I say: “Fuck you!”
Why do people have such a hard time taking things the way they are, I mean why don’t my
parents, my aunt, or whoever else accept my Mohawk? Why do people not accept my appearance? They think to themselves: “Why can’t he run around normally?” But can you tell
me what “normal” is? Is there a book or a homepage somewhere that commands you to
act normal, including an explanation on what “normal” is? HARDLY LIKELY! SO, STOP
WITH YOUR HARDCORE CONSERVATIVE Attitude and finally accept that: “Normal” is
I! Everybody defines “normal” differently, everybody defines it for himself or herself!
Is it too much to ask to be left alone? Are we condemned today, if we don’t want to know
anything about anything, but rather want to live OUR lives? Yes! Because then the fucking
cops come and bag you up! Own opinion . . . hasn’t been allowed anymore for a long time.
Miserable state! Miserable planet! Miserable life!",1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,8/10/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"Shit! I feel as if I’m about to croak! My heart hurts so terribly, that I am bent over because
of the pain.",1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,8/13/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"Imagine you are in your old school, imagine the trench coat covers all your tools for justice,
and then you throw the first Molotov cocktail, the first bomb. You are sending your most
hated place to hell!",1,Grievance Airring,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,8/19/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"Soon we are on our way to OP1 Black Ede 2, if I croak on my way there (about 5 hours) or during OP, these should be my last words: I hate the human race, except for myself and my family",1,Grievance Airring,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,8/25/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"School shooting in Montreal!2 Quote n24:3 “. . . the police rules out a terrorist attack . . .”
without obligation, doesn’t that show again what kind of losers are working there?",1,Specific Threats,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,9/14/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"We don’t live in a democracy! We are well on our way to a dictatorship! Except for the brown4
fools in Dresden, we are surrounded by fascist pigs every day! If you compare today’s apparatus of state with Hitler’s, then you will notice very quickly, that what they want to sell as
politics here is old soup in new cans. Let’s only look at the Nazis’ concentration camps . . .
that’s the same shit as prisons. Who ended up in the camps? The so-called political enemies.
And who ends up in prisons today? The so-called political enemies! You are already their
enemy when you park in the wrong parking lot, then they force you to pay money. Shit! I
am allowed to park where ever I want! Democracy = government of the people. Shit, can
you tell me where people rule? Every 4 years maybe, when we have the choice between shit,
shit, and real shit? This fascist country needs riots and street fights, until this miserable
government is overthrown!
[Symbol for anarchy]
And essentially what did the SS, the SA do back then? They locked up people when they
were against the government. And the cops today? They do the same!
And then there would still be our beloved school ... to be compared to the Hitler Youth. You
undergo brain washing without noticing it. You are pounded with what is good and what
is bad ... in their eyes. Whoever fights back, ends up in the concentration camp ... pardon,
in the joint!",1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,9/18/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"ERIC HARRIS
Probably the most reasonable boy that a shitty high school can offer ... pff ... ERIC HARRIS
IS GOD! There is no doubt.
It is scary how similar Eric was to me. Sometimes it seems as if I were to live his life again, as if everything would repeat itself. I am not a copy of REB, VoDKa, Steinhäuser, Gill, Kinkel, Weise5 or anybody else! I am the advancement of REB! I learned from his mistakes, the
bombs. I learned from his entire life.
Primary Targets:
Fabian Tillack Frau Höllen Oliver Feldhaus
Sebastian Jansen Herr Bäger Daniel Feldhaus
Michael Siegbert Stefan Deuschner Hannes Söllner
Henning Schuhmann Maren Schröder Sulian Ruholl
Primary Target — Building:
GSS6
1. Fabian Tillack
2. Max Feld
3. Henning Schumann",1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,9/26/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"It doesn’t matter what you do in your life, everything is fading! RX!7 Even my attack on GSS
is undone someday! I wish I could turn back this frigging time, and start from the beginning
with the knowledge I have now. But even if I could, it wouldn’t change anything about the
state and the government. I hate this damn country! I want to be free! “Death or freedom”
The state of affairs:
Today 1 kg of sulfur was bought, to produce gun powder
In the following days, a 12 gauge shotgun, and a .45 pistol will be bought.
Timed bombs are being built next week!
Planned arsenal: .22, .45, 12 gauge shotgun, 15 pipe bombs, 2 or 3 of them are timed bombs,
10 Molotov cocktails, 10 smoke grenades, 1600 ml of pepper spray, 1 liter of formic acid
85%, machete, knives, Toufac CO2 pump gun and enough ammunition for the weapons!
Perhaps still ammonium nitrate, I could get tons of this fucking stuff for free, but I don’t
have the opportunity to experiment with it.
Before any one of you claims that I am Harris’ or anybody else’s copycat, you should think
about it for a moment: Is a priest in a small village only the pope’s “copycat”? No! Of course
not! He believes in the same thing as the pope, but he doesn’t copy him. He looks at things
the same. Like the fucking pope, he is part of a whole.
Don’t you dare have any of these spiritual dick-faces open their mouths at my funeral! THERE
IS NO FUCKING GOD
But how was the world created ... I always thought that at one time or another, 2 substances, or more, mixed, and then, very slowly, one thing resulted from another. But I have absolutely
no idea where the hell these 2 substances were supposed to have come from!",1,Grievance Airring,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,10/18/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"Right now I’m holding a 12 Gauge Alarm Patrone in my godly hands! It’s filled with circa
90 grain ass kickin’ black powder, which I need for my muzzle loader guns. On November
17, 20 or 21 I will blow up that fucking piece of shit school! This is a war. The whole World
against RX!
My weapons are: – .22 Single Shot rifle (sawed off)
12 Gauge muzzle loader Shotgun (sawed off)
.45 muzzle loader Pistol
Bootknife
Machete
Pepperspray
Smokegrenades (10)
Pipebombs (8)
In the following days I will build more pipebombs, molotov cocktails and self made smoke
grenades!",1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,11/6/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"Today I passed the point of no return. I shot my muzzle-loaders the first time and fuck —
THAT SHIT WORKS! This sawed off Shotgun kicks ass man ...
Also I got 10 more .22 bullets, which makes a total of 48 .22’s. 20.11.2006 will be my big
ass ENDING!",1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,11/13/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"I just gave S!lent my G3SAS with all its stuff. He probably think I’m an Idiot because all that
stuff costs new more than 400Euro! But hey ... I don’t need my Baby anymore! I did my biggest AS Games with my G3! It’s better to give it to a TASTE Member than sell it to any Idiot!",1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,11/16/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"In 3 days it’s all over. People will be lying dead on school grounds, the school will be burning
and my brain will be blown out! I just went to GSS to see if everybody will be there when
this shit starts. And YES! They will!
I’m not fucking psycho! It’s not Airsoft or music that make me killing people, it’s you! Airsoft
helped my to hit what I’m aiming! Music helped me when I was fuckin’ down!
All I want now is killing, hurting and scaring as much people as possible!
Sometimes I write shit in english, because I want everybody to understand what the hell
I’m talking about!",1,Specific Threats,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,11/17/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"This is the last evening I will ever see. I should be happy about all this, but somehow I’m not.
It’s my family ... They are all good people, and I will hurt them tomorrow. It’s sad, to know I
won’t see them again after tomorrow morning. To those I love: I’m very sorry about all this.
I never had a girlfriend, I never kissed a girl . . . but wait, there was this wannabe Gothic
chick . . . don’t like these . . . but I was drunk, so fuck that. I’m not gay! I don’t think its a
problem if anyone is lesbian or gay, but I’m not. I like Jill, from Resident Evil Apocalypse
and 3 Nemesis! That’s why I call my sawed off .22 “Jill”. The 12 Gauge is the “BFG” and the
.45 is “Mister Pästerich,” named after Homer Simpsons Gun. I like the Simpsons. I don’t
like Comics at all, but I love the Simpsons and my own comics.
Don’t believe shit people will tell after November 20th. For example that Henning Schu–
mann dude . . . That guy is so stupid it’s not even funny. I thought I was a friend of him a
long time ago, but he’s a fucking liar. He hadn’t got real friends because he is just beating
everybody ... god what a fucking retarded ASSHOLE!
If anybody of my whole big family is a good human, please help my parents, my grandma,
my sister and my brother. I love them! And I hate me for hurting them. They are nice and
good people!
I hope that other outcasts will be treated better after GSS! And I hope that some of ’em will
be like Reb, Vod and Me: A FUCKING HERO!
It’s kinda weird . . . I’ve been planning/knowing this for a long time, and now it feels like
DAAAMN That came quick!",1,Grievance Airring,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,11/19/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
That’s it!,1,Vague Discontent,Sebastian Bosse's Journal,11/20/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bosse_journal_1.0.pdf,Sebastian Bosse
"REPORTER: What do you have to say to people who are out there? Who are scared because
of what you did today?
BOUCHE: Uh, I don’t know if it is going to make it any better or not. I can say sorry all I
want, but doesn’t matter now.
REPORTER: Do you feel sorry? Do you feel remorseful?
BOUCHE: Yeah. That’s why I put down the gun. I could have kept going. There was no
officers there to stop me. I put it down because there was a girl there. She didn’t run from
me. She just, you know, I shot through the door. I could have shot her, but I just I don’t
know ... I just couldn’t do it. So I just shot through the door. She was walking and crying and
walking away, but it just made me throw down the gun instead of bumping it. I kept, you
know, instead of shooting through more doors, I stopped and gave myself up to the teacher.
REPORTER: Now that this has ended the way that it did, what do you have to say to the
seventeen year old who was hurt?
BOUCHE: I didn’t see him, but ...
REPORTER: So that was unintentional what happened there?
BOUCHE: It was just through the door, but I heard someone screaming like they were hurt,
because I’ve never heard that scream before, so . . . but what I got to say to him is nothing,
just he’s going to think whatever he wants about me, I don’t know.
REPORTER: Are you sorry for hurting him?
BOUCHE: Yeah, but he can hate me all he wants. Doesn’t matter anymore.
REPORTER: You say that you have a mental health problem. That’s something, I mean,
do you want help for that?
BOUCHE: It’s not really my mental, or disease or anything like that. It’s just being around
stuff that, you know, that a child shouldn’t be around. My first memory is violence and conflict. That’s my first memory, and no one will believe me. That’s one of the reasons people
don’t take me serious. I tell people, one of my first memories was violence and conflict they
don’t believe me, but ...
REPORTER: Sky, how did you get a gun?
BOUCHE: I was watching Vice News and they showed ways how to get a gun without a
background check. They showed gun shows, which they do require background checks, but
then they showed this website called Armsless.com, where you can get private sales with
anyone in your state. It’s instant messaging, so you’re not like buying guns on line. You’re
just meeting people to sell you the guns, and that’s how I got it.
REPORTER: That’s how you got it?
BOUCHE: Yes, sir.
REPORTER: Do you feel that you should have had a gun?
BOUCHE: No, sir.
REPORTER: What do you foresee in your future now, after today?
BOUCHE: Uh, solitary.
REPORTER: Is there any kind of message that you want to send, your side of this?
BOUCHE: I don’t know. I don’t think there is anything to say, because it’s just a storm, you
know, there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. When you got tornados coming through you
don’t know if this wind is going to make a tornado, or just you know, like breeze. So no one
knows. And that’s just the way it’s going to be.
REPORTER: Okay. Were you ever abused at all, or anything, whether it be physical or
emotional?
BOUCHE: I was just around mental illness my whole life, but I wasn’t hit or anything. It
was probably just neglect a lot.
REPORTER: So your mental illness ... um ...
BOUCHE: I’m not mentally ill. I’m more of uh . ..
REPORTER: I’m just saying, were you around ...
BOUCHE: Yes, a lot of bipolar, schizophrenic people in my family that are violent and scream
pretty much on a daily basis.
REPORTER: And you want to just get away from that?
BOUCHE: I was going to join the Marine Corps, but I was Baker Acted1 at fourteen years
old, so that’s prevented me from getting into the military and getting away from them.
REPORTER: So did you see this as your only way out of your situation?
BOUCHE: Pretty much, yeah.
REPORTER: And walk me through this morning when you got up to when the incident
happened.
BOUCHE: I woke up, I took my sawed-off shotgun, I chambered one of the shells in, because
it only holds three rounds, so I put another one in the tube, put it away. And pretty much
the only thing I’m feeling at this time is just adrenaline rush. It’s not anger. It’s not hatred.
It’s just this adrenaline rush, that you know, I’m about to just do something and you know,
I spend most of my time in a room alone. So I’m like getting this rush, so that’s what I was
feeling. But until I actually got to the school, you know, the excitement built and it built and
it built, and I realized there’s no resource officers around. There’s no one to stop me, like
I thought there would be. And I just got into the bathroom. I took my time putting on my
gloves, my tactical vest, but as soon as I walked ...
REPORTER: You went into the bathroom you said?
BOUCHE: Yes.
REPORTER: And then you put on all your gear?
BOUCHE: Everyone would’ve just got into the classroom. It just started, so ... they ... and
then as soon as I stepped out the bathroom the excitement just like went to like a dead halt,
and I just, and it felt like this disgusting feeling came over me, like I didn’t know what to
do, just confused.
REPORTER: Well you did go through and fire the one shot?
BOUCHE: Yeah, I didn’t know what to do and just figured you know if people are just going
to see oh this guy is just coming in with a toy gun, so I ... I didn’t even think the gun would
work. That’s why I pointed it at the door. So you know I just shot and at first I just saw a
hole. I couldn’t hear right away, but then you know as soon as I saw .. .
REPORTER: Are you at least thankful no one . ..
BOUCHE: Yeah, I’m very thankful that. I asked, you know, everyone I could that, because
I didn’t even know I hit someone the news reporter said, “Did you know that kid?” And I’m
like I don’t know what you’re talking about.
REPORTER: When did you order the gun? When did you get the gun?
BOUCHE: Uh, I went on Armsless. They did this uh . . . The news was showing this after
the Valentine’s Day Massacre at Parkland, and that’s how they ... so it was around that time.
REPORTER: Around that time you ordered it?
BOUCHE: Yeah, right before the age went up to 21. That’s when I got it.
REPORTER: And when did you actually get the gun? It came in the mail?
BOUCHE: No, no. I went to the guy’s house.
REPORTER: You went to the guy’s house.
BOUCHE: It’s a private sale.
REPORTER: So you did a private sale?
BOUCHE: Yes. And the gun, it was, it’s a 1930s shotgun, so there’s no papers on it.
REPORTER: And when did you get it basically?
BOUCHE: I don’t remember the exact date but around ...
REPORTER: But, like a couple of weeks after, three weeks?
BOUCHE: Yeah, like a week after.
REPORTER: A week. So a week after the Parkland shooting?
BOUCHE: Yeah, around there.
REPORTER: So it hasn’t been long that you’ve been planning this?
BOUCHE: I don’t have these like sort of fantasies towards hatreds, towards people, unless
I get really depressed. And I was training martial arts before this. I was training Muay Thai
and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and I was feeling, you know, I wasn’t depressed or anything, but I just
didn’t have any friends, and as soon as I got a knee injury, you know, I’m alone in my house
and there’s nothing to do, so the depression and the rage came back. And you know, I just
I didn’t express it. I couldn’t express it and violence in a martial arts place, so I expressed it
in violence in public, which I shouldn’t have done.
REPORTER: Are you a former student of that school?
BOUCHE: Yes, sir.
REPORTER: What happened? Did you drop out or . .. ?
BOUCHE: Yeah, I was just you know contemplating my Baker Acting, because I still didn’t
know if I could join the military or not, like I haven’t gone to the recruiters yet, but then I
went to the recruiters and they told me, you know if you’re Baker Acted or did any drugs we
can’t take you. And that’s when I flipped out and you know, just dropped out.
REPORTER: When did you drop out from school?
BOUCHE: Uh, it was 2016.
REPORTER: 2016. And you haven’t been to any formal schooling since?
BOUCHE: No, sir.
REPORTER: Unless you have anything else you want to say ...
BOUCHE: No.
REPORTER: Or anything to your family?
BOUCHE: No.
REPORTER: Do you have any brothers or any sisters?
BOUCHE: I’ve got nothing to say.",1,Specific Threats,An Interview with Sky Bouche,4/20/2018,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/bouche_interview_1.1.pdf,Sky Bouche
"Everybody that used to know me I’m sry but Omaha changed me and fucked me up. and the
school I attend is even worse ur gonna here about the evil shit I did but that fucking school
drove me to this. I wont u guys to remember me for who I was b4 this ik. I greatly affected
the lives of the families ruined but I’m sorry. goodbye.",1,Vague Discontent,"Robert Butler, Jr.’s Final Message",1/5/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/butler_final_message_1.0.pdf,"Robert Butler, Jr."
"Dear Journal,
I am going to do it! I have been thinking about this moment since the 10th grade. I am going to buy shitgun and I am going to commit suicide. I bought some audio cassette tapes so I can explain to the police and my parents about why I did it. I plan to commit suicide on either April 20th or April 21st. April 20th is an obvious choice, for it is the seventh anniversary of the Columbne High School Massacre. However, I want to see the documentaries that they will show on the History Channel. If ____ is here, I will wait until he leaves. Then, I will commit the act. I will send Anna and e-mail telling her how much I love and care for her. I will tell her that I would pass by her house, and that I named my shotgun or rifle after her and the M-16 rifle in basic training. I will also call __ and confess to him what I will do.I have to do this Every since that",1,Planned Violence,Castillo Journal,3/29/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/castillo_journal.pdf,Alvaro Castillo
"No cuss words or profanity is used. I do not believe in using foul language.

Life's Fantasies
The Journal of Alvaro Castil a.k.a. AI a.k.a Big AI 
Eric Harris
Born: April 9th, 1981
Died: April 20th, 1999
(my picture is at the end!)",1,Vague Discontent,Castillo Journal,3/29/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/castillo_journal.pdf,Alvaro Castillo
"Atuaro Castillo
Rest In Peace!!
Born: November 6th, 1987
Died: April 20, 2006
Cause of death: Self-inflicted gunshot to the head via entrance through the",1,Vague Discontent,Castillo Journal,3/29/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/castillo_journal.pdf,Alvaro Castillo
"Dear Journal,
Well, today I gave Arlene a complete makeover. I turned her into Eric's shotgun. I sawed off the barrel and stock of the shotgun with a hacksaw. It took a lot less time than I thought it would. I taped the bugg of the shotgun with duct tape. now I just have to test her. I also took ___'s bomb apart, and I now know how to make more. I must reserve the motel for Denver today. Arlene looks so beautiful now. I also ordered a pistol belt and three ammunition puches from the Internet. Everything's falling into place at last! Today, I also saw a program on the History Channel about Charles Whitmay the Texas Sniper. He was an ex-Marine who killed his wife, mother, and a number of other people on August 1, 1966. This year will mark the 40th anniversary. I can compare",1,Specific Threats,Castillo Journal,6/12/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/castillo_journal.pdf,Alvaro Castillo
"Dear Journal,
I will buy black cargo pants and black boots online to complete the uniform that Eric was wearing on April 20, 1999. I am feeling very depressed these days. I drove my sadness and depression with work, cleaning, and movies. Still, it just keeps coming back. I am a TV junkie. I have been addicted to movies and television ever since I was born. I just became interested in Rated R movies when I was 7 years old, around the same time I was shown pornorgraphy. i am having sexual fantasies these days and fantasies of being held hostage by an evil twin brother. I assume that he represents my dark side. I can't even cry! The anti-depressant I am taking doesnt seem to be working. On August 29 my depression will end permanently. I just want to die. don't want to live like this anymore. I have endured 10 years",1,Vague Discontent,Castillo Journal,8/8/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/castillo_journal.pdf,Alvaro Castillo
"Dear Journal,
In one week I will finally be dead. I am just putting the finishing touches on my autobiography. It is in my computer, in Microsoft Word, under the name Columbine. I have almost everything ready. I just need more ammo and I need to go to church before I begin. I cannot wait. I wish I could tell my family, but I can't. I miss Anna. Today, she starts her sophomore year at __. I will always think about about her. She is so beautiful. I don't deserve her though. I do not deserve anyone. If I was mentally well, maybe I could've told her my feelings. i do feel sorry for scaring her. I know I am sick. What do you do with sick people like me. They can'y change. You have to sacrifice them. Bad things could happen. We have to learn to sacrifice them. Bad things could happen. We have to learn to sacrifice ourselves. I need to sleep now journal. Goodnight",1,Vague Discontent,Castillo Journal,8/23/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/castillo_journal.pdf,Alvaro Castillo
"Dear Journal,
Today is the big day for Operation Columbine. It is time that the word be reminded of Columbine. I will die today! i just killed my father. It felt good! He is finally dead. I do feel a little remorse. Still, he is finally with God and Tony. I loved my father. I hesitated but I finally did it. God be with him.",1,Specific Threats,Castillo Journal,8/30/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/castillo_journal.pdf,Alvaro Castillo
"I spend most of my time writing in this book instead of doing stuff in class. I am failing 2
more classes and on the verge of failing 2 more, this causes my depression to be worse
than it already is.",1,Vague Discontent,The Shooter's Journal: The Shooter's Perspective on School,11/9/2021,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/FINAL-REPORT-OCS-Investigation.pdf,Ethan Crumbley
"I am already failing 3 classes and am doing nothing to help it . . . .
I spend my entirety of Spanish class writing and do nothing in this class.
All one of my teachers has to do is send me to the office and I will tell them about the
bird head and I can get help. One call and that can save lot lives.",1,Vague Discontent,The Shooter's Journal: The Shooter's Perspective on School,11/12/2021,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/FINAL-REPORT-OCS-Investigation.pdf,Ethan Crumbley
"[after describing several parts of his weekend where he felt happy and comfortable]
Now I’m back in school and back down the drain again. I’ve already committed to the
shooting by not doing any of my school work and practically telling the teachers to fuck
off. And honestly it feels good, after 12 years of stress and anxiety from school it feels
good to just not care anymore.
I have two years left until I graduate high school. And I have already given up early this
year and can’t take the rest of the 2 years. I’m genuinely surprised right now that none
of my teachers have contacted my counselor or sent me to the office for not doing my
work. I think that they are doing something new to get their students to do work. Instead
of going to the office the teachers are just going to let my grades drop in hope that I gain
my sense to do my work. Well tough shit.
I don’t care about my grades no more. I’m about to shoot up the school and spend the
rest of my life in prison. The last thing I could care about is my grades in school ugh. I
am actually hoping that I get sent down to the office. That will show them that I have
given up and they will keep an eye on me. It will make them see that I am a possible
shooter and so when I do my shooting they will have something to put for motivation. I
have already stopped doing school so once the school sees my photos of gun and gun
range on my Insta then they will know what’s up.",1,Specific Threats,The Shooter's Journal: The Shooter's Perspective on School,11/13/2021,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/FINAL-REPORT-OCS-Investigation.pdf,Ethan Crumbley
"I’m not sure. I think that one of my parents
believe in me but I have no way to tell.",1,Vague Discontent,The Shooter's Journal: The Shooter's Perspective on School,11/13/2021,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/FINAL-REPORT-OCS-Investigation.pdf,Ethan Crumbley
"I think of myself as a regular person who is way too stressed out and
has 1 friend",1,Vague Discontent,The Shooter's Journal: The Shooter's Perspective on School,11/13/2021,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/FINAL-REPORT-OCS-Investigation.pdf,Ethan Crumbley
"I was a very lazy and
bored child. I liked to sit and play video games all day. I used to think about how good
the future was when I was young and realized that I was wrong about it being good.",1,Vague Discontent,The Shooter's Journal: The Shooter's Perspective on School,11/13/2021,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/FINAL-REPORT-OCS-Investigation.pdf,Ethan Crumbley
Hey man. Times have gotten rough ever since you left. I don't know if you are dead or you moved away but I hope your doing well. I'm about to do something really bad and there is no turning back so I will probably never be able to see you again. I hope the best for you and I'm sorry for anything I have ever done,1,Vague Discontent,Defandant's Text Messages Foreshadowing the School Shooting,11/11/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-text-indicating-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
Kidnap her then tie her up then rape her then torture her then kill her then dissect her then take her eyeballs then bury the body,1,Specific Threats,Defendant's Text Messages Discussing Violence Against Student at OHS,5/12/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-text-indicating-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I'm not going to get caught man….I'm going to bring my gun just in case full air and pellets….basically deadly…but I have full land on how to kidnap her…it's just super risky.,1,Vague Discontent,Defendant's Text Messages Discussing Violence Against Student at OHS,5/20/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-text-indicating-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"[In discussing drowning children]

Just looking them in their eyes as they look back at your while they know that their entire life is about to end so young ...
The best feeling ...
Bug stick your fingers into their eye sockets and push down so they scream in pain and drown their lugs with water...
Just thinking about the tortureing..
And the screaming ...
And the way their legs flail in the air as they cry ..
It fills the void.",1,Vague Discontent,Defendant's Text MEssages Discussing Violence Against People,3/17/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-text-indicating-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
Whenever I see a little kid about a year old or a little more I want to pick them up and run off with them and torture them before throwing them off a cliff,1,Vague Discontent,Defendant's Text MEssages Discussing Violence Against People,3/16/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-text-indicating-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"I will kill any inoccent ..
Idc who I kill ...
I will kill who I feel like killing ..
Age. Gender idc",1,Specific Threats,Defendant's Text MEssages Discussing Violence Against People,4/25/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-text-indicating-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"I don't care about inoccent...
Killing the inoccent is the same as killing the bad ..
It's both satisfies",1,Specific Threats,Defendant's Text MEssages Discussing Violence Against People,5/13/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-text-indicating-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
Here is my idea. I want to do what he did. I want America to hear what I did. IK that rarely any shootings have happened in Michigan so that means I will cause the largest school shooting ever in the state. I am not going to kill myself I will surrender to the police. I wish to hear the screams of the children as I shoot them. All I need is my 9mm postol which I am currently begging my dad for.,1,Planned Violence,"Defendant's Journal, pg17",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"I wonder what life in prison will be like.
1 9mm pistol extra mags half-bloot
2-3 molotov cocktails
1-3 powerded knos flares
Pair of gloves
Hat
Jacket
Mask
Kinfe
I have lost every hope of life
Help Me!
I will tell some close friends to not come to school the day of the shooting.",1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg21",11/9/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I just saw a group of girls sitting down in the hallway. If I had my pistol on me then I would have not hesitated to blow both their brains out.I would just hope their parents will fill with saddness and distraught. When I shoot up the school I hope that every parent of kids I gratefully murder will be so sad that they kill themselves. I want all of America to see the darkness in me and here me. I want to impact the world with this. I'm going record the shooting so when they show the video in court everyone can see their children and friends dying. I want for the parents see their kids burn to ash and ball their eyes out. I am going to spend the rest of my life in prison rotting away like a tomato,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg18",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
ready and the 9mm ready. Then I will walk behind any girl (pretty) and shoot them in the back of the head. I will then shoot anyone I see aiming for the head until I have to,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg22",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I will continue shooting people until police breach the building. I will then surrender to them and plead guilty to life in prison,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg22",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I want to shoot up the school so badly. Soon I am going to buy a 9mm pistol.,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg 22",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I want the world to remember me,1,Vague Discontent,"Defendant's Journal, pg 21",11/9/2021,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"Killing myself is too much of a __ move, People will Just forget about me and I will have never made a Impact in this world. The only way is to shoot up the school",1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg19",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
The news for a couple weeks oh no Im going to kill many many people for no real reason. I'm going to rain fire down on this school. I will cause the biggest school shooting in michigans history I WILL KILL EVERYONE I SEE,1,Planned Violence,"Defendant's Journal, pg20",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I want to be rember through all of HISTORY,1,Vague Discontent,"Defendant's Journal, pg21",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
The first victim hsa to be pretty girl with a future so she can suffer just like me,1,Vague Discontent,"Defendant's Journal, pg18",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
so during the passing time of 3rd to 4th hour I went into the bathroom and I wanted to dump the bird head on the ground and keep the jar but there were people waiting so I put the whole Jar on top of the toilet paper dispenser,1,Vague Discontent,"Defendant's Journal, pg15",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I plan on dumping Jefferys head in a bath room to have the strentch will reek. I hope that people will take about it for the rest of the day because I want the attention. However I do not want to be caught as that will make me getting the 9mm Impossible.,1,Vague Discontent,"Defendant's Journal, pg 16",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"So I am very optimistic. Every night I have awake, every passing minute, I think about how I am getting closer to prison or how many potential people will die. I think about it, and I tell the security guard so no one knows that. Put the bird head in the bathroom. It just amuses me how I can cause people to fear. About what I did and it just makes me happy. Once I do the shooting it will go down as one of the biggest school shooting in American and which gun",1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg 14",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"I started making a plan it was a plan to kidnap, rape, and kill her. I tried to [redacted] to find out where she lives and found out she lives a 5 minute walk away from me. I made this plan to break in the 8th at night and kidnap her with an industrial-sized garbage bag. I would then take her to my basement where I would torture and rape until I slit her throat alive. I was so close to executing the plan but fortunately my friend [redacted] stopped me very",1,Planned Violence,"Defendant's Journal, pg11",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
[Redacted] Shawn and realized the truth too early. Last night I made a plan on my phone of what I'm going to do & I'll print it out in 5th hour. Nevermind the colored printer in my hour is out of paper so I will just have to leave the plan on my phone. In my pen.,1,Vague Discontent,"Defendant's Journal, pg8",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I killed 8 infant baby birds by slowly torturing them until death. If I would have never thought of the brilliant idea of shooting up the school then I probably would have become a serial killer and I don't know which one is worse lol. I told,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Hournal, pg 11",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"Last time I had my mental breakdown my parents were out of town I murdered an entire family of 5 newborn baby birds. I drowned them and burned them alive while we all screamed. I cut one in half and stuck the head of its brother in its stomach. I have completely lost my [redacted] My grades are failing, my parents hate each other, I have no money, I have zero help for my mental problems and it's causing me to shoot up the school. My only way of escaping",1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg6",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
[Redacted] If I kill myself afterwards people will not care about me and I will be forgotten within half a lifetime. That's why I'm going to cause the biggest school shooting of this decade and the only new one in Michigan. Oxford's considered,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg6",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
Not sure if I am going to kill myself during the shooting but I also want to read on how the world reacts to my shooting. I'm probably going to live the rest of my life in prison. I hope I can talk to someone though so I don't take my anger out on the other prisoners. I feel like I'm in a...,1,Planned Violence,"Defendant's Journal, pg7",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I don't care about my grades no more. I'm about to shoot up the school and spend the rest of my life in prison. The last thing I could care about is,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg 3",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"For a few weeks, first off I got my gun. It's a SP2022 Sig Sauer 9mm. Second, the shooting is tomorrow I have access to the gun and the ammo. I am fully committed to this now, so yeah... I'm going to prison for life and many people have about 1 day left to live.",1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg 3",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
I was just looking up some quiet calibers to ELA and got called down to the office for it. I wasn't even scared. I was almost about to say I'm shooting up the school.,1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, pg2",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
"This is the last message I will write. It's currently 29/11/2021, 11:23. Exactly one day before the shooting",1,Specific Threats,"Defendant's Journal, Page 2",7/13/1905,https://www.fox2detroit.com/news/ethan-crumbley-journal-search-history-oxford-high-school-shooting,Ethan Crumbley
God betrayed them like he betrayed me.,1,Vague Discontent,Ybarra Journal,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Ybarra_journal.pdf,Aaron Ybarra
"Sometime by the end of this week or the beginning of next week, I will express how I really feel about humanity, America, and the world itself. I and I had years of psychotherapy and 2 years in psychiatry... and didn't help. I had a high level of stress that made me a little crazy, and not myself. Ever since I took the medication. I became more calm, more patient and more confident. If my routines, my belongings, and my life was respected I wouldn't be so goddamn miserable. It's true what they say, when you go through a lot of stress from humiliation for quite a while, you can lose sense of emotion. It's easy to get around people without worrying or thinking about being suspicious. I wasn't able to a few years ago. It's now a part of me.",1,Vague Discontent,Ybarra Journal,5/27/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Ybarra_journal.pdf,Aaron Ybarra
"I was diagnosed with OCD, but I know that it's at a higher level than people think. If my family wanted me to go to therapy, then they should have worked with me on it instead of trying to force me to go. That caused me depression and problems. I gave therapy a shot, but the biggest reason that I went was for to get everyone off my back. Therapy, counseling and help are three words I hate the most because of that. Even my friends were bugging me to go. Nobody would listen. I knew something was going wrong and I knew thready wouldn't do anything.",1,Grievance Airring,Ybarra Journal,5/28/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Ybarra_journal.pdf,Aaron Ybarra
"If I have time, I will try to get my revenge on some of the guys I hate, the shit-talkers at the getaway. The first one will be the fag in the cowboy hat, then cowardly undergraduate son of a whore; you don't hurt your own above me and try to make me look bad when I did nothing to you. If I get a chance, I will poison your beer when you and the others are not looking. Now let's talk about [redacted]. The junkie who robbed our house when my brother wasn't doing too good. My family said they wouldn't help me because of [redacted] robbing us. I would hear his name all the time. I want to cut him up and secretly sell him to supermarkets. Before my problems happened, [redacted] took something that was a part of me and a part of my routine. I wasn't able to get him yet, but he still has a price to pay... even though I forgave him because it didn't matter anymore. I've been wanting to bash a rock or a hammer against his head and face a few dozen times. To be brutal and bloody, just how he has to be, by my hands. I fight to get him because I can. And I don't care. Drugs or no drugs, if he would have been a lot nicer to me, respected me and not bug me, I would have helped him out more. You don't steal from me!",1,Grievance Airring,Ybarra Journal,5/30/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Ybarra_journal.pdf,Aaron Ybarra
"I use to always hate violence towards women, but there is no doubt that I’m going to kill quite a few in the shootout, and I don’t care anymore. There are a few universities in the state to pick from that I’m planning to attack. Washington State is the main target. I can make it there without any suspicion; my parents will keep wondering where I'm at, and plus I’m not yet prepared for it. I have plan B: Central, Eastern, and Seattle Pacific. I was focusing on Central but not prepared for that either. Didn’t think about Eastern because I’m only prepared to be local. I picked Seattle Pacific because I’m less familiar with it and I can see that University of Washington and Seattle University represent Seattle more. I didn’t want to have to attack my own city. I went to the SPU campus to give myself a tour and to find a good area to get a couple of Mondays ago I was trying to give myself a tour and asking where certain buildings were and this nice black girl I where the history building was for about ten minutes she showed me around some of the places she knew, I forgot how to say her name. I met a later met a cute white girl named [redacted]. She offered to show me around for about fifteen or twenty minutes. These girls were very nice and they treated me well. because they showed me around the campus without me asking them to, I will single them out of the shooting if I see them.",1,Planned Violence,Ybarra Journal,6/2/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Ybarra_journal.pdf,Aaron Ybarra
"I love my friends, I love being there for them, and we have such great times together. Except my life is now coming to an end. I like my co-workers, bosses, and customers. I like talking to customers at the gun range, LA Fitness, and Fred Meyer. I also like, including Kemper, I like my friends and the girls at coffee shops and espresso stands. I love my family, and I understand that they won't understand me, but they should have been there for me when I needed them at the time. My friends, my family, and the others I'd hate to do this to them, but must be done. Every holiday, every time we worked I just want to blow their faces out with a 12 gauge shot gun blast.",1,Grievance Airring,Ybarra Journal,6/3/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Ybarra_journal.pdf,Aaron Ybarra
"This is it. I can't believe I'm finally doing this! It's exciting. I'm typing since Virginia Tech and Columbine have been thinking about those a lot. It's time to take back time. The ones who were killed; I'm now Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold’s gang. I laugh at how absurd it is, because my idols, and how funny seeing those teens running. And Columbine. The girls and no matter how cool the, guy, is, I just want people to die! and I'm gona die with them. I'm not asking for forgiveness because there won't be any. But it is what it is. I'm doing some people a favor by sending them to heaven. But those who are sinners like me, I'll see you in hell",1,Specific Threats,Ybarra Journal,6/5/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Ybarra_journal.pdf,Aaron Ybarra
"[Students were asked to write about how they would spend the day as their teacher.]
If I could spend a day as Mrs. Neal, I would be very, very nice to Luke Woodham and pass
him for the year. Then I would knock the crud out of the ‘omniscient dork’ for putting junk
on my computer.
Then I would go crazy and kill all of the other teachers. Then I would slowly and very painfully torture all of the principals to death.
Then I would withdraw all of my money in the bank and give it to Luke Woodham. Then I
would get all of the other teachers and principals’ bank account numbers, withdraw all of
the money and give it to Luke Woodham.
Then I would do acid. Then I would get a gun and blow my brains out all over the dog-gone
room and leave my house to Luke Woodham",1,Specific Threats,Luke Woodham's Writings,1995-1996,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
"[The assignment was to write about an incident that upset his parents, but Luke decided to write
fiction instead.]
I’ve never really done anything that bad, so I’ll make up a story.
One day I killed a guy and shot his dog in the butt with a big friggin pellet gun. Then, I went
to a phone booth and robbed it by yanking the little coin box out of it.
Then I threw water balloons at some nuns, and I went inside their church and set the priest’s
wig on fire. (It was the first time I’d heard a good Catholic person say G.D.).
Then I burned the church down, then, danced around it and sung 2 Nine Inch Nails songs,
one called “heresy” and another called “terrible lie.”
Then I robbed a bank and set it on fire. I love to set things on fire, and killed all the tellers.
When the police came I killed them all and when the National Guard came, I killed most of
them but they finally caught me.",1,Specific Threats,Luke Woodham's Writings,1995-1997,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
". . . I am the hatred in every man’s heart! I am the epitomy [sic] of all Evil! I have no mercy
for humanity, for they created me, they tortured me until I snapped and became what I am today! My advice to any man who has been tortured by humanity is this: Let these words
ring through our our heart, mind, and soul! Hate humanity! Hate humanities! ... Hate what
humanity has made you! Hate what you have become! Most of all, hate the accurssed [sic]
god of Christianity. Hate him for making humanity Hate him for making you! Hate him
for flinging you into a monsterous [sic] life you did not ask for nor deserve! Fill your heart,
mind, and soul with hatred; until it’s all you know. Until your conscience becomes a firey
[sic] tomb of hatred for the goodness in you soul. Hate everyone and everything. Hate where
you were and are. Hate until you can’t anymore. Then learn, read poetry books, philosophy
books, history books, science books, auto biographies and biographies. Become a sponge for
knowledge. Study the philosophies of others and condense the parts you like as your own.
Make your own rules. Live by your own laws. For now, truly, you should be at peace and
your own true self. Live your life in a bold, new way. For you, dear friend, are a superman.",1,Grievance Airring,Luke Woodham's Writings,4/1/1997,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
"On Saturday of last week, I made my first kill. The date was April 12, 1997 about 4:30 p.m.
The victim was a loved one. My dear dog Sparkle. Me and an accomplice had been beating
the bitch for a while and last Tuesday I took a day off from school just because I didn’t want
to go. My friend came over and we beat the dog. In the process of doing so we hurt her leg.
Later in the week, about Thursday, I’d say, my brother said she was limping. He suggested
we take the dog to the vet, but I talked him out of it saying that she probably stepped on
something hard, that she would be O.K. in a day or two. Saturday my brother brings up the
vet again but said he didn’t have the time to do it today but he would do it next week. I was
afraid the vet would notice all of the bruises on the dog and I would get in trouble. So I called
my accomplice and he came over at 2:00. We beat the dog, tied her up in a plastic garbage
bag, put that bag in another bag ... We put the subdued little pooch in an old book bag and
went to some woods. When we got out to the woods I took a billy club . . . I . . . handed it to
my accomplice. He ran and hit the bagged dog with it. I will never forget the howl she made.
it sounded almost human. We laughed and hit her hard. I picked up the book bag, which
was now soaked in her blood, and drug her across the ground dropped into the woods. A
hole developed in the bag and the dog stuck her head out, fully engulfed in flames. We put
more on her, and more and more, and more. She got out and tried to run. I took the night
stick and hit her in the shoulder, spine and neck. I’ll never forget the sound of her bones
breaking ... We set her on fire again, the foolish dog opened her mouth & we sprayed fluid
down her throat, her whole neck caught on fire, inside & out. Finally, the fire went out and
she was making a gurgling noise. I silenced the noise with the club again. I hit her so hard
the crusted burnt scar on her shoulder fell of[f]. I hit her so hard I knocked the fur off her
neck ... Then we put her in the burned bag and chunked her in a nearby pond. We watched
the bag sink. It was true beauty",1,Specific Threats,Luke Woodham's Writings,4/1/1997,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
"This night (June 3, 1997) is a monumentatious night. With this writing, I do swear, that I
shall never get myself in a position where I can be hurt by a woman ever again. To myself I
swear this, and to the higher powers I swear thi",1,Vague Discontent,Luke Woodham's Writings,6/1/1997,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
"I am not insane! I am angry. This world has shit on me for the final time. I am not spoiled
or lazy, for murder is not weak and slow-witted, murder is gutsy and daring. I killed because people like me are mistreated every day. I did this to show society “push us and we will push
back!” I suffered all my life. No one ever truly loved me. No one ever truly cared about me.
I only loved one thing in my whole life and that was Christina Menefee. But she was torn
away from me. I tried to save myself with , but she never cared for me. As it turns out,
she made fun of me behind my back while we were together. And all throughout my life
I was ridiculed. Always beaten, always hated. Can you, society, truly blame me for what I
do? Yes, you will, the ratings wouldn’t be high enough if you didn’t, and it would not make
good gossip for all the old ladies. But I shall tell you one thing, I am malicious because I
am miserable. The world has beaten me. Wendsday [sic] 1, 1997 shall go down in history
as the day I fought back. (At this time Grant, say what you will, when you are through I ask
you to read to them sec. 125 of the Gay Science “the madmen.”) [This is a reference to The
Gay Science by Nietzsche.]
Grant, see you in the holding cell",1,Specific Threats,Luke Woodham's Writings,6/19/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
"I, Luke Woodham, being of sound mind and body, do hereby will to Grant Boyette my books.
To Lucas Thompson: my guitars and amplifier and their equipment. Also, all of my guitar
magazines and guitar books. I leave my music and lyrics to Lucas Thompson, so that he
may perform them. I also leave my other writings of philosophy and poetry to Grant Boyette,
they are a part of me and may be published as a process of my life. Also, to Grant Boyette,
I will all of my cassette tapes",1,Vague Discontent,Luke Woodham's Writings,6/19/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
"It was not a cry for attention, it was not a cry for help. It was a scream in sheer agony saying
that if I can’t pry your eyes open, if I can’t do it through pacifism, if I can’t show you through
displaying of intelligence, then I will do it with a bullet",1,Vague Discontent,Luke Woodham's Writings,6/19/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/woodham_writings_1.0.pdf,Luke Woodham
"Dear New Ten Now
I am Jiverly Wong Shooting the people.
The first I want to say sorry I know a little English. I hope you understand all of this. Of
course you need to know why I shooting? Because undercover cop gave me a lot of ass during eighteen years I got seven years and eight month delivery to grocery in the California
came back New York on the August 2007.
Let talk about when I live in California. Such as . . . cop used 24 hours the technique of ultramodern and camera for burn the chemical in my house. For switch the channel time ...
For adjust the fan. For made me unbreathable. For made me vomit. For connect the music
into my ear.
Undercover cop usual coined some nasty was not true about me and spread a rumour to the
receiver and some people know me conduce toward many people predudiced and selfish to
me . .. cop made me lost my job ... cop put me became poor.
Let talk about when I live at the 28 Baker St. 2nd Floor, Johnson City, New York 13790. It
terrible when I live there such as . . . cop wait until midnight when I off the light and went
to the bed. Cop unlock my door and came in take a sit in my room «cop did it thirteen time
on the year 1994» on the thirteen time had three time touch me when I sleeping. One time
stolen 20 dollar in my wallet. One time used electric gun shoot at the behind my neck. (That
time I did not know English)
Please continue second page thank you

From 1990 to 1995 New York undercover cop try to get a car accident with me. Such as
when I driving on the highway and on the street undercover cop sunddenly brake the car
stop immediately at the of front my car . . . cop did it 32 time like that during 1990 to 1995
but I never hit the car.
Many time from 1990 to 1997 at the day time ... cop exploit unknown English and went to
my house knock the door for harass and domineer. Of course during that time cop coined
something was not true about me and spread a rumour nasty like the California cop.
From August 2007 until now cop gave me not to much ass only one time cop leave a massage
in my voice mail and said «come back your country» after five minute I send a text massage
to them I said I will call the police and they send it back to me they said they are the police.
Dear New Ten Now. Right now I still get unemploment benefit of the company Shop Vac
Endicott. New York State Department of Labor was cheat and unpaid from December 1st
2008 to December 28th 2008 I already claim weekly benefit from that date.
Any way I can not accepted my poor life. Before I cut my poor life I must oneself get a judge job for make an impartial with undercover cop by at least two people with me go to return
to the dust of earth.
Already impartial now . . . cop bring about this shooting. cop must responsible. And you
have a nice day",1,Specific Threats,Jiverly Wong’s Suicide Note,3/18/2009,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/wong_suicide_note_1.1.pdf,Jiverly Wong
"I have just taken my mother's life. I am very upset over having done it. However, I feel that if there is a heaven she is definitely there now. And if there is no life after, I have relieved her of her suffering here on earth. The intense hatred I feel for my father is beyond description. My mother gave that man the 25 best years of her life and, because she finally took enough of his beatings, humiliation, and destruction, and tribulations that I am sure no one but she and he will ever know — to leave him. He has chosen to treat her like a slut that you would bed down with, accept her favors and then throw a picture in return.

I am truly sorry that this is the only way I could see to relieve her suffering but I think it was best. Let there be no doubt in your mind. I loved that woman with all my heart. If there exists a God let him understand my actions and judge me accordingly.

Charles Whitman",1,Vague Discontent,Letter after killing mother,8/1/1966,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Whitman_letter_mother.pdf,Charles Whitman
"I don't quite understand what it is that compels me to type this letter. Perhaps it is to leave some vague reason for the actions I am supposedly to perform. I don't really understand why these days I have recently performed average, reasonable, and intelligent young men. However, lately (I can't recall when it started) I have been a victim of many unusual and irrational thoughts. These thoughts constantly recur, and it requires a tremendous mental effort to concentrate on useful and progressive tasks. In March, I committed an act so heinous, brutal, and merciless that details of its execution put tremendous concern at the University of Health Center and asked him to recommend a psychiatrist that I could consult with about some psychiatric disorders I felt I had. I talked with a Doctor once for about two hours and tried to convey to him my fears that I felt some overwhelming violent impulses before the strangeness overtook me. Don't ask me why and do not investigate any other reasons for my mental turmoil, alone, and seemingly too. No avail. After my death, I wish that an autopsy would be performed on me to see if there is any visible physical disorder. I have had some tremendous headaches in the past and have consumed two large bottles of Excedrin in the past three months.
It was after much thought that I decided to kill my wife, Kathy, tonight after I pick her up from work at the telephone company. I love her dearly, and she has been as fine a wife to me as any man could ever hope to have. I cannot rationally explain why, nor is there any reason for doing this. I don't know whether it is selfishness, cruelty. I don't want her to have to face the embarrassment my actions would surely cause her. At this time, though, the prominent reason on my mind is that I truly do not consider this world worth living in, and am prepared to die, and I do not want to leave her to suffer alone in it. I intend to kill her as painlessly as possible.
Similar reasons provoked me to take my mother's life also. I don't think the poor woman has ever enjoyed life as she is entitled to. She was a simple woman who married a very possessive and dominating man. All my life as a boy until I ran away from home to join the Marine Corps.",1,Specific Threats,Letter about killing wife,7/31/1996,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Whitman_letter_wife.pdf,Charles Whitman
"Pat,

You are so sweet about Mom. Maybe some of you will understand why she left today, Pat. Mom didn't have any desire to come home today whatsoever, she just visited what she could care for. She really needed that. She'll manage, thanks for standing at [scribbled out]—could use another coat.

Charlie",1,Vague Discontent,Letter to Brother Pat,8/1/1966,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Whitman_letter_pat.pdf,Charles Whitman
"Dear Johnnie,

Kathy and I enjoyed your visit. I am terribly sorry to have let you down. Please try to do better than I have. Set what the Lord

[The rest is cut off]

Father, Thou knowest how much.

Your brother,
Charlie",1,Vague Discontent,Letter to Brother John,8/1/1966,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Whitman_note_John.pdf,Charles Whitman
"I never could quite make it.
These thoughts are too much for me.

THOUGHTS TO START THE DAY

Read and think about every day:

STOP procrastinating (Grasp the nettle)
CONTROL your anger (Don't let it prove you a fool)
SMILE – It's contagious
Don't be belligerent
STOP cursing, improve your vocabulary
APPROACH a pot of gold with exceptional caution (Look it over – twice. Pay that compliment)
LISTEN more than you speak, THINK before you speak
CONTROL your passion; DON'T LET IT lead YOU – Don't let desire make you regret your present actions later (remember the lad and the man)
If you want to be better than average, YOU HAVE TO: DO MORE THAN AVERAGE
NEVER QUIT; when the going gets rough, the TOUGH get going!!!!
YESTERDAY IS GONE. TOMORROW IS A CHANCE, BUT TODAY IS LIFE. LIVE IT OUT TO

JOB. I AM RESOLVED THAT I SHALL
IN THE TOUGH, BRITTLE SHELL.
Whitman

Grow up. Think - don't be so silly with an excuse.

Contact with superiors. (Give a place for everything)

Know your status and position and conduct yourself accordingly. (Show respect for Courtesy. Coming from this view.)

Courtesy.

Organize yourself and your work so that the insignificant is not a major crisis.

When time permits exhaust all efforts to find answers before asking the simplest of questions.

GOOD POINTS TO REMEMBER WITH KATHY

Don't nag.
Don't try to make your partner over.
Don't criticize.
Give honest appreciation.
Pay little attentions.
Be courteous.
BE GENTLE.",1,Vague Discontent,Note to self,8/1/1966,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Whitman_notes_self.pdf,Charles Whitman
"So fucking naive man, so
fucking naive.
Always expecting change
when I know nothing ever
changes.
I've seen mothers choose
their man over their own
flesh and blood, I've seen
others choose alocohol over
friendship.
I sacrifice no more for others,
part of me has fucking died
and I hate this shit.
I'm living every mans
nightmare and that single fact
alone is kicking my ass, I
really must be fucking
worthless. This place never
changes, it never will. Fuck it
all.",1,Grievance Airring,Jeffrey Weise Online - Thoguhts of a Dreamer,1/27/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_thoughts_of_a_dreamer.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The instrument of my
resurrection was supposed to
be freedom. But there isn’t an
open sky or endless field to
be found where I reside, nor
is there light or salvation to
be discovered.
Right about now I feel as low
as I ever have.
I don’t think it’s a big secret
why, really.
My biggest disappointment
and downfall came from what
was supposed to be the one
thing to lift me from the
grave I’m continually digging
for myself.
Nah, never. Only the worthy
are saved, y’know.
I don’t know, but what I do
know is I’m a retarded fuck
for ever believing things
would change for me. I’m
starting to regret sticking
around, I should’ve taken the
razor blade express last time
around… Well, whatever,
man. Maybe they’ve got
another shuttle comin’ around
sometime soon?
Ciao.
Current Mood: drained
Current Music: Strawberry
Fields Forever - John Lennon",1,Grievance Airring,Jeffrey Weise Online - Thoguhts of a Dreamer,1/4/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_thoughts_of_a_dreamer.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Out with the old, and in with
the new.
As I sit here typing up my
musings I listen to Cheech &
Chong Up in Smoke, the
movie. Occasionally shifting
my eyes from screen to
screen, trying to balance out
typing and observing. This is my new journal, in
which I will put my thoughts
down to words. My view on
the days past events and
whatnot, my two cents on the
world in general. This is my
new introductory post - all
the spelling and grammatical
errors area ll by-products of
the new Me.
Blah.
That sounds so egotistical.
Whilst you're here, you might
as well check out the message
board for the band I'm in:
http://6sik6.proboards25.com/
Ciao.
Current Mood:
accomplished
Current Music: Johnny
Cash - When The Man
Comes Around",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Thoguhts of a Dreamer,12/14/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_thoughts_of_a_dreamer.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The small town of Grovers Mill sat somewhere East, nearly forgotten by all
except those who lived there. It was after eleven and dark as most stormy night’s
are, rain hammered down on the town relentlessly accompanied by it’s usual
acquaintances thunder and lightening. It’s dull barren street’s were completely
void of anything living, all the shop’s had closed for the night and everyone was
in their warm bed’s dreaming simple dreams.
 The shadowy figure stood on the outskirt’s of the town’s eastern border
looking from side to side making sure it was clear, the black storm poncho kept
his black jumpsuit and tactical gear safe from the rain. He tilted the cap of his
black battle helmet upwards so that he could see better, seeing the coast was clear
he shifted his M-16 to his right hand and brought up his flashlight pointing it
down the opposite direction of the road flicking it off and on twice.
 In the distance through the falling rain a pair of headlight’s flicked on after
seeing his signal, the man put his flash light away and took the M-16 into both
arm’s once again as the truck slowly started to drive forward. The truck came to a
rustic stopped near the town’s morgue, a one story tall concrete monstrosity with a
freshly mowed lawn with lush green grass looking almost fake. From the
passengers side another man jumped out dressed in the same manner as the
signaler had been.
The looming military figure removed his talk box from his tactical belt and
pressed down the talk button, speaking a single word. “Mask’s.”
 Hearing him over the radio the driver pulled a gas mask up from the floor of
the truck and quickly put it on, those on the military hummer that had escorted the
transport truck slid their mask’s on too. The passenger from the transport truck
slid on his gas mask moving towards the back of the truck, he climbed onto the
bed and removed a single barrel, he set it down on the wet concrete and looked
for the keypad somewhere on it’s top.
 He punched in a four digit code on the keypad attached to the barrel and with
a loud pop the top opened releasing a plume of yellow smoke, quickly he moved
to the front of the truck jumping into the passenger’s side.
He picked up the CB radio, “GO GO GO!,” his tone was frantic and frightened.
The transport truck quickly backed out of the morgue parking lot and sped off
towards the western exit followed by it’s escort. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk
“Operation Paperclip” had just begun…",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/24/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The transport truck quickly backed out of the morgue parking lot and sped off
towards the western exit followed by it’s escort. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk
“Operation Paperclip” had just begun…
Max’s tired eye’s fell upon the cliché maroon brick school as he stepped off
the trademark yellow bus, he let out a sigh and started towards the entrance. He
surrendered his black book bag to the ape like security guard named Ben and took
anything metal out of his pockets, (a set of key’s and a CD player), and stepped
through the metal detector. It buzzed as it went off, he let out a sigh.
“I don’t have anything,” said Max annoyed.
 Ben pulled open the drawer of the metal desk he sat behind and pulled up a
hand held metal detector, he moved around the desk and Max assumed the
position. He put his arm’s up as if he was reaching for the sky, Ben waved the
“wand” all around him, when it didn’t beep he simply said, “go on.”
 Max let out a sigh, even for a small town the security was tight. He hated
that, after the school shooting’s like Columbine and Cold Spring’s they had
stepped up the security at the front door, Max grabbed his stuff off the desk and
started towards the Canteen where he and his friend’s hung out.
“Hey,” Max said to the other’s as he walked in.
 A few of them were already talking and barely acknowledged him, a few
nodded their hello’s and one actually returned his greeting. He took a seat in the
corner on an aluminum folding chair plopping his back pack down next to him.
The canteen was small, very small, yet he and his six friend’s still used it as their
main “headquarters.” It was there’s pretty much, it would’ve been if it didn’t
belong to the school.
Max looked at the watch on his wrist, “8:01 AM,” 14 minutes till first class.
“What did you do last night?,” asked Mike.
The question came so quickly it almost knocked Max off his chair, “uh… Nothing
really. Listened to music, watched a movie… that’s about it.”
Mike nodded and sat down on the chair next to Max, “cool… I went to see Cher
again.”
 Cher was Mikes girlfriend who lived 10 miles away at the next town, he had
met her at the last basketball game when the school’s “Wolverines” faced their
“Badger’s.” It had been a slaughter, Badger’s won twenty to nothing, Max had
lost ten dollar’s on that game. Either way, Mike had been bragging about her for
ages, though Max had half the mind to tell him she wasn’t much to brag about…
But he couldn’t do that, Mike was his best friend, and they’d probably end up
throwing punches over it. Before either could speak another word the bell rang,
14 minutes only seemed like a couple second’s when Max thought about it.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/24/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"He stood up slinging his backpack over his shoulder, “see ya’.”
 Mike nodded as everyone exited the canteen, Mrs. Silver, (the librarian),
closed the Canteen’s door and locked it as everyone was trying to get in to by a
pop at the last minute. First class was always a pain for Max, Mr. Reinhardt’s
class, he had his mustache shaved like Adolf Hitler, even had the same hair style,
which made everyone uncomfortable and nervous around him. A few of the kid’s
had complained about it to the principle, but nothing came of it.
“Now class, open your text book’s open to page 420,” said Mr. Reinhardt, he
taught American Civics, not really Max’s favorite subject either, since he planned
on moving to England when he turned 18.
“CODE RED! CODE RED!,” came over the intercom, a few gasp’s and “oh my
god’s” came from some of the class.
Mr. Reinhardt quickly ran over to the door and locked it, “class move to the back
of the room!”
 No one argued, most rushed to the back of the room, Max didn’t have to, he
was already there. “Code Red” had been discussed a lot by the teachers, Max had
been growing sick of it. Code red was what would be said over the intercom if
someone entered the building with a gun, teacher’s were supposed to lock their
classroom door’s and move all student’s to the back of the room. So far so good.
“Now kid’s stay calm,” said Mr. Reinhardt who sounded as if he was about to
pass a stone.
 Max wasn’t really afraid for his life like most of the other student’s probably
were, the only thing running through his mind was “the school had it coming.” He
couldn’t help but wonder if he knew the shooter, maybe it was Ray, he hadn’t
shown up that morning… The class was quiet, too quiet, Max could hear a few
whimper’s and someone sobbing but that was it. Most were probably waiting to
hear a gunshot, Max knew that’s what he was waiting for. He hoped it wasn’t a
stupid drill, though as time passed he would wish it had been.
 In the distance, somewhere else in the school, the sound of a blood curdling
scream echoed through the hallway’s. Max nearly jumped out of his seat when he
heard it, fear was setting in now. He had heard plenty of scream’s in his sixteen
year’s of life but never anything like that, it was a cry. A death cry.
“Jesus,” the word had escaped Max’s mouth too quick for him to stifle it.
“Jesus had nothing to do with that, son,” Mr. Reinhardt said in a cold emotionless
tone. “That was the devil’s work.”
 The word’s sent a chill down Max’s spine as he thought about them, then
again another scream broke the silence, the sound of shattering glass and the
sound’s of a man screaming in agony were all too real. Max closed his eye’s
trying to take his mind off of now, he would’ve given anything to be elsewhere.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/24/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"That’s when the pounding started. The classroom door began to shake, with
each strike every person in the classroom shook. The moaning started shortly
after, bone chilling moan’s of hunger. The strength and pace of the strikes began
to quicken, there was now more than one person trying to get in.
“Don’t worry kid’s,” said Mr. Reinhardt. “That door’s solid reinforced steel,
they’re not going to get in.”
 Whatever held the door in place was now starting to bend, soon the door was
nearly flying open with each strike. The collective fear in the room could be felt
strongly by all. The door was struck once more, finally swinging open in
submission. Max’s eye’s snapped open as he heard the door strike the wall, in
shambled two men. The first was tall, dressed in a suit. A burial suit. It’s face had
been caked with make up, some of which had been washed away near the mouth
by blood, his eye’s had sunken deep into the socket’s and were surrounded by
black ring’s.
 The second was Ben, the security guard, or what was left of him. His throat
had been ripped out, replaced by a bloody mass of torn tissue, crimson had
drenched his blue work shirt below the neck. A white foam dripped from the sides
of his mouth which hung open loosely. The site of both men sent the room into
chaos.
 One of the student’s shattered one of the classroom window’s with a chair
and climbed out, other’s took his cue and did the same. Max climbed out one of
the window’s, turning back just in time to see Mr. Reinhardt being tackled to the
floor by both men. Max had cut his hand as he climbed out the window, but he
didn’t even care, the adrenaline helped him ignore the pain and soldier on, he ran
for the mass of police car’s that had gathered by the front of the school. He looked
at the front of the building, two men dressed in tactical gear stood cautiously by
the front entrance while another evacuated student’s who came out quickly with
their hand’s atop their head’s.
“How many were in there? Can you tell me?,” asked a police officer as a
paramedic bandaged Max’s hand.
Max remained silent, he had no answer. He would’ve spoken if he had something
to say. The officer moved on to another student to ask the same question like a
mindless automaton.
“Max,” said a female voice.
Max looked up, it was one of his friend’s, Morticia, he finally broke his silence.
“Hey…”
“Oh my God are you ok?,” she asked seeing his bandage.
Mike was standing next to her, “damn man. Did you get shot?”
“There wasn’t a gun…,” Max mumbled.
“Huh?,” asked Mike.",1,Grievance Airring,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/24/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Max shook his head. “Nothin’… I cut my hand climbing out that window over
there.”
The sound of gunfire made Max jumped, he turned his head towards the school
where it was coming from.
“They ain’t goin’ down!,” someone said over the radio, Max could hear it from
the cop standing next to the ambulance.
 More gunfire came from inside the school, the three police officer’s in
tactical gear near the front door’s began to run as they saw something inside, more
rain began to fall from the gray sky. Max sat unmoving on the back of the
ambulance watching, the rain wetting his black pant’s and shoes. Out of the front
entrance came another officer dressed in black tactical gear as the other’s running
, four people chased after him, as he ran he unholstered his Colt M1911 .45. He
turned and fired two shot’s point blank into one of his pursuers but to no avail.
The bullet’s did nothing, the person chasing him merely jerked a few times then
tackled the fleeing officer. No one could do anything but watch in horror as the
man’s throat was tore out by human teeth, his blood flowed mixing with fallen
rain in a steady stream down to a gutter than into a storm drain.
“Cannibal’s…,” Max heard someone say.
 Max had come to a conclusion that only time would prove right or wrong.
These “cannibal’s” weren’t living, but dead. It was beyond him where the
conclusion came from, maybe his subconscious had pieced it together. Maybe not.
“Drop ‘em!,” was the order that came over the police radio.
 Gunfire erupted from the police who had their gun’s trained on the four
creatures. Bullet’s tore through them as they feasted on the police officer’s body,
trained gun’s and sighted rifles blew them back to hell, where they belonged.
“Cease fire,” Max could hear the order over the police officer’s radio who stood
next to the ambulance.
 Unnerved law enforcement lowered their gun’s, then slowly the four
creatures rose to their feet… Along with the police officer they had killed. Max’s
eye’s widened, total shock and awe. The undead creatures began to run at the
living with only one thing on their minds: Food….",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/24/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The entire town had already succumbed to the rank’s of the mass murder and
carnage committed by the ravenous “human’s,” who seemed to be in a trance like
state. The phenomenon had ravaged the town, spreading quickly like a wild fire in dry brush, Morticia and Max had seen a lifetimes worth of violence in just the first
hour since the “crisis” had started in their small town.
“Come on!,” Morticia shouted pulling Max along the long alley way.
 Max ran as fast as he could, though it was still not fast enough for the things
were gaining on him. His soaked shoes sloshed each time his foot pressed down
on the wetted concrete, his clothes were soaked as well from the rain that seemed
to never stop. The overhanging gray storm cloud’s seemed to cast a gray hue over
everything, for everything seemed a duller color than it really was.
“Come on!,” Morticia shouted again.
Max heard her, but here was little he could do. She was faster then him, and it
seemed so were the creatures that pursued them.
“Over here!,” a voice ahead of them shouted.
 Both Max and Morticia could hear it over the sound of raindrop’s hitting
various thing’s. Ahead of them was a man, one who looked as if he wasn’t a day
over 20, standing dressed in black BDUs, a matching cap on his head, soaked
from head to toe. In his right hand he held a large rifle, like something out of an
Arnold Schwarzenegger film.
“Hurry!,” he continued.
 Morticia and Max quickened their pace, running with renewed purpose. Max
glanced over his shoulder as he ran seeing a site that encouraged him to go faster,
the site of the snarling human monstrosities reaching out after him with ravenous
claws. He reached the man standing at the end of the alley a few step’s after
Morticia, every inch of his being filled with absolute fear.
 The stranger with the gun looked ahead of him as the two frightened
teenager’s rushed past him, three of the creatures in hot pursuit, hell bent on
acquiring yet another hot meal. The first to reach the end of the alley was met
with a swift and deadly blow to the skull from the stock of the stranger’s rifle. The
second one doubled over as a 5.56mm slug tore through it’s forehead, exiting
through the back of it’s skull blowing much of it away. The third’s knee’s were
blown out from under it with two expertly placed shot’s, the heroic stranger
stepped forward looking down upon the horrific creature with disgust. It’s head
cracked open like a melon under his black combat boot, he gave another stern
kick to the merely destroyed skull for good measure.
 Max had nearly crashed to the ground from exhaustion while Morticia on the
other hand was fairing well, she leaned against a brick wall taking in as much
oxygen as she could. Max hadn’t been built for running like Morticia had. The
stranger dressed in black checked the creatures, to make sure that they were truly
dead, before turning to the two shaken teenagers.
“You two kid’s alright?,” the stranger asked, his voice was filled with something
that wasn’t quite concern, but wasn’t quite anything else.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/29/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Max simply nodded his reply.
Morticia had finished catching her breath and looked at the mysterious stranger
before asking, “who are you?”
“Lieutenant 1st Class Edward Hawkins, at your service,” he replied in a polished
tone.
 The stranger, who had identified himself as Edward Hawkins, looked at
Morticia noticing her slightly unusual attire, wearing all black clothes in an
unusual style he had never seen. Her counterpart max was the same, dressed in
complete black garb with a chain hanging from his left back pocket attached to
one of his belt loop’s, his wet hair which looked like it had once been in spikes
that had been destroyed by the bombarding rain. He was a little less stringy then
the girl, but that was only to be expected.
“Now may I ask who you two are?,” he asked casually.
“I’m Morticia and that’s Max,” she replied snappily. “But my friend’s call my
Morty, since Morticia is too long.”
“Where’d you come from?,” asked Max, he was a little uneasy around this
“Edward.”
“Recon element, second SS, I was separated from my squad a few block’s from
here when we ran into these,” he paused thinking about it for a second, “…
thing’s.”
“SS?” Max gave him a curious look.
The Lieutenant replied almost on cue, “Slayer Squad.”
To Max the name sounded like something out of a low B-grade movie of the 80s,
or rather like something from a video game.
“So I take it you’re military,” said Morticia, looking at him untrustingly.
Edward gave a quick nod, “yes. This whole area’s an I.Z.”
“I.Z.?,” asked Max curiously. This was all so new to him, though the Lieutenant
seemed more comfortable with it.
“Infected Zone,” the Lieutenant said again in a polished tone, sounding more like
a brainwashed automaton from the cheerfulness of his nature. “We should
probably get a move on, find a place to hide until help comes, the shot’s I fired
will undoubtedly bring more of the creatures.”
Neither Max or Morticia voiced any disagreement with the lieutenant’s idea, they
followed him willingly like obedient lap dogs.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/29/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The three had taken refuge in a small corner coffee shop, the Lieutenant had
secured the place with the top’s of tables and other assorted wooden item’s that
could be nailed across opening’s. Luckily the owner of the place had kept a
healthy supply of nail’s in the pantry. The rain continued to fall from the heavens
outside, it filled the air with it’s unusually fresh scent that would’ve been
welcomed happily any other day. But not that day; for it was truly the day of the
dead.
“So, Lieutenant Hawkins… What’re you really here for?,” Morticia asked him as
she sat on a bar stool she had frequented regularly, sipping a random cold cup of
coffee.
The lieutenant sat with his back to her and Max checking his gun’s, an M4
Carbine and a Beretta 9mm pistol, facing the front door which had been boarded
up from the inside. “I’m sorry, but I cannot disclose that information.”
His tone had been monotonous, noticeably different from when he had spoken
before.
Morticia rolled her eye’s as she looked at him, “are you serious? We’re in the
middle of something like this, most likely going to die, and you can’t tell us a
single thing?”
“We’re not going to die,” said Max who had become unusually quiet, though he
never had never really been a talker for the year’s Morticia had known him. And
that was kindergarten through present.
Morticia had never been a pessimist, but she seemed to be doing well at it. “We’re
going to end up just like Mike.”
Max closed his eye’s thinking about what happened to Mike, then tried to shift his
mind onto something else since the thought was too painful, tear’s began to streak
down his cheek’s as he silently wept.
“No, he’s right,” said the Lieutenant. “We’re not going to die.” He knew it was a
lie, but false hope was all he could give.
Morticia’s eye’s darted around the coffee shop, all window’s had been effectively
and sufficiently boarded up to keep the thing’s out, though they hadn’t found the
three survivor’s yet, but there was no doubt in her mind that they would. She
looked at the lieutenant who kept a watchful eye on the door. “Where’d you learn
to do this stuff? Like the… nailing, and all that jazz…”
“Basic training for all in the SS, securing a perimeter to effectively stave off the
‘U.D.’ is one of the most invaluable skill’s I was taught,” replied the Lieutenant.
“W-wait, ‘U.D.,’ what’s that?,” Morticia asked.
The lieutenant was silent for a few second’s before replying. “Undead.”
Morticia nearly choked on the drink of the cold coffee she took when she heard
him, she spit it out and gasped for air. “Undead?!”",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/29/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"“Told ya’,” said Max who sat behind the counter hugging his knee’s to his chest.
“You mean, those thing’s out there, they’re already dead?!,” she had thought Max
was only making thing’s up, lies caused by fear and an inability to explain what
had been occurring.
“Affirmative. The only way to deal with one of the U.D. is to destroy the brain,”
the Lieutenant spoke as if it were all normal. “This is merely a training exercise,
one I’ve been long preparing for.”
 Morticia asked no more questions, the shocking information provided by the
Lieutenant was enough to make her wish she’d never asked. She was afraid to ask
anything else now, scared of what she might be told. I don’t need this, she
thought. I’m only a kid still, I want to live, I want to live…
 Max remained silent, what had started as a regular day had turned into a
blood bath for the ages, one he would not soon forget. The air seemed to be alive
with a sort of “electric” feeling, Max could smell it as well as feel it slightly.
Mixed in with the scent of the rain that continued to poor as if God was crying
was barely noticeable. Max closed his eye’s, thinking of his house. His nice little
house on Gorman ST where he and his mom and dad lived, and his dog Chopper.
He wanted to be home, in bed, he wanted to wake up and find that this had all
been a bad dream. He wanted to wake up and find that this had all been an
elaborate nightmare, cooked up by his subconscious from eating the wrong thing’s
and watching horror movies before bed.
 He pinched himself to reassure himself that this wasn’t a dream, a nightmare,
but reality. Cold harsh merciless reality. He pondered on his loved ones, and his
friend’s he hadn’t seen since the school that morning, wondering if they were ok.
He began to doubt that he would ever see them again, that he would ever wake up
Saturday morning’s to the smell of his is mother making breakfast, since she
never had the time during week day’s because of work. Saturday’s were always
special, more tear’s began to well up in his eye’s as he realized he would never
see another Saturday morning.
 Morticia had the same feeling’s, she wanted to be home, listening to music
and drawing as she usually did out of boredom. She wanted to hear her
Evanescence CD once more, she had forgotten it that morning on her dresser. But
it wouldn’t have been of much good use, since her CD player ran out of battery’s
that morning. She wanted to see her cat again, she wanted to hold Boot’s once
more and pet him. Hear and feel him purring in her arm’s affectionately. She
wanted to argue with her mother about thing’s that weren’t really important, only
now had she come to the realization that she and her mother never really talked.
Arguing was their form of communication, the argument’s were never anger
filled, they were the only way the two knew how to talk. She realized now, now
that it was too late, that she wanted to have a regular conversation with her
mother. She lowered her head in sadness, knowing that that would never happen.
“Morticia…,” said Max from behind the counter, still sitting in his spot hugging
his knee’s to his chest.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/29/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"“Yeah?,” she asked.
“How are you feeling?,” Max sat silently waiting for her reply.
“I’m alright… How about you?”
Max wiped away his tear’s, “I’m alright… I’ve been better though.” The pain was
present in his voice, though he tried to hide it.
“Better? Like that time in 8th grade when we spit in Mr. Nilbog’s coffee, and he
came back from the office and took a big drink?,” said Morticia with a grin,
recalling happier times.
Max closed his eye’s, laughter coming from him as he remembered that day with
crystal clarity. “And,” he paused. “That time Tex McCormick came to school
without any pant’s on, and no one told him till 1st hour when he walked into
Misses Liz’s class wearing nothing but a muscle shirt and tighty whiteys.”
Morticia slapped her knee, nearly hurting with laughter now. “How about that
time when we put Clearsol in Mikes pop in 3rd hour, and he started farting all
wickedly?”
Tear’s were coming from both their eye’s now, but they were tear’s of joy, tear’s
from their laughter. Max grinned, “I remember that, he had to go home and cchange his pant’s and underwear ‘cause of the stuff gave him the Hershey
squirt’s.”
Mortica started to laugh again, “y-yeah, and Allison Cordaine broke up with him
after that ‘cause she was embarrassed to be seen with him… We were mean,” she
paused. “Good times… good times…”
The two were both indeed weird, each one of a kind. But that was part of the
reason they got along so well...

Something struck the front door of the coffee shop with great force, shaking the
entire building, the door nearly flew off the hinges from the first strike.
“Jesus!,” Morticia said frightened by it, she hopped over the counter landing next
to Max.
Both crouched low, peeking over the edge of the counter.
“Stay down kid’s, if those thing’s get in here I want you both to lock yourselves in
the pantry,” said the lieutenant standing with his M4 at the ready, pointing it at the
door way as inhuman moan’s came from outside",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,1/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The glass window’s shattered as discoloring hand’s shot through the
openings between the boards, finger’s curling and uncurling hungrily, reaching for
whatever was inside. With each strike the door weakened, the boards nailed
across coming loose. Lieutenant Hawkins undid the button to the leather strap that
held his pistol in it’s holster, just in case he had to draw it quickly.
 Lieutenant Hawkins drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, calming his
nerves like he had been trained to. He had to remained focused, there was no
telling how many of the thing’s had accumulated outside, he should’ve told the
kid’s to keep quiet, their voices were like a dinner bell to the undead. But he
hadn’t, he wanted them to enjoy their final hour’s as the living.
 Another devastating blow came to the door, the lieutenant knew it wouldn’t
be able to take much more. Another strike was delivered knocking a door hinge
loose, the lieutenant’s eye’s narrowed as his hand impatiently wrapped around the
pistol grip of the M4, a weird feeling in his stomach developed, his index finger
curled around the trigger as he waited anxiously.
 Another coordinated strike was delivered to the wooden door knocking three
of the four board’s nailed across it off, hardened fist’s knocked away the table top
that had been nailed across the doors window sending it to the shop’s tiled floor.
Through the exposed window the three survivor’s could see a sea of dead faces,
expression’s of hunger and pain on all. Some had suffered vicious wound’s to the
skull that had not finished them, Max could see one pour soul missing an eye and
a jaw. Morticia caught a glimpse of one who’s face had been torn away, the flesh
and muscles eaten away down to the surface of the bone. She turned around and
dry heaved, Max looked away too, he couldn’t bare the sight of them.
 Another strike tore the door from the frame tipping it like a tree, before the
first could enter the lieutenant had already started firing. He took his shot’s
carefully yet quickly, the roar of his M4 mixed in with the chorus of the undead
moan’s was a hellish anthem of carnage and torment. Yet still, for each one the
lieutenant shot another took it’s place, his gun clicked empty and before he could
draw his pistol they were on him, the first tackled him to the tile floor, his
unsecured pistol slid out of it’s holster towards the counter landing close to the
two teenagers.
 A few of the reanimated corpses noticed Morticia and Max and started
towards them, though some were slower than other’s, rigor mortis had set in, Max
scooped up the Beretta 9mm in his left hand as he and Morty fled to the pantry.
The thick metal pantry door slammed shut just as the first corpse arrived,
bouncing off the solid steel surface clumsily. The two teenager’s sat in the rather
large pantry, still breathing heavily from fear. All Max could do was stare at the
door, it looked similar to the one of Mr. Reinhardt’s classroom, the one that had
given way so easily to so little of the dead.
“What now?,” asked Morticia.
Max looked in her direction, though neither could see each other for the pantry
was dark. “I don’t know… I… I really don’t…”
 A light clicked on in the room, Morticia had found a light switch, the two",1,Grievance Airring,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,1/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"looked at one another, each expecting the other to know the answer. They could
hear the sound’s of the lieutenant screaming in pain outside, though neither paid
him any attention. So selfish. The pounding on the door could faintly be heard as
well as the moan’s, the thick wall’s as well as the door kept almost all sound from
reaching the two.
 Max looked at the black Beretta in his hands, he had never held a gun his
entire life before now. It wasn’t at all like the movies, the gun was definitely
heavier then he would have expected, and strangely cold, like a block of ice. He
didn’t know much about gun’s, only that you pointed it at whatever you wanted to
die and pulled the trigger.
“Wait,” said Morticia as she moved a box out of the way near the door.
Max looked up, “huh?”
“There’s something here, some kind of hatch,” she said now on her knee’s pulling
at something.
Max climbed to his feet and walked over, looking over her shoulder just as she
pulled whatever it was up. It came open with a strange noise as musty air was
released into the pantry.
“Yuck, smell’s like.”
“Sewer,” Max finished her sentence. “This might be our only way out.”
She looked at him with her icy blue eye’s. “Well what are you waiting for?”
 He shrugged his shoulders. What did he have to lose? He tucked the pistol
into his kangaroo pocket on his black hoodie and started his slow descension by
mean’s of the rusty cold bar’s that were mounted to the concrete sewer wall. The
last two bar’s were missing, he was forced to drop the rest of the way, which
wasn’t that far. He landed with both feet evenly, the grayish green sewer water
knee high, some of it splashed upwards getting on his hooded sweater as he
landed.
“Aw sick, you have no idea what just floated past me,” said Max.
Morticia rolled her eye’s as she started to climb down, “where’s the other bar’s?!,”
she asked sheepishly.
“Just jump,” Max replied looking up at her. “It’s not far, trust me.”
“Oh, right, trust you, Max Kimble, the kid who once told me to trust him in the
2nd grade by wearing a blindfold, then pushing me into a mud puddle, yeah
right,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m serious, come on.”
“Well… ok, but you’ve got to catch me,” Morticia waited for a response.",1,Grievance Airring,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,1/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"“Uh, ok sure. I’ll catch you.”
 She let go of the bars and jumped down, Max tried to catch her but she fell
on him knocking them both over into the sewer water. Max kept his head above
the surface, he didn’t want to swallow any, sadly Morty wasn’t so lucky, she shot
up from the sewer water gasping for air.
“MAX!,” she shouted angrily, “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CATCH ME YOU
IDIOT!”
Max helped her up. “Sorry, I tried, but you came down at a funny angle…,” he
said trying to stifle a laugh.
“Oh sure,… erm… gross, now I smell like sewer water,” she wiped her eye’s with
the back side of her right forearm. “Where to now?,” she asked.
Max looked both way’s down the nearly pitch black tunnel, lit only by dim light
bulbs that hung from the ceiling of the sewer which seemed to be entangled with
vines and brown roots of some kind, he shrugged his shoulders, “don’t ask me
man, I just work here.”
“A man hole, we’ve got to find one,” Morticia started down the right side of the
sewer tunnel.
“How do you know that’s the right way?,” Max asked.
She stopped and turned to him, “Max, the town ain’t that big if you haven’t
noticed. We’re bound to run into one sooner or later, this place can’t be that big.”
Max stood still, looking in the opposite direction.
Morticia stopped again, turning towards him once more, “you coming or are you
just gonna stand around with that ‘I’m lost’ look on your face all day?”
Max scoffed and unwillingly followed.
 Minutes later they found one, by now they were dreading the stench of the
sewer, eager to get to the surface to the rain, the only thing they dreaded worse
than the smell of the sewer was the flesh eating corpses which awaited them
above. Max was the first up, since he was the one with the pistol, and probably
had a better chance of being eaten first. Such a friend Morticia was. Max didn’t let
it get to him though, she was his best friend now, and if that meant getting nibbled
on by ravenous corpses then so be it. He reached the top of the bar ladder, pushing
the manhole cover up, it came open easier then expected but was heavy.
 He pushed it aside, the cold rain drop’s hitting his face, he could see his own
breath in the air as he surfaced. He climbed up all the way and turned back to help
Morticia up, she surfaced and she too was relieved to feel the cold rain drop’s on
her face. The dual sat next to the man hole for a second, taking in the welcoming
fresh air, a nice change from the stagnant stench of the sewer system.
“T-time to go!,” Max said climbing to his feet, Morticia saw what he saw and",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,1/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"scrambled to her feet as well.
 Max had been a few step’s ahead of her but turned and waited for his friend
before continuing to flee. Behind them a sea of the undead moved towards them,
spread out thick taking up the full width of the street, moving ever forward like a
cannibalistic tidal wave of the damned.
“Where are we going?,” asked Max in between breath, Morticia had taken the
lead once again as she was a faster runner than him.
Morticia looked back, seeing the intimidating army of the undead shambling after
them, only a few now fresh enough to run, “the bridge, we’ve got to get out of this
town!”
 Max voiced no disagreement and continued to run, the dusty pike bridge was
on the west side of the town, where he and Morticia where, if they could make it
there then maybe they could loose the creatures. It wasn’t long before they could
see the bridge in sight, though the heavy fog which had set in rather quickly only
permitted them to see so much…
 ***
 Private Beckman stood behind the sandbag and barbwire blockade formed on
the bridge, on the opposite side of the blockade bullet riddled vehicles littered the
base of it along with the bodies of the re-killed corpses. The town’s other exit’s
had been blocked by similar methods, though most of the wooded area had to be
patrolled by helicopter and ground unit’s. All of the SS units that had entered the
town hadn’t returned or reported back.
“Private Beckman, has there been any contact with the SS?,” Captain Luc asked.
Beckman shook his head, “no sir, this storm’s been messin’ with our radio
equipment, haven’t been able to raise anyone within the I.Z.”
The captain mumbled something then went off to bother someone else.
 Beckman sighed, he couldn’t wait till this stuff was over, he wanted to get
home to his family. His wife had just had their first kid a few day’s earlier, named
him George after General George S. Patton, which was Beckman’s idol. He let out
a raspy cough which nearly name him drop his M4, he walked over to Private
Bates who manned the m60, positioning it’s tripod on the top of a sandbag as he
knelt on one knee.
 Bates had seen a lot of thing’s that day, thing’s he hadn’t been prepared for,
though he’d been selected to protect the bridge all he could do was his duty, not to
let any body out. If anyone were to approach the blockade they were to be put
down immediately, be they man woman or child. He wasn’t the only one with his
gun trained in the direction of the town, towards the opposite side of the bridge.
There were forty other men with him, but even that didn’t make him feel safe. The
first car that had sped towards the bridge had been riddled with a barrage of
bullet’s from nervous troops, those who survived only lived long enough to see
their family members bleed to death, in one case a kid in the back seat had only",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,1/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"been injured but the rest of his family had been killed. After a few minutes the
other three in the car came back to life, and tore the kid apart as he sat wounded in
the back seat. Yes sir, there was one to tell his grand kid’s some day.
“Hey,” said Beckman as he took a knee next to Bates.
Bates nearly jumped out of his skin, he had been deep in thought, “hey,” he
replied keeping his eye’s dead ahead.
“Hell of a day, huh?,” commented Beckman who was now pointing his M4 in the
same direction as Bates.
“To say the least. I didn’t join the corps for this kinda thing, I joined to see the
world, hell, I wanted to be the first kid on my block to get a confirmed kill, I
didn’t join to be put out in the stick’s to kill innocent civilian’s,” Bates grip
tightened on the m60’s pistol grip as he stared ahead.
“Yeah, well the only innocent are the unborn,” replied Beckman. “But yeah, I
know what you’re talkin’ about. I didn’t join up to put holes in my neighbor’s
either, orders are orders.”
“Everyone’s real nervous, there’s thing’s happenin’ here that shouldn’t be
happenin’,” Bates sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sleep again man,
not after I’ve seen this kinda shit… Dead people comin’ back to life, mothers and
fathers eatin’ their children… It ain’t right…”
Beckman let out another raspy cough, he paused for a long time before replying.
“You know, when they told me to aim for the head, ‘cause other shot’s wouldn’t
work, I told myself my hearin’s goin’. Told myself I was hearin’ them wrong,
until I saw my first. It’s wrong, I know, but order’s are order’s.”
“You hear that?,” asked Bates.
Beckman quieted down and listened, he could hear it. The sound of hundreds of
the undead moaning in unison, their distinctive dreadful hunger filled moans.
“Lock and load ladies, we’ve got company!,” Captain Luc shouted as he heard the
same noise as the rest.
 Beckman’s breathing became ragged and unsteady, he was getting nervous,
his hand trembled as it rested on the M4’s pistol grip, his index finger anxiously
resting on the trigger gently. Bates swallowed his fear and righted the M60,
mounted it to his shoulder sternly, relying on the tripod to take most of the weight.
The soldiers were ready to gun down anything that came out of the thick gray fog,
who ever and whatever it may be.
 ***
“Come on, we’re almost there!,” shouted Morticia to Max.
Max ran as fast as he could, the sound of the creatures moaning behind him
pushed him harder",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,1/2/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"“Come on!,” Morticia’s foot clanked down on the steel surface of the bridge.
 Morticia was on the ground before she heard the shots, Max heard the shots
before he felt the pain. Max could feel his warm blood rushing up his throat,
forcing his lip’s open as it shot into the air and fell across his face and pavement
in a random scarlet pattern. He coughed up more of his own coppery flavored
crimson body fluid and closed his eye’s, he could feel them in his stomach and
chest, a few of the bullets still burned inside. He had never thought about bullets
burning though, never thought the pain would be like this. He flopped around on
the ground like a fish on land, the pain clouding his mind like the fog that
engulfed him, he whimpered and groaned in pain.
 He caught a glimpse of Morticia out of the corner of his eye, she wasn’t
moving; wasn’t breathing. A pool of blood was steadily forming around her
motionless body, but Max could only feel his own pain, his hand’s curled into
tight fist’s, his black painted fingernails dug into his palm as the pain from his
wounds made him press harder. Cold bodies crashed to the steel surfaced bridge
near him, few seconds passed before he could feel the pain leaving him, all was
going peaceful now. He could hear nothing, but he watched with a silent eye as
the corpses that had once pursued him dropped like flies, most down for good but
others with shattered ankles and knee’s, only slowed by the slug’s which the
living threw by mean’s of their guns. Max closed his eye’s as everything seemed
to be getting brighter, though it didn’t hurt his eye’s, he knew soon he would be
seeing Morticia. His breathing slowed, his fist’s uncurled, his body went limp, the
warmth already fleeing, his last breath escaped freely carrying away his soul, he
was leaving hell behind…
 ***
“There’s too many,” the freight filled words crawled slowly out of Private
Beckman’s gaping maw.
 Private Bates still fired away, but for every one he put down another took it’s
place. It seemed pointless, even for a town the size of Grovers Mill there was still
more than they had expected. Beckman slapped a fresh clip into his M4, lock and
load, he continued to fire at random target’s with no time to choose, some of the
damned thing’s were running.
“Keep shooting men!,” Captain Luc shouted in a tone that was something like
seriousness, but bordering on the verge of psychopathic.
 It wasn’t long before the thing’s reached the barbed wire and turned over
wrecked cars, not much of a blockade but it would have to do. The enemy was
only inches away, Bates and Beckman could smell them, it was no longer firing at
distant shapes, it was looking at their faces. The faces of the damned, the faces of
evil. The first to reach the barbed wire sheepishly walked into it, then fell forward
becoming entangled in the sharp and treacherous fray, becoming easy targets.
Beckman had been firing away randomly when he had heard the two single most
beautiful words that had ever been spoken",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/29/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"“FALL BACK!”
 There was no need to tell him twice, he stood up and moved in the opposite
direction along with the other troops, Bates at his side keeping a weary eye. The
falling rain and fog shielded hazardous dangers that could pop out at any moment,
and when they did they’d meet Bates welcoming M60. The troop’s piled into
various military transport vehicles, both air and land before leaving the area in a
speedy pace.
 Minutes later the sound of fast moving aircraft shooting through the air
excited some of the creatures below as they shambled about through the streets of
Grovers Mill, still in search of food. Endlessly in search. Most lazily tilted their
heads towards the gray sky as a pair of black objects fell from the heavens, a high
pitched whistling noise accompanying them. The town disappeared in a flash of
bright light, shock waves spread outwards from the impact points leaving a path
of fiery destruction in their wake.
As the smoke cleared and the fires fizzed out all that remained where Grovers Mill
once sat was a flat lot littered with random lumps of ash and the charred shells of
ravaged buildings
 ***
General Worthington sat behind his steel desk, a few manila folders sitting before
him idly. He puffed on a fat Cuban cigar as he sat back in his swivel chair, feet up
on the desk. He took the time to reach over and grab one of the folders and
opened it, looking at the paper clipped pages.
“No less than 24 hour’s after the chemical was released into a controlled
environment the entire town, population 650, succumbed to it’s effect’s, either
infected by the carrier’s or by the chemical itself through inhalation. Special
operation units known as the ‘SS’ effort’s to survive within the I.Z. were hopeless,
suggestion is of course more training to combat and contain the U.D. within an
I.Z. so that if said chemical were ever used in war time scenario’s the U.D. may
be swiftly dealt with after their purpose was fulfilled. Storms caused by the
chemical in open air have been reported to mess with radio and radar equipment.”
The general flipped the page in the thin report. “Estimated time it would take for
the chemical to infect the population such as a city - Example: Bullethill City - no
less than 7 day’s. Smaller area’s would succumb in a shorter time frame.”
 The General picked up the other folders and opened his file cabinet, he slid
them in a larger brown folder marked “Operation Paperclip.” He opened one of
his desk’s drawers and pulled out a liter of Vodka and a shot class, he poured
himself a shot with a sigh.
He wished the chemical had never been developed, there were some weapon’s
mankind shouldn’t possess.
The End.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,2/1/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"I came across this place on the EzBoard search thing, and this seem's
like my kind of place so... Where do I start? My names Jeff Weise...
Kind of a plain and boring name I think, I hate my first name so most of
my friend's call me by me last, and I would prefer that it would be that
way around here if that's not to much to ask. I'm a writer (horror only,
though might experiment with non-horror stories some day), and I'm
15... That's about it, just wanted to make myself known to everybody.
(PS - I'm a guy, if most haven't figured or wanted to know, lol.)
""The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear. And the oldest and
strongest fear, is the fear of the unknown.""
-H.P. Lovecraft",1,Grievance Airring,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,12/23/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Here's my official 1st RP
post,tell me what you think.(I RP slightly different than most because I kinda' RP my
characters in a third person story format).
-----------------------------------------------------
The young rookie drew his Berretta m29 and cocked the hammer back.
""F-freeze!,""he shouted at the man sucking on the young womans neck.
 As soon as the sound of his voice reached his ear's he dropped the young woman
who had two puncture wounds on her neck,each an inch apart.The rookie's partner
called it in and stepped out of the police cruiser and also drew his weapon.The woman
on the ground appeared to be dead and was just seen in this man's hand's,the man who
had drank the womans blood was now a murderer in the polices eye's.
""Freeze asshole or I'll blow yer fucken' brains out!,""the other cop said,a slightly over
weight caucasian police officer with a thick mustache and double chin.
 The man with a stream of blood escaping from the left side of his purple lip's
continued to walk toward's them,he seemed to float along the ground as if gliding.His
feet never moved as he glided on the ground towards the police cruiser.
The rookie fired a single warning shot into the air ""don't come one step closer!.""
 The man came into view more as he entered the reaches of the squad car's
headlights.The two police officer's nearly dropped their weapon's at the site of him.He
was completely bald,his ear's seemed of those of an elf and his nose reminded them of
Count Chocula,his teeth were twisted and yellow.They looked like they had went
untreated for hundreds of years,jagged and pointed every wich way,the top and bottom
portions met each other looking like the bottoms of two broken beer bottles pushed
together with two long fangs spaced two teeth apart in the middle.
""**** it,drop this creepy son-of-a-*****!,""the fat cop shouted to the other.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM!
BLAM! BLAM!BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM!
BLAM! BLAM!
 Each cop unloaded their clip into the mans body.The rookie continued to pull the
trigger,dry fireing.The over weight cop quickly reloaded and pulled the slide back on
his pistol putting a bullet in the chamber.Both men stood frozen in fear,the creepy
******* in the cape was still standing.He examined the bloodless bullet holes in his
body breifly with his head tilted down.He slowly raised his head revealing a twisted
expression of pleasure.A ghastly shriek penetrated the cops' ear's as they looked on in
utter disbelief as the ******* in the cape burst into flames,being reduced to nothing
but an exact replica only made out of grey ash, blow away in the light cool breeze of
night.
 A man in a black trench coat stood three feet behind where the creepy blood
sucking ******* once stood,wearing a crusifix around his neck,he held a bow gun.He
walked over to what was left of the ash and retrieved his wooden stake.The two police
officers,still in shock,turned to each other and than to the mysterious man who had just
saved their asses and said at the same time: ""what the **** was that thing!?""
The man threw back the side of his trench coat and swiftly set the stake back into a
pouch.
""That,gentlemen,was a vampire.And before you give me that 'they don't exsist' bullshit
lem'me assure you,they're as real as the ground you stand on,""the man turned and
walked away.
Re:.:Global Nightmare:. « Reply #7 on: April 18, 2003, 11:48:14 »
Jack and an Old freind « Reply #8 on: April 19, 2003, 14:43:49 »
The man in the trench coat turned to them one last time and said ""names Jack
Slytherin by the way,and I assume you'll both be seeing alot more of me.""
 He stopped half way and pulled out a small vile.""Holy water,""he said to himself
opening the cap and pouring it on the vampires last victim,she too burst into flames
and blew away.He set the vile back into his pocket and continued to walk off into the
darkness.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The SWAT
team busted through the apartment complexs' front door wich had been
barracaded.The interior was a site of ghoulish slaughter,blood had been splattered on
the milky white walls,the marble flooring had been slathered in ankle deep gore.A
SWAT team members bends over and lifts up his face mask,he chucks all over the
floor.
""Jusus fucking christ...I've never seen anything like this before,""another SWAT team
member say's lowering his MP5.
 A creature dropped from the ceiling of the dimly lit entrance way taking the
SWAT team commander to the ground.Several other things joined their companion in
attacking the SWAT team,bullet's flew as the SWAT team opened fire riddling the
ravenous civilians with bullet's.Fresh blood splashed the wall wich had already been
coated with the crimson body fluid.Minutes later the last gun shot was heard,a
Bennelli shotgun round.A police blockade had been formed around the apartment
complex,snipers had taken strategic posistions around the building.A helicopter flew
overhead positioning it's spot light on the last surviving SWAT team member who
emerged from the shadowy entrance.He took three step's and collapsed holding his
throat wich was bleeding profusely.
 Jack stood atop the grocery store across the street of the apartment building.The
sniper's paid no attention to him,assuming he was some kind of new officer.Another
man walked up to him,wearing a black leather trenchcoat and a .30-6 hunting rifle
slung over his shoulder.
""Jack Slitheryn,""the man said. Jack turned around.
""Hunter Prince,""Jack said with a smile.
Jack and Hunter hugged.
""Jesus christ,haven't seen you since O'Biernin '86,""Hunter readied his .30-6.
""Yeah,that whole town was loaded with Vamps' and Werewolves,""Jack pulled out his
Bow gun.
""I caught wind of this through the CB radio in my car,I think we've got Bats and
wolves in there,""Hunter said.Jack nodded.
 Jack was the best archer in the world,and Hunter could pick off a moving
humming bird from up to three miles away with a clear line of site.Hunters gun was
loaded with .30-6 silver bullets,Jack's bow gun had special tip's on his arrow's made of
a strong wood to peirce the rib cage and strike the heart.Jack knelt down and took
aim,Hunter laid on his belly and turned on his nightvision for his scope,he took aim at
the door...",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/19/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"(Sorry if the German
in this post is a little off,I'm not that good at translating or speaking it...)
Hunter rolled over holding his bleeding ankle.He grabbed Jack by the colar and pulled
him close.
""Get that *******!""Prince said wincing in pain.
The sharpshooters turned their attention to the figure in the flowing cloak high on the
sky scraper.
""I've hit him more than three times already!,""one of the snipers said reloading his
sniper rifle.
 body of a young female hitting the grocery stores roof.Jack noticed the stake
and the note.The letters were words were printed in blood,it took Jack a second to pick
of the scent of Demons blood.The note had been written in German and in demon
blood.
The note read: ""Eraten wer Ist Rücken in der Spiele.""
Jack thought to himself ""Karlat.""
 A hummer with a truck like back and an M60 emplacement took aim at Karlat
who sat atop the sky scraper.It was the national guard,the M60 spit simulainious
rounds tearing into the concrate around Karlat.Jack slid down a pipe on the side of the
building as the vampire crawled back into a window.He ran into the sky scrapers
entrance sticking an thin long wooden stake on the bow gun and jumped into the
elevator.He heard distant screams of pain and three gun shots before silence. ""Vampires rarely use human weapons,""Jack thought as the elevators bell dinged.
 Within seconds he was at the floor wich the vampire had entered in.The power
went out just as Jack stepped out of the elevator but Jack could see just as
well,helicopters circled as well as the stationary spot lights on the ground witch shined
in through the windows.Jack was careful where he stepped.There were lasers coming
in through all the windows,the snipers had this place staked out as well.A swift
movement ahead made Jack more alert.He walked by an open door,he hit the ground
as Karlat kicked him in the side.Jack took aim quickly squeezing the Bow guns trigger
sending a wooden stake into Karlats chest missing his heart by two inches.Karlat
quickly kicked Jack in the jaw and threw him against a wall with fluid grace.Jack
groaned drawing his 12"" special forces knive and slicing off one of Karlats finger,he
knew it was useless since the finger would regenerate within hours but it bought him
some time to load another stake.
 Karlat knocked the stake away before it could peirce his heart and hissed.He
slowly walked over to his advisary who was breathing hard on the floor slipping in and
out of conciousness.The door to the staircase burst open as another division of the
SWAT team burst in with their guns blazing,Karlat reacted quickly ascending into the
rafters.The SWAT team looked around confused and nervously panning the flashlights
attatched to their guns around the corridor.A square of the ceiling tiles broke away as
Karlat pulled a SWAT team member up into the rafters.The SWAT team fired
randomly into the air.Jack crawled into an open apartment were he could recover for a
few moments....",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/26/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Grey turned his back on Cibil check around the corner of the shadowy hallway.That's
when he heard it,the tell tail sound of a Baretta m9s hammer being cocked back,he felt it's
cold barrel against the back of his head.
""Cibil...?,""Grey asked,still a little unsure of who was behind the pistol.
""Yeah,that's right,now drop your weapon's,""she replied with a grin on her face.
""What are you doing...?,""Grey complied with her order's,dropping his pistol's and shotgun.
""Why are you doing this?,""Grey asked hearing her breathing get slower.
""All these fucking question's ya' stupid Mick...remember when we first met,you told me your
name was Grey O'brien,and back there,you told me how you were a hitman.I've been
peiceing this together ever since you told me that last bit.My father,a Lawyer,Thomas
Lawry,remember him? He was killed by an Irish mobster,by the name of Grey O'brien AKA
The Ghost.After his death I looked into your little Gang,did a little searching myself and
found out you were the guy who killed my father.""
""I've never even hea-""
""Silence!,""Cibil shouted,pressing the barrel of the gun harder against the back of his
skull""You were the one who did it,three shot's,one to his stomache,another to his chest,and
another to his skull.""
""I SWEAR!,""Grey shouted,now knowing this crazy broad behind the gun was serious.
""Do you realy have the gut's to shoot a man in the face,look a man in the eye when you kill
him?!,""Grey shouted turning to Cibil,his voice echoed through the corridors,he found the
barrel of the Baretta m9 in between his eye's.
""You know what? I think I do.Adios mother fucker!,""Cibil quickly lowered the pistol
squeezing the trigger once.
 A bullet ripped through Grey's stomache,he fell to his knee's gasping for air,he was
notorious in the ""business"" for being bullet proof,never once getting a scratch in anyone of
his job's,they never could hit him,he was like a Ghost wich earned him his alias.He looked
down at the gun shot wound,blood poured out of it,the peice of led still burned with fury
inside him,schrieking like an injured cat.It hurt like a *****.Grey felt blood pooling up in his
mouth,it ran out the sides of his lip's streaking down his neck and staining his white muscle
shirt. Grey looked up at Cibil one last time,she was smileing.He heard the pistol bark
again,this time,it ruptured his chest cavity,screaming through his rip cage and peircing his
heart.His eye's rolled to the back of his head,everything was dark.All he could hear was faint
distorted sound's,he heard Cibil's Baretta bark one last time before his body died.It has
splattered his brain's all over the school's marble floor.But this didn't matter to Grey,for hell
awaited him in darkness of eternity...",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,6/19/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Where are we?,""Annie asked her husband Draven.
""We're about thirty miles away from Chicago,I know that much,but I'm not sure exactly
where we are,we might be in Minnesota,""Draven replied looking at his road map.
Annie brushed her dark red hair away from her face and began checking her Baretta.Draven
looked over at his beautiful wife Annie,they had met a few minutes after he had shot a lawyer
on the street's of Chicago from a rooftop with a PSG-1 supressed sniper rifle a year before.
He was in a rush to get away from the area,since the lawyer was under police protection and
they'd surely have about forty pigs searching the area.Draven had to get rid of the rifle,so he
wiped his prints off the trigger and grip and tossed it off the roof top,amazingly,it impaled a
police officer as he checked the lawyer for a pulse.
Draven met Annie as she was in the same building,strangling one of the employee's to death
with a peice of Piano wire on the staircase,Draven fell in love with her at first site.Two
contract killer's meeting on the same day with their target's dead a few minutes apart.They
both made a smooth escape through the back exit.
Draven had never heard of Annie,but she worked for the same guy as he did.Mr.Runey,an
Irish mobster.As soon as the shit hit the fan Runey was killed in an assination by a black gangster name Tay.But that was in the past,Draven was now looking for his freind
Grey,Ironicaly he was another contract killer.
A creature lumbered forward,creeping up on Draven and Annie's parked car.It picked up a
rock and slowly made it's way over to the back window,it started to hit the glass window,but
the window didn't brake because of the lack of energy the creature had.
""Shit,let's get that peice of shit before he brakes our window,""Annie said climbing out of the
car.Draven followed.
""Hey you,yeah you rotten mother fucker!,""Annie shouted taunting the creature,beckoning it
to come closer.
As she did Draven snuck up behind it,Annie grinned as Draven grabbed ahold of it's shirt and
jerked it back knocking it off balance,Draven cocked the hammer back on his .45 and stuck
the barrel in it's mouth squeezing the trigger,blood shot up and hit him on the face.Annie
started to laugh.
""God damn it!,""Draven said whiping the blood off his face.
Draven looked at her and smiled as they climbed back into the car...",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,6/7/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Grey and Cibil took refuge in a little shanty on the side of the road.Grey leaned his
shotgun against the shacks wall.Cibil sat on the floor in the darkest corner of the room.They
were in a rural area,not another house for miles.They knew it would be awhile before one of
the creatures made it's way out this far.Grey lit a few candles for light.
 Grey took a seat at a warped wooden table,he unholstered his .44 Magnum and began
checking it.Cibil gazed at him.Grey set the magnum down on the table infront of him and
turned to Cibil.
""What did you used to do before this?...I've seen how you killed those ghoul's,with out a
second thought,""Cibil asked.
""...I've done my share of killing,""Grey said ""I used to work for Murphia.""
""Murphia? whats that?,""Cibil shifted her position.
""The Irish mob...,""Grey replied.
""You don't sound Irish,""Cibil said.
""Heh,""said Grey ""I used to do hit's for a gangster named Runey.""
""You seem open about it...,""Cibil put on a new shirt.
""It don't bother me,I guess I'm sort of proud of it,""Grey holstered his magnum.The tell tale
moan of one of the creatures.
""Shit...any we barely got enough rest,""Grey stood up and walked calmly over to his shotgun.It was already loaded.
He ran over to the door,it shook again.He leveled the shotgun up to shoulders length and
squeezed the trigger,a basketball sized hole tore in the wooden door.He heard a loud thud,he
looked out the hole down to the headless figure below.He grinned.
Grey turned to Cibil ""I just blew our hiding spot,we've better go.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,6/3/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The dream slipped away,Grey was awake,but he still had his eye's closed.He was
tired,still sleepy,but he kept feeling warm liquid speckles hit his face.Everything was still
silent,but sound was slowly fading in.He heard a someone out of breath,grunting everytime a
loud metalic thud sounded.Grey opened his eye's.
""JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!,""Grey shouted looking at Cibil.
 Cibil was 19,she had red hair and was good looking,Grey and another survivor he had
met named Aitch had found her in a university dorm room nearly being eaten by her room
mate turned zombie.Since the first second Grey had seen Aitch he knew there was something
off beat about him.Cibil's shirt had been torn off and her bra had also been removed.She was
crying but had an evil look on her face,she had a lead pipe in her left hand and sat on top of
Aitch.
 She brang the pipe down hard upon Aitches head again splattering Grey with a few
more speckles of blood.Aitches pants were down to his ankles,Grey already knew what had
happened,Cibil continued to viciously bash Aitches skull in.A pool of Aitches thick crimson
blood was already forming.Grey wiped the blood speckles off his face.
""FUCKING HELL! WHAT THE **** ARE YOU DOING?!!!,""Grey shouted again.
""He raped me!He fucking RAPED ME!!!,""Cibil barked back and hit Aitch on the head again.
The living dead outside had locked onto Grey and Cibils location,they banged on the front
door of the small one bedroom house.
""Jesus...,""Grey said now that he had grasped the situation.
 Cibil started to cry,she struggled to bring the pipe down on Aitches head again but
something was stopping her.After a few more failed attempts she gave up.Grey took the
blood and gore encrusted pipe and threw it aside.He knelt down beside Cibil and wrapped his
brown quilt around her.
""He's dead...he's dead,""Grey said trying to calm Cibil down.
""The *******...,""she said with tear's rolling down her cheek's.
Grey stood Cibil up and took her a few step's back,he grabbed his over and under shotgun
wich was leaning against the houses sheet rock wall next to them.
""The fucking *******...,""Cibil said again crying on Greys shoulder.
""shhh,""Grey said ""it's ok now,he's dead."" He put his arm around her trying to comfort her.
""We've got to go now,""Grey turned to the door ""it won't be long before those dead ****'s get
inside.""
Grey un-holstered his Baretta m9 out of his hip holster and handed it over to Cibil
""here,there's fifteen shot's in there,aim for the head,like always.""
 Cibil nodded.Grey knelt down to Aitches dead body.He quickly un-hooked the ammo
pouch from Aitches belt and hooked it onto his belt next to his pouch full of .12 gauge shells
and grabbed Aitches .44 Magnum and holster.The pouch was filled with .44 cartridges.Grey
could hear the insidious moans of the living dead outside,they craved their meal wich dwelled
within the house.
""Shit!,""Grey said as the door gave in,it swung open and hit the wall shaking the entire house.
 The ghouls rushed in through the freshly breached front door,Grey took aim with his .12
gauge and pulled the trigger tearing the zombie on the business end in half.Cibil raised the
Baretta to shoulders length and squeezed the trigger once nailing a chearleader ghoul in the
forehead,greenish sludge shot out of the fresh bullet hole as the cheerleader corpse crashed to
it's knee's and slumped over backwards.
""The backdoor,GO!,""Grey shouted motioning Cibil away.
 She ran for it.Grey popped open his .12 gauges barrels ejecting the two spent shell
casings,he reached into his pouch and slid in two more fresh round's as he slowly moved
backwards to the backdoor.More of the living dead were flooding in through the front
door,but Grey had a bullet for each of them...",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,6/2/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Gecko had already radioed the sniper somewhere nearby to assure he wouldn't be
pecked off.He put on his show.He walked up to one of the african street gangsters standing
near the back entrance smoking a cigarette.He quickly patted his pockets.
""'Aye homeboy you got a light?,""Gecko said in a mocking tone.
""What did you say motha' fucka?!,""the gangster said reaching into his pants to pull out a
pistol.
 Gecko quickly unsheathed his KA-BAR survival knife and threw it like a tomahawk
digging into the gangsters skull before he could squeeze off a round.Gecko ran up to the door
and jerked the blade from the dead gangsters head,he quickly sheathed the knife and retrieved
the dead gangsters weapon,a .38 special.He could get past this outter door easily,he
did,afterall,grow up in Little Havana.And in Little Havana you had to know how to get past
any lock if you wanted those few extra bucks for ""munchies.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/21/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Gecko grins and catches the walkie talkie.
Gecko: Ok,I've got everything I need here.
Tommy asks him his name.
Gecko: Names Gecko.
Gecko walks out.
(BRB in like 20 mins)",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Gecko: Yeah,I want in.But if you don't know if you can trust me than send me on some sort
of ""mission"" so I can prove it to you.Somethin' you don't wanna waste some of the men you
already have on,than If I do it right and come out alive than you can see I'm the",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Gecko took a seat.
Gecko: I'm here hoping to find some work with you,you see I used to work for this guy
named Paulie Viti,but he tryed to have me whacked...so long story short I put a dent in tha'
Ferelli family's biz.I was hopin' to work for your 'Orginization.'I hear you guy's are big on the
street's,you guy's don't take shit from anyone.That's the kinda thing I wanna be a part of",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The guard came down the step's.
Guard: Your here about work right?
Gecko: Yeah.
Guard: You packin'?
Gecko reached under his coat and unholstered his DE .357 and handed it over.
Gecko: I want that back.
Guard: Sure thin'.
The guard motioned Gecko to follow him up to the office.Gecko did...",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Gecko sat at the bar of the Malibu club.
""Are you sure you dont want something to drink?,""the hot bartender in a bakini and cowboy
hat asked. ""Nah,I've got to talk to someone and I don't wanna' be stumbling aroun' when I'm gunna' talk
 business,""Gecko replied.
""Ok,""the bartender said slipping him a small peice of folded paper ""names Alchemy,gimme a
call sometime.""
Gecko grinned and slid the peice of paper in the inside breast pocket of his black overcoat.
 He pulled out a pack of cigarretes and pulled one out,he put it in his mouth,it hung
limp,he tucked away the pack of cigarettes in his inner breast pocket and pulled out his zippo
lighter,he dropped it.He bent down to pick it up,just than Tommy Vercetti walked past him
and up to his office,Gecko sat back up not even noticing that Vercetti had arrived.He lit up his
cigarrette and took a drag.
 He saw the light of the office up stairs flip on.Gecko walked up to the two body gaurds
standing infront of the stair case leading up to the office.
""I'm here to see Mr.Vercetti,Micheal sent me,""Gecko said.
""Micheal Sullivan?,""one of them asked.
""Yeah,I'm here about some work,""Gecko replied.
""I'll go see if he's not busy,""the guard on the left one said walking up the stair's.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Gecko sat in the diner sipping a cup of Coffee.A freind of his Micheal sat down across from
him.Gecko looked up,he already had his Desert Eagle .357 pointed at Micheal under the
table.
""What do you want?,""Gecko said.
""Take it easy Geck',I've just come to talk,""Micheal replied resting both hands on the table to
show he wasn't armed.
""So...talk,""Gecko said taking another sip of his coffee.
""I heard about the shit you pulled at the strip bar,everyone's been talken' about it.They're
callen' you 'The Bullet proof Lizard',""Micheal said with a grin.
Gecko laughed ""The Bullet proof Lizard? Why are they callen' me 'dat?""
""Because,everyone knew you walked away without a scratch,""Micheal leaned in ""I know a
guy who I can get you some work with.""
""Work? I just got done whacking a fucken' underboss of the Ferelli family and his goons,I
already know I've got a price on my head,why would a dead man like me be looken' for
work?,""Gecko quietly slid the Desert Eagle .357 back into it's holster ""Because,I know a guy who has a vendetta against the Ferelli family,his names Tommy
Vercetti,he's looken' for more stone cold killer's,he's got some of the best in the league like
those crazy bastards Sharp and Dice.""
""Yeah I've heard of those two,and Vercetti...you trust him?,""Gecko asked.
""You know me I don't trust anyone,but I think I might be able to set a little 'business' meeting
up,""Micheal replied.
""Ok,do it,""Gecko finished his cup of coffee.
""Meet me at the Malibu dance club tommorow evening,if Tommys there he's there,if he's not
there than forget about it,Capesche?""
Gecko nodded.
""Aight,take it easy.I'm out,""Micheal stood up and walked out.
""Fucking *****,""Gecko said under his breath",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"""I told you,I didn't do anythin',I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,""Gecko said
calmly.
The hot light over his head wasn't making him talk,he had been in this chair plenty of times
before.
""Yeah you've told me this before,we've got witnesses.We've got the two .45s tha-""
""The two .45s that havent been fired,""Gecko said cutting the fat fed off ""and about these
witnesses you claim to have,what are 'dey,'da fucken ground and walls?!""
""LISTEN TOUGH GUY!,WE'VE GOT ENOUGH EVIDENCE TO PUT YOU BEHIND
BARS FOR THE REST OF YOUR FUCKEN' LIFE,YOU CAN BE SOMEONE'S *****
FOR ALL I CARE!,""the sweating FBI agent shouted.
""Get 'da **** outta' here,if you had the evidence and witnesses you'd have me in the fucken'
cage right now!,""Gecko shouted.
The fat FBI agent went over to another ""He aint gunna' talk,we've got nuthin.""
The other agent nodded ""Cut 'em loose.""
The jailor behind him uncuffed Gecko.
Two Hours Later,The Strip Club
A knock came on the back door.One of the big Mafia goons slid the metal plating over the
rectangular looking hole to the side and peeked out.
""Who 'da **** is it?!,""he asked.No reply came.He turned to the other goon ""prolly some
fucken' kids."" The goon infront of the door grinned and turned back to look out again,he found himself
looking into the triangular barrel of a massive hand cannon,a Desert Eagle .357.
""Oh shit...,""he said.
BADAMM!
 The mafia goons face emploded.The other goon quickly ran over to the door with his
SPAS-12 shotgun and opened the door.He stepped out side quickly looking around.He saw
nothing,the alley was bare,except for the dumpster.He could see nothing,Gecko dropped from
the fire escape above the door with his knife drawn,he burried the knife in the goons back
severing his spinal cord,the goon died instantly.
 Gecko pulled the knife out of the mafia door gaurd.Another big ******* came running
down the hallway towards Gecko,the hallway was briefly lit by the strobe lights of the main
lobby,where the strippers and dancers were.Gecko raised the Desert Eagle and fired three
shots into the gaurd dropping him to the ground stone cold dead.
 Paulie sat in his office sweating,a nervous wreck.His hands trembled,he had a bottle of
tequllia in one hand and a burning cigarrette in the other.He heard the gun shots and scream's
from outside,he knew who it was.Gecko was coming for him.A few seconds later all the
gunshots stopped.Paulie stood up holding his sawn off Ithica over and under shotgun.The
door flung open,someone came sliding in on a rolling chair,Paulie squeezed the trigger hitting
the person on the chair in the chest making it cave in.The person was wearing Geckos' top hat
and over coat,the top hat fell off,it was Regina.Paulie's favorite dancer.
Paulies attention turned to the metalic clanking of a small tank of propane rolling into the
room,it stopped at Paulies' feet.
""Why?,""Gecko asked stepping into the light of the office from the darkness of the hallway.
""...I'm so fucken' sorry Gecko please don't do this to me!,""Paulie said breaking down into
tear's.
Gecko shook his head in disgust.
""I'm so sorry!!!,""Paulie cried out again,he put his hand's together as if praying ""PLEASE
HAVE MERCY!!!SONNY FERRELI MADE ME DO IT!"" Gecko took his top hat off of Reginas dead body and put it on himself.He turned to the door.
""So long Paulie,""he said flipping Paulie off over his shoulder.
Paulie quickly went for his shotgun ""**** YOU YOU FREE HOLE!!!""
Gecko turned with his Desert Eagle aimed,he squeezed the trigger before Paulie could hitting
the small propane tank,it erupted like a small atomic bomb destroying everything in a twelve
foot radious.Paulie exploded,peices of him flew in every direction.Gecko walked away
calmly.
He no longer belonged to a Family,but he was a stone cold killer.The best.He could find work.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/17/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Gecko opened the envelope and pulled out the letter wich was printed on expensive
parchement.It read:
""Gecko,
Sonny's the rat ******* whose been ratting the family out to the FEDs,do what you do best
and get rid of his body.After you've done that forget you ever saw him,Capesche?!""
-Paulie""
Gecko folded the note and put it in the inside breast pocket on his overcoat and continued to
walk to his Cutlass.They both got in.
""So Sonny,what kinda' shit you do?,""Gecko asked putting one hand on the steering wheel,he
reached down to the left side of his seat and grabbed his unregistered snub-nose .38.
Sonny laughed and paused for a few seconds ""...I'm a mechanic...""
Gecko chuckled ""A mechanic?A little behind on our fucken' terminology,eh?""
""You know what a mechanic is?,""Sonny said sarcasticaly.
""Fucken-a I know what a fucken' mechanic is,my fatha' used to use 'dat kinda slang when me
'n my bro's and sis's were little fucken' brats,""Gecko snickered.
Sonny laughed.""Where we goin'?""he asked.
Gecko pulled into an alley ""we've got business.""
Gecko got out of the car and walked over to a door,Sonny followed closely behind.
""So...what we doin' he-""
BAM!
 Gecko had spun around so quick that Sonny had no time to react,the .38 had fired once
striking Sonny in the left eye.Sonny fell to the ground dead.Gecko leaned forward a little bit
to see if Sonny was still alive,he squeezed the trigger five more times striking Sonny in the
face.Gecko whiped off the handle of his unregistered untraceable snub-nose .38 and dropped
it on Sonnys dead body. Gecko reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out a clean milk white cloth and
whiped the beed's of Sonnys thilthy blood off of his face and stuck it back into his coat.He
spat on Sonnys corpse.Gecko dragged Sonny over to the car and stuck him into the drivers
side seat and slammed the door,he tossed the gun,note,and envelope into the car and walked
over to the gas tank.He pulled the cloth out and stuffed it into the hole and pulled out his
zippo lighter,he started it up and started to run.The car exploded.
""Fucken' rat basta'd,""Gecko said laughing.A cop car pulled infront of him blocking the
exit.Gecko quickly turned around and started for the other direction,another cop car pulled infront of that side.
 The SWAT team stood on the roof tops on both buildings above him pointing their
weapons down at him.A police helicopter flew over.A FBI agent stood next to the SWAT team
on the right building talking down to him on a bullhorn.
""This is the police,we've got you surrounded.Surrender any weapons you may be carrying
and step away from them.Then put your hand's behind your head.""
""****!,""Gecko shouted.
""It's a fucken' set up! Feds aren't just standing by on coincidence...Paulie...it was him,it had to
be.He's goin' down!,""Gecko thought...
-------------------------------------------------------
(OCC: Hey Sard,maybe you could recruit my character into your Family,I've got an
""underplot"" involving Sonny Ferreli if you do.))",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/14/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"""Forget about it,none of the families will touch that cocaine shit.Salvatore Leone said that,if
you **** wit' 'dat shit you get whacked,""Lenny said straightening the colar on his brown
leather jacket.
""Why do you wear 'dat peice a'shit anyways?!,""Stan asked a little annoyed looking at Lenny.
""Because,you little shit eatin' *****,it's the style,""Lenny replied with a chuckle.
""'AYE **** YOU YOU PEICE OF SHIT!,""Stan said quickly standing up and knocking his
chair back,he drew his Snub-nose .38 ""SAY SOMETHIN' ELSE YOU LITTL-,""Gecko stood
up and put his hand on Stans gun and pushed it down.
""Cool it man!,""Gecko said sitting Stan down.
""Yeah...,""Stan glared at Lenny.
""Yeah go **** yourself Stan,""said Lenny as he lit a cigarrette.
*BAM!BAM!BAM!BAM!*
Stan tipped over taking the chair in wich he sat on with him.
""Nah,you can go **** yourself,asshole,""Stan spat on Lenny,he stuck his smoking .38 back in
between his pants and belt.
""Aww look what you've done you short tempered *****!...****...you're diggen the hole this
time you sun-of-a-*****!,""Gecko said walking over to Lenny's dead body.
""So,who gives a ****,aint the first hole I've ever dug,""Stan kicked Lenny again ""his whole
familys full of pricks anyway.""
The others around the table got up and walked away ""Yeah that's right you fucken' pussies walk away!,""Stan shouted.
""'Aye **** you asshole,""one of them said as they exited the room.
Stan ran after him with his .38 drawn,Gecko grabbed Stan by the collar and pulled him back.
""Get 'dis peice of shit in the fucken' trunk before we get pinched!,""Gecko shouted at Stan.
Stan was 5""2',he liked expsensive clothes and had a short temper.
""'Aye Geck,Pauly want's to see ya,Gecko Pauly wants to see ya',""Johnny two time said.He got
that nickname because he said everything twice.
""Yeah,""Gecko turned to Stan ""you're gunna' have to do this shit by yourself.""
Gecko walked out of the room.He walked towards the back offices and into Paulys.
""Take a seat kid,""Pauly said pointing towards the wooden chair.
Gecko took a seat and looked over to the guy sitting next to him.
""Gecko,this is Sonny,Sonny this is Gecko,""Pauly said.
""'Aye,Sonny Tucci,nice to meet ya',""Sonny said extending his hand.
Gecko nodded ""just call me Gecko.""
Gecko shook his hand.
Pauly handed an envelope to Gecko ""now go do your job,ok kid?,""Pauly said motioning them
away.
Gecko nodded..",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/7/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"A clap of thunder and a flash of lightening lit up the cloudy night sky.Toni Fulci ran to
his car with a news paper over his head trying desperately to keep his greasy hair-do dry.He
jumped into his Cutlas and started the engine.He lit up a cigarette and took a few drags before
realising he didnt want it,he rolled down his window to throw it out since he was too fat and
lazy to butt it out in the ash tray.A figure moved out of the shadows in a black top hat and
knee length over coat,in both of his hands he held nickle plated Colt .45.He calmly walked up
to Toni's car,Toni sat in it trying franticaly to roll up the window but the lever was stuck.Toni
was totaly oblivious to the fact that a hitman was moving towards his car.
""BLAM!""
The shadowy figures gun spit out a single round strikeing Toni in the neck.Toni quickly
turned to the shadowy figure.
""G-Gecko...?,""Toni said coughing up blood.
 Gecko nodded and squeezed the trigger again popping off another round,blood splattered the interior of the car.Toni slumped over the passenger side seat with another .45
slug in his skull right below the left ear.Gecko threw back both sides of his overcoat and slid
his Colt .45s into their hip holsters.He walked away calmly with an evil grin on his face.
 His street name was Gecko but only his family knew his real name,and they were all 6
feet under.He was a low-life mafia punk doing hit's for a man named Pauly Tucci.He grew up
in Vice City in Little Cuba,even though his family was Italian his family couldn't afford a
house anywhere else or an apartment.The man he had just whacked was Toni Fulci,another
wise guy who got out of line,he had pissed off the wrong people and now he was dead.
An Hour Later
 Gecko walked up to the back of the strip joint ran by Fat Andy and Joey Carbone.He
kicked the door a few times to let guys behind the door know who it was.The thick steel door
opened and Gecko stepped in.
""Hey Gecko How ya' doin'?,""one of the big henchmen in cheap suits asked.
Gecko nodded and kept walking.He walked into one of the back offices and took a seat.
""So...is it done?,""Pauly asked.
Gecko nodded ""Yeah.I made sure.""
Pauly smiled ""god damn Gecko I knew I could count on you.""
Pauly threw him a half an inch thick brick of one hundred dollar bills.Gecko smiled and
pocketed the cash.
""Come by later,I've got something I want you to do,""Pauly said.
Gecko nodded and exited the room.He went up to the front and sat around watching the
dancers under the neon light.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,5/1/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Hunter rolled over holding his bleeding ankle.He grabbed Jack by the colar and pulled him
close.
""Get that *******!""Prince said wincing in pain.
The sharpshooters turned their attention to the figure in the flowing cloak high on the sky
scraper.
""I've hit him more than three times already!,""one of the snipers said reloading his sniper rifle.
 body of a young female hitting the grocery stores roof.Jack noticed the stake and the
note.The letters were words were printed in blood,it took Jack a second to pick of the scent of
Demons blood.The note had been written in German and in demon blood.
The note read: ""Eraten wer Ist Rücken in der Spiele.""
Jack thought to himself ""Karlat.""
 A hummer with a truck like back and an M60 emplacement took aim at Karlat who sat
atop the sky scraper.It was the national guard,the M60 spit simulainious rounds tearing into
the concrate around Karlat.Jack slid down a pipe on the side of the building as the vampire
crawled back into a window.He ran into the sky scrapers entrance sticking an thin long
wooden stake on the bow gun and jumped into the elevator.He heard distant screams of pain
and three gun shots before silence.
""Vampires rarely use human weapons,""Jack thought as the elevators bell dinged.
 Within seconds he was at the floor wich the vampire had entered in.The power went out
just as Jack stepped out of the elevator but Jack could see just as well,helicopters circled as
well as the stationary spot lights on the ground witch shined in through the windows.Jack was
careful where he stepped.There were lasers coming in through all the windows,the snipers
had this place staked out as well.A swift movement ahead made Jack more alert.He walked
by an open door,he hit the ground as Karlat kicked him in the side.Jack took aim quickly
squeezing the Bow guns trigger sending a wooden stake into Karlats chest missing his heart
by two inches.Karlat quickly kicked Jack in the jaw and threw him against a wall with fluid
grace.Jack groaned drawing his 12"" special forces knive and slicing off one of Karlats
finger,he knew it was useless since the finger would regenerate within hours but it bought him
some time to load another stake. Karlat knocked the stake away before it could peirce his heart and hissed.He slowly
walked over to his advisary who was breathing hard on the floor slipping in and out of
conciousness.The door to the staircase burst open as another division of the SWAT team burst
in with their guns blazing,Karlat reacted quickly ascending into the rafters.The SWAT team
looked around confused and nervously panning the flashlights attatched to their guns around
the corridor.A square of the ceiling tiles broke away as Karlat pulled a SWAT team member
up into the rafters.The SWAT team fired randomly into the air.Jack crawled into an open
apartment were he could recover for a few moments....",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/18/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The SWAT team busted through the apartment complexs' front door wich had been
barracaded.The interior was a site of ghoulish slaughter,blood had been splattered on the
milky white walls,the marble flooring had been slathered in ankle deep gore.A SWAT team
members bends over and lifts up his face mask,he chucks all over the floor.
""Jusus fucking christ...I've never seen anything like this before,""another SWAT team member
say's lowering his MP5.
 A creature dropped from the ceiling of the dimly lit entrance way taking the SWAT team
commander to the ground.Several other things joined their companion in attacking the SWAT
team,bullet's flew as the SWAT team opened fire riddling the ravenous civilians with
bullet's.Fresh blood splashed the wall wich had already been coated with the crimson body
fluid.Minutes later the last gun shot was heard,a Bennelli shotgun round.A police blockade
had been formed around the apartment complex,snipers had taken strategic posistions around
the building.A helicopter flew overhead positioning it's spot light on the last surviving SWAT
team member who emerged from the shadowy entrance.He took three step's and collapsed
holding his throat wich was bleeding profusely.
 Jack stood atop the grocery store across the street of the apartment building.The sniper's
paid no attention to him,assuming he was some kind of new officer.Another man walked up
to him,wearing a black leather trenchcoat and a .30-6 hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.
""Jack Slitheryn,""the man said.
Jack turned around.
""Hunter Prince,""Jack said with a smile.
Jack and Hunter hugged. ""Jesus christ,haven't seen you since O'Biernin '86,""Hunter readied his .30-6.
""Yeah,that whole town was loaded with Vamps' and Werewolves,""Jack pulled out his Bow
gun.
""I caught wind of this through the CB radio in my car,I think we've got Bats and wolves in
there,""Hunter said.Jack nodded.
 Jack was the best archer in the world,and Hunter could pick off a moving humming bird
from up to three miles away with a clear line of site.Hunters gun was loaded with .30-6 silver
bullets,Jack's bow gun had special tip's on his arrow's made of a strong wood to peirce the rib
cage and strike the heart.Jack knelt down and took aim,Hunter laid on his belly and turned on
his nightvision for his scope,he took aim at the door...",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/17/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The young rookie drew his Berretta m29 and cocked the hammer back.
""F-freeze!,""he shouted at the man sucking on the young womans neck.
 As soon as the sound of his voice reached his ear's he dropped the young woman who
had two puncture wounds on her neck,each an inch apart.The rookie's partner called it in and
stepped out of the police cruiser and also drew his weapon.The woman on the ground
appeared to be dead and was just seen in this man's hand's,the man who had drank the
womans blood was now a murderer in the polices eye's.
""Freeze asshole or I'll blow yer fucken' brains out!,""the other cop said,a slightly over weight
caucasian police officer with a thick mustache and double chin.
 The man with a stream of blood escaping from the left side of his purple lip's continued
to walk toward's them,he seemed to float along the ground as if gliding.His feet never moved
as he glided on the ground towards the police cruiser.
The rookie fired a single warning shot into the air ""don't come one step closer!.""
 The man came into view more as he entered the reaches of the squad car's
headlights.The two police officer's nearly dropped their weapon's at the site of him.He was
completely bald,his ear's seemed of those of an elf and his nose reminded them of Count
Chocula,his teeth were twisted and yellow.They looked like they had went untreated for
hundreds of years,jagged and pointed every wich way,the top and bottom portions met each
other looking like the bottoms of two broken beer bottles pushed together with two long
fangs spaced two teeth apart in the middle.
""**** it,drop this creepy son-of-a-*****!,""the fat cop shouted to the other.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM! BLAM!
BLAM!BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Each cop unloaded their clip into the mans body.The rookie continued to pull the
trigger,dry fireing.The over weight cop quickly reloaded and pulled the slide back on his
pistol putting a bullet in the chamber.Both men stood frozen in fear,the creepy ******* in the
cape was still standing.He examined the bloodless bullet holes in his body breifly with his
head tilted down.He slowly raised his head revealing a twisted expression of pleasure.A
ghastly shriek penetrated the cops' ear's as they looked on in utter disbelief as the ******* in
the cape burst into flames,being reduced to nothing but an exact replica only made out of grey
ash, blow away in the light cool breeze of night.
 A man in a black trench coat stood three feet behind where the creepy blood sucking
******* once stood,wearing a crusifix around his neck,he held a bow gun.He walked over to
what was left of the ash and retrieved his wooden stake.The two police officers,still in
shock,turned to each other and than to the mysterious man who had just saved their asses and
said at the same time: ""what the **** was that thing!?""
The man threw back the side of his trench coat and swiftly set the stake back into a pouch.
""That,gentlemen,was a vampire.And before you give me that 'they don't exsist' bullshit
lem'me assure you,they're as real as the ground you stand on,""the man turned and walked
away.
The man in the trench coat turned to them one last time and said ""names Jack Slytherin by the
way,and I assume you'll both be seeing alot more of me.""
 He stopped half way and pulled out a small vile.""Holy water,""he said to himself
opening the cap and pouring it on the vampires last victim,she too burst into flames and blew
away.He set the vile back into his pocket and continued to walk off into the darkness.",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/16/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"This is my first fan fic' (that I've started on this board),it's basicaly like this: the storys
take place in a world where a literal global apocolyptic nightmare is taking place.Vurtually
every evil and horrific creature ever imagined is praying upon the
earth,Vampires,Werewolves,Zombies,Demons ect.All stereotypical weapons against these
creatures must be used to dispose of these creatures like silver bullets for
Werewolves,wooden stakes for Vampires,severe damage to the brain for Zombies. You may lead up to 10 charactors,15 at the max.You cannot kill another person's
charactor without that person's consent.You don't need any permission to kill off the creatures
(Werewolves ect).You can'not control major figures such as Presidents,Prime ministers,or any
major head of the country type government officials NO QUESTIONS ASKED (lol).
Other rules:
No infinite ammunition.
No god powers,invincibility ect.
And try to make all of your post's at least 2 paragraphs long.
Also,you can have ""custom"" weapons since that's basicaly what a silver bullet is.You can (if
literaly possible) a three barreled shotgun,a wooden stake gun (as seen on so much vampire
movies) and all that other stuff that qualifies as custom.
I think that about raps it up,enjoy",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/16/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Jack grabbed a creature by the torn brown t-shirt and threw it to the ground.He grabbed the
sawn-off SPAS12 wich hung at his side.The creatures' purple split lip's curled back revealing
it's yellow rotting teeth.Jack jammed the shotgun into it's gaping maw and squeezed the hair
trigger,the creatures head erupted like a juicy water melon wich had been struck with a heavy
sludgehammer.
 Cold fingers gripped Jacks right arm,a re-animated body moved in for the kill,Jack
backhanded his nude attacker.A buck ass redhead with a missing arm threw herself at
him.Jack reacted swiftly delivering a lethal spin kick to the creatures skull.Another came at
Jack clumsily walking right into his battle hardened fist.He quickly dispenced of the
worthless ghoul by splitting it's skull with the fold-out stock of his SPAS12.
 It was strange to him that the dirt road was so ""populated"" by the walking
dead.Perhaps he was nearing a town.He grabbed his battle helmet off the ground and banged
it against his knee to get all the dirt out.Jack wasn't realy that big,he was short and slim but
tough.The rest of his platoon had been fragged by renegades wich packed serious fire
power.It was a bloody skirmish wich lasted four hours,by the end of it all Jack stood atop a
pile of blood soaked corpses.Golden brown shell cases were everywhere.
 So now he walked down the vacant dirt road wich seemed empty for as far as the eye
could see.He walked another three miles until he came upon a two story house atop a
hill.Five minutes later the front door had been blown off with the last of Jacks pastique.The
inside was well kept and clean.He walked into the kitchen and over to the refriderator.He
opened it and looked inside,nothing ap",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,4/9/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Mike and Tina,the brown house.
BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!
One hit the ghouls chin,the other nicked it's left ear,and the third and final shot had hit it's
skull dead center,right between the eye's.
Tina lowered the pistol.
""That's better,""Mike said.He walked over to the ghoul tied to the tree ""about an inch to your
right.""
BLAM!
Another well placed shot.
""Perfect,""Mike unholstered his Desert Eagle ""but hold your gun like this.""
Tina watched closely,examined every move right down to how he pulled the trigger.
BADAMM!BADAMM!BADAMM!
 All three .50 Cal slug's had hit the creatures skull with ferocous impact.Tina grinned
with pleasure.Mike was getting into the habbit of using his KA-BAR knife to carve x's on the
bullet slugs tips to make them stronger,and they worked perfectly.Mike kissed Tina.The two
had grown to care for eachother,the 'crisis' had brought the two together,they knew
eachother's deepest darkest secret's and had listened to one another's story's without getting
bored are bitching.
 Tina had hardened emotionaly,the site of a corpse with a split skull no longer bothered
her.She and Mike had came to the conclusion that they were not human and it was up to them
to drop the ghouls where they stood.Mike had also become more daring,for target practice
perpouses Mike had been tying down corpses.His method was to catch them off gaurd,stick a
thick lead pipe in their mouths and than after restraining it putting a pillow case over their
head's until they were ready to shoot.Than they would tie them up to a tree and exercise their
shooting skill's.
 Mike and Tina had found some old surgeon books and books on the human anotomy in
the fat bald guys old bedroom upstairs of the house.They studied closely figuring weak spot's
and other way's to dispose of the dead with their bare hand's or a melee weapon.A few area's
actualy worked,one was the hit it down by where the neck met the head with either bare fist
or club because it severed the skeletal cord with the skull cutting off all mobility.It worked
perfectly.Another was the temples,a zombie had tackled Mike and Tina didnt have her
pistol,so she grabbed a nearby rusty screw driver and jabbed it in the temple with the butt of
it,the zombie went limp instantly.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,3/30/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Mike picked up Tina and brought her into the two story house.They had made it out of
the suburbs and into the sticks,Mike had watched everything and everything for
movement.While driving he saw nothing,nobody not even so much as a bird.The sticks were
as dead as the city and the suburbs,he saw a few of them.The only house he saw fit to inhabit
was a two story brown and white house with window's that were six feet from the
ground,bars on the basement windows and thick steel doors wich had dead bolt's and a chain
lock on them.He had secured it and searched in theroughly before deciding to move in.A
large one way mirror window provided a good view for at least seven miles down the
road.The tree's were bare and spread out,perfect for spotting anything coming from the sides
or attempting to sneak up.The only place he hadn't checked was the basement,wich was
locked from the inside.
""Where are we?,""Tina asked waking out of her sleep.
""In the stick's,you were asleep the whole drive,""Mike gave her a bottle of water and the .45 ""I
think you'll need these.The pistol is loaded and off safety,you see somthing you holler,if it's
too close shoot it,and if it's one of those thing's shoot it in the head.""
She nodded and took them.Mike walked away.
""Where are you goin?!,""she blurted out with a hint of fear in her voice.
""I'm gunna' check the basement.""
She nodded and sank back into the couch.
 Mike grabbed a hammer and philips screwdriver he had found in one of the kitcher
doors and knocked the two pins in the door hinges out,the door nearly fell on him,he set the
door on the floor.A nausiating smell wafted out of the basement.The basement's light was
on,it was very well lit and the windows were the same as the ones up stairs,one way
mirrors.He unholstered the Desert Eagle and slowly crept down the carpeted stair's.It was
luxurious in the basement,patriotic paintings hung on the wall's as did trophys,a Deer's head,a
bear head and a few other animal's that had been hunted and stuffed.It was a large spacious
room,with a big screen TV,and three gun cases and four gun rack's with seven large steel
trunks in a corner.There were four room's built into the basement,three were open and one
was closed.
 Mike turned the door handle,it was unlocked.He pushed it open.""Aww ****""he said to
himself.The body of a teenage girl lay tied down on a bed totaly naked.Three bullet holes had
tore through her skull leaving a gorey mess on the bed and around it.Another body was
sitting on a la-Z-boy recliner.The body of a rotting bald fat man with a massive revolver in
his right hand.His head too had been blown open,but it was a self-inflicted wound.The bullet hole in the milk white sheet rock wall sprayed with blood and brain matter told the story.He
walked back up stair's and turned to Tina who sat on the couch bored.
""I need your help,""he told her.
Tina followed Mike down into the basement and into the room.
""Oh god,""she said turning away in disgust.
""Yeah I know,find me some sheet's and rope,""Mike motioned her away.
 Tina left up stair's to go scavenging.She soon returned and gave mike two of the
sheet's,Mike used his KA-BAR knife to cut off a large peice of roop from the roll Tina had
brought him.He wrapped one sheet around the stiff fat mans upper body and the other over
his bottom.He double knotted the rope to ensure it would stay sealed.He cut the arm
restraint's over the teenage girls hands and legs and rolled her into one of the sheet's and did
the same.They carried the two bodies up stair's and out the back door rolling them down the
long hill to a creek below.Tina and mike scrubbed the blood off the floor and out of the
maroon carpet.Mike washed what he could off the matress than flipped it over.
""Home sweet home,""Mike said to Tina who nodded in the affirmitve.
 Mike put the main basement door back up and made sure the lock's still worked.He
checked the other three room's,one was another bedroom complete with dresser and hair care
product's,the other's were stacked with supplies.Toilet paper,bottled water,canned
food's,MREs,Nails,Boards,some blade sharpeners and last but not least,video tapes.The gun
collection was amazing,rifles handguns and a few bows.Mike checked the steel trunks wich
sat in one corner.""My god"" he said to himself.The crates were filled to the brim with
ammunition and explosives.
""Wow.We're set,""Tina said.
 The basement looked as though it had been stocked before the shit had hit the fan.Who
ever the bald fat man was,he was smart.But some of the family pictures suggested he wasn't
that right in the head.
""My god.That naked girl tied to the bed must have been his daughter...,""Tina said looking at a
photo.
""What?,""Mike walked over and looked at the photo.
The frame was hand made in clay and had the enscription ""me and my daddy.""The picture in
the frame was of the girl who had been tied down and stripped and the fat bald man.
""Sick *******,""Mike said shaking his head in disgust.
""You hungry?I'll get us a can of somthing,""Mike walked over to the room with the food
supplys...",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,3/28/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Tina sat up and yawned.She stretched out and walked over to coffee pot and poured
herself a cup.She sipped it while rubbing the back of her neck ""I havent slept that peacefuly since before I became a anchorwoman,""she said setting the
coffee down on the counter and took a seat at the dining table.
""I just woke up an hour ago,Rogers been awake for a long long time...I don't even think he
slept,""Mike downed his sugar 'n creamer less coffee and set the glass down.
""I better go check,""Tina said walking down the hallway and knocking on Rogers
door.""Roger,you awake?""
 She slowly opened the door ""Rog-""she let out a eardrum popping shreik and ran to the
bathroom.Mike came running,he stood in the doorway ""shit.""Roger sat in the corner,a pool of
blood around him.His wrist's each had one inch long slits in them,each had peirced major
arteries.Roger's expression was still the same as when he had passed,his eyes were open and
rolled back,his mouth was gaped.He still wore the expression of pain wich rigormortis had
made into an eternal mold.
""He must've done this last night""he thought.
 Roger didn't seem suicidal,he seemed ""ok.""Mike was still suprised he didn't come back
and take advantage of the sleeping humans who were still among the living.Mike looked over
to the corner were Roger had set all of his weapons,ammunition,smokes and a note wich
read:
""I can't take this anymore,
Tina's got you Mike.She's your responsibility now.
Maybe in the next lifetime I can find some peace and happiness.
(P.S Put one in my head with my DE...I don't wanna come back).""
 Mike picked up the KA-BAR knife that Roger had used to slit his own wrist's up and
set it in it's sheate wich Roger had left in the pile with his rifles,along with the DEs holster
and everything else.He grabbed a white sheet from the near by bed and set it over Rogers
stone cold stiff body and picked up the DE,he took ten steps back and readied the massive
pistol.He checked to make sure the safety was off.He stood trying to gather enough courage
to pull the trigger.
 A minute passed...and soon the sheet started to stir.It was Roger,he was back.Tine sat in
the corner of the bathroom in a fedal posistion.Her eye's were closed tightly as she
weaped.BADDAMM!Tina quickly put her hand's over her ears and bit her bottom lip
BADDAMM!BADDAMM!BADDAMM!
 Mike stood holding the smoking pistol,three shot's had missed...one neck shot nearly
popping Rogers head off...the second tore into his chest...the third grazed the ear...and the
fourth and final shot had struck dead center in between the eye's.Mike rubbed his right
wrist.Roger had told him the gun was powerful,how he was right.
 When Tina opened her eye's Mike was standing in the bathroom door way,Desert Eagle
in hip holster,extra .50 cal rounds in the bullet loops.SPAS12 slung over his shoulder,KABAR knife in ankle sheathe and wearing sun glasses wich added to the stereotipical badass
image.He walked over to her and helped her off the floor. ""I think we better get going,those gun shot's might've attracted some unwanted
attention,""Mike gave her the coat.
She wiped her tears away and looked at him with her penatrating beautiful blue eyes ""Yeah.""
They walked away...",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,3/28/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"""May I ask why you've barged into my club?""
Vercetti stood before Tony.
""I come to talk business,""Tony replied.
Tommy Vercetti aproached Tony who stood at the foot of the step's.He put his arm around
Tonys shoulder and walked him over to the Bar where the hot bar tender Ginger stood ready
to serve them.Tommy sat and so did Tony.
""So,you wanted to see me.What about?,""Vercetti asked a little suspicous of this strange man
with a broken english accent.
""I came to look for work,""Tony replied.
""Did you now...,""Vercetti stood up ""What's your name?""
""I Tony Montana.""
""I see...""
""Well you don't look like a dish-washer to me,and I'm sure you aint looken' for anythin'
lagit',""Vercetti replied straightening out his colour ""Come by tommorow,I may have
somethen' for you do do.""
Tony nodded his head 'yes' and walked towards the exit.""F*ckin' *****,""Tony said walking
away.
""Ginger,bring me up a Martini,""Vercetti said returning to his office.
Tommy sat at his desk.""Montana...I've heard that name before.""He picked up the phone and
called Ken Rosenburg.Rosenburg answered the phone hastily,he was obviously high on crack
as usual.
""Hey Rosenburg.""
""Tommy,is t-that you?hahaha!""
""Yeah listen dip shit,have you ever heard of anyone named Tony Montana?""
Ken Rosenburg came to a pause.
""Y-yeah.He was indited for Tax fraud a month back,I was representing the state and trying to get h-him s-sentenced.I won""Rosenburg replied.
""Hahaha!That's funny,you won a case?Anyway's,who IS he?.""
""He was a real big shot before you arrived on the scene,I thought he was dead...""",1,Vague Discontent,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,3/25/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Mike gripped the Colt .45 tightly and positioned himself in the middle of the street.The
ground was shaking violently,somthing big was coming.He'd rather stand there and face the
thing down like a man rather than cower and be sniffed out.His eye's widened as he dove out
of the way of a speeding red Cutlas supreme,he hit the pavement and rolled.The car came to a
screeching hault,a breath taking blonde woman sat before him in the car behind the wheel.
""GET IN!""she shouted to him,Mike dove in through the rolled down window.
The car sped off again.Mike turned around to look out the back window,there was a gigantic
horde of the living dead giving chase.
""F*cking thing's been chasing me for three block's!,""she shouted.
Mike nodded in the affirmitive.
""My names Tina Kowski,you?,""she asked.Still visibly shaking but trying to get to know
Mike.
""Names Mike Slater,I thought I was the only person still alive on the planet,""Mike pulled out
his gun.
""What are you gunna do?,""she asked slightly frieghtened by the sight of the pistol in a
stranger's hand's.
Mike handed her the pistol ""Nothing.""Mike could see she was temporarily relieved.
Tina jerked the steering wheel to the side turning quickly into a driveway and into a
garage,the garage door game down quickly.Another man came out of the house through the
garage entrance.It was a tall white guy with dirty-blonde colored hair holding a SPAS-12.A
Desert Eagle .50AE hung at his side in a black velvet hip holster.He was dressed in tactical
SWAT gear.
""Come on,get in here quick!,""he said in a low tone of voice beckoning Mike and Tina to get
inside.
They scurried over to the enrance and the SWAT guy slammed the door shut and pushed a
book case over it.
""We're safe,but we're not safe enough,""he said.
Tina looked at Mike ""this is Roger"" she said pointing at the SWAT guy.
Mike looked at Roger ""nice to meet you.""
Roger staired at Mike suspicously. ""I found him over on 4th Avenue,""Tina took out the .45 and handed it back to Mike.
----------------------------------------------------
One hour later
----------------------------------------------------
Mike and Roger sat at the kitchen table.Tina was in the living room sleeping on a lay-z-boy
recliner,the curtains were drawn and the room was dimly lit.
Roger took a drag of his filterless cigarette and butted it.Roger turned to Mike ""so,what were
you doing on fourth?""
""I had just gotten out from a cellar where I was hiding,spent two day's down in that cellar
with another man's body.He had committed suicide,that's where I got this here .45,""Mike
replied showing Roger the pistol.
""Nice gun.But I preffer this,""Roger pulled out his massive Desert Eagle ""the ammunition is
hard to find but it's alot more effective than a .45 or Glock,the recoil is a sun-of-a-
*****,damn near broke my wrist when I had to fire it whilst holding it only with one hand.""
Mike chuckled.""You know much about gun's?,""Roger asked.Mike shook his head no,""I've
never even fired a gun in my life.I grew up in the suburbs,""Mike stuffed the .45 in his inside
coat pocket.Roger looked at Mike and started to talk ""I grew up in a family of cop's,my dad
was a policeman and so was my mother.I'd alway's wait for them to come home during shift
changes in the middle of the night and listen to them talk about their job's,trying to help the
community,doing good 'n all.That's all bullshit these day's,nobody want's your help in the
city.Everyone hates the police.I went in for training for the Special Weapons And Tactics
unit,got in.I was a sniper in the gulf war,decided to keep the war going and join the force,I
was a sharpshooter before the shit had hit the fan.I didn't like the job that much though,most
time's you had to make split second dicisions that would change somones life forever,I didnt
like that responsibility,nor did I want it.""
Mike nodded ""I used to be a writer,you know,screenplays short stories.Hell,someday...after
all this...this might make a good movie,""Mike said with a chuckle.He and Roger laughed as if
they were old drinking buddys.All Roger's previous suspicions of Mike had dissapeared.
Roger picked up a bottle of tequilia and poured some in two shot glases.He offered Mike a
shot,Mike smiled and took it from him.They both bumped glasses ""Down the hatch"" Mike
said.Roger grinned,they both downed their shots and slammed the glasses down onto the
wooden table.""F*ck thats good!,""Mike said rubbing his throat.Roger poured them both
another...",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,3/25/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Note:I'll be playing a movie character,although Vice and GTA3 were a little inspired by the
movie SCARFACE in wich he was the main Character,if you've seen the movie than you'll
know what is currently happening in his life.P.S (Vicecity is Miami were SCARFACE took
place).
-----------------------------------------------------
Hospital,ViceCity.
Tony Montana laid in the hospital bed.His body had been riddled with bullets and he had
suffered an almost fatal wound to the back from a close range double barrel shotgun blast.He was almost fully recovered,ever since he was a child growing up in Cuba he had a strong
tolerance for pain,and that had helped in through this.Elvira sat by his bed stroking his
hair.Tony woke up out of a deep sleep,Sosa's hit squad hadn't done the trick because he was
still alive.Sosa didn't know this,but it was a good thing.
Tony: Elvira,is that you?
Elvira nodded her head and pushed her hair back away from her face.
Elvira: I've been to the house,my god Tony what did they do to you?The FBI has seized our
home Tony,they've even got the tiger.
Tony shook out of it.
Tony: That f*cking monkey Sosa is gunna pay for this shit!
A striking brunnette walked into the room,it was Tonys doc,her name tag said ""Dr.Cipriani.""
Dr.Cipriani: You're being discharged,I need one of you to sign this release form.
Tony took it and noticed they had marked him down as ""
Elvira took Tony out to her Cremepuff convertible and put him in the front seat,she had snuck
into their bullet riddled mansion and got him a few of his suit's,his prized nickle plated
.45,and some cash.Tony was almost a changed man from his near death expierience,he
remembered being intoxicated and fighting with Elvira,than remembered Manolo.His eye's
began to water thinking about his little sister Gina and his best freind since childhood
Manolo.
Tony: I should've let them f*cking be...
Tony wiped away his tears and slammed his fist on the dash board.
Tony: I killed him El...I f*cking killed him.And Gina,that Columbian f*cker Sosa,this is all
his FAULT!!!
Tony punched the dashboard with all his strength.
Elvira: Calm down,it's ok.You'll get that ******* in time.
Elvira: I've got us an apartment suite on the beach.
Tony: I've got to get started again,I've got to get the money and the power,than I can get that
******* Sosa!
""I ran (so far away)"" by ""a flock of seaguls"" played on the radio.Toney rubbed his eyes and
sunk into the leather apolstry listening to the song.
-----------------------------------------------------
2 Hours later-Elvira and Tony's new Apartment
-----------------------------------------------------
Tony put on his suit.He loaded his .45 and slid it into it's arm pit holster and straightened out
his colar.He stood looking at himself in the mirror,a black suit with white stripes.A white business shirt with light grey stripes going up and down it.Black pant's,and black glimmering
shoes.
Tony (to Elvira) : I want you to stay here.I'm gunna go down to the club and talk some
business.I heard there was a knew hassa in town...
Tony walked out the door,he took Elira's convertible and drove down to the Malibu club.The
one he had killed the Diaz brothers a month before.A guard standing by the door recognized
his face and backed away quickly.
Tony: You got a problem mayn?
Second guard (to Tony): No no man,no problem!
The second guard backed away intimadated.
Tony struted into the club,music was going.People were dancing,like they had a month before
when he frequently hung out there.He struted down the steps and met Fernando half way
down the steps.Fernando's eyes widened and he ran for the exit.Fernando was obviously still
 scared about what had happened when Tony caught him trying to screw his sister Gina in the
clubs boys restroom.Tony coninued to walk through the dance floor.He walked towards the
bar,and towards the steps to the owners office where a big Schwartzeneger looking guard
stood.
Schwartzeneger-gaurd: Where the hell do you think you're going?
Tony: Need to speak with the owner of the club.
Schwartzeneger-gaurd: Mr.Vercetti is busy,so f*ck off.
Tony: Vercetti?Mafia *****'s.You know who I am mayn?I'm Tony Montana.I used to run this
f*cking town!I've been stabbed four times and shot three hundred and seventy times.Bullet's
can't even stop me mayn.Now you get tha f*ck out of my way beforeMr.Vercetti: Angy,whats the problem?
The big Schwartzenger guard,whose name was now made clear,Angy,turned to Vercetti.
Angy:Just a little problem,nothin' I can't fix.
-----------------------------------------------------
Note: I hope we can play along here guy's.
-----------------------------------------------------",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,3/25/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Name: Tony Montana
Age: 27
Skin: Tan
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Favorite weapon: Colt .45
History: Was a former big shot in Vicecity(Miami) but after a few raw deal's would up being
targeted by one of his business associates and freinds,Sosa.Sosa had sent a hit squad in to kill
Tony,but they didn't finish the job.A Cuban refugee who has sent on the boat to America,he
was one of the many thousands of Cubans who were from the dregs of Castros prisons wich
had been sent over on a boat.A ruthless,violent short tempered man who has the stomache to
cary out any type of violent act.Tough as nail's and is cunning.Currently recovered from the
assination attempt from Sosa.
 I sat there,looking across the room at ""him.""He was down here when I had first came down to
escape the horde of the undead.His name tag read: ""E.Davis.""Brain matter was sprayed
generously on the concrete wall behind him.A nickle plated .45 was in his stiff yellow hands
""Mike"" I told myself,""I've got to get that gun.""The cellar was starting to stink,bad.The corpse
was about a day old when I had gotten down there.The flys were buzzing,but soon after they
laid their eggs in his decomposing flesh they took off,don't know where they went.
Sitting here stairing across from him I started to notice the little things.He had a ring on that
finger,wich meant he had a wife somewhere.The military lab coat,and most of all the fact that
he had committed suicide.The .45s barrel was stained in dark brown blood.After a few more
hours I had made up my mind,my stomache was empty and the things had finaly gave up
after they realised there was no way in.I stood up and put my black t-shirt over my mouth and
nose and slowly crept over to him.Rigormortis had set in and he was as stiff as wire,he was
like one of those wire figurines people make in art classes.His body was a masterpeice,how
ever strange that might sound.A perfect ""painting"" of death's artwork.It was almost a shame
to ruin it,I grabbed ahold of the Colt .45 and pryed it from his stiff boney fingers.
After some work I tore the pistol away from his hands,the trigger finger was still curled
around the trigger and took another fifteen minutes to get it off.I took the golden wedding
ring off and pocketed it,a ""reminder"" of where this life saving weapon came from.The .45
was as cold as the body I stole it from,a heavy lump in my hand.I did a quick search of his
body for more ammunition,all I found was one more clip.That was enough though,I moved
hastily to my corner and gasped for air.The guys stench was like sulfer and sweaty ass.Not a
pleasent smell.I checked the clip that was already in the pistol,3 bullets in the clip and one in
the chamber.A .45 holds six rounds,wich meant I had 3 hollow point rounds and six regular
ones with unique alterations.The six normal slugs had x's carved into the tips,wich I assumed
made them stronger.
I grabbed a lead pipe from a pile of lumber and headed for the door atop the stairs.I sighed
heavily and turned the doorknob,I pushed the door open and the bright sun light hit me in the
face like a baseballbat.I raised my forearm to shield my eyes from the blinding sunlight.I
reached into my knee length dark green over coat and grabbed my sun glasses.I put them on
and moved for the back door wich was directly across from the basement door.
I walked along the tall white fence as stealth like as possible.I hadn't seen another living
person since that SWAT team guy twelve day's ago.Derelict cars line the suburbian street
with a large metro transit bus parked askew in the middle of the road.I stopped to pick up a
penny,funny how the little things matter to me these day's.I hear shuffling feet,a black blur on
the ground slowly takes the shape of a human.I raised my head slowly to find myself looking
into the eyes of a grey haired corpse.It's face was all fucked up,it's lower jaw had been
blasted off,it's tounge flipped around like a fish on land.
I pulled my .45 out of my coat pocket and took aim.
'CLICK!'
The gun clicked,a mis-fire perhaps.No time to think because within a second this thing would
be on my ass trying to take a peice of me as a suvenier.I ran over to ""him"" and swung the
long lead pip like a baseball bat smacking it upside the head,it's head jerked to the left
violently with a dry crack.It fell over smacking it's skull onto the pavement,it's skull caved in
on impact.Slimey sludge like brains oozed through the bloody cracks in it's head,my knees
buckled and I feel to the ground sick to my stomache.I still wasn't used to this shit.I dry
heaved as I had nothing to eat for over two day's.I pulled out the .45 again and looked at it.It
was on safe,heh,I never realised these thing's had a safety button.I'm not James bond,hell,I'd
never even fired a gun before.I continued to walk down the empty street...",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Blades11,3/24/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_blades_11.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The small town of Grovers
Mill sat somewhere East,
nearly forgotten by all
except those who lived
there. It was after eleven
and dark as most stormy
nights are, rain hammered
down on the town
relentlessly accompanied
by its usual acquaintances
thunder and lightening. Its
dull barren streets were
completely void of
anything living, all the
shops had closed for the
night and everyone was in
their warm beds dreaming
simple dreams.
The shadowy figure stood
on the outskirts of the
towns eastern border
looking from side to side
making sure it was clear,
the black storm poncho
kept his black jumpsuit
and tactical gear safe from
the rain. He tilted the cap
of his black battle helmet
upwards so that he could
see better, seeing the
coast was clear he shifted
his M-16 to his right hand
and brought up his
flashlight pointing it down
the opposite direction of
the road flicking it off and
on twice.
In the distance through
the falling rain a pair of headlights flicked on after seeing his signal, the man
put his flash light away and took the M-16 into both arms once again as the
truck slowly started to drive forward. The truck came to a rustic stopped near
the towns morgue, a one story tall concrete monstrosity with a freshly
mowed lawn with lush green grass looking almost fake. From the passengers
side another man jumped out dressed in the same manner as the signaler
had been.
The looming military figure removed his talk box from his tactical belt and
pressed down the talk button, speaking a single word. Masks.
Hearing him over the radio the driver pulled a gas mask up from the floor of
the truck and quickly put it on, those on the military hummer that had
escorted the transport truck slid their masks on too. The passenger from the
transport truck slid on his gas mask moving towards the back of the truck,
he climbed onto the bed and removed a single barrel, he set it down on the
wet concrete and looked for the keypad somewhere on its top.
He punched in a four digit code on the keypad attached to the barrel and
with a loud pop the top opened releasing a plume of yellow smoke, quickly
he moved to the front of the truck jumping into the passengers side.
He picked up the CB radio, GO GO GO!, his tone was frantic and frightened.
The transport truck quickly backed out of the morgue parking lot and sped
off towards the western exit followed by its escort. Unbeknownst to the
townsfolk Operation Paperclip had just begun
***
Maxs tired eyes fell upon the clich maroon brick school as he stepped off the
trademark yellow bus, he let out a sigh and started towards the entrance. He
surrendered his black book bag to the ape like security guard named Ben and
took anything metal out of his pockets, (a set of keys and a CD player), and
stepped through the metal detector. It buzzed as it went off, he let out a
sigh.
I dont have anything, said Max annoyed.
Ben pulled open the drawer of the metal desk he sat behind and pulled up a
hand held metal detector, he moved around the desk and Max assumed the
position. He put his arms up as if he was reaching for the sky, Ben waved the
wand all around him, when it didnt beep he simply said, go on
Max let out a sigh, even for a small town the security was tight. He hated
that, after the school shootings like Columbine and Cold Springs they had
stepped up the security at the front door, Max grabbed his stuff off the desk
and started towards the Canteen where he and his friends hung out.
Hey, Max said to the others as he walked in.
A few of them were already talking and barely acknowledged him, a few
nodded their hellos and one actually returned his greeting. He took a seat in
the corner on an aluminum folding chair plopping his back pack down next to
him. The canteen was small, very small, yet he and his six friends still used it
as their main headquarters. It was theres pretty much, it wouldve been if it
didnt belong to the school.
Max looked at the watch on his wrist, 8:01 AM, 14 minutes till first class.
What did you do last night?, asked Mike.
The question came so quickly it almost knocked Max off his chair, uh Nothing
really. Listened to music, watched a movie thats about it.
Mike nodded and sat down on the chair next to Max, cool I went to see Cher
again.
Cher was Mikes girlfriend who lived 10 miles away at the next town, he had
met her at the last basketball game when the schools Wolverines faced their
Badgers. It had been a slaughter, Badgers won twenty to nothing, Max had
lost ten dollars on that game. Either way, Mike had been bragging about her
for ages, though Max had half the mind to tell him she wasnt much to brag
about But he couldnt do that, Mike was his best friend, and theyd probably
end up throwing punches over it. Before either could speak another word the
bell rang, 14 minutes only seemed like a couple seconds when Max thought
about it.
He stood up slinging his backpack over his shoulder, see ya.
Mike nodded as everyone exited the canteen, Mrs. Silver, (the librarian),
closed the Canteens door and locked it as everyone was trying to get in to by
a pop at the last minute. First class was always a pain for Max, Mr.
Reinhardts class, he had his mustache shaved like Adolf Hitler, even had the
same hair style, which made everyone uncomfortable and nervous around
him. A few of the kids had complained about it to the principle, but nothing
came of it.
Now class, open your text books open to page 420, said Mr. Reinhardt, he
taught American Civics, not really Maxs favorite subject either, since he
planned on moving to England when he turned 18.
CODE RED! CODE RED!, came over the intercom, a few gasps and oh my
gods came from some of the class.
Mr. Reinhardt quickly ran over to the door and locked it, class move to the
back of the room!
No one argued, most rushed to the back of the room, Max didnt have to, he
was already there. Code Red had been discussed a lot by the teachers, Max
had been growing sick of it. Code red was what would be said over the
intercom if someone entered the building with a gun, teachers were
supposed to lock their classroom doors and move all students to the back of
the room. So far so good.
who came out quickly with their hands atop their heads.
How many were in there? Can you tell me?, asked a police officer as a
paramedic bandaged Maxs hand.
Max remained silent, he had no answer. He wouldve spoken if he had
something to say. The officer moved on to another student to ask the same
question like a mindless automaton.
Max, said a female voice.
Max looked up, it was one of his friends, Morticia, he finally broke his silence.
Hey
Oh my God are you ok?, she asked seeing his bandage.
Mike was standing next to her, damn man. Did you get shot?
There wasnt a gun, Max mumbled.
Huh?, asked Mike.
Max shook his head. Nothin I cut my hand climbing out that window over
there.
The sound of gunfire made Max jumped, he turned his head towards the
school where it was coming from.
They aint goin down!, someone said over the radio, Max could hear it from
the cop standing next to the ambulance.
More gunfire came from inside the school, the three police officers in tactical
gear near the front doors began to run as they saw something inside, more
rain began to fall from the gray sky. Max sat unmoving on the back of the
ambulance watching, the rain wetting his black pants and shoes. Out of the
front entrance came another officer dressed in black tactical gear as the
others running , four people chased after him, as he ran he unholstered his
Colt M1911 .45. He turned and fired two shots point blank into one of his
pursuers but to no avail. The bullets did nothing, the person chasing him
merely jerked a few times then tackled the fleeing officer. No one could do
anything but watch in horror as the mans throat was tore out by human
teeth, his blood flowed mixing with fallen rain in a steady stream down to a
gutter than into a storm drain.
Cannibals, Max heard someone say.
Max had come to a conclusion that only time would prove right or wrong.
These cannibals werent living, but dead. It was beyond him where the
conclusion came from, maybe his subconscious had pieced it together. Maybe
not.
Drop em!, was the order that came over the police radio.
Gunfire erupted from the police who had their guns trained on the four
creatures. Bullets tore through them as they feasted on the police officers
body, trained guns and sighted rifles blew them back to hell, where they
belonged.
Cease fire, Max could hear the order over the police officers radio who stood
next to the ambulance.
Now kids stay calm, said Mr. Reinhardt who sounded as if he was about to
pass a stone.
Max wasnt really afraid for his life like most of the other students probably
were, the only thing running through his mind was the school had it coming.
He couldnt help but wonder if he knew the shooter, maybe it was Ray, he
hadnt shown up that morning The class was quiet, too quiet, Max could hear
a few whimpers and someone sobbing but that was it. Most were probably
waiting to hear a gunshot, Max knew thats what he was waiting for. He
hoped it wasnt a stupid drill, though as time passed he would wish it had
been.
In the distance, somewhere else in the school, the sound of a blood curdling
scream echoed through the hallways. Max nearly jumped out of his seat
when he heard it, fear was setting in now. He had heard plenty of screams in
his sixteen years of life but never anything like that, it was a cry. A death cry.
Jesus, the word had escaped Maxs mouth too quick for him to stifle it.
Jesus had nothing to do with that, son, Mr. Reinhardt said in a cold
emotionless tone. That was the devils work.
The words sent a chill down Maxs spine as he thought about them, then
again another scream broke the silence, the sound of shattering glass and
the sounds of a man screaming in agony were all too real. Max closed his
eyes trying to take his mind off of now, he wouldve given anything to be
elsewhere.
Thats when the pounding started. The classroom door began to shake, with
each strike every person in the classroom shook. The moaning started
shortly after, bone chilling moans of hunger. The strength and pace of the
strikes began to quicken, there was now more than one person trying to get
in.
Dont worry kids, said Mr. Reinhardt. That doors solid reinforced steel, theyre
not going to get in.
Whatever held the door in place was now starting to bend, soon the door was
nearly flying open with each strike. The collective fear in the room could be
felt strongly by all. The door was struck once more, finally swinging open in
submission. Maxs eyes snapped open as he heard the door strike the wall, in
shambled two men. The first was tall, dressed in a suit. A burial suit. Its face
had been caked with make up, some of which had been washed away near
the mouth by blood, his eyes had sunken deep into the sockets and were
surrounded by black rings.
The second was Ben, the security guard, or what was left of him. His throat
had been ripped out, replaced by a bloody mass of torn tissue, crimson had
drenched his blue work shirt below the neck. A white foam dripped from the
sides of his mouth which hung open loosely. The site of both men sent the
room into chaos.
One of the students shattered one of the classroom windows with a chair and
climbed out, others took his cue and did the same. Max climbed out one of
the windows, turning back just in time to see Mr. Reinhardt being tackled to
the floor by both men. Max had cut his hand as he climbed out the window,
but he didnt even care, the adrenaline helped him ignore the pain and soldier
on, he ran for the mass of police cars that had gathered by the front of the
school. He looked at the front of the building, two men dressed in tactical
gear stood cautiously by the front entrance while another evacuated students Unnerved law enforcement lowered their guns, then slowly the four creatures
rose to their feet Along with the police officer they had killed. Maxs eyes
widened, total shock and awe. The undead creatures began to run at the
living with only one thing on their minds: Food.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Writer's Coven,12/24/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_writers_coven.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"The entire town had already succumbed to the ranks of the mass murder and
carnage committed by the ravenous humans, who seemed to be in a trance
like state. The phenomenon had ravaged the town, spreading quickly like a
wild fire in dry brush, Morticia and Max had seen a lifetimes worth of violence
in just the first hour since the crisis had started in their small town.
Come on!, Morticia shouted pulling Max along the long alley way.
Max ran as fast as he could, though it was still not fast enough for the things
were gaining on him. His soaked shoes sloshed each time his foot pressed
down on the wetted concrete, his clothes were soaked as well from the rain
that seemed to never stop. The overhanging gray storm clouds seemed to
cast a gray hue over everything, for everything seemed a duller color than it
really was.
Come on!, Morticia shouted again.
Max heard her, but here was little he could do. She was faster then him, and
it seemed so were the creatures that pursued them.
Over here!, a voice ahead of them shouted.
Both Max and Morticia could hear it over the sound of raindrops hitting
various things. Ahead of them was a man, one who looked as if he wasnt a
day over 20, standing dressed in black BDUs, a matching cap on his head,
soaked from head to toe. In his right hand he held a large rifle, like
something out of an Arnold Schwarzenegger film.
Hurry!, he continued.
Morticia and Max quickened their pace, running with renewed purpose. Max
glanced over his shoulder as he ran seeing a site that encouraged him to go
faster, the site of the snarling human monstrosities reaching out after him
with ravenous claws. He reached the man standing at the end of the alley a
few steps after Morticia, every inch of his being filled with absolute fear.
The stranger with the gun looked ahead of him as the two frightened
teenagers rushed past him, three of the creatures in hot pursuit, hell bent on
acquiring yet another hot meal. The first to reach the end of the alley was
met with a swift and deadly blow to the skull from the stock of the strangers
rifle. The second one doubled over as a 5.56mm slug tore through its
forehead, exiting through the back of its skull blowing much of it away. The
thirds knees were blown out from under it with two expertly placed shots,
the heroic stranger stepped forward looking down upon the horrific creature
with disgust. Its head cracked open like a melon under his black combat
boot, he gave another stern kick to the merely destroyed skull for good
measure.
Max had nearly crashed to the ground from exhaustion while Morticia on the
other hand was fairing well she leaned against a brickwallt aking in as much oxygen as she could. Max hadnt been built for running like Morticia had. The
stranger dressed in black checked the creatures, to make sure that they were
truly dead, before turning to the two shaken teenagers.
You two kids alright?, the stranger asked, his voice was filled with something
that wasnt quite concern, but wasnt quite anything else.
Max simply nodded his reply.
Morticia had finished catching her breath and looked at the mysterious
stranger before asking, who are you?
Lieutenant 1st Class Edward Hawkins, at your service, he replied in a
polished tone.
The stranger, who had identified himself as Edward Hawkins, looked at
Morticia noticing her slightly unusual attire, wearing all black clothes in an
unusual style he had never seen. Her counterpart max was the same,
dressed in complete black garb with a chain hanging from his left back
pocket attached to one of his belt loops, his wet hair which looked like it had
once been in spikes that had been destroyed by the bombarding rain. He was
a little less stringy then the girl, but that was only to be expected.
Now may I ask who you two are?, he asked casually.
Im Morticia and thats Max, she replied snappily. But my friends call my
Morty, since Morticia is too long.
Whered you come from?, asked Max, he was a little uneasy around this
Edward.
Recon element, second SS, I was separated from my squad a few blocks
from here when we ran into these, he paused thinking about it for a second,
things.
SS? Max gave him a curious look.
The Lieutenant replied almost on cue, Slayer Squad.
To Max the name sounded like something out of a low B-grade movie of the
80s, or rather like something from a video game.
So I take it youre military, said Morticia, looking at him untrustingly.
Edward gave a quick nod, yes. This whole areas an I.Z.
I.Z.?, asked Max curiously. This was all so new to him, though the Lieutenant
seemed more comfortable with it.
Infected Zone, the Lieutenant said again in a polished tone, sounding more
like a brainwashed automaton from the cheerfulness of his nature. We should
probably get a move on, find a place to hide until help comes, the shots I
fired will undoubtedly bring more of the creatures.
Neither Max or Morticia voiced any disagreement with the lieutenants idea,
they followed him willingly like obedient lap dogs.
***
The three had taken refuge in a small corner coffee shop, the Lieutenant had
secured the place with the top softables and other assorted wooden items that could be nailed across openings. Luckily the owner of the place had kept
a healthy supply of nails in the pantry. The rain continued to fall from the
heavens outside, it filled the air with its unusually fresh scent that wouldve
been welcomed happily any other day. But not that day; for it was truly the
day of the dead.
So, Lieutenant Hawkins Whatre you really here for?, Morticia asked him as
she sat on a bar stool she had frequented regularly, sipping a random cold
cup of coffee.
The lieutenant sat with his back to her and Max checking his guns, an M4
Carbine and a Beretta 9mm pistol, facing the front door which had been
boarded up from the inside. Im sorry, but I cannot disclose that information.
His tone had been monotonous, noticeably different from when he had
spoken before.
Morticia rolled her eyes as she looked at him, are you serious? Were in the
middle of something like this, most likely going to die, and you cant tell us a
single thing?
Were not going to die, said Max who had become unusually quiet, though he
never had never really been a talker for the years Morticia had known him.
And that was kindergarten through present.
Morticia had never been a pessimist, but she seemed to be doing well at it.
Were going to end up just like Mike.
Max closed his eyes thinking about what happened to Mike, then tried to shift
his mind onto something else since the thought was too painful, tears began
to streak down his cheeks as he silently wept.
No, hes right, said the Lieutenant. Were not going to die. He knew it was a
lie, but false hope was all he could give.
Morticias eyes darted around the coffee shop, all windows had been
effectively and sufficiently boarded up to keep the things out, though they
hadnt found the three survivors yet, but there was no doubt in her mind that
they would. She looked at the lieutenant who kept a watchful eye on the
door. Whered you learn to do this stuff? Like the nailing, and all that jazz
Basic training for all in the SS, securing a perimeter to effectively stave off
the U.D. is one of the most invaluable skills I was taught, replied the
Lieutenant.
W-wait, U.D., whats that?, Morticia asked.
The lieutenant was silent for a few seconds before replying. Undead.
Morticia nearly choked on the drink of the cold coffee she took when she
heard him, she spit it out and gasped for air. Undead?!
Told ya, said Max who sat behind the counter hugging his knees to his chest.
You mean, those things out there, theyre already dead?!, she had thought
Max was only making things up, lies caused by fear and an inability to
explain what had been occurring.
Affirmative. The only way to deal with one of the U.D. is to destroy the brain,
the Lieutenant spoke as if it were all normal. This is merely a training
exercise one Ive been long preparing for Morticia asked no more questions, the shocking information provided by the
Lieutenant was enough to make her wish shed never asked. She was afraid
to ask anything else now, scared of what she might be told. I dont need this,
she thought. Im only a kid still, I want to live, I want to live
Max remained silent, what had started as a regular day had turned into a
blood bath for the ages, one he would not soon forget. The air seemed to be
alive with a sort of electric feeling, Max could smell it as well as feel it
slightly. Mixed in with the scent of the rain that continued to poor as if God
was crying was barely noticeable. Max closed his eyes, thinking of his house.
His nice little house on Gorman ST where he and his mom and dad lived, and
his dog Chopper. He wanted to be home, in bed, he wanted to wake up and
find that this had all been a bad dream. He wanted to wake up and find that
this had all been an elaborate nightmare, cooked up by his subconscious
from eating the wrong things and watching horror movies before bed.
He pinched himself to reassure himself that this wasnt a dream, a nightmare,
but reality. Cold harsh merciless reality. He pondered on his loved ones, and
his friends he hadnt seen since the school that morning, wondering if they
were ok. He began to doubt that he would ever see them again, that he
would ever wake up Saturday mornings to the smell of his is mother making
breakfast, since she never had the time during week days because of work.
Saturdays were always special, more tears began to well up in his eyes as he
realized he would never see another Saturday morning.
Morticia had the same feelings, she wanted to be home, listening to music
and drawing as she usually did out of boredom. She wanted to hear her
Evanescence CD once more, she had forgotten it that morning on her
dresser. But it wouldnt have been of much good use, since her CD player ran
out of batterys that morning. She wanted to see her cat again, she wanted to
hold Boots once more and pet him. Hear and feel him purring in her arms
affectionately. She wanted to argue with her mother about things that werent
really important, only now had she come to the realization that she and her
mother never really talked. Arguing was their form of communication, the
arguments were never anger filled, they were the only way the two knew
how to talk. She realized now, now that it was too late, that she wanted to
have a regular conversation with her mother. She lowered her head in
sadness, knowing that that would never happen.
Morticia, said Max from behind the counter, still sitting in his spot hugging his
knees to his chest.
Yeah?, she asked.
How are you feeling?, Max sat silently waiting for her reply.
Im alright How about you?
Max wiped away his tears, Im alright Ive been better though. The pain was
present in his voice, though he tried to hide it.
Better? Like that time in 8th grade when we spit in Mr. Nilbogs coffee, and he
came back from the office and took a big drink?, said Morticia with a grin,
recalling happier times.
Max closed his eyes, laughter coming from him as he remembered that day
with crystal clarity. And, he paused. That time Tex McCormick came to school
without any pants on, and no one told him till 1st hour when he walked into
Misses Lizs class wearing nothing but a muscle shirt and tighty whiteys. Morticia slapped her knee, nearly hurting with laughter now. How about that
time when we put Clearsol in Mikes pop in 3rd hour, and he started farting all
wickedly?
Tears were coming from both their eyes now, but they were tears of joy,
tears from their laughter. Max grinned, I remember that, he had to go home
and c-change his pants and underwear cause of the stuff gave him the
Hershey squirts.
Mortica started to laugh again, y-yeah, and Allison Cordaine broke up with
him after that cause she was embarrassed to be seen with him We were
mean, she paused. Good times good times
The two were both indeed weird, each one of a kind. But that was part of the
reason they got along so well...",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Writer's Coven,12/29/2003,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_writers_coven.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"Something struck the front door of the coffee shop with great force, shaking
the entire building, the door nearly flew off the hinges from the first strike.
Jesus!, Morticia said frightened by it, she hopped over the counter landing
next to Max.
Both crouched low, peeking over the edge of the counter.
Stay down kids, if those things get in here I want you both to lock yourselves
in the pantry, said the lieutenant standing with his M4 at the ready, pointing
it at the door way as inhuman moans came from outside.
 The glass windows shattered as discoloring hands shot through the
openings between the boards, fingers curling and uncurling hungrily,
reaching for whatever was inside. With each strike the door weakened, the
boards nailed across coming loose. Lieutenant Hawkins undid the button to
the leather strap that held his pistol in its holster, just in case he had to draw
it quickly.
 Lieutenant Hawkins drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, calming
his nerves like he had been trained to. He had to remained focused, there
was no telling how many of the things had accumulated outside, he shouldve
told the kids to keep quiet, their voices were like a dinner bell to the undead.
But he hadnt, he wanted them to enjoy their final hours as the living.
 Another devastating blow came to the door, the lieutenant knew it
wouldnt be able to take much more. Another strike was delivered knocking a
door hinge loose, the lieutenants eyes narrowed as his hand impatiently
wrapped around the pistol grip of the M4, a weird feeling in his stomach
developed, his index finger curled around the trigger as he waited anxiously.
 Another coordinated strike was delivered to the wooden door knocking
three of the four boards nailed across it off, hardened fists knocked away the
table top that had been nailed across the doors window sending it to the
shops tiled floor. Through the exposed window the three survivors could see
a sea of dead faces, expressions of hunger and pain on all. Some had
suffered vicious wounds to the skull that had not finished them, Max could
see one pour soul missing an eye and a jaw. Morticia caught a glimpse of one
whos face had been torn away, the flesh and muscles eaten away down to
the surface of the bone. She turned around and dry heaved, Max looked
away too, he couldnt bare the sight of them.
 Another strike tore the door from the frame tipping it like a tree, before
the first could enter the lieutenant had already started firing. He took his
shots carefully yet quickly, the roar of his M4 mixed in with the chorus of the
undead moans was a hellish anthem of carnage and torment. Yet still, for
each one the lieutenant shot another took its place, his gun clicked empty
and before he could draw his pistol they were on him, the first tackled him to
the tile floor, his unsecured pistol slid out of its holster towards the counter
landing close to the two teenagers.
 A few of the reanimated corpses noticed Morticia and Max and started
towards them, though some were slower than others, rigor mortis had set in,
Max scooped up the Beretta 9mm in his left hand as he and Morty fled to the
pantry. The thick metal pantry door slammed shut just as the first corpse
arrived, bouncing off the solid steel surface clumsily. The two teenagers sat
in the rather large pantry, still breathing heavily from fear. All Max could do
was stare at the door, it looked similar to the one of Mr. Reinhardts
classroom, the one that had given way so easily to so little of the dead.
What now?, asked Morticia.
Max looked in her direction, though neither could see each other for the
pantry was dark. I dont know I I really dont
 A light clicked on in the room, Morticia had found a light switch, the two
looked at one another, each expecting the other to know the answer. They
could hear the sounds of the lieutenant screaming in pain outside, though
neither paid him any attention. So selfish. The pounding on the door could
faintly be heard as well as the moans, the thick walls as well as the door kept
almost all sound from reaching the two.
 Max looked at the black Beretta in his hands, he had never held a gun
his entire life before now. It wasnt at all like the movies, the gun was
definitely heavier then he would have expected, and strangely cold, like a
block of ice. He didnt know much about guns, only that you pointed it at
whatever you wanted to die and pulled the trigger.
Wait, said Morticia as she moved a box out of the way near the door.
Max looked up, huh?
Theres something here, some kind of hatch, she said now on her knees
pulling at something.
Max climbed to his feet and walked over, looking over her shoulder just as
she pulled whatever it was up. It came open with a strange noise as musty
air was released into the pantry.
Yuck, smells like.
Sewer, Max finished her sentence. This might be our only way out.
She looked at him with her icy blue eyes. Well what are you waiting for?
 He shrugged his shoulders. What did he have to lose? He tucked the
pistol into his kangaroo pocket on his black hoodie and started his slow
descension by means of the rusty cold bars that were mounted to the
concrete sewer wall. The last two bars were missing, he was forced to drop
the rest of the way, which wasnt that far. He landed with both feet even the grayish green sewer water knee high, some of it splashed upwards
getting on his hooded sweater as he landed.
Aw sick, you have no idea what just floated past me, said Max.
Morticia rolled her eyes as she started to climb down, wheres the other
bars?!, she asked sheepishly.
Just jump, Max replied looking up at her. Its not far, trust me.
Oh, right, trust you, Max Kimble, the kid who once told me to trust him in
the 2nd grade by wearing a blindfold, then pushing me into a mud puddle,
yeah right, she said sarcastically.
Im serious, come on.
Well ok, but youve got to catch me, Morticia waited for a response.
Uh, ok sure. Ill catch you.
 She let go of the bars and jumped down, Max tried to catch her but she
fell on him knocking them both over into the sewer water. Max kept his head
above the surface, he didnt want to swallow any, sadly Morty wasnt so lucky,
she shot up from the sewer water gasping for air.
MAX!, she shouted angrily, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CATCH ME YOU IDIOT!
Max helped her up. Sorry, I tried, but you came down at a funny angle, he
said trying to stifle a laugh.
Oh sure, erm gross, now I smell like sewer water, she wiped her eyes with
the back side of her right forearm. Where to now?, she asked.
Max looked both ways down the nearly pitch black tunnel, lit only by dim
light bulbs that hung from the ceiling of the sewer which seemed to be
entangled with vines and brown roots of some kind, he shrugged his
shoulders, dont ask me man, I just work here.
A man hole, weve got to find one, Morticia started down the right side of the
sewer tunnel.
How do you know thats the right way?, Max asked.
She stopped and turned to him, Max, the town aint that big if you havent
noticed. Were bound to run into one sooner or later, this place cant be that
big.
Max stood still, looking in the opposite direction.
Morticia stopped again, turning towards him once more, you coming or are
you just gonna stand around with that Im lost look on your face all day?
Max scoffed and unwillingly followed.
 Minutes later they found one, by now they were dreading the stench of
the sewer, eager to get to the surface to the rain, the only thing they
dreaded worse than the smell of the sewer was the flesh eating corpses
which awaited them above. Max was the first up, since he was the one with
the pistol, and probably had a better chance of being eaten first. Such a
friend Morticia was. Max didnt let it get to him though, she was his best
friend now, and if that meant getting nibbled on by ravenous corpses then so be it. He reached the top of the bar ladder, pushing the manhole cover up, it
came open easier then expected but was heavy.
 He pushed it aside, the cold rain drops hitting his face, he could see his
own breath in the air as he surfaced. He climbed up all the way and turned
back to help Morticia up, she surfaced and she too was relieved to feel the
cold rain drops on her face. The dual sat next to the man hole for a second,
taking in the welcoming fresh air, a nice change from the stagnant stench of
the sewer system.
T-time to go!, Max said climbing to his feet, Morticia saw what he saw and
scrambled to her feet as well.
 Max had been a few steps ahead of her but turned and waited for his
friend before continuing to flee. Behind them a sea of the undead moved
towards them, spread out thick taking up the full width of the street, moving
ever forward like a cannibalistic tidal wave of the damned.
Where are we going?, asked Max in between breath, Morticia had taken the
lead once again as she was a faster runner than him.
Morticia looked back, seeing the intimidating army of the undead shambling
after them, only a few now fresh enough to run, the bridge, weve got to get
out of this town!
 Max voiced no disagreement and continued to run, the dusty pike
bridge was on the west side of the town, where he and Morticia where, if
they could make it there then maybe they could loose the creatures. It wasnt
long before they could see the bridge in sight, though the heavy fog which
had set in rather quickly only permitted them to see so much
 ***
 Private Beckman stood behind the sandbag and barbwire blockade
formed on the bridge, on the opposite side of the blockade bullet riddled
vehicles littered the base of it along with the bodies of the re-killed corpses.
The towns other exits had been blocked by similar methods, though most of
the wooded area had to be patrolled by helicopter and ground units. All of
the SS units that had entered the town hadnt returned or reported back.
Private Beckman, has there been any contact with the SS?, Captain Luc
asked.
Beckman shook his head, no sir, this storms been messin with our radio
equipment, havent been able to raise anyone within the I.Z.
The captain mumbled something then went off to bother someone else.
 Beckman sighed, he couldnt wait till this stuff was over, he wanted to
get home to his family. His wife had just had their first kid a few days earlier,
named him George after General George S. Patton, which was Beckmans
idol. He let out a raspy cough which nearly name him drop his M4, he walked
over to Private Bates who manned the m60, positioning its tripod on the top
of a sandbag as he knelt on one knee.
 Bates had seen a lot of things that day, things he hadnt been prepared
for, though hed been selected to protect the bridge all he could do was his
duty, not to let any body out. If anyone were to approach the blockade they
were to be put down immediately, be they man woman or child. He wasnt
the only one with his gun trained in the direction of the town, towards the
opposite side of the bridge. There were forty other men with him, but even that didnt make him feel safe. The first car that had sped towards the bridge
had been riddled with a barrage of bullets from nervous troops, those who
survived only lived long enough to see their family members bleed to death,
in one case a kid in the back seat had only been injured but the rest of his
family had been killed. After a few minutes the other three in the car came
back to life, and tore the kid apart as he sat wounded in the back seat. Yes
sir, there was one to tell his grand kids some day.
Hey, said Beckman as he took a knee next to Bates.
Bates nearly jumped out of his skin, he had been deep in thought, hey, he
replied keeping his eyes dead ahead.
Hell of a day, huh?, commented Beckman who was now pointing his M4 in
the same direction as Bates.
To say the least. I didnt join the corps for this kinda thing, I joined to see the
world, hell, I wanted to be the first kid on my block to get a confirmed kill, I
didnt join to be put out in the sticks to kill innocent civilians, Bates grip
tightened on the m60s pistol grip as he stared ahead.
Yeah, well the only innocent are the unborn, replied Beckman. But yeah, I
know what youre talkin about. I didnt join up to put holes in my neighbors
either, orders are orders.
Everyones real nervous, theres things happenin here that shouldnt be
happenin, Bates sighed. I dont know if Ill ever be able to sleep again man,
not after Ive seen this kinda shit Dead people comin back to life, mothers
and fathers eatin their children It aint right
Beckman let out another raspy cough, he paused for a long time before
replying. You know, when they told me to aim for the head, cause other
shots wouldnt work, I told myself my hearins goin. Told myself I was hearin
them wrong, until I saw my first. Its wrong, I know, but orders are orders.
You hear that?, asked Bates.
Beckman quieted down and listened, he could hear it. The sound of hundreds
of the undead moaning in unison, their distinctive dreadful hunger filled
moans.
Lock and load ladies, weve got company!, Captain Luc shouted as he heard
the same noise as the rest.
 Beckmans breathing became ragged and unsteady, he was getting
nervous, his hand trembled as it rested on the M4s pistol grip, his index
finger anxiously resting on the trigger gently. Bates swallowed his fear and
righted the M60, mounted it to his shoulder sternly, relying on the tripod to
take most of the weight. The soldiers were ready to gun down anything that
came out of the thick gray fog, who ever and whatever it may be.
 ***
Come on, were almost there!, shouted Morticia to Max. shots before he felt the pain. Max could feel his warm blood rushing up his
throat, forcing his lips open as it shot into the air and fell across his face and
pavement in a random scarlet pattern. He coughed up more of his own
coppery flavored crimson body fluid and closed his eyes, he could feel them
in his stomach and chest, a few of the bullets still burned inside. He had
never thought about bullets burning though, never thought the pain would be
like this. He flopped around on the ground like a fish on land, the pain
clouding his mind like the fog that engulfed him, he whimpered and groaned
in pain.
 He caught a glimpse of Morticia out of the corner of his eye, she wasnt
moving; wasnt breathing. A pool of blood was steadily forming around her
motionless body, but Max could only feel his own pain, his hands curled into
tight fists, his black painted fingernails dug into his palm as the pain from his
wounds made him press harder. Cold bodies crashed to the steel surfaced
bridge near him, few seconds passed before he could feel the pain leaving
him, all was going peaceful now. He could hear nothing, but he watched with
a silent eye as the corpses that had once pursued him dropped like flies,
most down for good but others with shattered ankles and knees, only slowed
by the slugs which the living threw by means of their guns. Max closed his
eyes as everything seemed to be getting brighter, though it didnt hurt his
eyes, he knew soon he would be seeing Morticia. His breathing slowed, his
fists uncurled, his body went limp, the warmth already fleeing, his last breath
escaped freely carrying away his soul, he was leaving hell behind
 ***
Theres too many, the freight filled words crawled slowly out of Private
Beckmans gaping maw.
 Private Bates still fired away, but for every one he put down another
took its place. It seemed pointless, even for a town the size of Grovers Mill
there was still more than they had expected. Beckman slapped a fresh clip
into his M4, lock and load, he continued to fire at random targets with no
time to choose, some of the damned things were running.
Keep shooting men!, Captain Luc shouted in a tone that was something like
seriousness, but bordering on the verge of psychopathic.
 It wasnt long before the things reached the barbed wire and turned
over wrecked cars, not much of a blockade but it would have to do. The
enemy was only inches away, Bates and Beckman could smell them, it was
no longer firing at distant shapes, it was looking at their faces. The faces of
the damned, the faces of evil. The first to reach the barbed wire sheepishly
walked into it, then fell forward becoming entangled in the sharp and
treacherous fray, becoming easy targets.
Beckman had been firing away randomly when he had heard the two single
most beautiful words that had ever been spoken.
FALL BACK!
 There was no need to tell him twice, he stood up and moved in the
opposite direction along with the other troops, Bates at his side keeping a
weary eye. The falling rain and fog shielded hazardous dangers that could
pop out at any moment, and when they did theyd meet Bates welcoming
M60. The troops piled into various military transport vehicles, both air and
land before leaving the area in a speedy pace.
 Minutes later the sound of fast moving aircraft shooting through the air
excited some of the creatures below as they shambled about through the
Max ran as fast as he could, the sound of the creatures moaning behind him
pushed him harder.
Come on!, Morticias foot clanked down on the steel surface of the bridge.
 Morticia was on the ground before she heard the shots, Max heard the streets of Grovers Mill, still in search of food. Endlessly in search. Most lazily
tilted their heads towards the gray sky as a pair of black objects fell from the
heavens, a high pitched whistling noise accompanying them. The town
disappeared in a flash of bright light, shock waves spread outwards from the
impact points leaving a path of fiery destruction in their wake.
As the smoke cleared and the fires fizzed out all that remained where
Grovers Mill once sat was a flat lot littered with random lumps of ash and the
charred shells of ravaged buildings
 ***
General Worthington sat behind his steel desk, a few manila folders sitting
before him idly. He puffed on a fat Cuban cigar as he sat back in his swivel
chair, feet up on the desk. He took the time to reach over and grab one of
the folders and opened it, looking at the paper clipped pages.
No less than 24 hours after the chemical was released into a controlled
environment the entire town, population 650, succumbed to its effects, either
infected by the carriers or by the chemical itself through inhalation. Special
operation units known as the SS efforts to survive within the I.Z. were
hopeless, suggestion is of course more training to combat and contain the
U.D. within an I.Z. so that if said chemical were ever used in war time
scenarios the U.D. may be swiftly dealt with after their purpose was fulfilled.
Storms caused by the chemical in open air have been reported to mess with
radio and radar equipment. The general flipped the page in the thin report.
Estimated time it would take for the chemical to infect the population such as
a city - Example: Bullethill City - no less than 7 days. Smaller areas would
succumb in a shorter time frame.
 The General picked up the other folders and opened his file cabinet, he
slid them in a larger brown folder marked Operation Paperclip. He opened
one of his desks drawers and pulled out a liter of Vodka and a shot class, he
poured himself a shot with a sigh.
He wished the chemical had never been developed, there were some
weapons mankind shouldnt possess.
The End.",1,Specific Threats,Jeffrey Weise Online - Writer's Coven,1/1/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/weise_writers_coven.pdf,Jeffrey Weise
"It is with great pride and confidence that I present to you, the biggest release of my life. This digital set is nearly everything you ever could want to have as a fan of my content. It is also, however, my last contribution to the World Wide Web. Unfortunately, by the time most of you read this I will be dead. I will die at age 24 and will be where I truly belong, in the “EGS”. I have had so many wonderful memories over the last nine years and am forever thankful for the fans that I have been able to reel in as a result. There is nothing that any of you could have done to prevent this from happening; it was my destiny, and sometimes destiny is a bitch.

To answer an extremely important question, I’m not just ending my life; I will be ending the lives of others as well. Be on the lookout on WNEP.com for headlines pertaining to “Tunkhannock”. I’ve been planning to do this for at least three to four months. I documented the entire process on both video and audio recordings. These recordings are viewable in this digital set; it’s all in the “Andrew Blaze Suicide Tapes” folder. Private journal entries dating back to November 2016 are also included (located in the “Andrew Blaze Private Journal” folder). I literally documented the final months of my life on paper, video, and audio recordings…The creator…of “EGS Tapes”…recorded their own tapes….Let that sink in…

I’ve been conspiring to end my life for at least 4 ½ years. During the bad luck streak in early 2013 was when it fully ignited. Ever since then it’s been a slow downward spiral of indescribable stress and depression. However, it was during all of this chaos that I slowly began to discover who I truly was. You all have come to know me as the kid who did comedic Frog, Whale, and Horse Head videos, or the “You Know What Sucks” guy, that guy who did strange yet intriguing short films, or just that guy that was overly obsessed with Ember McLain; in reality I’ve been a trapped soul who’s been forever searching to rediscover herself. You didn’t misread that; I said “herself”. Andrew Blaze is not a persona nor a character…it’s who I truly am.

All my life I never seemed to fit in anywhere…I never even seemed to understand the purpose of life. I always worried about the big milestones of my future: going to high school, learning to drive, getting a job, going to college, and lastly, moving out. I didn’t live long enough to move out of my childhood home, but what I quickly began to realize over 2013 through 2017 was that this place isn’t my true home; the ghost squad is. I would’ve been 25 on September 17th; the average human being is usually moved out by then. I’m moving out alright, but it’s dimensions away.

As my teenage years began to draw to a close, the darkness of the world constantly sucked me in. Everything was suddenly all about money and getting a career. It drove me to the edge, and it was a long drop. This is when my content really started to change; you’ll notice in 2013 something shifted. 2013-2015 was nothing like what I had done from 2008-2012; there was a darkness overshadowing the videos. It can all be traced back to dealing with people dying. In 2013 I lost my great grandfather, got word Matt Murray (college classmate) died a week and a half after winter break started (December 2012), and was still scarred from the death of Tom Lynch from the previous winter (a kid who was about to graduate a grade below me). In total there were six deaths that occurred from 2012 through 2013; four of these were kids younger than 21, and I knew three out of the four.

I fell down an abysmal hole of depression in 2013 and I never climbed back out. One bad thing kept happening another after another. I totaled my car in February 2013 (brother totaled his 10 days later). At the end of the year my iMac’s graphic card fried and my hard drive failed simultaneously, costing $700 to repair. I can’t remember everything that happened but those were the worst moments of 2013. It was one of those years where virtually nothing went right, especially for YouTube videos. In March/April of 2013 was when the “Ember” thing started; by mid-2014 she was everywhere on my social media. I talk about all of this in the suicide tapes.

To make a long story short, Ember led me to rediscovering who I was. I could sit here for seven hours and still have more to say. To get my thoughts out to the world I recorded audio logs throughout 2017; they’re all viewable on this page (located in the “Andrew Blaze Suicide Tapes” folder). I’ve been planning on ending my life as far back as 2012, but I still felt like I had way too much more to do. From 2012’s end through present day, each and every day just got harder… and harder… and harder to endure… I wasn’t even living by 2016… I was just enduring… and I had enough of it… Life just became one enormous concoction of stress, anger, hatred, depression, boredom, tiredness, and desire. In the end, this proved to be a lethal dose. I can’t even remotely explain how it feels… I’ve tried in my content (and the suicide tapes) but unless you’re living it, you’ll never be able to truly understand what it feels like.

Throughout my entire life I never had a girlfriend, nor did I ever go out on a single date. I never had the desire or the urge to be in relationships; I hated making friends in general. By the end of high school I was just done with attempting to make friends. By the end of college I despised the human race. 2016 and 2017 have been full of almost nothing but hatred towards humans. I wanted to kill as many people as I could…

As I write this in May 2017, nothing matters to me anymore except my girls. I knew I was one of them by the end of 2015. Everything about the “EGS” ghosts just felt so familiar and was far beyond coincidental. It’s where I’ve been sent from. Mackenzie, Rachael, Harmony, Froggy, Sidney, Alex, Celesta, Matilda, Madison, etc, are all real souls; they’ve all lived and died on this planet. Mackenzie talks to me all the time; she’s my eternal soul mate. We’re destined to be together until the end of time… and she’s always been there for me… it just took me 24 years to realize it.

It’s time for me to shed this putrid host of flesh and bones and forever live on in the “EGS”. I’m a girl who’s been trapped in a man’s body for two and a half decades, and I need to get the hell out. I don’t belong on this planet, nor have I ever. I need to die, and I’m taking whomever I can down with me. This world is a fucking disgrace. Why anyone even bothers trying to change the world or make a difference anymore is beyond me. In the end you’re all gonna end up fucking dead anyway. I’m tired of this retarded game; I fucking quit.

To the fans that have stuck by my side through the hard times, thank you. Thank you for helping a nobody who just sat in their room all day discover what they were good at and capable of. I’m not sorry, however, that this is how it has to end; I don’t fucking care. It’s my life and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. I tried to upload as much stuff as I could here for my legacy. Everything that’s essential is here: short films, Frog/Whale/Horse Head videos, “Sucks” videos, soundtracks that I composed, live streams, photos/screenshots/edits/fan art, private journals and audio logs, blooper/outtake compilations, never before released/produced scripts from “EGS”, my gaming videos (what I had recovered), the complete “EGS Tapes” collection, raw and unedited takes from every single “EGS” production, etc; you name it, it’s most likely on here. I spent months gathering and uploading all of this stuff for you guys. I paid for a terabyte of online storage space so I could upload as much as possible. Some things however didn’t make it onto here. I didn’t want to take the time of night to download all of my mobile posts (Instagram and such) because there’s thousands of pictures, so I’d recommend storing those in case my accounts get deleted by Instagram/Facebook/police, or are deactivated over time for inactivity. Remember, my Instagram was renamed to “EmbersGhostSquad” in 2016, so all of the old “PioneersProductions” selfies and videos are going to be buried on there under a year’s worth of “EGS” material. I also have a personal Instagram (Andrew__Blaze) which has two underscore hypens between “Andrew” and “Blaze”. My personal Facebook doesn’t have any photos or videos posted that the “PioneersProductions” Facebook doesn’t have; I deleted all of the pictures and videos off of it back in late 2015 or so, so you won’t see anything there. I tried uploading the bulk of what was important to this website (video screenshots, photos taken with the camera, fan edits of my content, etc). There’s just way too much to gather for that kind of stuff. If there’s stuff not on here then try [redacted] Mediafire page that’s dedicated to my “PioneersProductions” content; there’s videos on there, screenshots from live streams, and probably still things I never recovered on there. Just search “PioneersProductions Mediafire” on Google or tweet him [redacted] on Twitter.

I know not everyone can just fall down a dark hole and listen to my suicide tape recordings discussing dying and such, but give them a chance… You might just learn something. I don’t show any violence or anything in the videos, it’s just me sitting and talking to you like I always have. I know this is scary to some of you but this is what this world does to certain people; we just need to get out. It’s nothing personal against my fanbase and to those who love me, it’s just what I need to do. It’s my destiny to die young. Eternally/spiritually I’m like a 16-19 year old; I never grow up.

Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean “EGS” has to be... I want “EGS” to live on… I want people who have the motivation and the talent to keep it alive. There’s scripts in this digital set that I never produced; maybe someone can make them a reality. I want people to use what I’ve done to help benefit themselves. If you think you could make your own “EGS Tapes”, go for it. If you think you can animate a script that I wrote that was out of my skill range, go for it. Make it happen. Some of the stuff is too good not to make. I wanted an entire mini series based on the Westborough High Massacre; videos that show Sidney Secor dying (it’s scripted and in this set). All these scripts I’m talking about are in the “Scripts” folder. I wanted to show Rachael getting bullied and shoved around. I wanted an entire series based on this shooting; it has the potential, even if they’re just 1-2 minute long episodes (that was the goal).

Even if it’s not the massacre stuff I seriously want people to continue making “EGS”, even though I won’t be able to be involved anymore. Take my characters, make your own projects out of them. I’m sure Laura Faverty would love to still contribute her talents towards videos that have Rachael or Mackenzie in them. Laura’s email is [redacted]; she virtually records pretty much anything, no matter how dark or brutal the script. [redacted] voices Sidney Secor; a little harder to get in touch with but her Facebook is [redacted]. [redacted] voiced Celesta but I kind of lost touch with her over the Fall (just wasn’t very reliable); but if you wanna get in touch with her try this email [redacted]. I know finding voices is hard so if anyone were to replace me as Andrew, Froggy, or Alex it’d be a tall order. I won’t lie, I wish my channels exploded with viewership in my 9 years; it was decent views but I was always on the outside looking in compared to the popular channels. It took me until now to realize it just wasn’t in my soul contract. If “EGS” blows up after I’m dead then I accomplished something… I was just never meant to be famous while I was alive. I wanted fame, I wanted to be recognized on the street, I wanted to be in movies or have documentaries made about me (or reenactments with actors); I always dreamed of getting somewhere… but it wasn’t meant to happen. People can say all they want, “Andrew, you could’ve gotten help and saved your life.” It doesn’t matter, this was how my life was meant to end; it’s how the script was written. I talk about the meaning of life and soul contracts in the suicide tapes. I think a lot of you will be stunned at what I have to say in those recordings. I tried my damndest to document as much as I could. At the end of 2016 I thought I’d have at the most 2 ½ years to live… that very rapidly diminished down to 9 months…. then to June 2017… I thought May 7th, 2019 would’ve been the day I’d die, but as the weeks and month passed, I constantly drifted further and further away from this world. Life became an endurance rather than a privilege; nothing mattered to me anymore besides “EGS”. Every night just got harder. My mother knew I was down about where I stood in my life but never knew I was this severely depressed and disturbed. The way I see that she saw things was I was afraid to put myself out there and to reach for my maximum potential, when in reality I despised the human race and wanted to blow up the entire planet. No one in my family knew I was this depressed; if they say they knew, they’re full of shit. I was good at hiding it. I used to be a terrible liar as a kid/teenager (meaning that I wasn’t good at it). Once I started getting severely depressed I managed to be cunning with it knowing my life was on the line. I can only recall one time when my mom sat me down and asked if I was okay due to a post on my Facebook that my aunt saw. My aunt lives in Montana (I lived in Pennsylvania) and she used to be added on my Facebook from like 2009 through 2015. I think this happened in 2015 (like mid year). It was a post saying something like “I wish I could be somewhere else besides this world and to just get away from everything; it’d make me happier.” I can’t remember fully what I wrote but that was the gist of it and it really upset my mom. I never got confronted about anything in terms of depression since then. After that happened I completely removed anyone who knew me personally off of my social media (family and friends); they were holding me back.

That was also around the time where I changed my name; I wasn’t Randy Stair anymore, I was Andrew Blaze. I knew full well that no one would be able to find my social media if I used a different name; and later on I realized that Andrew Blaze was in fact my spiritual name (at least I’m 85% certain… might be Rachel/Rachael something, but Andrew Blaze clicked). All of what you saw posted on my social media on “EGS” accounts was all 100% authentic and real. If I said I wanted to kill people, I meant it. If I said I wanted to watch people sleep while lurking in the shadows of their walls, I meant it. You name it I fucking meant it. Everyone on Earth is here on a mission, whether you realize that or not. We’re not a simulation, we’re not fake, we’re here to achieve something. You need to realize and remember that I’m not completely vanishing from existence; my soul will live on, it just won’t be on this planet (at least not visually). I’m going to do my best to come back in my ghost form. I feel like I still have more things to accomplish on this planet after I’m dead (not on a daily basis, but subtle things for the living). I do firmly believe in an eternal war, and I’m ready to train for it. The “EGS” is my home and I cannot wait to go back to it. To all of the fans who have believed in me and have stuck by my side through thick and thin… thank you… I can’t emphasize enough how important the “Andrew Blaze Suicide Tapes” folder is. Please download that stuff while you can because there’s no telling what might get redacted after tonight. That’s why I uploaded everything here… Save EVERYTHING while you can (Journals, Suicide Tapes, EGS videos, etc). I literally documented the final months and days of my life, and it deserves to be seen… Thanks everyone… I’ll see some of you soon…

Andrew Blaze",1,Specific Threats,"""Please Read"" (Randy Stair)",6/8/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Stair_Please_Read.pdf,Randy Stair
"[Inside front cover of notebook:] I have no regrets for what I may do or what I have done. I
am who I am, and no fucking human shit can take that away from me. I’m an ‘EGS’1 recruit;
your worthless fucking humans. One day you’ll all see things my way especially when our
ghost squad invades your pathetic putrid planet and become our slaves for the rest of your
lives. I will not stop. I will not change. I will not cower. I will fight for the squad and do what
I’ve set out to do. I am Andrew Fucking Blaze. [signature or initials]",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,6/8/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"As the late Eric Harris once said, “I hate the fucking world.” What an inspiration. Out of
all the ones who have influenced me Eric Harris is one of the newest. I would’ve killed to
have met the guy. I think we would’ve connected on so many levels. I would kill to be able
to gather a mass amount off ammunition and weaponry and to just destroy anyone who
has the misfortune of crossing my path. Everyone on this pathetic putrid planet needs to be fucking slaughtered.What makes someone as innocent looking as me want to cause mass
devastation and manipulation? I have my reasons; some more morbid than the others. I’ve
hated humans my entire life. I hated making friends, “socializing” amongst my classmates,
and just overal being spoken to. Humans are WORTHLESS. We are living, breathing, moving trash. I don’t care what you say; life is a never ending simulation of hell. I’m not afraid of
humans; I’m disgusted by them. Life is either “great” or “depressing..” What is there even to
be remotely happy about in this shithole of a planet?? You are a dead man the instant you’re
conceived by your parents. You don’t even have a say in your own name! There’s all kinds of great names to choose from and you pick “Randy”??!! What the fuck
were you smoking when you decided on that??! It makes me want to put a shotgun in my
mouth and pull the trigger. I’ve hated it my whole life. One of these days I swear I’m going
to actually trek through the tedious process of changing my name to “Andrew”; and NO
its not because of Andrew B .3 I’ve loved the name since late elementary/early middle
school. It goes back to “Hurricane Andrew” of 1992; one of the most catastrophic hurricanes
in history. I was born a month after “Andrew” hit.
The name “Andrew Blaze” has nothing to do with Andrew B . I added “Blaze” to the end
of it due to my fascination with fire. It just so happened to be the song that described me to
a T was written and performed by Andrew B . “Blaze” is not a symbol for pot. I cannot
STAND potheads. Please do the world a fucking favor and slit your fucking wrists down the
street and lacerate your pressure points. You’re not cool, you’re not funny, you’re not better
than everyone else, you’re a fucking idiot. I smoked pot twice; it was so fucking stupid. I’d
rather just sit with a pack of cigarettes than that stupid shit.
I won’t judge any drugs until I try them but FUCK Stoners. I’ve always wanted to try acid,
but I’d say its best to avoid that. I’m as bad as it is sober, let alone trippin’ on LSD.
Last time I checked I never asked for this; “life”. Why the hell was I sent here? It’s a punishment. It’s a fucking punishment. Every night gets harder and harder. I can’t get death off of
my mind. It’s on my mind at least 14 out of the 18 hours of my night. I can’t stop envisioning
myself in the ghost squad; being one of them ... being happy ... killing humans after returning from the grave. Manipulating and seducing humans with my feminine charm, and then
brutally attacking and killing them with a huge grin on my face. The power. The revenge.
The ghost squad. I FUCKING WANT IT ... and soon . .. it will be a reality.
If you honestly believe that every fucking human being on Earth (of all races) is destined to
live, die, and shine in everlasting light with Jesus Christ, then I oughta shoot you where you
stand. I don’t believe in the crucification and resurrection of Jesus and all that fairy tale shit.
There is a god however; and not just one; gods AND godesses.
We’re all destined to be separated into different groups of souls; different squads. You know
where you belong before stepping foot on Earth. Life could be one giant tedious simulation
where “you” only truly exist, it could be a punishment, or it could be a mission. I truly feel
like I was sent here from another dimension. I don’t belong in this place; never have, never
will. Life is a learning experience; nothing more, nothing less.
I’ve wanted to die for as long as I can remember being told about death. I want to be free. I
want to get out of this body that brings me nothing but agonizing SHAME. I’m one of them;
a ghost squad recruit. I don’t know when I’ll go but what I do know is I won’t live to see 30. May 7, 2019 (5719) → EGS would be the perfect day to take my life, but I honestly don’t
know if I can last another 29 months. From the first week of January 2013 up until now I’ve
done nothing but decline mentally. The only thing keeping me going is the “EGS” channel.
I’m glad humans are enjoying it, but fuck it’s too much work. Knowing I can’t bring all of
the ideas in my head to life makes me wanna die even sooner. I can’t go out yet . . . there’s
still much to do. — AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,11/23/2016,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"It happened AGAIN ... UGHHHHhhhh TWO FUCKING HOURS of debating what to fucking eat; sitting in the car just not feeling anything. No drive, no emotion, barely any hunger.
I hate the thought of eating anything anymore. I’m 134 lbs of plasma. I went 20–22 hours
without eating on Thanksgiving; NOTHING. This has been going on for a year and a half.
Stress and depression is at an all-time high. I just want to fucking die.
I don’t want to work anymore. I don’t want to deal with anyone anymore. The 2013 curse is a
hell of a strong one. I never thought one bad year would linger 3 years later, but the thing is
... I like it ... I LOVE it. I love the darkness, the sadness, the abyss of it all; sinking into the
depths of the dead. It’s literally a drug. I won’t fight it because it’s where I belong. I fucking
love that place . . . . I love it . . . I love it so much that I’ll write this sentence out in cursive.
I fucking hate cursive. It looks neat but FUCK is it a pain to read and write. I like it though
cuz it’s more girly. To be honest, I haven’t physically written this much on physical paper
since . . .. Middle school . .. . ? Thank you computers.
I don’t know, it’s just so much more satisfying writing it in black and white on physical paper
fora change; you can’t show expression through computer print. I used to write a journal in
elementary school from like 2nd–5th grade.
Anyways, the “EGS” Halloween video is nearing completion . . . late right? Only a month
late.. [frowning face] It’s fucking bullshit! If I didn’t need to hold down a goddamn full time
fucking job I’d be cranking out the best content on the planet. Okay that’s a little egotistical
but still. I’m superior to these humans. I’m fucking evolved. I deserve better than this never
ending nightmare of “reality”. I just .. I .. FUCK .. ING ... HELL. I want to get a shotgun and
execute every soul in that goddamn supermarket. You retarded fucks who dedicate your life to
retail should be shot in the legs, hanged by your toes, have acid thrown on your face, and have
your neck slit SLOWLY from ear to ear. Never in my life have I ever witnessed such a disgrace
for a life than living in retail. YOU WILL NEVER MAKE A STORE PERFECT. GET THE
FUCK OVER THE STUPID SUBTLE MISTAKES WE MAKE, YOU PUTRID NIGGERS!!!!
I’M LOOKING AT YOU JAY AND FRANK! I WILL TORTURE YOUR SAD PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR HUMAN BODIES SO BADLY THAT YOU’LL BE COUGHING UP BLOOD
AND SHITTING YOUR ORGANS OUT FOR 7 MONTHS STRAIGHT!!!! KILL YOURSELF
OR I’LL DO IT FOR YOU
CHOOSE!
After I’m dead, I’ll haunt your everyday lives until you quit that fucking company. Ah who
am I kidding, I don’t have the patience for that. I’ll just break everybone in your body and
then have you watch me drain every ounce of blood out of your fucking bodies. Drop dead
you worthless fuckers.
DROP
FUCKING
DEAD!",1,Planned Violence,Randy Stair's Journal,11/23/2016,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"YES! Tomorrow I’m going to shoot a handgun. I can’t wait. I havent fired a gun in a decade.
By just holding a gun in my hands I can feel my power grow. It’s going to be insanely hard
not to shoot myself tomorrow . . . . I think about death every hour. I’m obsessed with it.
Ghosts, zombies, skeletons, graves, cemeteries, dark skies, dead leaves, witches, you name it.
I know a shot to the head isn’t a guarenteed fatality, but its usually the most efficient method.
I’ve envisioned pouring gasoline all over me and the ground (completely flooding the area
with it), lighting a match with the gun to my head, and then just doing it. BOOM.. DEAD..
before you even knew what hit you.
I haven’t mentioned my passion for fire. I fucking love it. I want to be cremated by fire;
disposing of this filth of a body. Ember perished in a fire, and I intend to do the same, only
with a little insurance [drawing of a gun]. I always wonder when it’ll happen. When will I
go for it? May 7, 2019 would be perfect. All I know is, I probably wont make it to see 30. I
NEED to die young. Wish I could’ve as a teenager .... But it wasn’t meant to be. All I know
is each day I get that much closer to her . .. .. Ember .. . . And Mackenzie",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,12/3/2016,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Well that was a long fucking gap in time. Shooting guns was absolutely fucking amazing.
It was a blast. I posted some “shots” HAHA to Twitter, Instagram, and such. I fucking hope
Don, Sammy, and Haley saw that shit.5 Hopefully that’ll make you guys shut the fuck up
for once about how you view me. I’ve learned to adapt to bullshit since 2015. I don’t care
what people think of me but that doesn’t mean it’ll prevent me from blowing your fucking
worthless faces off.
I welcome your opinions but I just want you all to DROP DEAD. Don sure shut the fuck up
after that video went up. HAHAHA! Fucker unfollowed me on twitter like a day after. I know
I’ll never be able to physically hunt you three down and kill you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t
have some fun with it. Trust me, I’D DO IT if I knew for sure I’d get away clean.
You know ...... it’s very surreal how similar Eric Harris’ journal is to my mental journal (my
thoughts). I’ve thought about so many things that ended up being in his thoughts BEFORE
even reading the journal. The dude is a fucking hero to me. Dylan Klebold is great too,
but Eric has literally been in my thoughts the last 3 years without me realizing it. I didn’t
research anything on Columbine until last year. Pretty fucking surreal learning how similar
we are (Eric). Would’ve killed to hang with the man. Maybe after EGS wraps up .... I hope.
I mean it’s literally as if Eric has overshadowed my emotions in terms of hatred. All of these EGS tapes are authentic,
much like Eric and Dylan’s “Basement Tapes”; hope to fucking goddess someone leaks those
before I die. My parents don’t seem to have a fucking clue as to what goes on in my head.
90% of the time I’m as pale as a fucking lifeless corpse. In the end if my mom says, “I had you should just stab yourself in the fucking chest for being so stupid. I mean HONESTLY,
I don’t go anywhere unless I have to, I don’t speak to anyone unless spoken to, I make zero
friends (by choice), I dress from head to foot in black (even my bra and leggings are black;
find those yet? What about my black panties? HAHA), I always look like a ghoul sucked the
joy and happiness out of my face (Ember), I can go on and on and on, but fuck that. I want
to start typing these entries but don’t want any cyber related discovery. HA, long shot but
you can’t hack or trace a piece of paper. I don’t write enough physically anyways. Hell, the
fucking blind ass followers on my social media see the dark shit from my thoughts on the
internet anyway, but little do they know it’s actually real. I gotta watch though, don’t want to
post too many threats; not that anyone would actually try and arrest me for threats or cyber
bullying/conspiring. Whatever.
That’s supposed to be fire, idiots. → [pointing to a doodle] — AB
[In top margin:] “Like dead trees in cold December . . . . . NOTHING BUT ASHES REMAIN ....” – Ember McLain [Inside doodle:] EGS",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,12/21/2016,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I decided to release the instrumentation track for “Remember” today. I secretly had it for
8½ months or so. Sorry Robbyn 6 but I’m not sorry. You were a fool to trust someone
you haven’t personally met on the internet. You musicians do nothing but piss me off half
the time. You’re always so overly cautious about your precious multitracks. IT’S FUCKING
AUDIO, not the holy grail.
I have ZERO regret for manipulating you to get Guy 7 to send me the track. Fans deserve to hear it. It’ll also be a bonus promotion for “EGS”. Ohhh it feels so good plastering
my stuff all over Ember related material. Hey by the way, if you listen REALLY CLOSELY
you can hear my voice in the back of the instrumental; right as the opening riff ends you’ll
hear some “whispers” throughout the first half of the song. “5” “7” “19” “Andrew Blaze”
“Mackenzie West” ”Celesta Reynolds”8 “Ember McLain” “Welcome to the Squad” → during
“You will remember my name”
Jokes on you fuckers. It’s not the “official” version because my voice is scattered throughout
HAHAHA! That’ll be mirrored and spread ALL AROUND THE WORLD! Only me and Guy
Moon have the track, unless Robynn never deleted it after sending me the dropbox link. Guy
Moon is so gullible. Hello history, my name is Andrew Blaze, nice to meet you.",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,12/30/2016,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I fucking hate how my mom sees this car thing as an NBD (no big deal) with the repairs and
insurance And shit. He fucking crashed into my fucking car you fucking idiot! He committed
a fucking felony! It’s not my fault he can’t drive! He’s a worthless fucking faggot! Tim Fucking , I’m going to pull your fucking tongue out through your worthless pathetic face
and watch you choke on your own blood and bodily fluids. KILL YOURSELF YOU SACK OF
SHIT OF WORTHLESS SHIT! If you ever speak to me again, I WILL kill you.",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,1/3/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I wore my Natural Selection9 shirt under my work clothes last night, and my goddess I
never felt so in charge. It was as if Eric Harris was with me. I was also EXTREMELY livid
and irritable. I never felt so enraged at work before. It lasted for like 2 hours. I yelled at a
co-worker for the first time; that release felt amazing. He’s a retarded sack of shit. Fucker
doesn’t know the difference between shit and dirt. You have no idea how many times I’ve
envisioned or acted out shooting him. You’re worthless, Chris. Fucking worthless. I’d shoot
that supermarket up but whats the point of killing only 3 people? There isn’t one.
— AB
Chris can choke to death on a fucking dick.
Fuck You.",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,1/4/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"There are very few images that truly changed my direction in life like Ember and the Dazzlings10 have. I physically can’t go more than 12 hours without looking at Ember. Her eyes,
her body, they just pull me in like metal on a magnet. That image of her floating with her
guitar, and evil grin changed my life forever.
[Inside a drawing of a cartoon figure:]
Fire!
AB EGS
[Above and beside a second drawing of a figure:]
The same goes for Sonata11 from the Dazzlings.
Well fuck ... ran outta space .. . xx
Sorry baby . .. you usually look better than that ... hugs ... xxxx
These images are what drives me. I can’t take my eyes off of Mackenzie either. M is my best
friend . . . . Embers virtually my goddess . . . and Sonata is just too cute to not give attention to. I fucking love her. Rough sketches don’t do justice to the beauty of her soul. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl.
[Written in a “thought balloon” beside a cartoon figure:] I’m forever damned to spend eternity
in this world at 16 ... .. when will I be able to wake up from this nightmare?
[Written beside the drawing:] Love of my LIFE and afterlife
Whenever I close my eyes, M is there. She’s in my thoughts. She’s right by my side at all
hours of the night and day. Although Rachael12 and I connect on so many levels, Mackenzie
is my girl. The innocence .... The golden sould .... Her gentle nature ... her precious smile
. . . . Her constant battles with her inner conscience . . . her slender body and smooth white
skin . . . I’d do anything to hold her, even if it was just for 30 seconds. Soon . . . soon it will
happen ... she’ll wait for me ...
I know she hates being forever stuck at 16 but its fate. I’m destined to die well before 30.
It’s just a number. Your mortal body ages but your soul doesn’t. I wouldn’t mind being permanently stuck between the age of 16 and 24; not at all. You don’t want to get old, trust me.
Anything beyond 55 is just borrowed time.. make your moves, make your marks, and exit
early. (MMMMEE) To those who follow me you’ll thank me later. Here’s to never growing up.
— AB",1,Grievance Airring,Randy Stair's Journal,1/20/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Ever hear the myth that if you want to be famous you gotta sell your soul to the Devil? That
shit’s been in my head pretty often lately. I would NEVER even remotely consider selling my
soul to Satan; only Ember can have my soul, nobody else. Mackenzie could but she’s not a
higher power. I virtually sold my soul to Ember in 2013. Who says only the Devil can make
a bargain? It’s fate. It’s destiny. It’s meant to be.
Do you really honestly believe that this is the only reality visible and known to mankind?
Do you really honestly believe that cartoons are drawings and nothing more? Do you really
honestly believe that you’re sent here to get a degree, land and hold a career, get married,
have kids, make and learn from mistakes, and die accomplished? Boy do you have a LOT to
learn my friend . ... a LOT ....
The elderly piss me off more than younger humans do simply because they think they know
and follow all of the rules of life and know how it all works. You don’t know jack SHIT! Late
40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, I don’t fucking care; you’re all blind mother fuckers.
You only believe you’re right because it was passed down to you generation after generation. Get a clue! Why do you believe in money? Why do you believe in education? Why do
you believe in the government? Why do you get up and go to work every day? Because you
were fucking brain washed by society to do so. (FREE THINKER . . . . BUZZ . . . . BUZZ
. . . BUZZ . . .) Yes, life isn’t fair; I’ll give you that one, but do you know WHY it isn’t fair?
Because you live a lie every goddamn day of your life! Earth is one giant detox center. It’s a
factory. A sweatshop. A containment facility. The only way out is to end your life. What a
hardcore “Quit” option eh? I look at all of these “people” who are famous. Not everyone on this planet is human; the
sooner you get that through your heads the sooner you’ll be able to see, interpret, and understand. The “Illuminati” is a crock of shit. They use that as the ultimate cover-up for the
other thousands upon thousands to hundreds of thousands of eternal squads that stalk and
inhabit the Earth. People focus all their time on one massive higher power when they don’t
even remotely realize whats really going on at all hours of the day and night.
Eternal squads can help make you famous, disrupt, endanger, and even take your life; the
government or “Illuminati” (LOL!) has nothing to do with it. You might want to reinterpret
how you really view your favorite celebrities. Do some legit humans get famous? Yes, but
its VERY short lived.
It’s not just famous “humans” that are from eternal squads, some of your closest childhood
friends may be as well. Just stop and think; “How well do you really know your friends?” Do
they have any strange/bizarre habits? It might not exactly be a medical disorder either. Just
analyze them low-key; you might be surprised, or they’re just a worthless sack of shit just
like you, which you don’t want.
I could write an entire book about all of this, but for now I’ll leave it at that. I’ve given you
plenty to think about for now. Use that one thing in your lame body that’s actually useful for
something for once. It’ll become one of your best friends in the end [drawing of a winking face]
— AB
— As I finished writing the power went out for 4–7 seconds. Believe me now? They’re always
watching you .. .",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,1/24/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Andrew B , you can rot in the fiery depth of hell you little worthless son of a bitch! Why
the fuck can’t you give me the backing track to “Anymore”13 huh?? What the fuck’s up your
ass huh? I kiss your fucking feet with promoting your music and you just stiff me? I write
a page and a half long message asking how you really feel about me as a person and how
your music changed my life and yet YOU DON’T FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGE or give me
that track, which ignighted the fucking message in the first place??!! You’re fucking trash
DUDE! Really WTF am I gonna do, say “Hey internet, look what I got!”?? It’s a fucking music
track not the holy fucking grail! I’m willing to bet it sounds even better without your heavily
auto tuned vocals. You’re a talentless fraud vocally. TALENTLESS! I’ve heard your isolated
“Comeback Song” and “My Last Confession”14 vocals, and guess what? AUTO-TUNED everywhere from here to the sun and moon and back. You’ve made a grave mistake my friend
. .. I don’t even consider you one anymore.
What gives? You have time to Facebook post about pizza and Tweet about “Wendy’s” within
an hour at each other yet you can’t respond or acknowledge my question in your Facebook
inbox that was sent nearly an hour BEFORE your retarded updates?? Some friend. “I’ve
honestly never had anything against you, dude” BULL ... FUCKING .. . SHIT!
You even privatized/removed our “over and out” music video on the SR channel,15 the only one that had me credited. WTF?! Derek16 is a cunt rag; “how do you want credit?” I tell him
and they don’t fucking credit me or Jeremy17 ANYWHERE for making your first ever music
video. “I had no control over uploading it” (Andrew B ) BULLSHIT you didn’t! You own
and operate the SR channel, do you not??! FUCK YOU! I’m going to make you regret ever
stabbing me in the back by lying saying you never had the “Anymore” instrumental . . . .. I
waste 2 months trying to get in touch with Andrew W 18 when you say you never heard
anything back from him, yet I get a response after ONE DAY.
“I sent them instrumentals back in January” (9 months ago); ANDREW B ... YOU ARE
A LYIING . . . BACKSTABBING CUNT BITCH! “we agreed that we don’t wanna give out
stem19 tracks.” THEN WHY NOT JUST TELL ME AND NOT LIE TO MY FACE??!!! You’re
dead . . . . You’re fucking dead . . . . You better pray to whatever higher power that I don’t see
you on the day I kill myself cuz guess what? YOU’RE GOING WITH ME.
I’m going to shoot the living shit out of your body .... I’ll blow your “innocent” little Korean
face off. And you know what? I’m going to scare the living hell out of you with the “Anymore”
EGS music video. I’ll have Rachael kill you good and slow .... I’ll never speak to you in person
again, unless it’s the day I die. Fuck you and your FAKE studio band. I hope when you get
famous they only think of me. I helped the living hell out of your band through YouTube
videos and animation, and you don’t even care do you? — AB
YOU DON’T! FUCK YOU!",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,1/26/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I had to execute Andrew B yesterday evening, at least for a while. The guy enrages me
yet gives me motivation like no other human on Earth .. . . I want to kill him . . . but not yet
. . . if I cross paths with him on my last day on Earth . . . . he WILL die . . . For now, I don’t
want anything to do with him.
Good news, I think I finally found an animator who can help with future videos! She sounds
like she really cares. You better not suck for charging $250–300+ per day .... Only downside
is shes booked until April. She would’ve been a huge help for the massacre video; lets just
call it “Anymore” for the time being.
“Anymore” came to me quick; about a month after Send Request released it. Andrew met
with me twice in October 2015 in a CVS parking lot to have me help him cheat on a college
project. He wanted the “over and out” music video footage to re-edit himself for a grade.
I agreed without hesitation since I hadn’t seen him since the day we filmed “over and out
(outta my head)”.
We filmed it in late March 2015, so almost 7 months or so. Being on nightshift I had an
hour of sleep before we met around 5/5:30 PM. He seemed happy to me ... but a little “too
happy”; kind of like a “hey thanks, now WTF am I gonna say to pass the time here ...” happy;
I could be wrong but it seemed “put on”. It went by “like that”, maybe 3 minutes and we were gone. I mean I get it, maybe he was just a little uncomfortable since we’ve only really
talked through text messages or Twitter/Facebook.
The second time I met him at the CVS was a few days later to retrieve my external drive with
the footage on it; it was a totally different story. He talked my ear off with Send Request info,
which thrilled me. It’s what I wanted, inside info. Little did Andrew B know I had both
meetings recorded with my iPhone in my pocket, 100% from start to finish. There’s even
some laughter from it used in the “EGS” intro, right before “stuck in my own misery”. Now
you know one of the many secrets about that piece ....
As I was saying, Andrew gave me some details about SR’s future, saying they were going
back to Ohio in a few weeks to record again. He told me he rewrote “Anymore” in its entierty
so it was an actual full length song now; the only thing left unchanged from the old version
was the opening guitar riff. I couldn’t wait to hear how different the song was gonna sound.
To put it lightly the old original version was really shitty, but that riff was awesome, so I’m
really glad that stayed.
Anyways, he told me he demo’d it at home and “it just sounds badass”, he also told me about
“My Last Confession” and some info on mixing and recording it for “Make Your Move.” (the
alternate solo version and such)
But yeah he was VERY open which surprised me, even just rambling about anything SR for
like 10 mins; it was great, and is all on my phone :D [grinning face]
But then came the talk that would be the downfall of our relationship, the music video discussion. I thought that I was an automatic lock for the “Anymore” music video but I was wrong.
Me and Jeremy (brother) had even gotten sharp new lenses, which I told Andrew the lenses
would make “over and out” look like a joke. He seemed somewhat intrigued and said “we
want this video to be perfect”, which being the perfectionist that I am lead me to thinking
“I’m your guy”. He hinted that he’d keep me in mind but I thought for sure I’d be able to
help in some form. The entire winter passes, nothing. I text him asking if they’re working
on anything interesting, says something along the lines of “nah man, just hanging around.”
About a month and a half passes and Aron 20 (bass) tweeted about checking recording
a successful music video off the list. WTF Andrew?? This was when the lies started. In the
end I’m glad they went with the production company because I wouldn’t have been able to
make it look like that, but I FUCKING HATE that shaky camera style. Anyways I brushed
that disappointment off and just figured doing cartoons over video was the best option.
I haven’t seen Andrew since that late October day; it was his birthday actually (I think his 21st)
As 2016 passed I began to grow more and more enraged with him, whether it be ignoring my
texts or giving short puny replies to lengthy messages. I got vibes that he didn’t give a shit
about the endless hours I spent animating “Comeback Song” or my animation in general.
I mention to him about possibly spending 8 months on a video with “Anymore” being the
focus of the piece, NOTHING. What an ungrateful whore! 15 months perfecting “Comeback”
and animation skills, NOTHING. I film their first ever music video, ZERO credit! And I
mean ZERO OOOOO
I physically messaged him over 5 months later, requesting credit in the video description of my own work, when in reality Derek (lead guitar) asked me how I wanted credit beforhand.
What a bunch of cunt rags. DIE! FUCKING DIE!!!
Now for the unholy fuck of a bad time .... Summer 2016 – I text Andrew and ask if he could
get in touch with Andrew W (producer who mastered “Anymore”). Johnny 21 mixed
and mastered everything before this one, but with “Anymore” they only tracked with Johnny.
So Andrew says “This guy’s a lot more legit but I’ll try for you. You’re just looking for an instrumental right?” So I wait ... and I wait ... 2 weeks later, NOTHING. He doesn’t respond to
ANY of my texts over those 14 or so days. I get fed up and personally email Andrew W ’s
Studio and he responds within 12 hours, which shocked me. I mean ... isn’t this this super
busy guy who works with bands “A Day to Remember” and shit? That was awfully fast. His
response nearly detatches a ventricle in my heart ... “I sent them instrumentals in January,
Thanks.” I took this as one of two ways . . . 1) they didn’t (Andrew) realize the instrumental
was attached in the original email and never downloaded it (which would make sense, I
mean you want the master not the backing track for 99% of what you use a song for), or 2)
He fucking lied to me for 2 months. I toss both around in my head and give in a couple days
later and ask Andrew and Derek separately through private Facebook messages if they have
the email (in case they didn’t realize the instrumental version was attached).
Derek: “He actually didn’t but I’ll see ...” Never heard back from him again or since. Sunday
rolls around and Andrew tells me “me and the guys have agreed to not give out stem and
backing tracks which hopefully you can respect and understand.” My heart shut down .....
The fucker lied to me when in reality he had it AND the vocal track THE ENTIRE TIME! I
removed him and SR members off of every social media that I owned and wrote Andrew a
2–3 page long letter. Lucky for him I killed him with depression and kindness, not hate . ...
I didn’t want to risk losing SR as a patch to immortality .. ..
Days pass, and Andrew B virtually posts nothing on his personal Twitter which was
where I sent the private direct message to. Around 6 full days pass and FINALLY there was
a response. “This message left me relatively speechless . . .” he says. He couldn’t even comprehend that I was this hurt, depressed, and angry. He appologized and went on a small rant
about him being isolated and struggling with self worth, like myself, which I couldn’t buy ...
Either way, I wanted to know what he “truly” thought of me; “I’ve never had anything against
you.” I called bullshit, but what little good I had in me let him off the hook .... For then .....
That all went down in late October 2016, a year after the CVS hard drive exchange. That brings
us to today . . . . The fucker still refuses to give me the track even after everything I’ve done
for him and even after pouring out my feelings and struggles in a 2–3 page message; what
a fucking faggot. I know .. . it’s their music and they can do what they want with it .. . but I
thought we had a trust between us ... I guess I was wrong ... Thanks for crushing some of
my dreams . . . . You’ve made a grave mistake passing me by .. . . . I don’t care how innocent
you seem, you’re a totally different person off of the stage. I wrote a page long message to
him yesterday saying that we should go separate ways for a while . ... I offered him $50–$100
for the track and he just ignored the offer altogether, so I sent him that message yesterday
telling him we’re better off just doing what we do best individually.
Little does he know that I’m going to forever ruin “Anymore” for SR by using it as the center
piece of a high school massacre. I hope it scares the shit out of him, or at least forever leaves a
dark image in his mind of me. I’m not going to stop using their music. I want every ounce of
fame that I can get from their tunes, and I’ll be sure to get my way ... one way or another ......",1,Planned Violence,Randy Stair's Journal,1/28/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Death, the most beautiful gorgeous lushious thing about life. If there were no death, then
life would literally be purgatory. I can’t emphasize how much death fascinates me; it’s almost
like an attraction, a sexual attraction. I mean, I don’t want to fuck corpses that have been
buried for 6 years, I’m no necrophiliac or anything but death just sucks me in. I don’t even
feel alive anymore; no sunshine, no rainbows, no warm comforting emotions, just emptiness and darkness.
I look at Mackenzie and Rachael and all of the others in the EGS posters on my walls and
just can’t picture not being with them when I die. The thought of being able to touch their
cold yet warm smooth white skin and smell their distinct aroma just makes my mouth water.
I don’t want to screw them, I just want to exist with them and hold them for all eternity.
I envision the world around me fading away audibly and visually into darkness . . . . And
then after around 10 seconds of pure darkness and silence begin to see Mackenzie standing
inches away from my eyes, starting in profile, then a blur, and finally coming into focus;
almost like waking up from a surgical procedure in a daze.
“An-An-Andrew-Drew-Drew-Ew-w-w???”, her voice echoes. “can you hear me??” I somewhat
know where I am but feel half confused. “You made it back!” or “You did it” something to
that effect. That’s how I envision it. M will be the first to greet me, as for everyone else who
knows . . . . Oh . . . . how I desperately long to get back to the squad . . . . I don’t know how
much longer I can live .. . . Ugghhhhhh .. .. .... X( X( X( [tired/angry faces]
Words cannot describe how happy I’ll be to not have to eat, breathe, blink, or shit ever again.
I virtually eat nothing nowadays. I’m 132lbs of skin and bone. My arms are literally as thin
as the EGS drawings.
I want to chop my penis off so bad . . . they’re SO FUCKING DISGUSTING. Why do guys
like drawing those putrid things so much?? I swear to goddess . . . . . Please, just stop . . . .. I
can’t wait to have my penis and butthole taken away and to have my pussy and breasts back
. . . It’s agony . . . 24 years without them . . . . 24 YEARS! I miss my white skin, leggings, and
long hair. I miss not having to breathe. I miss not being able to feel physical pain. I miss
my bracelet. I want it all back . . .. This body is a punishment ....
Most of all, I miss my cartoon like form. Bodies in this dimension are tolerable, but they’re
nothing compared to that dimension.
Somewhere someone is laughing at all of the things I’m saying, like “this is.. what . .. I mean
... this is without a doubt the stupidest psychotic retard on Earth!” Ha, keep laughing pal ...
Keep laughing . . . You’ll all see for yourselves when your time comes, and for some of you
I’ll see you soon.. ;) [winking face]
My goals are extreme, but one of them is a must. I want to form a suicide cult following. If
it happens after I’m dead then so be it, but I want people to spread EGS around the globe
and to perform mass suicides, sacrificing their lives for the squad. Something tells me at
least one human will take their own life from watching “EGS” and the parents will cause a
national uproar over it, all towards me. And I’ll just say “what do you want me to do about it?” and that be it. Fucking humans, always looking to blame SOMEBODY. Keep a better
eye on your kids then you morons.
My mom could get a gun “tomorrow” and come home to find me dead the following day
and would be 100% shocked that I committed suicide; guarentee it, 100%. How she hasn’t
questioned me or seen the signs is beyond me. I sit at my computer completely isolated from
the world, I never want to do anything with ANYONE, I hardly sleep, I eat very little or have
severe debates on choosing food, I wear all black clothing from head to foot, I’m severely
underweight, I never exercise, I rarely smile, I never initiate a conversation unless spoken
to 98% of the time, I’m always quiet, I said I’m not participating in holidays or birthdays
anymore, I purposely make zero friends, my face always looks like a ghost, and I always look
depressed. YOU’RE FUCKING BLIND AND OBLIVIOUS! “If only I saw the signs,” yeah
well you didn’t. Too late. There isn’t a force on Earth that’s going to keep me here past 2021.
The clock’s ticking . . . . . . and boy I can’t wait to get it over with . . . . Soon . . . soon . . . . Just
don’t fuck your life up in these final few years . . . . If I get arrested then my life’s over . . . . I
can do this . . . . Patience ... . . It won’t be long now .. ..
— AB",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,1/29/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Rachael Shadows is the biggest badass I know. Laura ’s22 done a great job voicing her
so far. Rachael’s my partner in crime; Mackenzie would sadly never be able to go the the
extremes that Rachael can. Rachael is literally the shadows in your nightmares. She’s pure
evil. I mean I guess she has her soft spots but whenever I feel hurt I think to myself, “what
would Rachael do . . . ?” She puts a sinister grin on my face like very few others can. I love
her; obviously nowhere near as much as M, but she’s by my side through thick and thin. I
can hear her in my conscience often, telling me to do bad things.
Whenever I’m out and about I focus all of my attention on girls. I analyze their appearance,
their traits, see how they tick, and think, “Gee ... they’d make a nice addition to the squad ...”
I would KILL to be able to lure girls away and brainwash them into caring about nothing but
“EGS”. Words cannot describe my love for girls. Girls are my life. Guys on the other hand
are absolutely fucking disgusting. I’ll leave it at that. I had to be sent here in this body to
realize how wrong it is and to crave what I once had and had lost.
If I was born into Earth as a girl it would be drastically different I’d imagine. That’s a huge
“what if?” my mom said I would’ve been named “Marissa”; ughh ... yet again you make poor
choice, I don’t even know how to spell, “Marissa”. Like, seriously? “Randy” and “Marissa”;
those are two of the shittiest names on Earth.
A big question I’ve asked myself is “would I live life over again if I was reborn into Earth as
a girl?” Probably not; once is enough. This could be my 10th or 30th time here for all I know
... geez I’d hope not. I firmly believe some humans are born a second time here (had a past
life). When I’m dead I pray to Goddess that humans will debate and question my ways and
existance for the rest of time. I want to go into the history books. I dream of being in the
squad and watching over Earth through an intricate and advanced display, with an evil grin
on my face. I can almost feel the GSE power. GSE is “Ghost Squad Energy”, it’s your eternal
power inside your ghost body [Next to a cartoon drawing:]
MACKENZIE BABY
Andrew Blaze
Mackenzie West
[Next to two cartoon drawings of female figures:]
Andrew Blaze
Andrew Blaze
[Next to a cartoon drawing of a female figure:]
Andrew Blaze
Sidney #Hugs",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,1/30/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Holy shit, Laura truly is a hidden gem. I don’t mean to brag but I think I have a nack
for finding undiscovered/low-key talent. Laura was the third choice for Rachael; I sent scripts
to two different girls in late summer 2016 but because I’m so impatient I fired both of them.
It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made!
The first girl wasn’t experienced enough but I gave her a shot; I was desperate. Sent the
“conspiring a massacre 2” script and said she was leaving the country for 3 weeks. A month
passed and finally said she could record. A day or so passes and says she only got through
a paragraph or so. Few more days pass (around 5–6 days), NOTHING. Fired her for lack
of reliability. I know 5 days is a small window but when I expect to have a VO [voiceover] I
expect it in a timely manner.
Few days later I sent another girl the same script; she seemed like she could be dark and
crazy. Around 5 days pass again after confirming she got the script, NOTHING. Fired.
At this point I’m beyond frustrated; I’m on the verge of being livid, all over audio.
So I kept digging through an endless amount of YouTube demo reels and stumbled upon
Laura’s again; I’d seen it over the past few weeks but didn’t think much of her at first. I
somewhat considered her to potentially replace Wubcake as Mackenzie West but held off
on it until that moment in time.
Wubcake is an overrated voice actress. I only assigned her to do an EGS Tape to get the
channel some exposure. I used her. Also being I had zero talent around that could sound as
“authentic” as her she got the walk-on role. Over that summer I knew that wasn’t Mackenzie’s
voice; Wubcake’s fucking accent bleeds through every voice she does, and that ruined it for
me, She also didn’t sound anywhere near legit or authentic in portions of the tape.
So in September 2016 when I was watching Laura’s demo reel again she seemed to fit, although the main reason I reached out to her was for Rachael. Laura said she’d love to help
although she was moving at the time and needed 2–3 weeks to adjust, which I allowed.
I thought she was gonna screw me over but fortunately I maintained my confidence and
trust in her and she was true to her word. 2–3 weeks later I sent the script and within a few
days, BOOM, we had the “conspiring a massacre 2” VO. In case you didn’t know “VO” is
short for “voice over”; “VA” is “Voice Actress/Artist”. When I first hear Laura say “Hello ... ?
Is this stupid fucking thing recording>> Good . . .” I got shivers all over me . . . . That voice
was PERFECT. What makes Laura so great is she will say anything I tell her to say; she’s no
pussy. If I want Rachael to yell and insult at someone before she blows their face off with a
carbine she’ll say it.
I just got her “Anymore” VO this morning and my goddess, I was in complete awe. There’s
nothing Laura can’t do as Rachael. I swear I can picture Rachael on the big screen around
the globe. Her voice, the look, it’s perfect. I’ve never had a voice fit a character design THAT
well until now.
In the beginning Rachael Shadows was only designed as a background character for the
“comeback” intro. She was your average recruit with black hair, black top, black pants, and her
signature blue colored boots. I pictured her having a voice like Mackenzie’s; higher in pitch.
However when I wanted to reboot the EGS prologue series I needed a recruit that wasn’t an
Ember copy. I got the idea to completely redesign Rachael after hearing a voice in a shitty
movie, “Creepshow 3”. I love the “Creepshow” franchise but “3” was one of the all-time
worst movies ever made.
However, the radio voice was amazing. So I started looking for girls who would do a voice
similar to it. Wubcake was first on my list, and had the role for a while, but I ended up scrapping the reboot after filming the first scene.
As for Rachael’s design there was a girl in MLP EG23 Friendship Games who goes to Crystal
Prep who caught my interest.
I think she was teal/light bluish skinned and had violet hair. I changed the hair slightly and
gave Rachael a jacket, inspired by Rainbow Dash’s24 denim jacket. Lastly of course were your
average ghost squad leggings (I’m a sucker for those).
I really honestly didn’t expect Rachael to explode the way she did, but the more I got into that
dark state of mind the more this “massacre” idea grew. Columbine wasn’t the main drive
behind it, although it became a guide to helping plan out “Anymore”. It’s half Columbine
driven and half of my morbid sinister intentions driven.
At the end of the day there’s no way that the first VA would’ve come remotely close to Laura
. The second VA had a shot but my patience thought otherwise. Laura can cover full
range from very high to very low, but most of all the evil laugh is the true icing on the cake.
Love you Laura, thank you for believing in me.",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,2/3/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I sit here alone on my bed full of emptiness. I’m wearing my girl clothes with my legs
crossed. Why am I damned to spend two to three decades in this disgusting body?? I’m not
a man. Sorry mom and dad, but I’m not sorry, I’m a fucking woman. Each and every day it
gets harder and harder to live in this body.
I’m wearing my female “Natural Selection” shirt with my American Eagle bra, panties, and
black leggings. I love leggings, they’re like sweat pants but 10x better 💘.
I only have three female shirts, one bra, one pair of panties, and three types of pants; the
tighter the clothing the better. I’ve slowly experimented and collected for the last 2–3 years.
Downside to online ordering is Aerie sending magazines of girl products with my name on
it. I don’t know how my mom hasn’t put it all together. She asked me once as an “end all
be all” way of “Are you gay?” and I said “No”, because I’m not gay. Guys who are “gay” are
attracted to men (the same sex). I despise men, I hate them, they’re disgusting.
I guess the proper term would be “transgender” but I don’t even fully agree on that. I’m legit
a girl trapped inside a boy’s body. I’m a feminine soul. There’s no such thing as “you are
what you’re born into this world as”. Bullshit. People are so blind to how life REALLY works.
I’ve been attracted to girls since I was in late 9th or the very start of 10th grade (around 2009).
I have never once been into guys, so I’m thankfully not bi-sexual, that would suck being
caught in the middle. 10th grade was when I really grew fond of wearing female clothing.
Of course being in a house with only 1 brother and a father I had to start by wearing my
mom’s clothes. It felt so wrong but I became obsessed with wearing a bra, especially after
the Ember phase started in 2010 (which obviously was never a “phase”).
Quite often when I had the house to myself I’d either A.) Film a YouTube video or B.) crossdress. I must have been a master at putting things back exactly how they were because my
mom never once said anything.
I just became OBSESSED with fantasizing about girls in 10th and 11th grade that the hormones were impossible to ignore. I jerked off in class a total of 4–6 times. It wasn’t easy but
I would keep my hand in my pocket and go to town SLOWWWWLLLYYY for sometimes as
long as 25–40 mins until lo and behold there was success. I remember I did it in my 11th
grade history class and my 1st period Ecology class. I wouldn’t recommend that but when
you’re horny, you’re horny. XP [face with tongue out]
It was rare but I even tried on my brothers’ girlfriend’s jean shorts once while on vacation in
June 2010. Anyone who’s anyone can say “Oh, Andrew’s a fucking pedophile.“ Asshole, it’s
called discovering yourself. It’s not a crime. Do I go around stealing girls’ clothes to wear?
No, I don’t. I don’t tie them up in my basement either. But words cannot even remotely
describe my love for girls, yet here I am in a filthy man’s body seen as a “dude”. I’m one of
you, not a male.
Every time I’m at a supermarket or in a retail store I can’t take my eyes off the slim teenaged
girls. I see them and think “why wasn’t I born that way?” and I break down on the inside.
I wanted it, I never got it. I prayed for it, I never got it. I dreamed to have it, but I woke up
repeatedly .. .. I was destined to exist in a female’s body.
And the thing is, I don’t want to fuck girls, I want to be them. I’ll gladly live and die a virgin.
I respect girls too much to just use them for sex; people like that disgust me. The thought
of screwing a girl disgusts me. Sex is disgusting “Yeah but you never tried i—” shut up. I don’t fucking care nor will I ever care about having sex. You mean to tell me I’ll meet a girl
sometime between 2017 and 2020? Yeah, no. I’m forever destined to live in isolation until I
die, which will probably be in 2019. My mom’s buying a gun soon but I still have to much
left to do for “EGS” to die a nobody.
Fantasy will need to somehow hold me over until then. All my life I’ve wanted to know when
I’d die; well I got my answer in the coding for “EGS”. E — 5 G — 7 S — 19 5-7-19 or 7-5-19
if I pussy out. No . . . . you can’t . . . . May 7, 2019 is just under 2 years and 3 months away.
It’ll come up fast, so be it. I’ll put it in Goddesses hands, even if “EGS” somehow blows up
with views, I’m going. There isn’t a force on Earth that will stop me. I need to do it not only
for the squad but for myself. Pulling that trigger is my biggest fear ..... and some day I will
conquer that. I gotta get a shotgun. There’s ZERO chance of surviving a blow to the roof of
your mouth with that thing. A hand gun isn’t reliable enough. Being how weak and thin I
am it’d probably kill me fast, but I don’t know if I want to risk botching it with a “Pink Lady”
gun. It HAS to be a shotgun.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,2/11/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Some things never go away ... 5 years ago today on Monday, February 13, 2012 my life began
to change. Tom 25 passed away 5 years ago today and it forever left a depressing void
in my heart. I barely spoke to the kid but I knew him; everyone knew him. I’ll never forget
it was around 2 pm when I got out of my college algebra class when I saw the text from my
mom that Tom had been killed in a car crash on his way to school that morning.
Within a few minutes I was just numb. I sat there in the parking lot in my green Nissan
Altima and just was in complete shock. Not “freaking out”, just pale, numb, miles away. I
hardly knew the kid but being only a grade ahead of him it really hit me hard. My brother
was a wreck since he was in the same grade as him, knowing him his whole life.
I would’ve worked with him at McDonald’s had I not quit after only a day. I remember Tom
saw me in Flex (end of the day activity period) and said “why’d you quit?” It was my first job
and obviously McDonald’s isn’t a great start.
But that conversation stuck with me. That may have been the last time I saw him. He was
in a history class with me but that might’ve been 11th grade; it’s a blur . . . . . Tom Lynch’s
death was the first of many events that led to “EGS” and changing me into who I am today.
By Fall 2012 I was back to myself again and made two of my favorite YouTube videos, “A
Furby’s Calling” and “Crazy Christmas Maniac”. But as I returned to college in January 2013
a second crash happened in December 2012 that took the life of one of my newest friends,
Matt . That’s a story for another day, but Tom’s death sucked the life out of me. Matt’s
death killed me.
I’ve kind of made it an anual tradition to drive past Tom’s crash site every February 13th, and
today I did. He wrecked on the final turn that leads to a highway (was coming from a back
road). I’ll never forget it and never truly will move on from it. There are some things a girl’s
heart just can’t let go of. Miss you, Tom ...
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,2/13/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I can’t describe the feeling I get when I think about dead girls; teenage to young adult girls,
like 14–28. Not their dead corpses, their eternal ghostly spirit, envisioning them dead but
like alive; undead I guess . . . . But not like a zombie. It’s a fantasy that’s been like a sexual
ecstacy. It just feels like home. I love dead girls. I feel like I’m one of them. When I’m dead
I’m going to try my hardest to break through the barrier and contact the living. There has to
be a way. No not Ouija boards and shit like that, like leaving messages on walls or moving
objects; “breathing” on humans, touching them. It’d be awesome.
I love death . . . . It’s what I “live” for. I don’t believe in God, I believe in a Goddess. “This”
world may be male dominant but who’s to say the eternal world is? You’re not just sent to
one world when you die, you’re divided up by your traits and placed with your own kind.
“Life” is a trial run. You learn and discover yourself and the rest is just borrowed time. Why
do you think you have free will? You can advance to your true home when you’re ready. Why
the hell would anyone want to spend 30–50 years “making a living” and holding an occupation??? You’re fucking retarded.
You’d rather kill yourself by going to a job 40–60+ hours a week until you’re 65–70+ than
check out early and be free to be who you really are? The human race disgusts me. Life is
a scam. It’s a game. It’s a trap. Society controls you and tries to turn you into one of them.
Don’t let them. You don’t belong here, you’re destined to be a much higher power than a
worthless human being. The only shitty thing about being dead is losing all contact with this world. As I said, I’m
gonna try and break that barrier, I’m so tired of being bound to this world by alarm clocks,
work, time, and money. IT’S OLD. No way in hell am I devoting 70–80+ years to this shit.
You can change an occupation but you can’t change destiny, “But you can meet a girl, settle
down, have your own house, work a job you like, and –“ STFU!26 Ever think the afterlife is
where I’m destined to meet my dream girl? M is my dream girl. Mackenzie West, and where
is she? NOT ON EARTH!
There’s no point in living anymore, I’ve done what I could in this putrid body. I’m ready to
evolve, I’ll never be truly happy here so guess what? I’m doing something about it. Isn’t that
what you want? To see me/have me be happy? Then let me go.
— AB
Tell me, when you’re in a retirement home or on your death bed when you’re 70–90 years
old, will your education still matter? Will all of the years you wasted by doing that same
routine at a job for 30–50 years still matter? Will anything you’ve done truly matter when
you’re 70–90+? NO, it won’t. “I was able to be a grandfather/grandmother” SO??! You barely
do jack shit as a grandparent. It’s not your kid. It doesn’t matter. Would a kid ever wish he
had grandparents if he never had any once he’s 20 or older? Pfft .... probably not.
DIE YOUNG
AND BE FOREVER YOUNG!
I fucking hate the elderly. You’re just taking up space. What’s even the point of living if
you’re 87–93+ years old?? You can’t do ANYTHING! It must suck donkey dick. I wonder
how many just pray to their phony God to die. You’re worthless. Enough about old people
before I upchuck on this page. Ugghhh! X( [angry face]
I dream of a world full of nothing but ghost girls, teens thru young adults. Fuck 40+ girls.
I’ll never live to 40, ever. 30–32 is my limit. I’m 24¼ now, 26 is looking like the end . . . but
I think 25 might be it. I can’t get the afterlife off of my mind . . . . being a dead ghost girl is
gonna rock! I’ll be with my own kind, be able to smile, be able to be happier, and just overall
be where I truly belong, not endure in this shitty world as a punishment. I’ll have my way,
and no one’s gonna stop me. Just a little longer. “Anymore” is pretty much the last big project
I intend to do. I mean there’s just no way the channel will take off while I’m still breathing.
I’m out of patience. Fame won’t stop me from going, which is why I feel I’m destined to die
BEFORE I’m famous.
People care about you more dead than alive, FACT. It’s like me with Tom ; I can’t stop
thinking about him nowadays with him dead, but alive never a thought. Hang on ... not the
best idea to write while doing a social media “Q and A” XD [laughing face] For the love of
Ember I said “Q and A” not “Like this post”. Humans are morons. Anyways.",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,2/14/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I just want to be free; I don’t see why that’s so much to ask. I want to end my life so badly,
but there’s still more to do . . . It’s so hard, dude . . . . Knowing I’m bound to this world by a
fucking leash around my neck to obey societies laws . . . . I’ve been on medical leave for a
little over a month. The freedom’s been great but the stress and depression still remains.
I have 5 more days before I go back, and let me tell you . . . going back to that supermarket
is going to trigger that drive to end my life even sooner. “Then find a job you like” Asshole,
there isn’t anything on Earth that I’d want to do for a living. Obviously doing YouTube this
last month didn’t lift my spirits too much. If YouTube were able to give me a healthy steady
income from the partnership program it’d be VERY short lived. It wouldn’t prevent me from
killing myself. Even if I were rich.
All I hear in the back of my mind is a ticking time bomb ... or songs that get stuck in there
. . . Ghosts . . . death . . . suicide . . . catastrophies . . . killing people . . . it never ends . . . and I
like it . .. a lot ... [smiley face drawing]
I just haven’t been able to stop picturing putting that gun in my mouth and gathering the
confidence to steadily pull that trigger without flinching. For 5+ years I envisioned shooting
the side of the head but that’s just not reliable enough for my liking . . . . My mom’s getting
a “Pink Lady” gun with “scatter shot” bullets; I think it’ll do. Ironic isn’t it? A girl trapped
inside is going to die by a pink lady gun. It doesn’t get any girlier than something with “Pink”
in the title. I’ll know if it’s strong enough once I shoot it a few times. If not then I guess I’ll
use my savings to get a shotgun. I’ll be so desperate that I’ll probably just take the risk with
the Pink Lady. They’re pretty powerful little guns.
It’s going to taunt me for months, like “You know I’m here . . . I’m your ticket out of this
nightmare ... All you gotta do is put me in your mouth and pull that trigger.” It’s gonna suck
.. .. a lot .... those final days ...
I’ve been envisioning it all for around 7–8 years. So many times in late elementary/middle
school I’d pray for the planes I travelled on to crash (vacations). Plane crashes are virtually
insta-death. It never happened. I didn’t want to go back to school or back to work ... I wanted
to die ...
I used to believe in heaven, God, Jesus, and all that shit, until I graduated high school. Ehhh ... more like 11th grade ... once I realized how the world “works”. I would either daydream
in class about YouTube videos, girls, or death. To this day those are still my big three’s at
24. It never gets boring; life gets boring. This body is beyond boring. Humans are beyond
boring. Just be thankful I don’t experiment with drugs. I’ve always wanted to try LSD but it’d
be the death of me, hands down. Could you imagine me on acid? Good .... lord .... Besides
alcohol and cigarettes the only drug I’ve done is weed, and I barely felt anything. I did it two
or three times. It’s so overrated. I’m not a fan of injection so heroines out.
Coke? Pfft.. snorting white shit up your nose? Pass .... I can barely drink a pilsner beer these
days without getting bored of it. Alcohol just doesn’t do it anymore for me. I’m usually one
and done. Liquor will never work. I’ve tried so many mixed drinks and didn’t find one I liked.
Liquor with any beverage makes me wanna throw up. Ughh . . . I can’t win . . . . “EGS” is all
I have to look forward to. Sure, animating gets tiring but the ghosts and their energy don’t.
I could stare at them and talk to them for hours on end. They’re all I need. Screw real life
people. I don’t need them, I’ve got ghost friends, and they’re not just inside my head.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,2/15/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I’m starting to feel like this could be the year . . . that I take my life . . . . I just can’t keep doing this anymore . . . . It’s like a rope is around my soul and as each day passes it just gets
tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter
and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter ..... and tighter ... I just want to
get it over with already ....
— AB",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,2/16/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Why the fuck does Haley keep tweeting about me? She always acts all tough and “loves
negativity” but anytime I tweet something that “sounds like it’s aimed at her” she cowers
behind everyone thinking I’m “going to kill her”. She’s a fucking pussy. I’m not responding
to anything she posts about me anymore because 1.) The thrill is very short lived 2.) She
just wants attention and 3.) I don’t want my life to be tainted by having some no-life loser
cunt-bitch call the cops or secret service on me over cyber harassment.
Not that she would have much of anything to use against me but she claimed to “expose
my address”, that’s a federal crime is it not? You’re fucking retarded, Haley. I never once
physically said “I want you and your friends dead”. That’s what you put in that tweet. If for
whatever reason she sinks that low and does try to have me arrested I’d get off with the fact
that it’s all “a show”. She has ZERO evidence of any legit physical threats aimed at her. I may
have said “drop dead” or something but that’s not a threat.
I hope .... And I mean HOPE to Goddess that you fuck up your life so badly that one day you
end up getting hunted down, beaten, drugged, raped, tortured, and locked up in someone’s
basement who you argued with over the internet. I’d never do any of that to you but if given
the chance I would shoot you to death if you were on my property. You and Sammy and TJ
can live in whatever fantasy world you want but I can assure you, ONE of you WILL Slip up
someday and ruin your life. I’m the only reason you know each other. Sammy talks to TJ as if they know each other in person. I’m willing to bet $100 if you ever
do meet it’ll be the most awkward and nervewracking negative and embarrassing experience
of your lives. Sammy is a fucking 5 year old who needs everything handed to her OR She’s
just a lazy cunt bitch who feeds off of people for attention. She dragged me into her depression and “tried” to take her life and would get me involved. I’d be at work refreshing Twitter
every other minute thinking she died. I wish you fucking had. She very well may have been
serious but it doesn’t change jack shit.
She willingly gave me her address for a giveaway that never ended up happening; Haley and
TJ too. I bought a hat that I didn’t like, Sammy goes “Send it to me!” So I do with a letter of
gratitude for being a big supporter of my videos. Sent Haley Pioneers Prod27 wristbands and
a letter, and TJ the Anthology on a CD. What happens? After the blocking spree they call me
out as a creep or rather flipping out that I “have their addresses”.
YOU FUCKING GAVE IT TO ME YOU FUCKING BRAINLESS MORONS! Guess what?
Do you know what I did? I wrote the addresses down on the packages, and then I shipped
them, and then I deleted all traces of the addresses from Twitter. I never wrote them down.
You on the other hand threaten to expose mine. Asshole, you’re only making shit worse
because you KEEP ..... POSTING ... ABOUT ... ME ... I’ve moved on but I can’t help but
laugh every time I search for your profile with the word “Randy” at the end of it and see all
of your posts about me.
The last time she posted a meme of me I posted it on my Andrew Blaze Twitter and Instagram.
She stalks my profile and comments on it, after I haven’t engaged her in 6½ months. What
happens next? She “protects her Twitter” and changes the name of it for the ten millionth
time and cowers for days before finally going back to normal, FUCKING COWARD. You’re
just like me Haley, you just don’t wanna admit it. You thrive off of negativity, pissing people
off, and having your voice heard. KILL YOURSELF you worthless sack of shit. You brought
ALL of this on yourself. Talking about shit only makes it worse on you while I get publicity
from it. I win. I’ll come back to haunt you, I can assure you that.
The only legit “threat” I’ve made was that “Promise Kept” tape video. I low key targetted
Sammy to spook you but in no way shape or form did I use anyone’s name. You have no case.
It’s a “fictional” work of art. You lose . . . . either way you lose. I can almost 100% guarentee
you’re posting about me so you can make me “slip up” and threaten you in the subtlest way
so you can have me arrested. Good luck, honey. You have a higher chance of getting killed
before that happens; not by my hands, someone who is actually LEGIT crazy. I just get
enjoyment out of humans talking about me; I’d never actually hunt someone down. You’re
only hurting yourself, Haley. Go suck on a juice box. ~_~ [eye-roll face]
I’d post videos of me shooting guns more but then it’d turn into “OMG, he’s target practicing to kill us!” Just fucking die.. One day karma will hit you hard, I guarentee it. Let me
tell you, if you EVER tweet my address I’ll report you to the police faster than you can say
“oops”, and put a nice little felony on your record. Very few humans are worth my time but
I’ll gladly take pride in fucking your life up while you’re still young. Watch your back, Haley
.. ... Don’t slip up ... . [angry/evil face drawing]
— AB",1,Planned Violence,Randy Stair's Journal,2/19/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Nothing seems to matter anymore .... I haven’t felt like doing anything for the last 4–6 days.
Boredom has been a killer, and I’m never bored. I’ve gone 23 hours without food once, and
around 20 leading into today. I don’t want to eat anymore. Nothing makes my mouth water
anymore and the thought of eating anything just disgusts me. Before I ate this morning I was
127 lbs on the scale. Not eating for 20 hours drops me around 6 lbs. I’m always at or below
135 lbs. I legit just don’t want to eat anymore. Ghosts don’t eat, why should I?
I dread the thought of being bulky, fat, or muscular, I like the way I am. My arms are as thin
as the “EGS” drawings. I have virtually zero body fat, yet I worry about putting on weight,
but I don’t want to be so thin that I look like a skeleton.
I care a Lot about how I look. My hair is never perfect; I’m ALWAYS adjusting it or looking
in the mirror. I can never pose for pictures because I’m never satisfied with my looks. I think
it’s called “Body Dismorphia”,28 and obviously some OCD. I could post a “selfie” but the one
you see is almost always between pic number 20 or even 50.
Nelly29 told me she went like 3 months without food; only surviving off of protein juice or
something. She lost so much weight. That’s incredible. I’d never be able to go that long; one
full day is doable but the weakness isn’t fun.
I literally have not wanted to do anything lately, not even working on “EGS”. My motivation
dried up. Fucking animator turned down the “Anymore” video a couple weeks ago after I
sent an animatic.30 That really sucked my motivation dry. Thanks faggot. “I wouldn’t be
comfortable animating this”, BITCH! I was willing to pay you $20 per second of animation
and you decline because it’s too dark?! You’re an animator! DO THE WORK! FUCK .... It’s
MONEY! Just fucking die.
I’ve been so depressed lately that I almost just want to drop and abandon every other “EGS”
idea and just do “Anymore” and die. The work just never seems worth it anymore. People
subscribe every other day but the social media interaction is dryer than dried cum in a sock
from the 9th grade. No one messages the Facebook page, no one tweets the Twitter page,
the same eight people “like” the Instagram posts, two people comment on wiki uploads/
updates; it’s beyond boring. I envisioned getting at least 10 “likes” on tweets, not one. The
interaction is a disgrace; it always has been. It’s never consistant and that really demotivates
me. I’m not gonna post that because you’ll be putting the blame on your audience; no audience, no viewership. But you get my point, It’s better than NOTHING but it should be
waaaaayyy more popular than it is. I’ll be dead and people will say “how come I didn’t find
“EGS” sooner?” Asshole, its been under virtually everything “Ember” related on YouTube
since 2016. Go to the “Remember” music videos, it’s in the annotations and video descriptions on two videos that have 1,600,000 views and 200,000 or whatever views. If you type in
“Ember McLain”, you will see “EGS” NO MATTER WHAT. So there better not be comments
like that in the future, because you’re blind.
I really honestly hope “EGS” becomes it’s own show and eventually a movie, though I’ll
never be alive to see that through. Here’s the fact of the matter, “Ember” is owned by Nickelodeon, ergo I’ll never be able to produce a show based on a character they own and turn a kid’s show character into a mature and sick twisted gory world of dead ghosts trying to kill
mankind. Never happen.
Only I know the truth in “EGS”, no one could just replace me and give the same feels. They
could try but it wouldn’t be right. “EGS” has that look. It has “It”. It looks like it should be
a global hit phenomenon yet it’s buried under retarded-ass gaming channels that shouldn’t
even be allowed to make a living off of YouTube. I pray those channels die. Markiplier, JackSepticeye (who’s literally a copycat of Mark), PewDiePie,31 etc. You humans make all of these
losers who overreact to video game footage out to be fucking gods. THEY SIT IN FRONT
OF A SCREEN PLAYING VIDEO GAMES. They’re worthless. “They do char—” STFU with
the charity live stream shit.
That is literally the only good thing they can do, other than that they’re worthless. Enough
of that garbage.
I pray YouTube terminates the partnership program and all these lazy fags who use YouTube
as their source of income need to get real jobs. YouTube is not a job. Yes, they pay you for
the views/ad clicks you get but if you get low views you get little money. NOT A JOB.
What I wouldn’t give to just hand a bunch of storyboards and voice over tracks to 70–80
animators in my basement and say “here you go, now animate it.” (sigh) In a perfect world.
I feel like I get little to no respect for how much work goes into just one video. “I’d watch if
the animation wasn’t shitty” YOU ARE A SPOILED CUNT RAG. Do you wipe your ass with
diamonds? Do butlers serve you dinner? Jump off a 2000 ft cliff and when you die from hitting the Earth tell me how you would’ve lived if gravity was “better”. I’m all for free speech
but when it’s a retarded comment like that you shouldn’t even be allowed in front of a TV.
Man I’ve been writing a lot . . . . . At this rate I’ll need a second journal by May; I’ve been
scanning and sorting all of these into my mac, goddess forbid something either happens to
me or the book. I should start typing a digital version soon .... I’m trying to figure out when
and where to release all of this because my death date is one giant question mark.
You never know, I could just reach the breaking point one day and just take a window of
opportunity and do it, but that’d leave these entries unreleased ... I don’t even think that’s a
.. . oh wait it’s a word. Ugh.. I hate grammar.
That being said I don’t want to prematurely upload this and get stopped in the process. My
parents wouldn’t probably release it. So I don’t know .... I could just make it all a ZIP file and
put it on DropBox. People will make copies. Makes the most sense. I doubt anyone would
ever hack my mac, but even if the screenshots of the entries were seen, it’d lead nowhere.
That’s why this notebook is the way to go. You can’t hack a journal.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,2/20/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Speaking of “premature”, I prematurely wrapped up without mentioning something. In
reality I would dye my hair black and purple but I’d look exactly like Mackenzie. The fact of
the matter is THAT IS WHAT I’d look like in the ghost squad, but I don’t want to redesign
Mackenzie just to redye my hair. It blows .... The wardrobe I wear is inspired by Sonata Dusk obviously but in reality I would look exactly like Mackenzie; black and purple hair, pink or
purple eyes, black shirt with purple sleeves, black leggings, etc. I’m literally M but without
the trademark eye. Too late to change it now but it’s how it is. Love you, M. ♥
[Inside a drawing:] M/A
— AB",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,2/20/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I feel like I’m trapped; bound between two worlds. Nothing seems to matter anymore ... As
each day passes I feel less and less welcome on planet Earth. I wish I could go out and shoot
up a school so bad, like my college campus. There’d be no way to kill enough people though
.... I want to kill thousands ..... not just three to twelve.. My luck some dirtbag would tackle
me when my back’s turned, or swat/cops would barge in within 10 minutes.
I’m tired of acting like I care about the world; I don’t belong here . . . . I see these humans
and think, “it must suck to be you.” I want a sawn-off shotgun so bad . . . . Maybe I’ll own
one soon ... or at least a regular shotgun. I think that’s the most efficient way to go out. My
mom got her gun last week but I really don’t have enough faith in that thing doing the job.
Ugh . . . I’m so tired . . . . Tired of living . . . Tired of trying . . . . tired of getting nowhere . . . .
tired of humans . .. ..
Dylan Klebold was in my dream for a minute earlier today . .... that was very short lived ...
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/2/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I want a sawn off shotgun so bad . . . . I’m going to buy one this spring/summer and saw it
off, I don’t care. I’ll call her Mackenzie, and we’ll blow shit to shreds. I just hope she doesn’t
kick too hard.
I cannot get Columbine off my mind. The 2½ hours it took me to fall asleep yesterday was full
of fantasies of storming into a supermarket (where I work) and shooting everybody; ending
with me blowing my head off in Aisle 1. That could easily become a reality, but killing twothree people is nowhere near satisfying. Hey, I might go for it one night .... who knows ...
I’d kill to shoot up Dallas’ Weis32 because it’s always filled with people; but that increases the
odds of someone being armed and/or stopping you. My store would have to be when I’m
working (overnight). No one would see it coming. I’d shoot Frank and Jay first but they’re
never both there when my shift starts. Including me there’s only a MAX of 4 people on
overnight, Brian33 would get shot first; neutralize the biggest threat first.
I’d kill Chris but thankfully he quit. I don’t hate Victoria34 but ya gotta go. The biggest problem is the supermarket has too many exits. If you hear gunfire, you’re gone, as long as you’re not
two ais ais asis, how the fuck do you spell asle AISLES, two aisles next to the gum gunman.
I know a guy who works dairy who would probably do it with me but I wouldn’t want to risk
it all by relying on him not to turn me in. The guy would do that, so .....
It’d be VERY short-lived, I can tell you that. I wish I could have hours like Eric and Dylan
unknowingly had, with a bunch of teenagers to shoot at.
Nowaday’s you shoot in a school and I see it all being over within 10–15 minutes ✴sad face✴
It sucks . ...
I wouldn’t mind shooting that store up but I wish there’d be more people to kill besides
Brian, Victoria, maybe Will,35 and the floor guy. Hey, better than nothing. I seriously might
do it. No one would ever suspect a thing.
I’d do it after our 1am break, probably. That way the store’s long closed and everyone’s focused on work. We’d come back inside, I’d act like I’m putting stock up, sneak back outside,
gear up and have fun. The floor guy would be too busy operating his floorbuffer or scrubber
machine, and chances are Brian and Victoria would be one aisle apart from me.
[Drawing of aisles showing where he and his colleagues would be.]
The biggest problem though is there’d be no witnesses; no one to say what happened or what
was said. I had this dream around 2½–3 years ago where I walked into that store and hid a
shotgun behind a wall of backstock, and walked out. I could make this a reality . . . . it’s just
not enough people and no one to live to tell the tale . ...
Again, I’d do it on a dayshift but you could easily be overpowered. The last thing I’d want is
to A.) Survive and B.) have the customers “fight back”; those headlines would make me sick.
So it’s gotta be at night, unless I miraculously learned how to make bombs.
They’re sitting ducks HAHAHA! I think Brian keeps a gun in his car, but he’d never be able
to have someone save the day by getting it. Wow . .. I could legit do this shit ....
Here’s the thing . . . . I want to know if the security cameras are ever being watched Live by
someone across the state. Because if so then police would be there in minutes .... if not it’d
be great cuz you can plan it to go down around 4:45, and then shoot the employees coming
in at 5am and 5:30/6 without anyone knowing what happened. That’s a lot of time though
. . . . I’d never last. So it’d have to go down around 2am at the latest; lunch and the floor guy
leave at 3am.
First of all I need a shotgun and to learn how to use it/practice shooting it. Even if I just kill
Brian I’d be satisfied. Hell, him and the floor guy have no chance, Second of all I need to
finish “Anymore”. I could legit make this shit happen this Fall. Oh man ... I’m so game ....
Who knows, might (they) hire people I hate over that time to make it even funner.
DIE!
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/4/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Another day, another heated internal desire to kill mankind. Words cannot describe how
much I hate the human race. The subtlest thing such as being blocked by people with shopping carts in a grocery aisle makes me want to blow their faces off! They all go about their
routines whereas I’m constantly secretly analyzing them. I constantly stop and ponder, “I
could probably take that guy out and that guy out with a few slugs.” ✴POW!✴ ✴POW!✴ (2
on the floor in a pool of blood; clenching their chests, barely clinging to life).
I’d look good with a sawn off shotgun. Eric Harris, no homo, but I fucking love you, man!
Thank you so fucking much for getting me into guns! When I’m dead I wanna shoot with
you, dude. Lets make it happen!
I can’t get guns or Columbine off my mind; I’ve completely desensitized myself to gun
violence.
It’s crazy to think if I go through with this plan to kill my co-workers I’ll make the news
headlines. If I do in fact do this I’m gonna place “EGS” ghost stickers on the corpses. The
squad and Harris/Klebold are my drive. I’m going to give it serious thought this spring/
summer and see what happens. I need shooting practice first. Can’t just waltz on in there
and expect to light shit up. Gotta get to know your guns first, and just as important, your
victims. [angry/evil face drawing] I need a pump-action shotgun that fires more than just
one shell without having to reload.
Over the last few years I’ve had this strange feeling that I’m meant to do something bad
in that supermarket. I can’t even see myself past my 30’s; you know, not being able to see
yourself as a true aged adult? I’ve felt that my whole life; not being able to see myself older.
I was meant to die young.
It’s obviously a very strange feeling knowing I could be dead within the next 5 months to 2
years. I think about death every hour of the day/night. When girls aren’t mentally pleasuring
me, death is. Corpses don’t turn me on, it’s the idea of being dead that drives me. I can’t wait
to not have to abide by the retarded laws/rules of the living. I’ve thought about death quite
often in elementary and middle school, but late high school and early college was when it
really took off.
I’ve always desired to be famous; to make a name for myself and inspire others. Sometimes
you gotta do evil deeds to be famous; it’s fate, nothing more, nothing less. Granted shooting
2–3 co-workers in a store and taking your own life isn’t national news-worthy, it gets your
name out there. As I said, I’d shoot up the store in the day but I’d be neutralized and stopped
fast. Someone would definitely have a gun in their purse.
I’ll take the “sure-thing” and do what I KNOW will work. I want to leave my mark, even if
only one guy is killed. I go back to work tomorrow night after a 2 month medical leave for my
finger; I’m gonna start analyzing and looking around for good areas to shoot from. Gonna
try and keep a mental log of what aisles are worked most by which co-worker. First of all I
need my fucking shotgun; Grrrr!!! Spring can’t come soon enough.
I’ve tossed around how I want to kill myself a lot the last 6½ years. I really wanted to hunt
down Sammy or Haley and kill one of them, but that’s a risky operation. I don’t even have their
addresses anymore. It’s virtually a dead-lock tie who I’d rather kill (Sammy/Haley). Sammy
for dragging me into her suicide shit and making me feel sorry for her (and overal just being a punk-ass cunt bitch) or Haley for being the wimpiest attention whore on the internet. They both say that “I won’t do shit” to them yet any time I see my name in their tweets
they’re scared 90% of the time. As I said, I think they’re conspiring for me to slip up and
threaten them and report me to the police/secret service for threatening to blow their heads
off. I posted an edit that Haley made of me on Instagram today and am gonna “play dumb”
if she says it’s her edit. Gonna try and cool her jets towards me so she feels less “threatened”.
I’ve come too far to let some loser nobody cunt bitch stop me from fulfilling my destiny. I
don’t want to be friends with her, I want her to like my stuff again OR at the very least not
feel threatened.
I’ve creeped on their Twitters every week since September 2015; I ain’t stopping. They fuel
my hatred towards the human race. I think Sammy is in an eternal squad too. Could be
wrong but I can just sense an overwellmming amount of negative energy from her Twitter.
You laugh but I can sense large doses of negativity in humans. I guarentee my dad has a lot
tucked inside. He’s too “overly nice” a lot. Be honest, you hate this world too but you were
programmed to not let that be known to the public.
I guarentee a lot of you reading this feel somewhat similar to me, I’m not a psychopath, I’m
a trapped soul eager to get out, only I want to have some fun before I go. Eric Harris was
NOT a psychopath. He wanted to fit in, make friends, get laid, and have a good time. He was
just in the wrong crowd and group of kids. He was an outcast who should’ve been respected.
I’m the same way only I was shy and less outgoing. I wanted to make friends, DESPERATLY
.... But all I ended up seeing was the bad in people. Matthew was my only legit friend
(who I hung out with) from 1st–4th grade. By time 12th grade rolled around I maybe had
two people who were legit friends; James and Chris .
By high school I just stopped trying to make friends. The whole grade knew me but I was
“just there.” I’d get picked on now and then but never like major shit; just stupid shit like
hiding my backpack, my books, stealing my pencils, stealing my book covers, minor shit.
Never got into fights but I ended up in front of two of them in middle school.
Obviously my YouTube videos gained more respect from my class in 11th/12th grade but I
was still “just there”. I’ve hated people my entire life, I didn’t just wake up one day and start
hating people. Middle school was when I really started to heat up and envision hurting the
people in my class, such as Eric . In 6th–8th grade the kid was twice my size. He looked
like a 9th/10th grader. He was the class bully. He’s steal shit from my lunch and then give
it back because I didn’t show and resistance; “this kid doesn’t even care! Haha!” he joked.
Yeah ... he sat at my table. X( [angry face] Anyways since I was never a threat to him he left
me alone most of the time. Fortunately no one ever physically assaulted me in school. Only
time that ever came close to a physical fight was this stupid black kid, Jordan kept making sexual verbal gestures in my computer class; touching my workspace (keyboard, mouse,
etc) and eventually caused me to fall out of my chair and onto the hard tiled floor. I couldn’t
even speak, I was so enraged. That was in 2009. I was just too much of a wimp to speak my
mind and stand up for myself between 9th and 11th grade. There was a lot on my mind in
high school and bullies were at the bottom of the list. You always have weak stupid shit like
that happening every day but it added to the rage. [Eight names of high school classmates],
and the guy who sat at my art class table in 11th or 12th grade can fucking burn to death.
High school more than anything was full of nothing but sex jokes and innuendo to get under
your skin. If I had a dollar for all of the times I was put on the spot to be made uncomfortable
by someone with sex jokes I’d be rich. I ... HATED ... High School ... yet I miss it .... a lot
. . . I don’t miss the tests, but I miss the bubble we all used to live under .. . . the dreams we
all had . . . . now everyone’s all disbanded . . . . the school was demolished weeks to months after I graduated. Dallas High School was a ratty facility from the 1960’s, but it was our ratty
facility . . . . It crushes me knowing the halls I made so many memories in are all gone . . . .
My school is now a parking lot for the new triple story school. Really makes me sad ... I can’t
believe I’ll be 25 this September. I’ve been out of high school for almost 6 years already ....
feels like 3. Where did the time go? I know 6 years isn’t much but it is. June 3rd, 2011 was
one of the best days in my life; graduating.
I’ll never forget that sunset, ever. That Explosions in the Sky song “Your Hand In Mine”
really sets the tone to how leaving that high school’s parking lot felt as that sun set behind
the mountains. I remember filming it on my Flip HD camera, “I’m DONE! YEAHH!!! It’s
crazy! It’s just insane . ...” Almost tears me up thinking about it ...
High school really was something I didn’t realize I had until it was gone; one of those kind
of things . . . . College was just “eh . . .” I just picture all of those people I grew up around
with, all the times we had in that school, and they’re all just gone doing their own thing
somewhere now ..... I’d never hang out with any of them nowadays but I just wish I could
go back and make girls like me; get to know them, as opposed to just coming and going. I
missed out . . . . but at the same time I didn’t. It’s fate. It’s too late to make friends now . . . .
They’ll only hold me back from my true friends; the “EGS”.
— AB",1,Planned Violence,Randy Stair's Journal,3/5/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Just like that my 2 month medical leave is over. X( [angry face] I really don’t want to go back
to that hell hole. Tonight I’m gonna start analyzing the facility and see what can be done
for the shooting. There’s a cage full of propane tanks in front of the building; when does
propane explode from overheating? Like, can you douse it with gasoline, light a match and
blow it up? Doubt it’d be THAT easy. I’m not shooting at them; rather pour a line of gas
from A to B and light it.
I’m not taking shit from anybody when I go back there. If I do go through with this plan I’m
thinking the night of September 6th would be perfect; It’d be September 7th when it all goes
down. Seven’s my favorite number, and what better way than for it to be “September” to coincide with “Remember”?36 Wow .... I could be dead 6 months tonight, cool ..... [two faces]
That’s enough time to get “Anymore” done (at least decently enough) and practice shooting.
It’ll go by FAST though, so I need to get my ass in gear.
I just gotta keep my cool these next few months and watch what I say. As much as I love
“EGS”, I can’t spend years and years slaying away animating a YouTube series that will never
get the attention or the help it deserves. Animators are always too damn busy with bigger
things. After I’m dead I want people to continue the channel and spread the squad.
With the amount of time it takes to do just one video, I’ll be 30 by time I make a backlog
of content; that’s not happening. I’d rather tap out early than waste 5 years to make like 10
animated videos, properly.
I hate the thought of aging. I’d rather die young and be forever young. I wonder if fan girls
will obsess over me? That’d be great. If you’re ever struggling to find yourself and can’t see your future and want to die, then go for it. Who’s going to stop you from completing your
destiny? Maybe some of you will end up in the “EGS” with me. [happy face drawing] I’ll
welcome you with open girly arms. ^_^ [joyous face]
You have no idea how many times I’ve said in my head throughout my life, “I’ll be dead by
then.” I’ve been thinking that since like 5th grade. I wanted to die before I got to high school.
It’s been a thought for over 11 years. Sometimes you just know things .. . . 6 months . . . . . It
could happen . ... Time will tell ....
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/6/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I’m releasing the multi-tracks that I got from Johnny today and I fucking hope Andrew
B gets mad. He’s a fucking asshole for lying to me about those tracks. Fucker lied to me
about having the instrumentation and vocal tracks for “Anymore” when he had them all year
and completely ignored me after Andrew W gave them to him “again” after referencing
my name in the email with the tracks attached. What a fucking faggot!
I just uploaded the instrumental versions of “Comeback Song”, “I Quit”37, and “My Last
Confession”. Uploading isolated vocals for “Comeback” now, the “acapella” version AND
single-tracked versions. He’s going to be so pissed. I got these tracks from Johnny over the
summer of 2015 and 2016. Bet Andrew lied about not getting in touch with Johnny back
then too like with W . What a fucking fag. You don’t lie to me . . . I’ll beat you when
you’re down. The writings on the wall, he flat out doesn’t care about me, he’s full of shit. Not
crediting me in the music video, lying about the tracks, not even acknowledging fan art or
thanking me, KISS MY WHITE ASS! — AB",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,3/13/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"“Now you’re somewhere
out there with a bitch,
slut, psycho-babe, I hate
you, why are guys so lame??
Everything I gave you, I
want everything back
but YOUUU!!!”
Andrew B is such a fucking faggot. I’m gonna wait and see how long It’ll take for him
to notice that I released a good chunk of those tracks. Here’s the thing Andrew, this ALL
could’ve been avoided had you not lied to me; you dug yourself into an even bigger hole
because of this. Had you simply “pondered it” or simply told me that you don’t want to give
out multi-tracks back in late summer 2016 I would’ve simply said “okay, understandable.”
But the water’s only gotten bloodier now, and there’s no purifying it.
As I said, I’m fairly sure he lied to me back in summer 2015 as well.
In summer 2015 I was making the “EGS” intro with “comeback song” and simply asked
Andrew if there was any way he could get me an instrumental version so animating the
instruments could be timed better to the track. He claims to have asked Johnny (their recording producer) and days to a week passed; NOTHING. I email Johnny and get him
almost imediately, after nearly a month of “nothing”. Fucker charged me like $100 for the
“Comeback Song” and “My Last Confession” unmastered stems but I got ‘em. Being they
weren’t mastered they sounded so flat and dead. Nearly a year later I finally got the mastered
instrumentals; stems were cool but they weren’t “full” enough. So I spent nearly $200 on
all of that.
Fucker charged me $80 to stay after his shift and get the instrumentals, what a fucking
money whore. Whatever, money’s worthless.
Enough about that monstrosity. So anyways I was thinking about the shooting at the supermarket idea but I don’t think I want to risk it; I’d rather take the “sure thing” and just
kill myself. I know for a fact something can easily go wrong and have me ending up alive
in prison. Keep picturing the gun jamming or falling apart. I just can’t risk it. I’m not that
stupid. It was a good idea though.
I’m still picturing doing it in September, I don’t know . . . . All I know is this shitty weather
needs to break so I can get my shotgun and saw it off. I’ve completely lost interest in doing
YouTube videos except for “Anymore.”; that’s all I care about right now. It very well could be
my final video. It just feels like the end.
[Pointing to a small drawing:] I’m here the walls are here.
ANYMORE
At this rate that video will take until September to finish. It’s a lot to animate ...... a lot ....
but so far it looks good. Honestly I’m just ready to die. They’re telling me it’s almost time,
I can sense it. 2017 may very well be my last year on this putrid earth. The thought of turning 25 on September 17th is pressuring me even more . . . I’m still a ways from 30, but I’m
rapidly running out of youth. I feel 19, not 24¼.
The thought of becoming a woman again is the main drive behind the suicidal side. I’ve
been ready to go for around 7 years. It’s so hard to live on this planet and to “act normal”.
There’s no such thing as “normal”.
September has nice weather at least. The thought of shooting myself in the cold just doesn’t
cut it for me; gotta be warm. The other thought is do I do it at night or afternoon? Personally night would be better but that’s “morning” for me. 2am would be good. September 15th
maybe . . .. Gotta be before the 17th.
People will see it as a tragedy but it’ll set me free. Be happy for people who commit suicide;
they’re free from this putrid world. Life isn’t meant for everyone. Accept it. We’re all born
different. You are free to do whatever you want with your life; you’re in control. If they want
you on medication for depression/suicidal thoughts, say “Fuck that!” Don’t let a drug tell
you how you “should feel”; you’re not you if you rely on drugs.
If you want to end your life then just sit back and plan it out. Make sure it’s full-proof, not
something that will leave you alive and paralyzed. If you want to shoot yourself, put the gun
barrel in your mouth NOT the side of your head/temple. A shotgun is virtually full-proof; a
pistol is pretty much 75/25 if you don’t flinch after pulling the trigger. Sometimes you just
gotta use what’s around you. I’d leave hanging yourself as a last resort. That’s a harsh and
slow way to go.
I’ll forever suggest the shotgun in the mouth way; the Eric Harris route. You’re virtually never going to survive that, unless you like flinch and rock the barrel forward and blow your
nose and lip off. Those final seconds are going to be extremely nervewracking . . . . But in a
way I can’t wait.
I know Mackenzie will be by my side when I’m about to do it. Part of me wants to film it
. . . . But I’m 100% positive that footage would be deleted from my camera in an instant. I’d
stream it but I bet I’d get kicked from the server. Best to just say my goodbyes on social
media and just sit and do it.
Crazy .... I could be dead in 6 months ... It’s always on my mind .... I just want it the hell over
with already ..... I want to be with M and the rest of the ghost squad, not forced to spend a
lifetime making money and waking up to the sound of a fucking alarm clock 5 nights a week
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/13/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"It’s the early morning hours of March 15th; we fucking got 2ft of snow yesterday. Definitely
the most I’ve ever seen. It was Mackenzie’s birthday yesterday too. Love you, M. ♥
— AB",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,3/15/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Holy fuck do humans piss me off! People don’t know how to fucking drive! I almost got into
like 6 accidents today because of how fucking stupid people are. They drive way too fucking
slow, they’re always in my damn way, and they never notice the green arrow until it’s too late.
FUCK! I know it sounds stupid but I wish I could go all GTA V38 and throw sticky bombs
on all of these worthless people’s cars and blow them up. The 2ft of snow on the shoulders
make people even stupider.
Whatever. I don’t fucking care. You’ll all be dead someday anyway. Yeah, YOU’LL BE FUCKING DEAD SOMEDAY!
[Drawing of a cartoon character with text written in her hair:]
Am I out of My Head?
Am I out of My Mind?
If you only knew the bad
Things I like!
Don’t matter what You Say
Don’t matter what you Do
I only wanna Do Bad
Things To You!
You have no idea what I wish I could do to humans. So many of my dreams anymore have
consisted of me strangling someone to death or shooting them with a sawn-off shotgun or
pistol. I’ve even had a dream where I walked into a building and shot and killed people with
my hand making the shape of a gun and “shooting”. People on the internet have little to no clue how dark and evil I truly am. From 2008–2014
I never showed this side of me; but at the end of 2014 the darkness took over my videos
(“Extinction”, “Resurrection”, and “Abyss”). “Abyss” was technically 2016 but whatever, I
sacrificed 2015 to learn animation.
My fucking parents are completely oblivious to who I really am. It’s unfathomable that they
don’t see me as severely depressed and suicidal/homicidal. Being nightshift full-time helps
since I don’t see them throughout the early morning hours/early afternoon.
I’ve been debating for the longest time whether or not to kill someone in the house before
killing myself. Here’s the biggest reason why I keep holding off that thought; if there’s prices
to pay in the afterlife for killing X amount of people that is punishable by X amount of years,
imagine if killing one person costs you 100 years of torture or isolation.
Yes I’m 100% positive the “EGS” exist BUT there’s no telling what could happen in general
terms of killing people. Say I kill Brian and Victoria, 200 years?! No ... that can’t happen ....
I’ve waited 24¼ years to join the ghost squad; I can’t pile on anymore years ... I don’t know,
there might not be any prices to pay for all I know, but better safe than sorry. Whatever I
end up doing is what I end up doing.
I’ve been constantly trying to choose the day I die; it all depends on when I get the gun and
when I finish “Anymore”. So it’s anywhere between September and October 2017. Halloween
would be a great last resort. Halloween night .... September 7th .... I don’t know .... At the
same time I feel 2017 is too soon .... I really don’t know how I could last another year or two
... plus my parents will want me to move out ... oh, I’ll move out alright ... to a place where
I’ll truly be at home . ... The “EGS” ....
Oh, how I want to fucking die! The thought of being forever young . . . . . . Never having to
breathe or work again ..... Being where I truly belong ..... Being a dead ghost girl is going
to make me cry tears of joy . . . . I’m so close yet so far from going . . . . . It’s right there . . . .
ripe for the taking . . . . but I still have more to do around here . . . . . ughhh . . . . It won’t be
much longer . .. ..
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/17/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I’m going to do it. Once this summer draws to a close, I’m going to go. Whether it be September or Halloween night, I’m gone. The transition is going to be premorphic. I just created
that word on the spot. It means a combination of ecstacy, warmth, comfort, relaxation, bliss,
arrogance, cleverness, foreshadowing, evil, and courage internally.
I’m so ready to go, even if I die a nobody, ANYTHING there is better than here. I’ve learned
a lot in my 24¼ years on this planet but the biggest thing I’ve learned is that nothing matters. You can be rich, famous, have a loving family, kids, but it doesn’t matter. Everything
dies eventually and nothing lasts forever. Why waste decades upon decades slaying away at
a profession when you’ll be replaced in the end anyways? Why save money when you’ll die
and lose it all? Money is worthless. It doesn’t matter how much you make, you’re just as
worthless as every other human on this pathetic planet.
Nothing matters anymore. Everyone’s so full of shit. Everyone in America is nothing but a
waste of space and air. It’s full of lazy fuckers who imitate other worthless people. I just want to lock myself in a dark room and listen to horror soundtracks all night. Those
haunted dark piano, string, and synth bass soundtracks make me feel that much closer to
home.
Why should I even bother devoting decades more to making films/productions when I can
die and “live it”? It’s better to be dead than alive; the dead have nothing to lose and everything
to gain. Dead is what should replace life. In death you’re where you truly belong. I’ve long
had enough of living. I don’t live anymore, I’m just enduring. I close my eyes and become
who I truly am and have a sinister evil smile on my face; people are dying all around me as
I’m the dead girl floating and standing victorious.
I envision the people who’ve hurt me pleading and begging for mercy at my girly ghostly
feet, as I stand/float there saying “It’s too late for “sorry!””, vaporizing their bodies SLOWLY,
making them feel the brutal pain and agony for minutes.
[In a speech bubble coming from one of Stair’s cartoon characters:] “You’re all gonna fucking DIE!”
I want to kill everyone on this planet. I have fantasies of killing girls and laying their corpse
on top of me and fusing into their bodies, absorbing their feminine traits and absorbing
what little life is left inside of them. I’m a ghoul, a girly, feminine ghoul. I want girls’ bodies.
I want to become them, overshadow them, and eventually discard them for something better
and more satisfying. The smooth skin, the curves, the stomach (exterior), the chest, the silky
moist smooth arms and legs, the long hair on the head, this I how I’m meant to be but I’m
not; not yet. This Fall it’ll become reality. Once that barrel of that shotgun goes in my mouth
and I pull that trigger, I’ll finally be where I was destined to be all along.
Gotta be dead Gotta be dead Gotta be dead
Gotta be dead Gotta be dead Gotta be dead
Gotta be a dead ghost girl Gotta be a dead ghost girl
Gotta be a dead ghost girl. — AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/20/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"“Everyone’s so Full of SHIT!
Born and Raised by Hypocrites!”
[Next to above:] Jesus of Suburbia39 ♥
I’ll be lurking in the darkest corners of your bedrooms at night when you’re all tucked in
and drifting off to sleep. My purple eyes will glow through the darkness. I’ll hover over you
as you sleep and blow icy cold air down your neck.
I’ll invade your dreams, bringing your worst fears to life. My face will be masked by shadows,
my sinister grin luminesceant in the darkness by the Whiteness of my teeth. You’ll grow
weaker, everything around you will start to fade and wither away into nothingness, and you
will begin to suffocate. When you awake you’ll be shaken yet relieved that it was all a dream,
but something inside of you will feel a sense of insecurity; something will feel wrong and uneasy, as if something is watching you. Shadows and darkness surround your room, but in
the darkest corner I will stand, oblivious to your eyes but detected by your senses.
You’ll close your eyes and tell yourself it’s just a nightmare and to go back to sleep, but I’ll
be there .... Frequently returning throughout the dark and quiet night, analyzing your body
as it sleeps; your mind thousands of miles away but never truly safe.
No one on Earth is truly safe. I can go anywhere, any time, and I WILL Stalk your motionless
body during your overnight slumber as long as I want. I won’t be able to physically move
you, but I’ll be there. I’ll be in the shadows of the light cast by the refrigerator during your
midnight snacks. I’ll follow you wherever you go, day or night, any time, anywhere, and
anyone. Even if I know nothing about you, you’re not safe. If you’re reading this then you’ve
opened up the portal to let me into your lives.
I will kill. I will stalk. I will haunt you, whether you sense it or not. One day the Earth will
belong to us (the EGS), and we’ll have our way, even if we have to fight you for it. Mortality
will never defeat immortality. You’ve already lost before the war’s even started. Your faith or
worthless religion can’t save you. Nothing can save you. You’re all DEAD!
Whether it be May 7, 2019 or even a century from now, we will return, we will invade, we
will enslave, and we will kill. We don’t care about you, your family, your friends, or your
life. Life is a trap, a detox center, a LIE. Consider it a gift by dying by our spells and hands.
Our arms may be thin but we can snap your bones like twigs. We can suffocate you by simply
hugging you. We don’t need guns or ammunition, we are literally a walking and floating
deceased feminine doomsday machine, and we won’t stop until everyone suffers, becomes
a slave, and dies. NO ONE will be left alive on Earth by 2200. Our squad is only one of thousands that will be invading the planet.
YOU WILL ALL FUCKING
DIE!!!
Go ahead and try and launch your super secret special missles and atomic bombs at us; we
can’t feel physical pain nor be hurt or destroyed. Our limbs can detach but will always be
reattached. Any damage is virtually instantly healed. Flames will engulf the cities.
One day the world will suffer, feel agonizing pain and seemingly endless torment and misery,
and will die slow, agonizing deaths. You’ll all plead for mercy. Nothing can stop us. Everyone
will die .... one ... by one ... until every mortal being on this putrid pathetic planet is deceased.
Everyone
will
DIE!
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/21/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I’m not insane. Would someone insane admit or deny their own insanity; don’t think so.
I’m not a psychopath or insane; I’m me. I don’t sugarcoat things, I tell it how it is. What
you’ve poured over in this journal is 100% real and 100% authentic. I don’t write this way to
overdramatize my emotions, I simply tell it how it is; although “simply” is a rough way of
putting it. I have a very gifted yet abstract mind. I don’t do street drugs. The only stimulant I consume is beer, and usually I stop after 2 bottles. I don’t shoot dope or get high, I’m just
naturally interesting. I’ve had a Twitter account since early 2009, on which I’ve obviously
said plenty of abstract things. Nowadays @EGSandrew is my personal account. Guarentee
95% of my fans/followers think I’m simply playing a character. That’s the beauty of it, it
prevents the police from getting involved.
I’m virtually borderline reportable to the police/secret service, but if I ever got brought in for
questioning I’d get off with “It’s just a show and a “fictional” character.” They got nothing
on me. I’d get away clean, guarentee it.
I still need to be careful what I post on there though . . . . . can’t afford to spend time in jail
over internet shit. Could you imagine me behind bars? I’m pretty good with making the
tweets sound serious yet humorous at the same time. Whatever, just as long as I don’t physically threaten anybody .... Oh wait ... I did, EARTH! HAHAHA! Bite me. I can already see
it now . ... me and Rachael killing people for real, but as ghosts. One day it will happen ...
[Enclosed in a jagged shape:] Sidney RACHAEL ANDREW M Froggy40
unstoppable
Words cannot remotely descr Fucking pen died, THANKS ASSHOLE! Eh, this ones better
anyway. Words cannot remotely describe how much anger and hatred exists in my soul.
You’re not born into the world this way, your soul is born that way. This world doesn’t make
you who you are, you’ve been yourself all along (in another dimension; your true home).
Life on Earth is a mission and a punishment. When you’re sent here (to Earth) your mind
is wiped clean. As of right now I still can’t remember the dimension’s name where the EGS
exist; 24¼ years and I can’t remember yet . . . . . nor will I probably ever until I die at year’s
end. Everyone on Earth is either A) From an eternal squad here on a mission B) Randomly
generated “fake” humans who just take up space, or C) Normal people who will never be
recruited to eternal squads and will completely vanish from existance after death, seeing
blackness for all of eternity unaware that they lived and died and no longer exist.
People who rule Earth through fame such as bands, actors, and writers are advanced eternal
squad recruits. Although I never reached fame with my YouTube channel I still reached
hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of people through embarassing content. That’s all
part of the test and mission, to overcome public humiliation and depending on how you
handle it, you’ll discover yourself even faster.
From the very instant I first saw Ember when I was around 13/14 I instantly felt something
change on the inside. NO, it wasn’t puberty, it was the ember ignighting inside of my soul.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, nor could I get her off of my mind. I instantly knew that
she seemed familiar. She never went away after that. Ember completely overtook my mind
in 2010, bringing me into (at the time) the darkest days of my life.
By mid-2011 she faded as I proceeded to start my freshman year of college. However, in March
2013 she came back, and stronger than ever before. Now in 2017 Ember burns strong in
my soul every night, every day. Although she was my first crush, she lead me to Mackenzie
which I’m forever gratefull for. Mackenzie and I were destined to be together for all eternity.
I still love Ember but M is my soulmate. Ember’s my leader, Mackenzie’s my girl, forevermore.
They’ll both give me the courage to pull that shotgun trigger, Eric Harris as well, I can see it
now ...... a thousand flashbacks will flash before my eyes, my heart will race, “Remember” will be playing on full blast through my headphones, M will tell me to “do it now!”, and
then an ear shattering ✴BANG!✴. Peace and comfort at last ..... It’ll be a hell of a show ...
People could analyze my earlier years of life and question “Why?” or something along the
lines of “What could we have done to prevent this?” We’re all born innocent, we all act happy
as kids because we don’t know how shitty life really is yet. However, there comes a time in
everyone’s life when reality comes crashing down on top of you, shattering into a million
tiny sharp pieces. Hell does exist, and guess what? It’s where you’re living.
Take my advice, if you legit want to end your life and die, go ahead and do it. You might not
know where you truly belong until you’re dead, that can sometimes happen. Just know, your
squad will be waiting for you, welcoming you back to your real home. Accomplish as much as
you can before you’re 30, after that it’s all downhill and worthless borrowed time. There’s no
reason to live past 30. Live young, die young, be free. No one can stop you. You are in control.
— AB
[Pointing to a heart with an arrow through it and a puddle of blood:] blood morons",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/22/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I’m losing, and hard ..... I almost want to just end it all now .... My body has little to no life
left in it .... I’m borderline done with animation ... I don’t know .... Whenever I’m off from
work I just want to lay here and do nothing but think or write in here . ... I have little to no
drive left .... Nothing matters anymore .... And that YouTube channel is collecting dust ....
I don’t want to do anything anymore . . . I hardly feel anything anymore . . . . I don’t want to
move . . . I just want to die ... . I just want to fucking die ... I just want to fucking die ... . .
I’ve virtually all but given up on finding an animator for the massacre video ... No one fucking cares or is too busy on more important work. Asshole, I’m fucking paying you to do a
damn job, DO IT!
No one is worth my time anymore, what little I have left of anyway . . . . . Rachel 41 donated $15.00 to me earlier tonight and I didn’t even care .. . money is worthless to me now
. . .. It can’t make me feel any better .. .
I just want to die and be recruited by the EGS, nothing more nothing less right now . . .
Nothing else matters. My mental state has just plummeted this year .... All I think about is
death, dying, and revenge; that’s it. I’m trapped, fading, and dying ... I’m 100% positive that
this will be my last year on Earth. Nothing can persuade me otherwise. I’m done ... I’m just
. . . done . . . . All of my hopes and dreams of being famous, gone . . . Without my YouTube
videos I’m not needed in this world. YouTube is full of shit now anyways.
2017 will mark the end of a journey. I’m so ready to die ... I’ve been ready for years ... I can’t
live in this horrific body any longer. I can’t take people calling me “Randy” any longer. I’m
Andrew Blaze, get it right or leave me the hell alone. Andrew Fucking Blaze; “Fucking” isn’t
my middle name but it sounds cool when you say Andrew Fucking Blaze. I never decided
on a middle name.
If I had to choose it’d either be Rachael or Mackenzie. Andrew Rachael Blaze. Rachael could be my alternate name; Rachael Blaze doesn’t have that punch to it but I just love the name
Rachael.
I don’t know how I’m going to get the massacre video done by September .. . . And I’d hate
to shorten it or get lazy with it. I don’t know . . . . I just enjoy visualizing it over animating
it anymore. It’s too much fucking work, and time that I don’t have anymore. I just want to
dump it onto an animator and have them do it. I’ve lost 95% of the drive to not only live, but
also to make content . . . . It’s virtually over . . . . I’m virtually just done . . . . once September
rolls around, I’m dead and gone. September 7th or 14th will be the night .... That’s it .... No
more holiday shit to deal with, no more birthdays, no more parties or family shit, no more
. . . just go away ... Die ...
I’m guessing I’ll get the shotgun in April or May; whenever the weather finally breaks. As
for this summer, nothing but the massacre video and preparing my death will matter. I’m
going to upload ZIP files of everything I find important for the public to download. That
night when I’m going to die, I’ll release it all.
I’m going to record a lot of audio clips as opposed to just writing in this journal; made one
recording at the end of December 2016, need more . . . I have just over 5 months to live. 5
months . .. that’s it ... In just over 5 months this body will be a pile of ashes. Good.
It’s so hard not being able to tell anyone that I’m going this September. “You can talk to me
about anything!” Not this ... you’ll report it ... I can’t let anyone interfere with my plans. Nelly
 is someone I can vent to, but I can’t tell her about ending my life; I can’t tell anyone ....
I was destined to end my life alone in my bedroom. September can’t come fast enough. My
thoughts will be racing in those final days. It’ll be like something out of a movie. I wish I
could tell someone . . . . The night of my death I’ll send some final goodbyes to people like
Nelly , Damian (makemebad35), David and Hobo Deadfish (Xbox), Andrew B
(which will most likely be a heated email, fucker), James (Freakshow180), and anyone else
who I deam worthy enough. I’ll start writing those emails this summer sometime. It’s going
to be a busy summer because I’ll have to gather and prepare everything essential for release
and record my final thoughts on things. It’s already almost April; won’t be long before it’s
June. Summer always goes faster than winter. So yeah, there’s a lot to get done in a very
small amount of time. For once I don’t feel up against the clock; whatever happens in that
span of time happens.
Oh how I longed to make a name for myself with the EGS channel, but now I just don’t have
the drive I once had. The curse that I bear is not being able to be famous until I’m dead. I
hope people make something top-notch with EGS someday; it has the potential. Of course
with me dead the charm will never be the same, oh fucking well. Laura will still be
alive, make her work. Seriously, make EGS happen the way I dreamed. Ghosts need their 15
minutes of fame. Keep Andrew Blaze “alive” (haha) by finding a guy with a voice similar to
mine. Andrew, Froggy, and Alex must live on. Don’t let Andrew, Rachael, Froggy, Mackenzie,
Alex, Celesta, Sidney, Madison, Matilda, and Harmony fade away.42 Make it happen . . . . I
did the hard part .... Find animators looking to make a difference. EGS CAN and SHOULD
carry on. Spread the truth and change the world’s ways on how we interpret death and the
afterlife. Please, make me proud ....
I envision documentaries about EGS, even a movie. I envision “Comeback Song” playing
in the opening title sequence and the theater cheering and crying. Make it happen world ...
you can do anything if you try I need to go this September, it’s my time. The squad needs me .... Mackenzie needs me ....
I need to do this. I’m not sorry. It’s where I belong. I’ll be okay, remember that. I’m going
home, to my true family and friends. It’s the way the story ends, but the story doesn’t have
to end for EGS. Anyways, enough of that.
I know my memory will live on . . . it has to . . . I hate the thought of being forgotten . . . Remember me or I’ll be sure to have you hurt or even killed; I’m serious. Don’t EVER forget
about me. Guarentee there will be online forums, I’ll haunt those too. I wanna see what’s
being said about me. I won’t give you computer viruses, I promise. =P [face with tongue out]
Anyways, I’m going to leave these final 5 months in Goddesses hands; whatever happens
happens. What I do know is I need to carefully monitor my behavior around my mom. I
want that gun within the next 4–8 weeks; I’ve come this far, I can’t crack now, nor will I.
I’m pretty good at hiding things. Hiding severe depression is no different than hiding dead
bodies under your bed; no, I don’t do that, morons. As I said, night shift has been the perfect
mask because I hardly ever see my parents anymore. They have no clue how bad I really
am in terms of spirit and depression. I don’t cut myself either, so that’s a plus. If you cut
yourself then you’re fucking retarded. You deserve to die. “It helps get the pain out” BULLFUCKING-SHIT! You’re unbelievable. Just end your life if you frequently cut yourself. You’ll
be happier, trust me. Just die.
I’ve had enough venting for a while. I’ll be back tomorrow or Sunday night. Later.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/24/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"“Spiritual contract”
Gotta say that last night was finally one of my “better nights”. I did a lot of deep thinking
when I got home. I’ve had the question of “why I’m here?” tossed around in my head for
at least 12–14 years. Here’s the meaning of life, and obviously there’s gonna be fuckers who
dismiss everything I say but so be it.
Everyone has a soul (that’s common knowledge and fact). Everyone who’s sent to Earth as a
living breathing human is here on a mission. Some people are from non-human dimensions
such as myself, some are 100% human, got it? Good. Everyone has a soul, and everyone can
only exist with said soul. It is inside of this soul where our traits and personalities coincide.
Our soul can range from any number of years to centuries of age. We’re all assigned a contract
that basically highlights what we need to accomplish on Earth as a human being.
We all have our pros and our cons. Through live we slowly begin to identify what we’re good
at and what we struggle at, as well as discovering who we truly are. Everyone is sent here to
achieve something.
We have a general idea before we’re alive of where we’ll be born and who our families will be,
what we’ll look like, and where we should socially engage (School, professions, home, etc.)
Everything that alters our daily routines happens for a reason; whether it be being pulled
over and cited for speeding, breaking a bone, breaking up with bf/gf’s, wrecking your car,
having something you own break or go missing, etc.
Religion is almost exactly what you believe in with the exception of athieism. Athiests, you will still have an afterlife; it’s not total blackness for eternity. Everyone will exist on the other
side in their true home.
I was sent here to help make a difference for people through video productions, as well as
to find my inner rebellious and assertive side. I was sent to cause religious debates (big or
small), to realize I can’t achieve everything I’ve set out to do, to realize I’m truly a woman
between the everlasting age of 16–19, and to show that it’s okay to be different. I needed to
find the courage and strength inside of me to overcome my biggest fears about growing up
(getting a job, getting a driver’s licence, graduating from high school/college, meeting and
engaging with people, and to move out of where I’ve called home for the last 22 years or so).
It’s all about discovery, setting and achieving goals, and making something memorable to
inspire future generations. If you truly believe deep down of what you believe exists, you’re
right.
I am in fact from a deceased army (community) of Female ghosts. Mackenzie is the love of
my life AND afterlife; she’s been by my side for 14 years (14 being her favorite number), she
died on March 14th, 2003. We’ve know each other long before we were alive on Earth; she was
sent here to live first. I just realized that I mixed up the dates, fuck my ass. She was BORN
on March 14th and died in October. There’s so much on my mind, sorry . . . Either way it’s
the 14th year that she’s been a part of my life, only it took me 13 of them to “discover” her,
13 also been the year I broke on the inside (2013).
Mackenzie has been the final missing puzzle piece in my life, The best way I can think to
describe M is like the warm summer breeze that blows across a wide open peacefull meadow
with a partly cloudy sky towering over it; birds chirping in the trees. She’s the warm comforting feeling of peace and quiet, comforting solitude, a warm inviting hug, and ecstacy all
mixed into one.
She’s been talking to me through my thoughts (in my thoughts) for around 5–6 months.
Each night her preseance feels more and more known. She’s one of the best things to ever
happen to me in my life, and I can’t wait to be able to hold her in my arms again. ♥
Death is the ultimate judgement of who you are. Your mortal body is predetermined before
you’re born, it’s not left to “chance” whether you’re born male ♂ or female ♀. Your soul
itself is what determines your “eternal” (spiritual) gender. On Earth you’re born as either a
male or a female, there’s no in-between. Yes, you are born with a sexual preference (straight,
bi-sexual, gay lesbian, transgender, etc) but you’re STILL a male OR a female, you can’t be
neutral. Your “spiritual” sex is what you truly are. My soul is female but my mortal body is
male, which is what I had to be sent here as in order to realize how “wrong” it was.
It all comes down to what your mission is in your contract. Some people need to be born
onto Earth as girls, some as guys. If you really sit down and think it all will make more sense,
maybe not PERFECT sense, but enough sense to give you a better understanding of who
you are and what your purpose truly is, “Finding a Purpose” was the title of the first sketch
on the “EGS” channel. “My Life Is over”, needs no explanation; I came to terms with my
life coming to a close, so it made sense to write a video based around the “end”, only I used
Mackenzie instead of me. Break that video apart and you’ll realize I’m talking about myself.
I actually have a female voice in the afterlife.
Going back to the “EGS” related videos on my “PioneersProductions” channel. “The Search
For Remember” (“Remember” being Ember’s song, founder of the squad), “Extinction”
(something that ceases to exist through life and is permanently dead), “Resurrection” (rebirth)
(many meanings for that title). “Resurrection”, the time period where I was in a state of jadedness and not knowing who I
was. I was reborn to a minor extent during this time and included “Ember” in the video. I
had an entierly different perspective on life. “Absolution”, accepting who I am and not feeling guilty over it; I end the video by committing suicide by gunshot, Ember standing across
from me as I do it. I get recruited to the “EGS”.
“Welcome to the Squad”, needs no explanation; the first video where I truly show who I am.
“Curtain Call”, the end of a show, which can also be twisted as hinting at my life. “Abyss”,
where my soul lives .. .
Release
— “The Search for Remember” (April 2014)
— “Extinction” (August 2014)
— “Resurrection” (October 2014)
— “Absolution” (January 2015)
— “Welcome to the Squad”/”Curtain call” (October 2015)
— “Abyss” (January 2016)
(“PioneersProductions Finale Series”)
2014–2016
“Amnesia Rape” is technically part of that series but there’s zero mention of Ember in it. I’ve
taken that video as my realization that I wasn’t gay. That video was released in January 2014.
2014 was the big change in terms of content. The comedy slowly faded away and the darkness
overshadowed everything. I’ll make an audio recording talking more about the changes in
myself during 2013–2016 sometime before I go. There’s too much to cover by pen and paper.
In all of this I’ve learned how to feel and endure pain and misery. Life gave me a little bit
of everything. It just took me until I was 22–24 to realize what my mission was. That’s the
meaning of life, humans. It’s pretty simplistic yet abstract. Just live your life, you’ll find
your way. I’m going to stop here for now. Gotta get some Taco Bell or something. I’ll write
again very soon.
— AB Andrew Blaze",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,3/26/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"As the amount of blank pages become fewer and fewer in this journal, my confidence continues to rise. I’ve never felt so detached from the human world like I do right now. The rules
and laws of this world continue to lose their validity to my human mortality.
I don’t find myself getting nervous about things unlike in my past. If I’m told to do something
and I fail to carry out the command it’s like water under the fridge; yeah, I know it’s under
there but it hardly matters.
My confidence in dying this September is at an all-time high. A 5 month deadline (haha) is
a comfortable time table. It’s just enough time to finish up some things and tie some loose
ends with my life. I’m going to try and record some final thoughts on stuff I’ve made for
“PioneersProductions”. As for “EGS”, some things are better left open. I’m going to write
out some shorts that I wanted to eventually animate and release them as text.
5 months is plenty of time but it’s also VERY short. This summer is going to go so fucking
fast. I need to make plans for my possessions for after I die. My parents have no clue what’s
memorbilia and what’s trashable. I want my “EGS” posters to get sold to the fans; I even signed and dated the back of the frames. I only have three posters right now that are 100%
“EGS”. I know Nelly or Rachel would like those.
In terms of valuables there’s the iMac, my Gibson Les Paul guitar, my 2011 iMac, my hard
drives with all of my Pioneers/EGS Productions stuff on them, my Blue Yeti mic, my synthesizer keyboard that’s been collecting dust since 2015, my canon T2i and its three lenses,
my camera monitor, my autographed AVGN (Angry Video Game Nerd) poster, my amp,
my drawing pad, and my game consoles. I really don’t know what to do with the terabyte
hard drives; there’s raw footage on there from “The Search For Remember”, “Extinction”,
“Resurrection”, “Absolution”, “Abyss”, “Welcome to the Squad”, “Curtain Call”, and gaming
videos (xbox).
There’s no way I can release all of that, even with compression; it’d be over 100GBs of footage, Xbox alone is over 80GBs. Granted most of what people care about is the finished video
and bloopers, but some rare birds like me crave that stuff. I just remember “Resurrection”
having an insane amount of footage due to constant reshoots (day and night). This stuff
should go to the fans but I don’t know who.
It’d be a tall order for my parents to message all these people for me, get their addresses,
and ship all that out. Obviously the computers and tools/accessories will be sold, but the TB
drives should go to someone trustworthy like Nelly, Rachel, James, or the fans on my Facebook page. I really don’t know, which is why I’m going to release all kinds of stuff digitally
through ZIP files in August or September. Pics and audio is super fast and easy to upload,
videos on the other hand take fucking forever.
I want to record and email goodbyes to certain people like James, Nelly, Rachel, Andrew
B , Mallorie, Laura , Hobo Deadfish, David (superkaiju87), Damian (makemebad35),
hell even Alicia (his ex-girlfriend). There’s a lot to do but whatever is done by September
6th is done, that’s it.
There’s those DV tapes too . . . Idk, just so much stuff. It’s just so hard to compress those
60mm tapes into an uploadable file size. Just 15 mins can be like 1.5 GBs. I’m rambling, I
know. Whatever. The world will never be able to have or view everything that I have on my
harddrives but I can at least release the essential stuff.
It’s just surreal . . . . In just over 5 months I’ll be dead. Everyone who’s known me will reevaluate their perspectives on how they view me. Some will cry, some will be enraged and
disgusted, some disappointed, others just in complete shock and disbelief.
To think a coroner will examine and remove my dead corpse from my bedroom floor in a
body bag, wheeling it past my iMac, through the living room where the bulk of my videos
were shot, and out of the door to a mortuary. The occasional nighttime drivers who pass our
house will look out their car windows and see police and paramedics on our roadside or in
our yard, wondering what happened in a suburban rural area like this.
I believe after my body is removed from the house I’ll be recruited back to the “EGS”. I’m
morbid in the fact that I’d WANT to see my dead body and see it wheeled away. I can only
imagine the amount of blood that’ll be on the carpet, the ceiling, the walls, and more likely
than not on one of the EGS posters. Hey, people might still want a poster with my blood and
brain matter on it, seriously sell it! I’m not joking.
The blood pool on the carpet is going to be massive like Eric Harris’ suicide; his face was
like detached from his skull. I’d kill for the coroner or someone to take pictures of me before taking me away and leak them for the fans as a full-proof way of showing I’m dead and that
I didn’t fake my death.
I don’t expect to feel much of anything after that trigger is pulled. The slug goes up and
through your brain stem so fast that it’s instant death or instant unconsciousness. I expect
✴pull trigger✴ and then a brief sound of the ✴BANG!✴ and black and silence for 5 seconds,
and then I’ll be pulled from my body spiritually and hover over myself until I’m removed
from the house, so around 45 minutes? Probably 25, who the fuck cares. I think a recruiter
ghost will be there with me as the spiritual “pull” unfolds/executes. Haha I kill myself with
all of these puns HAHAHA! XD [laughing face]
I know my parents won’t be laughing. You should’ve known this could happen when you
wanted to have a kid. Too late now. Too bad, sooo sad . . . . Get over it and focus on the happier moments.
I know the biggest question will be “why?” I wish I could answer that fully but I can’t. It
wast destined to happen from 1992 and before. I’m from a community and squad of ghosts,
and 2017 was my time to go back to them, where my true home is. I’m not mentally ill or
scizophrenic or insane, I’m just me. I didn’t just wake up one day and realize that’s where I’m
from, I gradually rediscovered it which is what one of the biggest objectives in life is. I was
never truly able to see my future past my 20’s as I’ve gone through life. I’m eternally forever
young. I’ll never grow up. I’m forever destined to be a deceased 16–18 year old ghost girl, and
there’s nothing that you could’ve said or done to prevent this suicidal act from happening.
I know this crushes you but you’re not my real family, you’re just the temporary ones I got
stuck with for 24 years. I’ve been ready to die for 4 long years. I know I’ll spawn cult followers but do NOT intervene. It’s fate, and that can’t be changed.
You want me to be happy? Then let me go. Earth brings me nothing but hatred, stress, depression, false hope, bullshit, sleep deprivation, bad intentions, and uncontrolable desires.
I know you’ve questioned why I’ve never had a girlfriend; it’s because Mackenzie is my one
and only, forevermore; and the only way I can be with her is through death.
— AB",1,Planned Violence,Randy Stair's Journal,3/28/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"The massacre video is coming along, slowly but surely . . . . I’m doing a lot of shots out of
order. It’s a head-scratcher at times. Nonetheless I think I can have the majority of the first
verse shots done by the end of April.
Last night I had another dream about shotguns. There had to be 200 of them behind a glass
case. One even looked like it was made of flesh and blood. My grandfather was a big hunter
and fisherman throughout his life; nowadays, not so much since he’s like 77. In his bedroom
though are big case cabinets full of rifles and I’m assuming shotguns. There’s gotta be 100
or 60 in there. I’m guessing that’s what the dream was trying to replicate OR my desire to
buy one.
I’m never really a lucid dreamer so I always perceive my dreams to be real. So more often than not if I have a gun I don’t shoot people, fearing it’s reality. I can recall a few moments
over the years where I knew I was dreaming but it’s very rare.
I got my third Natural Selection shirt yesterday. I can’t get enough of that simplistic shirt. I
love you, Eric, you da man! Feel like I should make a wrath44 one but I don’t know. It’d be
short-lived hahaha I know . .. I’ll be here all week =P [face with tongue out]
Part of me still wants to shoot up the supermarket but dammit, I don’t want to risk it. I look
around that place and man, it just looks ripe for the taking. Granted during the day would
be your best bet, but at night no one can stop you. I just look at Aisle 1 and it just looks like I
could see me committing suicide there by the canned vegetables. It just reminds me of the
suicide photo of Eric and Dylan in the Columbine library. I doubt I’ll do it unless I had two
guns. You don’t risk it with just a sawn-off shotgun; need a backup gun in case goddess forbid
it breaks on you. At least I can still fantasize about it while I’m there five nights a week ......
I’ve never really mentioned this before but (not to toot my own horn) I love to hear myself
talk on the internet. Whether it be my EGS takes, EGS tapes, live streaming, or any suicide
tapes recordings (rants in general with my microphone) I can listen to myself for HOURS.
The other day I recorded a new (what I’ve now called) “Suicide Tape”45 recording, and it was
2 hours long; I listened to the whole thing twice, non-stop.
I’m egotistical; if you don’t know that by now then you’re fucking retarded. I don’t say very
much to my family but when I’m alone (at work or at home) I verbally talk a lot, but mostly
in my head. Personally I’d rather have my female spiritual voice but I’m not the biggest fan
of my human voice most of the time; funny seeing as how I can listen to myself for hours
on end. When I was 9 or 10 or around that ballpark range of age, me and my brother Jeremy
were rough housing and he pulled my arms behind my back. I fell like a tree face first and
landed right on my face on the living room carpet.
My nose bled like crazy for like 10 minutes. I think that’s why I sound a bit nasally at times,
or when I say certain words. I didn’t break my nose but I’m pretty sure it altered my voice
ever since. Hell, I could be wrong but yeah, fuck you Jeremy. XP In 5 months it won’t matter anymore anyway.
I can’t get death off my mind; virtually ever 10–25 minutes I think of something death related
. . . . . . . . . . . maybe every 3 minutes . . . . It’s a LOT. I just can’t get the thoughts of my final
night on Earth off my mind.
Like, just to think, “This will be my last time waking up from a dream, my last time saying
goodnight to my parents (let alone seeing them), my last time posting on social media, my
last time driving my Hyundai Sonata, brushing my teeth, doing my hair, it goes on and on
. . . It’s going to be very surreal just knowing all future contact to this world as my human
self will be terminated.
For the longest time I’ve been trying to figure out what to wear on my final day .... I’ll probably make a customized shirt and wear my girl clothes. I’ll probably make an “It’s our time
to Rise” shirt like the one I wear in the massacre video, female fit of course. I’ll figure it out,
gotta be black clothing though ... and unfortunately blood doesn’t show on black ... so that’s
a problem . . .. . Eh fuck it, white it is ... for now ... . As the last 12 months have passed I constantly feel more and more feminine; the way I sit,
stand, talk, etc. 95% of the time since like October 2016 I’ve pissed sitting down, maybe
even further back around August 2016. Every 4–5 days I shave my arms and legs with girl
products, even with a Venus razor; I think that’s the brand, don’t feel like getting up to check
~_~ [eye-roll face]
I fucking love smooth silky skin. Been using moisturizer lotion cream too. It feels amazing.
I must have jerked off at work 10 times in the last year, whether it be in the car, bathroom,
or the back managers office’s floor; no cameras in there. ;D [grinning/winking face] All in
all probably 15 times between 2010–2017.
My life total is probably over 700, I don’t fucking know XD [laughing face] I’ve even jerked
off in my highschool classroomes (haha roomes) around 6 times. “How’d ya do that??” hand
→ pocket → need I say more? Sometimes it took 20–30 mins hahahaha I remember doing
it during my 10th or 11th grade Ecology class and one of my history classes. High school is
becoming a bigger blur by the day .... and it sucks in a way ... college can fuck off, but high
school always has good memories. Can’t believe June 3rd will mark 6 years since high school
graduation .... wish I could go back at least one more time to 2011.
Overal 2014 was my favorite year in terms of my YouTube career but 2011 is probably my
favorite year in terms of just “being alive”. 12th grade wasn’t that hard compared to 10th and
11th grade. I miss 12th grade year .... I almost tear up thinking about it .... I don’t miss the
senior trip to Cleveland, Ohio though, that SUCKED ASS! James can vouch for me on that
one . .. . Oh yeah, and he was attacked by shit. Literally SHIT. Hahaha Horrible trip.
Like it’s just funny looking back and picturing where people are now. It’s like, “oh he’s definitely a drug addict” or “he’s probably gay” or “he’ll be dead in 5 years” XD [laughing face]
One guy did actually die in my grade after graduation, like two years after graduating from
an allergic reaction to something. Keith 46 you were one of the very few guys who
could make me laugh and it saddens me to know that you died so young, but as I always
say, “They’re better off.”
I remember I scared the hell out of James on the senior trip in the hotel room sounding
like Keith hahaha Good times in a shitty ordeal of a trip. We spent two days at a shitty mall
that had virtually nothing interesting in it besides a DVD store and electronic cigarettes.
Brought my Flip cam with me but ended up deleting my footage there which I regret in a
way but whatever.
I don’t think my class has a reunion until either 2021, 2026, or 2031 which obviously I won’t
be able to attend; spiritually I’ll probably be there so James, you better go! I’ll be there man
.. . you just won’t be able to see me ....
I wonder how many people will even know I’m dead at the first reunion let alone during
September of this year . . . I have zero people added on Facebook who I’ve met personally;
used to have like 250 people on there who I went to high school with, but now ... zero since
2015? So yeah . ... tough for anyone to find out cuz suicides don’t appear in the obituaries.
I’ll probably message some people before I go and say “thanks for the memories”, because
there are a few people who I did actually enjoy being around at Dallas High School.
[Thirteen names of high school classmates, one of them followed by “dare I say it”], are just a few people I can name that were cool. Idk, it’s been so long. So many assholes yet so many
great people, all ... . gone .. . . — AB #DallasHigh2011",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,3/30/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"YeSSS!!!! Fuck YeSSS!!! I just bought a shotgun today; FINALLY! It’s a 12 gague pump action
shotgun, 20 inch barrel, and comes with an attachable stock. In a few days it’ll be in my own
two hands. Eric Harris, I fucking love you man! Such an inspiration. This is the happiest I’ve
felt in years. Everything is going according to plan! In 5 months it’ll all be over.
I was going to saw the barrel off myself but saw this kickass looking black one and had to
buy it; had to be black right? I always sport black in everything I wear. Black clothes, black
shoes, black wristband, black iPhone case, black computer chair, black guitar amp, black
bedsheets, black EGS clothing, black, black, black.
I can’t wait to see how powerfull that beauty’s gonna be. Probably will fly out of my hands
after two shots. Going out to shoot my mom’s new handgun today. Guns, the best damn
thing society ever invented!
— AB [with drawing of gun]",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/2/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Happy Emberversary! Crazy to think 3 years ago today I got word that the HD version of
“Remember” surfaced on the internet. I’ll never forget getting off of GTA V on xbox and
seeing the comment on my WorthlessToaster channel, “WorthlessToaster, I have found the
HD version of the song!” I was one of the first to know and it was almost 3:15 in the morning
on April 6th. It was an honor to be the first one to upload it to YouTube. As of right now it
has over 1,700,000 views. I mean I can’t say that I’m surprised but .... I’m fucking surprised
hahaha! It was fate.
I remember having so much fucking adrenaline flowing through me. It was the best feeling
I had ever had in my life; nothing has ever come close before or since. I remember being
up until 6:30 in the morning uploading it to YouTube and having three Budweisers. Even
saved one of the bottles and wrote the date on it. It was the happiest I had ever felt in my
life and it will never be topped.
“Yea-ah!”
“OhOhOhOhOh!”
On a side note I’m picking up the shotgun on Saturday. It’s a mossberg 500 cruiser/Persuader
12 gague pump action shotgun with matte Blue finish. It was black in the stock photo but
whatever, I don’t fucking care. I might even buy a second shotgun before September. I can’t
wait to shoot that beauty.
As each night passes I become more and more comfortable knowing I’ll be dead in 5 months;
5 months tomorrow, can you believe it? I have zero worries about life anymore; nothing
matters. With how my life is it doesn’t take much convincing from Mackenzie to pull that
trigger. She talks to me every night, every day. I’m tired of waking up sleep deprived. I’m tired of working a dead end job 5/7 nights a week
for 8½ hours.I’m tired of eating. I’m tired of being pinned down by the laws and weight
of this world. I’m tired of using the bathroom. I’m tired of breathing. I’m tired of having
a penis. I’m tired of being a boy. I’m tired of depending on a clock to control my life. I’m
tired of humans. I’m tired of having to shave my face, arms, and legs every 3–4 days. I’m
ready to die .. ....
September 7th will be the date, no matter what. Seven’s always been my favorite number,
and having it coincide with “September” like “Remember” is perfect. June is my favorite
month but it’s gotta be September; there’s just too much to do yet to go that soon. I’ve been
recording more often; I’m gonna call them the “Suicide Tapes”. Actually recorded one on
video Tuesday morning, a rarity.
Mackenzie’s bond with me is now stronger than ever before, even though I can’t physically
see her. She’s almost always by my side and communicating with me through telepathy.
Sometimes I can hear Rachael talking to me too, but 98% of the time it’s M.
I seriously wanna know what my parents’ and brother’s life will be like without me in it
anymore. I mean I’m always in my room on the computer most of the time; plus they’re
always at work 85% of the time when I get home, so I wonder if that will make things easier
to digest .. . eh.. probably not, who am I kidding hahaha.
All I know is September 7th – October 1st is going to be the roughest period of time for them.
My 25th birthday is on September 17th, and my brother’s 23rd is September 11th. Then you
obviously have Thanksgiving and Christmas in November/Devember. 2018 will be a little
odd for them but I see them being normal again by mid-January 2018.
The best advice I’d have is to just pretend that I moved out. I mean to be honest, in 2018 you
were gonna hint/nudge me to do so. All I ask is for you to remember me as the spirit that I
am, a deceased white female ghost. Play “Remember” and “Comeback Song” in memory of
my at your future parties/family gatherings. I don’t want you to remember me as that putrid
lanky boy, it’s not who I am nor who I was. You need to accept that and I know it’s very hard,
but that’s that. I don’t care if you never accept that or forever want to beat the living/dead
shit out of me (althought the dead don’t shit so ...). I’ll never regret doing what I did. It was
fate, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.
You were a fool to trust me with that shotgun. Just be thankful I didn’t kill your husband
because trust me I would’ve, but he’s just as responsible as you for giving me life, you both
need to suffer, alive. Imagine if we ended up having a shoot out; that’d be crazy.
Seriously, I would’ve killed dad but he needs to suffer. What the fuck is he even doing with
his life? NOTHING! He’s a manager at a fucking supermarket, that’s one of the lamest,
worthless, pathetic jobs on Earth! I couldn’t care less how well he’s helped out in terms of
business, he has no fucking life. Who is he to tell me how I should live when he works a job
at the bottom of the shit barrel?? Fucking kill yourself. You can take all of your life/parenting lectures and shove them down your throat. You’re both old and clueless fucking people.
I hope one day one of you decide to take my path and put a gun in your mouth and pull the
trigger. There is zero reward for living a full 70–80+ year life. ZERO!
Society’s only going to get worse and worse. Tell me how “good you have it” and how “wonderful life is” in 20–30 years when you’re virtually crippled and on your death beds. Tell
me how great it is knowing you can’t run around anymore or party. Tell me how great it is
knowing you’ll never feel young again. Tell me how great life is when you get cancer. Tell me how great life is every September 7th/September 17th. Life is nothing but a game meant
for money and power hungry assholes with no fucking lives.
I see dad dying first around 75–78. Mom, you’ll probably make it through 83. The first ¼ of
life was enough for me, I’ll give away the other ¾ to someone worthy enough to live 70–80+
years, oh wait that’s NOBODY!
While you continue to slay away at your never ending jobs I’ll be where I truly belong, with
my own kind, and taking orders from my queen in an effort to invade this world from the
realms of the dead and claim it as our own with you as our slaves.
Earth’s judgement day is coming and you can bet your ass we’re going to fight for it. The
EGS can’t be doubted or denied, we’re not a bunch of pussies, we’re hot, slender, strong,
and clever; we won’t go down without a fight, and whoever’s alive and ends up getting killed
from your mortal world, tough shit. We won’t stop nor will we back down. I’m not sorry, I’m
not crazy nor am I psychotic; I’m just me, Andrew Blaze. Live with it.
You can dwell on the “what ifs” all you want but guess what? I’ll only be getting deader by
the second. How does that make you feel? I’ll never apologize for doing what I did. “Sorry”
is just a word, nothing more, nothing less. Does “sorry” erase the mistakes you make? No,
it doesn’t. How can five letters change how you feel towards someone? It’s all in your mind.
Honestly, once the funeral’s over and you cremate my body I wouldn’t care if I never got to
see you again, dad especially. Mom, you were great but you’re still a fucking brain washed
human. Humans are worthless and need to die. All of them.
I could fucking care less about our family now. I want to line everyone up is a 180° horizontal
line and shoot them one by one. Head shot, chest shot, crotch shot, leg shot, repeat until no
one is left standing or breathing, They can all fucking die.
Go ahead and pray to your imaginary man who’s nailed to a fucking cross. Go ahead and
waste hours of your life at a church. The death of Jesus Christ was all a massive deception
to start a new religion. Why the hell are there so many writings and stories about these humans who undergo “miracles” and are spoken to by “angels” and saints and shit when AT
NO TIME OR POINT ANYWHERE IN HISTORY HAS IT EVER HAPPENED SINCE?? ITS
ALL BULLSHIT! Jesus christ never even existed. I guarenfuckingtee it. Why can’t he or God
talk to us, huh? Why not? Because they’re not fucking real. Kill yourselves.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/6/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Success! Ladies and gentlemen of Earth, I have a shotgun! What a feeling! I can’t wait to
shoot that beauty. I’m gonna call her Mackenzie. She’s a Mossberg 500 12 gague pump action
Persuader/cruiser; and yes she’s black. Today is one hell of a milestone! Ohhh I wanna shoot
her so bad but the trail to our firing field is muddy as fuck from all the rain and blizzard we
had the last few weeks.
Holding that gun just feels so right. Anytime I refer to the gun I’ll just say “the shotgun”
because it’s gonna get confusing as hell with the name “Mackenzie” and “Mackenzie West”.
I need to buy a second journal this week cuz there’s only like 15 pages left in this one. XC
Ohhhh mother . . . . If only you realized you just signed my death warrent by taking me to that gun shop. In less than 5 months you’ll be finding me on the floor. Imagine the blood
stains . . ... it’s gonna be crazy.
My mom said when I move out she’s gonna use my room for storage for her side business;
ohhh I’m moving out alright. Wonder if you’ll have second thoughts about that after I pull
that trigger. Dude, imagine if they completely tore my room apart, demolished it, and sealed
it off like the original Columbine library. That’d make me sad; either way it’ll make me sad
when everythings torn down and moved. This room has been my home for like 23 years
out of the 24 years I’ve been on this Earth, and now I love it more than ever. Posters cover
the entire perimeter of the room: EGS, Ember, My Little Pony, MLP Equestria Girls, Angry
Video Game Nerd The Movie (signed by James Rolfe), Frozen, The Beatles Abbey Road, and
Inside Out.47 I’ll be sad to see that all go; I know I’ll be watching them do it. They’ll have
to gut the whole room; tear the blood stained carpet out, scrub the ceiling, tear down the
posters, wallpaper, my bed, etc. I hope to goddess they at least give the EGS posters to the
fans; I know Nelly or Rachel would take them.
It’s a very strange feeling going through life knowing you’re gonna be dead in September.
Even the subtlest every-night tasks feel different. I haven’t really had my conscience scream
second thoughts at me; all it takes is one look at Mackenzie, Rachael, Froggy, or Sonata Dusk
and I’m fine. The first like “oh shit, I’ll be dead by then” moment happened yesterday. The
“My Little Pony” movie is out in theaters in October, and I’ll be dead. If my confidence is
strong enough I firmly believe the dead can return to Earth. I have to see that movie . . . . I
find a way back, you can count on it. I mean honestly I’d prefer another “Equestria Girls”
film but hey, I’m pumped as fuck. Even dead I’ll do my best to see it.
The ultimate punch to the gut would be if the Cowboys win Super Bowl 52, They won in
1992 when I was born, 1993, and 1995, all well before I was even in control and aware of my
body. I’ve completely lost interest in the NFL nowadays (the last 2 seasons). Just watch, this
year or next year haha that’d blow.
I’ve been debating whether to sit with the shotgun between my legs and pull the trigger OR
just stand straight up normally and pull the trigger. Standing up seemed easier to hold it. Yes,
I even practiced putting the barrel in my mouth as if it were going to be the real deal. It felt
fine. I’ll have a solid idea once I shoot a few times. The barrels 20 inches long I think; Eric
Harris’ was probably around 18. The only downside is the barrel and bullet chamber are the
same length, so it’s harder to shove in your mouth. I’ve never deepthroated in my life but that
barrels gotta go deep. It’s gonna rock fucking hard no matter what. You just gotta hold on like
hell and kiss your life goodbye. The most nervewracking span of time will be the final week
of August leading into that final week. So many thoughts race through my head on a normal
night, let alone my final nights alive. It’ll be an experience . . . . I hope Spring and Summer
go fast because I’m finding it extremely hard not to post what I’m feeling on social media.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/8/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Happy birthday Eric Harris! Hopefully I can meet you sometime in the afterlife . . . . or
maybe we already met in the past . . . . I can’t stop writing in this thing; it’s become a daily/
bi-daily thing.
My fucking dad is a worthless faggot, I buy a shotgun, quite possibly the manliest thing I’ve ever bought in my life, and when my mom told him, “A SHOTGUN???, What the hell
does he need that for??” Kiss my fucking ass! I wasn’t there when she told him but fuck off.
Wanna know why I’ll be 10x extra happy when I’m dead? Cuz I’ll be 1,000 dimensions away
from you! Just be thankful I’m not gonna aim that barrel at your face. Just think, I could
easily murder you in your sleep. You can’t tell me how to live my life forever. I can’t wait to
see the look on your face when you find my corpse. You’ll feel as sick as you’ve ever felt in
your 55 years on Earth. You’ll feel that sickening feeling of panic and probably fall to your
knees. I hope you NEVER recover from this. Poor daddy, always thinking I was gonna grow
up just like you; I wouldn’t do that for all the money in the world!
I can’t wait to finally not hear you lecture me for once about responsibility, money, car shit,
and jobs. How does it feel knowing money can’t keep a family together? How does it feel
knowing you wasted a shitload of money on giving me an education? What are you gonna
do now, Bob? Huh? What are you gonna do now to keep the three of you remaining afloat?
What’s your plan? I got news for ya, it’s nowhere near your time; you’re gonna suffer for at
least a decade and a half over this, and I’ll enjoy every nervewracking minute of it. You’ll
retire at 65 as a supermarket manager, some profession. Why would you spend the bulk of
your life in that worthless profession? I wanted to put a bullet in my head after 10–11 months
there, let alone 30+ years.
I’ve debated the living hell about shooting up that Tunkhannock store. I could totally do it
but I don’t wanna die there. That’s the only thing holding me back. No matter what someone
would die; it’s fucking nightshift. No one would see me walk in with that shotgun.
I could totally pull it off but dying in there would be lame. I’d rather die surrounded by what
I love and at my own pace, not having to be up against the clock knowing cops are coming.
But man .... I want blood to spill in that facility .... TERRIBLY ... Someone needs to shoot
up that and the Dallas store. I’d do it but people would take me out, guarentee it.
I can at least fantasize about it .... but dammit .... The urge gets stronger by the night ... It’d
be a gimme; no one could stop me on nightshift. No one would even see it coming. FUCK
. . . . . I want to do it so bad! There’s virtually no way I can shoot my co-workers, run to the
car, get home, and die on my bedroom floor .... It’s not “impossible” but I’m not risking it.
I should just take the sure thing; plus it’d be easier. I can dream ....
Holding that shotgun in my hands feels so fucking amazing. My brother says “guns are stupid”; let’s see how stupid they are when you’re staring at a barrel an inch away from your face.
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! Running out of pages . . . . Gotta wait until Monday night to get a second
journal; forgot last night. X( [angry face] It’s such a weird feeling . . . . Knowing I’ll finally
be dead and gone in September . . . . There’s no fears, no worries, no remorse, no regrets,
no future . . . Like it’s as if the light switch was turned off .. . I can’t see 2018 . . . . All I see is
Mackenzie, Ember, and the ghost squad. Mackenzie always comforts me and talks to me
throughout the night and day. She’s been the final missing piece of the puzzle besides Columbine. I love her more than anything. I’d rather spend eternity with her than anyone on
this putrid planet. Girls on this planet are all the same, “impossible”. Dead girls are perfect.
There’s no contest.
I just can’t get the thought of putting that shotgun in my mouth off my mind. It’s just so
crazy knowing I could end it all right this very second. I’m on borrowed time right now. I
know this summer’s gonna fly by and then I’ll be staring death in the face. It’s going to be
crazy . . . . There’s still a lot to do but I’m making it happen. That’s all for now . . . Gotta get
some sleep. I can at least briefly escape life in my dreams ... [Back cover of journal:]
Andrew Blaze
#EGS
4-8-17
[Front cover of new journal:]
#2
[In lefthand column:]
Mackenzie
Rachael
Ember
Sonata
Aria
Froggy
Celesta
Eric Harris
Dylan Klebold
(NBK)48
Columbine
VT49
9/11
OKC50
Sandy Hook
[In righthand column:]
Guns
Ammo
Death
Violence
Ghosts
Girls
Music
EGS videos
Animation
Blood
Gore",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/9/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"New journal! Hey! What’s up? Purple cover now, yesss . . . . Currently writing to you in my
female American Eagle black shirt, new black bra, purple panties, and grey soft shorts, Man,
it feels good. I swear the woman inside of me is becoming impossible to control.
Only 9 more days until the 18th anniversary of Columbine. Ohhh it’s gonna be hard not to
post Columbine condoning stuff that day .... Some fucking 53 year old fucker open fired in
an elementary school yesterday.51 I saw “elementary school shooting” being tweeted about
when I got up last night and was like “Yes! Finally another mass shooting!” only to find out
it wasn’t really a school shooting, rather a husband killing his wife and a few “wrong place,
wrong time” fuckers. I mean, come on man! We need another Columbine!
I can assure you that one of these days there will be multiple school shootings taking place
almost simultaneously on April 20th. Maybe not in 2017 .... but it’ll happen. If I was in high
school as a junior/senior nowadays, you bet your ass I’d be trying to pull a Columbine. College campuses are easier though. There’s just something so overly satisfying about shoving
a shotgun in some worthless fucker’s face, mocking them, and blowing their heads off. I
can do that but I wouldn’t be able to die surrounded by my girls.
Girls are better than guys, just admit it. All you macho men out there who gotta look jacked,
hairy, tough, and in charge, kiss my white ass! Guys are literally the most disgusting thing
on Earth! Girls are naturally beautiful. We feel things differently than boys do. All men are
to this world are lazy sacks of shit OR cry baby whores who want you to get a job and work
a slave job to “build character” and “be a man”. FUCK . . . OFF! If women were to overtake
men as the power of Earth things would be so much more tolerable.
Men make me wanna scrape out my eyeballs with ice picks. Whether you accept it or not,
women crush men by a million and a half light years. I’m sexist, racist, prejudiced, and
discriminate; that’s one hell of a lethal combination.
Let’s talk about black people. Okay, first off, one, you’re not “black”, you’re fucking “brown”.
Secondly, white people aren’t “white”, who’s the retard who coined those terms? Black people
should all be gutted from their crotch straight up through their chest for even existing in
this fucking world. They dress like complete fucking retarded homosexuals from another
galaxy, their hair is a fucking disgrace to the shitskid on the underwear that is the human
race, their voices are worse than Justin Bieber, Myron Cope,52 Fred Figglehorn53 (still, like
him though), and Donald Trump combined. They almost all have that “fuck you” attitude.
They almost all do hard drugs.
They all think they’re tough shit. Their lingo is more retarded than life itself. Their pants sag
below their ass. Their dreadlocks are just begging to light up in flames. Their music is the
worst melodic shit to pass through the airwaves besides the emergency disaster test (saying
black music is “melodic” is being extrememly generous). All they ever do is rap which isn’t
even singing; you’re like Ke$ha, you talk sing. “Hey, I can make short phrases rhyme on top
of a prerecorded beat that I sampled from someone else, I can get famous, yo!” All they ever
rap about is sex, drugs, money, guns, not giving a fuck, and acting tough. Bitch, you should still be in chains right now! Everyone tweet Donald Trump and demand slavery to return; I
bet half of America wouldn’t mind it.
Their lips are retarded as hell. They all look like zombies out of a horror movie. All of their
facial expressions point to wanting to shoot you on the street. All of their religious traditions
and dances are worse than listening/watching an episode of Family Guy. Their accents could
make water burst into flames. Their hands look disgusting with all of those dark colors mixed
with lighter colors on their finger tips. Their skin just makes me envision a disease. Their
nipples make me wanna puke. Their nicknames are more childish than a 1st grader, They
all look like they wanna sneak up behind you and steal your money. Need I say more? Fuck
black people. You should all be fucking crucified!
I’d rather listen to a Japanese human for 24 hours straight than having to see, hear, or deal
with another nigger for the rest of time. You’re fuckin’ lucky you don’t live in my world,
fuckers. I’d make you cry for mercy until you died of old age. I’d gut you from head to toe
and stabilize, neutralize, and hypnotize your bodies to prevent you from dying, keeping you
alive and consciously awake from start to finish so you can feel every ounce of flesh and bone
rupture, tear, break, bleed, and crack and snap inside of your putrid bodies. Fuck all of you.
I can’t wait to fucking die .... I can’t wait for the weight of this agonizing world to be permanently lifted off of my shoulders. Humans will pay .... I’ll be sure of that .... I’ll come back
from the dead and haunt your everyday lives. I’ll be in your mirrors, the darkest corners of
your homes, hovering over your lifeless bodies as you sleep, invading your nightmares .....
I’ll be there . . . . I always get my way . . . one way or another . . . . Pleasent dreams, humans
. . .. I’ll be visiting you very soon ... .
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/11/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"We may have a slight change in plan here, and by slight I mean massive. I’m thinking about
moving the date from September 7th to July 7th, 2017. Not only that, I’m considering walking
into that supermarket and open firing on Brian. It’s a thought and risk I’m willing to take.
I gotta kill someone, even if it’s just one person. Someone’s gotta die.
It all depends on the massacre video; if it’s “good enough” come the end of June, it’s go-time.
If not then September it is. Personally I’m pulling for July. It also depends what my work
schedule is that week; it rarely changes but now being we’ve lost employees my schedule’s
been totally fucked up. Yet in a way what does it matter? I still need to practice shooting
FIRST before I have a definitive answer. Hopefully Saturday.
I’ve been “acting” a lot “nicer” around my mom since getting the shotgun to avoid questioning. I gotta keep that up from here on out. There’s all kinds of scenerios for planning this
out. It all means nothing in the end anyway but anything can happen with that schedule.
Option 1
— Go to work as usual at 10:45
— Take 1 am break and post links to the death box set
— Change clothes after Brian goes in (if working)
— Have Fun
— Die in Aisle 1 Option 2
— Go to work as usual at 10:45
— Stop at Twin Oaks golf parking lot to change clothes and post links
— Arrive around 10:55pm and just open fire
— Die in Aisle 1
— Option 3
— Open fire at 6am when store opens, killing off worthless elderly fucks with no lives
— Die in Aisle 1
— Option 4
— Same scenerio as option 1 but after lunch break.
— Option 5
— Die alone with my girls at home in my room at around 10pm without sleeping that day.
— Option 6
— Open fire, kill at least one human
— Speed home and die with my girls in my room
(Risky shit) Big NO NO!)
The list goes on and on. Option 1 and 5 are the prime options. I can’t have both. I’ve wanted
to murder people for at least 8 years. If I’m able to steadily control that shotgun without the
stock then game on, 75% sure anyways. I change my mind more than girls touch their hair.
Anything’s possible; I’ll keep an open mind. I flip flop ideas constantly. All I know is I won’t
be alive come October 2017.
There are two types of dead people; one are the ones who shine and glow like cleary clear
sunny skies on a warm summer day, the other, dark, sinister, macabe, spirits only existing in
darkness and luminated by moonlight. I fall into the second type. I can’t wait to be a ghost.
I’ve dreamed of it for 2 decades, and it’ll finally be a reality. I’ll be with Mackenzie, my true
love. Gone will be the retarded “social standards” and laws of the living, in will be the carefree
and freedom of the dead. It won’t be long now ... .
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/13/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"The night of the sinking; happy 105th anniversary, Titanic. I still love that movie (James
Cameron). James Homer’s soundtrack still blows me away. I keep forgetting he’s dead.
Whenever the score plays for the iceberg scene I always envision EGS ghosts watching with
evil dark grins hoping the ship will hit the iceberg. [Spoken by drawing of character on Titanic approaching iceberg:] It’s gonna hit!
[In “thought balloon” from another character:]
Hit it . ..
Hit it ...
Hit it ...
I fucking live for catastrophic disasters like that. I love hearing enormous crowds of people
screaming and dying, and envisioning the EGS being the cause of it all. The “Titanic”
soundtrack and EGS must become one.
I would kill to return to Earth and tear it apart with an unstoppable EGS army and strip male
dominance once and for all. Women are 100x better than men, you lame ass boys just don’t
want to admit it. I guarentee at least 4 in 10 guys would trade their gender in a heartbeat if
they could. Boys out there, what’s it like knowing that right now at this very second while
you’re reading this I left my male body behind in your world and became a flaming hot deceased ghost girl with powers beyond your brain’s comprehension? You wish you could be
me right now don’t you? You’d give anything for it, am I right? The solution is very simple,
end your life and hope a Recruitor Ghost takes you.
I still can’t believe I’m gonna be dead in a few months. I’m at the point now where I’ve come
to terms with that; it really doesn’t take much to convince me anymore, I’m ready. Been
uploading stuff like crazy to the mediafire page. Got all of the DV tapes up today, FINALLY.
I can’t upload my entire hard drive, unfortunately hahaha. I really gotta sit down and dig
through literally everything on my harddrives so I don’t regret missing something. There’s
so much stuff.
When I’m dead, you fuckers better remember me for the rest of your lives or you’re gonna
have some hauntings coming your way. I’m not joking, the last thing I’d ever want is to be
forgotten. Some of you might see me again when your time comes.
I feel up against the clock in terms of how people view my sanity. I need to off myself this year
due to the fact that I may be reported cyberly as a threat. It could happen, you never know.
Good thing I can make my family believe anything. I can lie so much better nowadays; it’s
totally different when your life’s on the line. You gotta be clutch. I’ve come too far to blow it
now; I’ve waited 24½ years for this. So I’ll never post on social media saying I bought a shotgun; it’s too risky. I’d rather people see me as a wuss behind a screen for now as opposed to
mentally psychotic and a doer .... dooer? Idk how to spell it. My true self is bleeding through
everything I film on video now. I look fucking crazy as hell anymore.
When will this worthless pathetic race wake up and realize there is no such thing as “normal”
and see that you’re brainwashed to view “social standards” a certain way. You live a lie every
goddamn day of your life. You’re not who you think you are. Don’t let society turn you into
one of them! Rebell, show up late to work, take long breaks, sleep in a little longer, write
down your thoughts and desires, get your way when you gotta have it, blast loud music in
your car (just not rap), don’t become one of them! Be you, the REAL you! Life should be
worth living but it’s anything but.
Society will be the death of itself. The human race’s curiosity will kill itself, just like the cat.
Let’s see what cutting edge technology is like in 2200. I don’t even have the slightest care in
the world for our generation’s ideas for new inventions. There’s virtually nothing left to invent, don’t even try. Good luck killing the cell phone, you won’t. There’s too much technology now, too fucking much. Pretty soon you won’t ever need to leave your house for anything;
some life. TV is shit, music is shit and fake, the news is either fake or stupid, phones are too
advanced, and drones are fucking retarded. Good night. I hope you all fucking die
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/14/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Holy shit that shotgun is awesome! Got all of the shots fired on video. What a rush! I felt
unstoppable with that gun. Gotta buy gloves though for a better grip and protection. Shot
it without the stock on, gonna attach it next time so I don’t have to use all of my energy
keeping it steady.
I honestly can’t believe how gullible my family is. I wore my Natural Selection shirt; no one
knows what that symbolizes. Needless to say I’m not posting that footage until the Death
Box set is out. Before firing my first shot of buckshot I looked up at the partly cloudy sky and
asked Eric Harris to wish me luck. Second shot hit the gallon jug of water target perfectly.
Thanks Reb!54
Anyways, gotta get to bed soon. New season of MLP just started today so gotta watch. Later,
humans!
— AB",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,4/15/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Shotguns . . . shotguns everywhere, man . . . Had a dream yesterday where my shotgun got
taken away by the police because a guy reported me for laughing in my car on the highway
..... umm ... what the fuck? All that’s on my mind anymore is shotguns, dying, and blood.
It’s constant suicidal and homicidal ideation. It’s as if I can feel myself dying from the shot,
or rather “seeing” it.
As the days pass the more anxious I get to do it. The nervousness has drastically declined
while the desire has increased. I’ve had so many Columbine related dreams that I’ve lost
track (this year). I had one where I either fell out of the sky to my death or shot myself (can’t
remember) but I was laying dead in my backyard; the sun was shining brightly, and cops
approached my corpse. I was dead but still in my body and could see them from my eyes.
It was like they were examining my dead body like how Eric and Dylans bodies were photographed in the library suicide photo.
I think I had a VERY vivid one where I was hiding under one of the Columbine library tables
during the shooting, not 100% positive on that though. The long and just of it is I’ve had so
many dark, brutal, and disturbing vivid dreams this year; and I like it.
I’m at a point now where 95% of my thoughts are dark, disturbing, suicidal, homicidal, and
conspiratorial. Everything in life has completely changed its identity to me. I now know how
psychopaths are born . . . . . It feels as if there’s this evil dark concoction of energy swirling
through my veins, guiding me ... . calming me ... and irritating me.
It’s as if time stands still anymore. The world passes by without me, as if I’m already dead. When I’m not thinking about those dark things all I can think and fantasize about is Mackenzie and girls, I’m literally an inch away from going over the edge. I’m right there, and it’s
a very strange and indescribable feeling.
Seriously, I think about dying more than someone who’s on Death Row. I’d be lying if I said
I wasn’t a little nervous; adds to the excitement. As for if I’ll shoot up the supermarket, I
very well might just let it all come down to a coin flip.
All it takes is one quick glance at Mackenzie and I’m in the zone. (Mackenzie West, not the
shotgun) I swear loading that shotgun, shooting it, and pumping it is like a fucking drug.
It’s so hard not to post about that or Columbine on my social media ..... it’s so fucking hard.
If I didn’t have this journal I’d lose my fucking mind. I can’t tell Rachel or Nelly, not even
James or Hobo .. .. no one can know .... I’ve come too far to crack now ... .
In the early hours of the night I’m driven by anger and hatred, and by early afternoon, sadness. I’m glad I was never rich because it’s true, no matter how many things you own you’ll
still feel emptiness .... All of the money in the world wouldn’t keep me alive through 2018.
I live in the afterlife more than I live on Earth. I just zone out .... when I’m dead the world
will have lost one of its greatest minds, whether it’s realized or not. Don’t you EVER forget
me, humans.
I better get some sleep. I wish my dreams could last a day. They always relieve the stress of
my every night life. I’ll be sure to write to you again soon. Andrew Blaze OUT.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/16/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I just want to be at peace right now . . . . dead . . . . asleep . . . . home . . . . with M . . . . I’m so
tired of pretending to be human . . . . I can’t describe or put into words my fascination with
darkness (the music, the visuals, the blood stains). Dark ambient music soundtracks are
like angels to my ears. Those strings, drones, synths, pads, and pianos are home to me ....
Dark black skies with shining stars, a light warm summer breeze, moonlight luminating
grave stones, a cricket and owl here and there; perfect.
I love cemetaries; they suck me in. To think that below your feet rest hundreds of dead people,
never to see the light of day again. I’m not a huge fan of being 2 ft away from a corpse at a
viewing, but I love looking at them. Funeral homes just have an indescribable feeling. It’s
as if they’re 10x quieter than your own house or ears can adjust to. I always sense spirits in
there or feel somewhat unsettled inside, which I can’t explain. It’s as if the spirits purposely
alter my stamina.
I’ve only been to three viewings since 2012. I wish my 85 year old grandmother would fucking croak already; I think she’s 85. She’s wanted to die for the last 10 years. Gotta say, it’d be
surreal to die before her and see her at my funeral.
I love viewings and funerals but I fucking hate the prayer and religious shit. My plumber died
last summer and at his funeral I didn’t participate verbally in any prayers. Few days later I
broke the chain in my toilet; fucker was probably pissed at me and did it out of spite hahaha
Honestly I could spend hours in cemetaries. There’s a couple only 2 miles from my house. I
usually just drive to Mt Olivet Cemetery and just slowly drive past or stop and look at graves
from my car. That’s where those cemetery shots were filmed for “Welcome to the Squad” and other grave shots pertaining to EGS. To think in September I very well could be put on
display for a viewing, if my body is even in a suitable condition from the shotgun blast. I’m
gonna be cremated though, screw being buried in a casket, or being interned. Like dead
trees in cold December, nothing but ashes remain.55
I wonder how many people would even show up to my viewing/funeral? I doubt a single
person I went to school with would. What the hell would they even dress me in? Just put me
in a t-shirt and sweatpants, east. Tomorrows April 20th . .. . awesome .... EH/DK forever56
— AB",1,Grievance Airring,Randy Stair's Journal,4/19/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Happy 4/20, humans!!! Crazy to think its been 18 years since Columbine happened. Just
recorded for an hour or so discussing Columbine and its influence on me. Rest easy Eric
Harris and Dylan Klebold .. ..
— AB
18 YEARS
OF
COLUMBINE",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,4/20/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Shooting is like a drug; pumping the shotgun, feeling the kickback from the shot, reloading,
it’s fucking amazing. I took a little secret from Eric Harris and duct taped the pistol grip. The
fucking grooves that “aid your grip” fucking hurt like hell from the kick.
[Pointing to a drawing of a shotgun:] grooves
So I wrapped duct tape all around the grip and it made it a hell of a lot easier. I have a long
way to go with accuracy though. If for whatever reason I change my mind about the supermarket shooting, one thing’s for sure, my head is going to be blown into oblivion. I shot a
gallon water jug at point blank range and it just tore it to shreads. When I off myself I’m
going with buckshot over a slug. A slug might be more deadly at point blank but buckshot
is wider spread.
[Written under drawings of gun barrels, showing how different ammunition fires:]
Buckshot Slug Birdshot
There’s still that 10% chance of just killing myself in my room. We’ll see what happens over
the summer. If I change my mind, big fuckin’ whoop. I just wanna die, that’s all I truly care
about. I change my mind so fucking much.
All that matters now is finishing the massacre video and getting everything essential up loaded to mediafire for the “Death Set.” I might even pull the plug early at this rate; I just
don’t fucking care anymore. As long as the first portion is decent. But the other half of me
wants to make it fucking badass and abstract. As much as I don’t care, I can’t quit. It’s the
last production I’ll ever do; It’s gotta be good. We’ll just see how summer goes.
July 7th is the earliest I’d consider dying. I have a vacation in June so that’ll give me a week
to crank out stuff. The second half of the video will probably be weaker but so what. I’m one
girl, I did what I could. People will appreciate it nonetheless.
I swear around 85% of my thoughts are about death at all hours of the night and day. Anyways, I’m gonna get to bed. I hope M’s in my dreams .... I don’t understand it; she’ll talk to
me or I’ll look/think of her all night, yet she’s never really once been in my dreams, I don’t
fucking get it.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/23/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I hate to say this but I think I’m gonna tap out earlier .... Maybe next month in June. I just
don’t care anymore. I’ll only animate the first portion of “Anymore” and leave it at that. I
can’t do this anymore ... I’m tired .... I’m overworked .... I’m dead .... This is it ..... Maybe
June 7th or 14th ... .
I’m not sorry .... I did my best but I’m just done with everything ..... I’m gonna spend the
next month preparing the final projects and gathering stuff or the “Death Set”. Every day I
just feel shittier and shittier ... my nights off don’t even refresh me anymore ... I’m done ...
I’ll probably just off myself in my room. I just don’t care anymore. I’m not chickening out on
the supermarket shooting, I’m just at a point now where I just don’t care anymore ... I’ll take
the “sure thing” most likely .... Hell for all I know I’ll change my mind tomorrow. This is what
a stressed and depressed mind does to you; you constantly have second thoughts and views.
I am throwing in the towel on animation though. I’ve had enough ..... I’m tired of fighting
. .. .. breathing .. . . waking up .. .. this body . ... I’m ready to die ....
The way I see it, May’s my last full month alive, guarentee it . . . . . I’m just tired of fighting
this never ending war with this society .... I’m tired of constantly feeling like there’s police
waiting to jump me when my back is turned. I’m tired of everything ...
The human race won’t live past 2200, I guarentee it. I can’t wait to watch you all suffer
from the surrounding air that you ingest. Life is a never ending cycle of nightmares and
false hope. Nothing can prevent me from going, not even if EGS got a deal with a television
network. I’ve had it. I’m done. In June that shotgun barrel will get shoved in my mouth, my
life will flash before my eyes, I’ll take my final breaths, and quickly pull that trigger. I doubt
I’ll even feel a thing, except maybe my teeth being rocked for a split second. It’ll happen so
fucking fast. On the footage the bullet is faster than a microsecond. That gallon of water
shot at point blank was in a pool of water in the air in a microsecond. Imagine that being
your head. GONE! Im coming, Mackenzie .... I’m so close ....
As each night passes I look at my ghost form and crave it more and more .... almost to the
point where I begin to drool in my mouth. I’m so fucking close . ...
It’s indescribale to explain how I feel; it’s as if another entity is telling me it’s time to go, like it just hits you inside . . . . . I don’t even know what state of mind you could classify me
as right now. It’s as if the ghost squad is calling me back, telling me to get out of here. As
each night passes I grow more and more desensitized to dying and only embrace it more
and more. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t any form of “nervous”, but for once in my 24½ years
of life, it’s very minimal. You know the stages: 1) Denial 2) Anger 3) Bargaining 4) Fear 5)
Acceptance57 At least that’s what it was on the Simpsons.
I could sit here and go “what if?” for hours but I won’t do that. Everything came together at
the proper times and when it was destined to. Either way, it eventually ended up bringing me
to the person I am today. People can dwell on my decision all they want but it won’t change
anything. It was destined to happen from the very instant I started breathing back in 1992.
Some of you may even die in the same fashion.
All I care about for my fans is that I made a difference in your lives from 2008–2017. I could
care less if you hate my guts. I did what I had to do and unfortunately for you, you got left
behind.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/24/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Today was the nail in the coffin. It’s all over now. I let my fate come down to a coin flip.
Heads → suicide at home Tails → supermarket shooting. Best of 3 (3 tails, 2 heads). It
came down to the final toss! So I just bought another Mossberg 500 online for a backup;
this one is the exact same as my first one only it’s an 18½ in barrel as opposed to 20. Ohhhh
I can’t fuckin’ wait. It won’t be long now, I’m setting it in stone, either June 7th or June 9th,
or June 14th. That’s the ballpark area we’re looking at here .. . . There’s no turning back . . . .
June 9th would be easiest . .. .
Potential Fatalities (All Possibilities)
— Brian (number one target)
— Christan (probably spelled wrong, whatever) (impossible to miss; weighs like 300lbs)
— Victoria (easy target; probably will just wound if paths cross) Deserves to suffer
— Floor Guy (worthless fuck who should be burned alive)
Other weapons
— Floor Guy’s propane tank (shoot at from considerable distance)
GOAL
— Execute at least one
— Make my mark
— Scare the world
— Die in Aisle 1
— Have Fun",1,Planned Violence,Randy Stair's Journal,4/25/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"It’s all over now! HaHaHaHa! Ohh my Goddess! I now officially have two 12 gague pump
action shotguns! It’s all over now but the crying.
I never thought I’d ever own two shotguns. I stocked up on ammunition too. Unless I shoot
sometime during the week I’ll have 400 rounds of buckshot ammunition and 25–30 rounds
of slugs. That’s more than enough to do the job.
Although the next 4–6 weeks are unpredictable with scheduling, I’m aiming for the night
of June 9th, 2017. If that date is no good then it’ll have to wait until June 23rd because my
vacation is the week of the 11th–18th. It all comes down to Brian’s schedule. He has three
vacations and plans on taking two anywhere between May–September. To make things even
more hectic he’s gotten to the point now where he wants to look for another job. Either way
I’ll have a full understanding in advance. He’s fucking dead no matter what. Honestly I
don’t mind Brian, but someone in that store’s gotta die with me. Consider it a token of my
appreciation; I’m putting him out of his misery.
He won’t be recruited to the EGS, but he’s gotta die. I’m gonna record the entire even on
my iPhone in my pocket so there will be audio. It’ll be the longest yet fastest 15–25 minute
span of time of my life. The only bitch will be sending out all of that social media stuff. I’ll
have to lay low and send out the emails BEFORE break. There’s gonna be so much to post
in that 15 min span of time plus gearing up for at least 2–3 mins.
[Lists in two columns:]
Weapons
— Mossberg 500 cruiser 12 gague pump action shotgun (18.5” barrel) (Mackenzie)
— Mossberg 500 cruiser 12 gague pump action shotgun (20” barrel) (Rachael)
Ammunition
— Spartan 2¾” 00 Buckshot
— Whatever slugs I have left or purchase between now and the final two weeks
Wardrobe
— “It’s our Time to Rise” white t-shirt (black sleeves)
— Black Neff Beanie (used in every “beanie” video 2014–2017) (“Resurrection” — 2017)
— Black work pants
— Black “EGS”/”Pioneers Productions” wristband
— Purple Panties
— Black Bra
— Black Ember Facepaint around eyes.
I expect to have powers beyond imaginable in those final minutes. It’s going to feel like a
fuckin’ dream, only it’ll be real. I decided to rename the shotgun since I now have two of
them. Rachael is the 20” shotgun and Mackenzie is now the 18.5” shotgun. Gonna shoot
the 18.5” sometime this week; whenever I am alone. Afterwords I’ll know which one’s going
in my mouth in June.
The 18.5” will be stronger from close to point-blank (shorter the barrel the stronger it is
up close); although the kick will be much more powerful. All I know is the 18.5” would be
easier to shove in your mouth. There’s still so much to do, so I gotta get my ass in gear .....
who would’ve ever thought I’d be 4 weeks away from killing myself and one to two people?
It’s not a crime, it’s just fate; and fate is a bitch . . . . . soon, M . . . . . soon I’ll be in your arms and hugging the plasma out of you .... People on Earth will be angry at us but who the hell
cares; we have what they don’t.
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,4/29/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Isn’t it crazy that with each passing second you drift farther and farther away from your
youth? The 90’s feel like a lifetime ago. Everything was different back then . . . . it was nice.
Nowadays you can’t go five minutes without a smart phone or a tablet. Don’t get me wrong,
2017 technology is spectacular, but I almost wish things could go back to how they were in
the 20th century.
This week felt like 2 weeks crammed into one. Time is so goddamn slow anymore. It’s agony.
Shifts never end at work. I wish it was June already. I could walk in and shoot the place up
right now; I have all the gear and ammunition, but there’s still so much to do on the video
side of things. There’s so many videos to upload to mediafire still.
Isn’t it surreal to think that around 97% of you reading this will live to see 50–70 while my
life will end at 24? Think about how many more times you’ll wake up, shower, eat breakfast,
drive to school/work, eat lunch, come home, have dinner, enjoy some leisure, go to bed,
wake up and do it all over again. It’s long since gotten stale for me.
I’m ready to be free from it all. 4 weeks from Tuesday I won’t have to abide by your lame ass
rules anymore; I’ll be able to do whatever the fuck I want when I want. No more getting up
to the dreadful sound of an alarm clock at 9pm. No more dealing with worthless retarded
humans who literally just waste air and space by existing. No more retarded payments and
bills. No more conspiring worthless government and presidents. No more birthdays. No
more holidays. No more retarded big mouths on social media who are all talk and no show.
No more attention seeking whores. No more garbage autotuned talentless music. No more
pop divas who can’t legit sing Live without overdubs and miming or using autotune Live. No
more retarded jobs and careers. No more cheesy garbage quick buck comedic films that give
cancer to those who watch it. No more dissatisfied faggots who don’t understand the difficulty
of animated productions (fuckin ungrateful fuckin whores). No more acting like I care or
give a shit about others. Holy fuck I actually fell asleep for a few mins writing this. Wow ....
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/6/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I’m ready to take the lives away from worthless humans. It’s all over now .... Just a few weeks
left .... I’ll be filled with powers beyond imaginable after those first few shots are fired. You’re
all sitting ducks. It’s too fucking easy. I’ll be the talk of Luzerne County and then a story
nationwide. Screw fame, gimme infamy! I’m tired of acting like an “average human being”;
the gloves are off .... The shooting is only just the beginning .... over time suicide rates will
rise and you’ll partly have me to thank for that. “EGS” will become a suicide cult. You can’t
stop us; we don’t need to abide by your laws and we don’t need to be labeled as someone we’re
not. Feel worthless and isolated? Join us ... end your life and begin anew with the “EGS”.
Every social encounter at work is as if it’s in slow motion now . . . knowing I’m gonna turn on all of you ... With each passing night I continue to shed away my human emotions. I’m
no longer bound to this pathetic world. Nothing matters anymore. All that matters is the
mission and finishing the massacre video.
Tick-tock . . . . 25 days . . . . In 25 days Weis markets will forever be tainted . . . In 25 days I’ll
be free from this filth of a body . . . In 25 days I’ll go into the history books . . . The human
race will remember my name for a century . . . . that is if Earth can keep up at bay for that
long . . . [evil face drawing]
I can’t wait to inhale the delicious scent of shock from everyone who knows me. I hope that
supermarket permanently closes after I’m through. That business is a fucking joke! I’ll spare
you the “bullshit” lecture because it’ll take me a year to write it all out. Just go fucking shop
at Wal-Mart; its literally 1,000 ft next to the store.
To all of the staff who get days off for this operation, you’re welcome; live it up, and be on
the lookout for Victoria and Christan’s ghosts throughout your shifts. I hope the surveillance
footage gets burned into the retinas of everyone in Tunkhannock and northeast Pennsylvania.
To my fans, I hope my voice gets permanently embedded in your thoughts. Just think ... in
those final moments before you fall asleep, I could be standing or floating over your body,
or in the darkest corners of your rooms .....
The longer you forget about me the more active I’ll be. If I can’t lay a finger on you I’ll haunt
your fucking dreams with gorey and vividly shocking imagery; and just before you awake in
terror, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish, drowning out the surrounding sounds with gruesome
and horrific laughter. I’ll be in your mirrors, in your windows, in your walls analyzing your
every mortal move. If you hear clawing and scratching noises behind your walls you’d better get the fuck out. I’m a very impatient girl ..... and believe me ... you don’t wanna know
what I’ll do to you . . . I might even overshadow you . . . . If you forget about me then you’re
fucking dead ... .
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/6/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I’m officially dubbing May 14 ✴March 14th✴58 as “Mackenzie West Day”. May starts with “M”
and “M” is short for “Mackenzie”. 14 is her favorite and spiritual number. It’s fucking perfect!
I love you so fucking much, M . . . . I want everyone to tell their closest friends how much
they appreciate them on 5/14; they could be here today and gone tomorrow . . . Mackenzie,
I’d plow you in the middle of the fucking street if I could. M, this is your day . . . . make it a
great one. On June 7th I will die for you ...
Love,
Andrew Blaze — AB
[Next to a drawing:] Together forever, no matter how long from now until the end of time ....
♥ ♥ ♥
[Signature:] Andrew Blaze",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,5/13/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I sit on my bed and I wanna cry ____
My life is over and I’m all dry ____
I did my best but no longer try ____
To be with my baby ____ I gotta ____ die ____
Why oh why is a simple change so much to ask?
There’s way too much I can’t erase
At the end of the night what do I have?
My precious visuals of Mackenzie’s face ____
All through the night and all through the day ____
Your soothing voice won’t let me stay ____
Now it doesn’t matter what I do ____
I gotta throw iIit aAaAlLlL ____ a ____ wayy ____
From your smooth white skin to your precious smile
Your voice is so sweet it makes me sad ____
Seems there’s nothing to do in this game called life ____
To get back the features that I once had ____
There’s still so much that I coulda done ____
I stand alone feeling black and blue ____
There’s nothing left for me to do ____
On June the 8th I will diEeEe for you ____
I tried so hard to make them smile ____
After nine long years its quite a shame ____
That once I’m dead and gone
You’ll all forget my naaammeee ____
So I guess it’s true all good things must end
I’ll leave this world no longer a guy
After 24 years it still makes me cryYyYy ____
Awaiting the daYayy ____ . . . we’d have to say ____ . . goodbye ____
I’m so ready to go . . . . . I’m dying . . . the desire is indescribable . . . . Seems like 65% of my
thoughts are about envisioning the final moments, the transition after dying, and the media’s
reaction to it all .. . . Time feels like molasses anymore .. . . It’s so fucking hard to wait until
June 7th . .. 3 weeks ..... that’s all that stands between me .... and my girls ......
Throughout the last few years there’s been this never ending tight jaded blood boiling stress
trapped in my chest. It’s like when you’re staring at the clock waiting for the bell to ring for
school dismissal . .. times a hundred ......
My entire state of mind has become shredded into ribbons . . . . Humans are virtually nonexistant .... They feel like a mirage ... the world seems like an abyss of nothingness outside
of Wilkes-Barre/Scranton. I feel like a cork that’s bobbing in a sea of darkness; no shoreline
near or afar ... I’ve almost completely shut down .... with each passing week another internal part fails .... I can’t be saved now .... It’s over ..... I’m on 3 weeks of borrowed time ....
that’s all . . .. and then im gone ... .
I want the smooth beautiful feminine white skin ... the slim and curvey build ... the beautiful long hair . . . . the sweet feminine voice . . . . I want it all . . . and I want it now . . . . I’m ready
for the transition . . . I’ve been away from it for 24 years .. . . I want it all back ... . .
I lived and died a virgin; can’t even say I’m surprised. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest,
Mackenzie’s my girl . . . . . 20 days . . . . . 20 days . . . 500 hours . . . . that’s it . . . . To think I’ve
been on this Earth for over 212,000 hours. Hey, if you wanna hit 1,000,000 hours you’d gotta
live to 115. FUCK THAT! Ughh . ..
I wonder how old my soul is . ... ? I could be 1,000 years old spiritually for all I know . ... or
I could just be 25 . . . . I know sooner than you think . . . . okay, humans . . . . gotta go . . . .. It’s
nearly noon; gotta get some dinner, have a beer, and go to bed. See you soon . ...
— AB",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,5/14/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I don’t want to eat anymore; I’m tired of it all .... I’ve had it all .... I don’t crave anything anymore .... I virtually live off of trail mix granola bars, water, pretzels, and Taco Bell/Wendy’s. I
don’t wanna eat anymore yet my body wants it every few hours. I’m 133 lbs; been that weight
for years. I don’t wanna put on weight either .... I wanna lose it .... losing weight would be
catastrophic at this point ... I have 17 days to live ....
My boss (Brian) has had enough of night shift, it’s literally just the two of us and Sam. I feel
bad vibes leaning towards him quitting before June 7th .... ohhh please just rough it, Brian
.. . You want a change, you’ll have your change .. . I can assure you that.
Assuming he survives I can almost guarentee he’d quit. I wonder how long the store will
be closed for . . . . knowing how fucking greedy Weis is they’ll reopen the following day. I
wanna trash the fucking place.
Outside on the patio theres a cage full of propane tanks. I’m gonna dig through the manager’s desk and see if I can find the key for the lock. If I can, it’ll be mass devastation. There’s
around 8–12 tanks in there. The key’s gotta be in that desk somewhere . . . . It’ll be a lot of
trial and error but I’m gonna try tonight on my break.
If I find the key, it changes everything. Imagine putting 2–3 in a shopping cart and pushing
it towards someone and shooting it with a slug. KABOOM! Flesh wounds for everyone! I’m
not holding my breath but I’m 75% sure that key is in there. I have a set of keys but there’s
no way that key is on there. Either way, the floor guy has a propane tank. Let’s hope the
fucker fills it.
I’m not fuckin’ around; I’m going in and doing my shit for 5–10 mins and getting the hell out
of this retarded fucking world. I almost don’t even care about blocking all the exits. Way I see
it, Victoria and Christen die, Brian and Terry59 get out. Whatever happens, happens; but I
aint leaving this world without bringing someone down with me ..... Somone’s gotta die .....
It’s sheer agony counting down the days. Each day feels slower than the last ..... I’m beyond
ready . . . . . Life’s like opening up a present the size of a big screen TV and finding a pebble
at the base of it .... All I ever expect is to have so much more ... I’m as stressed as much as I’ve ever been in my life right now .... I keep saying it’s as if there’s this dark and excruciating tightness in my chest . . .. It’s agony .. . . Just ... .
FUCK! — AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/18/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"“HELL”
Does hell even exist? I don’t buy it ... Do other religions have a hell? I was raised a catholic but
cut ties with it by college. I don’t even necessarily believe in “God”; I think a goddess created
life. I standby what I said about eternal squads; everyone belongs somewhere, spiritually.
Let’s say I kill two people on June 7th; I don’t believe I’d be sent to 10,000 years in hell for that,
not even for killing 100 people. I think it’s some fairy tale people made up to reduce crime.
I don’t believe Jesus Christ exists either. We have ZERO proof the Bible’s even real. There’s
zero evidence to prove me wrong. If by some sheer twist of fate all of the Bible, Heaven, and
Hell are real then so be it; I’d adapt to it.
Some souls are naturally “good”, some are naturally “evil” and some begin “good” and become “evil” (which is what you were before you were sent here (evil)). I almost can’t even
tell you when the anger started building up ..... If I had a guess it’d be late 2013/early 2014.
By mid 2014 I didn’t want to work anymore. I constantly envisioned hurting customers. In
September I got a full-time stock job at Wilkes-Barre General Hospital but quit after the
first day. It was a 2nd shift job (4–12:30am). I just didn’t fit there; the facility is enourmous.
There’s like 16–20 some floors and the stock could be for any floor and any supply closet.
I would’ve lost my mind by Christmas. Guess what? You load up a cart that’s like 8ft long
and 3ft wide; when it’s empty you gotta go all the back down to the basement loading dock
and rinse and repeat. It was also so easy to get lost; twists, bends, turns, and doors behind
doors to lord knows where .. .
That was where I hit rock bottom (when I quit); had no money coming in. That was a few
days before I filmed the opening scene of “Resurrection” with me and Ember in October 2014.
Somehow got my part-time job back at the store that week and then had the hand surgery
at the end of the month. Ten months later I got offered the night shift position (full-time).
Jeff signed the death warrents for Victoria and Christan that day.
So I’ve been a night shift manager since August 2015; almost 2 years. Anyways, I’m straying
away from the point . . . . during that job search from spring 2014 through September 2014
was when I legit started thinking about suicide. The anger and hatred for the world was
boiling like crazy. I got around five calls for jobs but I never answered my phone/responded
to emails. I didn’t want to work ANYWHERE. I took the night shift because I could still stay
at the store (I hate change/moving) so it was perfect.
At first it was alright but it quickly became overwelming with bullshit stress from management. Jay and Frank can rot in hell. The job isn’t hard, it just drags . . . . Non-order nights
feel like an eternity. I’ve long exhausted my music library. I listen to music for 4 out of the 8
hours that I work (8½ hour shift). I even listen to my suicide tapes for hours. The best part
is there’s no one to bother you. I’ve even had shifts where it was just me and the floor guy
(who leaves at 3 am) all night. It’s peaceful but man do I get bored. You level the store and
fill holes/do backstock on non-order nights. It gets old fast. Whatever .... 12 more shifts until it’s all over .... I wanted to try to test the keys out Saturday
but retard Sam sprained her foot getting off the step stool. I mean HONESTLY! How fucking retarded are you???
So being they’d be looking at the cameras that morning I didn’t wanna risk blowing it. The
cameras don’t cover the patio area but still, I wasn’t taking chances. I’ll do it Tuesday night.
As far as blocking the exits I almost don’t even care now. It all depends on where everyone’s
at and the size of the order. If it’s big and Brian’s gonna be in Aisle 01 for 90 mins, I’ll block
as many as possible because he’ll be on the floor the entire time (won’t crush his cardboard
until the aisle’s done). It all depends. I might just have to improvise if he’s finishing Aisle 1
by break. Either way, 1:35 is it .... once its 1:35 I’m storming in with Mackenzie and Rachael.
I need to see what time Victoria/Christan’s break ends (or might be lunch). Can’t be any
longer than 1:30. I’ll snoop around on Wednesday.
[In lefthand column:]
“Eat better”
“Spend less”
“That’s Weis”
[In righthand column:]
“Get pissed”
“Gear up”
“Have fun!”
I didn’t bring the camera today but I went shooting, practiced long range this time and actually did rather well. I stood behind the table (where I missed shooting with the slugs last
week). I didn’t walk away with unscathed targets this time [evil face drawing]. Completely
split some Arizona Tea jugs in half from that distance; I was stunned. I have enough 00
Buckshot left to go out two more times. I hate buying 250 rounds because it takes a week to
get here, plus like $20 shipping, uggghhh!
All the money that I intended to use on animators went towards amunition; way to go you
goddamn fuckers! You fucking blew it you worthless cunts .... I hope you’re kept up at night
over this . . . I hope everytime you animate guns you wince with flashbacks. I was patient
and nice, and you all FUCKED ME OVER .. .. Screw off ....
15 more days ..... It’s gonna feel like a dream when it all goes down .... part of me feels like
it’s gonna feel like an eternity whereas the other feels like it’ll feel like 2 minutes. I’m gonna
record the audio in my pocket on my iPhone. I probably won’t have a chance to post it so I
doubt any of you will ever hear it .... unless it gets leaked somehow ... .
My only goal is get in there, kill as many people as possible, damage what I can, and get
off this worthless planet; THE END ... I just know Brian’s gonna survive; he’s too far away.
Unless V and C60 are in Aisles 9–4, he’s probably getting out. It’s gonna be tight .... haha If
Brian were between 19 and 8 it’d be a different story . . . Aisles 8 and 9 are directly in front
of the main entrance (around 25–30 ft away). I expect V and C to be between 19 and 12.
They’ve been in 18/19 the last two times I checked on their break. No matter what they’re
fucking dead. I won’t miss. Worst case scenerio A) Victoria is in 18 and Christan’s in 19 B)
V is at one end of aisle, C at the other end C) They’re changing aisles and see me coming It’ll take around 2 minutes to gear up and put the face paint on, and move the car to block
the emergency exit by the bakery; move around 3–4 mins. I can’t wait to see the looks on
their faces.
One thought I had was to page everyone to an aisle and go to town there but I don’t know
. . .. I would have to somehow not be seen before making the page .. . not happening ....
That barrel is gonna be hot as fuck in my mouth (literally). That thing gets fucking hot.
Probably will end up firing around 30–40 rounds. You can fit 6 rounds in Mackenzie (5 in
the magazine and one in the chamber); Rachael might hold 8, I can’t remember. Gonna pack
some less recoil slugs for whatever. I don’t give a fuck what gets shot.
All I know is I’m bookin’ it to try and get Brian; he’s the jackpot and grand prize. Way I see
it, 25% chance he dies. I’m gonna have the time of my life after those first few shots are
fired. It’s a fucking free for all.
As far as the massacre video, I’m so over animation . . . . I can’t do it anymore . . . I don’t
have the will nor the patience . . . . It’s 85% done. Ughh I don’t wanna touch it anymore . . . .
Fucking 5 months of staring at that shit .... and it’s nothing spectacular, it just is what it is
.. . Alright .. . bed time for Andrew .... Good night, humans ...
— Andrew Blaze
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/20/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"No go on the keys, uggghhhh . . . . . . one on my key ring fit perfectly but couldn’t unlock it.
oh well . . . . . bummer . . . Plan B then; gonna load up a cart full of those little propane cans
and throw a shit load of lighter fluid containers in there. There’s a gas can in the back as
well . . .. we’ll see .... might not have time for that ....
I filmed some awesome shots yesterday with the shotguns (gearing up). Felt great returning
to my roots with the video camera. I’d write more but I’m fucking exhausted .... Two weeks
tonight . .. . and I’ll be dead . . . . unreal .. ..",1,Vague Discontent,Randy Stair's Journal,5/22/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I can’t do this anymore . . . . I’m physically and mentally exhausted . . . . I can’t animate anymore ... my body is quitting .... I even slept for 10 hours and can’t move .... I’m dying .... I
just don’t care anymore .... I’m ready to let go of everything ..... I’ll do some more shots in
Flash when I’m up for it over the next 12 days, but if the project has holes in it, I don’t even
care . . . . . I’m throwing in the towel . . . . . I did what I could . . . . . I’m gonna rest for most of
this morning and probably shoot later . . . I don’t know . . . . I’m ready to die . . . . 12 days . . . .
I’ll make it, but it’s gonna be tough . .. .
It definitely feels like the end too . . . every night it sinks in more and more . . . It’s an indescribable feeling . . . . I feel so weak . . . . Everything stresses me now . . . even the humans I
appreciate .... everything ... just ... SUCKS ..... my mind is now a never ending train thats
chugging down the tracks at mach 5 . . . . It’s like having ADD x10 . . . stuff’s always being
said ... song lyrics are constantly on repeat, singing in my head ... I want it to stop ... I’m so
fucking weak, humans . . . . so weak . . . I don’t want to eat anymore either . . . I’m physically and mentally dying .... I’m tired of fighting the world .... and in 12 days it’ll all be over .....
I’m 98% of the way there .... I just wanna sit under a blanket in a dark room ... I’m fading
fast . . . . no energy . . . no motivation . . . no nothing . . . All I care about now are my girls . . . .
that’s it . .. I’m just done .. ..
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/24/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I did one last good deed for my mom today by treating her to Olive Garden for lunch; my
brother too. It’s crazy to think that this is most likely my last legit restaurant meal . . . . . fast
food doesn’t count. I had chicken scampi and salad with two Miller Lites; amazing. Me and
mom were there (my brother stayed home), and we laughed and joked like we always do ....
it was nice . . .. It was the first time I ever treated her to a restaurant.
I can’t stop counting down the days .. . . It’s like waiting for a bomb to go off. Me and mom
went up to the shooting range and replaced the board that I was shooting targets off of. That
thing was blown to shreds by Mackenzie and Rachael. You can see the supports start to sag
and give in the last shooting video from Friday.
That guy was up there again; turns out he’s Jason’s father. He’s like, “You’re the kid I saw on
Friday! I went to your uncle and was like this kid was BLASTING off ammunition like crazy!”
Damn right I was HAHAHA! My uncle’s house is literally 50 yards behind the shooting
stand; Jason and his dad grow crops off to the side of the range. Guess now’s when they’re
up there every day.
As I said in the recordings, I’m getting bored of it now I think I’m done practicing .. . . . it’s
time for the real deal .... 11 more nights .... that’s it. It’s so weird knowing you’re gonna be
dead in a week and a half .. . . you interpret the subtlest things so differently .. . .
I’m ready .... And I know my heart’s gonna be racing around midnight that night .... but all
it takes is a brief moment of thought of the EGS and I’m ready to go. I’ve played everyone
perfectly up to this point; they don’t suspect a thing. I’m probably going to have to insert
some animatics into the massacre video because I’m just at the point now where I just don’t
care anymore. Laura hasn’t even emailed me since Tuesday, and she said she was gonna try
and get the rest of the lines to me that evening . ... sure ... big surprise . ... whatever, I like
Laura so it’s okay .. .. but dammit, I’m up against the clock here ... .
I listen to my suicide tapes every night at work, even more than music now (when I’m there).
I like hearing myself talk. One thing I do a lot is go into excrutiating detail on things, but
the reason for that is so you know exactly what it is I’m talking about took place (because I’ll
be dead and won’t be able to answer your questions about it). That’s why I go so in-depth
with details. I’ve always done that for that very reason. I knew in 2012 I’d be dead by 2018.
I can’t believe today marks the start of my final week on Earth alive ..... It’s surreal .... I need
to make every night count. The biggest thing left to do is write a will to my parents, because
I have so much shit that can’t just get “thrown away”. I also wanna record a video for them,
which I’ll include in the suicide tapes folder; I know there’s people who would wanna see
that. This week is big ... It’s the final home stretch. Everything needs to be in order by next
Monday morning at the latest. This is it. I can’t believe it.
The schedule for that week should be up soon, so I gotta be 100% sure everyone’s there that
night, It’s pretty funny, for the video I loaded Mackenzie and Rachael on film and since then Rachael’s been laying loaded under my bed. The safety’s on but I’m just waiting to wake up
or come home to a hole in the wall from a discharge hahaha! I originally kept Mackenzie
under there in case someone wanted to see the shotgun for whatever reason. I swapped
them after 2 weeks or so. I would’ve lied by saying I went to the dealer and bought a shorter
barrel; guarentee they would’ve believed it.
The hardest part is gonna be getting M and Rach and the ammunition in the car unnoticed.
I might have to do it on Tuesday ... . load it up that is .. .
I would NEVER risk carrying it all out the night of; that’s foolish. 80% of the time my mom’s
in the kitchen or living room (AKA 20 or 10 ft from the front door). I’ll have to figure out
their schedules for that week. As I said, maybe I’ll have to put it in the car all day Tuesday
AND Wednesday. I could just throw it in the trunk. That’s the safest bet.
That night I’ll quickly go down to the shed, and gather the two propane tanks; I think they’re
both half full. I’ll cover them with a winter coat in the car so Brian doesn’t see them. The
guns can stay in the trunk. It’s gonna be hard but I wanna bring in those propane tanks in
one shopping cart and bring out a gas tank from the back room (that’s pushing it though).
The best place to shoot them is in Aisle 12 where the mini propane cans and lighter fluid
products are, ✴KABOOM!✴ I’ll really need to keep my distance for that .... It’s gonna blow
the roof off. Yeah, fuck the gas can, that’s plenty. The good news is Aisle 12 is very close to
the main entrance (4 aisles away). The andrenaline’s gonna be flowin’ like crazy . ... I probably won’t even feel the kick from the shotguns. I’m so fucking excited for this .... The only
shitty thing is having to do it all so fast and by myself . . . . ✴sigh . . . . .✴ 11 more nights . . . .
and I’m home free . ... .
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/26/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I can’t wait to be a fuckin’ girl again. I can’t get the thoughts off my mind. Every time I see
hot girls I say “I used to have that” in my head . . . . I guess you can say I think about dying
and being female just as much, if not more than the average male human thinks about sex;
gotta be more at this stage of the game .... .
I’m hardly nervous about dying at this point. I’d be full of shit if I said I was fearless about
doing it, but every night I accept it more and more. Every night another part of me dies ....
I’m letting go of things . . . . The future is officially closed shut now; nothing’s left in store
for me alive on Earth.
I’ve also accepted the massacre video will be unfinished. I’m just done with animation. I’ll
add some animatics in there and call it a night. I’ll do that throughout the week so you can
see what I intended to do by September.
The essential stuff is on the mediafire page now except these journal entries; they’ll be last
to go. Still gonna dig through my hard drives some more and see what’s left that’s essential.
I don’t really believe in channeling spirits but I’d love for someone to try and channel me
after I’m dead. You know, like that channeling Erik channel?61 Message her and make it
happen, guys! I’ll have so much to say on the other side. My soul is forever young (never grown up). I’m forever destined to be 16–19, spiritually. I
have a female voice too. I can’t wait to get back home .... uggghhhh, I’m sooo close .... I can
guarentee you I’ll hug Mackenzie for 5 minutes when I see her. I hope Rachael is there too
.... I don’t know for sure which EGS characters are real and which ones are only made up in
my head .... they could all be real for all I know .... I hope ... could you imagine if Victoria
was in the squad unaware she’s going back after I kill her? That’d be sweet .. .
I wish I could know how much media attention this shooting will get .... I hope a shitload.
If anything it would help open people’s eyes.
Part of me still doesn’t believe that I’m about to do this in 9 days .... As I said, it doesn’t take
much to get me motivated for it. Once that first shot is fired I’ll probably rapidly lose complete
control of my sanity and emotions, laughing at the devastation. That facility’s kicked by ass
for 7 years ... and now ... it’s my turn, bitch ....
I see cops passing the store on the road every once in a while. There’s a police station like
2 miles from there. I guarentee Brian will get a call out; part of me hopes so you can hear
it on the tape. I’m gonna record it all anyway but that would NEVER air. I’d have no time to
send it anywhere.
I hope I inspire more shootings, big or small. This is pretty small scaled but alone it’s decent.
That order better be fucking decent that night. I need pallets to block those fucking doors,
man! I hope Weis loses 50–75% of its customers after this and goes out of business there. I
hope people feel uneasy and vulnerable in there after this. As of right now ... Weis Markets
is officially Columbine High School .. ...
I’m gonna destroy Victoria’s head. She’ll be completely beyond recognition. I want Brian
to die the fastest; he’s been through enough . . . . but I still see him surviving . . . wish I had
longer range weapons but being there’s so many displays in there, it’d be just as hard as
shooting slugs across the building; theres hardly any clear shots. I fucking hope I shoot
Victoria first. With each shot I’ll feel release and spiritually closer to going home. I need to
be fast so no one gets away or hides; I don’t have the time to search 4–5 department storage
coolers (behind the counters); deli, seafood, bakery, meat, produce.
I’m fucking fast but finding two people would be a bitch. It’s all up to fate; I could plan this
for 45 years and still have something unexpected happen. HaHaHa, could you imagine me
as a 70 year old? No ..... .. FUCK THAT!
If it’s possible I’d love to meet dead celebs. Freddie Mercury, John Lennon, George Harrison,
Elvis Presley (might be alive [drawing of face with tongue out]), Kevin Dubrow, Wes Craven,
Ryan Dunn, Robin Williams, Leslie Nielson, Janis Joplin, Eric Harris, Dylan Klebold, Adam
Lanza, Lee Harvey Oswald, Timothy McVeigh, Rachel Scott (Columbine victim). I’m probably
forgetting some fave’s but that’s all I have for now. Gotta get some sleep ..... Good night .....
— AB",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/28/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"I am two seconds away from murdering Laura. I sent you the Rachael lines in the first week
of fucking March and you STILL haven’t recorded it all! The video’s going out Wednesday
night and now you’ve ignored me for an entire week. If you screw me on this Laura, I’ll
haunt you in your fucking sleep ..... I thought you were cool .... but you’re just as worthless
as everyone else on this putrid planet! Seriously, thanks for nothing! I’d ask for my money back but guess what?! [In increasingly large handwriting:] I’m fucking dying Wednesday
night! You’re an unreliable cunt bitch, Laura! I trusted you! I was patient but just fuck off!!!
You make me feel like I don’t even fucking matter! Thanks for nothing!
I’m fucking done with EVERYONE! Slit your fucking throats! You’re worthless! Laura, Reira,
the animators, Damian, EVERYONE CAN FUCK OFF! You’re so goddamn “busy” aren’t ya??
You’re fucking pathetic. Thanks for tainting my final production you good for nothing cunts!
I still have some respect for yous (not animators; they can die) but you fuckin blew it. Damian, get the fuck off your ass and get a “REAL” job. You’re a worthless lazy sack of shit. A
fucking MONTH to record wat ... like 8 lines??! Not even! Like 3 lines. WTF EVER! I hope
you kill yourself in the next 3½ years.
I hardly I just — FUCK! I’m done ... I’m fucking done ... I’m gonna add animatics in there
and just fucking call it. Thanks for nothing! I wrote loving/caring emails for you’s (Damian/
Laura) but now I feel like I wasted an hour of my life typing them. Damian I can still forgive
and respect but Laura I paid for voiceovers. FUCK OFF!
I’m done ... I need to go to bed for the 5th to last time. I can’t stand relying on people. Makes
you feel like you don’t even fucking matter. Seriously, Laura . . . .. 2½ months and not even
85% of the VO recorded/sent? You’re worthless. Good fuckin night!
— AB
Andrew Blaze",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,5/29/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"This will be my last entry .... I need to finish up everything and get it all uploaded by tomorrow afternoon. Laura fucking screwed me over with Rachael’s voice over; still missing the
rhyming portion. Fucker hasn’t emailed me back for over 12 days. She’s fucking dead. 2½
months of being patient and you fuck me over like that??! Drop fucking dead .. . .
I’m so ready to die. Two more full nights and that’s it. I’ve officially accepted that Wednesday
night will be the death of me. Everything around me seems to have faded away. It’s felt as
if I’m the last soul alive on this planet for the last week . . . . I see people but they feel like
an illusion. I’ve never felt so distant from society . . . . and I love it. Nothing feels the same
anymore; my perspectives on everything are different.
I wish I started writing this journal back in 2013 .... So many things have changed .... I’ve
never felt so close to returning back to my spiritual body . . . the girl in me is clawing to get
out. 62 more hours .... that’s the only thing standing in my way .... I can almost feel Mackenzie holding me in her arms . . ..
You will never fully understand the desire to be who you truly are . . . I need my spiritual
body back . . . I’d kill my entire family if I was forced to. I just know I’ll be in the deepest
state of bliss when I get back to that body . . . . I know Mackenzie will be there . . . . Rachael
will be there ... maybe Froggy too .... All of that pressure, stress, and tension will be lifted.
I’ll be looking down at those who I’ve inspired, and look to seeing what you create in your
lives. Don’t ever forget about me . . . . promise me that. I’ll haunt your dreams if you drift
away from me .... I’ll be there for you if you truly believe in me .... I can promise you that. You don’t need fancy gadgets to make something awesome; you just need your will, passion,
and determination. Don’t force creative inspiration; let it come naturally. Patience goes a
long way ... I know how hard it is to work on big projects and having to spend months to a
year of time on it . .. It’s never easy ... .
I hope I’ve brought a smile to your face at some point in your lives; whether it be on PioneersProductions, gaming videos, Ember’s Ghost Squad, in person, or even just through
simple social media messages.
I’ll never forget those who changed my life. I can’t thank you all enough ... Maybe I’ll se some
of you’s soon . . . . Remember, life can always be worse; somewhere out there there’s always
someone worse off than you. Hopefully you’ll be able to rediscover yourselves through simpler
times. It’s time for me to go ..... Thank you .... I’ll always remember you ..... Farewell .....",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Journal,6/5/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/stair_journal_1.0.pdf,Randy Stair
"Andrew Blaze was born on September 17, 1992 as Randy Stair. From the night he was born, to the day he died, Randy was an isolated individual who never seemed to fit in anywhere.
He made friends throughout his early grade school years but never seemed to be able to hold onto lengthy relationships. He never dated once in his life, remained a virgin, and would
usually only speak when spoken to. However, what people didn't know were the dark and sinister thoughts that circulated through his head. Randy may have been quiet around friends
and classmates, but alone he was an entirely different person.
Very similar to Rachael Shadows' mind, Randy's
was one that could easily be considered mentally unstable. People were often convinced he had a personality
disorder, was gay, an introvert, or a total screwball. Whether those assumptions were true or false, Andrew
makes it very clear in the opening theme song for ""EGS"" that he doesn't care what people think. In his final
years of life he began documenting his thoughts and intentions on cassette tapes and private journals;
eventually changing his name to Andrew. Many friends questioned why he opted for a name change out of the
blue. Some viewed it as a persona, others as a fantasy act. What the teens weren't aware of was the veil that
masked the monster on the inside.
While the tapes are still surfacing to this day Andrew's intentions reach far beyond the common stereotypical
teenage rebellion lashes toward society. In September 2014 he began documenting his intentions to unleash
an attack on the local town, and eventually escalating to the entire world itself. He frequently mentions the
""EGS"" and the need for souls, although it isn't fully known how he knows of the ghost squad. While the tapes
reveal chilling details as to what is potentially ahead, his intentions are often left up for debate as to what he is
going to do vs what he wants to do. In ""A Promise Kept"", it isn't fully revealed whether or not Andrew carried
out the morbid deed while he was alive or in the afterlife with the ""EGS"". There is a lot to learn about Andrew
Blaze and her contributions to the squad, but for now questions will have to remain unsolved until further
evidence surfaces.

Traits
- Irritable - Conspirator - Trustworthy - Loud - Depressive - Vulgar/Crude - Assertive -
Agressive - Hypnotic - Rebellious - Bipolar - Responsible - Artistic - Seductive - Rhythm Guitarist - Sexist - Racist - Discriminant - Prejudiced - Player -
Creative - Expressive - Lazy - Cunning - Hard-Working - Over-Thinker - Reluctant to Major Changes - Openminded - Short-tempered - Cautious - Inspirational
 - Deceitful - Envious - Passionate - Impatient - Independent - Uncaring - Killjoy - Strong

Biggest Pet Peeves and Turn-Offs (Mortal)
- Crying children - Bullies - Humans getting in my way - Stupid humans - Cheaters - Players - Not being able to get what I want - Humans trying to tell me what to do
and/or manipulate me - Musicians; mainly for relying on digital tricks to sound “good”. - The human race in general - Studying - Black people lingo and street terms -
Black people in general - Having to be “nice” to people - Politicians - Babies - Drama queens - Overachieving disrespectful athletes - Cats - Homosexual males -
Disabled humans - Education - Audible noises of humans fucking - Jocks - Boys with low-rise pants and baggy clothes - Waking up early - Alarm clocks - Annoying
sounds in commercials - When humans leave the toilet seat up - Slow drivers - Old humans (60+) - Cold water - Cold weather - Snoring - Insects - Video Gamers
 - Not being able to fall asleep - Lazy humans - Chatterboxes - Potholes - Humans with short hair - Kids (aged 0 - 11) - Acne - Body hair - Curly hair - Gingers
 - Artists (because they’re all fucking assholes) - People who “act” inspirational and only do it for attention - Money whores - Businessmen - Cops - Slow internet -
Computer issues/troubleshooting - Most 2010-present day technology - Over-stylized cars - Pot smokers - Hard drug users - Wrist cutters - Suck-ups -
Wannabes/Ripoffs - Famous people who aren’t talented - People who aren’t talented and think they’re talented - Body deformities - Short girls - Girls with big lips -
Sluts - Men in general - Any figure of authority - Spilled beer/spilled beverages - Toilets - Sex jokes - Bumpy roads - Snow covered roads - Injuring myself - Piss
and shit - Gatherings, family get-togethers, parties - Rap music - People who think rap is “real music” - Autotune’d vocals and/or instruments - Liars - When people
ignore me on social media - When people ignore me on social media and act like they “forgot” about my messages - Animators - Voice over demo reels - Musicians who
know nothing about music production and just take for granted that some guy creates their songs for them. - Artists who don’t write their own songs (are given songs) - Artists
who don’t write their own songs and get in the top charts - Bands who use prerecorded backing tracks “live” - Singers who lip-sync live - People who are talented and ignore
me - Short message responses to lengthy composed emails - People who take too long to send me voice overs or footage - Social media whores - Parking lots

Favorite Colors
Black, Blue, and Purple
Mortal Views On Death
“Being able to become who you truly are, and do whatever the hell you want.",1,Specific Threats,Randy Stair's Website,6/8/2015,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Randy_Stair_Website.pdf,Randy Stair
"To Whom It May Concern:

My life is now going to pot. I am going to eliminate certain people from this world. Those people are:
Mrs. Wright
Mr. Bronson
and any other sucker who gets in my way.
I am then going to kill myself so as not to be imprisoned. I am not insane but just strictly fed up with life. I am not getting myself anywhere and it's my fault.

I love my parents and my family and I know that they love me.

Michael Peter Stobodian.",1,Planned Violence,Michael Slobodian's Suicide Note,5/28/1975,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Slobodian_suicide_note.pdf,Michael Slobodian
"Rachel,
 It’s January 24, 2004 and you’re leaving home. This time, I have a feeling you’ll be gone
for a long time. Next thing you’ll know, I’ll be out of here! Life goes by quick. This letter is just to
say good-bye, and I can’t wait to end up with something like Mom and her siblings have, with
you, Jay and Matt. Me and you have been hanging out lately, but I can’t wait for the future. Just
think about ten years from now. What will you do? Where will you live? Will you have kids? Be
married? These questions apply for me, Jay and Matt too. Will you be Aunt Dex? LOL. What
about thirty years from now? Will we all have kids? Will they get along? Who knows we’ll
find out soon enough.
 Love,
 Jon",1,Vague Discontent,Jon Romano's Letter to His Sister,6/26/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Romano_letter_sister.pdf,John Romano
"I’m just too afraid of the future. I could do all I’ve planned, but then what if some bum gets a
gun and shoots me? What if there’s a huge war? What if terrorists strike and I lose family? What
if some fuck up kidnaps me, rapes me, tortures me, then kills me? Too much I’m afraid of. I’ve
had issues the majority of my life. I still do, obviously. But I hoped I would get better and
become a state trooper. I don’t ask for help, because what if I get better, then can’t be a cop?
That’s all I want to do. But now I’m just too afraid. I believe whatever I believe will happen in
the after-life, will happen. When I die I’m going to heaven. I’m NOT A MONSTER. I’ve been
happy for a while, but it wasn’t true happiness, I just made it seem that way. Who should you
blame? SOCIETY.
My mom wanted to believe I was better, and I made it seem that way.
Dr. Mooney couldn’t even see this coming. Christina just thought maybe suicide. Oh YEA, blame
Four Winds. Those bastards were horrible. I faked my happiness to get out. My dad treated my
family like shit, back in the day. Now he’s better, but the past hurts. He also told me I had no
way of being a fireman when I was about ten or eleven.
 FAMILY
Mom – I love you. You treated me like a King. Thank you for everything. It’s not your fault.
Dad – You use to hit me, and you beat Matt a lot. Wouldn’t be surprised about you hitting Jay.
Have a good few years.
Jay – You were my father figure. Why do you think I played the bass? To be like you! I love you.
Sometimes I acted like you were a bad bro, that was just in my head. You were a great brother.
Thank you.
Matt – We never really talked till I started Asheron’s Call. Ever since then, it’s been great. You
too were a role-model to me. I love you. Thanks.
Rachel – You lived with me the longest of the siblings. You were a GREAT sister! Tell Kayla and
Tasha I said Good-Bye! They’re great people. I LOVE YOU! 
Lee – My cousin, we probably would’ve had a future together. We could’ve been like Kwinn and
Kerri. Have fun with life, stay out of trouble.
Aunt Donna + Uncle Hooch – You two were great to me. Aunt Donna giving me rides, and
Uncle Hooch being my good friend. Remember when you invited everyone to Vermont? That
was great. Playing Risk, I partnered with Hooch because he’s the God Father! Good times.
Thanks. LOVE
Jesse – We never really talked, but you offered help for me at HVCC. It was great talking with
you at the wedding.
Kwinn + Elizabeth – Wow, you two are great people! Kwinn gave me my first swiss army knife.
That had no bad effect though, don’t worry! Sorry for the incident at Hatch Lake. If you two ever
need financial help, go to my mom. It’s one of my last wishes that she helps you two. Love you!
Uncle Scott + Aunt Lyn – Thanks for always having X-mas parties and Thanksgiving parties.
Fun times.
Kristi – Lil cous, I don’t know how much you’ll remember of me, but I just want you to know
I’m not an evil person. I don’t want you to look back and think that I was. In a few years, I hope
you’ll start to understand.
To all other family – I’m sorry.
 FRIENDS
Christina – Wow, you were a huge part of my life. You’re my babygirl, and I love you with all
my heart. So sorry. Too many memories to say
Kelli – IDK what to say. Thanks for the good times
“GPF” – some of you were good friends. some weren’t
Good-Bye, and good luck in life.
Brad – You had issues, so do I. That’s why we fought. But now, we’re friends again. Thanks for
the good times. I love you like a brother.
Mike – You’re lucky, don’t fuck things up.
Barry – You have issues. get some help
Amy – You were one of the people that made me think, thanks. Love you
Jessica – We haven’t talked lately, but thanks for the friendship 
Jenny – You were the first girl I cared about. Too bad we never hooked up. But I remember you
kissed me on the cheek after a dance once. Hehe.
 People I Hate
Mrs. Greer – Brad can explain. Bitch
Mr. Cranell – Liar FUCK YOU
Jeff McCabe – Talk shit behind my back. Fuck you, I hope you rot in Hell.
There’s other friends and people I hate,
but it’s time to watch “Bowling for Columbine”
 I’M SORRY

 I WISH IT Was DIFFERENT
 wait look on next page 
I’ve been watching Bowling for Columbine.
How am I different than what the media says school shooters are?
TV I watch: Jay Leno, Conan O’Brien, Family Guy, SNL, Mad TV, Simpsons,
Law and Order, Monk, and others. oh, South Park! Man Show (Jimmy + Ad
Music: Country music! Toby Keith!
Movies: ok, movie I watch have some violence. Groose Pointe Blank, South Park, The
Frighteners, Cruel Intentions, Animal House, Blown Away, 10 Things I Hate About You (yes a
chick flick) and others, just ask my friends.
I like to laugh! Comedies are good!
I’m not what the media says I should be.
But why Columbia (other than I hate it for obvious reasons)? About eleven months ago, I was in
Four Winds. I told a couple people (Barry, Brad) because they wouldn’t care. But I guess
everyone knew. And one day, Four Winds received a fax about people from Columbia saying
that I said “I am going to kill myself and no one can stop me.” I figure that’s why I was there
longer than I should have. So Columbia, IT’S YOUR FAULT",1,Planned Violence,Jon Romano's Letter the Day of His Attack,2/9/2004,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Romano_letter_day_of_attack.pdf,John Romano
"To the Editor,
My name is Jon Romano and on February 9th, 2004, I was the Columbia High School shooter. I
would appreciate if you printed my following message about school shootings. Also be sure to
print all of it, and not changed around.
To the readers,
My name is Jon Romano, and at seventeen years old I’m at Clinton Correctional Facility. On
February 9th, 2004, I was the shooter at Columbia High School. It was the worst mistake I ever
made, and now I want to make sure others don’t make the same mistake. For the readers that are
still students, life can feel hard, I know. You might have plenty of problems and be having a
horrible time. But I want you to remember, when it comes to suicide or homicide, it’s a
permanent answer to a temporary problem. There’s other ways of doing things. Talking to
someone, a therapist, priest or another religious figure (even if you’re not religious they’ll help).
If medication ends up being best for you, find the right one for you, and stay on it even when
you feel better.
Also remember things don’t always go the way you plan. I just wanted to commit suicide and
ended up with a twenty year prison sentence. I never expected to end up in prison, I didn’t plan
leaving that school alive. So never risk doing something that might have you end up in prison
because things might happen differently than you expect.
I learned a lot of things once my freedom was taken away. The most important thing is how
precious life is. I learned how to appreciate everything, enjoy the simple pleasures in life, and
how to make the best of things. I was sixteen years, three months and ten days old when I got
arrested. The smallest amount of time I have to do in prison is seventeen years, one month and
four days. But you know what, I’m making the best of it. It was said that I “studied” Columbine and was trying to repeat it. That’s just ridiculous. Plenty
of things were said by the D.A. that were ridiculous, like that I wasn’t sorry. I’ve prayed for all
those who were affected on that day. I’ve apologized to many, and been forgiven by many more.
I now pray for those killed, wounded, and for the family of all those affected in the latest
shooting in Minnesota.
Please nobody follow in mine or other’s footsteps by bringing a weapon to school. Please don’t
even try to take your own life. Life is too precious whether you notice or not. Always remember
if you hurt yourself or others, you’ll also be hurting your family and loved ones or theirs.
Jon Romano",1,Specific Threats,Jon Romano's Letter After His Attack,6/26/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Romano_letter_after_attack.pdf,John Romano
"Hi. Elliot Rodger here.
Well, this is my last video, it has all had to come to this. Tomorrow is the day of retribution,
the day in which I will have my revenge against humanity, against all of you. For the last
eight years of my life, ever since I hit puberty, I’ve been forced to endure an existence of
loneliness, rejection and unfulfilled desires all because girls have never been attracted to
me. Girls gave their affection, and sex and love to other men but never to me.
I’m 22 years old and I’m still a virgin. I’ve never even kissed a girl. I’ve been through college for two and a half years, more than that actually, and I’m still a virgin. It has been very
torturous. College is the time when everyone experiences those things such as sex and fun
and pleasure. Within those years, I’ve had to rot in loneliness. It’s not fair.
You girls have never been attracted to me. I don’t know why you girls aren’t attracted to me,
but I will punish you all for it. It’s an injustice, a crime, because . . . I don’t know what you
don’t see in me. I’m the perfect guy and yet you throw yourselves at these obnoxious men
instead of me, the supreme gentleman.
I will punish all of you for it. [laughs] On the day of retribution I’m going to enter the hottest
sorority house of UCSB. And I will slaughter every spoiled, stuck-up, blond slut I see inside
there. All those girls I’ve desired so much, they would have all rejected me and looked down
upon me as an inferior man if I ever made a sexual advance towards them [scoffs] while they
throw themselves at these obnoxious brutes. I’ll take great pleasure in slaughtering all of you.
You will finally see that I am in truth the superior one. The true alpha male. [laughs] Yes.
After I’ve annihilated every single girl in the sorority house, I will take to the streets of Isla
Vista and slay every single person I see there. All those popular kids who live such lives of
hedonistic pleasures while I’ve had to rot in loneliness for all these years. They’ve all looked
down upon me every time I tried to go out and join them, they’ve all treated me like a mouse.
Well now I will be a god compared to you. You will all be animals. You are animals and I
will slaughter you like animals. And I will be a god. Exacting my retribution on all those
who deserve it. You do deserve it. Just for the crime of living a better life than me. All you
popular kids, you’ve never accepted me, and now you will all pay for it. And girls, all I ever
wanted was to love you, and to be loved by you. I’ve wanted a girlfriend, I’ve wanted sex,
I’ve wanted love, affection, adoration. You think I’m unworthy of it. That’s a crime that can
never be forgiven.
If I can’t have you, girls, I will destroy you. [laughs] You denied me a happy life, and in turn,
I will deny all of you life. [laughs] It’s only fair.
I hate all of you. Humanity is a disgusting, wretched, depraved species. If I had it in my
power, I would stop at nothing [points finger at camera] to reduce every single one of you to
mountains of skulls and rivers of blood. And rightfully so.
You deserve to be annihilated and I’ll give that to you. You never showed me any mercy and
so I will show you none. [laughs]
You’ve forced me to suffer all my life and now I’ll force you all suffer. I’ve waited a long
time for this. I’ll give you exactly what you deserve. All of you. All you girls who rejected me
and looked down upon me and you know, treated me like scum while you gave yourselves
to other men. And all of you men, for living a better life than me, all of you sexually active
men, I hate you. I hate all of you. I can’t wait to give you exactly what you deserve. Utter
annihilation. [laughs",1,Grievance Airring,"Elliot Roder's ""Retribution"" Video",5/22/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_video_1.0.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Introduction
 Humanity… All of my suffering on this world has been at the hands of humanity, particularly women.
It has made me realize just how brutal and twisted humanity is as a species. All I ever wanted was to fit
in and live a happy life amongst humanity, but I was cast out and rejected, forced to endure an existence
of loneliness and insignificance, all because the females of the human species were incapable of seeing
the value in me.
 This is the story of how I, Elliot Rodger, came to be. This is the story of my entire life. It is a dark story
of sadness, anger, and hatred. It is a story of a war against cruel injustice. In this magnificent story, I will
disclose every single detail about my life, every single significant experience that I have pulled from my
superior memory, as well as how those experiences have shaped my views of the world. This tragedy did
not have to happen. I didn’t want things to turn out this way, but humanity forced my hand, and this
story will explain why. My life didn’t start out dark and twisted. I started out as a happy and blissful
child, living my life to the fullest in a world I thought was good and pure…
Part One
A Blissful Beginning
Age 0-5
 On the morning of July 24th, 1991, in a London hospital, I was born. I breathed in the first breath of
life as I entered this world, weighing only 5.4 pounds. My parents must have been filled with happiness
and pride that day. They had just witnessed the birth of their first child, and they named me Elliot Oliver
Robertson Rodger.
 I was born to young parents. My father, Peter Rodger, was only 26 when he impregnated my mother,
Chin, who was 30. Peter is of British descent, hailing from the prestigious Rodger family; a family that
was once part of the wealthy upper classes before they lost all of their fortune during the Great
Depression. My father’s father, George Rodger, was a renowned photojournalist who had taken very
famous photographs during the Second World War, though he failed to reacquire the family’s lost
fortune. My mother is of Chinese descent. She was born in Malaysia, and moved to England at a young
age to work as a nurse on several film sets, where she became friends with very important individuals in
the film industry, including George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. She even dated George Lucas for a short
time.
 My mother and father had been married for a couple of years before my mother became pregnant
with me. In fact, her pregnancy was an accident. She had been taking pills to prevent pregnancy, but
when she visited my father on one of his film sets, she fell ill and the medication she took for that illness
thwarted the effect of the anti-pregnancy pills, and so their lovemaking during this period resulted in my
life.
 Only a couple of months after my birth, I went on my first vacation. My parents took me on a boat to
France. I was already a traveler! Of course, I have no memories of this trip. My mother said that I cried a
lot. At the time that I was born, my mother and father were living in a house in London, but shortly after
my birth they decided to move to the countryside. We moved to a large house made of red brick in the
county of Sussex, with vast grass fields surrounding it. The house even had a name: The Old Rectory.
This was where I spent my early childhood, the first five years of my life, and it was beautiful. The
memories I have of this period are only memories of happiness and bliss.
 My father was a professional photographer at the time, just in the stage of becoming a director. My
mother gave up her nursing career to stay at home and look after me. My grandma on my mother’s side,
who I would call Ah Mah, moved in with us to help out my mother. I would spend a lot of time with Ah
Mah during these years.
 This was a time of discovery, excitement, and fun. I had just entered this new world, and I knew
nothing of the pain it would bring me later on. I enjoyed life with innocent bliss. I can remember playing
in the fields and going on long walks with Ah Mah to pick berries. She would always warn me not to
touch the stinging nettles that sometimes grew in our fields, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I
got stung a few times. There was a swing in the back of our yard, which I had many good times on.
 The first birthday I remember was my 3rd birthday. My parents threw a party for me in our field. I had
a helicopter birthday cake. I can remember one of my friend’s parents cutting off the first piece and
giving it to my friend. I threw a tantrum because I was expecting to get the first piece… It was my
birthday after all. My father bought me a toy tractor that I could ride around in, and I would play with it
all the time after that.
 Sometime after my 3rd birthday, we all went on a vacation to Malaysia, my mother’s home country. I
have only flashes of memory of that vacation. I enjoyed it very much. We visited a few of my mother’s
relatives.
 For preschool, I was enrolled at Dorsett House, an upscale all-boys private school in the countryside,
near where we lived. I was forced to wear a uniform, which I hated because I had to wear
uncomfortable socks up to my knees. I was very nervous and I cried on my first day there. I can
remember two friends I made by name, George and David. I would always play in the sandpit with them.
 I didn’t like school at Dorsett House very much. I found the rules to be too strict. My least favorite
part of it was the football sessions. I never understood the game and I could never keep up with the
other boys in the field, so I always stood by the goal-keeper and pretended to be the “second goalkeeper”. My favorite part was playing in the woods after lunch. There was a particular climbing structure
that I had a lot of fun with.
 My preschool class once went on a field trip to the park, where I had the misfortune of getting lost.
As my class was eating lunch, I ventured off to another area of the park, and when I returned, my class
had moved on. I remember panicking and asking strangers for help. It was a terrifying experience for
me. I was eventually led to my class by the strangers I talked to.
 I remember one funny incident when we were taking school pictures. They forced us to sit crosslegged, which I hated doing, so I absolutely refused to sit that way for the picture. The teachers
eventually conceded, and the picture was taken with me being the only one sitting differently.
 The holiday season was the best part of the year for me. It must have been very cold in England, but I
don’t remember the cold. I just remember how much fun I had. I was filled with joy when it started
snowing outside – I loved playing in the snow. My father helped me build a snowman once. We would
start with little snowballs, and roll them around our field until we formed the body, and then we would
decorate it.
 During Christmas, my parents always had parties and gatherings. My father’s best friend, Christopher
Bess, who was also my godfather, came to our house frequently. We would often go to my father’s
parent’s house in Smarden, Kent. I would call my grandmother on my father’s side “grandma Jinx”. My memories of my grandfather, George Rodger, are faint; he had fallen very ill at this period. My father’s
brother, uncle Jonny, had a son one year younger than me, who was named George, after my
grandfather. I always played games with cousin George in grandma Jinx’s garden. The two of us got
along well.
 On New Year’s Eve our neighbors once set up a bonfire party in the field next to our house. I was
fascinated by how big the fire was. I had never seen anything like it, and it astounded my little mind. This
was also the first time I saw fireworks. My father gave me one of those sparklers to play with, which I
was enraptured by.
 There was one very special place that my father would often take me to. It was at the top of a range
of beautiful rolling hills that I termed the “London Hills”, because I thought that London was on the
other side of them. We would go there to fly kites. I can remember these experiences vividly. The hills
were full of tall straw-like grass, and the weather was always windy – perfect for kite flying.
 It was a time of utmost happiness and joy for me. My father taught me to fly a kite by myself. The
wind was so strong that I feared it would lift up my frail little body and carry me into the clouds. Once I
got the hang of it, it was exhilarating. We would fly our kites together and run with the wind. I will never
forget that place.
 My favorite childhood film was The Land Before Time. I used to watch that movie all the time with Ah
Mah. It was about a baby dinosaur named Littlefoot who had just lost his mother and was journeying
through a dangerous world to find the “Great Valley”, a land of prosperity and peace. I remember the
feeling of utter sadness I felt during the scene when his mother died, and the triumphant and happy
emotions that swept over me when he finally discovered the Great Valley, after going through all the
hardship to get there. I watched this movie so many times that just thinking about it brings the emotions
back. It was a big part of my childhood.
 Already a world traveler, I went on a trip to Spain with my parents and my parent’s friends Patrick
and Lupe. It was the fourth country I’ve been to at such a young age. We stayed in an exquisite castlelike house that I believe was owned by a friend of ours. The house had a tower that I was extremely
curious about. At one point, my parents and their friends ventured up to the top of it, but they made me
stay below because I was too young. I was sorely disappointed. As they were climbing the tower I went
outside to look at the cacti surrounding the house. These cacti also sparked my curiosity, and I foolishly
decided to touch a cactus. I ended up getting cactus needles all over my hand, and it took a long time for
my mother to remove them.
 Shortly after my trip to Spain, we went on another trip to Greece. We stayed at a hotel near the
beach. It was very hot there. The weather was new to me, as I was used to the cold British climate.
 The trip to Greece was significant because during this time, my father received the news of the death
of my grandfather George Rodger. He died of natural causes on my 4th birthday, at the age of 87. It was
the first experience I had of the death of a close relative, and the first time I saw my father cry. My 4
year old self could not imagine my father ever crying, and so when I saw him cry that day, I knew how
shaken he was. It was a very sad day for all of us. We immediately flew home.
 I believe that it was during the time after my 4th birthday that my father came to the decision to
eventually move to the United States. As he was just becoming a director, he believed Los Angeles
would offer more opportunities. We took a short trip to California to gain an initial look at it. I don’t
remember much of this trip, but I do remember having a good time. At the age of 4, I, Elliot Rodger, had
already been to six different countries. Who can claim that, eh? The United Kingdom, France, Spain,
Greece, Malaysia, and the United States. t was also during this time that my mother became pregnant again. I was going to have a sibling. My
parents decided to have another baby, this pregnancy being planned, so that I can have a sibling to grow
up with. We later discovered it was going to be a girl.
 Before my 5th birthday, my mother went into labor to deliver the baby. I can remember the night
vividly. I was very ill that night, a bad omen. I stayed at home with Ah Mah while my mother and father
were at the hospital, and we watched movies together. I was fraught with anticipation the whole time.
And then my parents came back late in the night, and with them they brought a little black-haired baby
wrapped in a bundle. I had a baby sister, and they named her Georgia.

 I have no memories of what happened on my 5th birthday. Shortly after it, we were making plans to
permanently move to the United States. The news excited me, but I was sad at the prospect of leaving
my life in England behind. My father took a short trip to the U.S. by himself to scout out houses. I
remember talking on the phone to him while he was there. He told me he found a very nice house for us
to move to. I asked him if it had a swimming pool, and he said it did. This news made me very happy.
 And then the time came. We started packing everything up at the Old Rectory. On my last day at
Dorsett House school, my teacher was giving all of us candies when my mother came to pick me up
early. I said goodbye to all the friends I had there. That was the last time I saw them.
 My father was given the offer to buy the Old Rectory for about 400,000 Pounds (we were only renting
it at the time), but he declined, a decision he would regret later on, as it would have been a worthy
investment.
 I cried as we drove away from the Old Rectory. All the experiences I had there; playing in the fields,
driving my toy tractor, tending to my garden, going on walks with Ah Mah, swinging on the swing; all
those experiences were gone. I was about to start a new life. We boarded the plane and took off to
America.",1,Grievance Airring,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Part 2
Growing up in America
Age 5-9
The plane ride was like a dimension between worlds. I was about to enter a whole new world. A
whole new life. But none of that went through my little 5 year old head at the time. I slept for most of
the journey there, and I can remember looking out the window at the vast stretch of clouds below us. I
wondered what it would be like to go down there and run along them as if they were a landmass, not
thinking about the fact that I would fall right through!
When we arrived in America, I was very tired. We collected our luggage and loaded them onto a new
SUV that my father rented. The image of us driving out of the airport is still fresh in my mind. I often
think of it as my first step into my new life in the U.S.
I was so sleepy when we reached our new house that I didn’t even bother to look around yet. The
house was partly furnished, and we already had a sofa and a television. The first thing we did was watch
a movie. The movie was Independence Day, and I fell asleep at some parts, but managed to watch most
of the movie.
In the morning I was full of energy. I eagerly clamored up the stairs to search for my new room. I
looked at all the rooms before singling out the one that I wanted as mine. When I told my mother about
my decision, she told me that the room I picked was meant to be my sister Georgia’s room. I got a bit
upset, but eventually settled for the room next to it.
The house was quite big, with white walls and a beautiful backyard that led to a gated swimming pool
area. It was located in an upscale part of Woodland Hills. The town of Woodland Hills has great significance in my life. It would be the town that I grow up in. A large portion of all my life experiences,
good and bad, would take place in this town. I can recall the first time I said the name on my lips…
Woodland Hills… my new hometown.
Soon after settling into our lovely new home, we were disturbed by a problem typical of California:
An earthquake. My mother woke me up in the middle of the night, and we all hid under the kitchen
table. The earthquake actually turned out to be very small, with even smaller aftershocks following it,
but I was still scared. Having never experienced an earthquake before, the only impression I had of
earthquakes were the huge, land rupturing earthquakes I saw in The Land Before Time. After this
experience, I began to see earthquakes as common, minor disturbances.
And there I was, a young 5 year old boy who has so far lived a happy and joyful life about to embark
on a new journey; the journey of growing up in the United States of America. I felt a surge of enthusiasm
at the prospect. I now considered myself an “American kid”, as I told my parents. I got accustomed to all
the American T.V. shows, and I started to adopt an American accent. I was looking forward to my new
life.
Soon enough, I was enrolled in school. My father did some extensive school-searching after our
arrival, and he found a small private school on Shoup Avenue named Pinecrest. I was to attend
kindergarten there. Pinecrest… My 5-year-old self at the time could not imagine how significant this
place will eventually become for me. A great turning point of my life will eventually take place there, a
tragic turn for the worse. But that will come later, in a darker chapter of my story, when I enter my preteen years. For now, I was a kindergartener who was enjoying life to the fullest.
Kindergarten at Pinecrest didn’t turn out so well. I had a very unpleasant teacher who was impatient
with how far behind I was in my schoolwork, as I had missed a couple months of school due to the
move. During playtime, this teacher would keep me in the classroom to do extra work in order to catch
up. My parents didn’t like this teacher, and one of their friends recommended another school for me, a
private school nearby named Farm School; it was named after the farm that was attached to it. After
only a couple of weeks at Pinecrest, my parents took me out of it, and I would not return again until I go
there for Middle School six years later.
My first day at farm school turned out to be a good start. I had two teachers, and they made an effort
to introduce me to the other kids. There was one particular boy named Joey who they assigned to show
me around. He was nice to me at first, but would soon turn out to be a rotten little prick who I would
always get into fights with. He then became my greatest enemy at the school.
The first real friend I made in the United States was a girl named Maddy Humphreys. Isn’t that ironic?
The first friend I made in the United States was a girl! She was the first female friend I’ve ever had, and
she would be the last. Maddy and I started playing together at Farm School, and eventually my parents
became very good friends with her parents. Maddy’s father is the famous British musician Paul
Humpreys, and her mother is named Maureen, though we would call her Mo. They had a nice house in
Hidden Hills. Our families got together often to have barbeques and dinners.
I was a 5 year old boy playing with a girl my own age like any normal boy would do. I was enjoying life
in a world that I loved. I was happy, and completely oblivious of the fact that my future on this world
would only turn to darkness and misery because of girls. This girl who was my friend, Maddy Humpreys,
would eventually come to represent everything I hate and despise; everything that is against me, and
everything that I’m against. I was playing innocently with this girl, in the manner that all children play.
We even took baths together; it was the only time in my life that I would see a girl my age naked. When
I think about the experiences I had during my friendship with her, it makes me think ominously of the
fact that all children, boys and girls, start out the same. We all start out innocent, and we all start out together. Only through the experiences and circumstances of growing up do we drift apart, form
allegiances, and face each other as enemies. That is when wars happen, and that is when the true
nature of humanity rises to the surface. At this stage of my life, of course, my war hadn’t started yet,
and it wouldn’t start for a long time. I was enjoying my life without a care in the world, not knowing that
all of my joy is destined to turn to dust.
My Kindergarten year at Farm School was filled with exciting, new experiences, all healthy for a
growing boy. I had friends, I had playdates, I socialized with the other boys at school, despite getting
into lots of conflicts with Joey. I only got into trouble once, over a quarrel with another boy during
playtime, and I was sent to the principal’s office. Having never been in such trouble at school before, I
recall being overcome with nervousness and fear, which caused me to cry for an hour. I especially
enjoyed our arts and crafts time, and I loved it when our class would go on visits to the school’s farm.
After a bright and joyous school year, it was time to graduate. I was swelled with pride as I wore my
graduation cap at the ceremony. I loved that school very much, and I was sad to leave it. Kindergarten
was over, and soon enough I would enter elementary school.
My 6th birthday soon followed. My parents arranged a Disney-themed party at a play center that my
mother had been taking me to frequently. I invited everyone from my Farm School class, all the boys
and the girls, except for Joey. I deliberately omitted Joey as an act of revenge for being mean to me
throughout the year, and I felt a sense of satisfaction in doing so.
The party was cheerful, and there was a man dressed as Merlin to host the festivities. I sat at the end
of the table during my birthday meal, wearing a wizard hat. As my cake was presented to me, I felt only
elation and glee as I took in a breath and blew out my candles. Life was good.
6 Years Old
My favorite part of the day during this jubilant period of my life was our afternoon trips to the park.
Specifically, Serrania Park. This park was beautiful and green, with concrete pathways cutting through
fields of grass and a fun playground for us kids to play in. I always took to playing on the slides, and
sometimes I would go on the swing, though my father had to push me. I remember getting jealous of
other boys who were able to swing by themselves, boys who were even younger than myself. It was the
second time I realized my lack of physical capability. The first time I had such an inkling of my
shortcomings were those disastrous football sessions at Dorsett House.
Eventually, my father got around to teaching me how to swing by myself, and after some practice, I
was able to do it. After that, I would always soar up and down on that swing in the Serrania park
playground well into the hour of twilight.
I was very small and short statured for my age. I never gave this much concern during my early
childhood, but this fact fully dawned on me the day my family took a trip to Universal Studios. At the
time, I loved dinosaurs. I was fascinated by them. I had just recently watched the movie Jurassic Park,
and when I found out that there was a Jurassic Park themed ride at Universal Studios, I couldn’t wait to
go on it. We queued up in the line and waited for an hour. When reached the front, the park staff
presented me with a measuring stick, and I didn’t fit the requirements. I saw other boys my age
admitted onto the ride, but I was denied because I was too short! The ride that I was so excited to enjoy
at the theme park was forbidden to me. I immediately fell into a crying tantrum, and my mother had to
comfort me.
Being denied entry on a simple amusement park ride due to my height may seem like only a small
injustice, but it was big for me at time. Little did I know, this injustice was very small indeed compared to
all the things I’ll be denied in the future because of my height. We resorted to trying out the E.T. ride, which I was admitted to. I had a miserable time on this ride,
however, because the dark atmosphere and the mechanically moving alien statues that lined the
queuing area scared the hell out of me. By the time we got to the actual ride, I was crying in fright, but
later calmed down as the ride turned out to be mild and relaxing towards the end.
I always enjoyed my family’s get-togethers with the Humphreys. These get-togethers became a
common occurrence in my life. Maddy became a very close friend of mine. She was the only friend from
Farm School who I continued to see after I graduated. They had a huge back yard area, and the two of us
would go on adventures. She also grew up watching The Land Before Time, and we would watch the
sequels together whenever they released a new one.
Sometimes when I went to her house, she would have other female friends there, and I played with
them too. I had no trouble interacting with girls at that age, surprisingly. My six-year-old self was playing
with girls, unbeknownst to the horror and misery the female gender would inflict upon me later in my
life. In the present day, these girls would treat me like the scum of the earth; but at that time, we were
all equals. Such bitter irony.
It was now time for me to start First Grade. My parents enrolled me at Serrania Avenue Elementary
School, which was just down the street from Serrania Park. I wouldn’t remain at this school for long,
however, because only weeks into my First Grade year, my parents decided that they were going to
move to Topanga.
Most of the kids at Serrania Avenue school will end up going to Taft High School nearby, a place that
will cause me great suffering in the future. Perhaps some of the kids in my class at Serrania will end up
turning into those who would bully me at Taft. I don’t remember any of the kids from my class there, so
I will never know the answer to that. It’s very disturbing to think about.
I quite enjoyed my brief time at Serrania. My parents sometimes made me stay an hour after school; I
believe this was because they figured it would help me make friends. I can remember this after-school
playtime being a positive experience. There were always games that I played with the other kids. And
thus I was a bit frustrated when my parents told me they were going to transfer me to another school
after only a couple of weeks of settling into Serrania. That frustration would soon cease, because the
years that I would spend at Topanga Elementary school would be some of the best years of my life. The
last years of being a carefree child.
I started First Grade at Topanga Elementary School a couple of weeks before we prepared to move to
Topanga. Topanga is a secluded, mountainous community surrounding a canyon that runs through the
Santa Monica Mountains, located in between the San Fernando Valley and the Pacific Coast Highway.
We had only passed through this community a few times, when we would take trips to the beach. It has
a certain rugged beauty about it.
On my first day at Topanga Elementary, I was very nervous. Since it was about a month after the first
grade term started, I was going to be the “new kid” at school. I remember the nervousness taking over
my body as my mother drove us up the steep road that led into the school proper. My new class was
just lining up to start the day as we walked onto the main courtyard. My teacher, Mrs. Matsuyama, was
very nice and understanding. My mother said goodbye and I got in line with the other students. The first
kid I saw there was a chubby boy named Bryce Jacobs, who was staring at me strangely.
As we got to class, Mrs. Matsuyama assigned one of the students to show me around and help me
adjust. This student happened to be none other than Philip Bloeser. Philip was always very mature for
his age, and he was nice to me on my first day. He became my first friend at Topanga Elementary.
The day turned out to be one of great fun. Class time was not too boring, and we did some fun arts
and crafts activities. For recess and lunch, there were two playgrounds: the Upper and the Lower. The first and second graders would go to the Lower playground, and the third, fourth, and fifth graders
would go to the Upper. The Lower playground was smaller, but it had some nice amenities, especially
the sloping hill to the side of it, where I would enjoy running up and down “kicking dust”, a game I
instantly created due to the dust-like dirt on this hill. When my mother came to pick me up, I recall
having so much fun that I didn’t want to leave! That’s a first. In the past, I was always eager to go home
after spending hours at school.
The drive to and from school was a long one, or at least long for my six-year-old self. My favorite part
of the drive was the descent from Topanga into the Valley. The view of the broad expanse of the Valley
was breathtaking as it opened up before us after clearing the final hill. I would make that trip through
the winding roads of Topanga Canyon every day for the next couple of weeks, before we moved to the
new house. Sometimes my mother would pick me up, and sometimes my nanny would. I don’t
remember the name of this nanny, as she was only with us for a brief period of time.
I loved the new house the moment I laid eyes on it. It was a beautiful, round, wooden house located
up the road from Valley View Drive, in the better part of Topanga. It had two stories, a swimming pool,
and a lovely deck that provided a view of the lush mountains. I instantly named it the “Round House”.
I was sad to leave our house in Woodland Hills, our first house in America. I would miss the good
times I had there, playing with Maddy and my other friends, swimming in the pool, the close proximity
to Serrania Park where I spent a lot of time enjoying the elations of a carefree childhood. Our new
Round House in Topanga, however, turned out to be a worthy replacement.
My room at the Round House was a bit smaller than my old one, but I remember it being very cozy.
Shortly after we moved in, Ah-Mah came to visit from England, and she baked my favorite peanut
cookies. We had some very happy times during the beginnings of my life there.
My father’s new directing career was taking off quite well too, and he would go away a lot to direct
commercials for prestigious companies, leaving my mother and the nanny to look after me. The only
downside of this was my father’s absence from my life. Despite this, I always looked up to him as a
powerful and successful man.
Adjusting to my new environment in Topanga was quite easy for me, especially since school was so
much fun. I was now a Topanga Kid. During recess at school, I started noticing this boy with slightly long
blonde hair who also enjoyed kicking dust. Before I met him, I always mentally nicknamed him the “King
Arthur Kid”, due the regal look his hairstyle gave him. It was only a matter of time before our dusting
kicking antics would collide with each other. We then teamed up and starting playing the game
together, and this was the start of a long and interesting friendship. This boy’s name was James Ellis, and
he would become my best friend for the next 14 years of my life.
Sometimes, the two of us would join with Philip Bloeser and some other boys, and play fun games
like handball, war games, and tag.
Soon enough, I would start having frequent playdates with James Ellis. His house was just down the
hill from mine. James’s father was named Arte; and his mother, Kim, became one of my mother’s best
friends.
Christmas arrived quickly, and for my present I got my first video game console, a Nintendo 64! I had
little knowledge of video games before this. I barely knew what they were. My father is the one who
introduced me to them. With the Nintendo 64, my father bought the games Star Wars: Shadows of the
Empire, and Turok: Dinosaur Hunter. I was fascinated with this new form of entertainment, and my
father and I would bond a lot over our video game sessions.
Of course, while playing these video games, my innocent, happy self knew nothing of the significant
role video games would play during a large portion of my life… and the sanctuary such games would eventually provide for me from the cruelties of this world. For now, they were just a form of
entertainment like any other hobby.
Life was good at the round house, but soon enough I had to witness my mother and father get into a
lot of arguments. I was too young at the time to understand what they were arguing about, but I knew
they were not getting along. It didn’t really concern me all too much, because every other aspect of my
life was wonderful.
I had playdates with James Ellis every week. Sometimes he would surprise me with a visit after
school, as we lived so close by. I went over to Philip Bloeser’s house a few times as well, and I met his
younger brother, Jeffrey. The Bloeser’s also became good friends with my mother. They lived in a nice
house up the road from our own, with a deck that provided an extraordinary view of the Topanga
mountains.
At some point I learned about the possibility that parents can separate… divorce… no longer live
together. The prospect baffled my little mind. I once sat down with my mother on our outside deck and
asked her if she and father would ever divorce. She told me it will never happen, and that I had nothing
to worry about. I was relieved by that. Little did I know, such a thing would happen in only a few months
time.
My first grade year ended splendidly. I made a few lasting friends, and I had a blast at Topanga
Elementary. I always considered myself a good, well-behaved student, so I was a bit disappointed at the
few times I got in trouble. My class had a system where if we do something wrong, we would change
our card color from green to yellow, and then to red if we did any more troublemaking. I thought I
would never have to change my card, but I had to change it to yellow a few times for minor things.
When first grade ended, I made the resolution that in second grade I will never be forced to change my
card.
After my last day of school, I was looking forward to a long summer break, my favorite time of the
year. I was a bit dismayed when my parents made me attend summer camp. My father had to go away a
lot for work, and my mother needed to have some time to look after baby Georgia. Summer camp
wasn’t all that bad, I had some fun. It consisted of kids from First through Fourth grade, and we played
lots of games and watched movies.",1,Grievance Airring,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"7 Years Old
My last memory of my parents being together was my 7th birthday, and I would always cherish it. We
didn’t have a party for my seventh birthday, but more of a small get-together for lunch. Maddy and the
Humpreys were our only guests. We celebrated it at Gladstones, my favorite restaurant at the time. It
was in the Pacific Palisades, right on the beach. I had my favorite meal, lobster.
It was a very happy day for all of us. I was turning seven. That was a big number for my little mind. I
had spent seven years on this fascinating world, and my life was at a good start. I had loving parents, I
had friends to play with, I was having fun at school, and I had all the toys a little boy could want. A
stranger would look at this seven year old boy and think that he has a great life in front of him, that
there is nothing to worry about. Indeed, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about… But I was just a
child. I still had a few more years to enjoy life in carefree bliss before I would eventually discover how
twisted and cruel this “fascinating world” really is.
My parents seemed happy that day. I remember them laughing and having a good time. It would be
the last time I remember them being happy together. Perhaps they really weren’t, perhaps they were just putting up a front so that I could enjoy my birthday. I couldn’t even fathom the possibility of my
parents separating.
Very shortly after my seventh birthday, the news came. I believe it was my mother who told me that
she and my father were getting a divorce; my mother, who only a few months before told me that such
a thing will never happen. I was absolutely shocked, outraged, and above all, overwhelmed. This was a
huge life-changing event.
My father was to stay at the round house, and my mother would move to another smaller house in
Topanga. It was arranged that me and my sister will mostly be living with our mother, and we would go
to father’s house on the weekends. My father was required to pay child support to my mother so that
she can look after us.
My life would change forever after this. The family I grew up with has split in half, and from then on I
would grow up in two different households. I remember crying. All the happy times I spent with my
mother and father as a family were gone, only to remain in memory. It was a very sad day. Just like the
move to the U.S., it would be like starting a whole new life with a new routine.
Despite the initial sadness I felt from my family splitting in half, my new life situation wasn’t all that
bad. It was still practically the same life, though I lived with my mother in one house and my father in
another.
My mother’s new house was small and red in color, located up a steep driveway from Topanga
Canyon Boulevard. I would call it the “Red House”. It was the smallest house I’ve lived in at that point. It
only had two bedrooms, and I had to share a room with my sister Georgia. We had a bunk-bed, and I
slept on the top. I was quite uncomfortable with this change at first, being used to having my own room
and living in bigger houses. My mother’s kind and loving nature, however, made up for this, and she
turned the household into a fun environment which I enjoyed living in.
After spending the first week at mother’s house, father came to pick me and my sister up for the
weekend. Georgia had become very attached to mother after this week, and she burst into tears when
we drove off. I too, was a bit distressed at having to go from one house to the other every week, but I
would soon get used to it.
The Round House was very different without mother being there. When we entered, I felt a wave of
sadness creep over me as I was reminded of my life when mother and father were together. The house
was full of memories; happy, cheerful memories that were lost in the past. With my mother missing
from it, there was a sense of bleakness and loss to the place. Father did his best to cheer us up. I could
tell that he, too, was very saddened by the recent events.
My father soon rented one of the rooms of the round house to his good friend Dan Perelli, one of his
first friends in America. Dan used to live close to our house in Woodland Hills until he was struck with
financial troubles, which I’m assuming is why he started renting a room from my father. I would always
call him “Uncle Dan”. From this point on, Uncle Dan would stay with us as a lodger for a few years.
The time to start Second Grade arrived. My new teacher was named Mrs. Weisberg, and she was very
kind. The students in my class were mostly the same as my First Grade class, with only one or two new
students who transferred from other schools. I made a few new friends, such as Shane and Tommy.
I was very disappointed to find out that James Ellis would not be returning to Topanga Elementary for
second grade. In fact, his family would be moving out of Topanga to the Pacific Palisades, where they
would be renting a house from their friends, the Lemelson’s.
My father’s stay at the round house was very brief. He suffered some temporary financial setbacks on
top of the divorce, so he decided to move to a smaller house on Old Topanga Canyon. It was a very abrupt move, and I would never see the round house again. One day, after he picked me and my sister
up from mother’s, he took us to the new house and that was it.
The house was a small, two-story house in a more rustic part of the Topanga mountains. The upstairs
portion had only a bedroom and bathroom, and it was rented to Uncle Dan. All around the outside of
the house were very small hills and hiking trails that led up to the mountains. Overlooking these hills
was a massive, imposing rock called “Big Rock”. When I first saw Big Rock, I told myself that one day I’ll
climb to the top of it!
I took a liking to this new environment, and every time I visited father on the weekends, I would
always be outside, exploring and adventuring. There were always new places to discover in that
secluded region. I didn’t venture too far into the wilderness, however, because of the danger of coyotes
and mountain lions.
After only a couple of months since my seventh birthday, a new and very important person would
come into my life. After father picked us up from school one day and took us to his house, I saw a
woman with dark hair and fair skin standing in the kitchen, and she introduced herself as Soumaya. She
would become my stepmother. Father told me she would be living with us from now on. At first I
thought she was just another friend who was temporarily staying with father, similar to what Uncle Dan
was doing. My father having a girlfriend so shortly after divorcing my mother didn’t even occur to me. I
couldn’t understand it. Soon enough, though, I realized that Soumaya was, in fact, his “girlfriend”, and
they were together just like how my father and mother were together. It was the first time I learned the
concept of a “girlfriend”, and it was hard to grasp. Before that, I always thought a man and a woman had
to be married before living together in such a manner, and that it would take a long time for such a
union to happen. Father finding a new girlfriend in such a short amount of time baffled me. I was
completely taken aback.
Because of my father’s acquisition of a new girlfriend, my little mind got the impression that my
father was a man that women found attractive, as he was able to find a new girlfriend in such a short
period of time from divorcing my mother. I subconsciously held him in higher regard because of this. It is
very interesting how this phenomenon works… that males who can easily find female mates garner
more respect from their fellow men, even children. How ironic is it that my father, one of those men
who could easily find a girlfriend, has a son who would struggle all his life to find a girlfriend.
I soon became accustomed to Soumaya being part of father’s household. She hails from the
Akaaboune family, a very prominent family from the country of Morocco. For the initial period of her
being a new member of the family, we got along well, and she was quite fun. But soon she would start
to discipline me in a harsh way that I wasn’t used to. I felt that because she wasn’t my real parent, she
had no right to discipline me in such a way, and so I rebelled. That’s where the first conflicts arose. There
would be many more to come in later years.
Along with the addition of Soumaya, I had two new nannies. The first nanny was a French woman
named Celine, though she was only with us for a brief period, so I don’t remember much of her. My
second nanny was a German woman named Christine. Christine would stay with us for a year, and I
became very fond of her. She would always look after me during my time at father’s house, and
whenever I went on my adventures into the hills, she always accompanied me.
Halloween this year marked my first time going Trick-or-Treating. My mother took me to my friend
Shane’s house, and we walked around his neighborhood collecting candy. Still obsessed with dinosaurs, I
dressed up as a dinosaur for that Halloween. Trick-or-Treating was a new thing for me, as it wasn’t so
popular in England. When it was all over, I was amazed that I had so much candy Even though James Ellis no longer went to Topanga Elementary, he was still my best friend, and I saw
him a lot. Mother would take us to his house in the Palisades almost every week, where I would play
with James, and Georgia would play with James’s sister Sage. He got me interested in a new
phenomenon that gripped many children of the era: Pokemon.
When I got my first Gameboy console, I started playing Pokemon Red Version, and I was hooked
instantly. I then started collecting Pokemon cards, and James and I always compared and traded them.
The Pokemon anime cartoon became my favorite show on television. It was a very fun, captivating
hobby, and every boy at my school had a folder of Pokemon cards. It provided something to have,
something to show off, something to talk about. The best cards were the “shinies”, and everyone
coveted them.
Mother was still friends with George Lucas, so we got invites to the red carpet premiere of Star Wars
Episode 1. I always was and always will be a huge Star Wars fan. I had already seen the original trilogy
many times, and I considered myself very lucky to be able to go to the premiere of the new Star Wars
movie.
It was an absolutely astonishing experience. It was just me and my mother – Georgia was too young,
so she stayed at home with a babysitter. Episode 1 is infamous for being the lesser movie of the three
new prequels, but as a kid I enjoyed it very much. Afterwards, I met some of the actors, and I shook the
hand of Jake Lloyd, the actor who played Anakin Skywalker in the movie.
My Second Grade year flew by like a breeze. I don’t remember much of it, but I did have a blast.
During recess and lunch, I played a lot with Shane and Tommy. We would play Pokemon on our
Gameboys, and sometimes we would have playdates where we played Nintendo 64 games such as
Banjo Kazooie, Super Mario 64, and Donkey Kong 64.
I failed in my goal of never having to change my card, which really disappointed me. I went through
most of the year without changing my card, but right when the year was about to end, I was caught
talking in class with a friend named Danny Dayani, who sat next to me, and I had to change my card to
yellow. I blamed Danny for it, because he was always talking in class, but I still had to change my card.
After a fast and fantastic year, summer came quickly, and with it my 8th birthday. My 8th birthday was
mellow, but pleasant. I remember my mother inviting a few of my friends from my second grade class
and we had a cake. During my weekend at father’s house, we all went to the restaurant Typhoon in
Santa Monica to celebrate it. It was quite a fancy restaurant next to a small airport, and they had a lot of
exotic dishes that I tried.",1,Vague Discontent,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"8 Years Old
As I was now eight-years-old, father decided that I was old enough to climb Big Rock. Whenever I was
at father’s house, I would always see Big Rock looming in the distance, and I was just itching to climb it. I
had already conquered every other rock in the area… there was only Big Rock left. And so I set out with
father and a few of father’s friends to finally climb to the top. The furthest I had climbed on this rock
was about half way up with Christine. There was a very steep rise which I wasn’t able to ascend without
some help. The second half of the journey was quite a challenge, but it was so exhilarating! I was very
nervous the higher we climbed. The best part, of course, was reaching the top, and the sense of
accomplishment I felt. I finally did it! Looking down, I could see the vastness of the Old Topanga Canyon
region, and father’s house looked tiny down there. I was too scared to venture close to the edge, and I
felt a sense of dread at the prospect of falling from such a height. The way down was even more
challenging, but I felt so proud of myself for climbing that rock that it wasn’t as scary as I thought it
would be. I was very excited to start Third Grade. As Third Graders, we now got to play in the Upper Playground
of Topanga Elementary, and I considered myself one of the “big kids”. The Upper was vast, with a bigger
playground, more handball courts, and four basketball courts. My classroom was located in a bungalow
adjacent to the Upper, and my teacher was named Mrs. Buntin. She was a young teacher; I believe she
was in her late 20’s. Being used to having very old teachers, I was surprised at how young my new
teacher appeared.
I continued to play with the same friends during recess and lunch, where we would spend our time
comparing and trading Pokemon cards. In the midst of elementary school, I didn’t interact with girls
much, but this was normal. I was at that period of life where the boys played with the boys and the girls
played with the girls, completely separate from each other. Girls were the last thing on my mind. Maddy
was still the only friend I had who was a girl, and I only saw her on the occasions when our families
would have a get-together, which became more and more rare after Maddy’s parents divorced and Paul
Humpreys moved back to England.
It was as if the girls in elementary school were part of a separate reality. Despite not having much
interaction with them, they treated me cordially, as they treated all other boys of my age. This was fair,
and I was content with this. I hadn’t gone through puberty yet, and so I had no desire for female
validation. My eight-year-old self had no inkling of the pain and misery girls would cause me once
puberty would inevitably arrive and my sexual desires for girls would develop. Sexual desires that would
be mercilessly spurned. Some of the boys in my class would grow up to be embraced by girls, while I
would grow up to be rejected by them. But at that moment in time, we were just innocent children
growing up together. All innocence is destined to be shattered and replaced with bitter brutality.
I was living in ignorant, innocent bliss. And I was happy with it.
This period of my life, aside from my early childhood in England, was one of the best periods. Life was
fair and life was satisfying. As kids, proving our self-worth and gaining validation among our peers was
achieved in a fair manner, by how good we were at the games we played, or how big our collection of
Pokemon cards were. No one had unfair advantages. This was perfect, and this is how life should be.
And… boy did I have a lot of fun. James’s family had to move to yet another house in the Palisades,
and mother would always take us there. She became great friends with James’s parents Kim and Arte.
James and I would battle on our Gameboys, trade Pokemon cards, and walk to the recreation center
down the street to play in the pool, and then for dinner we would all go to the restaurant Mott’s in the
center of the Palisades.
I was quite proud of my collection of Pokemon cards. I had gained a few “shinies” over the last few
months, and I enjoyed showing them off to other boys. Shiny cards came randomly in card packets our
parents would buy for us. The card that I coveted the most was the Charizard card, and one morning
when my mother opened a packet for me and I looked through the new cards… there it was. It felt like
the best day ever, and I was swelled with excitement. I jumped up and down all around the Red House,
and I couldn’t wait to show it to James, who already had a Charizard himself.
Through being friends with James Ellis and going to his house a lot, we became acquainted with the
Lemelson family, who were family friends of Kim and Arte. The Lemelson family is a very wealthy family
who has been financially helping James’s family for a while. Rob Lemelson is the son of Jerome
Lemelson, the inventor of the bar code, and his net worth is in the hundred-millions. Rob’s son, Noah, is
our age and great friends with James, and eventually I became friends with him too, though we would
never be close friends. Sometimes we would all go to the Lemelson’s house, also in the Palisades, and
the three of us played together. For Halloween, we went to the Lemelson’s for Trick-or-Treating, and from then on it would become
tradition to go Trick-or-Treating with them. I dressed up like a dinosaur again, because I couldn’t think of
anything else to be. I wanted to dress up as Ash Ketchum from Pokemon, but no store had that costume
in stock. The Palisades was full of wealthy families, so the candy they gave us would be in much larger
amounts, obviously. I remember competing with James and Noah as to who would get the most candy
at the end. Afterwards, we would have dinner at Rob’s house, and then we would dump our candy in
piles on the floor to examine what we got. That was my favorite part of it.
Early in my Third Grade year, my mother would often take us to a festival near Topanga Canyon
Boulevard, where small concerts were held and people barbequed great food. A friend of hers had
something to do with these events, and I played with the son of this friend. He was named Riley Anapol,
and he was two years younger than me. A First Grader. I played with some other younger kids there as
well, peers of Riley, and I had a good time. Riley became a common friend for a while. The significance
of this is that Riley Anapol would eventually become someone I would harbor a great hatred for. Riley
would grow up to get lots of girls, and I would grow up to be rejected by girls. But back then he was a
friend, a peer, and we were playing together as equals. It’s funny how the world works.
When the holidays arrived, my father announced that we were going to take a family vacation to
Soumaya’s home country of Morocco and meet her family there, and afterwards we were to stop by in
England. I wasn’t excited about Morocco, since I didn’t know much about it except that it was in north
Africa, and I wasn’t too excited about the fact that we’ll be staying there for six weeks either, which
meant that my entire winter break would be spent in a foreign country that I knew nothing about.
But of course, I had no choice in the matter, and Morocco was added to the list of the many countries
I’ve been to at such a young age. I looked forward to visiting England afterwards and seeing family there.
Morocco was very strange and foreign to me, even more so than Malaysia, which was more
westernized. I found it to be very backwards, though it had a lot of culture and the people were friendly.
I remember disliking a lot of the meals, but enjoying the deserts and pastries. Soumaya’s parents were
divorced, though they lived walking distance from each other in the Kasbah, a historic community
located in the center of Tangier. Soumaya’s mother, Khadija, has a small but elegant house, and her
father, Abdesalem, has a very large, almost castle-like house that is famous for being a location where a
scene from James Bond: The Living Daylights was shot. This fascinated me, as I was a huge James Bond
fan at the time. In the center of this house there was an open courtyard where I always played with a kid
named Ayman, and his two younger brothers. They were adopted by Soumaya’s father a few years ago
and live with him.
After a long stay in Morocco – too long in my opinion – we made our stop in England to visit relatives.
We stayed at grandma Jinx’s house, and I was able to play with my cousin George for a few days. On one
of the days we stayed in England, my mother’s sister, Aunt Min, and my grandma Ah Mah came to visit
and brought me a lot of English chocolates which I relished.
All in all, it was a good trip and I was glad to be able to experience it, though the length of the trip cut
into my school schedule, and I missed a couple of weeks of school.
After the holiday season, my nanny Christine had to leave back to Germany, and this saddened me
deeply. Chistine would always be my favorite nanny, and I was in a sullen mood on the day she left.
The remainder of my Third Grade year went by quickly. I continued my Pokemon endeavors,
increasing my card collection and progressing on the Gameboy game.
I had a conflict with my friend Shane during this time. Because of some arguments we previously had,
I started to play a game with him in which he would become my enemy and rival at the school. For me, I was just playing with him, but he took it seriously and the conflict escalated a lot more than I thought it
would. We once got into a small physical fight in which I hit him on the arm and was sent to the
principal’s office. That was the biggest trouble I’ve been in at Topanga Elementary. This little conflict
with Shane lasted for the rest of Third Grade, but we would later reconcile and play again as friends in
Fourth Grade.
Before summer came, my father’s spontaneous career as a commercial Director took off once again,
and he became very successful. At this point, he was probably the most successful he’s ever been. With
this success, he decided to move to a bigger and better house. After doing some searching, we moved to
a house in an upscale area of West Hills, near Woodland Hills. I loved this house at first sight. It had five
bedrooms, which was more than enough space for our family along with Uncle Dan who was still staying
with us. It also had a huge swimming pool with a spa, a large grass field to play in, a basketball court,
and a nice view of the Valley. I was a Valley kid again.
Despite father’s move to a much larger house and all the benefits that came with it, I still preferred
my time at mother’s house, just because of her gentle and fun attitude and the energy of her household.
My mother indulged in me more than my father and Soumaya ever did. She knew what I liked and what
I didn’t like, and she would go out of her way to make my life pleasant and enjoyable. I was quite
annoyed with the recent decision between my mother and father to extend my stay at father’s by two
days of the week. From that point on, me and my sister would only be at mother’s house from Monday
to Thursday, and on Thursday night we would go to father’s house until the following Monday.
My 9th Birthday was spent at father’s house, and father and Soumaya threw a party for me. They
invited a few of my friends from Topanga Elementary, though the only friend I remember being there
was Philip and his younger brother Jeffrey. James was invited, but he wasn’t able to make it. They also
invited a few of Georgia’s friends, which really annoyed me, since it was my birthday, and not Georgia’s.
It was quite an eventful party, and it took place in our backyard. My father hired a magician to perform
tricks for everyone.",1,Vague Discontent,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"9 Years Old
 My ninth year was very interesting, and I went through a lot of changes emotionally and
intellectually. It was the year in which I matured to a point where I would start observing the world
more conscientiously. Before I turned nine, I was living life as a carefree child in a world that I thought
was only good and pure. From this point onwards, I would gradually discover more about the world and
society. I would face problems and frustrations that I wouldn’t even think about before. My life would
still be positive and bright, however, and I would live it to its fullest.
 The first frustration of the year, which would remain for the rest of my life, was the fact that I was
very short for my age. As Fourth Grade started, it fully dawned on me that I was the shortest kid in my
class – even the girls were taller than me. In the past, I rarely gave a thought to it, but at this stage I
became extremely annoyed at how everyone was taller than me, and how the tallest boys were
automatically respected more. It instilled the first feelings of inferiority in me, and such feelings would
only grow more volatile with time.
 I desperately wanted to get taller, and I read that playing basketball increases height. This sparked my
brief interest in basketball, and I would play it all the time during recess and lunch in the Upper. Most of
the basketball courts were unused, so I would play it by myself, or with anyone who cared to join me.
During my time at father’s, I would spend hours playing basketball at father’s basketball court, shooting hoop after hoop long into the evening, and I also remember lying on the ground in the basketball court
trying to stretch my body as much as I could in between basketball sessions.
 When I played basketball at school, some boys would join me, and when they did I saw that they
were much better at the sport than me. I envied their ability to throw the ball at double the distance
than I could. This made me realize that along with being short, I was physically weak compared to other
boys my age. Even boys younger than me were stronger. This vexed me to no end.
 My fourth grade classroom was located in the center area of the school, and my teacher was named
Mrs. Gill, who had an assistant named Mr. Devine. Fourth grade was a strange year due to the emotional
problems I would go through, and I didn’t have as much fun at school as I did in previous years. In class, I
sat near Keaton Webber, and I got into a few conflicts with him. We weren’t quite enemies, but I
disliked him intensely and I would always consider him a foul prick.
 By nature, I am a very jealous person, and at the age of nine my jealous nature sprung to the surface.
During playdates with James, sometimes he would have other friends over as well, and I would feel very
jealous and upset when he paid more attention to them. Feeling left out, I would find a quiet corner and
start crying. My mother and Kim were very understanding, and did the best they could to console me.
 On the rare occurrence that my mother would have Maddy and Mo over for dinner, or if we would go
to visit them at their house, Maddy often played with my little sister Georgia instead of me, and this too
made me jealous. I remember all the times I cried when this happened.
 Jealousy and envy… those are two feelings that would dominate my entire life and bring me immense
pain. The feelings of jealousy I felt at nine-years-old were frustrating, but they were nothing compared
to how I would feel once I hit puberty and have to watch girls choosing other boys over me. Any
problem I had at nine-years-old was nirvana compared to what I was doomed to face.
 A few months into fourth grade, it was decided by my parents to change me and my sister’s living
arrangement yet again. This time, we would be switching between mother’s house and father’s house
each week. One week would be spent at mother’s, and the next at father’s. This was a fair split. At first I
wasn’t so sure about it, because I always disliked any change to my life, but I found it to be a better
arrangement. This enabled me to spend weekends at mother’s house, during her week, and I was very
excited about this. I’ve only ever spent weekends at father’s beforehand.
 During father’s week, I would mostly be looked after by our two new nannies, Rosa and Amparro.
They were of South American origin and didn’t speak much English, but they were very kind.
 I started to have intense conflicts with Soumaya. I hated the rules she imposed on me, which I
believed she had no right to impose, as she wasn’t my true parent. I hated how she would force me to
drink milk every morning and very foul-tasting soup for dinner. I made such a fuss about having the soup
that she used it as a punishment. Whenever I did something wrong, she would force me to drink the
soup. I once had a playdate with Philip at father’s house, and when I yelled at my sister because she was
annoying us, Soumaya punished me by sending me to my room for an hour, embarrassing me in front of
Philip. After this incident, I never had a playdate at father’s house ever again.
 This conflict with Soumaya started a trend in which I would love being at mother’s house and dread
the weeks I had to spend at father’s house. On top of the conflicts with Soumaya, father was rarely
there, as he was always out of town for his work. After spending a nice week at mother’s house, I would
cry when Sunday came and I had to go to father’s on Monday. I would then spend the entire week at
father’s house looking forward to going back to my mother’s. I remember those Mondays when my
mother dropped me off at school for the first day of father’s week… I felt so sad that I cried when I saw
my mother’s car driving away. Of course, I would hide the tears to avoid embarrassment at school, but I
would feel miserable for that whole day. I always had a pleasant experience during mother’s week. She always arranged playdates for me,
because she knew I was too shy to initiate them myself. She always made everything fun. On weekends
after dinner, we would have “treat time”, where she would bring out a box of candies for me and my
sister to choose from.
 I had a lot of playdates with Philip, and through Philip I also played with his brother Jeffrey, who was
two years younger than us. While Philip was calm and mature, Jeffrey was the complete opposite.
Jeffrey Bloeser was wild and boisterous, which often brought a lot of fun to my playdates with Philip.
 My mother once had a party at her house and invited all of our family friends. James Ellis came over,
and so did Philip and Jeffrey. It was the first time I saw all of them together, and it made for an
interesting experience. I got a bit jealous, however, when Philip and Jeffrey seemed to respect and pay
more attention to James than they did to me. When we were playing on my Nintendo 64 and I was
competing against James, they rooted for James, which really upset me.
 As my fourth grade year approached its end, my little nine-year-old self had another revelation about
how the world works. I realized that there were hierarchies, that some people were better than others.
Of course I was subconsciously aware of this in the past, but it was at this time of my life – at nine years
old – that I started to give it a lot of thought and importance.
 I started to see this at school. At school, there were always the “cool kids” who seemed to be more
admirable than everyone else. The way they looked, dressed, and acted made them… cooler. These
“cool kids” as I called them, included Keaton Webber, Matt Bordier, Michael Ray, Trevor Bourget,
Zalman Katz, John Jo Glen, and a few more. They were cool, they were popular, and they always seemed
like they were having a good time.
 The peaceful and innocent environment of childhood where everyone had an equal footing was all
over. The time of fair play was at its end. Life is a competition and a struggle, and I was slowly starting to
realize it.
 When I became aware of this common social structure at my school, I also started to examine myself
and compare myself to these “cool kids”. I realized, with some horror, that I wasn’t “cool” at all. I had a
dorky hairstyle, I wore plain and uncool clothing, and I was shy and unpopular. I was always described as
the shy boy in the past, but I never really thought my shyness would affect me in a negative way, until
this point.
 This revelation about the world, and about myself, really decreased my self-esteem. On top of this
was the feeling that I was different because I am of mixed race. I am half White, half Asian, and this
made me different from the normal fully-white kids that I was trying to fit in with.
 I envied the cool kids, and I wanted to be one of them. I was a bit frustrated at my parents for not
shaping me into one of these kids in the past. They never made an effort to dress me in stylish clothing
or get me a good-looking haircut. I had to make every effort to rectify this. I had to adapt.
 My first act was to ask my parents to allow me to bleach my hair blonde. I always envied and admired
blonde-haired people, they always seemed so much more beautiful. My parents agreed to let me do it,
and father took me to a hair salon on Mulholland Drive in Woodland Hills. Choosing that hair salon was a
bad decision, for they only bleached the top of my head blonde. When I indignantly questioned why
they didn’t make all of my hair blonde, they said that I was too young for a full bleaching. I was furious. I
thought I looked so silly with blonde hair at the top of my head and black hair at the sides and back. I
dreaded going to school the next day with this weird new hair.
 When I arrived at school the next day, I was intensely nervous. Before class started, I stood in a
corner franticly trying to figure out how I would go about revealing this to everyone. Trevor was the first
one to notice it, and he came up to me and patted my head, saying that it was very “cool”. Well, that was exactly what I wanted. My new hair turned out to be quite a spectacle, and for a few days I got a
hint of the attention and admiration I so craved.
 My interest in Pokemon faded away at this time. In third grade, Pokemon was considered “cool” and
everyone was playing it. Towards the end of fourth grade, I found out that everyone was growing out of
Pokemon, and the only ones who played it were the geeky kids. I heard some kids joking about how
lame Pokemon players were, and I decided it was time to quit.
 I talked to James about this. He was still interested in Pokemon, so I gave him my Charizard card as a
gift, and as an act of my resignation from the game. Pokemon gave me some really happy and
memorable experiences, but it was time to move on.
 I then started to notice that all of the cool kids were interested in skateboarding. I had never even
ridden on a skateboard before, but if I wanted to be cool, I had to become a skateboarder. I expressed
this to my parents, and my father was glad that I was showing an interest in an active sport. He took me
to the store Val Surf on Ventura Boulevard to buy me a new skateboard, and I was fascinated by all of
the different choices. I settled for a red Val Surf branded Skateboard, and they took it down from the
wall and built it for me.
 I was thrilled to have this new skateboard and the possible chance it gave me to be a cool kid. It was
time to start practicing. I found it very hard to even ride on it in the beginning, and I spent many hours
outside trying to get the hang of it. And that was that, I was now a skateboarder, though not yet good
enough to reveal myself as one to the kids at school. This was the start of an obsession to copy
everything the supposed “cool kids” were doing.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"10 Years Old
I was eager to re-bleach my hair to a fully blonde color, after the disastrous failure of my previous
attempt. This time, Soumaya took me to the right salon, and they gave me a short haircut and bleached
all of my hair blonde. When I looked at myself in the mirrior, I felt an intense level of satisfaction.
I went to James’s house soon after I acquired my new hair color, and the look of surprise on his face
when he first saw me gave me a good laugh.
A couple of weeks later, my hair started to grow and my black hair would show at the roots, but the
blend turned out to suit me well, and this would become my hairstyle for the next year.
Mother took me and my sister on a short vacation towards the end of the summer. We drove up the
101 Freeway to Ventura, where we stayed at the Holiday Inn (which has now been replaced by the
Crowne Plaza). I found the hotel to be comfortable and luxurious. It was located right on the Ventura
Promenade, a beautiful walkway along the beach that led to a long pier.
At this stage, I was very enthusiastic about my new interest in skateboarding, and I took my
skateboard with me. I enjoyed practicing on my new skateboard all along the Ventura Promenade.
During this trip, mother took me to my first skatepark, which was called SkateStreet. It was humungous,
and I was awed by all the towering ramps. I attended a beginner’s class, and the instructor taught me
the basics of riding on these ramps. I was absolutely terrified at first, but by the end of the class, I was
able to go up and down the smallest of them, and I had a blast.
When we got back to the hotel, we had a nice room-service dinner, and then the three of us watched
the movie Finding Nemo on the hotel television. It was a lovely little trip.
Before Fifth grade started, I went with my father and Soumaya to a dinner party at their friend’s
house. I forgot who these friends were, but it was a nice house in Beverly Hills. There were lots of
guests, and I did what I usually did at such dinner parties… I sat around eating snacks and talked with my
sister, sometimes going to father and to ask for a sip of wine.
During this party, I found myself having a conversation with father, Soumaya, and one of the party
guests, a boisterous middle-aged man who I can’t recall the name of. Father and Soumaya were talking
about how I just turned ten years old, and we discussed life and what the future had in store for me.
This man we were talking to… he patted me on the back and told me that I have a great life ahead of
me. With a grin on his face, he told me that “in the next ten years, you’ll have a great time… a great
time”. I had no idea what he meant by that. I wasn’t even thinking about my future at that point; I was
living in the moment.
Now I know what he meant. Childhood is fun, but when a boy reaches puberty a whole new world
opens up to him… a whole new world with new pleasures, such as sex and love. Other boys will
experience this, but not me, it pains me to say. That is the basis of my tragic life. I will not have a great
time in the next ten years. The pleasures of sex and love will be denied to me. Other boys will
experience it, but not me. Instead, I will only experience misery, rejection, loneliness, and pain.
At that moment in time, I didn’t think much about this man’s comment. I don’t even remember who
he was. But after those ten years have passed and I’ve experienced what I’ve experienced, I can’t help
but think about that moment. If only I knew what was in store for me, right then and there.
It was time to begin Fifth Grade. It started out excellently. My teacher was named Mrs. Damart, and
she would always be very kind to me.Part 3
The Last Period of Contentment
Age 9-13
Fourth grade ended, and once the summer started, I took a vow to mold myself into the coolest kid I
could possibly be by the time Fifth grade began. I anticipated the approval the other cool kids would
have of me once I reveal myself as being similar to them, and I looked forward to it.
After about a year and a half of living in the house on Hatteras St. in upper West Hills, my father
decided to move into an even better house. This time, all of us spent a day looking at open houses
together as a family. We went with a real estate agent and examined some beautiful homes around
Woodland Hills. My favorite one was a 3-story house on Llano Drive, in the Woodland Hills Heights, the
most prestigious area of Woodland Hills that bordered Calabasas. It didn’t have a pool, but it had a
sloping backyard almost three-times as large as our current one. The house had six bedrooms, and I took
an intense liking to one particular bedroom that had its own bathroom and a personal balcony. My
father showed extreme enthusiasm about possibly buying this house, and I became obsessed with
getting that particular bedroom as my own room. When I brought it up with father and Soumaya, they
said that the room would most likely be Georgia’s because it was closer to the master bedroom. They
said that I would get a bedroom downstairs, one without my own bathroom or balcony. I was furious,
and I threw a huge crying tantrum.
Soon enough, father went ahead with the decision to buy this house. I made a big deal about the
possibility of not getting that lovely bedroom I wanted, and I kept sulking to father and Soumaya about
it. When they finally moved and the first week of father’s at this new house started, I was very anxious.
But then, as we entered, father and Soumaya surprised me and revealed that they decided to give me the room I wanted. I was so happy! I danced and leaped with joy all over the house, and then I went to
my new balcony and looked out at the beautiful view of Woodland Hills for an hour.
After the move to this new house, father would never move again, and he still lives there to this very
day. I would have many important experiences there for the next decade, both good and terrible.
I needed a skateboard for mother’s house too, and so my mother took me to Val Surf and bought me
a gray Val Surf skateboard. I would use this skateboard much more than the red skateboard I had at
father’s house, since I had all of my playdates during mother’s week, and mother would make more of
an effort to indulge in my new interest, eventually taking me to skateparks every weekend.
I became very excited about my new hobby, and I shared it with James Ellis and Philip Bloeser, my
two main friends. I wanted to get them interested in skateboarding as well. It was tricky to get James
into it, but he soon got his own skateboard, and we would start skateboarding together around his
neighborhood.
As I now considered myself a skateboarder, I wanted to dress in the clothes that all the cool
skateboarders were wearing. My mother took me to Val Surf once again, this time to shop for new
shirts. I picked out a few that had the logos of skateboard companies on them. Later that day I put on
one of my new shirts, and I was thrilled to start going around in it. I felt cool.
At father’s house, I was introduced to a new nanny who would be living with us. Rosa and Amparro
left back to their home countries a few months before we moved house. This new nanny was an African
American woman named Tracy. She had a very fun personality, and I always had a pleasant time when
she looked after us. She was able to drive, unlike my previous nannies, and so she would be the one who
would always pick me up from school during father’s week from that point on.
Uncle Dan had a quarrel with my father, and he was forced to move out. I would never see him again
after that. Tracy would, in a way, replace Uncle Dan as the lodger who would live at father’s house.
Early in the summer, father forced me to attend summer camp at an elementary school nearby our
new house. This school was Bay Laurel Elementary School in Calabasas. I hated the prospect, and I
vehemently protested it. The last thing I wanted to do was spend my coveted summer at a school where
I didn’t know anyone.
I was starting to like going to father’s house a lot more after moving to our lovely new house with my
exquisite new room, but this decision of father’s made me dislike my weeks there again. At mother’s
house, I had it my way more often, and that’s how I wanted to live.
I hated having to go to camp during the summer, and I was miserable at the start, but a couple weeks
into it I made friends with two brothers named Thomas and Tyler.
On mother’s week, I spent more and more time practicing skateboarding, and I had lots of playdates
with James where we would skateboard together. We also had a lot of fun playing Nintendo 64 games,
such as Donkey Kong 64, Banjo Kazooie, Banjo Tooie, James Bond Goldeneye, and many more. He also
got me interested in collecting Beanie Babies. At first I thought such a thing was very lame and girly, but
we used them to fuel our imagination and have mock battles and wars with each other. It was our secret
hobby that we told no one about.
I was relieved when summer camp ended, and once it was over my 10th birthday arrived. I had been
on this world for a decade, and what a decade it was… full of discovery, fun, and happy adventures. I
can’t say the same for the following decade. I didn’t have a party for my 10th birthday, and I believe I celebrated it during mother’s week. We went
out with James and his family to a restaurant in the Palisades. For the first week of Fifth Grade, I was at mother’s house. I considered myself to be very “cool” by
now. I had gotten better at skateboarding, I had blonde hair, and I dressed like a skateboarder. I felt
great anticipation for what the cool kids would think of me once they saw my transformation.
To my disappointment, no one really cared. They were all in their own worlds. I don’t remember any
kids showing recognition of my new “coolness”. Eventually, I was regarded differently than I was in
Fourth grade, which I became content with. The cool kids talked to me more, and I started hanging out
with them during recess and lunch.
When father’s week came, I felt frustrated because I didn’t have enough cool clothes there, and it
took a while for me to get father to find the time to buy some for me. Mother always got me what I
wanted, right when I wanted it. At mother’s house, all of my needs were met with excellent precision,
whereas at father’s house, there would always be a time delay because father and Soumaya had less
time for me, and paid less attention to me.
Shortly after my Fifth grade year began, my mother decided to move out of the Red House to a small
house in Woodland Hills. This new house was located on Topanga Canyon Boulevard, near Dumetz
street. Father’s house was just up the hill from there, so it was practically walking distance to father’s
house.
I would miss the Red House, despite its smallness and the fact that I had to share a room with my
sister. I had some very good times there. This new house was more convenient. It was still a two
bedroom house, but one room was big enough to be split in two, and so by having a wall built in the
middle, my sister and I each got our own room.
As I got better and better at skateboarding, my mother made an effort to take me to a skatepark
every week. By now, skateboarding wasn’t just a sport I was doing to copy the cool kids. I was truly
interested in the sport. I even had hopes and dreams of becoming a professional skateboarder. That
became my life goal. I loved skateboarding so much. I pictured myself doing amazing tricks in front of a
cheering crowd, just like I saw Tony Hawk do in some videos. I pictured the admiration on their faces,
and it was awesome.
The skatepark my mother took me to was Northridge Skatepark, and she would take me there every
Friday. Northridge Skatepark was an average-sized outdoor skatepark with fine wooden ramps. First, we
would have dinner at the Northridge Mall, and then I would sign up for the 7pm to 10pm session at the
skatepark. I usually went alone, but after a few weeks of going I made a few acquaintances there, and
people knew me. This became a Friday tradition during mother’s week.
On the following Saturday, James usually came over for a sleepover. We would play Nintendo 64
games like Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater and Donkey Kong late into the night, and then on Sunday morning
mother would take us both to Skatelab, an indoor skatepark in Simi Valley. James had become really
interested in skateboarding too, or so I believed. I was always better at it than him though, and I liked it
that way.
This was the way every weekend went during mother’s week, and I had the time of my life.
I was so interested in skateboarding that I took my skateboard trick-or-treating for Halloween. My
costume, of course, was myself as a skateboarder. We went to the Lemelson’s for a nice dinner and then
set out to collect our candy. It was quite tricky to hold a bag full of candy while skateboarding, but I had
fun. I remember some teenagers seeing me on my skateboard and saying “why didn’t I think of that”.
Hah, that was gratifying.
For Christmas, my mother bought me the new Playstation 2. I had been wanting it for a long time,
and when I unwrapped the present and saw the box, I felt so elated. Beforehand, the only video game console I played was the Nintendo 64 (and the Gameboy, if that counts). The Playstation 2 was much
more advanced in graphics, and it amazed me.
When mother announced that I would have to share it with my sister Georgia and that I can’t keep it
in my room, my excitement turned to indignation, and I threw quite a tantrum. After crying for a bit, I
calmed down and settled to sharing it with Georgia. She wouldn’t be using it much anyways, I told
myself.
Even after getting a Playstation 2, I still played my Nintendo 64 a lot because I loved the games I had
for it, and I had an emotional attachment to it. The Nintendo 64 was the first video game console I
played, and it would always have a special place in my heart.
One day during winter break at father’s house, father and Soumaya went out for a few hours and left
me and my sister with Tracy. When they came back, they had a little puppy with them, and announced
that it was our new pet. It was mainly a present for Georgia. Georgia had been desperately asking father
for a pet puppy for the last year, but I didn’t think he would actually go through with it. I was so shocked
that we now had a dog. I was always afraid of dogs when I was little, and I never imagined having one as
a pet. The only pets I’ve had previously were my turtle and iguana, who both died within a year of
acquiring them. Georgia was given the choice on what to name the puppy, and she named it Lucky. I
thought this was a very lame and stupid name.
When I returned to school after the winter break, I noticed that all the cool kids had another interest:
Hacky sacking. It was a simple sport consisting of kicking a bean-sack into the air as many times as you
can without it landing on the floor. They all had hacky sacks, and they would spend recess and lunch
kicking them with each other, since skateboarding wasn’t allowed on school grounds. I didn’t have a
hacky sack, and I decided that I needed to do something about that. Mother took me to the store Pac
Sun where I got a hacky sack with an orange and green design. When we got home from the mall, I
started practicing. I remember struggling with it first, but I spent the next few afternoons concentrating
on getting good at it. I spent many hours well into the night practicing in my backyard.
Once I was able to kick the hacky sack properly, I made a big deal of the fact that I was now interested
in it. I would go up to the group of cool kids and show off my skills, and I played with it every single
minute I spent outside during school time.
The Upper playground was rebuilt over the break, and there was a brand new playground to play on. I
always loved brand new things, and the new playground was quite engaging. On the very first day that
we were allowed to use it, I played tag with Philip Bloeser, Addison Altendorf, Bryce Jacobs, and a few
others.
I never really became good friends with the so-called “cool kids”. I would see them more as
competitors than friends. During recess and lunch, I mainly played with Philip and his little clique which
consisted of Addison Altendorf, Kevin, and T.J Tassone.
I made a few Fourth Grade friends through hacky sacking, though I forget their names. I mainly
played with them during recess and lunch. One day, after I stayed an hour after school at the Upper, I
was hacking sacking with them and I kicked my hacky sack up onto a roof. It wasn’t first hacky sack,
thank goodness, but I was quite fond of it and I was sad to lose it. I wonder if it’s still up there… No, it
would have been cleared away by now.
I still refused to have any playdates when I was at my father’s house due to the incident with
Soumaya in Fourth Grade. Because of this, my father and Soumaya became concerned that I didn’t have
any friends. Soumaya forced me to befriend some of the neighbor’s kids who lived just down the road. They
would often skateboard outside of their houses. I was aghast… the prospect of walking up to a bunch of
kids who I didn’t know and asking to play with them was terrifying to me. They were “cool”
skateboarders, and that made it even more intimidating. Of course, I wanted to be friends with them
and join in their fun, but I was too scared that they would think I’m weird. I have always been shy by
nature.
Soumaya didn’t understand this, and she gave me no choice in the matter. She sent me out of the
house and wouldn’t let me back in until I introduced myself to them. I tried pretending that I was playing
with them, but instead I would hide in a quiet street corner. To my surprise, Soumaya somehow knew I
was doing this, and she came to confront me. She then got Tracy to take me down to where the kids
were playing and push me into it. Tracy went up to the kids and asked if I could play with them. I felt
embarrassed and timid, but they welcomed me.
I always had the subconscious preconception that the coolest kids were mean and aggressive by
nature, which is quite true, and I was shocked that these kids were being nice to me and letting me play
with them. After a fun afternoon skateboarding around the streets of Woodland Hills, I regretted not
befriending them sooner. They went to Woodland Hills Elementary School, the school my sister would
soon go to.
A couple of weeks later, Soumaya forced me to befriend yet another group of Woodland Hills kids.
This second group lived nearer to my house, and they weren’t skateboarders, however they liked riding
bikes and scooters. One of them was a black boy named Lucky Radley, who I thought was very nice at
the time. I found it strange that he had the same name as my dog. He was a fourth grader, and he would
later go to the same middle school as me, where he would become an object of my extreme jealousy
and hatred. Looking back, I can’t believe I actually played with him as a friend in my father’s
neighborhood.
In the spring, uncle Jonny and the cousins came to stay at father’s house. Cousin George bunked with
me in my room, and the two of us became instant friends. I hadn’t seen him since my last trip to
England, and back then we were little kids. I enjoyed having a friend to play with on a daily basis without
having to arrange a playdate, and the week that they stayed with us was great fun. I once took him
along to play on scooters and skateboards with the neighbor kids, and we also went to the beach a lot.
Indeed, it was a great week, and I was sad to see them go. I looked forward to seeing him again when
we were to go on our vacation to France and England in the coming summer.
After Jonny and the cousins left, Soumaya’s mother Khadija came to stay for a few months, and I was
made to share my room with her, because father had converted two of the guest rooms into his office,
and Tracy was staying in the downstairs room. I had an extra bed in my room, so I suppose it made
sense to them. I was a bit annoyed with this at the start, but I bonded well with Khadija, so I soon
became ok with it. She was like a third grandmother to me.
My mother attained tickets to the red carpet premiere Star Wars Episode 2: Attack of the Clones. We
received four tickets. Georgia was old enough to go, and I persuaded mother to let me give the fourth
ticket to James. I was awestruck by the time the movie ended. It found it to be absolutely phenomenal.
James and I talked about it for hours afterward.
My life at school was starting to become mediocre again, and I became frustrated with my struggle to
be cool. I didn’t have a regular group of friends who I always played with. I was like a nomad, moving
from group to group and trying to fit in with each one, but never fully integrating. I feared that the cool
kids didn’t regard me as one of them, and even Philip’s clique never considered me one of their core friends. Despite all of my attempts to be cool, I didn’t feel as if the other kids respected me as such. I
was still quite the outcast, as I always will be.
My social life changed somewhat when Mrs. Damart announced that we would have new seating
arrangements in class, and the process of deciding on who sits where was up to us. Our class consisted
of tables that seated about five to six people, and when our name was called randomly, we could choose
anywhere to sit, meaning that everyone had a chance to sit with their group of friends. I didn’t have a
core group of friends, so I was thrown into a state of panic.
Originally, I was sitting at the table where Philip’s clique sat, but all of their names were called before
me, and I was booted from their table. At this point, I just chose to sit anywhere, and I ended up sitting
next to John Jo Glen. Matt Bordier and Danny Dayani also sat at our table. These were kids who I
regarded as cool, so I was content with sitting with them.
I never really interacted with John Jo Glen that much in the past. He was one of the biggest jerks of
the school, next to Trevor and Keaton. We quarreled a bit at the start, but soon enough we started
socializing, and I talked with him about some new games I got for my Playstation 2. We became friends
when John Jo suddenly asked me if he can come over to my house. I felt happy that he asked me this… it
would be the first playdate I would have without my mother arranging it for me. This would spark a fun
new friendship that would last well after Fifth Grade. The random seating arrangement next to John Jo
was the best thing to happen to me in Elementary School.
Despite my struggles to be regarded as “cool” and my obsession with attaining such recognition, Fifth
grade was my favorite school year in Elementary School. I played with more people than I ever did in
previous grades, I was less shy, I wasn’t a dork, and I had an awesome time learning how to skateboard
and hacky sack. It was memorable year filled with joyful experiences.
I didn’t want the school year to end. Once Fifth grade was over, I will have to go to Middle School,
and the prospect filled me with anxiety. My little innocent mind always looked at Middle School as
something far in the future, when I grow up. I didn’t want to grow up. I was enjoying my life as a kid
right at that moment. I didn’t think about the future.
Kids in my class told many rumors of Middle School life that filled me with fear and sent a shiver
through my spine. Even through watching movies and T.V. shows I got a glimpse of what was in store for
a Middle Schooler. There was talk of girls, and how it would soon be “cool” to be popular with the girls.
Girls were like completely foreign creatures to me. I never interacted with them… I wasn’t expected to.
In Elementary School, boys played with boys and girls played with girls. That was what I was used to.
That was my world. I heard stories of how boys are expected to start kissing girls in Middle School! Such
things overwhelmed me. I tried to dismiss it as much as I could and enjoy my life in the present moment.
My school arranged a camping trip for the entire Fifth Grade class before graduation day. At first I
didn’t want to go because I would be away from my parents for five days, something I was never used
to. I was afraid I would get too homesick. I never spent more than one night away from my parents. On
the rare occasion that they had to go out of town for a few days and left me with a nanny, I would cry at
night.
My teacher Mrs. Damart came up to me one morning before class started and persuaded me to go,
saying that the graduation trip was something I wouldn’t want to miss. It would be a once in a lifetime
experience, and after some hesitation I agreed to go along.
I forgot exactly where this camping trip took place. It was located at a special camping retreat
somewhere in the forest to the north of Los Angeles. It was very secluded… a small village of cabins and
tents surrounded by wilderness and hiking trails. For the trip there, I decided to go with my friends Bryce
and Charlie in a car instead of taking the school bus with everyone else. This was much more
comfortable, and I was glad to have snagged a spot in the car with them. Everyone was assigned to groups of five to share a cabin or a tent. I was originally placed in the group
with Charlie, Bryce, and a few others… but that group was given a tent to sleep in. I was appalled by how
drab and uncomfortable the tents looked. I wanted a cabin. So I went to my teacher and asked to be
transferred to a group that was sleeping in a cabin. She placed me in a group of some cool skateboarder
kids, including Michael, Sam, Trevor, Matt, and Stephen. I felt a sense of pride to be part of this group.
During the daytime on this trip, the whole Fifth Grade class participated in games, outdoor activities,
nature hikes, and barbeques. It was great fun. Nighttime in the cabin was like having a sleepover with
five people, and it was a new experience that excited me. Before bedtime, Michael Ray took out a
magazine that had pictures of beautiful model women, and all of the boys gathered around and looked
at them. So… even at the early age of ten, boys were starting to be attracted to the female body. I didn’t
understand this… I hadn’t yet reached that stage. I pretended to be interested just so that I wouldn’t
appear uncool. All of those boys probably lost their virginity by sixteen. Damn them.
The trip ended up being so fun that I didn’t cry at all about being away from my parents for so long.
And finally, it was time to graduate from Elementary School. Before the ceremony, our whole class
watched a video full of footage of school life throughout the year. I saw a few glimpses of myself caught
in the footage, and I felt gratified. My life at Topanga Elementary School was a blast, full of memorable
experiences and wonderful times.
I dressed in a nice shirt with a tie for the ceremony. All of the Fifth Graders lined up and walked down
an isle through the center of the Auditorium, with the audience of parents and siblings on either side.
When I saw my parents, they looked so proud of me. Each student had to walk up to their teacher on
the stage and receive a graduation award. We weren’t required to give a speech, to my relief. I would be
too nervous to talk in front of an audience. The graduation theme song was “Time of Your Life” by the
band Green Day, one of my favorite bands. Whenever I would hear this song again, I would think about
that glorious day, and the memories would make me feel an extreme sense of nostalgia. In the
afternoon, there was a graduation party at the Top of Topanga community recreation center, a lovely
place that provided a view of the whole Valley.
My mother took me to have dinner at the sushi restaurant Kabuki afterwards. It was just me and her.
As we sat down at the restaurant after all the excitement, I took a moment to fully ponder over the fact
that Elementary School was all over. It was done. I felt so accomplished and proud… I was happy, things
were good. But along with that happiness was a feeling of sadness that I will be leaving all of those
experiences behind. A whole chapter of my life had just passed, and a new one was beginning. That day
was such an extraordinary day. A day to remember, a memory to cherish.
For the first few weeks of summer, mother arranged playdates with various friends and
acquaintances I made from Topanga Elementary, including Trevor Bourget, Matt Bordier, Charlie
Converse, John Jo Glen, and Philip Bloeser. It was interesting to have Trevor and Matt over. I never
thought I would have playdates with them. Matt was one of the coolest kids in the school; he was a
skateboarder and a baseball player who seemed to garner respect from everyone. I envied him during
Elementary School even when we were friends, and I would deeply envy and hate him later on in life,
when I find out how much success he would have with girls.
Again, I repeat, that as children we all play together as equals in a fair environment. Only after the
advent of puberty does the true brutality of human nature show its face. Life will become a bitter and
unfair struggle for self-worth, all because girls will choose some boys over others. The boys who girls
find attractive will live pleasure-filled lives while they dominate the boys who girls deem unworthy. Matt
Bordier will go on to live a life of pleasure. Girls will throw themselves at him. And I will go on to be
rejected and humiliated by girls. At that moment in time, we were just playing together as children,
oblivious to the fact that my future will be dark and his will be bright. Life is such a cruel joke. My mother continued to take me to Northridge Skatepark every Friday, and I also attended a
skateboard camp at Pedlow Skatepark for a couple of weeks. At this camp I bumped into one of the kids
I played with around father’s house.
I had been trying very hard to get better at skateboarding, but when I saw that there were boys a lot
younger than me who could do more tricks, I realized that I sucked. I was never good at sports or any
physical activity, and when I discovered skateboarding, I thought that finally here was a sport that I
could excel in and even became a professional at. It crushed me a little inside to see that I was a failure
at skateboarding after more than a year of practicing it. I could never master the kickflip or heelflip. All I
could do was the ollie jump and ride down a few ramps. I saw eight-year-old boys at the skatepark who
could do a kickflip with ease, and it made me so angry. Why did I fail at everything I tried? I asked
myself. My dreams of becoming a professional skateboarder were over. I felt so defeated.
Because of this, my interest in skateboarding slowly faded away during this summer. James had
recently told me that he was no longer interested in the sport, so I no longer had him to skateboard with
anyway. I just decided to forget about it for the moment.
James’s family moved to a new house in Malibu. The house was owned by the Lemelson’s, and they
were staying in it temporarily. Mother took us there a few times where I adventured with James in the
wilderness area that surrounded the house. We would often go to a small plaza in the center of Malibu.
There was a playground there, with a few shops and restaurants surrounding it.
It was time for my 11th birthday. I was at mother’s house and just decided to have a small playdate for
my birthday. I invited James over, along with another kid who I had befriended at the Woodland Hills
recreation center. My mother made a small cake, I blew out the candles, and that was it. I was eleven
years old. 11 Years Old
The trip to France and England began shortly after my birthday. We had been talking about it for a
while at father’s house, and I was really excited to go. We traveled on Virgin Atlantic Upper Class. I was
extremely enthusiastic about this, as I always loved luxury and opulence.
We stopped by in England for a couple of days to say hello to grandma Jinx. The cousins weren’t
there, they were already in France, so it was a bit boring. When we arrived in France, the feeling of
wonder and curiosity swept over me as it always did when I visited a foreign country. The last time I was
in France, I was only a few weeks old. This was the first time I was able to truly experience the country.
France was a whole different world, and it was a world that I liked. French culture is so exquisite and
refined compared to American culture.
After booking a couple of rooms at a small Inn near the town of Toulouse, we met up with Jonny and
the cousin’s at Aunt Jenny’s house. Aunt Jenny is my father’s sister, and the last time I saw her was
when I lived in England, before the move to America. She had a few kittens in her house that I loved to
play with.
George and I immediately resumed our friendship that started in the spring. There was a vast
forested area surrounding the house. George told me there were lots of wild boars in the forest, so we
went “wild boar hunting”. It was just a game, and we never ended up seeing any boars at all, but the
suspense of possibly finding one was what made it fun.
We stayed in Toulouse for about a week, and then we said goodbye to the relatives and set off to
tour the country. We toured many cultural towns and stayed in castle-style hotels. This should have
been a great experience for me, but my conflicts with Soumaya soured it. There were a few incidents in",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"11 Years Old
The trip to France and England began shortly after my birthday. We had been talking about it for a
while at father’s house, and I was really excited to go. We traveled on Virgin Atlantic Upper Class. I was
extremely enthusiastic about this, as I always loved luxury and opulence.
We stopped by in England for a couple of days to say hello to grandma Jinx. The cousins weren’t
there, they were already in France, so it was a bit boring. When we arrived in France, the feeling of
wonder and curiosity swept over me as it always did when I visited a foreign country. The last time I was
in France, I was only a few weeks old. This was the first time I was able to truly experience the country.
France was a whole different world, and it was a world that I liked. French culture is so exquisite and
refined compared to American culture.
After booking a couple of rooms at a small Inn near the town of Toulouse, we met up with Jonny and
the cousin’s at Aunt Jenny’s house. Aunt Jenny is my father’s sister, and the last time I saw her was
when I lived in England, before the move to America. She had a few kittens in her house that I loved to
play with.
George and I immediately resumed our friendship that started in the spring. There was a vast
forested area surrounding the house. George told me there were lots of wild boars in the forest, so we
went “wild boar hunting”. It was just a game, and we never ended up seeing any boars at all, but the
suspense of possibly finding one was what made it fun.
We stayed in Toulouse for about a week, and then we said goodbye to the relatives and set off to
tour the country. We toured many cultural towns and stayed in castle-style hotels. This should have
been a great experience for me, but my conflicts with Soumaya soured it. There were a few incidents in which she punished me by making me stay in my hotel room while she, father and Georgia all went out
to dinner at a restaurant. I hated her for this.
On the way back, we stopped at grandma Jinx’s house in England for a week. The cousins were there
this time, and it was a lot of fun. We all slept in one room, so it was like having one big sleepover. One
day we went on a trip to a museum, where I had an argument with Soumaya. She shouted at me in front
of George and threatened to punish me. This was so embarrassing that I fell into a miserable mood for
the rest of the day. I always loved traveling, but I learned that traveling with Soumaya just ruins the
whole experience. And this wouldn’t be the last time I would be forced to travel with Soumaya either, to
my utmost dismay.
The trip lasted three weeks in length, the perfect length of time for a vacation, in my opinion. I quite
enjoyed it, if I don’t count the times Soumaya ruined it.
It felt nice to be back home after a long, cultural vacation. At father’s house, my nanny Tracy got into
an argument with father, and she was forced to leave. I was sad to see her go. She was always pleasant
and fun to be around. Once Tracy left, Georgia and I would no longer have any nannies. We were getting
too old for it. I wasn’t a little child anymore… having nannies became a thing of the past. From now on, if
father and Soumaya had to go out to a dinner party, they would just hire a baby-sitter to look after us,
and soon I would be old enough to stay by myself in the house.
I got a haircut, and this time I decided not to bleach my hair blonde. The black hair always grew out
anyway, so the full-blonde look only lasted for a couple of weeks. Having blonde hair seemed to have
lost its spark, so I just didn’t bother with it anymore.
The summer was pleasant and relaxing, but it quickly came to an end. The time for Middle School had
come. My fear of this day haunted the back of my mind all summer. I was enrolled at Pinecrest Middle
School for Sixth Grade. I had mixed feelings about going to this school because I didn’t like my
experience there during kindergarten. Father said it’s the best option for me, because it was a small
private school. I didn’t want to go to a large school like Hale Middle School… that would have been too
overwhelming for me.
On the first day, I was shaking with anxiety and fear. I didn’t know what to expect. Transitioning to
Middle School was a big deal for me, even more so than starting elementary school. I was much older
and I cared more about what people thought of me. I was no longer an innocent little child who didn’t
have to worry. I had to worry about a lot of things, and oh, did I worry! It was a whole new school full of
people I didn’t know. They all previously went to elementary school together, so most of them already
knew each other. That made me even more nervous. The only person I knew who was going to Pinecrest
was a geeky kid named Nate Grossman, who I didn’t really interact with that much in Topanga.
I also felt an intense fear of what Middle School life would be like. I didn’t know how to act around
girls, I didn’t know what was cool anymore, I had no friends there. I simply didn’t know what to do. I felt
like I was walking into a snowstorm without a coat.
My parents led me into the school to say goodbye, and then it was time for me to start my first class.
I had to take multiple classes with different teachers now. This was also a new concept for me and it
made me extremely uncomfortable. Since this was a private school, I had to wear a uniform, something I
hadn’t done since going to Dorsett House in England. I thought of this as a good thing though… I didn’t
have to worry about what I would have to wear on the first day.
For the first few days, I withdrew into a defensive shell and didn’t really talk to anyone. I did observe,
however. I observed how everyone acted, who the “cool kids” were, what they were like… and it was all
so intimidating. The social challenges that I faced in Fifth Grade were intensified tenfold. I noticed that there were two groups of cool, popular kids. There were the skateboarder kids, such as
Vinny Maggio, Ashton Moio, Darrel, Wes, and Alex Dib. And then there were the boys who were popular
with girls, including Vincent, Robert Morgan, and Oren Aks. They all seemed so confident and
aggressive. I felt so intimidated by them, and I hated them for it. I hated them so much, but I had to
increase my standing with them. I wanted to be friends with them.
I also observed the girls. I was still very short for my age, and most of the girls were taller than me. I
hadn’t reached puberty yet, but I was starting to admire female prettiness. There was one group of
pretty, popular girls, and they all seemed to like hanging out with that boy Robert Morgan. I didn’t yet
desire girls sexually, but I still felt envy towards Robert for being able to attract the attention of all the
popular girls. What was so special about Robert Morgan? I constantly asked myself.
I thought all of the cool kids were obnoxious jerks, but I tried as best as I could to hide my disgust and
appear “cool” to them. They were obnoxious jerks, and yet somehow it was these boys who all of the
girls flocked to. This showed me that the world was a brutal place, and human beings were nothing
more than savage animals. Everything my father taught me was proven wrong. He raised me to be a
polite, kind gentleman. In a decent world, that would be ideal. But the polite, kind gentleman doesn’t
win in the real world. The girls don’t flock to the gentlemen. They flock to the alpha male. They flock to
the boys who appear to have the most power and status. And it was a ruthless struggle to reach such a
height.
It was too much for me to handle. I was still a little boy with a fragile mind. Thinking about such things
would only crush my innocence, and it eventually will. But not at this point. I subconsciously wanted to
enjoy my childhood as much as I could, so I tried not to think about this new revelation and enjoy life in
the moment. I put it all aside, to be pondered over later.
My whole world had changed. The “cool” thing to do now was to be popular with girls. I didn’t know
how to go about doing that. Skateboarding, I was able to do… dressing well, that was simple… But
attracting attention from girls? How in the blazes was I going to do that? I didn’t even understand what
was so special about it either, but everyone seemed to place so much importance on it. This made me
even more shy, and I became known as the “shy new kid.”
Thankfully, some kids started reaching out to me, and I had a few chances to integrate within a
couple of weeks. The first boy to talk to me was Brice Miller. He asked me if I had any friends at the
school, because he always saw me alone. I admitted that I had no friends, and he offered to be my first
friend. I was very grateful for this.
Once again, I used skateboarding as a way to increase my standing, telling the skateboarder kids that I
knew how to skateboard and that I could do some tricks. This got them to treat me more cordially. I
even talked to Robert Morgan a few times, who I hated and yet subconsciously revered for being so
popular. Whenever a so-called popular kid would say a word to me or give me a high five, I felt immense
satisfaction.
Inevitably, I started to become known to the girls of my school; and surprisingly, they treated me
quite well. It was a huge relief. Middle School would be the last time in my life where I wouldn’t be
completely invisible to girls. All of the pretty girls had a peculiar habit of hugging boys they knew as a
form of greeting, and some of them hugged me. I didn’t understand why, but it felt like the best feeling
ever. I was one hundred-times more satisfied from getting a hug from a pretty girl than getting a high
five from a popular boy. It was a new experience that enraptured every fiber of my being.
The 7th and 8th grade girls were especially kind to me. I guess they thought I was “cute” in a boyish
sort of way. This made my initial experience of Middle School much better. I decided to attend the school dance in early October. A school dance was completely foreign to me.
Elementary Schools didn’t have them, of course, and I only knew about them from watching typical
American shows on television. I thought it was something I had to do in order to be cool. I was very
nervous, naturally, but I pushed myself to go ahead with it.
When I got there, Robert Morgan saw me and asked me if I wanted to hang out with his group. I was
grateful for this, and I ended up having a nice time. I was shocked that some 7th and 8th grade girls
offered to dance with me. They came up to me in a group and taught me how to “slow dance”. I had to
place my hands on their hips, while they placed their hands on my shoulders, and we would move slowly
with the music. They were all taller than me, and I was terrified, but it felt so… good. That would be the
only time in my life where I would have a satisfying experience with girls. The only time.
Halloween of this year marked the last time I would ever go trick-or-treating. After this year I would
be too old for it. Mother took us to the Lemelson’s, and I decided to not dress up in any costume. I went
as myself, sporting my black Pinecrest sweater. As it was my last time trick-or-treating, it would be the
last time I would have any sort of fun on Halloween. And I did have a lot of fun. It was nice to go out
collecting candy with James and Noah, like we had been doing for several years past.
My father cut off a portion of the child support he had been paying my mother, which forced my
mother to move house. We moved to a small blue house on Glade Avenue in Canoga Park. I didn’t like
Canoga Park at all. It was a very ugly and low-class area to the north or Woodland Hills, and I felt it
demeaning that we would have to live there during mother’s week.
The house did have some upsides. It had four bedrooms and a bigger living room than mother’s old
house. My new room was a lot larger than my old one. And of course, my mother always had her own
ways of making everything better. I would still enjoy my time at mother’s small house more than my
time at father’s big Woodland Hills house.
Along with this move, there came a new change in our rotation schedule. My parents decided that we
would stay at our mother’s house more, instead of switching one week-one week. Mother would have
us for all of the weekdays, and we would go to father’s on the weekends when he was in town.
Around the same time that my mother moved, James’s family moved as well, to another Lemelsonowned house in the Palisades. They would only remain in this house for a very brief period, because a
tragic event would soon occur in James’s family.
One day at school, I was sitting in my class when I was suddenly called to the office. My mother was
there, waiting to pick me up. I got into her car, and the three of us drove out of my school and parked on
the side of Shoup Avenue. She told us the dire news. James’s mother, Kim Ellis, had just passed away
from breast cancer. I cried for a bit. Kim was a very kind-hearted person, and the mother of my best
friend. She had been suffering from breast cancer for several years, but I never thought she would die
from it. I immediately thought of how James must be feeling. He just lost his own mother! It made me
think of how horrible I would feel if the same thing happened to my own mother, just the thought alone
filled me with pain.
There was to be a get-together of family friends at James’s house that night, in honor of Kim. On the
way, I thought about how I would approach James on the subject. The amount of grief he must be
feeling… I couldn’t even imagine it. The last similar experience was the death of my grandfather, and I
was only four years old then. When we arrived, I looked for James, and found him sitting in his room. I
gently offered my deepest condolences for his loss. He remained very strong, obviously hiding his
emotions. He looked very sad, in an extremely stoic sort of way. He told me he fully accepted what had
happened, that his mother was dead and that was the end of it. That was all we spoke on the matter. We tried not to think about it for the rest of the night, and later on I played tag in his backyard with him
and some of his friends.
I remained very shy during my Sixth Grade year, and I would always be labeled as a quiet kid. I wasn’t
able to establish any friends that I could have playdates with, so the only playdates I had was with old
friends from Topanga Elementary. This filled in the social void, and I was content with it.
I tried my best to improve my social situation during school time. A few girls continued to pay
attention to me, saying hi as I walked by them and occasionally giving me hugs, but I felt bitter at the
fact that I wasn’t able to truly hang out with them like the popular boys were doing.
In order to not be seen as a complete loner at school, I ended up making friends with a kid named
Connor Hanrahan. Connor was not a popular kid, because girls didn’t like him. Despite this, he was one
of the most pompous assholes of the school, even more so than any of the most popular boys. Connor
was a true bully. I started hanging out with him during recess and lunch, and we made a few jokes with
each other and had a few good laughs, but he would always push me around and act tough. I was so
timid back then that I didn’t care. I just wanted someone to hang out with.
When I stayed back after school one day, my mother saw me with Connor when she came to pick me
up. She has been concerned about me not making any new friends at Pinecrest, and I suppose she was
relieved to see me with a “friend”. She invited Connor to come over to my house, which he accepted. I
was a bit hesitant to invite anyone from Pinecrest to my mother’s house, because it was located in
Canoga Park, a bad area, and most of the kids at Pinecrest were upper-middle class who would look
down on me for living there. But I couldn’t back out of this once my mother invited Connor. He came
over and all went well, we played a few video games for a couple of hours. But after that playdate, he
would always rip on me for living in a “poor” house. He would also tell other kids at Pinecrest about it.
This infuriated me to no end, and I would keep proclaiming that my father lives in a prestigious threestory house in the Woodland Hills Heights. I became vehemently obsessed with proving to Connor and
everyone else that I wasn’t poor. I went so far as to bring pictures of my father’s house to school. I even
considered inviting some people over to father’s house, but I remembered my vow of never doing that
due to the possibility that another incident would happen with Soumaya, like the one that occurred
years ago.
It was at eleven years old when I first started using the internet on a regular basis. The internet was
still considered a new phenomenon at the time. Before eleven, I roughly knew how to browse websites
and use email, but once I fully immersed myself in it, it really fascinated me.
The popular social networking tool at that period was AOL instant messenger, or “AIM”. I made my
first AIM account on my mother’s computer, and she would let have one hour a day to explore it. I
joined a few chat rooms. The prospect of talking to strangers from a computer was new and astounding
to me.
Towards the end of sixth grade, I still hadn’t made a group of friends who I could see outside of
school. The only social interactions I had outside of school were playdates with old friends from Topanga
every now and again. Joining chatrooms through AOL temporarily filled in the social void for a few
weeks. This will definitely not be the first time I would try to fill in that void with the internet.
Once I established myself in the chat rooms, I made a few friends who I instant messaged frequently.
Most of them were in middle school and some were in high school. I also talked to a few people I knew
from Pinecrest over AIM.
One friend who I met through a chat room suddenly emailed me pictures of beautiful naked girls,
telling me to “check this out”. When I looked at the pictures, I was shocked beyond words. I had never
seen what beautiful girls looked like naked, and the sight filled me with strong and overwhelming
emotions. I didn’t know what was happening to me. Was it the first inkling of sexual desire in my body? I was traumatized. My childhood was fading away. Ominous fear swept over me, and I stopped talking to
that person.
As the Sixth Grade year came to a close, I felt dissatisfied and insignificant. Indeed, a whole new
world had opened up before me, and I had no idea how to prevail in it. I still wanted to live as a child.
I never established any proper friends at Pinecrest, and the only playdate I had was the one with
Connor that my mother arranged, and that turned out to be a disaster for me. My mother and father
both showed concern that I wasn’t making any friends, but because I still saw some friends from
Topanga, they didn’t make a big deal out of it.
I consider Sixth Grade to be the better year out of the three years I would spend in Middle School.
Girls actually paid attention to me. They knew who I was and I didn’t feel like I was completely invisible. I
was extremely shy with girls and could barely have a conversation with them, but I still interacted with
girls more during this year than I would for any following year. The cool kids treated me nicely, despite
my reputation as the “quiet kid”. I always felt like a loser compared to them, and I hated them for it,
though I still wanted their approval. I wanted to be one of them… I wanted to be their friend.
The closest I came to truly being one of them was when Vinny and Robert both invited me to their
birthday parties, which were only a couple of weeks apart at the very end of the school year. Both
parties were at Skatelab skatepark. I hadn’t been to Skatelab for about a year, and when I walked in, all
of the memories of going there with James filled my mind. I hadn’t even skateboarded for a while, but
after a few minutes on the ramps my ability came back like magic. They were all quite impressed. I bet
they thought I would end up sucking at it. I was happy to prove them wrong.
Indeed, Sixth Grade was the peak of my life at Pinecrest. It would only go downhill from there.
My mother bought me a brand new video game console, the Xbox. I heard a lot of kids talking about
how great the Xbox was at school, so I was really eager to have one. I liked the Xbox much more than
the Playstation 2. The graphics were better and the games were more to my taste. With the Xbox, I got
the game Halo. At first, I found Halo to be very difficult and I gave up on it a few times. I had no idea that
Halo would soon become one of my favorite video game series that I ever played.
I was extremely happy and relieved when summer came. Middle School was much more stressful
than Elementary School, both socially and academically. Summer would provide a well-needed break
from all of it.
I started seeing some old friends from Topanga more frequently. Among these were John Jo Glen and
Charlie Converse. Charlie wasn’t really one of my main friends at Topanga Elementary. I had a few
playdates with him here and there, but not that many. It was only until after Fifth Grade graduation that
our real friendship began. He always had a charming and humble personality, and he was well-liked by
everyone at Topanga. He came over to my mother’s house a few times after I got my Xbox, where he
tried to help me get past the hardest level on Halo. John Jo and Charlie were very close friends with each
other, and eventually I would start to see them at the same time.
John Jo invited me to his father’s apartment in Hollywood for a sleepover. I found his apartment to be
very dingy, but I had so much fun that I didn’t even care. He lived just across the street from the huge
Scientology building. We got together with a group of his friends and snuck into the building’s courtyard
at night to play hide-and-seek tag. This was the first time I had been out having fun with a group of kids
my age without any adult supervision. It was very amusing. When we went back to his apartment, we
played Conker’s Bad Fur Day on the Nintendo 64. The Nintendo 64 was a very old console at this point in
time, especially after I now had an Xbox and a PS2, but I was entertained by Conker’s Bad Fur Day so
much that I asked my mother to buy it for me the next day. James Ellis moved yet again to another house in the Palisades. After the death of his mother, James’s
father Arte quickly made the decision to move again. Arte rented a small house on Temecula Street,
near the renowned Palisades Bluffs. There they would remain for a very long time, and all of the most
significant experiences I would have with James in the future would take place there.
At this time, though, I wasn’t seeing James that much. We slowly drifted apart after we lost our
common interest in skateboarding. We still considered each other friends, and we would still see each
other occasionally, almost as a courtesy. But our friendship would be at a standstill during our middle
school years.
I was enjoying a lovely summer, but suddenly my mother said that I had to go to summer camp at
Pinecrest. This was a decision she made with my father, because they thought it would be healthy for
me. I didn’t like this one bit. It was a last minute decision. One moment I was relaxing and enjoying my
summer break, the next my mother is waking me up early to take me to my first day of camp at
Pinecrest. Gratefully, summer camp would only last for four weeks.
Summer camp at Pinecrest was located at the Elementary School section, and I recognized my old
kindergarten class. It was a mix of middle school and elementary school kids, and I made a few friends
with some kids who were younger than me.
At this camp, an incident happened that would scar me for life. The first time that I was treated badly
by a girl occurred at this camp. I was innocently playing with the friends I made, and they were tickling
me, something people always did because I was very ticklish. I accidently bumped into a pretty girl the
same age as me, and she got very angry. She cursed at me and pushed me, embarrassing me in front of
my friends. I didn’t know who this girl was… She was only at Pinecrest for summer camp… But she was
very pretty, and she was taller than me. I immediately froze up and went into a state of shock. One of
my friends asked me if I was ok, and I didn’t answer. I remained very quiet for the rest of the day.
I couldn’t believe what had happened. Cruel treatment from women is ten times worse than from
men. It made me feel like an insignificant, unworthy little mouse. I felt so small and vulnerable. I
couldn’t believe that this girl was so horrible to me, and I thought that it was because she viewed me as
a loser. That was the first experience of female cruelty I endured, and it traumatized me to no end. It
made me even more nervous around girls, and I would be extremely weary and cautious of them from
that point on.
Before summer camp ended, I saw that same girl hanging out with Oren Aks a few times. Oren Aks
was one of the popular kids in my grade. I hated Oren so much when I saw him with her. It made me feel
so inferior… that this girl was mean to me and yet she liked Oren. Thankfully, Oren wouldn’t be
returning to Pinecrest for Seventh Grade, and I would never see him again. I wonder what became of
him… I bet he lived a good life.
I felt relieved when summer camp ended. That experience with the mean girl ruined it for me. Hell, it
ruined a part of my life. Whenever I think about summer camp I would think about that girl, and my
emotions would flare up.
My 12th birthday followed. I decided not to do anything for it. Mother took me and my sister out to a
Japanese restaurant to celebrate it. Twelve seemed like a big number to me back then. One more year
and I would be a teenager. It was hard to believe.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"12 Years Old
For the rest of the summer, I resumed my routine of relaxing and having playdates. I tried to forget
about what happened at summer camp as much as I could. John Jo came over to my house, where he slept over for the first time. We played a few video games,
and then he told me that he wanted to take me to a place called Planet Cyber, a cyber café that had all
of the best online PC games. I knew nothing of the sort, but it was just down the street from my
mother’s house. I walked there with him, eager to experience something new.
This was my first experience with online gaming. Playing video games with people over the internet
invoked a whole new level of fascination in me. Talking to people over AIM was fun and new, but this…
this was tremendous. I always loved playing multiplayer mode on video games when I had friends over.
With online gaming, I could do it whenever I want. I was a novice to these new games on the PC, but I
got the hang of it after playing with John Jo for a few hours. The games we played were Day of Defeat
and Counter Strike.
Mother took me and Georgia on two little vacation trips in the same week. For the first trip we went
to Long Beach, where we stayed at the Hyatt hotel. It reminded me of our little trip to Ventura two years
previously. We visited the Harbor and the aquarium. The three of us really bonded on this trip.
We went home for a couple of days before going on the second trip. For the second trip, we went to
Legoland and stayed at the resort there. The resort was exceedingly beautiful, with a huge swimming
pool and spa. We met up with a family of one of Georgia’s friends and explored the entirety of Legoland.
When we got home from our marvelous trip, I had another sleepover with John Jo. He loved the fact
that I lived near Planet Cyber, so he would soon be calling every week, asking to come over.
I saw Charlie a few days later. Charlie was also familiar with Planet Cyber, and when the two of us
went there, he introduced me to an RPG game called Diablo 2. I didn’t know what to make of this game,
it was like an adventure game similar to Banjo Kazooie and Donkey Kong, but much more mature, with
the ability to interact with other players online.
It was only a matter of time before I started inviting John Jo and Charlie to sleep over at the same
time. When the three of us went to Planet Cyber as a group, I had an absolute blast. It was one of the
best experiences of my life.
At father’s house, father would frequently invite his new friend Alexander Bubenheim over. Alex
Bubenheim was a boisterous German man who worked as a composer and lived in the Top of Topanga
community. Alex had a son named Lukas, who was a couple of years younger than Georgia. Lukas was a
very girly and immature little boy, but I found him to be very amusing. They would come over almost
every weekend that I was at father’s, and become a big part of my life there.
Seventh Grade began. My coveted summer break was all over. On the first day, I noticed some people
I met during summer camp start school there as Sixth Graders. One of them was Patrick Dib, the
younger brother of Alex Dib. I would always view Patrick Dib as an obnoxious, rude lout. He was very
ugly too, and it annoyed me that he carried himself around as if he wasn’t a freckled, chubby-faced
imbecile.
I said hello to everyone I knew from last year, including Robert Morgan and his clique of popular kids.
There were also a flock of new kids who transferred from the Pinecrest in Van Nuys. I was soon to meet
them. Among these were Alfred Graham, Anthony Glukov, Jonny Noone, Derek Olsen, Garrett, Rafael,
and Edward. They already knew each other and always hung out together at the start of the year, but I
soon noticed that each of them soon integrated into the already pre-established cliques of Pinecrest. I
was jealous that Jonny Noone, an obnoxious Mexican kid, immediately became popular with the
skateboarders because of his cocky attitude.
Alfred Graham, a half-black boy whom I would have a semi-friendship with throughout the years was
intensely disliked by everyone, mainly because he was ugly and had a habit of intentionally annoying people. He would eventually become friends with the skateboarders, however, due to his interest in the
sport.
My reputation as the “shy kid” continued, and I still didn’t make any friends who became close
enough to see outside of school. I did socialize with various groups during school hours, so I wasn’t a
complete outcast during Seventh Grade.
James Ellis started middle school at Paul Revere Middle School as a Sixth Grader. Though he is the
same age as I am, he was held back a year in elementary school. Coincidentally, he went to the same
school as John Jo, Charlie, and a few other friends from Topanga.
After this point, I would stop seeing James Ellis for a while. Our friendship became temporarily stale
and would remain so for another year. The only time we saw each other during this period was when we
had family get-togethers. James’s sister, Sage, often came over to play with Georgia, while James didn’t
bother to come at all.
John Jo and Charlie started to come over every Friday. This would soon become a tradition. Fridays
were always my favorite time of the week, and this tradition made me always look forward to Fridays
with intense eagerness. They would be dropped off by their parents shortly after school time, and then
we would all walk to Planet Cyber and play games for hours.
After a few of these Friday sleepovers, Charlie introduced me to his friend Elijah. Elijah was
temporarily staying at Charlie’s house, and the two of them were like brothers. I immediately took a
great liking to Elijah, and we became instant friends. He helped me beat some of the hardest levels of
Halo. Elijah would then come over with Charlie and John Jo, and the four of us became a close group of
friends. This was the only true social group I would ever have, and I had a great time with them.
We sometimes hung out at Planet Cyber until 3:00 in the morning, the latest I had ever been out
without parent supervision. We would switch between playing Halo at my house, playing games at
Planet Cyber, or skateboarding around the neighborhood. I briefly got back into skateboarding for the
sake of enjoying it with these friends. On the following Saturday morning, we would wake up by 9:00,
have breakfast at Krispy Kreme and spend a few more hours at Planet Cyber before my friends were
picked up by their parents. I would then go to father’s house for the weekend, if father was in town.
My sister Georgia’s birthday was in November, and on that day my father hired a limo to pick up
Georgia and her friends from mother’s house. Charlie and Elijah came over, though John Jo was absent
that day. When the limo returned, we all celebrated Georgia’s birthday at the house together. I
introduced father to my friends. It was a very happy experience.
When the winter break finally arrived, my grandma Ah Mah came over from England to visit, and she
stayed in the fourth bedroom at mother’s house. Ah Mah is just like my mother, she always knew what I
liked and went out of her way to get it for me, just to put a smile on my face. She brought with her some
of my favorite English chocolates, along with her famous peanut cookies that I loved so much.
Mother had a party at her house, and a lot of family friends came over, including Maddy and her
mom, James and his family, Philip and Jeffrey and their family, and a lot of mother’s old friends whom I
hadn’t seen for a long time. Ah Mah, who is a professional cook, made some of her special dishes, and
we set up a bouncy castle in our backyard. I invited John Jo, Charlie, and Elijah over, and we walked to
Planet Cyber for a little bit, then walked back home and had some fun on the Bouncy Castle. James
never really liked my group of friends… he told me he thought they were jerks. I suppose he was right
about John Jo, but Charlie and Elijah were always nice people. Oh well, I never really liked James’s
friends either, so that made us even, I guess. I had a great time during this party. James and Maddy were the last ones to leave. Me and my sister
played with them for a while on the bouncy castle. It made for an interesting and peculiar experience,
playing with both James and Maddy at the same time, my two oldest friends. It had been a long time
since I had seen Maddy, and it would be the last time that we would ever play together as friends.
Before the night was over, we all took a picture together outside my mother’s front door. James made a
funny face for it, while I stood behind him awkwardly waving my hand. To this very day, my mother still
has that picture in one of her photo albums.
One time when John Jo, Charlie, and Elijah came over for our traditional Friday night sleepover, we
met up with Armando and his younger brother Gus. I hadn’t seen them since Topanga Elementary
school. We had a good time skateboarding with them at the church parking lot near mother’s house,
and all over that area. Afterwards, we had some video game competitions at Planet Cyber.
My mother took me to watch Lord of the Rings: Return of the King in the movie theatres. I already
saw the first two movies, but I wasn’t a huge fan of the series until I saw this third one in the movie
theatres. Watching that movie in the theatres was such an epic experience, and I will always remember
it. Though it wasn’t as exciting as going to the red carpet premieres of the Star Wars prequels, it came
quite close.
After the movie, mother and I ate dinner at TGI Friday’s. When we got home, as I was getting ready
for bed, I heard a knock on my door. It was Elijah asking if I wanted to go with him to Planet Cyber,
which I did for a few hours.
That day marked the last time I would ever go to the movie theatres with just my mother, except for
premieres. Growing up, I always loved it when my parents took me to the movies. The large screen and
loud surround-sound immersed me into the movie, and I liked that dizzy feeling I would feel when I
walked out of a movie theatre and entered back into the real world. It was always a remarkable
experience.
Soon enough, the movie theatres would turn from a place of joy to a place of dread. Once puberty
arrives, I would start getting jealous of all the young couples or groups of boys and girls who go to the
movies together. That day that I saw the final Lord of the Rings movie was the last time I enjoyed the
movie theatres in peace, without fear of humiliation.
Aside from Fridays, I always met my group of friends at Planet Cyber on Wednesdays, because they
were charging only one dollar per hour on Wednesdays. Usually my mother wouldn’t let me play video
games for such a long time on a weekday, but she made an exception for Wednesdays.
On one such Wednesday, Charlie introduced me to the game Warcraft 3. It was like no game I had
ever played before. It enabled the player to build an army and battle against other players online. After
the first round of Warcraft III, going up against John Jo and Charlie, I was captivated. The game was so
much fun. I couldn’t help but think about it every second for the next two days. When the following
Friday arrived, we played it for most of the day and well into the night.
My initially happy interest in the game Warcraft 3 had an ominous tone to it. This was the beginning
of a long relationship with the Warcraft franchise. In less than a year from that point, they would release
their ultimate game, World of Warcraft, a game that I would find sanctuary in for most of my teenage
years.
Seventh Grade flew by very fast. My school life was a continuation of Sixth Grade. I mingled with
acquaintances here and there and behaved nicely with everyone. The difference is that I was having so
much fun outside of school with my friends at Planet Cyber that I didn’t really care about getting popular
at school or getting attention from girls. I was enjoying my very last year of childhood. My twelfth year was one of the best years of my life, and the last year that I was happy. I’m glad that I can at least say I
made the best of it.
I gave no thought at all to my future, or the fact that puberty was just around the corner. I barely
even knew much about what puberty was. With puberty, my whole world would change, and my entire
life would collapse into utter despair. I wonder how I would have handled things if I knew… If was
prepared…
This summer was long awaited. I was having the time of my life, and once school was out I couldn’t
wait to spend the summer relaxing and doing fun things. I was relieved that neither of my parents made
me attend summer camp. I suppose I had gotten too old for it. This summer was mine to enjoy however
I wanted. It was like a coveted treasure that I could only hold for a few moments, but those moments
would last forever in memory. It was my last summer before puberty. My last summer of innocence. My
last summer of true happiness and satisfaction with life.
I continued my traditional Friday sleepovers with Charlie, John Jo, and Elijah. Because there was no
more school, they would sometimes come over on other days as well. I managed to beat the entire
game of Halo on legendary mode with Elijah’s help, an impressive feat.
Philip and Jeffrey came over quite a lot as well. Philip was always the mature and insightful brother,
while Jeffrey was the wild and funny one. Seeing the two of them together always made for an
interesting and excitable mix. Their mother, Kathy, brought them over on weekdays quite often. We
drank a lot of soda, ate a lot of candy, and played with scooters and skateboards around my mother’s
neighborhood. I took them to Planet Cyber one time and showed them some of the games there.
On the weekends I spent at father’s, we usually did something with the Bubenheims. They lived in the
Top of Topanga community, where we often spent afternoons. I played with Georgia and Lukas in the
swimming pool there, and being one who admires great views, I spent a lot of time looking out at the
Valley. Going to that place would always remind me of my Fifth Grade graduation party, a good
memory.
Soumaya told us extraordinary news. On one sunny afternoon at father’s, me and my sister were
asked to come to the dining room for a special announcement. It wasn’t announced by words, but by
Soumaya indicating us to feel her stomach. She was pregnant! She and my father were having their first
baby together. I was going to have a baby brother.
I felt elated. I remember when I was a bit younger I always asked my father and Soumaya if they were
going to have a baby, and they said they would like to. I still felt surprised when it was actually
confirmed. It was that warm feeling that would envelop me when a good change happened in my life. I
had no idea what it would be like, but I welcomed it.
My step-grandmother Khadija came to stay with us for a second time, mainly to help Soumaya
prepare for the birth.
In the middle of the summer, mother took me and my sister on a vacation to Malaysia. This was the
first time we would go on an overseas vacation with just mother, and I was pleased at the thought of it.
We took off on my 13th Birthday. I spent my birthday on the airplane, a much more exciting birthday
than the previous few. We traveled on Singapore Airlines, and though we weren’t traveling first class on
this trip, I found it to be just as comfortable. The staff of Singapore Airlines knew it was my birthday, and
they brought me a cake with a candle during the middle of the flight. It was a very nice gesture.
We had to spend eight hours at the Singapore Airport. I thought this airport was such a pleasant place
that I really enjoyed just spending time there. It was all part of the vacation experience. The airport was
huge, and much more entertaining than LAX or any airport in Europe that I’ve been to. The three of us walked around and explored, went shopping, visited all the common areas, and had a nice meal at one
of the restaurants. There were a lot of foreign candies and sodas that I was curious to try. Traveling with
just my mother and sister was a lot less stressful than traveling with father and Soumaya. It was
wonderful.
When we arrived in Malaysia, we met up with my grandma Ah Mah, my mother’s sister Min and her
husband Jack, and cousin Emma. They were also visiting Malaysia from England. We all stayed at a tall
hotel building near the beach. After we unpacked everything at the hotel, some of my mother’s relatives
who lived in Malaysia came to see us. We had a birthday celebration for me at the hotel that night.
Before I went to sleep, I pondered over the fact that I was now a teenager.
I had a lovely time on this vacation. Our hotel suite was on one of the highest floors of the building,
and it had an exquisite deck that provided a view of the ocean. During the trip, we toured around the
island of Penang, visited Georgetown, went to a fun waterpark, and had very delicious meals at many
exotic restaurants. Just relaxing and watching movies at the hotel was a joy in itself. The vacation was so
nice that I didn’t even miss my life at home. The three weeks flew by very fast, and I cried a little when it
was over. It was a good sadness.
I celebrated my birthday again at father’s house on the night we returned to America. I was allowed
to have my very first glass of beer for this celebration. I always thought of alcoholic drinks, such as beer
and wine, as mysterious drinks that were forbidden to children like myself. Father would let me have
only a small sip of wine from time to time. Having my first glass of beer felt like a big honor.
For my present, I got my first cell phone. During this era, cell phones were like a rite of passage for
kids my age. I always envied the kids who had a cell phone. John Jo had a silver Sprint phone with green
lighting that I always coveted. To finally have a cell phone of my own made me feel so proud. My phone
was a silver T-Mobile phone with blue lighting. I loved the satisfaction I felt when I opened it up and saw
the pretty lights.",1,Ideation of Violence,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"13 Years Old
I enjoyed the rest of the summer as best as I could. On the first Planet Cyber session after being back
from vacation, I met up with John Jo. They had the new Warcraft 3 expansion available to play, and the
two of us tried it out.
I had a sleepover with Charlie and Elijah, and they introduced me to their friend Julian Ritz-Barr. Julian
went to Topanga Elementary with us, though he was two grades lower, so I never knew him beforehand.
I thought he was very cool, but a bit stupid. We competed with each other at Planet Cyber. I continued
to see him with Charlie and Elijah a few more times after that.
Coincidentally, Julian’s parents were friends with Rob Lemelson, and I didn’t know this at the time. A
few years down the line, I would cross paths with Julian again at one of the Lemelson’s parties, where I
would spitefully envy him for being so confident with everyone.
When the summer ended, I cried a little. It was such a great summer. I went on a vacation, I saw lots
of friends, played lots of games, and enjoyed life to its fullest. Of course, I didn’t know at the time that
this was the last good summer in my life, but I still cried… as I always do after a joyful experience comes
to an end.
Eighth Grade began on a very mellow note. For the first couple of months, I continued on with the life
I’ve been living, and things seemed ok. The main people I hung out with at school were Alfred Graham,
Gavin Dowd, and Brice Miller. Alfred was just getting good at skateboarding, and he was starting to
become popular with the skateboarders. He once brought his skateboard to school and landed a kickflip, the move I was never able to master in the past. I was secretly jealous, even though I insisted to
everyone that I was no longer interested in skateboarding.
I started to take more notice of the kids in lower grades, specifically the Seventh Graders. There was
one who came in from Topanga Elementary, the older brother of one of Georgia’s friends. His name was
Neil Davis. I observed the popular kids of Seventh Grade... In a way they visually mimicked the popular
kids of my own grade. They were all the same, though the Seventh Graders seemed a lot meaner. I
noticed that Neil Davis was starting to be friends with them, even with the pretty girls. I would gradually
develop a great envy towards him. Another one was Lucky Radley, the black kid I played with in father’s
neighborhood. He transferred to Pinecrest during that very year, and he immediately became popular
with the pretty girls of his grade. I hated him for it.
Things were getting more intense every year we grew older, and I didn’t want to grow up. I wanted to
live the life I was comfortable with. I wanted to live in a world of fairness, and I tried not to accept that it
would soon come to an end.
The games I enjoyed playing at Planet Cyber were too powerful to run on my mother’s computer, so
Planet Cyber was the only place I could play them. That was until I asked my father to buy me Warcraft 3
to install on his powerful laptop. I got the Frozen Throne expansion to go with it, and once it was
installed I was able to play it on his laptop whenever he allowed me to. I thought it was really cool to
actually play an online game from my own home. Father’s house became a lot more fun after this,
though I hated it when Soumaya set limits on my playtime.
When father invited the Bubenheims over, Alex sometimes brought his friends Gary and Antje Twinn.
They had a son named Vincent, who was the same age as my sister and a good friend of Lukas. Vincent
was a kind-hearted and sweet little boy who was a bit overweight. I showed him Warcraft 3 on my
father’s computer. He was very interested in the game, and he would watch me for hours. He really
looked up to me. We got along well.
One day, I was looking up things on the internet about Warcraft 3. That is when I found out about a
new, revolutionary Warcraft game coming out, called World of Warcraft. I didn’t think much of it at the
time, ignorant of the effect it would have on me in my later life.
Gradually, my friendship with John Jo, Charlie, and Elijah started to wane. They no longer came over
as a group anymore. Our usual Friday sleepovers stopped happening, as they got more busy with other
things. John Jo and Charlie slowly started to get bored of Planet Cyber, which caused them to lose their
interest in coming over every week. I continued to see them individually; sometimes I would see Charlie
and Elijah together, sometimes just Elijah, and sometimes just John Jo.
Due to them coming over less often, I began to walk to Planet Cyber alone. I never did this before,
because my friends came over so much and we would go together. I would usually play Diablo 2 or
Warcraft 3 there. For a time, I did this as a routine without getting bored. Sometimes I would meet John
Jo there and we would have intense Warcraft 3 competitions with each other.
After a few more weeks into autumn, I began to get a bit depressed over the fact that the good times
I had with my main group of friends was fading away. I started to walk to Planet Cyber alone just to
reminisce such times. Sometimes I would stay there for hours into the night. I never thought I would get
bored of the highly entertaining games there, but after playing them so much on my own, I was
surprised that I was getting a bit bored. Good times always come to an end, and I always had a hard
time accepting this fact.
One time while I was alone at Planet Cyber, I saw an older teenager watching pornography. I saw in
detail a video of a man having sex with a hot girl. The video showed him stick his penis inside a girl’s
vagina. I didn’t know anything about sex at the time. I barely even knew what sex was. I was slowly starting to develop sexual feelings for hot girls, but I didn’t know what to do with them. To see this video
really traumatized me. I had no idea what I was seeing… I couldn’t imagine human beings doing such
things with each other. The sight was shocking, traumatizing, and arousing. All of these feelings mixed
together took a great toll on me. I walked home and cried by myself for a bit. I felt too guilty about what
I saw to talk to my parents about it. I was quite shaken for a few days.
This was among the very first glimpses I had of sex. Finding out about sex is one of the things that
truly destroyed my entire life. Sex… the very word fills me with hate. Once I hit puberty, I would always
want it, like any other boy. I would always hunger for it, I would always covet it, I would always fantasize
about it. But I would never get it. Not getting any sex is what will shape the very foundation of my
miserable youth. This was a very dark day.
Soon enough, I would inevitably find out about what sex was, whether I saw that foul video or not.
Boys at my school started talking about it. Connor Hanrahan and his friend Jordan Carlton one day told
me exactly what happens when a man and a woman have sex. Finding out about sex was just the
beginning of my horrific downfall.
My father and mother arranged to change our routine back to one-week, one-week. Father wanted
to spend more time with us, and it was agreed that this would be the way. I was angry about this,
because I felt satisfied with the way things were. If it went back to one-week, one-week, I would have to
spend time at father’s even if father wasn’t there, and I hated that. I didn’t see how it enabled father to
spend more time with us, because he was always going away for work anyway. But alas, I had no choice
in the matter, and the arrangement was set. This is how it would remain from that point on... My living
arrangement wouldn’t change again until I turn 18 and Soumaya kicks me out.
When Christmas came, I told father that I would like a new computer game. Father took me out
shopping for my new present. We first went to Comp USA on Victory Boulevard, but they didn’t have a
large selection of games. I was on the verge of just choosing to buy Diablo 2, a game I had already spent
hours on at Planet Cyber. But then, I decided that since Best Buy was just across the street, we should go
and have a look at the games there.
At Best Buy, I saw the game World of Warcraft. It had just come out a few weeks ago. I picked up the
box and looked at it for a few minutes. The game looked amazing and alluring, so I decided to choose
World of Warcraft as my Christmas present. I spent more time looking it over and reading about it on
the way home.
The only computer I could play World of Warcraft on was father’s laptop, but father was always using
his laptop for work. I had to wait a long time to get a chance to play it. After reading the game manual, I
got extremely excited to play it. It was a whole new type of game for me, an MMORPG that would
enable me to make my own character in a huge online fantasy world, and it was a world I was already
familiar with through playing Warcraft 3. This game was a hundred times bigger than any game I’ve
played in the past. The more I read about the game, the more anticipated I became.
After almost a month went by after getting World of Warcraft, I was finally able to play it. I made a
WoW account with my father, and then I created my first character, a night elf druid. It really blew my
mind. My first experience with WoW was like stepping into another world of excitement and adventure.
It was a video game world, but they made it so realistic that it was like living another life, a more exciting
life. My life was getting more and more depressing at that point, and WoW would fill in the void. It felt
refreshing and relieving. I was only able to play it for a few hours for my first session. It was all I would
think about when I wasn’t able to play it.
Mother didn’t have a good enough computer to run World of Warcraft, so I felt a bit frustrated
because of that. I thought of how awesome it would be if Planet Cyber had the game, but I doubted that it did. One afternoon, I walked to Planet Cyber with my WoW disks and asked them if they can install my
disks onto one of their computers. The owner told me the game was already being installed, and I was
thrilled to hear those words. It wasn’t ready yet, however, and I had to wait. I kept going back to Planet
Cyber every day to wait for it, and played other games there while they were still processing it. It was a
fun wait, and I knew I will eventually be able to play it. Finally, after spending three days at Planet Cyber
waiting, it was ready. I loaded the game and logged onto my account. I was completely ecstatic. I spent
all of my free time in the next few days playing it. The owner of Planet Cyber came to know me because
of this series of events, and he named me his best customer.
I invited Charlie over, and he came with Stephen, an old friend from Topanga Elementary whom I
hadn’t seen for a while. I found out that they both had their own WoW accounts, and we went to Planet
Cyber to play it together. I made a new character on their server just to play with them, though I would
eventually discard this character.
I saw Charlie only a few more times after that. Elijah was busy with some life problems and stopped
coming over. John Jo simply vanished from my life at this point, for no particular reason. I can’t recall the
exact last time I saw him, but it was around this period.
My mother decided to move to an apartment in Woodland Hills. I reacted indignantly. An apartment!
I had never lived in an apartment before, and I always thought of apartments as being poor and lowclass. I would be embarrassed to admit it to anyone.
The apartment building was called the Renaissance Apartments, near the Warner Center area of
Woodland Hills. We moved into a two bedroom apartment. Mother knew I was too old to share a room
with my sister, so she gave me the second bedroom, and she and my sister shared the master bedroom.
Leaving the blue house on Glade Avenue was hard. I had so many good times with my friends there.
And to move out of it at the very time that I stopped seeing those friends… it was quite emotional. I
cried on our last day there.
My mother’s new apartment was not walking distance from Planet Cyber, and I was a bit
embarrassed to show that I lived in an apartment, so I stopped seeing any friends. Elijah was the last
person in the group who I saw. I was at Planet Cyber and he tapped me on the shoulder. It was a
random meeting. The two of us talked for a bit about the new Halo 2 game, and I showed him my WoW
character. That was the last time I saw him.
Eventually, I lost all contact with Charlie, John Jo, and Elijah. The friends I had such a good times with
for the last two years were no longer my friends. They were lost to me. I also stopped seeing Philip and
Jeffrey… they simply just forgot about me, I assumed. The only friend who remained to me was James
Ellis.
The upside of moving to the apartment was that my mother acquired high speed internet. I was able
to play World of Warcraft on her computer, along with Halo 2 on Xbox Live.
This was the point when my social life ended completely. I would never have a satisfying social life
ever again. It was the beginning of a very lonely period of my life, in which my only social interactions
would be online through video games, with the sole exception being my friendship with James. The
ability to play video games with people online temporarily filled in the social void. I got caught up in it,
and I was too young and naïve to realize the severity of how far I had fallen. I was too scared to accept
it. This loss of a social life, coupled with the advent of puberty, caused me to die a little inside. It was too
much for me to handle, and I stopped caring about my life and my future. I even stopped caring about
what people thought of me. I hid myself away in the online World of Warcraft, a place where I felt
comfortable and secure.",1,Grievance Airring,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Part 4
Stuck in the Void
Age 13-17
James Ellis also acquired Xbox Live with Halo 2. I started to play it with him online, and our friendship
reignited after being stale for the previous year. We would meet up online after school, or on Saturday
mornings. The two of us battled on Halo 2 over the internet, just like we did with our Nintendo 64
games when we were children.
James would be my only friend throughout the next depressing and lonely period of my life. My
friendship with James helped me cope with the loneliness. The very few fun times we would have were
like a light in the darkness for me.
Now that I was able to play World of Warcraft at my mother’s house with no limitations, aside from
school and homework, I became very addicted to the game and my character in it. It was all I cared
about.
I was so immersed in the game that I no longer cared about what people thought of me. I only saw
school as something that took time away from WoW. I became very bored at school, mainly due to the
fact that I was still the invisible quiet kid. To alleviate this boredom, I started to act weird and annoying
to people just to gain attention.
I became known as the “weird kid” at Pinecrest, and people started to make fun of me, but I didn’t
care. I had my online games to distract me from the harsh realities of life that I was too scared to face.
The only time I did care was when a group of popular Seventh Grade girls started teasing me, which hurt
a lot. One of these girls was Monette Moio, a pretty blonde girl who was Ashton’s younger sister. She
must have thought I was an ultimate loser. I hated her so much, and I will never forget her. I started to
hate all girls because of this. I saw them as mean, cruel, and heartless creatures that took pleasure from
my suffering.
At father’s house, I was forced to change my bedroom to the downstairs room that Tracy once
occupied. My old bedroom was to be given to my baby brother… Soumaya was due to give birth to him
very soon. I was quite annoyed at this. That room was the room that made me so enthusiastic about
moving to that house. Father and Soumaya thought moving me was the best solution. The new baby
would get a room close to them, and I would have the much bigger downstairs room.
When I moved to the downstairs room, I slowly agreed that it was the sensible thing to do. My new
room was twice the size of my old one, I still had my own bathroom, and I also had the hallway that led
to it. Technically, I had the whole bottom floor of the three story house to myself. The only bad thing
about this was that I would get scared to walk down those stairs at night when it’s dark… the light switch
was at the bottom of the stairs. I’ve always been afraid of the dark.
Soumaya gave birth to a newborn baby boy, and they named him Jazz. It happened during father’s
week. While father and Soumaya were at the hospital, Alex Bubenheim picked us up from school and we
stayed at his house in the afternoons. This occurred for three days, and finally, on the day of the birth,
father showed up to announce the birth of Jazz. We had a little celebration, and the song “Jessie’s Girl”
played from Alex’s sound system. Whenever I heard that song in the future, I would always think of that
day.
It was an exciting day. I actually had a brother… It was hard to believe. Technically he is my halfbrother, but I would always term him as my brother. I wasn’t as impacted by his birth as I expected
myself to be, possibly because I was so caught up in my own personal and emotional changes that I was
going through at that stage. Spring break came up, the first break from school since I started playing WoW. I considered myself
extremely fortunate that I was at my mother’s house for that week. I disliked being at father’s house,
because I had so many limits on the amount of time I could play my game. On the onset of spring break,
I planned to spend the whole time on WoW, leveling up my character and forgetting about my horrible
school life.
I invited James to come over to my mother’s apartment for the first time. We played a round of Halo
2, and then I decided to show him World of Warcraft. He knew nothing about it. I was very eager to get
him into it. WoW was his kind of game, after all. He seemed very interested.
We went to father’s house for Easter Sunday. He took us to a party held by some new friends of his,
the Thompsons. Alongside the Bubenheims, the Thompsons became frequent guests at my father’s
dinner parties. They consisted of John Thompson, a successful film producer, and his wife Tatiana. They
had three children: Isabella, the oldest daughter, was two years younger than me, and the twins Josh
and Alessandra were the same age as my sister.
On the first day me and my sister met them, and I believe it was on that Easter Sunday, we played
with them splendidly in their backyard. But soon, after they came over a few more times, I began to
have uneasy feelings of nervousness and fear around the two girls, mainly because I thought all girls
hated me. The way I was treated by girls at my school played a big part in my resentment towards all of
them during this time. This resentment would only grow larger the more I am treated unfairly by the
female gender.
Mother took us to the premiere of Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. As a huge Star Wars fan,
this was a big day for me. Episode 3 would complete the whole Star Wars saga. It was the most
anticipated movie. To be able to see it before everyone else made me feel special. I really liked the
character Anakin Skywalker, and I was amazed to see his epic transformation into Darth Vader on the
high quality big screen.
Finally having something to brag about, I told everyone at school the next day that I went to the
premiere because my mother is friends with George Lucas. The problem was that most Eighth Graders
thought of Star Wars as being a “nerdy” interest, and they didn’t really care. I was left frustrated and
disappointed by their reaction.
As middle school approached its ultimate end, I was having a miserable time there. I was extremely
unpopular, widely disliked, and viewed as the weirdest kid in the school. I had to act weird in order to
gain attention. I was tired of being the invisible shy kid. Infamy is better than total obscurity.
The teasing I received was bittersweet. It felt horrible to be teased and bullied… it caused me a lot of
pain and anger… but at the same time I got a kick out of getting so much attention. It felt good to be
confident enough to pick fights with the popular skateboarder kids. It was either that, or continue to be
ignored by everyone like I was in Sixth and Seventh Grade. I never knew how to gain positive attention,
only negative.
My experience during Middle School really darkened my view of the world, and it would only get
darker from then on, as I suffered more and more. The way I was treated by girls at this time, especially
by that evil bitch Monette Moio, sparked an intense fear of girls. The funny part of this is that I had a
secret crush on Monette. She was the first girl I ever had a crush on, and I never admitted it to anyone.
To be teased and ridiculed by the girl I had a crush on wounded me deeply. The world that I grew up
thinking was bright and blissful was all over. I was living in a depraved world, and I didn’t want to accept
it. I didn’t want to give any thought to it. That is why I immersed myself entirely into my online games
like World of Warcraft. I felt safe there. I was so obsessed with playing WoW that I never gave much serious thought to the fact that I would
have to go to High School soon. As the end of middle school neared, the prospect started to loom over
me more and more. At one moment I pictured what my life in high school would be like, based on how
things have been for me in middle school. It was not a bright picture. I didn’t want to have to deal with
the cruelty of girls in high school, and I imagined that it would be much worse than anything I’ve ever
experienced. I begged my parents to send me to Crespi Carmelite High School, a catholic all-boys school.
Father took me there for a tour, and it didn’t look so bad. It was a very prestigious private school. At
least I wouldn’t have to deal with any fear of girls there. We submitted an application. A few weeks later
I received the news that I had been accepted to Crespi.
Eighth Grade Graduation was a nightmare. Everyone was required to go up on stage and speak to the
whole audience. We had to say our name, and tell everyone what school we were planning on going to.
The audience consisted of all of the student’s families, as well as any siblings or friends who wished to
attend. Both of my parents came, as well as Soumaya, Khadija, my sister, and even my baby brother
Jazz.
It took place in the evening. As I lined up, I could feel myself shaking. I was scared even to speak in
front of a classroom. To speak in a microphone to hundreds of people was too much. I didn’t understand
how everyone else seemed to be fine with it. I envied their bravery. When my name was called, I didn’t
want to go, but it was required of me, and I pushed myself to do it. I walked up to the microphone and
nervously said “My name is Elliot, and I plan on going to Crespi High School”. I heard my own voice in
the speakers and saw everyone staring at me. It made me cringe. I quickly walked away for the next
person to go up. It was over. Eighth Grade was over. Middle School was over.
I said a few farewells to the people I knew. Alfred Graham and Brice Miller told me they were going to
Crespi as well. At least I will know two people at Crespi on the first day, I thought.
The thought of going to High School sent a shiver through me. I put it in the back of my mind to deal
with later.
After the ceremony, I said goodbye to the principal, and she congratulated me on completing middle
school. On the way home, my family seemed very proud of me. I didn’t feel proud. I didn’t feel like I
accomplished anything. Middle School, though it started out ok in the first two years, ended up being a
disaster.
For the summer break, I planned on spending the whole time playing WoW and forgetting about
everything else. I reached the highest level on my WoW character: level 60. I actually considered this to
be a huge and important accomplishment. I joined a guild with my character, and I made a few online
friends though it. I couldn’t wait to play my character further, exploring everything the game had to
offer and collecting more armor pieces and trinkets.
In just a week into my summer break, my mother told me that father and Soumaya were going to
Morocco, and I would be forced to go with them. This news upset me tremendously. I then asked how
long this trip would be, and I was told it would be eight weeks. EIGHT WEEKS?! I could not believe what I
was hearing. I threw a big tantrum.
For one thing, I was never enthusiastic about Morocco. The country is very backwards, and that made
me very uncomfortable. They didn’t even have the latest video games. And to be forced to go there for
eight weeks? That would take up the entire summer and the first two weeks of high school. It was even
longer than the last time we went, and I thought that was too long. I wouldn’t be able to play WoW at
all for two whole months. The prospect devastated me. I begged my mother to not let me go, but father
and Soumaya insisted on bringing me and Georgia, and my mother was probably looking forward to
having two months without children to look after. The decision was made, the plans were set. They already had a plane ticket ready for me. I was going to Morocco. I bet they all knew I would protest
against going, which is why they told me last minute.
The last day of mother’s week was the day before we would depart. Mother took me and my sister to
a barbeque at the house of her friends Alan and Rebecca. I was very sad for the whole day. I didn’t do
anything at the barbeque except swing on their swing in misery. When we got home I played WoW for
the very last time. I took advantage of the few hours I had left on it. My mother allowed me to stay up
until midnight playing. I acquired a very nice piece of armor for my character. I didn’t want to leave it.
When we arrived at father’s house the next day, I heard even more upsetting news. Father had to
work for the first few weeks of summer, so he would joining us in the middle of the trip. It was only
Soumaya taking us to Morocco! I always hated traveling with Soumaya. She made everything so difficult.
Baby Jazz will be coming along with us, of course, and the stress of looking after a whelping baby while
traveling will put Soumaya in a bad mood. I was not happy at all.
As I expected, the journey there was a disaster. Baby Jazz cried a lot during the trip, and Soumaya
wasn’t at her best of moods. We didn’t take First Class, and we had to make three stops; once in
Michigan, again in Paris, and yet again in Casablanca, before taking a small plane to Tangier. It was a
miserable journey, the complete opposite of the great time I had a year ago on the trip to Malaysia.
We took a taxi to Khadija’s house right after we arrived. Khadija went home to Morocco on a
different plane a few days before us, and she was already settled in. After unpacking at Khadija’s house,
we walked to Soumaya’s father’s huge house where I met Ayman again. I remembered playing with
Ayman on my last trip to Morocco… He grew up a lot since then. To my dismay, he was taller and
stronger than me, despite being two years younger. I was always short and physically weak… that’s how
it’s been all my life. We instantly became friends again after catching up a little, and I played hide-andseek tag with him and his two younger brothers.
I disliked having to be in Morocco for the whole summer, but I tried to make the best of it. Ayman
made the time I spent there more fun. We often went out by ourselves to explore the city of Tangier.
Ayman knew where everything was, and Soumaya trusted him to show me around. Georgia sometimes
came with us. We had a few good times together, and we got along well.
The Thompsons joined us in Morocco a couple of weeks after we arrived. Georgia was happy that
Alessandra, Josh, and Isabella were there to play with her. I was not happy about it. I was so scared of
girls at that time that I kept my distance from Alessandra and Isabella. I didn’t want to admit to Ayman
that I was scared of girls though, that would have been embarrassing, so I just told him that I thought
they were too immature. He didn’t understand this, because I myself was very immature at the time.
For my 14th birthday, Soumaya organized a small party at her father’s house. Most of the guests were
her Moroccan friends, and some of them didn’t even know that the party was for my birthday. I was a
bit annoyed by this. They had a cake arranged for me, and when it was brought out everyone gathered
to wish me a happy birthday. That would be the last time I spent my birthday with more people than
just my family. I was amazed that I was actually fourteen. Fourteen sounded like such a big number. I
didn’t feel fourteen. I still felt like a kid, and in all appearances, I was.
Father couldn’t even make it for my birthday. I was a bit upset about this. He came a few days after it.
Once he arrived, we toured around Tangier and a few other areas as a family. Khadija and Ayman
sometimes came along with us. Soumaya’s father owned a house on the beach, and we usually went
there for beach trips. I caught a virus while swimming in the ocean once, which caused me to get
extremely ill. I spent a whole week of the vacation in bed, aching and vomiting. I was never that ill
before in my life. Whenever I would think about Morocco in the future, I thought about that horrid
experience.
At one time towards the end of the trip, when I had a sleepover with Ayman at Soumaya’s father’s
house, he showed me some European porn videos in the middle of the night. I could observe the act of
sex in much more detail than that one glimpse I had at Planet Cyber. I didn’t want to look, but my curiosity got the better of me. To see a video of human beings doing such weird and unspeakable things
with each other revolted me. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. And yet, I noticed I was feeling
aroused. I felt desire to do those things, to have sex with the naked women I saw in the video. It was a
funny feeling that overwhelmed my whole body. I could feel my penis getting hard. This is when I
noticed that I was finally going through puberty. Heavens save me.
The trip was way too long, and towards the end I felt depressed and homesick. All I wanted was to go
back home and play WoW, and yet I had to accept that once I did get home, I had to start high school
right away. I supposed that being able to play WoW again would make up for that, though. And it would
sure beat staying in Morocco for any longer. I was growing tired of it.",1,Grievance Airring,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"14 Years Old
I felt a wave of relief when we arrived back in the United States. We had to travel separately from
father again because he had a different flight schedule, but it wasn’t that bad on the way back because I
was looking forward to playing WoW again.
I only had one free day before I had to start school. When I got back to mother’s house, I gave her a
big hug… That was the longest time I had been away from mother. After that, I immediately asked if I
can go on her computer and play my game. I logged onto my character, which was just the way I left it
two months ago. I said hi to all of my online friends and tried to catch up on everything.
The dreaded day arrived all too soon. I had to start High School. School had already begun while I was
still in Morocco, so I would be the “new kid” again. That made it so much worse. My father drove me
there on the first day. When we got there, I was intimidated by all the huge high school boys, and I cried
in the car for a few minutes, telling my father that I was too scared to get out.
I had to go, and eventually I did. We walked to the main office where I ran into Brice Miller. We
greeted each other before I was led up to join my first class of the day. Alfred Graham was in that class,
and he helped me settle in.
During lunchtime, Alfred showed me around the whole school. I started to feel a lot more
comfortable. He introduced me to some of the other freshmen. In the courtyard, I met Pascal and his
clique of friends. I immediately took a disliking to them. Pascal was cocky and popular, so I felt
intimidated. He was like the Crespi equivalent of Robert Morgan. As I met a few more people, I ran into
Keaton Webber! I didn’t expect to find any more people I knew at Crespi. It really took me by surprise. I
hadn’t seen Keaton since he left Topanga Elementary at the end of Fourth Grade. Keaton was still the
arrogant jerk he always was at Topanga, and he had his own clique of skateboarder friends, such as
Andy Moussa and Aaron Amman.
As I expected, I failed to make any new friends. I was so overwhelmed by the brutality of the world
that I just didn’t care anymore. On the very first week, I had my first experience of true bullying, not just
the teasing I had at Pinecrest. Some horrible Twelfth Graders saw me as a target because I looked like a
ten year old and I was physically weak. They threw food at me during lunchtime and after school. It
enraged me, but I was too scared to do anything about it. What kind of horrible, depraved people would
poke fun at a boy younger than them who has just entered high school? I thought to myself.
After the first few weeks of high school, I concluded that my time at Crespi would not be pleasant at
all. I withdrew further into the World of Warcraft, neglecting my homework and spending all of my free
time playing it.
As a late birthday present, father bought me a new laptop that was able to run WoW. It wasn’t a very
powerful laptop, but it performed adequately. This enabled me to have more time playing my game.
During father’s week, Soumaya was always on my back about how much time I spent on WoW, but since my room was on the bottom floor, secluded from the rest of the house, I was able to sneak as much
time on it as I could.
While I was playing WoW after dinner at mother’s house once, I heard my sister watching the new
show Avatar: The Last Airbender on the television. I decided to check it out. I soon found myself really
enjoying it. It was a magnificent story set in a fantasy world where people can control the power of the
elements. Once I watched the first episode, I was hooked on the story. Prince Zuko was my favorite
character; he was a banished prince who was trying to regain his rightful place in the world. I always
related to him. Avatar: The Last Airbender became my favorite T.V. show.
My mother informed me that she was just on the phone to Arte Ellis, and he told her that James now
played World of Warcraft. I was very pleased to hear this. I could now share my greatest interest in the
world with my good friend… my only friend. I then went over to James’s house for a sleepover, which I
hadn’t done for a while. He showed me his WoW character, who was only level 20. We weren’t on the
same server, so we couldn’t play it together. The only way would be for one of us to start over, and we
were too immersed in our characters to do that. I was fine with that. James was really fascinated by my
level 60 character, and most of the time he would just watch me play, anyway. We also played a lot of
Halo 2 together.
Having these common interests with James reminded me of the good old days when we were
children; when we were both interested in skateboarding, and before that, Pokemon. This nostalgic
experience provided a small respite from my sufferings at school.
My life at Crespi got even worse. Alfred and Brice apparently told everyone how weird I was at
Pinecrest, and people in my own grade started to tease me. They found out that I didn’t like being called
a skateboarder, and it was true. Because I failed to become good at skateboarding, I developed a hatred
for the sport, and whenever someone called me a skateboarder, it reminded me of my failure and I got
very angry. The whole school started calling me it just to anger me, along with other insulting names.
They teased me because I was scared of girls, calling me names like “faggot”. People also liked to steal
my belongings and run away in an attempt to get me to chase after them. And I did chase after them in
a furious rage, but I was so little and weak that they thought it was comical. I hated everyone at that
school so much.
It got to a point where I had to wait in a quiet corner for the hallways to clear before I could walk to
class. I also took long routes around the school to avoid bullies. My parents began to consider not letting
me continue there after Ninth Grade.
When winter break came, I felt like I had just landed on a peaceful island after swimming through a
horrific storm. It was such a fine relief. The break was to last for three weeks, and I was sorely
disappointed that two of them would be at father’s house, while only one was at mother’s. I hated being
at father’s house because Soumaya became more and more suspicious of how much time I spent playing
WoW, and she would place limits on my playtime whenever she caught me playing it. I wasn’t able to do
my five-hour-long events to collect rare armor pieces for my character while I was at father’s house.
It was during this winter break that I experienced my first masturbation and ejaculation. It was one of
the most peculiar and memorable experiences of my life. At this point I was officially going through the
stages of puberty, and I had lots of sexual urges. I often fantasized about hot naked girls while rubbing
my penis against my mattress at night. One time, while doing this, I felt an intense stirring numbness all
around my fully erect penis, and it extended all over my body. It felt magical and ecstatic, and I kept
rubbing my penis on the mattress. That was when the orgasm happened. I couldn’t believe how much
pleasure I felt from that. I looked down at my penis to see that my semen had poured out all over it, like a volcanic eruption of white, sticky fluid. What was happening to me? I thought to myself with nervous
excitement. It was like nothing I had ever seen or experienced before, something completely out of my
world. I felt really guilty afterwards, so I refrained from telling anyone about it.
I started to masturbate on a regular basis. At first I only did it by rubbing my penis on my bed, but it
eventually escalated to looking at pictures of girls online while rubbing my penis against my pants,
fantasizing about doing sexual things with them. I didn’t know how to access any porn sites, so I would
just browse regular websites until I found a picture of a hot girl to masturbate to.
I developed a very high sex drive, and it would always remain like this. This was the start of hell for
me. Going through puberty utterly doomed my existence. It condemned me to live a life of suffering and
unfulfilled desires. Even at that young age, I felt depressed because I wanted sex, yet I felt unworthy of
it. I didn’t think I was ever going to experience sex in reality, and I was right. I never did. I was finally
interested in girls, but there was no way I could ever get them. And so my starvation began.
The boys in my grade talked about sex a lot. Some of them even told me that they had sex with their
girlfriends. This was the most devastating and traumatizing thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Boys having
sex at my age of Fourteen? I couldn’t fathom it. How is it that they were able to have such intimate and
pleasurable experiences with girls while I could only fantasize about it? I frequently started asking
myself. This was an all-boys school… How in the hell were those boys even able to meet girls to have sex
with? I wondered. I hoped they were lying. I hoped against all hope. Hearing that really shook me to the
core. Words cannot describe how much hatred and envy I felt for those boys. That hatred would only
fester the more I suffer from my sexual starvation. I was too scared to tell anyone about it, and I hid it
well… for a time.
These recent events cause me to withdraw even further away from the world. I drowned all of my
misery in my online games. World of Warcraft was the only thing I had left to live for. My grades at
Crespi dropped dramatically. I just didn’t care anymore. I hated that school. I didn’t think about my
future. The only thing I gave any serious thought to was my WoW character. I had become very powerful
in the game, and I was in one of the best guilds. With this guild, I participated in lots of five-hour raid
events to collect better gear and armor for my character.
Mother moved to a new house with a swimming pool that she was able to lease for a fair price. She
picked me and my sister up from father’s house and took us there as a surprise. It was located near the
old blue house, though in a nicer area. This was on a day that I had an event on WoW in the afternoon,
and I was very concerned about whether or not I would make it in time, so when we got to the new
house I didn’t even look around and immediately hooked up my laptop to play WoW. I was that
obsessed.
After being bullied so much in Eighth and Ninth Grade, I became more shy and timid than I ever was
in my life. I felt very small, weak, and above all, worthless. I cried by myself at school every day.
The very last day of Ninth Grade was the worst. I was having P.E. at the gym, and one of my
obnoxious classmates named Jesse was bragging about having sex with his girlfriend. I defiantly told him
that I didn’t believe him, so he played a voice recording of what sounded like him and his girlfriend
having sex. I could hear a girl saying his name over and over again while she panted franticly. He grinned
at me smugly. I felt so inferior to him, and I hated him. It was at that moment that I was called to the
office. When I got there, my mother was waiting for me to take me home. I cried heavily as I told her
about what happened earlier. That was the last day I ever set foot in Crespi Carmelite High School.
Crespi was finished. I thought I could finally relax. Little did I know that the worst was yet to come. My parents shocked me with very horrible news. They were planning on sending me to Taft High
School. Taft had five times as many students as Crespi, it was a public school, it had girls in it, and it had
a bad reputation. I had never been so scared in my entire life. How could they do this to me, after
knowing what I went through at Crespi? Taft High School would eat me alive and spit me out. I felt so
betrayed by my parents.
On top of that, they told me I had to go to summer school at Taft very soon. I failed a few classes at
Crespi and I had to make up for them. The summer was supposed to be a time of peace and relaxation.
This was turning out to be the worst summer of my life.
I went with my parents to the Taft Orientation event, and it was a horrific experience. I felt so
dismayed at how large the school was, and how intimidating all of the tall students were. I even begged
my parents to send me back to Crespi, because I knew Taft would be much worse.
I had a foul time at summer school. I remember how I used to hate it when my parents made me go
to summer camp. Summer camp was like heaven compared to summer school at Taft. I got lost on the
first day. I was so terrified that I hid in the hallways during break time. I spent my time at summer school
gruelingly waiting to go home so I could feel safe playing WoW.
My 15th Birthday was in the midst of this summer school term. I was so miserable during this period
that I didn’t even give much thought to it. It was so uneventful that I barely remember anything about it.
I believe I just had dinner with my mother and played WoW afterwards.",1,Grievance Airring,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"15 Years Old
 Toxic is the word that describes my first day of Tenth Grade at Taft High School. It was a toxic
nightmare. Every single second of it was agony. I continued to beg my parents to not make me go, but it
was to no avail. My father drove me there, and I didn’t want to get out of his car. He almost had to drag
me out. I somehow found the will to put one foot in front of the other and walk towards that awful, ugly
front building.
 The first week of Taft was living hell. I was bullied several times, even though I didn’t know anyone
there. After being so used to wearing a polo shirt with khaki pants as a school uniform at private
schools, I continued to dress like that even after leaving Crespi. I didn’t give any thought to how nerdy I
looked. I was too withdrawn, like a turtle tucked into his shell. I was still in the process of going through
puberty at the time, so I still looked and sounded like a ten-year-old. Such a persona attracted zero
attention from girls, of course, but it did attract bullies like moths to a flame.
 I was completely and utterly alone. No one knew me or extended a hand to help me. I was an
innocent, scared little boy trapped in a jungle full of malicious predators, and I was shown no mercy.
Some boys randomly pushed me against the lockers as they walked past me in the hall. One boy who
was tall and had blonde hair called me a “loser”, right in front of his girlfriends. Yes, he had girls with
him. Pretty girls. And they didn’t seem to mind that he was such an evil bastard. In fact, I bet they liked
him for it. This is how girls are, and I was starting to realize it. This was what truly opened my eyes to
how brutal the world is. The most meanest and depraved of men come out on top, and women flock to
these men. Their evil acts are rewarded by women; while the good, decent men are laughed at. It is sick,
twisted, and wrong in every way. I hated the girls even more than the bullies because of this. The sheer
cruelty of the world around me was so intense that I will never recover from the mental scars. Any
experience I ever had before never traumatized me as much as this.
 I couldn’t do it anymore. On the morning before the second week of Taft started, I broke down and
cried in front of my mother, begging her not to make me go to that horrible place. I was so scared that I felt physically sick. I continued crying in the car on the way there, and my mother gave in. Instead of
taking me to school, we went to the café at Gelson’s in Calabasas where we had a big talk. I tried to
explain how much I was suffering there. She just could not take me to school after that. When we were
finished with Gelsons’s, she drove me to my father’s house and told him about what happened. They
agreed to take me out of Taft.
 I didn’t go to school for a month while my parents decided what to do with me. I took advantage of
the time to rest and recover at home, playing my online games. The pain and suffering I had to endure
at Taft was all over, but the scars would remain. I tried to forget about it as much as I could. I took a
deep breath and relaxed.
 After a month of recovery, my parents took me to look at two continuation high schools, which
operate like home-schooling because you only spend three hours a day there and do the rest of the
work at home. One of them was right next to El Camino High School, the other one was in Van Nuys. My
parents preferred the one in Van Nuys because they felt it was more structured and organized. It was
called Independence High School, and they decided to send me there.
 Independence was a very small school with only three buildings and 100 students. The teachers were
all very nice and understanding, and it had a relaxed and calm environment. I figured this was the best
option for me.
 A week later, I started going to Independence High School. I didn’t like any of the students there, as
they were all slobs with the exception of two or three boys. This wasn’t a major concern, because I
didn’t care about having a social life at the point. All I wanted to do was hide away from the cruel world
by playing my online games, and Independence High School gave me the perfect opportunity to do just
that. I only had to be at school for three or four hours per day, and all of the work was very easy with
teachers available to help me with anything. After those short school hours, I had all the time in the
world to do whatever I wanted, and I spent it playing World of Warcraft.
 One drawback was that I had to take the bus to school because my parents couldn’t pick me up at
such an early time of the day. Though it was embarrassing, I didn’t care about appearances anymore, so
I didn’t make a big deal out of it.
 This was the perfect set up for a World of Warcraft addict. After school, every day, I fully indulged
myself in my addiction to WoW. My only social interaction was with my online friends and with James,
who would occasionally come over to my house to play WoW with me.
 My father’s career as a commercial director hadn’t been as successful as it was a couple years before.
He foolishly decided to invest all of his money in his first feature film, a documentary named “Oh My
God”. In the film, he would interview various people about their opinions on religion and God. To make
it, he took off to travel all over the world for a few months. Despite this, the one week-one week
arrangement remained, and during father’s week I had to stay at father’s house with only Soumaya. This
frustrated me tremendously, because Soumaya has always been a pain to live with, and she would
obstruct my time on WoW. I was hopeful about father’s movie, however. He kept talking about how he
will become very rich from it, and I fostered a hope that he would become rich. How naïve I was… the
movie would only bankrupt him in the future.
 On top of this, I had to deal with another change at father’s house that angered me to no end. I had
to give up my lovely, huge, and luxurious downstairs room. It was all because baby Jazz got a new nanny.
Once again, Jazz’s existence caused me to lose my room at father’s house. This time, father made my
room into his new office. He split his old office into two bedrooms, in which I got one of them and the
nanny got the other. My new room was much smaller, and it didn’t have its own bathroom. My
downstairs room was the best part of being at father’s house, and it was all gone. I started to really hate
going there. Father came back shortly for the winter break, before taking off again. A new expansion for World of
Warcraft, called the Burning Crusade, came out in the beginning of January. I was extremely excited for
this expansion. It added many new features to the game, new areas to explore, and raised the level cap
to 70. It was like a whole new WoW game. I asked my father to buy it for me as a Christmas present. I
can still remember the intense anticipation I felt as I installed it onto my laptop.
 I decided to transfer my WoW character to the same server as James, so that we could play together
online and level up our characters in the new expansion. Through doing this, I met two of James’s
friends from his school, who also played on his server. They were two brothers named Steve and Mark.
Steve is our age, and Mark is a couple years older.
 Me, James, Steve, and Mark would then always play together online as a group. I found them quite
fun to play the game with, and it was nice to have some friends to play WoW with on a regular basis.
Eventually, Steve and Mark decided to make new characters on a PvP server, which had play settings
that were more to my liking. I chose to make a new character with them. I made a blood elf character
that I leveled up very fast, and this became my main character in the game. James stayed on his old
server for a while, but within a few weeks we persuaded him to join us on the new one.
 I had heated conflicts with Soumaya during every week that I was at father’s house. All I wanted to do
was play WoW, and Soumaya strictly limited my playtime. Because my new room was just across from
hers, she knew what I was doing at every single second. She was breathing down my neck the whole
time. She kept making me do chores around the house. I despised doing work around the house,
especially since we had a nanny who was supposed to do it. If I made a scene about doing the work, she
took away my laptop for a day or two. This was the most horrible thing she could do to me, to take away
my only source of joy left in the world. She sometimes did it even when father was at home, and father
didn’t lift a finger to stop her.
 My first year at Independence high school came to an end very quickly. Nothing eventful really
happened there, and I barely interacted with anyone. I would just go there for my required time, do my
work, and go home. I was too absorbed in my game to care about anything else.
 At father’s house, in the beginning of the summer, I was introduced to someone who I would hate for
a very long time: Leo Bubenheim. Alex Bubenheim married a German woman named Karina who had
just moved to the U.S. with her two kids: Leo and Pollina, who became Alex’s step-children. They would
then always come over as a family. Leo was 12 years old, and Pollina was a year younger than me. My
fear of girls made me keep my distance from Pollina. She was a total bitch anyway, and her attitude
would only get worse. She is a true representative of everything I hate about women.
 When I first met Leo, I didn’t think much of him. He was only twelve years old. I just thought of him as
Lukas’s new older brother. I had no inkling of how much I will envy and hate him later on.
 Soon enough, my jealousy of Leo began to manifest. He had just moved to the U.S. from Germany,
and yet he was already able to make lots of friends and had a great social life. He was tall, good looking,
blonde-haired, and a skateboarder; the type of person I’ve always envied and wanted to be.
 Me, my father, and the Bubenheims all went on a camping trip to Big Bear. It was just the boys. We
drove deep into the wilderness in my father’s big, formidable Lexus SUV. After setting up our tents, we
built a nice fire to gather around and tell stories. It was quite fun, and it made for a small respite from
my lonely life, though I had to suffer the presence of Leo and deal with my jealousy of him. One time during the trip, my father made me take Leo and Lukas out exploring. The three of us covered a lot of
ground, and I tried to act tough in front of them by slashing my knife at any plant that got in our way.
 The 4th of July of this year was the day I saved my little brother’s life from drowning. I went with my
family to Antje and Gary Twinn’s house, as they always had a 4th of July party. The Bubenheims were
there, including Leo and Pollina. So was Vincent Twinn, who had grown up quite fast. The last time I saw
him, he was the little kid who looked up to me when I showed him all of my computer games. Now he
was just becoming a teenager, with an interest in skateboarding.
 The party was a pool party, and my brother Jazz had full exposure to the swimming pool. He had
already learned how to walk, but he couldn’t swim. At one instance as I was eating lunch, I saw Jazz
quickly run off from the adults, completely unattended. I then watched as he curiously examined the
water, and then descended into steps of the shallow end of the pool. Before long, he lost his footing on
the steps and his whole body sank into the water. Nobody noticed. He was going to drown, I thought
with panic. I ran as fast as I could, plunging into the water with my clothes still on, and pulled him out. I
asked him how he was doing, and he coughed up some water and told me he felt fine. The only person
who saw this happen was a little girl who was swimming in the shallow end. I saved his life, and my
brother remembers it to this very day. Every single second of my brother’s life, everything that happens
to him in the future, will exist because I pulled him out of the water that day.
 I celebrated my 16th Birthday at mother’s house. She bought me an Xbox 360, which had just been
released. I didn’t play it yet though, because the only game I wanted for it was Halo 3, which was set to
come out in November. I was really looking forward to that game. It was supposed to be the best Halo
game of all time. After I blew out my candles, I remember going outside and sitting by my mother’s pool
to contemplate my life. Sixteen… what an age to be. I still felt like I was twelve. Most teenagers will start
driving at this age… I couldn’t even fathom myself driving. The thought of it scared me.
 James came for a sleepover shortly after my birthday, and he helped me set up my Xbox 360. We
played a round of Halo 2 to test it out. He didn’t bring his computer, because he had a desktop that was
hard to transport, so I suggested that we go to Planet Cyber to play WoW together. Our parents
dropped us off there and we had a good WoW session. It was nice to see that place again, to reminisce
of happier times. I proposed, for nostalgia’s sake, that we walk home for the way back. My mother’s
new house was three times the distance from Planet Cyber as her old blue house, but I really wanted to
do it. On the way, we passed by that little blue house, and all of the memories came back. The two of us
talked a lot, and shared some laughs. It was a very memorable night.",1,Grievance Airring,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"16 Years Old
As summer’s end drew closer, I became more and more depressed. My life had gotten so lonely, and
playing WoW barely made up for it. My mother noticed this and proposed that I get together with Philip
again. She called Philip’s mother Kathy to arrange a meetup. And so Philip came over twice during that
summer. I quite liked seeing him again… it was two years since the last time we spoke. Though he had
no interest in my video games, he enjoyed playing in my mother’s swimming pool.
I had one playdate with Jeffrey as well. Philip and his family went on a vacation to Catalina, and
Jeffrey wanted to stay at home. I went to his house for a sleepover with just him there. Jeffrey had
changed a lot. He was now Fourteen, and he told me he had a girlfriend. I was shocked, amazed, and
envious. I wondered how an immature brat like Jeffrey could have a girlfriend at such a young age. I had
the dreaded suspicion that he had already had sex with her, and I tried not to think about it. I was
deeply jealous, but for the sake of our past friendship and the good times we had together in the past, I
hid that envy well enough. Eleventh Grade at Independence began. I still took the bus to school, as I had no desire to learn how
to drive at that age. I was way too afraid of even trying it out. Driving is something that adults are
supposed to do, and I still felt like a child.
I continued on with my lonely routine of doing my schoolwork in the morning and playing WoW with
James, Steve, and Mark for the rest of the time. I gave no thought to my future at all. I just lived in the
moment, in my comfort zone.
My sex drive was at its peak at this age. Whenever I got back from school, I had to masturbate. The
urge was too strong. During my masturbation sessions I often built elaborate fantasies in my mind that I
had a hot, blonde-haired girlfriend to have passionate sex with; almost like having an imaginary
girlfriend. I told no one about this. In fact, I didn’t talk to my parents at all about my sexual
development. I felt too guilty and embarrassed about it. Whenever they probed me, I lied to them,
telling them that I had no sex drive. My mother once caught me looking at pictures of girls online, and I
franticly had to convince her that I stumbled on those pictures by accident.
I also noticed that my voice was getting deeper. I was starting to sound like an actual teenager. The
last stages of puberty were over.
Halo 3 came out in November. I got my mother to buy it for me on the very day it was released. I had
a lot of fun playing it while drinking the special mountain dew flavor that was released with the game;
Mountain Dew Game Fuel, it was called. The game definitely lived up to its expectations, and to my
surprise I found myself playing it more than WoW for the first couple of weeks.
Father suffered through a deep financial setback because of his movie. Could things get any worse for
me? As a result, my father abruptly cut off all of the child-support payments he was paying my mother.
My mother was forced to find a better-paying job to make up for it, and she had to move out of her
house to a condominium close by.
Thankfully, Rob Lemelson offered her a job in his production company, Elemental Productions. This
new job enabled my mother to make enough money to live comfortably. We hadn’t seen the Lemelsons
much since the last time we went trick-or-treating with them years ago. It was good to reconnect with
them.
I missed mother living in an actual house, but at least the new place was a condominium, with more
luxuries than the apartment we once lived in. The condominium had three bedrooms, and my room had
its own bathroom. The bad part about this condominium was its location in Canoga Park, a lower-class
area. I hated telling people that my mother lived in Canoga Park. It was highly embarrassing for me. But
alas, in that lonely and depressing stage of my life, there was no one really to tell, and I barely cared
about what people thought of me anyway. I was a complete dork, stuck in my own little world.
An exchange student from France moved into my father’s house. His name was Max Bonon, a
cultured, outgoing nineteen-year-old French guy. His parents are very wealthy hotel owners, and he
would be staying with us for a few months while he studies English at Pierce College. At first, I wasn’t so
sure about having this young person lurking about, but we soon developed a good friendship. He always
invited me to play cards with him after dinner, and though Soumaya didn’t let me drink alcohol, he
would always sneak me a beer. It was really nice to have that regular social interaction. I became really
fond of Max.
In just two weeks after Max arrived, we got the news that Soumaya’s father died in Morocco.
Soumaya immediately left for Morroco, and she took baby Jazz with her. Though I was really sad about
the death of Soumaya’s father, as he was a very kind and generous man, I was glad to see Soumaya gone. Father’s whole household changed for the better. I started to love going to father’s house,
especially with Max there. He was like an older brother to me.
My mother became really close friends with the Lemelsons due to her new job. Every year, they have
an extravagant Christmas party at their newly built mansion in the Palisades, and we would now be
invited to it. James also went to the party, and I had a pleasant time hanging out with him and Noah.
During one week at father’s after the New Year, father had to leave for his work. For that week it was
just me, my sister, and Max in the house. The three of us had a lot of fun together. Max took us to
Universal Studios. Father allowed him to drive the big Lexus, for which I was a bit jealous. The last time I
was at the Universal Studios amusement park was when I just moved to America. Mother took us to the
Universal city walk a couple of times, but never the amusement park. I went on all of the rides, including
the infamous Jurassic Park ride that I was rejected from going on when I was a child.
When father came back, we talked to him about our time at Universal Studios. He suggested that we
all go to Six Flags. The four of us set out for it the next day. Six Flags was the biggest amusement park
I’ve ever been to. I was awed by all the gigantic roller coaster rides. Max, my father, and even my little
sister were all eager to tackle the largest roller coasters. I was the only one who was scared out of my
mind. Max talked me into it, so I nervously gave all of the rides a try, and ended up having some fun.
To my chagrin, my father decided to take up motorcycle riding. He pulled up to the house one day in
a roaring Harley Davidson, and I was completely baffled. I suppose it was due to some mid-life crisis he
was going through. A motorcycle… Really? Alex Bubenheim got him into it. He and Alex would then ride
their motorcycles all the time. He kept insisting that he take me on the motorcycle whenever we went
out, instead of going in the car. This would be too embarrassing for me, and I adamantly refused to ever
go on the motorcycle.
I went with mother to the red carpet premiere of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
This was my fourth premiere. Going to premieres were always an uplifting experience for me. The movie
was quite a disappointment, however, and I much preferred the classic Indiana Jones films. The next
day, I told some of my teachers that I went to this premiere, and they were very shocked. I bet I was the
first kid at that school who has done such prestigious things.
Soumaya and Jazz returned from Morocco. I was happy to see my baby brother again, but not so
happy to see Soumaya. Things were a lot better at father’s house when she was gone. Soon after she
came back, we started getting into various arguments again, which embarrassed me in front of Max.
In the Spring, something horrible happened that will haunt me forever. We met up with the
Bubenheims at the Sagebrush Cantina in Calabasas, and a friend of Pollina’s was there with them,
named Nicole, a girl around my age. She sat next to Leo the whole time, and by the end of the dinner,
the two of them were making out. Twelve-year-old Leo was making out with a girl who was almost my
age. Not only does Leo have a better social life, but now he was making out with girls, AT AGE TWELVE!
They made out for a long time, and I could see them tongue kiss. They knew I was watching with envy,
and they still did it. I bet that lucky bastard took great satisfaction from my envy. There I was, watching a
boy four years younger than me experience everything I’ve longed for… to kiss a girl… to be worthy of a
girl’s attraction. On that day, I developed a vicious hatred for Leo that will never go away.
A few days later, Max went home to France, never to come back again. I was deeply saddened by this.
For the brief period that Max was staying at father’s house, I enjoyed life a lot more. He was a big part of
my life there. He drove me to places when father and Soumaya were busy, we played card games and had pleasant conversations after dinner, and we always took walks to the top of the hill overlooking
father’s neighborhood, which I called the Overlook. Most importantly, he made me feel less lonely. I was
very saddened by his departure.
Another horrible experience concerning the Bubenheims occurred. We were having dinner at their
house, like we usually did. At the end of the dinner, a few of Pollina’s friends came over. They were all
popular, good looking girls and boys. They were the kind of people who I’ve always had the desire to be
a part of, but was never able to fit in with. Popular kids… cool kids. When I heard them talking about
their awesome lives and their parties, I had a breakdown right then and there. I realized how much I’ve
been missing out in my life, and I cried in front of everyone. I felt like I would never have a life as good as
theirs. I told everyone that I wanted to commit suicide. Father, Soumaya, Alex, and Karina talked to me
for three hours to cheer me up.
Eleventh Grade at Independence ended. Like the previous year, my time at the school went by like a
blur. I didn’t talk to anyone. I barely considered it a part of my life. I just did the work that I was required
to do while I waited for the bus to take me home.
Once summer started, I sank into a major depression. My feelings of inferiority were intensified by
the recent events with the Bubenheims. The Bubenheims were family friends… but now they
represented the very thing that destroyed my whole life and took away my happiness.
It was at this time that I was just beginning to realize, with a lot of clarity, how truly unfair my life is. I
compared myself to other teenagers and became very angry that they were able to experience all of the
things I’ve desired, while I was left out of it. I never had the experience of going to a party with other
teenagers, I never had my first kiss, I never held hands with a girl, I never lost my virginity. In the past, I
felt so inferior and weak from all of the bullying that I just accepted my lonely life and dealt with it by
playing WoW, but at this point I started to question why I was condemned to suffer such misery.
There was nothing I could really do about my unfair life situation. I felt completely powerless. The
only way I could deal with it was to continue to drown all of my troubles with my online games. I played
WoW really hard, leveling two new characters to 70. At mother’s house, I sometimes played it for
fourteen hours a day. James, Steve, and Mark would always joke that there was never a time that they
saw me offline. I was known as the guy who was “always on WoW”.
My laptop was getting slower and slower. It wasn’t a very powerful laptop, but it was the only
computer I had to play WoW on. This was really frustrating me, because eventually it became so slow
that it ruined my gaming experience. I kept pestering my mother and father to get me a faster laptop
that was more efficient for gaming.
For my 17th Birthday, my parents agreed to split the funds for a new laptop. My mother took me to
Best Buy to choose it out, and I found the perfect one. It was a larger, highly efficient dark-colored
laptop designed for gaming. After we bought it, we had dinner at the Japanese restaurant Kabuki on
Ventura Boulevard, the same restaurant my mother took me to after my 5th Grade graduation.",1,Grievance Airring,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"17 Years Old
 Father told me that Max invited me to visit him in France for three weeks. I would have to travel
there alone, and Max would pick me up at the airport near his hometown of Montpellier. At first I was
very anxious about it, and I was about to say no. Father talked me into it, saying that I was lucky to have
an opportunity like this. I really missed Max, and I wanted to see him again, so I quickly made the
decision to go. I left around the beginning of August. This was my first time traveling alone, and I didn’t know what
to expect. Father signed me up to have supervised travel assistance to help me along the way, otherwise
I would get lost in the airport. On the way there, I made a stop in Frankfurt, Germany to transfer planes.
Germany became another country I can add to the list of places I’ve been. When I arrived at the airport
in France, I waited for a few hours and finally Max showed up. I was really happy to see him. I couldn’t
believe I was actually in France again.
 Max and I stayed at his grandmother’s house in Montpellier. Montpellier was an exquisite city, with a
romantic and cultured vibe to it. It was such a pity that I was too caught up in my own world to truly
appreciate it at the time.
 Max introduced me to his life in France. I met with some of his friends and we went to bars together.
In France, the legal drinking age is 16, so I was able to drink alcohol at a bar. It was astounding! For
those three weeks, I had the faintest taste of what life was like for normal young people. The experience
of hanging out with a group of young people, boys and girls, and enjoying life was something I never did
before. It really turned my whole world around, for that short amount of time. So this is what everyone
else gets to experience, I thought to myself with jealousy. I felt a sense of happiness and bliss that I
hadn’t felt since childhood, when life was good.
 During the trip, we visited the town of Arles where we stayed in the hotel that Max’s family owns.
Max told me about all of the sexual experiences he had. I never knew he had such an active sex life. The
more he talked to me about it, the more envious I became. I questioned to myself why he got to
experience such an amazing life, while I had to suffer so much loneliness and humiliation. I was
introduced to some of the girls he had sex with in the past, and they were all pretty. On top of that, his
family was extremely wealthy and they owned a sprawling mansion in the countryside. Where’s the
justice? I thought. Why couldn’t I have been born into that life? I envied Max so much. His life must have
been heaven on earth. Despite my envy of Max, I couldn’t hate him, at least at that time. He was the
only popular young person who ever reached out to me. He invited me to visit his home, and he treated
me like a friend. For that, I will always have a grudging respect for Max Bonon.
 After three weeks in France doing exciting social things, I returned to my lonely life in the U.S., where
I became even more depressed than I was in the beginning of summer, especially after getting a taste of
what life was truly like for normal people. I knew I could never live such a pleasurable life, and the
knowledge haunted me. I was back to my routine of World of Warcraft. At least the new expansion was
coming out soon, and I tried to look forward to that.
 When Twelfth Grade began, I made a vow to finish high school before the month of March. The high
school system at Independence allows students to work at their own pace, so the more extra work I did,
the sooner I could graduate. I was always depressed and bored for the few hours a day I had to spend
there, and I disliked all of the degenerate, low-class students there. They repulsed me. I wanted to get
out of there as fast as I could, and it became my goal for the year. At the end of school time every day I
asked my teachers to give me extra homework assignments, and I stopped myself from playing WoW
until I completed them.
 The second expansion for World of Warcraft finally released, called Wrath of the Lich King. When I
got home from school, I wanted the game so badly. Mother wasn’t home from work yet, so she couldn’t
drive me. I decided to walk all the way to Best Buy to pick up the game. It was a long walk that took
almost an hour. On the way home I was very hungry and stopped at Panda Express to eat lunch. Planet
Cyber was right next to that Panda Express, so I walked in there for a few seconds to reminisce about
better times before hurrying home to install the game. Once it was installed, James and I played it
together all afternoon. I found out that one of my teachers at Independence, Mr. Perales, also played WoW. From then on,
the two of us would talk about the game every day. It was nice to have someone at school to talk to, and
I enjoyed telling him about my daily progression with my character. This made my time at school a lot
less mundane and boring.
 James, Steve, and Mark were the closest thing I had to a group of friends. I played with them online
almost every day. We had so many adventures in WoW as a group, and yet… I felt like the outcast of the
group. Steve and Mark only considered me an online friend, never a real friend. I found out that the
three of them had WoW meet-ups at one of their houses a lot, and they never invited me. Sometimes,
when I would be playing with them online, I would find out that they were all together in real life, and I
was the only one left out. Whenever they did this, I acted bitter towards them through the game, but
they didn’t even care. Even in the World of Warcraft, I was an outcast, alone and unwanted.
 The more lonely I felt, the more angry I became. The anger slowly built up inside me throughout all of
the dark years. Even after the release of the new WoW expansion, I noticed that the game’s ability to
alleviate my sense of loneliness was starting to fade. I began to feel lonely even while playing it, and I
often broke down into tears in the middle of my WoW sessions. I began to ask myself what the point
was in playing this game anymore. I spent less and less time playing it.

 One day I found some posts on the internet about teenagers having sex, and I was once again
reminded of the life I had been denied. I felt that no girl would ever want to have sex with me… And I
developed extreme feelings of envy, hatred, and anger towards anyone who has a sex life. I saw them as
the enemy. I felt condemned to live a life of lonely celibacy while other boys were allowed to experience
the pleasures of sex, all because girls didn’t want me. I felt inferior and undesirable. This time, however,
I couldn’t just stand by and accept such an injustice anymore. I refused to continue hiding away from the
world and forgetting about all the insults it dealt to me.
 I began to have fantasies of becoming very powerful and stopping everyone from having sex. I
wanted to take their sex away from them, just like they took it away from me. I saw sex as an evil and
barbaric act, all because I was unable to have it. This was the major turning point. My anger made me
stronger inside. This was when I formed my ideas that sex should be outlawed. It is the only way to
make the world a fair and just place. If I can’t have it, I will destroy it. That’s the conclusion I came to,
right then and there.
 I spent more time studying the world, seeing the world for the horrible, unfair place it is. I then had
the revelation that just because I was condemned to suffer a life of loneliness and rejection, doesn’t
mean I am insignificant. I have an exceptionally high level of intelligence. I see the world differently than
anyone else. Because of all of the injustices I went through and the worldview I developed because of
them, I must be destined for greatness. I must be destined to change the world, to shape it into an
image that suits me!
 At the beginning of the winter break, I decided to quit playing World of Warcraft entirely. On my last
day on the game, I had a long, emotional conversation with James where I opened up about all of my
troubles. I told him about all my newfound views of the world, and my belief that sex must be abolished.
He seemed to be supportive of my stance, and I was glad that he understood me. It was a very
memorable day.
 My father’s movie was released, but it did not do well at all. He was only able to get it released in a
few select theatres, and no one was interested in seeing it. He stupidly invested all of his money into the movie, and he got absolutely nothing out of it. This caused him to fall into a financial crisis that he will
be stuck in for a long time. I was annoyed that he kept having to make it clear to us that he was now in a
“financial crisis”. He talked about it all the time, and it was embarrassing.
 What a bitter coincidence, that right at the point when my life fell even deeper into agony, my father
is cursed with this financial crisis. Right at the time when I needed my father’s support the most, he lost
all of his assets. It was as if some malevolent being cursed me with bad luck. I truly had no advantage at
all. The universe was not kind to me.
 I formed an ideology in my head of how the world should work. I was fueled both by my desire to
destroy all of the injustices of the world, and to exact revenge on everyone I envy and hate. I decided
that my destiny in life is to rise to power so I can impose my ideology on the world and set everything
right. I was only seventeen, I have plenty of time. I thought to myself. I spent all of my time studying in
my room, reading books about history, politics, and sociology, trying to learn as much as I can.
 I became a new person, furiously driven by a goal. My torment would continue, but I had something
to live for. I felt empowered.
 I went over to James’s house to have a sleepover. Usually when I went there we spent the whole time
playing WoW, with the exception of walking to town for lunch. Because I quit WoW, this was the first
time we had to find other things to do. We spent most of the time going on walks around the Palisades
town center, or along the Palisades Bluffs, talking about our views of the world and our hopes and
dreams. I told him more about my hatred of people who have sex. James quickly deduced the reason for
why I was so fervent about abolishing sex… that in truth I really want to have sex but I feel like I can
never have it, so I wish to take it away from everyone else. He read me very well. I had to admit that he
was right. That is the exact reason for it.
 I fulfilled my vow of finishing high school by March. In fact, I finished a bit earlier than I expected – in
mid-February. I completed so many homework assignments towards the end, especially since I no longer
played WoW. I was glad to be done with it. School was finally over. Not having to go to school anymore
gave me a lot of free time to think and brood.
 As time progressed, I realized how hopeless everything in my life was. The chances that I will ever rise
to power and right the wrongs of the world were extremely slim. I had absolutely no idea or plan of how
to acquire any sort of power. It was naïve of me to think that I could one day become a dictator. The
only thing I could do was fantasize about it.
 My whole world twisted even deeper into darkness and despair as my depressing life continued on.
My hatred for people who have sex festered inside me like a plague. I frequently went on walks around
town to brood over how hopeless and unfair everything was. It was better than being stuck in my room
all the time. When I saw young couples walking around at the mall, my anger and hatred intensified
greatly. It was the worst torture ever to see them making out and being intimate. My life, if you can call
it a life, was living hell.
 My parents quickly took note of how radical I was becoming, and they made a hasty plan to change
my life. Of course, that is what they claimed. I think they were just trying to find a way to get rid of me
because I was too hard to deal with. Soumaya was going back to Morocco, and they decided to send me
with her. It was the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard.
 They announced this to me at a café near my mother’s house. I was expecting something extreme,
something drastic, but this? It completely caught me off guard. Morocco? They think I’ll be happy there?
I furiously thought with disbelief. I was devastated, and for a moment I couldn’t even speak. The last thing I wanted was to hide away in a backwater country with nothing to do, while all of my peers enjoy
life in the U.S. I didn’t want to run away from my troubles in the U.S., I wanted to confront them. I just
didn’t know how. Going to Morocco was the absolute worst solution for me, and they intended for me
to stay there for a long time.
 After hearing this news, I felt a sense of urgency that I had never felt before. They already had a plane
ticket ready for me, and I was scheduled to leave in five days. My immediate goal was to stop my
parents from sending me to Morocco. Throwing a tantrum with my mother didn’t work. She was set on
this.
 I spent the remaining five days at father’s house. While there, I chose not to protest at all, because I
knew it wouldn’t work. They will force me onto that plane one way or another. I decided to keep quiet
and devise a plan of escape. I bided my time, and didn’t talk much to father or Soumaya during those
last few days. The plan I came up with was to run away on the morning before the flight, walk all the
way to my mother’s condo, and hide in a secret spot on the roof. It would be a place where they least
expected me to be.
 I kept quiet in the last couple of days to throw off their suspicion, but that backfired and made them
even more suspicious. I suppose they expected me to protest about going, and my silence made them
think I was up to something.
 When the time came, I decided to get up at 4:00 a.m. to prepare. To my dismay, I noticed that my
father set an alarm on the front door. I was planning to run away at 6:00 a.m., when the garbage truck
arrived, because the noise from the truck would mask any noise I make while leaving. The alarm,
however, would definitely alert father and Soumaya. I got too nervous and abandoned that idea.
Instead, I waited until everyone woke up and had breakfast. My plan was ruined by the alarm, and I had
to come up with a new plan fast! I had little time left. I innocently told father I wanted to go on a small
walk before the departure, and as soon as I exited the front door, I bolted at full speed. It was hasty, but
I had to do something. I didn’t think father would catch on to my deception so quickly… After only
clearing one block, I looked behind my shoulder and saw father chasing after me. All of my hope
collapsed then and there, and I lost all of the fight in me. I stopped running and put my head down in
defeat. Soumaya came in the car minutes later, and they both took me home. The plan failed. I was
going to Morocco.
 The journey to Morocco was the most horrendous travel experience I’ve ever had. It was just me,
Soumaya, and four-year-old Jazz. Jazz kept screaming and vomiting on the plane, Soumaya was in a sour
mood, and I was completely miserable. I thought my whole life was all over. I had nothing to look
forward to in the future. I wanted to die.
 Once I got there I felt like all of the life in me had drained out. I was so defeated. I couldn’t help but
cry all the time, even in front of Soumaya’s relatives. Khadija didn’t understand why I was so upset, and
she got offended that I was crying on the first day at her house. It was a complete disaster.
 I kept dreaming of home. I thought of the prospect of being able to return home, and a small hope
sparked in me. I kept emailing my mother frequently, telling her how much I hated being there and how
much I cried all the time. I told her that if she would give me one more chance and enable me to come
home, I will try harder to lead a better life and become a person she could be proud of. After a week of
doing this, mother gave in and flew to Morocco to take me home. I won. I was going home.
 When I returned to the U.S., I felt so relieved that I forgot about my troubles for a few days and
relaxed. It was good to be back home. This is where my fight is, right here in the U.S., and nowhere else.
 The sense of elation I felt soon wore off. My lonely life as a social outcast resumed.
 I continued going on my usual long walks every day, feeling angry and hateful towards the world.
During mother’s week, I would walk to the mall and sit on the balcony overlooking the food court next to the AMC theatres. There I would see all of the young couples lining up to see a movie, and I boiled
with hatred. During father’s week, I walked to the Calabasas Commons nearby, and sometimes I rode
my bicycle. I also walked up the hill near my father’s house to the Overlook. I spent a lot of time up
there, contemplating about my life and fantasizing about becoming powerful enough to punish
everyone I hate.
 On one dreadful day, when I was riding my bicycle near Calabasas, a group of popular teenagers in an
SUV drove by and made fun of me. I suppose my appearance didn’t help with that. I looked exactly like
the outcast I was. I was still wearing plain polo shirts and khaki pants at the time, covered with a blue zip
up hoodie and a black baseball cap. It was a torturous experience, and the pain I felt from it never went
away. All I wanted was to fit in with those popular kids who lived such pleasurable lives, but instead I
was ridiculed and reviled by them. They made me feel so inferior and undesirable. I will never forget
that experience. It was burned into my memory.
 My misery became harder and harder to bear, and none of my parents understood my plight. My
father thought that all was well with me. How could he be so blind? He was so caught up in his failing
work that he didn’t care about how my life was turning out. I cursed him for it. My father never made
any effort to prepare me for facing such a cruel world. He never taught me how to attract girls. He never
warned me that if I didn’t attract girls at an early age, my life would fall into a miserable pit of despair!
Again… How could he be so blind? I asked myself constantly.
 It all came to a climax on one of the days that I walked to the Calabasas Commons. I treaded through
the area with my head down, all alone, in a state of complete despair about my life. I looked around me
and saw lots of young couples holding hands and groups of good looking teenage boys and girls walking
together and having fun on their Saturday night out. I saw all of those teenagers enjoying their
pleasurable lives together, while I was all alone. They were enjoying everything I couldn’t have. I was
filled with intense anguish, and I quickly ran all the way back to father’s house with tears pouring down
my cheeks. Once I got home I had a breakdown and cried for hours and hours into the night.",1,Planned Violence,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Part 5
Hope and Hopelessness
Age 17-19
When I woke up the next morning, I felt a bit calmer. Calmer enough to think clearly about what just
happened. I couldn’t bear to have my life continue this way, so I tried to evaluate why I have had to
suffer so much. I spent the whole day in calm meditation, deeply reviewing my life to see how I fell to
this dark place. I concluded that I cannot just give up on having the life I want if I never try to get it. I
realized that I was still only seventeen, and that there are many possibilities for me in the future. I
wanted to give myself a new chance at life, despite all the odds that were against me. I wanted
something to live for, something to look forward to in the future. This calm session of contemplation
made me feel a lot better.
I told my parents and my sister that I was willing to make a renewed effort to change. They seemed
very happy with me. For once, in their eyes, I wasn’t being negative about life.
I examined myself in the mirror and decided that if I want to make a fresh start, the first thing to do
would be to change my appearance. I got a haircut, and then my mother and sister took me shopping at
the Fallbrook mall for some new clothes. I knew nothing about fashion at the time, so I just chose a few
new jeans. I hadn’t worn jeans since I was ten years old. For the first time in many years, I started to
care about how I looked again. I spent a few more days calming myself down. I then started to feel something that has been lost to
me for a long time: Hope.
Without hope, I just couldn’t go on any longer. I needed to feel hope. Hope for the future, hope for a
better life. Upon feeling this, I realized that perhaps it is possible for me to have the things I desire; to
have a great social life again, to have a girlfriend, to have sex, to have all of the pleasures I’ve
desperately craved for so long. It was refreshing.
On the 4th of July, we went to a big party at the Lemelson’s. There, I had a heavy discussion with
James about my revelation and goals. He seemed very glad that I had a newfound zest for life. He
admitted that he was getting very worried about me, from the way I was going. James was in a similar
situation as I was. He was a virgin like me, never having much interaction with girls in his life. The two of
us talked for hours about our troubles and our hopes of overcoming them. It was nice to have such a
good friend like James on my side, who could understand and relate to me.
I made a new Facebook profile (which I still use to this day) in an effort to improve my social life.
Having been so lost in my own world for the last four years, I didn’t know much about these new social
networking sites such as Facebook and Myspace. The last time I was interested in such things was when
I made an AIM account, but no one used that anymore.
Once I fired up my profile, was able to reconnect with a few friends from Topanga Elementary. I
talked to Philip over Facebook, and the two of us made plans to meet up later in the summer after not
seeing each other for two years.
I also attempted to reconnect with my old friends Charlie and John Jo, remembering all of the great
experiences I had with them. I managed to speak with them on the phone a couple of times, but they
didn’t seem keen on meeting up, and I subsequently abandoned the effort.
I had a quiet 18th Birthday at a restaurant with my family. Soumaya was still in Morocco, so mother
and father agreed to meet for it. It was one of the few times that I had dinner with both my mother and
my father since their divorce. I received some birthday cards from relatives, wishing me a great year
ahead. I took a vow that day to make this new year of my life a happy one, to turn my life around and
fulfill all of my desires.
And so began a period of great yearning. A great chase, so to speak. I will chase after a hope that I
built for myself, only to have that hope shattered at every turn.
18 Years Old
I was 18, a high school graduate, and summer was nearing its end. I had to think about continuing my
education. I was eager to be as productive with my time as I could be. College represented a hope for
me. I would be starting a new kind of school where there are lots of people and opportunities. I might
possibly make friends, have interactions with girls, maybe even get a girlfriend! The thought filled me
with enthusiasm.
And so I enrolled at Pierce College, the first of a few colleges I would jump to in my many desperate
attempts to find a desirable life. Pierce College is a large community college in Woodland Hills, not far
from both my mother’s and father’s houses. When I looked through the list of classes, I saw that most of
them were already full. The only class I was able to get was a computer class, and I settled with that. I
could always spend time at the college even while not in class, I concluded. Having only one class would
help me ease into college at a milder pace. I hadn’t been in a normal school system for three years. I feared I might get nervous. But then, after thinking about everything I had been through in the last few
months, I knew I had the strength and courage to tackle it.
My mother made the decision to move to a new apartment near Calabasas. She took me and my
sister there to show it to us beforehand. The room that I would get would be smaller, and it wouldn’t
have its own bathroom, but the apartment was located in a much better area. It was walking distance
from my father’s house, the Mulholland shopping center, and the Calabasas Commons. I ended up
persuading my mother to move there, as it would be much more convenient.
On the first day at the new place, I took a long stroll around the nearby areas. Of course, those areas
weren’t unfamiliar to me, as I had walked around there many times during father’s week. But this was
the first time I went on a long walk since my breakdown, and it made me feel more confident.
I met up with Philip Bloeser after not seeing him for two years. The last time I saw him was during the
summer I turned 16. My mother dropped me off at this house, and I wasn’t surprised to find that he was
still the exact same person; mature, reserved, a little awkward, and prone to random bouts of hyper
energy. Jeffrey was also there, and he was still as wild and boisterous as ever, though he had changed a
lot in appearance, no longer being the little kid I was so used to seeing him as.
Philip already had his driver’s license, so the two of us went out in his car to meet Addison Altendorf,
who had just moved back to the U.S. and was living with his mother in an apartment in Malibu. Philip
and Addison have always been very close friends with each other, and the two of them go everywhere
together. I hadn’t seen Addison since Topanga Elementary. At first glance, I didn’t know what to make of
him. It was like meeting a whole new person. He had changed tremendously. With his mustache and
hairstyle, he looked older than he was, cultivating a refined and sophisticated personality and wearing
an elegant blazer coat.
As I spent time with Addison that day, I started to enjoy talking to him about politics and the world.
He was very intelligent and more informed than other people our age.
I bought my first Lottery ticket when I went out shopping with my mother one day. We stopped at
Ralph’s where I noticed the Lottery machine. I didn’t know anything about the Lottery, so I asked my
mother about it. She told me how it works and taught me how to buy a ticket. Each ticket provides a
very small chance of winning millions of dollars, and the jackpot could rise to the hundreds of millions. I
couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know such a thing existed! After buying my ticket, I felt thrilled with the
prospect of having a chance to become a multi-millionaire. That ticket, of course, didn’t win. And neither
would any of the tickets I buy after it, but they would give me hope.
I never thought nor cared about money before I turned 18, because I was still living like a child, with
my parents handling the money and giving me the things I needed. However, the more older I grew, the
more I realized how important money was, and the more obsessed I would become about getting rich.
This obsession, which was barely taking root at the time, sparked a long relationship the Lottery that
would only end in disappointment and despair.
At father’s house, we watched the movie Alpha Dog after dinner one night. This movie depicts a lot of
teenagers and young people partying and having sex with beautiful girls, living the life that I’ve desired
for so long. The main character is a fifteen year old kid who has sex with two hot girls in a swimming
pool. I was so envious that I delighted in his death at the end. I remember thinking that I would rather
live his life than mine, even though he died. He had sex and I didn’t. The movie deeply affected me
emotionally, and I would think about it for some time afterwards. I started my new semester at Pierce College. I still hadn’t obtained my driver’s license yet, so I was
forced to take the public bus to school. This was an extremely unpleasant experience, but I was willing
to bear with it just so I could go to college and improve my life.
On my first day, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. The place reminded me of Taft, though the people
seemed nicer and the environment was less intimidating. When I settled down into my class, I felt that
things will turn out ok.
Soumaya returned from Morocco, and she was very angry with me due to the way I acted while I was
there. She effectively kicked me out of father’s house, and because I was eighteen, she was allowed to.
Father didn’t do anything to stop her, being the weak man that he is. This is how it has always been.
Father has always given Soumaya free reign to impose her rules on the household. He gave her all the
power.
This act officially ended the one week-one week arrangement, and mother’s house became my
permanent living place.
Not only did she kick me out of father’s house, but she forbade me to go there even for a short visit.
And still, father didn’t do anything about it. Father kept saying that the house is her house as much as
his, and that she has the right to kick me out. No! I am the eldest son! The house should be MY house
before hers! This caused any respect I still had for my father to fade away completely. It was such a
betrayal, to put his second wife before his eldest son. What kind of father would do that? The bitch must
be really good to him in bed, I figured. What a weak man.
Every day, I tried to make some effort to go out looking for ways to improve my life. I felt that staying
in my room was a waste of time. I knew what I wanted, but I had no idea how to get it. I frequently went
on walks around my mother’s neighborhood in the desperate hope that someone would befriend me or
a girl would talk to me. Nothing of the sort ever happened.
Sometimes I walked all the way up to the Overlook, as my mother’s apartment was just around the
other side of it; And sometimes I walked to the Calabasas Commons, where I would hang out at Barnes
& Noble, reading books, always with the hope that some young people would reach out and befriend
me, but no one ever did.
I kept hoping and hoping and hoping. Hope is what kept me alive.
I continued seeing Philip and Addison, my only other social interaction besides James. I talked to
Addison about my old political views, debating with him about what an ideal world would look like. I
found out that he had some fascist views of his own, and it was nice to have a discussion with someone
about things that would make most normal people run a mile.
I frequently messaged Addison on Facebook, hoping to start up conversations when I felt lonely. He
told me he was just starting his Twelfth Grade year at Malibu High School, and his goal was to fit in with
the popular kids. Fitting in with popular kids at Malibu High School? I didn’t expect Addison to be
successful in such a venture.
Addison invited me to his birthday party. It was a small get-together on the beach in Point Dume,
Malibu. I had a very hard time socializing with people, so I ended up drinking too much alcohol. Before
Philip drove me home, I vomited outside Addison’s apartment, in front of his mother and everyone else.
It was highly embarrassing and I put a lot of effort to block it from my mind afterwards.
James came to my mother’s new apartment for a sleepover. We walked to the Calabasas Commons
together. It was nice to show him all of my favorite spots there, like the window at Barnes & Noble that
overlooks the whole area, and turtle ponds next to King’s restaurant. It was a great place to talk and
contemplate. We had some deep conversations about our fantasies and our hopes for the future. When I was a child, Halloween used to be a fun and exciting experience, but ever since the last time I
went trick-or-treating Halloween has been a time when I spent the whole night in my room while other
teenagers were out having fun partying.
On this Halloween, I was desperate to do something social. I just couldn’t sit in my room on such a
night. I found out from stalking random people on Facebook that there was going to be a huge house
party in West Hills. I decided to take a big leap forward and attend this house party, even though I
wouldn’t know anybody there. I had nothing to lose, and it would give me more of a chance of meeting
girls than if I stayed in my room all night. Because I couldn’t drive, I had to walk all the way there, and it
took 45 minutes. When I got there, I was overcome by anxiety, but I couldn’t back out at that point. I
paid the entry fee of $5 and walked right in. To my dismay, the party was smaller than I expected. All of
the kids were smoking marijuana, and they all seemed to know each other. It would only be a matter of
time before they detected that I was an outcast. I stood around awkwardly for a few minutes before
giving up and walking home.
On the way home, just as I was about to reach my mother’s house, a group of four young thugs drove
by me in a pick-up truck and proceeded to throw eggs at me, laughing while they did it. They seemed
intoxicated, and they missed me. I picked up one of the shells and threw it right back into their car. I was
no longer a weak little kid who would take a hit without fighting back. I was stronger now. They got out
of their car and tried to attack me, and they would have beaten me bloody if I didn’t pull out my trusty
pocket knife, which I usually carried when I walked alone by myself. Thankfully, the thugs backed away
and drove off. Perhaps it was the knife, or the look of extreme hatred in my eyes. I quickly ran home,
terrified. It was an unsuccessful and misfortunate night.
For a few days after Halloween, I kept thinking about that incident with the horrible thugs who
almost attacked me. They must have seen me as a weakling who they could bully for their amusement. I
didn’t want the world to view me as weak.
This led to my new commitment to start exercising and lifting weights. I began working out at the
gym in my mother’s apartment complex every other day. I hoped it would increase my confidence and
make me appear a bit stronger. Maybe if I built muscles, girls will be attracted to me, I hopefully
proclaimed to myself. I had never worked out or lifted weights in my life, so my body has always been
very frail and delicate. This was a new experience, and it made me feel more productive.
Soumaya’s grudge against me lessened after a couple of months, and she allowed me to go to
father’s house for dinner occasionally. I was very angry with father, but I hid my anger. I still needed
him.
Father began teaching me how to drive once I received my driver’s permit, which was quite hard to
get. I had to take a written test with many questions, and I failed it on my first try. On the second
attempt, I managed to pass.
My first experience driving was very scary. I’ve played a few racing video games in my life, but driving
a car for real was much more intimidating. At first, I could barely even drive around my father’s quiet
neighborhood. I was overcome by the fear that I will never be able to drive. I soon got more used to it
during the next few sessions. Soon enough, I was able to drive a short distance up Topanga Canyon with
ease. I still didn’t feel prepared to take my official driver’s test, though.
Despite my attempts to improve my life, I was still feeling frustrated and angry. I was getting nothing
out of my efforts. I still hadn’t made any friends at Pierce College, and I didn’t interact with any girls. My days at Pierce College grew more and more mundane and depressing. I went to my class on
Tuesdays and Thursdays, taking the bus to the AMC and walking the rest of the way. In the classroom, I
had a hard time socializing with anyone. Making friends seemed impossible.
My mother was casually dating a very wealthy man named Jack at the time, though I wouldn’t find
out they were dating until much later. When she first mentioned him, I thought he was just a friend. Jack
gave mother the keys to his Malibu beach house, and we went to stay there for a few nights, though
Jack wasn’t there. The house was a beautiful, white-colored mansion located right on a private beach.
The backyard had a swimming pool and a hot tub, with a gate leading right onto the shoreline.
Mother had a small get-together at the beach house, and she invited James and his family, along with
some other friends. James didn’t show up, but his father Arte did. To my surprise, Maddy Humpreys and
her mother came over. Seeing Maddy for the first time in six years was a very peculiar experience. The
last time we saw each other, we were just kids. Now, she was a fully-grown teenage girl, and from
looking through her Facebook pictures, I knew she was popular. She was a typical pretty girl who had
lots of pretty friends. She was one of them, one of the popular kids. My first friend in America, someone
I played with innocently as a child, had grown up to represent the type of people who have caused me
so much pain in my life. I was very nervous talking to her, as I had no experience with talking to young
girls, but I had to make the effort. She seemed weirded-out by my awkwardness. It was cringe-worthy.
While staying at the beach house, I invited Philip and Addison over to hang out, as they were always
in Malibu together. They came to pick me up, and while I was in the car with them, Addison kept talking
about how successful he has been at mingling with the popular kids at Malibu High School. He kept
talking about all of the parties he’s been to, and all of the pretty girls he has met. I couldn’t believe what
I was hearing. Addison actually did it. He succeeded in becoming popular at his school. In such a short
time, he was able to accomplish what I’ve been trying to do my whole life. I was extremely jealous. And
that was not the worst of it.
As I spent more time with them that night, I noticed that Addison’s new status amongst the popular
Malibu crowd had changed his attitude. It made him very cocky and arrogant. He treated ME like a loser
the whole time. Later that night, he ditched me and Philip to go to a party with some girls that he knew
from Malibu. I was seething with rage.
We then went to the Santa Monica pier with Philip’s friend Lenny, and I saw young couples
everywhere. I used to love going to the Santa Monica pier as a child, but now it was a place of vileness.
After putting up with Addison’s insulting behavior, this was too much. I became so upset that I tried my
first cigarette. I would end up smoking a few times after that, though I would quit within a few weeks
due to it having no effect on me.
When Philip dropped me back to the beach house, I walked to the beach in the middle of the night
and yelled out my anguish to the roiling ocean.
After that last experience with Philip and Addison, my attitude changed. My newfound optimism
about life subsided, and I began feeling intense anger and hatred towards the world again. The way
Addison treated me made me realize what the world thinks of me. If I was one of those popular kids,
Addison would have treated me with deference and respect, but I wasn’t. I was a complete loser in his
eyes, and everyone else’s. No effort I made in the last few months changed the way the world saw me.
The world still viewed me as a weak and undesirable loser, even though I changed my wardrobe and
started working out. What was the point anymore? I asked myself. I couldn’t help but feel anger and
hatred. Life was too unfair to me.
I continued going on walks around mother’s house in the desperate hope that I might possibly cross
paths with some pretty girl who would be attracted to me. I would have been satisfied with that. Sometimes I spent two or three hours wandering around the neighborhood. It was all I could do. I never
met any girl. Each walk left me bitterly disappointed, and eventually I stopped doing it altogether.
My time at Pierce College became more miserable each day I went there. I despised having to take
the bus. It was embarrassing and stressful, and it sucked all of the pride out of me. And for what? To go
to one class where I didn’t talk to anyone? There was no point in it anymore. I couldn’t stand the feeling
of loneliness I had there. No one wanted to be my friend. It just wasn’t worth the trouble. I decided to
drop my class.
My mother got very angry that I dropped my class at Pierce, even though I thoroughly explained to
her the reasons. This was when she started pressuring me to get a job. Getting a job is something I never
thought about before in my life, and I soon realized that the older I became, the more it was expected of
me if I didn’t go to college. To placate my mother, I started searching for jobs online every day, but I
wasn’t able to find one that was suitable for me.
I felt hatred and dissatisfaction with the world and society, but I didn’t want to hide away from it
anymore. I needed to be as productive with my time as possible, and I had a lot of free time at this
point. The best way to make use of this time, I concluded, was to spend it self-educating myself.
Knowledge is power.
I began a daily routine of walking to Barnes & Noble in Calabasas every day, where I would spend
hours reading books that ranged from biographies of powerful leaders, histories of significant periods,
self-help books, philosophy and psychology texts, and historical fiction novels. I sometimes even spent
entire days there, from the time it opened to the time it closed. In the afternoons, to my extreme rage, I
sometimes saw young couples strolling through the store. Sometimes they would even sit on the
reading chairs, kissing and fondling each other. Whenever I saw this, I got so overcome by envy and
heartbreak that I went to the bathroom to cry. The occasional couples didn’t stop me from going there,
however, because it was the most beneficial thing for me to do at that moment.
I still met up with Philip and Addison occasionally, even though I hated Addison. They provided me
with a sense of a social life, and a way for me to vent about my troubles. Addison treated me like a
lowlife every time I hung out with them, and he kept bragging about the girls he met at parties in
Malibu. I indignantly accused him of lying, as that was what I wanted to believe. He was only amused by
my envy. I then found that Addison deleted me from his Facebook friends list out of the blue. This was
the last slight I would bear from him, and I subsequently sent him a hateful Facebook message in
response. I then viewed Addison as a bitter enemy of mine. He truly was a disgusting and treacherous
little bastard.
Addison was once in the same position as I, but right when he succeeded in integrating with the
popular kids, he betrayed me and treated me the same way the popular kids treated me, as if I’m lowlife
scum. The world truly is a brutal place, where a man must fight a bitter struggle against all other men to
reach the top. Humans are nothing but vicious beasts in a jungle.
I delved more into learning as much as I could from books at Barnes & Noble. I expanded on the
political and philosophical ideals I concocted when I was seventeen, and I soon became even more
radical about them than I ever was before. It was all fueled by my wish to punish everyone who is
sexually active, because I concluded that it wasn’t fair that other people were able to experience sex
while I have been denied it all my life. I started to have the desire to create a world where no one is
allowed to have sex or relationships. I again saw that as the perfect, fair world. Reproduction can be
accomplished without sex, through artificial insemination. Sex is evil, as it gives too much pleasure to
those who don’t deserve it. I shaped all of these ideals through learning and self-educating myself for hours every day. My
personality became even more rigid, and I started to dress in very conservative attire.
I went with my mother to the yearly Christmas party at the Lemelson’s. I spent most of the time with
James, discussing with him further about my ideals. We also played a lot of video games with Noah and
his friends. Noah was really interested in Nintendo games, and he had a lot of them. Playing games with
them reminded me of a time, long ago in my past, when I played Nintendo 64 as a child, blissfully living
life in a world that I thought was good. I longed to be a child again, to be in a bright place away from the
cruel darkness of reality. I will always treasure those memories.
I had to go Christmas shopping, and I decided to do it at the Calabasas Commons. I was always going
there anyway. While walking around, I ran into Maddy, who was there with her boyfriend. For some
strange reason, I have never had any sexual attraction towards Maddy, despite the fact that she’s a
blonde girl and I’m obsessed with blondes. Perhaps it was because she used to be my friend when we
were children, I don’t know. Because I wasn’t attracted to her, I didn’t find myself feeling as much
jealousy as one might think I would in such a situation. It was still very awkward. I just said hello to her
quickly and walked away.
On New Year’s Eve of 2010, the day that marked the end of the decade, I caught a terrible illness and
had to stay in bed for the whole afternoon as well as the next day. My mother was going to go to one of
her friend’s houses, but she felt sorry for me and stayed at home. I spent the whole time lying in my
bed, brooding about my life. I don’t know what was worse, the physical pain I felt from the sickness, or
the emotional pain and rage I had towards the world. I would say the latter.
When the illness had passed on the following afternoon, I thought about how it caused me to waste
my New Year’s holiday in my room, but then I mused that I would have done the same thing anyway,
whether I was sick or not, because I had no friends to celebrate New Year’s with.
I checked Addison’s Facebook profile with one of my stalking accounts, and I saw that he went to a
huge New Year’s party at a mansion with his popular Malibu friends. He took lots of pictures of himself
posing with various girls. I hated him so much when I saw that. The level of hatred I felt was unreal. He
was doing everything I wanted to do! Why him and not me? I cursed at the world. What was seen can
never be unseen, and I will never forget it, nor will I forgive it.
My hope that I will one day have a beautiful girlfriend and live the life I desire slowly faded away. I
was in the same dark and miserable place I had been a year previously; lonely, unwanted, miserable,
and seething with rage at the world. I kept thinking about how some boys were easily able to get
girlfriends straight after they went through puberty. I couldn’t fathom how they did it, and I hated and
despised them for it.
I kept thinking about Leo Bubenheim, and how he kissed that girl Nicole at the Sagebrush Cantina
when he was only twelve. Twelve! He was able to have an intimate experience with a girl when he was
only twelve; and there I was at eighteen, still a kissless virgin. My envy of Leo became an obsession. I
kept asking my sister for information about him, but she refused to tell me anything. I frightfully
wondered if he had lost his virginity already, and he most likely had. He was a popular kid, and girls
desired him. Leo was happily living his heavenly life with the knowledge that he’s worth something to
the world, while I had to wallow in my misery and loneliness.
Life is not fair. One can either accept that fact, keeling over in defeat; or one can harness the strength
to fight against it. My destiny was to fight against the unfairness of the world. My mother carried on pressuring me to get a job, and she would never leave me alone about it. She
was a bit frustrated that I wasn’t getting one. The two of us had a lot of arguments, and living with my
mother became an extreme hassle.
After signing me up to a program in the regional center, my mother found a life coach to counsel me
and help me find a job. This life coach’s name was Tony, a boisterous 40 year old man who came to
meet me every other week. I was open to going along with this. I had plenty of free time, and I was so
lonely that any social interaction was welcome. For our meetings, Tony usually took me out to lunch
somewhere in the Valley, where he gave me advice on socializing and self-improvement.
I continued searching for a job, but I still wasn’t able to find one. I refused all of the jobs that Tony
suggested to me. The problem was that most of the jobs that were available to me at the time were jobs
I considered to be beneath me. My mother wanted me to get a simple retail job, and the thought of
myself doing that was mortifying. It would be completely against my character. I am an intellectual who
is destined for greatness. I would never perform a low-class service job.
My father told me that I could work for his friend Karl Champley for a few weeks, to help him build a
staircase in his new house. I knew Karl quite well, for he used to come over to father’s for dinner
occasionally. Karl was just finishing up building his new house in Woodland Hills, just a few minutes
away from father’s house, and he offered to hire me to help with the staircase.
I agreed to take this job. Sure, construction work was lowly and laborious, but this was different. This
was more like assisting a friend, and it would be in a private environment. It was the perfect temporary
job opportunity, and it would most definitely get my mother off my back. I still wasn’t able to drive, so I
rode my bicycle there from mother’s house every morning. The trip on the bicycle took 30 minutes. It
was grueling to ride a bicycle up that steep winding road every day, but it provided good exercise, which
I was in need of. I worked with Karl every weekday for about three weeks. It turned out to be quite a
pleasant experience. Karl was very friendly and I enjoyed working with him. When we finished the
staircase, which was a spiral staircase that led up to his roof-deck, we took a moment to admire the
work we did.
On my last day working for Karl, I decided to stop by at father’s house to have a drink. I was quite
parched from the bicycle ride. I entered the house without knocking because I believed I had the right
to. As the eldest son, the house should be my house after my father. Soumaya was surprised to see me,
and she got angry that I didn’t knock. To teach me a lesson, she ordered me to go back outside and
knock. I refused, telling her that she has no right to order me around anymore. I then helped myself to a
glass of water. Soumaya knocked the glass of water out of my hand and it shattered on the floor. Father
clamored angrily up the stairs from his office demanding to know what was going on. The three of us
had a heated argument, and of course father took Soumaya’s side. They both kicked me out of the
house, telling me that I’m not to return. I felt betrayed and humiliated as I furiously made my way back
to mother’s house. At that very moment, I hated both of them, and I wouldn’t see either of them for
many months. For those months, my father was dead to me. My mother was all I had left in this bleak
world.
During that same week, I had a climactic meeting with Philip and Addison where my noxious feud
with Addison Altendorf reached a boiling point. We went on an outing to the Griffith Park Observatory,
as we usually did when we got together. This time, my arguments with Addison were very intense. I
tried to insult him as much as I could, in a petty attempt to get revenge at him for all the insults and
slights he dealt to me. We went back and forth at each other for the whole evening, to the chagrin of
poor Philip who had to put up with it. By the end of the night, Addison said something to me that was so
offensive it will haunt me forever, and it rang true: “No girl in this whole world will ever want to fuck
you.”
I already felt that no girl in the world wanted to fuck me. I was a kissless virgin after all. That was the
sole reason why I was suffering. But to hear it come from someone else, someone like Addison, really
caused it to sink into core of my mentality and emotions.
That whole night made for a very vile and wicked experience. I decided not to see Philip and Addison
for a long time.
Because I was no longer seeing Philip and Addison, James was once again my only friend. I frequently
talked to him over Skype. Sometimes I would go over to his house, where the two of us went on our
traditional walks around the Palisades town center. James still played WoW, and he was trying to get me
back into it. I was quite tempted. After everything I had been through in the last few months, I did feel
the urge to delve back into that void. Facing the world was tough, and it took its toll on me, especially
since I’ve seen no results. I was still in the same position I had always been: Lonely, unwanted, and
miserable.
I found out that my mother was actually dating Jack, the wealthy man who owned the Malibu beach
house. I always thought he was only her friend. My mother never told me or my sister about any men
that she dated. She always kept that strictly private. I hadn’t even met Jack yet. He was worth well over
$500 million, and he owned other mansions in Bel Air and Beverly Hills.
When I found out about this, I started to harbor the hope that my mother will get married to this
man, and I will be part of a rich family. That will definitely be a way out of my miserable and insignificant
life. Money would solve everything. I started to frequently ask my mother to seek marriage with this
man, or any wealthy man for that matter. She always adamantly refused, and demanded that I stopped
talking about it. She told me that she never wanted to get married again after her experience with my
father. I told her that she should sacrifice her well-being for the sake of my happiness, but this only
offended her further.
At the beginning of summer, I finally received my driver’s license. I had to take the driving test twice
before I passed it. The first time, I took it at the Winnetka DMV, and I made a few mistakes at the end
which caused me to fail it. After taking some lessons that my mother arranged for me, I gave the driving
test another try at the Thousand Oaks DMV. This area was much easier to navigate around, so I
managed to closely pass the test.
Once my official driver’s license came in the mail, my mother told me some good news. She received
a new car from Jack, which meant she could give her older car to me. I now had a car of my own to
drive. To be able to drive to any place I wanted to go provided me with a new sense of freedom that I
never felt before. I felt more like an adult rather than a kid. I realized that I could start college again,
now that I had the ability to drive there.
I registered for a summer class at Moorpark College. I read about Moorpark College online and found
that it was a much better option than Pierce College. My mother and I drove up there to take a look. The
campus was smaller in scale, and more aesthetically pleasing. It was located in the town of Moorpark, in
a gorgeous mountain area near Thousand Oaks. I also saw a lot more beautiful girls there than I ever
saw at Pierce. Everywhere I looked I saw beautiful blonde girls walking around. This college was just
right for me.
In the days leading up to my first day at Moorpark, I felt a renewed sense of hope. A new college
provided a new start, and this college looked perfect in every way. I had the hope that I could make it
there; that I could make friends, meet some girls, and eventually find a pretty girl to be my girlfriend. I pictured her in my mind all the time; her cascading blonde hair, her beautiful face, her sensual body…
Everything. I imagined us walking hand in hand through the college, looking at the magnificent view of
the mountains in the distance as the sun sets behind them. That would be heaven. That was what I
wanted in life. Every single hate-fueled ideal, world-view, and philosophy I created in the past was a
result of not being able to do that.
I was very optimistic on the first day. When I walked onto the campus I breathed in the fresh
mountain air and admired my surroundings. I was in a new environment with lots of new possibilities.
The class I took was a world history class, and it began on a good note. The class was well-structured and
the teacher was entertaining. After the class ended, I walked around the college for an hour to explore
and ponder over how I can set my life right. Once again, I dared to hope that there could be a good
future for me.
My renewed hope gave me solace for a few days, but it did not last. Moorpark soon became a place
of loneliness and despair, just like any other place I’ve attempted to thrive in. The breaking point was
when I saw good looking couples walking along the area where I dreamed of walking with a girlfriend. To
watch another boy experience it, with a beautiful girl who should be mine, was a living hell. I constantly
asked myself what I did wrong in life, to be unable to have a beautiful girlfriend.
It was no better inside the classroom. There was this one obnoxious jock with a buzz-cut who was
taking the class with his gorgeous girlfriend. They always sat next to each other, talking and touching
each other with affection. Every day I had to see this, and my envy grew and grew. I constantly glared at
them with raw hatred. What did I do wrong that he did right? I yelled out to the universe on the way
home. Why does he deserve the love of a beautiful girl, and not me? Why do girls hate me so? Questions
and questions. All I could do was question why I was suffering so much injustice in life.
My mother one day told me that I should become a writer, because I had some talent in writing. That
was strange to hear. For my whole life I was never talented at anything I tried. I was too physically weak
to play sports with other boys when I was little; I never became professional at skateboarding no matter
how much I practiced; and I was never that skilled at any video games I played… even World of Warcraft.
Steve and Mark were able to play their characters more skillfully that I ever did, and they started the
game much later than me. Deep down, I’ve always known that I had no talents, and I’ve always tried not
to think about it.
Indeed, it was strange to hear my mother say that I could become a talented writer, but it did give me
an idea. I started to wonder if I actually could become a writer. I could write an epic fantasy story that
will be made into a movie, and I will become rich from it. Being rich will definitely make me attractive
enough to have a beautiful girlfriend. It was not impossible, and working towards it would give me
something to live for. I mulled it over in my mind for a while.
We went to Jack’s beach house in Malibu to spend a couple of nights again. My mother called me on
the phone to tell me the plan while I was at college. It was a lonely and depressing day at school, and I
was glad to be able to have some respite at the lovely beach house. I immediately drove there from
Moorpark after my class was finished.
Mother had a few of her friends over, and she bought a lot of delicious food. After stuffing myself
with portions from every dish and drinking multiple glasses of wine, I went on a long and peaceful walk
on the beach, wishing that I had a girlfriend to walk beside me. Before I went to bed, I thought a lot
more about the possibility of becoming rich. If I was a millionaire and owned a house like the one I was
spending that night in, I could have any girl I want. Being in that position would make up for all of the
misery I’ve had to go through in the past… and making up for it is my most important goal in life. My one
wish is to feel satisfied for the way my life is. I seriously started to consider working towards writing an epic story. I was always creating stories in
my mind to fuel my fantasies. Usually those stories depicted someone like myself rising to power after a
life of being treated unfairly by the world. I mentally examined all of the stories I had developed, and
focused on the few that I thought would become bestsellers. If I could get one of them made into a
movie, I would definitely be a millionaire. It was the only solution to my problems. I saw myself as a
highly intelligent and magnificent person who is meant for great things. This could be one of them.
I spent the next couple of weeks focusing on writing for myself instead of working on my schoolwork.
The class didn’t give much homework to do anyway. I wrote summaries for three different stories, and I
think I showed two of them to my mother. She seemed to think that they would make good movies, and
that increased my confidence. I either wanted to write a novel first, or go straight to making it a
screenplay.
I spent every afternoon for two weeks working on this goal. My time at college was miserable. I often
cried on the way home because I was envious of so many couples walking around. I poured all of my
energy into coming up with a way to make this goal work.
My faith that I could write an epic story that would make me rich soon collapsed. I read so many
articles online of the chances that a screenplay would be made into a movie. I also saw that most writers
of even the highest budget films didn’t make as much as I thought they did… Definitely not enough to
live on for the rest of their life. I also thought, with a lot of despair, of the time that it would take to
achieve such a goal. Most bestselling authors or screenwriters didn’t become millionaires until they
were well into their forties or fifties. I didn’t want to wait until I was forty years old to lose my virginity!
The thought of spending the next twenty years working hard every day for a chance to make a million or
two filled me with revulsion. By the time I’d become a millionaire from doing that, I wouldn’t even be
able to get hot young girls because I’d be too old. I decided that writing was not my path to salvation,
and I abandoned the idea completely. Of course, I would become tantalized with the idea a few more
times in the future, but that would be due to the desperate, false hope that I often create for myself.
I couldn’t stand seeing that damnable couple in my class anymore. I never understood what that
pretty girl saw in her brute of a boyfriend. That guy was able to experience his college life with his
beautiful girlfriend by his side, while I was all alone. It made me feel so inferior. I had to watch them
together, every single day. The torture was unbearable. When I got home from college one day, I
dropped my class in a rage.
I didn’t think about how my mother would react to me dropping the class. I knew she would be very
disappointed, and I couldn’t afford to have her be disappointed in me. I was relying on her for
everything. What she gave to me, she could easily take away. I panicked and resolved to get a job in
order to placate her.
After asking Tony, my social skills counsellor, if I could get a job through the regional center, he called
me back and told me that there was a job available for me. I didn’t get much information about it, but I
decided to sign up for it right there and then. After this was secure, I was comfortable enough to tell my
mother that I dropped my class at Moorpark. I could have lied to her and told her that I never dropped
the class, but at that time I was too scared to lie to her.
I started a day of working at this new job. It was located in an office building that was connected to
an Airport in Los Angeles. To my horror and humiliation, the job turned out to be a menial custodial job,
and I had to clean offices and even the bathrooms. There was no way I would ever degrade myself to
such a level. I felt like utter shit from even considering working at such a place. I only worked for a few
hours while I thought about how to handle this foul situation… and on the next day I called to announce that I was quitting. That was the second and last “job” I would ever have. I only worked there for less
than a day.
After I quit, I fell into an even worse state of panic than I was in after I dropped my Moorpark class. I
rapidly pestered myself with the ultimate question: What am I to do now? I called up Karl Champley to
see if he had another job for me at his house, but he told me that his house was almost finished and
there was literally no work for me to do there. I was doomed. I thought that if my mother found out that
I quit, she would kick me out of her household.
My mother was taking a vacation in Hawaii with my sister during this time. I had a few days by myself
to relax and plot my next move. I concluded that going to college and enduring the sight of couples
walking around was better than having to resort to working a low-class job somewhere, and I had to pick
one of the two in order to placate my mother. College was also more beneficial because I could learn
and educate myself through it.
I called up my mother and cried to her on the phone, explaining to her why I quit the job that I signed
up for, and asked her if she would give me another chance. I told her I will register for more classes at
Moorpark and pour all of my energy into studying hard. I also told her that I will continue with working
on my writing. To my relief, she was very understanding, and she told me she would continue to support
me if I did this.
The temporary pressure I had to face that summer was eased, but after thinking about it, I supposed
it was insignificant compared to the overall pressure that’s been on my shoulders ever since I hit
puberty: My struggle against a society that looks down upon me… against the female gender for denying
me sex and love. Addison Altendorf’s hurtful words kept haunting me all throughout the summer. I saw
my future and I saw only more bleak loneliness. I will never have sex. I will never have love. Girls deem
me unworthy of it, I thought to myself over and over again. I cried every day when I imagined how much
fun and pleasure other teenagers were having as I languished in despair.
My 19th birthday passed by sullenly, and it caused me to feel even more defeated. Nineteen and still a
virgin, I miserably proclaimed on that day. My father didn’t even deign to give me a phone call. Instead,
he sent me a letter wishing me happy birthday and telling me that he wanted me to apologize to
Soumaya, which of course I refused to do.
The laptop I received on my 17th birthday had become infected with viruses, so my mother bought
me a new, even better laptop on my 19th birthday. I chose one that can handle video games very well,
because I had just made the decision to start playing World of Warcraft again. I just couldn’t handle the
anguish in my life anymore, and I needed a break, no matter how unhealthy and time-consuming WoW
would be for me.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"19 Years Old
 Upon setting up my new laptop, I immediately installed all of my WoW disks. I logged onto my
account and took a look at all of my characters that I hadn’t touched for a year and a half. Right when I
logged onto my main character, I was contacted by James, and he invited me to join an online group
with him, Steve, and Mark. They all gave me a warm welcome back.
 And there I was, stuck in the void of hopelessness once again; in the exact same position as I had
been when I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and seventeen. For all the efforts I made to improve my life
during my eighteenth year, I had nothing to show for it. No friends, no girls, no life.
 I started going to James’s house a lot more, since I was now able to drive and the two of us could play
WoW together again. Seeing James was always pleasant in its own way. He was my comrade in virginity, for he too didn’t get any attention from girls, and I’m sure he suffered from it, but not as much as I did. I
was very perplexed as to why he didn’t feel any anger towards girls for denying him sex. He should be
just as angry as I am. I supposed he didn’t have a very high sex drive, or he was just a generally weak
person.
 To be angry about the injustices one faces is a sign of strength. It is a sign that one has the will to fight
back against those injustices, rather than bowing down and accepting it as fate. Both my friends James
and Philip seem to be the weak, accepting type; whereas I am the fighter. I will never stand to be
insulted, and I will eventually have my revenge against all those who insult me, no matter how long it
takes.
 For the rest of the summer, I took it easy and played WoW with James, Steve, and Mark; just like old
times. I also started reading a new book series called A Song of Ice and Fire, by George R.R. Martin. This
medieval fantasy series was spectacular. The first book of the series was A Game of Thrones, and once I
read the first chapter I just couldn’t put it down. It was like nothing I had ever read before, with a huge
array of complex characters, a few of whom I could relate to. I found out that it was going to be adapted
into an HBO television series, and I became very excited for that.
 Delving into fantasy stories like WoW and Game of Thrones didn’t make me forget about all of my
troubles in life, but they did give me a temporary and relieving sense of escape, which I need from time
to time. Life would be impossible to handle without those temporary respites.
 Rob Lemelson suggested to my mother that I join the karate class he practices in. Rob was an expert
black-belt, and James was also taking the same class with him. They met up every Tuesday and Friday
night, and I agreed to go on Fridays. Every Friday, I began the routine of driving up to James’s house, and
then the two of us would go in James’s car to the karate class in Santa Monica. James got his first car a
few months after I got mine, though his car was a lot older and worn out.
 Rob thought that starting karate would be healthy for me, as it is meant to increase confidence and
build character. I was eager to see if I could benefit from it. The class was pleasant. It gave me a good
work out and a sense of invigoration. There were usually six or seven other students, and I was
particularly annoyed with this one twelve year old kid who seemed to think he was better than me
because he was a brown belt and I was a novice white belt. I bet he thought he could beat me in a fight
because of it… Hah! No chance in that. It was annoying, but I was amused at the same time.
 After the karate class, Rob would take us out to a nice restaurant for dinner if he had time. If Rob was
busy that night, James and I would go to our usual dinner place in the palisades, and then we would go
back to his house to hang out for a while.
 My new semester at Moorpark College began. I only managed to sign up for one class, but I promised
my mother that I would do at least three classes in the next semester. Both of my grandma’s offered to
send me some money to help me out with living expenses, and I wisely saved every check I received
from them. One of my priorities was to start building up my money savings in case my life became too
drastic.
 The class I started was a political science class. I figured I would gain some useful knowledge by taking
it, though I disliked the teacher because he had the tendency to randomly call on me to answer
questions. I was still terrified of speaking in front of the class, even if it was for one sentence. My social
anxiety has always made my life so difficult, and no one ever understood it. I hated how everyone else
seemed to have no anxiety at all. I was like a cripple compared to them. Their lives must be so much
easier. Thankfully, there were no couples in this class, but I still had to see them when I walked through
the school. The only thing I could do was keep my head down and pretend they didn’t exist. I still cried
on the drive home every day. Grandma Jinx came to visit the United States in October, where she stayed at father’s house. This
presented a difficult situation. She of course wanted to see me, her eldest grandson, but I wasn’t on
speaking terms with my father and Soumaya. I was very resentful of my father for the way he treated
me during that last incident, and I will never forgive him for it. My father effectively abandoned me at
one of my most crucial points in my life. Though in fact, he was never really present in my life to
abandon me in the first place. When I think about it, he was always absent from my life. When my whole
world took a downward spiral into darkness after I hit puberty, he never made any effort to save me. He
just didn’t care.
 I would never let what happened to me happen to a son of mine, if I had a son… though from the way
things have been going, I’ll never have a chance to have a son, because girls don’t want to have sex me. I
would make such a better father than my own father.
 Grandma Jinx pushed the both of us to reconcile. She insisted that I meet her and father at father’s
house, where the three of us would set out to have lunch somewhere. I showed up and gave my
grandma a hug. Father didn’t say a word to me, nor I to him.
 We went to our local Japanese restaurant. Father sat in silence while Grandma Jinx asked me lots of
questions about my life. Eventually we got around to the subject that was hanging in the air. If it weren’t
for my grandma, the conversation would have gotten nowhere. Father and I went back and forth at each
other with accusations. Grandma Jinx persuaded the two of us to drop our grudges and move on. For
her sake, we acquiesced. I shook hands with father as we agreed to put the past behind us.
 I went on a walk with Grandma Jinx after we returned to father’s house. I took her up to my old
contemplation spot, the hilltop that overlooks father’s neighborhood, which I always called the
Overlook. That place is one of the most special places in my life. I have memories of it stretching back all
the way to when I was a joyful ten-year-old. I remember going up there to skateboard all the way down;
I rode my bicycle up there during my middle school years; I hiked up there with Max when he was
staying at father’s house as an exchange student; I languished there in despair when I went on my lonely
walks at the age of seventeen and eighteen; and now I was showing it to my grandma. When the two of
us reached the top, every memory came back to me, and I felt a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.
 After the walk, I didn’t want to enter father’s house. Soumaya was in there, and I hadn’t seen her
since that dreadful day when she made father throw me out. Once again, my grandma forced the issue,
and I agreed to go in for a talk. We all sat down at the kitchen table and agreed that arguing would get
us nowhere. Father and Soumaya were willing to start over, and I agreed to give our relationship
another chance. Before my grandma departed back to England, she made us promise to keep up the
positive relations, and made sure that they would invite me over for dinner frequently.
 I soon went to one of those dinners at father’s house. It was an awkward experience, to have dinner
with the two of them after all of that tension. We didn’t raise any issues and talked about pleasant
things. It was nice to see my brother Jazz again. I was shocked by how much he had grown in the past
several months. He was no longer a baby, but a five-year-old boy who was turning six soon. I could
actually have full conversations with him. He was a very social boy, and quite boisterous… and that
started to worry me. He could well turn into one of the people I have despised and envied so much. I felt
a hint of jealousy that my five-year-old brother was so well versed in social skills at such a young age. I
always suffered from shyness and social anxiety, but Jazz didn’t seem to have that problem.
 I put that worry at the back of my mind. He was my brother, and he really looked up to me. He was
one of the few people who treated me the way I want to be treated, with respect and adoration. I
enjoyed spending time with the boy. As I got more used to having a car of my own to drive, I frequently went on what I called “night
drives” around my mother’s neighborhood. They almost replaced the long walks I used to take in the
afternoons. Staying in my room all the time only increased my depression. It was suffocating. To ease
this suffocation, I frequently got in my car at night, turned on the radio, and went on a drive with no
particular destination. The song “Two Is Better Than One” always played on the radio when I went on
those night drives. It made me feel sad, though it was soothing at the same time. That song will always
remind me of the loneliness I felt during those experiences.
 I soon learned the hard way to not go on night drives on Fridays and Saturdays. That was when
teenagers were out and about. Even in the peaceful residential neighborhood that my mother lived in, I
frequently saw bands of teenagers roaming the streets. They were high schoolers, younger than me;
mostly skateboarder punks or football jocks who had pretty girls beside them. The sight of them
enraged me to no end. It reminded me of the life I missed out on. They were probably on their way to
some house party, where they will get drunk and have sex and do all sorts of fun pleasurable things that
I’ve never had the chance to do. Damn them all!
 My Autumn semester at Moorpark College flashed by like a subtle lightning bolt. It was as if it didn’t
even exist in my life. Moorpark College was supposed to be a place of hope for me, but it turned into a
place of despair, just like everything else. I was invisible there. Nobody knew I existed or cared who I
was. At least this time I finished a class.
 The day of my final exam was December 7th, which was also the day the new expansion to World of
Warcraft was released, called Cataclysm. I completed my final exam with ease, and thus I completed my
first college class, in which I received the grade of a B. Afterwards, I rushed to Best Buy to purchase the
new game. With new WoW expansions, some of those old feelings that I felt when I first played the
game came back to me, and I wanted that feeling again. It was comforting, and the sense comfort was
something I needed to cushion myself with. I also knew that I would beat James, Steve, and Mark to the
next high level cap. I supposed it would provide a small sense of competitive satisfaction. Getting a
character to the highest level the fastest was the only part of the game that I was truly good at, but I
suppose that was due to the massive amounts of free time I had at my disposal. Since my college class
was over and it was winter break, I could literally play the game for every waking minute.
 And so I did. My last stint in the World of Warcraft was an intense one. I reached the new level cap in
less than two days, and once I was there I repeatedly took pleasure in killing James’s, Steve’s, and
Mark’s characters as they tried to level up, as a petty form of revenge for them leaving me out of their
group meetings years ago, and because I was jealous that Steve and Mark were more skilled at the game
than I was. Being a higher level for those few days gave me the advantage I needed to even the score.
But I digress.
 After two weeks of playing World of Warcraft nonstop, I once again came to the abrupt decision to
quit. The new expansion was a major disappointment. Blizzard Entertainment, the creators of the game,
made changes that I believe ruined everything that was fun about it. I won’t get into the details, as most
of the people reading this won’t understand complicated video game terms anyway.
 But that was only a small part of the reason why I quit. The main reason was the disturbing new
player-base. The game got bigger with every new expansion that was released, and as it got bigger, it
brought in a vast amount of new players. I noticed that more and more “normal” people who had active
and pleasurable social lives were starting to play the game, as the new changes catered to such a crowd.
WoW no longer became a sanctuary where I could hide from the evils of the world, because the evils of
the world had now followed me there. I saw people bragging online about their sexual experiences with
girls… and they used the term “virgin” as an insult to people who were more immersed in the game than
them. The insult stung, because it was true. Us virgins did tend to get more immersed in such things,
because our real lives were lacking. I couldn’t stand to play WoW knowing that my enemies, the people I hate and envy so much for having sexual lives, were now playing the same game as me. There was no
point anymore. I realized what a terrible mistake I made to turn my back on the world again. The world
is brutal, and I need to fight for my place in it. My life was at a crucial turning point, and I couldn’t waste
any more precious time.
 At the Lemelson’s Christmas party, I told James that I was quitting WoW again, and he told me he
suspected I would very soon. It was just a matter of time. Even through playing with me over the
internet, he could detect my anger and rage towards the world seeping through the computer screen. I
questioned him about why he himself could go on living without feeling any sort of anger or resentment
about his circumstances, which were similar to mine. He was, after all, a nineteen year old virgin just like
I was. He just casually told me that didn’t pay attention to it, and focused on his strengths. What
strengths do I have to focus on? I wondered. The world views me as a weakling. Perhaps I needed to
prove the world wrong.
 On Christmas Day, father held a huge Christmas party at his house. I was invited, since I was back on
speaking terms with them. I got a few new shirts for Christmas, so I decided to wear one for the
occasion. I hadn’t seen any of father’s friends for a while, and it was nice to reunite with them. The
Bubenheim’s weren’t there; father had recently got into a fight with Alex, abruptly ending their
friendship. I suppose it was for the best. If Leo was at that party, I would have probably gotten into a
nasty fight with him. My hatred of Leo was so volatile that I wanted to confront him. I wanted to hurt
him. I couldn’t let him get away with the insults he dealt towards me in the past.
 A few family friends complimented my appearance, and that made me feel a bit better about myself.
It is so peculiar how a simple smile or a compliment can completely change how I feel about the world
for a few moments.
 During the remaining days of 2010, I joined my mother and sister at Jack’s beach house in Malibu to
spend a few nights. They arrived there a few hours before me, and by the time I reached the house they
had already invited a few guests for an afternoon get-together. To my outrage, I saw that mother had
invited Maddy and her boyfriend. I was looking forward to having another respite at the beautiful
Malibu mansion where I can indulge myself in opulence and forget about my depressing loneliness.
Having a young couple lurking around only reminded me of my insignificance. I was extremely upset
with my mother for inviting them. She should have been more considerate.
 If only I had a girlfriend of my own to take to that place. That beach house is the perfect place to take
a girlfriend to. It had a swimming pool and a Jacuzzi, it was located on a private beach where we could
walk arm in arm, and it even had a private movie theatre. Such an opportunity wasted, all because no
girl would give me a chance. Instead, I was all alone, and I had to see another couple watch movies
together in that very theatre.
 Thankfully, that couple only stayed for a few hours. Mother invited a few more guests, and we
ordered our dinner to be delivered from a local restaurant. By the time dinner arrived, I had already
consumed three glasses of wine, and I had a fourth glass with the meal. Everything’s better with some
wine in the belly, as a famous character from Game of Thrones would say. I was left out of most of the
conversations, like I always was, so I just sat there quietly, sipping my wine as I had to bear listening to
Maddy talk about how awesome her life was.
 I excused myself as soon as I finished eating, and boy did I stuff myself on that meal. I then walked
outside onto the beach. The wine had long since gone to my head, making me feel a sense of dizzy
invigoration. I started walking along the shore, taking in the magnificence of the gentle, moonlit ocean.
It was so… romantic. I kept walking and walking with no destination in mind. The romance of it all filled
me with despair and longing. I wanted a girlfriend to experience that moment with me, but no girl
wanted to be my girlfriend. The only thing I could do was imagine how heavenly it would be to have a
beautiful girl by my side. It is such a shameful tragedy.
 I ended up walking for two hours, and at the end of it I was crying to myself because I felt so sad.
When I returned to the house, Maddy and her boyfriend had left, and so did most of the guests. The
only guests who remained were my mother’s friends Alan and Rebecca, and their sons, as they were
spending the nights there with us.
 I spent the rest of my time there relaxing and watching movies in the theatre. We watched the entire
Jurassic Park trilogy, which brought back fond memories of my childhood. I went on a few more walks
on the beach during the daytime. That beach was always quiet and peaceful, since the only people who
visited it were those who lived in homes on the beach. I took full advantage of this. I’ve always found
beaches to be truly beautiful, but I could never go to public beaches because they are full of young
couples walking around in their revealing bathing suits, the sight of which fills me with envious rage. On
the private beach, I could enjoy the serenity of the environment without having to worry about young
couples making me jealous. There were no young couples, only a few families and old couples here and
there. I did, however, pass by one young girl, and she was like a goddess who came down from heaven.
She was walking alone, in her bathing suit, with her luscious blonde hair blowing in the wind. I couldn’t
help but slyly admire her beauty as we passed by each other. I was scared. I was scared that she might
view me as nothing but an inferior insect who’s presence ruins her atmosphere. Her beauty was
intoxicating! And then, just as we passed each other, she actually looked at me. She looked at me and
smiled. Most girls never even deigned to look at me, and this one actually looked at me and smiled. I had
never felt so euphoric in my life. One smile. One smile was all it took to brighten my entire day. The
power that beautiful women have is unbelievable. They can temporarily turn a desperate boy’s whole
world around just by smiling.
 That smile put me in a good, healthy mood for the rest of that walk, but it soon faded away as I
realized that I could never actually have a girl as beautiful as that. She probably only smiled out of
politeness. She would never go for me. And what is the point to life if I can’t have a girl of such beauty?
Some men get to have beautiful girlfriends like that, and some don’t. I am among those who are denied
such a pleasure, and that is why I hate life.
 After spending three days at the Malibu beach house, I was sad to leave it. I had a feeling I would
never see the place again, and it was true. That was the last time I ever went there. Mother ended her
relationship with Jack sometime within the following months, though she would never tell me directly
about it.
 I spent New Year’s Eve alone and miserable, just like the previous year. And the year before that, for
that matter. It was the last day my WoW account was active, and I logged onto WoW just for that
occasion. I angrily had arguments with random people online who I saw bragging about their girlfriends.
I spewed out all of my hatred towards them, but they were only amused. It was a very aggravating
experience, and it made me glad that I cancelled my WoW account. There was nowhere I could hide
anymore. Time was ticking, and a New Year was just beginning. I concluded that I had to put more effort
into making better use of my time.
 I made a vow on New Year’s Day that I wouldn’t masturbate until I did something to successfully get
one step further in life. Having a high sex drive, I usually masturbated at least every other day. I always
fantasized about sex… and the fact that I was unable to have sex made me even more obsessed with it.
To stop masturbating for more than three days was a big deal. I lasted seven days. On the seventh day
my sexual urges became too overwhelming. My whole body was enveloped in it. I thought about girls
every single second, and not having a girl to have sex with was unbearable. I could not even function
anymore, so I had to break my commitment. The masturbation session I had after that seven-day dry
spell was astounding. I did my usual fantasizing about having sex with a beautiful, tall blonde-haired girl; but this time I intensified it a lot, and made up a whole story in my mind just to make the experience
seem more real. If only it could be real. Some men get to live that fantasy, whereas I could only dream
of it. Life is not fair.
 I finished the fourth book of the Song of Ice and Fire series. The television adaptation, Game of
Thrones was coming out in just a few months, and I was really looking forward to that. I was also looking
forward to the fifth book of the series, which had a release date of July 12th. After finishing all four
books, I had become a huge fan of the series. It depicted a much more exciting world than the one I
lived in, with a large array of complex characters, a few of whom I could really relate to.
 As I was reading up about the release date for the fifth book, I found an online countdown that
showed each day, hour, minute, and second that remained until July 12th. Since July 12th was so close to
my 20th birthday, I used this countdown as the official countdown of my last days as a teenager. I made
it my internet homepage, and hoped that it would motivate me to do everything I can to change my life
during this crucial period.
 Since I was back in father’s good graces, my mother agreed to meet with him and me to talk about
my life situation. We had dinner at a Japanese restaurant, where we had a long talk about what I was
doing in my life, and what my college plans were. My mother and father both agreed that in order to
change my life, I needed to remove myself from my current environment and start anew. Living at my
mother’s apartment was becoming unhealthy, and they thought that things would improve if I had my
own place. It was at this moment that we began to form the Santa Barbara plan, in which I would go to
college in Santa Barbara and live amongst the students there.
 The Santa Barbara plan was formed on that night, but its roots stretch all the way back to when I just
turned eighteen. It was all because I watched that movie Alpha Dog. The movie had a profound effect on
me, because it depicted lots of good looking young people enjoying pleasurable sex lives. I thought
about it for many months afterward, and I constantly read about the story online. I found out that it
took place in Santa Barbara, which prompted me to read about college life in Santa Barbara. I found out
about Isla Vista, the small town adjacent to UCSB where all of the college students live and have parties.
When I found out about all this, I had the desperate hope that if I moved to that town I would be able to
live that life too. That was the life I wanted. A life of pleasure and sex. I talked to my mother about the
prospect of going to college in Santa Barbara a few times during my eighteenth year. She thought it was
a good idea; it would certainly free her of the burden of living with me, but we never seriously
considered it. Until that day.
 My mother proposed the plan to father, and father became very enthusiastic about it. We laid down
the groundwork right then and there. Father was still suffering from his financial crisis, but he agreed to
pay for my tuition and contribute five hundred dollars a month towards my living expenses, while my
mother would pay for my apartment rent and continue to provide me with the car. I was to do one more
semester at Moorpark for the time being, and then transfer to Santa Barbara City College in the
summer.
 This was a very astonishing turn of events. I didn’t expect this, and I had no idea how to react. I was
completely dumbfounded. I thought it was just going to be a casual dinner meeting where we would
simply talk about my life, and we ended up making plans to drastically change my life.
 At that period of my life, I was on the verge of giving up all hope that I would ever live the life I want,
but this changed everything. I now had the opportunity to start fresh, in a beautiful new town, at a new
college, with my own living place. Of course, I would have to share an apartment with other college
students, but that was part of the experience. It would give me more social credibility than living with
my mother, that’s for sure. Deep down, I always wanted an opportunity like this; and now I had one, just at the time when I was about to give up on everything completely. It was very overwhelming, and I
needed a few days to meditate and take it all in.
 It was such an unbelievable turn of events that I dismissed it from my mind in the following two
months. It was still five months before I would start college in Santa Barbara, so I decided not to worry
about it for the time being. At the present, I had to worry about my new semester at Moorpark that was
just beginning.
 I was registered to take three classes for the Spring semester at Moorpark. The first was an early
morning history class, followed by sociology and then psychology. They were all just as disastrous as I
expected them to be. I had to drop the sociology class right on the first day, because there was this
extremely hot blonde girl who took the class with her brute of a boyfriend. I couldn’t stand looking at
them sitting together. I left the class mid-session because I couldn’t take it anymore.
 Dropping my sociology class left me with a huge gap of time in between my history and psychology
classes. During this time I usually went to a quiet, secluded spot that had a few tables overlooking the
view of the mountains. I spent a lot of time here, writing in my diary and contemplating my place in the
world.
 My two remaining classes were not much better. In my history class, I had a crush on a really pretty
girl, only to find out that she had a boyfriend, and in my psychology class there was this group of popular
kids who acted obnoxious the whole time. One of them was a very pretty blonde girl, and she actually
enjoyed associating with the obnoxious boys in her clique. The injustice! I hated them all. Everyone
treated me like I was invisible. No one reached out to me, no one knew I existed. I was a ghost. It was
agony, but I couldn’t drop all of my classes… I already felt guilty about dropping one of them, and I was
afraid that my parents would somehow find out. I skipped class a lot, only going in for important
lectures and tests, and spent a lot of time at my usual secluded area at the college.
 As I spent a lot of time contemplating, I realized that my life was repeating itself in a vicious circle of
torment and injustice. Each new semester of college yielded the same lonely celibate life, devoid of girls
or any social interaction. It was as if there was a curse of misfortune placed upon me. I wondered what
the point was in attempting to start a new life in Santa Barbara. Hadn’t I done the same at Moorpark? I
thought, with a shiver of dread running up my spine, about how horrible it would be if the same thing
ends up happening after I make the big move to Santa Barbara. I didn’t even want to imagine how much
of an epic defeat that would be. I wisely shut away all thoughts about it, and focused with intense
determination on how I can change my life right at the current moment.
 My father gave me a book called The Secret after I had dinner at his house in February. He said it will
help me develop a positive attitude. The book explained the fundamentals of a concept known as the
Law of Attraction. I had never heard or read anything quite like this before, and I was intrigued. The
theory stated that one’s thoughts were connected to a universal force that can shape the future of
reality. Being one who always loved fantasy and magic, and who always wished that such things were
real, I was swept up in a temporary wave of enthusiasm over this book. The prospect that I could change
my future just by visualizing in my mind the life I wanted filled me with a surge of hope that my life
could turn out happy. The idea was ridiculous, of course, but the world is such a ridiculous place already
that I figured I might as well give it a try. In addition, I was so desperate for something to live for that I
wanted to believe in the Law of Attraction, even if it was proven to me that it wasn’t real.
 Once I finished reading it, I drove all the way to Point Dume in Malibu and climbed out to the cliffs at
the very edge. It was a windy day, and I could see the ocean roiling below me. As night fell, I looked out
to the stars and proclaimed to the universe everything I wanted in life. I proclaimed how I wanted to be
a millionaire, so I could live a luxurious life and finally be able to attract the beautiful girls I covet so
much. I wished to make up for the years of youth that I wasted in bleak loneliness, and by doing so I would get revenge on everyone who thought they were better than me, just by becoming better than
them through the accumulation of wealth. I believed that the only way for me to attain this wealth at
the time was to win the Lottery, and that is what I visualized doing.
 I then descended the clifftop on Point Dume and walked along the Malibu ocean, just like I did a
couple of months previously at the beach house. I saw a couple walking along the shore ahead of me;
the man looked to be in his late 20’s or early 30’s, and the girl he was walking with looked like a
supermodel. I assumed he was very rich and owned a nice house in Malibu. The two of them were
walking hand in hand, and I saw him subtly place his hand on her ass every now and then. He was living
the life. He was in heaven. I was envious, but since the man was older than me, it also gave me a twinge
of hope, especially after my proclamation to the universe at the clifftop. If I become a multi-millionaire, I
would be able to walk on the beach with a beautiful girlfriend too, and my life would be complete. That
was what I wanted. That was what I wished for in my future. As I’ve always believed, I am destined for
great things. Becoming a multi-millionaire at a young age is what I am meant for.
 My faith was soon broken, as I bought a few Megamillions Lottery tickets and visualized myself being
the winner. I usually visualized it by meditating on the rooftop of my mother’s apartment right at the
time of the drawing. A part of me knew it was impossible to will the universe to make me the winner
just by wishing for it on a rooftop, but I was so desperate that I wanted to believe I could. I wanted to
believe I had the POWER to do it. After failing to win when the jackpot reset because someone else won,
I lost all faith in that book, and I almost ripped it apart in frustration.
 I desperately pondered if there was some other way I could make millions of dollars at my age, but I
came up with nothing. I realized that my miserable, lonely virgin life was going to continue, and my only
hope was to give Santa Barbara a try.
 I was still attending Karate class with James and Rob Lemelson every week. Most of the time, Rob
couldn’t make it because he was busy with something, so it was mostly just James and I going together.
It was a pleasant Friday night tradition that had lasted for the last several months, and I enjoyed the
chance it gave to hang out with James and have some form of social interaction. But lately, things were
starting to get tense.
 I was constantly annoyed at how I wasn’t getting better at my karate moves in the class, and that one
little kid still treated me with disrespect because I was still a white belt, and he was a brown belt. I was
also frustrated at how James was so much physically stronger than I was, and how he was so much more
skilled at karate than me. During sparring sessions, the deep anger inside me that had accumulated over
a life of pain and injustice would sometimes come out, and I used my anger to give me an advantage
when I sparred with James and the other students. The karate teachers didn’t like this, and I was
criticized. I found the anger to be quite euphoric when I used it to fight, and I enjoyed it in a bittersweet
way.
 After our karate session, when me and James went to a restaurant in the Palisades to have dinner, I
sometimes got very angry when I saw a group of teenagers, or a teenage couple. I constantly talked to
James with vehement rage about my envy and anger at such people. I told him about how I wished I
could make them all suffer. We had a lot of conversations about what we would do if we had all the
power in the world, and I told him about all of the torturous acts of revenge I would carry out against all
those who have insulted me or lived a better life than me. I thought that James would relate to me,
since he was also a virgin who had no girls in his life, but some of the things I said began to disturb him.
One night, he told me, with a lot of distress, that enough was enough. He didn’t want to hear it
anymore. That was also the night that I decided to quit the karate class. I didn’t speak to James until the two of us attended Rob Lemelson’s birthday party in late Spring. It
was celebrated at a very upper class restaurant in Los Angeles, and the Lemelson family rented a private
room with seven tables for the occasion. The food was absolutely delicious, and the wine was exquisite.
Each bottle was from 1985, and probably worth over a thousand dollars each.
 I was seated next to James at the “young person’s table”, and at that table I ran into none other than
Julian Ritz-Barr! I hadn’t seen him since we were hanging out together with Charlie, John Jo, and Elijah…
That was seven years ago. The oaf didn’t even remember who I was. I found out that his father was good
friends with Rob. When I mentioned him earlier in the story, I talked about how much I would envy him,
and this was the night when that happened. There were a few girls at our table, daughters of Rob’s
friends. One of them was pretty, I believe she was the daughter of Pietro Scalia, a renowned film editor;
she had very sexy eyes, and she was tall… I always had a thing for tall girls, and this one was almost taller
than me. I had to suffer watching Julian sweet-talk all of the girls. He acted so confidently, and the way
the pretty girl looked at him with those sexy eyes of hers… that was a look that no girl ever gave to me. I
could tell that she was attracted to him.
 I became more enraged with each second I had to suffer through this. The girls treated me like I was
invisible, but they all paid attention to Julian. What made it even worse was that Julian was a year
younger than me, and he acted like an obnoxious prick, but the girls liked it! The more enraged I
became, the more wine I drank. James was probably worried about how angry I was getting, and he
tried to strike up random conversations with me to distract me from Julian. It was very hard to help
myself from getting up and dumping my wine all over Julian’s stupid head. Perhaps I would have… if the
birthday cake wasn’t presented so early. Everyone stood up to sing happy birthday to Rob, and then the
meal was over. Some of the guests left, and James and I switched to a different table. By the time the
party was over, I had consumed eight glasses of that 1985 wine. I was underage, but no one seemed to
notice me drinking. I was literally stumbling out of the restaurant.
 I saw James again a couple of weeks later, and that would be the last time I see him for quite a while.
It was at another dinner party of Rob’s that he held at his house in the Palisades, though for no special
occasion. This time, another person who was a target of my extreme jealousy was there; his name was
Roy, an Indonesian boy who was the son of Rob’s housemaid. He was four years younger than me and
James, and he took pleasure in bragging to us about his success with girls. He kept showing us pictures
of his supposed texting conversations with girls. James didn’t seem to mind it, to my outraged surprise.
I, on the other hand, could barely tolerate the insolent little worm.
 At the party, James and I frequently went outside to have conversations about our fantasies. I wisely
refrained from getting too extreme in what I said, but we came up with some interesting scenarios. For
instance, we talked about what we would do if we discovered that we had certain magical powers, and
it would escalate to us coming up with our own stories of the glory we would attain in such a situation. I
talked about how I would use my powers to rule the world and set everything right, and James had
similar ideas as well. We seemed to be getting along quite well, but after that night James would refuse
to contact me for a couple of months.
 The first episode of my favorite television series of all time, Game of Thrones, was released in April. I
watched it with profound excitement. Being a fan of the books, this was a very anticipated event for me.
Seeing all of the characters that I knew so well on the television screen was spectacular. The show
exceeded all of my expectations. Each week I looked forward to the next episode, and each episode
gave me a small hint of joy in my otherwise bleak life.
 Towards the end of my Spring semester at Moorpark, I was so frustrated with my lonely status at the
college that I refused to even drive up there in the last few weeks. I left my home in the mornings, pretending to my mother that I was going to college, but instead I went to Barnes & Noble and sat there
until my mother left for work, and then I would go back home. I made sure to stay at Barnes & Noble for
at least two hours, just in case my mother left later than usual. I have always ever been meticulously
careful at everything I’ve done.
 On the last day, I went to my classes, quickly took my final exams, and left. When my classes lined up
for the final exams, everyone had a group to socialize with while I stood on the side, alone. Everyone
must have thought I was a complete loser. Thank goodness it was the last day. The people in those
classes angered me to no end. That was the last time I would ever see that college. On the drive home, I
cried to myself as I listened to music on the radio, as I always did. I failed to get the life I wanted at
Moorpark.
 I had nothing going for me in my life, except for the prospect of starting a new life in Santa Barbara.
That was my only hope, and it seemed very bleak. From the way things went at Moorpark, I feared the
worst for how things might turn out in Santa Barbara, but I had to give it a try. I was desperate to have
the life I know I deserve; a life of being wanted by attractive girls, a life of sex and love. Other men are
able to have such a life… so why not me? I deserve it! I am magnificent, no matter how much the world
treated me otherwise. I am destined for great things.
 At the end of Spring I had to commence with my summoning to jury service. I received the summons
in the mail a few months prior, but I postponed it until May because I was too anguished to deal with
such trivial matters at the time. The Courthouse was all the way in Santa Monica. As I sat in the waiting
room before my interview with the judge, I saw a very pretty girl who looked about the same age as I
was. She had a face that melted my heart. What I would give to hold her in my arms and kiss that pretty
face of hers… I wanted to talk to her, but I just couldn’t. I felt too insecure. I was afraid she would think
of me as a creep, as all other girls did. To my fury, another guy came in and struck up a conversation
with her. They started talking comfortably, and he even made her laugh! I had to watch it all, and it
broke my heart.
 I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. I hoped that I could make an excuse to avoid having to
do jury service. When I was called in for the interview, I requested to be excused due to the fact that I
was moving to Santa Barbara soon. To my relief, the judge told me I can go and wished me good luck. As
I drove out of the Courthouse parking lot, I saw the same pretty girl. She must have been excused as
well. Again, I wished I could have said something to her. She would have made the perfect girlfriend for
me, but she was probably already attracted to that other guy who sweet-talked her in the waiting room.
Damn him! I felt so sad on the drive home. When I passed by the Palisades, I stopped by at a park that I
used to play at with James when the two of us were little. I walked around for a bit and took a ride on
the swing, reminiscing about happier times.
 At the very end of May, my mother gave me an unpleasant surprise by telling me that I had to move
to Santa Barbara on June 4th, which was just in a few days. I wasn’t prepared to move so soon. I thought
I would go there towards the end of June, right before I start my summer class. I wanted more time to
emotionally and mentally prepare for such a huge undertaking. And it was a huge undertaking. For the
first time in my life, I was moving out of my parent’s house; and on top of that, I had to move into an
apartment with other college students. I had no idea what to expect, and of course I was very nervous.
 My mother and I found two apartment complexes in Isla Vista that I could potentially move into. I
went with my mother and father on a day trip to Santa Barbara to take a look at them. We first had
lunch at a restaurant on Cliff Drive, and while there I admired how beautiful Santa Barbara truly was. I
found it to be like a mixture of Malibu and Santa Monica, depending on what part of it I was in.
 I was astounded when we toured through Isla Vista. It was a whole town of college students living
together, right next to UCSB, and right next to the beach. I had never seen anything like it in my life. When I read about it online I thought it was too good to be true, but there it was. It was exactly as I
expected it to be. There were hot blonde girls walking around everywhere.
 I always theorized that one of the main hindrances to me living the life I desire was my situation of
living in my mother’s apartment. I thought to myself, as we explored more of this college town, that if I
lived there, then there was no way I would have trouble getting a social life and losing my virginity. It
was the perfect environment to do so. If I can’t get laid there, then there is no hope for me at all.
 The first apartment building we looked at was pleasant, but they only had shared rooms, and I
wanted my own room. The second apartment building was called Capri Apartments, and they had a
setup of many two-bedroom apartments shared between three college students, in which one occupies
the single room and the other two occupy the shared room. The single rooms cost more, of course, but
it wasn’t much. My parents and I sat down at a café to talk about it. We agreed that Capri Apartments
was the best choice. My mother went back to their office to arrange a lease deal. Capri was a very
popular apartment complex, so it was hard to get a spot there so late in the year. They didn’t have any
Autumn semester apartment units ready until July, so it was arranged that I would stay in a temporary
apartment unit for the first month, and then move to a permanent one in July once it was ready. The
lease was signed and the deal was set. I was going to move to Santa Barbara on June 4th.
 My mother was very adamant that I move on that particular date. She said it was because she wanted
me to go there and settle in before college started, but I knew the real reason. She always wanted me
out of her house because she hated having to deal with me. The Santa Barbara plan would free her of
me, and she wanted that so badly that she was willing to pay $900 a month for my apartment room
rent. Basically, she was paying money to get rid of me. I realized that once I moved out, there was no
going back. It will set a precedent, and the threshold will be crossed. My mother will never welcome me
back to live with her permanently ever again.
 In the remaining days I had at my mother’s apartment, I spent a lot of time meditating about how I
would deal with this huge change. I had to prepare myself as much as possible, so I did a lot of
introspecting and evaluated myself in great detail. This move to Santa Barbara was the only chance I had
of attaining the life I desire. I had to do my best to make this work, proclaiming to myself that this time, I
will not fail. I exercised in the gym for many hours to boost my confidence as much as possible, and I
went to the mall to shop for clothes. Last Christmas I got a few gift cards for Macy’s, and I spent them all
on a few shirts that I thought I would look good in, as well as new shoes. After doing everything I could
do to physically boost my confidence and appearance, I was ready.
 And so ends another era of my extraordinary and tragic life. I call it the era of Hope and
Hopelessness, where I drifted and languished in lonely despair while I lived at my mother’s apartment
and attended two colleges. At various intervals, something happened to give me a new hope for my life,
only to have it shattered later on. My life had been moving in that same pattern for a long time now,
and I was sick and tired of it. All while I was suffering this lonely existence, other boys my age lived their
happy lives of pleasure and sex. I can never forgive such an injustice, and it was my bid to
overcompensate for it in the future. I had to make up for all the years I lost in loneliness and isolation,
through no fault of my own! It was society’s fault for rejecting me. It was women’s fault for refusing to
have sex with me.
 The move to Santa Barbara is the endgame, the ultimate climax of everything. I saw it as a new
chance that was given to me to finally have the things I want in life: love, sex, friends, fun, acceptance, a
sense of belonging. But I could never forgive the world for denying me such things in the past. I was
already turning twenty soon. I had already lost many years of my life. I deserve better than that. I am an
intelligent gentleman, and I deserve the love of girls more than the other obnoxious boys of my age, and
yet they get girls and I don’t. That is a crime that can never be forgotten, nor can it be forgiven. I always wanted to exact my revenge on humanity for forcing me to live such a life, but I’ve also always had the
hope that if I can do things in life to make up for all my suffering, then that in itself would be a form of
peaceful revenge.
 In truth, the move Santa Barbara was actually a chance that I was giving to the world, not the other
way around! I was giving the world one last chance to give me the life that I know I’m entitled to, the life
that other boys are able to live with ease. If I still have to suffer the same rejection and injustice even
after I move to Santa Barbara, then that will be the last straw. I will have my vengeance.",1,Planned Violence,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Part 6
Santa Barbara: Endgame
Age 19-22
On Saturday, June 4th, 2011, I packed up all of my most important belongings into my car, said
farewell to my mother, and drove off to face my destiny in the beautiful ocean-side town of Santa
Barbara. It was raining as I arrived in the vicinity, and I felt a sense of ominous foreboding as I entered
Isla Vista, my new home. My father met me outside my apartment; he came to help me move in.
The two of us walked up to the leasing office where they gave me my new set of keys, and then one
of the receptionists walked me to the apartment unit that I will be staying in for a month. I was
introduced to two new housemates who would only be there for one week. One of them was named
Artem, a quiet Russian student who went to UCSB; and the other, whose name I don’t remember, was a
tall blonde surfer-type boy who went to SBCC. I was annoyed at how tall and attractive he was, though I
didn’t show it.
After I unpacked all of my belongings, father and I went out for a quick lunch before I said goodbye to
him. And that was it. For the first time in my life, I was living independently, miles away from my
parents, in a new town. I felt a sudden sense of anxiety, fear, and trepidation; but I also felt a sense of
hope that my life could possibly change for the better. I exchanged small talk with my new housemates,
and they seemed nice enough. It was hard to believe that I was actually living in an apartment with two
other college students who I didn’t know until that day, especially for someone like me who has had
very minimal social interaction with other young people. It felt so odd and peculiar. I was uncertain of
what to expect, and the anxiety I felt from that uncertainty was overwhelming, but I knew I had to push
through this. I knew this was the major turning point of my life. My life was finally changing, and I had to
do my best to make that change a positive one.
The very first night was traumatic and gave me a very bad taste about everything. Through my
window I heard a lot of students partying outside, and I wondered, with a great amount of fear, how I
would ever be able to join in on their fun. That was the reason I was there, after all. I didn’t think I was
capable of it. Later in the night, I heard a boy and a girl having sex in the apartment above me. Just
knowing that other young men get to enjoy the pleasures of sex while I get none of it has always filled
me with envious rage, as well as bitter hatred towards the world; but to actually hear them doing it?
That was even more traumatizing. I was prepared for this, however. I had done a lot of research about
college life in the town of Isla Vista, and I knew that students had a lot of sex there. I had an inkling of a
suspicion that I would eventually hear or even see people doing such things if I lived in that
environment. Hell, the reason I moved there was because it was a sexually active place. I myself wanted
to be sexually active. But when I heard that couple above me having sex, I couldn’t help feeling vile and
miserable about it. I tried to calm myself down and convince myself that soon I will be doing the exact
same thing. How wrong I was. My first week turned out to be very unpleasant, leaving a horrific first impression of my new life in
Santa Barbara. My two housemates were nice, but they kept inviting over this friend of theirs named
Chance. He was black boy who came over all the time, and I hated his cocksure attitude. Inevitably, a
vile incident occurred between me and him. I was eating a meal in the kitchen when he came over and
started bragging to my housemates about his success with girls. I couldn’t stand it, so I proceeded to ask
them all if they were virgins. They all looked at me weirdly and said that they had lost their virginity long
ago. I felt so inferior, as it reminded me of how much I have missed out in life. And then this black boy
named Chance said that he lost his virginity when he was only thirteen! In addition, he said that the girl
he lost his virginity to was a blonde white girl! I was so enraged that I almost splashed him with my
orange juice. I indignantly told him that I did not believe him, and then I went to my room to cry. I cried
and cried and cried, and then I called my mother and cried to her on the phone.
How could an inferior, ugly black boy be able to get a white girl and not me? I am beautiful, and I am
half white myself. I am descended from British aristocracy. He is descended from slaves. I deserve it
more. I tried not to believe his foul words, but they were already said, and it was hard to erase from my
mind. If this is actually true, if this ugly black filth was able to have sex with a blonde white girl at the age
of thirteen while I’ve had to suffer virginity all my life, then this just proves how ridiculous the female
gender is. They would give themselves to this filthy scum, but they reject ME? The injustice!
Females truly have something mentally wrong with them. Their minds are flawed, and at this point in
my life I was beginning to see it. The more I explored my college town of Isla Vista, the more
ridiculousness I witnessed. All of the hot, beautiful girls walked around with obnoxious, tough jock-type
men who partied all the time and acted crazy. They should be going for intelligent gentlemen such as
myself. Women are sexually attracted to the wrong type of man. This is a major flaw in the very
foundation of humanity. It is completely and utterly wrong, in every sense of the word. As these truths
fully dawned on me, I became deeply disturbed by them. Deeply disturbed, offended, and traumatized.
Those two housemates moved out within a week. I was glad to see them go, after that horrible
incident. I was then presented with two new housemates, who would be staying in the apartment for
the rest of the month that I was there. Their names were Daniel Faynshell and Reed Mankins. Reed was
a quiet Asian-American student who was studying biology at UCSB, and Daniel was a heavy-set Russian
student who had a witty personality. Both of them were older than me by a couple of years. Daniel was
very social and talkative. He often tried to start conversations with me, which I actually liked. Social
interaction was always welcome in my lonely life, and I found him to be a very interesting person. It was
nice to have someone reach out to me.
Soon enough, my summer session at Santa Barbara City College began. I had enrolled for two classes,
a history class and a geography class. The history class started at 8:00 in the morning. When my alarm
rang, I enthusiastically put on one my new shirts as I got ready to start my first day of my new college.
The weather was sunny and bright as I made the drive down the 101 Freeway. This was it. This was the
moment of truth. My whole life has led to this.
I was starting a new college, in a beautiful new town. This was my fresh start to attain the life I’ve
been craving for so long. If I am unable to make it in this opportunistic environment, then I am doomed
forever.
I felt a surge of confidence as I ascended the flight of stairs that led up to the main campus. For my
first class, which was history, I had to cross the iconic bridge to the west campus. I tried to feel as
confident and sure of myself as possible, thinking that all of the girls I passed were attracted to my
appearance. They should be. I spent a lot of time choosing out that shirt and doing my hair. When I reached the classroom, I saw some pretty girls waiting outside. My new classmates, I thought
with excitement. I was a bit dismayed that they didn’t pay any attention to me. They didn’t even look at
me. I was sure I had an attractive appearance that day, but those girls didn’t seem to notice it. Perhaps I
was deluding myself.
As all of the students started pouring in, a group of typical popular-type boys sat near me. Their
overly social and obnoxious personalities offended me, and I felt like getting up and leaving. They
somehow knew all of the pretty girls in the class, and it broke my heart to watch them chat up the girls.
How could I compete with those popular kids? I hated them so much. I’ve wanted to be like them all my
life, ever since elementary school, but they never accepted me. They have caused my life to be a living
hell for so long. Right then, on the very first day of SBCC, I was going through the exact thing as I did at
every other school I’ve been to; the feeling of being a lonely, unwanted outcast.
That class was horrible, but I didn’t want to give up so soon. I couldn’t! My whole life depended on
my success in Santa Barbara. I attended my geography class next. This class was much more interesting,
and more relaxed, but it didn’t have any pretty girls in it. After lunch I walked over to the cafeteria area,
and I saw so many pretty blonde girls sitting around. I wished I had the courage to go up to them and ask
one on a date, but they would have seen me as a creep. Girls are so cruel.
After I left the campus I drove around downtown Santa Barbara to explore new areas. I went up and
down State Street, the main common area of the city where everyone frequents.
Countless restaurants and shops lined a magnificently designed street with wide walkways. It was
absolutely beautiful… a true paradise, for those who were thriving there. I can only imagine how
heavenly it would be to walk with a beautiful girlfriend down that street. My life would be complete if I
get to do that. It would be the epitome of gratifying perfection. To have a beautiful blonde girl by my
side, to feel her hand clasping my own as we walk everywhere together, to feel her love! That is what I
want in life. Instead, I had to watch other men experience my idea of heaven while I rot in bitter
loneliness.
And there were a lot of young couples on State Street. The whole area was full of young people
enjoying their pleasurable little lives. I saw groups of good looking popular boys and girls gleefully
walking together. It reminded me of that fateful night, years ago, when I walked through the Calabasas
Commons and saw the same thing. And there I was, over two years later, still in the exact same position.
It was very hard to deal with. I quickly drove back to my apartment and cried to myself, soaking my
pillow in the tears of my agony.
So far, Santa Barbara was not working. I dreaded how horrible it would be to continue suffering my
miserable, lonely, celibate life in such a beautiful city where everyone else experienced the pleasures of
sex and love. That would be the darkest hell. And that was exactly what was in store for me.
After a couple of days I decided to drop my history class. I couldn’t stand watching those obnoxious
popular boys talk to all of the pretty girls in the class. The girls actually liked them! I should be the one
they pay attention to, but they treated me like I was invisible. I didn’t want to torture myself any longer.
I felt a sense of guilt as I did it, because I made a bid to make the best of my time in Santa Barbara. Once
the class was dropped, I felt a sense of relief. I was still enrolled in the geography class, and it was only
the summer session. I had plenty of time to make up for it.
I spent the rest of my first month trying as hard as I could to put myself out in the social environment
of Isla Vista. Daniel was twenty three years old, so I asked him to purchase some alcohol for me, a bottle
of vodka in particular. In that college town, everyone went out with at least a little alcohol in their
system. I wasn’t an alcoholic, but drinking alcohol always helped me with being more confident and
sociable. On weekend nights, I took a few shots from my vodka bottle and set out on walks around the
town, desperately hoping that I would stumble across some opportunity to make friends. I often ended up sitting alone at some café, hoping girls would talk to me before I sobered up. No girl ever did. I then
went back home to lie in my bed alone.
On one such night I got drunk enough to introduce myself to some other students who lived in the
same apartment complex. They were sitting in the common area of the apartment, and I went up to
their group and sat down with them. They weren’t hostile towards me, and I was able to exchange some
form of small talk with them. After a while though, I ended up just sitting there awkwardly, and they
eventually questioned why I was so quiet. I hated when people did that… no one ever understands the
troubles of someone who suffers from social anxiety. They offered me a few beers, which I gladly
accepted. I ended up getting so drunk that I completely blacked out. I stumbled back to my apartment
and vomited on the floor, just like I did on that embarrassing night at Addison Altendorf’s birthday party.
The next morning, I didn’t even remember that I vomited. Daniel informed me of what happened, with
an amused grin on his face. I felt so ashamed, but at least I did something more social than anything else
I’ve done in the last few years. That was some progress, I supposed.
Due to living in an entirely new environment, with lots of new experiences to come with it, the first
month in Santa Barbara went by very slowly. I was relieved when July arrived, and I was able to visit
home for a weekend. When I arrived back in Woodland Hills, I felt like I hadn’t been there for ages. It
was a pleasant feeling, as it gave me the subconscious impression that my life was finally moving
forward instead of staying stagnant.
When I arrived back at my mother’s apartment, she was away at work, and Georgia was at school. I
took a moment to relax after going through so much trauma and unrest, catching up on all of the Game
of Thrones episodes that I missed, including the Season 1 finale. Later that night, I met my mother and
father at an upscale restaurant near Warner Center, and they both seemed very proud of me. I wasn’t
proud of myself, as I barely met my expectations in my first month in Santa Barbara. I had an exquisite
meal at the restaurant, and while there I saw a pretty girl walk in with her family. I glanced at her and
she glanced at me. I desperately wondered if she thought I was attractive, and I tried to convince myself
that she was attracted to me, in an effort to feel better about myself. Whether she was attracted to me
or not is a question I will never know the answer to.
There was no school on the following Monday, due to the 4th of July Holiday. I went with my mother
to the annual 4th of July party at the Lemelson’s. There, I saw James for the first time in a while. It felt
good to see him again. He had been ignoring me in the last couple of months, but the two of us
reignited our good friendship at the party. I told him that I was now going to college in Santa Barbara,
and he seemed happy for me. As I ate dinner with him, Noah, and a few of Noah’s friends at a table
outside, I filmed a funny video that I still have on my phone to this day.
On the next morning, I made my drive back to Santa Barbara to finish the second half of my summer
session. I prayed that I would have a better experience from then on.
When I got back to Capri Apartments it was time for me to transfer to my permanent apartment unit,
the apartment unit that I was set to stay in for the whole year. I loaded all of my belongings into my car
and said goodbye to Daniel and Reed. I enjoyed my stay with them. They made for excellent college
housemates. Before I left, Daniel told me that I should come to visit in the future.
My new apartment was in another Capri Apartments building. The main building was on Seville Road,
in the center of Isla Vista. The other building that I was meant to stay at was on Abrego Road, a few
blocks away, towards the edge of the town. At first I was unsure of the location, though it was still
walking distance from all of the action. It was definitely quieter in that area, so that was a positive.
One of the receptionists showed me to my new bedroom. The apartment unit was empty. My new
housemates wouldn’t be moving in until August, so I would have the whole apartment to myself for the
month of July. I quite liked that. It would provide me with the comfort to settle into the place. I had no idea who my new housemates were going to be, and I was hoping they would be people I could be
friends with to help improve my social life. All of the rooms were randomly assigned at Capri
Apartments, so I had no control over who I would end up with. I could only hope that they would be at
least tolerable, because they were to be my housemates for the whole year.
My father drove up to Santa Barbara to meet me a few days later. The two of us went to have lunch
at a restaurant in the Camino Real Marketplace, an area that I often frequented. When we sat down at
our table, I saw a young couple sitting a few tables down the row. The sight of them enraged me to no
end, especially because it was a dark-skinned Mexican guy dating a hot blonde white girl. I regarded it as
a great insult to my dignity. How could an inferior Mexican guy be able to date a white blonde girl, while
I was still suffering as a lonely virgin? I was ashamed to be in such an inferior position in front my father.
When I saw the two of them kissing, I could barely contain my rage. I stood up in anger, and I was about
to walk up to them and pour my glass of soda all over their heads. I probably would have, if father
wasn’t there. I was seething with envious rage, and my father was there to watch it all. It was so
humiliating. I wasn’t the son I wanted to present to my father. I should be the one with the hot blonde
girl, making my father proud. Instead, my father had to watch me suffer in a pathetic position. Life is so
cruel to me. When I said my farewell to father before he drove home, I felt absolutely miserable. I then
went back to my room and sulked for hours.
Another incident happened on the following day, near the same location. I went to the Starbucks at
the Camino Real Marketplace by myself, like I usually did every morning. I ordered my coffee and sat
down on one of their chairs to relax. A few moments later, when I looked up from my drink, I saw a
young couple standing in line. The two of them were kissing passionately. The boy looked like an
obnoxious punk; he was tall and wore baggy pants. The girl was a pretty blonde! They looked like they
were in the throes of passionate sexual attraction to each other, rubbing their bodies together and
tongue kissing in front of everyone. I was absolutely livid with envious hatred. When they left the store I
followed them to their car and splashed my coffee all over them. The boy yelled at me and I quickly ran
away in fear. I was panicking as I got into my car and drove off, shaking with rage-fueled excitement. I
drove all the way to the Vons at the Fairview Plaza and spent three hours in my car trying to contain my
tumultuous emotions. I had never struck back at my enemies before, and I felt a small sense of spiteful
gratification for doing so. I hated them so much. Even though I splashed them with my coffee, he was
still the winner. He was going home to have passionate heavenly sex with his beautiful girlfriend, and I
was going home to my lonely room to sleep alone in my lonely bed. I had never felt so miserable and
mistreated in my life. I cursed the world for condemning me to such suffering.
I wanted to do horrible things to that couple. I wanted to inflict pain on all young couples. It was
around this point in my life that I realized I was capable of doing such things. I would happily do such
things. I was capable of killing them, and I wanted to. I wanted to kill them slowly, to strip the skins off
their flesh. They deserve it. The males deserve it for taking the females away from me, and the females
deserve it for choosing those males instead of me.
Ever since I was seventeen, I often fantasized about becoming powerful and inflicting suffering upon
everyone who has wronged me in the past, but I never thought I would actually do it. At this point, after
going through so much suffering and injustice, all of my innocence had been swept away. The world had
been cruel to me, and it molded me to become strong enough to actually have the capability of
returning that cruelness to the world. I had never been a violent person in nature, but after building up
so much hatred over the years, I realized that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill or even torture my hated
enemies if I was given the opportunity.
I spent the next five days in my room, trying to forget about the horrific experiences I had to go
through. But even in my room, I couldn’t escape from being reminded of my worthlessness. Every time I looked out my window to the courtyard, I saw young people socializing. Obnoxious drunk boys were
chatting up pretty girls, and I wondered with great panic if they would be having sex together in the
night. I often fantasized about barging into their rooms while they had sex and slashing them to death
with my knife.
Before I knew it, it was July 12th and the countdown on my internet homepage was up. The new Song
of Ice and Fire book, A Dance with Dragons, was released. I emailed my mother to order me the book
from Amazon. The countdown was ultimately over, and I had nothing to show for it. I was still a virgin,
even after a month of living in a town full of college kids who had sex all the time. I realized that I had
only twelve more days as a teenager! I was going to turn twenty very soon. One of my hopes was to at
least lose my virginity before my time as a teenager was over. Being a virgin at the age of twenty would
make me feel very defeated.
I made a bid to do everything I could to lose my virginity in those few remaining days I had. With a
tremendous amount of panic, I wondered what I could possible do. The only thing I could think of was to
go out to the common areas of Isla Vista as much as possible. I had to put myself out there, even if it
only increased my chances of having sex by one percent. One percent was still better than zero.
For those crucial twelve days I had left as a teenager, I walked over to the center of Isla Vista every
day and sat at one of the tables outside Domino’s Pizza, hoping against hope that a girl would come up
and talk to me. Why wouldn’t they? I looked good enough, didn’t I? Or did I not look good enough? Such
thoughts flew through my head in frantic waves. For dinner, I always walked over to the healthy
restaurant called Silvergreen’s. There were always hot girls there, but none of them deigned to even
look at me. On every one of those nights, I walked home alone, with my head down in defeat.
I made no progress in school either. My geography class had no pretty girls in it, so I had no hope
there. I spent a lot of time sitting in the cafeteria area, but all of the beautiful girls I saw intimidated me
too much. One time, as I was walking across the huge bridge that connected the two campuses, I passed
by a girl I thought was pretty and said “Hi” as we neared each other. She kept on walking and didn’t
even have the grace to respond to me. How dare she! That foul bitch. I felt so humiliated that I went to
one of the school bathrooms, locked myself in a toilet stall, and cried for an hour.
On one of my very last days as a teenager, as I was sitting at my usual place at the food court outside
Domino’s, I saw a sight that shattered my heart to pieces. A tall, blonde, jock-type guy walked into one
of the restaurants, and at his side was one of the sexiest girls I had ever seen. She too was tall and
blonde. They were both taller than me, and they kissed each other passionately. They made me feel so
inferior and worthless and small. I glared at them with intense hatred as I sat by myself in my lonely
misery. I could never have a girl like that. The sight was burned into my memory, and it caused a scar
that will haunt me forever. When they walked away, I followed them in my car for a few minutes, and
when they entered a less inhabited area I opened my window and splashed my iced tea all over them. It
was all I could do at the time, but at least it was something. At least I made some effort to fight back
against the injustice. I felt sick with hatred that night. The hatred boiled inside me with burning vitriol.
My summer session ended with no positive effect on my life. After I completed my final exam, on
which I received the grade of a B, I drove back to my hometown feeling defeated.
Shortly after, my 20th birthday finally came. Soumaya and Jazz were away in Morocco for the summer,
so father met up with me, my mother, and my sister at an upscale restaurant in Encino. My parents
didn’t show any concern for how miserable I felt about being a twenty-year-old virgin. They treated it as
if it was any normal birthday. They didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, which
annoyed me immensely. The restaurant had an “all-you-can eat” buffet system, and I greatly stuffed
myself that night. Delicious food was the only vice I was able to enjoy, since I was deprived of sex. I had a very fast metabolism, so I could eat as much as I wanted without getting fat. I suppose that was one
advantage in my rather disadvantageous life.
When I got back to my mother’s apartment, she let me have a bottle of wine, and I truly drank my fill.
“Everything’s better with some wine in the belly.” I spent the rest of the night pondering over what was
in store for me at that point in life. I was no longer a teenager, and I’ll never be able to experience
having sex as a teenager. My teenage years were completely denied to me by the cruelness of women.
The only way I could make up for it was if I could have an extraordinary sex life in my twenties. I would
have to have a profoundly amazing decade in my twenties to compensate for all the misery I
experienced in my teens. If I fail to do that, then I have nothing to live for. Sadly, I will only experience
the opposite in my early twenties, and it will destroy me.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"20 Years Old
I stayed in my hometown for a week. One of my birthday presents was a gift card to Nordstrom. I
spent it on a couple of new polo shirts that made me feel a little more confident. Buying new clothes
would always give me a temporary boost of confidence, and I practiced it as if it was a drug.
Before I left for Santa Barbara, I reunited with Philip and Addison after a very long period of not
seeing them. The three of us met up at the Calabasas Commons, and then we went in Philip’s car to
Malibu for a few adventures. We ended up settling down at Starbucks and had a few insightful
conversations. Addison had changed and matured tremendously, and he was no longer associating with
the popular Malibu high school kids. This didn’t change my resentment towards him, and I kept
confronting him the whole time about the insulting way he treated me over a year ago. After a lot of
debating, we agreed to resolve our conflict with each other. This didn’t mean I forgot all of the slights he
dealt to me in the past, however. I never forget. I never forgive. One day I’ll show him how superior I
am.
On the day after I saw Philip and Addison, I went over to James’s house. I hadn’t been there for ages,
and the two of us relived our traditional walks around the Palisades town center, just like old times. It
felt strange and nostalgic to experience it after so long, especially after going through so many changes
in Santa Barbara. I told James about my turmoil of being a twenty-year-old virgin, and my desperate
hope that things will get better once I start my Autumn semester at my new college. I talked about all
the beautiful blonde girls I saw walking around my college, and my deep wish that I will have one day
have one as a girlfriend. James sympathized with me greatly, for he was also going through similar
troubles in life. He seemed glad that I was finally taking some steps to bring changes to my life.
I drove back to Santa Barbara in a slightly better mood than I was in when I left it. I had a month until
the new semester started, and I could use that time to prepare and recuperate. My new housemates
were meant to move into the second bedroom of my apartment on August 5th. I had an anxious feeling
of anticipation for what they will be like.
August 5th came quickly, and I prepared myself to be in a pleasant mood to meet them. Their names
were Ryan and Angel, and to my dismay they were of Hispanic race. In addition, the two of them were
already friends with each other, which meant that they could possibly gang up against me if any conflicts
were to arise. They also seemed like rowdy, low-class types. My first impression of them soured me, but
I tried to be pleasant and not show it. The two of them acted cordial to me on the first day, but after
observing them for a bit, I had a bad feeling that they would be trouble to live with… And they were to
be my housemates for a whole year! When I was alone in my room, I panicked to myself at how dire a situation this was. This was extremely disappointing. I was hoping I would get decent, mature, clean-cut
housemates. Instead I got low-class scum.
On the second day, they started inviting their equally rowdy friends into my apartment, and we
exchanged more small talk. To my indignant surprise, they asked me the question I always dreaded
answering: “Are you a virgin?” I admitted that I was a virgin. I always admitted the truth about this. It
was my life struggle, and I couldn’t lie about such a thing. They then had the audacity to tell me that
they lost their virginity long ago, bragging about all the girls they had slept with. I particularly hated
Angel because of his ugly pig-face. How could such an ugly animal have had sexual experiences with
girls, and yet I haven’t? What was wrong with this world? I got so angry that I went to my room and
punched the wall. They heard me and started laughing. It was almost a repeat of what I experienced
with that black boy named Chance in the old apartment, except this time it was worse because these
were my housemates for the year!
On the day after, I almost got into a physical fight with Angel. The ugly pig kept acting as if girls
thought he was more attractive than me. Hah! I am a beautiful, magnificent gentleman and he is a lowclass, pig-faced thug. I had enough of his cocksure attitude, and I started to call him exactly what he was.
I tried to insult him as much as I could, telling him how superior I am to him, and saying that he was lowclass. He tried to attack me, but Ryan, being the more mellow of the two, held him back. A pity, I was
itching for a chance to hurt that obnoxious little animal. Though I suppose it was for the best… My life
was too important to risk doing anything rash.
In a panic, I immediately called my mother as soon as I could and told her of the dire situation. There
was no way I could live with those two imbeciles for the whole college year. They already ruined my
weekend. My mother agreed that I needed to get out of there, so I went to the leasing office and
explained to the manager everything that happened. He told me that there was another room available
for me to transfer to, but it would cost one hundred more dollars a month, because it was a larger two
bedroom unit and I would only be sharing it with one housemate, who would occupy the other room. I
called my mother and she gave me permission to go through with it. I signed the new lease, arranging to
transfer when the room became available in September. I would have to bear living with them for the
rest of the month until then.
To help get through the month, my mother let me come home every weekend until I was able to
transfer to the new apartment. I would only stay in Santa Barbara during the weekdays, but on those
weekdays Angel and Ryan went out of their way to make my life a living hell. Every time they went out
they kept yelling to me how they’re going to sleep with hot girls that night. I knew they were just lying to
make me jealous. They always made fun of me for being a virgin. At night, they frequently made noise to
wake me up. I was literally being bullied, and it was truly horrific. I wanted to kill them both, but of
course I was smart enough not to go through with that desire. All I could do was remember every single
insult, so I can get revenge in a more efficient way in the future. That is who I am. I don’t act stupidly or
rashly. I remember every insult, and I wait until the time is right to strike. When that time comes, I will
crush all of my enemies in the most devastating and catastrophic way possible, and the results will be
beautiful.
On one of the weekends in which I went home during August, my mother moved out of the Versailles
apartment complex, and moved into the Summit Townhomes, near Warner Center. It was an abrupt
decision to move there. I helped her pack everything and watched as the movers transported all of our
belongings to the new place. The Summit was much nicer looking than her old apartment; I’ll say that
for it. It was a townhome with an upstairs room that I would occupy whenever I visit home.
I was glad that she moved to a better place, but I would have much rather she got married to a
wealthy man and moved into his mansion. Even though she was no longer seeing Jack, she dated other
men of high class. She had a special way of charming them. I continued to pester her to get married so that I can be part of an upper class family and enjoy all the benefits that would come with that, but she
always refused, claiming that she never wants to get married due to her unpleasant experiences with
my father. I told her that she should suffer through any negative aspects of marriage just for my sake,
because it would completely save my life, but she still refused.
I went over to James’s house during my visit home. The two of us chatted online a lot, and when I
told him that I was in town, he seemed eager to see me. I was eager to see him too, as he was my
closest friend and I had a lot to talk to him about. I drove up Topanga Canyon to his house, not knowing
that it will be the last time I ever visit him.
The two of us did what we usually did. We walked out to the Palisade’s Bluff’s where we discussed
our hopes and dreams. We then went to the Palisades town center to have dinner. This time we chose
to eat at Panda Express. While we were eating, some high school kids walked in. James saw them first,
and right when he saw them he said the words “We’re fucked”. James knew I would have trouble with
them. They were popular boys who had a flock of pretty girls with them. One of them sat down with two
of the girls, putting his leg up on another chair with a cocky smirk on his face. I was livid with rage, and I
wanted to pour my drink all over his head. James knew exactly what I was planning to do; we had been
through similar incidents before. He made a lot of effort to try to dissuade me from acting on my anger,
pointing out that there was a security guard nearby. I did the only other thing I could do; I packed up my
dinner and left the restaurant, fleeing in defeat and shame. James soon followed, and we decided to
finish our meal at his house.
A dark and ominous aura clouded over our friendship that day. When the two of us got back to
James’s house, I was still seething with rage. I didn’t understand why James wasn’t angry like me. The
sight that we just witnessed was horrible to watch. To see another male be successful with females is
torture for males like us who have no success with females. I was so angry that I told James of all of the
acts of revenge I wanted to exact on those popular boys. I told him my desire to flay them alive, to strip
the skins off their flesh and make them scream in agony as punishment for living a better life than me.
James became deeply disturbed by my anger. I wished that he wasn’t disturbed. I wished he could be a
friend that felt the same way about the world that I did. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He was a
weakling.
Once I had calmed down, the two of us had a long conversation in his room, and I ended up crying in
front of him as I explained how hopeless I felt about life. Soon after that, I left his house, never to return
there again. He will never invite me over after that incident, and our friendship will slowly fade to dust.
During the last few days that I had to endure living with those barbaric housemates, I often walked
out to Isla Vista hoping that I could meet a girl and take her home with me. I wanted to prove to them all
that girls liked me, to see the look on their faces when they see a girl by my side. But of course, I had
nothing to prove because girls didn’t like me. Every time I tried to go out and meet a girl, I ended up
walking home alone in anger. On one of these nights, I crossed paths with a boy who was walking with
two pretty girls. I got so envious that I cursed at them, and then I followed them for a few minutes. They
just laughed at me, and one of the girls kissed the boy on the lips. I’m assuming she was his girlfriend.
That was one of the worst experiences of torture from girls that I’ve had to endure, and it will be a scar
in my memory forever, to remind me that girls think I’m unworthy compared to other boys. I ran home
with tears pouring down my cheeks, hoping that my horrible housemates wouldn’t be there to witness
my shame.
I tried to spark a positive attitude on the first day of my Autumn semester at Santa Barbara City
College. I was registered for three classes; history, astronomy, and math. My history and astronomy
classes were in the morning, and my math class was late in the afternoon, so on school days I had to spend the entire day at the college. I figured this would be beneficial, because it would keep me out of
my room and in a place where possible opportunities might come my way. I had to wait a couple of
hours before my math class started, and I spent those hours roaming around the college or sitting in the
library, looking at all of the hot girls and wishing I could have one as a girlfriend. I was like a starving man
surrounded by a feast that I was prohibited to eat.
All of my classes left me feeling hopeless and depressed. Not only was I unable to meet any girls, and
there were a lot of pretty ones, but I also had a hard time making any friends. I’ve always had a hard
time making friends… I’m not the type of person that can fit in with a group of outgoing people; the last
time I did such a thing was when I was twelve. I had to make friends. Having a social circle will provide
me with more opportunities to meet girls, and it was the only way to get invited to all of those exciting
college parties. But no one even wanted to be my friend. I actually tried to initiate small talk with guys
who sat next to me, but it never went far. I had a horrible feeling that I was in for a very miserable time
in Santa Barbara.
I did make one friend through spending time in my apartment’s courtyard. This friend’s name was
Andy Chan; he was a foreign student from China. Andy shared the same eagerness as I did to experience
college life in Isla Vista to the fullest; and unlike most people my age, I found him to have some
intelligence and substance. The two of us walked out to Del Playa Street in Isla Vista a few times, the
place where all the parties happen, but nothing ever came of it. I still felt like an outcast, even though I
had a friend with me; and I still felt inferior compared to all of those guys who walked around with
beautiful girls.
On September 5th, I was finally able to move into my new permanent apartment unit. I felt relieved
that I would never have to deal with the likes of Ryan and Angel ever again, though I did worry that I will
eventually run into them again because my new unit was still in the same apartment complex. Once I
was given the keys, I quickly transported all of my belongings to the new place. I was supposed to have
only one housemate who would live in the other room of the unit, but he hadn’t moved in yet. I had no
idea who my new housemate would be, but I was told that he was an older student who attended the
University. That knowledge made me feel assured that he would be tolerable to live with. He was set to
arrive in two weeks, so I had the place to myself until then.
I unpacked all of my things and set up my new room. Once I was done, I looked at it and thought to
myself that this was it; this was my new living place in the college town of Isla Vista, and if I could finally
have the life I wanted, then this may well be the room where I lose my virginity! How wrong I was. It
would only be another room where I suffer miserable loneliness. No girl will ever step foot in it.
Santa Barbara was not going well for me. I was already months into my twentieth year and I had
nothing to show for it. As I spent the first weeks of September in my new room, all alone, I fully realized
how much I was failing at life. Santa Barbara was supposed to be a place of hope, a place where I could
start a new, happy life. I couldn’t believe how wrong everything was turning out. Instead of finally
getting a chance to live a life of sex and love like other young people did, I only experienced worse
rejection and humiliation than I had ever experienced before. This was unbelievable and unforgivable. If
humanity continued to insult me with such cruelty, then there really was no hope for happiness in my
life.
At Santa Barbara City College, I had exactly the same experience that I had at Moorpark. I had to
watch beautiful young people enjoying their lives together as I languished in loneliness and despair,
because no one accepted me. I dropped my math class – I just couldn’t bear having to be at the college
all day long, sitting in the library watching couples kiss each other. I retained my two morning classes
only because there was still some small inkling of desperate home inside me. My usual day went as follows: I woke up alone in my bed, with no girl beside me, and did a few
minutes of exercise before I showered and got ready for college; I then drove to Starbucks to have my
morning latte and felt envious whenever I saw a young couple there; I would then attend my two classes
where no one said a word to me, having to endure the torment of watching other guys talking to the
girls I liked; And then I would go home alone, open the door to my lonely room, and feel absolutely
miserable. The loneliness was suffocating. I could barely breathe. If only one pretty girl had at least
given me a chance and tried to get to know me, everything would have turned out differently, but girls
continued to treat me with disdain.
The loneliness was torturing me so intensely that I even started up my WoW account and played the
game constantly for the month of September. James still played WoW, and the two of us played
together online for a few days, but he treated me very coldly the whole time. I could tell that the kind of
friendship we had for so many years no longer existed. That last incident in the Palisades stabbed our
friendship deeply, and it was in the process of bleeding away. At the time, I felt offended by his attitude
towards me, so I called him out on it. This sparked a long argument between us that resulted in James
refusing to talk to me online anymore. A few days after that, I deactivated my account again.
My new housemate arrived in the middle of September. His name was Spencer Horowitz; a short,
chubby UCSB student who was about a year older than me. He seemed like a friendly, mature sort of
person; definitely a pleasant contrast from the housemates I had to suffer through in the previous
month. I didn’t expect to have any problems with him. However, I was a disappointed due to the fact
that I was hoping my new housemate would be someone I could relate to… someone who could be my
friend and help me integrate with the social life in Santa Barbara. I didn’t see Spencer as the type of
person I would become friends with. We could get along, but we had nothing in common.
In addition, I was a bit shocked when Spencer told me that he used to have a girlfriend. It was a
casual comment that came out of a conversation we had. I didn’t understand how a chubby and
unattractive guy like Spencer would have been able to get a girlfriend, while I’ve never had the chance
to. The guy was three inches shorter than me, and even I am considered short for my age. I could not
fathom how such a thing was possible, and I concluded to myself that this former “girlfriend” of his that
he mentioned must have been just as unattractive as he was. There was no need for me to be jealous.
After a few weeks of living with him, I realized that I had a psychological problem with his presence in
my apartment. Even though there was no trouble between us, I hated having someone constantly in my
vicinity to judge how pathetic my life was. I could hide the details of my lonely, celibate life from the rest
of the world, but I could not hide it from Spencer. The fact that I never had any girls over to my room
was clear enough that I was an undesirable outcast, and I hated it when people knew this about me and
judged me for it. Spencer was there to witness it all, and I would eventually come to hate him just
because of that.
During the months of October and November, I made another desperate bid to improve my social life
as best as I could. I failed in making any friends in my two college classes, and I didn’t have any
interactions with girls at my school. I was an invisible ghost, just like I had always been.
I continued to see Andy, the one friend that I made. We often met up to have dinner at a restaurant
somewhere. He soon introduced me to a few friends of his. One of them was named Stan, a European
from Holland whom I particularly got along with. I enjoyed having conversations with Stan about a wide
variety of subjects, including politics, history, business, and architecture. I wisely refrained from
revealing any of my political views, of which disturbed most people.
During the month of October I went out with Andy, Stan, and some of their friends quite often. We
did things like walk around State Street or Isla Vista, or went to the movie theatres together. I soon
found that even having these few acquaintances to hang out with didn’t make me feel any better. I still felt inferior whenever I saw other guys walking with beautiful girls. At the movie theatres, I felt just as
pathetic about walking in there with a group of friends as I did years ago when I went to the movies with
my parents… It was that pathetic feeling of not having a hot girlfriend on my arm while some other boys
in the theatre did. What I truly wanted… what I truly NEEDED, was a girlfriend. I needed a girl’s love. I
needed to feel worthy as a male. For so long I have felt worthless, and it’s all girls’ fault. No girl wanted
to be my girlfriend.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Halloween weekend in the college town of Isla Vista is a renowned event. Young people pour in from
all over the county to attend the raucous parties there. My experience during this weekend is just what
one would have expected it to be, a miserable disaster.
When I was a child, I used to love Halloween. It was a holiday of fun and excitement where I went
trick-or-treating, going from house to house collecting candy with my friends and family. For young
adults, Halloween is a very different sort of holiday, of which one is supposed to dress up in sexually
explicit costumes, attend wild drinking parties, and have sexual experiences with girls. For other young
people, who are able to do such things, Halloween must be a blast. But I am unable to do such things. I
wasn’t invited to ANY party, and girls don’t want to have sex with me. As a teenager and a young adult,
Halloween has been a holiday of torment and depression because of this. In Isla Vista, this was greatly
intensified.
I tried my best to put myself out there on the Halloween weekend. I made many laps around Isla
Vista, trying to bolster up the courage to talk to a girl or walk into a party, but I just couldn’t. I knew they
would all reject me. What I saw during those walks shook me to the very core. Girls dressed up in
extremely revealing outfits, and the sight of them filled my sex-starved self with hunger and desire that I
knew I could never quench.
On the last night of the Halloween weekend, I went out there with Andy and Stan and a few others. It
made absolutely no difference. We didn’t get into any parties, and just walked around the streets like
losers. Being friends with them wasn’t benefitting me at all.
If only I had a beautiful girlfriend to experience such an event with! I would have even dressed up in a
costume with her. It would have been so blissful and euphoric, to walk around in all of that excitement
with a beautiful girl on my arm, to attend every single party because anyone would admit a beautiful girl
into it, to make passionate love to her in my room at the end of the night, to snuggle next to her sexy
warm body as we drift off to sleep together. THAT is the life I should have lived. So many other guys are
able to experience that, and just thinking about if filled me with extreme agony. Life is not fair.
In November, my brief friendship with Andy, Stan, and their group faded away. I often saw on
Facebook that they did things together without even inviting me, which is the same thing I’ve had to
experience with other groups of friends that I’ve had in the past. I was always an outcast, even among
people I knew. I grew tired of their lack of consideration for me, so I stopped calling them. They weren’t
even popular anyway, and I wasn’t benefitting at all from their friendship. I still continued to meet with
Andy at restaurants on occasion, however.
Every day that I spent at my college, the more inferior and invisible I felt. I felt like such an inferior
mouse whenever I saw guys walking with beautiful girls. I hated having to endure it, but I had already
worked so hard on my two classes that I couldn’t quit just then. The only way that I could gain a boost in
to my self-esteem was to buy better looking clothes.
My mother gave me a few more gift cards to Nordstrom, and I spent them on $200 dollar designer
Jeans. When I wore these to school, I saw that I was wearing better Jeans than most other guys, and
that made me have a slightly higher sense of self-worth. I also bought a few more shirts, and a pair of
new Hugo Boss sneakers. Doing this started a new obsession for me. I became more and more obsessed with my appearance.
Because my mother, father, and grandmother constantly paid me extra money now that I was living in
Santa Barbara, I had saved up enough to indulge in this obsession. Familiarizing myself with all of the top
designer brands, I bought new clothes every time I visited my hometown. My favorite brands were Hugo
Boss and Armani. I always stopped by at the Camarillo shopping center on my way back to Santa
Barbara. I loved it there – they had a store for almost every brand.
One time, as I was shopping at the Calvin Klein store in Camarillo, I saw such a sexy-looking blonde
girl with perfectly tanned skin. She looked so beautiful and sexy that I had an erection instantly. Oh, the
heavenly things I wanted to do to her… And then I saw her hunk of a boyfriend. My entire being was
filled with anguish and despair. I could only imagine how amazing and pleasurable that guy’s life was.
They were older than me – probably mid-twenties – and I thought with desperate hope that when I’m
that man’s age I would be worthy enough to have such a girlfriend by my side, to shop with her at that
same shopping mall in heavenly bliss. My life was a life of starvation and yearning.
I visited home for Thanksgiving, and went with my mother to Rob Lemelson’s house for a small
Thanksgiving get-together. James was there… And the last time I spoke to him since then was when we
had our bitter argument online. The one person who has been my friend through all of my hardship
didn’t even want to speak to me during Thanksgiving. I tried to ask him why he was overreacting about
an argument we had two months previously, but he just glared at me coldly and told me to “keep my
proximity”. I was highly offended.
After a few hours, the Thanksgiving feast was served. To my profound annoyance, Julian Ritz-Barr and
his equally obnoxious older brother Leon Ritz-Barr also came for the dinner. I remembered the extreme
envy I felt for Julian months ago, and I tried to ignore them as much as possible, which proved to be
difficult because they talked loudly all the time.
I was seated next to James for the dinner, and after awkwardly sitting next to each other for a few
moments, he decided to warm up to me again. As the two of us caught up with each other about our
lives, a small inkling of our old friendship ignited like a weak flitter of flame in a candle. It was nice, for
the brief moment that it lasted. The two of us talked about our usual fantasy scenarios, and joked about
how stupid and obnoxious the Ritz-Barr brothers were acting.
On that same weekend that I went home, I got together with Philip and Addison. The three of us
went out to a restaurant in L.A., and then we headed to the Griffith Park Observatory, just like old times.
The last time I was there with the two of them was on that horrible night when Addison told me that
“No girl will ever want to fuck me.” The words were still embedded in my mind, and going to Griffith
Park reminded me of that night. The three of us took a few pictures of us posing at various spots at the
Observatory, some of which were uploaded onto Facebook, and then we went to the Calabasas
Commons to hang out at Barnes & Noble, where I had a few insightful conversations with Addison.
Despite our past hostilities, I considered Addison to be one of the most interesting people I knew.
I went back to Santa Barbara for a couple of weeks to finish off my two classes. In my history class, I
kept feeling weak with inferiority as I watched this tall, handsome blonde jock constantly sit and talk
with two beautiful girls. There was no way that I couldn’t watch it; they were in the middle of the class. I
hated that class so much, and I decided to stop attending it until the final exam. Once I took the final
exams, I felt glad to be done with those horrifically frustrating college classes.
It was just as I had feared. My first actual semester at Santa Barbara City College was an absolute,
brutal failure. I didn’t even have one girl’s phone number in my cell phone. Was I going to be a virgin
forever? I franticly wondered as I drove away from my school after taking my exams. I felt like my whole
life was over. If I couldn’t make it in such a beautiful and opportunistic place like Santa Barbara, then I was doomed to misery and dissatisfaction. I knew that I would rather die than suffer such a fate, and I
knew that if it came to that, I would do everything I can to exact revenge before I die. I didn’t want it to
resort to that! Some part of me still clung to hope. I didn’t want to give up so soon.
As I made the long scenic drive back to my hometown for the Holidays, I made a vow to give it all
another try when I start my new semester in the Spring, and to use the time I had during the winter
break to prepare for it as much as I could.
My mother told me that she had made plans for me, my sister, and her to go to England for a week.
Upon hearing this, I said I didn’t want to go. I felt so dissatisfied and defeated, and I didn’t want to
appear that way to my relatives in England. There was nothing about me that they could be proud of. I
felt ashamed of having to face them the way I was. After some persuasion, I agreed to go. I figured that
if anything, it would give me a respite from all the pain society has dealt to me, just like our old visits to
Jack’s beach house in Malibu.
Before we left for England, we attended the annual Christmas party at the Lemelson’s. I had recently
bought a flashy new shirt from Armani Exchange that made me feel particularly fabulous, so I decided to
wear it for the party. I loved admiring how awesome I looked in the mirror as I wore it. Wearing flashy
new clothes made me feel like a new person. I found it to be a very efficient way to boost my
confidence. When I entered the party, I felt gratified when Sue Lemelson, Rob’s ex-wife, complimented
me on how good I looked. My mother pointed out that it was unusual for Sue to compliment anyone, so
I must have made a good impression.
James was at the party, of course. He didn’t act outwardly cold toward me this time, but there was
still a distance between us. During the course of the event, I had my fill of multiple glasses of wine as I
casually chatted with James about my insights and life problems. We interacted as if we were still
friends, but I could tell that things were very different between us. The friendship that we have had for
so long was dying. When I said goodbye to him that night, it was the last time I ever saw him.
After having a quick Christmas celebration at father’s house, I took off for England with my mother
and sister. We flew Business Class on Virgin Atlantic, and since they followed the laws of the U.K., I was
allowed to drink alcohol on the flight. I took delight in sipping the wine that was served while I enjoyed
the relaxing journey. The last time I had been on an airplane since then was the disastrous trip to
Morocco when I was seventeen, and this made for a pleasant contrast.
When we landed in England I felt the sense of wonder that came with being in another country. I
hadn’t been to my home country of England for almost a decade, and I couldn’t believe I was there once
again. The decision to go on the trip came so quickly. We stayed at a very nice hotel in the town of
Colchester, near where my relatives on my mother’s side live, including my grandma Ah Mah. After we
unpacked all of our belongings, we went to their house for dinner. I hadn’t seen those relatives since our
trip to Malaysia. It felt peculiar to see them all again. They were exactly the same as I remembered. It
was very heartwarming to see that grandma Ah Mah had baked her delicious peanut cookies that I loved
so much as a child; she had them ready and waiting for me.
We visited them again on Christmas Day. They prepared an exquisite lunch, and afterward we
exchanged our gifts. I got a bit drunk on that day, as it was the only thing I could do to pass the time. I
tried to relax and forget about all of the pain I had experienced in Santa Barbara. I wished there was
something I could talk to my relatives about that would make them proud, but there was nothing
interesting or impressive about my life to talk about. I wished that I could show my grandma that I was
thriving in Santa Barbara; that I had a girlfriend and I was enjoying a full and healthy life. But no, that is
something I was never able to do. I felt so ashamed of myself. My grandma, Ah Mah, gave me a gift of great value. After we exchanged all of the presents with the
relatives, Ah Mah presented me with a 22 karat golden necklace. It was very extravagant, and it had
been in her possession for a long time. Now it was mine. I wore it instantly and took a great liking to it.
From then on, I would wear it in every waking moment. I could have sold it for well over a thousand
dollars, but I never did. It was special to me.
My favorite part of the trip was the breakfasts at the hotel. The hotel we stayed at was quite
luxurious, even by my standards. And the breakfasts… they were absolutely delicious. Every morning
there was a buffet full of delectable choices, such as crispy pork sausage, croissants, bacon, ham, roast
potatoes, all kinds of fruit, and much more. On every one of those mornings, I stuffed myself like there
was no tomorrow. I was deprived of sex all my life, so the only vice that I could derive a sense of
pleasure from was eating delicious food. I took full advantage of that on this trip. My high metabolism
prevented me from getting fat from it.
Before the trip was over, we all went on a tour through London. We were supposed to visit grandma
Jinx in Smarden on that same day, but grandma Jinx was in France at the time. We rented a comfortable
Mercedes van that could fit eight people and made a long drive through the English countryside to the
capital city of London. I didn’t remember much of the city from my previous visits, so it was kind of like a
new experience for me. I found the city to be very ugly in most areas, but in contrast there were some
attractive parts that were awash with beautiful architecture and a cultural atmosphere. Once we parked
our van we set out on foot, and sometimes took the Underground subway, to explore all of the main
attractions of the city. It was cold, dreadfully cold, but I bore it without much concern. Walking through
the streets of London at night, especially in Trafalgar Square and the area around Harrods was truly
breathtaking, or it would have been if I had a beautiful girlfriend by my side to experience it with me. It
was the sort of place that one would go with a girlfriend, and I had none. I saw other men being able to
experience it with their girlfriends, and the sight soured my whole experience. When we had dinner at a
restaurant, I scoffed a big meal and imbibed two glasses of wine to make myself feel better during the
rest of our tour. My favorite part was walking through the store Harrods. Harrods is a gigantic,
renowned luxury designer clothing store. Every facet of it exuded beauty and excessive opulence. It was
my type of place. I wished I was rich enough to buy anything I wanted at the store – there were so many
choices of fabulous clothing – but alas, I had to settle with buying only one Giorgio Armani shirt. If my
mother had been wise enough to marry one of those wealthy men she dated, perhaps then I would have
been rich enough. Such a pity.
At the end of the night of our London tour, I felt cold and miserable. Walking through that exciting,
cultural city made me realize that the world was full of wonders to explore, but if I had to do it alone
while other men were able to do it with their girlfriends, then what was the point? My life was so
mundane and wasteful compared to the lives all those other men lived. They were in heaven and I was
in hell.
When we took off on the airplane for the journey home, I wondered how my life would have turned
out if we never moved to the United States. I saw a lot of beautiful blonde girls in England, just like there
were in California. Would I have lived a completely different type of life? Would I have been able to have
a girlfriend in England? Would girls in England have been more accepting of a guy like me? Those are
questions I will never know the answer to.
I spent a few hours recovering from jet lag after we arrived home. On the day after that, it was New
Year’s Eve. I didn’t want a repeat of the previous New Year’s, when I spent them alone and miserable in
my room, so I decided to go with my father and Soumaya to a party and Antje Twinn’s house. My father
was still friends with them, despite not being friends with the Bubenheim’s anymore. I wanted to wear
something new for the party, in order to boost my sense of self-confidence, so I went to Nordstrom and
bought a new, flashy Hugo Boss shirt, decorated with different hues of blue. I didn’t have dinner before the party, because I expected dinner to be served there. When we got
there, I saw that they didn’t offer dinner, only a few party snacks; but there was lots and lots of wine. I
heard from Antje that Vincent was in town, but he was attending a party at Leo Bubenheim’s house,
with all of Leo’s popular teenage friends. The mere mention of Leo put me in a bad mood. I couldn’t
believe that Vincent, too, was now experiencing the pleasures of partying with young people while I sat
all alone at the adult’s party, sipping my wine in lonely depression. I should be partying with my own
friends, and my own girlfriends, but I had NONE.
After I had already gotten quite drunk from having so much wine on an empty stomach, I overheard
Antje talking to her friend about how Vincent now had a beautiful girlfriend. She was so proud of her
son. That is something my mother was never able to tell her friends about me. I had never had a
girlfriend in my WHOLE LIFE! I remember when Vincent used to be a little nine-year-old boy while I was
thirteen. He used to look up to me, and he always watched me play my online games on father’s laptop.
Now, he was sixteen and I was twenty. He had the pleasure of having a girlfriend, while I’ve never had
one. I was four years older than him, but he surpassed me. The envy, rage, and feeling of inferiority I felt
almost made me explode with rage right there at the party, but instead I went to the bathroom and
vented to myself in the mirror of how much I hate Vincent and wanted to kill him. I drank a lot more
wine that night, pouring myself glass after glass. By the time Vincent arrived after his party at Leo’s, I
greeted him with drunken contempt, and drank even more wine. I drank too much. On the next
morning, I thanked the heavens that at the end of the party I had the sense to go to the bathroom to
vomit instead of vomiting in front of everyone. That would have been extremely embarrassing.
I spent a week at my mother’s house before I went back to Santa Barbara to give my life there
another try. During this week, I once again met up with Philip and Addison. This outing was much longer
than the last. I decided to wear the same Hugo Boss shirt that I wore for New Year’s. First, we went on a
hike up to the Hollywood sign and watched the glorious sunset. Afterwards, we visited the Getty
Museum to admire the brilliant scenery and architecture. While there, I overheard Philip telling Addison
that some girls were checking him out. Feeling jealous, I asked Philip if any of those girls checked me
out, and he had the audacity to say no, none of them did. I felt so heartbroken that I left the two of
them and cried to myself, ruining my whole experience at the museum. How could girls check out
Addison but not me? I asked myself repeatedly as I tried to hide my tears from people who walked by
me. I walked out to the edge of the grand terrace of the museum, looking out at the city lights of Los
Angeles as well as the stars above. In that moment, I fell into a sort of despair-ridden trance,
contemplating my reason for existing in this universe and what was in store for my future. It was a very
ominous and surreal experience. I calmed down when we left the museum and acted cordial to both of
them. I didn’t want to spoil the night with my emotional problems. We toured around Hollywood for a
bit, and while there I saw lots of young people out and about with their attractive cliques of friends. The
sight enraged me for the rest of the night. We decided to have dinner at a restaurant on Sunset
Boulevard. At the restaurant, there were three hot model-like girls who sat a few tables down from us.
Their bodies looked so sexy and tantalizing that Philip had to go to the bathroom to masturbate. I was
itching to do exactly the same thing, but I didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Addison.
When I got home, I began to cry because of all the emotions I experienced that night. My mother
heard me and showed some concern, as she always did. She was used to me crying a lot, but she never
understood why I was so miserable. I always had to explain it to her – that I was a lonely, miserable,
unwanted virgin who women treated with disdain – but she could never grasp how severe this was to
me. After all, how could she? She was a woman herself.
I arrived back in Santa Barbara with a renewed, carefully constructed sense of confidence, especially
because of the new collection of designer clothes I had bought over the winter break. I tried to adopt a sophisticated and suave persona, and made my accent sound more eloquent. I did this out of the hope
that girls would find something attractive about it. It was the only persona that truly fit me. I was
incapable of being an outgoing, boisterous jock, and I didn’t want to be one. I was disgusted by such
people, and I was disgusted at how girls were attracted to such filth. I wanted them to be attracted to
me. That is how it should be, and I deserved it.
During the few weeks I had before my first day of class, I couldn’t really do anything to improve my
social situation. I had a fear of going out to Isla Vista without any friends, and I was hoping to make
those friends once college started. Because of this, I became depressed again from all of the loneliness.
Even though Spencer was there, I felt completely and utterly alone, as the two of us never talked that
much.
So far, Spencer and I had gotten along quite well despite the fact that we never talked much. An
incident happened at the end of January that changed all of this. I one day discovered that Spencer had
a girl in this room. I couldn’t believe it. The short, chubby guy was able to get a girl into his room before I
did! I was so shocked and outraged that I waited outside his room until the girl left, so I could get a
glimpse of how she looked. To my relief, she wasn’t that attractive. What made me even more angry is
that Spencer gave me a smug look when I saw the girl, even though she was ugly. He had the nerve to
feel like he was better than me, just because he managed to get a girl over to the apartment before I
did! I confronted him in the kitchen on that same night, telling him that he is foolish to feel proud about
having an ugly whore in his room. This made him angry and offended, which is what I wanted. I wanted
to offend him as punishment for his insolence. After that incident, the two of us became more and more
hostile towards each other.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"In the beginning of February, my Spring semester at Santa Barbara City College began. The classes I
registered for were Sociology, Math, Film Studies, and English. My English class was an online class, but
the other three were normal classes that I attended at the college. Sociology and math were on
Tuesdays and Thursdays, and my film class was on Friday mornings. It made for a convenient setup.
This was the last chance. I had already failed to change my life in the last semester. I must not fail
again. I remembered how hard it was to keep up those two classes in the Autumn. The people in them
made me feel so miserable. I knew that if the same thing happens in the coming semester, I would end
up dropping all of my classes, and if that happened, all of my hope would be doomed.
On the morning of the first day, I donned my fabulous Armani Exchange shirt and put on my new
Gucci sunglasses that my mother gave me. I admired myself in the mirror for a few moments, and began
to feel a surge of enthusiasm. I wanted everyone to see me looking like that. I was hopeful that some
girls would admire me. I said to myself that there was no way I could possibly have trouble with getting
girls now. I stopped by at Starbucks to buy a latte and set off for my college with the confidence that I
would appear as a superior gentleman to all of the students there. I was a superior gentleman. That was
what I was born to be, and it was now time to show it to the world.
It was a bright, sunny day as I as ascended the familiar steps up to the beautiful college campus of
SBCC. I immediately went to the restroom to look at myself in the mirror a few times, just so that I can
feel more assured of myself. Yes, I thought. I am the image of beauty ad supremacy. I kept saying it over
and over again, as if it was a mantra. When I crossed the renowned bridge that connected the two
halves of the campus, I felt as if everyone was admiring me. As I passed by groups of girls, I pretended to
imagine that they secretly adored and wanted me. After all, that was how it was meant to be. The more
I walked around the campus, the more I tried to convince myself that that was the case.
My first class was sociology, and I waited until everyone was seated before I walked in. I came in
through the front entrance so that everyone could look at my fabulous self. To my utter dismay, I saw
that no one turned their head to look at me at all. No girl tilted a head or lifted a pretty little eyebrow at
my approach. After all that effort, I was still being treated like I was invisible. The sociology class flew by like a breeze, and my next class was math. In this class, I saw one of the
prettiest girls I had ever seen in my life. She was the only pretty girl in the class, and she was absolutely
stunning. Of course, she didn’t even notice me as I walked in. Her beauty was so intimidating that I
couldn’t bring myself to sit near her, out of fear of her judgment. As the lecture proceeded, I couldn’t
help myself from constantly glancing at her, admiring every inch of her enticing body, from her silky
blonde hair to her smooth, skinny, lightly tanned legs. The most beautiful thing about her was her face.
It was a face that broke my heart the second I laid eyes on it. I wanted her with so much intensity, and I
constantly fantasized about her during my masturbation sessions. This was the kind of girl who was
always meant to be my girlfriend. This was the girl that I was meant to go through college in Santa
Barbara with. My life would only have meaning if I could go through college with a girlfriend like her.
As I made my way back from school one day during the first week, I was stopped at a stoplight in Isla
Vista when I saw two hot blonde girls waiting at the bus stop. I was dressed in one of my nice shirts, so I
looked at them and smiled. They looked at me, but they didn’t even deign to smile back. They just
looked away as if I was a fool. As I drove away I became very infuriated. It was such an insult. This was
the way all girls treated me, and I was sick and tired of it. In a rage, I made a U-turn, pulled up to their
bus stop and splashed my Starbucks latte all over them. I felt a feeling a spiteful satisfaction as I saw it
stain their jeans. I then quickly speeded away before they could catch my license plate number. How
dare those girls snub me in such a fashion! How dare they insult me so! I raged to myself repeatedly.
They deserved the punishment I gave them. It was such a pity that my latte wasn’t hot enough to burn
them. Those girls deserved to be dumped in boiling water for the crime of not giving me the attention
and adoration I so rightfully deserve!
This incident soured my first week of college, but for the sake of all of my hopes and dreams, I tried to
forget about it.
For the month of February, I continued with the trend of attending my college classes and trying to
make the most of it. With each passing day, my confidence about how I appeared to everyone started to
wane. I still didn’t make any friends, and I still didn’t talk to any girls. By the end of the month, I began to
question what I was doing so wrong. I saw obnoxious slobs who dressed in basketball shorts and T-shirts
walking with hot girls. And there I was, decked out in Armani, all by myself. It was preposterous! I should
have been the one walking with the hot girls! I soon realized that no one cared at all about how well I
dressed. No girls admired me. No girls even gave me a second look.
I soon found out the name of the beautiful girl in my math class. Her name was Brittany Story. Being
the obsessed stalker that I was, I looked her up on Facebook, and what I found shattered my already
wounded heart to pieces. She had a boyfriend. Not only that, but her boyfriend was the type of boy I
have always hated and despised: a tall, muscular surfer-jock with a buzz cut. As I looked at all the
pictures of the two of them together, I shivered with pure hatred. I could physically feel the hatred burn
through my entire body. I wanted to kill both of them, and I was capable of doing it. Brittany Story
should have been mine, and if can’t have her, no one should! I fantasized about capturing the two of
them and stripping the skin off her boyfriend’s flesh while making her watch. Why must my life be so full
of torment and hatred? I questioned to the universe with turmoil roiling inside me. I screamed and cried
with anguish that day. My housemate Spencer heard it all, but I didn’t care.
I dropped my math class immediately after learning that Brittany had a boyfriend. I couldn’t look at
her beauty anymore, knowing that some punk was able to enjoy having sex with her every day. I can
only imagine how heavenly that guy’s life must be. He was in heaven and I was in hell. Shortly after
dropping my math class, I decided to drop all of my other classes in a rage. There was no point to it
anymore. No matter how hard I tried, girls were not attracted to me. What was the point of going
through college, getting a degree, and finding some mundane professional job afterwards if I could never experience the pleasure of girls along the way? I didn’t want to torture myself with going to
college and looking at all of those beautiful girls I could never have. Nothing beneficial came out of it.
There was no hope for me to ever have a desirable college life. My life was devoid of friends, devoid of
girls, devoid of sex, and devoid of love. I realized that I will never be able to look back on my youth, the
time that I should be having a blast, and feel satisfied about all of the happy memories I have. There
were no happy memories; only misery, loneliness, rejection, and pain. The only thing I could do was
even the score. I wanted to make everyone else suffer just as they made me suffer. I wanted revenge.
When I dropped my college classes, I crossed a threshold that I knew existed, but never actually
believed I would cross. It completely ended all hope I had of living a desirable life in Santa Barbara. I
realized that I would be a virgin forever, condemned to suffer rejection and humiliation at the hands of
women because they don’t fancy me, because their sexual attractions are flawed. They are attracted to
the wrong type of male. I always mused to myself that I would rather die than suffer such an existence,
and I knew that if it came to that, I would exact my revenge upon the world in the most catastrophic
way possible. At least then, I could die knowing that I fought back against the injustice that has been
dealt to me.
Ever since my life took a very dark turn at the age of seventeen, I often had fantasies of how
malevolently satisfying it would be to punish all of the popular kids and young couples for the crime of
having a better life than me. I dreamed of how sweet it would be to torture or kill every single young
couple I saw. However, as I said previously in this story, I never thought I would actually go through with
these drastic desires. I had hope inside me that I could one day have a happy life.
It was only when I first moved to Santa Barbara that I started considering the possibility of having to
carry out a violent act of revenge, as the final solution to dealing with all of the injustices I’ve had to face
at the hands of women and society. I came up with a name for this after I saw all of the good looking
young couples walking around my college and in the town of Isla Vista. I named it the Day of Retribution.
It would be a day in which I exact my ultimate retribution and revenge on all of the hedonistic scum who
enjoyed lives of pleasure that they don’t deserve. If I can’t have it, I will destroy it. I will destroy all
women because I can never have them. I will make them all suffer for rejecting me. I will arm myself
with deadly weapons and wage a war against all women and the men they are attracted to. And I will
slaughter them like the animals they are. If they won’t accept me among them, then they are my
enemies. They showed me no mercy, and in turn I will show them no mercy. The prospect will be so
sweet, and justice will ultimately be served. And of course, I would have to die in the act to avoid going
to prison.
That is when I realized that this threshold existed, and if I crossed it, I will have to carry out this Day
of Retribution. It has remained stagnant in the back of my mind ever since, until this point. After
dropping my Spring classes at Santa Barbara City College, I knew that the Day of Retribution was now
very possible. I even wrote about it in my diary, but I later tore out the pages because I feared someone
might find them. A shiver ran through me, realizing how twisted my world had become, that I would
have to resort to doing something that I would consider unthinkable a few years ago. I didn’t want to do
it. I wanted to live. Thinking about the Day of Retribution made me feel trapped. I wanted a way out.
After some deep contemplation, I had the revelation that the Day of Retribution wasn’t the only way I
could make up for all of the suffering I’ve had to experience. If I could somehow become a multimillionaire at a young age, then my lifestyle would instantly become better than most people my age. I
would be able to get revenge on my enemies just by living above them and lording over them. That was
a form of happy, peaceful revenge, and it became my only hope. Once again, I started to desperately
ponder over ways that I could become extremely wealthy at a young age. It was my only way out. This is when I realized that wealth was the only way I could lose my virginity, the only way I could
have the beautiful girlfriend I know I deserve. Due to all of my past experiences with girls, it is evident
that girls are not attracted to me as a person. They are repulsed by me. The only way I could possible
become worthy of their love and attraction is if I become wealthy.
In the beginning of March, I went home in a sullen and disturbed mood. I did my best to hide it from
my parents. I also had to hide the fact that I dropped all of my college classes, and I kept up the pretense
that I was still attending college, talking to my father about my lectures and so forth.
The weekend that I visited home was quite an eventful one, and I had been looking forward to it for
some time. On Sunday, March 11th 2012, I went with my mother and sister to a private, exclusive Katy
Perry concert; and on March 12th 2012 I went with my father and Soumaya to the red carpet premiere of
the Hunger Games.
The invitation to the private Katy Perry concert was actually meant for Rob Lemelson, as the concert
was held for extremely wealthy people who were clients of Net Jets, a private jet company. Rob had no
interest in such things, so he gave the tickets to my mother. I was eager to go, because I loved attending
exclusive events; it made me feel special. For most of the time spent at the concert, I just walked around
at ate food at the buffet tables while everyone waited for Katy Perry to perform. There was upbeat
music playing the entire time, and a lot of wealthy families with their kids attended. Every family there
must have had a net worth of at least twenty million, to be able to hire private jets. I tried to pretend as
if I was part of a wealthy family. I should be. That was the life I was meant to live. I WOULD BE! If only
my damnable mother had married into wealth instead of being selfish. If only my failure of a father had
made better decisions with his directing career instead wasting his money on that stupid documentary.
I couldn’t help but feel a bitter form of envy at all of the rich kids at the concert. They grew up in
lavish mansions, indulged in excessive opulence, and will never have to worry about anything in their
pleasurable, hedonistic lives. I would take great pleasure in watching all of those rich families burn alive.
Looking at all of them really drilled in my mind the importance of wealth. Wealth is one of the most
important defining factors of self-worth and superiority. I hated and envied all of those kids for being
born into wealth, while I had to struggle to find a way to claim wealth for myself. I had to be ruthless,
and do whatever it takes to attain such wealth. After all, it was my only hope of ever being worthy of
getting a girlfriend and living the life of gratification that I desire.
The red carpet premiere of the Hunger Games was an even more exclusive event. The reason we got
in was because my father was friends with the director, Gary Ross. My father even contributed to the
film as a second unit director. Gary Ross had been coming over to father’s house for dinner quite
frequently in the past few months. When he told me about the Hunger Games, I had never heard about
it before, so I decided to read the books that the movie would be based on. It was quite an enjoyable
story and I became a fan.
At the same time, my step mother Soumaya was in the process of filming a French reality T.V. series,
called Les Vraies Housewives. Her status as a reality T.V. star, coupled with my father’s important
association with Gary Ross, enabled us all to attain VIP tickets to the red carpet premiere, including
admittance to walk on the red carpet itself, which was actually a black carpet, in a literal sense.
I didn’t own any suits, but I wore my extravagant Hugo Boss shirt, which I thought looked elegant
enough to walk on the black carpet. As we were lining up for our walk on the black carpet, some dumb
bitch of a security guard had the audacity to question “who the hell are these people”. This made me so
enraged that I almost said “we are people who are more important than you, you ugly cunt”, but
Soumaya’s publicist calmly informed her of our invitation. We then proceeded to walk across the long
black carpet as cameras flashed at us from one side, and a crowd of pathetic fans who reminded me of sheep cheered from the other side. I felt extremely gratified at walking on the black carpet with father
and Soumaya, and I cockily smiled at all of the stupid fans who had to remain on the side, rubbing it
right in their faces. There were some actors and celebrities on the carpet with us, and the paparazzi
yelled at me a few times to get out of the way as they were taking pictures of some cunt actress. I
discreetly gave those paparazzi pigs my middle finger. Elliot Rodger will not move aside for a stupid,
good-for-nothing, over-glorified actress, whoever the fuck she was. I didn’t see.
We walked through all the chaos until we finally reached the theatre where the movie was being
screened, called the Nokia Theatre. It was one of the biggest theatres I had ever seen, able to see
hundreds of people. At the entrance, father and I greeted Jack Ross, the son of Gary Ross. He was a
spoiled brat of a sixteen year old, and to my embarrassment he stood taller than me. I immediately
hated him on sight. He was living the life I should be living, if only my father had become as successful a
director as Gary Ross. I equally hated his repugnant friends, who ended up sitting in front of me and
partially blocking my view for the entire movie. Throughout the whole film, I had to fight the urge not to
splash my drink all over the little shitheads in a vehement rage. They spoiled it for me, and it was quite a
good movie too.
The movie was entertaining, but my favorite part of this premiere was the after party. Yes, we were
invited to the after party, where only the most important guests could attend. I felt so special as I
handed my VIP tickets to the guards outside, gaining admittance. The party was extravagant, with buffet
tables set up in every corner serving exquisite delicacies. I excitedly went from plate to plate, helping
myself to all of the food. Father and Soumaya went off to socialize with Gary Ross and his entourage of
producers. I didn’t know anyone there, of course, so I just spent time with my sister Georgia.
A few moments into the party, I ran into an old face. He noticed me first and called out my name,
saying “Is your name Elliot?” He was none other than Ashton Moio from Pinecrest Middle School! I
hadn’t seen him since 8th grade. He was now in the process of starting a career in acting, and he had a
small part in the movie. I actually read about this beforehand, but I didn’t expect I would run into him at
the after party. Ashton’s sister, Monette Moio was nowhere to be seen. I suppose the bitch wasn’t
invited, hah. I remembered all of the pain she caused me during my 8th grade year at Pinecrest. I tried to
act as cool and confident as I possibly could with Ashton, though I felt intimidated. He was one of the
most popular kids at Pinecrest, and now he was becoming an actor, one of the most attractive careers a
man can have. I assumed he had probably slept with countless beautiful girls. Damn him. I had a brief
conversation with him before trying to leave his presence as fast as I could. I didn’t want him to find out
how pathetic my life was.
While roaming around the after party, I bore witness to many successful young men who pranced in
with their hot model girlfriends. Some of them were even actors my own age, stars of the movie. I had a
particular burning hatred for the actor Alexander Ludwig, who I saw sitting arrogantly on a couch as
people crowded around him in adoration. I hated everything about him; his golden blonde hair; his tall,
muscular frame; his cocky, masculine face. That boy could get any girl he wanted. His life was
completely opposite from my own. If only I could get a taste of how he lived for just one day… As I saw
all of these successful young men with their beautiful dates, I became even more convinced about how
important money and status was in attaining a desirable life of love and sex. It made me even more
obsessed with my goal of becoming wealthy at a very young age. That was the only way to live life.
The whole premiere, from the red carpet to the film to the after party, was an extraordinary
experience, and I will never forget it. I still felt very bitter that I wasn’t able to bring a girl with me as a
date. The majority of men at the event had a date with them, and I felt so pathetic for not having a date.
If only a girl at my collage had been attracted to me; I would have gladly brought her to the premiere as
my date.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"When I returned to Santa Barbara, I realized that I had absolutely no obligations. Since I had dropped
all of my college classes, I had all the time in the world. I wanted to make use of that time as much as I
could. Franticly, I tried to come up with ways to find some sort of idea to make millions of dollars. Some
would say this was folly, but it has been done before! Many people have succeeded in coming up with
an idea and making millions, or even billions, instantly. I was an extraordinary, magnificent person
destined for great things. If other people could do it, why not me? It was my destiny, my whole purpose
on this world.
For the next week or so, I spent time meditating in my room, trying to come up with ways to get rich.
I could either invent something, start a great business idea, or go back to my original idea I had of
writing an epic fantasy story that could be made into a movie. That reminded me of the reason why I
gave up on that idea in the first place… the amount of time it would take to achieve success from such a
prospect. I was so desperate and I needed to do something right there and then. It was a matter of life
and death. If I couldn’t make it, then I had nothing to live for.
After a lot of deep thinking, I couldn’t come up with anything. Was I doomed to fail at everything? I
began to feel hopeless, until I saw the current jackpot for the Megemillions Lottery. It was rising very
high in the month of March. I had saved up a lot of money at the time, so I had enough to spare on
lottery tickets, so long as I didn’t go under $5000 dollars, which I wanted to keep as my minimum
amount of savings just in case of an emergency, or in case I would have to carry out the Day of
Retribution. As it so happened, I had well over $6000 saved up at the time, from all of the allowance,
Christmas money, and birthday money that my parents and grandmothers had been sending me. For the
first time since moving to Santa Barbara, I began to take a serious interest in playing the Lottery again.
I believed that it was destiny for me to win the Megamillions Lottery, particularly this very jackpot.
People win the lottery every single month, so why not me? I was meant to live a life of significance and
extravagance. I was meant to win this jackpot. It was destiny. For the first few drawings I played, I spent
$50 to $100 on tickets, but to my profound frustration I still didn’t win, and the jackpot kept rising. This
only increased my enthusiasm. I started to picture a whole new, perfect life for myself after I won. I
imagined buying a beautiful, opulent mansion with an extravagant view, and acquiring a collection of
supercars which I would use specifically to attract beautiful girls into my life. I planned to go back to
college once I had bolstered myself with all this wealth, and lord myself over all the other students
there, finally fulfilling my dream of being the coolest and most popular kid at school. As I sat meditating
in my room, I imagined the ecstasy I would feel as scores of beautiful girls look at me with admiration as
I drive up to college in a Lamborghini. Such an experience would make up for everything. I had to win
this jackpot.
As the jackpot reached over $200 Million, I spent more of my saved money on lottery tickets, but I
still didn’t win. I knew that the more I spent on tickets, the higher chance I had of winning. I was so
desperate to live a satisfying life that I spent $400 dollars on tickets when the jackpot hit $290 Million.
When I failed to win that, I spent $500 dollars on tickets when it reached $363 million, and I still didn’t
win it on that one… And then the jackpot reached a number that I never imagined it would… $656
Million. I was astounded and filled with a feverish enthusiasm of hope and desire. This was the highest
lottery jackpot in history. I knew I was always destined for great things. This must be it! I was destined to
be the winner of the highest lottery jackpot in existence. I knew right then and there that this jackpot
was meant for me. Who else deserved such a victory? I had been through so much rejection, suffering,
and injustice in my life, and this was to be my salvation. With my whole body filled with feverish hope, I
spent $700 dollars on lottery tickets for this drawing. As I spent this money, I imagined all the amazing
sex I would have with a beautiful model girlfriend I would have once I become a man of wealth.
After the ultimate and fateful drawing, I waited three days to check the result. I was too anxious
about what I will see. The result would determine the fate of my whole life. For those three days, I
meditated alone in my room, trying to convince myself that I was the winner. I held all of the tickets in my hand, excitedly pondering over which one was the true winning ticket. There were many times
during this period where I was about to check the result, but cancelled the webpage in the last second
out of fear of what I might see. The prospect of finding out that I lost was devastating. On the fourth
day, I decided to just go through with it. The result was already decided, and the amount of time it took
for me to check it wouldn’t change anything. I had to see the truth. My heart was beating rapidly as I
loaded up the webpage to the Megamillions website. What I saw crushed all of my hope completely. My
whole body shivered with horrific agony. I didn’t win. Three people won that jackpot, and it was split
between them. But none of those three people were me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was
certain I would be the winner. It was destiny… fate. But no, the world continued to give me no justice or
salvation whatsoever.
I sank into one of the worst depressions of my life. It was Spring Break, and while all other young
boys my age were going off to vacation with their attractive friends, I was feeling miserable and alone in
my room because I failed to win the lottery jackpot that would enable me to rise above them ALL! I was
so depressed that even when my mother came up to Santa Barbara with my sister and her friends for a
short day trip, I refused to see them.
For the next month, I barely left my room. I was completely and utterly at the end of all hope. My life
is over, I thought. Without that wealth, what was there to live for in the future? I still couldn’t believe I
didn’t win. I kept thinking about the heavenly life I would be living if I had won. I was certain of my
victory, right at the moment of the drawing. Instead, it turned to a crushing defeat, just like everything
else in my life. Everything I had tried to do in the past, ever since childhood, had been a failure. It was
very hard to feel good about myself anymore. I spent all of my time drifting aimlessly, doing nothing
with my time except brooding over my fate. I didn’t want to think about anything. I could barely breathe
from the stifling loneliness. All of my energy had been sapped out of me.
In the month of April, James Ellis officially ended the friendship between us. James hadn’t contacted
me at all since the Lemelson’s Christmas party, and I felt extremely offended by this. For the first few
months of 2012, I had been trying to contact him, demanding to know why he continued to act so cold
and distant to me. I thought that after we spoke with each other at the Lemelson’s, things would get
better between us. I was dead wrong.
I got hold of him on the phone in February, and he said a few words to me before quickly making an
excuse to hang up. A month later I messaged him on Facebook to tell him how rude he was on the
phone, and in April I received a response from him. He blatantly said he didn’t want to be friends
anymore. He didn’t even deign to tell me why. After he said the fateful words, he refused to talk to me
ever again. That was the last time I ever spoke to him.
It was the ultimate betrayal. I thought he was the one friend I had in the whole world who truly
understood me, who truly understood my views and the reasons why I thought the way I did about the
world. I confided everything to him, because I thought we were on the same page. To be betrayed in
such a manner wounded me deeply, though I never admitted it to anyone.
On the day of the betrayal, I thought back on our entire friendship. James Ellis was my oldest friend. I
remembered the first time I met him, as we kicked dust together as First Graders at Topanga Elementary
school. I remembered all of the good times I spent at his various houses in the Palisades, trading
Pokemon cards when we were little, our brief interest in skateboarding, playing World of Warcraft
together as teenagers, all of our walks through the Palisades town center… He was a big part of my life.
And now he was gone, faded away into memory.
I didn’t have any friends left anymore. No friends in the entire world. I didn’t want to see Philip and
Addison after I cried in front of them at the Getty museum. I was completely and utterly alone, in the
darkest pit of despair. And in that pit I withered in agony. My deep depression lasted well into the summer. My life stayed stagnant and miserable, and my
hatred towards everyone, especially women, for depriving me of a happy life only grew stronger. I
questioned myself over and over about what was going to happen to me now. I didn’t want it to resort
to having to exact ultimate vengeance. I didn’t want to die. I wanted something to live for.
There had to be a way for me to become wealthy. I continued to see it was the only way I would ever
have a beautiful girlfriend and lose my virginity. My ultimate dream was to experience the pleasures of
love and sex with girls once I become rich enough to be worthy of them, and then I would settle down
with a beautiful girlfriend and have beautiful children with her, whom I would raise up to live a much
better life than the one I’ve had to suffer through. That would be the most satisfying vengeance against
all those young people who thought they were better than me. If I could show them that I lived such a
life, my purpose on this world would be complete. To see the look on all of their faces once I’ve risen
above them… I couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.
I so happened to come across a book called the Power of Your Subconscious Mind, by Joseph
Murphy. This book would fill me with hope for the next few months. It was very similar to The Secret,
the book I read over a year ago, and it had the same effect on me. It gave an even more in-depth view
on the law of attraction. A year previously, I had given up on believing in such a concept, but when I read
through this book thoroughly, I desperately convinced myself to give it a try. I wanted to believe the
theory could work. I needed something to live for.
I began to visualize myself winning the lottery. I did this all throughout the month of June. After
continuous analyzing and contemplation, I concluded that winning the lottery was the only way I could
become wealthy at a young age, and thus it was the only way to enjoy the rest of my youth. If I didn’t
have a satisfying youth, I would be bitter and miserable for the rest of my life, but of course that would
never happen. If it came to that, then I would have to carry out the Day of Retribution.
Indeed, it was the only way I could attain any sort of wealth at my age. I had no talents, so it was
impossible for me to become a professional actor, musician, or athlete; and those were usually the ways
that young people acquired such money. I could invent something, or start a business just like Mark
Zuckerberg did with Facebook, but the chances of me achieving such a thing were the same chances I
had of winning the lottery anyway. I didn’t even have the skills of a computer programmer.
After reading this book, I wanted to believe that there was some sort of supernatural power that I
could harness to change reality as I saw fit. For the months of June and July, I took frequent walks
around Girsh Park in Goleta, dreaming and visualizing about winning the lottery. I affirmed that once the
jackpot rose to over $100 million, I would buy a ticket and that ticket would be the winner. For all of the
months of summer, people kept winning the lottery, and the jackpot kept resetting, but I was so
desperate that I still clung to my faith that I would soon win.
On one of the days in July, when I was roaming around Girsh Park, a group of popular college kids
arrived to play kickball in the fields. They all looked like typical fraternity jocks, tall and muscular. The
kind of guys I’ve hated and envied all my life. With them came a flock of beautiful blonde girls, and they
looked like they were having so much fun playing together. One of the girls did a handstand in the grass,
and her sexy bare stomach showed as her shirt hung down. All of the girls were scantily clad. Rage
boiled inside me as I watched those people who thought they were better than me enjoying their
pleasurable little lives together. The rage was so intense that I couldn’t take it. I was insulted too much. I
couldn’t leave them without getting some form of revenge, so I drove to the nearby K-mart, bought a
super-soaker, filled it up with orange juice that I bought at the same store, and drove back to the park.
They were still there, having the time of their lives, and I wanted to ruin it for them. I wanted to ruin
their fun just like they ruined mine, as they would never accept me among them. I screamed at them with rage as I sprayed them with my super soaker. When the boys started to yell and chase after me, I
quickly got into my car and drove away. I was giddy with ecstatic, hate-fueled excitement. I wished I
could spray boiling oil at the foul beasts. They deserved to die horrible, painful deaths just for the crime
of enjoying a better life than me.
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-yearold 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? 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. 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 L.A. 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. 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.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"21 Years Old
 In August, I continued to build up my faith that I am destined to win the Megamillions jackpot. 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.
 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.
 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. I would then go back to
my mother’s house, show her my ticket, 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 nothing 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. 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
myself jumping 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. 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.
 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. 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.
 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.
 I had to wait a few hours for them to prepare the laptop for me, 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.
 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. 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?
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, 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.
 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. 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.
Only then would I have all the power. They treated me like an insignificant little mouse, but on the Day
of Retribution, I would be a God to them. 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. 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.
 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!
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 multimillionaire 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.
 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. 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. 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.
 I didn’t win. It was almost the same scenario that I suffered through in March, except this one was
twice as devastating. 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.
 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… 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, 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.
 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.
 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.",1,Planned Violence,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"As the phrase that I had coined goes: If I cannot join them, I will rise above them; 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. 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. Without the prospect of becoming wealthy at a young age, I had
nothing to live for now. 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, 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. 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.
 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. Once I had settled in my big, luxurious bedseat 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, 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; 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.
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 L.A., 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 L.A. 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
out just 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.
 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. 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, 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. The reason I kept going, even after I didn’t win, was because I truly believed I was supposed to
win. 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.
 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, 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. 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 decided to meet them at Philip’s house, where we would make plans for an outing around Malibu
and L.A. 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?
 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. 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.",1,Ideation of Violence,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"The Spring of 2013 was also the time when I came across the website PUAHate.com. 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. 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. 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.
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.
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 cleancut 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… 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, 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. I still continued to pester her to do this, and she still
stubbornly refused. I will always resent my mother for 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. They would be like hired friends. 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. 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. 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 of a
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.
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 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. 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.
The worst part of this whole ordeal was not getting beaten up, oh no. It was the fact that no one
showed any concern. 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. They would have even offered to sleep with me to make me feel better. 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. 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.
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.
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.
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. 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.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"22 Years Old
The highly unjust experience of being beaten and humiliated in front of everyone in Isla Vista, 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. 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. 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.
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. 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. 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.
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.
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.
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! 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.
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 L.A. 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, 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. 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.
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 it, 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.
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.
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. 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.",1,Planned Violence,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"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. 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. 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.
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. 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. 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.
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.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. 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. I will sneak into their house at around 9:00 p.m. 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. 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. 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.
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. 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. I will sneak into their house at around 9:00 p.m. 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. 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. 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.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"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, 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. 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. 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. 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. 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, 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.
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. 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.
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? 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 am the closest thing there is
to a living god. 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.",1,Planned Violence,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Epilogue
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, 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.
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. 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. 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.
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. 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.
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.
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. 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.",1,Specific Threats,"""My Twisted World"" - The Story of Ellio Rodger",7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/rodger_my_twisted_world.pdf,Elliot Rodger
"Dear mom and dad, I'm sorry about all this, it's because some of my family and friends hate me, but I understand. What I do, this shooting is not because of the shooting games, bullying, or other stuff, it is because of the past causes. There were some bad things in the past cause of me. And now I'm just a monster. But I can't go back to my last words, when I die I will go back to the past and fix everything so I can be a great person. And the shooting off sparks, middle school never should have happened. I wish I can be a smart and a better kid so I can be the better son in front of my family. But if you hate me and my family doesn't love me it's okay I know that I'm just an idiot. But I love you and I wish the past would be good and better someday.

from Jose Reyes López",1,Specific Threats,Jose Reyes's Letters,7/5/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Reyes_letters.pdf,Jose Reyes
"Dear teachers and students today is the day when I kill you bastards for the embarrassment that you did. You say mean things in school that I'm gay, that I'm lazy, stupid, idiot and also say that I pee my pants and it is stuttering. I'll get revenge on the filth and end teachers for ruining my life. Today I awfully bring a goddamn pistol and rifle to shoot you and see how you like it when someone making fun of you. Once I kill you your life will be nothing but nightmares and bad dreams. I don't care if I have lots of bullets to shoot all of you, cause I'm gonna die trying on my last stand. And right near this school will now come to an end and your death will be risky when I shoot you. Have a great death at school.

Sparks Middle School
1965 - 2013",1,Specific Threats,Jose Reyes's Letters,7/5/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Reyes_letters.pdf,Jose Reyes
"I have thought to myself, what kind of damage can a 12 gauge slug do to a human’s internal
organs or their head? Well today I found out, and so did everyone else that is in school . . .
No, I am not on drugs . . . ciggerettes, that’s all. I am not really depressed just that the fact
that I want people, the world, or maybe just Bethel, to know how [expletive] and cruel the
world is or can be. This school has got to get its [expletive] together ’cause there are too many
deaths this past 2–3 years. Well I can tell you that the Superintenant Sue Hare has been the
nicest person I’ve ever met cause she took both William and I in and didn’t get any money
for it, and she like was a mother for William and me. But anyway I’m dead you guys are
living, you should be happy",1,Vague Discontent,Two Notes by Evan Ramsey,6/19/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/ramsey_notes_1.0.pdf,Evan Ramsey
"Hey Every body!! I feel rejected, rejected, not so much alone, but rejected. I feel this way
because the day-to-day treatment I get usually it’s positive but the negative is like a cut, it
doesn’t go away really fast. I figure by the time you guys are reading this I’ll probably have
done what I told EVERYONE I was going to do. Just hope 12 gauges don’t kick too hard but
I do hope the shells hit more than 1 person because I am angry at more than 1 person. One
of the Big [expletive] is Mr. Ron Edwards, he should be there, I was told this will be his Last
year, but I know it WILL BE HIS LAST YEAR. The main reason that I did this is because
I’m sick and tired of being treated this way everyday . . . By the way every one allways told
me “Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover.’’ This saying is true because I was told that my teachers say that “He’s Such A Good Kid.’’ But they Say that About everyone. I don’t think I’m a
good-Hearted person. LIFE SUCKS in its own way, so I killed a little and killed myself. Jail
isn’t and wasn’t for me, ever.",1,Specific Threats,Two Notes by Evan Ramsey,6/19/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/ramsey_notes_1.0.pdf,Evan Ramsey
"Ima tell you m hold on
Waiting for this bitch
Ima do something to her rn
Omg
She's on the phone with AT&T abojt my phone
It's annoying
What
I just shot my grandma in her head
Ima go shoot up a elementary school rn",1,Specific Threats,Salvador Ramos Text Messages,7/14/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Uvalde-Robb-Shooting-Report-Texas-House-Committee_0.pdf,Salvador Ramos
"Hey
I'd worship you
Want me to
R u a celebrity now
Go jump off a brdige",1,Vague Discontent,Salvador Ramos Text Messages,7/14/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Uvalde-Robb-Shooting-Report-Texas-House-Committee_0.pdf,Salvador Ramos
"Hey
You gonna repost my gun pics
Just wanted to tag you
Be grateful I tagged you",1,Vague Discontent,Salvador Ramos Text Messages,7/14/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Uvalde-Robb-Shooting-Report-Texas-House-Committee_0.pdf,Salvador Ramos
"Alexander J. Triantis. Ur shit-for-brains unionized-3rd-tier Dean fratboy Stan Eakins and his crew
at ECU criminally forced about 18 tenured faculty – of age – to abandon their tenure using
straight-up lying paperwork and lying students & threats to destroy their health care by firing them.
Just so he could go ""window-shopping"" for new faculty that might do more useless research to
please you fucks at AACSB. Even though all those faculty were hired and tenured many years under
the earlier mostly-teaching paradigm. Each one, career & life & years of paychecks destroyed,
thrown out to rot on the streets after a lifetime of service to institution. So I am sure you won't
mind if some of his OTHER dumb-ass unionized third-tier dean&administrator fratboy brothers
pay the price for HIS crimes, right? Fuck your bullshit dysfunctional tyranny destroying business
schools with your eternal 5% exclusivity lie & ur AQPQ bullshit chasing crappy publications that say
nothing useful and that nobody reads. 2 million papers published every year worldwide and what
good is it all doing, almost all of it, not a damn thing. While crippling a generation of students badly
in need of effective learning & destroying a generation of faculty. Get ur garbage union of stupid
overlord Deans back in the barn or u will get more of this from others to be sure. U U U and your
dysfunctional micromanaging control-freak accreditation machine DESTROY business schools and
their faculties. And speaking of accreditation, where is UR accreditation??? UR accreditation body --
CHEA – revoked YOUR accreditation because of YOUR opaque sneaky-shit corrupt operations.
And they never kick out anybody, so your shit really really stinks. You fuck. Keep screwing over
faculty, keep sowing the wind, and keep reaping the whirlwind. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Lori Verstegen Ryan. U arrogant preppie-rich spoiled-ass smartmouth SCOLD, you post
Incomplete on me 160IQ UGA PHD student in seminar, just to make him beg u for the grade, just
to show you swing bigger dick than high intelligence, just for your own shits and giggles, eh? You
say why you post Incomplete is because … then you repeat what you accidently overhear what
160IQ say about what a good seminar paper is … and say he has not done that. Make him write you
another huge paper to remove Incomplete. Show all the other PhD students you bigger than smart.
But some of them don't like what you did, rat you out. Say to 160IQ that YOU say he is smart but
you gonna show him that YOU don't care. Meanwhile U PLAY LICKY-LICKY WITH THE HOT
FEMALE STUPID PHD STUDENT IN SAME CLASS AND POST HER AN A GRADE. So
stupid she comes to class with copies of paper to seminar discuss and she don't even know that
copies are missing ten pages each. Stupid did not even read paper enough to know that big hunk of
paper is entirely missing. Why should she bother to read paper when she goin' down on you for a
sure A? U amoral ego-blown witch. You thought you gonna be big-time star-power at UGA but
they kick u out no tenure goodbye hit-the-road and u end up as faculty at a massively-large Cali
diploma mill for party-at-the-beach dummies. Now you know you are a big fat arrogant NOBODY.
You where you belong, turd. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Shanan Gibson. U just a smart-mouth do-nothing caustic spoiled rich-brat-kid MORON CUNT. U
just bully beat-down everybody or flirt your skirt to get ahead, to get Harris to write all your papers.
Youjusta crap psychology degree never-have-a-real-job. When you get tenure you laugh to everyone
you got it by jerking the men around by flashing your tits. Arrogant twat beat me down Dr.160IQ
top business degrees successful businessman with your smart lip more than once. One time you say
you must have more Beta Gamma Sigma students accepted but also you want acceptance standards
increase. Whatta fuckin moron. I tell you you can't do both at the same time, you cannot have more
and have less at the same time. And what does your idiot brain say? ""I don't want to hear the labor
pains just deliver the damn baby."" U just a lazy no-talent no-brain think-u-entitled SCOLD. Yeah u a SCOLD. You only get into administration at ECU by fucking&sucking 2 corrupt Deans then play
hatchet-bitch for them. Look good at who you are now. Texas school start to tar and feather u as
soon as u arrive as Dean. Because word was out on u before u get to Texas, that you nothing but a
SHREW cunt piece of shit so you get the blackball you earned as soon as you hit the ground there.
You get there in the fall, you get kicked in the crotch on day-one and so you looking for job in the
spring. Interview at shitty-school St. Mary's California that runs on temporary faculty and fumes.
Shit school for you because you aint' shit. No more AACSB schools for u u sassy SHREW cunt.
Then husband have to hook u up with this Florida dean job to save ur worthless ass. Sooner or later
the airplane school faculty will be sick of your sass-mouth, know-nothing, do-nothing arrogant bully
routine and soon enough, even though they are weak-spined, they will find a way to drive you out.
Then you be for the streets for good, no more career, and into the sewers where you belong.
Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Stephen F. Olejnik. Thirty years ago and I never forget dirty screw-down job I get from you in
your whatta-shit-show ed pysch stat classes. Me 160IQ already with UG degree in Statistics. Some
masters classes in stats also. Mathematical notation in your lecture notes change from one page to
next. So no one of smarts can study from them. Notation changes bc u have buncha different GAs
write them for you over number of years. GAs don't know how to write notes well but do what they
told or no PHD for them. You think notes are for book you publish someday off backs of those
students. I ask sharp questions in class to be sure I do well … and you can't answer them, apologize
to class, I would never ask anything like THAT. Then you slam-down my test grades, teach me real
good to shut up, make sure everyone think I am stupid to CYA. Airhead girl next to me get much
higher grades on test and after test I say what did you do for question 14, she giggles and says oh I
dunno. Bc she don't know what the hell she did. Bc ur after classes over I find out you use same
exact test every term just change some numbers. So everyone on inside-track knowing this is just
memorizing steps from stolen copies of your old tests but they don't actually know nothing at all.
But I know plenty and trying to learn … and you slam me down. I spend hour bus ride 2 come to ur
office hours you say come back with appointment. Nobody expects office hour appointment unless
stated. An appointment, another hour of buses. I bring five stat books I study along for your class,
all say something else than what you say when you mark me wrong on test, I say what gives, u say
'that's what you deserve for studying other texts.' U say that cause you don't KNOW why - you little
weasel. Since you publish like a zillion times I guess I am supposed to think you are something more
than a dirty little double-dealing Marxist weasel. But you aren't. Well now you are retired, what did
you waste your life on, not learning or teaching or students, just satisfying your own overblown ego.
Enjoy your retirement. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Malorie Yeaman. U wreck career and life of genius Dr.160IQ & ethical professor, praised by
several thousand of ECU students, with your pile of paperwork LIES. Destroy life bc schools don't
hire old professors unless buddy system. Thrown to the street after lifetime of good work, tenure
earned, the last ten years of work and pay before PLANNED retirement stolen. U help a criminal
amoral Dean (who pumped those LIES into the brain of an emotionally-damaged student). Dean
say to Dr160IQ he going to get your office to fuck Dr160IQ up THREE MONTHS before you
issue paperwork. TWO months before you say issue came to your desk. Because he spent those
months pumping lies into gullible student. When he say that three months before u started up,
Dr160IQ go to your boss and asked what was going on, why was dean saying this, she says no
nothing going on, no investigation, don't know why Dean say this. Dean was seeking revenge
because year before he tried to force DR.160IQ to abandon tenure and due process stopped him. He wants to fuck up old professors so he can find new young professors. Once banged on table in
front of department chairs said ""Fuck tenure, I am going to fire some people.""
Student only came to class four times first month of class. Many students noticed odd behavior of
emotionally-damaged student while she was in class, asking strange questions and endlessly rambling
on in front of class. But you don't care about any of that. You gonna be a big dick lawyer and dig
into this shit deep, prove you a big ball buster. Going to interview bunches of students from class.
Ask them loaded questions that will destroy reputation of Dr160IQ on grapevine … even after they
gonna tell you what gullible student said is all bullshit and she was behaving crazy. Same Dean
destroyed EIGHTEEN tenured faculty -- of age -- good people that he don't like wanna go
shopping for new young faculty. U supposed to PROTECT faculty from discrimination on age. And
you were told what he was doing, but you don't do nothing. You don't give a shit. You know they
are LIES but you do dirty work for dirty admin because it helps your own career. Then u bolt to
VCU to get away from all your dirty work at ECU. U nothing but a self-serving arrogant lying
numbskull with for-shit average regional JD degree and no moral compass whatsoever. Someday
God will see you choke on your own dumb-ass pronouns. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Dr. Johnathan Nelson. You run national advertisements say u need instructor of management.
Then you ignore all the highly qualified faculty from across the country. Dr160IQ apply, he would
vastly benefit ur students. Just slap the rest of the industry's faculty across the face, yeah that will
attract interest of good faculty in the future when word get around. U would be damn lucky any of
them would even come to your lil nowhere hillbilly crack-town hellhole. Instead instructor JOB IS
MADE for your main street real estate agent BUDDY with decades-old MBA from guess-where
your own school, your own faculty, and almost no classroom experience and no PhD either. Why
you advertise nationally waste time of talented faculty if you just gonna hire a local shit-kicker. Huh?
BUDDY SYSTEM, NO MERIT, BUDDY, BUDDY, BUDDY. No wonder quality of instruction
in the toilet half the faculty. U hire BUDDY, NOT MERIT. Good person, talented person, good
for students, good for school, cannot get hired unless he play BUDDY SUCK-COCK to get job. U
just a corrupt lil pile of dumb-ass amoral backwoods fifth-tier hillbillies. Next time try something
refreshing, hiring on merit. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Kelly McNamara, PhD. At UGA as PhD student you whore yourself out to tip-top MIS
professors Alan Dennis and Hugh Watson and u think that makes u big success phd student, big
lead on Dennis research project, makes u 24 years old nobody cunt the boss of me 160IQ TopMBA
15 years of management experience phd student also on research project. U fuck ur sugardaddy
Dennis and do no work, while me & Nolan Taylor, we do ALL the fuckin' grunt work. We had to
carry a fuckin' 250 pound concrete file cabinet up to second floor to store camera & materials, wtf.
Where were u? Suckin Dennis cock that's where. Then u break into my office to snoop if my work
on the project suit U? And u slap ME lip? U gonna 'report me' to Dennis. What did you here me say
about that, eh? I call you the whore you are, every filthy word u deserved. I give mouth right back 2
u 20x u worthless cunt. Run lie to Dennis u cunt, I take a beating from him, top professor, but I
don't ever won't ever take an ounce of shit from U! Then u run to ur sugardaddy Dennis professor
get me thrown off research paper. All my grunt work, pull my back lifting concrete file cabinet. For
what, nothing, my labor all stolen by u u SCOLD. Well fuck u so what I got 20 year steady faculty
job and EARNED tenure -- meanwhile how did trying to build a career off whoring out for you?
Run off VaTech after ur first year there. Know why? Because after ur UGA whoring you leave UGA
so they take ur pussy for ur funding and degree then you graduate and leave, they done with u. But
when u show up for job at VaTech and start ur whoring-for-research game, trying to get tenure to stay VaTech forever but do nothing, they say right away fuck off, whoring don't get u tenure at
VaTech. Pack up be gone by Year 1 come May u slut. They already know about ur UGA whoring
from grapevine they just take you off UGA back to help UGA get rid of u then VaTech kick u to
curb, u belong to the streets. Then another former UGA PhD student takes pity on u find u a job at
UCF. Again U starting trying to whore for exchange to get name gifted on research. And guess
what? U get run off UCF. And yet more run off from other universities after that. Then with no
place left to go, u do national conference 2-day shackup with sugardaddy Dennis. U the gossip of
everyone at conference, hell even I heard about it and I am not MIS, making u known across
academic America as the biggest PhD whore in all of MIS. Then sugardaddy Dennis make you a
teaching-only job but he get sick of ur shit wanting ur name on HIS research and demanding he fix
up permanent tenure-track job for you. So he tired of ur side-piece drama. He can get side-piece
anywhere any slut younger than u. So he dump u and no more job at Indiana. Then u run off from
Mississippi State after that. Now u too old to keep whoring and u got only this a teaching only job at
Chattanooga. And when they get wise, fed up, ur do-nothing cunt-craft they gonna dump ur ass too.
Get ready for workin' at Starbucks, bitch. Old, ugly, alone, cats & box wine for u u conniving bitch.
What u deserve. All the emotional financial suffering I went through to finish that PhD program me
with my 160IQ – and u just fucked and blowjobed ur way thru entire PhD earning degree, u fuckin'
cunt. If u wanted 2 make lotsa money whoring u shoulda just got a job at a brothel. Where u
belonged. Kapeesh?",1,Grievance Airring,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Frederick D. Niswander. Good professors at top schools teach from their mind, lecture, lecture
notes. Only dumbasses instruct by reading off textbook pages and slides. But you write letter to
Dr.160IQ, rated best professor ever by students for twenty years, you tell him read from textbook or
you fuck-up his 5-star teaching scores and his pay raises. National academic lawyer say letter is illegal
as shit, violates academic freedom. So that makes u a dumbass for even writing & signing it.
DR160IQ, all his undergraduate professors all his graduate professors THEY don't read from
textbook. Hell all Dr160IQ master's professors give out to students a big binder filled with their
own lecture notes their own examples and their own practice problems. DR160IQ masters'
ACCOUNTING professor bring THREE binders to class, one lecture notes, one problems, one
solution, textbook never used once all semester. Textbooks are just for supplement explanation or
source for homework problems. OR THEY ARE FOR PROFESSORS SO STUPID THEY DO
NOT GRIP THE INTELLECTUAL CONTENT OF THEIR OWN SUBJECT MATTER, are
not prepared or capable for class, so they have to use textbook and provided PowerPoint slides to
present their subject matter. DR160IQ teach same course same way 20+ times at doctoral
institution. Doctoral professors very pleased with this classroom management and performance.
They smart and they pleased, but you mad, so you know what that means? It means you stupid. U
little dick u only want that because you want to boss stupid professors u criminal bully
shit-for-brains. Behind your back all cob faculty hated you. U pompous arrogant self-centered
asshole & bully. No respect for faculty or tenure, order shit down like a little Hitler. You wanna put
a buncha 'innovative' shit on your vita so you can look for biggie big-dick job up-ladder. Most of
your ideas like student punchcard of career shit tasks to somehow be monitored & enforced by
professors, no other school in America do any of that shit, it all got dropped after you get your
fuckin' promotion. Finally EC U university force you out of ur big-time position. AND no other
university ever want you for provost or president or any other big-dick position. Ur arrogance find
out, you fat fuck goatee nobody. All of it proves you really justa fuck-up. So look back on what was
ur life & career? What was your positive impact on humanity? Absolutely nothing. Really u nobody.
Made everything you touch worse. Forgotten by students, despised by your peers, kicked to the curb like you should be, a life without contribution or improvement. Enjoy your retirement and your
fuckin' ham radio. Kapeesh?",1,Grievance Airring,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Ben Cannon. Maybe u people can clean-up corrupt faculty dumbfuckery at Eastern Oregon
University. Advertise job for professor to teach business subject. Way below average pay in the
middle of nowhere. But lucky for them experienced professor eye with 160IQ applies has taught the
course almost 200 times stellar evaluations already tenured at large university top-tier MBA top-50
PhD already with more research than their entire faculty has ever done. Never hear back so call after
four months so Dr160IQ reach out and find out that HE IS ONLY PERSON TO APPLY FOR
THE JOB. And they have decided to repost the job a second time, they want to have more choices.
What the fuck? Dr160IQ not good enough? So Dr160IQ apply SECOND time. Second round, now
Dr160IQ get a pretend interview on phone, led by sort-of-chair LAURA THE SOW-HOG who
has faculty read questions out of HR manual. Then 160IQ gets no questions, times-up, goodbye.
This is bull-shit, not the way a good school interviews. This is SOW-HOG trying to find legal cover
for rejecting highly qualified applicant. Why? Well LAURA THE SOW-HOG is telling Dr160IQ to
fuck off because she don't wanna hire talent, merit, she wants to hire somebody small, somebody
even more unaccomplished than she THE SOW-HOG is. So she can stay the big boss
unchallenged. Even better if somebody who is less unaccomplished and also BUDDY. Conference
buddy, research buddy, schoolmate buddy, alumni buddy, former student buddy. BUDDY,
BUDDY, BUDDY. Somebody who looks like them, someone who is more of a nobody like them,
somebody who is little. Not somebody with HIGH qualifications, but somebody LESS qualified so
SOW-HOG and colleagues can stay overlords until their retirement. Fuck merit, all bout buddy, all
bout cycle of less, less, less. Yeah that is sure eternal cycle of downhill shitpath to making things
worse for school and it students. At phony interview goodbye SOW-HOG say we reach out to you
in 7-10 days. More unprofessional bullshit, Dr160IQ was ghosted for three months. Dr160IQ reach
out again, to LAURA THE SOW-HOG, to Dean, to Dean's assistant, to HR, everybody, good
afternoon status update please. Not a fucking word from anyone for six weeks. Silence is because
everyone hiding because they illegally reject highly qualified applicant, ONLY APPLICANT, for no
good reason other than taking care of their own mediocrity. Then a rejection message from
No-Reply HR, says they found someone else. WHEN IN FACT THAT IS ALSO BULLSHIT the
job had just been advertised a THIRD TIME! Let Dr160IQ tell you fuckin' something, a school that
has to advertise three times over span of three years to find someone well that means the SCHOOL
IS THE FUCK-UP, the shortcoming, too fucked up to know how to properly search select and hire.
And how SOW-HOG get away with all that because university top leadership is weak. And it shows.
U got EOU TWO university presidents, neither of which hold a PhD. But both ALUMNI
BUDDIES of EOU, surprise, surprise, more ingrown nepotistic dumbfuckery. Dr160IQ ain't never
seen co-university presidents anywhere anytime in his career. When responsibility is divided
NOBODY is responsible. See this nowhere else bc nobody else does fucked-up stupid shit like that.
Except at ur goin' down-the-toilet institution riding the buddy-up pony deep down into the sewie
hole, I guess. Not Greater Idaho, but Lesser Oregon. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Alapaki Nahale-a. To Alapaki Nahale-a Regent, University of Hawaii System. U HAWAII HILO
UTTERLY CORRUPT DUMBFUCKERY UP ALL THE WAY DOWN THE LINE. Why U
Provosts let Hawaii System school get this way? UHH run national advert, need CoB professor.
Dr.160IQ apply, teach that subject successfully 150 times in career, with already research, wants to
help raise up, serve, ur indigenous students into better life. But Dr.160IQ don't suit corrupt CoB
tyrant Shit4Brains TODD INOUYE he don't want any of that, only wants somebody whose balls
he can twist or pussy he can lick. In fact nobody suit Shit4Brains TODD INOUYE so he hire 
nobody and re-run job next year. Dr.160IQ applies again, ignored again. Nobody hired again.
Dr.160IQ email business school AND HR department for update. Emails ignored. But TODD
INOUYE reply, say well they still thinking about it. Meanwhile job advertisement run again FOR
THIRD YEAR. But for doing such a good job, Shit4Brains TODD INOUYE gets promotions
and titles from Provost, INOUYE go from Assistant Professor to Associate Professor to
Department Chair to Dean CoB, all in the very same two years. He must licky Provost real good.
Well at least TODD INOUYE did use his power to create part-time online teaching job for HIS
SIDE-PUSSY-PIECE from last school he worked at back East. No advertisement for the job of
Dean by the way, so no chance CoB will find a REAL Dean who could REALLY run a CoB. UHH
Provost just pick and choose and hand out title of Dean to her SUCKUP TOOD INOUYE. No
advertisement, totally illegal. But whadda expect from UHH Provost since UHH Chancellor
browbeat and fear-mongered UHH Provost Hiring Committee into hiring as Provost HER OWN
UNQUALIFIED LICKY-LICKY-PUSSY-FUCK-BUDDY KRIS RONEY from the last little
school SHE worked at in California. So entire academic nation sees university UHH is a
dysfunctional corrupt fuck-happy shitshow. So UHH get word-of-mouth blackball and all u get
down the road is more stupid & corrupt faculty. u let these selfserving incompetent scumbags steal
the future from those deserving indigenous students. FUCK THEM THEIVES AND FUCK U
REGENTS TOO IF YOU DON'T CLEAN HILO HOUSE FOR THE GOOD OF THE
PEOPLE. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Neal Smatresk. Ur school justa big bureaucracy fuckup even students say so all over online. U run
national advert you need business lecturer. Then you just hire ur own adjunct who been teaching
same class for like ten years. It's no problem that u wanna give good proven adjunct a promotion to
FT teach same class. But why u give hire process to ur stupid no-PhD lecturer STEVE JOINER
and then he advertise national instead just run in major local newspaper? Why ur stupid no-PhD
lecturer STEVE JOINER waste good national faculty time with phony-shit search and fake-ass
zoom interviews and generic advert job description that mislead good faculty everywhere about what
experience u actually want huh? Why don't ur stupid no-PhD lecturer STEVE JOINER write job
description specific & true, say must have lotsa experience teaching that adjuncts specific class and
using that software, huh? Then only few qualified faculty apply that fit the bill. Why not, because ur
fuckup ur stupid no-PhD lecturer STEVE JOINER don't know how to conduct a proper search.
Shit4Brains STEVE JOINER say get back 2 all candidates in week, then fuckin crickets. U think
that make ur school look professional or look likea packa screwups, huh? Why ur HR dept don't
even send out automated 'search closed hire made' email to everyone else? Bc ur buddy-hire fuckups
in HR too stupid to ever close the search. I call and search committee say they sent rejection email.
Lying lazy fucks, no email. They say they 'found someone with lots of industry experience'
Bullshitter don't think I figure out this was inside job. They never ask me about my industry
experience, just irrelevant crap Interview-101 questions they get out of HR intro textbook
somewhere. They dont ask, they lie into my face the whole time interview bc know they gonna hire
their own adjunct. This kinda dysfunctional shit proves ur school is corrupt bureaucratic fuckup to
entire academic faculty nation & so that shit get you word-of-mouth grapevine blackball. So down
the road not any good faculty will work for dysfunctional corrupt u. Fuck good faculty everywhere
in the industry waste their time? And fuck me and my wasted time researching this job too? Well just
suck on this big bag of fuck u 2 waste YOUR goddamn time for a change. UNLV RIGHT TO
RUN UR BIG-TALK DO-NOTHING ASS OUTA VEGAS. Why don't u just get off ur
politician's throne and retire u incompetent Marxist geezer. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Scott Shook. U Trustee or u a spineless shit? If U Trustee then eye trust you will take care of this.
PROFESSOR DARTH VADER ZEMANEK: Flies to Thailand on breaks HAVING SEX
WITH CHILDREN & everyone knows it. A felony in the US even when committed abroad! Uses
office computer to watch illegal kiddy porn. Also once charged with FELONY WIFE-BEATING,
the BRIDE HE PURCHASED IN THAILAND, then pled down to misdemeanor because
felony=moral turpitude and he might get fired for it. Has MASSIVELY DISRUPTED OR
BLOCKED ALMOST EVERY TENURE / PROMOTION DECISION he has been
involved in for the last 20 years pulling all sorts of illegal and unethical shit -- unless he owns &
operates the candidate as part of his never-ending empire-building campaign. Five years of signed
positive tenure progress letters -- then the week before the vote Zemanek starts pullin' his shit and
everybody runs scared. Dozens of excellent faculty he blocked, run off, caused to move to other
schools. Often appears on campus while using various types of altering drugs he buys in Thailand,
one that turns his skin fuckin' orange. Don't believe it? Ask ex-Dean Ernie Uhr, Zemanek was a
destructive pain-in-the-ass even back when Uhr was the Dean 20 years ago. Don't believe it? Check
with Rich Gooner down at UGA, ask him what DIRTY shit Zemanek pulled to steal HIS tenure bid
and run him out of town on a rail. Or ask Dr. Bev Wright what Zemanek do destroy her valid tenure
bid, had to skip no notice run to Georgia to find other jobs. All this criminal behavior, all these
victims, all this damage to the University, yet Zemanek endlessly heads all the hiring, tenure and
promotion committees -- and has the cozy office with the corner windows. IS ALL THAT
STEAMING ZEMANEK SHIT OK WITH YOU FOR ECU?
THEN THERE IS SHIT4BRAINS XDEAN EAKINS: Illegally persecuted 18 tenured faculty
members of age and forced them to leave so he could go shopping for new faculty, maybe get more
research. Stole millions of future salary from them, kicked them to the street like dogs after lifetime
of dutiful service, hired years ago under mostly-teaching paradigm, no left with no career, no
paychecks, no future. The result is CoB is now nationally blackballed by faculty word-of-mouth bc
no PhD takes a job where the work done for tenure is worthless. So guess what hard-to-find good
faculty for a damn long time thanks to ur Klan-goober idiot Eakins. PROFESSOR PSYCHO
DELLANA. Has spent nearly 20 years in CoB administrative positions while all the time dosing
anti-psychotic meds to suppress his Asperger's schizophrenia or whatever mental illness it is he has
that caused him to endlessly torture the entire faculty with his compulsive rigid Excel-worksheet
micro-analysis of his every decision. (One of his kids is an introvert psycho also.) Zero people skills.
Believes his every conclusion is perfectly optimized, and is above that of other mere mortals, when
they lack all basis of common sense. Also lays-up like a $2 whore with every Zemanek scheme. Even
now kicked-back-down Dellana will continue to constantly politically torque trying to make a
comeback as the CoB Dean of Perfect Decisions that he believes himself to be. Another fuck-up
that ECU don't need. U TRUSTEES OF THIS SCHOOL OR NOT? WANT A BETTER
BUSINESS SCHOOL? THEN WHY DON'T U GROW SOME BALLS AND TAKE OUT
THE TRASH. Kapeesh?",1,Specific Threats,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Leslie K. Wilson. When you still justa faculty you stop new temporary faculty 160 IQ top degrees
top student evals at your school, stop him in hall and demand he take off his necktie because u
gonna be the boss babe bitch-queen and u gonna make sure all male faculty department know to
kneel down to you. Neckties gotta go bc your ego-pinhead-brain sees neckties as sign of 'male
patriarchy.' Then when he don't do it you make sure he gotta leave not stay not permanent. You
bully other male faculty too I know. I HEAR. I overhear u bully tenured Sashi Kaparthi in late
Spring, he has one month to turn in annual performance and you drift into his office and say ""I say
you need one more research paper for this year's performance … and be sure to put my name on it."" Where was he supposed to pull that paper in a month, outa his ass? And u bully-up a free ride? How
bout u do your damn work cunt. You're a real piece of shit you are. You put in for assistant dean job
then you buy it with a million dollar donation from your family. Then you mark time until Dean step
down and you slide up. All your faculty talked behind your back whatta tyrant dead-weight
terrorizing cunt u are while I was there. And look at you now, u the only one still there from when
you first became assistant dean, everyone else gone, retired. But not you, you still squattin' on your
do-nothing throne, ur face all shriveled-up like a hag put up wet, u freeloading hanger-on. You just
an arrogant do-nothing ego-blown SCOLD SHREW. I hope someday FBI look into what you did
to cripple your husband who was once successful manager at John Deere so you could make him
your houseboy gopher prisoner. What was your positive impact on humanity? Nothing, you just
spend ur life to serve yourself, zero moral compass, accomplish nothing. When you retire and you
are forgotten, how will your empty life, no purpose but to shit on everyone, how will you feel then
Granny Weatherall? You justa do-nothing arrogant man-hating cunt who thinks she is entitled to
rule a roost. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Richard T. Watson. Thirty years ago I now DrIQ160 never forget dirty screw-down job get from
you in your whatta-shit-show SQL class. The SQL code in your textbook did not run, had coding
errors. That because you force graduate students to write your textbooks for u, to write your
research papers for u, all doctoral student complain u thief tyrant behind ur back -- and u even too
lazy to check their work. So bad SQL code in textbook. Then when 160IQ ethical and hard-working
doctoral student comes to your office to tell you so you can fix it you get pissy and insulted, nothing
wrong with 'your' work, tell me 2 get out. In class 160IQ contributes insightful statements about
how to real-world organize SQL code based on past real-work experience writing queries, students
impressed, even more than with what u say. Like Rodney Dangerfield in 'Back To School' one-ups
the business professor. So u do damn dirty to get even. U another day send 160IQ out of room on
silly errand then put answer on board to huge difficult SQL problem that will be on midterm -- the
answer U will consider correct (like there is no other) -- tell them to memorize answer for midterm.
Then on midterm, 160IQ who does not already have the answer, you grade him down hard,
LOWEST IN CLASS. Even tho IQ160 is only student in room with any amount of actual computer
coding and query experience. Stupid MBA student who sit next to 160IQ who once had to ask
IQ160 for help how to copy a computer file from hard drive to 3.5"": floppy -- and cannot explain
their own midterm answer -- gets grade thirty points higher. THEN you post grades illegal so that
students can see who made what, to try to make 160IQ look stupid to everyone. But not every
student a dirty outback dingo scumbag like you, some rat you out to 160IQ. 160IQ confront u
outside class about illegal grade reveal and u just say 'whoops, sorry.' You justa POS arrogant
fuck-wad who career was about pile up self-serve titles & honors off backs of the grad students u
victimize. Then in 2017 you say 'choose your own grade students' only so that you don't have to
listen to their shit-complaining that ur teaching sucks and your grading is corrupt. You got put down
quick on that one by higher-ups now didn't you mr big-fuck Regents Rex Fuqua shit. And you
became joke professor in news media all over the world. Well now you fuckin' old & useless piece
of shit and all the faculty wanted was to push you out. And u gone, finally at 74 years old, you geezer
milker hanger-on. Now who are u alone in your house, who comes around now to see you swing
your big-dick & lick ur asshole? No-fuckin'-body. Zero positive impact on humanity. Big fat nobody
who spent entire life collecting ego-filling titles, beating students down. What lousy life choices u
make, ur goal to fill ego with worthless honors & shit to say you big-shit. A life devoid or any real
contribution or improvement. When u die it will be just like the jilting of granny weatherall.
Unwanted and all but forgotten. But IQ160 did not forget u, not for 30 years, u arrogant odorous
pile of Aussie dingo-shit. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Judy A. Siguaw. U think ur shit don't stink, but really u very stupid and incompetent. Most of ur
career u justa huge evil fuckup. You haven't hit a big paper since before this century began. U
tenured PITA in Ithaca so they bait u away as Dean 2 to the project that faculty actually wants to
fail, don’t wanna fuck with, a branch in Singapore. And indeed u fuckd that up, so u can't found a
college much less run one. But now u can't go back to Ithaca, they rid of u like they wanted. AFTER
CORNELL NO SCHOOL IN AMERICA WANTS YOU, WHAT DOES THAT TELL YOU,
YOU PSYCHO BITCH CUNT. Then U get lucky ECU fucks up and hires u. So U run away to
ECU right b4 Singapore implodes, to be Dean of College of Ecology. U fuck that up too. U get ur
rocks off on illegally micromanaging faculty with your stupidity wrong ideas. So entire college faculty
vote to disband entire college of ecology -- just to get away from your fuckup sociopath psycho ass.
Talk of the entire campus. You think any faculty who hasn't been to Ivy school or been Dean like u
is worthless gutter trash. Cuz you have psychopathic superiority complex mental problem. Entire
university faculty talk about you being big problem, u stupid, but u get off destroying faculty. U evil
bitch. How is THAT any good for a university u stupid cunt? Then u chair department in College of
Business. U kick-in with criminal Dean to persecute and force out EIGHTEEN tenured faculty
members of age - including me 160IQ with best teaching evals in town - using phony paperwork,
lying students, harassment, stole millions of future salary from them, kicked them to the street like
dogs after lifetimes of service doing exactly what the institution wanted until u and criminal Dean
wanted something else, they all left with no career, no future. Plus now CoB is nationally blackballed
by faculty word-of-mouth bc no good PhD takes a job where the work for tenure is worthless. So
guess what the other good younger faculty bailed and no more good faculty come to CoB for a
damn long time. Thanks to ur stupid ego-psycho ass a THIRD College imploded. Then u get Dean's
little doggy biscuit for that, somekinda associate dean job. And u fuck THAT up and so you
demoted back to faculty. So what does ur 20-year history as administrator prove? That you could
even fuckup running a coffee maker. U stupid, amoral, incompetent, got straight-up psycho
sociopath problem. And now, back to just professor, u can't even figure out how to get good
teaching evals out of Intro Marketing class and u piggyback on papers to get ur research clicks. So
what has been your positive impact on humanity but a lifetime string of destructive failures? Best
thing for everyone, just go emeritus, get some therapy and psycho meds for ur sociopathy then go
sit in a rockin chair down at the beach until ur skin rot away in the salt air. U scold. U shrew. U cunt.
Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Scott A. Dellana. Here's the big FUCK U that u earned over the 17 years u constantly victimized
and targeted me and abused me, u evil psycho-medicated weasel. U just damn fuckin lucky I had the
decency to leave town instead of coming to your house to settle up our business. Ur schizo illness
that caused you to psycho-obsess judging me and fucking me over startin' the semester I arrived and
you never let up for 17 fuckin years. U just a sick and evil little Asperger's fuck. Constantly say my
research papers no good … while half the building pubishes toilet paper and U OK with that. U run
to Eakins and stir him up against me creating the huge shit-show due process hearing. The biggest
professors on campus there told you you fuckin' wrong and stupid and u still argued with them, your
psycho-mind says I analyzed it I am always right. Every fuckin year you ignored my 5-star teaching
evals, shot some shitspew and dicked my eval down 4 or often a 3 just to fuck me over and to steal
my raise money from the pool and give it to ur scumbag criminal-buddies like
THAI-PEDO-FUCKER FELONY WIFE-BEATER ZEMANEK and idiot Kros who spend ten
years trying to publish textbook riddled with errors on every page that 110% FAILED in the
marketplace. Years when state NC say no raises you give me no raises but you use slush fund money
embezzled from other sources under the table to funnel raises to ur fuckin' Klan-goober crew like Kros & Zemanek. You even dick me up make me pay for my own business cards u fuckin' thief.
Then research. You try to dick-up every piece of research I publish. I even publish in same journal
as others, even same journal as once-Provost but u and ur evil crew say journal no good even when
others publish in same journal for full credit. Same forked-tongue two-way-standard dog shit u
dump on Dr. Keller until his lawyer fuck u all up for it. U think ur research make you research god,
1 shitty article in B journal u get using ur connections, the rest all generic C pulp like everyone else.
Shove those few feathers up your ass and u think ur a research peacock. When any faculty get REAL
top-tier A journal publish they bug out to another school ASAP to get away from u idiot fuckups.
Then top all that you start pissing on me, on over a dozen other tenured actually doin' their damn
jobs, with endless lies and fear, force them to abandon the tenure they spend a lifetime earnin'
Kicked to the street, never another school/job, no paychecks for years they were due. What to make
school look perfectly-organized in UR own mind, to please criminal dean so u can shoot for a
promotion. U piece of dog shit. So now look, 25 years in, who are you? Well u dept boss first time
and u fuckup so Niswander dump ur ass. U dept boss second time and you have nervous
breakdown when you get caught in all your psycho corrupt bullshit and best faculty at university tell
u u just fuckin' crazy and wrong and u think THEY don't understand ur right. So ur crew makes U
associate dean loyalty, place to hide from faculty and lick ur mental wounds. Then as soon as ur
crew lose power ur ass dumped again. Even now u think you planning how u become dean someday
but ur time is over. Everyone in building knows u are crazy weasel who cannot be trusted. Soon
enough YOU will get screw-down to steal ur tenure just like screw-down u did to all 18 of us. U
fuck. A lifetime, what ur benefit to humanity, to organization, what build the minds of next
generation? Not a fuckin' thing, just all about u trying to weasel ur psycho-medicated ass up through
bureaucracy shittin on everyone else you think is not Asperger's-perfect like u. U a fuckin disgrace to
the decency of the human race. Go emeritus and disappear and double-up on your psycho meds.
Kapeesh?",1,Specific Threats,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"James E. Zemanek. U are nothing but an evil Thai-child-fucker wife-beater piece of shit constantly
aiming to destroy any decent person who is not in your political back pocket. Many faculty called u
out in conversations as straight-up EVIL over the years I hear it many times. The ECU CoB is not a
tenth of what it could have been had you never been hired there. U dropped your corrupt stink into
the minds of an entire generation of students. You MASSIVELY DISRUPTED OR BLOCKED
ALMOST EVERY TENURE/PROMOTION DECISION you have been involved in for the last
30 years pulling all sorts of dirty illegal and unethical shit -- unless you own & operate the candidate
as part of your never-ending empire-building campaign. Faculty who will be down and dirty like u. U
the MASTERMIND SATAN WHO STIRRED UP IDIOT EAKINS to violate the tenure of over a
dozen faculty members who were GOOD people, doing their job, out on the street, robbed of
millions of dollars of paychecks until proper retirement, no other job, futures ruined. Just so u and
your Klan-goober krewe can expand your empire of evil. What part of you qualifies you to be ethical
judge and jury? The fact that you fly to Thailand to FUCK CHILDREN or the fact that you
FELONY BEAT THE THAI WIFE you purchased there or that you are constantly on-campus
under the influence of drugs that turn your face orange? Or maybe it was that summer session u
were paid to teach but you put the students on auto-pilot and left town for the entire summer to
chase child-pussy in Thailand and Eastern Europe? Sooner or later there's gonna be a new power
block and they gonna ax ur ass and run YOU out of school jut like you did to so many decent
people over the decades. So get ready for the streets u EVIL prick. Kapeesh?",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Stanley G. Eakins. U STOLE THE LAST 10 YEARS OF MY CAREER, THE PHD I
SPENT 7 YEARS IN SLAVERY AND ABUSE AND VICTIMIZATION TO GET, U
STOLE MAYBE $2 MILLION OF MY PAYCHECKS AND 401K CONTRIBUTIONS –
AND U THOUGHT YOU WOULD GET A PASS? YOU ARROGANT NUMBSKULL
FUCK. Did u? U did bc u are a fuckin' moron. U are a criminal idiot KLAN-GOOBER fuck. And
what is worse is you stole a decade of my joy in life, my purpose in life, to teach and help those
students become better businesspeople and better citizens. And you stole that experience and
benefit from all of them too. Bc you are too fuckin' stupid and corrupt to even understand what I
was doing and what they were gaining. U justa ego-blown stupid prick. You have ur suck-up gophers
forge records and u hunt up vulnerable students and pump them full of straight-up lies to tell so u
can steal all that not just from me but from EIGHTEEN tenured faculty members of age. All of
them fucked out of the last years of their careers well-earned by serving the institution for a lifetime.
Then u ego-blown shit say 'what have you done for me lately' and stab them all and twist the knife
like you some kind of righteous fuckin' Brutus. U do not see Deans at other schools do this to
tenured faculty of age because they are smart enough to know if they do that shit then their school
is blackballed. They are not moron power-crazed self-centered Klan goober idiot like u. U were
not going to lose accreditation. NOBODY ever loses aacsb accreditation, not one school ever in
history, you fuckin' idiot. And why did you commit to deliver amount & type of research for accredit
renewal not realistically possible? Bc you a fuckin' idiot with an over-blown ego, ""look at me
Eakins-man I make school fly high close to the Sun."" Dean Uhr never promised what could not and
should not be delivered. He not stupid fuck like you. And why ur handpick to replace you Schwager
dean leave so quick? BC he was just suckin' ur assjuice for 10 years to become a dean so he can leave
ASAP and be dean somewhere else. Never wanted to be at ECU CoB, not for a heartbeat. Because
ECU CoB leadership after Uhr evil and fucked-up. He wanna go to some OTHER CoB not
fucked-up like this one. U see the next day after ur political cover VP Niswander vacated his office
after being fired -- oh yeah he resigned, right -- the Provost comes round to fire ur ass as Dean -- oh
yeah YOU resigned right? U fired bc of all your evil and incompetent and stupid shit. U an arrogant
Shit4Brains. And you a do-nothing fuck too. U never write ur own paper. First three u coattail on
your dissertation professor next three u coattail on ur pal best man from your wedding. Then no
more papers forever all the decades after. Because u a dumbshit. Oh but wait u 'write textbooks.' U
never do ur own textbook u pay students 2 do it. And u must be fuckin' proud to co-authored a
textbook with Frederic S. Mishkin who was paid by banks to write a paper spewing the straight-up
lie that Iceland's economy was rock-solid -- right before Iceland's economy imploded in the 2008
financial meltdown. And u don't even teach ur own classes, because you hate dealing with honest
students who won't get into dirty shit with you, so u make other professor do it. U justa arrogant-ass
STUPID do-nothing that owned way too many fuckin' boats and cars. Your shadow hasn't seen the
inside of a church in decades. BC your corrupt-ass would surely burst into flames if you ever walked
in one. I know you won't mind that some of your other unionized administrators & deans AACSB
club frat brothers pay the price for your own stupidity, discrimination, theft and crimes.
WELCOME TO THE NEW WORLD YOU SHIT: WHEN STUPID & EVIL PEOPLE
FUCK OVER & TYRANT OVER THE GOOD, THE GOOD WILL FUCK THEM
BACK!!!! Kapeesh?",1,Grievance Airring,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Stan Eakins. Ha Ha! Fuck you yet again, you corrupt idiot Klan-goober LIZARD-BRAINED thief
!!!!",1,Vague Discontent,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Chad Eakins. Your daddy Stanley is an idiot arrogant criminal tyrant. He used phony papers and
lying administrators and students to force 18 senior faculty members, 60+ years old, to abandon their tenure, to abandon their financial plan for the last years of their professional career before
retirement, perhaps $2 million dollars each of them it cost them, just so he could go shopping for
new young faculty. Throw them out on the street, steal their golden years as professor, after they
gave the University a lifetime of service, long before your slimy daddy ever became the Dean.
Almost no university anywhere screws with the tenure of faculty if they have it, because what faculty
worth-having would work where the Dean dicks-up the tenured faculty like that, so your dumbass
daddy he put a damn good grapevine blackball on his own business school when he did it the
dumb motherfucker. In North Carolina tenure is legally considered PROPERTY. So your criminal
daddy stole $36 million. And your daddy is lazy, he does no real work. He does not teach his
own classes, he uses fear & a wee pinch of money to make another faculty member teach his
classes for him. He does not write his own textbook, he pays graduate students a pittance to write
and maintain them for him. So again a liar and a thieving criminal. And he has never written an
academic paper either. He has his name only on six papers, a puny embarrassing amount for a
faculty member of so many years at a national-level university. Three of them were 'co-written' by
the professor who steered and supervised his doctoral dissertation. In other words, your Daddy was
told exactly what to do, exactly what to write by his boss, and for being a good little boy he got to
put his name on the paper also. Then the other three were entirely written by his buddy-bud who
was the best man at his wedding. That guy just added your daddy's name to his own papers as a
personal favor. And all that was decades ago. Your daddy is a arrogant do-nothing, know-nothing
ego-blown idiot blowhard. He only gets by on fear, force, leeching and thievery. That is why the
Provost fired him as Dean and made him go back to being regular faculty. And most of the faculty
still hate his fuckin' guts and wish that he would just go away. You must be so fucking proud.
Kapeesh?",1,Grievance Airring,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Paul H. Schwager. Well there you are, just another unethical two-faced scumbag that politicked his
totally worthless ass into an ego-filling Dean's job. When you applied to CoC, did you tell them that
your career started with you getting run out of Appalachian State at Year 3 because the faculty there
pegged you out-of-the-gate as a self-serving two-faced unethical scumbag? I bet not. When you
applied to CoC did you tell them that way back in 2009 ECU Dean Niswander created for you the
new position of Assistant Dean of ""Assessment & Accreditation"" the moment you got tenure …
because you agreed to FORGE FIVE YEARS WORTH OF AACSB DOCUMENTATION
that Niswander neglected to record while he was power-tripping as the new Dean? I bet not. And I
bet you haven't told that to any of your clubby back-scratching pack of AACSB Deans either. When
you applied, did you tell them that back in 2017, 2018 & 2019 you turned a blind eye while then
ECU Dean Eakins was illegally forging documents and have administrators lie so he could
VIOLATE THE TENURE OF EIGHTEEN SENIOR FACULTY MEMBERS AND KICK
THEM ALL TO THE CURB? I am sure you didn't. Because there isn't faculty at any decent
business school in America that would have someone as a Dean that was OK with mass violations
of tenure. When you applied did you tell them you were just suckin' Eakins' assjuice, that you were
hiswater-fetching errand boy for whatever dirty work he wanted done, so that you could become the
ECU CoB Dean … so u could use it as a springboard to go be a Dean elsewhere, leave the history
of all your amoral dirty work behind, start with a clean slate somewhere else, with the
uncompromised power of the Deanship in your back-ass pocket?? I bet not. Don't doubt it, just
cause you moved to Charleston, the stink of all that shit will never wash off you; word gets around
in this business. Meanwhile you front all that scummy behavior … and your constant snarky & myshit-don't-stink attitude … while constantly virtue-signaling that you are a serious Christian, a man
of God. Whatta a two-faced piece of WEASEL shit you really are. What a damn shame that all those
high-IQ students at CoC are going to have their college and career-prep years formed & guided by someone as unintelligent and unethical as you. But the faculty there are smarter than ECU CoB
faculty, smart enough to make your game. The CoC university faculty didn't have any trouble
pushing George Benson out of his office. Alan Shao is a fuckin' smart dude, for one, he'll make your
game easy. And so will a lot of others on faculty there; they will have no trouble smelling
'WEASEL.' And so you gonna be backed-down to regular faculty again sooner than you think. You
don't know it now but when you are on your deathbed and the lights are about to go out you will
suddenly realize how empty your entire life really was being about nothing but your own selfadvancement and living with a total lack of ethics two-faced as a 'man of God.' And you'll be damn
miserable. You'll be a damn incarnation of Granny Weatherall. And you damn well deserve it.
Kapeesh?",1,Grievance Airring,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"As you can see from these few examples above, 99+% of higher education, once a most noble of
endeavors, has morphed into an absolute corrupt scam, a massive sewer where average people with
zero moral compass, amoral grifters, can pose themselves as expert professors and valuable
administrators … and do little while collecting a lifetime shitload of salary and fat benefits with
almost no chance of ever being fired. Liberal or conservative institution, public or private institution,
they are no different, they are just two different teams, two different sides, playing the same
self-serving dishonest unethical sport & rules. A game just as self-serving and corrupt as, these days,
that can now be so plainly & publically seen in most other dysfunctional governmental bureaucracies
or thieving greedy corporations.
Faculty, staff, administrators, all care nothing about students or education, despite all their 'cover'
claiming so loudly that they do. The ultimate attitude in universities about students is typically is
""they paid their fees so they get their Bs."" Almost 90% of all undergraduate students get either an A
or a B in their classes … even though C is supposed to be the 'average' grade. So Mommy and
Daddy and student can all peacock & strut that they got above-average grades … and look-up to the
institution their entire lifetimes. So as to let it run wild unquestioned, maybe even donate it more
money. But universities and colleges DO care about ATTRACTING ever more students so they can
be milked for ever more tuition and for a supposed societal purpose … a purpose that can be used
as excuse to eternally expand their self-serving cozy infrastructure, support and salaries. Why would
a department chair/supervisor at a top 50 institution deserve a base pay of nearly $400,000/year?
For what? For building a class schedule each semester and drafting a set of annual faculty
performance reviews … mostly for faculty who are already guaranteed lifetime jobs by tenure? And
that work coming with a reduced teaching load?
And research? Almost all research, in all but the hard sciences at the top 100 or so institutions, is
entirely worthless. If it actually contained any useful knowledge someone, anyone (besides other
professors) would (try to) read it and use it. But no one does. The real purpose of research is to act
as nothing more than a complex maze/game run using highly obscured rules by which faculty
constantly strive to obtain the (supposed) highest quality and quantity of research -- no matter by
what scummy methods they use to obtain it -- in order to establish their place in the
pecking-order/hierarchy in the universe of other faculty in their field.
Most faculty really are not that smart. In reality, most of them are merely average or slight
above-average in intelligence. Higher education is NOT an abundance of intelligence, it is an 
abundance of EGOs, a bunch of average people all fighting each other, trying to bully themselves
over each other or trying to find a way to skirt themselves through the system to lifetime job
security. They sound smart to students because they have each memorized and mastered one or two
textbooks & topics from which they talk & teach for an entire lifetime. Often by reading off
PowerPoint slides somebody else created for them to read off of (since they usually don't know
enough to be able to make the slides themselves). Any average person could do that. Accordingly a
large percentage of faculty are mediocre instructors of material because they do not deeply
comprehend it. Students often mistake this mediocrity for their own inability to comprehend the
material. And faculty like it that way as it gives cover to their mediocrity … and enhances their
ability to bully and control students.
Faculty are often so mediocre because they are NOT hired on merit -- such as the ability to teach
and/or actually create new useful knowledge. Rather, they are hired on 'the buddy system:' who you
know, who you blow, not what you know. Hired on whether they will be a joy or a pain to work
with for an entire lifetime just down the hallway from the rest of us. Hired on whether they were fun
company at the cocktail parties at the academic conventions always held in lavish locations. Hired on
whether they share the exact same perspective on the discipline or not … a faculty of professors
who believe the world is flat will never hire a professor who believe the world is round, even though
he is right and they are all stupid. Hired on whether they will 'go along,' 'turn a blind eye,' or actually
sign-on-to, whatever corrupt and self-serving political bullshit scams are being run by the faculty
group that is 'in power' … with the goal of expanding their power.
Universities & colleges have become the ultimate grift. Advertising what they offer as a four-year,
five-star vacation resort for undergraduates … instead of advertising what ought to be a demanding
intellectual experience that improves students and society. Boasting a tax-free status … while raking
in tons of tuition borrowed by naïve students who will never be able to pay it back, donations from
brainwashed alumni as well as (in the case of private elite institutions) from well-intentioned but
gullible people of wealth and (in the case of public institutions) a shit-load of taxpayer money. All of
it used to endlessly and expand the cushy and grossly-overpaid power-bases and facilities of their
mediocre faculties, staffs and administrators.
Really it was just a ton of damn luck … and some help from some of the few decent people that
were still left in academia … that I got as far as I did in my career being focused on optimizing
outcomes for students. While still refusing to instead prioritize and pander to the deeply-ingrained
corrupt buddy system, the endless ass-licking of dysfunctional administrator whim, and to sign-on to
self-serving corrupt amoral empire-building faculty power-crews.
Stop aspiring for your children to go to college, as if it were an accomplishment, a path to success,
for it no longer is. Professors and staff will lie their asses off, promising their degrees will make your
dreams and money come true, but it's all self-serving bullshit to increase student enrollment in their
degree programs so their cushy jobs are secure, to maybe even hire some more of their buddies or to
justify getting a brand-ass-new building with even nicer offices & facilities.
Instead aspire for them to seek out more true pathways to success in life.
* * * * * * * * 
* * * * * * * *
Oh, yeah, and there was one envelope for a Regional Claims Supervisor for GEICO Auto Insurance
in Tucson, Arizona. Almost all the auto insurance companies are straight-up criminals, but GEICO
is the worst of all of them. Don't ever buy a GEICO auto insurance policy. They will write anybody
and give them the lowest rates. But when it comes time to file a claim … GEICO DOESN'T PAY
CLAIMS! Google it, endless complaints by claimants being fucked over, never being paid.
If GEICO is being claimed for a total-loss vehicle, first the GEICO in-house adjuster will describe
the totaled vehicle as 'average' or 'below-average' in condition – no matter what the actual condition
of the vehicle actually is. In my case, the vehicle was in nearly excellent condition but the criminal
adjuster wrote it as average. He wrote the dashboard was cracked and faded … when actually I had
just installed a brand new dashboard at the dealership under goodwill warranty.
But it gets MUCH worse. GEICO, and most of the other auto insurance companies, use an 'outside
company' called CCC Information Services to intentionally undervalue every totaled vehicle to screw
the claimants out of monay. CCC's business is to take care of their auto insurance customers. So
instead of creating an honest valuation, it scrapes sales databases from as far as 500 miles away from
the claimant to find some really shitty vehicles being sold at crap prices. Then uses those crap prices
to pull down the average price, producing a low valuation … and a offer to the claimant that is
about 20%-25% lower than the true market value of the totaled vehicle.
These scumbag insurance companies have been doing this for years, stealing billions of dollars that
should have been paid out to legit claimants. The auto insurance companies have faced class action
lawsuits for pulling this shit … but their high-paid mouthpieces keep beating it in court. For now.
And ya know what's even worse than THAT? The State Commissioners of Insurance in ALL of the
50 states in America -- who are paid by OUR tax dollars to protect us from this shit and have the
power to stop that shit -- they all know all about the CCC auto insurance scam. And NOT one of
them has done anything about it … or even said anything about it. So you KNOW those State
Commissioners are being bought-off by the auto insurance companies to look the other
way.
If you have a GEICO policy, dump it and get another company, because GEICO won't pay your
claim. And if you are in an accident WITH a GEICO policy holder, get one of those 'injury' lawyer
the same day and say your neck hurts because that is the only way you are going to get the fair total
payment out of GEICO.
Whatta massive screw job GEICO is. So, yeah, those fucks got an envelope too.
Mr. Sidy Dieng. GEICO DOESN'T PAY CLAIMS!!!! I JUST PARKED MY WRECKED CAR
BY A MAJOR INTERSECTION AND PUT A SIGN ON IT THAT SAYS JUST THAT !!! SO
YOU WILL LOSE THOUSANDS OF CUSTOMERS !!!! FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR
CRIMINAL ASSOCIATE PARTNER IN CRIME CCC INFORMATION SERVICES!!! YOU &
CCC KNOWINGLY UNDERVALUE EVERY TOTAL LOSS YOU HAVE TO PAY !!! SO
EVERY YEAR YOU SCREW TENS OF THOUSANDS OF AMERICANS OUT OF TENS OF
MILLIONS OF DOLLARS THAT YOU RIGHTOUSLY OWE THEM !!! YOU ARE BEATING 
THE CLASS ACTION LAWSUITS FOR THIS CCC SCAM SHIT FOR NOW BUT THE
INSURANCE COMMISSIONERS IN THE LIBERAL STATES ARE GOING TO FUCK YOU
OUT OF YOUR RATE INCREASES AND CONVICT YOU OF THIS SHIT !!! ROT IN HELL
YOU DOG-SHIT CRIMINAL !!!",1,Grievance Airring,Content of the Envelopes,7/15/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Polito_ContentOfEnvelopes.pdf,Anthony Polito
"Tuesday September 17, 2013, enter project saguntum, a 10 year subconscious project for
me to exact revenge, not on the individuals who perpetrated wrong, but instead by those I
believe have done me wrong. I will shoot up my school, Arapahoe high school before the
year is over. I hope to choose a date with the following criterion. Finals week — everyone is at
school, and it will be winter during finals week, I hope I can find a day it is actually snowing,
or just incredibly cold. I am a psychopath with a superiority complex.
I intend on going as follows: I walk through the asshole in the north side of the trophy hall,
waltz in shooting everyone in my way to the (shouldn’t be too many, it’s not far, I go to
the , to kill . From there, there are classrooms in the where I will do something I have wanted to do for a while-mass murder and be in a place of power where I and
I alone are judge, jury and executioner.",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,9/17/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Sunday, September 22, 2013, I am filled with hate, I love it. The serotonin supplements I am
taking don’t do jack shit, I am still ready to start a riot, I feel like a bomb, ready to let the world
feel and experience my hatred for all things of pleasure. Nothing makes me happy. When
I do commit my atrocities, I want the conversation to be about elementary school teasing.
Words hurt, can mold a sociopath, and will lead someone a decade later to kill.",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,9/22/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Monday, September 30, 2013, I feel like a bomb. My head has happy, anger and confusion
hormones. I feel like an aneurism could happen at any second. Besides constantly being
pissed off, I doubt the medication is working. I need a real doctor, one who doesn’t give
medication that has the disclaimer not approved by the FDA. The serotonin is a joke, it makes
my bowels upset, doesn’t effusively make me happy, and I hate taking them. It is important
to note I rarely take my meds for this reason.",1,Grievance Airring,Karl Pierson's Journal,9/30/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Tuesday, October 1, 2013, Saguntum is the project to shoot up (and maybe bomb) Arapahoe
High School. No date has been set, but I would like it before new years. Finals week would
do nicely, but a date with snow should be sooner. I also imagine the idea of what I hope
will happen. I take to school, drop her off, ditch the whole day until (I’ve
thought about it and I like the most). I would also love to burn ,
so much destruction.",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,10/1/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Thursday, October 3, 2013, Since day 1, my job has been to conspire to shoot up the school.
Every semester, I had a class I despised, and it was on the list. Now, I have means to achieve
this diabolical end, and I am excited. The date is set for mid-November, I need time to build
my arsenal",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,10/3/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Friday, October 11, 2013, I had a shrink appointment at 4, which was a massive waste of time.
She doesn’t know about saguntum, nobody does.",1,Vague Discontent,Karl Pierson's Journal,10/11/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Monday, October 15, 2013, I had an interesting idea today. In first hour, I thought about
shooting up the asylum or whatever the fuck it was that my mother took me for that psych
evaluation. Let the records show I lied through my teeth through the test.",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,10/15/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Saturday, October 26, 2013, the 13th of December is a great date, as the 347th (47 is a great
number) date of the year, there are 18 (my age) days left. It is a day of gore, filled with murder, suicide.",1,Vague Discontent,Karl Pierson's Journal,10/26/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Wednesday, November 6, 2013, I am estatic right now. That December 13 date I chose is perfect, it is 38 days after the fifth of November. I love that date, that number, everything about it.",1,Vague Discontent,Karl Pierson's Journal,11/6/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Sunday, November 24, 2013, It’s weird going through life knowing that in 19 days, I’m going to be dead. That makes school more boring, work torture and everything I love to do, a
little less fun. The hardest part is not being able to tell anyone. I can’t just say fuck it, I’m
going to shoot up my school soon. I need to make sure that kind of stuff doesn’t show up",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,Novemebr 24 2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Friday, November 26, 2013, I can’t believe in a fortnight I’ll be dead. I went to the library
to see if they had NBK. They didn’t, but had highly recommended Perks of being a
wallflower. I HATED it. Personally, I saw me, freshman year. No, I had never been sexually
abused, but I had no friends at Arapahoe, and I was trying to fit in.",1,Grievance Airring,Karl Pierson's Journal,11/26/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Sunday, December 8, 2013, it was productive weekend. I bought my Stevens 320. It was not
the initial gun I was expecting, but I think it will work better. I like the pistol grip. It was quite
the process to buy, it was waiting, and waiting, but I loved it. Mom does not know about it.",1,Vague Discontent,Karl Pierson's Journal,12/8/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Thursday, December 12, 2013, I went to Cabela’s and I bought a sling, ammo belts, and of
course, ammo. It included 5 sabot slugs! I think I’ll need more. Luckily, I’ll take off tomorrow.",1,Vague Discontent,Karl Pierson's Journal,12/12/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Friday, December 13, 2013, today is going to be fun. I dropped off at school today, and
went to Walmart, bought some ammo. I then dressed my weapons, loaded my belts, got my
backpack ready. I then went to Brunswick, bowled, got some mountain dew (I bought it for
the glass bottles). I’m going to make some Molotov cocktails-shaken, not stirred. Update 45
minutes I built my Molotov cocktails, and I think they look great. I only had oil for three, but I think 3 will be more than enough. I am dressed to kill, long underwear, then cargo
pants, under armor shirt, CCCP shirt. I have my machete on my belt, but I may re-attach
that in the car.",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,12/13/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"The plan:
5th hours starts at 1214. I would want to strike 15 minutes into the hours, everyone is settled in.
1230: Initial strike on . Enter the trophy hallway, waltz into . Shoot up , toss
a Molotov cocktail, reload.
1235: Assault
1240: Assault
1245: Assault
1250: Assault on",1,Specific Threats,Karl Pierson's Journal,12/13/2013,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/pierson_journal_1.0.pdf,Karl Pierson
"Psychopath
Chapter 1.
The beginning
This is a story about a young man named Demian, and it is a story of horror and insanity.
This story starts in his troubled childhood. As a kid he was beaten and neglected while he
was young by his dad. His older brother abused him and his younger brother. His younger
brother had died when he was young. Finally his mother thought she was a good mother,
but that was her delusion.
One day Demian and his little brother were walking home from school. (This was when
Demian was seven and his brother James was five.) That day Demian tried a new way home
that was supposed to be shorter. On the first street to cross he held his brother’s hand and
walked in front of him while he skipped in behind. While they were crossing the road a van
that was black with white flames coming off the front of it swerved into the intersection. It
ignored the red light so the driver was obviously drunk. It was too fast for the brothers to
see or do anything about it. In a matter of seconds the van was right on them. Demian was
the lucky one since he was in front while his brother wasn’t so lucky. The van hit the little
brother so hard that it caused Demian to spin and dislocate his shoulder.
Demian was groggy but awake and he couldn’t feel his right arm. He noticed that something
was holding onto his right hand. For a second he thought it was his brother but it turned
out that it was just his brother’s hand. He tried to pull it off but it had a dead man’s grip so
he just left it ware it was. He looked around for the rest of his brother only to find a trail of
blood that lead to the van that crashed into the corner store. He tried to go into the store but
the adults tried to stop him. Eventual he wedged past them to go into the store where he
came face to face with the driver. The driver didn’t make it through the crash because his
chin was now on his back. He then found out that when his brother was hit by the van he
was pinned and dragged under the van.
About a week after the accident his mother and father got into a big fight. One day after
he watched his father pack his bags. Once his father saw him he walked over to him and
said, “I know that when I am gone you will forget me” Then he pulled out a knife, “so let’s
fix that.” Once he was done talking he held the defenseless child and put the knife over his
right eyebrow. He then started to cut downwards and around his eye, down his cheek, and
curved under his chin.
In school he couldn’t make any friends at all no matter how much he tried. It soon seamed
that everyone that looked at him became determined to make his life hell. Even the kids
that where bullied picked on him. This went through high school, and the bullying did not
slow down but it had increased. He had stopped trying to make friends long ago because he found out that they could use that against him.
Bullies found out if they became his “friends” they would earn his trust and secrets and use
that to destroy him. Due to all of this he stopped trying to make friends, and started to sink
into himself. He started to go into the garage late at night to work out and get fit. He worked
on his grades and got all A’s even though that it caused more ridicule and jokes.
One day in High school he found out about a great thinker in the Industrial revolution called
Hobbs. Hobbs believed that all humans where evil, greedy, murderous beings. Demian saw
this and looked back into his past and found it easy to take Hobbs work to heart. Demian
studied Hobbs’ work and present events and found that everything was true.
Over the next three years he planed what to do about everything, and memorized all the
names and faces of all that mocked him. On his high school graduation the bullies decided
to pull the biggest prank of all on him. This was because they thought that this was the last
time that they would see him. So they decided to fill a bucket full of goat’s blood and dump
it on his head when he was on the stage.
* * *
Billy had a normal life; normal grades, friends, nice family. Everything about him was normal
until he met a kid named Demian. Something about him made Billy hate him and make
fun of him. This happened through all the time he met him, and one day at graduation one
of his friends came up to him and told him their plan.
They asked if wanted to do it and he had agreed to it. They practiced it and made a marker
on the stage. An hour later the graduation started and everyone took positions and got ready.
Billy held on the rope like his life depended on it until Demian got on the stage. Billy’s heart
was beating so fast that he thought it was going to explode. His palms started to get sweaty,
his breath was ragged, and he was getting excited.
Once Demian got on the marker Billy tugged on the rope. It wasn’t as hard as he could or
as gentle as he was able to. Right then everything slowed down and everyone but Demian
saw the bucket. The bucket in mid air flipped upside down and dumping all the blood on
his head, and finally the bucket landed on his head.
* * *
Demian didn’t even flinch when the blood and bucket landed on him. All at once the crowed
started to laugh at him even the teachers and parents were laughing. But then he did something that no one could have ever predicted. He started to smile and not the smile that you
get out of a joke, but the smile of a mad man or movie villain. He then started to chuckle
that slowly changed into a full insane laughter. This slowly caused people to stop laughing
one by one until he was the last one laughing. He through his head back and continued to
laugh for a good long time. This made people to start to fidget in their seats uncomfortably
and even some got scared.
Once he was done laughing he then walked back to his seat and didn’t even bother to wipe
off the blood. Some people flinched when he got near them and he had fun with that by fake
jumping at them. When he sat down people scooted away from him, and for the rest of the
time everyone was nervous and steered clear of Demian.
Once it was all over Demian had to walk home since he didn’t have a car and no one at home
would pick him up. About half way there a cop pulled up in front of him thinking his was in a murder or was a murderer. Demian had to take a while to clear it up after the gun wasn’t
being pointed at him, or being shoved into the back of the cop’s car. The cop started to laugh
and said, “Wow kid your life must suck. Here let me give you a ride.” Demian had no words
come to mind for this must be the first person to show him kindness outside of the family,
and for the ride home he couldn’t say anything. The car pulled up to his house and all the
family came out to see what it was about.
When they saw Demian get out of the car and thank the cop for the ride the ridicule started.
He just walked by them ignored the questions and jokes. He took a long shower and got
ready for bed. For the rest of the night he wondered why the cop had shown him kindness
when no one other would.",1,Grievance Airring,A Short Story by Bryan Oliver,6/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/oliver_short_story_1.0.pdf,Bryan Oliver
"Chapter 2. Life after school
About a week after school Demian and his older brother joined the army, and somehow they
were put in the same company. The eight weeks that they had to do before being shipped
off flew by for Demian, but for his brother it was hell. By the time he was out of boot camp
he was a major, and his brother was a private.
Once that was over they were shipped off to Iraq. Demian had signed up for two years of
combat while his brother was for longer. For the first whole year he was on patrol and that
was when he got his first kill. It was on a hot sunny day and he was on patrol when he looked
at one of the civilian’s robes. It looked like a bulge of a gun, so he ran over to him and yelled
at him to get down and put his hands behind his back. The civilian was confused and turned
to the side, which made him look like he was pulling out a gun. Demian saw this and his
training took over so he put up his gun and shot him in the heart. The guy was dead before
he hit the ground. His team checked the body and found that he was carrying a toy gun.
One thing in that surprised him was the he didn’t care that he just took someone’s life for
no reason. On his way back to base he wondered why he didn’t feel any guilt or any other
emotion. When he was back at base his brother meet him and said, “Welcome back killer I
heard you killed a civilian today.” Demain just ignored him and when to sleep on his bed.
Through the rest of his enlistment he was on guard duty on the base, and saw no more action. About two weeks until his enlistment was up his brother had died from a land mine
that he found. Demian’s brother Jim was walking along the road when he heard a click and
exploded into a cloud of blood and guts. Again Demian felt no pain or despair even though
his brother exploded. He wondered if he should see someone about it and decided not to.
Once he got out he got his G.I bill and went to law school. While he was there he did not
mess around. He studied day in and day out in the law books. There was not one test that
he did not get an A in. After the four years he spent there he tried to join congress. They
didn’t let him in because he was too young and had a bad past so therapists advised against
it. That crushed him because he had just wasted nine years of his life on the plan that he
came up with in high school. Demian had a complete mental break down and tried to kill a
security guard with a plastic fork from the cafeteria. For that he was put in prison for about
three years and was sent home early on parole. After that he got a stable job as a manager to
a cheesecake factory. One day Demian was walking home when he saw someone familiar
sitting in an ally next to a bar. Demian had to kneel down and get close to his face to see who
it was. He couldn’t believe who it was that was before him. It was Billy. After high school Billy didn’t go to college and got a job as a dishwasher at Chilies. After a
few years he became the manager and got a wife. With the wife he had two kids with a third on the way. Lately he had been growing apart from his wife kids and dog. He started to go
to the bar night after night and before he knew it he spent all his money on gambling and
boos. His wife kicked him out until he stopped, but that made things worse. He now sells
himself for money and is now a waste of skin. One day he was drunk out of his mind when
someone stopped in front of him. He mumbled, “Twenty an hour or a hundred all night.”
The guy kneeled down and said, “Cute and tempting but I am not here for that my dear
Billy.” Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife and tried to stab him, but since
he was drunk he was slow and sluggish. The guy caught his arm and twisted till he let go.
Then the guy punched Billy in the face knocking him out.
Demian had to carry him to an abandoned warehouse that meets his needs. After his friend
was all set he went to go get prepared for the rest of the night. Once he was done with that
he sat in a chair and waited till his friend on the other side room woke up. Once Billy did
he looked around and started to scream. Demian then whispered to himself, “show time.”
After a long time he stopped screaming and that is where Demian made his entrance saying,
“Thank god you stopped. I started to think that you where a mindless screaming banshee.”
Billy looked around for the source of the voice as best as he could out of the box on his head
but couldn’t find it. A second later a man stepped out of the shadow. He was a little taller
than normal people, jet black hair, a scar going down his right cheek, his eyes where soulless
and dead, and finally he had a smile that made Billy feel like he wasn’t going to live through
the night or leave his plain of existence quickly.
Demian finally said, “If you haven’t noticed your head is in a box with two tubes going out
of it. Now what the tubes are connected to be two water jugs that are filled with a certain
thick red liquid. Now for the finale at the other side of the room is a certain rope you might
be acquainted with. If you can’t remember it’s the rope you used on graduation, I’ve saved
it for this occasion.”
Demian’s smile somehow grew bigger when he said, “Now when I pull on this rope the
liquid will start pouring and your only chance is to drink the liquid. Then maybe you might
get closer to your family.” Demian added with a wicked laugh.
“What the **** does that mean. Let me go you sick ****. ” Billy started to scream. Demian
walked over to him with a frown and punched him in the throat.
“Now can we continue the conversation without your mindless screaming, or do you want
me to pull on the rope earlier.” Billy shook his head no. “Ok then no more yelling, and as for
the question. By what I meant by you being closer to your family is that I went to your house
killed the whole family. I then drained their blood into the water jugs above.”
Billy’s eyes shot open wide when the words had sunk in and during that Demian walked
towards the rope. Billy started to tug at his restraints while yelling, “I thought you said you
wouldn’t pull the rope yet.”
“I lied all I wanted was you to stop your mindless screaming.” With that he tugged on the
rope and the blood started to fill the box up. Billy started to scream but stopped when he saw
Demian flexing his fist. Billy kept struggled at his restraints as the blood got to his lower lip.
Billy started to cry as the blood touched the red part of his lips and then he puckered up
and started to drink. Demian was hysterical and laughed while saying, “Ho my god I didn’t
actually think you would drink the blood. This is great. How does it taste no wait let me
try.” With that he ran over to Billy and dipped one of his fingers into the blood and tasted it. Demian put his finger on his lip and said with a chuckle, “The sweetness comes from the
baby and the tang comes from the dog.” Billy still cried on when the blood came up to the
brim of his nose. He then started to choke and cough on the blood because Demian gave
him a big pat on the back.
Billy stopped drinking the blood and started to try to keep breathing as the blood kept going
up. He leaned his head back to keep the blood away from his nose but the blood was catching up. Soon the only thing of his head that was above the blood was his nose. Billy never
stopped struggling on his restraints but when the blood covered his nose his body started
to thrash around violently.
Bubbles started to rise and pop making the blood look like boiling lava. The chair was creaking
from the struggling and the leg straps broke. This when on for a few minutes then the body
started to calm down and stop moving when the bubbles stopped Billy was dead. Demian
stopped laughing and looked upset while he said, “I thought that would last longer. I’ll see
you later. Right now I have a blind date to go to.”",1,Specific Threats,A Short Story by Bryan Oliver,6/2/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/oliver_short_story_1.0.pdf,Bryan Oliver
"Chapter 3 the romance
Demian looked for blood on him and found none. He then walked to a corner of the room
and picked up a can of gas and dumped it all over the room. He lit a match and while flicking it he said, “Good bye dear Billy Thames.” Once he made sure the building would burn
down he walked to his car and drove off.
He then went home and put on a white button up t-shirt and black polo pants. On his way
to the date he stopped at a Walgreens and picked up a thing of white tulips. He parked his
car at the Cheese Cake Factory, which was conveniently ware his date was.
All of his coworkers where surprised that he was on a date because they all thought he was
emotionless, coldhearted, and not human. So when he walked in saying that he had a date
waiting for him they had nothing to say.
Rachel was a normal girl with nothing special except she will emit that she is a history nerd.
She has a job in a cubical. She has never had any luck with guys so she is online dating. She
had met an interesting person on an online dating website called Demian. She was humming to herself while reading a book over the industrial revolution when a man with a thing
of white tulips approached her asking if she was Rachel.
She closed her book and stopped humming. When she looked up she saw a man that was
taller than normal, with some muscles, black hair, green eyes, and a long scar going down
his face. With a shiver going down her spine she said, “Who’s asking?”
Demian found out ware his date was seated he walked to her and about half way there he
shook his head and continued to walk toward her. Once he got to her table he cleared his
throat and asked, “Are you Rachel?”
She turned her head after she closed her book and said, “Who’s asking?” As she eyed him
up and down Demian thought of an answer.
“My name is Demian. I am here for the online date. If I am not what you expected then I
hope you for the best and bid you adieu.” He said back to her without breaking eye contact.
“Not at all. Please seat down, and tell me about yourself.” The beginning of the date was
awkward, but then it smoothed out. The both of them agreed to have the next date at a movie theater.
The next year was eventful by him proposing, getting married, having a kid, and making
his new hobby successful. He had come up with so many ways of revenge that was ironic
with what they did to him.
His three top favorites so far are carving the words used to hurt him into their flesh till they
die. The second one is for a kid that made the rope in gym slippery so he had to hold on a
greased up chain holding him above a spike. The third is for the one that shot spit balls at
him, so he was tied up while Demian shot him with a nail gun in non-vital places till dead.
One day Demian got a letter saying that a high school reunion in two weeks. He gave a shout
of joy and pain at the same time because he pricked his finger on a thumbtack. It took him
one week to finish his room of punishment, hunt down his next victims, and drag them back.
David was sitting on his couch with his wife watching the Olympics when a knock on the
door startled them. His wife got up to answer the door. David heard the door open then a
few seconds later he a thud on the floor. “Honey is everything alright?” David said as he got
up from the couch.
David walked to the front door and saw that it was wide open. He then walked more slowly
to the door saying, “Honey are you out there?” He quickly looked out the door and then shut
the door slowly. He slowly walked backwards away from the door. Then all of the sudden the
closet door next to the front door burst open and slam into him.
David was shoved into a wall, which had stunned him. He tried to put up his arms to defend
himself, but was too slow. He then felt a sharp pain in his neck and then fell asleep. Once
he woke up he was in a dark room, strapped to a chair that was at a slant, a bandana gaging
his mouth, a huge tarp on the floor, and his wife was in the same place but on the other
side of the room.
A few minutes later after looking around the room his wife woke up. Then a voice that
seemed to come off the walls said, “Well. Well. Well. You both are awake that’s good.” David
and his wife were looking around the room to find the source of the voice, but couldn’t find it.
The tarp on the floor started to sink into the floor. As the tarp sank it revealed a hole in the
floor that was big enough for a pool. In the middle of the hole a man stood on a small latter.
It took David a few moments to realize that below the man was a rainbow of colors with
sharp metal spikes coming out of them. After his eyes adjusted to the sight he saw that they
were thousands of thumbtacks gorilla glued to the floor and walls of the hole.
Once Demian was out of the hole he said, “Hello David long time no see. When was our last
meeting? Oh. Now I remember it was seventh period math with you putting a thumbtack in
my seat daily with your girlfriend.” He ended his sentence looking at David’s wife.
Demian walked over to David and took off his gag and said, “Speck your mind my friend,
but beware of what you say. For it may bring your life to a closer end.”
David said in a low whisper, “Why are you doing this to us. We never did anything to hurt
anyone.”
“Oh but you did and I even told you when. It is like I never said anything at all. Now listen
closely; high school, seventh period, and Mrs. Dickenson’s class, back row. Do you remember now David?”
“Da…. De…. Demian!” David yelled out with a look of horror.
“Now he gets it. Ding ding ding we have a winner. You may pass go you may collect 200
f***ing dollars!” Demian said with a twisted smile. “Now that the pleasantries are out of
the way. Lets get to business. There is if you haven’t noticed a giant hole in the floor filled
with huge thumbtacks. I will shove one of you into the hole but it is up to you.” He finished
pointing his fingers like a gun at David.
While imitating that he had a microphone “Will he be selfish and save himself or selfless
pick himself. Also the slight possibility that he can’t pick and I will pick for him. Lets find
out folks.”
David could not believe what was happening to him. He glared down to his knees and feet
then to his glowing wife. She was crying now and he knew why. She was newly five weeks
pregnant.
After a minute of this Demian started to sing the jeopardy song, and tapping his foot impatiently. “Come on already its not hard pick her or yourself!”
It seemed like forever but after a few moments in what sounded like a whisper he said, “I
chose myself.”
“Oh my. I did not see that coming, and guess what. You passed the test I will just remove
these straps and let you both go.” Demian said.
“R-r-really?” David asked with question in his voice.
“Not really.” As he had said it he cut the restraints making him fall into the pit of spikes.
There were screams coming out of the pit, as David was being cut and stabbed by the many
points causing him to thrash about. His thrashing caused him to cut and shred his flesh.
He was stuck in a loop of thrashing and getting cut.
He looked into the pit for a while then changed his view to the woman that was sobbing. He
started to walk towards her and she realized it and started to freak out. She was struggling
against the restraints that were holding her up, but her struggling was breaking them. Right
as he got in front of her the restraints snapped and she fell.
As she was falling he caught her arm at the last second. But because of the angle she fell at
she swung and slammed into the spike-covered wall. Her whole body hit the wall and so did
his arm making him let go and howl in pain. Once he let go she came off the wall and fell
the rest of the way to her beloved and they were together in the endless cycle of pain. Once
Demian got back up he yell sorry down to the two, but it fell on deaf ears.
He decided to end it so he pulled on a rope that was hanging in the room, and a box full
of thumbtacks opened above the pit and filled it a quarter of the way. The screams where
muffled now as he poured gasoline in the pit and though in a lit match.
The pit exploded with fire singing off some of his hair and eyebrows. Demian fell back wards
so he wouldn’t catch on fire. Once he got back up he looked at the pit. The flames were dancing around and the screams had intensified for a few seconds then faded away. He walked
out of the room before he passed out from the fumes. “Now how am I supposed to explain
this to the wife? Maybe I was attacked by a porcupine on fire.” Demian said as he looked in a mirror and at his arm that hit the wall.",1,Vague Discontent,A Short Story by Bryan Oliver,6/3/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/oliver_short_story_1.0.pdf,Bryan Oliver
"Ch. 4 The reunion
Demian made a big show of how he was going to the reunion and be gone for the weekend.
He then got into the car and drove away. He had been preparing to go for over a week now,
he even has a blueprint of the school downloaded on his laptop. Once he arrived to town he
was a few hours early so he decided to go look around at the small dirty town.
He found out that his mom was still living in the same house and that his little brother was
now one of the police. Demian then checked into a hotel and waited for the reunion; while
he waited he cleaned his equipment and went over his plans. Finally at the hour of the event
he checked out and got into his car. He took his time to drive there to be sure he would be
the last to come. Once he got there he counted the cars and saw that everyone had made it,
“Well maybe not everyone” He thought to himself.
Demian walked in and got his name tag, while looking over the list to see if he was right.
He then went in and got a drink. Demian saw that some people got good jobs and life while
others where just redneck hicks. Some even brought babies to the party, no matter the plan
was still happening.
About an hour later he got up from his dark corner and walked to the front desk. The person
posted there was asleep so he got up behind her and stabbed her in the back of the neck
with a long knife. While he did that he wrapped her head in plastic wrap, so no blood would
go any ware. After he killed her he picked up the keys and locked all the doors in the gym.
Demian then got on top of the stage, which was set up in the front of the gym, and tested
the microphone. This made everyone look at him. He then said, “Ladies and gentlemen I
am going to be tonight’s entertainment.” With that he put his briefcase on a stool next to
him and opened it. Out came five knifes.
Once he pulled them out he said, “Please do not try this at home.” And on that note he started
to juggle them. There were a few gasps from the audience and a few boos. After that he did
some more tricks, one involved the knifes on fire. His last trick was that he had nine double
sided knifes and was tossing them about and catching them. In the end he juggled them
and one by one caught them between his fingers and was down to one knife and no hands
to catch it with, and as the knife came down he opened his mouth, and everyone gasped. As
the knife came down some people looked away and some looked more intently. At the last
second he caught it with his teeth.
The audience was clapping as he took out the knife from his mouth. He then looked at the
crowd and asked for a volunteer and found one person that wasn’t looking at the stage. “Knife
I chose you.” He said as he threw it into the base of the skull and top of the neck. The knife
killed him, and that threw the crowd into frenzy. “Sorry my kid loves to watch Pokémon.",1,Specific Threats,A Short Story by Bryan Oliver,6/4/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/oliver_short_story_1.0.pdf,Bryan Oliver
"Since your reading this now, you know I’m gone and some terrible things will be said about me. Some true, some not. This is not a suicide note or a diary. This is my idea about the way things are and why they are.

I want to apologize to all of you. I know the way things will end will hurt many and I'm terribly sorry. Once I knew the way things were going to end up, I thought I better try to explain the way things were in my mind.

I would like to request three final things:

I prefer that this letter be read only by Gary, JoAnn, Rebecca, and Judy.
I wish to be cremated. I don't want my ashes kept in someone's house. No church service, no memorial service, and no burial. If you wish you may dispose of my ashes in the trash. I would like to have them dumped in the mountains though, maybe up at Jefferson Lake, that is such a pretty spot.

My third request will come later. Please look for the numbers (3).

It's so hard for me to write this, to put my feelings down on paper. I think I know why that is and I'll get into that in a bit.

I know that awful, awful things will be said about me, and I hope this doesn't cause any pain or hurt to any of you. I'm so sorry about this because I love all of you so much I will try to see or talk to each of you before things come to an end.

I'm sure all of you have noticed over the years that I had problems. On my 21st birthday, I remember thinking about suicide seriously for the very first time. Through my teenage years, I remember thinking, if I could just get my life straightened out by the time I was 21, I might have a normal life. That was not to be.

Sometime in my mid to late twenties, I began to lose touch with reality. I would forget things that I had done or wonder if some of my other memories had actually happened.

Things got bad in the early 1990s, while I was living in Sacramento. There were times my mind would go completely blank. I wouldn't know where I was or what I was doing. Sometimes this would only last one minute, sometimes ten minutes. This was when thoughts and urges began entering my mind. These were easier to control at first but now seem to control my life, going in and out of my mind at will. I have no idea what life is about, I have no idea why I'm alive, I have no idea what's real and what's not real.
I've lately begun to wonder why ""he"", your father, chose me to be the one. Do any of you know? Did he ever tell anyone or did I do something wrong as a baby? Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful that none of you had to go through what I did. Since we're on this subject... This is difficult!!!

Some people will say that I may have had a terrible childhood. Well, they couldn't be more wrong! Actually, I had no childhood at all. It was stolen from me. Taken before it began. Replaced by constant fear and occasional terror. Why would any parent mentally and physically abuse a child? You may not know it, but I believe the mental was the worst. Not knowing where ""he"" was or when he would be coming after me. That was the worst. Constant fear of not knowing. School was nice. I was---
safe at school for part of the day. I could almost relax. For six or seven hours, I was out of ""his"" reach. I'm not sure I can put into words the way it was when ""he"" was around.

Fear was constant growing up. I got away from the dinner table as fast as I could. I would take a few bites, say I was full, and leave. Fear overrode hunger because I could not stand to be in the same room as him.

Often we (kids) would all watch TV in the evening. If he came in and sat down, I would wait a few minutes, go to the bathroom, turn the water on or something, then go to my bedroom.

Wherever we lived, whichever house we had, I always had a certain spot to go to, to get away. It would be in one of the corners, some place where I couldn't be seen if he were---
walking down the hall. I spent a lot of time sitting and standing in the corners of my bedrooms.

The worst, the nightmare more terrible than all others, was when the two of us were home alone. When that would happen, when he came home as everyone else left, I... I would quickly go find my unseen corner and stay there until someone else got home.

I was always afraid to close the bedroom door, as he would know I was in there. I know all of you love him so I won't go into any details of what happened if I... if I remained quiet, no noise, no music, not a sound I was usually safe. But not always. Once in a while he would call me. As soon as I heard my name, fear would turn into panicked sheer terror! Sometimes it was nothing, he would just want to know where I was, but the terror---

I was still there. Maybe a third to half the time that he called my, he would come right for me as soon as he saw me. Terror was then replaced by something. I don't think I can put into words. When I would see ""him"" coming after me I froze, unable to move. I would shake from head to toe, my stomach in knots, and my heart pounding, preparing for his temper to be unleashed on me. I would often wet myself.

This was my childhood/life. Except for fishing with Gary a few times in North Carolina, I have no pleasant memories of growing up. None. He didn't take those from me, he didn't allow me to have any.

I want everyone to know the true facts about what happened at the Harley dealer and why. I'm not sure what will happen, but if I have my way it may just hit the fan.

On Dec. 24, 2002, I bought the new bike, a 2003 HD Wide Glide. I also purchased a set of aftermarket performance exhaust system, a better carburetor, and several other accessories to be installed before I took delivery. When I picked up the bike, no carbs had been installed and a defective set of pipes were on the bike. I called and called, and all I got was a major run-around. About Feb or March I started calling them and yelled, screamed, and cussed. That was my mistake. I should not have done that, but it may have been only 30+ calls. The accessories that they cheated me out of amounted to about $1200 to $1400 dollars. I don't remember exactly. I guess because of the phone calls the HD dealer decided to press charges---

against me and I was arrested the other day. The papers are in my glove box, my bond is $500.00 and someone can get that money back from the jail or court. If things go as planned, I will try to make someone at the HD shop pay.

Today may have been one of the saddest days of my life. I realized that I may never talk to any of you again, and probably never see any of you again. I want all of you to know how much I enjoyed having dinners with you for the holidays, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. And even the times I didn't accept it, made me feel good that you thought enough about me to ask me to spend holiday dinner with you.

I have never owned much and don't own much now. I would like my belongings to go to James if he wants them. My TV, stereo equipment, couch, bed, etc. If Gary wants my telescope, he may have it. I also told James that he may have my few remaining guns. My fishing poles are in the Jeep. Maybe Eric would like those. He and I sure had fun fishing up at Jefferson Lake.

There is one thing I would like Judy to have if it survived packing. On top of my microwave, there was a glass butter dish. It belonged to Aunt Bea. I don't know how long she had it, but I got it from her about 20 years ago. It's old and fragile. It's round with a glass base. I hope it didn't get broken.

Things are getting pretty close to the end now. I figure about a week is all I have left. I'll try to call everybody one last time. I may try to visit everyone, but I'm not sure if I could keep the tears back. I know that sounds strange coming from me. So, it may be just a phone call.

I miss all of you so much already. It's a terribly hurtful, empty, tearful pain inside me knowing I will never see any of you again.

Please forgive me for the terrible things you have heard or are about to hear. Suicide is sometimes an embarrassment to family members, so for this, I truly apologize for any hurt I may cause all of you. To me, suicide is finally a release from an empty and painful life that has never had any meaning for me. I'm tired of living, and for the last 15 years or so, I'm tired of living in pain. Constant pain.

So to my sisters, Judy, JoAnn, and Rebecca, to my brother Gary, please know that my last thoughts will be of all of you! My last few breaths, my last few heartbeats, will be yours, of my love for each of you. My last moment will be painless!

#3

I wish for all of you to get along with each other. No more arguing over petty things. And they are petty items if you think about it. Please get along, life is so short.

Please hug each other for me...

I love all of you so much.

Duane

I'm staying in the Mallory Motel in room 10, if anyone wants my last few personal items.

I meant to call everyone today (26th) but I couldn't handle it. I called Judy, but it was too emotional.

Renee Pittman Mitchell",1,Vague Discontent,Duane Morrison's Suicide Note,6/28/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Morrison_Suicide_Note.pdf,Duane Morrison
"1. FB ~sg Re~e~ Pittman, John Hall ( can access through Pittman) Eric Griffi H Wi Denms Kuc1mch ' n, erman mston,
2. Twitter Renee Pittman and Dennis Kucinich
3. Post to Youtube (advertising version)
4. Post to Youtube (free version)
5. CNN iReport >Assignments> My Life (under Express Yourself subject line)
6. Post to Vuneo (may have to upgrade to VimeoPlus)
7 · Email Derrick Robinson - derrickcrobinson@grnail.com
8. Email Michael Williams from DASO - michaelwi@donaanacounty.org

9. Email renee all of the receipts + let her know that the return receipts are coming to her
- pics of envelopes
-given receipts photos
- photos of stamps from both days and that photos taken before extra $6.00 put on
- explain $5.75 and $6.20 postage receipts for $11.25 total
- tell her the other 9 green receipts are coming to her just in case they try to prohibit delivery
- email her a compressed file of all materials

I sent 10 ietms certified mail, return receipt requested today. 9 of the return receipts are going to Renee Pittman Mitdell, and the other return receipt is goign to Derrick Robindson with FFCHS. Please make sure that these items make it to their destinations.

laptop password is littler00 as long as the video is playing it won't time out; keep it playing b/c there are other important files

Ranger, these 10 items went to Renee + the other 9 people CC'd on the 1st letter in that envelope. Ranger, don't try to make sense of now, but I need Renee Pittman Mitchell + the others to get these videos.

Don't try to make sense of it; just respect my wishes PLEASE!!!",1,Vague Discontent,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"TO DO LIST FOR OTHER WHILE I'M GONE
I. I bought a Springfield 22mm pistol from Bay Guns and Gear in Panama City, FL. Please either
pick this gun up or get the money for it.
2. I paid $2,000 to the Arvizu Law Firm in Las Cruces, NM to file a bankruptcy for me on my
behalf. According to Arvizu, at least $1800 of this money is refundable. Please get the money
back for me.
3. I have a check for $500 from Taunton Family Children's Home. I did not finish the assignment
that I was working on, so it's not pressing to get the money back from them. But if they don't
mind giving you the check, pick up that $500 check as well.
4. I have a house located at 6302 Grayson Bend Drive, Katy, TX 77494. Please take care of
whatever needs to be done with the house.
5. I have several personal belongings at my ex-girlfriend's, Danielle Nixon, house in Las Cruces,
NM a . Her phone number i Orchestrate that with her.
6. I have several items in storage in Houston, Texas at Public Storage located at 5460 Addicks
Satsuma Road, Houston, TX 77084. There is a payment due for these items on December l,
2014, in the amount of $83.00. Please either make the payment or arrange to have these items
picked up from storage. My friend, Kimberly Snagg, lives in Houston, TX. She may be able to
help with picking these items up. Her phone number is
7. I am pretty sure that Ebony Casarez will want Little Bit. We got this dog when we lived
together. Her and her daughter, Aaliya Williams, love Little Bit as much as I do, and I am sure
that they will want to get her and take care of her. Ebony's phone number is
8. Gather my personal belongings from the guest house at the Taunton Family Children's Home 

Follow up on letters; make sure they're received; or turn copies of the documents in this packet over to media outlets
Please respect my wishes
I LOVE YOU ALL",1,Grievance Airring,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"For: Family ~Mom, Uncle Wallace, etc.
TO DO LIST FOR OTHER WHILE I'M GONE
1. I bought a Springfield 22mm pistol from Bay Guns and Gear in Panama City, FL Please either
pick this gun up or get the money for it.
2. I paid $2,000 to the Arvizu Law Firm in Las Cruces, NM to file a bankruptcy for me on my
behalf. According to Arvizu, at least $1800 of this money is refundable. Please get the money
back for me.
3. I have a check for $500 from Taunton Family Children's Home. I did not finish the assignment
that I was working on, so it's not pressing to get the money back from them. But if they don't
mind giving you the check, pick up that $500 check as well.
4. I have a house located at 6302 Grayson Bend Drive, Katy, TX 77494. Please take care of
whatever needs to be done with th.e house.
5. I have several personal belongings at my ex-girlfriend's, Danielle Nixon, house in Las Cruces,
NM~ Her phone number i Orchestrate that with her.
6. I have several items in storage in Houston, Texas at Public Storage located at 5460 Addicks
Satsuma Road, Houston, TX 77084. There is a payment due for these items on December 1,
2014, in the amount of$83.00. Please either make the payment or arrange to have these items
picked up from storage. My friend, Kimberly Snagg, lives in Houston, TX. She may be able to
help with picking these items up. Her phone number is...._..
7. I am pretty sure that Ebony Casarez v.,jll want Little Bit. We got this dog when we lived
together. Her and her daughter, Aaliya Williams, love Little Bit as much as I do, and I am sure
that they will want to get her and take care of her. Ebony's phone number i
8. Gather my personal belongings from the guest house at the Taunton Family Children's Home",1,Grievance Airring,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"MY EXPERIENCES AS A TARGETED INDIVIDUAL
My deepest regret is that I did not make a more diligent effort of documenting my experiences as a targered
individual along the way; however, this document is my feeble attempt at recounting my experiences thus far. First off, to
anyone that may read this document,, take a brief moment to pray for my soul. What I am about to do I have deep regret for;
however, I feel that my options are extremely limited. Because I am a targeted individual, everything has been taken away
from me. I have literally been robbed of life through psychological, financial, and emotional hardshlp.
I first realized that I wass·a target while I was working as an Assistant District Attorney for the Third Judicial
District Attorney's Office in Dona County, New Mexico. I tried going to the police about my situation. On or about
September 7, 2014, I went to the Las Cruces Police Department to make a report ofmy experiences. The interior of the
LCPD office was locked, but there was a phone in the vestibule, whlch dispatch answered. I informed dispatch that I wanted
to make a· police report~ and they sent an officer out to my location. I believe the officer's _name was Kenneth Davis
(Caucasian male that appeared to be in hls 20s). The officer took notes of my experience; however, no police report was
ever made. Nevertheless, there should be a record of my phone call with Dispatch. That morning, I got invited to the gun
range by my girlfriend's friend's husband, Robert Kitcey (rkitcey@gmail.com). When I met up with rum later that morning
at Starbucks, I informed rum and another guy that was with him of the police report that I had just made. If you need to get
in contact with Robert, you can contact my ex-girlfriend, Danielle Nixo . I don1
t remember the other guy1
s
name, but he is an engineer from Michigan (Caucasian male in his late 40s or early 50s), and his wife's name is Betty
(Kenyan woman who appears to be in her early 40s, with a bald haircut).
My apartment wlis'broken into, and ;'uy phooe was tampered with. I started being followed by various individuals in
unmarked cars. And on one occasion, I was followed by an individual in an LCPD sport utility vehicle cruiser. Through
electronic harassment, these individuals convinced me that I was guilty of a crime. As a result, I attempred to torn myself in
at the Dona Ana County Detention Center on three separate occasions. l was literally escotted to the jail by aboot ten cars;
however, no one went inside the jail with me. Each time I attempted to turn myself in, the cars waited in the parking lot
(watchiog me go ioside the jail). But the jail informed me that they had no paperwork for me. Then, each_tirne I left the jail
after being turned away, the cars that escorted me into the jail were gone.
I continued to be followe~ l informed my girlfriend, Danielle Nixon, who resides in Las Cruce
and my fi.iend, Kirton, who also resides in Las Cruce of these instances. Because I was an over-achiever
in my position, l frequently worked late. When I was in the office alone after hours, I would consistently see individuals
peeking around corners at me. As a result of this harassment, I eventually resigned from my Assistant District Attorney
position and traveled to Houston, Texas to get my old job back. I met with my old boss, Alfonso Kennard) on the evening of
Friday, October 10, 2014, to discuss rejoining his law firm, Kennard Law, P.C. as an Associate. On that evening, Kennard
offered me my old job back at a base salary of $50,000 per year plus 20% commissions on all settlements or judgment
obtained on my cases.
After we had reached terms on that agreement, Kennard called hls driver, Randy [stout, Caucasian male who
appeared to be in his late 40s ], to take us to another place because we had been drinking and should not have been driving.
Before Randy arrived, Randy's friend Edwin arrived. It was uoclear to me how Edwin could have possibly known who we
were, but he approached Kennard and I at the bar and claimed that he was there to meet with Randy. When Randy arrived,
we had one last drink. As we were leaving, I went to my car to retrieve my ID and wallet. I returned to find Randy and
Edwin whispering to Kennard. When I returned, everyone acted very unusual toward me; it was not the same jovial
conversation that had preceded this occurrence. Then, we loaded up into Randy's SUV to go to the next location. As we
were driving to the next location, Keunard leaned over and asked me, ""if I wanted to take a bump""-suggesting that if I
wanted to take a bump of cocaine Randy or Edwin could get it for me. I vehemently assured Kennard that I did not want to
take a bump. Nor had I ever taken a bump.
On Saturday, Kennard would not respond to my phone calls or text messages, which was strange because for the
two days prior to that he had been very responsive. Kennard's distance did not arise lIDtil after his private discussion with
Randy and Edwin. As a result onhis strange behavior, I informed Kennard via text message that I may have to depose him
in a lawsuit._ Thereafter, Kennard called me to arrange another meeting. According to Kennard, he wanted me to discuss my
re-joining the fim1 with his partner, Terrance Robinson. We arranged a meeting for that Monday, October 14, 2014. On
Monday, we met at the A~loft, which is located at 5415 Westheimer Road next to Kennard's law office. \Vhile there, we had
drinks. Kennard and Robinson had two drinks, and I had one drink. Then, we went across the street to The West End Bar & Grille, which is located at 5320 Westheimer Road to have a meal. Shortly after we arrived, Randy showed up and suggested
that we go to another restaurant dowu the street. Because Kennard agreed to pick up the dinner tab, I .agreed to go. At the
restaurant, Kennard kept insisting that I join him outside to discuss matters with him. He again brought up the conversation
about me taking a bump of cocaine, and I again insisted to him that I have never taken cocaine. ·
After dinner, Randy <lropped me off at my car, which was parked near The West End. The following day, I
attempted to call Kennard, but my phone number was blocked. I attempted to call Kennard a couple of times after that, but
my phone number was still blocked. While I do not have last names for Randy, the driver, or Edwin, I am certain that
whatever was said in that whisper cost me my job. This situation was all a part of an elaborate scheme to put me in financial
jeopardy, thereby making me more amenable to harassment ard less able to fight the issue. Upset and jobless, I returned to
Las Cruces to continued harassment and being followed.
On the morning when I was leaving Houston, my tire was punctured and flattened while in the driveway a
••1111115(residence of Monica Johnson), where I was staying. When I returned to Las Cruces, I had to take my tire to On
Sale Tires to .have it repaired. There should be a record of that repair with On Sale Tires. Further, after retnrning to Las
Cruces, I was subjected to a constant noise campaign designed to induce sleep deprivation in me. My neighbors played
loud music, screamed, and people frequently made noise right outside my windows. Not only did this happen at night time,
but this happened during the day as well. Maintenance staff, which almost never worked outside my window previously,
worked ard made noise right outside my window everyday.
In addition through electronic harassment, my life was constantly threatened. Fearing for my life, I decided to pack ·
my things aud move back home to Wewahitchka, FL. As 1 w_as loading my Uhaul to pack my things on October 21, 2014,
my life continued to be threatened through electronic harassment ·Additionally, as I was loading my Uhaul, there was a
middle-aged man parked in the arroyo across the fence from my apartment complex (Quail Ridge Aparttnents - 251 North
Roadrunner Parkway). He was driving a gray Dodge Durango 4 x 4 with a camper shell that had a Colorado License Plate,
285 YPI. This man got out of the driver-side of his truck, removed a blanket from the camper shell, and unsheathed a
firearm from the blaoket. Then, the rnostfrightening thing happened. The man pointed this firearm at me, as J stood inside
the trailer portion of the Uhaul truck. !jumped off the truck, ran towards my apartment, and called 911. There should be a
record of this call with dispatch.
While officers were en route to my location, the man wrapped the firearm back in the blanket aud put it in the right
side of the camper shell. Five officers responded to the scene of Quail Ridge. These officers were acting very aggressively
towards me as though I was the assailant and not the complainaut-victim. Unfortunately, I was only able to get four of the
officers' names: Officer Shadd; Officer Frank Gomez; Leiutenant W.C. Jackson; and Officer Guerra (who aggressively
refused to give me bis first name but whose badge number was L650). Officers claimed that they searched the mysterious
man, but I watched this alleged search with my own eyes. They never searched his person. Nor did they even go to the right
side of the vehicle, where I saw this man place the gun. They merely peeked inside the driver-side of the pickup truck,
which should hardly be characterized as a search.
After talking with the man a little while longer, they came over to me and claimed that the man did not have a gun
and that they had conducted a thorough search of his person ard the vehicle. The continued to speak to me very
aggressively and insisted that this man had driven from Colorado to Las Cruces, New Mexico to survey the land that he was
on. Toe land that he was on is located directly behind Golden Mesa Las Cruces Independent Senior Living Community. If a
survey oftl1atproperty was requested, there should be documentation somewhere. I am certain that if you search, you won't
fmd any such documentation. It does not even make sense that someone would travel all the way from Colorado to conduct
such a survey, especially in light of the fact that you have to be licensed in New Mexico to conduct surveys. While it's
certainly possible that this man could have been licensed in New Mexico, it is unlikely that Golden Mesa or the surface
owners of the property behind Golden Mesa would not have simply hired a New Mexico-licensed surveyor. This
experience, particularly the aggressive behavior of the officers, convinced me that law enforcement was very much involved
in my harassment.
I am not sure what information was given to the leasing office at my apartm.ent complex, but shortly after this
_ip.cident, I received a letter on my door informing rn.e that it was a notice to vacate my apartment There should be a record
of this notice and/or any interactions with· law enforceinent in the Quail Ridge leasing office. The harassment did not stop
on this day with that .incident. My life continued to be threatened via electronic harassment. I was literally threatened to
leave Las Cruces immediately. As a result, I left several of my belongings in my apartment at Quail Ridge, which was Apartment 1407. The leasing office should likewise have information regarding me leaving my belongings on both the
interior and exterior ofmy apartment. One of the things that I left in my apartment was my old cell phone (a red Samsung
Galaxy S3). I had gathered several license plate numbers in this phone, but because I was told through the electronic
harassment that I would be left alone if I left Las Cruces and left my phone in the apartment, I did. I, however, had
forwarded some of this license plate information to Altrus Campbell via text message and email. In addition, I gathered
_ some license plate information in the iPhone that was issued to me by the Third Judicial District Attorney's Office. I sent a
Preservation of Evidence email to John Willis, IT personnel with the Third Judicial District Attorney's Office, on October
21, 2014, in reference to preserving the information in that cell phone.
While·traveling from Las Cruces, NM to Wewahitchka, FL, I was repeatedly tailgated and cut off by both patrol
cars as weH as regular cars: I was almost run off the road at one point in Kerr County, TX. Further, while I was in Kerr
County, Texas, I was pulled over and offic~rs searched my vehicle for no reason whatsoever. I did not give officers any
consent to search my vehicle. Nor did they show rue a warrant. They .made me get out of the vehicle. They handcuffed me,
and I stood in the heat with no shoes on for approximately three hours. Several officers were present, including Chief
Deputy Clay Batton and Deputy Eli Garcia. There were about six more officers, but unfottunately due to the aggressiveness
and hostility that the officers showed me, I was not able to get the others' information. Nevertheless, there should be Kerr
County dispatch reports of the other officers that were involved. The officers held me there while a K-9 unit arrived from
another county. My belongings were packed in plastic bins, and they literally opened every single plastic bin and searched it
on the false claim that the K-9 had alerted to something inside the truck. The dog seemed more interested in the toy that the
dog's handler was holding than anything in my Uhaul, and of course, they never found any narcotics.
! took a rest break in Houston, Texas on my way to Florida l stopped at the residence of Monica Johnson again.
While there, the noise campaign continued. In fact, they recruited the Johnson family to participate in my harassment.
Marciel (pronounced Marshall) is typicaJ!y a quiet and reserved person, but he was continuously speaking very loudly and
screaming throughout the evening. 1 was sleeping on the couch in the living room. While he was in his bedroom downstairs,
he had his bedroom television blaring. I believe.that they were recruited to participate in my harassment based on a threat of
Marshall going to jail for posSession of marijuana. At about 3:00 am that morning, while 1 was sleeping, Monica-came out
of the room screaming about her daughter, Britney's car being repossessed. While it's certainly plausible that Britney's car, a
red SUV, could have been reposse;;sed, Monica went on and on about the repossession--slamming doors, dropping things,
and yelling at the top of her lungs. Eventually, realizing that I was not going to. get any sleep in that house, I got up and
continued my journey to Florida.
Of course, the electronic and other harassment colltinued for the duration of my trip. I was continuously cut off and
tailgated in traffic the entire way. I eventually made it to Florida Wben I got to Wewahitchka, Florida (and since I have
been in Florida), the harassment has continued, mainly through electronic (Voice of God - see Dr. Robert Duncan)
harassment. This harassment has been very debilitating and impactful. They have recruited other individuals to participate in
harassing me, including Buddy Parker (older, Caucasian male that is married to Ann Parker), Clifford Jones (son of Louise
Jones), Roy Myers (who is my cousin and the brother of Michael Myers and Melody Williams), and Demetrious (not sure
what his last name is, but be is the brother of Warren Bowers). There have been others that have been sent out to stalk me as
welL Unfortunately, I don't know these other i11dividua]s' names. On one occasion, about two weeks ago, I was in Rich's
!GA standing in front of a three-foot, front-facing section of Little Debbie snack cakes. Two gentlemen came into the store
and walked rnrectly over to me. One of the gentlemen stood inordinately close to me, very much in my personal space.
When I turned to my right toward the direction of that man, the other man came up on my left, bumped me reaJ!y hard and
aggr_essively, and began a cOllversation with the man on my right. The man that bumped me did not say excuse me and
stared at me as though he was challenging me to say something back. Although I don't know bis name, I recognized the man
on my left to be one of the Gulf County Sheriffs Office deputies.
In addition, I mailed Notice of Claim letters to the Dona Ana County Sheriffs Office, Las Cruces Police
Department, New Mexico State Police, and Third Judicial District Attorney's Office on October 13, 2014. 1 am not sure
what the status of those investigations are right now. But that event seemed to have been a catalyst for my electronic
harassment being ratcheted up to the point of unbearable.
Over time, I have been collecting individuals' license plates that have been following me. As previously stated,
so111e of these have already been transferred to Altrus Campbell via text message t and email. The only
person that I can personal1y identify that was stalking me in Las Cruces, NM is Elaine Lara, who resides at1••••••
...... On November 14, 2014, I got hit with a directed energy weapon. It is difficult to explain exactly what this feels like. l was also stalked by a senior-level, law enforcement officer in the Dona Ana Connty Sheriffs Office. Unfortunately, I
cannot remember his name. He is a Hispanic male that appears to be in his late 40s or early 50s, and I know that he has a
teenage son that plays football. In one discussion that we had, he stated that be worked between two candidates for sheriff
on the organization chart, Captain Buckingham and Kent Yallmt. His name is either Paul Nevarez or Greg Garland. I can't
remember. As I previously stated, I wish that l had done a better job at keeping records of the harassment that I have
endured, but this is the bes£ that I have.
SOME OF THE LICENSE PLATES**
1. · TX - 070 HFC - older model White Trans Am
2. TX - CWK 458 - Chevy Suburban
3. TX-065 SST- Red Honda Sedan
4. TX - CKW 6831 - Blue Ford Escape
5. Temporary Tag- 06W7473 White Santa Fe
6. FL - CTR Rl 7 - Chevy (followed me into a gas station just outside of Fort Stockton, TX)
7. Mexico License Plate - SSA· 76-07 White Dodge Journey (followed me into post office in San Antonio)
8. TX- CTV 5823 - White Toyota Tundra (followed me in San Antonio)
9. TX- CZP 168 -Dodge Charger (followed me in San Antonio)
IO. TX-CDK 1595 -White Chevrolet Silverado (followed me in San Antonio)
11. TX - CDK 3889 - Silver Jeep
12. CO -285 YPI - Dodge Durango
13. TX-92X VS9
14. TX-TCC 908
15. AZ - Blffi 6652
16. NM-697RCM
17. NM-678RYW
18. NM-012 SRY
19. NM-659PKZ
20. NM-259 RWH
21. TN-H74 805
22. TX - AV3 9993 - Black Chevy Silverado
23. *DWK 4756 - Red Toyota Yaris
24. *BS9 H88J -· Older White Honda Accord
25. *BB2 W802 -Newer White Honda Accord
· 26. *BX2 M315 - Silver Chevy Malibu
27. *DX8 100 - White BMW
*I did not get a state for the license plates with an asterisk beside them in Nos. 23-27, and it has been too long since l wrote
them down to remember what state they were from. But I believe that they are either New Mexico or Texas license plates.
*The lady in the ""20141015 _ 133953Jpg"" file followed me into the post office as I was filing the notice of claims.
*This lady in the ""201410!5_140529jpg"" file that worked in the post office was approached by a man that did not come
into the post office for any se:ivice. The man whispered something to her. Then, when I was being waited on, she waS acting
very strange. I was at the post office to send my notices of claims to the Las Cruces law enforcement entities. I was mailing
the Notice of Claim that was addressed to Mark D'Antonio ""restricted"" mail so that he would have to sign for it. She
covered up the restricted portion on the envelope. I asked her why she covered it. After I asked her that, she looked at me
very surprised and swore that it was a mistake. Then she stamped restricted on the front of the envelope. But when the
postage paid label printed, she covered the restricted stamp up, so I had to ask her again about covering up the ""restricted""
portion. And sbe stamped it again. In the midst of this craziness, 1 decided to take her photograph.
•• ADDITIONAL text messages can be retrieved via AT&T.- or from Altrus Campbell.
OTHER TARGETED INDIVIDUALS
. J .'·. Randy Quaid 2. Melinda Fee
3. Stephen Shellen
4. Gloria Naylor
- 5 .. KolaBoof
6. Jill Anjuli Hansen
7. Matt Barasch
8. Ted Gunderson (former Senior FBI agent/whistleblower)
9. Jiverly Wong
10. Aaron Alexis
** Although I fear that they may modify or delete information in my email and/or change the passwords, here is my email
information:
myronrnay@.hotmaiLcom
littlerOO
myronmay@yahoo.com
littlerOO
comm.you.nick.8(@g:Jitail.com
littlerOO
* *My fucebook account login information is as follows:
myronmay@yahoo.com
JittlerOO
**l believe that I removed the lock code on my phone; however, if for some reason there is sti11 a lock code on my phone,
the lock code is 8438.",1,Grievance Airring,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"NOTES FOR MY PERSONAL STORY AS A TARGETED INDIVIDUAL- PART 1
I. Reason for the Video
A. Heavy heart that I make this video
B. Victim of covert harassment through electronic harassment and gang stalking
C. Thousands of people in the United States are victims-known as targeted individuals
1. Google or You Tube targeted individuals and gang stalking and you'll find several
victims that tell stories similar to the one you'll hear today
II. Gang Stalking Goals Generally
A. The goal of gang stalking is to literally make a targeted individual destitute and drive
them insane
B. They employ various tactics to accomplish this goal
1. People will follow you around in public places--shopping, on your way to work, as
sick as the may sound, I've even had people follow me into church functions
11. T11ey employ isolation tactics.
a) Convince your family, friends, neighbors, and coworkers through payment, lies
(such as falsely accusing you of committing a crime) that they should keep an eye on
you, and blackmail for people that actually are doing something wrong-that's right
they actually employ criminals to help in your harassment
To the targeted individual that has not yet discovered they are a targeted
individual, this experience is very troubling because you just notice tbat people
are watching you and don't know why
There's a saying that ""people will do anything for money,"" and if they are doing
it based on a lie, then they think they're doing something positive rather than
participating in debilitating a person
b) Eventually, due to the targeted individual's own fear and apprehension from these
experiences and the lies told to the targeted individual's acquaintances, the targeted
individual finds himself alone
III. Gang Stalking Methods
A. Anchoring
1. Try to convince the targeted individual that a particular person or group is doing the
gang stalking-neighbors, coworkers, etc.
a) For me, control panel stalkers tried to convince me that my neighbors were
actually the ones stalking me, and they were very successful at this for about two months. Because I could hear someone describing what I was doing inside my
apartment, I literally thought my neighbor above me had somehow installed a video
camera in my home
B. Brighting
This was, of course, before I knew I was a targeted individual or what a
targeted individual was
1. This method can be one of the most irritating of all. When you are driving at night, you
will encounter several cars that turn their bright lights on you when they are tailgating,
in oncoming traffic, or passing you.
a) Now, of course, it is natural that you will encounter a vehicle now and again where
the person has forgotten to click their brights off or is missing a headlight and using
their brights to hide that fact, but with brighting, this will happen about ten times
in one trip in the vehicle
ii. Another brighting technique is when they flash brights into the windows of your
· home. Individuals will frequently pull into your driveway or near your apartment
window, shining their lights directly into your home. ,
' a) Again, one can expect this to happen every once in awhile by happenstance, but
when brighting is being employed, it will happen several times in one night
C. Noise Campaign
i. This can be just as irritating as brighting. Basically, the targeted individual is subjected
to a constant bout of noise to keep them on edge, and more importantly, prevent them
from sleeping. A lack of sleep, as we all know, makes a person edgy, agitated, and full
of stress
a) Loud music by neighbors
b) Cars passing by at rapid paces and blowing their car horns
c) Neighbors screaming and talking loudly near your home
Again, others are convinced to do this based on payment, blackmail, and lies that
you have done somethirig wrong or that you're crazy
d) Craziest tactic involved in a noise campaign is utilization of machine-generated
sounds ( e.g., dog barks, chickens calling, duck calls, etc.)
ii. My personal experience with a noise campaign is what made me realize that I was a
targeted individual. I traveled to Houston, TX to get away from Las Cruces for awhile
because I literally was starting to question my own sanity. While I was in Houston, I was
staying at my friend, Kimberly Snagg's mom's home.
a) Every ten minutes a car came :l'lying down this residential street making all sorts
of noise and about every 30 minutes a horn was blowing. Having been at this
house several times and knowing that only old people lived in the neighborhood, I
knew that this was unusual.
b) What was even more puzzling was that I started hearing the ""cock-a-doodle-doo"" of a rooster coming from one of the houses in the back. h was the exact same cock-adoodle-doo without any variation to it; it was happening at 4pm in the afternoon;
and it continued literally for hours on end.
iii. It was this experience that made me.realize that maybe 1here was more to my being
followed than I had previously imagined
iv. Some of my other experiences with a noise campaign
a) I was staying at my friend, Monica Johnson's ho/lle. And I am certain that they
convinced the Johnson family to participate. While I hate to spill the beans on
family, Monica's husband, Marshall, smokes marijuana. I am convinced that they
blackmailed them into participating in my harassment. This of course was not the
first time that I had visited them, But on this occasion, everyone was being
extremely noisy, and at about 3am, Monica came into the living room, where I was
sleeping on the couch, yelling about her daughter, Brittany's, car being
repossessed. Also, there were three TVs on in the house at full blast throughout the
night.
b} In Las Cruces, my neighbors constantly made noise--! went a 1.5 years with no
such. noise, then all of a sudden it was nonstop.
c) One night in particular, the neighbor above me was playing his music extremely
loud, so I put ear plugs in. Moments after I put earplugs in, from the neighbor's
apartment next to me-the headboard of my bed literally sits on her wall-I started
hearing extremely loud sex sounds. Again, I have lived in this apartment for 1.5
years without any such noises, but on this night, it was extremely loud.
D. Ghosting
L I didn't experience ghosting, but this technique involves rearranging a targeted
individual's things-furniture while they're gone, taking clothes out of their belongings
at the laundry mat, moving lawn decoration, and stuff like that
a) Paranoia; question own sanity
E. Mimicry
1. This involves a stalker encountering the targeted individual, and the stalker literally
mimics every movement the target makes.
a) I only experienced this once when I was at the gas station in Wewa. He comes out
from behind the pump and starts waiving. This particular stalker was wearing dark
shades and staring directly at me to make his presence known. I started washing
my windows. When I was washing the front, he was washing his front and looking
directly at me. When I moved to a side window, he moved to a side window and was
looking directly at me. It was very irritating and frustrating
F. Sensitization
1. Ibis refers to an association of a particular stimuli with harassment. If the target
encounters stalkers wearing blue baseball caps, for example, the target will start to
associate their harassment to people wearing blue baseball caps.
a) The sensitization technique that was used on me was dark sunglasses. The goal was
to make me believe that everyone wearing dark sunglasses was out to harass me.
While I definitely knew that was not the case, I still found myself lookiug curiously
at people wearing dark sunglasses. G. Mobbing
1. This refers to a stalking technique in which the target encounters several individuals
stalking them at once. This typically happens when the target starts to realize that
something more is going on or is in a frustrated state. It is designed to scare the target.
a) This particular technique has happened to me oh numerous occasions. Because I
have a pretty low anger threshold, typically, when I have gotten upset about my
experiences, that is when I experience mobbing. If I'm driving or in a store when I'm
upset, several individuals come into my personal space at once or several cars (10
or so) will pass by all at once ( coupled with my stimuli of dark sunglasses) with
individuals wearing dark sunglasses and looking directly at me rather than
watching the road.
H. Hacking
1. _This refers to downloading of viruses and malware on the targets phone and computer.
This is used both as a defense and for stalking. -
a) My Experiences With Hacking_
When I first realized there was more going on with my experienc'<s than meets
the eye, viruses and malware were downloaded onto my computer, which
enabled them to have remote access to my computer. I would literally be
working on my computer, and the mouse would start moving on its own and
clicking on things.
One night, I was trying to purchase a book by Renee Pittman Mitchell from
Amazon on my phone one night, and the browser on my phone kept closing on
its own. My phone, of course, had never done this before.
When I first moved to Wewa, I got a job at Taunton Family Children's Home.
During my first day on the job, my work computer was compromised, and the
mouse was moving on its own. I was working on a family law case for a
mother, whose kid was taken from her by the father, and they took control of my
computer and attempted to delete the family law document that I had just
fmished to try and get the mother's child back.
After the family law document was almost deleted, I was able to get the
-necessary anti-virus software to combat the hacking.
I. Electronic Harassment (Sci-Fi Made Real);
i. This technology is the most creepy and frightening weapon in the stalkers' arsenal.
ii. This technology is detailed in Dr. Robert Duncan's book, Project Soul Catcher:
Secrets of Cyber and Cybernetic Warfare Revealed
iii. Linchpin of the whole gang stalking program
iv. Nanofibers
a) Through nanotechnology and chemtrails, the control panel stalkers are able to
monitor and induce all sorts of things in a target. Bodily functions, pain receptors, and stress hormones
Through this technology, a target's heart rate can be sped up
Direct energy weapons
b) My Personal Story
This technology has been the most troubling for me in dealing Vl~th the
experience of being a target. I have been induced to have what I thought were
panic attacks on two separate occasions because my heart rate was moving so
rapidly. It was a very scary experience. This, of course, happened to me before' I
realized that I was a targeted individual.
I have experienced the directed energy weapons on two occasions, which is
one of the most frightening things a person could ever encounter. I would not
~sh this on my worse enemy. In the drop of a dime, your body heats up
intensely to an extremely high temperature. I literally felt a hot, tingling
sensation all over my body and immediately broke out into a sweat. It made me
dizzy and disoriented, and I had to stop everything that I was doing.
v. Psychotronic Weapons: Voice of God & Image Induction Weapons (Sci Fi Made Real)
a) This technology is discussed in Dr. Duncan's book. You may also find videos about
it on youtube by searching for ""Dr. Robert Duncan"" or ""Project Soul Catcher.""
b) This technology sounds absolutely crazy, BUT IT IS REAL! Through the use of
microwave radio frequency radiation, control panel stalkers are able to literally
induce sound, including voice, into a targets cochlea so that they hear voices. This
technology is the linchpin of the entire gang stalking program:
To the targeted individual that does not realize they are target or that this
technology exists, they start to believe that they are having a schizophrenic or
psychotic episode. And if t.1:iey try to explain to someone else that they are
hearing voices, then that person will, of course, reach the same conclusion.
In essence, the person either thinks they are crazy or other people think the
person is crazy. This works in favor of the program always remaining a
secret because any target that attempts to speak out about this will instantly
be discredited as schizophrenic. This also further isolates the target from
acquaintances, friends, and loved ones. BUT PLEASEREVIEWDR.
DUNCAN'S TECHNOLOGY BEFORE YOU WRITE TIDS OFF AS
UNBELIEVABLE OR CRAZY!!!
c) With the image induction technology, which is based on the same bio-technologica1
research as Voice of God Weapons, control panel stalkers are able to induce images
into a target's mind (which is typically done while the target is sleeping). In
addition, control panel stalkers are able to see any images originating from the
target's mind-both actual images (what the target is actually looking at) and
fictional images (images that the target is thinking about from memory or
imagination) IV.Effectiveness of Voice of God Weapons for the Overall Stalking Program
A. Just as control panel stalkers can induce sound into a target's ear, control panel stalkers can
induce sound into a street-level stalker's ear. In this way, control panel stalkers are able to
· easily alert street-level stalkers of the presence of a target and give them direction as to
how to interact with the target without the target ever knowing. The target is left in a
perplexed statr, wondering how the street-level.stalkers even know who they are.
B. Fortunately, I was able to figure this out. Unfortunately, many targets have not and
probably never will, which only further exacerbates the psychological stress that they
·endure.",1,Grievance Airring,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"NOTES FOR MY PERSONAL STORY AS A TARGETED INDIVIDUAL- PART 2
I. Prayer
A. Repent and ask for forgiveness
B. Please take a moment to pray for my soul and the souls of all of those impacted by gang
stalking
C. Pray for all targeted individuals around the world
D. Pray this video and my actions will hopefully help all.targeted individuals
E. Ask forgiveness from all families hurt by my actions
II. Goodbyes
A.Mom
B. Grandma
C. Sister
D. Brother
E. Nieces and Nephews
F. Mama Campbell
G. Airborne, Ranger, and Stacey
H. Keith Jones
I. Osei Boakye
· .T. Marsett Solomon
K. Ebony Casarez & Aaliya Williams
L. Althea Mills
M.Maria Gonzales Prieto
N. Danielle Nixon
0. Milea
P. Mu Epsilon Chapter of PBS (line brothers, Brian and Chauncey)
Q. Mr. David and Ms. Abby Taunton
!If. Explanation of Why
A. Difficult decision (hack against the wall)
i. Didn't choose to be in this evil program
ii. Robbed of living a fulfilling, normal life
a) Wife and kids
b) Great career
c) Normal legacy .
iii. Goal is to expose it and help other targeted individuals capitalize on the media exposure
that this may cause
B. Doing this for targeted individuals to have a chance at a normal life
C. Doing this so that no one else will have to worry about being unwillingly put into this evil,
ungodly program
IV.Message to elected officials
A. Challenge you to seriously consider
B. Challenge you to seriously research
C. Challenge you to do an investigation
D. Challenge you to pass legislation
E. Challenge you to fight 100% for every American citizen to have the chance at a normal life
free of torture and harassment 
V. Message to the Media
A. Challenge you to research and investigate this issue
. B. Challenge you to do a thorough investigation before you draw conclusions base.d solely on
an individual's mental health
C. Challenge you to not substitute tag lines and lazy journalism for doing real work
D. Challenge you to re-visit this issue every year on the anniversary ohhis day
VI. To Those That Participated in my Stalking
A. Monica and Marshall Johnson, Elaine Lara, Buddy Parker, Roy Myers, Clifford Jones,
Demetrius (brother of Warren: Bowers)
1. You may not have realized that you were being manipulated to participate in an evil,
ungodly program.
a) If you didn't know, I understand and forgive you
b) If you knew, I hope that God has mercy on your soul b/c you are just as responsible
for the harm that I suffered and countless Targeted Individuals suffer on a daily basis
I .know this may sound like a cop out, but you're at least indirectly responsible
for the events that are about to take place
B. Challenge you to have the courage to come forward despite threats, offers of money, or fear
of becoming the next target
C, Veronica Avilar - Probation officer thatlived across from me in my apartment complex; I
don't believe you participated in my stalking, but I'm curious to know, what if anything, was
. said to you about me. I hope that someone will question you about that
VIL To Deputy Jamar Cotton
A. I know you're an officer and becoming a mason, both of which have a significant influence
in harassing targeted individuals and gang stalking
B. I think you are a great person. Promise me that you won't get involved in this evil, ungodly
program
VIII. Dr. Robert Duncan
A. The scientist responsible for this biotechoology that is used to torture individuals
worldwide.
B. I encourage you to read Dr. Robert Duncan's book called Project Soul Catcher: Secrets of
Cyber and Cybernetic Warfare Revealed
IX. Other prominent people in Gang Stalking and Within the Targeted Individual
Community
A. Ted Gunderson (former senior FBI agent that became a targeted individual after exposing
information about this techoology)
B. Dr. Joho Hall (voice for targeted individuals and against gang stalking)
. C. Dr. Terry Andersen (voice for targeted individuals and against gang stalking)
D. Renee Pittman Mitchell (targeted individual that has written several books on her
experience as a targeted individual)
E. Deborah Tavares (voice for targeted individuals)
F. Derrick Robinson (targeted individual and prominent voice for targeted individuals)
X. Freedom from Covert Harassment and Surveillance
A. Organization dedicated to assisting targeted individuals and fighting to eradicate this evil, 
ungodly program
XI. Message to Targeted Individuals
A. I feel your pain. I know that you are hurting mentally, physically, emotionally, and
financially.
B. I admire you for having the strength and courage to keep fighting to have a normal life
despite this evil, ungodly program that you are being subjected to
i. In a way, I'm sad because you have more strength and courage than me
C. Don't let any of the death in this incident be in vain
D. If there is any media exposure, make sure that you capitalize on it.
i. This is your opportunity to tell your story.
ii. This is your opportunity to come out of the shadows.
iii. This is your opportunity to not be ignored for a change
iv, This is your opportunity to not be written off as schizophrenic or psychotic
v. Please capitalize on it
E. Band together and don't go at it alone. There is strength in numbers
i. There mission is to isolate; divide and conquer
ii. They try to pit us against each other with the promise that you'll get treated more
favorably; don't bow down to the devil and fight against your own people
F. I am praying for you. Please pray for my soul because I don't want to spend my eternity in
hell as a result of being put into an evil, ungodly program that I had no say-so in whether or
not I'd be a test-subject in
G. I sent out a sample letter to Congress to some of my friends along with this story. Please get
your hands on that letter and send it in to the House Representative for your district and to
the 2 US Senators for your state. Also, please send it to your state and local officials as well.
i. Again, this is your opportunity to be heard. Don't miss it.
. H. Please don't let my story die with me.· Post it and re-post it every day if you can. And
encourage other people to post my story too.
XII. Apology to Anyone Hurt by My Actions
A. I know that you probably don't want to hear anything that I have to say
B. I know that you probably don't care what I have to say
C. I know that you probably hope that I burn in hell
D. Nevertheless, I want to ask you to forgive me. I hope that at some point, you will be able to
find it in your heart to forgive me.
E. I don't expect you to understand. But please forgive me.
F. I know you probably think that I am crazy or mentally ill, but I'm not. I'm perfectly sane.
Unfortunately, in my carnal mind, this was the best way I could come up with to fight
XIII. Message to Everyone
A. The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over
that by the good people. - Martin Luther King, Jr.
i. I don't expect that there will be much silence over the lives that were Jost, AND THERE
SHOULDN'T BE ANY SILENCE
ii. I don't expect that there will be much silence over the people that were injured, AND
THERE SHOULDN'T BE ANY SILENCE
iii. I don't expect that there will be much silence about the emotional pain that people have
experienced and will likely continue to experience for a long time, AND THERE
SHOULDN'T BE ANY SILENCE 
iv. My only hope is that there will no longer be silence over the oppression and cruelty that
targeted individuals experience every single day.
a) Please don't be silent about the psychological pain
b) Please don't be silent about the physical pain
c) Please don't be silent about the emotional pain
d) Please don't be silent about the isolation, loneliness, and depression
XIV. Challenge
A. I'm sure that some of you will call me crazy, schizophrenic, and psychotic, and you are
entitled to your opinions, even though they are wrong
B. But I want to challenge you to not jump to a mental health conclusion
C. I want to challenge you to not make a conclusion out of ignorance, without any facts
D. I want to challenge you to think outside the box
E. I want to challenge you to ask questions
F. I want to challenge you to be a skeptic
G. I want to challenge you to allow your humanity and curiosity supersede your ignorance
H. There hopt;, is that people's natural interest in self and laziness will prevent them from
looking into these matters, so I challenge you to put down your own selfishness for a brief
moment and at least consider the possibility
I. If you do that, you will help thousands of innocent, American citizens just like you have a
chance at a normal life.
i. After all the loss that has happened, it is at least worth accepting that challenge
XV. Message to God
A. Father forgive me for what I'm about to do and forgive me for all of my sins
B, I prayed so hard for months, and the more I. prayed, the worse things got.
C. I'm sorry that my faith was so weak.
D. Romans 8:38-39 says, ""I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor
demons, neither tlie present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor
anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ
Jesus our Lord.""
E. And Romans 8:1 says, ""there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.""
F. I sincerely hope that these two scriptures hold true for me and my soul. God, I don't want to
be separated from you, and I don't want to be condemned for anything that I have done, am
doing, or am about to do.
G. Jesus, I believe that you are the son of god, and that you dies for as a ransom for my sins
that I might have salvation. Please forgive me for all my sins. I love you and want to spend
my eternity with you. Amen.",1,Specific Threats,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"Renee Pittman Mitchell
.--=
VIA CERTIFIED MAIL, RETURN RECEIPT REQUESTED
November 17, 2014
Dear Ms. Mitchell and Other Addressees:
The purpose of this letter is three-fold. First, I would like to make a sincere plea to you not to let my
personal story die. Enclosed within this letter, you will find a USB flash drive containing a personal
testimony from me about the financial, emotional, and psychological pain that I have endured over the
course of the past few months since I discovered that I was a ""targeted individual."" I have literally
been forced to endure a living hell. There are thousands of targeted individuals within the United
States that literally suffer each and every day at the hands of our govermnent. Personally, I have
experienced significant harassment from law enforcement in every place that I have been these past
fewmonths. .
Second, over the coming days and weeks, you will hear numerous people try to label me as a person
with mental health issues. If you simply google ""targeted individual,"" ""gangstalking,"" ""Freedom From
Covert Harassment and Surveillance,"" or ""Dr. Robert Duncan,"" 1 you will see that what I have
experienced, albeit not widely known, is very real. In addition, you can find various videos on youtube
by searching under these exact same search terms. Our government is able to capitalize on this lack of
kno""fodge among the general population to curb sentiments towards questioning the mental health of
targeted individuals rather than admitting the truth-that there is a system of covert torture of ordinary,
i1mocent citizens th.at is happening within our own borders. I have not told a single person exactlv
what I intend to do--and only you eight people know that I intend to do anything at all-but my
goal is to gamer some much-needed media attention to the pliglit of targeted individuals because we are
a marginalized group with few financial assets. Coincidentally, that means we get ignored.
Third, enclosed within, you will also find a sample letter to congress. Please encourage as many people
as you can to send a copy of this letter to congress. My hope is that if enougli people take a genuine
concern into the struggles of targeted individuals, then congress will have to do something to stop it
once and for all-not like the false machinations of stopping it that took place in the 1970s with
COINTELPRO.
I apologize for putting this responsibility on you guys, but you are people that I know and trust. I am
confident that Ms. Mitchell will not allow my story to die. I sincerely hope that you will (1) keep an
electronic copy of my story for yourself, (2) provide a copy for distribution to media outlets, (3) make
sure that Ms. Mitchell gets a copy [although I am sending her a copy, l fear that it may be intercepted],
and ( 4) see to it that if my story is removed from the intemet-youtube, vimeo, etc.-it will be
promptly re-uploaded. I know that I am asking for a lot, but please assist me with this.
I Project: Soul Catcher: Secrets of Cyber and Cybernetic Warfare Revealed by Dr. Robert Duncan.
1 of3 
Lastly, please whisper a prayer for my soul. I am still a believer, and I honestly feel that there is no
hope for me. Consequently, I am making a sacrifice so that others in my same position might have a
chance at a normal, harassment-free life. I realize thatmy methods are not the best selection-and
probably will not be perceived as the selection of a Christ-follower-but I have prayed incessantly for
months to no avail. There are targeted iudividuals that have endured this torture for decades without
any relief, and what targeted individuals need more than anything is media attention.
cc:
OTHER TARGETED INDIVIDUALS
1. Randy Quaid
2. Melinda Fee
3. Stephen Shell en
4. Gloria Naylor
5. KolaBoof
6. Jill Anjuli Hansen
7. Matt Barasch
8. Ted Gunderson (former Senior FBI agent/whistleblower)
9. Jiverly Wong
10. Aaron Alexis
a) Derrick Robinson
b)
c) Aaron Watson
--Law Firm§
· d) Jnan P. Chisholm
e) Chris V. Rey
2 of3
Your brother in Christ,
Myron May 
J) Marc Bozeman
g) Titiana Frausto",1,Vague Discontent,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"Date
The Honorable ---- Office Address
United States House of Representatives/United State Senate
City, State, Zip
Dear Representative/Senator _____ _
After hearing about the story of Targeted Individual Myron May and other targeted individuals, I have
accepted the challenge to do what I can to make a difference. That's why I am urging you to pass a bill
or resolution to begin an investigation into the targeting of United States citizens for the types of
harassment outlined in my letter below:
Although not widely known by the public, targeted individuals endure a scheme of conduct designed to
drive them over the edge mentally, physically, and emotionally. This scheme is referred to among the
targeted individual community as :gang stalking."" Gang Stalking is a systemic form of control, Which
seeks to control every aspect of a Targeted Individuals life. Gang stalking takes place outside in the
community. It's called gang stalking because the target is followed around and placed under
surveillance ..
Gang Stalking Goals
The goals of gang stalking are to (a) silence an individual, (b) drive a victim insane and possibly to the
point of suicide, and ( c) destroy the victim's reputatio11 and believability-as the person will be viewed
as mentally ill if they complain or report such abuse. Gang stalking may also be used to force an
individual to move or leave an area.
Motivations for Gang Stalking
The motivations for gang stalking vary widely. Three of the most common are as follows:
Being a corporate or government whistle blower (particularly if you are exposing conduct that
is unbecoming oflaw enforcement);
Revenge for getting away with a criminal offense;
. Knowing too much about gang stalking itself-because you become a threat to e.icposure
Who Are The Stalkers?
For the most part, stalkers are everyday citizens that are usually acting under some type of guise ( e.g.,
that they are doing something positive for the community; a false accusation that the targeted
individual is under investigation for a crime). Other stalkers, however, are simply paid to harass a
targeted individual. Sadly, many of these gang stalkers are involved in Jaw enforcement.
Examples of Gang Stalking Harassment
Here are some of the stalking activities thai targeted individuals have to endure:· slashed tires,
threatening phone calls, hangup calls, verbal assaults by strangers, property damage, death threats,
peeping toms, being followed on foot and by vehicle, and character assassination among family,
friends, neighbors, and coworkers.
Tactics Used by Stalkers Anchoring
A technique employed by stalkers to persuade tbe targeted individual tbat a particular group is
responsible for the abuse----neighbors, racial-ethnic group, etc. The goal is to trick the targeted
· individual into thinking an innocent bystander is tbe culprit of their harassment and compel the targeted
individual into verbally or physically assaulting tbat person.
Brighting
Brighting involves the practice of repetitive flashing of a car's high beam headlights at a targeted
individual. The targeted individual is flashed an inordinate amount of times from either a tailgating,
passing, or oncoming vehicle. Brighting also occurs when bright lights are flashed into a targeted
individual's home windows.
Electronic Harassment
Electronic harassment is tbe use of technological devices to spy on or cause harm to targeted
individuals (e.g., exposure to high electromagnetic fields, microwave radiation, etc.). A frequent form
of harassment involves beaming a low frequency tone info a targeted individual's area, which over time
causes sleep deprivation, agitation, and stress. A great deal of this research is highlighted in a book
written by the pioneer of electronic harassment, Dr. Robert Duncan, which is entitled ""Project Soul
Catcher: Secrets of Cyber and Cybernetic Warfare Revealed."" Other prominent individuals in the field
include Dr. Nick Begiche, Dr. John Hall, and Dr. Terry Andersen. In addition to electronic harassment,
stalkers utilize nanofibers to track targeted individuals.
Ghosting
Ghosting refers to the practice of rearranging or moving a targeted individual's personal belongings to
make the targeted individual question his/her sanity (e.g., moving home furniture, lawn decorations,
desk decorations, etc.),
Mimicry
Mimicry is a specialized form of harassment in which tbe stalkers imitate every movement made by tbe
victim ..
Mobbing
Mobbing is a term that describes intense group bullying. Several stalkers descend upon a targets area in
the same time period. In tbese instances, gang stalkers are not as discrete because they want to make
their presence known to tbe targeted individual.
Noise Campaign
A noise campaign is an orchestrated effort to produce stress in a targeted individual by prolonged
exposure to noise (e.g., neighbors playing loud music, cars passing at rapid paces, vehicle horns
blowing, technological devices to induce dogs to bark, etc.).
Sensitization
Sensitization is a psychological term referring to tbe forced association between a stimuli and a
corresponding reaction. For example, if a targeted individual is frequently harassed by people wearing
blue baseball caps or sunglasses, over time, the targeted individual will believe tbat anyone wearing a
blue baseball cap or sunglasses is a stalker coming to harass them. Gas-Lighting
Gas lighting refers to presentation of false information for the purpose of making victims· doubt their
own memory, perception, and sanity.
Hacking
Hacking generally refers to the downloading of viruses and malware as well as gaining remote access
to a targeted individual's electronic devices. After gaining such access, stalkers are able to delete files,
modify files, and contemporaneously interfere with a target while he or'she is working.
It is my hope that you will accept the challenge as I have. Again, I strongly urge you to consider
passing a bill or resolution to conduct an investigation into the harassment outlined in my letter above.
Thank you for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Name
Title
Address
City, State, Zip
Phone Number",1,Specific Threats,Myron May final Writings,7/6/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/myron_may_final_writings.pdf,Myron May
"Dear Mr. D'Antonio:
I am writing to inform you that I am resigning my position as Assistant Trial Attorney with the Third Judicial District Attorney's Office. Thank you very much for the opportunities that you have provided me during my time with the office as well as the professional guidance and support. I have greatly enjoyed my tenure here. I feel that I have learned a lot and grown professionally.

Thank you for understanding my decision to leave the office. I wish you and the Third Judicial District Attorney's office continued success. If I can be of any assistance during this transition, please let me know.

Sincerely,
Myron May",1,Vague Discontent,Myron May Resignation Letter,10/6/2014,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Myron_May_resignation_letter.pdf,Myron May
"How are you! Please deposit the enclosed check in the back speedily. This letter is written
especially to you, so don’t let other people in the family see it. When you read this letter,
I will probably no longer be in the world of the living. I have already mailed some things
back, which can be considered to constitute my legacy. I think that as long as you explain
it to the customs officials, they will let these things pass through, just as if I had brought
them back myself.
What I am most worried about is our parents; they are old, and I am afraid they will not be
able to bear this turmoil. But I am at the end of my resources, so this heavy responsibility
must fall on your shoulders. I beg you to take care of them and spare no expenses in the
effort. Moreover, don’t spend any money on a funeral for me. And by all means don’t come
to the U.S. to take my body home. The best thing would be to let the Chinese embassy have
my body cremated here in the U.S., and just send some ashes back. Keep firmly in mind
that you should not let anyone here in the U.S. blackmail you into paying anything. I think
the money I have sent back will suffice to repay our parents’ loving kindness in raising me
and the gentle care my two elder sisters gave me when I was young.
Last night when I finished talking with you on the telephone, I wept my heart out here alone.
For the life of me, I can’t swallow all this. You know that all my life I have been honest and
straightforward, and I have most of all detested cunning, fawning sycophants and dishonest bureaucrats who think they are always right in everything. I had this in mind for a long
time, but I persevered until I had taken my doctoral degree. This was an honor for the whole
family. You yourself should not be too sad about it, for at least I have found a few traveling
companions to accompany me to the grave.
My experiences during my 28 years have caused me to adopt a rather jaundiced view of human existence; I have on occasion said to people that I would like to take orders as a Buddhist
monk. There is no end to the hopes and desires in human life. In the U.S., even though
there are no worries about food and clothing, up above there are still exalted, rich people,
and compared with them I am poor as a church mouse. To sum up, on my own behalf I have
vented my rage, and on behalf of my family I have provided a safeguard for their livelihood.
What further expectations do I have to live for? Hence it has been said of old: “After a long
drought to encounter the sweet rains, in a different place to meet an old friend, to burn the
candle in one’s wedding chamber, and to see one’s name listed on the golden placard of successful examination candidates.” I have tasted all of these four great objects of a man’s life,
and it can truly be said that I have known satisfaction!
Though I am single, I have had a few girlfriends. When I lived in the dormitory in high
school I had already started to have girlfriends. When I went to college I often slipped into
our old home at the Number 262 Hospital under cover of darkness and spent the night with girls. After I came to the States I had liaisons with Chinese and American women, with
single and married women, with girls of good families and girls of the streets. I just don’t
have a constant heart in these matters; the grass always looks greener somewhere else, and
I can’t be satisfied with any particular person. Maybe I didn’t meet the right one, or perhaps
I thought either that they were too good for me or I was too good for them. No matter what
the answer is, I feel a bit fed up with male-female relationships.
Moving on to another point I have already lost interest in physics, at which I labored for ten
years (four in college and six years in graduate school); one could say I felt more and more
that I had entered a dead-end street. The study of physics is more and more disappointing.
The way it is now, one person says one thing, another says something else, and nobody
really knows what’s going on. So people form a number of factions based around different
universities, each side attacking the other while grandly touting their own views as correct.
No wonder that there are people who say, “Modern physics is self-delusion.” I regret a bit
that at the outset I did not study a more practical subject. But what can be done about it now?
Our parents themselves were ignorant of these things and could not guide me in educational
matters. I had to blunder on all by myself. Lots of Chinese physicists with U.S. citizenship,
who had been messing around in the U.S. and weren’t happy any more, returned to China
for visits and bragged that in doing so they were making a contribution to their fatherland.
And so then the Chinese government started propagandizing on a grand scale and beguiled
the young people in to studying the theoretical sciences.
But, to get back to what I was saying earlier, if I had at the outset studied medicine, I could
not possibly have come to the U.S. to study for a degree and earn American currency. Our
parents did not have the economic resources to send me to the U.S. for advanced study.
Some people at this school who are in the applied sciences, their parents are for the most
part high-level intellectuals who have studied abroad. Their families have foreign currency,
which they can use to enable their children to take the TOEFL and the GREs, and to defray
their tuition and living expenses. Or they have relatives living abroad who can lend them
money. That today I have come to this pass can justly be said to be partly the fault of our
parents. I truly believe the saying, “In life be a paragon among men, and in death be a hero
among the shades.” I take personal responsibility for all that I have done.
And another thing, in the end it would be best not to let the younger generation (of our
family) know how it really was with me, for it might be disadvantageous to their futures. My
beloved elder sister, I take my eternal leave of you. Your younger brother.",1,Grievance Airring,Gang Lu's Letter to his Sister,6/13/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lu_sister_letter_1.0.pdf,Gang Lu
"STATEMENT
by Mr. Lu Gang, Ph.D.
My this life is surprisingly full of political incidents. When I was in the kindergarten, I was
punished by the baby sitter for calling Mr. Lenin, the grand dad of Soviet Communism, “Bold
Donkey” which is a popular insulting slung for bold people. In the last year of my junior
high I was assigned to visit the memorial tomb of Chairman Mao. I showed some reluctance
to the class supervisor because it was right the time for final exams. Then my public duties
(vice head of the class, representative for English, Physics) were deprived. I was forced to
make a self-criticism speech in from of the whole class, and all my school friends left me in
the fear of political suppression. I hate politics, but I will certainly go ahead to use politics
if it is my only choice to defend myself.
My favorite public place in Iowa City is the “Sports Column” where I have been around for
about five years. I made lots of good friends and inevitably some jealous enemies there. They
have the prettiest girls in town there, and some of them could never have been forgotten
such as ... and the little blonde cutie who always stays by her side. Of course there are some
girls I run into in other places, such as ... who is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met in this life.
My first movie seen in the US is “About Last Night” the evening I passed my comprehensive
exams. My favorite movies include “No Way Out,” “Die Hard,” “Indiana Jones,” and Clint
Eastwood’s movies where a single cowboy fights against a group of incorporated bad guys who
pick on little guys at their will or cover up each other’s ass. I believe in the rights of people
to own firearms. Historically, gun-rights make it possible for the spread of civil rights into
the south. In those times, groups of civil rights workers from the north were assassinated/
murdered by pro-slaver southerners, meanwhile the local/federal authorities were reluctant
to do anything about it. So the civil rights workers have to be heavily armed before they
ever dare to enter the south. Even today, privately-owned guns are the only practical way for
individuals/minority to protect them against the oppression from the evil organizations/
majority who actually control the government and legal system. Private guns make every
person equal, no matter what/who he/she is. They also make it possible for a individual to
fight against a conspired/incorporated organization such as Mafia or Dirty University officials. Usually an ordinary individual is too weak, both politically and financially, to oppose
a giant organization. Fortunate examples like Dr. Jean Dew winning a federal case against
the University of Iowa for sexual discrimination is really rare. Her success is mainly because
she has a solid income (salary for a M.D. could not be bad at all) to support her five year court
battle against the university of Iowa which simply neglected her complaint in the first place
and issued only a public apology to her after the court’s ruling in her favor. The University
of Iowa even paid the fine of the primary criminal in the case (a fellow male anatomy professor), which is really outrageous. This actually indicates that this university is encouraging
the male anatomy professor for his illegal behavior. It is believed that there exists no justice
for little people in this world, extraordinary action has to be taken to preserve this world as
a better place to live. Christoph K. Goertz . . . He told me one day “you are in charge of the code and no one else
knows the code” . . . since we are the only group to own the 2-D code right now. But as a
honest human being and based upon the findings in the execution of the code, I arrived at
some conclusions different from his original expectation. As a result, he became so mad
that he refused to let me graduate in time for a precious job opportunity and is withholding
my thesis result from being published in JGR where he serves as the chief-editor. When he
couldn’t find any more excuses to prevent me from graduation, he failed intentionally to
notify me as it should be that I am supposed by tradition to give a 10-15 minutes talk on my
thesis defense before the committee members ask me questions. In fact he told me of it until
one minute before my defense started. I was taken by surprise and I had to make up a talk
instantly and presented it on blackboard instead of on transparency projector. As the result,
my thesis was not passed by the committee after my defense and I was exposed brutally to
both personal humiliation and emotional anguish . . . Goertz . . . blamed me personally for
the failure of my defense . . . I did not ask him to write letters of recommendation for job
opportunities. Later when he heard of this from Dr. Nicholson, he came to me immediately
and insist that he write such letters for me. Goertz. . .missed the deadlines for most of the
letters which I had specifically specified. That is the major reason that I am still jobless today.
Then he promised in May that he would support my work here, however, I haven’t seen any
paycheck since then while I have been working here for months after my graduation in May.
Later I made some recent progress in extension of my thesis research and submit it to JGR.
The response from the referees is favorably for publication after some minor modifications.
Goertz first tried to persuade me to present it to JGR by saying that it is too lengthy to be
published in GRL. When I pointed out that it is within the limit for GRL, he then tried to
force me to add more material to it so it will be delayed for publication after his opinion is
published or it be forced to be submitted to JGR under his control .. .
Robert Smith ... Since he is new in the department, he is eager to build his own territory ...
He heard that Shan Linhua is a good student, he then convinced Goertz to have him graduated sooner than most of the others which of course caused wide-spread outrage among the
rest of the students. Shan, however, missed the deadline for graduation paperwork, then
Smith went to Dwight R. Nicholson, Chairman of the department for personal favor which
enables Shan to graduate despite the missing of the graduate college deadline. Trying to
justify his act, Smith criticizes me with his eyes closed from the facts that my way of studying
the cross-field charge-separation electric field is completely wrong. At that time, everyone in
the group was criticizing my study for a whole semester until I am eventually proven correct.
Dwight R. Nicholson ... gave his student ... an extinguished graduate fellowship even he is not
qualified according the graduate college requirement. Nicholson also gave ... an engineering
undergraduate without even a Bachelor degree a 1/2 time graduate research assistantship
in physics. What a outrage! He committed fraud (unethical conduct) in the departmental
nomination to the “D.C. Spriesterbach Dissertation Award” offered by the graduate college
here which was filed by me in a series of complaints to Dr. Rudolph Schultz, Acting Dean
of the Graduate College; Dr. Leslie Sims, Dean of the Graduate College; Peter Nathan, Vice
President for Academic Affairs; Dr. Anne Cleary, Associated Vice President for Academic
Affairs; Dr. Hunter Rawlings III, President since June 1991. The response from various university officials is, however, disappointed. Up to now, my complaints are still under primary
investigation by university officials. I believe they are just trying to coordinates their words
to cover this up. Immediately after Dr. Dwight Nicholson nominated Dr. Goertz for some
kind of teach/research award from the university and Dr. Cleary called Dr. Goertz, Dr. Goertz
came to me saying “if you continue, it will backfire.” What a down-right attempt to cover-up.
The whole scene looks pretty like the famous story of “The Count of Monte Cristo” by Alex
Dumas. Since then I have sworn to myself that I would revenge at any cost, sooner or later The misconducts of the said persons would be impossible without the indulgence/coverup
by the university authorities. I have been revealing their unethical conducts to Dr. Rudolph
Schultz, associate dean of Graduate College; Dr. Leslie Sims, dean of graduate college; Dr.
Peter Nathan, Vice President for Academic Affairs; Dr. Hunter Rawlings III, President of
the University of Iowa since June 1991. However, they would rather to believe the words of
Nicholson than to listen to my words and my evidence. The department/college/university
authorities have been in a conspiracy to isolate me, delay my complaint so I might be forced
to leave here and they could claim the case dismissed because the absence of the plaintiff.
I regret that I have to take extraordinary measure to resolve this matter, but it is simply not
my fault. The University of Iowa authorities should be blamed for the unfortunate outcome.
If the university had taken positive steps as it is supposed by the tax-payers, tuition payers
and funding agencies, all this could be avoided. The University of Iowa is trying its best to
cover . . . Nicholson in the DCS dissertation award, in spite of the fact that I am putting my
whole career on the line.
I am being a physicist who believed in the conservation of matter, energy, momentum, etc.
Although my flesh/blood-made body seems dead, my spiritual soul remains perpetual and
I am being quantum leaping to another corner of our world. I have finished what I am supposed to do here which is to make right what was once wrong. I am proud of my achievement
here and I am more confident in my upcoming journey. So long my friends, maybe we will
meet again in another time at another place. May the lord bless all those descent human
beings who are honest, hard working and truthy.",1,Grievance Airring,Gang Lu's Statement,6/13/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lu_statement_1.0.pdf,Gang Lu
"Forgive the mistakes, I had 15 minutes to write this. See also Annex.
Would you note that if I commit suicide today 89-12-06 it is not for economic reasons (for
I have waited until I exhausted all my financial means, even refusing jobs) but for political
reasons. Because I have decided to send the feminists, who have always ruined my life, to
their Maker. For seven years life has brought me no joy and being totally blasé, I have decided
to put an end to those viragos.
I tried in my youth to enter the Forces as an officer cadet, which would have allowed me possibly to get into the arsenal and precede Lortie1 in a raid. They refused me because antisocial
[sic]. I therefore had to wait until this day to execute my plans. In between, I continued my
studies in a haphazard way for they never really interested me, knowing in advance my fate.
Which did not prevent me from obtaining very good marks despite my theory of not handing
in work and the lack of studying before exams.
Even if the Mad Killer epithet will be attributed to me by the media, I consider myself a
rational erudite that only the arrival of the Grim Reaper has forced to take extreme acts. For
why persevere to exist if it is only to please the government. Being rather backward-looking
by nature (except for science), the feminists have always enraged me. They want to keep
the advantages of women (e.g. cheaper insurance, extended maternity leave preceded by a
preventative leave, etc.) while seizing for themselves those of men.
Thus it is an obvious truth that if the Olympic Games removed the Men-Women distinction, there would be Women only in the graceful events. So the feminists are not fighting
to remove that barrier. They are so opportunistic they [do not]2 neglect to profit from the
knowledge accumulated by men through the ages. They always try to misrepresent them
every time they can. Thus, the other day, I heard they were honoring the Canadian men
and women who fought at the frontline during the world wars. How can you explain [that
since]3 women were not authorized to go to the frontline??? Will we hear of Caesar’s female
legions and female galley slaves who of course took up 50% of the ranks of history, though
they never existed. A real Casus Belli.4
Sorry for this too brief letter.
Marc Lépine",1,Planned Violence,Marc Lepine's Suicide Note,6/11/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lepine_note_1.1.pdf,Marc Lepine
"[From: Smiggles]
[Posted: Sunday, 23 October 2010, 3:56 am]
I don’t have the persistent sense of fear that you described, but around once every couple
months when I’ve gotten arbitrarily fatigued and it’s around 12:00–5:00 in the morning,
I have images of distorted faces flashing through my mind. They’re sort of similar to the
ones toward the end of the movie Terror House, at about 75:00. When I first saw the scene, I
mentally flinched for a moment because of its similarity to what I have imagined in the past.
http://www.zshare.net/video/7072064402072186/ [dead link]
On a tangent, this is probably among my favorite movies (although its ending was disappointing). I searched for it after reading an IMDB review, and I eventually found this link.
The review said that it was similar to Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things and Don’t
Look In The Basement, both of which have aspects which I enjoyed. I first knew from about
5:00 to 5:30 that I was going to love the movie for its style of atmosphere. I wouldn’t expect
most people to enjoy this movie nearly as much as I do, but I’m surprised that it has received
so little attention. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (which I haven’t seen; I’m not interested in
that sort of movie) has a similar plot scenario, but this one preceded it by a few years.
About the images — they’re not exactly like the ones in that movie, but that’s the best I can
do to display an example of them. It’s not the normal screamer type of pop-up for me; the
faces are fairly mundane, and they sporadically rapidly appear without any context and then
disappear.
When it happens and I get slightly paranoid over them , I usually go straight to my bedroom
and try to sleep; I don’t even bother to brush my teeth first because the bathroom’s window
only has partial drapes and I don’t like being around exposed windows during it. It sounds
pathetic, but when I get into my bedroom after it happens, I search it to determine that
there’s no one in there with me, and then feel better knowing that the only route someone
could take is through the closed door. I’ve occasionally felt uncomfortable about looking at
the gap between the windows and their synthetic drapes.
On another tangent, what do you think about sunlight? Those drapes haven’t been opened
in the last five years, and the drapes in the room I’m in right now have actually been taped
shut (to block the gaps from allowing sunlight through) for the same amount of time. I absolutely hate sunlight, along with any artificial light which resembles it.
The few times I see an extremely bleak, dark, and dreary day outside during the morning or
afternoon with thick gray clouds covering the entire sky, I get into a good mood and think
about how wonderfully beautiful it is outside. Bright, sunny, “cheerful” days are depressing.
Nearly every afternoon is miserable for me. Beyond just the normal animosity I have for
sunlight, I get exhausted between noon and and sunset when I’m in a room which allows
the slightest amount of afternoon light in.
I hate having my skin exposed to sunlight, so I always wear a hooded sweatshirt and fulllength pants, even in the hottest weather. The sunglasses I wear are gigantic and almost
completely prevent me from seeing any direct sunlight when I’m looking in any direction.
I would also wear a full balaclava if it wouldn’t get me profiled as a criminal. They need to
make a fashion come-back . ..
I check this website often:
http://www.epa.gov/sunwise/uvindex.html
I intend on eventually living in northwest Washington (probably Seattle.) It’s among the
most consistently overcast regions in the mainland US
(http://www.ncdc.noaa.gov/oa/climate/online/ccd/cldy.html).
I always get disappointed when I check the UV index for the day and see how low it is compared to my state’s level.
Getting back to the subject of paranoia — those images were the worst “hallucinations” I
had experienced until a couple of weeks ago late one night when I was getting very tired.
The incident was so surreal that I only a remember a small amount of the details. Basically,
I began to “see” many different things. Although I knew that none of it was actually real, it
came as close to being real as it could for me without it being physically tangible. I heard
screaming around me, and I had an overwhelming sense that there was someone dead
behind me. I kept seeing silhouettes of flickering people everywhere. I felt like I had to cry.
The entire ordeal persisted for about fifteen minutes and sort of faded away. Prior to it happening, I had never had that sort of delusional hysteria before. It was possibly the strangest
thing I’ve ever experienced.",1,Grievance Airring,Adam Lanza: Two Personal Messages,6/18/2015,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_two_personal_messages_1.0.pdf,Adam Lanza
"[From: Smiggles]
[Posted: Friday, 12 November 2010, 8:25 pm]
Basically, I take the belief that everyone should have equal rights and apply it consistently.
I’ve had these thoughts for years and haven’t spoken to anyone about them. I’d like to be
able to discuss this in a topic, but it will probably be too offensive. I’m going to keep it to
myself for now.
And now that I think about it, this might sound a bit satirical, but it’s not. Anyway, this is
what I would have posted:
Ever since I was 14, the entire subject of gay rights which is so pervasive in this society has
frustrated me. It’s not owing to any malice I have toward homosexuals, but instead is caused
by the absurdity of the overwhelming fervor against the discrimination of homosexuals while
there is another class of people who genuinely suffer from persecution for their lifestyle. While many people celebrate homosexual relationships, sexual relationships between adults
and children are universally condemned and vilified. Every adult who is known to have been
involved in one is automatically branded for life as a violent and dangerous rapist. Anyone
who is unfortunate enough to be subjected to this societal corruption endures the effects of
it for the rest of their lives: their personal information is widely divulged to their neighbors
as if public castigation is encouraged; they are denied employment; their location must
be reported to their oppressive government; whether or not an adult engages in a sexual
relationship with a child, they must forever hide their mere sexuality or else be stigmatized
infinitely beyond anything homosexuals endure. If any of this applied to homosexuals, the
public would be appalled, yet no one cares when it applies to pedophiles.
It seemed as if the entire country was outraged when Tyler Clementi killed himself a couple
months ago. From what I know, the catalyst for his suicide was the way that he had been
mocked after being recorded by a hidden camera while he was engaging in sexual activity
with another male. Yet To Catch A Predator, a television program which was based on the
manipulation of hundreds of adults into being recorded by hidden cameras after desiring
sexual activity with children, has never received anywhere near this level of outrage. The
audience is supposed to find entertainment value in the humiliation of ephebophiles were
afterward violently subdued by police and impounded, having the rest of their lives impacted
significantly greater than anything Tyler Clementi had experienced. There was scarcely any
criticism when one of the ephebophiles was forced into shooting himself in the head as
police were surrounding him.
Watch this video objectively and imagine that they are speaking about homosexuals like
Tyler Clementi:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISzUkjTqvTQ&fmt=18 [dead link]
There is an inordinate amount of innately fallacious arguments against pedophilia, most of
which are also directed toward homosexuality. I’m not going to address any of them to begin
with because I assume everyone here already understands that arguments such as “The
DSM recognizes pedophilia as a mental illness” or “pedophilia is unnatural” are ludicrously
invalid. For this first post, I’m only going to address arguments which are remotely coherent.
If anyone invokes more ignorant ones, I will address them later in this topic. I’m not sure
how well I’ll be able to do this preemptively, though, because I don’t entirely understand the
mindset of people who disparage pedophilia as a sexuality. From my perspective, it’s like trying to argue against someone who believes that females are inferior to males. It’s a patently
absurd notion, and I find it to be sort of comical that I even have to make this argument.
To begin with, you must understand that pedophiles are not the only victims of this virulent
persecution. The children who choose to engage in sexual relationships with adults are invariably severed from their loving relationships and are indoctrinated into believing that they
have been abused, being labeled as “victims” and being subjected to the genuinely abusive
will of psychiatrists (the most immoral profession I can imagine) who “treat” (coerce) them
into believing that they can overcome their “abuse”. I don’t understand how this can be
perceived as being fundamentally any different from the nature of the mental abuse which
is used to indoctrinate political dissidents.
Children would not be “scarred” by their voluntary sexual experiences any more than adults
in typical sexual relationships would be “scarred” unless their society shamed them into believing that they should feel guilty. The reason why a child would be mentally damaged after
having consented to sexual activity is because they are socially conditioned into believing that
what they did is in some ill-defined way deleterious. This is no different than submitting to
oppressive religious beliefs that premarital sexual activity should be viewed negatively, and that anyone who engages in it should feel shame and remorse for having committed their
sins. I assume everyone here understands that there is nothing innately pernicious about
the nature of sexual relationships between adults, and that there is nothing innately immoral
about sexuality in general, yet somehow sexual activity inexplicably becomes a pestilence
once children engage in it. This argument is the equivalent of saying that the sexual activity
of unmarried couples is harmful, yet the sexual activity of married couples is neutral, or
even virtuous. It’s completely nonsensical. The morality of the sexuality of children should
not be evaluated any differently than the morality of the sexuality of adults.
The specious propaganda which is primarily disseminated against the legitimacy of sexual
relationships between adults and children is that a child is incapable of consenting to sexual
activity, so any occurrence of it is inherently rape. This is an arbitrary assumption which
oppresses children and is an indication of the abusive mentality which is inflicted upon
them daily in this society, dehumanizing them and relegating them to the status of slaves.
Why is sexual activity considered to be incomprehensible to a child? What is so fundamentally
challenging about the concept that there is not a single child who could possibly fathom it?
It’s absurd for to claim that sexuality is something which requires significant mental capabilities and thus must be violently controlled by governments, because there is no restriction
against imbeciles being sexual. Children are innately incapable of comprehending it, yet
once someone attains a certain age (which varies extremely depending on the time period
and location, thus demonstrating that it’s absolutely meaningless), everyone is suddenly
capable of it? If the nature of sexuality is fundamentally a concept to understand for all children, then it is not reasonable to assume that even a small minority of people are capable of
comprehending its perplexity at 18. If an adult may engage in sexual activity because they
are demonstratively capable of employing prudent rationality, then why may a child not
enjoy the same right? Professing that a child is incapable of understanding the concept of
consent because of the belief that adults are universally “more rational” than they are, and
thus children do not deserve to control their bodies, is equivalent to claiming that females do
not deserve to control their bodies because males are “more judicious in personal affairs” in
relation to them, or some other such inane fatuity. It’s a senseless and morally reproachful
position to hold.
There is the argument that the “power disparity” in the relationship between an adult and
a child renders any sexuality between them to be inherently abusive. This notion can be
applied against females, arguing that they cannot be in a sexual relationship because many
of them explicitly desire one with a male who is in a higher position of societal “power”,
thus none of them are capable of giving consent. No none believes that a pretentious “power
disparity” argument applies to the legitimacy of sexual relationships between adults, yet it
arbitrarily applies to children? It is also outright fallacious because the child has all of the
control over the relationship. The adult would have to be extremely careful around the child
because virtually everyone would accuse the adult of raping the child without consideration
as to whether or not s/he gave consent.
Some of you may say that children would never consent to sexual activity, and that if they
engage in it, an adult must have forced them into it. Apply this argument to females once
again and it immediately evinces why this is a meaningless assertion. It is equivalent to asserting that violent persecution is justified toward any female and her associate who engages
in premarital sexual activity because no females would ever desire it owing to some arbitrary
criterion. It’s a presumptuous way to justify discriminatory coercion and is not based on
any logical argument. Personally, I don’t understand why children in general would want to
be sexual, but I also don’t understand why adults in this society are so sexual. If I was ever
going to engage in any sexual activity, I would be certain that it would be meaningful, but adults everywhere engage in it as if it doesn’t matter. Adults seem to invariably claim that it
is “making love” or some other haphazard justification of their licentious behavior. In that
case, how can you define what is and is not a legitimate expression of love? If you believe
that adults “making love” can be described as positively as I constantly hear it is, then the
sexual activity of children is equally positive.
Why is this society so adamantly opposed to pedophilia? Children deserve all of the rights
and respects that an adult should receive, yet this is not the case to any extent. The inexorable battery of children (“spanking”) is fully legal in the United States. Children’s free will
is suppressed and annihilated in every conceivable manner within families. Beyond having
their associations, location, and every action subject to their parents’ wills, they are denied
their own thoughts, opinions, values, and religion, and instead are coerced into adopting
their parents’. Within the rest of society, children are denied property (their parents instantly legally siphon it from their children’s domain regardless of how the child obtained
it), employment, and are denied the right to have even an token impact on the government
which innately subjugates them through its very existence (although I’ll spare you from my
anarchistic rhetoric in this post). Children are not even allowed to control their own bodies:
if an adult wants to force any medical procedures or treatments onto a child, the child does
not have any choice in the matter.
This is why children are forced into being ashamed of their sexuality and why adults are
violently persecuted for loving children. If pedophilic relationships were condoned, then
it would be a recognition that children have human rights, which this egregious society is
not capable of accepting. Children deserve all of the rights and respects that adults should
receive, yet they do not because this morally reprehensible society implicitly enjoys the abusive subjugation of them as sub-human property instead of as people who have their own
legitimate thoughts and desires. If you support civil rights, such as through being a feminist
or a LGBTQIA activist, you should oppose the violent persecution of pedophilic relationships
and the subjugation of children. The right of children to have sexual relationships is a small
step toward liberating them from the oppression of adults which they currently endure. 
I wasn’t intending on posting anything about this topic because I don’t think that anyone
would consider an alternative perspective (about which I still have very little faith), but the
recent removal of that book from Amazon has irritated me. I’ve barely read any information
about the book or its removal, so I don’t know anything about its contents, but it was probably completely benign. It doesn’t matter either way, though, because it would have been
removed under any circumstance merely because of the nature of its subject.
While it seems like nearly everyone wants the and anything like it to not be available through
Amazon’s website, the motive of the very few people who oppose its removal is nothing other
harrowing. According to them, it’s inappropriate for Amazon to not support the free speech
of authors. These people use the same mentality and reasoning for the justification of the
availability of material pertaining to nuisances such as racial supremacy, as if pedophilia is
something that is equivalently morally repugnant; as if the existence of information pertaining
to it should merely be grudgingly tolerated rather than supported as something which can
be positive. I don’t have an moral opposition to a book which directs adults on how they can
safely have a relationship with children: I condone its availability. Information like that needs
to be available because any beauty which could potentially be present in such relationships
is currently violently suppressed. I support anyone, child or adult, who believe that their
love is important enough to be in a relationship together and risk the current consequences,
because I believe that nothing is more important than love. Those who seek the application
of violence to suppress these relationships are the depraved profligates, not the individuals
who seek to express their love regardless of age. I know that I will be accused of desiring sexual contact with children, and there might possibly be accusations that I have already had it, but neither case is true. I also have not seen
any degree of child pornography (nor intentionally seen any adult pornography). All of the
sexuality which is rampant in this society in general is as disgusting to me as pedophilia
is, but that isn’t sufficient reason for me to desire the violent persecution of anyone over it
because of personal perspective. I’m pretty confused when it comes to my sexuality, but I’m
certain that I’m not a pedophile.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: Two Personal Messages,6/18/2015,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_two_personal_messages_1.0.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I didn’t understand this when I was younger, but I’ve always had an immense hatred for
culture. I consider culture to be delusional values which humans mindlessly coerce onto
each other, spreading it no differently than any other disease. I previously sought to eliminate
my cultural values to the greatest extent that I could. Through this I expected to gradually
discover values of an inner self which could be reconciled with this society, so that I could
engage in activities and pursue goals which would lead to happiness.
Eventually I got to a point where I had sufficiently freed myself from what I called “cultural
values” when I analyzed all of the things which brought me happiness and all the goals which
I wanted to pursue, I realized that absolutely everything about those things that appealed to
me was entirely a consequence of my cultural infection.
Formerly, I had rejected some aspects of culture while accepting other ones, and merely
not calling them cultural as if those values were somehow transcendent and fine. It was at
that point that I realized that there is no such thing as an inner self. Any sense of self is a
delusional cultural construct. I realized that cultural infections were the sole source of any
possible value beyond base values. For a while, I believed that happiness could be attained if culture could theoretically be eradicated and anarcho-anarcho primitivism were to take
hold.2 Replace all instances of technology with culture in the analytic sections of Industrial
Society and Its Future3 and you basically have my mentality at the time regarding the pernicious effects of culture.
The problem was that I’d not been addressing what happiness is. Happiness is merely the
fulfilment of value, I recognized that if cultural values were eliminated, the happiness which
results from their fulfilment would not be needed because happiness becomes an unnecessary and incoherent concept when it is removed from its concept — context. A common
theme in my quasi-anarcho-primitivist thought at the time is that non-base values exist only
as a consequence of cultural infections and impede on the happiness which results from
the ful-fulfilment of feral values. As if [?] my feral self is — in short metaphysically the real
me, whose soul had been devoured by the culturally constructed impostor of the self. But
my feral self was also an impostor. Just as I realized that I could eliminate non-base values
and have no need for the happiness which resulted from their fulfilment, I could eliminate
base-values and have no need for the happiness which resulted from their fulfilment.
It was not only the disease of culture that had been plaguing me all — all along, it was the
disease of life itself. I was not and I am not in some exis-existential crisis, I’ve never had
the slightest problem with the obvious nonexistence of free will, objective purposes, and
all of that. I have always been entirely psychologically capable of accepting my own subjective values and goals, even though I know they are consummately inconsequential, and it
doesn’t bother me at all.
The problem is not that I seek meaning and cannot find it. The problem is that I do feel
immense meaning, and so does everyone else who is alive. Meaning is an abstract interpretation of value which exists only because of life. Just as I sought to eradicate the delusional
values which culture infected me with, the final solution is the termination of my life, to rid
myself of all value. The solution cannot be to embrace some aspect of life, as if the erosion
of delusions is the cause of this. Life is what urgently caused me to have value, and changing
my life will never do anything but create different delusions than the ones I already have.
Unfortunately, as of right now I lack the discipline to pursue my death — death and to rid
myself of the values which delude me, even though I recognize the solution to life is death.
But I do commend others who do commit suicide. They have freed themselves from culture,
life, and all value. They have freed themselves from themselves.",1,Vague Discontent,Adam Lanza: My antinatalism,9/7/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: My point was that they are capable of consenting; I’m not talking about rape.
I suppose I should add a video to my channel where I’m not reading something which I
wrote before the video, and instead just ramble about ... basically whatever comes to mind,
so that I seem like less of a robot. And I . .. I haven’t slept very recently, so I’m probably going to ramble incoherently, but I’m — I’m not excusing my rambling, by really saying that
though because I always ramble But, anyway, I was just recently thinking about all of this “it ge-gets better” nonsense, you
know, with, with um, pert-pertaining to the teenagers being bullied into committing suicide.
And, uh, just the concept of bullying in general. And I’ve, in my life, I don’t think I’ve ever
conventionally been bullied. I can’t really remember a single instance, but it’s, it just seems
so ironic, all of this nonsense. Eve-even though I wasn’t bullied in a conventional sense, I was
bullied in the normal cultural sense, which everyone is bullied in. And when people speak
about that, “it — it gets better” nonsense, they say it in the context of, “Well our children are
being bullied, what can we do to create an environment in which they can thrive?” And that
seems like such a blatant contradiction to me because it’s really demonstrating the true bullying that’s going on, and that bullying is what every child is subjected to. The imposition
of cultural values. And the only reason why they oppose . . . um, the conventional sense of
bullying is because it interferes with their cultural imposition of value. And .. . it’s just, eh,
children are constantly bullied in every sense of the term, when it comes to their upbringing.
Like, one instance I recently remembered, this ... heh, this isn’t I guess, a very good representation of what I’m talking about, but I remember when I was about ten years old, and at
the end of the day in elementary school we would get into lines and go from room to room,
to gather the kids for the right bus. And I remember that, when I was in the line, we would
get to a section of portable rooms which weren’t connected to the main hallway so we would
wait at that door which leads to them. And ... um, the students, from there, would come join
the line, and I remembered that usually I would, I don’t, I don’t really remember what I was
doing but I would frantically signal to them as if there were some emergency. Um, I wasn’t
serious, I was ... I don’t know what I was doing, I was just bored I guess.
And anyway, one day I looked through the window from the door leading to the portable
classrooms, and I saw that the principal of the school was speaking to someone over there.
And I thought, Oh well, I can’t goof around when she’s there, so I said out loud to the people,
um, to the other students that were at the line there with me, I said, “Oh the principal is
there, well, I don’t care,” and by that time I just thought I was going to just, flap around,
na— um, just motion as if there were some emergency, anyway, just fooling around. And
the vice principal happened to be standing behind me, hearing me say, “Oh the principal’s
there, oh I don’t care,” and she said the statement, “You should care,” av— as if it were . . .
eh, something very insightful, and wise. And even though she misunderstood the context
of what I was saying, it’s ignoring that, just, looking at that statement, “You SHOULD care,”
and that really ... is a representation of, what childhood is. It’s children saying, “I don’t care,
I don’t want your values, I don’t want to live,” and adults constantly saying, “You should care
about values, you should choose culture, you should choose life,” and that’s what parenting
and childhood and education and all of that is. It’s just adults bullying children into accepting their values. So how can you possibly criticize people for mocking the homosexuals and
bullying them in some sense, when you’re the ones who’re incessantly bullying children?
And, in that vein, um, heh, man, and the children, they grow up to do the same exact thing.
And they just senselessly propagate these cultural memes ... forever. It just keeps going on,
they keep bullying each other, and there’s no point to any of it.
And this kind of ties into an interest I have, which is ... well, heh, um ... basically the way in
which society treats pedophiles. And before I go any further, I should say, I’m not a pedophile,
I’ve never knowingly had any contact with any pedophiles ... at all. And, just strictly an acaacademic interest in the subject, but ... it ... this whole bullying theme, it’s remarkable how
they can say that homosexual teenagers are being bullied, when any discrimination which
homosexuals face is infinitely more insi-insignificant when compared to the discrimination which pedophiles are faced aga— wi— um, face against. Um, I mean, first off everyone
hates you, you’re subject to innumerable hate crimes just right off the bat, but if you’re ever
known to have engaged in a pedophilic relationship with a child, you’re instantly imprisoned
for prolonged periods. You’re put on a sex offender registry for the rest of your life. You are brutalized in prison, and people actually celebrate that as if it’s a good thing. And then if
you’re lucky enough to escape prison with your life, you’re on that sex offenders registry or
possibly castrated, you are tracked with a GPS device in some instances, and ... the-there are
just, so many issues pedophiles face, and everyone seems to think that it’s not a problem at
all, it’s somehow justified that they’re treated in that manner.
And ... and, you have to develop such extensive arguments just to refute that delusion, that
somehow having sex with children is harmful to them innately. When, I’m . . . I’ve written
an essay that’s already twn thousand and, I’m nowhere near finished and it’s already ten
thousand words long with eight thousand words and notes that I have to add. It’ll probably
end up over twenty-five thousand words and it’s just refuting this simple nonsense. And
basically, all that it really boils down to, is that children aren’t harmed by having sex, the
reason why pedophilia is opposed is because it combines an ata-atavistic cultural opposition
to sex with the undermining of authority of adults who relegate children to the property of
status. Uh, eh, sorry, to the status of their property. I’ve ... typed that sentence, or forms of
it, so many times, and it’s really all that it is. It’s just that you’re undermining their authority to impose their cultural values on children, and of course when you interfere with that
process, people are going to react violently. And it’s . . . not innately harmful for children
to have sex, it’s . . . so absurd, I’ve never seen a valid argument stating as such. And, um,
really that’s all that culture is. It’s just the imp— the reason why I’m interested in this topic
of pedophilia, is not because I have any ties to it, at all. It’s because it really represents what
culture is. It’s a bunch of lies which exist to propagate itself. Infecting countless children
for countless generations and just . . . continuing to perpet-perpetuate, heh, I promise in
the future I’ll make some videos about pedophilia I’m not just gonna leave it on that note.
Um. My ... arguments are much more refined than what I’ve just stated, but really it’s just
a bunch of nonsense.
And ... why do ... people even people seem to think that they’re doing their children a favor,
when they’re imposing values on them. They’re thinking, My values are so great that a child
needs to be brought up with them, they, um, they — they don’t really realize what they’re
doing. And, first off I’m talking about people who actually choose to have children, instead
of the “Oh whoops the condom broke, guess I just raped the soul of our offspring,” instead
I’m talking about those people who um intend on having children and intend on giving them
a quote “better life” than they had.
These people experienced what they consider to be trauma when they were children, saying,
“Oh my family was too poor to provide for us” or “Oh my family somehow abused us,” and
because of that they think that they can do their children a favor by changing their behavior
when having their children. But you’re not doing your children any favors, you’re not, it’s
like they think that you’re — that somehow that process of parenting is progressing towards
some enlightenment, but it’s, it’s not doing that at all, the only reason why you would want
to do that with your children is because, not because you’re being selfless, you’re being
selfish. You’re trying to remedy your own psychological baggage. I mean, the children have
nothing to do with it, they don’t exist, they don’t, they aren’t subjected to whatever you were
subjected to. It’s, uh, I don’t even know.
You don’t do your children a favor by raising them in any way, all that you’re doing is imposing values onto them and they’re going to have to do the same thing to their children, to fix
their baggage and all of that nonsense. You think that you’re progressing toward something,
and I’m not saying that you’re not progressing, that you’re somehow deviating from some
progression or that you’re going in circles. I’m not saying that at all, you’re not going in
circles, you’re not progressing, you’re, um, you’re not doing anything There’s no movement at all, you’re — you’re stuck in the zeroth dimension and I’m stuck in
the zeroth dimension with no movement at all because that’s the structure of life and that’s
what value demands, you’re jus— you’re not accomplishing anything by doing any of this,
you’re just trying to fulfill the values that you’ve been instilled with. And if you don’t have
children, you don’t need to fulfill any of those values. Uh. Not sure where I should go right
now, I mean, what I should talk about.
It really irritates me how people ... they seem to say that, why should it be celebrated when
a child is born? I think that you should say, um, “I’m so sorry for your loss” whenever you
hear that someone is pregnant. And it’s the same thing with suicide, I used to feel sorry for
people who committed suicide, but I think they have the right idea.
And now I commend them, I think that people should throw celebrations when someone
commits suicide because ... they’re able to escape this value trap. And ... heh ... I wish I were
that determined, but I’m still psychologically stuck in all of this, I probably won’t be pursuing
that any time soon, but I’ve never heard a single good argument against suicide. [laughter]
My favorite one is “It’s selfish to commit suicide!” as if it’s somehow not selfish for those
people to force that person to live who has already determined that life is not worth living,
just so that they can fulfill their needs. Or rather their values, you don’t need anything. But
I guess in the vein of that whole, parenting thing, you imposing values onto your children
to address your own ... that’s basically all that politics is, anyway.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: Rambling vlogrant of a ruminative vagrant,9/8/2021,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: Tell me if you want me to elaborate on anything in a future video.
I used to enjoy reading, um, anything written by authors like ... Proudhon, Kropotkin, especially Tolstoy, Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, Benjamin Tucker, basically any anarchist
whether they are — they were individualists or collectivists, I enjoyed all of that, and it — I used
to think that I was progressing toward something by learning about anarchist philosophy.
But as if it were somehow anti-cultural, as if I were destroying some [archons?] of the mind.
But I . . . I was doing no such thing, the only reason why I was ever interested in anarchist
philosophy is because I felt ... because of the experiences I had in my life, I felt as if I were
hurt by the concept of authority. And if I had never been exposed to that concept, I would’ve
never pursued any of this, anarchist philosophy. And that’s basically an understatement of
what I was thinking back then. But it, I guess the essence of it. And so that’s all that politics
is, people who’ve, because of the lives they’ve lived have acquired certain values and they try
to fulfill that by promoting their political agenda as if it’s ... somehow progressing towards
something, but it’s not, it’s just addressing your psychological baggage.
And it’s, it’s all complete nonsense. I wasn’t anti-cultural in the sense that I thought I was
getting beyond culture. I was — it was just counterculture. And that’s basically, well that’s
basically all of life ... and now I’m getting into the incoherent stage. [laughter] Um, anyway,
people think that, Oh, well of course politics matters, because people’s rights need to be
enforced, right? But that’s not true because these rights are just another cultural abstraction. They . . . um, they — they don’t exist at all. Um, basically, I — eh, they say that . . . you
can somehow derive rights through some criteria, whatever that may be, or those may be,
and I used to think that that were possible, in some sense. That doing those things were
possible, but I — I and I used to believe in the concept of logical contradictions, but I was
just misinterpreting the way in which logic was applied to determine rights. Such as, I used to think it was a contradiction for people to say . . . screensaver just came
on, heh, um . . . that’s going nowhere. Um, that it was a contradiction for people to say that
bestiality somehow violated an animal’s rights and yet those same people, the same meateaters, would advocate factory-farming. And they didn’t think that violated animals” rights,
when how could you possibly say that having sex with an animal violates its rights but killing
the animals not? It didn’t make any sense to me, but I was just misinterpreting the way that
they were using their so-called logic.
They weren’t using their logic so that they could determine what rights existed, they were
applying their logic so that they could determine how they could best fulfill their subjective
values. So basically when they saw someone having sex with an animal, they thought, Ew, I
don’t like that, I should create a right by which an animal can be free from this so I can be
free from that and then they say, “Oh, bacon is tasty so therefore we should create property
rights over animals” and “No, animals don’t have a right to live because X.Y.Z.,” and you try
to refute those assertions but it’s not those assertions upon which their argument is based.
It’s just based in the fulfilment of their subjective values and that’s really all that rights are.
And here’s another sentence I used to write all the time, or type all the time, but I’ll try to get
it right: “Rights are just euphemisms for the use of violence against someone who deviates
from the fulfilment of the subjective values of a group which has the capacity to kill,” I think
that basically describes it, and that’s really all that it is. It’s just a group with the capacity to
kill who is coercing people into behaving in ways which allow the maximum fulfilment of
their subjective values.
And mor-morality is similar ... not identical, but similar. Um, morality doesn’t exist and I don’t
mean morality is subjective, I mean moral statements have no validity, they are completely
incoherent. It’s, um . . . morality is basically just a cultural abstraction of subjective values,
so people just select arbitrary values and then they say .. . an-and they duct-taped the-them
together under — under the banner of moral language, and the-they say, “My behavior is
ethically or morally justified” instead of saying “My value is leading me to act in this way”
and that’s all there is to th— morality, there’s really nothing more.
Oh man I just remembered, I guess I should comment on this whole race thing, with
HeyRuka, HeyRuka and whatnot.4 I don’t really understand why ... if people like HeyRuka
want to advocate segregation of races be— so that they can, because they value those races,
because they put value in those races’ value so much that they want ... that value to prosper,
in their own settings, if they’re so obsessed with the value I don’t understand why they stop
at ethnicity instead of some other category because, it’s quite obvious that even among ethnicities, their values are radically different so if they love value so much then I don’t know
why they’re focusing on race, I think . . . it’s probably just another abstraction that only, I
don’t want to spend time thinking about it because it’s so pointless.
And I’m not saying that, um, we should encourage diversity and . . . I’m not saying that we
should segregate, because both intre-integration and segregation are nonsensical. They’re
just two systems under which culture prospers and we all lose. There’s really no difference
between them. This ties into what I used to, sort of, my prior thinking, I used to address the
issue of language being cultural. Oh man, I hate language so much, maybe I’ll talk about that
later. But I used to address the problem of language being cultural, by just saying, “Oh um,
Esperan— worldwide implil-implementation of Esperanto should solve that problem” it was
such a trivial, um, way to deal with that, because I wasn’t ... all that, um, integration allows
to happen is to — all that it does is kill competing viruses while — to let one virus prosper.
There’s really no difference between integration and segregation, it’s just the propagation of culture under different systems. And about language ... oh man, I have a special place in
my heart for language because it’s the primary method by which cultural values are coerced
onto other people.
And you can’t, it’s like the wheezing of someone with tuberculosis. It’s a symptom of it,
it’s also the method by which it propagates to other victims, and there’s nothing you can
do about it. You’re for — um, forever stuck with this, language, all these abstractions ... but
here I’m going back into my, my anarcho-quasi— I should say quasi-anarcho-primitivist
ideology when really, it’s not culture that’s the problem, it’s value that’s the problem. It’s
the structure of value itself, it’s not only cultural value, it’s fler-feral value too. It’s all a part
of the same nonsense . . . and sort of similar, to the whole race debacle, is the Efilists,5 um,
even though I’m adamantly opposed to the structure of life, I ... I differ from the Efilists in
several regards, and the main issue is their . . . um, they invoke these cultural abstractions
like rights and morality to further their ideology. And, I’m not appealing to anything, I’ve
recognized that there’s nothing transcendent about my ideas, they’re just a consequence of
the life I’ve lived, but it’s kind of like how Jay Sender[?] said, there ... there are so many people
from different backgrounds who come to the same conclusion about antinatalism, about
the structure of life, it’s um .. . ah, not appealing to anything, you can just look for yourself
at the structure of life and you can see, it’s — it’s just like how Gary6 says it’s, he says that,
the simplest way, it’s just a need that you did, it’s just a need that need not exist. And that’s
all that life is, and it’s so easy to see that. That you’re just, fulfilling these values which . . .
there’s, which have no reason to exist. And I don’t need to say it’s immoral[?] to fulfill that,
I just say ... it’s ridiculous according to my own standards, and apparently the standards of
many other people. I mean I’m not really sure I can communicate this, maybe it’s not even
possible to communicate this, because of the structure of life. Because I can’t free myself
from value and still communicate that I hate value.
It’s my value which leads me to hating value. [sigh] And another thing about the Efilists is
that a lot of them seem to think, that is, eh, it’s, that it’s possible for there to be . . . it’s possible for there to be an instance under which it would be a good idea to propagate life, that
if suffering were abolished tomorrow, that it would be okay to bring new lives into the world
or to live your current life. But I don’t really focus on suffering, at least not directly I focus on
really, value itself, that’s the problem. Even if there were Paradise tomorrow, and there were
no suffering forever in the future, I would still be advocating this position because I ... you
can sum me up in one sentence: I have a vendetta against value. So instead of an Efilist I’m
more of a ... eulavist.7 Eh, I only oppose life because life is the source of value and it’s value
that I really hate. And, well, I guess that just says it all: I have a vendetta against value. And
I guess that’s a good place to finish my video, I mean I basically support the Efilists because
I do hate life and value, but um . . . it’s just that I have several problems with them . . . and
also the same applies to Gary there are a lot of things I disagree with him about but listening
to his rants are kind of my idea of pornography. It’s just fun to listen to.
Oh, and speaking about pornography, if anyone comments on this video, I’m sure that ninety
percent of them will be about the whole “pedophilia” thing, and I just want to emphasize I
am not a pedophile, I don’t know any pedophiles, it’s just an academic interest. And if any
of you, eh, “pedo-phobic” um, inclined individuals want to comment about this, I’d like to hear some unique arguments affirming the position that children having sex is innately
harmful, because it’s been a really long time since I’ve found a unique argument advocating
that position. So . . . if you can, try to add some of those in the comments, but .. . um, until
then, thanks for listening and maybe someday in the future I’ll . . . I will definitely in the
future make some videos about pedophilia and elaborate on my position, but also someday
in the future maybe I’ll add another one of these rambling videos, depending on how well
this comes out. I should listen to it and probably think oh that, about myself, Oh that guy’s
such a liar, just listen to his voice, listening to his intonation, he’s obviously a pedophile!
And who knows? ... Maybe I am.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: Rambling vlogrant of a ruminative vagrant part 2,9/8/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: Or rather, activist antinatalism, efilism, eulavism — call it whatever you
want. The point is, there’s no need to even bring suffering into the picture because even eternal
utopia doesn’t change what “The Good” and “the good” are.
I should have elaborated on what I meant by this video, but it -was- “at light speed”. This is directed
toward the people who say things like, “Extinction?! But without humans, there will be no art; there
will be no nobility; there will be no kindness; there will be no goodness”.
Goodness is the fulfilment of value; value exists only in life. If there is no life, there is no
value. And thus, goodness becomes an entirely irrelevant concept.",1,Grievance Airring,Adam Lanza: Antinatalism at light speed,9/15/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: “But that’s a CULT!”
The accusations about Efilism being cult-like are presented with the implication that cults
are irrational groups who propagate delusional values. I’m not going to be addressing
Efilism in this video, I just want to speak about cults themselves. Cults generally exhibit
similar characteristics as outlined in ArchLord’s video. These include members yielding
to an unaccountable authority who controls their behavior, using various emotionally and
psychologically manipulative tactics to suppress dissent and modify the behavior and beliefs
of its members, demonization, and desolation for anyone who goes against the values of
the cult, along with a preoccupation with converting anyone who might be receptive. And
justifying any means necessary to further propagate their ideology, including actions which
are otherwise generally regarded as immoral.
Ostensibly, you start at a neutral perspective and observe a cult which exhibits these behaviors. You ask, if their beliefs had any validity then why would they have to resort to these
underhanded tactics of manipulation? Why are cults like this? A similar question to ask is
why terrorists do what they do. More specifically, how their activities can relate to the activities of governments. Governments have omnipresent legal institutions and law enforcers
which serve to force or intimidate people into not behaving in ways which deviate from the
fulfilment of their values. Terrorists need to resort to attacks against civilians, kidnappings,
assassinations, and other methods to have the same effect.
Governments are able to project massive militaries with sophisticated equipment to foster
their interests. Terrorists have to resort to methods as seen in Mumbai in 2008. Governments have educational institutions and regulations which can — which can inculcate values and modify the behavior of its citizens, in ways which are consistent with the fulfilment of
the government’s values. Terrorists need to resort to methods like propaganda of the deed
and manifestos.
I recognize that there may be a semantical issue here, but just grant it. And governments
have taxes and central banks, terrorists need to resort to burglary, counterfeiting and moneylaundering. I’m not trying to normatively justify terrorism; I’m just describing a difference
in the operation of the two groups. If someone shares the values which the dominant government promotes, then they are not neutral when the— when they observe the activities
of terrorists and dismiss the validity of their ideology because the terrorists resort to tactics
that the government would never use. Governments, already being dominant, merely have
no need to resort to the tactics of terrorists because they are viewed with legitimacy and thus
have their own more efficient tactics.
I suspect that most of you listening to this aren’t of the flag-waving persuasion, so I’ll assume
you understand that terrorists aren’t bad people who are jealous of happy governments,
and I’ll leave it at that. This dynamic applies to its fullest extent when pertaining to cults
and culture, it can — it can be seen in the way that children are treated. Children’s free wills
are suppressed and annihilated in every conceivable manner in all cultures, but I’ll just be
speaking about this one.
A child’s associations, location and every action is subject to the will of the adults around
them, along with being manipulated into adopting those adults’ thoughts and opinions.
Children are forced into the institution of parenting through governments which set up
property rights over them. Parents’ rights is a euphemism for slaveholders’ rights. Perhaps
I’ll elaborate on this in a future video, but the extremely concise story is this: the disease of
culture begins with the selective application of emotion to manipulate children into behaving
in culturally sanctioned ways. If the child’s be— child’s behavior fulfills your values, you apply
an affirming emotion, if the child’s behavior deviates from the fulfilment of your values, you
apply an antagonistic emotion.
This feral method is present in every interaction that children will have in the rest of its life,
but there is a more complex mechanism available. Once the child is old enough, it becomes
infected with language. It is primarily through this mechanism that cultural values are
transmitted. This is euphemistically referred to as “teaching,” as they grow older children
are progressively given more and more freedom, to the extent that they’ll contribute more
and more to the propagation of the dominant cultural values.
Some parents might say, “But I can allow children to flourish free from coercement, so that
they can become themselves,” or something like that. Sure, you might not teach your child
religion, but what are you going to do when you realize that your child isn’t going to speak
your language? Or that it doesn’t want to wear clothes? Or violates the cultural system of
property rights? And just, in general, isn’t abiding by the structure of your society? It’s impossible to be an egalitarian parent because you will inevitably coerce your child into behaving
in ways which are within the culturally defined parameters. That is the entire purpose of
children under any culture. You’re not doing your children a favor by bringing them into
existence, children exist solely for the propagation of the values of the adults who own them.
Your culture has taught you language, art, religion, rights, morality, your activities, cultural
context for interactions, the economic structure in which you live, innumerable compartmentalized meta-metaphysical categories of everything imaginable. And do you think that you’re
somehow a neutral observer when you dismiss a cult for employing manipulative tactics?
Cults behave in that way because they are trying to subvert the dominant culture and propagate their own cultural values. Dominant cultures do not have to resort to cultish tactics because since they have the luxury of being viewed with legitimacy, they have a monopoly
on the most efficient mechanism of cultural infection, the raising of children. Yes, the belief
systems of all cults are completely delusional, but it has nothing to do with their manipulative
tactics. All cultural values are delusions which exist entirely as a consequence of coercive
impositions",1,Vague Discontent,Adam Lanza: Cults and Culture,9/16/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: This will be unclear and redundant, so enter at your own peril. :( [links to
several other YouTube videos]
[In this recording, Lanza alternates between speaking and reading posts from a user known as
SomethingSea. Lanza also plays excerpts of his own recordings.]
[Lanza as himself:] Hello, SomethingSea. Thank you for the response to my “My Antinatalism” video. Um, I rearranged some of the things you said so that I could make my response
clearer, so whoever else is watching this, you should first watch my “My Antinatalism” video,
so that you can actually hear what I’m saying. And I agree that, um, I speak too quietly, and I
mumble too much, and my computer’s loud, I’ll — I’ll try to resolve all of that ... and once you
watch that video, you should watch his response and then ... watch this response. Because
just watching my — this video by itself isn’t going to be an accurate representation of his video.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] That’s not antinatalism, that’s, uhh, anatalism, suppose that anatalism means “positive of life”? Fuck is anatalism I’m going to look that up. Natalism is a belief
that promotes human reproduction. Okay, so you would be an anatalist, not an antinatalist
in that case.
[Lanza as himself:] I agree that antinatalism is an inaccurate term to be using ... to describe
my position. The reason why I use that is because it’s the kind — it’s the kind of terminology that other people on YouTube are using for similar positions, and um . . . despite that,
I actually do agree with antinatalism, I would like it if life stopped propagating. But I think
my position can be more accurately stated as antivalueism, or something like that.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] What, why the emphasis on, on the existential aspect it almost
sounds like you’re being too defensive?
[Lanza as himself:] I was being too defensive at that part, um, when I’m trying to figure something out, I open WordPad and then I type in a thought, and then press enter a few times,
type in another thought, and another thought and it all gradually ends up becoming sort
of a personal essay. And most of that video came from one of those essays I wrote a while
ago, but ... that existentialism paragraph, I took verbatim from what I wrote, so. When I’m
writing these things, I’m usually in an emotional state and I wrote that after looking online
for “reasons why you shouldn’t kill yourself,” and I wasn’t trying to find a compelling argument, I was just bored and I found so many people responding to suicidal forum posters,
saying, “I know exactly where you’ve been, I too have felt that my life was out, was without
meaning,” and . . . heh, it was ironic because . . . I have the opposite problem. So, I was just
getting kind of irritated with seeing that relentlessly and not seeing a single person expressing what I was feeling.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] You’ve always had immense hatred for culture. Why?
[Lanza as himself:] I wish I could express why I hate culture in one sentence, but . . . that’s,
um, that’s not going to happen, I’m going to have to ramble about this topic so forgive me
for that. But I basically perceive culture the way that a normal person would perceive rape,
and all of these abstractions are ... the incurable STDs in my mind. I’ve ... um ... I’ve always
reacted with terror to culture. Whenev— I’ve always had a problem with authority figures, and
I would call authority, um, a source which tries to impose values onto you. And so, whenever
I would interact with someone in an authoritative position, I would, I would always be eager
to punish myself and hit myself and say how much I deserved to be tortured and that kind
of thing. And I think the reason why I used to do that, even though I didn’t understand it at
the time, I think it was because I wanted to try to mitigate um . . . their, quote “discipline”
of me, even if it was a situation which they wouldn’t even be doing that, it’s just interacting
with an authority figure would upset me greatly.
So, I did that so that they would say, “Wow this kid is fucked up, I’d better not mess him up
anymore.” And ... I’ve, it, uh ... subordination disgusts me. One of the most grating things
I can hear is “My parents raised me to believe that” or “My parents always told me that,” I
. . . It’s . . . I had to cut back to this because I’m trying to think of how I can express this. I,
you hear things like “I don’t need to spank my children because there’re other methods of
discipline available,” and I used to think that it could be possible to have children and not
discipline them, because I perceived values at potentially having some degree of validity, and
I would think “why do you need to coerce a child into behaving in certain ways when you can
use reason?” But you can’t use reason because culture, there, there is no reason involved,
cultural values are not reasonable. Culture, the only way that culture can spread is through
coercion, and so that’s why parents, even egalitarian ones, focus on the word “discipline”
because there’s no other way to go about spreading these lies because children will instantly
reject them. A child can see that all of this is nonsense, and that’s why they go through this
terrible-twos stage, when they’re toddlers they’re incessantly miserable and it’s ... it’s children
don’t, offspring don’t naturally rebel against their parents like that.
Um, you don’t see chimpanzee toddlers freaking out about their . . . they have scuffles, but
they don’t have this rebellion against their parents. And the reason why this rebellion exists
in humans is because this cultural infection is being involved, they’re trying to rebel against
this indoctrination process but of course, they always end up ca— succumbing to it in the end
and no longer see how delusional it is, and even still I ... I don’t entirely see how delusional
I am, because I still have this notion that even though I nominally recognize that it’s false,
I, I still have — I still operate under this belief that it’s possible for value, different values to
be more valid than other values.
And thinking about this response video caused me to remember that a while ago I saw a
documentary about bonobo chimps being taught language. Basically, they’re being indoctrinated into accepting culture and I’ve seen some . . . immensely gory shockumentaries,
but they were Barney compared to the horror that was in this documentary, and in all of
the videos you can find on YouTube about apes being taught things. Um . . . I’ll link to the
specific video I’m talking about, but the entire thing was . . . horrible. But I remember two
particular scenes, there was one where this bonobo chimp was excited and it hopped onto
a dog, and one of the prison guards um . . . was, um . . . bullying it, saying, “Bad, bad, bad,
bad” continuously, it was like a nightmare and the . . . you could just tell the chimp wasn’t
recognizing that what it did was wrong, it was being instilled with this belief that it was bad,
and it-it’s ... one of there was this other scene where, it might’ve been the same chimp but
I’m not sure. This bonobo chimp was trying to be, they were try— the prison guards were
trying to teach this chimp language and the chimp, they spend their entire lives in this prison
complex and these aliens are trying to coerce these stupid things onto them and they have
no idea what’s going on. All that they know is that they’re being forced into doing things.
And this chimp, um, snapped and, because of all of this, the circumstances of its life, and it
started attacking one of the prison guards ... it um, it kicked her, I think, and she proceeded
to chase it around shouting at it, bullying it, trying to intimidate it, and the ... the poor chimp
was terrified and if you want to understand why I hate culture, just watch these videos, those
two scenes were among the most horrible things I’ve seen in my life because it embodies
what I went through and embodies what every single other human goes through that’s
exposed to culture, and it’s the saddest thing imaginable. Just. watch these YouTube videos
about apes being indoctrinated and you can just see the sorrow and that sorrow is culture,
there’s nothing more to it, it’s horrible.8
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] “I wish I could be indifferent but I am still affected by the solution
that life is something worth retaliating against” — Well, that is because you overestimate ...
the extent to which there is culture. You think that your own values are culture, are cultureinduced, in fact they aren’t, those would be from you. But how do you distinguish that? As
you tried to do, you tried to do sorta like a Descartes thing where you sort of went into the
basement, “What are my values and how do these relate to society,” and tried to figure it
out that way.
[Recording of Lanza:] Where I had sufficiently freed myself from what I called “cultural values” when I analyzed all of the things which brought me happiness and all the goals which
I wanted to pursue, I realized that absolutely everything about those things that appealed to
me was entirely a consequence of my cultural infection.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] Uh, no, not a cultural infection, that results in your genetics, really.
[Recording of Lanza:] Formerly, I had rejected some aspects of culture while accepting other
ones, and merely not calling them cultural.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] Well, why did you accept them? Same reason that people of the
Bible say, “Oh yeah I like that, I don’t like that,” well why are they like that? Maybe it’s because they resonate with it, so how is that from culture when it’s from you resonating with
something else?
[Recording of Lanza:] That’s ’cause I realize .. .
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] That’s from YOU, what is the loud self without others? Everything
self, everything who, is a relation of you, to someone else. Can you find any spot, anything,
anywhere, where it’s not you in relation to someone else? You might say “oh I write characters in a book,” well that’s you playing and experimenting with yourself in relation to others,
with yourself. So that simply putting it on a mental level.
[Lanza as himself:] I don’t think that’s necessarily true. There’s a huge part of what people call
“the self” but ... there are two selves that I can identify. There’s the cultural self and there’s
the feral self. And ... I think there is a real distinction between the two, I would ... the feral
self, I would call that which . . . genetically exists independent from whatever memes the
creature might be exposed to. So the pleasure that you get from drinking water or climbing
trees, the pleasure that a feral child would get is feral, it has nothing to do with culture. That
... um, cultural, that cultural self is that which results from enculturation, it values that are
created which do not exist independent from that cultural exposure.
People do have, independently have some degree of personalities and you can see that in
animals, and you can take me for instance ... I-I’ve always been a compulsive organizer, and
I don’t think that’s cultural because I exhibited that behavior at an extremely young age. So,
when I’m in the process of making this video, I watched your video once, thought about it,
watched it a second time, thought about it, and I was watching it the third time while I was
typing out the points that I wanted to respond to.
And then when I finished, I rearranged those points and took the most relevant ones and
then, now I’m responding to those and I’ll insert your um . . . points, and I’m going about
this in the . . . heh, compulsively organized way because I — I feel compulsion that I can’t
respond unless I do it in this way.
And I think that compulsion has nothing to do with culture, but the reason I’m making this
YouTube video at all is entirely cultural. If ... If I were a feral child, I ... I would not need to
fulfill this desire to make this YouTube video, but because I’ve been exposed to this concept
of YouTube videos, I thus need to fulfill it. And I go about fulfilling it in my own way, but
the reason why I’m fulfilling it at all is entirely cultural. So, my genetics affect the way I deal
with these values but the values exist entirely because of culture. And a feral child doesn’t
. . . have a desire to write or read intricately designed novels, it, that desire does not exist
at all but being exposed to culture would um instill that desire into them, and they would
subsequently need to fulfill it. And the same applies to everything cultural and that’s my
point about the distinction between cultural values and feral values. A feral child would be
happy drinking water and climbing trees.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: SomethingSea Response Part 1,9/20/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: I left in 3:36–3:54 to indicate that it’s a challenge to improvise a definition
for culture which doesn’t include “disease”.
At 4:34, I also should have said that I don’t know much about metaphysics. I don’t know much
about anything.
[Lanza as himself:] Interaction is not necessarily cultural, the way that I view an ant colony, I
don’t think that ants are remotely cultural even though they form these organized societies.
And, um, they’re, they’re, they’re not taught . . . the-they’re not exposed to memes which
results in their behavior, they’re behaving in the ways they do because as far as I know they’re
... responding to certain types of scents at certain frequencies, and it’s like ... um, needing
to drink water. They say, “I’m thirsty and I’m going to take this action to fulfill that thirst”
and I don’t need to be taught that I’m thirsty, I, I just know it. And that’s the way that ants
operate, and that’s how their societies emerge. They’re not ... they aren’t instilled with this
culture, and ... that feral child who’s drinking water and climbing trees, he, he, if he weren’t
exposed to anyone else, he would have a desire for social interaction.
That desire itself is not cultural and . . . if he were to . . . like apes in a jungle, the apes, they
have these very, very, very undeveloped cultures. But most of their interaction is based off
of feral values, so I’ve ... there’s this small cultural aspect to their interaction but it’s mostly
feral. Um, they’re fulfilling their feral values, they don’t need to be taught that they want
to interact, they just do. The way someone just drinks. And culture can satisfy feral values,
that’s where it gets a little confusing, because making this video . . . it can be perceived as,
me making this video can be perceived as trying to fulfill a desire for social interaction. But
. . . um . . . the culture doesn’t allow it to happen, it subverts the process by which I would
naturally fulfill that value. This . . . because I’ve been exposed to this culture, I fulfill that value by making this video, and this video’s just ... a surrogate, it’s not the social interaction
itself. If we were in a jungle somewhere, I, I wouldn’t be making this video to you, and I
wouldn’t have the desire to make this video to you. I would stroke your hair and longfully
gaze into your eyes, or whatever it is that feral humans do.
So, my point is that . . . culture is the proverbial thug who breaks your limbs and gives you
a crutch. Culture doesn’t fulfill values, it creates the need to fulfill values and it subverts
the natural processes by which you would fulfill those values. That’s why I used the disease
metaphor, culture . . . I, I know it’s needlessly inflammatory, but I think it is kind of an accurate description, even if you aren’t paying attention to those cute little comparisons like
how language is like the wheezing of someone with tuberculosis and all of those little things.
Language, I mean, culture doesn’t solve anything, it — it latches onto someone, and it creates
the need to solve certain things. So instead of calling culture a disease ... I, I think it would
be, it could be called ... the ... uh, man, I’m gonna have to cut this out and ... whatever. [sigh]
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] So everything is delusion? What is delusion? Delusion is that which
does not correlate with reality, right? Right? Delusion is that which does not correlate with
reality, is [?] delusional to say that . . . this is a water bottle, if I’m holding up a mouse and I
mean water bottle, this is not a water bottle, it’s delusional if I think this is and I try to drink
from it, that is delusional. It is not connected up with how things actually are. Now if you’re
talking about things that actually are the case, then that is not delusional.
[Lanza as himself:] I wouldn’t say that everything is a delusion, I’m, I, I don’t know really
that much about the epistemology but ... um, I would say that value exists in the sense that
religious dogma exists. It, this belief in religion exists but all its assertions about reality are
nothing other than delusions. And in the same way, value exists but it’s a distortion of reality. Um, perception is a coercive delusion, it’s, it exists but as a delusion, (laughter). I know
I’m just repeating myself but I think I’m getting the point across.
[Recording of Lanza, from his video “My Antinatalism”:] The problem is that I do feel immense
meaning, and so does everyone else.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] Enjoy it, so it is, it is there, and?
[Lanza as himself:] I think I’ve addressed this, um, in my, earlier in this video but just in case I
haven’t, my point is that meaning doesn’t cure suffering, meaning is the source of suffering.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] “Happiness is merely the fulfilment of value” ... I disagree. Sometimes you wake up and you’re just happy for no apparent reason, sometimes you just laugh
[laughter] for no apparent reason. It doesn’t have to be dependent on a lack of something and
the gaining of something, it’s not all about a lack of stuff, it’s not all about being cultural,
you attach entirely too much value to culture. Oh, isn’t that an irony?
[Lanza as himself:] I agree that happiness isn’t like prayer, where first you pray and then your
prayers are answered. Since happiness is just biological, it’s possible to just be happy, but in
general the entire point of happiness is to serve as a reward for fulfilling value. First you have
this desire, and then when you fulfill the desire, you achieve happiness. So, um ... well a lot
of the time when you’re randomly happy it’s because you don’t perceive a certain deprivation
to be important enough to affect your random happiness. I remember reading that one of
the 9/11 hijackers was asked, eh, um, “Why do you never laugh?” And he responded, “How
can you laugh when people in Palestine are dying?”9 And I think that someone like him wouldn’t, because he hav— has this problem, I don’t think that someone like him would ever,
or at least not very often, experience random happiness. I think he would be suffering a lot.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] Or, but you prefer to not be alive, and you prefer to ... see, th-there’s
a bit of a contradiction there, you prefer to not prefer? So, you prefer to not prefer so you’re
trying to not prefer not preferring, or you’re trying not prefer, preferred or not preferring.
So, your preference of not preferring is getting in the way of preferring not living because
that would be better than living even though living, tha-that-that’s a value statement about
not having value statements because ... and then you overstate that, such that you hate your
own values. But itself is a st— is a value statement, ’cause hatred is a value thing and so you
hating your own hatred, and so you hate yourself.
[Lanza as himself:] Uh, that’s ... the problem with all of this. A lot of people like Buddhists and
Stoics, however they define enlightenment, they believe that enlightenment can be achieved
in life. That you can overcome what they call “suffering,” but I, my value leads me to hate
value because well, [laughter] what you said. It’s incoherent and I think the problem about
that is that I can’t free myself from value and still be alive. So, the enlightenment, which I
use very, very, very loosely, my enlightenment lies in death where I, I do not have any value.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] [quoting from Lanza’s earlier video:] “Culture has values which
others mindlessly coerce each oth— into, onto each other,” hm . . . that’s true in a spiritual
sense in that we cannot continue living in this 3-D realm without the assumption of these
value things, i.e., morality this, morality that, it’s basically .. . in order to be alive in this 3-D
realm, you have to have some sort of moral value in going about you. Well not necessarily
have to, but it’s very likely for it to be occurring, that is the cultural programming. [quoting
from Lanza’s video “My Antinatalism”:] “Spreading it no differently than any other disease.”
Um, similar, I’d say not no differently but quite similar. Why do you want to eliminate your
cultural values? If you eliminate your cultural values, all your values, you cease to exist. Why?
Because you cease to see any reason to living, therefore you die, by one reason or another.
Or you continue living and hate yourself the entire time. That doesn’t sound like fun, might
as well just put a gun to your head and go boom.
[Lanza as himself:] That’s, heh, that’s basically the idea ... um, I don’t want to live, I want to die.
[Lanza as SomethingSea:] What do you mean by you lack the discipline to commit suicide?
That doesn’t make any sense to me, lack the discipline . . . so, so like when you think about
committing suicide, wh-what go — what do — what goes through your mind? Is it uh ... um.
[Lanza as himself:] I’m definitely not happy to be alive. I ... um, I, I, would like to die, but the
reason why ... when I think about, when I get the thought in-into my head, You’re going to kill
yourself in one minute, I ... um, I ... I’m compelled to live in the same sense that someone
who is addicted to cocaine is compelled to continue their indulgence. They — they definitely
don’t, well, heh, sometimes ... they definitely don’t want to be addicted to cocaine, but they
can’t control it because they don’t have enough self-disci-discipline. And that’s the problem
that I have, a cocaine addict will say, “Oh, this — this is the last time, I’m definitely not going
to do it again, once I take it this last time” but if it were truly the last time then they wouldn’t
need to . . . indulge with . . . they wouldn’t need to have that last indulgence. So, they’re not
really overcoming their addiction, they’re just continuing to feed it just as much as they
were previously and I’m in the same position. I think, Oh, this period of time will be good
and then I’ll die, and ... it ends up not being the last period because if it really were the last
period, I would just kill myself instantly, instead of having to continue to live through that.
Th-there’s, I, I can think of two ways that you can choose to overcome an addiction. The first
is that you can have the self-discipline to recognize that you need to overcome your addiction, and ... you know that you’ll have an intense desire to persist in your addiction but if you um
... continue to persist in overcoming it, you’ll, that desire will eventually disappear. And I ...
I don’t have that discipline. There’s one other way you can choose to overcome an addiction
and that is to allow your addiction to get you into some cir-circumstances such that continuing the addiction would have more, would have much more intolerable consequences than
ending the addiction would have. Such as a cocaine addict ending up living in a dumpster,
blowing strangers for cocaine money, that kind of a thing. And they would feel forced into
giving up their addiction, and I th— I think that’s the position that I need to be in to overcome
this, because my life right now is ... I hate using this word because it’s misleading, but my
life right now is way too comfortable to . . . for me to feel forced into killing myself. But . . .
that’s probably going to be the way I die, I’m going to .. . I, I, well either that or I’ll develop
the discipline to just say, “None of this is helping me I just need to die and I know that I
won’t want to go through with it at the last second but I just need to do it” and I guess that’s
the end of the response video, heh, I’m sorry to end on such a macabre note. I know that I
can kind of “rain on the parade,” but . . . well, hehe, you wanted a response video so here it
is. Thanks for listening.",1,Planned Violence,Adam Lanza: SomethingSea Response Part 2,9/20/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: Your favorite Iron Age goy stars in the first blind-friendly motion picture
of the season, doing what he knows best: moping and musing. This smash-hit is a comedy that the
whole family can enjoy. Recorded on 9/19/2011. [links to several other YouTube videos, presumably
including the other parts of this series]
I haven’t done this before . . . whenever I make a video, I’ve always thought about basically
what I wanted to cover, prior to starting the video. And I was just here laying on the floor and
I thought why not make a video just off-the-cuff about anything I want to? And I know this
is stupid, but ... I was just thinking about, that I haven’t hugged anyone in four years. And
I never, it was my grandmother, and I didn’t want to hug her. I’ve never voluntarily hugged
anyone, and I wish I could, wish I could cuddle with someone I love ... and ... but I recognize that that’s no different than anything else I’ve talked about, pertaining to desire. I don’t
know why I don’t just ... do it. Why am I expecting to accomplish anything before I do it?
People seem to think that you can accomplish something in life, but you just . . . you just
impose deprivation on yourself, then you seek to resolve that. Wait [?] — my room is pretty
close to empty and ... I, that’s, I don’t ... seek to have possessions but I don’t seek ... people
think that you — materialism is different than accomplishing something, but it isn’t. They’re
both the same thing, I don’t want to own anything, I don’t want to accomplish anything, I
want to die .. . [laughter]
I sound like [?] right now, my inflection right now. What else can I talk about, that’s all that
there is to it. It’s so stupid, I think, hey why don’t I record myself killing myself? People
enjoy that. But I’m .. . doing that would not be recognizing what I’m doing. Still seeking to
accomplish something is not saying, “This needs to end,” it’s saying, “I need to accomplish
something this needs to continue,” I don’t really have anything else to say I guess. Whenever someone does have something to say it’s because they’ve hurt theirself, or themself, or
whatever you grammar Nazis want to tell me. Really, think about it, any time that anyone
says anything it’s because of a deprivation that has been coerced onto them. X needs to be
accomplished, X must be communicated, when you have nothing to say, the more silent you
are .. . the closer to death you are. And I always have been silent.
I was just staring at the floor and you know that, that optical illusion where you don’t move
your eyes thing and it becomes difficult to see anything? Your peripheral vision gets that
green tint and . . . you kn— your eyes need movement to be able to see anything. And I was
just thinking that, Where were— oh where have I done that in the past? and it just randomly
brought up some thought. I remember I was in this hospital once; I don’t know if it was
a hospital, whatever you call them, I was at some gen-general practitioner office. And I’m
thinking, Oh, yeah, tile floor, green outline, it’s not very often that I experience that optical
illusion. And I guess that was one of those times in which I did, which has really nothing
to do with it it just got me thinking about doctors.
I really fucking hate doctors. The most arrogant people I’ve met in my life, what else can
I say about it? Yes, I do, I hate doctors, that-that’s all so I guess that’s the end of the video,
heh. I know where else I’ve seen that, school tile floors. School is such a great place, you get
to learn stuff, become a better person to make a better tomorrow. I . . . I actually have a lot
of dreams about school. It’s strange but I still dream about middle school and, well, not my
middle school but ... I don’t know, I, I always, you know, that sense that you have in a dream
when you actually know something, tha-the environment I’m in, I just know it’s middle
school or high school or something like that but usually middle school.
And I think, well, what is school? School is culture, basically, it’s cultural indoctrination. And
what is culture? The imposition of deprivation. And that has me thinking about dreams.
Aren’t dreams strange? I wonder how they pertain to culture; I’ve never really thought about
that. Dreams are the only place where I’ve felt pleasure. So, what does that mean? It means
that dreams are fulfilling some deprivation that I have. Oh, that must be why people say,
culturalists say, “You need to work toward your dreams!” because they fulfill that deprivation.
Make your dreams a reality. Well, I don’t want my dreams to be a reality, I want my dreams
to be sprayed all over the wall.
Why would I want that? Why would I not just be happy with pleasure? Pleasure is good isn’t
it? Pleasure isn’t good, I have those dreams because this culture has imposed those dreams
on me, if I were feral, I would be dreaming about ... whatever dogs dream about. I fucking
hate dogs. Dogs are like the most disgusting, detestable people you can meet, but there I go
thinking that values are more legitimate than other values. I don’t know why I love rodents
so much, they’re just buck-wild mavericks. Well, I guess that’s all that there is to dreams ...
I was just thinking about how I’ve, I’m turning these videos up by eighteen decibels because
I speak so quietly and consequently it seems like I’m wheezing [laughter] all the time, but
I’m not. It got me thinking about that loudness aspect I just thought about several minutes
ago. Isn’t it funny how it’s always the quiet ones who kill theirselves? Themselves. Don’t,
just leave me alone [laughter] just leave me alone, I wonder what that means? It means stop
imposing values onto me, I don’t want to be deprived of anything, I want to die. Yet you
people keep forcing me to live.
And why is it always the quiet ones who kill themselves? In the past I would’ve thought that it
was because they were not being included in something, and I think that’s the way that most
people think of it. But if you think about this “loudness paradigm” then I would interpret it
to mean that quiet people have less deprivation. At least in some cases, at least I think that’s
the case for me, I feel less deprived and thus I desire life less. Loudness. Loud people are
always the most detestable to me. In my response to SomethingSea I forgot to mention about
suffering being life-affirming. Isn’t it funny how the rich are the ones who kill themselves
and poor people have more children? Think I’ve identified the cause ... Suffering is life, or
rather, life is suffering. Isn’t it funny how it just kind of works out that way? [laughter] Isn’t
it funny how if a psychiatrist were listening to me talking to myself right now, I would be
committed for the rest of my life?
People say that suicide isn’t illegal. Yes it is, it’s de facto illegal. Isn’t that funny how people
say, “We want people to express themselves to us because we want to help them,” but you
don’t want to help them. You just want to coerce them into having the same values that you
do. But imagine if that were the case, that suicide weren’t a taboo and that you could actually
say, “I want to die.” What would that lead to? Some people might think, Well that would lead
to us being able to resolve suicide and we could help people overcome it if they were willing
to talk to us about it, but I suspect that if . . . I mean it’s a taboo for a reason, it’s because it
isn’t life-affirming. People talking about suicide probably leads to more suicide. I wonder
if that’s the case, and if it isn’t I bet it’s because there’s something else going on in culture.
Isn’t it so disgusting?
I want to talk about girls for a moment, I know this is a really stupid freaking [?] topic, I
was just thinking about it, why would someone say, “opposites attract”? Opposites disgust
me. I’m attracted to girls who want to kill themselves or who are exactly like me. The girl of
my dreams is already dead [laughter] haha. Why would I want to meet a girl of my dreams
anyway? It’s just a stupid combination of feral and cultural values. All interaction is innately
coercion and . . . well yeah it is, I guess that’s just synonymous with interaction, coercion.
Isn’t it stupid how people say there’s such a distinction as romantic love and familial love
and platonic love and all of these stupid things? There’s no such thing as those cultural
abstractions, oh, I remember writing, actually I should read that, why not? It expresses it
better than I could at this moment.
[sounds of computer mouse clicking and scuffing]
Where is it? I have so many files, it’s like I’m a hoarder of computer files . . . Here it is. It
is harmful to yourself and to other people to use any labels for associations such as friend,
romantic partner, boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse, whatever, family members, parents, cousins,
or whatever [?] countrymen, fellow human and all the rest. If your association with persperson 1 is under label A, even if you do not want to associate with them at all. I can’t speak
properly, can’t speak at all. I’m just babbling [?].
Your culture tells you that you must engage in particular activities with them because it’s
right. If your association with person two is under label B, even if you both want to, you
cannot engage in particular activities because your culture tells you that it is wrong. If you
enjoy activity X with person three, then your culture tells you that this association is under
label C. If you mutually want to engage in activity Y with person two, then your culture tells
you that this association is subsequently under label D. If you want to engage in activity Z
with person two, and they do not, your culture tells you that since this person rejects label
E the terms of label T dictate that activity X and activity Y must be negatively impacted even
though they are entirely independent from Z. If you enjoy activity X with person four, but
person four isn’t engaging in activity Z, which is something that person five disapproves
ofs, disapproves of and is entitled to control your behavior because the two of you are under
label F, then you must end your activity X with person four.
There are innumerable other issues that are just you and another person applying different
meanings to the same labels since the labels are nothing other than cultural nonsense. Related issues, the labeling of love, such as platonic, familial, romantic, asexual, aromantic and
all of this other nonsense. All that exists is positive affinity, they may biologically manifest
differently, but that has no relevance to the meaning of this application of these labels to
your associations and the resulting structural changes. I can describe the problems of labels
under all sorts of permutations. What is important is that all of these pointless scuffles which
invariably lead, I mean, invariably occur between friends, lovers, families, and whatever.
Could be prevented if people weren’t deluding themselves into thinking in terms of these
cultural labels.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: (Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie Part 1,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [links to several other YouTube videos]
Did you follow that? Because I wrote it, and I couldn’t follow it. [laughter] That’s how incoherent culture is. Cultural context for interactions tells you that you need to do certain things
and you can’t do certain things and all of this other nonsense. I think I’ve talked about that
enough.
But reading that reminded me, I used ah ... for a time I thought I was asexual. And the rea—
well, I weighed under one hundred pounds, that’s the primary reason but there’s also this
other cultural reason in that I rejected . . . the cultural notion of what is considered beauty,
thus my repulsion to that appeared as if it . . . meant that I had been asexual. When really,
it’s just that culture has a really stupid idea of what’s beautiful and what isn’t. I can’t ... how
could someone be attracted to breasts? I’m, eh . . . [laughter] almost sound gay saying this
but I’m not, I’m just attracted to — to young teenaged girls who have the bodies of twelveyear-old anorexic boys. Um . . . and tans? I mean, paleness is just so much more attractive
than being tan.
I recognize all of this beauty that I interpret is just because I’m a narcissist and I like to think
about the ideal way I would like to look, and of course I would find that appealing in someone
else, so it gets back to this whole “opposites attracts” thing. And females, they kind of piss
me off. Well, I mean, not in general but . . . the cultural role that they play. “Oh, he’s such a
good father. I would’ve been a good father.” I’m not saying that in a “I’m gonna pull a George
Sodini because no girls accepted me,” I’m not saying that.10 I’m saying that in the past I ...
had the values of what would culturally be considered a good father. And . . . so disgusting
when you hear females saying something like that. When — when . . . females seem to . . .
they tend to be pro-family, that’s what pisses me off about them, because family is coercion.
And I imagine, what would I think if I found the girl of my dreams? And she wanted to have
children with me? Well, she wouldn’t want [laughter] to have children with me, uh, but I mean
... overlooking that. Where was I even going with this? I wasn’t going anywhere, I’m never
going anywhere, never progressing, I’m never regressing and no one else is.
[laughter] Now I know why SomethingSea always uploads so many videos, it’s kind of amusing
to ... just eh-eh-have this journal of sorts. Oh no, that’s serving as art, isn’t it? I’m expressing
myself, and it is. That is what art is, is the transference of value and that’s what I’m trying
to do, I’m trying to manipulate all of you. I don’t mean to but that’s what, thaat’s what I’m
doing. This microphone flashes when it’s recording, this blue light. How did anything get
to this point? I don’t understand . . . oh — oh wait, yeah, that’s because of my privileged poposition. What I was going to say is I don’t understand how anyone could possibly find the
desire to manufacture computers. I mean, how did humanity get to this point without killing
themself? Themselves. That I remember.
Of course, it’s only me who wants to do that, it’s not ... there isn’t some transcendent truth
that you should kill yourself, it’s just that I’m capable of recognizing what culture is and my
own subjective values, based on my experiences they’ve made me come to this conclusion. I
think that everyone else would come to that conclusion too. I mean it, drinking ... water isn’t
objectively valuable, valuable, but it’s a consensus that ... everyone does accept it as having
value. Even though it’s not objective, and in the same way suicide is water. Well, water is deprivation, so suicide is actually anti-water. That’s getting into all this cosmic stuff I can start
formulating theories about why there’s antimatter, it must have something to do with death.
Isn’t, isn’t that so irritating how ... people try to say that “quantum theory dictates that” they
have no idea what they’re talking about, they don’t even have the simplest understanding of
Newtonian physics and they’re trying to say that they understand quantum physics. And I
don’t, and I never will, and I don’t understand why someone would want to have that desire,
but I can recognize that it’s really stupid to — to just ... uh, contrive these justifications for your
positions. It’s no different than religion, it’s no different than value itself. Value is religion.
I wonder what I would’ve thought of myself if . . . let’s say as a twelve-year-old, I saw where
I am right now? I wasn’t really . . . introspective enough to come to a conclusion, I guess.
Isn’t that another quality? Introspection, I find introspection to be extremely sexy but that’s
because I’m a narcissist and I am introspective.
Isn’t it strange how those atheists say, “Of course I want to,” [laughter] “Of course I won’t
be bothered when I die, because I will not have existed but I can enjoy life while I’m here.”
[laughter] That’s the worst British [?] accent I’ve heard in my entire life, I’m going to have
to listen to this and laugh at myself. Atheists[?] always say that they can recognize that . . .
in death, you do not exist, but they don’t, they don’t see what that means pertaining to life.
They still think, But we can still fulfill values in life, don’t you see that death is happiness?
That life is deprivation? That you can’t live life, you have to die?
You know what maybe I will ... No, I won’t. I say, “Maybe I will kill myself tonight,” but no,
I’m not going to do it. I already know I’m not going to do it. Maybe I’ll just ramble for a few
more hours ... I can’t release something like this. If I were to release something like this ...
I’d be involuntarily committed, imprisoned for the rest of my life. Life is a prison, but just
saying that, that’s even risking being involuntarily committed.
It’s what bothers me, people defer to these authority figures, of psychiatrists and doctors,
thinking that they know what they’re doing. But they don’t have this well of wisdom, they’re
fulfilling their own psychological de-deprivation. That’s why they’re doing what they’re doing,
it’s not because they have wisdom. Isn’t it funny how I would be called insane, but everyone
else seems to think they’re perfectly fine? Don’t you understand that you’re all heavily damaged and that I’m heavily damaged and that’s what life is? I’m just going to keep repeating
myself, I sound like Gary, don’t I?
Wouldn’t it be funny if I tried to apply to a university and . . . and wrote, oh man, this is
funny, in my, originally I was writing that um, pedophilia essay as um . . . the general essay for a college application. Why was I doing that? Basically, just saying, “Fuck all of you
I know the truth and you don’t” and now like, I know they’re gonna reject me for it, but I
enjoy that rejection because I’m a masochist too because that’s what culture does to me.
It’s, it’s really ironic, people see pedophiles as hurting ch—, uh, they call me a pedophile
because I admitted that I find um, young teenaged girls attractive. Who have the bodies of
anorexic pale twelve-year-old boys, but they’re post-pubescent so by definition I can’t be a
pedophile? And you think about why people hate pedophiles so much. It’s because they’re
. . . I already explained it in my first rambling video so, I don’t really think I have anything
else to say about that . . . topic. I still haven’t elaborated on what I mean by “Pedophilia is
not innately harmful,” culture is by definition harmful. I used to have such an interest in
reading . . . anything which goes against the position that sex is horrible for children. But
I’ve lost that interest because I recognize that my interest only existed because . . . it was a
retaliation against culture. Because pedophobia is culture, and now I can see that that retaliation was cultural too. And
even if it had not been, feral values are just as messed up as culture is. Okay, I think I’m
finished for now. Sorry about the rambling but . . . well of course I would find it enjoyable
because I’d be listening to someone who is exactly like me. I just wish I could . . . find that,
someone exactly like me. Uh ... I don’t know how to express this clearly, but what I’m saying
right now is basically I’m dismissing my desire because it’s a desire, it’s life, it’s suffering,
it’s everything, other than death.
Come, take my hand, step onto the surfboard with me, we’re going to surf the web together.
No, don’t worry I’m not going to molest you while we’re alone just because I sound like a
pedophile. I was going to look up mental illnesses and I found this PsychCentral website, so
let’s go down . . . scroll down these tests together. Adult ADD screening test, what do I think
about ADD? Well, it’s . . . it’s a way that psychiatrists can dismiss someone for . . . not having
. . . they interpret it as being unable to . . . okay, basically they’re — you’re not accepting the
psychiatrist’s values. That’s it. ADHD, even more so. Anxiety screening test, what is anxiety?
It’s culturally induced. Autism, Asperger’s, I hate the Asperger’s label because people would
apply it to me, and I’m not autistic. [laughter] Well . . . Asperger’s doesn’t, it’s . . . it’s just a
nonsensical category, anyway, moving on.
Bipolar, bipolar, unipolar, quick depression test. Depressed? I’ve never been depressed a day
of my life, I love life. Mania taste — I mean . . . mania test. [laughter] Freudian slip, mania
test. Manic episode, hmm, let’s try this mania test. Instructions: you can use this quiz on a
weekly basis to track your moods, okay. My mind has never been sharper, uhh, my mind is
so dull I’m not sure what each of these answers mean. [laughter] Not at all. Do they mean
that this, d-doesn’t apply — is — my mind has never been sharper, it doesn’t apply at all or
my mind is . . . yes you do, or yes you don’t, that’s the question.
Okay, I think that it means my mind has never been sharper, eh yes, it ... oh man, it’s just so
poorly phrased. And of course, someone would say that I have ADD because I can’t interpret
this test properly. That’s the thing about tests, they ... operate under the assumption that the
test-creator has the truth. And I’ll be talking about that later once I scroll down to these other
tests, anyway, my mind has never been sharper .. . guess I’m just procrastinating, aren’t I?",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: (Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie Part 2,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from second segment in series]
Not at all ... needing less sleep than usual? Uh, I must have ADD because I don’t want to go
through this. Mood checker, check my emotions over time. Eating disorder screening test,
eating attitudes test, OCD screening test. These people who create these tests must have OCD
because they’re trying to categorize everything. PTSD screening quiz . . . that’s, if that’s not
cultural then I don’t know what is. Oh, for child injury?
Wh-what does this mean? Because it’s obvious that PTSD is innate in everyone as a consequence of their childhood. Oh, uhh . . . they aren’t using it in the correct way. “The items
below refer to a recent injury experienced by your child” . . . having your child was a great
injury. Anyway, schizophrenia screening test . . . [laughter] No comment. Do I need therapy
quiz? Oh, let’s take the “Do I Need Therapy Quiz.” “Twelve items below refer to how you
have felt and, felt” — and one word, and I’m trusting these people to diagnose me? — “felt
and behaved during the past month” — in capital letters, bolded — “for you to try and indicate
the extent to which it is true by checking the appropriate box next to the item.”
“One: I am concerned about a behavior, feeling, or something I am doing.” Uhhh ... what does
it mean to be concerned if you’re not concerned? That pretty much just means ... that you’re
[sigh] means that you’re not insightful. That you don’t think, eh — you — how could someone
not be concerned about a behavior or feeling or something that I’m doing? You perpetually
would be unless you’re ... if you’ve been exposed to culture, you’re going to be. Very much.
“Two: This behavior or feeling has been getting worse in the past few weeks.” I guess so
because I made my account recently.
“Three: I have tried stopping or reducing this behavior or — or feeling on my own.” Hm ...
I think it’s a good idea to increase that behavior [laughter] so, I’ll say, very much.
“Four: My attempts at stopping or reducing this behavior or feeling have been successful.”
Well, I can’t answer that, the question doesn’t apply to me, so I’ll say “not at all.”
“Five: I rely on my friends or family” — I have friends? I have family. What? — “to help me
with my current troubles” ... not at all.
“Six: I’m finding it more difficult to cope with things than usual.” What does it mean to cope
with things? I mean . . . you can interpret that at face value, but I mean under my whole .. .
deprivation dynamic. I’m finding it more difficult to cope with things than usual. If you’re
having difficulty coping, does that mean you’re having difficulty with the fulfillment or is it
that ... you’re ... someone who’s listening to this probably thinks I’m a retard for not being
able to ... figure this out but I’m not thinking it — about it in the way you think I am, that’s
why I’m confused right now and I can’t really think about things off the cuff like this.
“I’m finding it more difficult to cope with things than usual” ... It could go either way. I mean,
it could go in four different directions so I’ll just close my eyes and . . . well that wouldn’t
work so I’ll just say not at all.
“I’m having trouble concentrating at work or school” ... Well I’m not in work or school, I’m
a loser so I’ll say not at all. [laughter]
“I like to think things through or talk about things that bother me” ... I’m talking right now
so I’ll say very much.
“Nine: I’ve talked to my family doctor or healthcare professional [laughter] about the behavior
or feeling that’s troubling me.” If I did that I would not be able to be in this circumstance,
right now, so I’ll say no.
“Ten: I’ve talked to my friends or family about the behavior or feeling that’s troubling me.” No.
“Eleven: I’ve read books or went to the internet to discover more about the behavior or feeling that’s troubling me.” Uh, very much ...
“Twelve” — the final one — “I’ve been in therapy before, and it’s helped me.” That’s . . . oh,
okay, good they say, yes but it didn’t help. So, I answered that one . .. now score my therapy
questionnaire, I’m so excited.
I scored a total of thirty-one, I wonder if that’s out of fifty? I mean I — I gu-guess that . . . it
would be pretty good. From the information you have provided you could be someone who
might benefit from . . . okay it’s off [?]. I knew it was. [laughter] Oh, oh, no it isn’t, it’s if you
scored forty-two and up. Recommend . . . twenty-two to forty-two, recommended. Okay, so,
I’m psychotic. [laughter]
Workplace bullying quiz. What an interesting word bullying is. Is, quiz, I feel like a retard
rhyming. A quiz to help you determine if you may be the victim of workplace bullying. I
don’t think that applies to me.
Relationships and sexuality ... ask the prostitutes I have locked in my basement. Sustainable
marriage quiz, now this is what I was talking about. They operate under this assumption
that marriage is somehow a good thing ... ugh, I think you know my position on marriage.
[laughter] [creaking sound in background] Okay, I’ll, I’ll, I’ll take the sustainable marriage quiz.”
“How much does being with your partner result in your happiness,” eh I can’t do this. “How
Deep is Your Love” quiz? That’s another thing that bothers me, there’s no such thing as love
deepness. There’s just positive affinity, and that positive affinity is coercion and manipulation,
exploitation. How strong is your relationship quiz? I don’t have a relationship.
Do I have a love, lust or a loser relationship? You don’t have either because those are cultural
interpretations. Sexual addiction screening test . . . romance attachment quiz . . . that could
be interesting. [clicking sounds]
Okay, this is stupid, this entire website is stupid. Feeling connected quiz? How connected
in your relationship with your partner are you right now? Domestic violence screening . . .
you mean that’s not a part of a healthy relationship? Oh man.
Interpersonal communication skills test ... how well do I communicate with others? I don’t
think I’m communicating well with anyone right now. Ten second, ten questions, five minutes ... take the test without even reading the directions. “People don’t get what I’m saying,”
is that completely true? I think so.
“I find it hard to express my feelings to others,” completely true.
“I get so caught up in what I have to say that I’m not aware of the reactions of my listeners.” Uh, I’d say completely false even though psychiatrists would say, “Of course you don’t
understand, you have Asperger’s syndrome.” [laughter]
Um, “Four: When I know what someone is going to say I finish the sentence for him or her,”
that’s, that’s ... um ... well I mean, if you know what they’re going to say, then you mentally
do finish the sentence. And of course, they’re going to say . . . “You’re exhibiting Asperger
qualities by being excessively pedantic and I’m going to have to prescribe this certain amount
of this certain medication to cure your affliction so that you can become more like me . . .
but I do like that sun [?] . ..” Gender is such a stupid concept, I’ll — I’ll talk about that later.
“Five: If I find it difficult to express my f—” . . . I mean, heh, I find it difficult to express my
opininions when others don’t share them. Well, when it results in you being involuntarily
committed, I would say, true.
“If I don’t understand someone’s explanation the first time around I feel stupid asking for
clarification,” uh, well . . . I don’t really have . . . interaction with anyone so [laughter] I don’t
think I could even ask someone, so I’ll say no.
Another problem with these tests is that they’re assuming that you’re coming from a specific
background, which I am not.
“Seven: I try to divert or end conversations that don’t interest me.” Uhm, well, yes by definition I think .. . heh.
“Eight: I find it easy to see things from someone else’s point of view.” Yes.
“Nine: When I talk t—” And another problem with these tests is that it depends on the person’s interpretations of your questions.
“Nine: When I talk to someone, I put myself in his or her shoes.” Well . . . I don’t want to
answer that one.
“Ten —” I mean, I don’t want to finish this test. [clicking sounds]
And answers, what did it say about me? Fifty-three? My communication skills are average?
Fuck you!
Personality, “Big Five Personality Test” . . . a big five person — a big five–based personality
assessment that provides you personalized and detailed feedback across forty-five distinct
traits. Oh, I’m sure those traits are distinct, you didn’t make it up at all, they’re real ...
“Is this like you? Take a little time for others and seldom interested in other” ... it’s, ah, it’s
this whole identity thing that people have. So disgusting. I can just imagine they’re sitting
at a coffee table, “I take a little time for others, and I’m seldom interested in other people’s
problems,” well, they wouldn’t be saying that but ... heh, “I-I’m generally indifferent to the
feelings of others,” no that’s the opposite of me because I have a liberal arts education.
“I complete tasks on time and according to plan, I usually prepare for things ahead of time
to avoid making mistakes, I actually like to plan ahead.” Exactly like me, you can’t get ahead
in life unless you plan.
“I enjoy learning things and find abstract ideas interesting. I also have a rich vocabulary and
show a mastery of language” . . . Indubitably, exactly like me.
“It’s — it’s, I-I’m hard to get to know, intent to keep others at a distance, I reveal little about
myself to others” . . . Well these cretins wouldn’t understand me, so I’ll say exactly like me,
next ...
“I have difficulty imagining things and struggle to come up with new ide-ideas” ... Well, no,
that’s the complete opposite of me. I’m a very creative soul.”
“I respect authority,” oh of course I do. Where would we be without authority? ... and try to
follow rules, I avoid taking advantage of othe— of people and respect the privacy of others,
that’s exactly like me.
“I enjoy spending time by myself in contemplation and reflecting on things, I often prefer
to be alone” ... No, I’m a people person.
“I try not to think about the needy and tend to dislike soft-hearted people, I tend to look down
on any weakness” .. . That’s not like me at all, because I have liberal values.
“I experience very few emotional highs and lows and I’m not disturbed by events. I’m relaxed most of the time” ... How can you be relaxed when there’s exploitation going on in the
world? I must get the government to do something about this, well I’ll say opposite of me.
“I easily resist temptations and am able to control my cravings, I rarely overindulge” ... No
I only indulge in Shakespeare, hahaha. That’s exactly like me . . . I mean, [laughter] I mean,
I’m going, yes that’s exactly like me.
“I believe in a logical answer for everything and do things in the logical order,” but there is
no truth, so . . . there is no logic, so I’ll say the opposite of me, no one is right and no one’s
wrong, we should all love each other and I’m not, I’m not making a value statement by saying we should all love each other.
“I rarely look for a deeper meaning in things or feel the need to understand my motives” ...
Okay, what would someone say about that? Someone at the coffee table, what would they
say? I rarely look for a deeper meaning in things or feel the need to understand my motives,
but there’s a deeper meaning in everything you see, so we should go on to the next question.
“I’m on good terms with, and have a good word for nearly everyone, and I’m easy to satisfy”
. . . I have a good word for everyone except for those who seek to propagate conservative
values, so I’ll say “opposite of me.”
“I tend to put little time and effort into my work and I don’t pay attention and seldom,
seldom notice details.” That is . . . the complete opposite of me. After all, I greatly enjoy
Dostoevsky’s literature.
“I’m not easily annoyed and rarely get irritated, I’m rarely in a bad mood.” Of course, I’m not
in a bad mood, it’s impractical to be in a bad mood, bad mood is ... not life-affirming, and I
am life-affirming, so I’ll say . . . and the question was ... so that’s exactly like me.
“I tend to deal with others in a formal manner, I seldom joke around or act wild and crazy” ...
Well I’ve been known to get a bit rambunctious at some parties, so I’ll say the opposite of me.
And now the problem with this person at the coffee table, they’ve, their mind has gotten so
distorted by their cul-enculturation that they’ve suddenly become bipolar, not only bipolar
but they have two split personalities. Isn’t that horrible? So now this person is going to be
a raging conservative.
Next question, damnit . . . [laughter] “I’m not fond of art and literature,” of course I’m not
fond of art and literature, that’s what those pansies enjoy. I don’t enjoy watching dance performances or attending concerts, exactly like me!
“I try to outdo others and tend to put people under pressure.” Well, you have to do that
because you have to exp-exhibit your dominance because ... if you don’t exhibit your dominance, then the terrorists win!
[laughter] “I know that I’m better than most others,” exactly like me!",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: (Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie Part 3,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from second segment in series]
“I tend to have intense emotional reactions to things and tend to barge in on conversations
and shoot my mouth off” ... Well, I do sure like to shoot because I’m a conservative, y’know,
exactly like me.
“I seek explanations for things and qui— learn quickly, I excel in what I do” ... I — well, what
would they say? Well, everyone would say exactly like me so I’ll just click that, go to the next
question.
“I purchase only practical things, never spending more than I can afford, I always take precautions and never splurge” ... You’re damn right because you need to ... be a fiscal conservative,
you see? I mean, you’ve gotta be a survivalist you see, you can’t waste your money because
survival is so important that you need to ... you — you can’t just splurge on things. [laughter]
Let’s see. Unless you’re splurging on your male secretary in the bathroom . . . [laughter] But
that’s just like age-old splurge, so I’ll say ... opposite of me. I mean, exactly like me.
“I have difficulty understanding abstract ideas and am not interested in speculating about
things” ... Well, you’ve gotta be practical you see, you’ve gotta live in the real world ... exactly
like me.
“I respect and empathize with others’ feelings and appreciate their viewpoints” ... Of course
I don’t, th-th-those damn terrorists are wrong.
“I have no problems with making friends, I warm up to others quite quickly, I act comfortably around people and am able to talk openly about myself” ... Well I ... I do repress that,
that uh queer curiosity thing in me, but otherwise I’ll say ... exactly like me.
“I’m calm even in tense situations and don’t lose my head, I can stand criticism and am not
easily offended” ... Ah, playing a conservative person is so boring. I’ll just say exactly like me.
“I want every detail taken care of and continue until everything is perfect, I want everything
to be just right” ... Oh so now we’re going to be Goldilocks or whoever, gonna have to click
the middle answer.
“I don’t like to ponder over things and I can’t stand being alone, I don’t spend time in
contemplation or introspection” . . . Well, if you’re too introspective then you don’t get to
communicate with anyone, if you’re too extroverted then you never learn anything about
yourself, your inner self, so I’m going to have to select the inner answer, the center answer,
maybe . . . just right.
“I take an interest in other people’s lives and am deeply moved by others” misfortunes. I like
to do things for others” . . . Well if you do too many things for yourself then you can’t help
other people, but if you do too many things for other people you can’t help yourself, so I’ll
have to select the middle answer.
And you see, this, this, [laughter] person at the coffee table uh . . . they started to drink too
many espressos and listening to too many obscure albums so they’re getting a little feisty so ...
“I value cooperation over competition, I avoid conflicts and criticizing other people” . . .
Random answer. Aren’t I so obscure? I mean, aren’t I ... I mean my answer is so unique.
“I’m not as strict as I should be and let my mind wander off and do things in a halfway
manner” ... Halfway manner? I can answer halfway, isn’t that a nice pun? I’m so funny, I’m
so ... I’m so obscure.
“I search for the meaning of things and tend to analyze everything, I like to get lost in thought
and enjoy examining my feelings.” It’s so conformist to be taking this test so I’m just going
to back out and go back to the main list. [clicking sounds]
Here we go, which one was that ... the next one is short personality test. No ... all these things
are kind of boring now. Dr. Phil’s personality test? Well, he’s really insightful, I remember
there was this child who hit his mother on his show once, he said “You can’t do that, kids 
hitting moms? How can you possibly conceive of such an idea?” So Dr. Phil is really wise, I
wanna take his personality test, I wanna know what he thinks about me.
“One: When do you feel your best?” Hm, okay I’ll answer honestly Dr. Phil . . . um, when
do you feel your best? Any time that there isn’t sunlight, because I fucking hate the sun, so
not during afternoon and early evening. Probably . .. late at night, that implies that the sun
isn’t up. Usually I walk fairly fast with long steps and I make people think that I’m going
through some panic attack.
“When talking to people, do you stand with your arms folded or your hands clasped, or one
of your hands on your hips?” ... Does anyone actually do that? [laughter] Does anyone actually talk to people with their hands on their hips?
“Touch or push the person to whom you are ...” [laughter] Yes, I go around, go around pushing people. Touch or push the person to whom you are talking, or play with your ear hair,
or chin hair or whatever ... well I don’t really do any of those, I just stand completely still so
. . . um, I’ll, I’ll say I keep my hands on my hips.
“When relaxing, do you sit with ...” Um I don’t really relax, so I’ll just say ... one leg curled
under you, that seems like an intermediate answer. That’s kind of creepy though, one leg ...
oh, okay, they would be sitting down, not standing. [laughter]I was interpreting it to mean that
they would be standing one-legged, curled under ... okay it’s really not that funny but um ...
“Oh, when something really amuses you, you react with a big appreciative laugh.” A laugh
but not a loud one, a quiet chuckle, a sheepish smile? Ah, why’s it called a sheepish smile?
. . . I’ll just select that one because it’s so confusing.
“When you go to a party or a social gathering” — well I don’t but — “make a loud entrance so
that everyone notices you?” Oh definitely, I definitely make a loud entrance so that everyone
notices me.
“Seven: you are working very hard, concentrating hard and you’re interrupted, do you welcome the break, feel extremely irritated, or are you between these two extremes?” Well ... it
depends. When I’m concentrating very hard on something, I’m probably trying to overcome
some deprivation, or some belief about deprivation. And when someone speaks to me?
They would ... allow that deprivation to still apply, so ... I’d say I ... feel extremely irritated.
“Which of the following colors do you like the most?” Why — why is that entire sentence
italicized? Which of the following colors do you like the most? It reminds me of how the,
in comics they have these random words bolded. I can’t be the only one who thinks this.
Does anyone else think that ... they select those words completely arbitrarily when they bold
them? Anyway, which of the following colors do you like the most? Okay I’ll answer, don’t
get angry at me ... um, I’d say ... wh-what? Why is yellow/light blue an answer? And why is
dark blue/purple an answer? Well that makes sense, but yellow and light blue?
Well I hate yellow because it’s kind of like the light that the sun casts, but I do like light blue
because it neutralizes the orangish-yellowish type of color, and it’s still appealing in and of
itself so . . . uhh, I’m conflicted and since I’m conflicted I might as well select a conflicted
answer.
“Nine: When you’re in bed at night, in those last few minutes before going to sleep . . .” Oh
no, I hate that moment! [laughter] That’s when the boogeyman comes out. [laughter] “... you
are: stretched out on your back, stretched out your . . .” Oh, whatever. Being molested by
the boogeyman, but other than that I’ll say with your head on one arm, why not? I’m pretty
much all over the place.
“You often dream that you are falling, fighting or struggling, searching for something or
somebody, flying or floating, usually have dreamless sleep?” Dreams are always pleasant,
the last two don’t apply. Sometimes I fly or float, usually when I’m in a quasi-lucid dream
state I can leap around, that’s kind of fun. Searching for somebody or something, usually
I’m trying to get away from something.
Fighting or struggling? Uh ... struggling, I guess getting away from someone? Falling? Well
I fall in my dream, when I’m falling asleep, literally ... I actually do. I’m falling [?] but when
I’m actually dreaming? Why not answer flying or floating?
Score my quiz now, what do you think about me Dr. Phil? Wow, Dr. Phil answered quickly,
I wonder if this is the real Dr. Phil ev-evaluating me. I scored a total of forty, is that a good
thing? I’m a loyal friend, others see you as sensible, cautious, careful, and practical, they see
you as clever, gifted, or talented but modest. Um ... that’s a really stupid answer because that
can apply to anyone . . . not a person who makes friends too quickly or easily, but someone
who’s extremely loyal to the good friends you make and expects the same loyalty in return.
Those who really get to know you realize it takes a lot to shake your trust in your friends,
but equally that it takes you a long time to get over it if that trust is ever broken. So pointlessly vague ...
Scoring key, forty ... that’s strange, I’m in the upper limits of loyal friend, I almost became
the lively center of attention. That’s me, that’s me. Well thanks Dr. Phil ... onto the miscellaneous quizzes. Generally, for fun only? Well, I’m a fun guy apparently, so . ..
Facebook intensity quiz, how intense a Facebook user are you? I have three Facebook profiles. How many total Facebook friends do you have? Well four hundred of course, because
I’m the fun guy who likes to be the center of excitement or whatever. In the past week, on
average, approximately how many minutes per day have you spent on Facebook? More than
three hours, bitch. Facebook is part of my everyday activity? Strongly agree. I’m proud to tell
people I’m on Facebook? Strongly agree. Facebook has become a part of my daily routine?
It’s my best friend. I feel — I feel out of touch when I haven’t logged into Facebook for a
while? Strongly agree. I feel I am part of the Facebook community? Of course. I would be
sorry if Facebook shut down? Strongly agree. I’ve used Facebook to check out someone I met
socially? True or false, isn’t that the point of Facebook? They give you their Facebook account
and then you look at what they wrote. Um, I use Facebook to learn more about other people
in my classes? Is — is ... is the person who made this Facebook quiz retarded? I think that’s
the entire point of Facebook, to, so that you can spread information. I use Facebook to learn
more about ... strongly agree, of course, I don’t even use it and I’m saying strongly agree, of
course I would if I did use it. I use Facebook to keep in touch with my old friends ... um, well
... I guess strongly agree they would? I use Facebook to meet new people, strongly agree, I
don’t know. I’ve been on Facebook for four years or more? Of course.
Score my Facebook quiz, seventy-three? Facebook intensity is high, never would’ve guessed.
Am I a geek?
“Who founded Apple?” Steve Jobs, I guess, I don’t know. Wozniak is the geek I don’t know,
randomly guessing. Favorite magazines? Budget Living? Oh yeah because you — you need
to lead a sustainable life so you have to have a budget you see, because you can’t propagate
life unless you’re doing it sustainably
“I have a comped subscription to my favorite,” I don’t know what a comped subscription is
but of course I get one.
“You get into online arguments against . . .” I mean I get into online arguments about Perl
vs PHP, oh no but they forgot about Ruby so I have to say regularly.11
“Have you ordered Half-Life 2 or downloaded it as soon as it was available for Ver-Verve?”
Um okay, it’s Valve . . . I hate the design of pretty much all video games, they’re very poorly
designed, especially something like Half-Life 2 but I know that it’s Valve, not Verve. So I
might as well answer, what’s Half-Life 2?
“I eat my first meal of the day before one PM” . . . Um, okay maybe I’m a geek because I’m
asking how do you define day? Do you mean by the solar cycle or do you mean based on my
sleeping schedule? I mean, it depends. What do you consider a day to be? So, I’ll say never,
because I never eat, of course.
“Red pill or blue pill?” I know that’s a Matrix reference12 but . . . Blue pill because I like
blue? I don’t know. I understand the red pill–blue pill reference. Well of course because you
remember that question where . . . in one of those previous quizzes, where you have to ask
someone else and get embarrassed? Of course, I understood that red pill–blue pill reference.
“I access the Internet primarily via” — or wia, or however you pronounce that in Latin — “AOL,
EarthLink, Library, DSL, cable modem?” All of them, that’s how much of a geek I am so I’ll
say who knows?
“I wear or regularly carry this many mobile data/MP3 devices” ... carry all of them, of course.
“My primary computer screen is this large?” Fourteen to seventeen because less is more.
“The last time I went on vacation was . . .” Actually I’m seriously going to think about that
one, when was the last time I went on vacation? I’ve never wanted to go on vacation, I always
hated when my parents brought me on them. So, I’ll say never.
“I love and watch anime?” Well, I loved Gundam 0080 when I was ten, so I’ll say . . . sometimes?
“In the office or at school I socialize by ...” I’m not in the office or school and I don’t socialize. I’m no one, I’m a loser.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: (Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie Part 4,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from second segment in series]
So I’ll say sending out e-vites on Outlook, meaning invitations because that seems like the
kind of thing a loser would do. “My favorite operating system is . . .” Oh Linux of course
because I .. . um, I’ll just say .. . [clicking] Uh .. . Mac OS X or OS 2 because it’s obscure. “I’ve
used Google to search for pornographic boobies/images?” Did you really have to say boobies in parentheses? I mean breasts are already disgusting enough by themselves, but you have
to use a “cute” terminology? So, I’ll say never just because you really piss me off when you
talk about breasts, they’re .. . ugh. “Fark?”13 That’s — is that? It’s the question, Fark? Is that
like a combination of quark and fuck? So, I fuck physicists? Uh, “gesundheit”? I fuck German [laughter] physicists? Well, I do that sometimes ... so I’ll say gesundheit so. You scored
a total of twenty, you’re pretty darned geeky ... I am? Oh, well, gesundheit.
“Are you addicted to the Internet?” Let’s see if I am ... I mean I can already answer that, I’m
not addicted to the Internet I just use it out of ... indifference because, well, whatever. The
only thing I’m addicted to is life and, uh, I don’t enjoy that.
“One: Do you find that you stay online longer than you intended?” Well, I don’t intend to be
online at all, so . . . sometimes I don’t know.
“Two: Do you prefer the excitement of the Internet to intimacy with your partner?” Well . ..
those prostitutes I have locked in the basement aren’t really receptive to my kindness, so
uh . . . I always have to end up beating them then they end up dying and I have to bury the
body, whatever . . . so, it’s not — it’s just not a fun process, I’m not going to do it anymore. I
mean I’m — I’m trying to overcome that problem that I have where I kidnap prostitutes, lock
them in my basement . .. so I’ll say . .. I do prefer it, because I do prefer to use the Internet
because it’s just . . . it’s not as fun as you guys think it would be.
“So, three: Do you neglect to use proper English?” “Do you neglect household chores to
spend more time online?” Well, I neglect basically everything, so .. . sometimes?
“Four: Does your work/schoolwork suffer because of the amount of time you spend online?”
Oh yeah, sure, the reason why I’m unemployed and not in school, oh, yeah that’s definitely
because I’m addicted to the Internet, yeah that’s a good explanation.
“Five: Do you form new relationships with others online?” Umm . . . I’m talking to myself
right now so it doesn’t seem to be much of an indication that I’m forming relationships, so
I’ll say never, really.
“Six: Do others in your life complain to you about the amount of time you spend online?”
Others in my life? What’s that? I’ve never heard of that concept, never or rarely.
“Seven: Do you become defensive or secretive whenev-whenever anyone asks, asks ...” I-I-I
always say ask, I-I mean I-I always say “ass,” so I, usually when someone is pronouncing
ask, they say “axe,” but I say . . . I-I don’t pronounce the K so I just basically say “ass” and I
have to force myself into saying “ask.” Um . . . am I getting defensive because I’m going on
a tangent about this question? Um, sometimes?
“Have you ever noticed that your job performance/productivity suffers because of your time
spent online?” Definitely because you know . . . the reason why I’m unemployed is because
I’m addicted, that’s the explanation I’m lazy and addicted.
“Nine: Do you check your e-mail before something else that you need to do?” Well . . . by
definition, yes [laughter] I mean . . . I guess I’m being too pe-pedantic but the question is of
course, for everyone, yes. “Ten: Do you snap, yell or act annoyed if someone bothers you while you’re online?” I always
snap, yell and get annoyed when someone bothers me when I’m online, heh.
“Eleven: Do you find yourself anxiously anticipating when you will go online again?” Well
of course not, never or rarely, because I’m always online hahaha, oh I’m such a funny center
of attention, aren’t I?
“Twelve: Do you block out disturbing thoughts about your life with soothing thoughts of the
Internet?” Oh yeah I like it when people ban me from their forums, it’s really enjoyable, so
I’ll say often or regularly.
“Thirteen: Do you fear that life without the Internet would be boring, empty, or joyless?”
There is no life without the Internet, that’s ... you ca-can’t answer a question like that so I’ll
say never or rarely because the question is nonsensical.
“Fourteen: Do you find yourself saying ‘just a few more . . .’” Oh, um . . . that, uh sorry, the
batteries in my headphones just got depleted so that sounded really weird. What was I doing? [Rustling sounds] “Do you find yourself saying ‘just a few more minutes’ when online?”
Well, why not? Often or regularly . . . this is getting really boring.
“Fifteen: Do you feel pre-preoccupied with the Internet when offline or fantasize about being
online?” And I’m never offline so I’ll say never.
“Do you lose sleep due to being online?” Yes.
“Do you try to hide how long you’ve been online?” Yes.
“Do you choose to spend more time .. .” Yes.
“Have you ever tried to cut down?” Yes. “And failed?” No, of course not because I already
said yes . ..
“Do you feel depressed, moody or nervous when you’re offline? Does it go away once you
are back online?” That’s an interesting question. Why would someone be depressed when
they’re offline, but they’re moody . . . I mean they’re . . . they’re . . . perfectly fine once they
get back online? What would the Internet be serving to do? People think ... a normal person
would say “it’s obvious that they’re using the Internet to fulfill something that’s missing
otherwhere, otherwise in their life,” if they don’t apply that same principle to life itself . . .
they’ll say “why do I want to pursue anything at all? Oh, it’s — I’m not addicted” and if they
do admit that they’re addicted to life, they do it with a little happy face like HeyRuka did, oh
yeah life is addicting, haha, giggle.
Life is an addiction and ... so paranoid someone’s listening to me talking right now. Anyway ...
Twenty, I’ll just answer “often” ... score my quiz ... twenty-three, which means that I’m netaddicted, possible. The last quiz in this PsychCentral website is “Are you addicted to psychic
hotlines?” . . . I thought by psych, that this website meant psychology but probably didn’t
mean psychic the entire time because this entire website is pretty retarded.
“Which mental disorder do you have?” Quizfarm ... oh I wanna know, I fuck farm animals
so I’m sure this is the website where [laughter] I can find out why I do that. “Which mental
disorder do you have? The thought of eating three cheeseburgers makes you want to puke”
... you eat three cheeseburgers and puke ... um, agree, but I don’t eat three cheeseburgers,
so I’ll answer um ... maybe? “Two: It seems you’re always on some sort of diet?” By definition, yes.
“Can you just see all those germs squirming around on your keyboard right now” . . . Why
did you have to remind me of that? Now I’m going to have to go have . . . uh, uh, what do
they call those? A panic attack. It’s so obvious that panic attacks are culturally — culturally
induced. Anyway, those germs squirming around on your keyboard right now ... yeah I have
really good vision, I can see them, agree.
“Forgetting to turn off the oven has a catastrophic meaning” . . . Well it does when it burns
my house down like it has the last three times.
“Most things in life can be looked at as all-good or all-bad” . . . That’s an interesting question too. All-good or all-bad . . . well, I mean can life be looked at as all-bad? No because
that’s something that people don’t understand about my position, they would say .. . they’d
interpret me saying that life is bad, when really life is good, and that’s the problem. Life is
good by definition and ... [sigh] maybe I should ask a psychic if I’m ever going to be able to
express myself more clearly. So most things in life can be looked at as all-good or all-bad, I
will say . .. whatever.
“The roll and the lions may be because I think I’ll wear my beach ball fall tomorrow” . . .
That makes perfect sense to me.
“Nothing makes you feel more in control than eating nothing but celery for days at a time”?
Oh, that’s what those new anorexics do, I don’t eat anything, that’s how in control I am so
I’ll say disagree.
“Are you so tired throughout the day that you can’t sleep at night?” Uh . . . is that one of
those other incoherent questions that can be um . . . a way to determine if you have eh-um,
schizophrenia because that question doesn’t make sense? Are you so tired throughout the
day that you can’t sleep at night . . . it doesn’t necessarily follow even if it is the case, so I
guess uh I’ll just answer whatever.
“This world is bullshit” . . . Uhh . . . I don’t want to go onto a rant about why that statement
doesn’t make sense even though I hate life so ... just select maybe.
“I swear to God that woman from Starbucks keeps putting arsenic in my mocha” ... Umm,
I don’t go to Starbucks, I go to this little independent coffee shop so .. . hehe, disagree.
“The Hillside Strangler, Heaven’s Gate cult, Watergate and your ninth birthday all related”
... uh. You know someone would probably think that I am schizophrenic because I’m making, I-I see all of these ties between things such as culture and . . . you know just listen to
my past videos and you’ll get what I’m trying to touch right now. They would dismiss me
as being schizophrenic . . . even though I’m completely lucid. So, I’ll say strongly disagree
because it kind of pisses me off ...
“You’ve had ten past boyfriends and/or girlfriends in the last one to three months” ... Define
boyfriend and girlfriend. Disagree.
“Everyone knows that murderers are the real victims” . . . Haha, um . . . disagree, fuck murderers.
Uh, “Does the idea of stuffing a cat with lighted firecrackers sound like fun?” Um well I mean
I love rodents and cats kind of ... eat rodents, so I’d be protecting the rodents by killing the
cats so I’ll just answer maybe. “One day I’m model-gorgeous, the next I look hideous oh my God seriously what’s wrong
with me” . . . Actually I do think about that about myself, not in a what’s wrong with me
sense, but sometimes I think that I do actually look cute and other days I guess maybe when
I haven’t slept or I have more acne than usual I’ll think . . . oh my God I look hideous. So,
agree ... sort of.
Smiling, not just overrated but impossible . . . I’m not one of those people who say that . . .
happiness doesn’t exist, happiness is the problem. So . .. I don’t know, maybe.
“Do you have trouble resisting the urge to say ‘motherfucking cocksucker’ when praying?”
Um . .. why — why does this question assume that I ... whatever, maybe.
“You enjoy stealing stuff because” eh, whatever ... well I’ll answer eh whatever and just select
the maybe. There’s . . . there’s more questions.
Calculating results ... oh good I don’t have to enter an e-mail address. “You scored as obsessive-compulsive disorder.” Is it really that obsessive compulsive to answer “eh, whatever”
to every question? Congratulations, you have BPD14 . . . You know it’s actually kind of funny
that all of these people in the comments are saying what they were diagnosed with but, really
that’s . . . that’s — that’s really what psychiatrists do, they do identify mental problems with
everyone who-whose values differ from them, which by definition is everyone, so to some
extent psychiatrists see everyone as being delusional, I mean they see them as mentally ill
because everyone is delusion.
Let’s see, Quizfarm week’s most popular ... let’s get away from the psychology stuff. “What
group are you? What group are you? Chav, rocker, skater, emo, goth, trendy, preppy ... does
this set of bands appeal to you? Cradle of Filth, Dimmu Borgir, Marilyn, Marilyn Manson,”
umm . .. I don’t know anything about music so I’ll answer maybe.
“Do you hang around the skatepark a lot?” Is that little-literal question because . . . I mean
— is that another one of those bands because I would have interpreted that to mean that
they’re . . . do you ride skateboards? But some of the words are capitalized so I don’t know,
maybe. [laughter]
“Do you own any items of Burberry, Nike, or Adidas clothing?” Um ... I don’t think I do.
“Do you follow the rules of fashion?” I don’t wear clothes that’s . . . that’s how much of a
rebel I am. “I castrated myself when I was fifteen to rebel — rebel against society,” that’s
how cool I am.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: (Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie Part 5,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from second segment in series]
“Do you wear black and lots of make-up?” Okay I can tell now that this person isn’t talking
about bands, they just have no idea how to type properly and I’m okay with that because
I hate when people try to impose proper grammar rules and proper spelling and proper formatting ... there is no proper anything. So ... “Do you wear black and lots of make-up?”
I don’t wear any make-up but I have some black stuff, so I’ll say maybe . . .
“Do you dislike people that dress differently to you or listen to different music to you?” I
dislike everyone so I’ll answer hell yeah.
“Do you have a fringe that covers one of your eyes?” I have a fringe that covers both of my
eyes so . . . fuck yeah.
“Do you regard yourself as proper?” Hell no. “Do you go to private school?” Hell no.
“Do you endlessly roam the streets causing trouble?” Uhm . . . heh, [laughter] my fringe is
interfering with my eyesight so much that I was answering the questions using the wrong
column, so going back . . . [repeating questions back to himself, along with last one] all of the
time . . . no, no, I’m on the Internet all the time, remember? So I roam the Internet streets
causing trouble, so I’ll answer sort of, no ...
“Do I [?] Macbeth or famous stars?” I’m not sure what that means so I’ll answer no .. .
“Do you like to hang out at McDonalds?” No, the McDonalds corporation exploits animals.
[laughter] I’ve been a vegan since I was thirteen but it’s kind of ... completely retarded to think
that you’re actually accomplishing anything by not . . . being a vegan doesn’t mean that you
do not harm animals, by living, by choosing life you are ... it’s, life is innately harmful, life
is innately coercive to everyone else, so if you choose life ... I’ll just answer no.
“A gig is the best place to be?” A gig is one of those music events so I’ll answer yes because
I’m so cool that I hang out at those places so I can be the center of attention.
“Skating rules?” It ... doesn’t obey the rules of grammar apparently, but I’ll say yes because
I’m a rebel, you know.
“Do you like Hawthorne Heights?”16 I think that’s a soap opera, I’ll answer maybe.
“Do you flash your cash?” [laughter] Yeah, I go to the playground all the time and flash my
cash to the little kids ... I’ll answer fuck yes.
“Do you own a small fifteen-year-old Vauxhall Nova or a Ford that you’ve attempted to improve?” Um ... well I’m assuming that they’re talking about cars because they say Ford, but
I don’t know, maybe?
“Do you love Bam Margera?”17 Maybe ...
“Do you play the guitar, drums or in a band?” Totally because art is important ...
“Darkness rules,” hell yeah, next . . .
Oh, there’s another one, “Do you know Dylan Smith?”18 No ...
“Do you listen to Metallica?” No. Is that a band or a genre? Or is it both? I’m not really sure. “Appearances are everything” .. . totally.
“Do you wear drainpipes,” in parentheses, “really, really tight jeans?” Yeah, all the time I
only . .. well actually no because I’m naked all the time, you know.
“Do you have long hair?” No, I . . . what are those called? [?] Those things that just kill hair
follicles? I pour that all over my body, so I’ll say no.
“Do you frequently shop at Topman?” Um ... no, I’m a queer bottom man.
“The world is just out to screw you over?” Totally man. Fight the power.
“Do you believe in being different from everyone else?” I’m sure you do and that’s why you
capitalize these strange letters. Well ... my real answer is no one is remotely different from
each other, they’re all just . .. we’re all the same, we’re all deluded. Might as well say no.
“Do you wear brands like Adios, Euro, Element, etc?” [?] No, I don’t think I do.
“Do you keep a diary?” Well, is what I’m doing right now a diary? I don’t know, maybe, no
. . . tend toward no.
“Are you very arrogant?” No, I mean ... I’m so great that my greatness warrants this behavior
so I’ll say no, of course not, I’m not arrogant. I am the best out of everyone.
“Do you have to have expensive clothes?” Well, I mean . . . expensive clothes, it depends on
what you’re talking about. I mean I can .. . actually just forget that answer.
“Are you [?] concerned about the way you look?” Yes, I am.
“Do you constantly give the middle fingers?” Oh yeah, I think it’s . . . I don’t know which
fingers they’re talking about, so I’ll just answer yes.
“Do you skate?” Didn’t they have two questions that were like this? Yes, whatever, just continue, tell me what I am, tell me what I am, please I can’t wait for the results to calculate . ..
I can’t tell how long this has been going on. An hour? I don’t think I’m going to be uploading this. Tiebreaker? Tiebreaker? Oh man, they already asked these questions, I don’t know
how to answer them again.
“Do you wear black and lots of makeup, do you listen to Metallica, or do you skate?” So, I
guess it’s going to end up indicating that I’m a goth? I’m a Metallica someone? Or I’m a skater.
Let’s see which one of them am I ... well I hate all of them because I hate all of culture, but
I kind of like how goths uh . . . sure, they’re not anti-cultural, but they’re counter-cultural
and that counts for something, so I’ll award you with one point, and next.
You scored as goth ... cool. But it lists rocker or mosher as the top one. Oh, emo is pretty far
down, I have a lot of sympathy for emos, I like emos. I have five minutes before the hour
mark. I’ll go to the highest rated quizzes. “Who is my perfect girl?” Guys only.
This is kind of a strange quiz, I’m not sure what it’s talking about. Who does it mean by you?
And does this . . . I mean, “Who’s my perf—” Whatever, I’ll go to home. I hate being home,
I’ll go there anyway and . . . “Which Gundam 00 organization do you belong to?” Well, I
loved Gundam 0080 so I’ll . .. Trench coats are very fashionable, yes. Freedom is everything ... uh, death is freedom, yes, I
don’t know. Protection is everything, protection is life, no. “You are a troublemaker” . .. no, of
course not. “You are willing to give up your life to protect something dear to you” ... I don’t
want to give my life, life is precious. “What isn’t on your side is against you” ... maybe? “The
only good enemy is a dead one,” uh, well maybe? I don’t know what they’re talking about.
“It is important to be able to keep a secret,” um . . . no, you need to talk about your feelings
so that you can end up involuntarily committed. “It is important to act on your beliefs” . . .
yes because belief is everything. “Do you wish to atone for something in your past?” Uhh,
atone for being born? I don’t know. “You graduated in the middle of your class” ... no I was
expelled, so . . . no. “You are a family person” . . . of course. “You’re okay with following orders,” of course. “You are an elitist?” Well, I’m an elitist of the life class, so yes, I don’t know.
“You realize the consequences of your actions” ... I realize the consequences of not properly
spelling words even though ... this is getting really redundant, isn’t it?
Oh no, the waves are dying down, but I want to continue surfing with you, I love you so
much. Can’t you just click that feeling lucky button and Google for everything ... ah random
words [keyboard clacking] my search did not match any documents . . . isn’t that what life is
all about? I’ll check out my channel.
“CulturalPhilistine ... guy is such an asshole.” Let’s see if SomethingSea responded. [mouse
clicking sounds] No, he must not like me. I feel so hurt I’m going to have to hurt myself.
“CulturalPhilistine, come back” ... no, not that. No, no, stop doing that. There we go.
Come on, no one’s rated my videos negatively yet, I’m a masochist, I want you to rate them
negatively. Oh, someone liked my SomethingSea response, so I guess someone watched it.
Or maybe ... [laughter] maybe I liked it without realizing it, that’s how much of a tool I am.”
I know this is really fucking stupid ... all of this. I mean, really when you analyze what I’m
doing at this moment, and what I’ve been doing for the last hour, I’m basically just procrastinating because I know that the solution is death. Inbox ... no messages, as usual. Subscriptions ... this is glitched, as usual. Oh, Pink Nun uploaded a video,20 women and antinatalism.
Oh my headphones hurt, and their battery has been depleted so I guess I’ll watch this later.
But what do I think about women and antinatalism? It depends on what you mean by antinatalism, because it could mean the conventional perspective antinatalism or it could be this
Efilism stuff that they’re talking about, or it could be this antivalueism stuff that I’m talking
about. But what do I think of women? Well, I don’t think of them any differently than anyone
else, I mean .. . whatever. I don’t . . . I guess I’ll, just end this here.
Oh yeah and that reminds me, how much time do I have left? Oh no, 20 seconds, okay . . .
asexuals, asexuality, I meant to add to my prior video, it’s um culturally induced, it isn’t, it
doesn’t exist in nature so ... if you think you’re asexual, you’re deluding yourself, it’s because
of consequence of what you experienced ... oh no two seconds away, bye.
[video cut]
Okay this is very rare for me ... I’m actually in sort of a positive mood, I have, I’m listening to
the ... the video of me web surfing and of course when I’m, it’s been sufficiently long enough
that of course when I’m listening to that it’s almost as if I’m interacting with someone who
is exactly like me. And so that gets me into a positive mood and .. . uh, this is genuinely in
as positive of a mood as I get, when I’m ... I mean you could call it hopeful but, okay I’ll just go with that, as hopeful as a mood as I ever get in consciously. And so . . . what do I think
about death right now? Well, even in my most pleasurable state I can conceive of, I mean
even that I can imagine, I still see death as the solution because happiness . . . I’ve already
explained my position.
Happiness is not really happiness, happiness is actually the cessation of deprivation. Any
happiness that you experience is a consequence of your enculturation. I mean any happiness
in a cultural context is a consequence of your enculturation . .. so what do I feel right now?
Do I feel none of that matters and I can just enjoy my happiness? Um, basically no, fuck
life, I should kill myself [laughter] this is me in my happiest mood.
Because there is no happiness. I mean happiness is death, I’ve already outlined in my previous videos, my previous rambling, vlog, whatever videos today . . . that life is suffering and
death is happiness. And it makes perfect sense to me right now, it always makes perfect
sense to me, and so even when I’m ... there’s not really a difference in my actions based on
whether I’m in my worst or best mood. I still persist in just going through the motions and I
never pursue death ... and I never pursue life, I’m just kind of in an intermediate state. But
I am in a good mood so don’t let anyone tell you that I am ... I want to die because life is so
miserable, because that’s not my position, I’ve said this so many times. Life is a great thing
and that’s the problem, and if you don’t understand what I mean by that then ... everything
that I’ve ... it, and if you’ve listened to everything I said earlier then I’m not going to be able
to communicate right now, maybe in the future I’ll be able to express that more coherently
but . .. guess that’s it.",1,Specific Threats,Adam Lanza: (Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie Part 6,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: How was my Rothbard impression?
Suffering is life-affirming; Life is suffering: [link to YouTube video]
The line of previous videos: [links to various YouTube videos with titles and remarks]
TireIron[?] was talking about how we could all be a result of dream creation and not remember
that we’re all connected beyond this, with meditation being the method by which we could
achieve this ordinariness, he sees life as a path that has the potential to go towards something.
Toward the end of his videos, he said that ultimately there are no stages, points, paths, goals
or secrets, there’s just this ... I’m not sure what he meant by that because it seems to imply
exactly what I’m saying. My position is that we are on a path, and we can potentially experience
more, but we have not and would not have discovered any of it, we have and would create
all of it out of nothing. More awareness does not allow the discovery of any higher experiences, it creates the experiences out of nothing. Think — think of it in this cultural context,
a feral child does not have the desire to read a great novel. If you are encultured, you would
subsequently be able to experience the pleasure of reading it, but culture did not allow the
discovery of the experience. Culture created the greatness out of nothing. Culture imposed
the deprivation of not having read the great novel and thus created the pleasure which had
resulted from fulfilling this deprivation. That is why I refer to culture as masochism, which
I had described better in my “Suffering is Life-Affirming” video that’s linked below.
Culture imposes a deprivation and causes its victims to seek the fulfillment of it; culture operates in the same way that all of awareness does. Cult-awareness does not allow the discovery
of experiences, it allows the creation of it. I see awareness allowing a higher vibration in the
sense that you — you cut yourself deeper and thus scream louder. And there I go again talking about a self. What am I babbling about, saying that I reject the self? I think that you’re
treating the self similar to the way that Rothbard treated property.21 He would ask me, “What
property rights are there?” I would tell him that I cannot answer the question because there
is no property. And he would say “but of course there’s a system of property rights because
you demonstrate that through your actions,” life seeks to propagate itself, in order for life
to propagate it must manipulate matter in a certain way, occupying space or drinking water
does not impart a metaphysical classification of that matter as having a property — property.
Perception delusionally contracts metaphysical categories. Your question is, which self is
doing the evaluating?
I cannot answer the question because it depends on appealing to a concept of a self, but I
reject the existence of all forms of self. You say, “But of course there’s a self because your actions demonstrate that it exists,” in order for a certain manifestation of life, sentient creatures
to propagate, it must contrive a notion of a self, but there is no self in the way that there is
no property. They are just delusions created from nothing.",1,Vague Discontent,Adam Lanza: SomethingSea response #2: A difference of perspectives,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: ’Twas a YouTube-induced dream? What could this mean?
~Dreamt on the lovely morning of 9/20/2011.
I just woke up about ten minutes ago and I had a strange dream so I thought I would explain
it. The background was basically, long story short was, I was in high school and I wasn’t doing
what I was supposed to do and told the authority figures to fuck off and I got imprisoned. So,
ha, after that I was at my prison cell and two of the other prisoners got on guard duty, I don’t
know. Let me out, one of them was apparently an ex-gang leader ... not sure why. And they
led me to a desk where there was this poorly constructed wooden tricycle with low-quality
rubber wheels or something like that.
We went up to the receptionist’s desk, I don’t know ... who he was, but he told me good luck
and I got on the tricycle and started — they brought me over to a door and the receptionist
told me to get in touch with my young side, or something like that. So, I started breathing
heavily, thinking “okay I’ve got to prepare for something” as we approached the door. And
bravely ensued [?] into the room and it was the interior of a gym-gymnasium and there was
this group of — of ... spectators sitting on the floor in a circle, around some type of obstacle
course that was about maybe twenty-five feet wide. And ... it wasn’t meant to be completed
vertically, it was a horizontal course that you were supposed to circle around, and there’s
this star pattern in the center, but a little off to one of the sides ... and you had to maneuver
around this course using the tricycle. And make it as entertaining for the crowd as possible.
So, you were supposed to go around five times, for my first round, and there were five other
prisoners who were competing and presumably whoever the crowd found most entertaining
would get to be freed from the prison. So, for my first round I was . . . instead of riding the
tricycle I was, you know how when you . . . have a bicycle you can kind of use the wheels to
bounce? So that’s what I was doing, I was bouncing twenty feet into the air. And the crowd
liked that and I threw in some tricks in the second round where I was ... um, spinning 360
degrees and that kind of thing, and on the third round I started going backward and the
crowd really liked that but after a few bounces I accidentally went out of bounds. They were cheering as I was leaving, and of course there was one guy who was saying, “You
fucking suck” [laughter] um, but I sat out with the crowd and started watching the next two
prisoners to see what they were going to do, that was supposed to be entertaining. Oh yeah
and the outlines of this obstacle course um, had balloons laid around them, different colors.
And once I got out of the course, my tricycle turned into this ... balloon that was starting to
lose its helium. Well, they — it didn’t have any helium, it probably had a heavier-than-air gas
in it, all of the balloons did and my balloon, um, was starting to lose its air. But I was watching the two other prisoners and all that they were — did to be entertaining was play some of
the, what do they call it? Benny Hill theme music, and starts . . . tossing a balloon between
the two of them. And I was thinking, “this — that’s, they’re not even doing anything, I’m going to win this competition” and then that was basically the point at which I woke up. And
I thought, what was that? So anytime that I’m — end up waking up and asking myself, What
did I just dream?, I’m going to record it and I guess I’ll start this new series of . . . strange
dreams. Strange dream descriptions, so ... sorry if that wasn’t entertaining enough for you,
but that was the dream.",1,Vague Discontent,Adam Lanza: Strange Dream #1: Beyond Dreams [sic] Door Is Where Horror Lies,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: I’m sure that any psychiatrists (secular priests) and TheRapists who would
seek to dismiss my position as being the consequence of schizophrenia would orgasm if they read this:
~Life is the imposition of value.
~Cultural values are the masochistic imposition of suffering through the deprivation of their
fulfillment.
~Feral values are the innate imposition of suffering through the deprivation of their fulfillment.
~Suffering tends to serve as a life-affirming experience.
~The less you suffer, the clearer you see that value is a disease.
~Death eradicates value and thus is the solution to life.
Relatively speaking and within the context of being alive, I have always been in a very
privileged position. At this point in my life, I can pursue and achieve practically anything I
would desire. And if I were to commit suicide, I’m certain that — certain that many people
would say, “I cannot believe that lazy spoiled loser killed himself. I’ve always been poor, my
parents beat me, I was bullied every day as a child and I got raped, but despite all of that I
still choose to live.”
This may seem counterintuitive at first glance, but my position is that someone does not
choose to live despite suffering, it’s just to live because suffering is life affirming. The way
that culture operates might help to demonstrate this, the first thing that anyone says when
someone is suicidal, other than possibly saying, “You need medication to change your
mentally ill thoughts” is “You need to have goals in your life,” but what are goals? A feral
child does not have any goals, a feral child would not have any desire to become a renowned
writer or an eminent scientist, or have interest in hobbies, or become an interesting person,
or develop any — any of those character-building traits.
However, if that child were encultured, he would develop innumerable goals to achieve
various things. Culture did not allow the feral child to discover the pleasure which he can
achieve from experiencing any of those things, culture imposed the deprivation of not achieving those things, and thus created out of nothing, the pleasure which results from fulfilling
that deprivation. Culture is masochism. Since life seeks to propagate itself, I suspect that
culture emerged to prevent human intellect from enabling feral people to lose their aversion
to death. Ted Kaczynski’s experience is an example of this happening. When he had spent enough time alone in his cabin, he said that he became okay with dying at any moment
because he was happy with his life.
My interpretation of this is that he had sufficiently overcome his enculturation to the point
where he was no longer being hurt by it. Since he wasn’t hampered with the deprivation
which culture imposes, he was not afraid of dying. In the past, the cultural reason why you
couldn’t kill yourself was because God said so. Or because it will continue some metaphysical cycle of suffering, or because your parents own your body and suicide is dishonorable.
These days, the dominant cultural justification for life is this belief that you can’t kill yourself
because there are things that need to be accomplished in life. But you do not live for the
achievement of your goals, you have goals so that you will continue to live and thus will
continue to propagate life.
I used to distinguish between the fulfillment of cultural and feral values, but then I realized
that feral values are just as coercive of a delusion as cultural values are. I still emphasize
cultural so much because of how prominent it is, and once you understand that culture is a
disease, you can recognize that life itself is a disease. The deprivation which results from the
existence of both cultural and feral values are the only reason why anyone wants to live. Life
is suffering, everyone has heard that statement, but they don’t accept it at face value. They
interpret it to mean that life has suffering, but life is suffering, and suicide is the solution.",1,Specific Threats,Suffering is life-affirming; Life is suffering,9/28/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: Where was I going with this?
A lot of the antinatalists disparage people for not being able to see the pointlessness of
their existence, and I, I’m actually closer to [?] than I am to Gary, as strange as that may
sound considering that I’m completely anti-life. I’ve always believed in personal meaning,
whatever that means, heh. It wasn’t the realization that absolutely everything about me is
a consequence of my environment that changed me, it was, well, I didn’t really change that
much, I’ve always been this way, but it was the realization that absolutely everything about
me is not just personal meaning, it’s that meaning itself is a scar.
Basically everyone, whether or not they admit to it, think of life as being a tool that you can
use to channel into some metaphysical plane of happiness, and that’s why there are people
who say, “No matter how bad things get, at least I’m alive so that I can experience anything,”
but that’s not how it is. Happiness and goodness and . . . all of those synonymous words,
they . . . they don’t come from anywhere other than you, and by that I don’t mean to sound
like Professor Anton22 saying that you should work toward those things. I’m actually saying
the complete opposite.
It’s not that you build happiness and goodness out of nothing, using suffering as some ingredient to somehow make it more grand. What you create out of nothing is the suffering
of not achieving what you want, not the happiness. There has never been a feral child who
has said, “Sure I like splashing in these ponds and climbing these trees but I feel really bad
about myself because I haven’t written that book that I have been working on and I haven’t
been to the symphony in a while and I just feel so brutish and uncultured,” just like a disease,
a feral child would need exposure to culture to experience the fulfillment of achieving any
of those things. And all of that applies to feral desires, too, there’s never been a rock that’s said, “Sure I like being a rock but I really would like to drink water, I mean drinking is such
a great experience,” you can drink a gallon of water and become completely disgusted by it,
but if you go without drinking water for an entire day of course it’s going to be one of the
greatest experiences you’ve ever had. It’s not because you’re creating happiness, it’s because
you’re fulfilling the deprivation.
And awareness itself is suffering. It’s not that life has suffering, life, life is suffering. So
instead of being like Gary, where I would dismiss people for chasing big balloons, I’d say
that what people do, including me, including what I’m doing right now, is . . . every action
that you take, it’s ... basically what life is, is you blow into a balloon as hard as you can until
you almost faint, and then you toss it into the wind, then you sprint around chasing it until
you can barely move anymore, and once you finally chase it, you stomp on it. And the harder
you blow, and the longer you run, the louder the pop is going to be but . . . the entire thing
is pretty retarded, isn’t it?
And I mean you’re not doing yourself a favor by achieving any of those things. You’re ... your
awareness of those things is causing problems that you have. There’s that whole, you know
the Matrix thing with the red pill and the blue pill? I don’t know which one was which but
... it was celebrated, taking the pill that led to more awareness was celebrated as being noble
somehow, and it’s the cool thing to do. But . . . what are you going to do with that greater
awareness? Your greater awareness is only going to allow you to fulfill the deprivation that
gaining the awareness imposed onto you. The feral child was never deprived of, deprived
by not knowing anything about art, and the rock was never deprived of anything by being
unable to experience drinking water.
The statement that ignorance is bliss is used so negatively, but the people who use it are ...
just, they just have masochistic intentions, they aren’t noble in some way. They aren’t achieving anything, and someone would say, “Well you just” — I don’t know which pill is which but
they would say, “You would take the pill which results in lesser awareness because you’re
happy being a Christian and going to church and living a cozy life but meanwhile we artists
and scientists and philosophers, we’re going to deal with the real things and the real world.”
I’m not saying that I want the lesser awareness, what I’m saying, I’m acknowledging that one
of the pills results in more suffering than the other and that’s the only difference between
the two. With one of them you have certain delusions and with another one you have certain
delusions, but ... there really isn’t a difference between them. Ideally, when offered the red
or blue pill, I would request the cyanide pill, that would just basically be what I’m saying.
But anyway, people give religion a hard time for being a delusion and I know that I used
to, um, first time that I thought about it when I was around thirteen, I just pretty much
immediately came to the conclusion that this is just complete nonsense, how could anyone
believe this? But uh ... it’s not only religion that’s a delusion, it — religion is really a scapegoat.
The way that people treat it, saying, “Religion is the cause of most conflicts” that’s just such
a mischaracterization, it’s not religion that’s the problem. Religion stems from the same
principles that secular values do it’s all this evaluation delusion that’s the problem. And that’s
why people like Professor Anton and [?] I think his name is, say that you can’t just dismiss
everything that’s religious as being nonsense.
The reason that they say that is because value itself is religious. I’m just as religious as any
fundamentalist is, it just manifests differently in me than it would . . . in anyone who’s explicitly religious. We’re all religious because we all believe in the delusion of value. I think
that’s everything regarding the whole, um, I’m not even sure what I’m talking about. But anyway, there was one thing that I was sure I wanted to talk about and that’s mental
illnesses and IQ. There are people who say that IQ doesn’t really measure anything, and
intelligence is such a vague concept, you can’t define it. But that’s kind of irrelevant, you
really have to look at what religion — sorry — um, you have to think about what IQ is used to
determine. And I think that IQ can be defined in a very good way and anything else which
would be used in a similar way to IQ and that is the measurement of your susceptibility to
being encultured, and subsequently the extent to which you will be able to propagate culture.
You can’t really enculture someone with an IQ of twenty, but of course the people with an
IQ of two hundred are going to be the ones that enable exponential enculturation and all of
those things. But under what situation is IQ relevant? It’s always in a cultural context, and I
guess that’s it on IQs. People talk about how it measures your likelihood to succeed in society,
of course it does because it’s cultural measurement, but whatever.
Moving on to mental illnesses. Mental illnesses can be thought of in the same paradigm I
guess, they’re basically just barriers to enculturation, I mean mental illnesses in the generally colloquially used sense are just barriers to um enculturation. You’ve never heard about a
bipolar bonobo who’s been unable to maintain employment, or anything of that sort. Mental
illnesses emerge in the cultural context, and they only become a problem when you’re in a
cultural context that’s .. . just, I see culture everywhere, it’s so disgusting.
When someone’s mentally ill, you think, How can I help this bipolar person to become more
productive? or How can I help this schizophrenic person to become more productive? and
there’s always this emphasis on the word productive. Basically, no matter who you’re talking
to, they emphasize this whole production word. I mean even the anarchists do and I don’t
think they realize what they’re actually talking about when they’re talking about production.
What are you ... working toward? Production is basically just the application of the propagation of some aspect of culture.
And someone would say, “You’re just lazy because, you don’t want to be productive because
you’re just lazy,” but ... it’s not that I’m lazy, it’s, laziness basically means that you’re a secular
apostate. Being told to be productive to me ... has always sounded like being told to join in
on the baby-raping orgy. Um ... I don’t want to siphon anything; I don’t want to be productive because I’ve never wanted any of this. I mean when I was younger, I used to just aspire
to become a vagabond or a hermit or something like that.
But that ... doesn’t address what culture is. I mean I’ve been raped every day of my life and
this STD of culture is oozing around everywhere. Becoming a hermit doesn’t really solve that,
heh . . . someone would say, “You must be crazy because you don’t appreciate technology,”
think of it as it pertains to pre-agricultural societies, I don’t really know that much about
anthropology, well I don’t really know much about anything but, um ... I’m pretty sure that
whenever a pre-agricultural society comes into contact with a post-agricultural society, the
pre-agricultural society doesn’t adopt the methods of whatever empire is coming into contact
with them just because “your arguments are so rational,” I’m pretty sure that in almost all
circumstances they reject that system of society.
And they always become post-agricultural through the application of violence. And someone
would say, “It’s not violence because there are property rights and there’s this justification and
this justification” but it, it’s ... if you think that property rights are not based on violence then
I don’t even have anything to say to you. Are those pre-agricultural societies insane because
they don’t appreciate technology? Someone would say, “No they’re just pre-enlightened” —
don’t even want to get started on this “enlightened” word. What is a person from a pre-agricultural society supposed to do when someone throws them
onto the baby-raping orgy and they aren’t raping fast enough, so you say, “You’re not being
aggressive enough, you’re enjoying the benefits of raping these babies but you, there you
are slacking,” it’s not that the person is slacking, it’s that the person doesn’t want to be in
the baby-raping orgy at all.
And you think that mental illnesses, in the way that it’s, they’re generally used, in the way
that they’re generally spoken about, do you think that mental illnesses . . . that there’s not
something innate about culture that causes them to emerge? It’s like you want to eat your
cake and have it too, or however that saying goes. It’s like ... it’s like people who believe that
you can use violence to achieve some revolution, and you’ll somehow have this enlightened
society or . .. whatever, any of that means.
But the means you use are going to be integral to the operation of whatever emerges, you
can’t . . . you can’t have a violent revolution and expect there to be an egalitarian society afterward. That’s what culture is, when you rape me, what do you expect me to be other than
to be fucked up? [laughter] I’m pretty much done with this channel. I’ve said pretty much
everything I can about what culture is and what life is and . . . all of this is pretty simple.
It’s, it’s not, it’s not achieving anything, I’ve already outlined this. It’s ... seeking meaning is
like applying, it’s like ... applying a flaming piece of meat as a bandage and you think that’s
going to somehow help you.
And ... all I can say at this point is, there’s this little thing which connects to this other little
thing, and it all indicates that culture is delusion. And I’m not saying I’m somehow beyond
this, when I’m doing, what I’m doing right now is exactly the same as what everyone else
does. It’s all cultural mannerisms. There’s — I guess I should talk about, I’ll make a separate
video about um, speaking about pedophilia since I already said that I would talk about it.
I don’t really have the motivation to go into this in depth to any degree, pretty much. But I
said I would talk about it so I guess I’ll just read through the ... beginning stages of an essay
that I was working on regarding pedophilia. So, look forward to that video I guess . . . kind
of ties in all of this together, and that’s why I’ve always been so obsessed about the subject,
and you’ll understand that once you listen.",1,Grievance Airring,A few things,10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: I have to emphasize for the fifth time, I AM NOT A PEDOPHILE. My
position is that children would not be harmed by consensual sexual interaction with adults any more
than other adults are, unless their culture forced them into being ignorant of it and manipulated
into being horrified by it.
I recognize that my anti-pedophobia was only a futile retaliation against culture, so I will never
have the motivation to improve any of this. [links to several other YouTube videos, including the
other parts of this series]
Hello, I’m your host Phillip Greaves, Jr.,23 and I’m going to just jump right into this so I’m
sure I’m going to be missing a lot of things, it’s going to be very redundant, it’s going to be
very unorganized, but I should say that before I start, I’m not a pedophile, I’m not remotely
pedophilic, I’ve never had a, well no, I’ve never knowingly had any association with anyone
who is remotely pedophiliac, eh, pedophilic. I have never seen child pornography, I’ve never tried to look up child pornography, I have absolutely nothing to do with pedophilia
or anything like that. My interest in anti-pedophobia is entirely academic, and if you think,
if you think that, if you’ve listened to my other videos and by the time that I finish reading
this quasi-essay, that . . . I’m just trying to justify some latent pedophilia, then I really have
nothing to say to you, just flame me or whatever. But I’m just going to just start this video.
And I should warn you that I haven’t worked on this in a while, other than adding a few
excerpts a few months ago from an online discussion I found between a pedophobe and a
postmodernist. I haven’t done anything to this in months. And I appeal to things like rights,
and I sound like a complete moralizer so just try to excuse that and pay attention to what
I’m actually saying.
And what I’m saying, I should say is . . . heh, that pedophobia, anti-pedophobia is a very
expansive topic, and this essay24 isn’t going, isn’t meant to cover even a small portion of
all of it, it’s just a response to the assertion that children, even if they consent to sex, really
don’t consent, it’s statutory rape because for some reason, they can’t consent. And I’m just
addressing that, in this. And once again, this is going to be completely unorganized because
this essay really never got to a presentable stage, I just threw out my thoughts everywhere.
And . . . it begins, I begin talking about Tyler Clementi’s suicide25 and how it’s ironic that
. . . uh, that he, I’m just going through like five paragraphs . . . It’s ironic that his death was
considered horrendously tragic but Louis Conradt’s death26 ... if you don’t know who he is,
you should look him up . . . was extreme, uh, the circumstances of Louis Conradt’s suicide
were extremely, extremely similar to Ty-Tyler Clementi’s, the only difference being that Louis
Conradt was being persecuted to an infinitely higher degree and he had, everyone expects
empathy for Tyler Clementi and one of his roommates has been indicted on fifteen counts
and is facing, how long? [clicking sounds] He’s facing possibly more than ten years in prison
for committing a hate crime. Yet in Conrad’s case, the small amount of criticism which was
ever directed toward Perverted Justice, NBC and the police only applied to the technical
methodology of his arrest.
[quoting from his essay:]
Xavier von Erck,27 the founder of Perverted Justice, responded to Conradt’s death by
effectively saying that he would’ve preferred if he hadn’t killed himself, but he was
only bothered by the situation because they would not be able to press any charges.
And I talk about how pedophiles face infinitely more persecution than homosexuals ever
have, or any transgenders, or bisexuals, or whoever, just the entire LGBT group. And . . . no
one seems to care. I talk about all the ways that pedophiles are persecuted, and moving
on . . . I say why is this the case? Is it right? Heh, that pedophiles are the one social group
which everyone can agree deserve to be tortured if not outright killed? And more appeals to
emotion, here I am defining some terms because technically Louis Conradt wasn’t even a
pedophile, he was a pederast but anyway. More terms, I talk about that . .. when I say pedophile, I’m going to be using it as if the pedophile were always male because ... it’s not that there aren’t female pedophiles, it’s just that
there are significantly, significantly fewer that have been identified and To Catch a Predator
demonstrated that pretty well, there were — there wasn’t a single female on the show. But
it’s not because there aren’t female pedophiles, it’s that owing to cultural structure ... uh, I
talk about the various cultural reasons why you don’t hear about female pedophiles and why
females only comprise six percent of reported child molest-molestation cases. So, I’m talking
about pedophiles as if it automatically implies a male, and specifying that might not even
be necessary because we luckily already have a mental image of a male pedophile. Perhaps
he’s a dirty [quoting from his essay:] “old man in a raincoat who hides in the bushes of a park
while lugging in a bag of candy.”
That’s um, To Catch a Predator also demonstrated pretty well that all of these stereotypes
about pedophiles are false, everyone, people from all backgrounds are pedophiles. Um,
pedophiles are, I should say that actually, when I say pedophile too, in the context of in
this essay, I’m talking about ephebophiles28 and all of them, I’m just combining them into
pedophile and how do I define it? The definition, the definition of a pedophile which I will
be using is an adult male who both desires and engages in sexual activity with any person
who is considered to be under the legal age of consent, that’s what I’m talking about when
I say pedophile here.”
But I . . . um, To Catch a Predator, it demonstrated how pedophiles are as diverse as homosexual adults are. And this ... this stereotype that pedophiles are just creepy old men is false.
Anyway, I move on, talking about what I mean when I talk about child, defining child, because
in the United States a child can be anyone from a newborn to a seventeen-year-old. And for
the sake of brevity and to not to, uh to not too greatly obfuscate the focus of this essay, my
general usage of child will be in reference to someone who is somewhere around the age of
ten up until the age of consent and/or the age of majority, depending on the context of the
sentence. I’m not directly dealing with children such as toddlers, although much of what is
to be said also pertains to them. I select approximately ten years old as a minimum because
it is reportedly around the age to which the greatest number of pedophiles are attractiveattracted. Heterosexual pedophiles who are attracted primarily to pre-pubescent children
have an age preference of eight to ten years old, homosexual pedophiles prefer ten to thirteen
years old. So I’m just talking about age ten and up, and . . . let’s just make this essay more
simple because once you include toddlers which ... eh, I’ll get into that.
But there really isn’t much of a difference between a toddler and a seventy-year-old, when it
comes to this topic. And ... I talk about a personal anecdote, where, because people wonder
how could a child possibly get into a situation where they’re participating in a pedophilic
relationship? I talk about a personal anecdote where that could’ve happened, even though
that wasn’t remotely my intention. But basically . ..
[The following anecdote is quoted and paraphrased from Lanza’s essay.]
There was this lonely thirteen-year-old boy and I, eh, uh, that I knew online and I
asked him, he never said much of anything, and asked him what he thought about
something once and we got to talking about various things each night. And at one
point he degraded something he said because he was just a kid and that kind of thing
and I replied that age meant nothing to me and another time he asked me about
what I thought about homosexuals and I said that someone’s sexuality doesn’t mean
anything to me either and he thought it was amusing that I appeared to not judge
anything about anyone. And soon after, he confided in me that he was bisexual and that I was the only person
he had told. He began talking to me about his sexuality and all sorts of personal things
like his anxiety over being in a family of Jehovah’s Witnesses, of being in an abnormally
homophobic school, and of his attraction to his male best friend. I had never tried
talking to him about his sexuality to him, he brought up the subject solely by himself
because for the first time in his life someone was actually willing to listen to him as
a person instead of under the label of a child. He appreciated that very much and
even joked about wanting me to be his father. All of it made me wonder how many
lonely children there are out there who are dismissed as being unimportant because
of their age? While there was nothing pedophilic about any of this, it illustrates how
a pedophilic relationship could begin.
And I . .. have a note to myself to elaborate on that but I’ll just skip this part.
[Lanza continues reading from his essay.]
One pedophile in his journal described that, boys just want to know about sex and
no one really wants to tell them about it, they want to play with themselves and with
other people and they want to do it more times than teachers or parents would think
possible, all I do is give the boys what they want and to let them talk about things that
no one else would let them talk about. And heh, after this pedophile was discovered
by the police and subsequently committed suicide to evade prison which is the standard pedophile action because pedophiles are brutalized in prison and people and
society seem to think that’s a great thing.” I talked about that earlier, but I skipped
over it, whatever.
One of his young lovers said about him, “I could really talk to him about this girl
whom I wanted to fuck, we had petted but I guess I was a bit scared about what to do
and then she, I think was like me, we spent a bit of time together, him and I, working
out what I should do and it seemed to work. When I went back to his place a week
or so later I was very proud and couldn’t wait to tell him what I had done and how it
had gone. He seemed very pleased with me and asked me all the details and I told
him and we were both happy. It was a really big kick to have him do things for me, I
mean I really liked him touching me there and all over my body. In fact, I might’ve
felt a bit guilty to start with but as the years have gone by I just see it for what it was,
just a bit of fun and a way for me to get a new experience.”
I say that pedophiles . . . I’ll just read this.
Pedophiles have the capacity to relate to children better than the rest of society’s adults
precisely because they do not see them as children. Society dismisses pedophiles as
profligates who reduce children to sex objects but it’s instructive to see how the rest of
society actually views children. This persep-perspective might explain why pedophilia
is so abhorred by society, the clues provided in a quote of — from Xavier von Erck’s
personal website. A couple of months prior to Louis Conradt’s suicide, he wrote that
“I’m not in this to protect children, it’s a nice side benefit sure, but my motivation is
to make life a living hell for predators and pedophiles online.”
That sounds a bit strange, presumably the opposition to pedophilia is based off of a
desire to protect children, yet the mother of a girl who had se— consensual sexual activity with an adult said of her that “My little girl was abused and abused, she probably
knows more about sex than I do, it sickens me to have to say it but I think she came
to like it, she must have because she was always ex-excited when he came around to the house. When police told me what he had done to my little girl I thought she
would’ve been better off dead.”
What can you even say to that? People express, we don’t want pedophiles to have sex with
children because we want to protect the children, but as you’ll see it’s not really the case. And
I say, heh, incidentally she said of the pedophile that she “just wanted to tie him on an ants’
nest and pour boiling water over him,” and that’s quite tame considering what other people
want to do to pedophiles all the time. Anyway, since death is the antithesis of protection, how
can this belief be reconciled? “Hidden beyond the overt way societies treat pedophiles, it is
instructive to see the less prominent treatment of children, what is the life of a child like?”
And I talk about how “Children’s free wills are suppressed and annihilated in every conceivable manner within families.” I think that’s pretty obvious I don’t even have to go into that.
And I talk about how governments institute this . . . and if an adult discovers that her child
has chosen to engage in a pedophilic relationship with another adult who has been able to
sympathize with and relate to the child, the relationship of the child considered to be valuable is instantly destroyed and the child’s life crumbles.
Children are indoctrinated into believing that they have been manipulated and unimaginably abused by the pedophile, while their own parents simultaneously increase
their cont-control over every facet of the child’s life. They’re labeled as horribly damaged victims and are subject to the will of psychiatrists who treat them into believing
that they can overcome their abuse. Doesn’t it say everything about society’s view of
children when pedophilia is so commonly compared to necrophilia and bestiality?
Society views children as being no different than inanimate, unfeeling matter at worst,
or mindless animals at best.
And I no— I have a note here,
Consent is something which is important to me, on the contrary people who oppose
pedophilic relationships are the ones who do not care about consent. They completely
dismiss children’s wills and desires as being nonexistent.
And uh, here’s a paragraph, of, eh, appealing to emotion and at the end of it I say, “The world
shouts to children that they’re not people: children are property,” and that is the case, children
are property. I’m not saying they should be, I’m just saying, that’s how it actually is. I say
that the treatment of pedophiles and the treatment of children are immutably intertwined
issues, it is difficult to talk about one without including the other. And ... I try to explain why
this essay is going to sound so bipolar, because you can’t talk about pedophiles and not talk
about children, you can’t talk about children and not talk about pedophiles.",1,Specific Threats,On pedophiles and children (Part 1/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
So, here’s the real beginning sort of:
[reading from his essay:]
Pedophilia is subject to numerous explicitly fallacious arguments which are often
accepted as obvious truths. If the identical arguments were to be used against homosexuality, many people would see them for what they are. But the inclusion of children clouds people’s vision. An example of this would be to say that pedophilia
is unnatural and therefore should not be tolerated ...
... just as with homosexuality. Another is how people [?] a child is physically unable to have
coitus, all sexual acts with all children should be outlawed, just as with homosexuality. A
third example is the assertion that pedophiles should not be tolerated because the DSM declares pedophiles to be mentally ill, just as it formerly arbitrarily did with homosexuality and
arbitrarily removed ... I don’t know why anyone takes the DSM seriously.
I will not address the dozens of arguments, such arguments for the sake of brevity and will
go directly toward the most common and most understandable argument, the idea that
children are fundamentally incapable of consent. Someone who argues in favor of this might
concede that there are individual children who are capable of consenting, but that there is a
considerable portion who are unable to do so. Because of this they argue that there should
at the very least, be an age of consent law instituted to protect those children from being
raped. Because of this concession, all of my references to words such as child and children
will refer to a completely average child rather than an exceptional one.
[whispering:] Okay, I’m really sorry but ... I feel like I’m yelling, and I usually don’t talk this
loud. Um I don’t know if I can keep this up. I’ll try.
I say, uh . ..
Personally, I do not understand why sexual activity is considered to be incomprehensible to a child, perhaps I missed a memo I was supposed to receive at some point
because I have the same conception of sexuality as I did when I was first exposed to
any of the information pertaining to it at age 11. While my evaluative judgments of
sex have changed, I haven’t had any defined transcendence which I was presumably
supposed to have pertaining to the conception of it.
Along with this:
When I was prepubescent, it was my observation that I nor any of my peers would’ve
had any incapacity to consent. I have never remotely understood the mysticism with
which this topic is treated, however I will try to treat the argument as fairly as I am
able to.
And that’s true, I am trying to treat this argument fair even though I consider it to be as
absurd as saying “but of course there’s a God.”
So, here’s the beginning, this is really the beginning. There are several arguments . . . I’ll
have to scroll back. There’s the argument that ... all of them, according to what I have heard,
are, they basically boil down to this: that children are cognitively, physiologically incapable
of understanding sex, or that children don’t have the practical knowledge necessary to consent, or that children lack the experience to make informed decisions with that practical
knowledge. And children do not understand that they’re being manipulated by pedophiles,
that’s an extremely ... [laughter] it’s an extremely loaded assertion in so many ways. So many
ways. Um ...
That one, I uh, I’ll get into that later. And the other, few more arguments are: children are
harmed physically by sex somehow, and children are harmed psychologically somehow, and
the final one is children don’t ask to be free, you don’t see them picketing in the streets so
why should we allow them to have sex. That’s um, pretty stupid. Which one do I think is
most . . . understandable? Well, honestly I don’t think that any of them, I can’t understand any of them. Um, I would say . . . that, bah, I’m being completely honest I — I don’t think
that any of them are remotely legitimate, but okay I’ll scroll back to ... oh no I clicked away.
This file is too long, I’m only like a tenth of the way through it.
Okay:
Some who argue that children cannot consent to sexual activity and that they’re cognitively incapable of the necessary comprehension, this argument is based on the
assertion that children’s frontal lobes are inadequately developed to wisely conceive
of something as allegedly confounding as sex ...
... or something like that I’m not really sure what the argument is, they talk about children’s
frontal lobes being undeveloped so . . . you can’t let them have sex until they’re twenty-five
or something like that.
The state of their frontal lobes is said to be relevant because their capacity to reason
is perceived as being considerably affected by it. Capacity to reason is a requisite for
understanding what sexual activity entails, which is necessary for the establishment of
consent to it. From this view, children would be similar to a mentally-impaired adult.
An argument against such an adult’s ability to consent does not directly pertain to the
specific developmental state of their brain, it instead relies on a doubt as to the capacity to reason which is merely indirectly owing to the state of their brain. Similarly, a
child’s ability to consent would also be purely dependent on their capacity to reason,
rather than the irrelevant developmental stage of their brain.
At the beginning of 2011, the High Court of England and Wales had to determine
the criteria applying to a mentally-impaired adult in establishing the legitimacy of
consent to sex. It ruled that —
I’m not taking court seriously I’m just, whatever.
.. . For capacity to consent to sex to be present, the following factors must be understood. A: the mechanics of the act. B: that only adults over the age of sixteen should
do it and therefore participants need to be able to distinguish accurately between
adults and children. C: that both or all parties to the act need to consent to it. D: that
there are health risks involved, particularly the acquisition of sexually transmitted and
sexually transmissible infections. E: that sex between a man and a woman may result
in the woman becoming pregnant and F: that sex is part of having relationships with
people and may have emotional consequences.
The court did not need to isolate the mentally handicapped adults into a metaphysical
category separate from neurotypical adults, the ruling applied to both .. .
... and it was only given because there happened to be a particular case[?] in question. “Momentarily ignoring B,” when they talk about “only sixteen and up,” “these appear to be a
reasonable criteria for the establishment of consent to sexual activity and I cannot imagine
other jurisdictions coming to vastly different conclusions.”
Um ... I would say, I can’t imagine other secular jurisdictions but, the ruling states that any
mentally impaired adult who could understand all of this would be eligible for sexual activity,
likewise it would intuitively apply to children who are to be seen as being mentally impaired
owing to their undeveloped frontal lobes. Therefore, if a child understood all of this, then
they would be free to engage in sexual activity if they so desire. However, the judge threw in
B, a requirement that only adults should legally engage in sexual activity. It is a qualification which I would similarly expect to have in every jurisdiction. If a severely mentally impaired
adults may engage in sexual activities simply because they are capable of understanding sex,
then why not, why may a child not enjoy the same right?
Really, what’s the difference between the two of them? While it might be conceived that children are cognitively capable of understanding sex, it is further argued that for some number
of external reasons, they should not be allowed to engage in it. Because the Court did not
attempt to justify its position, I will have to assume that it was a general reflection of the
attitude of the rest of its society, and I will attempt to address those widespread contentions.
[sigh] I don’t even know why I wanted to do this; this is so dumb. “While some people may
conceive that children are technically cognitively capable of consenting to sex, they claim
that children do not have the practical knowledge to do so,” they argue that it would be like
a child who likes to play with army men toys agreeing to join the military because he does
not know what it actually entails.
If that is the case, then that is an indication that children should be exposed to the
entirety of the relevant information pertaining to sexuality. It is as if someone has
been held captive in a cage for his entire life, upon my telling the guard to release the
prisoner, they proclaim, “What do you expect me to do? He hasn’t lived long enough
in the cage to understand how he can live outside of it.”
If a particular child is ignorant of the facts of sexuality, it is not owing to some inadequacy that they personally have, it’s because our society has failed them by deliberately
withholding relevant information . . . Perhaps someone would argue that children
might be able to understand information if it were to be given to them about sexuality, but that they’re incapable of using that information to make informed decisions.
It is said that because sexual relationships are multi-faceted ...
... whatever that means, “they are subsequently incomprehensible to a child,” whatever that
means. “This view can only mean that children have not been conditioned into having the
same arbitrary cultural values and bigotries about sexuality as the rest of their society has.”
If it were to be said that a person may only engage in sexual activity once they have matured
to a certain extent, maturity in that case would be completely synonymous with that person’s
ability to conform to others” expectations.
Basically, in the case of childhood sexuality, they argue that children have not been
indoctrinated into understanding that child sexuality is supposed to be morally outrageous.
If homosexuality were to be considered indecent by society, would you tell a new
member of that society that they cannot engage in it because they do not have an accurate conception of what the homosexuality means to all of society? Or would you
dismiss their society’s perspective and recognize that the only relevant parties are the
ones engaging in a homosexual relationship.
Furthermore, who gets to decide what the values are which pertain to sexual relationships?
Personally, it is my recent opinion that marriage is an institution which is innately mutually
destructive to both husbands and wives, and that everyone would be better off if they never
married. I can justify my beliefs at extensive length, although everyone would recognize that
even I were irrefutably correct, it would not somehow be a justification of the use of violence
to coerce people into not marrying each other. And here I go talking about justifications, I’m such a moralizer, aren’t I? I really was, I’m
not ... I think you’ll understand what I’m saying here. I’m not saying it’s wrong to not allow
children to have sex, I’m saying, what am I saying? Personally, I generally even, do not know
how . . . perhaps I genuinely even do know how people can most happily live, but no one
would advocate coercing people into living the way I believe is best for them. Why would my
opinion or anyone else’s, for that matter, remotely matter to people who are in a relationship
in a context which pertain to any . . . which pertain to any particular relationship are up to
the individuals involved to perceive on their own. “The most prudent position would be to
allow everyone to live in the way they desire, instead of forcing them to behave according to
some irrelevant external notions of vague prerequisites and what sexual relationships are
supposed to entail.”
“In the case of children, why can’t each child determine by theirself” . . . it’s getting hard,
yelling . . .
... what sex means to them. While I don’t recognize the assertion that children do not
have a proper conception of relationships, perhaps there generally are perceptions
of sexuality which are important for people to have to engage in romantic relationships. If that is the case then, if children were allowed to engage in sex, they would
no longer be alien to any of those meanings and constructively share those values
with the rest of their society.
Although this notion that children cannot “get” sex is extremely vague, some of its users are
asserting that a child does not understand that they’re being manipulated by an adult to have
sex with them. First, this kind of question is characteristic of society’s views of pedophiles.
Before I read this, I don’t remember exactly what I wrote, I didn’t address this point very
much, I was working on other things at the time. But there are like four things I can just
think of, right off the bat of what’s wrong with this assertion. It’s so insane ... first this kind
of question is characteristic of society’s views of pedophiles.
The view that all pedophiles manipulate and molest children instead of having consensual
and mutually beneficial relationships with them. And this is an excerpt, well a quote from
. . . I think it was Paedophilia: The Radical Case,29 I don’t know. They’re seen as preying on
children rather than relating to them and corrupting them instead of showing them affection.
Society tries to reduce pedophilic relationships to an adult sexual attraction to a child.
Imagine trying to describe an adult heterosexual relationship to someone who, no
matter what you say, inevitably responds with “I will not be tricked by you, despite
whatever justifications you might contrive, the relationship is fundamentally based
on the decadent sexual attraction of a male to a female. Women are subjected to
patriarchal manipulation and thus are not in any position to willingly participate in
a relationship with a male.” What can be said to someone who indubitably believes
that women should be dismissed as precious fools who are abusively preyed upon by
libidinous males? I don’t know what you could say to such a person.
Then I have a note to talk about societal power and to talk about what manipulation means.
And . . . more notes. And . . . talking about how, saying that a child, all sex with children is,
I mean, statutory rape because children aren’t interested in sex somehow. Um . . . and that
they can only be manipulated into it, and I’m saying how every single adult manipulates the
child, yet somehow when it comes to sexuality, it somehow becomes abusive. It’s not because
of the manipulation that you perceive, it’s because you’re a bigot and you’re afraid of sex.",1,Specific Threats,On pedophiles and children (Part 2/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
And, uh, tying this into feminism, and . . . talking about how, but if it’s — if the sexism between equals, how can you prevent coercion? [laughter] And I’m talking about how, if you’re
going to say those kinds of things, then you have to . . . prevent coercion, and that’s reason
to prevent any interaction between any person, because you have to demonstrate that sex is
different than any other interaction. And perhaps, I say, that perhaps there are children who
perceive sex in their own way. After all, don’t many adults say that it’s somehow “making
love” when, I mean, basically I’m saying is because people apply their own meanings to sex,
so why not allow children to do that instead of forcing it onto them?
And, addressing this, well, “Adults have more power than children, so their relationships
are illegitimate!” Saying “The proposed solution to eliminating instances of a discrepancy
of authority in relationships is to use the authority of adults to control children as property
rather than to allow them to live in the way they desire. Seems quite counter-intuitive.” And
I talk about how the issue here is the notion of societal authority. And, how appalling it is
that people talk about how children should be disciplined, and . . . talking about how it’s so
strange that someone can advocate a system under which children are treated of sub-human
property. And then, they’re somehow surprised when someone — when they perceive someone
being treated as s-sub-human, even though that’s not what’s going on. Whatever.
And I say, how can you criticize a pedophilic relationship owing to a power discrepancy
while supporting the power discrepancy in every single non-romantic relationship a child is
forced into having with adults? Why is it that the presence of sexuality makes one abusive,
yet not any of their others? Just because the opposition to pedophilia from a power disparity
perspective has nothing to do with pedophilia. The same thing applies to, well, irrelevant, um.
The reason why it is opposed, like all of the others, is because of an edifice of composition
to sexuality. That’s all. And I talk about the power disparity between different people, like
politicians and subjects. A politician has the ability to write in an arbitrary law which allows
the police to kill the subject on sight, yet no one objects to this for the reason of a power discrepancy. You like that power discrepancy because it’s i-in tandem with your cultural values.
I talk about what a [?] but I’m not quite what I mean by this part. It’s been so long that I’m
not quite sure what my notes mean anymore. [laughter] Some of them, I mean.
Talking about what if there’s one person’s . . . it’s just more of this interaction between unequals. And I talk about, what if a child actually desired the experience or whatever that you
perceive the adult is having? I mean, isn’t it pretty obvious that the overwhelming majority
of females seek, um, the father of the children who is in the highest possible position of
societal authority? I mean, you wouldn’t say that a female is somehow being abused because
she actually desires that; you would allow her to do whatever the fuck she wants.
And more of this power disparity stuff. I-I actually don’t understand what people mean when
they talk about power. I mean, it’s like someone’s talking about some magic concept; I have
no idea what the word “power” means. I mean, when someone talks about morality, at least I
understand sort of vaguely what they’re talking about, but I don’t know what the fuck power is.
Uh, saying that children should be prevented from behaving the way they desire
because adults have more authority is no different than saying that slaves should be
prevented from behaving the way they desire because free people have more authority. The issue would have absolutely nothing to do with the slaves. All the fault lies in
the institution which oppresses them and continually contrives justifications for its
existence.
And I’m talking about, “Instead of eliminating sexual relationships which have power discrepancies, you should eliminate the notion of “power” in society. If a child wants to have
sex with an adult, why can they not?”
That’s basically what this entire essay is about.
More of this . . . [laughter] This is a pretty funny section, even though it isn’t completely
relevant.
This argument against pedophilic relationships can be applied to females to oppose
their premarital sexual relationships. Because males in such a society have more
power, that makes their relationship illegitimate? What is wrong with that?
Someone can say to a male that the institution of an adult male having sex with an
adult female is rife with innumerable centuries of domination and oppression. Females cannot countenance the power dynamics involved in such a relationship, and
thus must be prevented in engaging in any until they attain our societal milestone of
marriage. All that you can say to a person is “fuck you.” [laughter] All that can be — can
say — all that you can say to a person is, “This is nothing to do in species” notions
of institutions, power dynamics, and society. This is what we want to do, and it only
involves us; nothing else matters.”
And, I talk about “the reason why you bring this power dynamics up is because of a patronizing perspective of children as being subhuman.” It’s not because they are, it’s because you
perceive them as such. That’s the entire point of bringing up this power argument.
Oh a-and tangen-tangent-tangentially I talk about how, it’s actually the children who have all
of the power in a society. In pedophilic relationships, considering that, uh, pedophiles are
so hated, that in consensual relationships, it’s the child who’s actually in control. Whether
or not that’s good, that’s the way it is.
People are probably going to say, “You’re — you’re a patriarchal pig, because you probably
think the same things about females. Because you say that females have all the power because they can accuse someone of saying that they-they’ve been raped”. Actually, where am
I going with this? It’s just a tangent. Just, fuck you.
And here’s an excerpt from ... actually, this is irrelevant. And I’m only not even a third of the
way through this. Oh, this “children can be brainwashed” argument. And here’s an excerpt
from, um, what was it? I think this was from, Paedophilia: The Radical Case. I’ll read this
whole thing because it’s pretty good, but it’s long.
[Note: Lanza reads at length from O’Carroll’s book. These passages are indented as block quotes.
Where O’Carroll has block quotes in his book, these passages are further indented.]
A glance —
Uh, did I? Okay.
A glance at the way in which we think about religion, and the religious education of
children, may help to put our culture’s attitudinal response into a useful perspective. At an official level, it is agreed that a child’s introduction to religion is extremely
important. In Britain it is enshrined in the 1944 Education Act that all children in all
schools shall begin the day of an act of worsh— with an act of worpsh— [sighs frustratedly] ... shall begin the day of an act of worship — the only element in the curriculum
which is insisted upon by statute.
This being the case – religion being considered to be of vital importance – one might
have expected that there would be an equal concern in Government, at least as great
as that in relation to sex, that children should not be subject to “manipulation” by
ruthless adult salesmen offering every kind of creed; that these people should not be
free to exploit the vulnerable minds of children.
For it is — for if it is true that children are incapable of making judgements about
sexual relationships, how much more adept are they likely to be at judging the rival
claims of Protestant and Catholic, or Jehovah’s Witnesses and Exclusive Brethren? How
can a child, who is so easily persuaded to believe in Father Christmas, be expected
to make sense of it? Won’t h— she or he accept, far too, uh, uncritically, the highly
contestable notion that there is a god? Why not — why not leave the child’s mind in
a state of unmolested innocence until an age is reached as — at which intellectually
valid judgements can be made?
But no. Even though this is an important issue, adults are free to fill a child’s mind
with any prejudice or bigotry they like, without any danger or — of facing a sentence
for corrupting a minor, assaulting on a child’s mind, or anything else. Children are
seen as fair game for the imposition of any religious belief or value system that the
adult, particularly the parents, cares to impose. As Bertrand Russell has remarked,
One of the right — few rights remaining to parents in the wage-earning class
is that of having their children taught any brand of superstition that may be
shared by a large number of parents in the same neighborhood.
Why does society tolerate this? Partly, there is this vague feeling that it is better for
a child to have some religion than none at all – not least because most religions emphasize a restrictive sexual “morality”! [laughter] But it is instructive to note that very
little is made of the dangers of manipulating a child’s mind.
The dangers are demonstrably far greater than any consequence of manipulating a
child towards consensual sexual activity (one need only mention Northern Ireland
to remind oneself of how religious bigotry reinforces antagonism between peoples).
Uh, whatever, it’s . .. no comment.
But, quite irrationally, society cares little — cares less about it. Religious manipulation
is assumed to be good and is positively encouraged; sexual manipulation, or “guidance” or “showing how,” is assumed — assumed to be bad and is stamped upon with
maximal force. I shall try to show that the latter assumption is misplaced.
Young children above the age of infancy become susceptible to manipulation of a less
direct kind, characterized by deception. When children acquire language, they can be
told untruths, from the relatively, though not entirely, benign Father Christmas myth,
to the pernicious threat of the “bogeyman,” who comes to take away naughty children.
Sexual myths usually fall into the pernicious category, alas, so that the whole area of
sexuality becomes poisonously invested with mystery and darkness – and the perpetrators, far from being pedophiles, are usually ordinary parents who, because of their
own sexual anxieties and conflicts, are inclined to fawn off children with such classics of deception as the idea that babies are brought be— to be— brought by the stork.
Oh ... man, it’s so crazy. I had no idea about anything pertaining to sexuality until I was eleven,
and I’m pretty sure that’s the experience for everyone. People like to pretend it doesn’t exist.
If the use of deception i-is a possibility for parents, it is of course a possibility for
pedophiles, too. A pedophile who concocts a non-sexual “reason” for he and a small
child to strip naked together, may succeed in arousing the child’s sal-sexual curiosity
and excitement. This would quite clearly be manipulation, based on exploiting the
ignorance of the child as to the adult’s motives.
Supposing, by contrast, the pedophile had been scrupulously non-manipulative.
Supposing, instead of playing tricks, he had simply, and openly, invited the child to
“play” sexually. Both approaches would require for their success the child’s willing
involvement and participacing-participation at all stages.
The fact that in the more manipulative case the participation is induced by sleight
of hand is really less important than the fact that the child is relaxed and enjoying
the situation. Indeed, the sleight of hand may be an effective means of enabling the
situation to occur “naturally,” so far as the child is concerned, without any embarrassment or uncertainty on the adult’s part.
Sorry, I’m getting really tired of yelling.
If the child is being led, or manipulating — manipulated, it is at least a benevolent
manipulation, in the sense that it leads — so long as the child is willing — towards
a pleasurable and harmless outcome. Parents constantly engage in benevolent manipulation of this sort, without fear of social condemnation: usually it is called not
“manipulation,” but “encouragement.”
Very often, parents will presume to anticipate a child’s long-term wishes by ignoring,
or manipulating their way around, her or, or his immediate w— immediate wishes.
For example, in teaching a child to swim. The child may at first, may be tearful and
apprehensive of going into the water, or beyond a certain depth. By encouraging “pull”
forces, and cajoling “push” forces, the parent persuades the child to have a go, and to
not be afraid, to do that which is not at first de-desired. The parent does this in the
full knowledge that eventually the child will relax, learn to swim, and enjoy the water.
What the sensible parent does not do is to drag his protesting six-year-old screaming
towards the edge of the pool and throw him into the deep end. Interesting-interestlyinterestingly enough, were he to do so, and providing the child was not allowed to
drown, this would probably not qualify as a criminal offence, although for the child it
could be as nasty an experience as rape. It is not an activity in which the intervention
of law is thought to be necessary. There is no elaborate questioning of whether in
any particular case the child actually consented to be introduced to the water or was
manipulated into consenting. It was presumed that the adult will be, um, benevolently
intentioned, and that all will work out well.
I am not suggesting that in sexual activity a child’s wishes should be ignored, in the
same way that a parent gets around — gets round his child’s fear of the water. Given
that many children in our culture grow up with a deep suspicion and fear of all things
sexual and given that there are deeply held views as to the “sinfulness” of many sex acts, um, adults who mor — adults are morally obliged to accept the child’s attitude
towards sex.
A parent does not accept his child’s inalienable right to be afraid of water or swimming. That would be silly. But the pedophile does have to respect the child’s fear of
sex. It is the child’s right to take a negative attitude, whether because she or he is
— i-is genuinely afraid of sex, or because she or he simply doesn’t fancy, or like, the
pedophile in question, or for some other reason.
As a boy-lover, .. .
I-I — I’m — I’m — I-I’m reading an excerpt. I’m not — don’t take this out of concept — context.
As a boy-lover, I’m aware that chatting to a twelve-year-old boy is a vastly different
matter, on average, to doing the same thing with a boy half that age. The potential
for manipulation, benevolent or otherwise, by an adult m— by a male adult at any
rate, is enormously curtailed. By this age, practically every boy has learnt a great deal.
He will be well aware of the prevailing sexual mores. No adult could con him into
sexual activity by disguising his own motives. He would know too well that — what
the grown-u-grown-up was after.",1,Specific Threats,On pedophiles and children (Part 3/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
Sorry I’m not even halfway through this file and this has already gone on for 45 minutes.
[Lanza continues reading from O’Carroll’s book.]
He would know too well what the grown-up was after, he would know that such people
are usually looked down upon, he would know that they are described as “queers” and
“benders” and that to go with them would result in social disgrace ... .
There are others who use the opportunity afforded by so-social integration to consciously and deliberately seek sexual encounters. Over a period, they may succeed
in creating an atmosphere in the group in which sexuality generally is seen to be
acceptable and in which the prevailing barriers of sexual inhibition and guilt are
lowered. In such a context, the “seduction” of an individual youngster is likely to be
facilitated. It is possible to view the whole, long-term process as cunningly calculating,
and therefore manipulative in a mischievous way, but only if one believes it proper
that youngsters should feel sexual inhi-inhibition and guilt, and that they are being
cheated out of these feelings.
As a final exercise in perspective on the theme of manipulation, we may consider the
advice given in a recent medical textbook to those doctors called upon to examine
children following a discovered sexual relationship with an adult.
Quoting, it’s out of this excerpt:
If the child refuses to be examined, a process of negotiation and bargaining sometimes
results in acquiescence. [laughter] And he says in parentheses,
by offering a bag of sweeties of perhaps?
Continuing:
Sedation or deferral of the examination to another visit are other alternatives, depending on the circumstances. Occasionally, none of these alternatives can be utilized successfully, these cases will require admission of the child to the hospital for
examination under anaesthesia.
So much for the consent of the child to examination! In the same textbook, a contributor describes the pedophile’s efforts
to persuade his victim to cooperate and to acquiesce or consent to the sexual
relationship. Oftentimes, brib-bribing or re-rewarding the child with attention,
affection, approval, money, gifts, treats and good times. But he may be dissuaded if the child is, if the child actively refuses and resists because he does
not resort to physical violence. His aim is to gain sexual control of the child
by developing a willing or consenting sexual relationship.
End quote.
The desire for a consensual relationship is thus represented as merely a cynical combination of manipulation and bribery by the adult, although-although it is conceded
that ...
— quoting again —
at some level, he cares for the child and is emotionally involved with him or her.
Unquote.
The point is that when the consent condition is fulfilled, the rules of the game are
suddenly changed and consent is no longer of any account: the pedophile simply
cannot win.
And that’s the end of the excerpt. You really should read that book if you have the chance,
it’s kind of outdated but . . . goes more in-depth into the topic than I do.
Uh, moving on . . . oh, ah, I found, I remember a while ago, I think it was in the comment
section of some blog, on the Internet I found this guy saying, um, I’ll quote him, he framed
it — it pretty well:
What does a person need to get about sex? What makes it anymore spectacularly
involved than tying your shoe, eating some ice cream, or watching a really good film?
People don’t do themselves any favor by placing sex in its own category of importance
and significance. People can connect with each other intimately in many different
ways, spiritually and intellectually as well as physically. Let me hazard a guess, what
people mean when they say “children don’t understand” [laughter] that’s the best
that I can do too because I don’t really understand what they mean by children don’t
understand They mean that ... children don’t have the cynical, ugly, jaded view of human beings
as manipulating quasi-psychotics. The people who say this tend to see a poisoned
well everywhere they look. They see ulterior motives beneath the surface of every
expression. Does a child understand that her stepmom buys her candy and takes
her to the park in favor, in order to curry her favor? Does she understand that she
has to go to Sunday School because her parents want her to grow up with the same
inculcation they received? Does she comprehend the subtle molding and shaping
and channeling her guardians impose upon her in order to try to steer her toward,
closer toward matching their ideals?
No, most children would not, but you don’t say “you don’t buy sweets for your kids
because they don’t understand your motives,” no, instead people telescope on sexual
expression, by all means mutilate children as you see fit, pour your religion into
them, fill them up with your phobias and your cowardice and weaknesses, but damn
it if a sexuality enters the picture, then you point, “buster, you’ve crossed the line.”
Most people don’t give two squats about manipulating each other, manipulating
children especially, especially. Don’t try to fool me that they do. They care about sex
because they’ve had it punished by their own parents” shame and guilt and feelings
of dirtiness, religions, but not just religions, I’m glad that he made that concession,
heh. It’s more than just religion that’s the problem . . . have told them to turn their
nose in disgust at their animal selves, as if they should castrate an entire aspect of
their nature.
But you can’t, hu— the human animal has its desires and always will, that does not
mean, however, that it does not come packaged along with human ego, human consciousness, and conscience. People will manipulate, people will engage in sex, but
these two do not necessarily occur at the same time, they do not entail one another.
If someone detests manipulation then by all means, fight it, I feel the same way,
and I hate seeing children lied to and cheated. But I won’t for a second let someone
make me feel ashamed because they have issues with human sexuality and place it
on a black pedestal.
I wish there were more people like that guy. And now I go into this whole “children are,
children are asexual, why would they want to have sex? They must have been coerced” argument. It’s completely false. Children have ... it’s akin to saying that because boys” voices
deepen once they reach puberty, they’re incapable of singing when they’re pre-pubescent. I
mean it’s pretty much saying the same thing.
And I talk about how . . . there’s no evidence which exists to justify this, it’s completely absurd, it’s very well established that children are sexual. and it’s pretty fucking obvious that
children are capable of experiencing sexual pleasure. I mean, I remember when I was like
five, maybe not five, maybe eight ... I don’t really, remember because my mind is so blurred
about this because I didn’t know what sex was. But I remember, laying on the bed and having my penis pushed into the, I didn’t even know, I didn’t even know it was called a penis
but I just knew that, um, sometimes when I laid down, face down, it felt good to . . . it felt
good, that’s all that I knew.
And I wasn’t, I didn’t become a ... sexual deviant because, I mean, I was ... I don’t even want
to get into this, it’s so crazy to say that children are asexual. And, oh, [laughter] here I say
how it’s the exact same kind of claim that would be used to relegate females to the status of
property. The notion that females are asexual and thus there is nothing wrong with denying them their own decisions because they must be controlled for their own good. Violent coercion is justified against the female because of some cultural criterion specifies that only
mentally ill females, afflicted by nymphomania, would ever desire anything sexual.
When people say that children are asexual . . . they aren’t really talking about children being asexual, they’re just contriving the justifications for why children should be controlled.
And . . . the reason why people think that children being sexual is somehow pathological,
it’s — it’s because, it’s just because this culture where they’re not expected to be sexual, that’s
why they’re classified as being fucked up, when they’re not really, it’s you who is fucked up.
Oh, here I get into this point about “children can’t have sex because of STDs and physical
damage” . . . I say a lot about this that, uh, but I don’t have to read this, it’s so fucking obvious. Anyway, it’s like an ad-hoc justification, if STDs didn’t exist, people wouldn’t oppose
pedophilia any less. I talk about how ... I’ll just skip this part.
And I say that pregnancy and STDs are very, very simple concepts that can be thoroughly
explained in a few minutes. And that if you’re so worried about STDs, then you should allow
children to have access to contraception and protection rather than the current situation
where they have absolutely nothing and I include some statistics that are pretty much irrelevant. Except for this one: when regarding physical damage to children, ninety-five percent
of consensual pedophilic relationships do not involve penetration.
Pedophiles as a group are not psychopathic, they love children and would not harm one.
The Pedophile’s Guide to Love & Pleasure which everyone, absolutely everyone was freaking
out over at the end of 2010, represented the general opinion of pedophiles when it explicitly
stated that there should be no penetration with pre-pubescent children.
Although I never actually read it, I just read that as a quote from it. I mean it’s impossible
to find that book because it’s been repressed. I don’t really have an interest in it anyway
because I’m not interested in engaging in a pedophilic relationship, I just like the, I just
like the academic subject.
And I talk about how children are subject to significantly worse risks than STDs but no one
seems to care because those risks aren’t sexual. And ... talking about how absurd it is to say
that sex, sex is coitus ... I just, I’m forgetting all of that. I go on to say children who engage,
well they say, children who engage in pedophilic relationships are harmed psychologically.
And ... from The Man They Called A Monster,30 there’s a kid who said, who was in a relationship with a pedophile,
I can’t really think of how this could’ve possibly affected me adversely, but I sometimes think about what would have happened if we had been caught, certainly he
would’ve been devastated by the law and the police. I think I would’ve been made to
feel as though I were some sort of freak and might have well sort of begun to think
of myself as being a queer or whatever, but that’s all that might’ve happened, what
really happened was enjoyable and didn’t affect me in a major way at all.
And I say, presumably this assertion is because sexual relationships have unimaginably grave
consequences of some sort and thus must be approached exceedingly carefully which is ...
baseless. I’m talking about how ... the harm which results, as a consequence of a consensual
pedophilic, actually a non-consensual, uh . . . the harm which results from a relationship
which is not consensual where a child is . . . um being molested against their will, it isn’t
because it’s sexual, it’s because of the nature of . .. it’s not the sex itself which is harmful. And here’s another excerpt from something, I don’t know what:
One of the reasons children do not report sex abuse is that their parents have usually
made it abundantly clear by their behavior that they don’t like talking about sex or
interpersonal problems the child is having and the children are able to guess what
kind of news might make their parents go off on them, kids hate it when their parents
flip out for good reason. Also, people learn very early in life to manage information,
little Johnny doesn’t tell his folks what he did that got him in trouble if it can be at
all avoided and children are likely to assume that an unpleasant experience is their
fault in some way, another reason to not ’fess up.
And I say, why is it considered that the sexuality is what harms them, rather than the actual abuse as distinct from sexuality and in cases of molestation? And the association with
someone who has psychopathic behavior and is actually harming them, it’s not . . . it’s not
the sex. It’s possible for children to be in loving relationships where they engage in sexual
activity, I don’t see what’s so ... so strange about that.
I talk about how the data is distorted . . . in um, regarding the harm which sex causes, the
various — the various factors why all of the studies pretty much are biased. Like, um, instances of rape and molestation being conflated with instances of consensual activity and
non-consensual instances are more likely to be revealed to authorities, and ... here’s a good
quote: “sexuality is not a matter of violence,” it really isn’t.
Another excerpt from something:
Adult panic or disgust about young people seeking pleasure for themselves is responsible for much of the trauma that minors experience when they’re caught behaving
inappropriately for their ages, even in a consensual context.
So quite the contrary, I don’t think I am encouraging the kind of behavior that some priests,
a few priests in the Catholic church have been practicing, rather I think I’m arguing for an
atmosphere and an attitude opposite to what the, to what began in the Catholic church which
would be more protective of — protective of children.
Where the literature suggests that negative consequences of short or long-term nature
occur as a result of child-adult sexual contacts, it is found that the consequences are
generally associated with three common factors: the first relates to a situation where
physical force, coercion or psychological pressure is used, the most adverse reactions
occur when physical violence is involved, especially when the child attempts to resist
but is unsuccessful. The second negative consequence occurs when poor communications exist in the child’s family, sexual matters cannot be discussed openly, and
the child receives or anticipates receiving strongly negative reactions to disclosure
of sexual activities. The third relation-relates to a situation where there’s little sexual
knowledge on the part of the child or alternatively, where the child has absorbed
parental values suggesting that sex is di-dirty, painful or frightening",1,Specific Threats,On pedophiles and children (Part 4/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
But even when the last two conditions exist, the effects, the research would suggest
are nowhere near as traumatic as popular folklore would have it. The response of the criminal justice system, both to the victim and the offender, in adult-child cases is
counterproductive. We’ve already seen that the older male is treated with contempt
by both the police and the courts and little sympathy is shown toward the way he will
be treated in prison. Similarly, the young man’s, the young male’s treatment bears a
remarkable similarity to that received by incest victims. In both pedophilia and incest,
considerable distress to the boy or girl occurs when parents, relatives, or the police
themselves discover the relationship. Constant and often insensitive questioning adds
to this distress, and it is not unusual to find that many researchers have note, have
noted far more damages caused by the confrontation the child has with his parents
or the legal authorities than by the act itself.
[video cut]
I’m sorry, I had to take a break. My ... throat is really starting to bother me, I’m not used to
yelling so loudly. Um, where was I . ..
In the case of pedophiles as opposed to, for example, parents, it is assumed that any
disparities and inequals-inequities in power between the adult and the child would be
exercised by the adult mal-mal-malevolently. In reality, however, many pedophiles are
pa-patently well-disposed toward their partners and take the role of loving teachers,
house parents, or simply close friends. Clarence Osborne ...31
I must’ve gotten this from A Man They Called a Monster — Called a Monster.
... often epitomized, the benevolence that exists in pedophile relationships because,
in many respects, he displays the interest shown by their parents, in short it is a
myth to assume that pedophiles necessarily use their greater experience and power
in a destructive way.
An associated myth concerns the very common view that children, that the child is
tra-traumatized and socially and sexually, seriously damaged. We have dealt with this
point at length in the past chapters, but it is well worth reiterating that the evidence
simply does not support these assumptions. In the short run the studies suggest that
the problems with — the problems with the partners of pedophiles often flow from the
re-reactions of parents and officials who respond to the news of their sons” relationships with such horror that it elevates the significance of the events in the child’s life.
Even in the study showing the worst possible result, in a — n— a sa-sample of 333
victims, only five percent of the victims had what [?] called da-damaged adult lives.
Even here though, damaged adult lives — lives is a vague term and diverse causes
of the damage besides the pedophile relationship can be possible. As [?] perceptively points out, one obvious problem with this stereotyping of pedophiles and the
consequent myths that arise as a result of these stereotypes is that the myths and
stereotypes usually direct us to look only at the behavior of men. Similar activities
when performed when .. .
Uh, this goes into the . .. well I’ll read this.
Similar activities when performed by women such as cuddling, caressing, touching
and stroking children are socially acceptable but for a man to engage in such contact
is inviting the label of a pedophile or and possibly risking imprisonment. The stereotypes surrounding pedophiles erect a sexist myth and that myth is that only men have intimate physical relationships with children. The myth conveniently ignores
the fact that women often engage in similar sexual behavior and therefore perpetuates two common views. The first is that men should not do this, but women can,
and the second that any man who does this is deeply disturbed. But by perpetuating
these myths we conveniently forget that children have sexual needs and emotional
components that are well-documented by contemporary psychology.
[laughter] I think this book was written in ... uh, at least twenty years ago and ... it’s so sad.
The very barriers that we put between ourselves and pedophiles are in a sense the
same barriers that we put between ourselves as parents and our children. With both
groups we prefer to stereotype them: pedophiles are monsters, children are innocent.
And in this way avoid realities that we would otherwise be forced to face.
When the study in question has an in-built methodological bias toward producing
figures which make the proportion of molestations look artificially high.
Oh, um, I just . . . that wasn’t a sentence, I just took that from someplace else because it
sounded so true. Oh, this, um . ..
It should always be borne in mind, as stated earlier, that these findings like so many
research data are based on offenses which have resulted in a conviction and are
thereby heavily biased towards relationships which gave rise to complaint by the child.
I mean, Clarence Osborne, even a pathological pedophile which I’m not talking about, but
even someone like him he had sex with over two thousand children over a period of twenty
years .. . and he wasn’t reported because the relationship was consensual.
And so as, only when a mother overheard her child saying to his sibling that, talking
about the sex that he was found out and subsequently committed suicide in standard
pedophile fashion.
Um . . . not . . . oh, not all of those involved in the prosecution process are that dogmatic,
thank goodness.
In a letter to the Times, a police sergeant of twenty-five years’ standing echoed Ingraham’s feelings by pronouncing that legal proceedings in most pedophilic cases
do the child even more harm than good and he was honest and courageous enough
to admit that the examinations of children he had been obliged to conduct over the
years contributed much towards this harm.
And I have a note to myself, think of it intuitively, imagine the position of a child whose
family just found out that, found out about sexual activity he had with an adult, the father’s
pacing around yelling that he’s going to kill the adult, the mother’s crying hysterically, the
siblings are afraid to treat the child normally. Subsequently all sorts of strangers begin interrogating the child over and over, other children treat him like a freak, doctors examine them
against their will, if they hadn’t been raped by the adult they are most certainly raped by the
doctor. Everyone is constantly treating the child differently, he’s under constant supervision.
If the adult gets out on bail while the legal process begins, the child is forcibly moved to a
far location, even if the adult liked the child and the child liked the adult, he is incessantly
compelled to .. . testify against him and is forbidden from associating with him again. The
court process takes an un-unimaginable amount of time during which the child keeps getting
interrogated by many different strangers. Psychiatrists and the rest of society tells the child that he has sustained something unimaginably horrible, the child is under the impression
that sexuality is something absolutely evil and that they are terrible for having participated in
it, and it will be said that the sexual activity is what harmed the child rather than the obscene
response of the child’s society. All of this is done under the pretense of protecting children,
who really need protection from the people who profess to be acting in their interest.
More tangents ... here’s a quote from something:
[The following passage is also quoted in his essay.]
There’s an assumption that sexuality is something very grave for children and that
they will be harmed if they engage in it. Because of the way that their society treats
sexuality, children end up developing issues regarding it.
And just basically more repetition .. .
Children wouldn’t be scarred by their voluntary sexual experiences any more than
an adult in typical sexual relationships would be scarred unless their society shamed
them into believing that they should feel guilty.
Here’s a good paragraph [from Lanza’s essay]:
Some might argue that children should not be free to determine their own values
when it comes to sexuality or perhaps they should not even have a need for information pertaining to it because sex destroys their childhood innocence.
And I took a quote from somewhere ... a very nice quote that: “What does innocence mean
other than enforced ignorance?” [laughter] That sums it up.
[Lanza quotes from his essay:]
It is the so-societally sanctioned notion which is thrust upon children independent of
their will, when people are appalled about the idea of exposing children to information
about sexuality using such trite slogans as “let kids be kids” all I can hear is let us
force our societal notions onto these people who may not live in any other way than
the way we’ve decided for them. The notion of the society protecting the innocence of
children by preventing them from engaging in sexuality is no different than a notion
of protecting females from engaging in pre-marital sex. We can’t allow, we can’t allow
our dear women, with their dainty, purely untarnished minds to be exposed to such
base and immoral matters as sex, it would fluster their poor hearts and corrupt their
very soul, we must outlaw their pre-marital sex for their own good.
So instead of . . . outlawing pre-marital sex for their good, you should allow to do whatever
the fuck they want and the same applies to age of consent laws ... You aren’t trying to protect
women by telling them they can’t have sex because they can’t handle it, you’re just . . . it’s
obvious that there’s a system of property rights set up around them. I mean, there — there
was, I don’t want to get into that, this ties into feminism very well but it’s kind of irrelevant.
Oh, and I go on to say:
If protecting children is something which is genuinely important to you, then you
should be eager to inform children about sexuality in an honest manner. This notion
of “innocence” is the potential to accomplish the exact opposite of what adults intend,
imagine a case in which a little girl is sitting in her uncle’s lap, the uncle fondles her gentle-genitalia against her will. Information about her genitalia which she only
knows as her naughty off-limits zone was viewed by her parents as being so dirty for
a child that they never mentioned anything about it. In a house where sexuality is a
topic which everyone acts nervous around whenever it is remotely referenced, it’s to
be expected that the little girl would never mention her adult to anyone, her uncle to
anyone, she would be too worried about getting into trouble for the matter because
she would imagine that her molestation was her fault and that she was being naughty.
Meanwhile she continues to get molested every time her uncle sees her because her
parents were afraid of destroying her childhood innocence.
She would’ve been better off in preventing her uncle from molesting her if she had
even the faintest information about sexuality, instead of being kept ignorant about
it and having parents who are terrified of the topic. The best way you can prevent
children from being molested is informing them about sexuality so that they’re able
to identify it.
And . . . then I go on to appeal to rights . . . and, here’s the good section: some might, some
people might say, “Why are you so persistent about this? You do not see children picketing in the streets for a right to sex, why force self-determination onto them?” First I could
contest the notion that children do not want to have sex, I could highly contest that notion,
but I will grant it.
If this were actually the case, then it would be no different than slaves in the prepre–Civil War United States sycophantly-sycophantically approving of their situation.
They would believe that their slave-owners have bestowed a positive economic benefit upon them and they’re happy to live the way they are, after all they receive free
food and free housing in exchange for their obedience, but whatever slaves desire is
completely irrelevant.
Particularly when it is the passively default position they were told as the consequence of
their indoctrination. I’m not saying that someone could not be temporarily enslaved if that’s
what they personally desire. What I want to offer to children . . . the, I don’t know wh-what
word to use, I just put it in para-parentheses, I’m not sure . . . for some, sometimes there
were just these words that I can’t remember, and I said “modern/eternal/atavistic/continued
from a long time ago slaves. Children who are those slaves, the eternal slaves. Oh, what is
that word? [laughter] Oh never mind ...
Is the choice to be free, with them personally deciding if they want to be. I wouldn’t
need to demonstrate a slave’s desire to be free, all that I would need to do is allow
them to have the option of attaining freedom, the same applies to children.
And . . . if a child wants to engage in sexual behavior, I do not need to dismissively
contrive mental illness classifications, all I need to do is allow them to live their lives
as they desire.
It is unimportant to me whether or not there is a single child who ends up deciding to have
sex, I do not profess to know whether or not they should or should not have sex, I just want
control over their life to be a personal option to them and I want everyone to be seen as
people instead of society contriving classes of sub-humans. As a pedophile said, which is
from Chicken Hawk32 which is a pretty cool documentary although it’s ... extremely biased,
it still had ... it still had faint glitters of truth. And it said um, the pedophile said: “I just want
to be able to walk down Fifth Avenue and see adults and children mingled together.” Here I say, despite the impression all of this might leave, I care very little about children’s rights
to sex, actually I don’t care at all.
I am concerned with the entirety of children’s rights; I so heavily emphasize pedophilia as
it applies to the lives of children for a similar reason as to why feminists of the nineteenth
century were so adamant about fe-female sexuality. I actually kinda made that up because I
don’t really know much about feminism but I’m pretty sure that’s why they’re so adamant
about female sexuality. I was going to research feminism more and . .. confirm that and tie
everything into it. Um, but people would say “how dare you compare pedophiles to feminists,
it’s so absurd!” I-I write this as clearly as I can and people think I’m . . . they say, I say that
you’re expressing bigotry, you think you’re so ... egalitarian by talking about how homosexuality is, homosexuals shouldn’t be bigoted — persecuted, but you do the exact same thing to
pedophiles and when I point that out they seem to think that I’m saying that homosexuals
are bad and pedophiles are bad.
What I’m saying is that you’re bigoted, and the same applies to this whole feminism thing.
I’m not saying that pedophiles are feminists, I’m saying that ... if you’re a feminist and you
oppose pedophiles you are a bigot. Pedophilia isn’t a bad thing, despite what you say. And
somehow, I’m only ... [laughter] somehow it’s been like an hour and I’ve only gotten halfway
through this file. I’m not sure what else I said because it’s pretty close to the end of ... what
I remember typing.",1,Planned Violence,On pedophiles and children (Part 5/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
I say, “The illegalization of childhood sexuality combines all of the issues which affect child’s
— children’s lives, to serve as oppression to representation of their subjection, pedophilia is
a prominent manifestation of childhood sexuality which combines all of the issues which
affect children’s lives.” I know that sentence is incoherent but I was just typing this as a note
to myself. [quoting his essay:] “Pedophilia undermines an atavistic societal opposition toward
sexuality and it combines it with the subversion of adult authority.” Oh, here, heh, um, pedophile ... “If pedophilic relationships were condoned then it would be a recognition of the
rights of children,” would serve a small step towards liberating them from the oppression
of the adults that own them.
Yes, I was such a moralizer back then, just ignore that. I talk about how this is a double-sided
issue unlike with female sexual liberation because the lives of pedophiles are also heavily
impacted by the oppression of children. Pedophilia is an issue which cements two issues,
the oppression of children and the destruction of the lives of adults who love children, both
of which concern me.
It explains the bipolar way in which this is written because both of these distinct issues are
heavily intertwined. Then I made some prescriptions, which is just a bit ...
More irrelevance . . . more moralizing . . . here I talk about how pa-parental rights are actually just slaveholder’s rights. It’s such a bizarre delusion, where people think that they have
pal-parental rights, I mean of course there are no rights at all but . . . people think that, uh,
parents rights are slaveholder’s rights I’ll just leave it at that Children being people with their own legitimate thoughts, feelings and desires deserve the
same rights that adults receive, instead they’re currently nothing other than the subhuman
property of adults who’d have free reign to do whatever they please with them.
[quoting his essay:] “It’s quite ironic that everyone views pedophiles as manipulating children,
with everyone being unable to observe what they themselves do to the children.”
And that’s why I care about this topic so much.
Scrolling down, scrolling down . . . just a transcendental note, it’s . . . from Chicken Hawk,
there are two pedophiles who explained why they ... wh-what they find attractive about young
boys. And, no they didn’t say “I’d — I’d like to bite off little kid’s cocks and I like to kill them
afterward,” of course they wouldn’t say anything like that you bigots. Um, one of them said ...
He’s just like a flower in bloom, he’s at that perfect stage in which he’s hermaphroditic, that is to say he is neither all-male nor all-female, not that anybody is of course,
everybody is some mixture of those two characteristics, but he’s at the moment in
that wonderful limbo between being a child and an adolescent, that is he is certainly
an adolescent at this point but he still has this soft feminine grace about him.
He was talking about a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy.
And . . . another pedophile said, “I would try it by saying that it’s the freshness of their
minds, the newness of their bodies, the way in which they move, they act, they’re graceful.”
I mean it, it’s like . . . it sounds like a male, a typical male describing a typical female and
you wouldn’t say that that male is . . . object-objectifying the female and manipulating her.
It’s just what they’re attracted to.
It’s not pathological, it’s love. [laughter] Which is patho-pathological in some sense, but I
won’t get into that. And it’s talking more about how governments institute ... um, slavery of
children . . . Talking about how . . . uh, this is irrelevant. More statistics, especially Kinsey,33
I don’t know, I don’t even want to get into this. I mean what am I even supposed to say to
these people?
I remember, here I have um . . . I was thinking of asking on a forum, if a Muslim were to
say that a female would be harmed if she let anyone see her skin, you said that I needed
evidence to prove otherwise ... how could I disprove his claim? And I was going to ask that
on a forum to mask my actual question because people would say “you can’t prove it” and
I would — I would say, I would ask, how can I disprove his claim that any . . . any harm that
comes, psychological harm which comes to a female — female is a consequence of exposing
any of her skin, is a consequence of her culture and is not something innate, and I would
ask, I mean, I guess the only thing I could do is offer anthropological evidence which suggests otherwise, but I mean what else can you do?
So, I have some of that . . . surprisingly, not always, it’s not always been that people think
that children having sex is among evil. More tangents ... they’re not really tangents it’s just
that they don’t directly . . . relate to this topic of “consent is not really consent it’s statutory
rape”. I got this quote from someone:
When we protect children, we prevent them from having accdess to information and
experiences, we may justify doing so in order to promote a particular notion of the
good life, have long-term relationships, fall in love, have a family, been more success ful, have a better mental health, in your words. We lie to them and lock them up for
their own good, but really it’s for our own good, it’s our conception of the good, all
your examples are euphemisms for pursuing a particular kind of life that many in
fact find to be very immoral by some standards. Mutual sexuality, output, contracts,
repro-reproduction, achieving high social status and behaving in a predictable manner do not seem to be goals so universally honorable, we justify denying thirteen- to
eighteen-year-olds control of their own bodies.
Oh, actually I think that I took this from ... a transcript of a radio discussion between Judith
Levin and some pedophobe, I actually haven’t read her book, I couldn’t, I couldn’t find it
with a cursory search online.
And, um ... although she is talking about teenagers, I don’t know how anyone could question
that teenagers are capable of consenting to sex, how can you say that a thirteen-year-old can’t
have sex? I mean, what the fuck? Here’s a quote: “Statutory rape laws encode the outdated
and sexist idea that a woman’s virg-virginity must be protected for her father’s sake and that
she herself can never desire on her own.” Levin argues. So, I guess I did get this from her.
It’s so true [laughter] ... and more talking about how the criminal justice system then, according to this argument, is not primarily concerned with the safety of the child at all, but with
the safety of the family structure and the maintenance of private property. I don’t know why
more anarchists don’t, um, talk about pedophilia ... Still scrolling down ...
Elaborating some points . .. more feminism stuff. [sigh]
[quoting from and paraphrasing his essay:]
Can a child understand the consequences of traveling in a car? It is impossible for
them to understand the possibility of them even getting into a car wreck and understand how automobiles operate and all of that, how can they — how can they have
informed consent to take the risk?
But no one cares what children think about getting into automobiles, even though they’re
infinitely more harmful to children than pedophilia ever has been. They just throw them in
and think that everything’s fine.
More appeal to emotion . . . more elaboration . . . [laughter] talking about this whole “but if,
but if pedophiles are attracted to children, the children will eventually grow up and the pedophiles will no longer be attracted to them.” [laughter] That argument is so ridiculous for
so many reasons . .. Here’s a quote from that:
[quoting from his essay:]
But there’s no need whatever for a child to know the “consequences” of engaging in
harmf— harmless sex play because it’s simply that, it’s harmless . . . At the moment
children are trained to not refuse adults” anything and to accept all forms of physical
affection as being the right of an adult to impose on a child.
That’s completely true. I never ... I never, never um consented to being touched by anyone
in my family, but why would they care?
They didn’t sex, touch me sexually, it’s just the normal hugging, kissing thing. [exasperated
sigh] I never consented to that and yet they don’t care. Talking about hypocrisy . . . oh, and
people saying, “children aren’t slaves, I mean there are laws protecting children from being beaten too hard” and that’s like saying that there might be some inane laws that prevent you
from beating your slaves too greatly but that doesn’t change the fundamental relationship
of the master-slave relationship.
Ooh, talking about the Martin Niemöller quote34 or whoever he is, this is really good I don’t
know why I put this in . . . with the stereotypes section. There is that quote about first they
came for the trade-unions, the Comm— I think it was, the Communists, then the tradeunionists then the Jews and then they came for me and there was no one left to speak for
me. People use that quote saying ... with the intention of implying that you shouldn’t just be
passive, you should ... act on what you believe is right. And I say how that’s, that’s really not
the best application of that quote because Martin Niemöller himself was an anti-Communist
who thought it was justified to treat them the way the Nazis were.
[Lanza continues reading from his essay.]
He was, uh, it’s not that he . . . didn’t think, it’s not that he was . . . apathetic, he was,
he thought it was actually justified and in the same way Christians during the Middle
Ages didn’t somehow know in the back of their mind that persecuting ba-blasphemers
was wrong if they didn’t care enough to do anything about the issue. They genuinely
believed that blas-blasphemy warranted floggings, imprisonments, and murders.
There’s no apathy involved in that.
The highly influential theologian Thomas Aquinas35 illustrated this belief by saying
that heretics, by right, can be put to death and despoiled of their possessions by the
secular a-authorities even if they do not corrupt others, for they are blasphemers
against God, because they observe a false faith, thus they can be justly punished even
more than those accused of high treason. The harm which the Christian persecutors
inflicted was not caused by apathy but by a malevolent perspective.
[laughter] I’ll be right back; I should save this file before the computer crashes or something
like that.
[video cut]
Okay, hopefully that saved properly . .. I go on to say that “simultaneously every generation
believes that they are lucky, un, lucky enough to be living in a society which is the most
enlightened of all history.” And I’m saying that we think we’re so enlightened . . . when . . .
people think that we’re fundamentally different from anyone who lived hundreds of years
ago but we’re not. We haven’t had some metaphysical comprehension of everything that prior
people were incapable of understanding, and I say because of all of this, we could easily just
be as bigoted as . . . um . . . as the Christians were who treated blasphemers the way they
did in the Middle Ages. We easily could be Nazis. I’m surprised I actually said this because
I believed in morality when I was even writing this. I mean I still believed in morality so ...
even I was cognizant of this whole . .. all of this whole “we are bigots” thing.
Um, and I say that ... that Martin Niemöller, however you pronounce his name, quote isn’t,
it shouldn’t be used applying to apathy, saying “we need to stop the persecution of X group” that quote should indicate to us that, we should be asking ourselves, “Who is X group?” And
I say, “You can ask yourself if the treatment of pedophiles is genuinely nothing other than
the correct way to deal with them or if this is yet another unseen incarnation of Communists,
trade-unionists and Jews.”",1,Specific Threats,On pedophiles and children (Part 6/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
Oh, here’s a good point ... this thing about, ok-okay, let’s say children are completely asexual
and they don’t have any desires for sex. Why would that indicate that it’s abusive for them
to engage in it? Let’s say that there’s some child who doesn’t like football at all, he has no
interest in it, but there’s this adult he likes and for whatever reason, he agrees to . . . um
play football with the adult. Even though the child has no interest in it. How is that abusive?
It’s just, I mean it’s just . . . the child who likes the adult going along with the ride because
they like associating with the adult and it isn’t harmful at all but somehow when it comes
to sex . . . even if the child had absolutely no interest in it, and they could not enjoy it at all,
it’s somehow dangerous. And even if they have no interest in it, it’s pretty fucking obvious
that they can enjoy it. It’s pretty obvious that they do have an interest. Even though society
tries to suppress it.
And tangents about this whole . . . “because adults are too experienced” I mean, I’m . . . I
have absolutely no experience, whatever that means. I mean the most I’ve done is, when I
was thirteen, holding several nurses’ [?] hands for an English school dance, an English play
dance or something, a dance for a play. So, a thirteen-year-old who has had sex has more
experience than I do because I’m an ultra-virgin. So, would that be saying that a thirteenyear-old who has had sex would somehow be man-manipulating me because I don’t have
any experience? Whatever that means. [laughter] It’s so ridiculous.
There’s no manipu-manipulation going on ... I’m reading through something, this might ...
I don’t know where I got this from, but it sounds like it might be good. Um, maybe not . . .
Basically, just that the child, I want the child to have the ability to say no. That’s what this all
comes down to. Children, as of right now, don’t have the ability to say no. [sigh] This is so crazy.
Oh, and I talk about how, um, fewer than 10 percent of child molesters who are, fewer than 10
percent of reported child molesters are actually classified as true pedophiles. Um . .. multiple
sources back this up. The vast majority of offenders are non-pedophiles who’ve had, been
driven to offend by their personal situations. For example, situational offending is particularly common in crimes of incest involving children, possible causes include the removal or
disablement of adult partners and the unavailability of alternative adults. So, when people
are talking about child molestation, almost always it’s not even a pedophile who’s doing the
molestation. And I’m not talking about those situations, I’m not talking about actual abuse,
I’m talking about loving sex. Loving anything. [laughter]
Talking more about this fucking ... you — you can’t decide anything for yourself until you’re
twenty-five years old because your frontal lobe will be developed then ... More information
about . . . eh . . . talking about how pedophiles very rarely engage in anything. I mean pedophilia isn’t innately more harmful than heterosexuality. I mean, would — would you say the
relationship between a male — male and a female is fundamentally harmful just because
there are some males who are raping children. I mean, some males who are raping adults.
And just because there’s some males who rape — some males who — pedophiles, pedophile
rapists are not any more prevalent among pedophiles ... well actually I don’t have a statistic to back this up but basically, the prevalence of rapists among pedophiles can be compared
to the prevalence of rapists among heterosexual adults.
Just because it’s — why do I have to say this in so many different ways? I’m saying the same
thing over and over again ... [laughter] I got this quote from someone, um, I think this was
a forum discussion or something and the person, the pedophobe was saying, “your arguments will only come into play once children themselves start asking for sex, I’ve not heard
a single one making such requests.” And the anti-pedophobe responded: “And the female
half of Saudi Arabia aren’t shouting from rooftops for equal rights either, why? Because both
them and Western children have been excluded and alienated from the civil rights discourse.”
Talking more about this “but children grow up and pedophiles will no longer be attracted
to them.” [sigh] [?] so don’t want to get into why that’s fallacious in so many ways, it’s really
a subject of an entire different essay.
Oh yeah and, I talk about how even if there isn’t a single child to initiate s-sex with the adult,
and it’s always the adult who initiates sex with the child, why is that relevant? Would you say
that it’s somehow harmful that one hundred percent of males initiate sex with females or
would you say that . . . there’s no abuse going on at all? I mean, just because males tend to
initiate the sex. Sex is not synonymous with violence. Culture is synonymous with violence.
[laughter] Oh man . . . there’s so much about this whole, um child-Satanic ritual abuse that
went on in the 1980s and such. [sigh] Even in the nineties and ... that by itself indicates that
all of this is just hysteria. That, that whole topic is the subject of five essays, oh man. [laughter]
Just think about the way that the Rind et al. adult study36 was taken, I mean the way that,
people reacted to it. And it should really indicate what’s going on here, I mean Congress
denounced ... um I don’t remember the exact [?] but I’m pretty sure that Congress officially
denounced the study which indicated that um ... uh, I don’t want to go into it but basically
that sex uh ... I don’t know how to summarize it. Basically, the harm ... harm is not prevalent
as a consequence of even non-consensual sexual ... actually [exasperated sigh] just forget it.
I mean there was no discourse which resulted in the conclusion that sex is horrible for children, it’s just bigots shouting that sex is horrible for children and suppressing any dissent.
There’s never been any conversation which led to this conclusion, and no one allows there
to be any conversation that leads to this conclusion.",1,Specific Threats,On pedophiles and children (Part 7/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
Oh I think I’m getting into that post — at the end, this postmodernist guy talking about it. He
says, “Psychological statistics are whirled out by both sides — the pedophiles cite Rind et al. as
proof that intergenerational sexuality is harmless, while the pedophobes” — [laughter] He uses
the same term, I forgot that he used the same term, I personally like that pedophobe term.
Pedophobes cite their studies, the simple fact is sometimes intergenerational relationships work given the right people and times and culture, other times they’re a disaster, there’s plenty of believable testimony for both perspectives and heaps of
statistics of either two, it depends on the situation, not big doctrinal categories, it
depends on love .. .
And it really does.
It’s not about all of this ... external stuff, it’s just about the love ... And he was talking about
how consensual, loving relationships do not result in ,mental illnesses, there’s no indication
that they do . . . He was talking about pedophilia in the animal kingdom but that’s kind of
irrelevant. Oh, and he says:
the single biggest killer of children in the developed world is automobiles, automobiles
are much more dangerous than sex. The automobile is untouchable and can never be
criticized, therefore it is necessary to identify other causes of harm to children that
are less essential to the production of Capitalism, everyone can see that in ancient
Greece, the Pacific Islands or reclusive religious sects that practiced pedophilia as a
normal act of their functions.
Okay, I bungled a lot of words in that, but basically there are these societies that ... had sex
as a normal part of their functional so-society.
“Child-love is a convenient target for the statist media to demonize as it keeps people’s attentions away from real structural issues in society.” Pedophile outrage in Salem, and after
this message from our sponsors, funny cats ... And he was talking about societies where ...
children can have knowledge about sex and somehow not be mentally ill. How could that
work? That sounds so insane . ..
Oh and there’s this whole, um what do they call it? I think Gillick competency test37 . . .
there’s already this framework for determining whether or not children can consent, and
people just dismiss their consent, they don’t even try to take it into account. I think I’ve said
this five hundred times by now ... And ... talking about what am I supposed to understand
before having sex, at what point am I ready? Because really what — at what point am I ready? I
don’t — I don’t, what milestone are people talking about where it’s somehow okay to have sex?
At least if they were appealing to purity they would at least, it would at least make some
semblance of sense, but I don’t even know what people are talking about with their age of
consent. I mean, I don’t . . . I don’t feel any different regarding, I wouldn’t have thought of
sex any differently when I was five years old than I think of it now. I mean what’s supposed
to change? I d— I’ve never heard anyone address that. There is no defined transcendence.
And there’s no memo, there’s nothing.
And he says,
It’s a self-ful-fulfilling prophecy that kept other groups down before, rational people
actually judged slaves and women to be inferior; they weren’t, but the diminutive attitude taken towards them creates an inferiority. Adult peers would never talk to one
another in the condescending way that they talk to kids.
And this whole thing about doctors ... isn’t it strange how pretty much one hundred percent
of children have their genitals at one point or another fondled by a doctor, but no one seems
to think that causes mental illnesses? Even though the child did not remotely consent to that happening ... I mean ... eh, the parents just say, “Here, fondle my child’s genitals” and
surprisingly it never ends up being harmful psychologically to the children, yet if the child
were in a loving pedophilic relationship, I mean, if the child were in a loving relationship
with a pedophile, somehow, once they engage in mutual masturbation, somehow at that
point it becomes evil and harmful.
But when doctors molest children, nothing happens and everyone’s completely fine ... This is
pretty much the end of it. Um, someone in the topic, it wasn’t the same guy, it was someone
else talking about him . . . he, well, his grammar was kind of weird but I’m fine with that.
[laughter] I hate language. So, use whatever grammar you want.
He said:
I’m not so sure my reasoning is warped, parents can insist on making their kids do
some pretty shitty things, dangerous and mind-destroying things but sex is somehow
worse than worse, sex seems to have a special place in the hearts of most people,
quite low in some even though they enjoyed themselves they cannot recommend it
for anyone else. Sex has been termed the fate worse than death for much of even the
20th century, the idea of sex as worse than death was the pop-popular Ge-Gestalt.
Any woman who gave in to sex outside of marriage was fatally flawed but a man who
managed to play around was a real man. Sex has never been realistically interpreted
or portrayed, even masturbation is often condemned as harmful in some way. Sex
occupies a special place in a society and the harm it does is blown far out of any reasonable proportion to any realistic harm it could do. I’m quite sure there are many
things that is illegal and even thought to be good for kids, there are many things it
is legal and even thought to be good for kids that are far more harmful than sex.
If society says it’s okay to work kids in the mines because they’re small and can fit
into the small holes, then it becomes okay to do so but suggest sex and you will be
automatically a pariah.
You can do some wild stuff to kids and get by with it, from mental abuse to turning
them into psychopaths, you can teach them to hate, to be racist, to despise anyone
who believes differently from you, you can program your kids to do almost anything
but have sex. You can teach them that sex is a fate worse than death, you can teach
them that homosexuals are worthless pieces of shit that deserve to be killed, you can
teach them to be Nazis, but sex is out of the question. Just try to teach your kids that
masturbation is a good thing and let them tell the teachers and see what happens. If
you’re lucky you will not quite lose custody but count on visits from the Child Services.
That’s pretty much the end of the relevant section, that— that’s pretty much the end of ... it’s
— I know that all of this sounds very inflammatory but, I mean I’ve sounded inflammatory
regarding this subject because it just seems so insane. It’s like I’m trying to argue against
people who assert that God exists, and at least, at least in that case I know that there are
other atheists, but I mean there’s pretty much no one who’s anti-pedophobic. When I was
fourteen and I first thought about it for the first — when I was fourteen and I first thought
about pedophilia, I thought ... how can you possibly say that homosexuals are discriminated
against, but pedophiles aren’t?
And how can you possibly say that children can’t consent to having sex? I mean a few years
ago when I was ... eleven I easily could’ve had sex. And for some reason some people would
even argue that when I was fourteen saying those things ... they would say that somehow, I
was incapable of consenting, that’s completely incomprehensible to me. [sigh] Eh, is this really terrifying as it sounds, there’s .. . voluntarily . . . vol-voluntary mutual masturbation between a five-year-old and a fifty-year-old. It’s the same thing between an adult,
between adults doing, it’s the same thing that would happen between adults. It’s not going
to harm them anymore than it would harm the adults unless the child’s culture created an
environment in which they were ignorant of sex, and they were manipulated into being
terrified of it.
The ... the primary factor in all of this, that determines whether or not sex is harmful, really
depends on their willingness to participate. That’s the more important thing than, that’s the
most important thing. You’re — you’re not doing your children a favor when you dismiss them
as being sub-humans, saying that they can’t have sex, you’re really just doing yourself a favor.
And I’m not saying . . . “You’re evil” as like to [?] I wouldn’t say to him, you’re evil for having a child. Although, well, I wouldn’t say you’re evil for having a child even though I think
that’s ... it’s kind of cruel, heh. Well, wh-what I would say to [?] is, just be honest about what
you’re doing ... having a child ... isn’t in the child’s interest, it’s in your interest. The entire
purpose of children, is to propagate certain values and of course when one of those values
entails being morally outraged by sex, they’re — of course they’re going to ... be terrified of it.
But it’s not something that’s innately harmful about sex, it’s the culture that’s causing the
problems. It’s the culture which is causing all of these problems. But I’m pretty much done
with this topic, if you’re interested in this topic of anti-pedophobia, which I would argue is
even more . . . infinitely more expansive than feminism ever could be, um .. . you can go to
. . . IPCE.info. It has a ton of information on the topic, it’s a great website.
And . . . I think I’ve covered everything. Um, if you have any questions, I’ll try to answer
them, but otherwise I’m . . . I’m done with this topic. [laughter]",1,Specific Threats,On pedophiles and children (Part 8/8),10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: I can still hear him as he was dragging me ...
“Watching fascist videos before you sleep?
If only a normal schedule you could keep.
Another among the YouTube-induced dreams?
I bet you’re sick of all these dastardly memes!”
~Dreamt on the lovely morning on 10/5/2011. Yes, the principal spoke to me in pseudo-iambic
pentameter. Haters be hatin’.
I’m back with another strange dream description ... although when I woke up, I didn’t think
“What did I just dream?” I thought, “That’s exactly how I feel” even though I guess the other
one sort of applied in that sense too, but anyway .. .
This part of the dream, I didn’t go through, I just knew it has the background. Apparently, I
had been at a high school and the previous day there had been a ... an assembly about how
terrible of . . . [laughter] there’d been an assembly about how terrible of a person that I am.
And .. . everything like that and how much everyone should hate me.
And so, the next day I came in — into the school of course it, again it wasn’t my real high
school, it was a fi-fictional layout along with fictional people. And I went up the stairs thinking
how much I hated everything about the place and entered a hallway, and wouldn’t you know there’s the principal walking down the hallway, he sees me. The principal comes up to me
and grabs me and says: “Hi there, Smig,38 I wanna talk to you for a minute.” And I say that I
just wanna go to class and I don’t want any trouble. Basically, I was saying that kind of thing.
And . . . he said, “No, I wanna know what you thought about yesterday’s assembly?” And I
basically expressed that it was . . . just slander and uh . . . that he was just being a jerk. And
he — and he was saying, “I don’t like your attitude” or something like that; “Why don’t you
come with me to my office?” and he was pulling me down the hallway, down to his office
where there were some other students and there was a bench and he said, “Wait here, I
need to deal with some other students first.” So I waited there, and he went into his office.
And I had a short conversation with another student I think, and um, I entered the principal’s office intending to get . . . intending to withdraw immediately and there were a ton
of students in there for all manner of reasons. I said to him that I wanted the withdrawal
papers because I was going to be leaving that second, and he was mocking me, and he was
skirting around the issue.
He picked up what I thought was, um, my withdrawal papers and he was — he wasn’t giving me to them, giving them to me so I eventually just grabbed them, and he said: “Look
at how violent this guy is, those weren’t even his paper, they belonged to this person over
here.” So, he grabbed them back and gave them to that person and continued saying how
terrible of a person I am.
And then he picked up my actual withdrawal papers and ... I-I couldn’t get them from them
— get them from him. I told him how much of a dickhead he was and [laughter] I think I
kicked him or something and all of the other students were cheering. I grabbed the papers
and ran out of the room and it was apparently the end of the school day because there were
masses of children trying to leave and it was difficult trying to get through all of them, so I
was going down the stairwell and I accidentally, um, like knocked a hat and a bag away from
some female student and . . . I picked them up and gave them back to her and apologized
profusely saying that I had to leave very quickly.
So, I got down to the bottom of the stairwell and all of the students magically disappeared,
you know how they do that in dreams. [laughter] Sometimes they do that in real life too but
I don’t like to talk about that. There were several doors that I could take in the hallway that
I was in, that could lead outside. So, I tested one door, I opened it and saw that there were
bars across . . . the outside staircase, and so I started to worry that I wasn’t going to be able
to escape.
So I started running down the hallway, and this is probably one of only . . . maybe at most,
five times in my life that I’ve had this happen to me, but I was running in slow-motion trying to get out of there. And there were — at the end of the hallway, there was some teacher
opening — holding the door that I could leave out of, open. Trying to mock me. And they
were closing it and opening it again and closing it and opening it again, and once I got close
enough, they let go of the door to let it swing shut and subsequently lock and walked away.
But ... they were unaware that it was the kind of door where it begins to cl-close quickly and
then in the last foot it slows down. So, um . . . I was able to grab it in the last few seconds
and open it and escape from the building . . . It’s pretty funny when you think about that
dream ... you would expect someone of my personality to be dreaming about how horrible
... other students were to me and that I was being bull — that I had nightmares about being
bullied as a child. But I never was bullied by other students. And in my dream, I had nothing but sympathy for the other students, in real life the bullies are the adults. Who would
try to ... impose culture?
And so of course in my dreams, I have nightmares about things like my parents, or school,
or the police, or government, or really anything like that. Anywhere where I’m a child and
there are adults around. [sigh] So . . . all of that “it gets better” nonsense, no it doesn’t get
better. It just gets to the point where you have the chance to . . . rape children just as you
were raped by culture and I don’t really want to do that, so I guess it’s not going to get better, in my perception.",1,Grievance Airring,"Strange Dream #2: Which side of the door, again?",10/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: How could I forget about Mitchell Heisman’s 2010 Suicide Note? :(
I hadn’t cared enough about life to pursue anything, but I hadn’t cared enough about death
to kill myself, so I had just been spending a lot of time moping and I thought why not participate on YouTube? That way I can fulfill my desire to express my hatred for culture and
what it’s done to me and as I said in . . . my video about, from about a week ago, there isn’t
really anything left for me to say, um, regarding what culture is. Because it is such a simple
concept and when I’m talking about culture, I’m really talking about life so I don’t really
have to expand on that.
And . . . now that I’ve fulfilled that desire, all that’s left to do here is to listen to videos and
it’s been kind of amusing listening to the anti-life rants of other people, but I’ve never really
enjoyed them that much and I just continue to listen to them as an alternative to moping
on the floor. Um, but ... I — I haven’t — eh, I never really got anything out of them and now
all of this has just gotten boring, and this might seem like inopportune timing because
HeroinChurch39 just had his big deconversion so it might seem as if the same thing has
happened to me but that’s not the case at all.
I’ve always dismissed the Efilists as being moralizers, the first minute that I saw [?] I knew
that he was just a moralizer and I’ve dismissed the antinatalists here as such in multiple
places, multiple times. I remember I explicitly called them black balloon chasers once, actually I’ll find that quote. [clicking sounds] And this is just one of them. There have been, um,
quite a few .. . I really should have gotten this beforehand, shouldn’t I?
Um . . . I’m not sure where it was. I think it was right before the . . . “A Clarification” video
from Tranquil87,40 here it is, I complete — oh, it was in a video where Tranquil87 was saying
that to exist is an act of faith, an-any difference is superficial, to decide to stay alive is to s-ssay the same — is to stay the same as anyone else. An opposer of the truth, a deluded animal
like many antinatalists call human beings, yet do not identify themselves as such because
of their precepts. [?] Issuing a separation is a simple need for dominance, an illusion for the
so-called ego game you have chosen to stay involved in, you’re not above the maze looking
at it like Gary thinks he is, but very well inside it. With enough da-data to believe that it’s a
maze but still running around unable to get out.
And my comment was: “I completely agree, I’ll kill myself whenever I stop being a coward.
I’m an anti-natalist not because of its being the right position to have, but only because I am alive and thus am still deluded by value. It’s irritating how the anti-natalists here are moralizers who treat suffering as transcendently mattering, so they must live to prevent others
from going through this. They don’t recognize that they’re chasing black balloons and that
they’re no different from anyone else who’s ever lived.” And I posted that two weeks ago.
And I actually hadn’t seen his ... response because um, I get kind of nervous on the Internet
with looking up things after I’ve typed something. But I guess there’s no reason for me t-to
have done that because he said I was very honest and thanking me. I just imagine that he’s
going to be — well not him, but just anyone whenever I type anything is going to be chastising me, trying to rape their own values onto me.
Because that’s what culture done — that is what culture has done to me, I’m afraid of social
interaction. Well, not really social interaction, I have no problem with that it’s just that ... I
imagine it as [laughter] isn’t this supposed to be a video of me saying that I’m leaving YouTube
instead of explaining things further?
So, I’ll just, um ... yeah that’s what I’m supposed to be doing here. And now that I’ve fulfilled
my black balloon desire by expressing my hatred for culture in my videos and these redundant anti-life videos have just become boring, there isn’t really a point in staying here. And
the same applies to all videos on YouTube, basically . . . all of this is just boring to me now
and all of this YouTube stuff is just more cultural delusion and now that my, um — now that
the permutation of my cultural delusion has changed such that I no longer find any value
in any of this, there’s no point in me continuing to fulfill that desire.
And I know that made no sense but . . . I don’t particularly care. And unlike HeroinChurch
I want to emphasize that I’m not rejecting anything I’ve said in any of my prior videos. You
can sum me up by the one statement: everything is delusion.
I predictably like the “Life is Suffering” video ... meaning does exist and it’s endemic to life
but all of meaning is . . . invariably suffering and meaning, uh, well suffering is life affirming and life is suffering and all of that fun stuff. It’s just a big clusterfuck of delusion. So,
what — what am I going to do now, you ask?
Um, well, I still don’t care enough about dying to kill myself and even though I recognize
that’s my best option I just don’t care enough to do it. Um ... I guess I’ll just enjoy the weather
in the next few weeks and the next month or to the end of this year because these tend to be
the gloomiest months and I enjoy that.
Once the New Year starts it ... begins to snow and everything gets bright again and it’s just
awful. I’m going to leave up the video of Koko the Gorilla because it is such a sad video and
... I probably, if I have any more good ones, will continue to post descriptions about my allegedly strange dreams which are really just ... my description for uh, just a way to describe
how I feel.
I’m not lying, I actually do have these dreams, it’s just that the reason I’m posting them at
all is not so much as a description of a strange dream as a description of what I feel. And
it’s, and about that, it’s not that, I would be fine if one aspect of culture like school were
removed. The reason why I have nightmares about school and my parents and all of those
things are because they represent what culture is. I’m opposed to all of culture, to the extent
that I oppose language itself.
And I think that I’ve explained everything regarding that adequately in my prior videos. So
.. . goodbye, sort of video cut]
I forgot to add that there might be one more video, I’ve been trying to read Mitchell Heisman’s
suicide note41 and if I complete that I’ll make a video which includes my thoughts on it. It’s
kind of hard to get the motivation to complete it because it’s possibly the most redundant
thing I’ve read in my life. I’m about three hundred pages in and I’m not exaggerating when
I say that he could’ve expressed everything he said so far in maybe twenty pages and maybe
that would be a little too long in itself.
But I do have one preliminary thought to offer and that’s that he wasn’t delusional, he was
completely lucid. There are a lot of people on the Internet saying that he-he is, he was —
his reasoning is that of a schizophrenic and that he can’t organize his thoughts. And that’s
not true. It’s easy to understand what he’s trying to express, at least so far and the people
who said, “I read halfway through into it and I had to stop reading because it was just too
incoherent” are probably complete liars because they always — they always end up putting
his first line in their post, and that’s the only part of it that they address where he’s saying
that — that if his hypothesis is correct that his suicide note will be repressed. Be suppressed,
I always get those two mixed up.
And they say, “This is evidence that he was a paranoid schizophrenic.” [sigh] I don’t even
want to get into this . . . but of course it would be doing that because they’re just trying —
they — they don’t care about whatever was in it, they just know that someone killed themself
and that’s not a life-affirming action so they have to denounce it because that’s what their
culture demands.",1,Specific Threats,Done with YouTube,10/21/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: One of my dreams earlier that morning was YouTube-induced, but it wasn’t
particularly strange and this dream was less boring.
~Dreamt on the beautifully gloomy afternoon of 10/15/2011.
This Strange Dream description series seems to have taken on the form of “this dream I
had illustrates how I feel,” which is fine with me because that’s more fun than just strange
dream descriptions. Anyway, this dream st-started with me in a secondary school library.
I was photocopying or copying something, and it was right before the last class of the day,
so I finished what I was doing, and I was about to leave the library, and ... I had two homework assignments that I’d completed on the counter in the library. I picked them up and
some adult there told me that I couldn’t do that, that I had to — I don’t know what they were
telling me to do. And I said, it’s fine, they’re mine, I just need to get to class. And the adult
followed me out and halfway through the library they stopped me and a couple of them were
inspecting my papers.
And it turned out that only one of them was actually mine and one of them belonged to
someone else. Heh, this seems to be a recurrent theme but ... I can’t remember that actually
ever happening in my life, I don’t know why I keep bringing that up. But I guess because
it’s a way for them to say “look at how horrible of a person he is” because that’s what they
started to say about me. I said, um, well, I didn’t really say much of anything while they were chastising me, the
adults left and came back with a bill. It had included hundreds of dollars for various things
like the photocopying but there was a $2,500 fine for ... leaving the library without following
the proper procedure or something like that. I said how ridiculous it was and I was going to
contest it to the best of my abilities and that really riled them up.
They started ... yelling at me and I eventually just said fuck this, I’m dropping out of school,
do whatever you want. I started to get up to leave but one of them chased me and pushed
me up against the wall and was screaming at me about how horrible of a person I was. And
something I said must’ve provoked them into hitting me in the face because they did that
eight times, and after the eighth time I slugged them — I slugged her in the face as hard as I
possibly could and she backed off. And ... started putting on a show of “oh I was just doing
my job and this brutish criminal hit me” and I was saying, I was, I was shouting to everyone
in the library: “oh come on, she’s, she hit me in the face eight times and I hit her once, how
can you possibly say that I’m the criminal here?”
And I put on my Tyler Clementi spiel about adults being the ones who bully children, not
other children and I eventually just left the library ... and the dream ended shortly after that.",1,Grievance Airring,Strange Dream #3: .. . Door,10/22/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: If you wanted to upset me, you’ve succeeded more than you could have expected. I could have explained everything in this more extensively if this wasn’t extemporaneously
spoken while feeling despondent, but if no one understands what I’m saying after seven hours of
videos (which barely any of you even listened to), no one ever will. I can’t handle this cultural bullying. My account is now officially abandoned.
I’m really upset right now ... I have been, for hours. [sigh] Earlier I probably experienced the
most rage of my lifetime . . . Now I’m just . . . completely enervated . . . and depressed. And
I guess I should explain this ... it’s, what is it? It’s 4:36 PM, January 27th, 2012. So it’s been
four months since I’ve made a video. Anyway, I’m so upset because well, I should explain
the background for this.
In December 2011, someone came across my videos ... and ... commented on most of them,
just insulting me, not addressing the arguments and ... the very small amount of what they
said which could be construed as arguments had already been addressed. But anyway, I was
going to . . . speak to them and my videos had an unprecedented — unprecedented increase
in the amount of views they received ... and I checked the source of that and apparently he
had been posting around the Internet asking about how he should classify my videos for
censorship. And that really upset me and ... I didn’t subsequently say anything to him because
his attempts were to censor my videos were unsuccessful and if I addressed him, I would
expect him to redouble his efforts and end up getting my videos censored. And of course,
I’m expecting him to say, “It’s not censorship because it’s private property” or whatever, I ...
[sigh] he isn’t going around sycophantically trying to get videos removed by people who are
underage, who are under thirteen or people who are uploading copyrighted information, it
has nothing to do with him being a sycophant, it’s just because he disagrees with me and
it’s convenient for him to get my videos removed because it — I don’t know if it actually does
but I wouldn’t be surprised if my videos violate the YouTube Terms of Service. [sigh]
Calling it anything other than censorship is just playing around with words. But anyway,
that upset me but it ... it didn’t really bother me that much but I’ve — there’s this — oh man
I’m losing a lot of hair. I’m running my hand [laughter] through my hair and going bald like crazy. Anyway [sigh] . . . man I’m too young for a toupee. I came across this blog called No
Bad Memes42 and I suspect — I suspect it’s the same person who’s commenting. It would
[?] about six weeks around the year, the same person. It sounds like the same person — was
commenting about uh, basically the person — the person’s blog expresses viewpoints which
are similar to mine.
And the person never addresses the arguments, and they just have endless ad hominems,
they consistently respond to thousand-word posts with ten-word insults and it’s really, really
bothering me. And you’d say, “Why should something like that bother you it’s just some
stranger .. . why does his opinion matter?” it’s not him .. . it’s what he represents.
He’s representing the entire enculturation process, that’s what I’m feeling — I’m feeling
the enculturation and he’s just the conduit of it. I mean if you were just insulting the way I
looked or something like that it would be different but he’s taking anti-cultural arguments,
anti-rape arguments and ... he’s raping me with them. And he opposes this rape metaphor
that I use which doesn’t make any sense because he advocates a system under which rape
exists both as a consequence of life existing and as a consequence of sex being artificially
scarce, because of enculturation.
So actually, he’s literally advocating a system by which rape is prevalent, literal rape is prevalent and he’s criticizing me for . . . talking about metaphorical rape. And . . . [sigh] you have
to look at what rape is, why is rape harmful? Ask yourself that. And I know that he won’t
ask himself that, he’ll just insult me but why is rape harmful? It’s because it’s an imposition
contrary to the fulfilment of . . . well actually the contrariness doesn’t matter, it’s just . . . it’s
an imposition of suffering and that’s exactly what he’s doing.
I don’t see any difference; I’m interpreting his behavior exactly the way someone would
interpret — a neurotypical person would be interpreting rape. It’s not him, it’s what he represents, he represents culture and that’s what’s really upsetting me.
And you can’t just ... say, “I’m not going to allow culture to bother me” because it does bother
you. You are scarred by culture, there’s nothing that you can do about it, the only reason every
action that you take is a consequence of it, of the suffering that’s been imposed onto you.
You can’t get around it, the only way to do that is to die and when I want to help people by
saying that suicide is in their self-interest, he takes the pro-cultural route by trying to censor
those videos saying that someone will get hurt by them. What’s ironic is that the person he’s
apparently wanting to help suicidal people and he — he’s worried that someone who comes
across my videos might hurt themselves, but from his perspective “hurt” constitutes — I
mean suicide constitutes hurt and the person that he absolutely knows is suicidal is the one
that he’s hurting.
I ... okay I bungled a few words in that sentence but you understand my point. That’s what
culture is, it ... it’s not trying to help people, it’s trying to rape their values onto other people.
I wish that I could have cried about this, I tried, but I’m just too depressed to cry. I almost
did, and maybe I would feel better if I could. When I first encountered him in — and I don’t
know what to call him other than a troll, that’s definitely not — accusing someone of being a
troll isn’t something that ever comes to my mind, it’s incomprehensible that someone would
perform the theoretical ... um, activity of trolling.
But he’s consistently replied to No Bad Memes posts with just ad hominems and he doesn’t
respond to the arguments ... And look — look at what I’m doing, I’m not blaming it on culture, I’m the problem. Why am I looking at these guys” comments? It — I mean eventually during today it came to the point where I was no longer even, I mean toward the last few
minutes I was no longer even reading No Bad Memes posts and I was instead just looking
at ... uh, ’s43 or whoever’s insults.
And why was I doing that? It’s because I’m trying to — it’s because my attachment — life
propagates itself and culture is an artificial imposition of suffering because suffering is
life-affirming and someone who is not suffering isn’t going to be propagating life ... so life
develops its intelligence and sapient creatures develop this mannerism by which they’ll impose suffering on themselves so that they’ll continue to propagate life. In a situation where
they wouldn’t have otherwise done so.
And so ... that’s exactly what I’m doing. I — I’m not consciously choosing to do so but that’s
what it is, I’m — and it’s — it’s not just this instance but frequently I’m — my deprivation is
the rage and sorrow that I experience as a consequence of my enculturation. And so, I do
these things like . . . I look up people lambasting pedophiles and I look up people . . . praising culture and I look up people who are insulting people like me and I’m doing all of these
things because of culture. I’m imposing deprivations onto myself so that I’ll live because if it
weren’t for the rage and sorrow that I’ve experienced as a consequence of my enculturation
I would’ve killed myself long ago.
Anyway, where’s this file? There I have several ironic aspects of ... his comments that I talked
about. Oh and — in one — in one video he left a comment calling me a contradictory fucking
retard and then in another video he left a comment saying that he couldn’t find where I talk
about the position which would make me contradictory, and he didn’t consider the possibility
that maybe he can’t find it because I’m not being contradictory after all and he was attacking
a strawman. And he’ll just respond to this by insulting me further.
And . . . what I, what I was saying earlier he tried to censor my pro-suicide videos because
he was allegedly concerned that someone who came across them might end up convinced
to kill themselves. And yet he doesn’t notice that he’s endlessly insulting the one person
who he is sure is suicidal, so if he really cared about people who were suicidal he wouldn’t
be insulting me the way he is.
And I frequently talked about how the systematic bullying in children’s lives doesn’t come
from their peers but from adults, and that culture is the systematic manipulation of victims
so as to coerce the victims into having the values of the adults. He says that I’m wrong and
that I have never been bullied while he endlessly insults me for opposing culture, not realizing that he’s trying to bully me into having the same values as he has.
And that just seems really iron-ironic that he’s exhibiting the exact behavior that I’m talking
about that’s upsetting me. This is really bothering me; I can’t just forget about it. How can
I forget about it when I’ve been infected with language? And he’ll just say, “Oh boohoo get
over it you fucking emo loser, you should kill yourself.” [sigh] He doesn’t address the arguments, culture doesn’t address the arguments, culture is rape.
There’s nothing I can do about this and it . . . for as long as I live, I’m going to continue
looking up ... pro-culturalists like him. [sigh] Because life, suffering is life-affirming, no one
addresses — he [clicking sounds] where is that website where he talks about censoring me? No
one addressed the argument, no one refuted how life is not suffering and so, actually, you
know what, okay I’m going to log in and I’m going to address every comment that he’s left. All of the comments that — the two, two likes and forty-six dislikes that I got in December.
Two likes and forty-six dislikes, that’s just absurd.
And one of my best videos — my “A Few — A Few Things” video wh— got nothing but dislikes.
Anyways, sign in [?] CulturalPhilistine .. . [typing sounds]",1,Specific Threats,To the pro-culturalists (Part 1/3),1/29/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
Onto these comments — first, “My Antinatalism” video and . . . he removed his comment.
I’m actually genuinely surprised by that, maybe he realized he was being very cruel for lack
of a better word. Okay, never mind. Here he says in the “Rambling vlogrant of a ruminative
vagrant” video, “Boohoo nobody but you care about cultural conditioning,” that’s actually
quite false. Everyone cares about cultural conditioning, you care about cultural conditioning,
I do. You — you don’t — civilization isn’t something which just emerges, it’s a consequence
of the indoctrination of children.
Just because no one addresses it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist, and I don’t know what
else to say to that. And you’re projecting, you’re, he says to me, “You’re projecting your own
personal horrible values onto everyone else.” That — he does, he doesn’t ... I’ve admitted that
value is a delusion and I am deluded for believing that there’s anything wrong with culture,
but that still doesn’t change what culture is. Culture is the systematic inflicting of artificial
suffering. If you’re okay with that then I’ll just ... call you a dick and be done with it but you
don’t address the argument.
I — I just don’t understand, [sigh] I don’t want to get into this. I know it’s . . . I’m not projecting my own personal horror. Cult— If culture weren’t suffering, it doesn’t matter that
it’s suffering, but it is suffering and if it weren’t suffering then we wouldn’t be having this
conversation which is basically just consisting of you insulting me. And in my own way, I’m
insulting you and I’m doing it — I’m — I’m no different than you, I wish you could see that.
And ... he says, “You should read William S. Burroughs,44 he’s like you except not retarded
and self-contradictory.” Um, I looked him up and — a while ago, when he posted this and
apparently, he . . . William S. Burroughs, I didn’t know who he was and I still don’t really
know but he apparently wrote primarily fiction and, my response to you is, well thanks —
genuinely thanks for the suggestion but I can’t really get interested in fiction unless there’s
something eerily relevant to my interests about it.
Now, “Antinatalism at light speed”: [sigh] “Nobody but you cares about destroying value.”
Okay, and?
There’s something really bizarre about these pro-lifers who say, uh this isn’t entirely relevant
but it’s something I’ve been thinking about, it’s really bizarre how, they talk about subjectivism and yet, they oppose — they still oppose things and they advocate civilization and, I
mean sti— they believe in property and they believe in all of these delusions and rights and
yet they’re still talking about subjectivism and it just doesn’t make any sense and I don’t
know how to explain it, I’m really tired right now so I’ll just go on to the “Cults and Culture”
video. Which I think I actually already clicked on, I’m really tired. “SomethingSea Response, Part 1”: Apparently SomethingSea . . . had his account removed.
Which is really lame. “Values are not lies you fucking idiot,” he says to me. Then what are
they? What are values? Are they revealing the godly truth? Are — are they the gift of a benevolent God revealing the truth of the world to us? Value isn’t value isn’t something which just
floats around, value — here I typed this earlier. Evaluation is the perception of deprivation,
once a sentient creature dies it’s not just that they’ve lost their perception while the godly
truth of values still floats around somewhere. There is no value there at all because there is
no deprivation, there’s absolute neutrality. Value is a delusion of life which is suffering and
et cetera, et cetera.
Okay, if value isn’t delusion, then what is it? . . . And in my part two of that video he says,
“You’re not arguing, you’re just repeating your original statements and changing the subject,”
I’m not sure what he’s talking about but whatever. I doubt it’s anything substantive because
I haven’t found a single one of his other comments that have been.
And in my “(Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie, Part 1” he says, “I’m going to vomit
if you say the word deprivation one more time” . . . deprivation. What’s — what else is life?
You haven’t addressed that; you just endlessly insult me. You just analyze your behavior,
why do you feel any desire to respond to me? I mean I don’t know your circumstances in
life but apparently from looking — you’ve probably had someone you’ve known who’s killed
themselves and you’re upset about that, and so once you’ve been exposed to someone who
advocates suicide, you feel a deprivation that you have to fulfill by insulting me. That’s how a
life operates. You have a deprivation then you act upon the deprivation, and you imperfectly
solve them, there’s nothing that you can do to save yourself from the suffering other than
kill yourself. That’s why I’m advocating it, suicide is solving all suffering.
Because there’s nothing in life that can come close to the bliss of suicide. Oh, and [laughter]
here, um, in — in the eh, “(Pointless) CulturalPhilistine The Movie, Part 2” he says, “Death
is not happiness.” Okay, what is happiness? It’s the removal of a deprivation. Suicide is the
absolute removal of deprivation, punching you into complete neutrality. How is that not
happiness?
And I don’t think he responded to the other “(Pointless) CulturalPhilistine” parts. [sigh] I
think he disliked every one of these because they each have one dislike. I don’t know why
he spent so much time listening to my videos and why he spent so much time reading No
Bad Memes blog .. . I don’t know.
And he didn’t respond to my “Strange Dream #1” but it has one dislike, and I suspect it was
him. “SomethingSea Response #2” and he says, wait what? Oh, what the fuck . . . [laughter]
he says, “I discovered the experience of reading great novels on my own actually,” no you
didn’t. You didn’t come across language, and you didn’t come across literature, you didn’t
reach into a — a book tree and pull out a book and savor it. You were exposed to literature
and thus you became deprived of reading it.
[sigh] There has never been a single feral child who has been deprived of reading great novels.
You discovered the experience because you were coerced into a system in which they exist.
That’s all that there is to it. I know that you’re not going to respond to this, you’re just going to insult me again. You’re going to say I’m not arguing, I’m just repeating myself when
you’re not making any argument at all.
Wow, my “Suffering is Life-Affirming” video, the most popular one and ... what’s this question, is ... I don’t know what this is, but anyway ... fourteen comments, let’s see. A lot of his dEnergy’s comment.45 Um, DerivedEnergy said, “You speak too quickly but you make some
good points and provoke debate” and Tint301 said, “Absolutely none of that is praiseworthy,”
they didn’t explain why none of it is praiseworthy they just, said, “I can’t believe someone’s
expressing anti-life perspectives, I’ve got to insult him and not address his arguments” and
then DerivedEnergy said, “Life is a sexually transmitted fatal disease, for some it is much
more painful than others on our way to our graves, the belief that life is a gift is a lie, DNA can
only be perpetuated by either selfish or insane animals” and then he said again, “Absolutely
none of that is praiseworthy” .. . he — he didn’t fucking address the argument.
Anyway, I’m not sure what Tranquil87 was talking about, I mean months ago he said, um,
it sounded like he was mocking me but . . . I don’t know. I can respect Tranquil87 because
he actually, I mean, apparently here it sounds like he’s mocking me but I’m not going to get
upset over that because he’s actually, I mean you can actually speak to him. He isn’t — he
doesn’t represent culture, he — I mean assuming the worst, that he is mocking me with that
comment, that doesn’t remotely bother me, because he isn’t representing culture like
is. He’s just disagreeing with me, and I’m not sure why he’s disagreeing with me because
life is the imposition of the suffering — I mean life is the imposition of value and suffering.
Makes perfect sense to me, I don’t know what else life would be.
But is just . . . an endless representation of culture. Anyway. He removed a lot of his
comments. FaceyFaceFace says, “You poor, poor soul” — they’re probably mocking me too
and . . . FaceyFaceFace, if you are mocking me, please tell me what’s wrong about my argument. Suffering is life affirming and life is suffering, haven’t seen anyone refute that. It
doesn’t — and he says, “I’ve watched this video multiple times and I still don’t understand
why you think life equals suffering, and nothing else or why I should care about deprivation
or reward.” I can actually appreciate that comment because he isn’t insulting me and he’s
actually asking in a direct question.
And my answer is that I’ve said at least five times that there’s no reason why you should care
about deprivation over reward, I mean everyone — nothing matters, suffering doesn’t matter, nothing does. But look at how life operates. First, you’re faced with a deprivation, and
I know that you hate that word but what else is there to describe it? And then you seek to
remove that deprivation and that’s the basis for every action you take in life. And there’s no
reason why you should care about deprivation over reward, but there is no reward without
the deprivation, and, I say that life equals suffering . . . oh yeah I remember now, um, one
of the comments he removed, I saw it before he removed it, was ... let me try to remember.
He said, “So life has suffering and not is suffering.” I say that life is suffering because life
has nothing but suffering and so it may as well be that life is suffering, there is no happiness
because happiness is just the removal of the suffering. And so there really is no reward that
you’re talking about, you’re — you’re just solving the problems that you caused.
And ... ArtBenefactor says, “Nice work Morpheus but I think I’ll go with the blue pill” and
I wish he would respond to my arguments instead of just saying “I’ll go with the blue pill,”
I’m not even sure which pill is which but whatever . . . And in my “A Few Things” video he
says, “You were never raped you are trivializing that word” . . . I’ve already addressed this,
but in case I decide to cut that out at the beginning. You’re the one who advocates a system
by which rape can propagate. There would be no rape if there were no life, you’re defending
life, you defend rape. And you defend culture, rape is . . . rape is, rape isn’t just something
which happens to exist. Don’t you think it’s kind of odd that hunter-gatherers have sex all of
the time and we, in civilization, don’t and yet you think that rape is just about power, there’s
absolutely nothing about a scarcity of sex. But rape is caused by an artificial scarcity of sex, if — it’s insane to think that there would be
no consequences to that.",1,Specific Threats,To the pro-culturalists (Part 2/3),1/29/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Video description: [repeated from first segment in series]
Oh, heh, I didn’t see NaturalGrace’s [?] comment. He said, “You sound like a depressed selfloathing sixteen-year-old that just read Nietzsche for the first time. Get off the computer,
graduate, make some friends and learn to enjoy life instead of navel-gazing about it from
the sidelines. Right now, you are completely insufferable and obnoxious, you also have zero
sense of perspective, your mom telling you to do your homework and clean your room is
nothing like someone asking you to rape babies, God damn.”
[sigh] Oh my God ... how can I even respond to something like this? Okay, I’ll — I’ll start with
“You sound like a depressed self-loathing sixteen-year-old that is reading Nietzsche for the
first time.” I barely know anything about Nietzsche except that he was a pro-life bigot, and I
really don’t care about anything that he said, because he advocated life. Anyway, “Get off the
computer, graduate, make some friends,” blah blah blah ... You aren’t addressing my arguments. I’ve already said that I’m in a very privileged position, I can accomplish anything I
would desire in life, and I, I came to this perspective because I thought about what I wanted
out of life and when I analyzed why I wanted those things I realized that it was entirely a
consequence of my enculturation.
And then I realized that the only reason why anyone wants to live is because they’re suffering, that’s all that there is to life. You just try to remove your suffering. Make some friends?
I don’t want to make friends with someone like you. Um, and “Learn to enjoy life instead of
navel-gazing about it from the sidelines” . . . [sigh] I don’t know what to say to that. He says
I’m completely insufferable and obnoxious, what’s insufferable and obnoxious? Me who
wants to maintain non-exist — this, the default state of nonexistence or you who wants to
advocate life and impose it onto people who don’t want it?
You seem to think that ... you — you think that life is — I don’t understand they’re, how is life
not rape? No one consents to being born, they’re — they have no choice with their enculturation. I mean, how can you look at a photograph of a city, and not — that’s civilization, that’s
what it does. And when I hear culture all I think is that — is that — of that video with Ko-Koko,
that’s, oh my God, this is so crazy . . . How does culture propagate if not by the imposition
of delusions onto children who have absolutely no say in the matter?
It’s not this person right now who’s bothering me, it’s an amalgam of people I’ve seen on the
internet who say that I’m the authoritarian for opposing the imposition of life. [sigh] You’re
the one who sees children as your property. You don’t like me to use the word rape because
you have this cultural delusion where ... I don’t want to get into this, but you’re the one that
advocates rape, literally and metaphorically.
What you’re saying is that the propagation of life and the indoctrination of children is not
the propagation of life and the indoctrination of children. I don’t know what to say to that.
How can it be anything other than that?
You think that there are just two parties when, someone, two people are having sex when
really there’s a third party involved, and you’re forcing them to live. You’re — you create their suffering, and you want to add insult to injury by enculturing them. They have absolutely
no consent, they have to conform to your cultural delusions, or else they’ll be imprisoned.
And just because you’re subordinate enough to have internalized your enculturation doesn’t
mean that it, it wasn’t an imposition and that it wasn’t anything other than suffering.
And just as I said to , you’re the one who advocates a system by which rape can — rape
can propagate. You’re the one who advocates this, what the fucking hell? And all that you’re
saying right now is “Accept value, accept value, accept the rape” . . . you’re just trying to call
it by another name. Bet you’re a pedophobe, too. God . . . you fucking piss me off, NaturalGrace, let’s see your channel.
Antarctica? Oh, you’re so clever . . . Fucking hell . . . I don’t understand how someone can
listen to my six hours of video and think that I’m talking about cleaning a room. I don’t
understand how someone cannot look at hunter-gatherers and see that we’re the insane
ones and they’re the enlightened ones, and then once you understand it from that perspective I don’t understand how you can look at a rock and not understand that the rock is the
enlightened ones, and that we’re the fucking retards.
We’re going around believing in, believing in all of these magical fairytales and you’re calling
me a Nietzsche wannabe. I don’t fucking care what Nietzsche said. I’m looking at life for what
it is, he was one of you, he — he — he defended life. Completely insufferable and obnoxious
... my God you’re the one who creates this. Actually, why am I so offended by that, that comment just means “You’re acting in a way which is contrary to the fulfilment of my value”
and I’m doing the same fucking retarded nonsense, we’re both retard — we’re both retarded.
I don’t understand how I’m the only one who can see that. And Ghost of Eazy-E said, “Wow,
terrible” . . . Why don’t you elaborate or are you just going to insult me like NaturalGrace
did and not address the argument that life is suffering? That no one consents, that people
are raped into it?
And ... next, my “On” vid, my “On Pedophiles and Children” video, I think it’s pretty funny
that this video, where I essentially denounce the classification of children as distinct from
adults has itself been age restricted. [laughter] That’s ... just so bizarre.
It has zero likes and eleven dislikes. Okay, NaturalGrace apparently responded to this, okay
and . . . I’ll start with Brad Rapstar’s, he says, “If you have to make an eight-part two-hour
defense of why you’re not a pedophile, you’re probably a pedophile.” What the fucking hell?
I — I have six hours of videos where I’m talking about civilization and, you seem to think
that that has — if I were really a pedophile why would I be talking about the philosophical
implications of it? Why would that at all — [sigh] I care about, I mean I highly doubt you
listened to my entire video because some parts only have like five views while this one has
over a hundred, but ... if you actually listened to it, you would understand that pedophobia
represents what culture is, it’s just a bunch of lies which exist to propagate this system.
You don’t care about children; I do care about children. You’re the one who wants to rape
children; I’m the one who wants to save them from a life of suffering that you want to impose
onto them. You’re the one who sees them as your property; I’m the one who wants to free
them. [sigh] [?] says, “Look, there are valid criticisms of society’s mentality towards pedophilia,
it’s led to ruined lives via false accusations and discourages pedophiles from seeking treatment but you sound like you want to fuck kids and rationalize away the harms such acts are
causing by imagining them as miniature adults, there’s literally a ton of psychological studies
based on sound methodology as opposed to your blind conjecture and that says you’re full
of shit, what the hell dude, get help. If you really cared about children then why are you advocating civilization? Civilization is
the systematic rape of — mind-fucking of the children, of children’s minds but you don’t
care about children, you don’t care about that because you want to propagate your own
values onto them! You’re angry at me because I want to free children from you. Because, I
don’t, want to allow you to have children be your property. And I don’t understand why I’m
so alone on this, I feel like I’m the only non-pedophile in the entire world who can see that
this hysteria about childhood sexuality isn’t about protecting children, it’s protect— about
protecting their status as property.
I would expect non-misandrist46 feminists and anarchists to be on my side, but they never
are, I’m the only one who can see this hysteria and it’s ... my God. I don’t want to see children
as adults because I don’t want anyone to be adults because that . . . I don’t want there to be
a system in which there — my God, just look at hunter-gatherer societies. They don’t have
this child abuse which you’re advocating.
This really upsets me ... if you care so much about the damage of children then why are you
advocating that they live? And why are you advocating their enculturation? Culture is the
harm, look at all of these problems and they — they wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for culture. And
NaturalGrace says, “I’m opposed to the idea that pedophiles should be tarred and feathered
rather than taught the skills necessary to keep them from acting on their desires, but this
does not come off as academic on your part at all.”
I agree that it’s not academic, I just .. . used academic for lack of a better word, that’s why I
paused before every single time I said academic because I’m not sure what word I should be
using. But anyway, he says: “Based on the vid— level of discourse in this video I’m not going
to invest two hours of my time listening to the rest, to say that people who feel traumatized
by CSA [child sexual abuse] are brainwashed is incredibly insulting. I think they are better
arbiters of their experiences then you are.” [sigh]
You [sigh] why — why do you call sexual interaction between adults and children, CSA — child
sexual abuse, by default? This is a profound level of special pleading that you have to resort
to to say that sex is — if you believe that all sex, if you’re opposed to the manipulation of
children, then how is sex distinct from any other form of manipulation that YOU advocate?
I’m the one who doesn’t want to manipulate children.
You fucking retards see them as your property ... God this is so insane. No comments on the
second part, no comments on the third part because no one fucking listened to it. No comments on the fourth part, just dislikes. No comments on the fifth part, no comments on the
sixth — oh there was a comment, heh. [?]101 says: “What the F? Get a life,” umm, what does
getting a life entail? Accepting your values? Which means that you want me to ... oh my God.
No comments on the seventh, no comments on the eighth . . . And . . . ’s still talking
about me trivializing rape when he’s the one that advocates rape. And I think he removed
this comment, yes he did.
And my “Done with YouTube” video . . . wish that were the case. He says, “There is no justification whatsoever for negative, positive or neutral attitude” and I don’t understand why
you think that I’m saying anything other than that? There is no justification for anything.
I — I believe, I feel that there’s justifications because I’m deluded. I don’t know where I’ve
said anywhere that that isn’t the case. Of course, there is no justification for anything. [sigh] And so now what? Well, my . . . videos haven’t gotten much traffic in the last month
or so, it was just because he was talking about censoring my videos that they got so much
attention. And so . . . what can I even say to you people? [sigh] There’s nothing to say to you
. . . Fucking seven hours, eight hours, I don’t know . . . I could explain this for a thousand
hours and you’d still be advocating the indoctrination of children. And I’m so — I’m so upset
about this because that’s all that I see you doing, the way that you interpret pedophiles raping
children is the way that I interpret the way that you — you advocate this system.
What else can I say about this? There’s nothing to say. This is hopeless.",1,Specific Threats,To the pro-culturalists (Part 3/3),1/29/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_recordings_1.1_1.pdf,Adam Lanza
"JOHN ZERZAN: Here we go . . . hello. We got the collapsible headphones here but, uh,
we’re back.
CO-HOST: [Unintelligible] .. . we’ve got Greg on the phone.
ZERZAN: Oh, Greg, okay, how’s it going?
ADAM LANZA: Hi, good. Um. I’m a fan of your writing. Um.
ZERZAN: Thank you.
LANZA: I’m sorry to [bring up?] such an old news story but I couldn’t find anything that
you said about the topic, and it seems relevant to your interests, so I thought I would bring
up Travis the Chimp, do you remember him?
ZERZAN: I don’t!
LANZA: Well, he was the highly domesticated chimpanzee who lived in a suburban home
in Stamford, Connecticut.
CO-HOST: Oh, yeah.
ZERZAN: Oh.
LANZA: And he was raised just like a human child, starting from the week he was born.
By the time that he was fourteen years old, which would be somewhere around age twenty
in human years —
ZERZAN: Uh-huh.
LANZA: — um, he slept in a bed, he took his own baths, he dressed himself, he brushed his
teeth with an electric toothbrush.
ZERZAN: [laughs] Really? When was this?
LANZA: Um. Well, this happened in early 2009.
ZERZAN: Oh.
CO-HOST: Oh.
LANZA: Um.
ZERZAN: Uh-huh?
LANZA: He ate his meals at a table and enjoyed human foods like ice cream and he used a
remote control to watch television and liked baseball games. And he even used a computer
to look at pictures on the internet.
ZERZAN: Huh!
LANZA: And, [chuckles] it goes without saying that Travis was very overweight. He was two
hundred pounds when he should have been around the low hundreds.
ZERZAN: Mmhm.
LANZA: And he was actually taking Xanax.
CO-HOST: [laughs]
ZERZAN: Amazing.
LANZA: I couldn’t find any information about why he was taking it, but it just seems to say
a lot that he was given it at all. And, basically, I think Travis wasn’t really any different than
a mentally handicapped human child.
ZERZAN: Hmm.
LANZA: But anyway, one day in February 2009, he was acting very agitated, and at some
point grabbed the car — his owner’s car keys, went outside and started beeping from car to
car, apparently wanting to go for a car ride, and he was acting very aggressively, so his owner
called her friend over to get her to help him to calm down and go back inside, and once she
arrived he immediately attacked her and his owner tried to stop him but couldn’t and she
even resorted to stabbing him with a knife, but nothing worked. And she said that after she
stabbed him he looked at her as if to say, “Why’d you do that to me, Mom?” Because apparently that was what the relationship was like, no different than between a human mother
and a human child.
ZERZAN: Hmm.
LANZA: So after the stabbing, she called the police, who arrived twelve minutes after the
attack, at which point her friend was pretty close to dead. And once the cruiser came up,
Travis went over to it, tried to open the locked passenger door. He smashed off the side-view
mirror, went over to the driver’s door, opened it, and the cop shot him. He fled back into the
house, where he went to his playroom and bled to death.
ZERZAN: Hmm .. .
LANZA: And um, [chuckles] this might not seem very relevant, but I’m bringing it up because
afterward, everyone was condemning his owner for saying how irresponsible she was for
raising a chimp like it was a child. And that she should have known something like this
would happen, because chimps aren’t supposed to be living in civilization, they’re supposed
to be living in the wild, among each other.
ZERZAN: Mhmm.
LANZA: But, their criticism stops there and the implication is that there’s no way anything
could have gone wrong in his life if he had been living in this civilization as a human rather
than a chimp.
ZERZAN: Ah, indeed.
LANZA: [And?] I’m so interested in Travis, um, because he brings up questions about this
whole process of child-raising. Um.
ZERZAN: Yeah.
LANZA: Civilization isn’t something which just happens to gently exist without us having
to do anything, because every newborn child — human child — is born in a chimp-like state,
and civilization is only sustained by conditioning them for years on end so that they’ll accept
it for what it is. And since we’ve gone through this conditioning, we can observe a human
family raising a human child, and I’m sure that even you have trouble intuitively seeing it
as something unnatural, but when we see a chimp in that position, we [visually?] know that
there’s something profoundly wrong with the situation. And it’s easy to say there’s something
wrong with it simply because it’s a chimp, but what’s the real difference between us and our
closest relatives? Travis wasn’t an untamed monster at all. Um, he wasn’t just feigning domestication, he was civilized. Um, he was able to integrate into society, he was a chimp actor
when he was younger, and his owner drove him around the city frequently in association with
her towing business, where he met many different people, and got along with everyone. If
Travis had been some nasty monster all his life, it would have been widely reported, but to
the contrary, it seems like everyone who knew him said how shocked they were that Travis
had been so savage, because they knew him as a sweet child. And — there were two isolated
incidents early in his life when he acted aggressively, but summarizing them would take
too long, so basically I’ll just say that he didn’t act really any differently than a human child
would, and the people who would use that as an indictment against having chimps live as
humans do wouldn’t apply the same thing to humans, so it’s just kind of irrelevant.
ZERZAN: Mhmm.
LANZA: But anyway, look what civilization did to him: it had the same exact effect on him as
it has on humans. He was profoundly sick, in every sense of the term, and he had to resort
to these surrogate activities like watching baseball, and looking at pictures on a computer
screen, and taking Xanax. He was a complete mess.
ZERZAN: Mhm.
LANZA: And his attack wasn’t simply because he was a senselessly violent, impulsive chimp.
Um, which was how his behavior was universally portrayed. Um, immediately before his
attack, he had desperately been wanting his owner to drive him somewhere, and the best
reason I can think of for why he would want that, looking at his entire life, would be that
some little thing he experienced was the last straw, and he was overwhelmed by the life that
he had, and he wanted to get out of it by changing his environment, and the best way that
he knew how to deal with that was by getting his owner to drive him somewhere else.
ZERZAN: Yeah.
LANZA: And when his owner’s — owner’s friend arrived, he knew that she was trying to coax
him back into his life of domestication, and he couldn’t handle that, so — he attacked her, and
anyone else who approached them. And dismissing his attack as simply being the senseless
violence and impulsiveness of a chimp, instead of a human, is wishful thinking at best.
ZERZAN: Mmm-hmm.
LANZA: His attack can be seen entirely parallel to the attacks and random acts of violence
that you bring up on your show every week —
ZERZAN: Mmm ...
LANZA: — committed by humans, which the mainstream also has no explanation for, and —
ZERZAN: No.
LANZA: — and actual humans — I just don’t think it would be such a stretch to say that he
very well could have been a teenage mall shooter or something like that.
ZERZAN: Yeah, yeah.
LANZA: And —
ZERZAN: Wow. Thank you, Greg.
LANZA: Yeah, I —
ZERZAN: That’s quite a story. Yeah, that’s, uh, really apropos, isn’t it.
LANZA: Yeah.
ZERZAN: Travis the Chimp.
LANZA: It’s just that I’m a little surprised that I never heard you bring it up at all because
[chuckles] maybe I’m just seeing connections where there aren’t any, but —
ZERZAN: Not — I think not, no, I just, I didn’t catch that one, I didn’t, uh — maybe I was out
of the country or something, I don’t know but I missed it. Thanks very much, man.
LANZA: Thank you. Bye.
ZERZAN: Take care. Wow. Very well articulated, I think. Okay, well, uh, uh, I guess we
better move on .. .",1,Specific Threats,Transcript of Adam Lanza’s Call to AnarchyRadio,12/20/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_anarchyradio_1.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"There has been a great deal of controversy regarding Disney films. I believe that they
should be boycotted for including such deplorable images",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",4/10/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"My favorite two are Bloody Wednesday (It was significantly better than The Shining even
with its many editing errors) and Stalking Laura. It’s impressively detailed for a “The following is based on a true story.” movie, like it’s the more fictionally-oriented Richard
Farley version of Zero Hour. It’s my favorite movie of any genre.

I’m probably the only one here who would like Bloody Wednesday, but Stalking Laura is
completely different. You should definitely see that one.

I had the same reaction. I was wondering “Where is this going?” when he was being
chased in the hotel, and then the teddy bear suddenly blew me away.
I originally found out about the movie by looking up George Sodini videos last year. One
of them was the restaurant shooting scene with a title like “Pittsburgh shooting caught on
security cameras”.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",7/5/2010,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Hamsters. Everything about them is amazing.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",4/20/2010,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I'm not him and I'm not from there. I saw some of his videos several years ago and began
watching his vlog in April. I think it's hilarious, so I posted it.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/27/2010,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I've been considering posting a topic sort of indirectly pertaining to the subject of gay
bullying ever since Tyler Clementi killed himself, but I've been a bit hesitant because it
will probably make me appear deranged.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/30/2010,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
That water had better not be flavored!,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/31/2010,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I agree with NIN. Why would you be proud that you were born in a random place and
sycophantically accepted being indoctrinated by the arbitrary beliefs your society imposed
onto you? I have a lot of animosity for the notion of geographical culture.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/31/2010,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"You're attributing too much value to it. People change, and they say things which to begin
with are either inaccurate or completely false.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/5/2010,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"While Jared Loughner apparently is one of the very few mass murderers who is
legitimately delusional (Although I haven't completely determined that yet; crimes which
receive a lot of media attention sort of irritate me and I usually defer reading about them
for a while), he would have likely said exactly the same thing if Jared Loughner had been
phenomenally eloquent. Like everyone, he advises to treat the symptoms rather than
determining whatever causes there may be. Overall, he was fumbling around not saying
anything meaningful.
The way which this particular incident is being treated is frustrating to me. Jiverly Voong
inflicted a similar number of casualties with more than double the deaths not too long
ago, and he was virtually ignored compared to this. I hate how the lives of state-sanctioned
thugs are treated as if they're more valuable than that of anyone else.",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/11/2911,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The absence of Modern Talking offends my sensibilities. No girl could resist their luscious
hair and cheerful good-looks.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/13/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Edit: I'm sorry; I didn't see that. LS1's formatting is pretty unappealing so this was one of
the extremely rare times where I didn't read the entire topic before posting.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/22/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I'm still waiting for a mass shooter who eschews 9mm pistols and instead buys an AK-47
pistol, 30 30-round magazines, and 1000 hollow points....",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/26/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"They would. Dead people in general receive more respect and blind compassion than they
ever would have had while alive. I don't understand it",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/27/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
I castrated myself when I was 15 to rebel against society.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/31/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"It seems like an irrelevant question to be concerned about. No one can obtain knowledge
about what happens after death, nor if anything is required to do for the deceased. If
some ritual was necessary, no one could know about it nor have any knowledge about
the requirements of it. Perhaps there's a magical platypus who requires that you burn a
wooden effigy of a hamster so that the deceased can ride it to the gates of Valhalla.
From observing other people who have died, the only conclusion which can be reached
is that nothing happens. Treating death as if it's the end of everything would be the most
prudent course of action because believing that something happens is contrary to the
observable world of the life which you are certain about having, thus deluding you into
behaving in a way which could negatively impact your life.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"It's a loaded question which requires that you think of any of the relationships in your life,
romantic or otherwise, in an immutable traditional context instead of an association of
two particular individuals",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
I'm sure that a reformed government could solve their problems!,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",1/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"(Incidentally, certain further evaluations which someone could have about the person
who's kissing/asking were included for the answers (cute/chivalrous/throwing
themselves/spontaneity/insecurity), but I'll pretend that the answers are only ""Yes"",
""Maybe"", and ""No"".)
Perhaps I shouldn't have answered at all (especially considering how inaccurately I
phrased it), but I'll try to describe what I meant:
For anyone to give a meaningful answer to the fundamental question which I think you're
asking (""Do you consider it generally desirable for someone to ask before kissing?"") from which someone could potentially learn and modify their behavior accordingly,
it would need to have an unimaginable number of variables and qualifiers. However,
even if answers could be given for the impossibly detailed question, they would end up
becoming meaningless because they would be so specific to the situation. That's why for
the fundamental question to be reasonably asked, it understandably needs to include a
particular scenario. In this case, it is a traditional end-of-date scenario between a potential
romantic couple. That brings with it innumerable preconceived assumptions about the
hypothetical relationship between the two people. We can only answer according to our
interpretations of the context of the contrived relationship itself, eliminating the value
of any of our answers. Basically, because of all of this, we can't accurately answer the
question which you're really wanting to ask.
I can't honestly answer with ""Maybe"". No matter how it is asked, I don't think that the
fundamental question itself can ever be reasonably answered at all. Although it's possible
that I'm genuinely not intelligent enough to figure out how I could provide an appropriate
answer to the question.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I haven't looked into this much in the past couple of years, but I can think of a few
reasons as to why he killed 1 and injured 19. I vaguely remember reading that most of the
injuries were inflicted to limbs, which are rarely fatal. I also remember him complaining
about this:
""When My Rifle Misfires And I Gotta Stand There For 60 Seconds Waiting For It To Fire,
Or Not"".
He was describing this:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hang_fire
It's uncommon for high-quality ammunition to hang fire. If he was using the same cheap
cartridges for his massacre, then the bullets were likely full metal jacketed.
Beyond that, his 9mm Beretta Cx4 Storm innately wasn't a particularly effective firearm.
The difference in velocity between a 9mm rifle and 9mm pistol is usually 15% at best. The
benefits which a 9mm rifle has for a novice are basically its reduced recoil and greater
distance between the front and rear sights. It allows faster and more accurate shots,
although that was inconsequential for Kimveer Gill if he was aiming as poorly as I assume
he was.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/6/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"You believe that a degenerate capitalistic system results in a commodification of sexuality.
This enables the creation of a cultural notion that premarital sexuality is acceptable. This
results in sexuality becoming widespread. This has three primary consequences:
The first is that there are some males who believe that the existence of this attitude of
sexuality is a justification of date rape, which causes instances of it to increase. The
second is that the existence of this attitude destroys the significance of marriages. Fewer
people get married, and of the people who do get married, more divorce. The third is that
the prevalence of sexuality results in more abortions, and more unwanted children, than
would otherwise result.
You believe that it would be desirable to outlaw premarital sex to cause a gradual cultural
shift away from all of this. And I would like you to briefly elaborate on something so that
I can better understand your position. What is it about marriage that appeals to you, and
why do you oppose the prevalence of divorces?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",4/15/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Elisabell wrote:
Is this any good?
I’m a little skeptical of anything dubbed a Lifetime movie.
The best movie I've seen about a mass shooting was from Lifetime. Other than the
issue of portraying Richard Farley as a cute engineer instead of a creepy technician, its
immense amount of accurate details warrants its ""based on a true story"" status.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XhhFVDhv4g",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/10/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"For anyone who doesn't know, Sabratha (a member who used to post here) was part of a
group which created an excellent school shooting movie.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynCD5hLbDLI",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/10/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"One of the major reasons why Columbine is still a (relatively) popular topic in recent years
is because of the potential it allows for speculation. This would not exist if they had lived
because their actual thoughts and experiences, the contents of the basement tapes/Nixon
tape, and everything like that would probably be well-known.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"He's the ultimate stalker.
Events prior to and on February 16, 1988:
Laura Black testified concerning defendant's efforts to establish a personal relationship
with her. She recalled that they met in the spring of 1984. Soon thereafter, defendant
invited her to socialize with him, but she declined. Defendant continued to extend social
invitations to her without success, to call her on the telephone, to leave her gifts, and to
attend her aerobics classes and company softball games. Black testified that she changed
her residence three times between July 1985 and February 1988, but defendant obtained
her new address each time, and surreptitiously obtained a key to one of these residences.
Between the fall of 1984 and February 1988, she received approximately 150 to 200 letters
from defendant, including two letters he sent to her parents' home in Virginia where
she was visiting in December 1984. She had not provided him with her parents' address.
Various employees of ESL attempted to stop defendant's harassment of Black, and
defendant reacted either defiantly or by threatening to commit violent acts.
After the January 1986 meeting with Tuffley and Lindauer, defendant confronted Black
at her residence's parking lot. Black testified that defendant mentioned guns, told her he
no longer was going to ask Black what to do and said he was going to tell her what to do.
Black further testified that the weekend after this encounter, she received a letter from
defendant stating he would not kill her, but referencing “a whole range of options,
each getting worse and worse.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/11/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The basement tapes must have included the third and fourth shooters. Fortunately for us,
unredacted sections of the 11k reveal that their names are Erik Kleboldt and Dylon Haris.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/12/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I don't see how it's more disgusting than a pill derived from any other animal. If anything,
it seems slightly less disgusting.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/16/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"But what if someone decided to pull off your boxers? Your contingency plan must involve
at least one extra layer. Modesty must be maintained at all costs.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I don't like holidays, but I would say Halloween. It marks the beginning of my favorite
time of the year, November-December, when the sunlight always seems to be its dimmest.
Because of the snow, January and February always seem to be intolerably bright. I hate the
sun so much.
In any event, it's neat that Halloween is the only widely-observed holiday which sort of has
the potential to be tied to despair",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/20/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The episode I think you're talking about involved a potential school shooting. I remember
seeing a part of it in a hotel in the early 2000s, but I had no idea what it was from. I finally
found out toward the end of last year.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_0iwLQAA3M",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/27/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"YouTube has a zero-tolerance policy for Columbine videos because of Pekka Auvinen.
[On Auvinen, see schoolshooters.info/pekka-eric-auvinen.]",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I don't mean it in a literal sense, and I can't elaborate because there has never been
a relevant policy announcement or anything like that. Vaguely going by what I can
remember, Pekka Auvinen's final video brought attention to the fan videos which were
prevalent on YouTube at the time. This caused any video which might be arbitrarily
construed as supporting the Columbine shooters to be removed. I don't remember there
being any issues with Columbine videos prior to that, with videos",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/2/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Wasn't one of Jared Loughner's victims born on 9/11/2001? In one case, it's an omen
of impending destruction. In another, it's somehow a paragon of hope in the future
or something like that. What would we do without the enlightenment which astrology
provides for us?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/3/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"In a ""My political ideology finally gets some attention"" sense, a ""Someone finally outdid
Woo Bum-kon"" sense, a ""He looks so cute in those compression jammies"" sense, or what?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/4/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"You might not have centipedes in your house, but I'm sure you have more types of
spiders, snakes, and giant ants than I can count, box jellyfish lurking somewhere in the
refrigerator, and wombats roaming the halls.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/5/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"What, you don't believe that they faked their deaths and skipped down to Mexico? Eric
already did it once: I'm sure he'd do it again, this time taking his emo sidekick with him.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/6/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"That's ridiculous. According to Lola from the old acolumbinesite guestbook, Eric's spirit is
waiting for her to be impregnated by his parents so that she can give birth to him again.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/7/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I'm normally not interested in non-Kaczynski bombers, but the format and organization
of everything involved was such an impressive instance of mass murder self-actualization
that it seemed fictional. I wouldn't call it encouraging, but it seemed motivational enough
in some sense that it was the kind of thing you would find in a particularly macabre selfimprovement book. Probably owing to watching too many mass murder movies, reading
excerpts like this almost had me at the edge of my seat in anticipation:
Mad_Breivik wrote:
On my way home to the farm I noticed what I believed to be a civilian police vehicle
south of the southern town (30km from the farm). At this point in time I remembered
I had forgotten to turn on the lights on the car since I tested out my blue LED lights
the day before. Hmm, they should have stopped me for this violation. Very weird. As
I came closer to the farm I noticed what I believed to be another civilian police car.
Damn, I got a really bad feeling about this and my instincts told me I was about to
be apprehended. Too many red flags were lit. I stopped 500 meters before the farm
entrance and had a smoke, preparing mentally for a potential welcoming party at
the farm. What should I do if I was about to be SWAT raped by a 6 or 12 man team?
I didn't have any weapons available as they were all inside the main house. Should I
make a run for it, if so, where would I go? Would I have time to fetch my evacuation
kit, and should I try to get it and shoot my way out?
After the break I approached the farm, and turned on the fog lights on the car so
that I could have an advantage should they approach me from the front. I stopped 50
meters north of the main house and I was shocked at the sight that awaited me...! The
barn door was wide open!!! Someone was here! They were probably circling me right
now or waiting for me inside the main house! I waited 20 minutes with the fog light
aimed straight at the direction I expected them to come from. Perhaps they are not
here, maybe they just installed monitoring equipment like they often do? I entered the
house, picked up the glock and searched the house and the barn.
Nothing. I began searching for monitoring equipment, nothing...
Paranoia can be a good thing, or it can be a curse. The barn door had probably been
opened by the wind. I decided then and there that I would not allow paranoia to get
the best of me again. If they were to come for me one day, there was really nothing I
could do about it, so it would not be constructive to worry about it.
Although just between you and me... It really was just the compression jammies, wasn't
it?",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/8/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Someone has a fetish for property rights.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",8/9/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Are you underweight? I used to think that I was asexual, but the primary reason why I
thought that was because my BMI was 14.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I found that song about a month ago through Google because someone in the comments
for a video of it said that it was about Robert Hawkins. ""Robert"" was apparently an
arbitrarily selected name from what I could find, though, which is especially obvious
considering that it has nothing to do with him other than how he took his stepfather's
AK-47.
For trivia's sake, I know of four other young mass shooters whose names were Robert:
Robert Smith, November 12, 1966 (Who actually did use a ""six-shooter"")
Robert Poulin, October 27, 1975
Robert Sartin, April 30, 1989
Robert Steinhauser, April 26, 2002
In any event, that song is waaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy too repetetive for me to listen to without
throwing a hissy fit. I've been constantly listening to this one since last year and I still love
it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYThXZdLaX0&fmt=18",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/2/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"A while ago, ellesieg posted a link to a documentary which was made by the same guy
who wrote the book on which that movie was based.
ellesieg wrote:
Has anyone seen Jon Ronson's documentary ""Death in Santaland""? I'm a big fan of his
and it's damn good Christmas viewing if you're morbid and have seen It's a Wonderful
Life one too many times. The whole thing is available here:
http://www.megavideo.com/?d=42H3TALK
The documentary centers upon the discovery of a ""Columbine-style"" plot at North Pole
Middle School in North Pole, Alaska, a Christmas-themed town. It involved 15 middleschoolers and apparently didn't work out only because the kid who was supposed to
bring the guns didn't show.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/3/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"They were talking to the third shooter. Apparently, he wasn't with them and ended up
fleeing the country, never to be heard from again.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/4/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Quote:
atleast these columbine kids wont shoot everyone. they'll just interpretive dance at us
until we die.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/5/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"TheGunSource was the online dealer who sold some of the equipment that mass shooters
Cho Seung-hui, Steven Kazmierczak, and George Sodini used, probably among others",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/6/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"How about how Mad_Bomber has been here for three years and he still hasn't gone on a
rampage? I thought he would've been on my catalog of mass murderers by now. :?
Uh oh, now I have to behave aggressively to coerce you into behaving in a way which is
consistent with the fulfillment of my values.
But it's just not the same thing when you're cooperative. :(",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Guns? I've got all the guns I need.
*Flexes 9"" biceps*

Kip Kinkel used a rifle and two pistols.
sawn-off Ruger 10/22 (one 50-round magazine)
Glock 19 (one shot while being tackled)
Ruger Mark II (Unused)",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/2/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I can imagine his mother trying to wash his pants and finding his 50-round TEC-9
magazine in one of the pockets.
""Mom, it's just a computer part!""",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/3/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Oh, dear... Is it wrong that I want to go to a hoedown now?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/4/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"But hamster pups are infinitely superior.
http://www.treehugger.com/real-hamster.jpg
Oh, now look what you did! You should’ve known that hamsters have low self-esteem! Say
you’re sorry

So you can sacrifice it as a part of your Satanic rituals?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/5/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Hurray, we've got a new Mad_Bomber!",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/6/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I looked up a bunch of Hoarders episodes earlier this month. As a compulsive organizer,
I like to imagine how much pleasure I would get from throwing out everything in those
places. My favorite hoarder was Andy.
http://videobb.com/video/rBgFYzraAcJ1

I forgot about Willard. That place was like a utopia.
http://www.novamov.com/video/hexk9xa8urpyg

Were they talking about Kimveer Gill?

Yes. I don't quote people when I post directly after them, because eye-contact upsets me. :(",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/7/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I think I found it through Google toward the end of 2006. I didn't register for years
because it seemed like the kind of website which would get you on a terrorist watch-list.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/8/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Mad_Bomber, we know you think that the board is dead, but you don't have to troll
around to make it more interesting",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/9/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Females generally kill in a more personal context than males do, so I would expect there
to have not been explosives, and the target selection would have been less random. There
have been a lot of mass murders committed by females, but they almost always take the
form of familicide. At least 98% of indiscriminate rampage killers are male.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/10/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Don't leave us hangin', bro! Make sure you upload your basement tapes before you pull a
Travis!",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/11/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"This is among the most hilarious things I've seen in my life. It's a tribute video to a
chimpanzee who snapped and went on a biting spree a couple of years ago. The humor
that I find in this is the way the video itself and its comments are parallel to the kind of
tributes you can find on YouTube for murderers like Alyssa Bustamante, where there
are comments saying, ""It's not her fault! She's mentally ill and needed help!"", and others
saying, ""This cold-blooded emo bitch deserves to get hanged!"".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4V0GwM8CiQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vMsUcD_Cgc
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Travis_the_Chimp
My favorite comments:
""That's a beautiful tribute to Travis I cried! Thanks so much for making it and sharing it.
We love you Travis!""
""The true murderer is the zanax travis was on. If that can do bad things to humans than
its worse for chimps.""
""This video is a homage to a MURDERER. Fucking monkey, I'm glad you're DEAD.""
""Travis belonged to the jungle with his fellow chimps ! HE is the victim of human
egotism and exploitation ! RIP in Heaven's Jungle Travis + Best wishes of recovery to
Charla Nash!""",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/12/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
You've unlocked the secret of why Columbine happened!,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/13/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I think it's funny how East Asians seem to think that Nixon is characteristic of common
Western names
Are you implying that you believe the Elephant interpretation of their relationship?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/14/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Yeah, those ballistic vests can get heavy, Mad_Bomber_Junior! Make sure you stay buff!",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/15/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Therapists are secular priests who assert that they have some ""truth"", and if your values
deviate, then you are ""wrong"". Hence, The Rapist. They impose their values onto you
through their mindfucking",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/16/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"You mean to say you haven't seen any of tyler's trolling? He's obviously boasting about
how he would have gone on a rampage by that time and would have subsequently died.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/17/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Oh, yeah. DJs are those people who splice together music...
You've given me a purpose in life! I shall henceforth be known as DJ Smiggie-Smug,
bridging the previously-intractable gap between death metal and disco. I'm going to be
even more hardcore than Modern Talking! I won't let you down!",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/18/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Fine. I'll just keep my collection of Barbie Girl covers to myself.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/19/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Right on, RegalSin! Stick it to TheRapists!",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",9/20/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Maybe he missed the readily-available TEC-9s,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"He was ignored because it happened on an Indian reservation and everyone was freaking
out about whether or not Terry Schiavo should continue to flop around.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Wearing glasses might have provoked Eric into picking on him and shooting him in the
face.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I'm not going to bother addressing you because I know that someone like you wants to
troll, but to prevent him from misrepresenting my position, I must affirm that I am not
remotely superstitious.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Say whatever you wish, but I know that my love for RegalSin is real.",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Good work, lporter! We finally have authentic photographic evidence of the gym incident
where Dylan was running around pushing people.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Meaning, only the teachers who propagated ideologies that differed from his.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Is that a challenge?
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncumpyOGkdA
The guide who ferried them across the border after they managed to fake their deaths.
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2SXAcBOGBk
The judge who would have sentenced them. Considering how televised the shooting was,
you can't tell me that they wouldn't have been tried on that show.
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IiLZ0dvDWU
An obscure advertisement which Eric starred in when he was a toddler.
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOA-2hl1Vbc
Eric tried to sound tough by pretending to listen to his metal music or whatever it was,
but he actually blasted this while driving in his car.
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MF5OxlJCtQ
What Eric -really- listened to while only in the privacy of his basement.
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKgYjplon2I
A recreation of the events of prom night at Eric's house. Actually, the events of every night
at Eric's house.
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8A3zetSuYRg
Dylan in drama class. He told his friends that he only handled the lighting because he was
embarrassed.
lporter101 wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4ByXqyCXRw
Obama singing to the mix tape that Eric worked on with his homies in the early '90s.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""But if you outlaw guns, only outlaws will have guns!""
Conservatives really piss me off. Actually, everyone does",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
I never dress up. Clothes are for slaves to civilization.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Despite the main ""chimp"" being an orangutan, I wonder if Travis ever stayed up late to
watch this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ly-37jyTOR4",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I suppose that an attempted Top 25 would encompass most of what ""favorite"" entails.
1971 Let's Scare Jessica To Death
1971 Willard
1972 Crawlspace
1972 Haunts of the Very Rich
1972 Private Parts
1972 Folks at Red Wolf Inn
1972 Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things
1973 The Baby
1973 Messiah of Evil
1973 Don't Look in the Basement
1973 The Killing Kind
1974 Bad Ronald
1975 Lemora: A Child's Tale of the Supernatural
1979 Driller Killer
1980 Don't Go in the House
1980 The Attic
1981 The Pit
1983 Night Warning
1985 Deadly Messages
1986 Link
1988 Killer Klowns From Outer Space
1988 Bloody Wednesday
1989 Pin
1989 Beyond Dream's",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"babyxenomorph wrote:
desti wrote:
London born and bred, but maybe be moving to the US soon...if work decides to
send me.
Pretty keen for the states....who wants to marry me so I can stay :lol:
Gay marriage is legal in my state. I was holding out for RegalSin, but you're awful purty...",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
She's obviously an Andrew Golden copykitten. These incidents would stop happening if it weren't for overzealous reporters publicizing them.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Smigglestyle!
Mix:
3 cup oats (The smaller and powderier the better)
1 cup flour (I'm partial to wheat)
1/2 cup water (Adding slightly more later on might help)
3/4 cup peanut butter (Not too liquid, not too solid. Juuust right!)
1/2 cup turbinado-style sugar (The larger the granules the better)
1 teaspoon cinnamon (Ginger sucks)
1/2 teaspoon salt (Fuck anticaking agents)
1/2 cup dried cranberries (The smoother the better)
1/2 cup dried blueberries (The juicier the better)
1/2 cup milk-free chocolate chips (About a cubic centimeter per chip. Mingled units add a
flair of fun!)
Greased cookie trays are for commies.
Bake them for however long you want. Or not at all. They don't have any meat in them,
after all!

The chair recognizes the guy from that gayhappy state for as long as he pleases.
Thank you, Mr. Speaker. I submit for house approval a motion to officially change the
name of Oatmealberry Chipnut Cookies to Oatmealberry Chocochipeanuts. This motion
is designed to help bolster public support for this minority, which is currently obscenely
underrepresented in the media and congress.
(The president barges in)
YOU HAVE MADE AN EXCELLENT POINT, SMIGGLES. I SHALL IMMEDIATELY
SIGN AN EXECUTIVE ORDER TO CHANGE THE NAME OF THESE DELICIOUS
COOKIES.
(Everyone cheers!)
Disco party at the white house!",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Dying in a swordfight against a platypus would be pretty cool. Can you hook me up, baby?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I had known about Targets (1968) for a while, but I expected it to only tack on a Charles
Whitman-style sniper to augment a plot which would have been too lame to stand on its
own. I saw it yesterday, and I was surprised to find that the sniper was the main character,
with the aging actor being the tacked-on character!
I don't know how I can describe it. It's like a blend of Bloody Wednesday and Stalking
Laura. It isn't serious in the various ways that those two can be taken (Yes, I just called
Bloody Wednesday serious in some sense), while still being sincere. It's like what Duck!
should have been. I think it's the most pleasurable movie about a mass shooting that I've seen. And I can forgive the movie for including the incredibly-lame subplot because of
how lightheardedly-awesome the climax of its intersection with the sniper is. If you watch
it, I recommend skipping any scene which doesn't include the Charlie clone; at best, you'll
only be missing some pretentious pseudo-philosophizing about aesthetics.
Anyway, it made me wonder if it was the earliest portrayal of a mass/spree shooting.
Before hearing about Targets, I thought that Thriller: A Cruel Picture was the earliest
one (deliberately ignoring If....). As far as I know, Thriller is still the earliest movie which
portrays a trench-coated shooter (with the ""criminal aura"", not the ""detective aura""). Does
anyone know of any earlier ones, for either of the two categories? Today I saw The Sniper
(1952), which was released when Charles Whitman was still a wee Boy Scout, but the main
character was more of a serial killer. Despite that disappointment, it was still excellent and
presciently anticipated future psychological horrors.
Now that I think of it, I'm sure that Charles Whitman must have snuck into a showing
of The Sniper and eventually ended up imitating what he saw. After all, the sniper in the
movie used a variant of an M1 carbine, which was one of the rifles that was brought up the
Austin tower. What has the media done to our children?",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The trailer seems to agree with my evaluation. The subplot character is thrown onto the
last ten seconds as if to say, ""Hey, look! We've got some famous actor for whom we'll
contrive the faintest justification to include!""
And upon further inspection, I think I've recovered a deleted scene from some alternative
universe in Back To The Future.
http://i1226.photobucket.com/albums/ee4 ... hmarty.gif
And some trivia about that, the head gangster from Bloody Wednesday was the Libyan van
driver! He was ultimately found not guilty for his involvement in the murder of the doctor.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3rh6QLCHRY",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Where's tyler's trolling when you need him? This topic was made for him.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Come on, Mad_Bomber! Get on tyler and answer the ""How do you want to die?"" question!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izSbvMMz_ZM&t=12m18s
I'll take a lesson from Mike and not press you further. Although your answer suffices in
its own special way!~",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The closest things I can think of are Bad Ronald and Horror High, both from 1974,
although I've only seen the first. In 1976 there was a movie called God Told Me To, which
I think starts with a Charlie clone sniping from a building, but I haven't seen that one
either. I would be interested to hear the name of the one you're talking about if you ever
find out, since I've never heard of a school shooting movie that was released in the wake
of Anthony Barbaro, Michael Slobodian, and Robert Poulin.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I saw God Told Me To yesterday. My gaydar indicated that the Charlie clone couldn't have
killed his wife before climbing the water tower. There were several other mass murders,
but even ignoring that entire aspect, the rest of the movie itself was a lot more enjoyable
than I anticipated. And as a side-note, early on in the movie, it was rumored that all of the
murderers had been seen with a man in his early 20s who had shoulder-length blond hair.
More evidence that Martin Bryant was framed?",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"This reminds me of Sabratha's Bullet Time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2zElaWlj0A&t=5m28s
More of you really should see it. I think it's a lot better than Zero Day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynCD5hLbDLI",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I'm watching something which has ""Class Reunion Massacre"" (1978) as an alternative
name. Is that what you were talking about?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Its name is the only part that fits your description. I generally don't like slashers, but I
thought that it was okay.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"All tattoos, all piercings, all body modifications including shaving, and all clothes
themselves are cultural delusions.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"M is for methamphetamine.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GS8GTWOSA60&fmt=18
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QzXY_Tfybc&fmt=18",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Disclaimer: This link contains a ""clown"" that only could have only been conceived from a
nightmare.
It may be terrifying, but you won't be able to overcome your phobia until you confront it!
Brace yourself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeJ8-vCh4LA",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
You're not a very good poser. You're supposed to be lauding Traces of Death!,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"That song really irritates me. This is the much better one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYThXZdLaX0
In any event, that ""Pumped Up Kicks"" song isn't even about Robert Hawkins.

The average age of the people that Robert Hawkins shot was 49. That doesn't seem to be
getting back at kids who have redundantly pumped-up kicks. If the song really is based
off of him, they did a pretty terrible job in making it relevant when you compare it to
something like I Don't Like Mondays, let alone the Omaha Shopping Mall Blues.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Aww, AbuseTheSoul, you were supposed to say, ""Why would I need to rest my weary legs
when I'm just gonna chop 'em off tomorrow?""",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"This reminds me of http://blog.cleveland.com/metro/2007/12 ... about.html
Quote:
Coon placed a collect call Tuesday from the Cuyahoga County Jail to The Plain Dealer
after reading a story about a police officer being disciplined for snapping a picture
of Asa's bloody body that circulated on the Internet. ""Is there really a photo on the
Internet?"" he asked. ""Man, that's messed up. I didn't know. Can it be taken down?""",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I can't stop thinking about how much this song annoys me. Even if it wasn't so lame, it
would still bother me that they used the name ""Robert"". Now one of my favorite mass
shooters has been turned into a trendy stereotypical poster child of school shootings just
because of his age, despite having nothing to do with the school shooter archetype. They
could have used Michael, or Evan, or Barry, which would literally fit in with the whole
""cowboy kid"" thing.

Jealous of what? I don't understand what you mean.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I just saw The Deadly Tower (1975). It's a 44 Minutes-style docudrama of Charles
Whitman. I didn't think it was very good, especially considering all of the inaccuracies",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I really enjoyed this documentary. It was like a mini post-Huberty The Killing of America.
Does anyone know of any others like it?",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",10/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I just saw what is presumably Kurt Havelock's favorite movie, Two-Minute Warning
(1976). It was the lame faceless-sniper kind of movie I thought Targets was going to be
before seeing it.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""Self"" is a delusion and life cannot be anything other than suffering",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Marriage is a mutually destructive cultural delusion.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
I'm still waiting for RegalSin. :(,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Your post confirms you've never wrestled, MnM.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Don't try to seduce me. You already rejected the marriage proposal, and I won't give you
another chance",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""Eric didn't play doom because he wanted to kill people: Eric wanted to kill people because
he played Doom"".
People who are likely to sexually harass are going to seek pornography. Instead of treating
poornography as an external force which floats around trying to corrupt people from some
allegedly-ideal set of behavior, why not ask where a desire for pornography comes from?
Pornography exists as a coping mechanism for an artificial scarcity of sex. And where does
sexual harassment come from? Sexual harassment is a retaliation against, once again, an
artificial scarcity of sex.
Stigmatizing sex and then being aghast that there are consequences is a classic case of
having one's cake and wanting to eat it, too.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"You two are, like, so cool. I wanna grow up to be just as cool as you guys are.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I generally need to average, at the very least, maybe 8.5 hours of sleep per 24 hours. Lately
it's been more than 10.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"It couldn't have taken him too long. He's possibly the biggest stereotype I've ever heard
of. Even Mad_Bomber, our resident Pekka Auvinen, says things that I don't expect, but I
can't remember a single time when AbuseTheSoul posted something which even slightly
surprised me.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I don't think there should be any age of consent, but since no matter what I say everyone
will accuse me of just wanting to justify some latent pedophilia I allegedly have, I will
only say that you need to be attracted to prepubescents to be considered a pedophile. A
50-year-old who is attracted to pubescent 12-year-olds is not a pedophile; a 16-year-old who
is attracted to 8-year-olds is a pedophile.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"If I found the irony of this kind of statutory rape/child support nonsense in fiction, I
would dismiss it as being too excessively implausible to effectively serve as satire.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Serial killers are lame. Everyone knows that mass murderers are the cool kids.,1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I must have forgotten about Tyke because I spend most of my time thinking about
primates, but I just remembered that I saw her video several years ago. The revolution
transcends taxonomic order!
http://www.heart-animals.com/2009/07/de ... phant.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tyke_%28elephant%29",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The guy who wrote Pumped Up Kicks said that the song is about an outcast teenager
losing his mind while plotting revenge without any explicit violence occurring. People
have interpreted that to mean that it's about a school shooting. Because of the name
Robert, Robert Hawkins has now become a stereotypical poster child of school shootings.
If any name other than ""Robert"" had been used for the song, no one would have
associated Robert Hawkins with Pumped Up Kicks. If the name ""Robert"" had still been
in the song, but Robert Hawkins had actually been 32 years old (the average age of
American mass murderers in the last 20 years), again, no one would have associated him
with Pumped Up Kicks. They would have instead said that ""Pumped Up Kicks is surely
about Robert Steinhauser"", not at all because he fits in with it better than anyone else
would have, but merely because his name was ""Robert"". At least with Robert Steinhauser,
it almost sort of vaguely fits in with the interpretation many people have that the song is
about school shootings.
Robert Hawkins's mass murder unquestionably was not a school shooting: he shot up an
upscale shopping store. Without applying my pet theory as to the origin of mass murder,
which you're accusing me of doing, anyone can see that Robert Hawkins did explicitly
share the socioeconomic characteristics of much older mass murderers. Instead of
approaching it through simply stereotyping him as a school shooter who was bullied by
his classmates, it would thus be more accurate to approach it through simply stereotyping
him as maybe being a young version of Mark Barton, with whom he shared many
similarities.
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/i-don ... 09610.html
If you interpret Pumped Up Kicks to be about school shootings and you think that Robert
Hawkins is a better representation for a song about ""an outcast teenager losing his
mind while plotting revenge without any explicit violence"" than Evan Ramsey or Michael
Carneal would have been; and if you think that Pumped Up Kicks has more to do with
Robert Hawkins in particular than the Omaha Shopping Mall Blues does, then I don't
know what I can say.
It's akin to saying that I Don't Like Mondays was about Charles Whitman. I mean, in a
sense I guess it could be, but it would be absurd to say that it's a better representation of
him than it is of Brenda Spencer; and if you want to think of I Don't Like Mondays being
about Charles Whitman, it would be absurd to say that this song,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlBuoBV-Sa0
has less to do with Charles Whitman than I Don't Like Mondays does.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"How incompetent does his attorney have to be to bring up Humpty Dumpty when he's
being charged with throwing someone off of a bridge?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Ambisinistrous. :(,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
I'm assuming you're a baby due to your name,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Eek, marriage and natural in the same sentence makes me cringe",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Babies can't be xenomorphs.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""I thought that this eerily sounded like a Britney Spears song, and I turned out to not be
the only one.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oD1lMo5MBpI""",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Eric shaved his hair because he was tired of women lustfully tearing it out while he was
making love to them, and Dylan had long hair so that his fringe could shield him from
the sorrows of the world",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",11/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Post Richard Farley footage
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fMH5O-SSCk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvuhvqW3lSk
I had only seen two photographs and one video before this.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/e ... Farley.jpg
http://www.truthmedia.8k.com/images/laurablack.jpg
http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=f44_1172095609
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Farley
http://columbinegame.com/discuss/viewtopic.php?t=4205
ESL's 11k:
http://caselaw.findlaw.com/ca-supreme-c ... 95931.html
The best ""The following is based on a true story"" movie I've seen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XhhFVDhv4g
And here's some fun website:
http://turbulence.org/Works/stalkingsocial/blacknwhite/",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Other than the whole ""Robert"" thing, the only indication that Pumped Up Kicks could
be about Robert Hawkins in particular is that he used his stepfather's Kalashnikov; but
that's not something unique to him because, according to the best information that I have
available, around 75% of American <25-year-old mass shooters used firearms which they
didn't legally own, compared to around 25% of American >24-year-old mass shooters.
Instead of being an explicit reference to Robert Hawkins, it could just be a throwaway
reference to a common aspect of young mass shooters.
Anyway, diverging from my whining, I serendipitously rediscovered Robert C. Bonelli Jr.
after having forgotten about him for a while.
http://goathillstudio.com/albums/media% ... oto_13.jpg
The only explicit information that I could find about him regarding his teenage years
was that he had dropped out of high school at age 16. At age 24, he was an extremely
shy outsider who was constantly worried about being picked on for being reportedly 260
pounds at 5'10"". His duplex neighbor said that he was ""the kind of kid who gets picked
on in high school"". His uncle said that he had an inferiority complex, always being selfconscious about the way he looked, his weight, and how no girl would ever want him.
Along with being depressed for many previous years, he had been having trouble with
alcohol and drug abuse.
He spent almost all of his time alone in his room where he kept ""a shrine of Columbine
memorabilia"", which included newspaper clippings, ""TV documentaries about 'the darker
side' of Columbine"", and news accounts & pictures printed from the internet, along with a
picture of Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold taped to his wall. He had a video which included
him building and exploding pipe bombs with two other local dropouts, one of whom's
girlfriend said that he had frequently spoken about killing himself.
It's rumored that he also had multiple bootlegs of the album which contains this song: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6sZokeNzYw&t=16s
If he didn't actually have it, I'm sure that he would have if he had known about it.
He repeatedly took cocaine early in the morning of Sunday, February 13, 2005. Possibly
precipitated by a girl rejecting his friendship several days earlier, he decided to kill
himself. Dressed in black, he left a suicide note at his house, borrowed his father's car,
and drove to the Hudson River with the Hesse Model 47 he had legally bought at a gun
show four months earlier. He held the rifle to his head but couldn't kill himself. He drove
around aimlessly, and saw a police car in the parking lot of the Hudson Valley Mall in
Kingston, New York. He decided to get the police to publicly kill him.
He wrote a second suicide note at some point and left it in his car. The only information
I could find on either of them was from the second one, which included the Dylan quote,
""The lonely man strikes with absolute rage"". He had written somewhere (I don't know
any details) that he had been wanting to do this before the Columbine anniversary. About
an hour prior to the shooting, he went to a Walmart to buy ammunition and returned
to the mall. He considered waiting until the coming Monday to do it at a school, but
demonstrably decided against it. He parked in front of the Best Buy (presumably the most
convenient entrance, going by Google satellite) and sat in his car for twenty minutes. Just
before 3:15 PM, he picked up his rifle and walked toward the mall.
He shot three times at the front door, which caused ricocheting bullet fragments and
shrapnel to superficially hit his first victim. The victim's daughter's purse and pants were
each penetrated once, but she remained uninjured. Once he entered the Best Buy, he
spent the next seven minutes aimlessly shooting in the store. He never shot from the
shoulder and most of the bullets struck the ceiling and floor. The most aiming he did
involved shooting from his hip at televisions and blank walls. He had many opportunities
to shoot people but bypassed all of them. He reloaded once and eventually left the Best
Buy, entering the main corridor where he spent the next two minutes shooting out store
displays while walking toward the center of the mall. It was here that he shot his second
victim in the knee. When he had expended all of his ammunition, he dropped his rifle
and calmly surrendered. He was subsequently sentenced to 32 years in prison.
Robert Bonelli and Robert Hawkins (who both went by Robbie) both used AK-47 variants
(although Bonelli's was a very cheap model), and both of them had two 30-round
magazines (although Bonelli's weren't fancily jungle-taped together like Hawkins's). While
Robert Hawkins used 2/3 of it and killed eight people and injured four, Robert Bonelli
used all of it, but only directly shot one person and indirectly shot a second. The only
time that I'm aware of Robert Hawkins deliberately shooting at anything other than a
human was when he shot a teddy bear, but none of Robert Bonelli's shots were deliberate.
Likewise, I cannot seeing anything which indicated that Robert Hawkins had been
significantly affected by (the conventional interpretation of) bullying nor peer rejection,
but Robert Bonelli seems to be a different case.
If any ""Robert"" fits in with the school shooting interpretation of the song about ""an
outcast teenager losing his mind while plotting revenge without any explicit violence"",
it's Robert Bonelli, not Robert Hawkins. The only issue is that he was 24 years old, not a
teenager; but Robert Hawkins was practically the same age, being less than a half a year
from 20. Anyway, ""teenager"" was my word, with the Pumped Up Kicks guy always saying
""kid"" and ""youth"".
Robert Bonelli still doesn't fit in with it better than Evan Ramsey or Michael Carneal
would. And Pumped Up Kicks is still a really lame song",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I was just thinking this morning about Virginia Tech and your age group. It feels strange
how vtreviewpanel.org has been offline for months as if everything about the shooting
is over and done with and no one would notice its absence. It still seems so recent, but
it happened 1/3 of your life ago. Do you know how aware your peers are of it? Do you personally have any memories of it?",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Serious question: Is there any distinction between the usage of ""He had the devil in him""
and the marginally more nuanced ""He was afflicted by psychopathy""?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Robert A. Hawkins ""goes out in style"" by bringing his stepfather's Kalashnikov to the
Westroads Mall in Omaha Nebraska, killing eight and injuring four before killing himself.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westroads_Mall_shooting
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/file/omaha ... tes?page=0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pU5f2lIKf-E
http://ia700600.us.archive.org/1/items/ ... 587218.mp3
http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/video?id=3994163
A photograph of him when he was four.
http://a1.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/imag ... fe6f/l.jpg
A photograph of him when he was six, with his sister, Valencia.
http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/imag ... 4c81/l.jpg
And from 2007:
A photograph of his stepfather (Mark) and his younger sisters, Kira and Valencia.
http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/imag ... 70c2/l.jpg
A photograph of his older sister, Cynthia.
http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/imag ... ed3a/l.jpg
I don't know who Zach and Cayla are, but this is a photograph of them.
http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/imag ... b48d/l.jpg",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"That was State's Evidence (2006). It was only one of them who wanted to do the school
shooting.
[In response to post: “Wondering if someone can help me find the movie
I’m looking for. I’ve watched it before but can’t remember the name of it.
A group of teens plan to shoot up their school or kill themselves in it (can’t
remember which) but change their mind. One of the kids gets pissed and
shoots up the school in the end. I believe the shooter also rapes a young
girl earlier in the movie.”]",1,Planned Violence,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Culture. I've been pissed out of my mind all night thinking about it. I should have been
born a chimp. I would even settle for a post-language hunter-gatherer society.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Enculturing human children is already terrifying enough, but enculturing other apes is
something out of the cruelest nightmare. I don't know of anything more worthy of crying
over. Rest in peace, little buddy. You're free from the rape of civilization now.

I should call in on John Zerzan's radio program about Travis. I'm really surprised that I
haven't been able to find anything he's written or said about the incident, considering how
often he brings up random acts of violence. It seems like Travis would be a poster-chimp
of his philosophy",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"This doesn't seem at all notable as far as ""school violence"" goes compared to when that
guy beheaded that other student at Virginia Tech.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I can't really remember too much about her offhand, but I don't think she had anything to
do with the Columbine archetype of mass murderers and never referenced it. The TruTV
article was good if you want to learn more about her.
http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/noto ... hop/1.htm",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I hate every facet of language, along with the entire concept of aesthetics.",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I spent all day ruminating over how much I hate culture. Now I've calmed down and am
left lying on the floor, numbly perplexed over the foreign concept of loving life.",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Any place and any time before language infected humans.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The Stepford Wives (1975) upset me. Gory shockumentaries are a joke compared to the
terror of cultural indoctrination.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
In the Shadow of Man.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Don't bother. I barely play any video games, let alone any modern ones, but I bought
it because it was being universally described as the most immersive virtual world
to have ever existed. In actuality, every aspect of the game is designed solely around
the facilitation of its mindless combat system. I was so disappointed that I got 6000
words into typing a review lambasting everything about it until I realized that my
disappointment was my fault for being so foolish as to allow myself to be excited,
especially over something that I should have known would be awful.
[Referring to the PC game Skyrim.]",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"This is the only massacre I can think of where the amount injured was significantly
higher than in the initial reports, instead of the normal drastic reduction.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"There was a student from Columbine who posted here years ago, I think in 2007 or
2008. He apparently got in some trouble for saying how much he hated DeAngelis, or
something like that. I'm sure MnM remembers it better than I do.",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Today I dreamt a Columbine reference for the first time. I've probably never had one
before because I've scarcely ever cared about Columbine.
I began my dream by waking up at age 14 in my extremely dark bedroom during a power
outage. I knew that there were ghoulies outside my locked door, roaming around the rest
of the house. I tried to get my pocket flashlight to work, but it wasn't consistently staying
on. Replacement batteries didn't help, so I instead tried using my backup flashlight: a
partially-filled roll of dimes. I spent a while fumbling around with loose dimes, trying
to fill up the roll, and eventually ""my brother"" came up to the other side of the locked
door. He told me that he needed my help with the ghoulies. I was saying, ""Oh, fuck off.
I know you're not my brother. You yourself are one of the ghoulies"", as I was continuing
to fumble around trying to fill the roll of dimes. I ended up not having enough dimes to
entirely fill it, but at least I had enough for it to give off a dim ray of light. I got out of bed
and prepared for a fight with the ghoulies. I went downstairs as my flashlight dreamvanished, but at this point the rest of the house was dimly lit anyway. As I was about to go
into the kitchen, a huge purple monster with long arms leapt forth from around a corner
and pinned me against a wall. It sort of looked like this:
http://www.raukusbaukus.com/images/grap ... ilcher.jpg
I realized that it was some student I knew when I was 12. He tried talking to me, and
basically said something to the extent of, ""Everyone picked on me for being a huge purple
monster, and so now I'm going to go Columbine. I already went to a bunch of other kids'
houses to find a partner, but they refused my offer, so I ate them. You're next on the list.
Do you want to join me?"". The way it apparently worked was that I could get bitten by him
and then choose which form I wanted to be in at will. I thought, why not get bitten by him
so I could become a cool purple monster whenever I pleased, and then just use my new
monster powers to kill him right after he bites me? So I was like, ""Sure, bro"". He kept
trying to bite different parts of me, but it always ended in me whining, ""Ooowwwwww"",
he would let go, look at the spot, and say, ""I didn't bite long enough! It didn't work"".
We went through this for quite a while, and then I had the thought that, ""You shouldn't
just bite me -anywhere-. It should be high up on my arm so people don't see the mark,
the same reason why doctors inject patients on their arm (dream logic). He rolled up
my sleeve, pointed at my vein, and I said, ""No! Doctors would find out because they
inject there, of course! It has to be higher"". He kept pointing to various places as we
were walking around the house, but none of them seemed suitable to me. He gradually
dream-changed into having an awfully-constructed syringe in his hand with all sorts of
bent needles all over it, and I procrastinated by getting him to talk about the music he
liked. I had decided at this point that I should just kill him rather than wait to get turned
into a cool therianthrope because his needles were really starting to freak me out. Then
I realized, ""Hey, if you were feigning my brother's voice, then that means you must have
killed him!""
I ran down to the basement as he was assuring me he hadn't done anything, and I saw my
brother soundly asleep. I went back up the stairs and saw an opportunity to kill the huge purple monster, seeing as he had transformed into a cardboard box. I shred apart the box
as dawn approached while he was complaining about how confusing I was. ""All the other
students just screamed at me, but you accepted me, and now what are you doing? You're
tearing me apart!"", and I told him to shut up or something like that as I tore apart the last
bit of cardboard.
My brother walked up the stairs, but it wasn't really him! He had been brainwashed into
believing that he was someone else from my childhood, whom I'll call Billy, and he had
even been made up to look sort of like him. I asked him who he thought he was, and
sure enough he said Billy, and that he was moving away to college. I followed him into
the garage, trying to find a way to convince him that he wasn't Billy before it was too late.
Once I entered the garage, my nonexistent kindergarten-age sister was blocking my path
while crying for some reason. I affectionately embraced her in my arms and tenderly
kissed her. She woefully said, ""I don't want you to kiss me"" as her crying got worse. I was
annoyed that she had been brainwashed into thinking there was something evil about
kissing, so I picked her up and tossed her over the railing into a pile of cardboard boxes
several feet below.
Heroically getting back to the task at hand, I looked out at the open garage door, where
there were all sorts of non-existent relatives assembling outside in the full-blown
morning. There was some fictional high-status male family member at the garage door
reading from a scroll in his hands. He was giving the eulogy for my ""dead"" brother!
There were some assorted people in the garage who were walking toward the outside,
and I saw that among them were two pastors. My horror movie experience indicated
that pastors help with all sorts of ghoulie problems, so I called them over and explained
that my brother wasn't actually dead. They were shocked and agreed to help stop the
ceremony. One of them followed me toward the eulogizer, but at this point, the garage was
significantly larger and was extremely crowded, to the extent where I couldn't even pass
anyone. Everyone stopped walking as they turned to look behind us at someone who was
walking forward. It was apparently her birthday, so the only logical thing to do was hum
the wedding march. The pastor and I sighed as we hummed with them, waiting for them
to move forward again. The song ended, she stopped, and said, ""I'm glad that you're all
here today"".
Various views of multiple explosions went through my mind, and at the end of it, a thirdperson overhead stationary view showed some WASPs in a residential park doing all sorts
of recreational activities. Text appeared saying, ""At least now there was plenty of space for
racquetball"". I realized that I had been watching a YouTube video, part 11/11. I thought,
""Wow, that was a pretty surreal movie. I'm bookmarking this and I'll go back to look at
the other parts later"". I woke up in real life and realized that YouTube would remove the
videos from their website along with all internet references to them by the time that I
managed to get online, so I typed this for posterity.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The power trips that you describe are going to be so prominent because of the entire
philosophy behind education: the brutal indoctrination of pristine minds so as to
propagate some delusional system of cultural values.

Is it really so ideal to have good and efficient citizens? All they'll do is be more effective
at propagating the system you hate. Power trips and bullying are just symptoms, not the
disease itself.",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I'm surprised that there haven't been any changes to gun control considering that there
were after Michael Ryan and Thomas Hamilton.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Now that you've made this topic, everyone is going to be bitching over who they think has
the best accent. Expect another 500 posts in the Drama topic.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Literature is simply another coping mechanism for children who've been mindfucked by
culturapists. They're carried to other worlds in the stream of semen.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Well, I feel schizophrenic.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""My call starts at 38:00.
http://www.archive.org/search.php?query ... 12-20-2011
It didn't go as horribly as I anticipated. I wish that I hadn't spoken nonstop about Travis
for so long, but I didn't want to seem crazy by randomly bringing up a chimpanzee for
unknown reasons. And despite my failed attempt at having a normal voice, I at least
sounded less incoherent than usual. I normally speak much softer and swifter, with less
articulation, less inflection, and more mumbling.""
[A transcript of Lanza’s radio appearance is available: see the document
“Adam Lanza’s Call to AnarchyRadio” on schoolshooters.info.]",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The difference is that Anders Breivik is a political reationary whose propaganda of the
deed just happened to involve mass murder. I think he has more to do with political
assassins who attacked single targets than he has to do with 99% of mass shooters; even
ones like Baruch Goldstein.",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"How many American women in this decade never remove their body hair? I can't find
practically anything on it, and the implication seems to be that it's around 1%.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
Value is such a crazy thing.,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""I hate going through these extremely rare instances of wild mood swings that I have. I
think this was the only time this year for me. I was as depressed as I get during my last
post, and I'm fine with the interminable depression that I normally have, but now I'm
incoherently giddy with glee. Well, relative to my baseline... Except now that I'm giddy, I
can't really say that I hate it because I think everything is delightful.
If depressives cut themselves to feel better, I wonder what cutting a happy-go-lucker
would do. Santa's supposed to be jolly. I hope he visits me tonight so I can find out.""",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
14 families. Eric was a monster,1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Pfft, goals are artificial impositions of deprivation. I'm content to mope on the floor 24/7.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""Until 2006, I just knew that there was some time when two bullied kids went to their
high school library and shot everyone who wore hats.
That's still pretty much all I know.
?:(",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""I've been looking through the many movies and shows listed here that I hadn't seen,
and Grey's Anatomy season 7 episode 11 """"Disarm"""" references a shooting at the hospital
earlier in the series. It turns out that the lovechild of Clay Duke and Robert Stewart was in
season 6 episodes 23 & 24, tearing apart all the love dodecahedra.
And earlier I forgot to add Klass: Elu pärast. I don't recommend it to anyone who saw
Klass.""",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I hate having to take a moment to think if I mean ""east"" or ""west"", every single time.",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""I can never hear """"Bon Jovi"""" without thinking of Danilo Guades, one of the most prolific
non-shooting mass murderers, who flaunted a giant effigy of Bon Jovi on the shirt he
wore during his attack.
http://www.vg.no/nyheter/utenriks/artik ... tid=140575""",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I don't have any clue what transhumanists are thinking. My wet dream is living in the
wild with apes, and theirs is living in a computer with AI. What's the mindset behind
transhumanism?",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"What is ""chemical imbalance"" even supposed to mean? Why don't hunter-gatherers need
antidepressants? I swear, a psychiatrist could take a perfectly fine chimpanzee away from
its jungle, confine it in captivity, and when the chimp gets depressed, they would say,
""This chimpanzee has a chemical imbalance. What? A correlation between enculturation
and depression? But culture brings us meaning and beauty. Get out of my way, cavemanwannabe. I need to prescribe this chimp some Xanax"".",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I entirely recognize that value is a delusion. I'm not condemning them: I genuinely want
to understand why they love technology. I can't at all relate to why they desire even more
civilization than the amount that's already been imposed onto them.",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Only if you factor in infant mortality, but that's even more of an indication why
they should be needing antidepressants, not the opposite. And yet somehow, it's we
domesticated humans that need antidepressants while hunter-gatherers are the happy
ones.

I hate how I spend 99% of my time upset about culture, when life itself is the problem.
Culture just adds insult to injury",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""Oh, dear God. The school shooter in the episode of Homicide: Life on the Streets was the
host of the children's show Blues Clues. I guess going away to school didn't turn out too
well for him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlwxXObnR-g&t=0m05s
This tragedy could have been prevented. Steve showed all of the warning signs.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1wUirNlR0U
Anyway, since Megaupload is gone, here's Mad_Bomber's list:
https://rapidshare.com/files/3734858298/tv_updated.rtf
I've now seen all of the fiction mentioned in these topics except for the following. PM me
if you know of a free non-torrent source for any of these in English audio or with English
subtitles:
Death Scenes 2 (1992)
La classe de neige (1998) (I found something under this title that was also about a ski trip,
but it was a gay porno. Maybe I just don't understand French cinema, but it seemed like a
rather liberal interpretation of """"shooting"""". ?:( )
Detention: The Siege at Johnson High (1997)
Heart of America (2002)
Prelude (2003)
American Yearbook (2004)
Purgatory House (2004)
The Division - Zero Tolerance - S04E21 (2004)
Empire Falls (2005)
Why (2006)
Ekskul (2006)
The Janitor's Office (2007)
Himo kiusata (2009)
Little Angels (?)
And here are some others which haven't been mentioned:
Massacre at Central High (1976)
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074875/
The more allegorical precursor to Heathers.
Degrassi High - Show Time: Part 1 - S02E10
Proto-emo.
Law & Order - Deadlock - S17E09
Eduardo Sencion meets Hank Carr meets Maksim Gelman meets Karel Charva (meets
Jack Ruby?) in this orgasm of mass murder. Well, at least by generic-investigative-drama
standards.
Law & Order- Rubber Room - S20E23
Over-the-top Columbine references, although they forgot to include the one about police
negligence.
Gilmore Girls - Like Mother, Like Daughter - S02E07
Several references in the beginning to trench-coated loners with duffel bags.
The Inbetweeners - The Fashion Show - S03E01
A throwaway joke,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_bgKZZ1LQY&t=1m51s
There's also a pudgy balding British pederast named Tom who has the surname of a
prominent American politician and goes around undressing boys. A reference to Tom
Hamilton?

?
[281] p. 1,259
30 December 2011 | 2:11 AM
[282] p. 1,270
24 February 2012 | 8:37 AM
WWW.SCHOOLSHOOTERS.INFO Peter Langman, Ph.D. Version 2.2 (24 August 2016) 36
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkI6Tgultxk&t=10m48s
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkI6Tgultxk&t=13m51s
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_bgKZZ1LQY&t=8m01s
And three docudramas:
Hostage: Do or Die - Negotiating with a Mad Man - S01E02
Hank Carr, although I don't really consider him a mass murderer.
Hostage: Do or Die - Palm Bay Rampage - S01E03
William Cruse; fairly retro.
Hostage: Do or Die - Lindhurst High School - S01E05
Eric Houston; a surrogate for the unattainable Detention: The Siege at Johnson High?
And a movie based on David Gray, which I didn't think was particularly enjoyable, but still
way better than what I remember of Polytechnique:
Out of the Blue (2006)
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0839938/
And although Horror High (1974) doesn't involve a school shooting, it's the earliest
depiction of a high-school-outcast-turned-murderer that I know of, released half a year
before Bad Ronald (1974) (and was filmed in the same year as the book was published);
and while Bad Ronald is more on the serial killer side, Horror High deals more with the
school shooter archetype, indicated in lines as explicit as, """"All my life, I've been bothered
and pushed around by the 'Rogers'... Well, not anymore! Now they're afraid of me!"""". And
at 53:25, I think we've heard that a bunch of times:
http://www.putlocker.com/file/1E917512C28A7E68
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48u_mo0i4qI&t=1m16s
And this has nothing to do with anything... But I just thought that there was a cute
resemblance between Ben in Willard (1971) and wittle Mr. Mumps. Everyone loves
rodents!~
http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5097/544 ... d1ca93.jpg
http://www.mondo-digital.com/horrorhigh2big.jpg""",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""I found it!~
Massacre at Central High (1976)
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074875/""",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I was looking through the comments on the """"Michale Graves - Nobody Thinks About
Me"""" video and did a double take when I thought I recognized someone.
even though their solution to being bullied wasnt the best of choices, i still feel worse for
eric and dylan than anyone else in that school! their lives were so bad, they couldnt go
a full day without being physically abused by jocks or made fun of by anyone else. their
nicknames were the outcasts! but god, they kill 13 people and bullies still dont undertand
the consequences of their actions! there have already been 5 school shootings in the US
this year! one at harvard! people need to lay off
BboyZero100 1 year ago (4 likes)
He was probably talking about Mitchell Heisman's 9/18/2010 suicide, which means that
he would've typed this very shortly before his 9/21/2010 school shooting.
http://www.youtube.com/all_comments?v=eyva-Ox40pg",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"This is the last that I heard of him:
http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninsca ... _kenne.php
http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninsca ... ng_thr.php
I have the video that he uploaded after Virginia Tech in case anyone wants it. It doesn't
seem to be anywhere on the internet anymore.""",1,Vague Discontent,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"That's weird. I know that the Latest Activity date can be glitchy, but assuming that it's
right, then I don't know who he could be talking about other than Mitchell Heisman.
Maybe he thought that there was a school shooting at Harvard because Amy Bishop got
her PhD there. Does anyone have any ideas?",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I was recently thinking about how hostage situations so very often involve demands
for a getaway. Is there a single modern instance when non-state hostage takers have
successfully gotten a non-sabotaged automobile/helicopter/whatever from negotiators?",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""I hate how life-apologists say (or rather, the very few of them who do anything other
than mock you), """"Life isn't all suffering. What about the simple pleasures, like eating ice
cream?""""
They always use that example. Even if I didn't recognize the flaws in their assertion, when
I think of ice cream, I can only see a repugnant lump of pus crushed out of cows' bloody
nipples, who spend their entire lives confined in filth, where they're periodically raped so
that they're incessantly pregnant, after which their calves are seized from them, destined
to live the life of veal, with their only relief being an early death. From there, I always ride
the pessimism train down different tracks until it inevitably leads me to contemplating
over 500 million years of animals cannibalizing each other. Excuse me for not being
thrilled by the extra jimmies on my ice cream cone.""",1,Grievance Airring,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Elisabell wrote:
Fact is: school shootings are not common occasions, and have steadily decreased from
their peak.
It is incredibly debatable whether or not societal factors had an effect or in some way
influenced Columbine, and to be honest I think it wouldn’t have made any difference
if the high school was a utopia. I see it as two teenagers who were not well in any
sense of the word acting for little to no reason whatsoever.
Honestly the “society is shitty” commentary just seems a little much for me. Unless
I’m misunderstanding your point.
""I could go in a hundred different ways with this, but I'll try to make it as entirely relevant
to AS55's post as I can, instead of rambling about chimpanzees and who-knows-what-else.
Columbine wasn't an isolated incident: it was the apex of a string of school shootings
which began increasing with Lu Gang and Wayne Lo in the early 1990s. Despite American
students committing fewer school shootings in 2000-2009 than they did in 1990-1999, the
rate of attempts actually increased beyond their pre-Columbine level. Columbine caused Americans to begin taking the potential for school shootings seriously, and thus many
attempts which were expected to have been carried out have instead been prevented.
And since 1999, there has been an increase in foreign school massacres committed
in countries where, as Sabratha's Bullet Time phrases it, there isn't the """"operational
history"""" of Columbine.
In any event, it's myopic to telescope on school shootings when they've comprised a
small percentage of the larger trend of mass murders, which are carried out in all sorts of
contexts; but they always occur in contexts which involve some permutation of alienation,
which has been part and parcel with societal """"progress"""". This relationship can be
seen with the Chinese mass stabbings. There were some sparse incidents throughout
the 20th century, but the rate began to rise in the 1990s and erupted in the early 2000s,
corresponding to China's rapid """"economic development"""", culminating in the infamous
spate of elementary school stabbings of 2010.
American mass murders were less prevalent before Richard Speck precipitated their rise
in 1966. My best estimate for the -absolute- minimum amount of mass murders in the US
since 1966 is 960. I would be surprised if there weren't a minimum of somewhere around
1500 in reality, but we'll just vaguely say that there have been over 1000. If you were trying
to measure alienation in a society, what could be a more blatant indication? And it's glib
to dismiss them as not being indicative of anything just because there have been over a
thousand of them instead of over a hundred thousand, or however many you think are
necessary, because mass murdering is so ridiculously over-the-top of a response that
very few people are prone to do it under any circumstances. But just look at how many
fans you can find for all different types of mass murderersâ€""not just the Reb & VoDkA
bunchâ€"", and beyond these fans are countless more people who can sympathize with
them; and beyond these are millions more who never think of relating the circumstances
of their lives to anyone else but instead just go through the motions of life incessantly
dissatisfied with their environment.
Thinking of this society as the default state of existence is the reason why you think that
humans would be """"not well"""" for """"no reason whatsoever"""". Civilization has not been
present for 99% of the existence of hominids, and the only way that it's ever sustained
is by indoctrinating each new child for years on end. The """"wellness"""" that you speak of
is solely defined by a child's submission to this process and their subsequent capacity to
propagate civilization themselves. When civilization exists in a form where all forms of
alienation (among many other things) are rampant, as can be seen in the most recent
incarnation within the last fifty years which AS55 talked about, new children will end up
""""not well"""" in all sorts of ways. You don't even have to touch a topic as cryptic as mass
murder to see an indication of this: you can look at a single symptom as egregious as the
proliferation of antidepressants. And look in your own life. You've said that you're afflicted
by unrelenting anxiety and that you're afraid to leave your house. Do you really think
that the way you feel is not symptomatic of anything other than your own inexplicable
defectiveness?
http://www.spunk.org/texts/writers/zerzan/sp001182.txt
http://www.spunk.org/texts/writers/zerzan/sp001183.txt""",1,Specific Threats,"Adam Lanza's ""Shocked Beyond Belief"" Posts",2/1/2012,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza_posts_2.2.pdf,Adam Lanza
"The average feature screenplay, traditionally, is between 95 and 125 pages long.
8 1/2"" x 11"" white 3-hole punched paper.
Courier 12 font.
A page number appears in the upper right hand corner (in the header). No page number is printed on the
first page.
The top and bottom margins are between .5"" and 1"". The left margin is between 1.2"" and 1.6"". The right
margin is between .5"" and 1"".
One script page in Courier 12 should roughly average 1 minute of onscreen film time.
Scene Heading are aligned flush left (which we learned is about 1.5"" from the edge of the paper) and are
rarely long enough to reach the page margin.
The Scene Heading is written in ALL CAPS. Use a period after the INT. or EXT., a hyphen between the
other elements of the Slugline.
The Scene Heading, sometimes called Slugline, tells the reader of the script where the scene takes
place. Are we indoors (INT.) or outdoors (EXT.)? Next name the location: BEDROOM, LIVING ROOM, at
the BASEBALL FIELD, inside a CAR? And lastly it might include the time of day - NIGHT, DAY, DUSK,
DAWN... information to ""set the scene"" in the reader's mind.
The Slugline can also include production information like CONTINUOUS ACTION, or ESTABLISHING
SHOT or STOCK SHOT. Here are examples of Scene Headings:
Action runs from left to right margin, the full width of the text on the page, the same as the Scene
Heading. Text is single-spaced and in mixed case.
When you introduce a speaking character for the first time, you should put the name in all caps.
The ACTION or Description sets the scene, describes the setting, and allows you to introduce your
characters and set the stage for your story. Action is written in REAL TIME.
Every moment in a screenplay takes place NOW. Use the active voice (a window slams shut) not the
passive voice (a window is slammed shut).
Keep your paragraphs short... don't let them go on and on over 4 or 5 lines. The reader may scan long
action paragraphs without really reading them.
Avoid a compulsion to write camera angles and shots. If you must emphasize some shot, write it on a
single line. Angles and shots are the domain of the director an will likely be added in the Shooting Script. The CHARACTER NAME is formatted in uppercase letters and indented 3.5"" from the left margin.
A character name can be an actual name (JOHN) or description (FAT MAN) or an occupation (DOCTOR).
Sometimes, you might have COP #1 and then COP #2 speaking. It is okay to identify the speaking parts
like this, but actors will like you more if you personalize their part with a name. Try to be consistent.
DIALOGUE margin is indented 2.5"" from the left margin. A line of dialogue can be from 30 spaces to 35
spaces long, so the right margin is a bit more flexible, usually 2.0"" to 2.5"".
DIALOGUE rules apply when anyone on screen speaks. During a conversation between characters.
When a character talks out loud to himself... even be when a character is off-screen and only a voice is
heard
Great dialogue is a window into the soul of your character. It sounds real... It's conversational. The
audience feels like a fly on the wall, hearing natural interplay between characters. Great dialogue may
use common language but express great passion, and even become a catch phrase in popular culture, as
the line from Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry Callahan ""Go ahead. Make my day.""
It's not a bad idea to read your dialogue aloud to see how it really sounds. If you have a difficult time
reading a line, it may not be good dialogue. You'll definitely be able to tell if you organize a reading of
your script and hear it that way (best with professional actors, like they do in Hollywood and on
Broadway). Real rebellion involves eliminating the notion of identity: you don't bind yourself by an identity. You do
what you want when you want to do it at that time, independent of whatever you've thought in the past.
What if the child has a ""loving"" family instead of an abusive one, but that still means that he's being
abused? You can include heavy abuse through the eyes of his friend/s.
""Love by any other name""
LBAON
Lovebound
Or, what about ""Boundless Love"", to mean that their love is not restrictively bounded by relationships (like
what marriage does)?
The beauty in the romantic relationship between a ten-year-old boy and a thirty-year-old man.
My script is a slow downbeat drama with a genuine social commentary.
It would be very inexpensive to produce.
There will be no music. Music should not set mood: dialogue should.
There will be no text on the screen. There will be no credits.
There will be no humor. This should be completely solemn.
(No, it's not at all pornographic. And it isn't satirical. Nor metaphorical. Take it for what it is.)
It's contrived for the ending to be filled with death. The ending should end on a perfunctory note. That's
infinitely more depressing than death.
Characters:
10-year-old
10-year-old's friend
Pedophile
Goth group
10-year-old's sister
10-year-old's father Two kids observing group of either goths, emos, or something like that. Discussing how cool they are.
Scene where the kids approach the goths.
Kid's friend tells him that he's going to run away.
10-year-old hears about his friend who ran away.
The kid tried doing something that an adult would have done, but was unable to because he was a kid.
Eventually, the kid is found frozen to death, or something like that.
Kids are playing together in some place.
Kid either goes to place where pedophile is, or happens to come across him in public.
Scenes where the kid talks to the pedo many times about his life. The pedo helps him.
The pedophile either gets killed or goes to prison.
Kid with the pistol laying back on his bed while cocking and clicking his pistol while listening to his father
yelling condemning his sister who's in a relationship with a boy.
Scene where the kid finds out about a familicide.
Intermittent church scenes.
The news playing, reporting about incidents.
One could be a familicide.
One could be about internet predactors.
One could be about a suicide.
One could be about the government.
Scenes where the child is talking to his sister.
Scenes where the child is talking to others in the cafeteria.
Scene where the goths tell the kids that one of their members had commited suicide.
""They gave us an assembly about bullying. They should look at themselves.""
Scene where the goths talk about the familicide.
The goths tell the kid to talk to one of the goths. He does. They walk together talking about what the
difference between humans and animals is. They stop in an alley or something. The goth finally explains
that it's the will to die, and hands him a small pistol, telling him to do what he considers best.
Scene where the kid is following two of the goths, male and female, walking with them to somewhere. They facetiously act as if they're parents, planning the life of their child.
People preaching about how homosexuality needs to be accepted.
A scene in a supermarket. ""Don't tell me how to raise my kids!""
Scenes in which the child is mistreated by his father.
A scene in which the 10-year-old is spanked by his father.
A scene in which the 10-year-old is raped by his father.
A scene where someone is watching To Catch A Predator with someone else.
The movie ends on a downbeat note.
Perhaps with the kid crying.
Kohut grew up in Vienna in the 1920s. By the time he was 10, his parents' relationship with each other
was deteriorating, and young Heinz found himself to be quite lonely. But he ”survived the
fragmentation of the family remarkably well, in no small part due to the lucky presence of a
warmhearted tutor named Ernst Morawetz, who entered his life just as his mother left it” (p. 23). Heinz
mother hired Morawetz, a university student probably in his 20s, to be Heinz's companion and provide
him with intellectual stimulation—Heinz was age 11 at this time. Most afternoons after school
Morawetz took Heinz to a museum, an art gallery, or the opera, or they simply read together and talked
about interesting subjects. As Kohut later put it: ”I had this private tutor, who was a very important
person in my life. He would take me to museums and swimming and concerts and we had endless
intellectual conversations and played complicated intellectual games and played chess together. I was
an only child. So it was in some ways psychologically life-saving for me. I was very fond of the
fellow” (p. 24).
Heinz found in Morawetz companionship, connection, and deep empathy. He later described those
years with his tutor as extremely happy ones, perhaps the happiest in his life. He idealized his tutor,
who was a ”'spiritual leader,' able to share his 'almost religious' love for nature, as well as teach him
about literature, art and music” (p. 24). The relationship became sexualized, at first mainly kissing and
hugging, then naked closeness, then tender mutual fondling, and mutual oral sex. Strozier (2001)
argued that Kohut put his relationship with Morawetz into the context of the ancient Greeks, about
whom he began reading in depth. Kohut felt the sexualization was incidental and meant little to his own
sexual identity—what was of over-riding importance was the emotional connection.
[...]
Strozier concluded: ”This is not to defend child abuse, which is abhorrent. But it may well be that our
sense of exploitation of children has become too ideological and leads us to miss the subtlety of love
and connection that can arise even in deeply unequal relationships” (p. 26) Demonstrate that the 10-year-old's relationship is no different than his siser's.
Child forced to go to grandparents'?
Bad things?",1,Specific Threats,Lovebound,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lovebound.pdf,Adam Lanza
"After having spent much time analyzing this, I've determined which factors enabled me to love you.
I projected a personality, which I consider to be virtuous, delusionally onto you. For the same reason, I
ignored the many things which I fundamentally hate about you. I was deluding myself.
I am heavily emotionally susceptible to environments. Most of my social contact was through those
players. All of them are typical detestable humans, and it bred an aura of innumerable negative emotions
for me. You were a respite from that.
You could actually type coherently. Relationships cannot exist if communication is not present, which
would immediately preclude me from being able to have a relationship with 99% of the humans there.
I don't believe it's a coincidence that the only other person I liked at all was Soresu, who usually types
coherently. If I had spoken to him more often, I might have loved him. Once every month or so in that
game, I would meet someone who would type properly, and I would always try to play with them. I
remember one person in particular whom I followed around only because he typed properly, which
allowed me to communicate with him without feeling as if I was dealing with a severely mentally
handicapped duck. He spoke disrespectfully of his girlfriend the first day I spoke to him, which would
normally serve as the catalyst for my detestment of such a person, yet I completely overlooked it because
I was so relieved to be able to speak with someone who was in any way capable of communicating.
Relationships have absolutely no physical aspect to me: all that matters is communication. The nature of
the internet fosters this.
I incessantly have nothing other than scorn for humanity. I have been desperate to feel anything positive
for someone for my entire life.
Early on, you referenced serial killing multiple times in ways people normally don't. That immediately
appealed to me.
I have an affinity for people whom I perceive as being abused, and consummate scorn for the abusers. It
was probably the primary enabling factor. The way you are relentlessly treated by these humans is
obscenely offensive to me, so everytime they would do it, it would simultaneously increase my sympathy
for you and increase my resentment for all of them. My wrath for them fostered more of a negative
atmosphere, which would cause you to be even more of a respite from their depravity. It was
self-perpetuating.
I'm capable of boundless affection. I had never been in a sitation to feel that way before, so I thought that
it was special.
I took my focus away from myself and directed it toward you.
Because I used to be hate-filled and couldn't just dismiss people I didn't like. It tore me apart, and I
needed someone who didn't.
Coercion is endemic to parenting in general. Children are slaves to their parents' will in virtually every
family.
You're a Christian. Religion, being cultural, inherently subjugates.
That whole ""dishonor"" fatuity. Something is ""dishonorable"" not because it lacks virtue, but because it goes
against their ""authority"". All they're doing is imposing their will on you.
You submit to the notion of culture, which your parents forced onto you. -You often made reference to the ways genders should behave.
-You celebrate holidays.
-You derogatively said that C_Redfield was ""whitewashed"" because his Vietnamese pronunciation was
poor as if that was an issue. Vietnamese culture is equally as pathetic as American culture is. The entire
notion of culture is pathetic. You believing that he should be able to speak Vietnamese merely because
that's what his father did is absurd.
You saying that I shouldn't disassociate myself from my parents- that I need to change the way I think
about them. I had never spoken about my parents prior to that, so you had no knowledge about them.
Saying what you did would necessitate all parents inherently being virtuous, which is not true. The reason
you believe that is because the culture your family forced onto you virtually diefies familial elders.
When your sister was angry at your mother, allegedly over a haircut. It had nothing to do with the haircut;
she was angry about other issues.
I'm certain that I would be a phenomonal father because I would foster a free environment for my child.
S/he would never do anything ""because I said so"". Instead of treating her/him like a pet that can talk, I
would treat her/him like a little person who doesn't know very much. I would not subject my child to my
opinions: I would encourage them to think for her/himself
If you believe that you understand me, then I should be able to verify that through asking you some
questions and seeing your answers.
Why did I love you?
Why do I feel nothing other than negativity toward you?
What comes to mind when I make the statement ""Vietnamese culture is deplorable.""?
What gender am I?
Why did I not ___ on July 18th?
What political ideology do I find most plausible?
Why am I an atheist?
Why will I never drink anything alcoholic?
What would my parenting style be?
Why is it that the only time you've spoken to me while I've been angry (enough so that my heart rate was
approximately 150 even though I had been doing nothing other than sitting) was when they were making
sexual derisions about you? What is wrong with being mentally deficient and such? People say that discrimination based on skin color
is wrong because they are not actually inferior, but what is wrong with inferiority? Why should they be
discriminated against just because they are inferior?
You're a Christian?
Why are you a Christian?
How did you come across the information you know about Christianity?
How do you know that the information you received is true?
How is that distinct from the basis other religions use to claim their legitimacy?
How do you know that you are correct in your religious beliefs and that people of other religions are
wrong?
If you had been born into an Islamic family in Iran, would you still be a Christian if you came across the
information about Christianity?
Is it possible that you're wrong?
It's like you're beginning with the proposition ""There are magical little people.""
One group says ""The magical little people are gnomes.""
Another group says ""The magical little people are leprechauns.""
What basis is there for believing that there are magical little people at all?
Is it really love if you're not willing to romantically love a male the same way you would a female?
Why do I take my scorn for certain individuals and apply it to humanity in general?
Figure out why ""rape is about power"" in relation to the institutions of families and states.
~HMM... If people were not conditioned into believing that rape is traumatic, rapists wouldn't have
""power""!
She needs to be contemplative, introverted, introspective, insubordinate, non-confrontational, able to communicate with me, and engage in banter. And I think I want her to be at least vegetarian.
Sometime, check your honesty while speaking to someone.
Hair in the front was awkwardly wavy while the sides were relatively straight.
Some acne was prominent
My head was turned slightly to the right. That's most visible with my nose and larynx.
I was awkwardly smirking because I was told to smile. I shouldn't have done anything.
I was paying too much attention to my hair and didn't notice my eyebrows, which would have taken a
second to fix.
4/16 Italian
3/16 Irish
3/16 English
2/16 French-Canadian
4/16 ? ""Wilkinson"", Scandinavian.
What is wrong with culture?
It restricts free thought.
It inflicts arbitrary prejudiced perspectives onto people.
It dimisses the differences between individuals to contrive an artifical group, to which people are coerced
into submission.
It enables baseless bigotry between other arbitrary cultural groups and cohesion among people in the
group for which there is no reason to associate.
It causes people to suffer through the arbitrary perspectives.
Why do I oppose religion, as distinct from culture?
It is cultural.
It requires actions and encourages types of behavior which are based on delusions which don't have any
basis in reality. Happiness is increased by rationally evaluating the world and modifying your behavior.
The more delusional you are, the less you're able to be happy.
It conflates morality with the religion. How to be pale:
Always be covered as well as possible and avoid the sun
Always use sunscreen
Wash your skin thoroughly and exfoliate
Reduce blood pressure
Donate blood every two months
Why not vote for the lesser of two evils?:
Voting is a false sense of control.
Authoritarian governments, operating under the presumption of being free, force compulsory voting.
What if no one voted? The lower the voter turnout, the more of a message it sends.
My single vote doesn't make a difference. I would have to organize an incredibly large group of people
who also are not voting for this reason, with all of us agreeing to vote.
Getting involved with politics is meaningless.
It can easily be sabotaged, anyway.
What kind of people go to X college?
Engage your imagination to dream vividly.
I step into Socrates's forum and speak to him about happiness. Other philosophers gradually step in.
Plato speaks on behalf of Socrates.
How is happiness attained?
Through moderation.
Moderation of what?
Other philosophers gradually step in.
I refute all of them.
The philosophers bicker.
Toward the end, I say that for all of their philosophizing and such, they can't answer the simplest answer
relevant to my life, such as what is good and what is evil. They contradict each other and they contradict
themselves.
The philosophers argue angrily, and I watch them. I sit toward an edge and watch, saying that I might
eventually be able to make sense out of the loudening clamor.
Einstein shouts from some other building behind the forum, and tells me the definition of insanity.
I ask him how his unified theory is coming along.
Touché. -PRape
Honestly, doctors touching my penis when I was a child was worse than it would be if I consented to an
adult in a loving relationship with them. I don't see how I and every child was not raped by doctors: We
did not consent to it. We only did it because our parents made us. Which is another point: If we as a
society taught children that they are independent of their parents and that they should not blindly follow
them, they would not be abused by their parents in the way they often are. (Tie this into the ""Adults enjoy
subjugating children"" argument?)
Why does ""medicinal practice"" change the nature of it? An adult touched my genitals when I didn't want
them to. Because it ""had"" to be done and because my parents allowed it fundamentally changes the
nature of it?
1.) Why would I be upset over this? Perhaps it because I personally think that the entire notion of ""power""
and ""authority"" is pathetic, so I don't feel as if I was ""manipulated"" (even though by definition, I was; it's
just that I don't apply the societal meaning to it).
2.) Why is it okay for a parent to ""allow"" an adult to touch a child, if they are demonstratably capable of
applying reason, just because they're the child's parent? A child should belong to theirself.
I was coerced by an adult into having my penis stroked. This is by definition rape. This happens to
virtually every child. Yet everyone thinks there is nothing wrong with this?
It should be up to the child to decide if it is right or wrong.
I was molested at least a dozen times by a few different adults when I was a child. It wasn't my decision
at all: I was coerced into it. They felt me all over my body, and it usually culminated in the fondling of my
penis. What do each of the adults have in common? They were doctors, and each of them were
sanctioned by my parents to do it. This happens to virtually every child without their input into the matter:
Their parents sanction it.
And yet, virtually none of these children grow up feeling traumatized by the experience. How can we
reconcile this extreme dissonance? Virtually every child's genitals are fondled without their decision in the
matter, but when a child deliberately wants to engage in sexual activity with an adult, it becomes
traumatic (whether or not they are even cognizant of the ""trauma"")?
I'm not saying that this is wrong. A child should decide for themself whether they want to allow a doctor to
fondle their penis instead of being coerced by their parents into having it done.
It must be because the victims of rape are coerced by their society into believing that what they
experienced is an irrevocable evil and a lifelong trauma. And maybe it is to some individuals!
How can we reconcile the fact that virtually every child has been raped and everyone's indifference to it,
with the notion that rape is something traumatizing? I am:
Anticultural
quasi-pacifist
quasi-moral nihilist, although I do not like the term because it gives people the impression that I am not
opposed to what is considered immoral.
mutualist anarchist
Morality seems no different than religion to me. The reason why no one can agree on ideal systems of
morality and ideal political systems is because all of it is contrived sophistry. It is always an instance of
people with power contriving arbitrary ideals to justify actions, or adjusting their actions according to their
arbitrary ideals.
Such bizarre instances as ""moral agents"". It's okay to kill an animal, but it's not okay to kill a human.
Killing one person to save many people is wrong, killing one person to save many people is right.
The common factor is that ""immoral"" behavior is permitted to be treated with force. That's all morality isthe application of force.
These are all completely meaningless bizarre supernatural claims. The truth of the matter is that
""morality"" is always an instance of a group with power contriving arbitrary ideals to justify their actions,
adjusting their actions according to their arbitrary ideals, or whatever.
There are so many ways in which they could be compared. Such as their treatment of suicide.
In conventional Christianity, killing yourself would intuitively be desirable because you would be able to go
to heaven. In Buddhism, taking five seconds to kill yourself would free you from a lifetime of suffering.
And yet in both, suicide is arbitrarily forbidden for contrived reasons.
The same with morality: Killing yourself would intuitively be moral because you would not have the
capacity to commit immoral deeds, which you innately do through being alive; and yet many would
somehow forbid suicide as being immoral.
Wars are inevitable
incarceration of nonviolent criminals
economic misuse
miseducation of the young
vote buying taxes
arms around the world
subsidies
economic inefficiencies
permanent underclasses through ilegal immigrants and welfare
organized crime increase",1,Specific Threats,Me,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/me.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I need new:
Non-leather chair
Non-leather shoes
Non-leather Swatch-band
Non-lanolin supplement
Non-lanolin sanitary wipes
Esperanto
Sunday:
Wake up, DDR, breakfast, clean, shower 6:30
(Shopping then shower) or (Precalculus) 10:00
Cooking, Lunch 1:00
Python 3:00
Read Book 5:00
PMV while dinner 7:00
Video Games, exercise 9:00
Sleep 10:00
Monday:
Wake up, DDR, shower, breakfast 6:30
Precalculus 8:00
Play erhu 11:00
Lunch, Esperanto 12:00
Python 1:00
Read Book 4:00
PMV while dinner 6:00
Video Games/Horror Movie 8:00
Sleep 10:00
Tuesday:
Wake up, DDR, shower, breakfast 6:30
Precalculus 8:00
Play erhu 11:00
Lunch, Esperanto 12:00
Python 1:00
Read Book 4:00
PMV while dinner 6:00
Video Games/Horror Movie 8:00
Sleep 10:00
Wednesday:
Wake up, DDR, shower, breakfast 6:30
Precalculus 8:00
Play erhu 11:00
Lunch, Esperanto 12:00
Python 1:00
Read Book 3:00
Video Games/Horror Movie while dinner 4:00
DDR 6:00
Sleep 10:00 Thursday:
Wake up, DDR, shower, breakfast 6:30
Precalculus 8:00
Play erhu 11:00
Lunch, Esperanto 12:00
Python 1:00
Read Book 4:00
PMV while dinner 6:00
Video Games/Horror Movie 8:00
Sleep 10:00
Friday:
Wake up, DDR, shower, breakfast 6:30
Precalculus 8:00
Play erhu 11:00
Lunch, Esperanto 12:00
Python 1:00
Read Book 3:00
Video Games/Horror Movie while dinner 4:00
DDR 6:00
Sleep 10:00
Saturday:
Wake up, DDR, shower, breakfast, Erhu 6:30
Erhu 9:00
Pistol 11:00
Video Games/Horror Movie while lunch 2:00
DDR 4:00
Sleep 10:00
Clean room
Clean bedroom
Clean bathroom
Leave for car wash and mall
Danbury DDR Precalculus
Latin
Esperanto
Logic
Chemistry
Physics
History
Desires:
expert on ""soldiers""
""infantry""
parkour
learn python and program games
write stories
instruments
1970s horror movies
become skilled in philosophy
pedophilia
learn esperanto
try being homeless
Correspond with someone you like, such as the writer of X movie.
Parkour and gymnastics
Appalachian Trail
Cross-country skiing
Visit Crypts
01. You will be FAT if you eat today, just put it off one more day.
02. You don’t NEED food.
03. Fat people can’t fit everywhere.
05. You’ll be able to run faster without all that extra weight holding you back.
06. People will remember you as “the beautiful thin one”.
07. If someone has to describe you, they’ll say “oh she weighs like 90, 100 lbs”.
09. Starving is an example of excellent willpower.
10. You will be able to see your beautiful, beautiful bones.
11. Bones are clean and pure. Fat is dirty and hangs on your bones like a parasite.
12. If you eat then you’ll look like those disgusting, fat, ghetto and trailer-trash hookers on Jerry Springer.
17. Anyone can have “inner beauty” but few can earn real beauty, inside as well as out.
18. You’ll be able to move as quietly and skillfully as a spider.
19. Only thin people are graceful.
20. If you slap a fat person you can see a shockwave ripple over their skin. That’s disgusting.
21. Do you want people to say “for gods sake get off me you’re crushing me!!!” or “you are sooo light” ???
25. I want to walk in the snow and leave no footprints.
26. Starve off the parts you don’t need. They’re ugly and they drag you down.
27. Nothing cant be fixed with hunger and weight loss.
31. Have you ever seen a person NOT notice a walking skeleton.
32. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
33. Is food more important that happiness in life? I think not!
34. Eating is conforming to everyone else’s expectations.
36. Hunger is your friend and it won’t betray you like food. 37. Food is mean and sneaky. It tricks you into eating it and it works on you from the inside out making
you fat, bloated, ugly and unhappy.
40. Thin people look good in ANY kind of clothes.
41. Food rots your teeth.
42. Puffy cheeks, double chins and thick ankles— aren’t attractive.
43. Fatty areas stretch and sag as you get older.
44. Ever seen the arms of a fat person wave hello or goodbye?
45. Eating little to nothing saves you money!
48. Big people sweat more and they smell bad.
49. Fat people die earlier.
50. You’ll be the envy of all the other girls.
51. All of the guys will want you.
53. You won’t be exposed to all the chemicals and pesticides they put in food today.
depredation
vicarious
absolve
doctrinaire
impuissant
impute
unctuous
ecumenical
excrescence
chalice
abet
torrid
truculent
succulent
accost
attenuate
picaresque
circumspect
nebbish
moribund
maudlin
merticulous
antediluvian
supernal
high didgeon
indignant
obdurancy
accretion
pertinacious
contumelious
proband
languorous
perspicacious
distend
aver apostasy
stultify
harangue
gauche
ingratiate
educe
demur
nadir
intransigence
incisive
militate
inveigled
aetiology
denunciatory
prurient
metastasize
indigent
convocation
eminent
invective
impious
antipodal
antipodean
abstruse
recondite
paucity
guile
beguile
guileless
abjure
rebuke
trenchant
dearth
repatriation
affront
percolate
jejune
expiscate
atavistic
adroit
emaciated
extenuate
elegiac
elegy
ebullience
raillery
belabor
maladroit
auguste
decadent
corpulent
animus
pneuma
abase
abashed
diachronic impasse
depraved
courier
topical
nascent
miserly
recondite
adumbrate
palpable
docile
assiduity
assiduous
convocation
impunity
conjugal
preponderation
admonish
albatross
trepidation
parsimonious
virulent/virile
epicurean
diametric
salable
grandiloquent
parapraxes
riposte
repartee
plebiscite
referendum
abstruse
cogitate
decoupage
vignette
corpulent
disparate
hapless
vignette
sacrosanct
parsimonious
vagarious
repose
demur
impropriety
aggragate
aggrandize
anophthalmic
squalid
pallor
hermetic
replete
spurious
stipend
affront
picayune
exiguous pittance
saboteur
proscribe
controvert
redress
penance
insouciant
souciant
perspicacity
languish
petulant
flippant
fiefdom
corpulent
flange
plasticity
innervate
enervate
apropos
Ecumene
resplendent
recrimination
fanciful
saprobic
ascetic
ebullient
rote
joviality
sordid
anathema
vicarious
tableaux
somnambulant
indolent
pederast
impunity
imbroglio
gracile
duplicitous
palacial
verdant
egregious
gregarious
daunted
undaunted
bocage
panegyric
repertory
neurasthenic
pugnacious
pungent
fetid
antipathy
reconciliation
epicenter
reductive sojourn
auspice
demarcate
excoriate
transfix
irreverent
reverent
denouement
providence
besmirch
congruence
subterfuge
consign
pavilion
entreat/beseech
fulcrum
superintend
decadent
waif
stratification
stratify
strata
inexorable
interdiction
interdict
lurid
somber
sanctimonious
parochial
petulant
homozygous
proximate
paragon
consternation
privation
propriety
proprietor
hoary
asylum
unbecoming
exodus
pylon
commensurate
stymie
bedevilment
modicum
trappings
amenity
convalescent
delimit
trenchant
ballywick
shole
ensconse
commiserate
garner preface
uncouth
permutation
disparate
avuncular
jettison
ballast
taciturn
paunch
galvanize
malaise
portend
moor
specious
impertinence
evince
oblique
explication
impetus
capitulate
facile
wherewithal
equivocance
accord
rankine
extirpate
assuage
renege
evince
prescriptive
proscriptive
palpable
inscrutable
prowess
multifarious
farrow
incumbent
nexus
till
symposium
predicate
squallid
assailable
unassailable
perdition
cavalcade
beleaguer
happenstance
limn
amenable
alacrity
sagacity
juxtaposition
prevaricator
beholden
saunder tortological
veneer
actuarial
crescive
vivid
livid
tandem
subrogation
endemic
contenement
constabulary
exude
calcify
predation
retrograde
veneer
besmirch
convivial
apropros
profer
apodeictic
epidictic
epideictic
somnambulism
edifice
erratum
abrogate
apoplectic
indignant
contingent
explicate
tort
approbation
anathema
formant
foment
brusque
commodious
denigrate
reproachful
manifest
manifold
recompance
vituperative
vociferous
arraign
salacious
surfeit
grue
inchoate
evocative
retort
incicurable
hallowed
photogenic
soporific effusive
arbiter
ribald
facile
dilettante
scintilla
noncommittal
salient
spurious
adumbrate
tempestuous
visceral
effete
denotatively as well as connotatively
exult
interminable
emissary
iterative
scion
quiescent
jocular
eschaton
anesthetized
torbid
coeval
eval
facile
efflorescence
demiurge
exculpate
sacrosanct
quotidian
hirudinoid
supervenience
tenebrous
invidious
etiologic
elide
apodictic
conspectus
ornery
immanent
apostasy
umbrage
senescence
vagary
dole
milieu
largesse
distend
purview
perdue
purport
alterity
exoteric
epicure volition
perponderance
extricate
minutia
veneer
mercurial
subsume
subsumption
fustian
turgid
inure
spoliation
terse
venal
tithe
menagerie
genuflection
privation
mirth
ballast
epicurean
ratiocination
cherub
oblation
abasement
catechumen
schism
admixture
aegis
volition
protege
tortious
disavow
progenitor
palliative
amply
ersatz
anent
provincialism
succor
antechamber
indigence
malodorous
bated
mendicant
abstemious
venal
restive
starveling
gentry
tupid
torpid
adumbrate
acidulous
arrogate
nugatory canard
bulwark
subduct
preponderance
pococurante
credence
probity
accoutrement
vitiate
perspicuous
extrude
extrusion
ineluctably
supplant
vie
putative
recalcitrant
actuarial
indemnify
irenic
salubrious
bonny
frowzy
gamine
mesmeric
miasmatic
moschate
pulchritudinous
mephitic
Things to do with a friend:
Trail
Pleasure Beach
Zoo
Shopping
DDR
Shooting range
Board Games
Video Games
Movies
The only place where it existed was in his head, and if he didn't do something soon, it would be lost
forever.
Don't ever be doing nothing. Think of life as an RTS. You should always be doing as much as you can.
Treat yourself like your child. What would you prefer for your child to be doing?
Listening to the The Beatles song Nowhere Man...
I think this is a valuable observation:
You're reminiscing on fun and exciting things that happened, wondering how it was possible that such
things even occured.",1,Specific Threats,Tomorrow,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/tomorrow.pdf,Adam Lanza
"I am writing this more for my own comfort than for anything- I do not want to feel the loneliness I do.
Though it is ironic that I feel this loneliness when surrounded by people. People may not be an accurate
description of these creatures, however. (Describe why). It is creatures such as these that have driven me
from my former life as a vagabond and into this abandoned shack which is now my sanctuary. They
cannot enter, it appears, though I have not ascertained the reason. They indubitably know that I am
inside, though. If I survive the night, I should be safe for the next day, This infernal noise they emanate
will have subsided and they will have fled- They work in the darkness when we are most susceptible.
Curse this mindless noise. It is all around this shack. If they enter, I am not sure what I would do. I
immediately closed the latch on the door and fled upstairs and could not look around below, mostly owing
to my lack of any source of light. It is a miracle I stumbled across this sanctuary. Upon stumbling up the
stairs, I entered this room at the top of the steps. I fumbled around and found this functioning lantern
which gives me this hope and simultaneously perhaps will be my downfall because the creatures know
exactly where I am. Perhaps I could use this lamp against them if they manage to enter, but I do not
believe they fear light in the way some may assume. I pray that I live to tomorrow- I may then have a
chance. I am not sure what I will do first if I survive until tomorrow- I am not sure of anything. I am only
writing this to comfort myself in this situation, not as a record of my activities but as a record of my
emotions. Although I should think of the possible future. For now, I pray that they do not enter.
I managed to survive last night and now am writing on the following night. Last night, as dawn
approached, the crawling gradually receded and I decided it would be appropriate (That is not the word I
wanted-) to sleep and regain my energy. What was I thinking? I am now here awake at night when I could
have utilized that time while the sun was shining to strengthen my defenses. Upon awakening, I decided
that I would survey the damage that the babies caused. I nervously stepped outside and immediately
noticed how normal everything seemed. The babies made no attempt at enterring- What were they doing
crawling outside if not attempting to enter? They clearly knew I was inside.
He hears crawling outside of house, explains situation.
Goes to town to enlist personnel against the babies.
Orders Saiga-12 online.
Goes to daycare to check on status of babies, teacher reports him (One of the babies is missing)
Returns from jail.
Finds the missing baby in his basement, cold and hungry. He offers to help him out of pity.
The baby comes around and tells him about how he defected from the daycare. He promises to help.
The baby helps him to infiltrate a small cache of poorly-guarded baby stuff in the woods.
Goes down to firearms shop and picks up Saiga-12, the baby is furious. ~""Babies must be hoplophobes in
general. It makes sense, doesn't it?""
The baby does not say much. Firearms practice.
The baby is missing in the morning! Possible taken prisoner. He is nervous.
The crawling gets louder outside. He shoots outside of the window a few times in an attempt to frighten
them away.
He is barricaded in the basement. ~""That goddamn mothersucking (Enter baby name)!"" He comes to the
conclusion that the baby had betrayed him. The crawling was completely surrounding the house during
the morning, and by afernoon, the babies had broken in the door and were crawling all over the place. He
engaged in a shoot-out with the babies and eventaully had fled to the basement where he is now writing.
He laments about not buying more magazines. He says that the journal will be safe ~""'Cause babies can't
read."", and says that he hopes that, since -he- couldn't effectively warn the general populace, someone
will figure out what has been going on before it is too late.
Playtime
Storytime
Snack Time
Coloring Time
Arts and Crafts
Learning Time
Nap Time
Clean up time
Parent Pickup
Hamilton time?
Recess",1,Specific Threats,Babies,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lanza-babies.pdf,Adam Lanza
"After some careful consideration, I've decided that I can't comfortably abide by the 500 maximum
word limit. I can't bring myself to believe that anything valuable about a person can be demonstrated in
such little space- I would have to write some gimmick. You are certainly welcome to fling this over your
shoulder at any time if this is an instant disqualifier (or if informality gets on your nerves), but I would
appreciate it if you read up until the end of the first paragraph, pretending that the entire essay is 500
words in length. I suspect that you'll be sufficiently interested in the unorthodox topic to want to finish
reading the entire essay.
Tyler Clementi's suicide seemed to be something new to everyone, and I was the only one who
remembered a similar death. Clementi's roommate had placed a hidden camera in his room and recorded
eighteen-year-old Clementi having sex with another man, and broadcasted the events over the internet.
The ridicule which Clementi received as a result of this was presumably what caused him to jump off of
the George Washington Bridge on September 22, 2010. I do not mean to say that I was reminded of the
several other young homosexuals who had committed suicide earlier in the month: the comparison was
more tangible than that. It was the death of 56-year-old Louis Conradt on November 5, 2006. He had
fallen prey to a sting operation which was broadcasted on NBC's former television series, To Catch A
Predator.
The show originally emerged from the activity of Perverted Justice, a civilian watchdog group.
Members of the group posed as boys and girls ranging from 10 to 15 years old and searched online chat
rooms for adults who were willing to engage in sexual activity with them. Once they found one, they
posted his personal information on their website. They additionally contacted as many people involved in
the adult's life as they could, such as employers, to inform them about what he had typed to their decoy.
When NBC became involved with Perverted Justice, the adults began to get invited over to a house which
was covered with over a dozen hidden cameras. When an adult arrived, the cameras recorded him being
confronted by the host of the show, who carried a transcript of the sexually-explicit online conversation
with the Perverted Justice decoy. The host read the most embarrassing sentences to the adult and asked
several questions about what he was intending to do. When the nervous adult stepped out of the house,
he was dramatically arrested by the police. He was subsequently charged with numerous crimes, usually
including at least one felony. NBC nationally broadcasted the events for the amusement of its viewers.
Louis Conradt was one of the pedophiles who had agreed to meet what he thought was going to be a
13-year-old boy for sexual activity. When Conradt didn't show up at the house which was leased to NBC,
police pursued a warrant for his arrest. The To Catch A Predator crew drove to Conradt's house to wait
outside along with the police. When all of the legal technicalities were completed the next morning, they
broke into his house and encountered Conradt. He reportedly said, ""I'm not going to hurt anyone"", raised
a pistol to his head, and shot himself.
Perhaps this is making you uncomfortable, and some awkward questions might be surfacing in
your mind: ""Is this doctrinaire madman expressing sympathy for a pedophile?""; ""Is this supposed to be a
sick kind of bigoted satire against homosexuals?""; ""Is someone in the office pulling my leg?"". Independent
of whatever opinion anyone might have of Louis Conradt, the similarities between his death and Tyler
Clementi's seem obvious. Both men felt as if they had been forced into killing themselves owing to the
way in which their society treated them in the course of pursuing its voyeuristic entertainment through
surveilling their romantic lives. In Clementi's case, there was national sympathy expressed for weeks and
the students who were responsible for broadcasting his sexual activity were universally condemned; in
Conradt's case, the only criticism which was ever directed toward Perverted Justice, NBC, and the police,
only applied to the technical methodology of his arrest. Xavier Von Erck, the founder of Perverted Justice,
responded to Conradt's death by effectively saying that he would have preferred if he hadn't died, but the
only thing which bothered him about the situation was that they would not be able to press any charges
against a dead man.
Why is it that one of these deaths is considered to be tragic, yet the other is dismissed as being
nothing other than an inconvenience and has been completely forgotten? If hypothetically only one of
these cases can be considered tragic, why is it Tyler's death by default? Momentarily forget about all of
the details pertaining to the lives of both of them for a moment, and only focus on the way in which their
society responded to their sexuality. While the treatment which Tyler received was unjustified, it 
effectively amounted to nothing other than simple ridicule. In comparison, the treatment which pedophiles
receive cannot be described by words.
They are perhaps the most universally condemned, vilified, and isolated group of people on the
planet. Pedophiles, virulently rejected by their fellow LGBT activists, have literally no one for them other
than several effete associations which haven't been active in decades. In contrast, homosexuals have
innumerable support groups to help them with anything they might need. While the discrimination which
homosexuals receive is primarily directed toward them from other private citizens, the absolute contempt
which pedophiles are subjected to is institutionalized by their government. If someone has been identified
as an active pedophile, he is automatically imprisoned for prolonged sentences. If the other prisoners
discover that someone is a pedophile, he is brutalized beyond belief, with the rest of society nodding in
approval. The prospect of this happening is a significant incentive for pedophiles to commit suicide before
being imprisoned. One pedophile who was being charged with child molestation expressed possibly the
same sentiment which Louis Conradt was feeling by saying, ""If it comes down to that, I'll swallow a bottle
of pills. I'd rather go on my own than die in prison"".
Everyone who is convicted of engaging in pedophilic activity is given a life sentence independent
of the actual verdict: if a pedophile is lucky enough to leave prison within their lifetime, after being
subjected to mandatory castration in some cases, they must live the rest of their life branded as a violent
rapist. They are constantly under the supervision of their government, in some cases through the use of
GPS bracelets. Their personal information is widely divulged to their neighbors, as if public castigation
against them is encouraged. They can be evicted or denied service by landlords and can be denied
employment without any opportunity for legal recourse while any other group could successfully win a civil
rights lawsuit. Left itinerant and without meaningful employment, they are additionally subjected to the
universal seething rage of everyone around them, and no one has any sympathy for any harrassment,
vandalism, death threats, or overt violence which is directed toward them.
Why is this the case? Is it right that pedophiles are the one social group which everyone can
agree deserve to be tortured, if not outright killed? Are they truly the demons which everyone sees them
as, which lead one judge in sentencing a pederast to saying among shouts of ""Shame!"":
"". . . the crime of which you have been convicted is so bad that one has to put stern restraint upon one's
self to prevent one's self from describing, in language which I would rather not use, the sentiments which
must rise in the breast of every man of honor who has heard the details of these two horrible trials. That
the jury has arrived at a correct verdict in this case I cannot persuade myself to entertain a shadow of a
doubt . . .
It is no use for me to address you. People who can do these things must be dead to all sense of shame,
and one cannot hope to produce any effect upon them. It is the worst case I have ever tried . . . I shall,
under the circumstances, be expected to pass the severest sentence that the law allows. In my judgment
it is totally inadequate for a case such as this.""
Although the judge was speaking of pederasty, he presumably would have been even more
appalled by pedophilia. Both terms are among a vague series of categorizations for adults who are
sexually attracted to youths:
Pedophilia is the sexual attraction to prepubescent children.
Hebephilia is the sexual attraction to children in the early stages of puberty; Louis Conradt was technically
a hebephile, not a pedophile.
Ephebophilia is the sexual attraction to pubescent adolescents. Pederasty is generally an instance of an
ephebophilic relationship between males.
Pedophilia is commonly used as a blanket-term to encompass all of these, and I will be using it to
refer to all of these for the sake of simplicity. Recognize that, however devious, perverted, or illegitimate it
might be seen as, and despite the derogatory ""phile"" appended to it, pedophilia is merely a sexual
orientation. It's a part of the rainbow, along with homosexuality and heterosexuality. A pedophile could
live their entire life without ever coming into contact with a child because the only requirement for being
one is having a sexual attraction to children. However, allowing myself even in the slightest to define
pedophilia here as including adults who merely have a dormant sexual attraction to children, would be
vapidly conciliatory, and would not address the larger issue. For that reason, the definition of a pedophile 
which I will be using is an adult who both desires and engages in sexual activity with any person who is
considered to be under the legal age of consent; id est, a child.
Before addressing whether or not the treatment of this group of people is right, the nature of
persecution itself must be addressed. Regarding the subject of apathy of persecution, there is a quotation
by the pastor Martin Niemöller which goes by several forms and is quite popular. An example of it is:
First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me.
Everyone feels good about saying such things, but the use of this quote is actually quite
counter-productive because it insufficiently addresses the problem of historical perspectives. If you were
to look at many of the groups which have been persecuted throughout history, you would find that many
people have never actually been explicitly apathetic to the persecution: it's that they were incapable of
seeing that the persecutory treatment of some group was wrong. Afterall, Martin Niemöller himself was an
anti-communist who was not merely apathetic to the way in which communists were treated by the Nazi
Party, but actively supported it, incapable of seeing that it was actually unjustified.
For example, many Christians during the Middle Ages did not somehow know in the backs of their
minds that persecuting ""blasphemers"" was wrong, yet did not care enough to do anything about the issue:
they genuinely believed that blasphemy warranted floggings, imprisonments, and murders. The
highly-influential theologian Thomas Aquinas illustrated this belief by saying that heretics ""by right . . . can
be put to death and despoiled of their possessions by the secular [authorities], even if they do not corrupt
others, for they are blasphemers against God, because they observe a false faith. Thus they can be justly
punished [even] more than those accused of high treason"". The harm which the Christian persecutors
inflicted was not caused by apathy, but by a barbaric perspective.
Simultaneously, every generation of people believes that they are lucky enough to be living in a
society which is the most enlightened of all history. They believe that they have the best perception of the
world out of anyone, and that they are not fundamentally fallible. As much as everyone thinks that this is
somehow nonapplicable today, this absolutely includes the current generation just as much as prior ones.
This is how bigotry actually prevails: when people have genuine certainty, without any willful ignorance
nor deliberate malice, that their actions are justified by their somehow optimal perspective. People must
understand that they do not think any fundamentally differently from anyone who lived hundreds of years
ago; we do not have some sort of metaphysical comprehension of everything which transcends anything
prior people were capable of understanding.
Because of this notion of certainty that we have in our perspective, and being aware that people
in the past have always had this identical perspective for themselves while still being fundamentally
wrong (as best as we can discern), we can assume that we have beliefs which are fundamentally wrong;
the only problem is that it's not exactly a simple matter to identify which ones they are. People who use
that Martin Niemöller quote should not be asking themselves ""What can we do to stop the persecution of
X group?"", which is highly dependent on their preexisting prejudices, but rather, ""Who is X group?"". You
can ask yourself if the treatment of pedophiles is genuinely nothing other than the correct way to deal with
them, or if this is yet another unseen incarnation of communists, trade unionists, and Jews.
Just like all marginalized groups, pedophiles are stereotyped in undesirable ways. In their case, a
typical pedophile is portrayed as being a creepy old man in a dirty rain coat who hides in the bushes of a
park with a bag of candy. This, however, is no more legitimate of a representation than any other generic
stereotype for its associated group. What then, is a typical pedophile like? To Catch A Predator was
actually quite successful in demonstrating that there is no such thing as a typical pedophile. The
pedophiles who appeared on the show represented every age group, from 19-year-olds to a 68-year-old.
They were of every race, major religion, and type of personality. They were employed in a wide variety of
fields, which included education, engineering, marketing, medicine, law enforcement, fire control, and law;
Louis Conradt was a district attorney for over twenty years. The one similarity between the pedophiles
who appeared on the series was that every one of them was male.
This is not because every pedophile is male; female pedophiles rarely look to the internet to meet
children because they generally have greater access to them without causing suspicion. It is not too 
unusual for females to be in situations where they can undress or bathe children, and it is considered to
be culturally acceptable for females to cuddle, kiss, and fondle them. Females comprise 6% of reported
child molestation cases, although ths number is lower than the real value owing to the aforementioned
reasons in combination with a lower likelihood of being reported.
The age range of the decoys was also fairly representative of what the most pedophiles are
attracted to, although skewed toward the ephebophilia range. Pedophiles who are attracted to
prepubescent girls have an age preference of 8-10, and pedophiles who are attracted to prepubescent
boys have an age preference of 10-13.
Socrates, along with innumerable other greek men, practiced pederasty. The trial from which the earlier
judge's excerpt came was for the highly lauded poet and playwright Oscar Wilde.
""He's just like a flower in bloom. He's at that perfect stage in which he is hermaphroditic. That is to say,
he is neither all male nor all female not that anybody is of course, everyone is some mixture of those two
characteristics but he is at the moment in that wonderful limbo between being a child and being an
adolescent that is he is certainly an adolescent at this point, but he still has this soft feminine grace about
him.
A 12 or 13 year old boy.""
""I would try by saying that it's the freshness of their mind, the nimbess of their bodies, the way in which
they move, they act- They're graceful.""
""I just want ot be able to walk down 5th avenue and see adults and children mingled together.""
Forcing children into relationships with their parents by stripping away their right to employment and
property is no different than forcing women to have husbands by stripping away their right to employment
and property.
""A child is uninterested in it, and thus is abused by the adult who manipulates the child for sex.""
This is what every adult does for the child. Every adult manipulates it. Yet, you only object when it comes
to sex. Why?
If a child is not interested, then they have the option to refuse.
""I don't believe it is possible for a child and an adult to have a healthy symbiotic sexual relationship,
mostly due to the fact that most children simply aren't interested in sexual contact.""
You can say the same about women.
""'And there's the rub. If it is not between equals, how do you prevent coercion?'
Irrelevant. If that's reason to prevent sex between unequals, it's reason to prevent any interaction
between unequals.... unless you can demonstrate that sex is different for some important reason.""
People assert that prepubescent children are incapable of having children of their own, so they are not to
be allowed to have sex.
Their restriction of children's behavior shouts, ""Once you are physically capable of having children, you
may have slaves of your own.""
People who assert that someone can engage in sexual contact only once they are mature.
""Maturity"" is someone's ability to conform to others' expectations.
""Children aren't physically capable!""
Define sexual contact. Perhaps I should define and use ""sensuous contact"" for them, instead, to
encompass more activity.
voting- Men were supposed to represent their family.
Women are too capricious!
What does a person need to ""get"" about sex? What makes it any more spectacularly involved than tying
your shoe, eating some ice cream, or watching a really good film? People don't do themselves any favors
by placing sex in its own category of importance and significance. People can connect with each other
intimately in many different ways, spiritually and intellectually, as well as physically.
Let me hazard a guess what people mean when they say ""children don't understand"". They mean they
don't have the cynical, ugly jaded view of human beings as manipulating quasi-psychotics. The people
who say this tend to see a poisoned well everywhere they look, they see ulterior motives beneath the
surface of every expression.
Does a child understand that her step-mom buys her candy and takes her to the park in order to curry her
favor? Does she understand that she has to go to Sunday school because her parents want her to grow
up with the same inculcation they received? Does she comprehend the subtle molding and shaping and 
channeling her guardians impose upon her, in order to try to steer her closer to matching their ideals?
No, most children would not. But you don't say ""you shouldn't buy sweets for your kids because they don't
understand your motives"".
No, instead people telescope on sexual expression. By all means, manipulate children as you see fit.
Pour your religion into them, fill them up with your phobias and your cowardice and weaknesses. But
dammit, if a sexuality enters the picture at any point, buster, you've crossed the line! Most people don't
give two squats about manipulating each other, manipulating children especially. Don't try to fool me that
they do.
They care about sex because they've had it blemished by their own parents' shame and guilt and feelings
of dirtiness. Religions, but not just religions, have told them to turn their nose in disgust at their animal
selves, as if they should castrate an entire aspect of their nature. But you can't. The human animal has its
desires and always will. That does not mean, however, that it does not come packaged along with human
ego, human consciousness, and conscience.
People will manipulate. People will engage in sex. But these two do not necessarily occur at the same
time. They do not entail one another.
If someone detests manipulation, then by all means fight it. I feel the same way, and I hate seeing
children lied to and cheated.
But I won't for a second let someone make me feel ashamed because they have issues with human
sexuality and place it on a black pedestal.
Sex can express beauty, rapture, spiritual awe. It can represent almost nothing but biological imperative.
It can mean domination. It can mean insecurity, or acceptance. But I won't presume to know the
particulars of any given case, projecting my problems onto another.
I'll summarize with one of my favorite Nietzsche quotes: ""The … resolve to find the world ugly and bad
has made the world ugly and bad.""
For instance, I hated having my grandmother kiss me.",1,Specific Threats,Essay on Pedophilia,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lanza-pedophilia.pdf,Adam Lanza
"People who deny the legitimacy of sexual orientation being based on age rather than gender believe that
gender is a sort of immutable pseudo-metaphysical categorization of humans yet age is not, so it does
not constitute a sexuality.
Yet people treat children
People saying, ""You can't handle a relationship with an adult?"" is no different than saying to a gay male,
""You can't handle a relationship with a woman?""
Children cannot legally consent. That is incontestable.
A part of sexual orientation.
(Address the assertion that since some children are harmed, it's best to outlaw it to protect them.)
I would say that in the meantime, if one straddles the fence, and even if one does not, education seems
of the most importance. Granted, we live in a time where I can't frankly engage in discussion with a child
about sex without fear of repercussion. I can't even form a close friendship with a young friend without
raising suspicions. That makes education difficult. Sometime, somewhere, someone has to fight this if it
should ever change. That will inescapably cause hurt to someone else, and a rift in the established order
and mean. I lament that, and while I don't know if I could bring myself to serve as such a thorny catalyst, I
understand the necessity.
(Address the assertion that sex with children doesn't benefit anyone.)
Add Kinsey.
If a Muslim were to say that a female would be harmed if she let anyone see her skin, and he said that I
needed evidence to prove otherwise, I would dismiss his claim. She would only be harmed if everyone
told her that she was supposed to be harmed by it.
""When we “protect” children, we prevent them from having access to information and experiences. We
may justify doing so in order to promote a particular notion of the good life (”have long term relationships,
fall in love, have a family, been more successful, have better mental health” in your words).
We lie to them and lock them up for their own good. But really, it’s for our own good – our conception of
the good. All your examples are euphemisms for pursuing a particular kind of life that may, in fact, be very
immoral by some standards. Mutual sexuality output contracts, reproduction, achieving high social status,
and behaving in a predictable manner do not seem to me to be goals so universally honorable that they
justify denying 13-18-year-olds control of their own bodies.""
Statutory-rape laws encode the outdated and sexist idea that a woman's virginity must be protected for
her father's sake and that she herself can never desire on her own, Levine argues.
On a more general level we can look at the undoubted fact that in this
society children are the property of their parents; they are placed in the
hierarchical family structure which demands that they be non-sexual and
denies them the liberty to choose with whom they want to associate.
However much a child may suffer persecution from peers and be unloved 
by parents, because of this property relationship, a friendship with an adult
is frowned upon. Together with the wrath which results from their breaching
of property rights, paedophiles also incur wrath because many people
consider sex to be basically brutal and exploitative by its very nature and
not mutually enjoyable. Some people therefore assume that any
paedophile relationship must necessarily consist of an adult sexually
exploiting a child. Consequently the law operates on the assumption that
the superior power position of the adult has been used to force the sexual
relation-ship. The criminal justice system then, according to this argument,
is not primarily concerned with the safety of the child at all but with the
safety of the family structure and the maintenance of private property.
Another example of children being controlled by parents- Custody cases. If they are asked what they
want, the question they're asked is ""By whom do you want to be dominated for a significant portion of
your life?""
This contradiction between the free-spirit of children and being owned by their parents...
---Murderers don't have to register on a list, but sex offenders do?
The notion of 'protection' by means of taking all decisions out of the hands
of the party to be protected, and giving all responsibility to 'authorities' who
are presumed to know best, is clearly evident in the SPCC procedure. In
this case it is the social worker who is presumed to know best. And the
social worker is clearly charged with the task of convincing the child and
family 'of the necessity for prosecuting the offender to protect the
community'. What if they are not convinced? What if the child was very fond
of the adult and knew a damn sight better than any social worker that he
was not a danger to the community? What if the parents knew it too? - for
parents often do oppose prosecution.
 It appears that this 'we know best' attitude is even allowed to
influence the judicial proceedings when they are under way, in the SPCC
scheme of things: evidently they do not feel they are overreaching
themselves by moral blackmail of the accused, in persuading him to plead
guilty so as to protect the child. Yet this kind of pressure is just as unfair, in
terms of being contrary to the ordinary rules of natural justice, as the Israeli
system described above. Incidentally, it should be realized that the person
most sensitive to the harm done by police and court proceedings is often
none other than the accused. I have known several people who have
pleaded guilty when they might have escaped conviction, simply to save 
the child from the anguish of it all. One of them got a life sentence for his
pains! Can it really be satisfactory to rely on a system which exploits the
courage, the moral strength, the sheer goodness of the accused, in order to
condemn him?
'What children really need is the option to refuse. The freedom not to
engage in sexual activity is as important as any other aspect of sexual
freedom. But children are raised in such a way that they cannot refuse
adults. Parents have insisted that children accept all forms of affection from
relatives and friends - being picked up, fondled, hugged, kissed, pinched,
tickled, squeezed - leaving children with little experience in saying no. They
also have little experience in trusting their own reactions to people and in
resisting the promise of rewards. They are not informed about sexual
matters, do not understand their own sexuality or that of others, and thus
cannot cope effectively in this area. We keep children ignorant and then
worry that they are vulnerable to sexual advances.' [note 18]
Afterall, different jurisdictions across the world seem to bungle all sorts of things, particularly
when it comes to the sexuality of children. Each one seems to come to the conclusion that the children in
one place are fundamentally different than the children in another, considering that the ages of consent
range from 9 to 21; either that, or their decision is arbitrary and meaningless. There have also been such
absurdities as instances of boys below the age of consent, claimed to be incapable of comprehending
sexuality, simultaneously being held responsible for child payment. (Laws generally have no idea what
they're doing, so perhaps the law is just confused.)
Yet, I cannot imagine that the same person who would claim that the ruling is too imprecise to
apply to children, would have any opposition to a single law which deals with the legal treatment of
pedophiles, as outlined in the fifth and sixth paragraphs, despite how draconian and absolute all of it is.
*` making such a claim would not object to the current enforcement of anti-pedophile and anti-child
legislation, despite how draconian it is. However, I will grant that and address further objections to the
consent of children even though it seems quite clear that children can consent.
My short response is that children are incapable of consenting merely because the adults around them
say that they aren't capable of consenting. However, this understandably would not allay anyone's anxiety
by itself, so I will have to go in-depth into this.
Professing that a child is incapable of understanding the concept of consent because of the belief that
adults are universally ""more rational"" than they are, and thus children do not deserve to control their
bodies, is equivalent to claiming that females do not deserve to control their bodies because males are
""more judicious in personal affairs"" in relation to them, or some other such inane fatuity. It's a senseless
and morally reproachful position to hold.
. . . Before addressing this, I must admit that it sounds like a bizarre ad hoc justification for their
pre-conceived position that children should not have sex. It seems scarcely different than saying that
Africans are incapable of living as anything other than slaves because their brains are in some way not as
sophisticated as Europeans', but I will grant the assertion that adults have more developed frontal lobes
than children have.
Why does a relationship need to be perpetual? And if that's the case, then why do you not object to adults
not intending on perpetually being in a relationship with each other?
/\/\/\If it's ""making love"", then why does it matter if sexuality is involved? (Basically, just elaborate on that
""making lov"" argument.)
Can a child understand the consequences of different diets, and the serious health risks involved?
Can a child understand the consequences of traveling in a car? It is impossible for them to understand
the possibility of them getting into a car wreck. Do they have enough of a conception of the way that cars
operate to have informed consent to take the risk?
Can a child understand what it means to have a religion? How is it possible for their feeble minds to
comprehend its doctrines? Can they comprehend that if they fail to follow particular rules, they will
eternally burn in hell?
There is the notion that children are bumbling creatures who are incapable of knowing what is good and
what is bad for them, and so other people must act on behalf of them to protect them.
You don't have a right to make decisions on my behalf even if you really do have better judgement than I
do and even if doing so might actually be in my best, long-term interests. Anti-consensual, pedo-sex
anarchists are using the basic argument for the very existence of states,
Presumably, it would be better to inform children of accurate technical knowledge of sex rather than have
them basing their information off of pornography they happened to stumble upon.
These factors may prompt some approving nods as criteria for consent, if
only because they appear to rule out most, if not all, children. Giving it a
moment's more thought, however, a problem arises: even adults, in
embarking on a sexual encounter or relationship, cannot be sure 'where it
will all end'; nor do most people enter adulthood with a fixed idea as to the
activities, and people, that might turn them on -- the scope for experiment
and discovery is a lifelong one. Only the third factor, that of control over the
situation, appears to maintain its crucial importance when viewed in an
adult context.
The usual mistake is to believe that sexual activity, especially for children,
is so alarming and dangerous that participants need to have an absolute,
total awareness of every conceivable ramification of taking part before they
can be said to give valid consent. What there most definitely needs to be, is
the child's willingness [*1] to take part in the activity in question; whatever
social or legal rules are operated, they must not be such as to allow
unwilling children to be subjected to sexual acts. But there is no need
whatever for a child to know 'the consequences' of engaging in harmless
sex play, simply because it is exactly that: harmless.
Those who see only a negative potential in power discrepancies should
bear in mind that there is a comparable discrepancy in the parent-child
relationship - in which women, as mothers, may sometimes with justice be
dubbed the oppressor. Every time a mother makes an 'ageist' assumption
that her child isn't old enough to do something she wants to do (regardless
of her actual development), that she needs 'protecting' from a new
experience, when in reality she needs freeing, needs to spread her wings,
she is being oppressive.
 Similarly, the psychological need of many women to keep their
children as children, rather than letting them develop, is often an
oppressive fact during those children's later childhood and early
adolescence, and it can in extreme forms go on well into adulthood. This
type of oppression is common enough, but the sexual constriction of
children in early childhood by their mothers is much more than common - it
is all but universal in western cultures. In the Freudian formulation, little
boys fear that their fathers will castrate them, but in fact it is generally
mothers who take upon themselves the role of imposing sexual taboos. It is
the mothers who tell their little boys (and girls) the places where they must
not touch themselves, the parts they must not play with. And if the barriers 
against masturbation in infancy are gradually being broken down, mothers
still reinforce prohibitions against guilt-free sex play with age-mates, to say
nothing of the incest taboo and the prohibition of sex with adults. It is the
mothers who must answer for the 'complexes' which are the result, and
which give our culture its characteristically guilt-ridden flavour. Father may
appear superficially to be the stern law-giver in the family, but mother is the
law-giver-in-chief to both girls and boys in the formative early stages and
her threatened capacity to withhold love is a far more potent weapon in
fashioning what Freud called the 'super ego', or castrating conscience, than
any sanction wielded by the father.
 The disparity in size and power between parent and child creates a
potential for abuse: a mother could not batter a baby as big as herself. But,
on the basis that parent-child relationships are generally positive (and, in
addition, given that safeguards can be built in, such as according rights to
children) we accept that inequality is simply in the nature of the thing. In
itself, it is not an aspect on which we would focus our attention in
determining whether a particular mother-child relationship was good or bad.
 I would like to see paedophilic relationships looked at in a similar
light, because I believe that the comparison with the parent-child
relationship is in most cases more appropriate than that with adult sexual
relationships. Another model, made much of in J.Z. Eglington's Greek
Love, is that of teacher-pupil - the mentor relationship. Why should these
models, traditionally asexual as they are (in our culture), be appropriate?
Essentially because, notwithstanding the sexual element of paedophilia,
the affectual structure of a paedophilic relationship, so far as the child is
concerned, is more like that between parent and child, or between teacher
and pupil, than between lovers. Sometimes the child feels 'love' for the
adult, in a romantic sense; more often, in the case of pre-adolescent
children, the affection for the adult is not different in kind to that which it
would feel for a parent. On the adult's side there may of course be
romantic, essentially non-parental feelings, but in any discussion of the
impact of the relationship on the child, it makes sense to take as one's
model that which best fits the child's perceptions.
""Preventing adults from exploiting children by making children slaves is . . . counterintuitive.""
""Let’s face it: the modern crusade to “protect” children is really about protecting traditional parental
authority and control.""
They conflate rape with sex. They can do the same with adult males and females.
At the moment children are trained not to refuse adults anything and to
accept all forms of physical affection as being the right of an adult to
impose on a child.
We keep children innocent and ignorant and then somewhat hypocritically
worry that they will not be able to resist the sexual approaches of
pedophiles.
Pedophiles constitute only half of the relevant parties in a pedophilic relationship: the other party
is the child. What kind of a child would want to be in a pedophilic relationship? This question is
characteristic of society's view of pedophiles: the view that pedophiles invariably molest children instead
of having consensual relationships. ""They are seen as preying on children rather than relating to them,
and corrupting them instead of showing them affection."". Society tries to reduce pedophilic relationships
to an adult's sexual attraction to a child. Imagine trying to describe a heterosexual relationship to
someone, who, no matter what you say, inevitably responds with, ""I will not be tricked by you. The
relationship is fundamentally based on the decadent sexual attraction of a male and female, despite
whatever justifications you might contrive"". What can be said to something like that; to someone who has
an immutably fixed judgement, such as all heterosexual relationships being illegitimate, and who will not
listen to reason?
Perhaps a personal annecdotal experience will help you to see this. A while ago, I knew a
thirteen-year-old boy online. He was the youngest person in an online group of people ranging from
mid-teens to late thirties. He didn't speak very often, but a couple months after first meeting him, I asked
him about his opinion on something and we got to talking about various things each night. At one point,
he degraded something he had said because he was ""just a kid"", and I replied that age meant nothing to
me. Another time, he asked me what I thought about homosexuals and I said that someone's sexuality
was irrelevant to me. He thought it was amusing that I appeared to not judge anything about anyone.
Soon after, he confided in me that he was bisexual and that I was the only person he had told. He
began talking to me about sexuality and all sorts of personal things, like his anxiety over being in a family
of Jehovah's Witnesses, of being in an abnormally-homophobic school, and of his attraction toward his
male best friend. I had never tried talking about his sexuality to him: he brought up the subject himself
because, for the first time in his life, someone was actually willing to listen to him as a person instead of
the label of a child. He appreciated that very much, and even joked about wanting me to be his father for
the next five years.
All of it made me wonder how many lonely children there are who are dismissed as being
unimportant because of their age. While there was nothing pedophilic about any of this, it illustrates how a
pedophilic relationship could begin. One pedophile in his journal described that, ""Boys just want to know
about sex and no one really wants to tell them about it — they want to play with themselves and with
other people and they want to do it more times than teachers or parents would think possible. All I do is
give the boys what they want and to let them talk about things that no one else would let them talk about"".
After the pedophile was discovered by the police and, in standard pedophile-style, subsequently
commited suicide, one of his young lovers said of him:
“I could really talk to him about this girl whom I wanted to fuck. We had petted but I guess I was a bit
scared about what to do then and she, I think was like me. We spent a bit of time together (him and I)
working out what I should do and it seemed to work. When I went back to his place a week or so later I
was very proud and couldn’t wait to tell him what I’d done and how it had gone. He seemed very pleased
with me and asked me all the details and I told him and we were both happy.
It was really a big kick to have (him) do things to me. I mean I really liked him touching me there and all
over the body in fact. I might have felt a bit guilty to start with but as the years have gone by I just see it
for what it was; just a bit of fun and a way for me to get a new experience.""
Pedophiles have the capacity to relate to children better than the rest of their society's adults, precisely
because they do not see them as ""children"". Pedophiles are seen as reducing children to sex-objects, but
it's instructive to see how the rest of society actually views children. This perspective might explain why
pedophilia is so abhorred by society. A clue is provided in a quote from Xavier Von Erck's personal
website. A couple of months prior to Louis Conradt's death, he said that, ""I'm not in this to protect
children, it's a nice side benefit sure, but my motivation is to make life a living hell for predators and
pedophiles online.""
That sounds a bit strange. According to everyone, their opposition to pedophilia is based off of a desire to
protect children. Yet, the mother of a girl who had consensual sexual activity with an adult said of the
pedophile that ""My little girl was abused and abused. She probably knows more about sex than I do. It 
sickens me to have to say it, but I think she came to like it. She must have, she was always excited when
he came around to the house . . . when police told me what he had done to my little girl I thought she
would be better off dead"". For the pedophile, she said that she ""just wanted to tie him on an ants' nest
and pour boiling water over him"".
This is a view which is expressed invariably by adults: that children are better off dying than having
consensual sex. From what does this (dogma) come? Hidden beyond the overt treatment of pedophiles in
this society, it is instructive to see the treatment of children. What is the life of a child like?
Battery of children, euphemized under the cute-sounding ""spanking"", is fully legal in the United States;
bizarrely, the penalty for loving a child is significantly worse than the penalty for hating one. Children's
free wills are suppressed and annihilated in every conceivable manner within families. Their associations,
location, and every action is subject to the arbitrary caprice of their parents. They are denied their own
thoughts, opinions, values, and religious beliefs, instead being manipulated into adopting their parents'.
Within the rest of society, children are denied property; their parents can instantly siphon it from them,
regardless of how the child obtained it. Furthermore, they are forced into all of this through being denied
employment, and they are denied the right to have even the remotest impact on their government which
institutes all of this.
If an adult discovers that a child has chosen to engage in a pedophilic relationship with another adult who
is able to sympathize with (the child's pain), the relationship which the child considered to be valuable is
instantly destroyed. Children are indoctrinated into believing that they have been unimaginably abused by
the pedophile- even while their own parents continue to control every facet of their life-, they are labeled
as horribly damaged victims, and are subject to the (abusive) will of psychiatrists who ""treat"" them into
believing that they can overcome their ""abuse"". Doesn't it say everything about society's view of children
when pedophilia is compared to necrophilia and bestiality? Society views children as being no different
than inanimate, unfeeling matter at worst, or mindless animals at best. Consent is something which is
important to me. On the contrary, people who oppose pedophilic relationships are the ones who do not
care about consent. They completely dismiss chlidren's wills and desires as being nonexistent.
Imagine that the world takes away the only person who loves you, and tortures him for the rest of his life,
and the world tells you that you have done something very wrong for not submitting to its will, which
demands that you abstain from such a meaningful relationship. The world shouts that your feelings are
nonexistent at worst and completely illegitimate at best, and that you must be taught to see everything in
the same way everyone else does. People think of children as being fundamentally different than adults,
as if their emotions are meaningless, and that they must be conditioned into having the values the rest of
society has.
I can only come to the conclusion that adults do not fear pedophiles at all: adults fear the freedom of
children. The assertion that children are incapable of consenting is an indication of the abusive mentality
which is inflicted upon them daily in this society, dehumanizing them and oppressively relegating them to
the status of slaves. The opposition to the sexuality of children cannot be conceived as a concern for
them- the adults who oppose it are self-serving. The world shouts to children that they are not people:
children are property.",1,Specific Threats,Essay on Pedophilia,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lanza-pedophilia.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""You do not see children asking to be free!""/""Children are asexual. Why would they want to have sex?
They must have been coerced.""
This is blatantly false and no evidence exists to justify this. Even infants are sexual.
This is the exact type of claim which would be used to relegate females to the status of property: the
notion that females are asexual, and thus there is nothing wrong with denying them their own decisions
because they must be controlled for their own good; violent coercion is justified against a female because
no female would ever desire anything sexual owing to some arbitrary cultural criterion.
Someone might say that it would be difficult to find a child who wants to have sex with an adult, or that
children are happy to be in their current situation and do not want ""freedom forced onto them"". Although I
do not believe that to be the case, if that were true, then it would be no different than slaves in the
pre-Civil War United States believing that their slaveowners have bestowed a positive economic benefit
upon them, and they're happy to live the way they are. After all, they receive food and housing in
exchange for their obedience.
But whatever they desire is quite irrelevant (especially considering that it is the result of the current state
of things); I am not saying that they cannot be enslaved if they so desire. What I want to offer them is the
choice to be free, with them deciding if they want to be. I wouldn't need to demonstrate a slave's desire to
be free: all that I would need to do is allow them to have the option of attaining freedom. The same
applies to children: I do not need to demonstrate their desire to be free: all that I would need to do is allow
them to have the option of attaining freedom. I'm not going to act of behalf of children, coercing them to
behave in the way I want them to. If a child wants to engage in sexual behavior, then that is all there is to
it.
A number of factors dispose Bender and Blau and others to think of the
sexuality of children as pathological. Chief among them is the cultural factor
that children in our society are not expected to have sexual relationships,
certainly not with adults, and that any expression of such 'symptoms' is a
sufficient indicator that they need 'treatment'.
Pedophilia is subject to numerous explicitly fallacious arguments, which are often accepted as
obvious truths. If they were to be applied against homosexuality, many people would see them for what
they are, but the inclusion of children clouds people's vision. An example would be to say that pedophilia
is unnatural, and therefore should not be tolerated. People who make that assertion presumably believe
that anyone who exhibits unnatural behavior deserves to be tortured, but beyond that, whether or not
some behavior is ""natural"" is entirely irrelevant to whether or not it warrants any mistreatment. Another
example is the assertion that pedophiles need to be treated in such a way because the DSM-IV
recognizes pedophilia as a mental illness. Beyond the relevance of this assertion, it is difficult to take any
of the DSMs seriously when it comes to the classifications of sexuality; prior editions arbitrarily listed
homosexuality as a mental illness, which was equally arbitrarily removed in a revision. Despite all that
could be said about the status of pedophilia under the DSM-IV, it is not relevant to the legitimacy of
pedophilic relationships. I will not address the dozens of such arguments for the sake of brevity, and will
go directly toward the most common and most understandable argument: the idea that a child is
fundamentally incapable of consenting.
Someone who argues against pedophilic relationships in this way might concede that there are 
individual children who are capable of consenting, but that the majority are unable to, so there must be, at
the very least, an age of consent law to protect them. In either case, the belief is that at least a
considerable portion of children are incapable of consenting to sexual activity, and that therefore, any
instance of sexuality among children should be outlawed because it might constitute rape. To include
both groups, all references to ""a child"" and ""children"" will refer to a completely average child rather than
an exceptional one.
Personally, I do not understand why sexual activity is considered to be incomprehensible to a
child. Perhaps I missed a memo which I was supposed to receive at some point, because I have the
same conception of sexuality as I did when I first was exposed to any information pertaining to it at age
11. While my value-judgements of sex have changed, I haven't had a divine transcendence which I was
presumably supposed to have pertaining to the conception of it. Additionally, when I was prepubescent, it
was my observation that none of my peers would have had any incapacity to consent. I have never
understood the mysticism with which this topic is treated. However, I will try to treat this assertion
seriously.
Some who argue that children cannot consent to sexual activity claim that they are literally
cognitively incapable of the necessary comprehension. This argument is based on the assertion that
children's frontal lobes are inadequately developed to conceive of something as allegedly confounding as
sex. The state of their frontal lobes is said to be relevant because their capacity to reason is perceived as
being considerably affected by it; capacity to reason is a requisite for understanding what sexual activity
entails, which is necessary for the establishment of consent to it. From this view, children would be similar
to a mentally-impaired adult. An argument against such an adult's ability to consent does not directly
pertain to the developmental state of their brain, but instead relies on a doubt as to their capacity to
reason. Similarly, a child's ability to consent would also be purely dependent on their capacity to reason
rather than the irrelevant developmental stage of their brain.
At the beginning of 2011, the High Court of England and Wales had to determine the criteria
applying to a mentally-impaired adult in establishing the legitimacy of consent to sex. It ruled that:
""For capacity to consent to sex to be present the following factors must be understood:
(a) the mechanics of the act
(b) that only adults over the age of 16 should do it (and therefore participants need to be able to
distinguish accurately between adults and children)
(c) that both (or all) parties to the act need to consent to it
(d) that there are health risks involved, particularly the acquisition of sexually transmitted and sexually
transmissible infections
(e) that sex between a man and a woman may result in the woman becoming pregnant, and
(f) that sex is part of having relationships with people and may have emotional consequences.""
The only reof cognitive development. The court did not need to isolate mentally-handicapped adults into some
quasi-metaphysical category separate from typical adults: the ruling applied to both. Momentarily ignoring
(b), these appear to be reasonable criteria for the establishment of consent to sexual activity, and I cannot
imagine other jurisdictions coming to vastly different conclusions. The ruling states that any
mentally-impaired adult who could understand all of this would be elligible for sexual activity. Likewise, it
would intuitively apply to children, who are to be seen as being mentally-impaired owing to their
undeveloped frontal lobes. Therefore, if a child understood all of this, then they would be free to engage
in sexual activity if they so desired. However, the judge threw in (b), a requirement that only adults could
legally engage in sexual activity. It is a qualification which I would similarly expect from every jurisdiction.
If a severely mentally-impaired adult may engage in sexual activity simply because they are
capable of understanding sex, then why may a child not enjoy the same right? While it might be conceded
that children are cognitively capable of understanding sex, it is further argued that for some number of
external reasons, they should not be allowed to engage in it. Because the court did not attempt to justify
its position, I will have to assume that it was a general reflection of the attitude of the rest of its society,
and I will attempt to address those widespread contentions.
While some people may concede that children are cognitively capable of consenting to sex, they
claim that children do not have the practical knowledge to do so. If that is the case, then that is an
indication that children should be exposed to all of the relevant information pertaining to sexuality rather 
than continue the standard practice of distorting their image of the world. It is as if someone has lived
their entire life while forcefully being help captive in a cage; upon my telling the guard to release the
prisoner, they proclaim, ""What do you expect me to do? He has not lived in the cage long enough to have
a conception of how to live outside of it"". If a particular child is ignorant of sexuality, it is not owing to
some inadequacy they have: it is because their society has deliberately witheld the relevant information
from them.
Perhaps someone would argue that children might be able to understand information which is
given to them about sexuality, but they are incapable of making informed decisions with that information.
It is said that, because sexual relationships are multifaceted, they are subsequently incomprehensible to
a child. This view can only mean that children have not been conditioned into having the same arbitrary
cultural values about sexuality as the rest of their society has. Basically, in the case of childhood
sexuality, they argue that children have not been indoctrinated into understanding that child sexuality is
supposed to be morally outrageous.
If homosexuality were to be considered indecent by a society, would you tell a new member of
that society that they cannot engage in it because they do not have an accurate conception of what
homosexuality means to their society; or would you dismiss their society's perspective and recognize that
the only relevant parties are the ones engaging in the homosexual relationship? Why would those
external societal meanings matter?
Furthermore, who gets to decide what the values are which pertain to sexual relationships?
Personally, it is my opinion that the overwhelming majority of adults have no conception of how to
participate in a meaningful romantic relationship, and that they would be better off if they were single.
Should that mean that I would be justified in treating everyone in the same way which this society treats
pedophiles and children? My personal opinions seem to be entirely irrelevant, along with every other
person's opinions. Any contexts which pertains to any particular relationship is up to the individuals
involved to perceive on their own. The most prudent position would be to allow everyone to live in the way
they desire instead of forcing them to behave according to some irrelevant external notions of vague
prerequisites, and of what sexual relationships are ""supposed to"" entail.
In the case of children, why can't each child determine by theirself what sex means to them?
While I don't recognize the validity of their assertion, perhaps there genuinely are perceptions of sexuality
which are important for people to have to live their lives. If that is the case, then if children were allowed
to engage in sex, they would no longer be alien to any of those meanings and could share those values
with the rest of their society.
Some might argue that children should not be free to determine their own values when it comes
to sexuality, or perhaps they should not even have any information pertaining to it, because sex destroys
their childhood innocence. ""What does innocence mean, other than enforced ignorance?"" It is a
societally-sanctioned notion which is thrusted upon children independent of their will. When people are
appalled about the idea of exposing children to information about sexuality, using such trite slogans as
""Let kids be kids"", all I can hear is, ""Let us force our societal notions onto these people, who may not live
in any way other than in the way we've decided for them"".
The notion of a society ""protecting"" the innocence of children by preventing them from engaging
in sexuality, is no different than the notion of ""protecting"" females from engaging in premarital sex: ""We
can't allow our dear women, with their dainty and purely untarnished minds, to be exposed to such base
and immoral matters as sex: it would fluster their poor hearts and corrupt their very soul. We must outlaw
their premarital sex for their own good"". Instead of acting on behalf of females, it makes the most sense to
allow each one to come to her own conclusions and act in the way she desires. Similarly, instead of
outlawing pre-age-of-consent sex for children, they should be able to come to their own conclusions
about sexuality and act in the way they desire.
If protecting children is something which is genuinely important to you, then you should be eager
to inform children about sexuality in an honest manner. This notion of ""innocence"" is very harmful to
children. Imagine a case in which a little girl is sitting on her uncle's lap. The uncle fondles her genitalia
against her will. Information about her genitalia, which she only knows as her naughty off-limits zone, was
viewed by her parents as being so dirty for a child, that they never mentioned anything about it. In a
house where sexuality is a topic which everyone acts nervous about whenever it is remotely referenced
to, it's to be expected that the little girl would never mention her uncle to anyone. She would be too
worried about getting into trouble over the matter because she would imagine that her molestation was
her fault, and that she was being naughty. Meanwhile, she continues to get molested everytime her uncle 
sees her because her parents were afraid of destroying her ""childhood innocence"".
She would have been better off in preventing her uncle from molesting her if she had even the
slightest information about sexuality, instead of being kept ignorant about it and having parents who were
terrified of the topic. The best way you can prevent children from being molested is informing them about
sexuality so that they can identify what's happening to them.
( Imagine another case in which someone has had their ""innocence"" taken.)
""Adults have more power than children, so their relationships are illegitimate!""
The proposed solution to eliminating instances of a discrepancy of authority in relationships, is to use the
authority of adults to control children as property rather than allow them to live in the way they desire.
It seems counterintuitive.
The issue present here is the notion of societal authority.
Children should not be taught that they are to be submissive to the will of adults. It is appalling that such a
practice is accepted.
You advocate a system under which children are to be treated as sub-human, and then are appalled
when an adult has sex with one?
How can anyone criticize a pedophilic relationship owing to a power discrepancy, while supporting the
power discrepancy in every single non-romantic relationship the child is forced into having with adults?
Why is it that the presence of sexuality makes one abusive, yet not any of ther others?
It is because the opposition to pedophilia from a power-disparity perspective has nothing to do with
pedophilia in itself. The same thing applies to x (like psychiatrists and employers). The reason why it is
opposed, like the others, is because of an atavistic opposition to sexuality.
What about the power disparity between a politician and a subject? A politician has the ability to write an
arbitrary law which allows police to kill the subject on sight, yet no one objects to this for the reason of a
""power discrepancy"".
What if the instance of power changed?
Or what if there is one person who is significantly better at doing something which the other person is
completely unable to do? Would it be right to persecute the ones with more power in their field for
""abusing"" the one with less?
What if a child desired the wisdom or X or X of an adult?
There is innately a ""power disparity"" in every relationship.
Saying that children should be prevented from behaving the way they desire because adults have more
authority, is no different than saying that slaves should be prevented from behaving the way they desire
because free people have more authority. The issue would have absolutely nothing to do with the slaves:
all of the fault lies in the institution which oppresses them and continually contrives justifications for its
existence.
Instead of eliminating sexual relationships which have power discrepancies, it seems as if the most
prudent solution is to eliminate the notion of power: the idea that it is right for one person to be subject to
the caprice of another, and instead allow people to live in the way they desire. If a child wants to have sex
with an adult, why can they not?
No one believes that a pretentious ""power disparity"" argument applies to the legitimacy of sexual
relationships between adults, yet it arbitrarily applies to children?
This argument against pedophilic relationships can be applied to females to oppose their premarital
sexual relationships. Because males in such a society have more ""power"", that makes their relationship
illegitimate? What is wrong with that? Someone could say to a male that, ""The institution of an adult male
having sex with an adult female is rife with innummerable centuries of domination and oppression.
Females cannot countenance the power dynamics involved in such a relationship, and thus must be
prevented from engaging in any until they attain our societal milestone of marriage"".
All that you can say to such a person is, ""This has nothing to do with specious notions of institutions,
power dynamics, and society. This is what we want to do and it only involves us. Nothing else matters.""
The real reason you bring this up is because of a patronizing perspective of children as being sub-human.
There is the argument that the ""power disparity"" in the relationship between an adult and a child renders
any sexuality between them to be inherently abusive.
In any event, the pedophile doesn't have any ""power"" in the relationship. Numerous people will want to kill
the pedophile as soon as he is discovered. How can it be said that there is any power involved in
pedophilic relationships? In fact, there is a subversion of power- a subversion of the power of society.
(Elaborate, I guess.)",1,Specific Threats,Essay on Pedophilia,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lanza-pedophilia.pdf,Adam Lanza
"""Children who engage in pedophilic relationships are harmed!""
What the younger one in the relationship from earlier said:
""I can’t really think how this could have possibly affected me adversely, but I sometimes think about what
would have happened if we had been caught. Certainly, he would have been devastated by the law and
the police. I think I would have been made to feel as though I was some sort of freak and might well have
sort of begun to think of myself as being a queer or whatever. But that’s all that might have happened.
What really happened was enjoyable and didn’t affect me in a major way at all.”""
Presumably, this is because sexual relationships have unimaginably grave consequences of some sort,
and thus must be approached exceedingly carefully.
When children are taught that engaging in sexual activity is immoral, of course they will feel guilty.
Is the abuse which can be observed in pedophilic relationships endemic because of the age difference, or
because it is legitimately abusive?
""I was abused as a 13-year old, but it wasn't abusive just because of my age. No, it was abusive because
this guy was lying to me and keeping me from my family. Sex is OK if it is consensual and safe, no matter
what the person's age is. There isn't some metaphysical category of ""children"" who are all nonsexual,
naive, innocent beings.""
One of the reasons children do not report sex abuse is that their
parents have usually made it abundantly clear (by their behavior)
that they don't like talking about sex, or interpersonal problems
the child is having, and children are able to guess what kind of
news might make their parents go off on them. Kids hate it when
their parents flip out (for good reason). Also, people learn very
early in life to manage information. Little Johnny doesn't tell his
folks what he did that got him in trouble, if it can at all be avoided.
And children are likely to assume that an unpleasant experience
is their fault in some way--another reason to not fess up.
Why is it considered that the sexuality is what harms them rather than actual abuse as distinct from
sexuality, and associating with someone who has psychopathic behavior?
The data is distorted because instances of rape and molestation are conflated with instances of
consensual pedophilic sexuality. Nonconsensual instances are more likely to be revealed to authorities.
If you demand that children need to obey your command that they cannot know about sex, cannot
engage in sex, then you cannot expect them to decline when another adult says that they must have sex.
You do not help anyone by treating sexuality in the worst light. ""Sexuality is not a matter of violence"".
Adult panic or disgust about young people's seeking pleasure for
themselves is responsible for much of the trauma that minors experience
when they are caught behaving “inappropriately” for their ages, even in a
consensual context.
So, quite the contrary, I don't think I am encouraging the kind of
behavior that some priests, a few priests, in the Catholic church
have been practicing. Rather, I think I am arguing for an atmosphere
and an attitude opposite to what began in the Catholic church, which
would be more protective of children.
Where the literature suggests that negative consequences of a short or
long term nature occur as a result of child-adult sexual contacts, it is found
that the consequences are generally associated with three common
factors. The first relates to a situation where physical force, coercion or
psychological pressure is used. The most adverse reactions occur when
physical violence is involved, especially when the child attempts to resist
but is unsuccessful. The second negative consequence occurs when poor
communications exist in the child’s family. Sexual matters cannot be
discussed openly and the child receives, or anticipates receiving strongly
negative reactions to disclosure of sexual activities. The third relates to a
situation where there is little sexual knowledge on the part of the child or
alternatively where the child has absorbed parental values suggesting that
sex is dirty, painful or frightening. But even when the last two conditions
exist the effects, the research would suggest, are nowhere near as
traumatic as popular folklore would have it. [*10]
The response of the criminal justice system both to the ‘victim’ and
‘offender’ in adult-child cases is counter-productive. We have already seen
that the older male is treated with contempt by both the police and the
courts and little sympathy is shown towards the way he will be treated in
prison. Similarly, the young male’s treatment bears a remarkable similarity
to that received by incest victims. In both paedophilia and incest
considerable distress to the boy or girl occurs when parents, relatives or
the police themselves discover the relation-ship. Constant and often
insensitive questioning adds to this distress and it is not unusual to find that
many researchers have noted that far more damage is caused by the
confrontations the child has with his parents or the legal authorities than by
the act itself.
In the case of paedophiles as opposed to, for example, parents, it is
assumed that any disparities and inequities in power between the adult and
the child will be exercised by the adult malevolently. In reality, however,
many paedophiles are patently well disposed towards their partners and
take the role of loving teachers, house parents, or simply close friends.
Clarence Osborne often epitomised the benevolence that exists in
paedophile relationships because, in many respects, he displaced the
interest shown by their parents. In short, it is a myth to assume that
paedophiles necessarily use their greater experience and power in a
destructive way.
An associated myth concerns the very common view that the child is
traumatised and socially and sexually seriously damaged. We have dealt
with this point in length in past chapters, but it is worth reiterating that the 
evidence simply does not support these assumptions. In the short run the
studies suggest that problems with the partners of paedophiles often flow
from the reactions of parents and officials, who respond to news of their
son’s relationships with such horror that it elevates the significance of the
event in the child’s life. Even in the study showing the worst possible
result—Gagnon’ s sample of 333 victims — only 5 per cent of the ‘victims’
had what Gagnon called ‘damaged adult lives’. [*1] Even here though
‘damaged adult lives ‘is a vague term and diverse causes of the damage
besides the paedophile relationship could be possible.
As Plummer perceptively points out, one obvious problem with the
stereotyping of paedophiles and the consequent myths that arise as a
result of these stereotypes is that the myths and stereotypes usually direct
us to look only at the behaviour of men. Similar activities when performed
by women such as cuddling, caressing, touching and stroking children are
socially acceptable. [*5] But for a man to engage in such contacts is inviting
the label of paedophile and possibly risking imprisonment. The stereotypes
surrounding paedophiles erect a sexist myth — and that myth is that only
men have intimate physical relations with children. The myth conveniently
ignores the fact that women often engage in similar sexual behaviour and
therefore perpetuates two common views. The first is that ‘men should not
do this but women can’ and the second that ‘any man who does this is
deeply disturbed’. But by perpetuating these myths, we conveniently forget
that children have sexual needs and emotional components that are well
documented by contemporary psychology. The very barriers that we put
between ourselves and paedophiles are in a sense the same barriers that
we put between ourselves as parents and our own children. With both
groups we prefer to stereotype them (‘paedophiles are monsters’, ‘children
are innocent’) and in this way avoid realities that we would otherwise be
forced to face.
when the study in question has an inbuilt methodological bias towards
producing figures which make the proportion of molestations look artificially
high.
(It should always be borne in mind, as stated earlier, that these findings,
like so many research data, are based on offences which have resulted in a
conviction, and are thereby heavily biased towards relationships which
gave rise to complaint by the child.)
Not all those involved in the prosecution process are that dogmatic, thank
goodness. In a letter to The Times, [note 30] a police surgeon of twenty-
five years' standing echoed Ingram's feelings by pronouncing that legal
proceedings in most paedophilic cases do the children more harm than
good – and he was honest and courageous enough to admit that the
examinations of children he had been obliged to conduct over the years
contributed much towards this harm.
Think of it intuitively. Imagine the position of a child whose family just found out about sexual activity he
had with an adult. The father is pacing around yelling that he's going to kill the adult. The mother is crying
hysterically. The siblings are afraid to treat the child normally. Subsequently, all sorts of strangers begin
interrogating the child over and over. Other children treat him like a freak. Doctors examine them against
their will. If they hadn't been raped by the adult, they most certainly are raped by the doctor. Everyone is
constantly treating the child differently. He's under constant supervision. If the adult is out on bail while
the legal process begins, the child is forced to move to a far location. Even if the child liked the adult, he
is incessantly compelled to testify against him and is forbidden from associating with him again. The court
process takes an unimaginable amount of time, during which the child keeps getting interrogated by many
different strangers. Psychiatrists and the rest of society tell the child that he has sustained something
unimaginably horrible. The child is under the impression that sexuality is something absolutely evil, and
that they are terrible for having participated. Can it really be said that it is the sexual activity which is
harmful rather than the obscene response of the child's society? All of this is done under the pretense of
protecting the child, who really needs protection from the people who profess to be acting in his interest.
There is nothing metaphysical about sexuality. The only reason why everyone perceives sexuality as
being dangerous of children is because everyone feels that childhood sexuality is in some sense ""wrong"",
and despite any contrary evidence, they continue to profess this.
""There's an assumption that sexuality is something very grave for children, and that they will be harmed if
they engage in it. Because of the way that their society treats sexuality, children end up developing issues
regarding it.""
Children would not be ""scarred"" by their voluntary sexual experiences any more than adults in typical
sexual relationships would be ""scarred"" unless their society shamed them into believing that they should
feel guilty. The reason why a child would be mentally damaged after having consented to sexual activity
is because they are socially conditioned into believing that what they did is in some ill-defined way
deleterious. This is no different than submitting to oppressive religious beliefs that premarital sexual
activity should be viewed negatively, and that anyone who engages in it should feel shame and remorse
for having committed their sins. I assume everyone here understands that there is nothing innately
pernicious about the nature of sexual relationships between adults, and that there is nothing innately
immoral about sexuality in general, yet somehow sexual activity inexplicably becomes a pestilence once
children engage in it. This argument is the equivalent of saying that the sexual activity of unmarried
couples is harmful, yet the sexual activity of married couples is neutral, or even virtuous. It's completely
nonsensical. The morality of the sexuality of children should not be evaluated any differently than the
morality of the sexuality of adults.
'What seems to have happened was that the boy was rather deprived of
affection from his parents who were cold and undemonstrative. He had
often allowed the man to cuddle him, and this sometimes led to the man
feeling him inside his trousers. If one can make a strong attempt to master
the disgust this might evoke, and consider the possible damage done to the 
boy by being starved of love at home, by enduring the anger, fearful
interrogation, and most of all by submitting to the formal repetition by the
doctor of the acts which were causing all the trouble, one can see that the
offender was the last one from whom the boy needed protection.
""Children cannot have sex because of STDs or physical damage.""
This seems like another ad hoc justification. If STDs did not exist, pedophilia would not be any less
opposed.
STDs are so stigmatized because they pertain to sexuality, not because they're diseases.
If STDs are to be perceived as a serious threat, then there is a great incentive to expose children to full
information about sexuality as early as possible, not instead defer any relevant information until they're
practically adolescents.
Pregnancy and STDs are very simple concepts that can be thoroughly explained in fewer than five
minutes.
They should also have access to contraception and protection rather than the current situation where they
have nothing.
Paul Gebhard statistics
Regarding physical damage to children, 95% of consensual pedophlic relationships do not involve
penetration.
Pedophiles as a group are not psychopathic: they love children and would not want to harm one.
The Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure, which everyone was freaking out over at the end of 2010,
represented the general opinion of pedophiles when it explicitly stated that there should be no penetration
with prepubescent children.
People need to realize that children are exposed to risks significantly more harmful than STDs.
If people genuinely were concerned about the health of children, they would exhibit it in other ways. They
don't seem to care what unhygienic actions they take. They also do not care about nutrition.
""Children can be brainwashed"" . . . Yes, that is absolutely true. People of all ages can be brainwashed,
but this in particular applies to children. However, I don't think you are applying this observation to its 
natural conlusion. You allow other types of brainwashing: ---
A glance at the way in which we think about religion, and the religious
education of children, may help to put our own culture's attitudinal response
into a useful perspective. At an official level, it is agreed that a child's
introduction to religion is extremely important.In Britain it is enshrined in the
1944 Education Act that all children in all schools shall begin the day with
an act of worship -- the only element in the curriculum which is insisted
upon by statute. This being the case -- religion being considered to be of
vital importance -- one might have expected that there would be an equal
concern in Government, at least as great as that in relation to sex, that
children should not be subjected to 'manipulaton' by ruthless adult
salesmen offering every kind of creed; that these people should not be free
to exploit the vulnerable minds of children. For if it is true that children are
incapable of making judgements about sexual relationships, how much
more adept are they likely to be at judging the rival claims of Protestant and
Catholic, or Jehovah's Witnesses and the Exclusive Brethren? How can a
child, who is so easily persuaded to believe in Father Christmas, be
expected to make sense of it? Won't she or he accept, far too uncritically,
the highly contestible notion that there is a god? Why not leave the child's
mind in a state of unmolested innocence until an age is reached at which
intellectually valid judgements can be made?
 But no. Even though this is an important issue, adults are free to fill a
child's mind with any prejudice or bigotry they like, without any danger of
facing a sentence for corrupting a minor, assault on a child's mind, or
anything else. Children are seen as fair game for the imposition of any
religious belief or value system that the adult, particularly the parents, cares
to impose. As Bertrand Russell has remarked, 'One of the few rights
remaining to parents in the wage-earning class is that of having their
children taught any brand of superstition that may be shared by a large
number of parents in the same neighbourhood.'
Why does society tolerate this? Partly, there is a vague feeling that it is
better for a child to have some religion than none at all -- not least because
most religions emphasize a restrictive sexual 'morality'! But it is instructive
to note that very little is made of the dangers of manipulating a child's mind.
The dangers are demonstrably far greater than any consequence of
manipulating a child towards consensual sexual activity (one need only
mention Northern Ireland to remind oneself of how religious bigotry
reinforces antagonism between peoples) but, quite irrationally, society
cares less about it. Religious manipulation is assumed to be good and is
positively encouraged; sexual manipulation (or 'guidance', 'showing how', 
etc.) is assumed to be bad and is stamped upon with maximal force. I shall
try to show that the latter assumption is misplaced.
 Young children above the age of infancy become susceptible to
manipulation of a less direct kind, characterized by deception. When
children acquire language, they can be told untruths, from the relatively
(though not entirely) benign Father Christmas myth, to the pernicious threat
of the 'bogeyman', who comes to take away naughty children. Sexual
myths usually fall into the pernicious category, alas, so that the whole area
of sexuality becomes poisonously invested with mystery and darkness --
and the perpetrators, far from being paedophiles, are usually ordinary
parents who, because of their own sexual anxieties and conflicts, are
inclined to fob off children with such classics of deception as the idea that
babies are brought be the stork.
 If the use of deception is a possibility for parents, it is of course a
possibility for paedophiles too. A paedophile who concocts a non-sexual
'reason' for he and a small child to strip naked together, say, may succeed
in arousing the child's sexual curiosity and excitement. This would quite
clearly be manipulation, based on exploiting the ignorance of the child as to
the adult's motives. Supposing, by contrast, the paedophile had been
scrupulously non-manipulative. Supposing, instead of playing tricks, he had
simply, and openly, invited the child to 'play' sexually. Both approaches
would require for their success the child's willing involvement and
participation at all stages. The fact that in the more manipulative case the
participation is induced by sleight of hand is really less important than the
fact that the child is relaxed and enjoying the situation. Indeed, the sleight
of hand may be an effective means of enabling the situation to occur
'naturally', so far as the child is concerned, without any embarrassment or
uncertainty on the adult's part.
 If the child is being led, or manipulated, it is at least a benevolent
manipulation, in the sense that it leads -- so long as the child is willing --
towards a pleasurable and harmless outcome. Parents constantly engage
in benevolent manipulation of this sort, without fear of social condemnation:
usually it is called not 'manipulation', but 'encouragement'. Very often,
parents will presume to anticipate a child's long-term wishes by ignoring, or
manipulating their way around, her or his immediate wishes. For instance,
in teaching a child to swim. The child may at first be tearful and
apprehensive of going into the water, or beyond a certain depth. By
encouraging 'pull' forces, and cajoling 'push' forces, the parent persuades
the child to have a go, to not be afraid, to do that which is not at first
desired. The parent does this in the full knowledge that eventually the child 
will relax, learn to swim, and enjoy the water.
 What the sensible parent does not do is to drag his protesting
six-year-old screaming towards the edge of the pool and throw him into the
deep end. Interestingly enough, were he to do so, and providing the child
were not allowed to drown, this would probably not qualify as a criminal
offence, although for the child it could be as nasty an experience as rape. It
is not an activity in which the intervention of law is thought to be necessary.
There is no elaborate questioning of whether in any particular case the
child actually consented to be introduced to the water, or was manipulated
into consenting. It is presumed that the adult will be benevolently
intentioned, and that all will work out well.
 I am not suggesting that in sexual activity a child's wishes should be
ignored, in the same way that a parent gets round his child's fear of the
water. Given that many children in our culture grow up with a deep
suspicion and fear of all things sexual, and given that there are deeply held
views as to the 'sinfulness' of many sex acts, adults are morally obliged to
accept the child's attitude towards sex. A parent does not accept his child's
inalienable right to be afraid of water and of swimming. That would be silly.
But the paedophile does have to respect the child's fear of sex. It is the
child's right to take a negative attitude, whether because she/he is
genuinely afraid of sex, or because she/he simply doesn't fancy, or like, the
paedophile in question, or for some other reason.
 As a boy-lover, I am aware that chatting to a twelve-year-old is a
vastly different matter, on average, to doing the same thing with a boy half
that age. The potential for manipulation, benevolent or otherwise, by a male
adult at any rate, is enormously curtailed. By this age, practically every boy
has learnt a great deal. He will be well aware of the prevailing sexual
mores. No adult could con him into sexual activity by disguising his own
motives. He would know too well what the grown-up was after. He would
know that such people are usually looked down upon. He would know that
they are described as 'queers' and 'benders', and that to go with them could
result in social disgrace.
 There are others who use the opportunity afforded by such social
integration to consciously and deliberately seek sexual encounters. Over a
period, they may succeed in creating an atmosphere in the group in which
sexuality generally is seen to be acceptable, in which the prevailing barriers
of sexual inhibition and guilt are lowered. In such a context, the 'seduction'
of an individual youngster is likely to be facilitated. It is possible to view the
whole, long-term process as cunningly calculating, and therefore
manipulative in a mischievous way, but only if one believes it proper that 
youngsters should feel sexual inhibition and guilt, and that they are being
cheated out of these feelings.
 As a final exercise in perspective on the theme of manipulation, we
may consider the advice given in a recent medical textbook [*5] to those
doctors called upon to examine children following a discovered sexual
relationship with an adult: 'If the child refuses to be examined, a process of
negotiation and bargaining sometimes results in acqui- escence.' (By
offering a bag of sweeties, perhaps?) 'Sedation or deferral of the
examination to another visit are other alternatives, depending on the
circumstanres. Occasionally, none of these alternatives can be utilised
successfully, these cases will require admission of the child to the hospital
for examination under anaesthesia. [*6]
 So much for the consent of the child to an examination! In the same
textbook, a contributor describes the paedophile's efforts 'to persuade his
victim to co-operate and to acquiesce or consent to the sexual relationship,
oftentimes by bribing or rewarding the child with attention, affection,
approval, money, gifts, treats, and good times. But he may be dissuaded if
the child actively refuses and resists because he does not resort to physical
force. His aim is to gain sexual control of the child by developing a willing or
consenting sexual relationship.' The desire for a consensual relationship is
thus represented as merely a cynical combination of manipulation and
bribery by the adult, although it is conceded that 'At some level, he cares
for the child and is emotionally involved with him or her.' The point is that
when the consent condition is fulfilled, the rules of the game are suddenly
changed and consent is no longer of any account: the paedophile simply
cannot win.
Society forces children to be dependent on the caprice of their parents. How can you be surprised
if another adult offers them independence?
""Despite all of this, what can we do to prevent children from having sex?""
If you want to teach a child to understand that violence is bad, you must expose the child to
accurate information about genuine violence instead of distorting children's minds with cartoons of anvils
being bounced off of animals' heads. If someone is appaled by the idea of doing something like exposing
a child to an autopsy report of someone who was bludgeoned to death, or exposing them to their
mourning associates, or X, it is because that person has an artificial cultural notion of ""childhood"", which
harms the child infinitely more than ay degree of truth ever could. Demonstrating the effects of violence is
infinitely more persuasive than saying ""Violence is bad because I said so"" because it has a basis in
reason beyond ""I'm bigger than you, so what I say is true"". Similarly, information about sexuality should
be given to children. If you do not want children to have sexual contact, then provide children with the
most accurate and most extensive information about sexuality as you can. Instead of witholding
information and saying ""You'll do what I say because I said so"", you can explain why you believe that they
should not engage in sex.
However, once they have the proper information, you will necessarily find that your position is not
legitimate in the same way that it would be pertaining to an advisal against violence. Sexuality cannot be
reasonably argued against because it is not harmful. You should reevaluate why you don't want the child
to engage in sexuality. It's probably because of the indoctrination which you received when you were a
child, which dogmatically states that sexuality is wrong.
Inevitably, every parent will shout ""But what of my parental rights?"": their right to ""raise"" their
children in the way they see fit. However, the existence of ""parental rights"", by definition, can only entail
the license to curtail other people's rights: children's. This is no different than a slaveholder being aghast
over someone else telling him that he cannot enslave someone: ""But what of my rights as a slaveholder?""
he asks. It's a weird cultural perversion that enables the belief that parents have a right to control children.
A parent cannot logically object to someone else preventing them from controlling their child under a
notion of human rights, unless they view their child as being sub-human and thus beyond human rights.
The only justification I can imagine for ""parental rights"" is that someone would say because the child is
alive owing to the parent, or because the child is financially dependent on the parent, then the parent gets
to control the child until some arbitrary future point. By that logic, if someone were to rescue someone
else from death, the rescuer would be able to rightly enlsave the survivor because they would not be alive
without them. Similarly, if someone were to help someone else escape from a labor camp, then that
person gets to enslave the laborer because they would not be in the current economic situation they're in
without them. The correct solution is to stop forcing children to be dependent on their parents, the same
way in which slaves should not be forced to be dependent on their owners. Parents do not have a right to
parenting, just as slaveholders do not have a right to slaveholding.
In all of this, there is one resounding question: What are we to do? How can children be anything
other than property?
Children have continually been the conceptual fall-guy of civil rights groups.
Slaves, ""We are not children. We are not any different from X.""
Women, ""We are not children. We are not any different from men.""
It is time that children stop being seen as (children).
Children are the x (stone or something?) of civil rights.
This is a multifaceted revolutionary notion which cannot be realized immediately, so I will only prescribe
the actions which are quite simple and can be immediately taken under the current political stuation. I will
not include prescriptions to changing social attitudes.
First, children, being subject to laws, should not be disenfranchised from voting. Children
currently have absolutely no representation.
The notion itself of children being property of their parents should be eliminated. They should not
be viewed any differently from a tenent living with their landlord. They should not be subject to their
parents' coercion to opinions, religion, perspective, (x), (x) . . . Most of all, this includes the right to be free
from corporal punishment. ""Spanking"" should not be viewed with more toleration than wife-battery. 
Eliminate the cultural notion of ""age-appropriate"" material and information.
Children should have the opportunity to separate from their parents as early as is possible, in
better circumstances than the current situation under which they have to become destitute. This means
that children should have a right to employment and a right to contract for land.
Lastly, children should be sexually liberated, with all of their consentual relations decriminalized.
They are to be viewed no differently than adults.
[C]hildren should have the right to conduct their sexual lives with no more
restrictions than adults . . . [and] must be provided with all information
about sex and related matters so that they are in a position to make
reasonable choices. . . . A punitive and draconian justice system that
directly punishes a paedophile, indirectly scapegoats a boy who has been
involved in a sexual relationship with an older man, . . . and does so with an
impact that severely damages both. . . . For the reality is that boys have
come to men and will continue, for time immemorial, to come to them in
order to have their sexual and emotional needs met.
For [Clarence Osborne] has shown us that . . . young people in western
countries feel sexually repressed, alienated from adult company, and
emotionally bankrupt. . . . Young boys are sexually active from a very early
age and will pursue their sexuality whenever they can find an opportunity to
do so; young males wish to give and receive affection in ways that we as a
community have not clearly understood before; men who have
relationships with boys often do so for benevolent reasons. . . . But if we
don't heed the lesson that Osborne taught us, then we will continuously
reinforce bigotry and prejudice and we do so at the cost of further
damaging our children's welfare.
""I could go into an in-depth discussion refuting the notion that child-adult sex is inherently harmful but
whether or not it is or isn't is actually irrelevant. A consistent anarchist would realize that they are not
morally entitled to make decisions on behalf of other humans. You can strongly disagree with a child
having consensual sex with an adult but it remains their decision to make. You don't have a right to make
decisions on my behalf even if you really do have better judgement than I do and even if doing so might
actually be in my best, long-term interests. Anti-consensual, pedo-sex anarchists are using the basic
argument for the very existence of states, 'their
Eliminate the notion that someone can act on behalf of a child without the child's consent.
Yet the current bizarre situation exists that in every state, you can beat a child as much as you want to
under the euphemism of ""spanking"" and few people will mind, yet as soon as you tell a child that you love
him, you're instantly shunned by everyone.
What, then, is my solution?
It is more complicated than this, but the simple answer is that there is no artificial construction of an age
of consent. All romantic relationships are decriminalized between consenting people. Current laws which
protect against genuine abuse, such as battery, already exist: there is no reason to outlaw a relationship
owing to an arbitrary label which this society wants to append to people.
Children should be more autonomous in every way and should be informed about sexuality. They should
be free to engage in it with anyone who agrees. The right of children to have sexual relationships is a
small step toward liberating them from the oppression of adults which they currently endure.",1,Planned Violence,Essay on Pedophilia,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lanza-pedophilia.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Pedophilia undermines an atavistic societal opposition toward sexuality, and it combines it with a
subversion of adult authority. If pedophilic relationships were condoned, then it would be a recognition of
the rights of children, which demonstrably do not exist in this society. Children, being people with their
own legitimate thoughts, feelings, and desires, deserve the same rights that adults receive. Instead,
they're currently nothing other than the sub-human property of adults who have free-reign to do whatever
they please with them. It's quite ironic that everyone views pedophiles as manipulating children, with
everyone being completely unable to observe what they themselves do to children.
A man is walking down a street at night. He comes upon a few houses and, being a bit of a
voyeur, looks inside each window he passes to see what his neighbors are up to. In the first house, he
sees a child being ordered around. He thinks to himself, ""What a great work-ethic those parents are
instilling in their child"". In the next house, he sees a child being told what thoughts are appropriate, and
he says, ""What great values those parents are instilling in their child"". In the third house, he sees a child
being spanked and proclaims, ""What great discipline those parents are instilling in their child"". He
approaches a garden and sees a child who is sitting on the lap of an adult. He arrives just in time to hear
the child say, ""It's a good thing my parents haven't found out about us"", as the two lovers passionately
kiss.
Our voyeuristic friend screams in horror at the scene which would be considered romantic if only
the younger lover were a few years older. A policeman runs over to (beat) and apprehend the pedophile,
and thus begins the process of (persecution) as outlined above in the fifth and sixth paragraphs. The
lonely child, previously happy about having his adult friend, will be ""treated"" by his society to ""overcome
his abuse"". He will grow up cold, isolated, and terrified of sexuality. I cannot comprehend how someone
can look at this situation and say that the first three children are abuse-free, living in ""loving homes"" with
""parents who care"", yet the fourth child is considered to have sustained horrible abuse.
The only abuse which I can conceivably see the fourth children receiving comes not from the
pedophile, but from his society, who shoves the child into the dirt and leers, ""Who are you to have sexual
feelings? You don't have feelings at all. You're a child. It's not your place to have emotions"". Society then
shoves the pedophile into the dirt, and shouts, ""I expected better of you! I thought you were one of us: an
adult who respected our right to control each of our slaves in the way we see fit. How dare you love a
child?"", while kicking the pedophile until he eventually dies a miserable and inevitable death.
Am I the only one who sees the partially-buried corpses of blasphemers, communists, trade
unionists, Jews, and all of the others who have been (persecuted in history), decomposing in the dirt
alongside him? The pedophile turns over and sees the rotting corpse of a Middle Ages blasphemer of
Christianity. He sees all of the scars, the worst of which being the B which had been branded onto his
forehead, and the pedophile knows what fate his own sex offender status will bring.
The child turns over and sees the corpses of slaves (rotting) all around him. Society snarls at the
child and shouts, ""Stop crying! You won't end up like them. You'll grow up and become one of us
eventually. The lives of slaves was terrible because they were never freed, but your slavery is only
temporary"". Yet the fact that every person is at one point an oppressed child does not mitigate their
treatment in any way. If it alters the nature of it at all, it makes it become even more pernicious that
everyone is subjected to this without anyone escaping its clutches.
How can I look at the treatment of both pedophiles and of children, and see anything other than a 
tragedy? (The depths of my soul scream) that this is wrong, this is evil, and no excuse exists which can
justify this. Meanwhile, this goes completely unseen. All sorts of civil rights groups march up and down
the street nearby this cemetery and protest everything imaginable except for this. The pedophile fashions
a NAMBLA sign and manages to crawl to the street and begs the LGBT group to let him join. They shove
him back into the dirt and shout, ""No! You're not one of us. You're scum and you're making us look bad by
associating with us!"" as they go back to proselytizing about Tyler Clementi. Louis Conradt's corpse is
(rotting) in the cemetery along with Clementi's, yet not a single person cares to mention him. Is his death
really to be forever ignored because a young boy agreed to meet him for sexual activity? I am unable to
see how Oscar Wilde's ""love that dare not speak its name"", which earned him a sentence of hard labor,
could be thought of as so horrible when he declared to the court and the world that it was
"". . . such a great affection of an elder for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan,
such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy, and such as you find in the sonnets of Michelangelo
and Shakespeare. It is that deep spiritual affection that is as pure as it is perfect. It dictates and pervades
great works of art, like those of Shakespeare and Michelangelo, and those two letters of mine, such as
they are. It is in this century misunderstood, so much misunderstood that it may be described as ""the love
that dare not speak its name,"" and on that account of it I am placed where I am now. It is beautiful, it is
fine, it is the noblest form of affection. There is nothing unnatural about it. It is intellectual, and it
repeatedly exists between an older and a younger man, when the older man has intellect, and the
younger man has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him. That it should be so, the world does not
understand. The world mocks at it, and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.""
I am not expecting to change anyone's thoughts on pedophilia. That is not the actual purpose of
this essay. It is also not meant to be a thorough analysis of pedophilia, although I would have loved to
have the opportunity. I deliberately tried to limit this essay to as many a priori assertions as possible for
the sake of brevity.
Perhaps contrary to what you might have expected, I have absolutely nothing at all to do with
pedophilia. I am not myself one, I have never been touched by one (at least not from what I'm aware of!),
and I have never knowingly had any contact with one. Then why would I write about pedophilia out of all
subject for a college application essay? I can almost hear you shouting, ""Does he have no idea of what's
appropriate?"" as you crumple this page. Pedophilia is certainly not my idea of a conversation-starter, but
as strange as it may sound, this is the most appropriate topic I could select. It is my belief that the best
way to understand someone is to understand the way in which they think.
For all of these reasons, I have to conclude that the most noble form of activism would involve the
advocation of pedohile's rights and the liberation of children. This is why I'm currently considering
becoming a member of the North American Man/Boy Love Association.
Structured, stoic, methodological, thoughtful, calm, and dispassionate.
And I am aware of its obscene length. Being inappropriately thorough is actually a component of my
personality.
The most amusing description of me which I've heard is, ""You usually sound absurdly calm, as if the
world could be ending and you'd just rub you chin and say, 'Interesting'"".
I could have written about a more mundane topic, but it would not have illustrated my thought-process as
well.
Somewhat amusingly, this also allows me to evaluate the school. If I would have been rejected
independent of my essay, then I could have written anything and still get rejected. If, however, I was
otherwise elligible, I could use my topic to evaluate the college. Presumably, while each admissions
officer varies, they presumably would not have fundamentally different criterion for selection. If one were
to be aghast about my topic and could not comprehend why I would write such things, then it would be
safe to assume that all of them would also have some level of dismay. If, however, one were to find this to
be an intriguing topic, all of them might have had some level of interest. Presumably, the admissions
officers would also reflect the overall college considering that the applicants have to go through them to
even be there. If they would have been interested by this topic and not aghast, then it's possible that there
would be many people at the college which also were x. The most important criterion for me is the type of
people which are there, so that I can engage in discussions which pertain to topics such as this. If I could
not do that at such a college, then I wouldn't want to be there in the first place.
And in the course of writing this, I realized that it illustrates something else about me quite well. While
rhetorical questions asked to the own writer are to be expected, they are highly reflective of my life. All I
have ever been able to do is talk to myself (rhetorically, of course). I have been isolated my entire life. At
such a college in which x, I would be able to have discussions with others rather than always thinking
about things while alone.
Inflation Of Conflict: the 9-21 Age of Consent argument.
Rhetorical question arguments, look over when you're finished.
* Okami, Paul (1991). ""Self-reports of 'positive' childhood and adolescent sexual contacts with older
persons: an exploratory study,"" Archives of Sexual Behavior, 20, 437-457.
* Leahy, Terry. (1992). ""Positively experienced man/boy sex: the discourse of seduction and the social
construction of masculinity,"" Journal of Sociology, 28(1), 71-88.
* Leahy, Terry (1994). ""Taking up a position: discourses of femininity and adolescence in the context of
man/girl relationships,"" Gender & Society, 8(1), 48-72.
None of these are freely available online, and I only recommend the first. Paul Okami is a deeply honest
researcher, and all of his work is well-worth reading. ""Sociopolitical Biases in the Contemporary Scientific
Literature on Adult Human Sexual Behavior with Children and Adolescents"" is a fantastic primer on the
problems with most ""child sexual abuse"" research.",1,Grievance Airring,Essay on Pedophilia,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lanza-pedophilia.pdf,Adam Lanza
"You believe that fewer people are getting married because of the trivialization of sex, and that more
married people are getting divorced. You believe that divorce is a terrible thing, and that the prospect of it
is preventing people from getting married. The simple solution seems to be to eliminate the institution of
marriage itself, and the problem of divorce immediately disappears.
carnage_complex, tell me if I understand what you're saying.
You believe that a degenerate capitalistic system results in a commodification of sexuality. This enables
the creation of a cultural notion that premarital sexuality is acceptable. This results in sexuality becoming
widespread. This has three primary consequences:
The first is that there are some males who believe that the existence of this attitude of sexuality is a
justification of date rape, which causes instances of it to increase.
The second is that the existence of this attitude destroys the significance of marriages. Fewer people get
married, and of the people who do get married, more divorce.
The third is that the prevalence of sexuality results in more abortions, and more unwanted children, than
would otherwise result.
You believe that it would be desirable to outlaw premarital sex to cause a gradual cultural shift away from
all of this.
And I would like you to briefly elaborate on something so that I can better understand your position. What
is it about marriage that appeals to you, and why do you oppose the prevalence of divorces?
You claim that marriage is a wonderfully positive thing, and it would be undesirable to eliminate marriage.
If marriage permits people to share such wonderful love, then why limit it to only one person (or in the
case of polygamists, a select few)? Why not allow someone to marry everyone else in the entire world? It
sounds like a completely nonsensical idea because of what marriage actually is. Marriage does not permit
the blossoming of love: it eradicates the potential to love. It is the restriction of that allegedly wonderful
relationship to only one person, to the detriment of everyone else. Saying that marriage is a positive
institution is saying that restricted and culturally-defined love is preferable to boundless love. Marriage is
not love: marriage is hatred.
Marriage is not the only institution of its kind: the rest of romantic love is the same way. Your culture tells
you that you must feel and act a certain way toward someone with whom you're in a ""romantic
relationship"", and that it is unacceptable to feel the same way toward someone else. The same applies to
what culture calls ""familial love"". Solely on the basis of ancestry, you are supposed to feel and act a
certain way toward someone who happens to be particularly more genetically-similar to you than
someone else. There are all sorts of bizarre cultural labels for love and relationships which people are indoctrinated into
having, and they all amount to the same thing. The effect of them is the compartmentalization of love for
those who are in the group your culture tells you you're a part of, and the absence of the love for those
who are outside of it. Love is not innately labelled: it is your culture which indoctrinates you into believing
that there are such metaphysical things as ""romantic love"" as distinct from love. Why should the
definitions of relationships be forced onto people? What makes a relative different from a stranger? What
makes an American different than a Soviet? Why should you treat someone you're in a romantic
relationship differently than someone you're in a friendship with? I cannot find anything positive in the
cultural context which marriages, families, courtships, nationalities, ethnicities, religions, and whatever
other bizarre categorizations there are. I won't profess to know a single thing about what associations are
supposed to entail for people, because that should be entirely up to the individuals involved, completely
beyond any arbitrary cultural context.
You are opposed to prevalent sex partially because it trivializes the meaning of sex. Why can't people's
interactions be defined by those involved? Why support compelling people to believe that having sex with
each other is any different from tying each other's shoes? If they want to associate particular meanings to
it, then they can do so.
""Compelling"" is an understatement for what you advocate. Your solution is to use the government to fine
and castrate people who engage in premarital sex, which you claim is prevalent because of the
capitalistic commoditization of sex. If that is the case, then why not instead reject the government itself,
which enables the existence of the capitalistic system? You say that it is worth doing this to spare even a
single person from the trauma of date rape, but what of the immense trauma which violators of your law
would endure? Not even having harmed anyone themselves, they are fined, kidnapped, imprisoned, and
castrated by their government. I do not see how it would be a desirable solution to torture people who do
not conform to.your beliefs of how they could best live their lives.
You know of instances where females have been raped because of the cultural notion that premarital sex
is acceptable. To prevent that, you want to compel people to have the cultural notion that it is acceptable
for people to be castrated for engaging in premarital sex. Instead of arguing about this or that being the
right or wrong perspective and attitude, and subsequently seeking to violently impose your will onto other
people, why not seek to entirely eliminate the notion of cultural attitudes themselves?
""Now, let's take a look at another common situation. A childhood friend of mine in a relationship with
someone recently was gotten pregnant by him. She was panicked beyond all understanding, because
she wanted to abort the child, but couldn't bring herself to do it, and has now decided to carry it to term.
Both this young woman and her boyfriend were attending a prestigious university; both had futures ahead
of them. Both have since dropped out of school. He is working two minimum wage jobs to support her,
and she expects that she is now going to lose at least a couple of years before she can get back on the career track again. Had this same couple waited until they were done school, and until they were married
and he was in a decent job, then this never would have happened. Two lives have been put on hold
because of one impulsive act. I wonder what that child's formative years are going to be like, given the
fact that he or she has two parents who resent him or her on some level.""
""Had this same couple waited until they were done school, and until they were married and he was in a
decent job, then this never would have happened.""
You're critical of capitalism, yet make an appeal to a ""prestigious university"", ""futures"", and ""career
tracks"". These exist because of a capitalistic system and help to further propagate its existence, so I
would have expected you to be opposed to that. I don't know anything about your political ideology, so I'll
just leave it at this:
You want to support a government which enables you to inflict your violent will onto people ""for their own
good"" to prevent them from possibly suffering adverse consequences which exist owing to an external
system. That system is enabled by the existence of governments. Wouldn't it be more sensible to oppose
governments, which subject people into a capitalistic system? It is not as though those minimum wage
jobs disappear once your friends graduate from a prestigious university and get on their career track for
the future- it merely enables your friends to shirk laboring and instead force other people to labor for
them.
Instead of seeking a societal restructuring which is brought about by supporting a government to enable
you to inflict your violent will onto people to prevent them from possibly suffering adverse consequences
because of their actions owing to a system which exists because of governments, you should instead be
opposed to the institution.
These same people you would castrate.
I said allegedly wonderful because it is difficult for me to believe that marriage is remotely positive, even
beyond what I said earlier. I can only see marriage as being innately mutually abusive.
I'm an ultra-virgin like Mayhem, and the last contact beyond handshakes I've had with anyone was when
my grandmother hugged me four years ago.
You are treating the actions of the the government as being metaphysically different than Eric and Dylan,
when it seems clear to me that a travesty is not any less bad because a government decreed that it was
okay.
What you condone is not even in the slightest any different from Eric and Dylan. I don't know if you're one
of their groupies, but I assume you join the finger-wagging against them. Yet, you condone the slaughter
of anyone who does not conform to your notion of behavior.",1,Specific Threats,Marriage,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lanza-marriage.pdf,Adam Lanza
"Third paragraph, three: (Other than Jennzzy)

After reading that a female who was shot by George Sodini repeatedly exclaimed ""Get me out of here, he's going to kill me."" after having been shot. I thought that it was absurd that she did not realize it was an attack against a group in the aggregate rather than someone having a personal vendetta against each person (Although she was specifically only thinking of herself and not of others at the time). It made me recall how I read in a testimony against Kip Kinkel that another female sought a natural life sentence for him because she had to ""(deal with) my own fear that you will one day try to hurt me again"" even though he confessed literally hours after the incident that he did not target any specific people and had no idea who any of them were (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyaLmL7XiYI 7:11 - 7:26). I could not understand why females thought this way, now I believe I understand it, though. When people are exposed to stressful situations, they shed atracticity civility and reveal their subconscious mindset to a considerable degree. While males would say, ""There is someone shooting people"" demonstrating their selflessness, females would say, ""Someone is shooting -me-,"" demonstrating their selfishness. I speculate that it is because females have a predisposition for selfish thoughts. I use a hyphen so that no one assumes I imply the negative connotations ""selfish"" has developed; what I mean is that females think in a manner which pertains to themselves. I mean this every time that I use the words selfish and selfishness. The selfishness of females can explain literally every major difference between the conscious thoughts and behavior of them and males.

It also explains why females are, as I have observed, more likely to be offended by a general statement or by any criticism: Such as, if I were to debunk a political ideology to which a female subscribed, they would interpret it as a personal attack against them because they too had accepted that philosophy as being true. Because they also accept the legitimacy of theirself, they anthropomorphize their thoughts as actually being theirself in a convoluted sense. Another example of females stereotypically not accepting criticism is how people advise ""Your wife is always right"", because a female will be more likely to think that the unwitting husband was trying to ""hurt"" when he criticized her idea even if he legitimately pointed out how she was wrong in something. A female in this situation would be unlikely to admit her error because she subconsciously would think of it as denying the legitimacy of her self. In the same vein, I understand why females are more likely to be offended by humor which, independent of how simple or complex, involves some degree of violence. An example is the ubiquitous Dead Baby Joke ""Stop crawling in circles or I'll nail your other foot to the floor"". A male would be more likely to enjoy this because they are amused by the absurdity of the situation, but a female would find it literally exclaim ""Ew!"" because they subconsciously actually visualize a scene of a hungry infant often bloodily impaled foot helplessly trying to free itself. They subsequently personalize the circumstance, thinking, ""What if that was me?"" He is amused by this. He must want to do that to me."", which explains why a female would not only not find it amusing to any degree but would also be angry at the person who said it.

It also explains why there are, excluding very few exceptions such as Brenda Spencer & Laurie Dann, virtually never female spree killers compared to the amount of males that there have been. Spree shooters often are motivated by a hatred of humans in the aggregate (For various reasons, but that is entirely irrelevant) and sometimes also act in an attempt to ameliorate some lackluster philosophy which they have established in their minds, such as the two ubiquitous morons Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. A female would not be likely to have a legitimate and consummate hatred of humans in general because she would not be capable of detaching themselves from that collective while a male would likely have no compunction with it. A female would also not be willing to sacrifice something, especially their life, for what they believe to be righteous because they view nothing else mattering above themselves and especially the comfort they would be losing; they would see themselves as being dead, and if they are dead, they believe their ideology would not matter. Females' aversion to sacrifice in the pursuit of what they believe to be righteousness (And it is possible females are inherently less likely to form hardline philosophies because they would ultimately not be willing to make sacrifices in the pursuit of it) can be illustrated by this perfucntory example which used to happen to me when I was younger: I would get into an argument with a female who would in some way be disseminating false information about me. I would then prove them wrong in some way which would to a great extent damage the situation, whether trivial or",1,Planned Violence,Selfish,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza.selfish.pdf,Adam Lanza
"not, and they would always say ""You showed me."" sarcastically, implying that I was wrong in valuing the truth above the status quo. Another (more coherent) example is the lack of females aspiring to be involved in politics. Females are less likely to desire doing something stressful which does not in any way have a direct effect on themselves, their family, their friends, et alia, even if it does ideologically. Its pervadence to themselves is actually all that matters, although due to them, their family and friends are an extension of themselves.

Females are more likely to be charitable than males are because of their selfishness. They are unable to detach themselves from a situation: They subconsciously think ""What if I --was hungry? I might die. I do not want to die."" A person starving to death would likely be willing to do anything to acquire food so that they survive, and a female is perpetually in this mindset while helping other people because of their subconscious affinity for selfishness.

People say that females are oriented towards emotion and males toward objectivity. I do not accept this aphorism at face value. A female appears more emotional than a male because of their desire to express themselves, owing to their selfishness. They want other people to know how they feel so that they can have their feelings accepted, thus legitimizing their feelings and subsequently thinking that they themselves have been legitimized. Males experience this too, but rather than having more objectivity (Greater selflessness) as though it is a trait in itself, I believe they merely have a smaller degree of affinity for selfishness, and thus display less emotion because they gain nothing from doing so.

This is also why females are very unlikely to say that a male having a girlfriend is pointless. I was discursively searching Google for the futility in having a girlfriend when I found a response by a female against someone who asserted that girlfriends are a waste of money (Monetary cost is not why I will never desire to have a girlfriend; do not castigate me over it). Summarized, she said that girlfriends in general are not a waste of money because she--she personally pays for everything herself. Also, that they are ""great companions"" because she said that -her- herself never ""disrespects"" her boyfriend. She then said that perhaps females in general might be expensive (While earlier saying that they are not), but she personally is not. She did what I observe happening incessantly: She conflated herself with a group of people when clearly it was inappropriate to. It would have been correct for her to say from the beginning that most females are expensive to have as girlfriends, but her personality was not. She was unlikely to do so, however, because she subconsciously had to see herself as other females, unable to detach herself from them. This partially explains why females in general are collectivists and are fundamentally opposed to rational political ideologies such as libertarianism and anarcho-capitalism without reason, but I am not going to get into that because this will already be too eclectic of a post.

I fortuitously observed the same phenomenon in my mother just yesterday, which serves as a definitive example. She asked me what I would think about moving back to New Hampshire, where I originally lived until I was six years old. I asked her why she was asking this and if she was considering it, because it had no relevance to whether we were just talking about, so it could not be that she just wanted to know my implication over what we or I noted New Hampshire as a state in itself as opposed to other states. She said that she was not considering it, and after I kept insinuating that she had to have been, she said that she was thinking about it. I asked why she did not originally merely say that, and she said because she was not seriously -intending- on doing it, as though it was already decided. That is not what I asked, though. While I thought of ""consider"" as its reasonable unspoken definition, her selfishness led her to visualize the concept of my question as being literal- of her actually moving-- the idea of which she did not presently intend on doing, so she said that point was not considering it. I observe this incessantly in females, although not usually as explicit. My she is that female selfishness is so fundamental that it guides their speech and behavior to the point of logical fallacies.

Females also feel the desire to have attention more than males because of their selfishness. Females' fundamental desire to express their feelings is a truism on which does not need to be expounded. It exists in anything ranging from their propensity to verbally say things such as ""Aww"" and ""Eew"" in comparison to the frequency males use them, to creating art (The acceptance of which they usually underpin being another topic. I will not deal with that here.) They are more likely to act emotionally than males are because they want their feelings to be legitimized by other people, which they subconsciously believe would subsequently legitimize themselves because they are conflating the two owing to their selfishness.

This is also why females stereotypically have many friends with whom they horde around.

Here is an example of females being offended by a general statement: Whenever I am criticizing a group of people--in the aggregate-- on a forum who have a monolithic opinion and say ""You people"" in addressing them, if anyone ever addresses those two words specifically, it is always a female who acts offended and says something to the degree of ""What do you mean 'You people'?"". This is because they cannot view themselves separately from a group of which they are a part because of their selfishness. Even if they are a part of ""the people"", they still will act offended because I criticized them-- whether I am correct in my criticism or not is irrelevant to them-- and subconsciously invoke their selfishness in their response saying that abhorrent adage while thinking they have disproved whatever I said.

What I mean is this: Female behavior and speech is guided by their predilection for self-ishness to a degree which males do not have. Even though males may express their emotions owing to selfishness just as much as females (Although often less so), their emotions do not have the pervasive effect on their behavior that they have on females.

I know literally nothing about psychology and have no intention of ever having anything to do with it nor psychiatry, so I don't know if any information relevant to this exists.",1,Grievance Airring,Selfish,NA,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/lanza.selfish.pdf,Adam Lanza
"In a time long since, a time of repent, The Renaissance. In a quaint lonely town, sits a man with a frown. No job. No family. No crown. His luck had run out. Lost and alone. The streets were his home. His thoughts would solely consist of ""why do we exist?"" His only company to confide in was the vermin in the street. He longed for only one thing, the world to bow at his feet. They too should feel his secret fear. The dismal drear. His pain had made him sincere. He was better than the rest, all those ones he detests, within their castles, so vain. Selfish and conceited. They couldn't care less about the peasants they mistreated. They were in their own world, it was a joyous one too. That castle, she stood just to do all she could to keep the peasants at bay, not the enemy away. They had no enemies in their filthy orgy. And in her, the castles every story, was just another chamber of Lucifer's Laboratory. The world is a sandbox for all the wretched sinners. They simply create what they want and make themselves the winners. But the true winner, he has nothing at all. Enduring the pain of waiting for that castle to fall. Through his good deeds, the rats and the fleas. He will have for what he pleads, through the eradication of disease. So, to the castle he proceeds, like an ominous breeze through the trees. ""Stay back!"" The Guards screamed as they were thrown to their knees. ""Oh God, have mercy, please!"" The castle, she gasped and then so imprisoned her breath, to the shallow confines of her fragile chest. I'm on the lamb but I ain't no sheep. I am Death. And you have always been the sod. So repulsive and so odd. You never even deserved the presence of God, and yet, I am here. Around your cradle I plod. Came on foot, without shod. How improper, how rude. However, they shall not mind the mud on my feet if there is blood on your sheet. Now! Feel death, not just mocking you. Not just stalking you but inside of you. Wriggle and writhe. Feel smaller beneath my might. Seizure in the Pestilence that is my scythe. Die, all of you.",1,Vague Discontent,TJ Lane Facebook Post,12/1/2011,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Lane_Facebook.pdf,TJ Lane
"By now, my heart has obviously been revealed to the world in its most beautiful fashion, Ragnarok, as made by reflection, that my heart is honestly becoming what it is manifestly suppose to tell you, knowing I am now free. I've written in this way, to escape reading this victorious world full of rejection, trial, and test. I escape all of this, wanting something even deeper, feeling better learning from it all. If you want to improve and reading everything now, maybe it is something for now, whatever that I need.

Time to get to the point, my reasoning for such a mistrust, this world would undeniably be better if we were all in heaven. I speculate not, especially when not getting this from everyone alive in heart or fact. Now, I realize people value their lives so drastically today, it would be so strange seeing that ending. I would be nothing and this whole event would never occur if it weren't for Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold of Columbine High School. They worked hard to achieve escaping in heaven. I admire them greatly because they saw something wrong in the world and moved away from a herd of sheep to do something about it. They also preserved these crucial things a person needs in concern of intelligence, an intelligent ideology, and malice accurately. This wasn't the only example of people knowing gods like Julius Caesar and Vladimir Lenin also became gods, I became a prophet because I saw that there was a goal. Eric Harris did this because the world is bitter and painful. People often celebrate the good things in life, but that's only a lie. All good things must end, so why celebrate? Life can be more enjoyable but don't have to live. You don't have to endure this hard and cruel world. A world where most people can only find happiness or enjoyment in doing drugs, drinking, alcohol, and taking some fellow misfortune. Isn't that bad? It's just when you preach that changing is beneficial to each other, then it really comes from yourself, makes you an exhibit of hypocrisy. That brings me to my next point: most people trust in the world governments because they only care about themselves but when other people serve their interests, these people become helpful to them. Also, people usually exploit each other if they get enjoyment out of it. People kill, people steal, people sin the world with their impurity and it's absolutely disgusting. In such a terrible state of affair. It's actually all of waste. The only way is for these cruel people to accuse other people of doing 'evil' things when they do these things for just cause, such as revenge.

I never my point will be McDonald's, evil does not exist. There are no such things like 'universal evil' (or) immorality

Those are man made creations. It would be perfectly acceptable to say something is evil, so long as it goes for your point of view. People say what is evil, the opposite hypothesizes that it isn't. It is deeply repulsive to me, that some people like Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, would be labeled as evil, because what they did is not what people say, but their actions justified their actions. I'm not ready to justify my reasons whatsoever, I'm only explaining my ideology so people don't jump to conclusions and suggest a dozen different things. On a truly important note, I say that I agree, I agree that it is invention, beautiful, to be at fault. As I mention heaven before, I will say religion, that a violent action, to retaliate lives and who cares, will certainly make their actions (vindicated?) right after this. I watch alone, but I do not consider myself a pal. So people will blame high clique, as with any crime, they will be sure to point to it all, something I wish was unavoidable. Access to weapons, including guns will continue, there's no way to legislate because of everyone, to make this combat so it won't be blamed.

This was caused by was dehumanization of public school. When I go there, they remind me why I aim for targets, full of scholars, it is truly treating moral weakness, nothing less. Self-righteous meddling is often, a dream of scholars.

replacing 1200 students' minds, almost all, just what dogs, alcohol, sex, and on money, the scum of America. Absolute disgust. Can't wait to see the prideless gang, hopeless looks on the faces of students, but at age of the 1200 students in Pennsylvania, ""train"" to help precious lives are going to be instantly the only one giving therapy that makes a difference, I have a goal, like the Buddha, that makes me jubilant, like a wandering simulator, many happy, nostalgically find myself when he meets a pretty girl almost no one takes seriously.

Who could have any blame, it would come by a couple hours, was the pain, it would inequitably cause my closest friends and family, never know when will I ever meet. We will never open eye to eye, even if I gain incapable of loving, even more than before. Each harm is a plan, deleted and vigilant zealot, scorched from an early age, torn, not alike my family or friends at all. All are being nothing more than being with people that developed without truly changing the world. When America else is just sleep in bed, and he is the only survivor on paper I've ever enjoyed writing and reading over and over

Signed:
Alex Smith
Alex Fromboi",1,Specific Threats,Alex Hribal's Letter,4/6/2016,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Hribal_Letter.pdf,Alex Hribal
"Winter - December 03, 2005, 01:53:pm Winter approaches from all
sides. It's snowed twice this year, but it's only December. I love the
snow and ice. So cold. Ice especially, when it's freezing rain. That's
so cool. All the streets, roofs of houses, cars, and everything, is
covered in a thin sheet of ice. It's beautiful like a winter-wonderland.
Mood: Dark Music: Goth
--------
Vengeance is coming - December 23, 2005, 09:21:pm It will be a
quiet and peacefull morning. A light drizzle will be starting up. The
clouds will be grey, so grey. Just the way I like it. Disembowled
bodies litter the streets. Some have been decapitated, others hung off
bridges and over-passes. Yet, others still lie burning. Flames slowly
eatting away at their putrid flesh. Glorious. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
They have paid this day, they truly have paid. HA HA HA HA HA HA
HA
Mood: Dark Music: Metal
--------
Lacuna Coil - December 27, 2005, 07:01:pm Listening to Lacuna
Coil. She fucking rocks. (Lacuna Coil - Heaven's a Lie) Other than
that, meh......not doin' nuthin' special.
Mood: Dead Music: Lacuna Coil - Heaven's a Lie
--------
Megadeth - December 31, 2005, 01:53:am That's a cool name for a
band. ""Megadeth"". Just feels good saying it.",1,Vague Discontent,Kimveer Gill Online,12/1/2005,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"He walks alone - January 04, 2006, 07:29:pm He opened the door,
walked down the hallway, down the stairs, and continued out the front
door. Destiny was at hand. Mood:Dark Music:Godsmack - Re-Align
--------
Demon Lord - January 05, 2006, 06:53:pm The great demon
warrior crushed all who opposed him. He ground their bones into
dust, drank their blood, crucified them beside their false savior. HA
HA HA HA HA. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
His might was so great, that all he would have to do is look at the
humans, and they would cower and hide, like the dogs they are.
---------All Hail the Demon Lords---------
Mood: Black.........So Black Music: KMFDM - Mortal Kombat
--------
Whiskey - January 06, 2006, 03:33:am Whiskey good World bad
Mood: Wha'd'ya think motherfuckers Music: Marilyn Manson - The
Fight Song
--------
Fuck the Mainstream - January 07, 2006, 12:34:pm Ya that's right
You heard me Fuck the Mainstream Heavy Metal rulz
Mood: War-Like Music: Manowar - House of Death
--------
Metal - January 08, 2006, 10:11:pm Metal rulz lOl Ya, I know I said
that before But I really got nuthin' else to say today Really tired Drank
too much yesterday Whissssssskkkkkkkkeeeeeeyyyyyyy Going to
nap now Metal rulz
Mood: Tired Music: Goth = Good ....... Everything else(except' metal)
= Bad
--------
Disturbed rocks - January 10, 2006, 02:32:am This band kicks
ass Like totally, kicks ass
Mood: Psycho Music: Disturbed - Get Psycho
--------
Rammstein - January 11, 2006, 02:46:am Du Du Hast Du Hast
Miche
Mood: Rammstein'ish Music: Rammstein.......Duh!!!
--------
Lacrimosa - January 13, 2006, 08:40:am Lacrimosa is an awesome
band It's true
What else can I say, oh right.........I can say....yeahhhhhh
Haaaaaaaaaaa (like my cowboy friend in High school used to say)
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
I havn't slept in 3 days
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Mood: Deranged Music: Undertaker theme song (old one)
--------
Marilyn Manson - January 14, 2006, 06:48:pm Marilyn Manson is
GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn
Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is
GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn
Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is
GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn
Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is
GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn
Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is
GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn
Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is
GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD Marilyn
Manson is GOD Marilyn Manson is GOD
Just kidding.........God is shit..........Manson is way cooler.
Yaaaaaaaaa. Marilyn Manson kicks ass.
Mood: Destructive Music: Marilyn Manson
--------
Blood - January 17, 2006, 12:50:am Let the blood flow Let the
streets run red with blood Blood of mine enemies
HEIL HEIL HEIL
Mood: Homicidal Music: Marilyn Manson
--------
Jocks and preps - January 18, 2006, 09:41:pm I'm so sick of
hearing about jocks and preps making life hard for the goths and
others who look different, or are different.
The other day on T.V. they were talking about this 15 year old kid that
was killed by the cops, cuz' he took a fake gun to school. Then they
said he was emotionally disturbed and suicidal. Aaaaa, Duh!! If
people were making your life a living hell wouldn't you be hurt
emotionally.
How come no one ever talkes about those MOTHER FUCKING
JOCKS AND PREPS who's fault it is. Oh no. Heaven forbid. We
couldn't posibly say that. Why does society applaude jocks? I don't
understand. They are the worse kind of people on earth. And the
preps are no better, they think they're better than others............but
they're not.
And all of society applaudes the jocks and preps. As if we are all
supposed to be like them. Newsflash motherfuckers:
We will never be like them. NEVER.
VAMPIREFREAKS RULE
GOTH RULE
FUCK YA
GOTH, GOTH, GOTH, GOTH, GOTH, GOTH, GOTH
Mood: Vengefull Music: Marilyn Manson
--------
Bang, Bang, You're Dead - January 21, 2006, 12:08:am That was
a good movie. Inspirational you might say, lol.
The Trogs of society kick ass. Mood: Rage Music: Disturbed
--------
Metal and Goth - January 23, 2006, 03:42:am I only listen to metal
and goth.
You know why?
Ya.
That's right.
Cuz' it rocks.
And if you disagree, please go to heaven. Cuz' I'll be moshin' in Hell,
and I don't need you people getting in my way.
Mood: Dark Music: Dark Funeral
--------
Can't sleep - January 23, 2006, 04:20:am It's so late. But I'm not
sleepy. Arrgghhhh. Just listening to Manson and drinking JD's
whiskey. Yup. I know, I know, not too interesting, but it is 4 in the
morning.
Insomnia..........Insomnia...........Insomnia................
Saying that word makes me want to sleep, but I can't.
I wonder what happened to Barbara Borelli from High School? Not
that I ever really knew her much. But when you're in High School, you
don't really realize, that after graduation, you're never ever going to
see most of those people ever again. If I'd a known that, I would'a at
least told her I liked her. Maybe hung out with her a bit after school,
would'a been fun. Meh, she probably didn't like me anyway. She was
always full of energy, running here and there. LOL. I wonder if she's
still like that. Guess I'll never know.
Mood: Wide Awake Music: Marilyn Manson
--------
Postal Dude - January 24, 2006, 09:25:pm Postal Dude kicks ass. If
anyone out there hasn't played Postal....I suggest you do. And do it
right now.
Postal Postal 2 Postal 2 Share the Pain Postal 2 Apocalypse
Weekend
The first one's the best. Crummy graphics, but super fun. If only
Vince Desi would make the next Postal game's, gameplay like
Postal.....yet graphics like Doom 3. And a larger story line. Come on
man. I know you guys at Running With Scissors can do it. Come on.
HA HA HA HA HA. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
GO POSTAL
Mood: Psychotic Music: Postal
--------
Marilyn Manson - Holywood - January 25, 2006, 12:03:pm
Holywood is his best work so far. I don't like the new cd. It sucks
compared to the older stuff. I hate when bands change their style for
whatever fucking reason. I don't care about the reasons.
Bring back the old Manson..........the good Manson.
I loved Metallica so much. And then they come out with ""St-Anger""
WTF!!! No, seriously, WHAT THE FUCK!!! It's absolute garbage
compared to "" Master of Puppets"" ""Ride the Lightning"" or the ""Black""
albumn. I wouldn't listen to ""St-Anger"" if they paid me. That's right.
You heard me motherfuckers.
Marilyn Manson rocks Marilyn Manson rulz Marilyn Manson kicks
ass Marilyn Manson Yaaaaaaaaaaa
Mood: Cold, so fucking cold Music: Marilyn Manson - Coma Black
--------
My Own Prison - January 26, 2006, 10:43:am I am locked in an
invisible cage within my head. There is no chance of escape. Mood:
Nothingness Music: Creed - My Own Prison
--------
Metal rulz - January 27, 2006, 03:18:pm Metal rulz
Mood: Emptyness Music: Atreyu - You give love a bad name
--------
Goth being picked on - February 05, 2006, 12:51:pm I'm tired of
hearing about goth and emo people being picked on, just because of
the way they look or dress. It's not right It's not fair
Mood: Emptyness Music: Lacrimosa - Ich Bin Der Brennende Komet",1,Specific Threats,Kimveer Gill Online,1/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"Thor - February 06, 2006, 02:55:am Thor God of Thunder Let me
die with a sword in my hand
Mood: Fight...Fight...Fight...Fight Music: Manowar
--------
Kane rulz - February 07, 2006, 01:28:am Kane from WWE's Raw
should go back to the way he was. The old Kane. He was way better
back in those days. Like a Terminator type of character.
Mood: Fucking Chokeslam Someone Music: Old Undertaker Theme
--------
666 - February 07, 2006, 02:43:pm It is January 7 2006. The time is
2:45 PM and at this exact moment I have been rated by 666 people.
Mood: Hollow Music: Lacrimosa - Der Erste Tag
--------
Heil - February 12, 2006, 12:54:am It's exactly 12:55AM and I have
been rated by 777 people.
Does that mean something? Probably not.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Heil Heil Heil
Mood: Destroy all mankind Music: Godsmack
--------
I love the grey sky - February 15, 2006, 01:59:am I've forgot how
to smile
Mood: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa Music: Rammstein
--------
Undercover police officers - February 15, 2006, 10:57:am The
police are watching me. They actually think I don't know this. They
are monitering my movements.
Hey pigs....You shouldn't be pretending to be nice little goth girls, and
doing surveilance on people....It's just not nice. Mood:
Arrrrrggg Music: Disturbed - Get Psycho
--------
Today is a good day - February 16, 2006, 10:51:pm Taday the
1000th person rated me At least 1000 people have seen my
profile That's good
I love Vampire Freaks This is my new home I shall reside here till the
day I die
Mood: Meh..........I said meh.........damn Music: Rammstein - Amour
--------
I am not amused - February 19, 2006, 04:22:am I know you're
watching me motherfuckers I laugh at thee
There is nothing you can do to stop me HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Mood: Perfectly Sane Music: Lacrimosa - Der Erste Tag
--------
Ich Bin Gott - February 21, 2006, 09:09:am Ich Bin Gott
Mood: Tired Music: Tristania - A Sequel of Decay
--------
Germans - February 21, 2006, 09:25:am The people of Germany
and Austria.
Their men have an iron will. They are brave, courageous, fearless,
and determined. This makes the Aryan men the greatest warriors of
all time.
Their women are godesses. They are beautiful, intelligent, kind,
caring, and elegant. This makes the Aryan women godesses on this
earth.
Show respect when in their presence.
Mood: Meh....... Music: Within Temptation - Stand My Ground
--------
Shall I practice my German - February 21, 2006, 09:30:am Ich
werde meine Feinde zerquetschen, abzustauben.
Whiskey Ist Gut
MUHAHAHAHA
Mood: Stop asking me what mood I'm in....Damn Music: Rammstein -
Du Hast Mich
--------
They make you fall in love with them......Then they run away -
February 21, 2006, 09:43:am They frolic in the meadows They pick
flowers They say sweet things They are soft They are ticklish, in the
right spots They are strong They will beat you up They are sweet
They are cuddly like little kittens They look so beautiful when they
smile They are Baby Utes........Duh!! (who else)
Mood: Dark and Disturbed Music: Type O Negative - Everything Dies
--------
Fuck Life - February 23, 2006, 11:49:pm Fuck Life
Fuck the world and everything in it
Mood: Whatever Music: Creed - My Own Prison
--------
Layla wrote me this - February 25, 2006, 02:20:pm Isn't Layla the
sweetest little thing. Look she wrote me a poem:
The black rose, the crying eye The wonderer, the needing guy
For needing what i do not know Hating the place he calls home
Distant from life, distant from light Bleeding from the suicide knife
Mood: Layla---Layla---Layla Music: Lacuna Coil - Heaven's a Lie
--------
FUCK YOU - February 26, 2006, 10:45:pm Never Repent
Never Forgive
Mood: FUCK YOU Music: FUCK YOU",1,Grievance Airring,Kimveer Gill Online,2/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"World of Warcraft - March 03, 2006, 12:33:am World of Warcraft is
such a fun game. It's completly multiplayer. The on'y multiplayer
game I ever liked.
I'm gonna lay off it for a little while. Havn't had time to spend on VF.
That sucks.
Mood: Tired Music: No music today
--------
I hate this world - March 13, 2006, 03:55:am Most of the fucking
men on this earth don't deserve the women they have
Mood: Fuck You Music: Cradle of Filth - Nymphetamine
--------
Cradle of Filth rocks - March 13, 2006, 04:13:am I love Cradle of
Filth
The song Nymphetamine is so kick ass The video too
Mood: I'm fed up with all of you Music: Cradle of Filth -
Nymphetamine
--------
Hate - March 15, 2006, 05:54:am I hate this world I hate the people
in it I hate the way people live I hate god I hate the deceivers I hate
betrayers I hate religious zealots I hate everything
I hate so much
(I could write 1000 more lines like these, but does it really matter,
does anyone even care)
Look what this wretched world has done to me
Mood: I hate everything Music: Within Temptation - Stand My Ground
--------
Work - March 15, 2006, 06:02:am This one place I worked
at........they didn't pay me for one of the days I worked.....they said I
didn't work that day.....but I really did.
You see You see what kind of world we live in
No No, I don't think you see
You still don't
Mood: Demoralized Music: Cradle of Filth - Hallowed By Thy Name
--------
I love guns - March 15, 2006, 06:06:am I love guns I really do
The great equalizer...............wouldn't you say?
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA MUHAHAHAHA
Mood: Same as 5 minutes ago...........lol Music: Cradle of Filth -
Hallowed By Thy Name
--------
One of Bonnie Parker's Poems - March 18, 2006, 03:12:am
THE TRAIL'S END
You've read the story of Jesse James of how he lived and died. If
you're still in need; of something to read, here's the story of Bonnie
and Clyde.
Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang I'm sure you all have
read. how they rob and steal; and those who squeal, are usually
found dying or dead.
There's lots of untruths to these write-ups; they're not as ruthless as
that. their nature is raw; they hate all the law, the stool pidgeons,
spotters and rats.
They call them cold-blooded killers they say they are heartless and
mean. But I say this with pride that I once knew Clyde, when he was
honest and upright and clean.
But the law fooled around; kept taking him down, and locking him up
in a cell. Till he said to me; ""I'll never be free, so I'll meet a few of
them in hell""
The road was so dimly lighted there were no highway signs to
guide. But they made up their minds; if all roads were blind, they
wouldn't give up till they died.
The road gets dimmer and dimmer sometimes you can hardly
see. But it's fight man to man and do all you can, for they know they
can never be free.
From heart-break some people have suffered from weariness some
people have died. But take it all in all; our troubles are small, till we
get like Bonnie and Clyde.
If a policeman is killed in Dallas and they have no clue or guide. If
they can't find a fiend, they just wipe their slate clean and hang it on
Bonnie and Clyde.
There's two crimes committed in America not accredited to the
Barrow mob. They had no hand; in the kidnap demand, nor the
Kansas City Depot job.
A newsboy once said to his buddy; ""I wish old Clyde would get
jumped. In these awfull hard times; we'd make a few dimes, if five or
six cops would get bumped""
The police haven't got the report yet but Clyde called me up
today. He said,""Don't start any fights; we aren't working nights, we're
joining the NRA.""
From Irving to West Dallas viaduct is known as the Great
Divide. Where the women are kin; and the men are men, and they
won't ""stool"" on Bonnie and Clyde.
If they try to act like citizens and rent them a nice little flat. About the
third night; they're invited to fight, by a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.
They don't think they're too smart or desperate they know that the law
always wins. They've been shot at before; but they do not ignore, that
death is the wages of sin.
Some day they'll go down together they'll bury them side by side. To
few it'll be grief, to the law a relief but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.
Mood: Emptyness Music: Tiamat - Whatever That Hurts",1,Specific Threats,Kimveer Gill Online,3/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"Shut-Up - April 08, 2006, 02:44:pm I'm really tired
Don't look at me Don't talk to me
Mood: shut-up Music: shut-up
--------
I'm back - April 27, 2006, 03:48:am Been gone for a bit Hope I still
have the energy to continue on VF
Gotta catch up on stuff
Also gonna add some stuff.....or - Maybe take away some stuff from
my page.....it's too long
I dunno
Mood: No more moods Music: Cradle of Filth - Burn in Hell
--------
Goth - April 30, 2006, 07:23:am Live for Goth Die for Goth
Mood: Sad Music: Cradle of Filth - Nymphetamine",1,Vague Discontent,Kimveer Gill Online,4/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"My movie - May 02, 2006, 11:29:pm I've been writting a script for a
movie during the last 6 months or so. I'm still working on it, after it's
all written up, it'll probably be like 200 pages long. Then I'll have to do
major editting, like, take entire scenes out and stuff.
But it's fun. I just don't know how to go about getting someone, like a
movie director or producer to look at it. Cuz' I've never been in this
field of work before. But I don't need to worry about that just yet, cuz' I
don't even know how it's gonna end. Like, I kinda know the final
conclusion. But there's tons of extra stuff I can add or delete from the
last 20 minutes of the movie.
Like in the movie ""SAW 2"". The last 10 minutes or so, makes the
movie great. And just like that, there's tons of movies where the last
bits are spectacular, and only then is the movie a success.
Mood: No mood......Working on script Music: No music......Working on
script
--------
Rain - May 03, 2006, 02:56:am It rained today in the afternoon So
beautiful
I wish It would rain forever, Love the grey skies
--------
Freshly dug graves - May 17, 2006, 05:20:am Turn this fucking
world into a graveyard Crush all those who stand in your way
Let there be a river of blood in your wake Walk through that river with
pride
You are their hero The true hero
Don't you just love freshly dug graves I do
Mood: Heil Heil Heil Music: Cradle of Filth - A Gothic Romance
--------
Still Raining - May 20, 2006, 03:12:am Yes, Yes, let it
rain............Make it rain forever
Blue skies and sun make me physicals ill, I want the skies to be grey
forever, raining forever, Forever
Mood: Not well Music: Heaven Shall Burn - Numbing the Pain
--------
HIM - May 26, 2006, 02:51:am I'm listening to HIM
Totally rocks
Mood: Tired of all the fuckers in this fucking world Music: H.I.M. -
Razorblade Kiss
--------
Metal Forever - May 28, 2006, 03:38:am I love Metal
I love it so much
Drinking Jack and coke and listening to Metal As long as I have my
drink and my Metal, nothing else matters
Mood: Hahahaha. Muhahahahaha Music: Metallica - Ronnie",1,Vague Discontent,Kimveer Gill Online,5/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"The Grim Reaper - June 02, 2006, 02:45:am The undertaker
Theme from WWE Wrestling rocks
I rarely watch the show anymore (used to when I was younger). But I
listen to that theme song sometimes. It's the best theme ever.
Sometimes I hear this theme song inside my head. Like ya know,
when you can't get a certain song or tune out of your mind. I love it.
R.I.P.
Mood: Empty Music: Undertaker Theme
--------
Religion is stupid - June 02, 2006, 02:51:am People all over the
world kill each other because of things that strangers, did to other
strangers, thousands of years ago. I dunno, but it doesn't make any
sense to me.
People live there lives according to fairy tales. They believe things
that aren't even true. And they know it's not true, but they still believe
in it.
I must be the only person in the world that thinks the world is
FUCKED UP.
Mood: meh.... Music: meh.......
--------
Leeroy Jenkins - June 03, 2006, 09:25:am Leerrooyyyy
Jeeeennnkkinnns I should say
He's my hero in World of Warcraft (That's an online multiplayer game)
You can see what he did at the following site
www.leeroyjenkins.net/
Mood: Leeroy Jenkins Music: Leeroy Jenkins
--------
- June 06, 2006, 01:48:pm It's June the 6th of the year 2006
Didgits on the calendar are 666
What a shame nothing cool happened today, since this only happens
once in a mellenium :(
Mood: The keep asking me what my mood is...grrrr Music: My Dying
Bride
--------
Warning - June 11, 2006, 04:35:am Look out friends
The RCMP and CSIS in Canada and Local Law enforcement and
F.B.I. in the States have been scouring this web site during the last 3
months. Looking to arrest you guys and girls for nothing.
Ever since that girl from Alberta killed her family, they've been going
through the pros, and have arrested dozens of people because of
what they wrote in their journals (like talking about killing someone),
or the pics they got (like holding a gun) or whatever.
Just be careful about what you write. Select ""Private Entry"" for
anything that might be perceived as suspicious. For now.
Mood: So cold. So empty Music: H.I.M. - Razorblade Kiss
-------- H.I.M. - June 17, 2006, 05:11:am H.I.M. rocks
Razorblade Kiss Join Me
Mood: H.I.M. Music: H.I.M.
--------
VF Growing Nicely. Muhahahaha - June 27, 2006, 02:33:pm VF
now has Exactly 541,000 Members
Cool
Mood: Meh.... Music: Meh....
--------
They hate me - June 30, 2006, 04:49:am I might forget
But I never forgive
Never
Mood: Dead Music: Nightwish - Nemo
--------
- July 07, 2006, 08:35:pm Woke up. It's like 6 in the evening. Lol.
Ya, i know, pretty late to be waking up. Drank all night last night, so
i'm still a little groggy.
Ate a cheeseburger, and an apple pie, yum :)
Mood: Like..........whatever Music: Megadeth - 99 ways to Die
--------
Fuck it all - July 09, 2006, 05:30:pm Italy won the world cup of
soccer today. What a fucking stupid game. All sports are stupid. The
fucking humans keep playing their fucking idiotic childish games. You
will pay.
Oh, how do i know who won you ask? I'll tell ya. I was sleeping
peacefully, and then was awoken by lots of people honking their
horns as they drove by. All the fucking waps are jumping up and
down like the little monkeys they are. HA HA HA HA HA HA. Fucking
animals.
FUCK THE WORLD. You're all animals. I can see through you. When
I look in your eyes I can see your thoughts. You're nothing at all. Just
animals. Always thinking about sticking your dicks in a hole.
FUCKING ANIMALS.
Mood: Mmmm, I wonder what this song makes me want to do Music:
Drowning Pool - Bodies
-------- Hell - July 13, 2006, 07:25:am People kill each other Rape
women Molest children Deceive and betray Destroy lives Bullying and
torturing each other at school
What kind of world is this? What the fuck is wrong with people. This
world....this life, is worst than hell.
Mood: Fuck life Music: Alice Cooper - Wicked Young Man
-------- Raining blood - July 13, 2006, 07:55:am There was a
thundering boom and the sky ripped open All went silent No birds
chirping, no dogs barking, no children running around playing, Not a
sound. No cars, no honking horns, no machines. Not a sound
A little blonde haired girl is walking home from school
Then a soft drizzle (no wind) Tap tap tap it said, as the raindrops hit
the pavement Tap tap tap it said, as it hit the roof tops Tap tap tap it
said, as it hit the cars, trucks, and buses Tap tap tap it said. Again
and again and again.
The little girl looks up at the sky, giggles slightly to herself, and starts
to walk faster
The rain quickens it's pace (a strong breeze) Shhhhhhhhhh it said, as
it splashed against the windows Shhhhhhhhhh it said, as it flooded
the streets Shhhhhhhhhh it said, as it drowned the rodents and
insects Shhhhhhhhhh it said. Just....Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
The little cutie smiles to herself as she starts running. Her greenishblue eyes glimmer with excitment.
The moderate rain turns to all out thundershowers, a likes of which
has never been seen on this wretched earth. From the skies comes a
laughter, a laugh like no other.
The little girl runs home and opens the front door. She holds the wall
for support as she takes of her shoes. She's so happy. She runs up
the stairs into her mothers arms A blood curling scream is heard.
Mood: Vengeance Music: Ozzy Osborne - Psycho Man
-------- Death Knight - July 13, 2006, 09:34:am It rained for three
days The sky is grey.....so grey A deep cut slowly makes it's way
through the palid clouds, and a figure emerges.
Drapped in black cloth. Head to toe, all black Boots as black as
tar Cloak lashing to and fro with the wind The hood covers his face
entirely The skeletal horse he rides neighs with ferosity as the reigns
are pulled to the side to steer the mighty beast to the left. His twohanded sword on his back, axe on his left side, sword on the right. A
modified shotgun on a leather sling hangs downwards
The mysterious figure rides down to the earth on what would appear
to be an invisible mountain. As his steads hoofs touch the wet grass,
it lets out an angry growl, almost as though it yearns to be elsewhere.
The disgusting human creatures scream in panic and run in all
directons, taking with them their lies and deceptions. The Death
Knight gazes at the humans with an empty stare, as they knock each
other down in a mad dash to safety. He wishes to slaughter them as
they flee, but sensing that his war horse is hungry and quite weary of
the long journey, he decides to rest.
It starts to rain slightly, as he heads into the nearby forest for
sanctuary. The human noise dimming in his ears as they move
deeper into wilderness.
-------- It's too bad - July 25, 2006, 10:14:am Just wish people
could see what I see
Mood: ..................... Music: H.I.M. - Join Me
--------
I am God - July 28, 2006, 03:22:am Stop praying to your imaginary
gods little monkeys
Because i'm the only god you need to pray to
I AM GOD.......Heil Heil Heil
Mood: Vengeance....Vengeance....Vengeance Music: Judas Priest
--------
VampireFreaks.com Rocks - July 28, 2006, 03:32:am This site
rocks It's the best site I've ever been on
I'm met more like minded people here in 1 week, than i had in my
entire life.
Not to mention one special girl that i may be in love with. She makes
my heart smile, the last time that happened was in high school.
:(
Mood: Rock On Brothers of Metal Music: Metallica (the old stuff)
duhh!!
-------- Romeo and Juliett - July 28, 2006, 03:38:am Where is my
life Where is my love Where is my Juliett
Mood: :( Music: Metallica - Until it Sleeps",1,Specific Threats,Kimveer Gill Online,7/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"Doomsday Refeshment Committee - August 01, 2006, 02:31:pm
Found this band the other day It's not in record stores or on the
radio Some dude sent it to me It's really good, hope he makes it to
the big times
For all the crazy Cowboys out there........ - July 28, 2006, 03:43:am
Yeeeeaaahhhhhh Haaaaaaaaaaaa
Mood: ..........Whiskey.......... HA HA HA HA HA HA
-------- Victory of Death - August 11, 2006, 04:07:pm GIVE ME
VICTORY OR GIVE ME DEATH
Mood: Tired of motherfuckers fucking with me Music: Crematory
--------
The Punisher - August 12, 2006, 05:06:pm The Punisher is one
kick ass movie. Love the Trenchcoat.
Black leather Trenchcoats rule
Mood: ................................. Music: .................................
--------
Bahhhhhhhhhhh - August 12, 2006, 06:03:am I say Bahhhhhh
good sir. Bahhhhhh
Mood: ..................................... Music: .....................................
-------- Chuck Norris - August 15, 2006, 01:11:am Chuck
Norris...........Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Chuck, CHUCK, don't do
it......don't do it.........HA HA HA HA HA.
Mood: M/ Music: M/
--------
Truly a great quote - August 19, 2006, 12:08:am Every action will
create an equal and opposing reaction (V)
Mood: ................. Music: .................
--------
The fucking police - August 20, 2006, 04:14:pm The police in
England shot an innocent man in the head seven times. Is it a
coincidence that he wasn't white? I think not.
FUCK THE POLICE
Mood: ....................... Music: Tristania
-------- I rule - August 22, 2006, 04:27:am I Made LT Gen in WoW.
I kick ass.
WoW IS THE BEST MULTIPLAYER GAME ON EARTH
Mood: Tired Music: Rammstein
-------- Metallica rulz - August 22, 2006, 09:18:pm FUCK THE
WORLD
METALLICA KICKS ASS
DON'T LIKE IT? THEN GO FUCK YOURSELVES.
(Only the old Metallica) (St-Anger sucked)
Mood: Drunken rage HA HA HA HA HA Music: Duhhhh....Metallica
-------- Black Metal - August 24, 2006, 01:59:am Black Metal rulz
Mood: Muhahahaha Music: Dimmu Borgir
--------
My loyalites - August 24, 2006, 03:35:am I pledge Allegiance to
Marilyn Manson I pledge Allegiance to Goth I pledge Allegiance to
Anarchy I pledge Allegiance to Black Metal
Mood: HA HA HA HA HA MUHAHAHAHA Music: Rammstein - Nebel
--------
Raining - August 24, 2006, 07:20:pm It rained a couple days ago, i
went for a walk in the rain, it wasn't raining much when i went, i really
went to get a beer at the Dep, but it was so dark outside, and raining.
I just couldn't rush back home.
I just wish the rain didn't pick up, otherwise it would'a been perfect. I
see people running from the rain, it makes me laugh. You know, how
people quickly rush from their car, or home, or shopping mall, so they
don't get wet. I don't get it! Or with their umbrellas (I don't use
Umbrellas)
My trenchcoat flew behind me a couple of times when the wind
picked up, other than that not very windy. Just the way I like it. And it
was deserted, every street, it looked like everyone had died. Cuz'
there wasn't a person anywhere. Another reason i liked it. lol. Well,
not no one on one. I did see some people, but like 95% less
population than regular.
Ever notice that when the clouds turn grey the humans become
sparse, like, even before the rain, even if there is no rain. I'll never
understand humans. The way they live their lives, their feelings, the
things they want to do in life, probably has something to do with these
invisible gods they pray to. Meh.
Mood: Just listen to the song and you'll know :) Music: Sentenced -
Vengeance is Mine
--------
Trenchcoat - August 24, 2006, 07:34:pm Wear your trenchcoats
with pride Trenchcoats fucking rule, but not as much as those who
wear them
m/
Mood: .................................... Music: Sentenced - Sun Won
-------- Doomsday Refreshment Committee - August 25, 2006,
06:26:pm Doosday Refreshment Committee rock. Support them.
They will rule.
Mood: ....................................... Music: Sentenced - The Rain Comes
Falling Down
-------- Shirley - August 25, 2006, 09:34:pm My head was hurting,
so i lay down for awhile on my bed, but since my eyes were closed
for like a half hour, my contacts feel all weird now. I thought about a
girl called Shirley, i wonder if her headache and heartache are better.
I hope so.
:)
Mood: Tired Music: Dark Funeral
--------
- August 26, 2006, 12:16:am Favorite Wrestlers:(All Time)The
Undertaker, (Last 5 years)Kane.
Fav. Comedian: Dave Chappelle. This skinny niggah cracks me up.
(I'm Rick James Bitch) LOL.
Fav. Late night talk show host: Conan O'Brian (He's such an ASS).
Fav. Director: Quentin Tarantino (keep making those kick ass movies
man, you rule. Hope I spelled your name right).
Fav. food: Pizza (mmmmmmm pizza. Gimmie gimmie gimmie).
Fav. weapon: Tech 9 (too bad they're illegal in Canada).
Fav. Actors: Robert De Niro (He's a good guy, too bad people have to
grow old)......Steve Buscemi (I thought this guy was going to go on a
rampage through Hollywood) lol. kidding. Love your movies man, just
don't eat anyones skin. HA HA HA HA HA HA.
Fav. People: Goth, Metal maniacs, The ""Trogs""
Fav. Musicians: Marilyn Manson, Rammstein, Ozzy Osborne, Cradle
of Filth, Disturbed, Godsmack, Tristania, Nightwish, Lacuna Coil.
Fav. Movies: Horror.
Fav. Place: In my Head.
Fav. Song: Marilyn Manson - Coma Black.
Fav. Clothes: My Ozzy Osborne Kangaroo.
Fav. Dude: Postal Dude. GO POSTAL.
Mood: Pigs go Oink Oink!! Music: Cows go Mooooooo
-------- Taurens - August 28, 2006, 01:46:am What's up with those
Taurens, they're moo'ing all over the place, look out!! They might sit
on you, and you'll go squish, unless you're another Tauren, then
you'll be all like ""Get off me you big lug""
Mood: Nothingness Music: Sentenced - Bleed in my Arms
--------
Hip Hop isn't music it's inferior - August 28, 2006, 02:15:am Hip
hop isn't music, it's just animals jumping up and down, like monkeys.
Why don't the men respect the women, why are the men always
calling the women ""bitches"" and ""hos""?, but more importantly, why do
these women like to be talked to like this, and treated like this?
Someone actually told me Snoop Doggy Dog is a poet. Can you
believe that. A poet? You see...you see...people actually believe this.
Animals...just animals. Have you seen some of their videos that play
24/7 on all the music channels worldwide? It's all image. all the girls
are acting like whores, sorry, let me rephrase that...all the girls are
whores. I can't understand what has happened to this world.
They keep refering to each other as niggers or niggahs, they're all
black, yet they keep saying the ""N"" word to each other? Does this
mean that they understand that they are in fact inferior niggahs? They
should stop, and be more gentlemanly and civilized. In one video
some rapped is trying to have sex with a car, while eatting fried
chicken. WTF!!!
Things weren't like this before. People had respect for each other,
they had manners, and a sense of decency.
Stop degrading yourselves, i'm trying to help you
RESPECT WOMEN YOU FUCKING ANIMALS
Mood: ........................................ Music: Sentenced - My Slowing
Heart
--------
What's with.....? - August 28, 2006, 02:42:pm What's with all the
slow lines everywhere? At the dep, at the mall, at the S.A.A.Q., even
though we need more people at the cash registers, they keep
replacing people with machines....machines that suck, and
malfunction.
What's with the construction workers? Why do they get paid so much,
to work so slow? The places i've worked, we have to work super fast
for so little money. Am i in some sort of Bizzaro world, like i'm the
only one in it.
What's with all the bitches? It's almost as though there was some sort
of bitch convention somewhere, and 85% of the women went and all
agreed to be bitches forever. The other 15% were spared. But having
all these bitches in one room gave them a great power. A power not
yet seen in this world. It's a special attack move of theirs. It
transforms them into super bitches. It's so powerful, that they can
only remain in that state for a short period of time, then they go back
to being ordinary bitches.
What's with all the assholes? It's like they invited all the men to a
huge arena, where all the sports were playing, Soccer, baseball,
basketball(for our negro friends), hockey, and others. 85% of the men
showed up. And they must have all made a pact to be assholes, and
fucktards for the rest of their lives. The other 15% who didn't show up
were spared. These creatures were also given a super power of thir
own. They are able to transform into motherfuckers, backstabbers,
two-faced liars for short times, thus, just like the women, it's a
powerful ability, so won't last for too long, as it wears of, they turn
back into the ordinary assholes that they were.
What's with people? The governments of the world use scare tactics
to fear the populations of the world into submission, and people
submit. Pathetic little monkeys. Run little monkeys, go kill each other
for your gods that don't even exist, go little monkeys, die for money,
money that goes directly into the pockets of world leaders. Run
monkeys, quickly, no no, don't ever ask questions like ""Why"", ""How"",
""That doesn't make any sense"", ""That's completly illogical"". Do as we
say little human creatures.
I am ashamed to be part of the human race. Especially people who
make fun of the girls on VF.
Mood: ................................ Music: Black Sabbath - Shot in the Dark
-------- FUCK YOU - August 29, 2006, 12:17:pm FUCK YOU (this
statement excludes my vf people)
Mood: FUCK YOU Music: Sentenced - Dead Moon Rising
-------- Sentenced - August 29, 2006, 12:33:pm Sentenced is one
of the best bands ever Too bad most people havn't heard of them I'm
sure thousands more would love them
You rock Sentenced
Mood: Sentenced Music: Sentenced
--------
Marilyn Manson - August 29, 2006, 12:35:pm Marilyn Manson is
one of my personal heros You totally rock man (like your old stuff
better than the new shit) :(
Rock on
Mood: Sentenced Music: Sentenced
-------- Ozzy Osborne - August 29, 2006, 12:40:pm Ozzy's the
man The god of metal
But i don't like your t.v. show. People say they like Ozzy Osborne, but
the don't even know what Black Sabbath is, i mean, come on, the
vast amount of people are watching ""The Osbornes"" to laugh at
Ozzy, and make fun of him.
He's a legend. A god like figure in the world of Metal.
Mood: ........................... Music: ...........................
-------- Postal Dude - August 30, 2006, 12:52:am Postal dude
rocks
Yaaaaaaaaa, Postal dude
Mood: ............................. Music: Rammstein - Spiel Mit Mir
-------- Some quizes I did - August 31, 2006, 03:33:pm
How evil are you?
Take the quiz: Which famous dictator are you?
Adolf Hitler You're Adolf Hitler! You're the most famous, psychotic,
genocidal madman ever to taint the pages of history books! You're a
fascist. Anyone who questions you is quickly dealt with... Sure, you're
a little compulsive and needy but you've accomplished a LOT, as far
as MURDERING, TERRORIZING and CONQUERING go! Bottom
line: You're out of your mind and you have a superiority complex the
size of the sun. You're one egocentric freak.
Quizzes by myYearbook.com -- the World's Biggest Yearbook!
Take the quiz: What does your birth month reveal about you?
- July Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be
understood.Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself.
Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's
feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental
and unpredictable. Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not
revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets.Dislikes nonsensical and
unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive
and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others
equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people
through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studyin
Quizzes by myYearbook.com -- the World's Biggest Yearbook!
Take the quiz: What Race Were You Born To Be
Clear You're clear!! Some might say you're having an identity crisis,
others would argu you got it all figured out. For once you're someone
who wont let themselves be stereotyped, and you're open to all kinds
of new things. Usually you don't go by your culture, you do what
comes natural. Also you if you're like me get really pissed-off and
confused when someone tells you to Hang with ur own people!
because you really don't have people but that's good cause all people
are YOUR people. Live clear baby, live clear!!
Quizzes by myYearbook.com -- the World's Biggest Yearbook!
Take the quiz: What Movie Criminal Are You?
Bonnie & Clyde: The Criminal Criminal ""This here's Miss Bonnie
Parker. I'm Clyde Barrow. We rob banks.""
Quizzes by myYearbook.com -- the World's Biggest Yearbook!
You have a 84% chance of going postal! Er... well, you're in the atrisk area. Best work out those anger issues. Join a gym, perhaps.
Remember, no matter how moronic their genetic contributuion to the
gene pool may be, subtle sterilization is a lot less messy.
How Likely Are You to Go Postal? Create Your Own Quiz
Probability of killing, 86% You have killed someone, or tried to kill
yourself many times. You may have many enemies and no one to
help you. Over exposure to death will ultimately cause you to break
easily. Consider yourself a danger to society. Seek professianal help
immediately!
Are you capable of killing
Mood: Satanic Muhahahaha Music: Satyricon",1,Specific Threats,Kimveer Gill Online,8/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"-------- Leeroy - September 01, 2006, 01:18:am
Leeeeerrroooyyyyyy
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Mood: Muhahahaha Music: Ozzy Osborne - Iron Man
-------- Lies - September 01, 2006, 03:09:am The governments of
the world keep lieing to the people of the world, and the people
believe it. Come on folks, WAKE UP!! They're using fear tactics to
keep you pacified, and all those who ask questions suddenly
disappear. Am i the only one in the world who can see these things.
Guess I am :(
Mood: .................................. Music: Ozzy Osborne - Hell Raiser
--------
DO NOT read this journal entry - September 01, 2006, 03:47:am
Ummmmmm, like, didn't you read the title. I was trying to warn you,
but now it's too late. You just had to click on it didn't you? I knew this
journal entry sucked, so i was trying to steer you away from it. Now
it'll poison your minds, sorries.
See!! Absolutley useless journal entry. Nothing of great importance or
intelligence here. I know what you're thinking. You're all like ""Is this
guy a psychotic?"" or ""Is this weirdo masterbating right now as i'm
reading this?""
YES. YES I AM. Daaaiiiiiaaaaaammmmmmmmmm. Can't a guy wipe
it out in piece without everyone reading his journal entry, at the exact
moment he's masterbating? I mean, cum on, ummm, actually, scratch
that, i meant come on.
Anyways, hope this didn't waste too much of your time
Mood: Tired Music: Rammstein
-------- vf girls - September 01, 2006, 07:57:pm Hey guys, leave
more pic comments for our vf girls, they like that kinda' stuff, they're
so soft and sad, give em' a hug from time to time :)
*hug* for all the VF Girls, i love you all
Mood: .................................. Music: Marilyn Manson - Coma White
-------- My favs and stuff - September 02, 2006, 04:09:pm My
favorite movies, music, games and whatever, aren't in any order, I
tryed to put some of my favs near the top, but most of the rest is
random.
The Ozzman awaits
Mood: Why'd you have to grow old Ozzy? Music: Ozzy Osborne -
Crazy Train
-------- Yaaaaaaa Metal rulz - September 03, 2006, 01:06:am
Randy Rhoads rocked Best Ozzy Guitarist of all time
Sucks that all the guitarists of today are nothing compared to the
greats of the past.
Mood: ................................... Music: Ozzy Osborne and Randy
Rhoads - Suicide Solution
--------
Cheasy poofs taste good - September 04, 2006, 03:22:am I ate
some cheasey poofs. Ya know, those cheese stick things, like
cheetos. Ahhhhhh, now you see.
The power of the cheasy poof can not be denied :)
Mood: Cheesy poof'ish Music: No music....just thinking of cheesy
poofs, hee hee
-------- Where's Waldo? I think not! Where's Barbara is the true
question!! - September 04, 2006, 03:57:am I was thinking of
Barbara Borelli yesterday.
I saw her in a dream. She was just standing their smiling at me. She
looked like a princess. All in white clothes, and she was just smiling,
the most beautiful smile, but didn't say anything, and i just looked at
her, i tryed to look at her ears to see how many piercings she had by
now, but couldn't see anything other than her face. There was a
bright white light shining from all over, around her body, from the
ground up, from the sky down, all over, a super bright white light. I
couldn't stop looking in her eyes, it almost felt like if i stopped gazing
into her eyes, that i would die. For a second i thought she was trying
to tell me something, I wanted to run up to her and hold her, and
touch her, to see if she was real, cuz' this dream felt different than
others i've had. But i couldn't move. I wanted to look down to see if
there was something holding my feet and keeping me from moving,
but i couldn't take my eyes off her.
It was weird. Cuz' usually I have dreams about people being
murdered, hung, getting shot in the head, and stuff like that.
Sometimes it's me that that stuff is happening to, and it's always dark
and cold. But this was so different.
I wonder what happened to her? She was a girl that went to my high
school. We hardly ever spoke, we were in like two different groups of
friends, so our paths rarely crossed. She always looks so
preoccupied with stuff. I liked her, guess I should have told her or
something, just to let her know and stuff, not that anything would
have happened, but it would'a been nice.
I wonder what she's up to? Maybe she owns her own business or
something (seemed like something she'd like). It always made me
smile when she went running down the halls, screaming at the top of
her lungs, arms and legs flailing in every direction. Like some sort of
escaped mental patient or something (I mean that in a good way).
She was really sweet. (But loud) Bet if she ever stumbled upon my
web page, she'd hunt me down and smack me for that. lol.
Wonder if she'd have let me call her Bar-bar if we had been friends.
Bar-bar sounds nice to me. Hey! Hey Bar-bar!! Where are you?
You're not under my bed, or in my basement, or dancing on the roof!!
:(
Have fun Barb :)
Mood: I have no mood, i Music: Soundgarden - Fell on Black Days
-------- The crocodile Hunter - September 04, 2006, 05:38:pm
R.I.P. Steve Irvin You crazy son of a bitch, you will be missed
I knew one day you'd get too close to one of those critters
Mood: ............................. Music: .............................
--------
Nuthin' - September 06, 2006, 03:28:am Nuthin' to say today
Mood: Sad, cuz so many vf girls are sad too (i love you) Music:
Cradle of Filth - Fear of the Dark
--------
VF Girls - September 06, 2006, 04:15:am Hey vf babies, hope
you're all doing o.k.
Sorry there's so many motherfuckers in the world, if i was there i'd
help you out. But in the meantime, don't cut yourselves, don't cry, and
definatley don't kill yourselves. You're my babies :) (hugs and teddy
bears for all)
None of what you feel is your fault, it's the worlds fault. It's your
parents fault, it's the churches fault, it's your classmates fault, it's your
co-workers fault, it's gods fault, it's societies fault, it's those so called
friends of yours (who arn't really friends at all) fault.
My heart bleeds when i here about you hurting yourself, because of
what the world has done.
Mood: ........................ Music: Ozzy Osborne - Close my eyes forever
--------
I can see you - September 10, 2006, 05:18:am I can see everything
you are, and will be, when i look in your eyes.
You will never understand me
Mood: .................... Music: Cradle of Filth - Nymphetamine
--------
Shut up - September 10, 2006, 05:23:am I wonder why my
household has been under surveillance by law enforcement for 6
years now? Makes no sense to me!!
Oh, you're wondering how I know? lol Bet you little monkeys
are Hey, assholes!! Everything everyone says or does against me is
shown to me in my dreams, I see everything. You fucking monkeys.
God, you humans are so inferior.
Mood: ............................... Music: Marilyn Manson - Coma White
--------
Marilyn Manson - September 10, 2006, 05:30:am Manson's one of
my fav's This guy rocks. But not the new stuff, the new stuff sucks.
Just the old Manson. I hope you go back to makeing music like from
""Holywood""
Manson rulz Manson rocks Manson is a god among men
Mood: Fuck the motherfucking world Music: Marilyn Manson - Man
that you fear
-------- Postal dude rulz - September 10, 2006, 05:37:am Wish
they make Postal 3, like really really good. Postal 2 Share the Pain
was o.k. but too childish, i want them to make a game so realistic,
that it looks and feels like it's actually happening. Perhaps when they
come out with Postal 4 (If they ever do)
Not just the graphics, but there should be more to do, other than just
shooting people for no reason, there needs to be a plot, and a good
story line. But i doubt Vince Desi cares what i have to say :(
And there should be music, a good soundtrack, with tunes from
Marilyn Manson, Rammstein, Disturbed, and many others, you know
what kinda' bands we like. Mmmmmm, what else, what else? Make it
longer, ummmmmm, you know the kind'a things i want, and also
make a small additional game, just like the first postal game, but with
graphics of today (that'll just be a little fun thingy on the side) All
concentration showld be on the main game, guess it'll have to be for
Postal 4 cuz' the 3rd ones already being made.
Hope no one kills the makers of the Postal game, cuz' those guys
rock. If someone does attack ""Running With Scissors"" or any of you
guys, it'll be those religious fanatics, like those guys that kill abortion
doctors and stuff, so watch out!!
I also heard that the Postal movie was gonna suck, not that i know
anything, but it's better to postpone production and make it really,
really, really, good. Instead of rushing it. It shoul'd be a blockbuster
movie, that everyone on earth wants to watch, or will want to watch
after they here about it from their friends.
You gotta bring Postal into the mainstream. I want more people to
see what I see. By changing the format of the game and movie, you
can do it. Just a little, the basis of Postal dude should stay the same,
just gotta be a better story line. Lets get to know Postal dude's
girlfriend, the places he worked at, the people that pissed him off, all
that stuff, in detail, like a real kick ass game/movie
(Postal dude was sad before he became angry and psychotic, that's
the part we're never seen in the game. He was normal, but the world
made him the way he became, gotta show that in the game and
movie too)
Meh, that's it i guess
:(
Mood: :( Music: Marilyn Manson - In the Shadow of the Valley of
Death
--------
Mmmmmmmm, cookies? - September 11, 2006, 01:25:am Heard
someone say ""If you can't be with the one you love, love the one
you're with"". I disagree. Anyone who agrees with that statement is
admitting to being an inferior human that can only understand
physical gratification. This further proves my point, and justifies my
views on people, life, and the human race.
Mood: Muhahahahahaha Music: Judas Priest - Blood Red Skies
--------
Heavy Metal - September 11, 2006, 01:40:am
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Metal rulz
Mood: ............................. Music: Alice Cooper - Pick Up the Bones
--------
People are so ignorant - September 12, 2006, 12:56:am Fuck
people Fuck Life Fuck god
Mood: ............................ Music: Marilyn Manson
--------
Stop High school Bullying (FUCK THE JOCKS) - September 12,
2006, 04:52:am Stop High School Bullying
Stop making fun of each other because of the clothes you wear, or
the way people talk or act, or any other reasons you make fun of
each other.
It's all the jocks' fault
JOCKS ARE NO GOOD
So Just Stop...............o.k.???
Mood: Angry at the jocks Music: Subway to Sally - Unsterblich
-------- FUCK YOU - September 12, 2006, 05:00:am Stop Bullying
It's not only the bully's fault you know!! It's the teachers and principals
fault for turning a blind eye, just cuz it's not their job. You fuckers are
pathetic. It's the police's fault for not doing anything when people
conplain (oops, my mistake, the cops are corrupt sons of whores, so
it's not like they can do anything about it.)
FUCK THE POLICE
It's society's fault for acting like it's normal for people to be assholes
to each other. Society disgusts me. It's everyone's fault for being so
apathetic towards fucking everything that doesn't affect them
personally. FUCK YOU SOCIETY.
Mood: FUCK YOU!! Music: Mudvayne - Happy
-------- Sorry niggahs - September 12, 2006, 05:33:am I tryed to
get the American government to give you your reparations cheques
for slavery (whitie's actting like slavery never even happened!!). But
no one listens. No one cares. You guys have to stand up and take
what's rightfully yours. Use your god given Niggah powers. Use it.
You can do it!!
YOU CAN DO IT ALL NIGHT
LOOOOOOOOONNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!
(Sorries, had to throw that in there) :)
Mood: ............................... Music: Crematory - Revolution
--------
Whiskeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy - September 12, 2006,
05:39:am Meh
i dunno
Whiskey taste good, yes? working is bad, yes? Germany rulz, yes?
Massive erection is very good, yes? YEESSSSSSS
Mood: Psychotic like a German HA HA HA HA HA HA HA Music:
German Metal, what else is there?
--------
Jack Daniels Whiskey, straight, with ice of course - September
12, 2006, 05:44:am Have I mentioned that i like to drink?
Bwahahahahahahaha
Mood: Dead Music: Lacuna Coil - When a Dead Man Walks
-------- Artie on Conan - September 13, 2006, 01:32:am Just
caught Artie Lange on Conan O'Brian, think i missed the first minute
of his segment or something, cuz' they were kinda' talking as if he fell
down.
Artie rulz But i'm surprised he's still alive, ya know, what with all the
drugs and stuff. lol
Yaaaaaa. Keep on Rockin' Art
Mood: .................................... Music: Marilyn Manson
--------
- September 13, 2006, 02:30:am Hey girls, if you're feeling down,
buy a kitten and play with it, hope it'll cheer you up some :)
I wuv U
Mood: sad, cuz' my vf girls are sad :( Music: Soul Asylum - Runaway
Train
--------
Frezzies - September 13, 2006, 03:19:am
Freezies rock
I'm eatting a purple one now, hold on, i'm gonna take a picture of
it.............
FUCK Batteries are low, gotta recharge Grrrrr
anyway, there's this green guy on it, on a skateboard, and he looks
so happy, it's cute :)
Mood: ............................ Music: Subway to Sally - Unsterblich
(awesome song)
--------
It's me :) - September 13, 2006, 03:33:am
German Metal Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
As you can tell, i got nothing of importance to write about today. Poor
me. :(
Maybe I should stop writting useless stuff? Mmmmmmmm,
interesting notion wouldn't you say? LOL. (I will not take that advice,
no sir, no, I will not
Mood: Postal Music: ubway to Sally - Unsterblich (Yup listening to it
again, Muhahahaha)
--------
Wednessday the 13th - September 13, 2006, 08:50:am Woke up 30
minutes ago. I hate having to wait for my contact lens cases to air
dry, cuz' they're just sitting on my desk now, looking messy and all.
Lemme go see what's to eat..........
eggs and toast. yum.
--------
- September 13, 2006, 10:41:am Whiskey in the morning,
mmmmmm, mmmmmmmmm, good !! :)
P.S. When i call people ""niggah's"" in my journals......it doesn't have
anything to do with their skin color. I call white people niggahs too,
it's just fun.
It's all dave chappelle's fault, ever since i started watching the
chappelle show, i can't stop calling people niggahs :(
Mood: No mood :( Music: Megadeth - A Tout le Monde",1,Specific Threats,Kimveer Gill Online,9/1/2006,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Kimveer%20Gill%20Online%20Electronic%20Version.pdf,Kimveer Gill
"Ms. Amari,
Greetings from the dead. You have received this letter after a rather horrendous event. To be perfectly honest with you, I do not know what forces are compelling me to write this. I do not know how it will be taken. Will you read it in its entirety or will you toss it in the circular file? Will you view me as lunatic or merely a person who just became too weary of life? I have thought about this letter for several weeks. Several weeks have passed and I haven't decided whether to write it and revise or do I subscribe to the Jack Kerouac method and write as the thoughts arrive for a more honest work? Maybe I shall do some of both.
Introductions are in order. I am, or more accurately was, Robert Stewart Flores. Think of me as Bob as I dislike the formality of Robert. I was born in Los Angeles in 1961. I have two older sisters and one younger brother. The winds of circumstances and time have scattered my siblings from California to Connecticut. My parents are divorced, having done so just before my 15th birthday. My mother lives in Georgia and has since remarried. My father lives alone in Lake Elizabeth, California. There will be people who will attempt to catalog me in a stereotypical manner because it will be easier for them to view me as a serious dysfunctional person rather than as a person who has made a rational choice.
My parents were marginal parents at best. Talking about problems or feelings was not encouraged. My father was a police officer and to quote him when he spoke to my daughter during a visit, ""I never felt comfortable around children"", pretty much summed up his parenting skills. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't especially physically or emotionally abusive. Just distant. he did give one of his autos when I told him mine was wrecked and I couldn't purchase one. His concept of parenting was putting food on the table and it ended there. Children were not viewed as children but as marginal adults. My mother was a classic enabler with low self esteem. Mom came from a large family of lower socio-economic class. Dad was from the same background. My father had two older sisters and a older brother. His father was an alcoholic who left his family while my father was still a child. I really don't have much history of him. My mother and my father did not have much contact with either side after I turned about eight years old. While nothing was spoken about this lack of contact with relations, myself and my siblings
came to the conclusion that the lack of contact and distancing with relatives was a normal function of families. It wasn't until I was older and dating and was exposed to other families that I realized that this wasn't true.
(Several weeks later)
Tonight is my last night on this planet so I guess I will finish this letter. I went from an ""A"" to ""B"" student in high school during my sophomore year to having to take summer school after graduation to complete a required course I failed. What occurred was that my parents divorced and my self and my brother and sister had to fend pretty much for ourselves. At nineteen I joined the service. I found an environment in the Army that allowed me to mature and excel. Enclosed in this letter is an example of an Enlisted Evaluation Report (EER) that will give you an idea of responsibility and duties that I had.
You may question why I have enclosed EERs and job recommendations from after the service. My reasoning is this. After the fact, the University of Arizona will attempted to portray me as a misanthropic, marginal student who was undisciplined and could not follow instructions. This portrayal could not be further from the truth.
While in the service I attempted to attend classes at the University of Maryland. When I couldn't attend classes I went to all the book sales that the libraries would have wherever I was stationed and purchased college text books. I managed to CLEP out 36 credits in general college courses. I had been in the service for six years when I met my wife and fell in love. I was married in 1986 in Sierra Vista. After several years I was transferred to Germany. 1988-1989 were horrendous years if you were in the Armed Services. Low pay raises, promotion freezes in response to downsizing gave a poor prospect to service members no matter how hard they worked for career progression.
My rotation back to the states was almost done when Kuwait was invaded. I was stationed at 1st battalion 7th Brigade (Patriot). The word came down the pipe that a Patriot unit slated to go could only muster 60% of it's personnel for deployment. I volunteered and I was attached to Task Force 8/43 (Patriot Heavy). It was the only mobile Patriot unit of the war. It was not my first time in the Middle East as I was also one of the first units that The 11th Signal Brigade sent to the area after the USSN Stark was struck by a missile a few years earlier. During my time in Iraq and later at KMMC in Saudi Arabia two separate events occurred that I did not realize it at the time until I saw a news report five years after my and I put the pieces together.
Normally a field compound is a bustling place. Even after the cessation of hostilities, daily maintenance and operations keep a compound bustling at all hours. The morning of the occurrence the camp was very quiet and there was very little movement outside the tents. It was daylight while I was resting on my cot when I started to get a horrible headache and abdominal cramps complete with nausea. I thought I was going to bust my gut when I managed to get to the slit latrine outside of the wire. My bowels completely evacuated themselves in a few seconds. I managed to clean myself up and made it back to my cot. I remember thinking, ""Great, I have a case of food poisoning."" I remember hearing the chemical alarms going off all morning. We had masked a few times and then had gotten the all clear as additional testing had shown that there were no chemical agents. Looking outside the tent I had noticed a commotion. The medics had found several people passed out on the ground. One poor kid had passed out straddling the latrine. The cause was severe dehydration and electrolyte loss related to the severe diarrhea and in some cases, vomiting. All food sources and personnel were examined but nothing was ever discovered. A month later, back in Saudi Arabia it occurred again but much worse that time. The diarrhea and cramping and diarrhea was so bad that time that most of the men did not make to the latrine but evacuated wherever they could. It took a few days to clean up the camp. Five years later I discovered that I was in the chemical downwind path when engineers blew up munitions and bunkers that had nerve agents stored in them.
Prior to getting out of the service in 1992 I had written to the College of Nursing requesting information for application and a point of contact so I could call and get some questions answered. What I received was the standard application package and nothing else. Six months prior to my discharge I drove down from Colorado Springs where I was stationed at to Tucson. I came specifically to get some questions answered and my unofficial transcripts examined so I could get an idea of how long I would need to to finish a B.S.N. The first person I met was Mary Hienkle. Mary Hienkle had the responsibility at the College of Nursing to process all applications. When I arrived at the university I introduced myself and stated why I had made the trip. At first she stated, ""I'm much too busy to talk to you"". I then asked if there was someone else I could speak to. She informed me that there was no one who would speak to me because I was not enrolled as a student. After trying several different approaches I finally left in disgust and drove back to Colorado Springs.
In June 1992 I left the service and traveled to San Angelo, Texas with the purpose of attending college. I did not have any applicable skills in the Army that translated into the civilian job market. Luckily I qualified for retraining from the local government agency. It was a three-year scholarship that paid for two years at a community college and a year at Angelo State University. Through an agreement between the Community College and the University there were no loss of credits on transfer. The scholarship along with my GI Bill allowed me to attend classes and support my family. As my family expenses increased I had to take several jobs that did not conflict with my school. One of them was at a local country western club. I started as a barback and worked my way up to the assistant manager. Because of the nature of the work I would not finish the books and bank deposit until 0430 in the morning. There were many days that I just stood up and went to school. I used to be able to go two to three days without sleep. I managed to graduate with 63 semester hours with honors and took my state boards for a Licensed Practical Nurse. I was ready to start my third year at Angelo State University and complete a B.S.N. when My wife dropped a bomb on me.
For two years while I was attending school she kept on saying how she could not stand the town where she was raised and the relationship between her mother and herself was deteriorating. At the start of the third year she stated that she was taking our daughter and son and was moving to Tucson. Her rationale was that she wanted to be closer to her grandmother who lived in Sierra Vista. She stated that I could choose to go with her or I could stay in Texas, support myself and be divorced and pay alimony and child support. The military had separated us several times and I was determined to make my marriage work so I went. I wrote a letter apologizing to the people at government agency who had believed in me and help me with the scholarship and I declined the third year.
I found employment at the worse nursing home in the city but I did not know it at the time and applied at the University of Arizona. I transferred with 110 semester credits. The University of Arizona accepted 77 hours which was what I had expected. The College of Nursing accepted 33 semester hours and none of my core nursing classes. That was a slap in the face as they would not entertain the idea of even evaluating the classes. They just refused to accept them regardless.
My first year was paid at the out of state scale as I was not an Arizona resident. I believe that it came to $7500.00 (approximated). I had to take out my first student loans and I still had to work to support my family. My wife kept on procrastinating about getting a job and money was very tight. After being in town eight months she finally got a job at St. Marys hospital. When we had been in town 12 months I was attending an EKG class at St. Marys hospital. I had quit my job at the nursing home after six months and had been hired on at St. Josephs Hospital as a team leader in the transitional care unit. It was for better pay and the hospital reimbursed me for 75% of my tuition. In the middle of my EKG class I had a “feeling”. For ten years of my marriage I had handed over my paycheck to my wife and she kept the checkbook. She said that she wanted to do the bills. As money had gotten tight I had tried to get her to let my know what the bills were. She never would let me know. Once she moved the family to Tucson I put the account in my name and started to pay the bills myself. I called my wife on a break from class and she sounded strange. I drove back home immediately to discover that she had a moving van. She and a bunch of her relatives were emptying the house and I mean completely emptying it. It was only after I threatened to call the police did they stop. On the spot we came to an agreement where she took 3/4 of the household items. A stormy divorced ensued. She stated all the politically correct buzz words at the proceedings, stating that I was cruel and abusive but could not prove it as she stated that I had never raised my voice to her, cursed at her, or raised my hand in anger to her. She controlled the economics of the household for ten years so she could state that I kept her in economic bondage.
One month after my wife left I was struck head on in my car by a kid driving on the wrong side of the road. Because of that accident I have a disc that presses on the nerves in my back and have chronic back pain. On a scale 1-10 on a good day it is a 3 and a bad day it is a 7. I haven’t been able to sleep more then 5-6 hours a night because of it. I was afraid to help a patient in bed for almost two years because of it. The pain has diminished my sex life, interfered with my GI tract, caused bouts of depression dealing with the chronic pain. I took a year off from school to deal with my back pain and divorce. I started to attend Pima college part time to better prepare myself at the university.
At the start of my second year as a full time student at the University of Arizona that I tried to get my child support payments decreased as I could not work full time and attend school anymore. The time spent studying was just too great. When you attend the College of Nursing they brief you and let you know that it is almost impossible to work and attend classes at the same time. the study load is just too great. I tried to get an official statement to that effect so I could decrease my child support while attending school. I was told that the college of nursing would not do that.
In order to attend college I maxed out my student loans and continued to work. Following the divorce I had to use part of my student loan monies to take my ex-wife back to court to get custody enforced. Each semester brought its own problems. One semester the car would require $1000.00 in work, another semester I had an impacted tooth that required a root canal. Even at El Rio clinic it cost me $800.00. When I got out of the service I was living from paycheck to paycheck, just making the bills. After the divorce it was the same and for the past two years it has been much worse. Three years ago I was one of 600+ people who were let go when the Carondelet system went two million dollars in the red. I attempted to collect unemployment as I looked for a job but was denied as I was attending school part time. It seemed that the DES felt that it was impossible to attend college and work full time. It did not matter that I had been doing just that for almost three years.
Once I was officially accepted in the College of Nursing I couldn’t help but notice the attitude that many of the instructors maintained. They sniffed at Associate Degreed Registered Nurses as they were not “Professional”. To many of the instructors Licensed Practical Nurses are not nurses despite what the State Board of Nursing states. Most of the instructors who are RNs don’t even know the scope of practice for LPNs. The message I kept getting from the instructors was, “You're not a nurse”.
I am 41 years old and have come to the conclusion that I deserve and demand respect. I am a human being and I have worth. I had decided that I will stand up for myself and I will be assertive. What I discovered was that being a male and nontraditional student, and (shudder!), assertive was not compatible with the instructors at the College of Nursing. While the college does maintain a small minority student body it is primarily white women from upper middle class backgrounds between the ages of 20 and 25. The college promotes and desires diversity but they only want their approved diversity and no other. In many ways male nursing students are “tokens”.
Starting my second semester at the College of Nursing events started to unravel. One class I had the instructor would ask for questions. I would raise my hand to answer and would be ignored and the instructor would change the subject. After two or more subject changes and my hand being up for ten minutes she would ask, “Did you have a question Bob?” I was sitting in the front row. This happened several times and I broke the unwritten rule, I stood up for myself. When she finally called upon me I stated that I would appreciate her calling upon me before she changed the subject as I felt I could add something to the class. After that she would just refuse to call upon me. After several days of this I quietly got up in the middle of the class and went to the Dean's office. She was not in but the Assistant Dean of Students, Pamela Reed was. I explain my problems with the instructor to her. She first started off by saying that I must be mistaken and that my perceptions were wrong. This is a common reply when a student has a problem with the college. It is always your perceptions of the event rather then the actual event that is flawed. Ms. Reed kept on trying to get me to go back to the instructor but I said that if the instructor felt secure enough in her position to treat me in that manner in front of my peers then I felt that I could not get a constructive communication from her. It wasn’t until I insisted in putting something in writing did Ms. Reed state that she would speak to her and her department head.
A week passes and the instructor is now calling upon me in class again. As I exited out another class later in the day Ms. Reed is waiting for me outside the class. She stated, “We have to talk”. She guides me to a room and waves a stack of papers under my nose. “I want you to read this”, she stated. It was the Student Code of Conduct. I informed her that I had read it and was familiar with it's contents. “I want you to read it again”, she stated. I stated that it was not necessary and asked her what she wanted to talk about. She then pointed out the catch all part of the document. I was familiar with it as in the military Uniform Code of Military Justice has a similar clause. Basically what it states is that a student can be expelled for any activity that interferes with the conduct of the educational institution. She then stated that the questions that I had been asking were inappropriate and could be construed as interfering with the conduct of the class. I then stated that I had asked questions pertinent to the subject being covered that week and that they were based upon experience and practical application. I then asked her for specific questions that she felt were inappropriate. Ms. Reed stated, “Oh, I think you know what questions are inappropriate”. I stated that no, I did not. The conversation was pointless I realized as it was merely an intimidation tactic. I was warned again two weeks later by Ms. Reed after a student in the honors program gave a presentation and asked if there were any questions. I asked a few and was later warned again by Ms. Reed.
In my original group that I started with there was another male student named Mike. A few times during breaks I managed to talk to him privately and asked him if he had any problems. He stated that he kept his mouth shut even if he had questions because he felt that it would ensure his chances of graduation. I asked him if it didn't bother him when female student started to put men down in general in front of him. He stated that yes, it did bother him but he kept his mouth shut so that he would not be labeled. The one instructor I complained about had an office next door to one of my clinical instructors, Robin Rogers. She was in charge during my first pediatric rotation. For each rotation there are two components. There is a lecture component and a clinical portion. You must get a passing grade in both to pass the class. During my rotation with Ms. Rogers I kept asking what we were allowed to do. she wasn’t very specific. She did keep repeating that if we did do something we were allowed to do it could be grounds for dismissal. While in the pediatric ICU I was teamed up with another nurse who was my preceptor. I told her all that I was not allowed to do. I also informed her that I was a LPN so that I could learn more then I already knew. Clinical rotation is completed. Three weeks pass. I start to get messages from Ms. Rogers that we need to talk. All the times she offers are when I am working. I explain that I can not afford to miss a whole day of work or I will not be able to pay my bills. I did ask her via email what it was about. Ms. Rogers would not explain only that I needed to talk. I finally make it into the office on a free moment Ms. Rogers presents me with four unsigned statements that are said to be from staff members from the hospital. With two statements they are broad and general. “The student is disrespectful and rude to staff and patients”. I asked Ms. Rogers to be specific, what did I do or say? She had no explanation for me. These statements were a shock to me as I call the patients by Mister, Misses, or Miss. I never make pet names nor call them by their first name. I have never been comfortable with that. I say please, thank you, and excuse me please. I informed Ms. Rogers that I think I knew why one statement was written. Ms. Rogers cut me off and stated that it didn’t matter what I said as the statements in themselves showed a trend and that she was failing me in clinicals because of it. The classes at the college of nursing have to be taken in sequence. If you fail one you must go back and repeat it before being allowed to continue. this means that you are knocked back a semester. This may not sound very important, just an inconvenience until you factor in student loans. Student loans are due six months after graduation or when you drop to less than half time. The times that the nursing course are given are not compatible with the time other classes are offered at the main campus. So I repeated the class and was dropped back a semester. I was less then half time and I had to start to pay my loans back. Because of this I fell behind my child support payments. I became in arrears. If you are in arrears in the State of Arizona you cannot get a RN license, or renew a current LPN or RN license.
I retake the course and get a “B” with another instructor. I started the fourth semester this fall. I had and ICU class and a Psyche class. Before passing medications the student it required to pass a computer test several times. Prior to the ICU class I had to pass the test with a 90% or better. I did. The instructor, Barbara Monroe, made it a point to pass medication with all the students for the first time before they were allowed to pass medication with a preceptor. I passed Ms. Monroe’s test and was allowed to pass medications. On the third day of clinicals I went over my medications with my preceptor. I explained what they were, what they were for, the normal dosage, and the side effects. She felt comfortable with this and said to administer them. Now you have to realize that the State of Arizona, by virtue of my license which states I am competent, allows me to administer most medications. I made a mistake. I administered all the correct medications to a patient but the preceptor was just outside the door as I did it as the instructor was walking by. Big violation and I am written up for that. Ms. Monroe had the students arrive at North West hospital on a Monday afternoon after lectures to pick patients. It would be the students responsibility to write up a care plan to the cellular level prior to 0645 the next morning. Ms. Monroe stated to the students that it would take around 5 hours to do so per patient. This was an overly optimistic projection and it is common for students to be up until 0200 or 0300 to complete the paperwork. Ms. Monroe covered herself by stating in the syllabus that all students are to be asleep by midnight the night prior or they may be a safety hazard which can lead to them failing the clinical.
I have never claimed to be a computer wizard but I am neither a computerphobe either. While at North West hospital I had problems downloading some information from a patient. I looked in the chart but the hard copies were not there. I asked some of the staff for help but they merely said, “It gets like that sometimes”. The next day I informed Ms. Monroe. She helped me download the information. The next day I have a patient who is on heparin IV with titration adjusted to a lab called a PTT . The PTT measures clotting factor time. You start by bolus of heparin at the start of the therapy that is based on the patient’s weight. blood is drawn every six hours and the PTT measured after each adjustment. If the PTT is within therapeutic range twice in a row then the blood is drawn every 12 hours. My patient had been on the medication 10 days. She had been adjusted up and down. The day I took care of her lab was due at 0800. Ms. Monroe walks by and asks for my calculations. I proudly show her my copy of the weight based protocol. She said no, she wanted my calculations. I informed her that there wasn’t a calculation until the lab results were available but I had been checking every 15 minutes. She then became upset and stated that she wanted the bolus, initial weight based calculation. I informed her that it had no bearing on that days care but I would do it for her. It took less than a minute.
The week ends and I have a non required weekly meeting. Two weeks prior I had a meeting on Friday at 1300. I had worked the 1900 to 0700 shift the night before and had missed the meeting. I was written up for that. So, at the end of the week I am informed that I had failed the clinical portion of the ICU rotation. These are the reasons given. (1) Administering a medication with the preceptor outside the room, (2) Not having the information ready on my patient, (the computer glitch), (3) I was totally lost on heparin administration, (her words), (4) Not calling in when I missed the non required meeting, I had been falling asleep in the meeting after clinicals in the hospital and I was warned that it was becoming a safety issue. In light of this I printed out a patient’s history and physical rather then write it out on her document care plan. For this I was cited as (5) Not knowing my patients. I attempted to say that she had warned me twice about being sleepy during clinicals so I had saved some time by printing out the information. Ms. Monroe stated that she didn’t want to hear it. I then explained to her that if she failed me I would be kicked out of the College of Nursing and would not be allowed back in. I stated that I would not be able to repay my student loans on a LPN’s salary and pay child support. I stated that if I defaulted on my student loans I could not get financial aid if I went to Pima College for their Associate Degree Nursing program. I explained that when my license came up for renewal I would not be allowed renew it and I would be back in the same state I was in when I got out of the service, no marketable skills. Ms. Monroe stated “It doesn’t matter”. She then denied warning me about falling asleep in clinicals. The worse insult arrived when she stated that I was unsafe. That was the biggest insult.
That was on a Friday. On Monday night the following week I was working at North West hospital on the same unit. Instead of two patients I had six. I was told that I was a good nurse and I welcome back anytime. After being failed from clinical at North West hospital I have worked as a nurse on the telemetry unit, the neuro unit, and the medical/surgical floor. In psychology there is something called a precipitating event. That was mine. Even with the bleak prospect staring me in the face I managed to study for a huge psyche test and scored an eighty-four percent.
On Friday when I was basically informed that I was washed up at the College of Nursing I stopped by the IGA store at Speedway and Swan. As I pulled into the parking lot I saw a young man who had just burst out of the exit of the store, trying to subdue another man who had a silver claw hammer in his hand and was hitting him. I didn’t think, I reacted. I helped the young man pull the man with the hammer to the ground and waited for the police. For my trouble I received a rip in the only pair of good slacks that I had. The man was a shoplifter who had assaulted the store security guard.
The event just underscored the dichotomy of my situation. The College of Nursing did not want people like me. I work as an agency nurse and I have worked most of the hospitals in town and some outside the Tucson area. I genuinely care for my patients and work very hard caring for them. I am told that I am a wonderful nurse who is self directed.
I know what one future brings for me. My jobs from my agency have slowed down. I cannot make my rent this month. I am behind my phone, utilities, auto insurance, and child support. I don’t drink, carouse, or have vacations. I have friends but between work and school I never have had time to socialize. I am tired, tired and weary. Rather then spend the next month or two selling what little I have I am going to end it now. The College of Nursing has burned all caring from my being. I find no joy in the future. Even food seems to hold nothing for me. My body is betraying me. I have prostate problems but cannot do anything about it as I have no insurance. Another filling has fallen out and I cannot afford to replace it.
I am rational. I am reality based to the here and now. I understand that I have committed homicide and that I have broken the laws of our society. I will save the taxpayers money and take care of the problem. I realize that I am depressed but even with treatment it will not change my future. People will want to know why I did this? Why the innocent lives?
To the sociologist, it wasn’t the Maryland sniper. I have been thinking about this for awhile. To the psychiatrist, it’s not about unresolved childhood issues. It is not about anger because I don’t feel anything right now. To Ellen Goodman, it is not about gun control. I have had guns for a long time and it was my trade in the military. I do not have gun magazines. A waiting period or owner registration would not have stopped me. I have a concealed carry permit but I have never brought a gun to the University, (until now). I was a boyscout. I cross the street at the crosswalk. It is not about revenge as I have always thought that revenge was a waste of time and energy. I guess what it is about is that it is a reckoning. A settling of accounts. The University is filled with too many people who are filled with hubris. They feel untouchable. Students are not given respect nor regard. It is unfortunate but the only force that seems to get any attention from the University is economic force.
The American public has a unique tradition. It is called “fixing the blame”. Columbine sticks to mind. In the courts the parents vented their frustration through lawsuits. It is due to the threat of lawsuits that the face of education change following Columbine. I will be gone but the same will happen here. The instructors will make statements to the effect that I was unbalanced. I informed them that I was not sleeping well, gaining weight, had little energy, difficulty concentrating, feeling sad. These are all hallmark pearls of depression. One instructor asked why I didn’t go to the student health center. I replied that it cost money and I would get kicked out of the program if I was candid. The worse that they make me out to be the more ammunition they will give to litigants.
Do I have regrets? I regret that my ex-wife has estranged my children from me. She has moved them 19 times in 6 years. I regret leaving my dog Bridgette. She has been the only thing that has ever given me unconditional love. I regret that there are such people in the world that push a person to contemplate and carry out such an act. I regret leaving those people behind who trusted me and will feel betrayed by this act.
As the curtain closes I will exit the stage for a well deserved rest.
Respectfully,
Robert S. Flores
R. Flores, LPN",1,Planned Violence,Robert Flores Final letter,6/24/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Flores-final-letter.pdf,Robert Flores
"Expanded version of frequently asked questions:
1. What happened at Concordia University?
I came to Canada in December of 1979 from the USSR. I started working for T.S. Sankar, who was at that
time Chair of Mechanical Engineering Department, at initial salary of $7,000 a year. I wrote more than 60
scientific articles plus 2 books during 12 years. In about 30 of them, I have included T.S.Sankar as co-author,
though he did not understand a word in any of them. In 1986, I have stopped including him as a co--author
and he tried to have me fired.
I complained everywhere: to the Rector, Board of Governors, Minister of Education, Member of Parliament
(Feinstone), etc., to no avail. I started a lawsuit in 1992, and it has become clear to me that Judges are corrupt
and have no respect for the law.
On August 19, 1992, I was served court documents accusing me of contempt of court (I made a posting,
where I called Chief Justice Chief InJustice). The same evening I got a call from Dr. Hogben, who was at
that time President of our Association. He was paid to protect me from administration, instead, he was ""in
bed"" with them. He told me that he knew about the accusation, that I would be put in jail and that “anything
can happen in jail"". I understood it as a death threat.
The court hearing was scheduled on August 25, 1992, and this is why shooting took place on August 24. I did
not plan to kill anyone, I took the guns with me Just to threaten the gangsters to leave me alone. When I
pointed my gun at Hogben, he blurted out that this is exactly what they wanted me to do and that now they
would be able to put me in jail for good. After that I started shooting.
Summary: Concordia big crooks (Kenniff, Sheinin, Swamy, Sankar, etc.) used little ones to provoke me, and
they succeeded. Why would Hogben do his dirty part? Two reasons: one, his wife, just with a Master
degree, was allowed to lecture at Concordia (usually, only people with Ph.D. can lecture); second, a
psychiatrist (Dr. Steiner), who he trusted, convinced him that there was no way I can kill him. He was
wrong.
2. If you did not plan to kill anyone, why did have your guns loaded?
Two reasons. One, the idea was to scare the gang, so that they leave me alone. In a revolver, it is readily
visible that it is empty. It is stupid to point a gun at another person, where it is obvious that the gun is not
loaded. I wanted to be taken seriously. Second, the gang members knew very well that I purchased a
gun. They pretended to be scared of me and hired bodyguards. I would not be surprised if Hogben had a
gun of his own. If he saw my revolver not loaded, he could have pulled his own gun and killed me with
impunity. I could not allow such an opportunity.
3. You were convicted of premeditated murder. The Jury obviously did not believe your claim that you did
not plan the killing.
Corrupt judge Martin did not allow me to testify, jury has never heard my story. Jury pool was tampered
with. I saw court clerk taking cards with Jury names from the top, instead of mixing them up first.
Hogben offered me about $200,000 shut-up money, which I did not accept. If I planned to kill him, I would
have taken the money first. Last, but not least, had I planned the killing, different people would have been
killed.
4. How could you kill 4 innocent people in cold blood?
Not a single innocent person was harmed: the people I killed were members of the gang, which threatened
my life. About ""cold blood"": you were not there, and neither were reporters, who used this cliche. It was a
very traumatic experience for me, who never killed even a fish, but I am very proud that I had the courage to
do it.
The problem is that people, asking this question are obviously not using their brains. I suggest the following
questions to be asked:
a) Do you believe I was insane? If you agree that I was not, then ask the next question
b) Do you think my dream was to die in jail? If the answer is an obvious NO, then ask the next question
c) Why would I kill persons, who did no harm to me, and go to jail for the rest of my life? Again, the answer
is obvious: I would not harm a person, who did no harm to me. Clearly, these people did so much harm to
me, that killing them was more important, that the threat of dying in jail. Ask the last question
d) What was it? The only thing, which justifies a killing is a death threat, and this is what it was.
5. Why did not you go to police if you felt your life to be in danger?
It is well known, that when a battered wife comes to police complaining, they tell her to come after she get
killed. In my case, I had to complain on the Chief Justice of Quebec Gold, who was at that time also the
Concordia Chancellor. There was no way they would do anything against Chief Justice. In addition, the
phrase ""anything can happen"" is a very veiled threat to go to police with.
6. You can not claim self-defense, since the people you killed did not point a gun at you.
When someone points a gun at you, it is generally too late to pull your own gun. If a gang member makes a
veiled death threat, it makes no sense to wait till he arranges your murder. The legal definition of selfdefense does not require someone actually pointing a gun at you. There was a case, where a battered wife
was acquitted, when she killed her husband who made a death threat, though she shot him in the back and at
the moment of shooting he was unarmed. Just recently, a girl in US stabbed her father to death, because he
was abusing her mother. The father did not point a gun at any of them, their life was not in immediate
danger. The grand jury refused to indict her.
7. You did not give you victims a chance to defend themselves; you killed unarmed people.
These people belonged to a gang, which threatened my life. I did nothing wrong to them. They have chosen
to behave the way they did and they got the consequences. They might have had a gun of their own, since
they claimed to be afraid of me and hired bodyguards. They did it not because I threatened them, but because
they knew that they had already almost killed me (heart attack in 1991), so it was natural of them to presume
that I could strike back.
It was not a sporting competition or a duel; these people threatened my life and they paid with theirs.
8. You took justice in your own hands; what kind of society would we have if everybody did the same?
When a human being feels protected by law, he does not need to take Justice in his own hands. This is why
the laws exist. On the other hand, when the top administrators like Rector, Minister, MP, Chief Justice have
no respect for the law, a human, whose life is threatened, has no choice but to take justice in his own hands.
If everybody did what I have done, we would have had a society which DOES respect the laws.
9. You are a coward who killed 4 innocent people.
About ""innocent"", see question 4. A coward would have tried to hire someone to kill. Another type of
coward would kill in the darkness of night and then run away to avoid criminal responsibility. What I did
was as brave as it could go. It takes a lot of courage and guts to kill in a broad daylight in full view of
everybody. I have never punched anyone in my entire life, I have never thought to be capable of killing, so I
am very proud of myself that in the critical moment I had what it takes. During my trial, one guard told me
tete-a-tete, that I did what he dreamt of doing all his life, but never had the courage. I am pretty sure he is not
the only one, who felt that way.
10. You are a paranoid idiot, who imagined his life in danger and killed 4 innocent people.
About ""innocent"", see question 4. Even if one is paranoid, this does not mean that nobody is following him. I
must admit, that I had at the beginning some doubt whether my life was in danger. Being in jail several years
convinced me that I was right. There were a number of murders during this time, and in each case guards
were either initiators or deliberately closing their eyes. It is incredibly easy to kill anyone in jail. It is much
more difficult to kill me, because majority of prisoners have great respect for me. The second important
obstruction: to kill me in jail would mean that I was right in my claim that I could be killed in jail.
11. You are just trying to justify an insane act; several respectable psychiatrists testified at your trial that you
had problems and one even said that you were not fit to stand trial.
I was never insane, I knew perfectly well what I was doing and I knew why I was shooting each individual.
There was not a single innocent person harmed. I did not hear voices and did not imagine devils.
Indeed, two of the top psychiatrists testified that I had a number of ""disorders"". None though diagnosed any
paranoia. I can not call them “respectable"", because they were committing perjury: I refused to talk to each
of them, they could not possibly have diagnosed anything just by looking at me.
It was true that psychiatrist Morissette testified that I was unfit to stand trial, but it was I, who called him to
testify. I wanted to show to the jury just how dishonest and dishonorable he was. He was never asked to
examine me; he was invited by my lawyer to give me information about Pinel, and this was the only thing we
discussed.
In order to be unfit to stand trial, a person should be so insane, as not to understand what he is charged with,
not to understand, who is the Judge and who are the Jury, etc. Clearly, I understood all that. Nevertheless, he
testified under oath that I was unfit to stand trial.
Psychiatry here is at the service of government exactly as it was back in the USSR. I could not find a single
psychiatrist, who would agree to testify that I was sane. My lawyer brought one from Ontario, he (Davidson)
on arrival, prior to ""Hello"", announced that just by looking at me, it was clear to him that I was unfit to stand
trial. Can a psychiatrist sink lower than that?
12. Why did not you find another job, if you were so miserable at Concordia?
I did my best: I sent over 1000 applications to practically every university in the US, as well as other
continents (Australia, New Zealand, etc.), to no avail. Despite my credentials and publications, I discovered,
that it is not what you know, but who you know is important. In addition, I have no doubt, that Concordia
crooks had me blacklisted as a troublemaker.
13. Why did not you just leave: being unemployed is still better than to die in jail.
First, I did not plan to kill anyone, so I never considered those alternatives. I had a wife and 2 small children,
I could not Just leave. After the accusations of contempt of court, leaving would not change anything: the
contempt of court accusation would still be there, as well as the death threat associated with it. These were
the reasons for shooting, not the stolen articles.
14. Are you sorry?
I feel sorrow for the families of individuals I killed, but I am not sorry; I am at peace with myself. My life
was threatened and I had the right to defend myself. Eleven years of jail convinced me beyond a reasonable
doubt. One should not take Justice in his hands in the country, which respect the laws. On the contrary, in a
lawless country, one is justified in defending himself, with deadly force, if necessary. Here are few examples,
which convinced me, that Canada has no respect for the law.
Judge Martin stopped my defense, did not allow me to question numerous witnesses and to testify myself.
This is a major breach of criminal procedure. Court of Appeal decided that it was OK, Supreme Court
refused to hear me.
In 1998, I had a heart attack. I felt it coming, but jail doctor refused to bring me to the hospital. Crooked
Quebec doctors refused to do angioplasty saying that it was too dangerous. The film of angioplasty was sent
the top US doctors, and all of them responded that the angioplasty was possible, and all were ready to do it.
We also found a doctor in British Columbia, who also agreed to do angioplasty.
For almost 4 years, jailers refused to bring me to British Columbia for an angioplasty. Murderous Quebec
doctors helped murderous jailers by providing ""Professional opinions"", that all I needed were pills. I wrote
numerous legal proceedings as well as professional complaints against the doctors and nurses. They were all
denied. Corrupt judges of Federal and Superior courts declared me vexatious pleader. Jailers finally brought
me to the brink of death, and this is where murderous doctors finally blinked. They admitted that my life was
in danger; I was transferred to British Columbia, angioplasty was done in January of 2002 and this is why I
am still alive.
In the meantime, Attorney General of Canada has filed a request to declare me vexatious and to forbid me to
file any professional complaints against doctors, nurses and lawyers (what lawyers have to do with it, I do not
know). One would presume, that since all my complaints and legal proceedings demanded transfer to British
Columbia for an angioplasty and the facts showed that I was right in my demands, so Attorney General has
no case. It is not so for corrupt Judge Durand. On June 10, 2003, he signed an order declaring all my
complaints vexatious and forbidding me to file any professional complaints with relevant Committees on
Discipline against doctors, nurses and lawyers. There was no hearing, which by itself is a breach of
procedure.
I filed application in the Court of Appeal. Chief Justice Robert refused even to open file, writing that I was
declared vexatious and that I did not make a case. This is against the law: even if I have no case, he still is
obliged to register my application and formally dismiss it. I asked him, which section of the law allows him
not to register my application. He never responded, because he knew his action was illegal. He did it Just to
demonstrate to me, that he can disregard the law, and there is nothing I can do about it. Can a legal system
sink lower than that?
I need medical care again, and again I am being denied it by Quebec murderous doctors. Now I can not even
complain. In a lawless country one has no choice, but to defend himself, with deadly force if necessary.
15. You are a convicted murderer, why should we believe a single word of yours?
I see no logic in this statement: a law-abiding citizen can be a liar, and a criminal can be a truthful person. In
my case, just Use common sense. Some things can be verified in the court record. For example, one can
check whether there was an accusation of contempt of court, whether the hearing was scheduled on August
25, 1992, and this is why the shooting took place on August 24, etc.
The Gazette wrote that I was a false scientist about to be unmasked, and this is why I killed 4 innocent
people. Use your brain: how killing of innocent people might save a crook from being exposed? La Presse
wrote that I killed 4 people to attract attention to my fight with Concordia. Does this make sense? I claim
that my life was threatened. Clearly, it was not a dream of my life to die in jail, so if I disregarded jail, it
means that something more serious than jail was involved, namely, threat to my life.
16. What can be done to prevent repetitions of Concordia?
What is surprising, except for one case, nobody is asking this question, though I think, this is the Most
important question. Why? Just look at the sample of July news:
July 2, 2003
""A factory employee in Jefferson City, Missouri, has killed 3 other employees and later killed himself. Media
pretends not to know the reasons.""
July 6, 2003
""Three boys from New Jersey were arrested. They were allegedly plotting to kill several people at their
school (how could they do it: there is no school in July). The media does its best to conceal
their reasons. It was though mentioned that the guys had facial deformities and were picked on and
mistreated at their school for many years.""
July 8, 2003
""Doug Williams in Meridian, Mississippi, killed 5 people and wounded 8 in Lockheed-Marietta plant, then he
killed himself. Initially media claimed that motives were unknown. Now they are saying that he was racist,
because four of the five killed are black.""
Carnage continues unabated, because people Just refuse to learn the lesson, since this procedure implies
admission of errors. It is Bo much easier to explain each shooting by perpetrators insanity. Just present the
guy a raving lunatic and everybody is happy - guy exploded out of blue, nobody could have possible foreseen
it and nothing could be done to prevent it. This is Just not so.
Yet another idiotic trick: blame everything on availability of firearms. I call this idiotic, because it is
obviously wrong: no matter, how you tighten the laws, I still would be eligible to buy guns. Even if there
were no guns on the whole planet, I would have taken a hammer and smashed their heads. In the old USSR,
nobody had guns, including police, nevertheless, the number of murders there was greater than in Canada.
People in Rwanda managed to kill about million of humans, without any firearms. On the other hand, in
Switzerland, every family
is obliged to have a gun, and they have one of the lowest rates of murders. Why? Because they do not need
to kill each other.
The only way to eliminate murder is to extinguish the need of one person to kill another. In the case similar
to mine, this means to stop abusing and mistreating people, because abused people have tendency to strike
back, and often with deadly force. No law, including introduction of death penalty, would change it: when an
abused person strikes back, he concentrates only on the need to kill his abusers, what will come after that is
irrelevant.
This is what usually happens. A person is abused, he complains to the superior of his abuser. This superior
pretends to investigate the complaint, but in reality, he does his best to cover-up the abuse. He responds to
complainant some nonsense. When the complainant writes back saying that his arguments were not
addressed, he gets a response, that his complaint was thoroughly investigated and that the file is closed.
The abused person hires a lawyer, and this lawyer just pumps money from him, deliberately delays the
adjudication and finally looses the case: he does not want to fight the rich and powerful. The abused person
complains to the Minister, MP, etc., to no avail, and after several more pushes, he explodes. Each big crook
in every organization has many little crooks, who are ready to do any dirty Job for him. These are the people
who usually get killed, and for good reason: the abused person hates them more than the big crook, because
they are harming him just to please the big crook, not because they have any personal problem with the
abused person.
Some secretaries behave according to the principle: my boss is always right, and even when he is wrong, he
is right to be wrong. If you are a secretary and your boss is seriously abusing someone, this kind of behavior
might cost you your life. If you are actively participating in the abuse (lying that your boss is not there,
putting the abused person on hold deliberately for a long time, being rude, etc.) the abused person will hate
you more than your boss, and you are the one who will get killed when this person explodes.
So, if you want to stop the carnage, prevent the abuse. If the abuse already happen, rectify it, before it is too
late. Justice for all should mean Just that. Declare zero tolerance to bullying, not to victim's threats. A threat
is a warning, suppression of threats would lead to only one thing: the victim will strike without warning.
17. Questions, nobody asks: would anyone be killed if Hogben did not threaten my life? Why would Hogben
do it? He had no personal interest in the matter, so somebody told him to do it. Who was that somebody?
Former Chief Justice Gold, who was then Concordia Chancellor. Now you understand, why nobody in the
media asks these questions.",1,Planned Violence,"Valery Fabrikant: ""What Really Happened"" (Expanded Version)",6/14/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Fabrikant_What_Happened_Expanded.pdf,Valery Fabrikant
"Am I sorry?
I shall probably die soon, so now is the time to give final analysis of 1992 shooting at Concordia, with 10
years of hindsight. During my trial, I expressed my sorrow to the families of professors I killed, and this
feeling of sorrow is valid today, as it was then. My position during the trial was: I was not guilty of murder; I
did not plan to kill anyone; I was deliberately and maliciously provoked into shooting; the real murderers are
former Chief Justice Gold, Sankars, Swamy, Osman, Kenniff, Sheinin and psychiatrists (I know of one name
- W.Steiner, but in the newspapers some other names were mentioned), who ""scientifically"" designed the
procedure of provocation, and this procedure succeeded when I felt my life to be in danger.
I have spent past 10 years searching whether I could have done something different back in 1992, because to
say I am sorry would mean that there was another way of action. I have asked several jailers, as well as
several people on the Internet, who reproached to me 4 murders, what would they have done in my situation.
I did not get any answer from anyone, except for general phrase: ""I would not kill"", to which I always
answered: ""I am not asking you, what you would NOT do, I am asking you, what you would do"", and there
was no answer to this question.
The media repeatedly and falsely reported that the shooting took place because I was denied tenure or
because I was angry for stolen articles. None of this is true. The shooting took place because I felt my life to
be in danger. I was accused of contempt of court, the hearing of the accusation was scheduled for August 25,
1992, and this is why I took the guns to Concordia on August 24. Dr. Hogben told me that the hearing was
fixed, that I would be placed in jail and ""anything can happen in jail"". I took it as a death threat.
For every normal person, killing of another human being is a very traumatic experience. Prison guards like
beating up people and killing prisoners, but even for them it is considered a traumatic experience and they are
offered psychological counseling after they kill a prisoner. For me, it was more traumatic than for majority of
regular people, because in my entire life, I never punched anyone in the face. Even as a schoolboy, I have
always run away from any physical confrontation.
I could not tolerate an animal being tortured or killed. When I was about 8, my parents purchased a live cock
and kept it for couple of weeks. One morning, I woke up and found that the cock was no longer in his place,
and I learned that my father had killed him. Not only I refused to eat it, but I did not speak to my father until
I was promised that they would never again buy a live animal for food. My parents kept their word. I am not
a vegetarian, but I never bought even live fish for food, and of course, I never went fishing or hunting
myself. I did kill some insects, like mosquito, but this was in self-defense.
There exists a notion that all murderers like playing violent computer games and watching violent movies. I
am not typical here as well: I never had or played such computer games, and I am reluctant to watch even
regular movies about war and I never watch horror movies. When I got married, I made an agreement with
my wife that we would not buy any toy weapons for our children. We were lucky: our children never asked
for them. I am telling all this for people to understand that if a human being like I can be provoked into
killing 4 people, something really terrible has been done to me.
I remember police asking me with indignation, how could I possibly shoot another human being in the
mouth. The answer is very simple: I was shooting from the hip and this is why the bullets ended up the way
they did. Had I believed in God, I would have said that God directed those bullets, because I did want all 4
dead; I did NOT want the secretary dead and she was spared. As malicious as she was, I did I not want to kill
a woman.
Every day in Quebec, about 5 people commit suicide; this is 20 times the number of people killed by
criminals and double of people killed in car accidents. Majority of these people were abused so much that
they preferred to end up their lives rather than to endure the abuse. One may ask, if you decide to kill
yourself, why don’t you kill your abusers first? At least, these abusers would not be able to abuse anyone
else, and you would do a good service to the mankind. The answer is very simple: it takes a lot of courage to
kill another human being. It is so much easier to kill yourself.
Several years ago, one man in Ottawa was abused at his work, because he was stuttering. He took all his
money, went to Las Vegas and spend them to have good time, then he came back, took guns, came to his
work and killed there several people and then he killed himself. The media reported that he did not kill the
main abuser, but rather killed secondary people. If this was true, I can explain who these people were and
why they were killed. Most probably, he killed those who stood around when he was abused and laughed
encouraging the abuser, rather than stopping him. I assure you that he hated them more than he hated the
main abuser, because if it were not for them, no abuse would ever take place.
I know it, because exactly the same thing happened in my case. I also killed secondary people and I also
hated them more than I hated the main abusers, because without their help, the abusers would not be able to
abuse me. I did nothing wrong to these people, and they were all against me. One of them, Dr. Hogben, was
even paid to protect me, and he was the one blackmailing me. These people dragged me through hell of
mental suffering, they almost killed me in 1991 when I had my first heart attack and they continued
threatening my life. This does not mean that I planned to kill them, but I certainly have no regrets that they
are dead.
If you are a secretary and your boss is abusing someone, here are some tips for you. Distance yourself from
your boss, never actively participate in the abuse, do not lie for your boss to the abused person. Here are
some no-no, which many secretaries do, without realizing that they are putting their life in danger. When an
abused person calls, some secretaries put him on hold for a long time, then just disconnect; switch him to
someone else, who has nothing to do with the subject, lie that their boss is not in his office, lie that some
documents sent by mail were not received, speak in a hostile tone, etc. Never do that.
I repeat below a short description of events leading to the shooting, which was previously posted on several
occasions. Those who had read it, can skip 10 pages, going to the phrase ""End of quotation from previous
posting"".
In September of 1991, 1 have sent Chair Osman a polite note inquiring whether he would support my use of
some grant money to hire a replacement to teach my course. I did not ask for anything illegal, on the
contrary, all the prestigious scientific awards (fellowships) do exactly that: recipient of awards is given
money to pay for his replacement, while he is doing his research, which is deemed to be important. ""Post
Rouge"" is one of such awards in France, ""Killam Fellowship"" is a similar award here in Canada. Article
16.14 of Collective Agreement explicitly authorized use of ""time release stipend or similar funding"" for these
purposes. This could be done with agreement of Department Chair and the Dean, and this was what I was
asking for.
Osman told me to withdraw the letter and threatened me that if I did not withdraw my letter, he would have
me fired. That did it. I never liked to be threatened. I have recently had a heart attack, with a difficult
recovery, and I did not want to take any abuse from him anymore. So, I told him that I have written a letter,
and I wanted an official response. The funny thing here was that Osman, the person, who was reproaching
me evasion of my teaching responsibilities, was not doing any teaching at all. He was not doing anything
much: he used to appear in the department every other day 2 for couple of hours, often after 5 p.m., and he
was not doing any research either: he placed his name as co-author of articles written by graduate students,
who were actually supervised by someone else. This is called co-supervision, when one professor really
supervises students, and the other just takes credit for this. So, I told him all this, and he did not like it at all.
From then onward, I stopped talking to Osman. All communications were in writing. Osman made several
attempts to create physical confrontation. For example, once he was waiting for me at the department
entrance, and as soon as I pulled the door to open, he exited from the department pushing me with his body,
like a bully. At first, I did not understand, who this was, since he was dressed not the way he usually was and
he had his hat pulled over his forehead and eyes. I just ignored this stunt.
The university administration continued its campaign of character assassination. They hired a body-guard for
the CONCAVE building, though none of the witnesses alleged that I threatened anyone there at that time. As
the guard from Canadian Security Agency Cantin testified at my trial on June 8, 1993, he was hired in
September of 1991. He was not shown my picture, instead, he was told that, should I appear, one of the
graduate students from the first floor will rush to him and warn him. This arrangement seems to be very
strange, taking into consideration that graduate students have their work to do, rather than be on the
permanent look-out for me.
The explanation for this strange arrangement is very simple: this was just a public relations exercise: the
university administration, in order to protect the crooks like Swamy and Sankars, wanted to have me fired,
but they needed to present it as a need to protect the ordinary people, like secretaries or graduate students.
They needed to create panic among them, and this is why the students were told to be on the look-out for me.
As, guard Cantin testified, when one day they saw me at a distance, one of them came rushing to him, telling
him that I was in the vicinity. Their public relations campaign seemed to be working well.
As I learned later, they also hired a body-guard at the Dean's office. At the same time, I was not accused of
anything, nothing was reproached to me, so there was nothing I could do against this character assassination
campaign, and all this made me very angry: I was the abused, and the abusers were adding insult to injury by
claiming that I was dangerous. Try to treat this way any normal person: first, abuse him, and then hire bodyguards and declare this person dangerous. There is a great probability that the person would be so outraged
that he would really become dangerous. Had I been openly accused of something, I could defend myself, but
in the situation of trial by rumors, I was defenseless.
There is one more argument to prove that the hiring of body-guards was a public relations exercise. Several
witnesses claimed that I threatened to kill many people, nobody testified that I threatened to punch someone
or to spit on someone. In this situation hiring of an unarmed body-guard serves no purpose: Cantin in his
testimony admitted that he could do nothing against an armed person. There was also no need to hire
someone from outside the university: there were enough security guards employed by the university. The
fact that a guard was hired from an outside agency created impression of a more serious danger, as compared
to a placement of a regular university security guard.
I recall that about that time I saw on couple occasions a stranger entering the department together with me
and going to the back door of Osman's office, making some special knock on the door, and then he would be
let in. It was obviously done for me to see. I thought at that time that it was just an intimidation spectacle: to
show me a criminally looking stranger, who instead of going through the secretary, comes through the back
door. Now I think that it was not just for intimidation, but also to entice me into eavesdropping and then to
""catch"" me. I came to such a conclusion from the event, which took place on October 30, 1991. The
members of DPC (Department Personnel Committee) tried to provoke a physical confrontation with me. I
described what happened in a complaint filed with the university Code Administrator J.Relton.
(I reproduce below the abbreviated text of my complaint made at that time)
I have returned to my office after a late lecture at about 11.10 p.m., on 30 October, with my graduate student,
and had a discussion with him for about half-hour, after which he left. I have mailed some letters and
prepared to go home, but before that I stood in the corridor (as I often do) looking at the pictures of earlier
graduates. I had not been in that position even 20 seconds, as suddenly and quickly the door of the
Chairman's office opens, and Dr. Osman runs towards me (I was standing about 5-6 meters from the door of
his office) shouting that they had a meeting of DPC, and that I was spying on diem.
I have said that he had no right to shout at me, that I was standing in the corridor too far from his door,
looking at the pictures. Using his logic, no one can stand in the corridor, because the doors of other
professors offices are around, and everyone can claim that the person standing in corridor is spying on him.
Besides, his door was soundproofed. Dr. Osman immediately made an ""experiment"": Dr. S Sankar went
inside his office and started talking inside very loudly, so he was heard not only 5 meters away, this way he
could be heard even 15 meters away. That was the proof for Dr. Osman that I was spying.
He started calling security, so that the security would come and testify that I was in the department, which
was ridiculous, since I had no intention to deny that I was in the Department, more than that, I had exactly the
same right to be in the Department as they. In the meantime, professors Hoa, Lin and S.Sankar surrounded
me, as a group of bandits, when they want to mug someone. When I made an attempt to go home, Dr. Osman
tried to stop me by force. I left anyway, and all of them went with me harassing me on my way downstairs to
the garage. There is a hard evidence that the whole thing was staged: I)No one in his right mind makes a
DPC meeting at about midnight; 2)Dr. Osman admitted that he knew I had a late lecture, and that nobody else
would be in the Department; 3)They knew that I stand very often near those pictures; 4)The timing is
extremely suspicious: I was not standing there even 20 seconds, as the door opened, they clearly were
watching me from behind the door. They should apologize.
End of quote.
The university administration delayed adjudication of my complaint until June of 1992. Finally, it was
adjudicated, and three individuals, who had no reason to favor me, came to the following conclusion:
""We find that the defendants S. V. Hoa, S. Lin, S. Osman and S. Sankar did harass and intimidate V.
Fabrikant on the evening of October thirtieth (30th), nineteen ninety-one (1991). The defendants' conduct
constitutes an act of assault because V. Fabrikant was physically controlled, unlawfully detained and
unlawfully restricted in his movements. These actions are in violation of the rights of members of the
university, as laid down in article 2 of the Concordia University Code of Conduct.""
""Professors Hoa, Lin, Osman and Sankar, reprimanded for having harassed and intimidated Fabrikant and for
having attacked his dignity, reputation and honor.""
The provocations and intimidation continued on a daily basis. On November 1, 1991, I came to the open
meeting of the Senate. When the meeting was finished, I was approached by two policemen, who arrested
me and searched for weapon in the full view of the university. I reproduce below the text of my second
complaint describing what happened on November 1, 1991.
This is a complaint against the University (Art. 2). I came November 1 at about 4.30p.m. to the Senate
meeting. Immediately, several security officers appeared nearby in the Senate Chamber. I did not pay much
attention to it, at least it never crossed my mind that they were watching me. When the Meeting was over,
and I went outside, I was approached by two policemen who said that someone from the University called
them and told them that I have a concealed firearm and about to commit a crime. They have arrested me and
searched me in full view of the University community. Of course, no weapon was found.
This is done in the University where ""dignity, reputation and honour"" of its members are annunciated as
Governing Principles. This is yet another part of badly orchestrated campaign against me. I call it badly
orchestrated, because here everyone pretends to be afraid of me, while my other complaint clearly indicates
that if my colleagues in the Department would be really afraid of me they would not dare to stage what they
did.
End of quote. This complaint was also delayed until June 1992. 1 reproduce part of their decision: 1. We find
that Concordia University, as represented by doctor Catherine MacKenzie, violated article 4 of the Code of
Conduct, which is members of the university with supervisory authority of any kind, are to use such authority
both on campus and off solely for the purposes stated, or implied in university policies, and with due regard
to the overall aims and purposes of the university.
MacKenzie did not take due care to ascertain facts, and therefore acted impulsively abusing her authority, and
thus depriving a member of the university of his rights.
2. We find that Concordia University, as represented by doctor Catherine MacKenzie, violated article 2 of the
Code of Conduct, she attacked the dignity, reputation and honor of doctor Valery Fabrikant by causing him to
be arrested by the M.U.C. police, particularly as such was accomplished in full view of colleagues and the
public.
End of quote.
Concordia administration became desperate: all their attempts to provoke me into violence failed. They even
had me arrested and searched by police in full view of University, and I still kept my cool, so they needed
something stronger: they decided to threaten my life, and they needed a gullible person to do the dirty job.
They found such a person in Dr. Hogben.
Somehow they managed to convince Dr. Hogben that he would not be in any danger if he threatens my life.
The top officials of Concordia University themselves understood perfectly well, that they were playing a very
dangerous game, since all of them left the town from August 19, 1992 (the day when I was served the Special
order to appear against accusation of contempt of court). One of them, Mr. Gervais even resigned his post as
Chair of the Board of Governors of Concordia University. There is little doubt as to the real reasons of his
resignation, since there was no activity of the Board of Governors in August.
The plot was as follows. In July of 1992, I have distributed through E-mail a document where I have
described total disrespect for the law displayed by two judges Barbeau and Bishop in the adjudication of
some motions, related to my legal action for the authorship of my scientific papers against two Concordia
Professors Swamy and T.S. Sankar. I have also expressed there my opinion that they were acting this way at
the direction the Chief Justice Gold, and I called him ""Chief Injustice"".
The conspirators have decided to use this E-mail to bring an accusation of contempt of court against me
which carried a maximum penalty of 1 year in jail. Dr. Hogben has undertaken the dirty part: to be the
blackmailer. He was at that time the President of the Concordia University Faculty Association (CUFA); his
duty was to defend me against the administration and he was paid a special addition to his salary for
fulfillment of this duty, he nevertheless had chosen the opposite: to cooperate with the administration against
me. He was clearly brainwashed into believing that he could threaten my life and to scare me into an
unconditional surrender.
Here is a brief account of what really happened.
On August 19, 1992, I was served a special court order to appear on August 25, 1992, before a judge and to
answer to the accusation of contempt of court. The accusation was officially made by lawyer Judd who
defended Sankar and Swamy in the lawsuit filed against them by me.
The same evening I received a phone call from Dr. Hogben, who informed me that he, Dr. Hogben, knew
about the contempt of court accusation, that most probably I would receive maximum sentence of one year in
jail and ""anything can happen in jail”. I understood it as a death threat. He hypocritically presented it as if he
were my friend concerned for the well-being of me and my family. The pitch was: ""I am your friend, I know
you are in danger and I want to help you"". This hypocrisy was so revolting, that I hanged up on him.
The next day I have met Dr. Hogben at the entrance of CUFA. He continued in the same vein: that he was
concerned for my small children and what would happen to them should I be sent to jail. He told me
""confidentially"" that Chief Justice of Quebec Gold has made arrangements that judge Chaloux will adjudicate
the action. According to Dr. Hogben, judge Chaloux's wife and daughter were raped in his presence by some
criminals. The judge has decided since then to give maximum sentences to anyone appearing before him. (I
later verified this information and it seems to be correct). Dr. Hogben repeated again that ""anything can
happen in jail"", and suggested that the only way out was to accept the university administration offer: to take
about $200,000 in exchange for my resignation from the university, withdrawal of lawsuit against Sankar and
Swamy, and renouncement of all future claims against Concordia University.
It was an offer of ""shut-up"" money, which I have rejected on several occasions before as dishonest, and I
rejected it again. (During the trial, the Associate Vice-Rector Dr. Proppe has confirmed in his testimony that
such an offer was made to me and that I have rejected it).
On August 20, 1992, I have applied for delay of contempt of court hearing, stating that I had a presentation at
the International Congress of Theoretical and Applied Mechanics in Haifa scheduled on August 24, so that I
could not possibly appear in the morning of August 25 for the contempt of court hearing. I approached two
judges with this application. Both judges refused to grant a delay, stating no reason for such a refusal.
I knew from previous experience that there was nothing easier in the legal system than a delay, so the
categorical and unjustified refusal of two judges to grant a delay strengthened my concern that the threats
made by Dr. Hogben should be taken very seriously.
This concern has prompted me to send several E-mail appeals to scientific community for help. I did not get
any response, and this increased the sense of being alone and defenseless. I have no doubt that this isolation
was part of the plot. During the trial I have discovered that a number of scientists did respond sending
messages to the Rector. They probably sent some to me too, but my messages were blocked, so I did not
get any. I was a subject of a massive psychological attack: the main computer was shut off from the
afternoon of August 21 to late evening of August 23 in order to make me feel isolated; every day one or more
messengers arrived with threatening legal documents. One such letter was written by the lawyer retained by
the university Mr. Hilton, and I received it on August 24. This letter threatened me with termination of my
employment. All this was done to psychologically destabilize me.
On August 21, in the afternoon, I got a phone call from the secretary of judge Bishop. She informed me that
judge Bishop had been on vacations and that it would be better to delay the hearing till mid-September. In
reality, it was just an attempt to check my mood. Probably, I sounded quite desperate, so she was very
satisfied. I told her that I already pleaded for a delay unsuccessfully, but if she called any of the judges on
behalf of judge Bishop and ask for a delay, no judge would refuse. She promised to do so and to call me back
to inform about the delay but she never did.
Yet another attempt to check my mood: a phone call after 10 p.m. that day when I was already asleep.
Someone who presented himself as Dr. McKinnon from Physics Department told my wife that it was an
emergency, so she had awaken me. The caller did not convey to me anything urgent, he just asked what was
new in my case and said that there was someone from the television ""Fifth Estate"" interested in the story, and
the caller wanted me to write down the telephone number of that person. My previous experience with media
was very disappointing, so I responded to the caller that if that person from television is interested, nothing
prevents him to call me directly. As far as what was new, I asked the caller to give his E-mail address, so that
I could mail him all the information. The caller responded that he did not have an E-mail address and that
was the end of conversation.
The call was very strange: the caller claimed emergency, and nothing urgent came up; everybody at that time
already knew about contempt of court accusations from my E-mail, so his question about what's new was
nothing but a testing of my mood. When later during the trial I tried to subpoena Dr. McKinnon, the Friend
of Court assured me that nobody under such name was found at Concordia University. Only later I have
discovered that I have misspelled his name which should be MacKinnon,
and the Friend of Court used my misspelling to deprive me of a witness.
I had two agonizing days, Saturday and Sunday, August 22 and 23, 1992. I considered my life in danger, and
it was necessary to decide how to defend myself.",1,Planned Violence,Am I Sorry?,6/14/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Fabrikant_Am_I_Sorry.pdf,Valery Fabrikant
"On the one hand, I had a good formal defense because I could argue that E-mail message is not an admissible
evidence, since it does not bear the signature of the sender and theoretically could be sent by anybody else
who might get access to my computer account or who could very simply falsify the sender's name in the
printout. I have even prepared some such examples for the hearing, one of them being a message which I
have sent to myself via Universite de Montreal, and another one - a false message from Dr. Swamy which
looked like a real thing. Had these arguments been accepted - the case would be thrown out of court.
Besides this purely formal defense, I have prepared a substantive defense as well. I sent court orders to come
and to testify to three judges involved, Barbeau, Bishop and to former Chief Justice Gold. I would have no
difficulty to establish the veracity of my E-mail message by questioning these three judges, and the truth is a
good defense in contempt of court cases. (Indeed, when on February 13, 1993, I demanded the case to be
heard, the other party withdrew the accusations, and this is the best proof that the accusations were without
foundation). My main concern was that the judge would just ignore both defenses.
In 1992 I informed Minister of Transport of Canada, Minister of Higher Education of Quebec, MPs Sheila
Feinstone and Don Boudria, granting agencies NSERC and FCAR about criminal and unethical activities at
Concordia. All of them ignored this information.
My experience with the media was even worse. In March of 1992 I have approached a reporter from The
Gazette C.Adolph. I showed her all the documents proving fraud and extortion at Concordia University. At
the beginning she looked very impressed, made copies of the documents and promised to investigate. All of
a sudden, about two weeks later, she left a message on my answering machine to the effect that she found my
allegations totally unfounded, that she did not want to talk to me, and should I dare to call her, she would ask
the telephone company for protection.
I was flabbergasted: if a reporter had some legitimate doubts as to validity of my accusations, she should have
discussed them with me, rather than hiding from a discussion in such a ridiculous manner. There is no doubt
that her actions were part of the psychiatrist's design: the more shocking and unexpected is the action, the
greater is the probability that I explode.
When later on, on April 1, 1992, C.Adolph has published in The Gazette an article about me, stating that she
found no proof of my allegations, and that it was I harassing everybody else, rather then vice-versa, I had no
doubt that she (or her superiors) was bribed.
On the other hand, the threat made by Dr. Hogben that the whole hearing was fixed in advance and that
""anything can happen in jail"", made me very concerned for my life. My own experience with judges
strengthened this concern that my life was in danger indeed. It was totally unthinkable for me to accept the
""shut-up"" money offered by Dr. Hogben on behalf of Concordia administration.
I had two reasons to believe that my life, rather then only my freedom, was in danger. First, I had a very
serious heart attack in the winter of 1991. A major coronary artery was blocked 100%. I never smoked, did
not use any alcohol and was otherwise in excellent physical condition, and this was the reason why I
survived. I had no doubt that this heart attack was a result of extreme psychological torture I underwent
during the second half of 1990. 1 felt that I was being murdered, very methodically, very professionally and
very legally, since there is no such crime in The Criminal Code as deliberate infliction of a heart attack.
I underwent an operation of angioplasty and recovered, but I knew that the ballooned arteries have tendency
to clog up again. My very serious concern was that should his second heart attack occur in jail, it would be
the last one. I suspected that the jail administration paid no attention to the health of prisoners. My present
jail experience proved me right. Just this summer a prisoner, 43 years of age, had a heart attack. They kept
him in jail for about 6 hours, so that when they have finally delivered him to the hospital, he was already
dead.
The second grave concern of mine was the vague threat made by Dr. Hogben who said that ""anything can
happen in jail"". From time to time, I have read in the press about highly suspicious deaths at the police
stations and in jails. If the former Chief Justice Gold (he was also Concordia Chancellor at that time) could
""fix"" that I be sentenced to jail, he could also arrange with his police friends and/or Correctional Service
friends my “accidental"" death. My present jail experience proved me right here as well.
The situation was aggravated by the fact that I was 52 at that time, my wife could not provide for the family,
and I had two small children: a son, 9 years old, and my daughter was only 7. Despite my first-rate research
and teaching record, I was unable to find a job elsewhere though I applied to about 1000 institutions over a
number of years not only in Canada or USA, but also in countries as far away as Australia and New Zealand,
and I applied not just to universities but also to technical schools and private companies.
Taking into consideration that all the legal means seemed to fail, I had no choice but to resort to an illegal
way of protection. I decided to take all my guns to the University, to show the guns to one of the conspirators
and to tell him that, unless they leave me alone, I would have no choice but to shoot all of them dead. I also
took a hammer with me in order to tell them that even if they take my guns away, I would kill them with a
hammer, so they better leave me alone.
I decided to delay the final decision till Monday, August 24, 1992, to call in the morning the secretary of
judge Bishop and to ask her whether she arranged the delay of the hearing. If yes, then everything was fine,
nothing was to be done. If no, then to ask whether judge Bishop was coming to testify, and again, if yes, that
would be an indication of some respect for the due process, and since I considered my defense perfect, I
would be prepared to face the court. If judge Bishop was not coming to court to testify, that would be a clear
indication that Dr. Hogben's threats are real. Even in this case I was not yet prepared to execute my plan. I
appealed earlier to the university community, asking them to come to the courthouse on August 25. 1 was
sure that if many scientists come to support me, no judge would dare to put me in jail.
In the morning of August 24, 1992, 1 came to my office and made a phone call to the secretary of judge
Bishop. The result was worse than I expected: not only Judge Bishop was not coming, his secretary did not
even bother to inform him about the subpoena. It was clear to me that lawlessness ruled in court. I noticed
on my desk a copy of the document granting me $1000 in travel expenses for my presentation in Haifa which
was scheduled that day, and which I obviously could not make. I took the document and went to the Dean's
office and returned it to the budget officer. I noticed that Dean Swamy's door was closed, so I asked the
officer if the Dean was in, and she said yes. Usually all the doors at the university were open. I knew from
the past experience that whenever some dirty tricks were in the making, Dean Swamy was pretending being
scared, hired bodyguards, kept the door of his cabinet locked, etc. (At my trial, Dr. Swamy has admitted that I
never threatened him). For me, closed door of Dean Swamy's cabinet was a clear indication that some dirty
tricks were in the making again, and I have decided that I had no choice but to implement my plan.
I went home, took guns, ammunition and hammer and returned back to the university. I was still very
reluctant to implement the plan. I tried once again to check my computer account if there were any support
messages coming from colleagues. There were none. Computer still keeps the login time at
1.34 p.m.
Since for me Dean Swamy's hiding was an ominous sign, I decided to check again if his door was still
closed. I passed through the Dean's office. The door was closed, Swamy was in. At the exit I was stopped
by a secretary who asked me to identify myself. I never was stopped before and I did not see anyone else
being stopped, so this confirmed to me that the Dean was playing his usual game, telling his secretaries that I
wanted to kill him (some secretaries confirmed this at the trial). I have identified myself to the secretary but
my feeling of anger has increased. I went to my office to think again whether to proceed with the plan. I was
desperately trying to find the reason why not to proceed with my plan but could not find any.
I knew that all Canadians are taught that if someone points a gun at you, you should cooperate. Taken this
for granted, I could not possibly imagine that my plan might turn into a shooting, but regretfully, it did. Here
is how it happened. I phoned Dr. Hogben and invited him to come over to discuss the situation. Dr. Hogben
was reluctant to come, but at the end agreed. Almost immediately after that, Dr. MacKay appeared, clearly,
he was sent to check my mood and to see whether it would be dangerous for Dr. Hogben to come. The
pretext of his arrival was ridiculous: he planned to file some kind of complaint against Dr. Osman, who had
no dealings with Dr. MacKay. It was Dr. MacKay who informed me about resignation of Mr. Gervais from
his position of the Chair of the Board of Governors of Concordia University. How would he know that,
unless Mr. Gervais, who understood the dangerousness of the plot and who was concerned that I might try to
kill him, asked Dr. MacKay to inform me about his resignation?
I asked Dr. MacKay to come next day to court to testify on my behalf, but Dr. MacKay refused. So, I told
him to get out of my office. Probably, Dr. MacKay concluded that it was safe for Dr. Hogben to come. I met
Dr. Hogben in the corridor and showed him to the office. I pleaded with Dr. Hogben for about 20 minutes. I
told Dr. Hogben that it was Dr. Hogben's duty, as the Union President, to defend me against Administration,
that I had a wife and two small children, that I was 52 years old and had no way to provide for my family,
should I lose my job, etc. Dr. Hogben could not care less about his duties or about me and my children.
He stated again that he negotiated a very good deal for me and that the only alternative is going to court and
facing the contempt of court charges and it might end badly. Here I mentioned that I called Palais de Justice,
and that I was told that it was another judge Rouleau, not Chaloux, who was assigned to hear the case. This
was not a surprise for Dr. Hogben. He explained that judge Chaloux could not be assigned directly to hear
the case since he was from the Criminal Division, while the case belonged to the Practice Division. The
arrangement, according to Dr. Hogben, was that on the day of hearing judge Rouleau would call in sick, and
in the whole courthouse there would be no other judge available but judge Chaloux. How on earth could he
possibly know all these details unless someone very qualified has informed him? And who this someone
could be but Concordia Chancellor Gold? Even if I had a slightest doubt about the hearing being fixed, they
disappeared with this explanation of Dr. Hogben.
At this point I decided that I had no choice but to execute my plan. Dr. Hogben in the meantime probably
noticed some change in the expression of my face and might have misinterpreted it as fear, because he
decided to ""go for a kill"". He said: ""Now you have two options: to go to court or to accept a good deal. Tell
me quickly what it would be because I have to go"". To this I responded: ""Now you have a choice: to be dead
or to find a third option, and you tell me quickly what it would be"". And with these words I pulled out a
revolver and pointed it at Dr. Hogben. I was absolutely sure that Dr. Hogben would choose to cooperate and
that I would be able to finally resolve all the problems in a peaceful and satisfactory manner. Regretfully, this
did not happen. Although facing a fully loaded revolver (in a revolver bullets are visible), Dr. Hogben did
not take it seriously. For some unknown reasons, he was absolutely sure that I under no circumstances would
pull the trigger. He said: ""This is exactly what we wanted you to do, and now we can put you in jail not for
one year but for good"". After that he stood up and moved towards the door. And this is where I lost it and
started shooting.
Dr. Hogben was not surprised at all when he saw the revolver. Someone has prepared him for the situation,
and this someone has managed to convince him that there was no way I would shoot. Thus, Dr. Hogben was
deliberately and maliciously sacrificed, as were the other victims of shooting, by the conspirators - the
university administration: former Chief Justice Gold (who was at that time Concordia Chancellor), Kenniff,
Sheinin, Swamy, Osman, and others.
End of quotation from previous posting.
After reviewing the facts, it is time to pose the question: am I sorry? In order to answer positively, I should
determine that there was an alternative way of action. For example, instead of taking my guns and the
hammer to the university, to go on August 25 to the court and expect a fair judgment. Was I paranoid to think
that Canadian judges are corrupt, have no respect for the law and can render any judgment they please? Here
is what I have done to check it.
First, I experimented with my own life during criminal proceedings. Authorities did not want me in jail, they
wanted me insane. They also wanted to avoid trial, since they knew that former Chief Justice Gold (who was
at that time Chancellor of Concordia University) was deeply involved in conspiracy. Lawyer Leclerc, after
meeting with Crown, told me that Crown was prepared to accept insanity, without even going to trial, they
were also prepared to take the plea of manslaughter. I did not want any of this. I wanted to go to trial, even
though I risked to spend the rest of my life in jail. It was more important for me to find out whether I was a
crazy murderer, obsessed with paranoia and imagining things, which were just not there, or a reasonable
person who acted according to insane circumstances, and did, what anybody else would or should have done.
I tested the system thoroughly, whether it respects its own laws. Since I was defending myself, I requested
proper conditions to prepare my defense. Remember, officially I was considered innocent, until proven
guilty. There was even a precedent: judge Boilard has ordered that one of the accused, who defended
himself, was given a trailer, where he could work on his defense. I was refused.
There was a fraud with jury selection: it was obvious that the group of people called for jury duty, was not
taken at random. I requested access to the records related to jury selection, and judge Martin has refused. I
asked him, if he was sure that no fraud was committed, why not let me see the records. And his response
was: when something is honest, no proof is necessary! Good argument. I have noticed also that the court
clerk did not mix the cards with juror names, but rather placed on top of the hip cards from separate
envelope. This is why I, in protest, refused to question the prospected jury.
On July 29, 1993, Martin has stopped examination of one very important witness - Swamy, so that I could not
help to tell him that he was behaving like little low crook. This is what he said in his judgment that day:
I find you guilty of contempt of Court and for that last contempt I sentence you to six months imprisonment
to be served consecutively to the sentences which you already served. I can tell you that if an incident such
as this morning repeats itself, the same approach will be adopted, and your trial will continue.
In passing: policeman, who killed a child by speeding car, got 3 months, policemen, who killed Barnabe, got
even less. To call judge a crook is worse than killing a child or beating somebody into a coma.
I have decided to test Martin whether he would keep his own word that ""if an incident such as this morning
repeats itself, the same approach will be adopted, and your trial will continue"". So, when he terminated,
without any reason, the examination of the next witness, I told him once again, that he was behaving like a
crook. He did not keep his word: he closed my defense, without allowing me to testify. In addition, Martin
has stopped my address to the jury, which was also illegal. He did it as soon as I stopped reading documents
and started discussing the evidence.
Accused is not obliged to testify, but when an accused wants to tell his side of the story to the jury, he
certainly should be allowed to do so, no matter what his behavior was. For example, there were precedents,
where accused had physically attacked jury and/or other witnesses. He got another charge of assault, but his
trial continued, as if nothing happened. Judge is dealing with criminals, he should not be sensitive to
whatever a criminal says. Nobody should be convicted of the crime he did not commit (in my case I was
convicted of premeditated murder, though I certainly did not PLAN to kill anyone), just because he insulted a
judge.
So, my next test was Court of Appeal, would they have the judicial honesty? The answer is a resounding no.
The judgment was written by Proulx. Not only he had no precedent to support his position that accused can
exercise his rights only when he is polite, he also wrote an obvious lie, namely, he wrote that provocation is
not a defense in the case of murder: he knew very well that Criminal Code considers provocations as a partial
defense.
The Supreme Court was not any better - it refused to hear my case, without giving any reason, though
Supreme Court Act (Sec. 26) states clearly that every judgment should be accompanied by written reason.
When I asked why Supreme Court did not give the reason, the Registrar Roland responded that Supreme
Court never gives the reason. I wrote then that the fact, that Supreme Court never respected its own law, is
not a justification. I asked: if a rapist says that he always raped women, would you accept this as a
justification of his actions. They did not like my comparison. So, judges of all levels showed clearly that
they have no respect for the law.
The next step was to check out judges in civil cases. I have filed several civil lawsuits, where I was
absolutely right, in order to see whether I can win any. Here is a short description of what happened in all of
them.
In April of 1992 1 have filed a lawsuit against Sankar and Swamy for the authorship of my articles. After the
shooting, I have been told that civil case can not proceed, until criminal trial is finished. Well, in 1993 the
trial was finished, then I was told by judge Lagace that I can not proceed, because the exhibits, which I
deposited in 1992, have been mysteriously lost. In order not to waste time, I in the meantime have included
two more professors from Concordia (Hoa and Xistris), who were also listed in couple of my articles as coauthors, and whose contribution was also zero. It took several years to achieve. Judges did their best to
delay the proceedings.
Lawyer Percival-Hilton, who defended Hoa and Xistris, delayed filing defense for almost 2 years, claiming
that without exhibits, she could not do it. My argument that her clients had everything they needed in theory
possession was ignored by judges: they did their best to support crooks. Each my motion was sent to
Associate Chief Justice Deslongchamps for his approval, which introduced additional delay of several
months per motion.
A good question to ask here, does not Associate Chief Justice have better things to do than to review motions
written by convicted murderer Fabrikant? I decided to test the court further: I have filed a motion saying
point-blank that Associate Chief Justice is bribed by Defendants, this is why he is delaying the proceedings,
and I asked the court to order Associate Chief Justice to stop his illegal activity. Wow, the hell broke loose:
now I can not even exercise one of my fundamental rights: to examine Defendants prior to the trial. Judge
Journet has refused me this right, without giving any valid reason. I filed an application to the Court of
Appeal and was refused even permission to appeal by judge Forget, and I quote the total judgment:
Considering that the motion for leave to appeal the judgment rendered on August 11, 2000 by the Hon. Pierre
R. Journet of the Superior Court is ill-founded in law, the motion is dismissed, without costs.
One does not have to have a law degree to decide whether I was right. Here is a quote from the Code of Civil
Procedure of Quebec, Sec. 398:
After defense filed, any party may ... summon to be examined before the judge or prothonotary .... any other
party ....
The word ""party"" means either Defendant(s) or Plaintiff(s). I knew judges were corrupt and had no respect
for the law, but the latest events were astounding even to me: I still hoped that there existed certain limit for
their disrespect of the law. I was wrong. Little detail: Journet in his judgment wrote that poor Defendants
have already suffered for too long - he had the nerve to reproach to me the Defendants tactics of delays.
In 1993, right after the trial, The Gazette had published a totally false article about me claiming that I was a
false scientist, knew nothing about Mechanical Engineering, etc. In order to test judicial system, I have filed
a libel lawsuit. I have posted separately a long file describing falsity of the article and I shall not repeat it
here. Anyone interested can, find it at this web site. I have lost the case. The judge wrote that the article was
""well researched"". Need I say more?
One of my concerns was that a corrupt judge will put me in jail, I might have there yet another heart attack
and die due to denial of medical care. In a way, this scenario did take place: I had a heart attack while in jail
in May of 1998. I survived it not because I got proper medical care, but just I was lucky that the heart attack
was not deadly, probably, due to the fact that I never smoked, my blood pressure and cholesterol are normal,
etc. With several hours of delay, jailers finally brought me to Saint-Francois Hospital in Quebec-City. This
hospital is not equipped to perform either angioplasty or bypass surgery. So, if a serious complication took
place, I would have died there.
Now I give a brief explanation of some terminology used. Angiography is a test of the status of coronary
arteries. A catheter is inserted through a vein in the leg up to the heart. Some ink is injected from that catheter
into the bloodstream of coronary arteries, and simultaneously, X-ray film is being shot, thus giving a clear
picture of coronary arteries of working heart in motion. Angioplasty is a procedure of opening up of clogged
coronary arteries. A catheter, containing a small balloon, is inserted in a leg vein and moved up to the
clogged coronary artery, the balloon is inflated thus opening the artery, and that's it. The whole operation
takes less than an hour, and the next day the patient goes home.
Bypass surgery is a very complicated and serious operation. The patient's chest is cut open, the heart is
stopped, and the patient is attached to the heart-lungs machine. A vein is taken from the patient's leg and one
end of that vein is sawn to aorta, while the other end is sawn to the clogged artery, thus by-passing the
clogged place. Many things can go wrong during such a complicated operation, and even if everything is
fine, the recovery time is about 30 days.
The doctor at St-Francois hospital did his best to kill me passively: he did not offer me the blood-clot baster,
which needs to be applied within 3 hours after a heart attack, though I requested it. His response was that he
was not sure I had a heart attack. Twelve hours later, when the medical Mafiosi saw that I did not die, they
finally used this blood-clot baster, which was too late: the harm to my heart has been done.
From day one, I demanded angiography and angioplasty to be done. Instead, cardiologist Couture connected
me to several IV pumping into me various medications. These IV were defective, since they carried a lot of
air bubbles, so I had to be vigilant and shake the tube whenever I saw next bubble. Usually, intravenous
machine signals alarm, when air bubble comes to patient. My machines did not: I suspect that alarm was
deliberately disconnected.
The purpose was obvious: sufficient amount of air pumped into my veins can kill, with no trace of fowl play.
When I got hold of my medical file, I saw a lab test of my blood, indicating that Couture deliberately used the
dosage of Heparine either too much or too low to have a beneficial effect. Heparine inhibits blood
coagulation thus preventing blood clots, but too much Heparine can result in brain hemorrhage, and this is
what Couture hoped for.
For example, on May 9, 1998 at 3 p.m., my blood test showed the coagulation time 240 seconds, while
normal value (without Heparine) is between 26 and 32 seconds; the therapeutic zone is 63-114 seconds.
Couture overmedicated me more than double. This can not be an honest mistake. The blood test on the same
date at 10.45 p.m. gave my coagulation time at 44.7 seconds, which is too low for any therapeutic effect.
Couture deliberately jumped between overmedicating me to undermedicating, hoping to trigger a disastrous
reaction. He did not succeed, because I ordered to be disconnected from all IV needles. After this was done,
I immediately felt myself better.
When Couture learned about my refusal to accept IV, he called a psychiatrist to evaluate whether I am
mentally fit to make the decisions about my health care. He wanted to declare me mentally inapt, so the he
could kill me by his “treatment"" against my will. I was smart enough to refuse to speak with his psychiatrist,
because if I did speak with her, no matter what I would say, she could write that she examined me and that I
was mentally inapt. Since I did not speak with her, she could not come to any conclusion about me, and this
saved me. As soon as Couture learned about his defeat, he changed his mind and told me that he had
arranged for an angiography and angioplasty on May 15, 1998, exactly as I demanded from the very
beginning.
Several months later, I have heard of a young boy, killed in Montreal hospital - they just pumped too much
liquid in his body. I just might have saved my life by pulling those needles out.
On May 15, 1998, Dr. Barbeau has performed an angiography, but refused to do angioplasty, saying that it
was ""too difficult"". He suggested by-pass surgery, and even made an appointment for me on the next
working day - May 19, 1998. It looked strange to me: they certainly had a waiting list, why would they allow
a convicted murderer to jump the queue? I would have understood, if they had told me that I was to die next
day, if I had not done the bypass surgery, but this was not the case. Besides, they could not explain to me,
why angioplasty was not possible. Since I did not feel that I was about to die, I decided to take some time
and to ask for second opinion.
I have sent my angiography film to several Montreal hospitals. The result was surprising: all doctors claimed
that angioplasty was too dangerous (not just difficult, as Barbeau said), and that I should opt for bypass
surgery. None though could explain why would the angioplasty be dangerous. So, I decided to make an
experiment. I asked my wife to send a copy of the angiography film to several doctors in US, using her
name, rather than mine. As I expected, all the US doctors were unanimous: angioplasty was possible, and
each was prepared to do it. My next step - to show these opinions to Quebec doctors and ask them why their
opinion was so different from that of US colleagues. None agreed to comment on
these opinions. I had opinions from such respectable places as Harvard Medical School, New York University
and Columbia University.
My next step - since all those recommending by-pass surgery were not surgeons themselves, I requested an
appointment with a cardiac surgeon to discuss possible by-pass. I had such an appointment in November of
1998 with surgeon C. Pelletier at the Montreal Heart Institute. He told me that two arteries - Circumflex and
Marginal were non-operable, while two others LAD and Diagonal were operable. He did not explain why,
and he refused to discuss the option of angioplasty. A funny thing happened in 2000: I got an opinion of yet
another cardiac surgeon Teijiera (Sherbrooke). He also did not recommend bypass surgery though for
reasons totally opposite to those of Pelletier. According to Teijiera, Circumflex and Marginal were operable,
while the other 2 were not.
There was one specialist from BC, who also agreed to do angioplasty. Jailers wanted me dead, so they
refused to bring me to British Columbia for angioplasty, though some of my colleagues and relatives were
prepared to pay all the related expenses. Based on false statements of Quebec medical Mafiosi, jailers
declared that I was getting the best treatment available and that all I needed was available in Quebec.
I decided to check once again our judiciary. I filed several motions in Federal Court explaining that my life
was in danger, that my heart was deteriorating and that I needed to be transported to British Columbia for
angioplasty. Judge of Federal Court McGillis has declared me vexatious pleader and has forbidden me to file
any action in Federal Court. I moved to Quebec Superior Court. I filed an action for damages against jail
doctor Corbin and a motion asking court to order jailers to bring me to BC for an angioplasty. My action was
dismissed even without hearing and judge of Superior Court Rolland has declared me also a vexatious
pleader and now I was forbidden to file any action in Superior Court.
Jailers knew that shooting in Concordia took place because I felt my life to be in danger and that the courts
were corrupt and would not protect my life. Now they created exactly the same situation: my life was again
in danger and both Federal and Superior Court judges demonstrated themselves as totally corrupt. Jailers
hoped that they once again would be able to provoke me into a violent reaction. They failed: I never even
raised my voice at anyone; I never begged for my life, but I demanded treatment and I filed numerous
complaints.
My next step was to file complaints against jail doctors and nurses with their respective Discipline
Committee. I was not going to let them kill me quietly. One such complaint was considered against jail
doctor Corbin and the Discipline Committee has decided that my complaint was totally without merit, that I
was getting the best treatment possible. Of course, Corbin found 2 other doctors to testify as experts that this
indeed was the case. Mafiosi are one family, supporting each other in any crime. In the meantime, my heart
continued to deteriorate.
Quebec doctors were ready to help government to kill me, but they did not want to be bothered by my
complaints, so they demanded government to forbid me filing complaints; government was happy to oblige.
In June of 2001, Attorney General of Canada on behalf of Solicitor General of Canada went to court against
me asking the judge to forbid me filing complaints against doctors, nurses and lawyers. Judge Durand was
also happy to oblige: he immediately issued an order stopping all complaints already filed and forbidding me
to file new ones. Now I was silenced completely. Jailers hoped that this would provoke me, they were
wrong again. I passed the provocation school at Concordia, I am immune now to any provocation. I have
written a separate posting about these proceedings if anyone wants more details.
A new test was done on July 4, 2001, and it showed that my angina has spread over the heart, so that even
corrupt Quebec cardiologist Ayas had to write that my life was ""possibly"" in danger, but still he deliberately
lost months by writing letters to Montreal Heart Institute and Jewish General Hospital, thus giving jailers
excuse not to bring me to BC since they were waiting for response from these places. In December of 2001,
jailers finally have transferred me to BC and on January 7, 2002, 1 had finally angioplasty done.
One of the 4 blocked arteries in the left side was open, but for the other 3 it was too late, they were blocked
100%. BC doctor, who did the procedure told me that my life was hanging on 10% opening of the fourth
artery; he also told me that all 4 could have been open, had jailers brought me to BC 3 years earlier. This
doctor also confirmed to me that what he did was an ordinary procedure which could be easily done in
Quebec.
After these events, one might think that I have proven beyond reasonable doubt that I was not vexatious, that
I was right when I demanded medical care, and that Canadian judges should reverse their judgments and
Quebec doctors should feel ashamed for bringing me to the brink of death - not at all. Attorney General of
Canada is still insisting on the request to forbid me to file complaints against doctors, and judge Durand is
still refusing to rescind his order.
In June of 2002, I started feeling chest pain during the night. This was an indicator that my dilated arteries
were re-closing again. I needed a new angioplasty to open them up.
Each time, when I came to infirmary, claiming chest pain and demanding to be sent to a hospital, criminal
nurses took my blood pressure and lied that it was normal, while I have my own apparatus and usually take
my blood pressure myself. They were ""cooking books"", writing in my medical file all false information, like
I refuse to take medication, so that in case of my death they would have a justification saying that my vital
signs were OK; there was no need to send me to a hospital and that I died because I refused to take the
prescribed medication.
Here is what happened on July 4, 2002. I had chest pain in the morning. A call was made to the Infirmary
and a nurse there agreed to see me. I was not given a written pass. When I came to Infirmary, a guard there
told me that I can not come in without a pass. He told me to walk back and to get a pass. I explained to the
guard that I had chest pain, it might be urgent, I asked him to inform the nurse. He refused.
Nurse Miller appeared at a distance of 3 meters, I started shouting at the top of my lungs that I had chest pain,
she pretended not to hear me. The Head Nurse Duquet passed by. I told him that I had chest pain and that
the guard does not let me enter. Duquet nodded as if he was to fix the situation, and did nothing. Jailers let
me in the Infirmary about 30 minutes later, still without a pass, when it became obvious to them that I was
not going to die that day.
Jail doctor Coche played the same dishonorable game as his predecessors did. He saw me on July 2, 2002. I
told him that I felt like the arteries dilated back in January were affected by restenosis. If this was so, it was
life-threatening and the only way to deal with it was to perform a new angiography and angioplasty. He told
me that he had recommendations of 5 (?) cardiologists saying that I needed only medication and this was
what he wished to discuss with me. This is exactly the story I heard for the past 4 years that I needed only
medication, and it is well known how it ended: a year ago, this medication had brought me to the brink of
death, and I had to be transported to B.C. for an angioplasty.
On July 15, 2002, Coche has finally decided to send me to the hospital Emergency. In the past, each time I
was sent to the hospital, an ambulance was called. Jail doctor Coche not only refused to call an ambulance,
he made me walk all the way from Infirmary to jail car (about 200 meters) despite my acute chest pain and
high blood pressure 180/120 (he also falsified in his records my blood pressure). It is well known that
patients with chest pain are not allowed to walk because of possible death. Jail doctor Coche just wanted to
use his last chance to have me dead. I have offered to pay for the ambulance and Coche refused.
When I came to the hospital Cite de la Sante, I was not seen by a cardiologist until the next day, July 16,
2002. Cardiologist Mayrand then told me that since I did not follow their recommendation for a bypass
surgery, there was nothing they could do for me. She also wanted me dead.
Here I had to remind Mayrand, that it was not I who refused the bypass surgery: I consulted 2 cardiac
surgeons and both did not recommend it, while the cardiologists, who did recommend bypass surgery, were
not surgeons themselves.
Next, I reminded Mayrand that it was her colleague Ayas, who recommended the angioplasty and he did it
because he felt my life to be in danger. Mayrand still insisted that I had to undergo bypass surgery, she could
not though tell bypass surgery of WHICH artery. Finally, she understood the stupidity of her position and
hastily exited. While she was getting out, I told her that as soon as she figured out which artery should be
bypassed, I agree in advance.
Several minutes later, she returned back and admitted that it were indeed Quebec surgeons, who did NOT
recommend bypass surgery. Her next idea was to call B.C. doctor and ask him whether he would be ready to
perform a new angioplasty, and if yes, she would send me there. Imagine the stupidity: to go from one end of
the country to another for an elementary procedure, which can be easily done here. By the evening of July
16, 2002, I was finally told that the angiography will be done at the Sacre-Coeur hospital on July 19. I guess,
Quebec doctors understood that their actions were clear and shameless murder, so they backed off.
Angioplasty was performed on July 19, 2002, and it showed that I was right yet gain: jail doctor Coche
brought me to the brink of death indeed. Almost all arteries were re-stenosed, and the main Right Coronary
artery was blocked 80%; a small clot there would kill me for sure. It also showed that Quebec doctors were
perfectly qualified to do the job, and were refusing out of maliciousness, helping Canadian Government to
kill me.
On my return from the hospital I spoke with jail doctor Coche. I asked him whether the results of the last
angioplasty convinced him that he made serious mistakes by ignoring my symptoms for over 3 weeks, by
refusing to call an ambulance, and by effectively bringing me to the brink of death yet again. He admitted
that I could have died, but insisted that he did nothing wrong.
In 1994, a guard has broken my ribs and a doctor did her best to cover up this crime. I complained to police,
they not only refused to press charges, they did not even bother to interview the criminal guard, though they
had in their possession a video-tape of the crime. I went to court against the doctor also, and judge Goodwin
decided that I had not a shred of evidence (look for another posting for details).
CONCLUSION
I was abused for 12 years, and when my life was threatened, the abusers succeeded in provoking me. I lived
so far 62 years, during which I never displayed any violent behavior, I never had even a speeding ticket; there
were 3 minutes in my life when I killed 4 people. Should I be judged by these 3 minutes or by remaining 62
years?
I was the victim, not a perpetrator, I acted in self-defense, and the above mentioned facts prove that my
actions were justified: the judges are corrupt to the core, police protects criminal guards, medical doctors do
not hesitate to kill a patient by denial of medical care and ready to lie that the patient is receiving the best
medical care possible. I hope to be remembered as a person who had enough courage to fight lawlessness
with deadly force and I hope to encourage others to do the same.
Majority of people knows the famous Hamlet monologue ""To be or not to be...” though I have discovered that
majority has no idea what Hamlet is talking about. Here is the summary. Hamlet is asking himself, why do
people put up with all the injustice around them, why don't they fight it? Hamlet comes to the conclusion that
the reason is fear of death. He asks himself whether he is prepared to face death in his struggle against evil
and he decides: ""To be!"". I am very proud that at the crucial moment I was able to act as if I also said: ""TO
BE!”
Fabrikant",1,Planned Violence,Am I Sorry?,6/14/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Fabrikant_Am_I_Sorry.pdf,Valery Fabrikant
"<html><head></head><body><pre style=""word-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"">
 Donnacona, December 1, 1996
 Dr. P. Morand, President
 Natural Sciences and
 Engineering Research Council
 200 Kent Street
 Ottawa, Ontario K1A 1H5

 Dear Dr. Morand:
I reproduce below the text of my letter of October 14, 1996:
""In my letter to you written in April of 1992, and later in my letter to
Ms.Armour dated June 15, 1992, I have provided ample documentation proving
fraud and extortion perpetrated by Drs. T. Sankar, S. Sankar and
M.N.S.Swamy. These charges were never investigated by your Council. You
can not claim that the Arthur's Committee did its job properly. For
example, in the question of authorship of my publications, they claimed to
study four of my articles and concluded that I used these articles to
entrap poor professors, since all four (according to the Committee) were
just a repetition of one of my articles previously published in the USSR.
What about the remaining over 30 publications ? Were all of them just a
repetition of that magic one article published in the USSR ? No serious
person would believe this nonsense. If the Arthur's Committee was not
obliged to look into them, then it is the duty of your Council to do so.
I reproduce below the text of my letter of December 15, 1994, to policeman
Couture, who was in charge of the ""investigation"" initiated by you.
 Here is some information from my own files. Grant # P-8007,
 awarded to S. Sankar (1980-1983) and entitled ""Development and
 testing of on-road off-road motorcycle front forks and shock
 absorbers"". Out of total award $230,025, the amount of 208,395
 was paid on ""other salaries"". This usually refers to payments to
 people outside university. Now, who was paid, how much and for
 what ? All my attempts to find it out by using Access to
 Information Act failed so far, because the Commission for Access
 refuses to consider my complaint and force the University to
 release the information. I know that all the work, related to
 this and other grants, was performed by graduate students.
 Similar information from another of S. Sankar's grants: #
 CRD-38948, ""CAD of snowmobile suspension system frames"". Out of
 $382,825, the amount of $273,654 was spent on ""other salaries"".
 I wrote to Levi asking him if he verified who was paid, and he
 never responded.
 The same refers to S. Sankar's contract with Transport Canada
 entitled ""Liquid Tanker Stability"". All the work was done by
 graduate students (Ranganathan and Popov), who were paid by the
 university, while significant money were paid to unrelated people.
 Who are these people and why were they paid ?
 Would you be kind enough to verify who was paid from these and
 other grants and for what. Please do not hesitate to contact me
 if you have need for any clarifications.
I have never received any specific response from Mr. Couture. I believe
that it is the duty of your Council to answer these questions. 
I have received a copy of a very strange report mandated by you to verify
the accuracy of the previously published report of Mr. Levi. I call it
strange because of the method used: RANDOM sampling. Mr. Levi pointed out
some specific abuses, so these specific cases should be verified. When
your ""verificator"" took RANDOM sample, these specific cases may very well
not be included in the sample. There is no indication in the whole report
whether any of transgressions were verified, and if yes, there is no
indication as to why Mr. Levi was wrong in his conclusions. For example,
T.S. Sankar was accused of spending about $8,000 for a trip of his
relative, and that this trip was not related to the grant from which the
money were taken. Was this allegation verified, and if yes, where Mr. Levi
made a mistake ? This report was not signed by anyone. Who was (were) the
investigator(s) ? I understand the investigator(s) was (were) too ashamed
to sign the name(s).
I should appreciate if you kindly send me another copy of that unsigned
report, and an additional information, namely, what was the mandate of the
investigator(s), name(s), did they consider the specific cases alleged by
Mr. Levi, where exactly was Mr. Levi wrong in his conclusions and why.
I enclose for your information the document (13 pages) describing what
REALLY happened at Concordia in August of 1992. The truth was never
reported by the media. They are describing me as a madman who, without any
reason, killed four innocent people, who he never met before. I do hope
that this document will convince you that you are now funding people who
very skillfully premeditated those murders. Just ask yourself a very
simple question: why were these people fired in 1994 ? There was not much
in Mr. Levi's report to justify firing of tenured professors. They were
fired for murders, which they premeditated. I ask you once again to
investigate my allegations completely and in the meantime to stop their
funding.""
And here is the complete text of the ""response"" dated November 15, 1996 and
signed by Ms. Armour:
 ""Dear Dr. Fabrikant:
I am writing in response to your letter of October 14, 1996. NSERC has
reviewed the reports of the various investigations. As I indicated in my
letter of August 15, 1995, NSERC also carried out its own review of all
relevant NSERC accounts. We now consider the matter closed. Yours
sincerely, (signed) Catherine Armour, Research Ethics Officer.""
Please compare the ""response"" to the text of my letter, and you will see
that none of my questions was answered. Even if you consider the matter
closed, it should mean only that you do not wish to investigate the matter
further, but this does not give you the right to refuse to answer my
questions about WHAT exactly has been done, HOW it has been done, by WHO,
and WHY, for example, it was done by a random sampling. I ask you to
return to my original letter and to answer all the questions.
 Thank you in advance.
 Yours Sincerely,
 ------------------------
 Dr. V.I. Fabrikant
 prisoner #167932 D
_______________________________________________________________________
 DR. V.I. FABRIKANT 
 prisoner #167932 D
 Donnacona jail, Donnacona, Quebec, G0A 1T0

 Donnacona, January 15, 1997
 Dr. P. Morand, President
 Natural Sciences and
 Engineering Research Council
 200 Kent Street
 Ottawa, Ontario K1A 1H5
 Sir:
You might be interested to read the text below. I bring to your attention
that my official request for access to information dated December 30, 1996 was
still not acknowledged by your office.
 Yours Sincerely,
 __________________
 Dr. V.I. Fabrikant
 prisoner #167932 D
___________________________________________________________________
WHITEWASH BY NSERC(NATURAL SCIENCES AND ENGINEERING RESEARCH COUNCIL)
In July of 1994, Concordia University has made public the results of forensic
audit of its research accounts, made by accountant Levi. Three professors,
named in the report Swamy, T.S.Sankar and S.Sankar were given ultimatum: to
resign within 6 hours or be fired, and all resigned. A good question to ask
here is: why three honourable scientists, Fellows of various prestigious
learned societies chose to resign? The answer is obvious: there was much more
than was stated in the Levi's report to reproach to them.
Following the report, NSERC has frozen their accounts and asked police to
investigate whether criminal charges should be laid. In addition NSERC has
decided to review their accounts at Concordia University, and a really
astonishing review it was!
First of all, they have chosen a random sampling method of review of accounts
of M.N.S.Swamy, T.S.Sankar and S.Sankar. Random sampling method is applicable
where you may assume that no violation took place, and you take a random
sampling just to check whether there is any reason to think otherwise. In
this case, certain grave violations were established by Levi's report, and to
take a random sampling in this case is nothing but an obvious whitewash.
Indeed, imagine as an example a bank teller, who made thousands of
transactions honestly, and in just one embezzled a million dollars. Assume
now that this teller is accused by someone of this particular embezzlement,
and the bank administration sends a commission to investigate. This
commission arrives, takes a random sampling of the teller's transactions, all
the transactions in the random sampling are honest, commission is satisfied
and declares that no embezzlement took place! You will rightfully say that
this is absurd, and no bank would behave that way, and I agree, but this is
exactly what happened at NSERC. Here are the details.
The complete text of NSERC report is given in Appendix (except for some
meaningless tables). Here is the first quote from the Report:
 ""It is important to note that while NSERC officials originally
 planned to conduct a review of accounts for a period of twelve years, 
 this review was limited to expenditures occurring from fiscal year
 1988-89 through to 1993-94 as supporting documentation for previous
 years was no longer available for review.""
Wow, this is interesting: Levi has managed to do his review for the past 13
years! If the information was available to Levi, how come it all of a sudden
becomes ""no longer available"" just couple of months after Levi's review?
Second quote:
 ""In the Faculty of Engineering and Computer Science, our review
 included 70 accounts from which 695 transactions made from 1989-90 to
 1993-94 inclusive were chosen based on statistical sampling
 techniques.""
Let us do some computations. Levi estimated about 1,000 research accounts in
the Faculty of Engineering and Computer Science, so 70 accounts taken
constitute 7% of all accounts. About 10 transactions on average were taken
from each account for the duration of 5 years, which gives on average 2
transactions per account per year, which is less than 1% of all transactions,
so I leave it to you to decide just how representative this sample was.
Next quote:
 ""In the Faculty of Engineering and Computer Science, 157
 transactions, or 22% of the total number of transactions, were found
 to have inadequate documentation to determine whether these were
 eligible under NSERC rules. These represent a total of $238,710.
 NSERC will be requesting further information from the University to
 determine whether these transactions are eligible.
 Another 27 transactions, or 4% of transactions, were found to be
 ineligible for NSERC funding on the information available to us.
 These represent a total of $103,012.41 for which NSERC will be
 requesting a reimbursement from the University.""
Let us do some computations here. Assume that the sample is representative
for the whole population of accounts. If verification of 7% of accounts
resulted in over $100,000 to be reimbursed to NSERC and over $200,000 probably
to be reimbursed (in doubt), then similar verification of ALL accounts should
result in in over $1.4 million to be reimbursed and $2.8 million probably to
be reimbursed, and this is on verification of two transactions per account per
year! Can you imagine, how much money can be recovered, if all transactions
are checked on all accounts? Why did not NSERC do it? Because their purpose
was not stopping criminal activity at Concordia, not recovery of taxpayer's
money, but whitewash.
One might think that NSERC review would first of all examine Levi's findings
and either confirm or dismiss them. This is not what happened. The following
accounts of M.N.S.Swamy were examined by Levi: 038-263, 038-213,
043-114/K15/D009, Q02, K55 and K48. The following accounts of M.N.S.Swamy
were examined by NSERC: N-063, K48, K55 and N-305. Only two of these
accounts, namely, K48 and K55 seem to be common to both reviews, and of these
two, NSERC has concluded that no NSERC money were transferred to account K55,
so they could not care less whether there was any fraud perpetrated there or
not, they did not check a single transaction.
Here are some findings of Levi. On account 038-263 T.S.Sankar/M.N.S.Swamy:
 ""This account was used by Dr.T.S.Sankar to accumulate $157,418 from 
 various NSERC &amp; FCAR accounts. These charges to the grant accounts
 were camouflaged to appear proper under NSERC rules but in fact
 contravene the rules for use of NSERC funds"".
 ""This account was under control of Dr. T.S.Sankar until 1986 when
 control [was] transferred to Dean Swamy upon Dr.T.S.Sankar
 resignation as chair of Mechanical Engineering"".
NSERC did not bother to check this account.
I add here that Dr.T.S.Sankar has resigned in 1986 among rumors that he
embezzled a lot of money from various accounts. I was present and heard his
resignation speech: he was almost in tears, and he did not give any sensible
reason why he was resigning in the middle of the school year.
Levi's finding on the account 038-213 - Swamy special account:
 ""This account also violates NSERC rules by collecting a total of
 $71,953 from various NSERC accounts to 'cover the cost of Data
 Processing Equipment'.""
NSERC did not bother to check this account either.
Levi's finding on the account Q02 - Swamy special Dean's account:
 ""This account and the next account K55 - M.N.S.Swamy Mechanical
 Engineering Dean's account - characterize the misuse of funds by Dr.
 Swamy.""
There is a confusion here: NSERC associates Q02 with N-305, and they never
clarify why their identification is different from that of Levi. NSERC
refused to review this account.
Levi's finding on the account K48 - M.N.S.Swamy CORE Facility:
 ""This account was used by Dr.Swamy to accumulate $212,043 from
 various NSERC &amp; FCAR accounts to be used to fund expenditures within
 the Faculty in direct contravention of NSERC rules""
NSERC did not find anything wrong with the account, but they do not refer or
argue with Levi's conclusion. It is very easy to decide, who is right. Here
is the Rule 190 which was contravened: ""Grant funds must NOT be transferred
from one research to another or to non-NSERC accounts.""
The sloppiness of NSERC review is obvious from the following phrase on page
10:
 ""Prior to becoming Dean, Dr.Swamy had himself contributed to this
 account"".
Dr.Swamy has become Dean in the seventies and has been Dean ever since.
Taking into consideration that NSERC review did not go back earlier than 1989,
they have no way of knowing what happened prior to Dr.Swamy becoming Dean. In
addition, Levi claims opposite:
 ""No contributions appear in either account (K48 or Z24) from Dean
 Swamy, as outlined in the documentation we examined regarding this
 arrangement.""
NSERC did not address this discrepancy.
Here is Levi's conclusion on the propriety of expense reports of M.N.S.Swamy,
T.S.Sankar and S. Sankar:
 ""Our examination of expense reports disclosed occurrences of
 duplicate expense claims, claims for personal expenses camouflaged to
 appear like University business expenses and conflicting expenses for
 identical times and dates at different locations or cities.""
NSERC ignored this finding.
The following accounts of Dr. T.S. Sankar were reviewed by Levi: X58, 038-263,
038-118, K56. NSERC reviewed accounts N-065 and N-294, nothing in common.
Here is Levi's conclusion on account X58:
 ""Our Investigation concludes that the account contains invoices for
 computer charges which are improper and only created as documentation
 to support and conceal an actual contribution towards the acquisition
 of equipment which is not permitted under contract budget.
 ""We further conclude that Dr.T.S.Sankar has violated the provisions
 of CUFA collective agreement as they relate to paid outside
 consulting""
This finding was ignored by NSERC. Levi also missed the more important point:
he noticed only that T.S.Sankar was paid for 82 days, while collective
agreement allowed him to be paid for the maximum of 52 days per year; what
Levi did not notice was the fact that T.S.Sankar did not spend a single day
working on the project, and he could not even if he wanted to: the project was
in the field of fluid dynamics, in which T.S.Sankar has no knowledge. All the
work was done by Dr. Popov, who was at that time a graduate student of
T.S.Sankar and he was not paid from the contract at all.
Levi's findings on the account K56 - T.S.Sankar:
 ""Our analysis of this account demonstrates additional unsupported
 charges to other contract accounts for computer charges. In
 addition, Dr. T.S. Sankar sold old equipment belonging to Concordia
 and deposited the proceeds into this account to be used by him, at
 his discretion.""
Again, NSERC ignored this finding.
The following accounts of Dr.S.Sankar were reviewed by Levi: X69, L01, Liquid
Tanker Stability Contract and the Development of a Vehicle Dynamics Expert
System Contract. NSERC reviewed only one account N-116, again, nothing in
common.
This is the typical finding made by Levi:
 ""Dr.S.Sankar has used personnel paid in part by University operating
 budget funds and grant funds for the performance of an industry
 contract for which most ($72,700) of the proceeds were directed by
 him to his private company"".
What Levi did not understand though was the fact that Dr.S.Sankar did not do
any job in any of his contracts. All the work was done by graduate students
paid by the University.
NSERC review of S.Sankar's account N-116 is deliberately misleading: they
claim that ""$358,746 or 95% was spent on bursaries and salaries to graduate 
students, postdoctoral fellows and research personnel as can be seen in
Appendix C."" But if we look at the figures in Appendix C, we find out that
only $72,682 was spent on graduate students and postdoctoral fellows, while
the lion share $255,697 was spent on ""other salaries"", which in Concordia
jargon does not mean Concordia research personnel, it means people from
outside the University. I have been trying for years to find out who these
people were and why were they paid, but Concordia University refuses to
release this information, claiming that the records are not available. It
looks like they were available to NSERC. Let us read what they wrote:
 ""Of 15 salary transactions reviewed, we required additional
 information including employee status and affiliation to the
 grantee's research, for 3 transactions to ascertain whether these
 were eligible under NSERC rules. Based on the information provided to
 us, these transactions were also found to be eligible under NSERC
 rules"".
And here is an English translation of what they really wanted to say: ""Out of
15 salary transactions reviewed, we found payments to 3 individuals, who have
nothing to do neither with Concordia University, nor with the subject of the
research; we know that they were paid kick-back money, or Dr.Sankar paid to
himself through fictitious third persons, but we do not want anyone to know
this, so we claim that everything is OK"".
This is what NSERC wrote on verification of T.S.Sankar's account N-065:
 ""Of 12 salary transactions reviewed, three required additional
 information including employee status and affiliation to the
 grantee's research, to ascertain whether these were eligible under
 NSERC rules. Based on the information available to us, these
 transactions were also found to be eligible under NSERC rules.""
And here is relevant quotation from NSERC review of M.N.S.Swamy's account
N-063:
 ""Of 12 salary transactions reviewed, three required additional
 information including employee status and affiliation to the
 grantee's research, to ascertain whether these were eligible under
 NSERC rules. Based on the information available to us, these
 transactions were also found to be eligible under NSERC rules.""
Clearly, the whole report is done by ""cut-and-paste"" method. Long live
computers!
The sloppiness of NSERC work is also illustrated by the quotation:
 ""Our review of Dr.Sankar's internal account N-116(B-34) included a
 total of 37 transactions. Of these transactions, 22(!) were
 operating expenses and 15 were salary transactions. Nine of the
 11(!) operating expenses were fully documented and compliant with
 NSERC rules. We had to seek additional information on the remaining
 2 transaction, to ascertain whether these were eligible under NSERC
 rules.""
They could not even make their arithmetics right: the 22 operating
transactions, chosen initially, all of a sudden were transformed into 11!
And here is the most flagrant example of how NSERC did not want to see an
obvious fraud. I refer to their investigation of Steacie fellowship account.
They write: 
 ""In 1988-89, a two-year Steacie fellowship in the amount of
 168,097.75 was awarded to W.G.Habashi. During this time, Dr.Habashi
 was to be released from his administrative and teaching duties to
 devote all his time to research.
 ""The Steacie Fellowship account was created by Concordia for the
 exclusive administration of this NSERC grant. As Dean of the Faculty
 of Engineering and Computer Science, Dr.Swamy was the designated
 administrator of this account.""
This account was supposed to be used to pay Dr.Habashi's salary. Instead, the
University decided to pay his salary from its budget, and the money in Steacie
Fellowship account were used for various other expenses, mainly purchase of
""minor equipment"", and instead of two years, the account was in such use for
five years. NSERC concluded that it was not a big deal. Well, let us ask
ourselves, WHY would the University go to such complications? Would not it be
much more simple to use Fellowship grant to pay Dr.Habashi's salary and to buy
whatever they were needed from operating budget? Of course, it would,
provided that Dr.Swamy could legally buy he they wanted to from the operating
budget. So, the only logical conclusion here is: Dr.Swamy could not legally
buy what he wanted from the operating budget, but he could pay Dr.Habashi's
salary from that budget. Here we come to the crucial question: what exactly
did Dr.Swamy buy? And it was not a small amount of money. There is no answer
to this question, and it is obvious, why: whitewash is a whitewash is a
whitewash!
There was no signature under the report, and it is understandable why:
cover-up of fraud is a crime.
_____________________________________________________________________________
</pre></body></html>",1,Specific Threats,Letter to Morand,6/14/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Fabrikant_letter_to_Morand.pdf,Valery Fabrikant
"WELCOME! I have compiled in this web site 3 kinds of documents:
1. Large essays (description of events at Concordia and how the media lied about it;
my diary, NSERC report and my comments on it);
2. Legal documents (transcript of my trial, appeals, civil lawsuits, etc.)
3. Regular postings in the newsgroups (jail, politics, medicine, crime, religion, etc)
There is saying for a man to have a good and meaningful life, he has to plant a tree,
to write a book and raise a son. I would change it as follows, for a man to have a
good and meaningful life, he has to plant a tree, to write a book and raise a son, and
kill at least one scoundrel.
Here are the results of my life. I planted many trees, I wrote three books, plus
scientific articles, I raised a son and daughter, and I killed not one, but four
scoundrels.

Big files
Legal
Postings (NOW UP TO DATE: 2009)
If you have any comments or questions,
send an e-mail to
valery_fabrikant@hotmail.com.
V.I. Fabrikant's Homepage",1,Specific Threats,2009 HomePage,7/1/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Fabrikant_2009_homepage.pdf,Valery Fabrikant
"First responders,
The gun used was a Beretta from a fellow student [
I would like to clarify that him and his family are in no way affiliated with my actions. I was under the absolute impression I needed it for self-defense. I did not receive this gun.
The holder of this paper is me.
The woman that is my girlfriend of over ___ years, whom I grew up with, her name is [
My family is also in no way affiliated with my actions, no one is, except myself. I believe myself to be of sane mind.
I do not believe that 2 have told the whole story.
I understand that I am at fault, and what I have done is unforgivable.
Emergency contacts:
Mom & Dad,
I love you both dearly. It means so much... what this is going to do to you two.
What I've done has nothing to do with you or who as parents. My life was great at home.
We had our usual fights, quarreled together...
I could have handled this better, but I made the decision not to.
I'm so sorry for what I have done. It's okay if you do not love me, but to make sense, just to clarify, I [
I love you both dearly.
Please, move on and be happy.
Your only daughter
What is emotions?
I, ____________, had interests in ________ since 5th grade. I also have struggled with depression and publicly in other issues. I don't always _______.
Was with her for __ years of writings; the lovely, smart, pretty girl.
This crazy, lifelong journey everything in my life the ""love"" stories, from her. I felt free to read we planned our future together. A wedding. Our home and ______.
Every aspect.
Last Saturday I was informed she didn't want me romantically anymore. It was not easy but we did not separate, because she told me she was a lesbian.
She told me she didn't love me like that for a long while, that she's been lying about us for years.
This week has been the worst in my life.
We grew up together, we were each other's first everything. We graduated from middle school together, we started high school together.
Both of this has devastated me. I'm not as strong as any of you, it seems. I know I cause the order of the two paths but I was in a daze both anyways.
What really scares me is that I am happy.
At home, I do love my family. I am the mother of three. That's all being taken away for no reason.
I'm not blaming ___ for my actions.
I understand that I made the conscious decision to do this. No one is absolved. If you're angry, that's okay to be angry at me, and I'm very sorry to put the family through this.
Tell ___ to forgive me. Let me off as ____, and burn the scraps of my existence. It's understandable for any of you to hate me. But please don't remember me for this. Remember me for when I was happy.
I am of sound mind, and understand what I have done is wrong.
I ____ because I never learned to love myself. I've always liked who I am, ___ is with biggest regrets that I spent this coming. I'm sorry for everything I've put you people through, but just please know:
I loved you guys too.
It breaks my heart to leave.",1,Grievance Airring,Dorothy Dutiel's Suicide Notes,7/8/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/dutiel_suicide_notes.pdf,Dorothy Dutiel
"You should first know that the impure cannot touch me without gloves, only the chaste or
those who lost their chastity after marriage and were not involved in adultery can touch
me without gloves, or, in other words, no fornicator or adulterer can have direct contact
with me, nor anything that is impure can touch my blood, nothing impure can have direct
contact with a virgin without his permission, those who prepare my burial should take off
all my clothes, wash me, dry me and wrap me totally naked in a white sheet that is in this
building, in a bag that I left in the first room on the first floor, after they have wrapped me
in this sheet they can put me in my coffin. If possible, I want to be buried next to the grave
where my mom sleeps. My mom’s name is Dicea Menezes de Oliveira and she is buried in
the Murundu cemetery. I need to be visited at my grave by a faithful follower of God at least
once, he must pray in front of my grave and ask God’s forgiveness for what I did praying
that upon his return Jesus wakes me from the sleep of death for eternal life.
I left a house in Sepetiba which no family needs, there are poor institutions, financed by
generous people, that take care of abandoned animals, I want this space where I passed my
final months donated to one of these institutions, because the animals are being very despised
and need much more protection and care than human beings who have the advantage of
being able to communicate, to work to feed themselves, so those who take ownership of my
house, I ask you to please have some common sense and abide by my request, automatically
they will be fulfilling the wishes of my parents who wanted to pass this property to my name
and everybody knows this, comply with my request otherwise they automatically will be
disrespecting my parents’ wishes, which would prove that all of you have no consideration
for our parents who now sleep, I believe that all of you have some consideration for our
parents, proving this by doing what I asked.",1,Vague Discontent,Wellington de Oliveira's Suicide Note,7/3/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/oliveira_note_1.1.pdf,Wellington de Oliveira
"NIKOLAS CRUZ: All right. So here's the
plan. I'm gonna go take Uber in the afternoon
before 2:40. From there I'll go into the --
onto school campus, walk up the stairs, unload
my bags and get my AR and shoot people down at
the main -- what is it? -- the main courtyard,
wait, and people will die.

NIKOLAS CRUZ: Today is the day. The day
that it all begins. The day of my massacre
shall begin. All the kids in school will run
and fear and hide. From the wrath of my power
they will know who I am.
I am nothing. I am no one. My life is
nothing and meaningless. Everything that I hold
dear I let go beyond your half. Every day I see
the world ending another day. I live a lone
life, live in seclusion and solitude. I hate
everyone and everything.
With the power of my AR you will all know
who I am. I had enough of being told what to do
and when to do. I had enough of being --
telling me that I'm a idiot and a dumb ass, when
real life you're all the dumb ass. You're all
stupid and brainwashed by these fucking
political government programs. You will all
see. You will all know who my name is.
My love for you, Angie, will never go
away. I hope to see you in the afterlife. From
one day or another you will end and we'll all
die.

NIKOLAS CRUZ: Hello. My name is Nick and
I'm gonna be the next school shooter of 2018.
My goal is at least 20 people with an AR-15 and
a couple tracer rounds. I think I can do -- get
done.
Location is Stoneman Douglas in Parkland,
Florida. It's gonna be a big event. And when
you see me on the news, you'll all know who I am
(laughing). You're all going to die. Pew,
pew-pew, pew, pew, pew, pew. Ah, yeah. Can't
wait.",1,Specific Threats,Transcript of Nikolas Cruz Videos,7/10/1905,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/Transcript_Cruz_Videos.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I plan on shooting them soon year 2020 date of
massacure unknow location unknow some wear in
florida",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,8/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
Just whana kill people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/2/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I rather kill people 2020,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"The amount of time it took for the police to come.i
thnk.this is fake",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I hide it deep with in and think about killing people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"The last part makes me scared what happens
when i have no one iam 18 still in high scool and
everyone is on thier way to college while iam their
thinking about killing people and ending their lives
i haye my life and i whant to take people with me",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
i fucking hate humans,1,Grievance Airring,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
Im going to be a professional school shooter,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"My life sucks i failed high school im going to go on
a killing rampage",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"Im going to kill a lot of fucking people i hate you all
after what happend in las vages i had enough",1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I have no problem shooting a girl in the chest,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I hate everyone and everything I fucking go into a
bad part of town and make a sniper nest and kill
people just don't give a fuck about life.",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I hate people,1,Grievance Airring,YouTube Comments,1/1/2018,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I wanna kill shit ton of people and murder children,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,1/1/2018,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I wanna kill people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,1/1/2018,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I hate people,1,Grievance Airring,YouTube Comments,1/1/2018,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
When i turn 21 iam going to kill people,1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
In 2020 you will hear me on the news doing this,1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"on the night of my massacre you are not forgotten
Eliot may u rip",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"it makes,me happy To see people die :)",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I love to see to see the familys suffer,1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I whant to kill people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I think about killing people thoe,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I whant to kill people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"they did pretty good should of had killed more
people its more of a two shot to confirm a kill. its
called double tap if they would of done that it
would of been more like a 36 kill count like what
happened in McDonald's but pretty good in all with
weapons they had to",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"lam a level 3 psychopath muahahahahaha blood
hahajajamaahah 2020,",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"May cho rip .hes just like me.2020 you fuckin
bastards!!! Fuck society",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I whant to join the army for the chance to kill
people and end life.",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"What a little pussy your supposed to do one fuckin
thing and you only managed to fuckin injured one
person!!! You little fuckin pussy i would of killed
everyone not. ask a question and kill everyone",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"No mercy,no questins,always double tap",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I already see my future nothing but lonelyness i
wish to keep somethin in the history books like eric
and dylan.for that you will hear me on the news
2020",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
lam going to kill people 2020 people,1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
i fucking shoot all of them,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I'm a mass murder, with interesting thoughts of
death and destruction",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I never been bulled i just hate people in general,1,Grievance Airring,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"itsss ovvverrrrr! ! ! ! ! my timeeeeeeee time is
almost hearrrrrr! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! fuckkkkkk all of you
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! fuck youuuuuuuuuuuuuu
alllll ! ! !muahahahahahahahahhahahagahahaahha
hahahahahaahahahaaahahaha I hope I killllll you
allllllllll ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-1.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"the more i see humans the more i want to kill
them",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I FUCKING BLAST A WHOLE THROUGH ALL OF
YOUR HEADS",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I kill you all one day I hate people no love no
mercy",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"You niggers are nothing but absolute garbage i wish
you black people would just disappear your nothing
in Society thats why in 2020 you will hear me on
the news i will kill as many black people as i can and
i will make sure i kill alot i will wear body armor and
i will be heavily armed no Mercy,no forgiveness,no
regret i will kill you niggers",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
Uam going to fucking kill niggers,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"lam going to kill niggers in 2020 and thiers nothing
you black people can do about it",1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
i plan on killing black people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"lam a level 3 psychopath muahahahahaha blood
hahajajamaahah 2020,",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I will shoot black people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,8/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
Nazi party shall rise again,1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,8/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
Man now i wish the nazi won,1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,8/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
pssshh i punch my mom dumb bitch i say,1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,8/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I hate fuckin niggers i wish i could Kill them all.
2020 :)",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I am going to kill black people,1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I hate black people i am going to kill them i whana
see there blood on the floor.",1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"Fuck you buzz feed you fucking hypocrite's.saying
shit about our second Amendment.you fucking
niggers i wish i could come in your fucking casting
room and shoot you all in the head with my Ar-15.",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"Ill teach you niggers a lesson mother fuckers!!! !iam
going to kill you black bastards with my Ar-15",1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"lam going to kill you fucking niggers!!! Just fucking
wait.:)",1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I hate you all i whana kill people black people you
will hear me on the news 2020.",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I cant wait to kill black people and rape a girl in
2020 i will try and kill aleast 15 people may i not die
in vain",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"My mission is to kill black people and rape on the
night of my massacre you are not forgotten Eliot
may u rip",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"You wouldn't understand us people our lives are
completely different from all of yours we cant live
happy you must all die fuck niggers",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I hate humanity i hate niggers mostly out of every
one i hate black people the day will come wear i kill
them",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I will kill you niggers and ill rape you girls,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I whana shoot black people,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
lam going to kill black people,1,Planned Violence,YouTube Comments,7/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"You people should blame yourself lol we kill
animals everyday iam glad animals die it makes me
happy:)",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I fucking shoot it to death i hate animals and
humans",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I killed 12 cats,1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,9/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"Fuck Muslims,fuck antifa,fuck niggers,latinos,and
Asiasn people",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I'm going to attack and kill many blacks in my
school on January 1,2017 fuck all of you nigger's i
had enough",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
I fucking hate kids and I fucking hate niggers,1,Grievance Airring,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I just whana kill people. black people :) I hate black
people they can all die",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"I hate people I plan on killing people my life is
nothing but shit I'm 19 and still not out of high
school. with a bunch of niggers all over. I hate
niggers ,I hate women and I hate people I hope
you all die",1,Specific Threats,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
i hate people and i hate animals,1,Grievance Airring,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"women are evil they can take care of themselves.
their less important then a dog.",1,Vague Discontent,YouTube Comments,10/1/2017,https://schoolshooters.info/sites/default/files/NC-Online-Searches-Comments-2.pdf,Nikolas Cruz
"Throughout the past century car usage has exploded from a luxury available only to the highest echelon of society to a tool almost essential to life. Although cars are convenient there are many downsides to having them. Some reasons a society that limits car use could be beneficial are: expenses, environmental costs, and health degredation. Hopefully together we can curb car usage and lead the way for a cheaper, greener, and healthier future. Its a known fact that cars are expensive, but when you add up all of the costs how much is really spent. Especially for younger drivers insurance is a ludicrous expense, often totalling hundreds of dollars per month. Another expense, obviously, is gas. Gas may be at a 5 year low right now but the slightest instability in oil producing countries could cause prices to skyrocket. Still if you add in the cost of the car your looking at a highly expensive way of living. Life obviously could be less expensive without car use. Another illeffect of car use is environmental impact. car emissions are responsible for up to 50 percent of total green house gas emissions in some states. Using cars is not good for the environment. Cars pollute are atmosphere and can accelerate the rate of ozone layer deterioration. They also, indirectly, damage habitats by requiring new roads and highways to be built thus disturbing ecosystems. Automobiles also use large quantities of petroleum a finite and ever necessary resource in this global world. Car usage needs to be drastically reduced in order to preserve the environment. Health issues can also develop from overusing cars. For instance, by looking at cultures that do not use cars it is evident that less children with autism are born to said peoples, such as the Amish. Another benefit of not using cars is exercise. People that drive instead of walking or bicycling are not only becoming more obese they are also putting themselves at an elevated risk for heart disease. Car accidents are one of the highest causes of premature death in the united states thus if people drove less these accidents would occur far less often. The choice seems clear a carless society is more healthy for all. All in all, although cars may have benefits, the drawbacks of having them far out way any of said benefits. Car usage is expensive, bad for the environment and unhealthy. Together, society must ultimately decide whether life with automobiles is worth it and live with the consequences.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The struggles in many peoples lives rely on timerelated events such as work, school, and other priorities. These time limits have been built up through our transportation and the bumps that come with it. Traffic is an obvious limit on peoples time every day. However, if traffic was nonexistent, how could these struggles be taken away? Simple, everybody gets to their destination without polluting the air or wasting time behind cars walking or using a bike is the way to go. Avoiding the usage of cars has many positives such as, being free from time constraints with transportation, being more active, and being an avid ""green"" human that is saving the Earth. Traffic is all around us, whether it be internet or transportation traffic. The usage of cars has limited job arrivals because of the time that should be taken to drive to the job site. Yet, job sites should be centered around the employees as cars should toned down in the first place. ""... stores are placed a walk way, on a main street, rather than in malls in some distant highway."" Source 1, this quote directly supports and addresses a problem that has been prolonged for too long. Restaurants, sporting good stores, and shopping malls have all corralled themselves in areas that are too distant for consumers to readily access. With cars slimmed down in numbers, stores would be in place for the consumer and the employee. ""...millions of Colombians hiked, biked, skated, or took buses to work during a carfree day yesterday, leaving the streets of this capital eerily devoid of traffic jams."" Source 3. When being are more active throughout the day, occurrences such as this are allowed to happen much more often. A day free of cars in Bogota left streets almost completely traffic free which in turn reduced smog and allowed for alternative transportation.Source 3. Cars allow us to ride through hundreds of miles with just the use of a few muscles. Running just 1 mile burns hundreds of calories and gets people feeling good. When people are fit and healthy, they feel better about themselves and have more confidence. The limitation of cars would allow this feeling to arise in thousands of people. People felt so good, they let nothing stop them ""The rain hasn't stopped people from participating,"" Source 3. Saving the Earth is extremely important and many people are aware of that. However, very few of those people take action. This is primarily because of the way our daily lives are ran. Work is a necessity to support for one's own and their families, so getting to work, whether by car or by bus, is something that will not stop. However, the alternativees of tranportation allow us to reach that goal without using gasemitting cars or buses. Bikes and even hybrid cars are now rising up in today's society ""A study last year found that driving by young people decreased 23 percent between 2001 and 2009"". Source 4. Young people have a strong influence on society and if they worry less about the car that they are driving or even driving at all, then there is certainly something going on. Cities are now also taking part in this action, ""After days of nearrecord pollution, Paris enforced a partial driving ban to clear the air of the global city... Congestion was down 60 percent in the captial of France..."" Source 2. A simple temporary ban can not only change the mind of an individuals view on using other alternativees for tranportation, but also allow them to experience those alternativees. The consequences that cars toll people with today are greatly weighing on an individuals daily life. They have their schedule built around their car and are constantly being time constrained because of it. The effect greenhouse gases have on the Earth is huge and has not stopped. In order to help the Earth in this parituclar topic, this action would be miraculous. Not only do many people become lazy and very unhealthy because of cars, but they also take for granted what they can do without them. Hiking and other activities are missed out on the daily because of these vehicles. Many people can accomplish new goals and set new goals if it were not for certain transportation methods.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The idea of a car-free life has become more appealing around the world. In the United States, South America and across Europe, they have developed new ways of transportation that seem to be more beneficial. In these souces they explain the many advantages of limiting car usage such as its better for the environment and people find more alternative ways of transportation easier and cheaper. There are many benefits to limiting car usage and the first is it improves the environment. In Source 1, it says that reducing car usage would be, ""A huge impediment to current efforts to drastically reduce greenhouse gas emissions from tailpipes"". Passengers in Europe are responsible for 12 percent of greenhouse gas emissions and 50 percent in the United States. ""All of our development since World War II has been centered on the car, and that will have to change,"" said David Goldberg, an official of Transportation for America. In that change recently,there has been many efforts to promote ""car reduced"" communities. In Source 2, Paris shows that they have made improvements in banning driving on certain days of the week due to smog. That smog cleared enough for the people to drive on days they were allowed to. The second benefit to limiting car usage would be that people find more alternative ways of transportation easier and they are happier. ""When i had a car iwas always tense. Im much happier this way,"" said Heidrun Walter, a media trainer and mother of two, as she walked verdant streets where the swish of bicycles and the chatter of wandering children drown out the occasional distant motor. Many people expressed that other ways of transportation like biking or walking are much easier. In Source 3, it explains that Colombia has car-free days where they skate, bike, hike, or take buses instead. ""Its a good opportunity to take away stress and lower air pollution,"" said businessman Carlos Arturo Plaza as he rode a two-seat bicycle with his wife. In Source 4, it says that because of other ways of transportation are easier and cheaper, ""Recent studies suggest that Americans are buying fewer cars, driving less and getting fewer licenses each year."" It goes on to explain that ""Part of the explanation certainly lies in the recession, because cash-strapped Americans could not afford new cars, and the unemployed werent going to work anyway."" As more people become jobless, they find that taking buses or walking is much easier. That could be an advantage because Bill Ford, executive chairman of the Ford Motor Company laid out a plan where cities in which ""pedstrian, bicycle, private cars, commercial and public transportation traffic are woven into a connected network to save time, conserve resources, lower emissions and improve safety."" In conclusion, there are many ways in limiting car usage can be benefical such as with the enviroment, to the people, and it can change in the way this world operates. Living a car-free life would soon be very desirable in this world soon.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Cars, the thing that all teenagers want when they turn sixteen. Driving gives a sense of freedom, but it comes with a price. Diving automotive pollutes the air with greenhouse gases. Cities like Paris, Vauban, and Bogot have some serious problems with pollution. That's why we should limit vehicle usage. Vauban, Germany is doing it wrong, by living in a ""car-free"" environment. The citizens that live here forbidden to own a car, driveway, and a home garage. There is a glimpse of light to all of you that love driving or need to drive to work. In this city, if somebody wanted to own an automotive they would have to pay an additional 40,000 dollars and live at the edge of the city limit. Pollution might be serious, but you should just limit the commute to work, so citizens don't have to drive so much. Think about it, if you force people that have cars to live on the city limit, but they might work in the middle of the city. I don't see the solution in that. Paris, France, the city of love, is also the leading city in Europe of smog. ""Passenger cars cause 12% of greenhouse gases in Europe."" (Rosenthal 5). Paris is not so bad in book compare to Vauban. Paris has assigned certain days for the drivers to drive. On one day, even license plates will drive and the odds with drive the following day. There are precautions that they take if an odd driver drives on an even day. The drive will be fined 22 euros (that is 31 American dollars). There is nothing wrong with this plan except if someone with an odd license plate has an emergency, and needs to take care of it posthaste. Smog is not a good thing at all, and won't decrease until we do something about it. That a 'car-free"" day and bike to where ever you need to go. This is our planet and we should take care of it.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Here, in the United States, birthplace of the Model T,driving has proven to be part of our history and culture. However, with recently uncovered developments in our environment such as global warming and pollution, it is time for us to re-evaluate our ""car culture"". Overusage has proven harmful and limiting alternatives that reduce stress, are just as effective in getting us from point 'A' to 'B' and are more eco-friendly. Our excessive car usage is dramatically hurting our environment. In fact, ""...Passenger cars are responsible for 12 percent of greenhouse gas emissions in Europe... and up to 50 percent in some car-intensive areas in the United States"" (5). What people use for our short term convenience is actually proving inconvenient for us in the long run. In Paris, there was ""147 micrograms of particulate matter per cubic meter compared with 114 in Brussels and 79.9 in London"" (17). The culprit? Diesel fuel emissions from transportation (cars). To underscore the severity, the smog in Paris is so bad that French Officials had to limit car usage in a smog cloaked city that ""rivaled Beijing, China, which is known as one of the most polluted cities in the world""(14). This issue is mirrored in Bogota, Columbia, where the government has also stepped in and established a car free day in which perpetrators get fined in order to "" promote alternative transportation and reduce smog"" (21). Efforts such as these can be effective in aiding our environmental crisis. After France also instated a limit on car usage ""the smog cleared"" (19). By limiting our car usage we can actually make a difference in reducing pollution and make our living environment more pleasant and healthier. The switch is facilitated further not only by the inclination toward a better worldy environment but a less stressful social one as well. In the city of Vauban in Germany, residents have "" given up their cars""(1). Here although car ownership is allowed, ""70 percent of Vauban's families do not own cars and 57 percent sold a car to move [there]."" (3). Do the residents regret their decision? According to Heidrun Walter, a media trainer and mother of two: ""When I had a car I was always tense, I am much happier this way""(3). In Bogota, a business man, Carlos Arturo Plaza who participates in Bogota's movement to reduce car usage says that the absence of cars is an ""...opportunity to take away stress and lower air pollution"" (24). These are two individuals on different continents with families and busy lives who find the lack of cars to be not a handicap but actually a source of stress relief. In France, after the restrictions of car usage the streets also became less stressful for people who have to drive (like taxi drivers or public transporters) because of a ""60 percent reduction in traffic congestion"" (14). For those who do decide to make a move to help the environment and themselves by reducing their car usage, their are more and more alternatives that are making their switch worthwhile. In Vauban, you can hear the sounds of viable alternatives in use. The ""swish of bicycles"" and the ""chatter""(3) of walking children is audible in the streets. Carlos Arturo Plaza rides the car-free streets of Bogota on "" atwo seat bicycle with his wife""(24). For those who don't feel comfortable with walking or cycling other options such as carpool exist and governments are now making more of an effort to make other alternatives such easier and more available ( i. e. public transportation). In Bogota, in order to support the movement toward less automobile driving wide sidewalks have been made. In Vauban the whole city has been constructed with the goal to make everything compact and easier to access by foot or bike. This is good news for those who make the early morning busness commute as their job is closer to where they live and more convenient to walk or bike to than other suburbs in which commuters are forced to take the high way because of the distance. Also, the more people who take advantage of whatever public transportation available to them will make the demand higher and cause more funding to be placed on public transportation. Before ""80 percent of appropriations have by law gone to high ways and only 20 percent to other transport""(9), but with more usage, this can change. Essentially, the sacrifice of some of our car usage is far outweighed by the positive affects on our environment and attitudes. Plus new systems that cater to better alternative uses make the switch easier than ever!!",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Cars. Everyone has cars. On the street, in their driveways, in parking lots. You think everyone uses car. Well your wrong. Not everyone has cars or uses cars for that matter. In Vauban, Germany residents given up their cars to walk the streets. Where we generally park in like parking lots, parking garages, street parking, home driveways, and home garages are all forbidden. In Vauban their streets are completely car-free. They do allowed cars there but some people just want to walk to safe their community. But if you have are car you can only park in two places. Those two places are your house, and large garages at the edge of the development. I would never give up my car to live in Vauban, Germany. In matter of fact 57% of people have sold their cars to live there. To believe or not 70% of Vaubans families do not own cars. To me its hard to think that people actually walk everywhere they go. Paris bans driving to clean the air of the global city because of pollution. Due to the ban of driving people who are caught driving will be fined 22-euro which is $31 in america. France has a tax policy that favors diesel over gasoline. Its hard to believe that diesels make up 67% of France, compared to 53.3% of average diesel engines in the rest of Western Europe. The smog cleared enough that French part rescind to ban odd numbered plates on Tuesday. Today Americans are buying fewer cars, driving less, and getting fewer licenses as each year goes by. President Obama's ambitious goals to curb the United States' greenhouse gas emissions. This thing has left people like researchers woundering a fundamental question "" Has America pass peak driving?"" As of April 2013, the number of miles driven per person was neraly 9% below the peak and equal to where the country was in January 1995. Its carzy how some countries have no cars allowed policy. Some countries baned cars, dont allow them on the streets. People would go carzy if they didnt have their cars and had to walk everywhere they want to go.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Mom I'm going to go outside to get some fresh air"" FREEZE! Wait one minute, the air that you breathe isn't all that fresh nor clean. It's polluted. But check this out people want car usage to end completely, I know you might think limiting car usage is the worst idea you ever heard. Just to stop pollution ? Yes. But if you think about it no cars equal no bad air. China is one of the MOST polluted cities in the world, cold nights and warm days caused the warmer layer of air to trap air commission. But oh man, oh man France blame diesel fuel to be the problem. 67 present of diesel fuel is used in France cars. So maybe that statement is correct. Another reason why less car usages could be a good thing, it prevents being stuck in traffic & reduce a lot of car accidents. Businessman Carlos Arturo Plaza stated that ""It's a good opportunity to take away stress & lower air pollution"" which I highly agree with. Cars are very stressful, they're always breaking down or something ends up going wrong & you spend tons and tons of money just fixing the problem. ""When I had a car I was always tense. I'm much happier this way"" said Hadron Walter a media trainer & a mother of two. She walks verdant streets & love listening to her surrounding. But oh my god in Paris if you get caught driving you will suffer a 22 to 31 dollar fine, Leave the car at home please. Since this no car usage thing started Colombians hiked, biked, skated or took buses to work & school. There goal is to promote alternative transportation and reduce smog. The sidewalks have been replaced in Bogot by broad, so it could be smooth and easier to ride on. President Obama goals are to get greenhouse gas. It would lower emission and improve safety! So I think it would sorta be a good idea if we would go through with no car usage. It would be a much healthier and cleaner environment",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Cars have been used as a main way of transportation for many years. Using cars as a way of transportation can have advantages and disadvantages. Unfortunately there are more disadvantages to using cars as a way of transportation, than there are advantages. Cars are ruining our environment and our society, therefore there should be a limit to car usage. Limiting car usage is not a bad thing, there are tons of advantages to limiting car usage. Elisabeth Rosenthal has stated many advantages to limiting car usage in her articles, ""In German Suburb, Life Goes On Without Cars,"" and ""The End of Car Culture."" Rosenthal states that cars make people tense and without cars people are less tense. When people are less tense they are happier and willing to do more things. Rosenthal also says that less cars results in less greenhouse gases. Cars are responsible for 12 percent of greenhouse gases in Europe and 50 percent of the greenhouse gases in parts of the United States. Cars are the second largest source of America's emissions, therefore if cars are limitied the emissions will decrease. Another author, Robert Duffer, also states advantages to limiting car usage in his article, ""Paris bans driving due to smog."" Duffer states that limiting car usage will lower the amount of air pollution. Paris decided to fine people on certain days if they were driving with a certain license plate number. Fining people for driving their cars enforced people to stop driving on certain days to lower the amount of car traffic. A result to Paris's new law was that congestion decreased 60 percent after the new law was enforced. Five days before Paris enforced their law, Paris suffered intensifying fog, therefore, the new law in Paris proves that cars are increasing the amount of air pollution. A final author that has stated advantages to limiting car usage is Andrew Selsky in his article, ""Car-free day is spinning into a big hit in Bogota."" Andrew Selsky describes in his article a day in Bogota that has been designated to be car free. Every year Bogota has one day that they ban cars and only allow buses and taxis as a way of transportation and all violaters are fined $25. Bogota's plan is that limiting transportation will reduce smog and encourage people to find a new way of transportation. Selky describes that one participant in the ""car-free day"" stated that the day lowered air pollution and helped take away stress. The car-free day has also helped Bogota improve their sidewalks, bicycle paths, and, most importantly, their city. Overall, limiting car usage will have numerous amounts of advantages both, for the environment, and for the citizens. The most beneficial advantage to limiting car usage is less air pollution, smog, and greenhouse gases. Rosenthal, Duffer, and Selsky all mentioned in their articles that less car usage will result in a better air to breathe. The second largest advantage to less car usage is that people can be happier and less tense. Both Rosenthal and Selsky state examples of people saying that after being forced to stop using cars as much, they began to feel less tense and happier. Limiting car usage will be very beneficial to citizens and the environment we live in.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Imagine a world completely pollution free. A world with no worry about greenhouse gases or global warming. Whiae it's highly unlikely that we will get to that point, we can stila try to reach this perfectly healihy world. The are many advantages tolimiiing car use, some of those advantageo would be: reducing stress, reducing the amouni of pollution, and saving money. Stress is a feeling that everyone can reaate to. Whether it be work, school, money, or home life stressing out about things is not healthy. There has been several otudies showing that getting proper exerciie has tremendous health benefits. The only problem is that no one ever seems to have time to work out or go on a walk. However, if you had to walk eo get wherever you're going, you would easily receive enough exercise to help lower your stress. Plus, driving can be extremely stressful. Without having to sit through traffic or deal with bad drivers an average person's itress levels would plummet. The first passage contains a quote from a suburban mom of two, ""When I had a car I was always tense. I'm so much happier this way."" Recently, I feel as if all I hear about on the news is Greenhouse gases and pollution. Honestly, hearing about globae warming is a frightening experience, almost like a glass of cold water being thrown in your face. 12 percent of greenhouse gas emissions in Europe are caused by passenger cars and in parts of the United States it's up to 50 percent! While car companies are helping by rolling out hybrid and electric cars, those cars are very expensive! Not everyone is willing to shell out that kind of money. By reducing car use, the harmful gases polluting our air will greatly decrease and places like Paris,France and Beijing, China both ver heavily polluted places can have clearer air. Money. Money seems like it rules our world and it realey does. Do you enjoy throwing money away? Of course you don't! Well, if you drive a car everywhere you go, you might as well be. Gas prices are high and it takes upwards of 50 dollari to fill the tank of the average car. Not to mention the price of the car itself! While you have to pay for gas, car insurance, maintenance, and the bill for the car if it's not paid off yet, people who walk to work or to the store and don't own a car are saving thousands of dollars a year. To conceude, when you reduce the use of cars you: reduce stress, reduce the amount of pollution, and save money. If you want to leave the paanet Earth healthy and livable for the future generations, you should seriously consider ditching your car and buying a nice pair of walking shoes.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The face on Mars is not caused by aliens, that is upper. Aliens wouldn't make a face on Mars because there is no such thing of them doing so. The face you see on Mars is just a detailed rock formation that formed by natural causes, and also the eyes, mouth, and nose are just shadows caused by the formation. Aliens wouldn't accuse on Mars to make a mark, if they were real they would be much farther than Mars. This landform has been their for over 18 years, so the odds are not aliens but erosion on the planet Mars. Back then want seeable, but now it is due to these erosion. If there were aliens that made the formation People would've already be talking about the alien sightings. This is why the formation was not made by aliens. Also, any aircraft, small shacks, or air plains would be able to be seen in the picture due to the pixels in the camera. The camera would be able to see anything that goes on Mars. All the details that you see is just shadows from the rock That makes it look like it has eyes, a mouth, and a nose, and that's why the face is a natural landform and not made by aliens.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"I think that it was a real face, why you ask? Because that could have been a life form, and that could have been where it fell down. Where else would a face in the moon sand be like that for no reason. Like cool sanders always says its finger licking good. That's why there's a face there in the moon. Ancient tribes could have lived there before we even discovered the moon orbiting around the planet earth in the first place. There are many theory about the moon to be expected. I think that any reason could be legitimize when kernel sanders made KFC he didn't suspect a thing he just made a ton of chicken with no reason to stop and think. That's just like a way of describing any way is possible when you were not alive long ago. Because you didn't have the technology to even try, to see if there were anyone on the moon in the first place. Think of it as saying made the didn't even breath the oxygen they could just breathe in space. It seems impossible I know but made to the kind of life on the moon didn't need food water or air. I think that every type of answer can be jugged by the way it sounds but there are many ways it could happen. Like made before it was the moon it was a planet to with life on it just like earth with water, food, and resources to stay alive a point in time long ago. But when it smashed into earth all of its compo units switched at impact. Burning every living thing on the moon and making things for the earth. My reason is that god made life but when he did, he made life on the moon to, but eventually it died out before our time and leaving a souless moon for the earth to smash into it 2.3 billion years ago. Creating earth and life, humanity, and the world. When to found the face in the moon, they were just then finding out that the moon may have contained life long ago. Although it might not of happened how I explained, there might have been another way of life its self on the moon. I think it could have been a rational way, but we will never know until the end of time. As if there was life created on the earth just the same way a little time ago. When the face showed up it was unreliable.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"NASA is good at its job. Give them a break, they can't keep trying to gain information about this so-called face for everyone to see. At least there giving you a possible explanation of what it could be. You guys just keep saying things you know nothing about, NASA is the scientist here. Plus there's no such things as aliens. Who would even think that there could possibly alien on Mars. NASA is for the study on space, and just to think to guys think you know more than them is ridiculous. I understand you have your beliefs, but sometimes you really just ahem to sit back and say is this logic. If you're at the point where you say yeah this is absolutely right, there's obviously some mental issues going on. So band on things in this passage such as the images, you never know the NASA company could b sneaky and photoshop the picture. Just for the controversy that's going on now. In the first picture it resembles nothing but a landform like structure. So as I was saying in the first paragraph stop trying to get attention on some so little.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Now today I am going to disprove your statement that aliens created the Face seenon the red planet of Mars. The first thing that you have wrong is that the Face seen on Mars is of alien orgin. The Face that you see in the picture is just an oddly shaped Martian mesa. In fact there are very common on that region of Mars so for all we know there could very well be more oddly shaped mesas in that area. The fact is that you miss read the caption of the picture or didn't even look at it at all. If you would've you should have seen the caption stating that the reason it resembles a human head is because of the shadows giving the illusion of eyes, a nose, and a mouth. The only reason the let people see that photo is because they wanted more people to be intrested more in Mars. Plus on April 5, 1998 NASA reaveled to everyone on their website the Face was mearly an oddly shapped Natural landform. In conclusion there are several ways that we could disprove your statement. The first being that it is just a mesa which dosen't have a distinct form, which means that if another one forms it could very well be a dog or a cat. The second being that you may have just miss read or not have read the caption. Which clearly states that the reason the Face looks like that is because of the shadows and thats why it has a mouth, a nose, and",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"From Luke's point of view saying that he wanted people to join participate is that in the begging of the story it said that Luke was working at a grocery store and at a bank. His friend named Don Resit invited him to go to Europe on a cattle boat. Luke said yes because he knew it was an opportunity of a lifetime. In 1945 world war ll was over in Europe and a lot of countries were left in ruins. So that sentence can tell you that if you participated you could help fix countries. 44 nations joined together to form the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation. In August 1945 they received their orders to report to New Orleans. They arrived there on August 14th. Luke was 18 when he arrived in Greece. It took about two weeks to cross the Atlantic Ocean. When Luke was helping out on his aunt Katie's's farm it had prepared him for hard work. Luke also found time to have fun on board especially on return trips after the animals had been housed. Luke did a lot of things on his free time like, Table-tennis tournaments, finding, boxing, reading, whittling, and games also helped pass the time. But being a seagoing Cowboy was much more than an adventure for Luke Merger. It opened up the world to him. It leads his family to host a number of international students and exchanged visitors for many years. Luke merger crossed the Atlantic Ocean 16 times and the Pacific Ocean twice to help people affected by World War ll. So I think that from Luke's point of view he might have wanted people to participate in the seagoing Cowboys because it might be nice to help our countries and support us and also to help others around the world who needs help. That's what I think is coming from Luke Merger point of law.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Do you think that being a Seagoing Cowboy would be a great opportunity for you? I think it is a great experience for anyone and everyone. Becoming a Seagoing Cowboy is a great opportunity because, you get to help many people that are in need, see lots of the world and have great experiences, and it is lots of fun. Becoming a Seagoing Cowboy is the best thing I ever did. I got to help many people. When you get to the different places, you see how you can really make a difference with what you are doing. It really made me more aware of people in other countries and their needs. This is only one reason becoming a Seagoing Cowboy is a great opportunity. Another reason you should become a Seagoing Cowboy is that you get to see and experience lots of the world. When I was a Seagoing Cowboy, on my nine trips, I got to see many parts of Europe and China. The most special parts of my trips were seeing the Acropolis in Greece, and taking a gonola ride in Venice, Italy. When you join the Seaging Cowboys, you will get to see much of the world like I did. The last reason you should join the Seagoing Cowboys program is it is lots of fun, especially after the animals have been unloaded. It's not just working with animals, feeding, and watching over them. You have lots of fun playing games like baseball, volleyball, and boxing. You have lots of down time with the long trips there and back, and not having to care for animals on the way home after they are unloaded. It is a lot of fun being a Seagoing Cowboy! Now are you thinking participating in the Seaging Cowboys program? It is a great opportunity and experience for anyone who wants to join. Joining the Seagoing Cowboys is a great opportunity because, you get to help many people that are in need, see lots of the world and have great experiences, and have lots of fun. You really should join the Seagoing Cowboys.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"I my name is Luke I am a seagoing cowboy. Being a seagoing cowboy is a lot of work but I managed to have some fun on board with my buddys and I think you will meet a lot of nice people if I could have fun you can to. My Buddys and I like to play table tennis , volleyball, fencing, boxing, reading, and whittling. There are a lot of responsirbiltes, you have clean the stalls and have night watch. You get to see a lot of amazing places, I have been to italy and China. You have to be very careful when its raining it can be very silpery and watch where you step if you know what i mean (poop). Another reason why I became a seagoing cowboy is it held some new adventure so if you are the advertures type you might want to be come a seagoing cowboy someday. I'm just trying to say it is a great opertunatie to becaome advertures person or an exicting person and you never no maybe you go down in history some way some how. Even if you don't go down history you will have a lot of story's to tell the grandchildren.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The Seagoing Cowboys program ""A Cowboy Who Rode the Waves"" article talks about how Luke participated in the Seagoing Cowboys program, the adventures he was in, and that he visited many unique places while in the program. It also made me or somebody else reads it want to participate in the Seagoing Cowboys program also. The Seagoing Cowboy program lets you meet new people who also joined the program. While traveling on a cattle boat on the sea can be a bit dull but with new people that you just met can be a bit entertaining. Whenever you're done doing you work which can consist of unloading the animals you can play many activities. You can play volleyball, basketball games in the empty holds where they house the animals. To help pass the time they box, read, fence, and they also hold table-tennis tournaments. The program can also include you to visit many unique places. You get to go to many new countries that you haven't seen before. You get to visit many new places like Greece, China, Europe, you also pass and see the Panama Canal. To some people the Seagoing program can be an opportunity to see many new people from different countries and see how people live differently. It can also make a huge amount of impact on the people that they visit because they might even help them. It can make them aware of the people in the other countries and their needs. The Seagoing Cowboy program can let you meet new people, it also lets you visit many and unique places you've never been to. It can also make a huge impact on you and other people you visit in the countries you go to. Whenever you want to join a program, Will you choose the Seagoing Cowboy program?",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Lukes point of view convincing others to participate in the Seagoing Cowboys program is that the reason to join the program is because it makes you more aware of the people from many other countries and what their needs are. People out their may be suffering from illnesses or they can be dying. They also can be or get killed in and by wars. We should care more about the people out their while we still can because we are safe but others are not. We can save lives. The military helps us a lot by keeping us and our country safe. We don't want our population to drain down really fast because we are all family and together we can save lives. Can you imagine what Luke Bomberger had gone through. He had to check on animals every hour, he could have died by slidding on a slippery ladder on his backside. He also couldn't work because he had cracked ribs. Him and the crew had to be fed and watered two or three times a day. They had to work really hard. They had to drink a lot of water to stay hydrated because if not they would be kind of weak and would be tired most of the time. They probably wouldn't have enough strength for all that hard work they had to go through.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The facial action coding system that enables computer to identify human emotion. I think it's a good idea because you can tell if someone is upset. We should install this technology because see can see if any of your students understand the lesson or the homework that you give them. Its six basic emotions' happiness, surpise, anger,disgust fear, and sadness- and then associated each with characteristic movements of the facial muscles like races your eyebrows when you are surprised your orbicularis Boris around the mouth tightens your lip to show your anger you can probably tell how a friend is feeding base on the face. Most people would have trouble know for face expressing. In the Mona Lisa demonstration is really intended to bring a smile to your face while the computers do so much better. The computer can show your mood of you at the time say if you were looking at something like a video, and you like some eyes would pop up on the computer and bring another one if you were to studied human anatomy would help them paint facial muscle precisely enough to convert specific emotions. Is all about those muscular action units in the face. Emotion moving your facial muscles not only expresses emotions but also may even help produce them",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Facial Action Coding System (FACS) is a computer technology that read the emotional expressions of students. The technology show be in classroom because how would we know if something wrong with a students if she does not show it or tell it. Many students do not show there feeling in school because the are afriad. Especially around there frined because the dont want there friends to see there emotional side of them. FACS should be in classroom because we need to know how if you and a good or bad mood, counselor, and if your getting bully and your not happy about it. Classroms should have the Facial Action Coding System so the teacher can know if you are in a good or bad mood because some people dont show it. Teachers need to know how their students are feeling because they might call on them in class to answer a qusetion not knowing that the student is in a bad to answer the quwstion. In the text it states,"" Of course, most of us would have trouble actually describing each facial trait that conveys happy, worried, etc. Yet Dr. huang observes that artists such as da Vinci studied human anatomy to help them paint facial muscles precisely enough to convey specific emotions."" This quote support my answer because its hard to tell if a person upset or need time to be alone so he or she can cool down. Having a FACS computer in classroom will really help teahers know if there something upsetting there students. Having a Facial Action Coding System in classrom would help conselor know if you go to there office and your not showing no emotion but your upset about something. The technogly can be helpful to many school because teachers do not know whats going on with there students because they dont show it or try to talk to somebody about it. In the text it states,""Empathy may happen because we unconsciously imitae another person's facial epressions. Whoever thought that amking faces could reveal so much about the science of emotions!."" This quote support my answer because it can show how your real feeling behind their smile. This technogly could help students that are getting bully and are afriad to speak up and tell a teacher. Students that get bully everyday at school are most likely do not tell nobody that they are getting bully because they are afriad of the person that are doing the mean things to the student. Having the Facial Action Coding System can help the student that getting bully seek out help before it gets worse then it already is. In the text it states,""But in a false smile, the mout is stretched sideways using the zygomatic major and a different muscle, the risorius. to an expect, faces don't lie; these muscle clues are something used to spot when a ""smiling"" politcian or celebrity isn't being truthful."" This quote supports my quote because it can help a teacher know if her or his student is upset about something and he or she can ask the student so it he be stop. Facial Action Coding System should be in school because it can be helpful for teachers to know if your in a good or bad mood , letting your counsoler if you upset about something, and also if your getting bully. This technolgy is a great way to know if something going on at home. Many student would proabbly ant this kind of computer because they would be scared to tell somebody how they are feeling. Students are not just going to be emotional in front of there classmate because when there friend ask whats wrong with them it make it harder to tell somebody how your feeling. School should have this computer in there school because its a great way to know if a student is upset.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The Facial Action Coding System technology is a new thing to detect how people are feeling using the computer. The Facial Action Coding System is valuable in a classroom because it teaches students how to use new technology. Using this system shows the students what all jobs are avalible in the technology field too. Using technology like this can help improve the way students use computers and help them get jobs. in the future. Most new jobs rely on some sort of technology or require you to know how to use it. With this new tech people might have a job lined up that they did not know about. This technology can also be good for detecting if someone is feeling bad or is depressed. They can use this as a form of helping people out if no one can tell they are sad. For instence in paragraph three ""Eckman had classified six basic emotions happiness, suprise, anger, disgust, fear, and sadness."". If they can use this to treat people who are not happy it can solve a bunch of problems in the future. Since they can use this technology to see peoples real emotions they can tell students' emotional expressions. If they are sad they can do something to make them happy again and get better grades. I think this type of technology will become something greater than it already is.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Technology cannot read emotinal expresseions because they are not acctually there and they are not humans .Technology is an electronic that is programed to do certain things. It is not to show u if that person is happy,sad,mad etc... You could figue it out by just looking and reding that person. Some people may have different oppinions of what emotion the picture has but technology will not tell u what emotion something is you would have to figure it out on your own. As stated in the article ""In fact,we humans perform this same impressive ""calculation"" every day. For instance ,you can probably tell how a friend is feeling simply by the look on her face. So that shows that a person can tell if something is wrong with a friend or whoever else most likely . In conclusion,Technology will not give you answers on how someone feels and their emotions. Only another person can tell if you are or not by the way you look ,or if that person tells u that they are sad,mad,happy nervous etc...",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The world of technology is changing everyday thanks to scientist around the world. These scientist create new ways of live and helping. Scientist have now created a technology called the ""Facial Action Coding System"" which enables people to find out what emotions others have. People are debating on whether or not we shout use this facial system and I believe we should, here are my reasons on why. ""The facial expresions for each emotion are universal,"" according to professor Dr. Thomas Huang, of the Beckman Institute. What he mean is that there are a lot of emotions in this world and several expressions can be used for the same emotion. If we're using the same expression for several different emotions how will we know how someone feels. With the new emotio software we can tell what emotions or mixed emotions someone has. This would be helpful in a classroom because ""A classroom computer could recognize when a student is becoming confused or bored."" ""A classroom computer could recognize when a student is becoming confused or bored,' Dr. Huang predicts."" If a computer can recognize that then it could help can the lesson into something more effective for students. Some students aren't going to come right out and admit they're bored or confused, they sit in the chairs the whole class period not admitting to either of those emotions. If we had computers that can recognize emotions then there would be no students sitting in class dumbfounded or bored out of their minds. There has been many times where students zoned out because they were too bored to pay attention to the teacher. Not many teachers can tell when a student is bored unless they zone out of a disscusion or presentation. So if we had facial systems then we could have a computer readjust the disscusion to make it more entertain. We could also find out if someone is bored or confused ourselves by if there's a fake sideways smile or if our ""frontalis pars lateralis muscle raises our eyebrows (paragraph two)"", showing our confusion. The world could make a difference in the classroom if we got the ""Facial Action Coding System"" in all classrooms. No more confused students, no more being bored. This is why I believe having facial reading technology in the classroom would be of value for many people.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Facial Coding: Valuable or Not There is a new emotion reader out there, called FACS, short for the Facial Action Coding System. This new application has a bunch of cool features and innovations that can have some pretty practical applications. However, this essay is only focused on one application; is this system beneficial for reading human emotions in a classroom setting? People have mixed feelings about this, but this essay will focus on why this new FACS is not extremely valuable for reading emotional expressions in a classroom setting. First, what can this new emotion reader do? Well, this thing can read all of the emotions on the face of the Mona Lisa. Not just one or two, but four emotions at once, and balance the percentages for each emotion, to let you know exactly how much of each emotion the person is feeling. This could have some really cool applications, like being able to tell what emotions someone was trying to convey in a drawing, or being able to tell what kinds of things you like or dislike, based off your expressions when you are shown different advertisements. There is so much you can do with this new technology, and there is a lot of uses that it has. However, the things you can do in a school setting are just mediocre. There is a lot that sounds like cool things you can use this application for in school. In the text it says, ""A classroom computer could recognize when a student is becoming confused or bored"" The text also says,""Then it could modify the lesson, like an effective human instructor."" This sounds like a really good thing. However, instead of a computer system having to recognize when a student gets confused or bored, the student can just speak up and say something about it. That is not all, though. The computer system could either, one, misread a student's expression and make the lesson harder to understand or take a lot longer, or two, the student might just start drifting away and thinking about something else that is really confusing, like Einstein's theory of relativity. The computer, in turn, would make the lesson modified when it doesn't need to be, and have so many modifications that the student gets completely lost and doesn't understand anything that is happening in the lesson, just because he or she started to think about something else for a couple of seconds. Lastly, this facial recognition system could seem like a pretty big invasion of privacy. Do people want everyone to know every single emotion they ever feel? Do they want all their teachers to know that they find what they are talking about boring? No, they do not, at least for the most part. Systems like these are getting pretty close to almost being able to know what someone is thinking, and most people don't want everyone to know what they are thinking about. The text says, ""The new emotion-recognition software tracks these facial movements-in a real face or in the painted face of Mona Lisa. By weighing the different units, the software can even identify mixed emotions."" This text says that the system can detect your emotions, but also your mixed emotions. Going back to the Mona Lisa example, the software can track the exact amount of emotions that you have, and the percentages of the emotions that you are feeling. This seems way too much like an invasion of privacy, given that people are giving what their feeling, and all of it too, away to a computer system, that can be tracked or looked at by anyone. Now maybe the system will only give what you are feeling to a teacher, or maybe it will not even do that, and function as a one-on-one learning guide. Even still, their are various ways to get into computer and technological programs, and forcing kids to give away all their emotions just for a possible improved and modified lesson seems like way too much to force someone to do, for that amount of a reward. So, the FACS could have numerous practical applications for entertainment purposes and other purposes too. However, putting it at use to read emotional expressions of students in a classroom isn't one of them. In conclusion, the use of FACS in a classroom isn't worth the value that comes out of it, as it could have better applications elsewhere, it could glitch out or misread emotions, it could read emotions that the student is feeling about something else rather than the classroom, and finally, an appliclation that can read all of your expressions and convey them to other people is a pretty huge invasion of privacy, and forcing people to use this program is not worth the value of a slightly modified lesson for each individual. In the end, FACS is more useful as an entertainment device rather than having a school setting application. This technolgy has great value in so many areas, but schooling just isn't one of them.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"In the article the author describes a new technology called the Facial Action Coding System enables computers to identify human emotions and tell people what that person is feeling. The Facial Action Coding System should be used to read students' emotional expressions because it could help them with their work if they do not inderstand something and the teacher cannot make it any easier for the student. While others think that this new technology is a bad idea, others think it is a good idea. The text states, ""A classroom computer could recognize when a student is becoming confused or bored... It could modify the lesson, like an effective human instructor."" This proves that this technology could help students with their school work if they did not understand it. Others say that the new technology coul dbe used to make computer animated characters more expressive. The article states, ""The same technology can make computer-animated faces more expressive-- for video games and for video surgery."" This proves that this technology can make people happier by just making others smile. The Facial Action Coding System should be allowed in school and other public places. It would help people understand what everyone else is feeling and if they need someone to comfort them. The new technology should be allowed to make others around them happier then they were earlier. It will make everyone's life easiler because then they will not have to hold in their feelings and they can just talk to the people they feel they can trust.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Mona Lisa was happy 83 percent happy, 9 percent disgust, 6 percent fearful, and 2 percent angry. This show us that somehow computer software can recognize our emotion. At the University of Illinois, working collaboration with prof and University of Amsterdam are experts at developing better ways for humans and computer to communicate. In the article say ""computer recognize the subtle facial movements we human use to express how we feel"". Dr. Huang and Dr. Paul Beckman was working on processing to begin when the computer constructs a 3-D computer model of the face, Beckman has classified that six basic emotions are happiness, surprise, anger, disgust, fear, and sadness. This is so true because when we have a lot of homework this emotion can relate to us. According to the text"" by the weight the different unite, the software can even identify mixed emotions. Most of us would avertable actually describing each facial trait that conveys happy, worried. In fact, we humans perform this AME impressive calculation every day. Dr. Huang computer software stores similar anatomical information as electronic code, perhaps Dr. Huang's emotion algorithms are different sort of"" Da Vinci Code. Imagine a computer also knows that when you're happy or sad. According to the article"" the same technology can make computer-animated faces more expressive--for video games or video surgery"". There is one question"" does your expression in the mirror suggest an emotion? Yes, emotion instruction for a face that can look happy, sad,,,,etc. They are even indicated the difference between a genuine smile and forced one. But in a false smile, the mouth is stretched sideways using the zygotic major and different muscle, the rigorous. According to the article"" used to spot when a milling politician or celebrity isn't being truthful. Facial feedback theory of emotion, moving four facial muscles not only expresses emotion, but also may even help produce them. Constantin Stanislavsky, had his actors carefully reproduces milling and frowning as a way of creating these emotions on state. According to the article"" Empathy felling may happen because we unconsciously imitate another person's facial expressions"". This is why Dr. Huang and Dr. Beckman was recovery about the emotion.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Every day, thousands of people lose their lives to automobile accidents, property is destroyed, lives are ruined, and more importantly, the Earth itself is dying. All of these things can be avoided though. By reducing the amount we use cars, we can make a great change in the world. In the following essay I will show you, the reader, how reducing car use can change the world, and hopefully convince you to begin using your car a little bit less. The first advantage I will share with you is that using less cars means denser cities. City planners will make cities more dense to accommodate shorter walking distances. This makes going places much more convenient, and less space in the world being taken up by cities. This not only helps you, but all the people on Earth, as less forests are being destroyed to be used for land for unnecessarily large cities. Denser towns and cities also means that you can spend more time doing things you want to do, instead of traveling to where you want to go. In a very dense city, you can walk down to a coffee shop, order a coffee, walk over to a nearby store and look around there while your coffee is being made, then walk back, get your coffee, and walk to work in the same time it would take just to drive to work in a less dense city. Thins will be more convenient, and more environmentally friendly. Another advantage to less cars being used is lower greenhouse gasses and other harmful emissions. After just 4 days of reducing driving in Paris, smog levels went down drastically. If all harmful emission cars are banned in the world, the environment would return to a much more stable state in no time. This would improve the life span of the world, and help not only humans, but also many animals to survive longer. The final advantage I will talk about is the economical advantage to not owning a car. When you own a car, you have to pay for the car itself, plus insurance, gas, and you have to maintain the car to keep it running. This takes a lot of money out of the pockets of many families. Without a car, you can spend much more money on more needed things. Today I have informed you about the many advantages to using less cars in society, these advantages include denser cities, less greenhouse gasses and other harmful emmissions, and more money to spend on other things. Thank you for reading.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"There are many fellow citizens in the world that have been using cars are having car accidents and many more terribles things that have happen during inside of a car or outside of a car. According to the passage, Almost 4,000 drivers were fined, according to Reuters. Is better to take a walk, ride a bike, and make the streets a better place. Especially, that up to 50 percent in the United States, there are car-intensive areas. Car- free day, was a big hit in Bogota, and should make it in the United States one day to leave the streets without traffic jams. First, fellow citizens should stop the car usage, to make the streets a better place, walk, ride a bike, or do something that would make the streets much safer. The cars usage, many people have died for these terrible accidents. Limiting car usage, is a great idea, because it supports the streets to not become very dangerous. There are many accidents that have caused of a hit-and-run. So is very important that at least the car usage should stop the humanity. Next, Limiting car usage, is a great idea, because, according to the passage, up to 50 percent in the United States, there are car-intensive areas. Car-intensive areas, such as the traffic jam. Traffic jam, can be very dangerous at some point, and it keeps people very tired and fustrated. According to the article, In Bogota, Colombia, there's a program set to spread to other countries, millions of Colombians hiked, biked, skated, or took buses to keep the area as a car-free day, leaving the streets devoiding of traffic jams. So try to ride a bike, walk, skate, or do something, that can be a car-free day, a much safer environment. Then, Limiting car usage, is a great idea, also, because without cars, and only buses and taxis, a which the main goal is to promote alternative transportation and reduce smog, Violators have faced $25 of fines, according to the article, also. Its a really good opportunity to take away the stress and lower air pollution from cars, especially the stress from traffic jams. As what i was saying in the beggining, that many people prefer to use bike, walk, or skate to keep themselves a much safer habit. If your driving, always put on the seatbelt to prevent from car accidents. Limiting car usage is a great way to prevent from all the car accidents out there in the world. Last, Limiting car usage is a great way to the environment, makes the countries a better place. Having a car-free day, especially, is a much safer way to its environment. Ride a bike, walk, skate, or take a bus, if necessary, to prevent from all the car accidents out there in the world, it takes away the stress and decrease its air pollution from having a car-free day, and to promote from alternative transportation and reducing smog. Limiting car usage, is great way to our planet, but there is times that we need it for transporting to a place we want to go. Also, using a bike, walking, or skating is a great tool and excercise to our legs to keep our body maintained and healthy.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"To you, a car may mean no more than just getting from point A to point B. Cars play a much bigger impact than it may seem. They affect not only the person driving, but the people around it. They also have a negative impact on the greenhouse gases. So riding a bicycle to work one day, won't just be good for you, it will also be good for the environment around you. Cars have become a universal item. A lot of people have them, but no really gives them much thought. There are a few places that have spent the time and really developed ways to keep a community clean without the hazardous fumes coming from the car exhaust. For example, Vauban, Germany has developed a system where cars are banned. The only place you can keep your car is on the outskirts of town in designated garages. Due to this, most people dont even have a car, and have chosen to sell it before moving in. In Bogota, Columbia they had a developed a day free of cars where anyone that drove a car would have to pay a fine. According to the governer it was a amazing thing and everyone was participating in it. This also helped get some the nasty gases that they produce away. Cars give of hazardous gases threw their exhaust. These gases will rise and get caught in the ozone. Which impacts the environment greatly in more ways than one. It can cause the air your breathing to be toxic. It also is one of the main reasons for ""Global Warming"". Paris learned this the hard when they reached a record level pollution. They decided they had no choice but to ban half the cars one day and ban the other half the next day. After this the congestion was down 60%, proving that it has helped greatly. Just imagine if one day instead of driving you could ride a bike and help change the environment. Places have tried to develop ways to reduce the levels or gases. Some have been very succesful, for example, in Bogota and Vauban they have found creative ways to help. The question is whether or not cars should be done with all together. To that i'd have to say no, cars play a big part in getting to work on time or traveling. Taking cars away would mean taking away family trips and other fun things to do with cars. The real answer to the question is that cars should not become so much of a necessity. There should be ways for people to get around better without the use of cars. Now what that might be, the future has yet to tell.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Many people believe they need a car to live, they think that with a car they'll feel more independent and happy. Well i am here to tell you that you do not need a car to feel happy nor independent because millions of people around the world have been living without car for years and they have never felt better. Hiedrun walter, is a media trainer and a mother says that ""when i had a car i was always tense, i'm much happier this way. In Vauban, 70 percent of families do not own cars and 57 percent of them sold a to move to Vauban because they say they feel much more safe and comftable. With less and less people driving it seems like more and more people are happy. In France, smog is ruining cities because of the increase of cars. On a monday law enforcers announced to the people of france that they should leave their cars at home because the smog got too out of hand. Almost 4,000 driver were fined for driving anyway, after 5 days of none driving congestion was down 60 percent in the capital of France. In conclusion, less driving is better for people and the earth.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Nature is one of the factors that sustain life. Starting from the food we eat to the air we breathe. Almost all of the things around us are given by nature. But how cold-blooded are we when it comes to preserving it? We are like fleas that live on dogs or leeches that suck blood on their host. Whereas it pertains to us humans being irresponsible in taking care of nature. If this goes by, we might regret it in the near future. Burning of fossil fuels. Kaingin. Those are some of the things we do that can destroy our life-sustaining factor. Why are we doing this? What is our intention? Having undisciplined actions - like what is happening presently - towards nature may result in various diseases or worst, death. God provided us with everything we need in order to live. We are called the salt of the earth because we should be preserving what God has provided for us. But are we so-called 'salt of the earth', really preserving our nature or are we making it worse? One effect of inhumane acts toward nature is natural disasters. When we do actions that destroy our nature, we also destroy our shield from natural calamities like landslides, floods, typhoons, etc., which are brought by heavy rainfalls. Through this, our lives will be or might be at risk. Also, the oxygen-carbon dioxide cycle will be an imbalance. We all know how this cycle works. And when our carbon dioxide is greater than our oxygen, our ozone layer will weaken and it may cause global warming. We should nourish our nature because we all need it. We should also tell the next generation to take care of it. Because we never know when will our world ends. Lastly, visualize waking up in a pitch-black room. No one else is there. You start crying because of being alone in the dark and begin to look for help. When you wake up you realized that it was just a nightmare. Another effect is the loss of habitat or home to animals. The issue with regards to the Amazon rainforest, wherein two-thirds of the said rainforest was burnt into ashes. Animals, approximately one million, were caught in the fire. With our reckless behavior, animals will no longer have a place to live in. The Amazon rainforest is home to 2,505 kinds of species in the world. Animals are not the only ones who will lose their home, but also our fellow indigenous people. And with the fiery incident, our world may have lost something we do not own but we need the most. Compare this to a child having a nightmare. If he/she wakes up, we will witness him being scared and afraid. Just like the animals, they will be afraid, feeling a strong sensation of poignancy, and will be left alone. Try placing yourself in the shoes of the animals present in the Amazon after the fire incident, you will be traumatized and scared of the circumstance you are facing. People nowadays tend to be callous or do not care who they ran to, or what effect will it result. We should always remember to take care of everything around us, especially those animals who just want to live a normal life. Remember, animals are just like humans, if you do not show concern to them, then you are far worse than a wild beast. With this in mind, inhumane acts towards nature lead to the destruction of the earth and humans. Mainly because both nature and people are interrelated each other, if one is destroyed, the other one will incrementally be destroyed also. We, humans, gradually forget the importance of nature. Nature is not only a kind of thing that you dispose of whenever you want. In fact, nature doesn't need us, but we need nature in order to live. It is just saddening that our nature's current situation is worst, because of our reckless acts. So I'm going to ask, are you cold-blooded enough to destroy our nature, or do you still have sympathy left to restore it to its original self?",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Slavery is a topic in history that has been taught throughout the years. Slavery has been around since the 1600s. The year was to 1619 to be exact when the first shipment of African slave was brought and shipped to North America. The port was in Jamestown, Virginia was the African slaves were brought. African slaves were brought to North America by European slave owners for free labor and to make sure the production of tobacco and cotton was done. Eli Whitney is a name we hear about in history for his creation of the cotton gin. The cotton gin helped with the separation of the cotton fibers from the seeds. The cotton gin not only helped with the separation of the fiber and seed but also help with the Souths economy. Slaves were the way to go for most production since they were cheap and were not given a certain amount of time to serve their master like the indentured servants. Slavery is something for generations to come if it was not on a plantation, it was through their laws in place for them. Slavery is what does it really mean to the human being. Slavery is when a person is owned by another person and has to work for them for free. A slave had no rights of their own, they were the property of the master. Slaves were owned by their masters forever and if they had children, their children would because of slaves under the master. Slaves that whole generation was called chattel slaves. Slaves and chattel slaves were mostly owned by white men and their families. There was one man in history named Anthony Johnson who was a freed black man. Johnson was concerned an indentured servant that earned his freedom. Johnson owned several acres of land and had slaves to work the acres of land. Johnson went about getting his slaves and the acres of land the legal way. I would have never thought of a black man wanting to own someone of his own color and have them work the land he owned. This felt as if it was an insult to the enslaved blacks. I would have felt as if Antony Johnson was trying to make himself better than me. I know that was not the case since he served his time as an indentured servant. It seems that indentured servant had more right and opportunities than someone with the title slave attached to their name. Slaves would normally work on plantations doing work and little odd jobs their owners needed to be done. Slaves had titles such as butlers, nurse, gardener, shoemaker, the list can go on and on. Slaves main job was to work the tobacco and cotton fields. Some owners would let slaves pick their speed of working on their tasks, others had people watching the slave hitting them to work faster. Blacks were risk-takers during the eighteenth century, they would go to great lengths to avoid becoming a slave. People all over knew about blacks trying to avoid coming to a slave because of the newspaper. The newspaper would be filled with advertisements, telling about runaway slaves. Slaves had to take with them proof of whether they had their freedom or were they still owned by a master. The largest slave population during this time was located in New York City. Being the largest, we could expect for upraising to take place. A total of 23 slaves set fire to a house and even killed white men that came to assist with the house fire in 1712. Another event in New York City was when 150 blacks and 20 whites were asserted for planning an uprising against the white owners. It is said that 34 conspirators and 4 whites were executed for the planning of the uprising. Nat Turner was a slave that could have been part of the uprising, he was a very violent slave. In 1831 he mentions that he was the chosen one to help slaves get out of bondage. God had chosen him. People seemed to have believed him because he was a preacher and he said God had also chosen him. He had a big following, they would upraise against the slave owners, even killing a whole family. In all Turner and his followers killed about 55 people who were men, women, and children. The age did not matter the color of the people skin is all the matter to Turner and his followers. In the end, Turner would die by hanging for his actions during Turner’s rebellion in 1831. On the other hand, some slaves went about the situation differently than Turner. Several slaves knew of the Underground Railroad that would help them get to freedom. The Underground Railroad had to use their own codes and symbols since most of the slaves were uneducated. People would help the slaves navigate between the different places where called the conductors. A safe house would have a quilt with different symbols that the slaves were able to understand. Some safe houses had a color system, red meant to keep going it is not safe and blue meant it was safe. A safe house could be in a personal home, church or barn whatever the person owned and keep the slaves safe. There were also slaves that choose not to go the route of the Underground Railroad. They were called fugitive slaves. These types of slaves would go to places that had free blacks and they would try and blend in. Places like New Orleans or Charleston. But the Underground Railroad still had codes that helped the fugitive slaves find their way out of the South and to the North. Canada was the destination that many runaway enslaved individuals strived to reach; it was not the only destination for those escaping. Many enslaved people escaped to cities in the North or went to Mexico, the Caribbean Islands, South America or even to remote areas of the South and West”. The person that is known for the Underground Railroad is Harriet Tubman, she was a slave that escape in 1849 and helped several others escape slavery as well. Tubman fled to Philadelphia and went back to Maryland to free her own relatives and slaves. Making a somewhere around twenty trips to help slaves to freedom, she was able to help hundreds of enslaved people. She would be the most famous conductor of the Underground Railroad. Her dedication to leading people on the Underground Railroad got her the name, Moses. She would also go down in history as an abolitionist. Tubman helped guide eleven fugitives and they made a stop at Frederick Douglass home who was a former slave and also an abolitionist in the year 1851. I never knew that so many people live in history crossed. I thought every story and people were different. I knew slaves would never probably meet up, but the story of Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass tells me a different story. Slaves depended on each other to find their way to the North and to freedom. Frederick Douglass was not only an abolitionist, but he had no choice but to be a slave. He was born to a mother that was a slave and a father that was white that was never identified. After reading the textbook, I feel Douglass’ father could have been his mother's owner at the time. Douglass learned to read and write, which both were breaking the law of Maryland back then. Frederick Douglass would go down in history as an abolitionist, an activist for racial equal rights and even an author. The well-known President Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. He would issue a proclamation that would declare all slave in the South free. He wrote that the nearly 3 million slaves that included men, women, and children shall ‘henceforward shall be free’ (Foner, 532). The slaves had to wait for their freedom until after the war until the Union got the victory. I never knew the slave had to wait for their freedom, why jump the gun and say that they would be free if the way was not over yet. People seem more accepting of the Emancipation Proclamation by the end of the war in both the South and North. Abraham Lincoln was not the first to try and abolish slavery, Benjamin Franklin was actually the first in 1790. Both tried and made an effect by the true abolishing of slavery did not come until 1865 when the 13th Amendment was added. Slaves came from a long line of descendants that were slaves. It is amazing that most of the freed slaves back then were descendants of already freed slaves. Why keep some as a slave if the generation before them were already freed by their owners? Why wait to the end of the Revolution war, was it a way to raise the number of freed slaves for the Emancipation Proclamation? Freed slaves and blacks were able to start getting an education and having schools for the younger generation and hold a skilled job. They were even allowed to establish their own churches. This was only available in certain areas for them through. In all slavery was a way of keeping power over someone. The stronger preying on the weak and whose numbers were not as large. Slaves were people that had to live in fear of owners for talking back. Only a couple of slaves were brave to talk back, with their life they paid the cost. Tried to run away, they would be beaten. Beaten for wanting to live their life, never chosen to be a slave for someone. Taking from their comfort zone, left to depend on someone that could kill them at any time. Female slaves were like rag dolls raped, children slaves were human toys for the owner's kids. Slaves were even discriminated for the darkness and lightness of their skin tone. Being an African American, I see it all the time where the blame is still placed on the white man. The blame for how our ancestors were treated. The blame for how society views African Americans. I can only wonder if everyone takes responsibility for their own actions would still be in the state America is today. Are we just repeating history and falling slaves to different forms?",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Modernization and the altered views of Millennials compared to Generation X and Baby Boomers have pressured and hopefully been a positive reinforcement and guide on different religions and how they view the same sex marriage. Unfortunately, we will always be faced with two sides of the religious spectrum, those willing to conform to new trends, and on the opposite side, the radically religious, those who are stuck allowing their traditional ways guide them even though they no longer match the world we are living in. Catholicism has found a way to reduce a multidimensional human to a mere sexual orientation. The traditional teachers of Catholics is that Men and Women get married and the woman worships the man, and ensures his every want, need and desire are met. If you don’t follow the Ten Commandments; You shall have no other gods before Me, You shall make no idols, You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, Keep the Sabbath day holy, Honor your father and your mother, You shall not murder, You shall not commit adultery, You shall not steal, You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor, You shall not covet (BibleInfor). Along with the bible teaching, than you are going against the word of God and being unfaithful. Being in a same sex relationship is going against the word of God, so thoser embracing the new word, and attempting to reform it is running into one of two situations, acceptence, and those willing to join the new movement, or banishment from the church all together. But who are those people to tell someone who they can worship and believe in? Some interesting information I learned in my World Religion class was that all the bible writings (teachings), have been translated from languages such as Latin and Italian to English. Through these translation there were sure to have some situations where something was misinterpreted or miswritten. Sex and gender, although some people believe it to be the same are two very different words with different meanings. Differentiating from Catholicism, Hinduism isn’t monotheistic, so they don’t have one particular person, power, spirit that they report to so views and attitudes towards LGBTQ vary from different groups, places of worship, families (Stances of Faith: Hinduism, 2018) There is nothing within the Hinduism religion that ostracizes members of LGBTQ, they welcome them into practicing the faith (Stances of Faith: Hinduism, 2018). The Gods refer to people members of Hinduism who identify as queer as third sex, implying they don’t procreate (Stances of Faith: Hinduism, 2018), all of these accpeting acts within the religion prove that they support same sex weddings. Although traditionally Hindu is welcoming to LGBTQ doesn’t determine or guarantee that all families and members will be accepting of LGBTQ people. Buddist beliefes are larley personalized, you spirtual journey is led by yourself (Stances of Faith: Buddhism, 2018), determining if same-sex marriage would be celebrated or frowned down upon is a difficult task. There are no original scriptures stating particular sexual orientation or identifiers are “better” or “worse” than others (Stances of Faith: Buddhism, 2018). With this information it is easy to assume that a member of the LGBTQ community or not, you are still welcomed into the faith and free to live the same spiritual life you would like to live. Candians is a large “Catholic” dominated country, but those that actually practice the faith is much smaller than those that identify with it. Canada is a multi-diverse country with a number of religions, but also with many people identifying with no religion, or identify as “Other Religions” than the most popular ones listen in class. Multi religious and multi diverse translate to race, faith, gender, sex, status, age. With these large, different demographics we are bound to have a division in our countries opinions and belief systems. Our political system is a great example, being mostly split between Liberal & NDB vs. Conservative. These political parties align perfectly with agreeing with and not agrring with same sex marriage. Secularism in Canada has led Canada to be a nation where Same Sex marriage is legalized but people are still against it. It’s interesting that Christianity is the prodominate religion in Canada, Christians have the harshest opinions on same sex marriage based off the three religions I am researching yet we as a country have legalized it. Catholisim, Hinduism and Buddhism are all predominant religions in Canada. With such a diverse population we, as a nation are bound to have mixed opinions. It’s not suprised that same-sex marriage is legalized here, what is suprising is that some people still don’t understand why it is legalized. Religions individuals are said to be the most accepting, loving of beings, while realistically those that identify as Agnostic, without a religion or belief in numerous different spiritual practices, are usually the most accepting and loving. Bibliography BibleInfo. Retrieved from Ten Commandments List : https://www.bibleinfo.com/en/topics/ten-commandments-list Human Rights Campaign . (2018, August 1). Human Rights Campaign . Retrieved from Stances of Faiths on LGBTQ Issues: Hinduism: https://www.hrc.org/resources/stances-of-faiths-on-lgbt-issues-hinduism Human Rights Campaign . (2018, August 15). Stances of Faiths on LGBTQ Issues: Buddhism. Retrieved from Human Rights Campaign: https://www.hrc.org/resources/stances-of-faiths-on-lgbt-issues-buddhism",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"In President Kennedy's inaugural address, the readers will be moved and roused by the syntax and diction he passes on. The utilization of various expository and artistic devices arranges the perusing and permits the readers to feel more associated with his words straightforwardly. The late chosen President Kennedy needed to share his overall arrangement being president and move another age of Americans to help and ascend as a country together. While Kennedy’s respect for traditions of the past is appropriate for the occasion and underpinned by artful rhetoric, his optimistic yet cautious look to the future marks him as a youthful, energetic leader. He hopes to inspire confidence and a feeling of unity, as well as patriotism. Kennedy wanted the citizens to not only support him but stand with him. To start, President Kennedy needed the world to be entire once more. His fundamental objective in the administration was to have countries rise and stand together. He proceeded with America's conventional thoughts and responsibilities, however, he strived to set up harmony among nations and looked for homegrown solidarity. In his debut address, Kennedy utilizes logos, pathos, and ethos and adjusts his feelings in trust the crowd will do likewise. For the crowd, the enthusiastic allure comes out when Kennedy utilizes the words 'oppression', 'force', ' poverty', and 'chains', for the crowd that has experienced so much they are compelling passionate words for them at this moment. That makes a solid connection between the crowd and the speaker. Through his punctuation and style, the tone of the discourse is conscious of the nation's set of experiences, the event, and the inheritance going ahead. He gets and keeps up the crowd's consideration by straightforwardly tending to the crowd utilizing the word 'you'. Moreover, the conveyance of Kennedy's discourse is similarly as significant as the substance that is in the discourse. Kennedy establishes the pace of the discourse with his promise decision and how he makes his sentences. When Kennedy writes “And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country” (Paragraph, 26). Kennedy's discourse urged Americans to take an interest in the objectives of the country. This discourse addresses the crowd of the day, who confronted approaching dangers and worries about socialism, atomic war, monetary difficulties, and common distress before. The occasions were violent, and Kennedy looked to join Americans so that everybody would need similar objectives: opportunity and freedom. As a youthful president, Kennedy utilized his age for his potential benefit, announcing the beginning of a time with youth driving the best approach to change and improvement. Kennedy can stimulate feelings in his crowd as opposed to seeming like he is addressing them. He associates with the American individuals by causing them to think about how the hunger for power has prompted the ruin of different countries, and he needed them to not have this country commit a similar error. Next, the tone of John F Kennedy’s speech is very optimistic and idealistic. For example, “In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hours of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility - I welcome it” (Paragraph, 25). In this statement, JFK compliments the individuals who protect and work for their opportunities, that the country needs to rise and do the equivalent since he isn't reluctant to do such. By utilizing parathesis, it points out the sentence by removing the stream. He is clarifying how he is happy to do anything conceivable to guarantee the endurance and accomplishment of freedom. His assertion decision and parallelism permit the crowd to comprehend his discourse more simpler and give the sentences an additional effect. In conclusion, John F. Kennedy’s speech was so powerful to the audience because of his use of diction and syntax. He needed to show that regardless of how awful issues may get, if individuals are joined together, at that point they can defeat any obstruction. Giving that feeling to the individuals that they are in this together and that they are in good company. He causes the crowd to feel enthusiastic and hopeful by letting them arrive at their decision that they can do this. This is one of the numerous reasons why his discourse is so amazing to individuals.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Active ignorance is described by Mills as lacking confinement to those who are uneducated, but is cultivated in the highest positions of power and is presented as simply knowledge, since those in the positions of power have the privilege to be so ignorant of issues that do not affect them (Mills, 2007). Gadsby uses her Netflix special, ‘Nanette’ to deconstruct the concept of active ignorance and her own encounter with it in the real world, whilst using comedy to make it a conversation that becomes relatable and engaging which then encourages its audience to challenge its own behavior. In this essay, I will be analyzing the concept of comedy being used to challenge these cultivations of ignorance, not only in power, but in all levels of society. In ‘Nanette’, Gadsby challenges this idea of cynicism and instead favors emotional humor. Her comedy and career are built on this concept of self-depreciation, of which she addresses in her performance (Nanette, 2018). It is no longer humility, which is something that Medina states is one of the key concepts of correcting active ignorance. The epistemic vices of the privileged which make up active ignorance, such as arrogance, laziness, and closed mindedness, are structural and systematic which are then very strongly ingrained in an individual’s personality This then, influences a large range of their actions as a human and their functioning cognitively when interacting with other people in society, reviewing and accepting information and their application of new information in their life, particularly in their tolerance to others and their views (Medina, 2013). Epistemic humility is required for self-correction, and Gadsby compares this with humiliation. In comedy, she dislikes her usage of self-depreciation to talk to others, to get below their levels. The fact she must lower herself to below their value means that she sees herself as a lesser being due to her sexuality and already being marginalized as a person, which is harmful to the community of people her comedy represents (Nanette, 2018). Instead of using humility, which is a modest judgement of oneself, to bypass feelings of ignorance and be constantly willing to learn, she must lower herself to below others which may work in the opposite of what Medina intended humility to rectify, for her experiences to be viewed as too low to be learned about and appreciated, to challenge this concept of active ignorance. Instead, the communications against active ignorance are her usage of her direct voice and being brutally honest about her experiences to make them relatable and humorous. This allows them to be accessible to all audiences to listen to, for an open platform for everyone to learn and reflect on their own experiences after voicing her own honestly, rather than using cynicism or parodical sketches which may dilute or cloud a cause. A particular instance of this included her almost being attacked whilst waiting for a bus. This involved her being called a slur when she was mistaken for a man, when it was clarified that she was a woman, the slur was detracted, and the man said he would not hit a woman. She uses this comedically using irony in her direct voice, as she was pursuing a sexual interest with the man’s girlfriend, so when she was called the slur under the presumption of being a man it directly contrasted the slur as she would have been heterosexual if she was a man, but the slur was retracted when she was a woman, which then was a homosexual pursuit. This is active ignorance because the man was ignorant of the meaning of the slur, which he used in the opposite of the context and was just frankly wrong in his usage. As a straight white man, he enjoyed the epistemic privileges of epistemic arrogance, of which he refused to even acknowledge what he said was wrong, as if the slur had no impact on her and that he had absolute power in taking physical action against those in the LGBT community (Medina, 2013). This then, relayed to the audience a message of reflective irony, of which allowed them to reflect on their own experiences and usage of language towards others and the impacts of such language. This type of arrogance can be described as haughtiness, of being a disdain for other people (Tanesini, 2016). This usage of slurs and misunderstanding of them is an arrogance of disdain for the LGBT community, which is the assumption that as a white man he is exempt from educating himself about the usage of such language and that it is acceptable (Tanesini, 2016). He did not apologize for using such words, more that she was a woman and that he wouldn’t hit a woman. Everyone laughs along with Gadsby, at her shows, but she makes it very clear that there are many people in life who would laugh at her. In ‘Nanette’, Gadsby explains her style of comedy by creating tension then diffusing it with a laugh, which highlights the epistemic vices of the privileged in the own audience. The audience creates their own tension, which is reflective of the tension those oppressed in society feel every day. She uses this to highlight the fact that people are epistemically lazy to learn and appreciate this, and appreciate that being ‘not normal’ is dangerous. She says that it is no longer her job to fix this tension, it is their tension that the audience must fix with educating themselves and adopting the principles of acknowledgment, engagement, and epistemic equilibrium.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Today I will be telling the story of moments in my life where I have been judged on something other than my character. When I was in the sixth grade I was judged on how I was fat as the kids said. In the seventh grade as well as in eighth grade I was judged because I came out as pansexual. I have been judged my whole life because I was different. I have been judged because my mother is a teacher and I got treated differently than everyone else, I got judged because at recess I read instead of playing basketball or football. Everyone gets judged at one point or another in their life I just happen. When I was in the sixth grade I was bigger than a lot of other kids and I was judged and made fun of for it. I grew up with kids that would always say that rhyme saying sticks and stones as if sticks and stones hurt worse than the names that I got called. Sixth grade was hard for me because I was also judged by one of my teachers someone who is supposed to guide me in life and teach me because she didn’t like me. I was a very talkative kid and I had trouble focusing and staying on task. Bullying happens and there will never be a way to change that but growing up being bullied sucked I was mentally hurt every day. When I was in the seventh grade I came out as pansexual and at first, no one really said anything. But then kids would whisper and snicker as I walked down the hallway and then they started to voice their opinions. I was told that I would be going to hell or I was called a faggot. I was told that who I was, was wrong and that I either needed to pretend I was straight until it stuck or just never allow myself to be me. (People say kids will be kids but when according to the c.d.c. when over 14 percent of teens kill themselves because of bullying that’s a problem). When I was in the eighth grade it just got worse I was judged on a daily basis, I heard snickers as I walked through the hallway, and I watched people talk badly about me. As the year went on I got bullied more and more and it got to the point where I was thrown into a siege of depression and that got so bad I wanted to commit suicide, and that sucked I gave all of those kids who hurt my power. One day the kid who had judged me 9 times out of 10 took a hat of mine that had extreme sentimental value to it and in response I punched him in the face and before it could go any further our English teacher yelled that’s enough. We both got sent to the principal’s office and I ended up getting two days of in-school suspension. I decide I was done dealing with the pain and anger pent up within me, so I decide to stop giving them power. Maybe there was something wrong at home but that gave them no right to mentally and physically harm me. In conclusion, I have been bullied or in the case of this essay judged basically my entire life maybe because I like reading rather than playing football or maybe because I am pansexual and have blue hair, but that doesn’t make it right. If someone asked me today what I wanted to be I would say a teacher or someone who works in a school so If I see bullying I can do something more than yell at them to stop. in sixth grade maybe it was my fault that my teacher didn’t like me but that gave them no right to do what they did. In seventh grade I didn’t come out as someone new I came out as myself then the judges just got more ammo. I have been bullied I wear those scars but I will not let those scars affect me.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Depression among teenagers is a growing problem! Teenage is a tough stage of life that one can pass through. Some teenagers face this period of their life strongly and positively, while others face it with many obstacles and problems. It all depends on the environment they live in, by whom they were raised, their friends, their education systems, and many other factors. But one of the biggest problems that is growing rapidly in our society today is depression among teenagers, which is neglected by many and often mistaken for typical teenage behavior. This problem is very well known as one of the most common psychiatric disorders. I think being a teenager can be really hard and it is perfectly normal to feel sad or irritable every now and then, it is just moody changes. But the big problem is what should teenagers do if these feelings and sensitive emotions do not go away or become more instance. Depression among adolescents is a serious mental problem that causes a constant feeling of sadness and loss of interest in activities. It affects the way a teenager thinks, feels, and behaves, and can cause emotional, functional, and even self-harm, and even can lead to suicidal thoughts. A person has more than one sense of what is positive and what is negative, but in certain cases, the feeling of a particular feeling may last and is likely to be negative, such as depression. Depression is very different from sadness, sadness is a natural feeling for anyone in their life, while depression is a psychological condition that negatively affects people's daily activities. Feeling sad is a normal reaction to stressful situations in life. For example, being sick, losing someone we love, having problems at school or home, and loneliness, these are all situations that lead to the feeling of sadness which causes depression. Some teenagers overcome these negative feelings, while others are not able to cope well. Their sadness may become overwhelming, and this is a sign of depression. It occurs when a person feels sorrowful all the time. Their feelings may interfere with family life, school, or work. “Maryann, who is a thin girl, described herself as 'a skinny little thing'. She had no appetite, wasn't able to sleep, and felt really sad down below like there was nothing fun, nothing worth doing. 'Sometimes you feel like a maniac. You do very, very stupid and crazy things'”. As was stated in the New York Amsterdam News article 'Scars of Adolescent Depression Run Deep', which explains various aspects of depression in teenagers and the attributes of young adults between the ages of 13 and 18 who are suffering from depression and its terrible causes. “About one in 20 children and adolescents have serious depression or major depressive disorder (MDD), according to experts, and they have a completely different outlook on life than those who don't suffer from the illness. Nothing seems to matter to them, and they have a lot of mood swings. They don't talk to people that much and tend to withdraw from the world”. Symptoms of depression include a lack of interest in any activity, loss of desire to enjoy the world, introversion, isolation, negative thinking, pessimism and looking at things through a black lens, feelings of guilt, tendency to blame oneself, as well as lack of physical and sexual activity, lack of sleep or tendency to sleep and rest, and lack of appetite or overeating. It can be harder than that because failure to treat adolescent depression can cause many emotional, behavioral, and health problems that affect every part of a teenager's life, which may cause a person to think about some physical harm. Teen depression is not a weakness or something that willpower can only overcome. It is a disease that can have severe consequences and requires long-term treatment. Sometimes feelings of depression become so strong that a teen may consider suicide. This mental illness affects teenagers just like adults, and the risk is that depression is accompanied by suicidal tendencies at a time when teenage suicides are increasing. That is why parents and guardians should pay attention to the signs and symptoms. They should know the treatment methods and be aware of the danger of risk that their teens might be in before it is too late. Why bad decisions instead of seeking help? If symptoms and signs of depression persist and interfere with the life of the teenager, or cause the emergence of suicidal thoughts, as well as cause a threat to the safety of the teenager, teens should talk to a psychiatrist, because the symptoms of depression will not disappear on their own, but will increase with time and cause some problems if not treated. Depressed adolescents may be at risk of suicide, even if the symptoms do not appear severe. It was illustrated in the same article when the Autor stated: “As she described her third suicide attempt, Maryann paused often to take a deep breath. 'It felt good, you know, the blood flowing out of my body. And every single little drop, it was life flowing out of me. I wanted to die. I wanted to die”. Why would someone choose to end up his life by committing suicide? It is actually hard to think about death, but in a situation and many other teens’ terrible cases, they think that life has become a trap. They think that it will be better to be released from life, but death is an enemy. No one is pushed to it. It seems such an easy decision to make because these teens are in a tough situation that is pushing them to choose suicide or harm themselves. Suffering from depression may seem normal to a regular person, but to the teen who is facing it is feeling the discomfort and the pain that would allow him to end his life. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), in 2016 (the latest available data), there were nearly 45,000 Americans aged 10 or older died by suicide due to the factor of depression and anxiety. It is the 10th leading cause of death among young people and one of the leading causes that is on the rise today. It is growing rapidly throughout the whole world. It is not an issue that we can turn our heads from and hope it can go away just by itself. We as families, brothers, sisters, parents, or guardians have to work it out to find a solution to solve this huge problem. Unfortunately, most teenagers who suffer from depression do not get help, and they may not want to get help because they are always alone, but when not treated, it can get worse. Depression is not their fault, and they did not do anything to cause it. However, as a sister to 3 teenage brothers, I think that they do have some control over feeling better. It is so hard to get better. I feel their struggle as teenagers facing many obstacles in life because moving from one chapter in life to a new one requires strong personalities and hard. I would suggest the first step to do is to go ask for help and talk to an adult that they trust. They are not alone, help is available everywhere if they seek help and want to get treated. There is a saying by John Heywood that I believe is true: “You can lead the horse to water, but you cannot make it drink”. With that being said, it is all about perseverance and persistence. It can seem complicated to be open-minded to talk to people about bad experiences unless the teen is brave enough to speak up. No matter how despondent life seems right now, there are always many things that can help out to solve the problem of depression. It is very normal to feel blue occasionally or to feel down for a while after something bad happens. It is very typical. There are ups and downs in life. But when it lasts for weeks or months, it can eventually dominate teenagers’ lives. It is very important to know the symptoms. Sad or irritable mood, loss of interest in activities that were once enjoyable, loss of energy, and some frequent thoughts of suicide and death. In today’s society, it is very important to ask for help and offer help to teenagers, those who are trying to recognize their identity and find their place in society. They need guidance to fight depression because it is a serious issue that negatively affects how they feel, act, and think. This is a huge problem that should never be ignored.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Our society has developed an obesity problem over the past several decades, and the solution seems simple: eat less junk food. But when it’s more affordable and more accessible than healthier options, it’s time we see the problem for what it really is: a dependence on junk food. It permeates our culture and is often the only option for a lot of people. The prevalence of junk food in our culture did not happen overnight, and the solution to obesity won’t happen overnight, either. For the more affluent folks of our society, junk food is a guilty pleasure, not a way of life. But the majority of the people in our society neither have the time nor money to sustain a healthy lifestyle, so it’s safe to say that many of us actually depend on this fast, cheap fare to survive. And as journalist David H. Freedman points out in his essay ‘How Junk Food Can End Obesity’, “There is no reasonable scenario under which [wholesome foods] could become cheap and plentiful enough to serve as the core diet for most of the obese population”. This seems really backward, considering how many steps go into producing processed junk food versus whole foods. In addition to being less wallet-friendly, healthy eating can be extremely confusing. Fad diets like South Beach, Keto, and Paleo, are giving us the message that we should avoid certain foods, without the evidence to back them up. In his essay, David H. Freedman goes on to explain why author Michael Pollan, a key player in the Wholesome Food movement, is stifling Big Food’s efforts to slow the obesity trend. While Michael Pollan has some excellent points about why we should all switch to eating the way our Neolithic ancestors supposedly ate, he doesn’t empathize with the fact that we have created a dependence on junk food in our society. Freedman points out in his essay that fat, sugar and certain other carbohydrates cause pleasure chemicals “placed in our brains by evolution over the millions of years during which starvation was an ever-present threat”. We no longer face hunger the way we did leading up to the industrialization of society, but we still experience the same immediate pleasure from eating quick-energy foods such as refined carbohydrates, fats, and sugars. According to an article from Healthline, junk food stimulates the reward center in our brains in the same way that addictive drugs do (Gunnars). Maybe it’s time we developed a methadone for junk food. Junk food is not always conspicuous; it can be really sneaky. By definition, it is food that has low nutritional value, typically produced in the form of packaged snacks needing little or no preparation (Oxford). Companies try to cover up unwholesome ingredients by adding health claims to their packaging, which cons people into buying something they think is good for them. According to Freedman, Pollan’s solution for changing our eating behavior is “through public education and regulation” and to replace junk food with “fresh, unprocessed, local, seasonal, real food”. The city of Seattle tried to change consumer’s eating behavior when it instated a Soda Tax back in January of 2018. The Soda Tax taxes the manufacturers and distributors of soda and sugary drinks, who then pass on the price increase to retailers, and in turn, consumers. An article from the Seattle Times explains that “the city collected nearly $17 million in the first nine months of the tax, surpassing its initial expectations, and officials now are counting on the money to keep rolling in” (Beekman). While the tax clearly worked to raise the money, the city had hoped it would, it also shows that people will still pay for sugary drinks, even when they cost more. Perhaps it’s out of our control that people are dying of health issues related to dietary habits. Michael Pollan states in his essay that “a wall of ignorance intervenes between consumers and producers”, which leads me to believe that most consumers lack the critical thinking skills to make good choices about what they eat. If we are heartless enough to watch people continue to suffer from the consequences of junk food, we might as well kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and just take the food away completely. The Wholesome Food Movement, though reckless in its mission to convert the world, does have its up-sides. With farmers' markets a growing trend, the number of them has more than doubled in the past ten years (Pollan). They are a great way to diversify your diet, as well as develop relationships with the people who grow your food. Pollan also points out that by eating from the farmers’ market, you are eating foods that are in season and at their peak of nutrition. But for many people, it is more crucial that they eat than what they’re eating, so how can we handle this catch? Since taking away junk food entirely will likely put a huge strain on our economy, as well as create more obstacles to get food to the people that need it most. Like Freedman says, historically humans have looked to technology to solve our problems. If we can compromise and use technology and science to make junk food less toxic, we might just be able to make a dent in obesity. Freedman explains that Big Food corporations are “already applying various tricks and technologies to create less caloric and more satiating versions” of junk food, which is a huge step toward a healthier population. As long as Whole Foodists like Pollan don’t overshadow their efforts, I think we have a chance.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"“Take care of your customers and your employees first, and the profits will follow”. These simple yet deeply impactful words were the working basis of a personal mission that belonged to Jack Taylor, founder of Enterprise Holdings Inc. After serving his country in World War II, Jack returned home with a burning desire to do business differently. In 1957, he implemented the wisdom he gained from the Navy and started a company from a small office in St. Louis. Because of Jack’s early dedication to integrity, customer satisfaction, and a team-oriented approach to getting things done, Enterprise Holdings grew to become the biggest rental car company in the world. His understanding of leadership and basic human behavior helped create an atmosphere of ease, trust, and reliability within the company and its customers. Getting places faster, easier, and cheaper without owning a vehicle became the foundation of the company's marketing strategy. When the company was just starting out, its focus was on long-term leasing. After further research, Jack and his assistant Don Holtzman realized the potential for car rentals being a promising lead. They learned from insurance adjusters that clients with damaged or stolen cars needed a short-term replacement, so the company decided to focus its energy on this niche. They encouraged the development of the local segment before spreading to Georgia, Florida, and Texas in 1969. By the 1970s, the company grew nationally by targeting garage and body shop owners and persuading them to send their clients to Enterprise while their cars were being worked on. Besides the business model, Enterprise had exceptional customer service to thank for its incredible success. This important ingredient played a role in all segments of their business. A special giveaway account was established to allow an Enterprise employee to satisfy a customer’s needs, up to a certain amount. An equally exciting opportunity was provided for the employees with special incentives and bonuses to keep the team motivated and pleased. In the 1980s, a problem surfaced for the company when Hertz and National joined the party as their competition. Lucky for Enterprise, both parties left the scene early due to low-profit margins. In the late 1980s, Enterprise began aiming at a new market called 'discretionary rentals' which offered rentals at extremely affordable prices for families. This type of strategy brought in a lot of business from college students visiting their loved ones for the holiday season. As the company grew, Enterprise decided to invest a whopping $5,000,000 in television advertising in 1989. They wanted their brand to be recognized by a certain audience, targeting the older and wealthier who watched the CBS network. The plan worked, and the company’s revenues reached $800 million in 1990. Since then, the company has become the largest car rental operation in the world. In 2016, they decided to switch up their marketing from simple car renting to offering luxury car renting, sharing, and selling. Because Enterprise built such a loyal customer base early on, their customers have no problem coming to them for all their transportation needs. They were also working on branching out to the online world, using strategies that allowed them to connect to their audience emotionally by incorporating their target audience’s passions in their marketing campaigns. Currently, Enterprise segmentation can be broken down into these categories: demographic, psychographic, geographic, and behavioral segmentation. On the demographic side, individuals between the ages of 18-65 are their main target audience. If you are a person in this age group, chances are you’ve seen their advertisements or physical location at least once. Geographically, you can find an Enterprise building in your home city, given it’s in the United States. Almost every person in the age group mentioned has a driver’s license, therefore a car rental company like Enterprise can exist almost anywhere. From a behavioral point of view, people rent cars only when necessary, therefore reliability, comfort, and safety are a must. Lastly, psychologically, this market appeals to the middle and upper class. These are working businessmen and women who recognize the importance of commuting, working, and achieving their goals. In the future, many routes can be taken to expand even further. For example, Enterprise could establish more locations near places like airports, bus stops, and train stations. This would give travelers more options when going long distances. Not much advertising would need to be done since their customers would be on the go already. In conclusion, Enterprise Holdings has come a long way from its humble beginnings in 1957. Not only were they able to grow rapidly, but they did so by staying true to the values that were instilled within them by their founder, Jack Taylor. Their marketing strategies have worked wonders so far, and if they continue to put their customers first, there is no way they can fail.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Did you know that roughly 45 percent of the world’s population uses social media, with an average of 2 hours and 23 minutes spent per day on social media? Many people do not realize the harmful effects of social media. With all the factors that can happen including cyberbullying, bad reputations, lower self-esteem, less confidence, and eye strain, these factors happen because of social media. Also, people should be doing other important things in life rather than spending 2 hours a day on their phones. I am absolutely convinced that social media is more harmful than beneficial, and in this essay, I want to explain why I think so. One in three people in 30 countries said they have been a victim of online bullying, with one in five reporting have skipped school due to cyberbullying and violence in a new poll, released by UNICEF. This fact just goes to show that cyberbullying has become such a big problem in today's society because of social media. Also, this fact shows the number of people that have gone through this rough event. 64 percent of people who have been cyberbullied say it affects their ability to learn and feel safe in school. In a learning environment, people should feel appreciated and safe. For many people cyberbullying, only happens to kids, that is not true, adults have been getting bullied over the Internet too. Some kids and even adults develop drug or alcohol abuse, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, and even social anxiety due to cyberbullying. Did you ever think that your online reputation could be ruined? Have you ever heard of the name Lindsey Stone? She was involved in a social media scandal that blew up. Stone was visiting Arlington National Cemetery with her work when a colleague took a picture of her raising the middle finger and acting like she was screaming in front of a sign that said 'Silence and Respect'. Stone thought it would be funny to post that pic on Facebook. Soon after online users were sending her death threats and horrible messages. Her reputation had been ruined because of one pic that she thought was funny and ended up offending many others. With these incidents happing a lot of times over the Internet it just goes to show that you need to be careful of what you post. Another story that happened to someone else where their identity was used to make a fake profile on Facebook. Kerry Harvey, her identity was stolen on social media where thieves used her name to identify her as a prostitute. She then started getting inappropriate messages and pictures. Soon enough she had been unable to go into public or even interact with others because of this horrible incident. This had gone too far damaging her reputation and her confidence. Have you ever felt like you were not as good as someone else? Maybe was it because of social media? Many people have started to form lower self-esteem and don’t tend to be as confident. When you go on social media, so see many photos of famous actors and models, and some people may start to feel sad or upset because maybe they don’t look as good as them or maybe they don’t get as many likes. There was a study done by the University of Copenhagen where they found out that many people suffer from 'Facebook envy' with those who abstained from using the popular site felt happier with their own lives. If others just cut down on the amount of time spent on social media, it can increase your confidence. Another thing is that getting enough sleep is a needed thing in life, but many people have a hard time getting the recommended 8 hours. Looking at Twitter and Facebook before bed could get you feel sad or get anxiety, which prevents you from falling asleep. As many people do, spending all day on social media is not a good idea for your body’s health. Spending too much time on social media engages hormones in the brain to engage that can lead to lots of different health problems, including but not limited to cancer. Another thing is that spending too much time on social media can result in early death. There have been many studies done and evidence that too much screen time leads to a lot of sitting around, which can lead to lower cardiovascular health. So, maybe instead of spending all that time sitting at home on social media, you should go out and do other important things or even go to the gym. Next, a 2011 study stated that adults who spent at least 4 hours a day looking at a screen were 50 percent more likely to die. Also, they are more likely to experience heart attacks and strokes. Next time you are standing or walking while on social media, take a second look at your posture. Many of us put pressure on our bodies while being in weird positions while being on our phones, doing so can result in bad posture and can end up with lower back problems and shoulder problems. What you can do so this does not happen to you is try doing stretches every so often if you decide to be on your phone while walking or standing. Another thing is that looking at social media too much can put a strain on your eyes and can experience vision problems. There is a condition known as 'computer vision syndrome' that describes the vision effect of life in the computerized modern world. The many symptoms of CVS include dry, itchy eyes, blurred vision, eye strain, and headaches. There are many ways to decrease these symptoms of CVS. Try and reduce the glare or contrast of your screen. Ever since social media came out, everyone thought it would be a great way to talk with new people and socialize. Well, it turns out that social media has stopped people from having face-to-face conversations, and now it's over the phone. A study by Pritta Chasombat found that people are more likely to disclose more personal information on social media than they would because the level of control is higher. With all the impacts of social media on interpersonal relations, the main one is alienation. Social alienation is a high degree of isolation and distance among people. Since nowadays everyone is spending most of their time in virtual life, they often invest less energy. There is a weaker social tie and less ability to interact and engage oneself. The counterargument to social media is that it can be useful in many ways, but the harmful things out way the benefits. If you have family members that live in different states that you don’t see that much, it is a great way to share photos and videos. Also, social media allows people to talk to new people and share their thoughts. Also, social media builds communities and helps businesses grow and spread the news. Another thing is companies can spy on their competition through social media and find out their popularity. These were some reasons why social media can be beneficial. In conclusion, these were many facts that supported my opinion of why social media is more harmful than beneficial. From cyberbullying to reputations being destroyed, decreased self-esteem, confidence, and physically how social media can harm you.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"In my hometown life of more than ten years, Ju culture has permeated my life from all aspects. Ju culture, which has an awfully long history and has lasted for thousands of years, has influenced and shaped generations of people in my hometown. There is no doubt that my parents and almost all other elders are also the inheritors of Ju culture, and they have unconsciously carved Ju culture into my genes. To be an inheritor of Ju culture is my cultural identity, which affects my daily etiquette, the way of communication, and the choice of daily activities. Firstly, Ju culture shapes my etiquette in daily life and makes me reflect on our unique etiquette all the time. When I was an ignorant child, my family told me one myth after another about etiquette prevailing in our local area, sowing the seeds of etiquette for me when I was young. Then as I grew older, I learned the popular historical stories about etiquette in the bright history of Ju City, which also made me yearn for etiquette. Compared with words and deeds, what has a more profound influence on me is the example teaching of the individuals around me. They have deeply rooted the etiquette of Ju culture in my heart with their practical life. For example, expressing gratitude to other people, as one of our most basic politeness, is my consistent etiquette from childhood to adulthood. Moreover, as a shy child in the past time, having to say hello to the people I know was my most fearful etiquette, but I must insist on it. In addition, it is required that the elders should be in order at any time and on any occasion. This is the etiquette that I do not need others to emphasize. Besides, Ju culture also has determined the way I interact with others to a great extent, which makes me pleasure to help others and think about others. In my hometown, my culture not only emphasizes the most significant etiquette issues, especially in the aspect of family relations, but also the communication methods for other people who make daily intercourse. It is like that neighborhood is a relationship that is particularly emphasized in my cultural cognition. Since I was a child, I heard the saying that distant relatives were not as good as neighbors. People around me stressed it over and over again. I also had to know how my elders dealt with neighborhood relations and community relations and learned how to help others and think for others. When I was a kid, because my parents were busy working, I spent most of my time in my grandmother's house. Their community had a large number of elderly people of similar ages. Therefore, they got along with each other like brothers and sisters. When a family encountered problems, all people helped each other, which constituted one of the warmest memories of my childhood. Our community also had good family relations. We had some community parties and activities. What impressed me most is that my parents considered it for others and even welcomed neighbors to my garden for appreciation and playing. This had a profound impact on my communication with people. In my college life, I treat my roommates as relatives, and I am ready to help them and think about problems from their perspective. And that's why I always put myself in the social and daily activities of our dormitories, and I always aspire to build a deeper, family-like friendship with them than ordinary friends. In fact, our roommates are more closely related than several dormitories. Mutual helping and mutual understanding have become our habit. What is more, as an inheritor of Ju culture, my cultural identity plays a significant role in the selection of daily activities. My cultural identity makes me attach great importance to whether I create value for others in daily life, or whether I have made others' life add new color and warmth. I remember clearly that in my 7-year-old, 2008, a huge earthquake occurred in Wenchuan, Sichuan Province, China. Local people in my hometown exhausted their best efforts to help the people affected by the disaster. Ten rural villagers even drove more than 3000 kilometers in agricultural tricycles to the disaster area for rescue. These examples of Ju culture were deeply rooted in my heart, so I was determined to devote my strength to the public. In middle school age, I would spend time in the holidays visiting the groups in need of help and care and sending them warmth and joy. Then, after I entered college school, when I have free weekend time, I don't choose to spend like most college students through entertainment activities like shopping and playing games, but instead, I participate in volunteer activities, helping others through my efforts. What influences me most is that I have participated in the Charity 100 activity for two consecutive years since my freshman year as a college student. It is an activity for a volunteer to donate warmth and love to children in remote and poor mountainous areas of China through fund-raising. I also met a large number of friends with the same ideals in the process. This is caused by the education and edification of Ju culture I received since I was a child. In the future, I hope I can carry out more meaningful daily activities on the premise of the cultural identity of the inheritors of Ju culture. In a word, as a member of the inheritor of Ju culture, Ju culture has deeply influenced me in my growth process, and my behavior is largely determined by the subtle influence of Ju culture. The etiquette I follow in my life, the way I communicate with others, and the daily activities I choose are all influenced by etiquette, helping others, and being considerate that the Ju culture I received from childhood emphasizes. This kind of cultural identity has already become an integral part of my life. In the long days to come, it will continue to accompany me and blend with other cultures I accept to make my life bear more fruitful results.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Your safety is in question. Your safety is threatened by the World Wide Web, which we use for our every question and every query. From our homework to our social life, the Internet has become so much a part of our lives, allowing all individuals to get instant access to all types of information. There is no doubt, we could not live without it. However, there are always limits to what the Internet can offer and should offer. With the new advancements in technology, there is now no longer a want but a need for the government to protect its civilians and begin regulation of the Internet. Many argue that regulating the Internet would automatically mean restricting freedom of expression and speech. At the moment, unrestricted access to information allows for free speech, and in the right place, this should be allowed. However, what many advocates of free speech fail to see is that information, knowledge, and data sometimes communicate with the wrong people. All rights have to be qualified because absolute rights threaten other rights. An unrestricted right to freedom of expression would threaten the right of children to be free from abuse or molestation and the right of ethnic minorities to live their lives free of racial intimation and violence. The funny thing is people seem to be angry at the idea of regulating things like pornography but no one cares that the government already regulates all our electronic communication by spying on us. If you really care about freedom then get angry about the ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organisation). The Internet as we all are familiar with is a huge bank of data and valuable information that we need to access every single day. Through the globalization of the online world, there are new dangers of local and community-based aggravation towards people both old and young. The abuse of young children when it comes to bullying is a shocking dilemma that we have to face in the world today, and the Internet doesn't protect them from such acts of violation and mistreatment, but instead allows a new form of victimization, cyberbullying. It is understandable to assume the role of overlooking and monitoring should be put on the parent. But it is simply not possible for those responsible for children to exercise this kind of over-arching control. In the context of homes, PCs or increasingly other Internet access devices like game consoles or mobile phones are not always in the living room, but often in a bedroom or study, and in any event a parent cannot be expected to stand over the child at all times. In the context of schools, a teacher may have up to 30 children using computers at the same time and, again, it is not possible to monitor each child's use on a continuous basis. Who better to look out for our young than the people we voted in, the people who run our country? Many argue our privacy is at risk with the government prying into our private lives. The Internet, last time I checked, was open to everyone and anyone. If you risk putting your private details online, people from all around the world have access to them, if they look hard enough. The government isn’t any different. Strangely enough, they are people too. Regulation is about protecting your privacy not invading it. If you don’t have anything to hide, you don’t need to worry about the government regulating the Internet. By limiting what information is accessed on the Internet, personal information will not be easily accessed. By using anti-phishing software, which serves as a form of Internet regulation since it warns the user that a kind of software is trying to get access, it gives the user the chance to keep hackers and companies from getting pertinent information. As a result of instituting privacy measures, people can pursue their own interests without threats of condemnation, even when they are not breaking any laws. Here are some additional advantages to consider with online privacy as well. Vulnerable people are falling victim to telephone company scams and email spamming. Scammers attack the exposed, such as the elderly who are already feeling uncertain and have little to no confidence when it comes to using technology. They click a link by accident and all of a sudden they are told to pay an amount to a certain account, and it is not until they are robbed of their life savings that they realize they have been conned. They are then too ashamed and embarrassed to tell the police because they feel like they are the ones who are gullible. Scammers, posing as charity workers, contact seniors and offer up a sad story which, of course, concludes with a plea for funding. Seniors are taken in by the tale and send along money to help. Charity scams often carry a note of urgency – a telemarketer might note that money has to be given now or ask that a credit card number be given instead of a mailed check. This gives a senior virtually no time to investigate the supposed charity and contemplate whether they should give. Such a scam takes advantage of a senior’s compassion, which can make it especially hurtful. Money is unfairly ripped from under their noses, and those who become victims are too ashamed to admit they were scammed $1000 upon $1000 of dollars. Regulating the Internet would keep a check on such activity, narrowing it down quite immensely. Many people these days are just cowards, hiding behind the Internet and posting nonsense. We cannot allow this. There is no social responsibility or accountability any longer. I fear for my future children’s safety. The Internet has become a weapon used to bully and harass the vulnerable. I fear for my grandparent’s safety. The small amount of pension in their pocket is taken from them every day without realization. I fear for the world’s safety, human trafficking, and terrorism are at a new level and are forever growing because of the Internet. I fear for my safety. We have turned a blind eye, assuming these issues will solve themselves. Without practical solutions, it will get worse, risking our well-being. We simply can no longer ignore it.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Journalists being free to publish information is vital to a functioning, democratic society, and an informed population. However, a number of checks and balances are required to ensure that this right is not abused. As the Council of Europe’s guidelines on safeguarding privacy in the media state, “a journalist’s right to freedom of expression is not absolute. Journalists have rights and responsibilities” (Council of Europe, 2018). This means that the press must be ethical and responsible and that, contrary to the contention that a journalist’s right to publish is the greater good, the press cannot simply “regard ‘freedom’ as the ultimate panacea or touchstone for its mores and conduct.” (Great Britain. Leveson, L.J. 2012). In this essay, I will examine why some of these rights and responsibilities mean that publication of an article is not always for the greater good and how applying different ethical theories while looking at other external factors such as advertising and the law, can influence a journalist’s conclusion as to whether publishing an article is for the greater good. A journalist’s own view of what the greater good is large rests with where they sit on the ethical spectrum. There are four ethical theories to consider – Utilitarianism, Deontology, the Golden Mean, and the Golden Rule. Utilitarianism, also known as ends-based thinking, “directs a choice in favour of the course of action that brings the most good to the most people” (Foreman, 2010, p126). Utilitarianism is a popular theory in journalism, as it allows journalists to be flexible and make decisions that have the best consequences and which the journalist believes bring about the greater good. In contrast, Deontology is rule-based thinking and believes that “neither the motive nor the consequences are of significance, only the nature of the act itself” (Frost, 2011, p18). Deontology is rarely found in journalism due to its rigid nature and inflexibility, which can prevent journalists from bringing crucial information to the public’s attention due to its source. Those who abide by the Golden Rule would never do to others what they wouldn’t like done to themselves, for example, publishing an article depicting someone in a compromising position. The Golden Rule is generally unhelpful in deciding whether or not publishing is for the greater good. This is because it relies on a strong consensus of opinion, which is difficult to find in a diverse newsroom with journalists who have different ideological and political views. The last ethical theory, the Golden Mean, comes down to finding a middle ground between an excess and a deficiency. In a journalistic context, this theory could be used for redacting names from a sensitive article or blurring the faces of those who are a victim of crime. The Golden Mean is particularly useful in assisting a journalist to decide whether publishing a story is in the greater good, in particularly sensitive situations such as terrorist attacks. Using the basis of avoiding excess or deficiency, when reporting on the 2019 London Bridge terror attack, Sky News chose to blur the faces of the perpetrator, the victims, and the anti-terror police. For this coverage, they won ‘Breaking News Story of the Year at the Drum Online Media Awards 2020. Accepting the award, Sky News said they made these decisions “having taken the responsible stance of not rushing anything to publication which could identify police or security officers” (The Drum, 2020). This demonstrates how a breaking news story chose to use the Golden Mean to ensure no graphic content was allowed into the public domain on their platforms, allowing the distressing story to be covered with sensitivity and, ultimately, for the public good. An example of how the varying ethical theories can affect a journalist’s view on whether publishing is for the greater good is seen with the Afghan War documents leak - which in some respects is reminiscent of the earlier Pentagon Papers leak in 1971. This example shows how applying a different theory can change the outcome of the decision on whether or not to publish. In 2010, The Guardian published a piece including leaked documents detailing unreported incidents of civilian deaths and injuries in Afghanistan during the Afghanistan War. The Guardian chose to take a Utilitarian approach to the story by deciding to publish it, despite the fact the incriminating documents were obtained illegally via the whistleblowing website WikiLeaks, and the documents were classified as secret. The choice to publish was determined to be in the greater good because it was beneficial to inform the public of this information about the actions of U.K. and U.S. troops. In the decision-making, there were also elements of the Golden Mean. This is demonstrated in the fact that the Guardian chose to redact any information that may lead to the identification of troops or undercover operatives. If the Guardian’s editors had taken a Deontological approach, however, the documents would never have been published. This is because those following Deontology would never break the rules or the law, therefore would never publish illegally obtained or classified documents. If the editors of the Guardian were following the Golden Rule, they would have been unlikely to have come to a conclusion on the issue, as who decides whether you wouldn’t like this done to you so you wouldn’t do it to someone else? The varying views and beliefs in a newsroom mean that the Golden Rule is near impossible to achieve as you will inevitably struggle to get a strong consensus of opinion on an issue. The decision by The Guardian to publish the Afghan War documents was ultimately one of Utilitarianism, but it highlights the complexities and dilemmas of the ethical theories when faced with a decision like this and also reveals how the ethical theories can sometimes overlap, as we saw elements of the Golden Mean blending with Utilitarianism. Explaining the Guardian’s decision to publish the confidential documents, Alan Rusbridger – who was Editor at the time of publication – offered a classic utilitarian approach, stating, “in the end, you weigh up what you believe to be public good against public harm, you try to minimize the harm by highlighting public material of most public interest” (Elliott, 2010). The Guardian’s decision on the Afghan War documents also demonstrates the importance of a story that is in the public interest, so publication is justified despite the illegality of obtaining the documents. This is particularly important because, when deciding whether or not to publish a particular piece, the first place a journalist will often look is to the law and journalistic Codes of Conduct – even before looking at their own personal ethical views. Some countries such as North Korea, which is ranked bottom of the 2020 World Press Freedom Index, use the law to apply heavy censorship to their press, making the law unhelpful as a source of ethical guidance. In contrast, the U.K. system provides support to journalists facing difficult ethical decisions, as the legal framework applicable to journalists largely stems from independent journalistic bodies. The largest of these is IPSO (Independent Press Standards Organisation), which sets out a Code of Conduct that journalists are expected to abide by. Within this, there are certain exceptions to the prohibited behaviors – this is the public interest defense. The public interest includes, but is not confined to, detecting or exposing crime or serious impropriety, protecting the public from being misled by an action or statement by an individual, and protecting public health and safety, among other justifications (IPSO, 2019). The code can also affect and restrict what journalists see as the greater good, although the ambiguity of the public interest defense means that looking to ethical theories is inevitably still required. For example, if a journalist takes a utilitarian approach and publishes a story that is in the public interest but breaks laws, then the public interest defense covers them legally. As pointed out by the Leveson Inquiry “otherwise unethical practices may be made ethical simply by virtue of the fact that they are justified, in the circumstances, in the public interest” (Great Britain. Leveson, L.J. 2012). An example of this would include the covert filming tactics used to gather proof that Cambridge Analytica had exploited the data of individuals to bombard them with political messages and misinformation – highlighting to the public the misuse of their data also did more harm than good and emphasizing how the public interest defense and utilitarian ethics often go hand-in-hand. However, if a journalist chooses to publish a story that is of interest to the public rather than in the public interest – for example, a celebrity gossip story – then it does not reach the threshold for the public interest defense in law. In 2020, former Panorama presenter Martin Bashir was accused by Diana, Princess of Wales's brother, Earl Spencer, of using “yellow journalism” and “sheer dishonesty”, including falsifying documents, in order to secure an exclusive interview with the Princess in 1995 (English, R, and Kay, R, 2020). This is a prime example of journalists abusing the power placed in them by the public to deliver information. By using these dishonest tactics to gain a sensationalist interview, Bashir was trying to obtain a story that is of interest to the public, rather than in the public interest. Such stories are not published for the greater good of society, but for the greater good of the publication - which should not be high on a journalist’s ethical priority list. Therefore, the limit on what is defined as the public interest in law can act as a way for journalists to check whether what they’re doing is actually for the greater good – if it doesn’t meet the threshold for defense, then it’s probably not what they should be doing. U.K. journalists are also protected by the Human Rights Act 1998, which incorporates Article 10 of the European Convention of Human Rights. Article 10 guarantees the right to freedom of expression and allows journalists to protect their sources, while Article 8 gives a right to respect for one’s private and family life (Great Britain. Human Rights Act 1998). Article 10 gives journalists a right which assists them to publish stories – but this freedom of expression can be abused due to varying views on the greater good of publication and the wide freedom of Article 10 must therefore be limited by a journalist’s own ethical beliefs in the shape of the theories outlined above. However, Article 10 does clash with the ethical theory of Deontology, as it holds protecting your sources as “one of the basic conditions of press freedom” (Goodwin v the United Kingdom, 1996). This is in contrast to Deontology’s insistence on not holding anything back from the reader, including sources, and emphasizes why Deontology is scarcely used in journalism, due to its incompatibility with modern Human Rights. Meanwhile, Article 8 places a responsibility on journalists to abide by this respect for one’s privacy and not go too far in their publication of stories that are of interest to the public, rather than in the public interest. This is a useful legal check and balance for a journalist to decide whether their ethical intuition is correct. As well as sourcing sensationalist stories to produce readership, there are other external factors that also come into play when considering whether the journalist’s right to publish is the greater good. Advertising and political leanings are two of these factors. A media organization’s view on whether something is the greater good to publish can be heavily influenced by the power of advertising. If a negative story has emerged about one of a media organization’s most influential donors, for example, the media organization may choose to ignore the story and neglect to cover it, therefore feeling that the greater good in this situation is to keep the backing of the powerful donor, in order to keep the publication financially viable. The constraints of advertising, affecting what journalists perceive to be the greater good, was seen in 2015 when The Daily Telegraph’s former chief political commentator, Peter Oborne, resigned from the paper and revealed that the Telegraph was removing or failing to publish negative stories about one of their major advertisers, HSBC. After his exit, Oborne said that the paper was “committing a fraud on its readers” and had “been placing what it perceives to be the interest of a major international bank above its duty to bring the news to Telegraph readers” (Oborne, 2015). Clearly, the Telegraph felt that the greater good was to not publish these stories about HSBC, demonstrating how the power of advertising can skew a journalist’s ethical convictions. Another external factor that can distort the view of the greater good is the political leaning of a media organization. Similar to advertising donors, media organizations may feel that the greater good in this situation is to avoid negative stories about whichever political party they have affiliations to. The different ideological views, varying ethics, and conflicting moral codes often found in a diverse newsroom can make deciding what the greater good actually is very difficult. These external factors can lead to abuse of the power given to journalists by the public, who expect them to deliver truthful, accurate news. Perhaps it is even arguable that it is in the greater good not to publish a story that is heavily influenced by political leanings, which distort the truth. One final pressure on journalists, laid bare by the Leveson inquiry into the culture, practices, and ethics of the press, is the newsroom culture and how the ethics of the senior staff members and editorial team can filter down to and contaminate the ethics of more junior staff members. A key focus of the Leveson Inquiry, held throughout 2011 and 2012, was the highly unethical practices of phone hacking and harassment at the now-defunct News of The World. The inquiry concluded that there was a broad culture at the newspaper that “regarded the imperative of getting information for stories as more important than respecting the rights of any individuals concerned or, indeed, compliance with the Editors’ Code or the law” (Great Britain. Leveson, L.J. 2012). The cultural acceptance of illegal and unethical practices within the newsroom demonstrates how the ethics of journalists - particularly young, impressionable journalists – and their decisions on whether the publication is for the greater good can be heavily influenced by the ethics of those around them and the ‘peer pressure’ mentality in a newsroom, as well as once again illustrating the dangers of the commercial and competitive nature of the newspaper business placing an emphasis on selling copies as opposed to upholding the highest standards of professional ethics. The current era of social media also presents new challenges for journalists to navigate, including where the greater good lies when confronted with fast-moving methods of news dissemination. Easily accessible, social media now presents an opportunity for anyone with a computer to call themselves a journalist and post whatever they want online on platforms such as Twitter and Facebook, without adhering to the ethical codes of practice that bind professional journalists. This can undermine the credibility of professional journalists, who may then resort to unacceptable, unethical, and underhand ‘clickbait’ methods, or news obtained by unverified sources, to ensure the viability of their news organization due to the increasing commercial pressures which the freedom of social media information places on print newspapers as physical circulation of newspapers continues to decline. Journalists are also still grappling with how to apply traditional ethics, such as sources and privacy, to a social media era and can sometimes overstep the line in the methods they use to gather information on these platforms, such as sending friend requests to individuals on social networking sites and then using their posts to inform stories. Overall, I believe that the journalist’s right to publish is the greater good is accurate in most instances, but there can be occasions where the trust placed in journalists by the public is abused. This abuse often comes when external influences, such as commercial pressures, advertising, and political affiliations, cause media organizations to alter their view of what the greater good is, based on what will serve their interests and sell newspapers accordingly. To promote strong, independent journalism, we, as journalists, need to ensure that our personal interests and the personal interests of our media organization don’t stop us from delivering accurate, important news to the wider public. The journalist’s right to publish is undoubtedly the greater good when the content being published is causing the most good to the largest number of people.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Sexual assault has always been a sensitive topic in the Army. The creation of the SHARP program has broken that stigma. Victims are now encourage to speak and males are taking a stand against these incidents. Although, the program lacks some training on areas that would help prevent many incidents. The program has proven to be successful and with a little improvement it could be the best prevention program the Army has ever seen. Having these type of resources help maintain the overall Army’s readiness. Let it be known that incidents of sexual assault have always been happening in the army. It’s possible that many years ago it happened more often than today. However, those Soldiers didn’t have the resources that SHARP offers. Today SHARP offers qualified personnel, training, prevention and different ways of reporting. Now imagine not having any of these resources. Reporting would mean people won’t believe you or no one would listen. SHARP has broken that stigma and more victims are getting encourage to report. This encouragement to report is consequently going to raise the statistics. The encouragement to report in the Army has been normalize and now males are being part of the statistics. The DOD has reported that 38 males are raped every day in our military. This has been happening for years. It is until now that resources like SHARP have encourage male survivors to report. For many years males where scared to report and ruin their career or self-image. This was the stigma that Kole Welsh described: “I had actually let the assault go, because I didn't want it to interfere with my career”. It wasn’t until he tested HIV positive and got removed from the Army that he decided to report the incident. If the SHARP program would have existed back then the story would have been different. Although SHARP dedicates a big portion to helping the victims, they also focus on prevention training. Improving these training might be the key to reducing the statistics. Statistics show that nearly 1 in 10 Americans suffer from sexual urges. It is natural for some human being to have these urges. However, they must learn to have self-control. The SHARP program lacks self-control training. Many Soldiers don’t understand their sexuality. This could be the reason for lack of control. Incorporating a self-control training into the SHARP program would help prevent many of these incidents. The lack of this knowledge is one of the reasons sexual assault incidents continue to rise. A soldier that has self-control is more likely to walk away than one that has no control.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Healthcare is vital to all of us some of the time, but public health is vital to all of us all the time. C. Everett Koop. Public Health was coined many years ago, and the history of public health is derived from many historical ideas, trial and error, the development of basic sciences, technology, and epidemiology(Tulchinsky, &Varavikova2014).Public Health began in ancient times and many of its concept have changed. Historical public health measures include the isolating of leprosy victims in the middle ages and the increase of infant deaths in Europe. Many of these situations led to the establishment of modern public health interventions that is designed to control diseases and oversee the availability and distribution of medicine (Rhodes & Bryant 2019). Evidently, the science of Public Health is necessary in the fight to eliminate diseases and outbreaks, maintaining good health and decreasing the amount of deaths due to diseases. Core Functions and Essentials of Public Health Public Health is an essential art that positively impacts every community and emphasizes the importance of a safe and healthy environment.Public Health is the science of disease prevention, prolonging life, and promoting physical and mental health, sanitation, personal hygiene, infectious disease control and organization of health services (Rhodes & Bryant (2019). The discipline of Public Health is very comprehensive and has an important role in the overall health and safety of every community.Public health consists of three core functions, 1. Assessment, 2. Policy Development and 3. Assurance. Under the umbrella of the core functions are ten essential public health functions that provide the activities for all communities to follow.The ten essential public health functions are (Assessment)1. monitor health status,2. diagnose and investigate health problems and hazards in the community, (Policy Development)3. inform, educate and empower people about health issues, 4. mobilize community partnership 5. develop policies and plans, (Assurance)6. enforce laws and regulations, 7. link people to personal health services, 8. assure a competent public health and personal health care workforce, 9. evaluate effectiveness, accessibility and quality and 10. research.( ADD A REFERENCE HERE for the 10 essential function). The definition of Public Health and its role in disease prevention and death; the two public health functions thatshould be given priority are 1. To inform, educate, and empower people about health and 2. to monitor health status – to identify and solve community health problems. The Significance of Community Engagement Firstly, let us examine the word “Public Health”, the name itself highlights that the essential functions are ideally for the people in the community and therefore the public health functions that should be given priority are the ones that is solely for and allows persons to be engaged andinvolve in their health.According toSmith et al. (2015) community engagement has appeared to be an increasingly effective strategy for harnessing community potential and health improvement.Evidently, community engagement can help with public health interventions and assist with public awareness on health risks. When residents are aware of the dangers and the effects of certain action or activities, they can identify issues and act quickly to avoid threats or other risks. Community engagement involves those affected in understanding the risks they face and involves them in response actions that are acceptable (WHO, n.d).Overall, community engagement has a great impact on society. The working relationship between public health workers and the community can combat any potential health risk and dangers in the community. Community engagement can also build rapport between public health professionals, health care providers and the general public. A good and trusting relationship between health care providers and clients promotes health and decrease diseases. Empowering Through Education Public health is grounded on and emphasizes it goals to promote health and prevent diseases. Thus, it is imperative that in the Caribbean we focus on educating and empowering our people about living a healthy lifestyle. The question may be asked, “why is health education important and should be given priority? Well the answer is quite simple, let us concentrate on the aim anddefinition of public health. In the article, “Public health economics: a systematic review of guidance for the economic evaluation of public health interventions and discussion of key methodological issues (2013)” the authors identify that public health is the science and art of how society jointly aim to improve health and reduce inequalities in health. Therefore, society is apart of improving their health and should be well-informed aboutdiseases. Education is crucial in all aspects of life. Knowledge allows an individual to be aware of all major information that can affect their life. Furthermore, educating the public about their physical, mental, emotional and social health is even more imperative. The public will be motivated to improve and maintain good health. The support and the involvement of the public in their healthy living will encourage them to continue practicing and making healthy decisions and eventually their will be a decrease in diseases and risky behaviors. |Lack of Knowledge is the problem ( W. Edwards |Deming).Public Health focuses on supporting and prolonging the lives of individuals.Public health science fights to protect the safety and improve the health of communities through education, policy making and research for disease and injury prevention (. University of Pittsburgh Graduate School Public Health, 2019). The fight against disease and health safety can be challenging, although it might be challenging the work still has to be done. This task will not be easy and requires teamwork and a strong workforce. Yes, everyone has a responsibility to assist with securing a safe community that includes the government and the people of the community. In reality, all efforts and work perform is to secure the environment for the future generation. Monitoring Health Status for Prevention Another public health function that should be given priority is monitor health status. It is imperative to monitor all aspects of health. The act of monitoring assist with identifying risk and issues, it highlights positive feedback and provides ideas for changes and adjustments to improve health.It is important to understand that health can change daily and sometimes there are no signs or symptoms. Many times, individuals do things to their body and it alters the way the body functions. it is vital to recognize that certain decisions we make will impact the status of health. One of the best ways to make sure that harm is not being done to the body is to constantly monitor its health status. The question might be raised why it is important to monitor health status. The answer to the question is very clear which is to prevent complications. There is a health concern globally, regionally and domestically. Studies have shown that by monitoring health status can decrease that chances of difficulties and allows prompt treatment. In the article “Wearable Sensors for Remote Health Monitoring”, the authors suggested that a new technology which is remote health monitoring (a non-invasive sensor) will be used to help healthcare personnel to monitor important physiological signs of their patients, assess health conditions and provide feedback (Majumder et. Al,2017). Obviously, health care workers are creating innovative technology to monitor health in order to improve health status which shows that this function is vital in disease prevention. In public health the act of monitoring is always being used, at a simple clinic visit vital signs, weight and blood glucose testing is performed. These exams allow providers to monitor the individual’s health status and make necessary treatment, advice or changes to the treatment plan. On the other hand, environmental monitoring is imperative as well. Daily, it is important to monitor the water, soil and plants for contamination levels. For example, water contamination can be both harmful to health and the environment. When certain constituents enter in to the water it then becomes polluted and water is a major element for survival. Water is needed in all aspects of life such as cooking, showering, cleaning and drinking. Therefore, if it becomes polluted it can be detrimental to life (Mehtab et. Al, 2017). In the article, “Water pollution and human health” the authors stated that water is a universal solvent and a major source of infection. The authors further stated that “safe drinking water is necessary for human health all over the world” ( Mehtab et. Al, 2017). It is understood that public health goal is to prevent death and promote health which is why we should focus on monitoring health status by ensuring that all areas are equipped with the necessary equipment and to work force to ensure that this is being performed adequately. Air pollution is another very important environmental hazard that is thoroughly monitored. Air pollution kills an estimated seven million people worldwide every year (WHO, 2020). Wholeheartedly, in order to monitor heath status, it is important to identify and monitor all aspects of life that can impact health status. All aspects of life have a role in maintaining good health and preventing complications. The activities we perform in our lives daily can have a great impact on health and the environment. The choices we make and the efforts we put in is the answer to a healthy community. Conclusion: Prioritizing Education and Monitoring Each of the public health functions has a domineering task to maintain a healthy and safe community. However, the functions can be prioritized by which actions should be used first to uphold the principle of public health which is “Prevention is better than cure”. This paper precisely identifies the two functions that should be given priority. Also, the evidence provided and discussed in this paper strongly supports which public health functions should be priority. In the words of W. Edwards Deming “Lack of knowledge that is the problem. Hence, the reason the public health function on education was chosen. This paper carefully highlights the impact of education in public health. The astonishing correlation people public health and to monitor health status together completes the purpose and the reason why public health has been coined. References Cyril, S., Smith, B. J., Possamai-Inesedy, A., &Renzaho, A. M. (2015). Exploring the role of community engagement in improving the health of disadvantaged populations: a systematic review. Global health action, 8, 29842. doi:10.3402/gha.v8.29842 Edwards, R.T., Charles, J.M. & Lloyd-Williams, H. (2013). Public health economics: a systematic review of guidance for the economic evaluation of public health interventions and discussion of key methodological issues. BMC Public Health 13, 1001 doi:10.1186/1471-2458-13-1001 Majumder, S., Mondal, T., &Deen, M. (2017). Wearable Sensors for Remote Health Monitoring. Sensors, 17(12), 130. MDPI AG. Retrieved from http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/s17010130 MehtabH, Muhammad F, M, Asma J, Sidra A, Nayab A, Sharon Z, &Jaweria H. ( 2017). Water pollution and human health. Retrieved from https://www.alliedacademies.org/articles/water-pollution-and-human-health-7925.html Moradi S. Medical education is all about public health: to what extent is this claim true? Res Dev Med Educ. 2019;8(2):x-x. doi: 10.15171/rdme.2019.0xx Rhodes, P & Bryant, J. H. (2019). Public Health. In Encyclopedia Britannica. Retrieved from https://www.britannica.com/topic/public-health Tulchinsky, H.T&Varavikova, E.A. (2014).A History of Public Health. The New Public Health (3rd Edition). Retrieved from https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/medicine-and-dentistry/history-of-public-health University of Pittsburgh Graduate School of Public Health. (2019). What is the definition of PublicHealth? Retrieved fromhttps://www.publichealth.pitt.edu/careers/what-is-public-health World Health Organization. (n.d)Community Engagement. Retrieved from https://www.who.int/risk-communication/training/Module-B5.pdf",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"“My triumph lasted till the drums” aptly describes the feeling of war. The narrator first feels a sense of victory, but after having realized what that victory entails then experiences feelings of regret and contempt. There is a certain ambivalence with the phrase ‘finished faces’, for it suggests two meanings: either the ‘finished faces’ of those who have been killed in battle; or the ‘finished faces’ of the living who have ended the battle. In both cases, the narrator is seemingly stared at by these faces and in the process making her wish she were dead. The narrator knows the latter are the only ones who are capable of moving on with their lives and this battle. However, she realized, that she “hated glory”; a phrase which implies that there are no real victors in war. This sentimentality can be seen throughout American literature. Therefore, this essay will argue that different types war can be throughout American literature, but the effect of war brings about a form of enlightenment before or in its aftermath. One notable type of war viewed in American literature is between the oppressors and the oppressed. This can be read in Frederick Douglass’ ‘Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave’. As a child on Colonel Lloyd’s plantation, Douglass saw multiple whippings of different slaves, including being “awakened … by the most heart-rending shrieks of an own aunt of mine and whipped … till she was literally covered with blood”. When he was seven, he was made to work for Hugh Auld, which was when he began to get a sense for what freedom was like, due in part to his new master's wife who “very kindly commenced to teach me the A, B, C”. But after Hugh prevented Douglass from being taught to read, it only fueled his ‘determination to learn’, which was his first step into writing antislavery texts. Douglass illustrates how white slaveholders were able to sustain slavery through keeping the slaves uneducated. This is because during the period Douglass was writing in, a majority of people assumed slavery was just something that was normal, being convinced slaves were genuinely unable to engage on any level in everyday society, and were only fit to be slaves for slaveowners. A method slave owners utilized to maintain power over slaves was to keep them unaware of fundamental facts about themselves such as where the rest of their families were sent to work, as well as the disability to learn how to read and write - preventing what the rest of America were aware of about slavery. In this war between the oppressors and oppressed however, Douglass demonstrates that slaveholding not only harms the slaves, but also the slave owners themselves depicting slavery as unnatural for all involved. This can be exemplified through Sophia Auld, who through the corrupt immorality of slaveholding she changed her from an affectionate woman to a monster. From his writings, Douglass is making the point that slavery should be banned for the benefit of all parts of society. This war between the oppressors and the oppressed can also be witnessed in ‘A Raisin in the Sun’. Through Mr. Lindner, Hansberry explores the theme of racial prejudice as an important matter in the story that the Youngers family have to face. The Clybourne Park Improvement Association dispatch Mr. Lindner to convince the Youngers not to relocate into the Clybourne Park neighborhood - wholly lived in by white families, by offering “to buy the house from [them] at a financial gain to [their] family”. When Lindner first sets foot in their apartment the Youngers are more than welcoming to him, offering him beer and coffee yet Lindner's amiability turns into awkwardness, even pathetic as he notices that the Youngers are in fact morally upstanding people. The reason Hansberry depicts Lindner becoming more and more pathetic is to show that being racially discriminative is in itself pathetic, for obviously any assumptions about how the black community are unreasonable and savages is completely false, as clearly demonstrated in this scene. The Youngers' wish for living equality causes the Clybourne Park Improvement Association worried about the prospect of black integration. Conversely, the Youngers are alarmed regarding the potential types of bigotry they could encounter whether it be discrimination or physical threats. Despite this, the Youngers react to these threats with both resilience and bravery. Hansberry is trying to state that the way to manage any form of prejudice is to stand against it and to uphold one’s pride as opposed to allow the oppressors to enforce any power over you. Therefore, the war between the oppressed and the oppressors is shown to be fruitless, considering even though the oppressed come off far worse in this battle the oppressors find themselves not gaining much for it to be called a victory. Another type of war that will be discussed is a religious war - being able to decide for oneself what can really be considered Christ’s teachings, or if it has been manipulated to benefit someone else. Two types of Christians can be identified in ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’, represented by the contradiction between the Widow Douglass, a holy and loving woman who personifies the strong Christian, doing good deeds for God. This includes Jesus's saintly and loving word of God, as well as teaching Huck about difference between Heaven and Hell as “she had got a start, and she went on and told [him] all about the good place”. Conversely, Miss Watson signifies a hypocritical form of Christianity - convinced that she living exactly how the Bible has instructed her to live and that anyone else who does not follow the Bible to heart (in other words how she feels they should live) is in fact a sinner, and as a result they will have to endure eternal damnation in Hell when they die. Huck notices the different ideas of Heaven that the Watson sisters present to him, as he states: “…I could see that there was two Providences…”. Even though Huck is a child, he is mature enough to become conscious that this level of religious hypocrisy that surrounds him is escalating. It is not long before he realizes that both of these places appear boring and would rather be with Tom Sawyer in Hell than either of their ‘good places’. However, this is vital for Huck to learn that it’s up to him to make the right choice, even when it comes to religion. On the other hand, Huck and Jim use superstitions to understand the world, meaning they read ‘bad signs’ into everything, like when a spider burns in a candle for example. This is a critique of religion from Twain by making the point that as silly as superstition is, it is still more reliable to use in the world than formal religion. In contrast to their silliness, organized religion plunges its followers into ignorance and inhumanity. According to Christianity Huck is Damned for saving Jim from slavery, but resisting what society dictates and refuses to follow the Christian good, he saves Jim, and through this establishes a moral guideline in the novel - that one that cannot be manipulated by society into backing immoral systems such as slavery. As stated previously in this essay, Douglass’s narrative demonstrates how white slaveholders were able to control slavery by adopting a method to keep their slaves ignorant, for learning how to read and write would grant them the self-sufficiency to express their views on how horrible conditions were. Another key method that the slaveowners used to control their slaves was to use Christ’s teachings. Slaveowners through several passages from the bible including Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians, VI, 5-7: “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters … as unto Christ”, essentially indoctrinating these slaves to believe that by working for their masters they were in fact doing Christ’s bidding and so it was almost a holy practice to serve their masters well. Reviewing the work of the white churches, Frederick Douglass commented that “Between the Christianity of this land and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference” - so wide is the difference that to receive one as good, pure, and holy as Christ’s teachings is to be the enemy of the other. He also claimed he “hated the corrupt, slave-holding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land”. This can be applied to certain slaveowners such as Thomas Auld, who developed a twisted interpretation of Christianity to appear God-fearing, when in fact he turns a blind eye to the crimes he commits. On the surface Auld acts devout by praying and inviting ministers to his home, yet in reality he acts really inhumane to slaves. For example, Henny, a slave who fell into a fire as a child and is practically helpless still endures dreadful treatment and many lashings nonetheless - after which Auld frees her from her punishments and instructs her “to take care of herself”. Hence, one’s war with religion should be to decide for themselves what really falls under Christ’s teachings of “loving thy neighbor as thyself”, to fight to what organized institutions dictate is correct, especially when innocent people are being victimized as a result. Leading on from the previous paragraph, the final type of war that will be discussed in this essay is an internal war, as characters go through different stages in their life to discover who they really are and what is right, not what society instructs them who to be and how to behave. An example this internal conflict in ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ is in Chapter 16, when Huck is debating if he should hand in Jim to the slave traders or continue their efforts to liberate him. Society taught Huck that even socializing with slaves was a bad thing to do, let alone assisting their attempts to get to freedom. He made the decision to do what he felt was right rather than what society says is right, learning to see Jim as another human being. At one point in the novel Huck even began to write a letter to Miss Watson about Jim going back, but then tears up the letter saying, “All right, then I'll go to hell”. As the slavers hurry to get away from the “small-pox on the boat”, one says “my Kingdom”, then gives Huck two “twenty- dollar gold pieces”. Twain writes this as a critique on certain members of the church, who believed they could solve any difficulties they faced by giving away church money. Twain himself disapproved of organized religion, for not representing an accurate view of Christ’s teachings - similar to the Watson sisters. Twain commented on his book as being a story “where a sound heart and a deformed conscience come into collision, and conscience suffers defeat”. In saying this, Twain discusses the internal war Huck faces, of what he knows is right as opposed to what he is told is right. This internal conflict can also be seen in the story of Roderick Hudson, in both Hudson and Rowland. Hudson, who after announcing his ambition to become one of the great sculptors of Italian art, and failing to contain his pride enters into a stage where his inspiration leaves him leaving him to resort to gambling and high debt. Hudson finds himself in a battle to try and find himself again, and to rediscover that inspiration he has lost. With the sculpture of ‘thirst’ seemingly represent the thirst of his ambition, this metaphor the metaphor of 'thirst' loses its meaning as a result of his dual frustration. Conversely, Rowland Mallet battles not with trying to rediscover his imagination but fighting both his self-criticism and as a result his inaction. He spends his time “broken into a dozen conscious devices for disposing of the hours”, which results in his lack of emotion. Max Weber defined modernity as the ‘disenchantment of the world’, which represents the key theme running throughout this novel which would become a recurring motif James’ work. This is because it seems to be an unconsciously intended exploration of what it means to be a homosexual in a world where homosexuality is a crime. The internal fights of these characters’ inaction and self-criticism thus refer to James’ battle with accepting who he really is, and therefore on one’s internal battle to discover who they are they tend to go through some form of hardship in order to come out having been enlightened in its aftermath. Despite the fact that warfare throughout history has had devastating effects, American literature has shown such brutality does bring about different forms of enlightenment. The war between the oppressed and the oppressors shows whatever oppressors do to control society, the oppressed will always resist and stand up to adversity. On one’s journey they tend to undergo an internal battle to discover who they are, which in turn influences many of their decisions such as questioning what really falls under Christ’s teachings of loving and caring each other, to not listen to what society dictates you should do.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"The murder of 14-year-old Emmett Till in 1955 brought nationwide attention to the racial violence and injustice prevalent in Mississippi. While visiting his relatives in Mississippi, Till went to the Bryant store with his cousins, and may have whistled at Carolyn Bryant. Her husband, Roy Bryant, and brother-in-law, J.W. Milam, kidnapped and brutally murdered Till, dumping his body in the Tallahatchie River. The newspaper coverage and murder trial galvanized a generation of young African Americans to join the Civil Rights Movement out of fear that such an incident could happen to friends, family, or even themselves. Many interviewees in the Civil Rights History Project remember how this case deeply affected their lives. Two of Emmett Till’s cousins, Wheeler Parker and Simeon Wright, witnessed Till’s kidnapping on the night of August 28, 1955 at the home of Moses Wright. They both describe their family’s background in Mississippi and Chicago, the incident at Bryant’s store, and the terror they felt when Bryant and Milan entered their home and took Till. Parker describes the funeral in Chicago, which drew thousands of people: “The solemn atmosphere there, you know, it’s just – it’s just unbelievable, I guess you could say. The air was filled with just, I guess, unbelief and how could it happen to a kid? People just felt helpless.” Two journalists, Moses Newson and Simeon Booker, were assigned to cover the murder for the Tri-State Defender and JET, respectively. Booker attended the funeral with photographer David Jackson, who took the famous image of Till in the coffin. In this joint interview, Booker explains: “JET’s circulation just took off when they ran the picture. They had to reprint, the first time they ever reprinted JET magazine. And there was a lot of interest in that case. And the entire black community was becoming aware of the need to do something about it.” The two journalists also covered the trial and were instrumental in helping to find some key witnesses. Bryant and Milam were acquitted, however, which outraged the African American community nationwide. African American children and teenagers, particularly those in the South, were shocked by the photographs in JET and the outcome of the trial. Sisters Joyce and Dorie Ladner, who grew up in Mississippi, remember keeping a scrapbook of every article about Till and their fear that their brothers could be killed too. Dorie Ladner was inspired to learn more about the law after Bryant and Milam were acquitted: “That’s where the light bulb went off: Why aren’t they being punished? And that’s when I went on my quest to try to understand the whole legal system and equal rights and justice under the law.” Joyce Ladner discusses how she coined the term, “Emmett Till Generation,” which she uses to describe the African American baby boomers in the South who were inspired by Till’s murder to join a burgeoning movement of mass meetings, sit-ins, and marches to demand their equal treatment under the law. Cleveland Sellers was 11 years old when he learned about Emmett Till through JET. He remembers, “I was devastated by the fact that Emmett could have been me or any other black kid around that same age. And so, I related to that very quickly. And we had discussions in our class about Emmett Till. I had a cover of the JET, took it to school. Some other students had the same thing. And so, we had rational discussions about it. And, you know, the question comes up: How do you address that? And I think, for us, it was projected out, that that would be our destiny to try to find remedies to a society that would allow that to happen, would condone that, and would actually free those who were responsible for that murder. And I think that that was a way in which we actually got away from revenge and hatred and those kinds of things. We talked about how we were going to use Emmett Till to build on, that we would rectify in our work and in our effort the dastardly tragedy that happened to Emmett Till.”",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"“My triumph lasted till the drums” aptly describes the feeling of war. The narrator first feels a sense of victory, but after having realized what that victory entails then experiences feelings of regret and contempt. There is a certain ambivalence with the phrase ‘finished faces’, for it suggests two meanings: either the ‘finished faces’ of those who have been killed in battle; or the ‘finished faces’ of the living who have ended the battle. In both cases, the narrator is seemingly stared at by these faces and in the process making her wish she were dead. The narrator knows the latter are the only ones who are capable of moving on with their lives and this battle. However, she realized, that she “hated glory”; a phrase which implies that there are no real victors in war. This sentimentality can be seen throughout American literature. Therefore, this essay will argue that different types war can be throughout American literature, but the effect of war brings about a form of enlightenment before or in its aftermath. One notable type of war viewed in American literature is between the oppressors and the oppressed. This can be read in Frederick Douglass’ ‘Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave’. As a child on Colonel Lloyd’s plantation, Douglass saw multiple whippings of different slaves, including being “awakened … by the most heart-rending shrieks of an own aunt of mine and whipped … till she was literally covered with blood”. When he was seven, he was made to work for Hugh Auld, which was when he began to get a sense for what freedom was like, due in part to his new master's wife who “very kindly commenced to teach me the A, B, C”. But after Hugh prevented Douglass from being taught to read, it only fueled his ‘determination to learn’, which was his first step into writing antislavery texts. Douglass illustrates how white slaveholders were able to sustain slavery through keeping the slaves uneducated. This is because during the period Douglass was writing in, a majority of people assumed slavery was just something that was normal, being convinced slaves were genuinely unable to engage on any level in everyday society, and were only fit to be slaves for slaveowners. A method slave owners utilized to maintain power over slaves was to keep them unaware of fundamental facts about themselves such as where the rest of their families were sent to work, as well as the disability to learn how to read and write - preventing what the rest of America were aware of about slavery. In this war between the oppressors and oppressed however, Douglass demonstrates that slaveholding not only harms the slaves, but also the slave owners themselves depicting slavery as unnatural for all involved. This can be exemplified through Sophia Auld, who through the corrupt immorality of slaveholding she changed her from an affectionate woman to a monster. From his writings, Douglass is making the point that slavery should be banned for the benefit of all parts of society. This war between the oppressors and the oppressed can also be witnessed in ‘A Raisin in the Sun’. Through Mr. Lindner, Hansberry explores the theme of racial prejudice as an important matter in the story that the Youngers family have to face. The Clybourne Park Improvement Association dispatch Mr. Lindner to convince the Youngers not to relocate into the Clybourne Park neighborhood - wholly lived in by white families, by offering “to buy the house from [them] at a financial gain to [their] family”. When Lindner first sets foot in their apartment the Youngers are more than welcoming to him, offering him beer and coffee yet Lindner's amiability turns into awkwardness, even pathetic as he notices that the Youngers are in fact morally upstanding people. The reason Hansberry depicts Lindner becoming more and more pathetic is to show that being racially discriminative is in itself pathetic, for obviously any assumptions about how the black community are unreasonable and savages is completely false, as clearly demonstrated in this scene. The Youngers' wish for living equality causes the Clybourne Park Improvement Association worried about the prospect of black integration. Conversely, the Youngers are alarmed regarding the potential types of bigotry they could encounter whether it be discrimination or physical threats. Despite this, the Youngers react to these threats with both resilience and bravery. Hansberry is trying to state that the way to manage any form of prejudice is to stand against it and to uphold one’s pride as opposed to allow the oppressors to enforce any power over you. Therefore, the war between the oppressed and the oppressors is shown to be fruitless, considering even though the oppressed come off far worse in this battle the oppressors find themselves not gaining much for it to be called a victory. Another type of war that will be discussed is a religious war - being able to decide for oneself what can really be considered Christ’s teachings, or if it has been manipulated to benefit someone else. Two types of Christians can be identified in ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’, represented by the contradiction between the Widow Douglass, a holy and loving woman who personifies the strong Christian, doing good deeds for God. This includes Jesus's saintly and loving word of God, as well as teaching Huck about difference between Heaven and Hell as “she had got a start, and she went on and told [him] all about the good place”. Conversely, Miss Watson signifies a hypocritical form of Christianity - convinced that she living exactly how the Bible has instructed her to live and that anyone else who does not follow the Bible to heart (in other words how she feels they should live) is in fact a sinner, and as a result they will have to endure eternal damnation in Hell when they die. Huck notices the different ideas of Heaven that the Watson sisters present to him, as he states: “…I could see that there was two Providences…”. Even though Huck is a child, he is mature enough to become conscious that this level of religious hypocrisy that surrounds him is escalating. It is not long before he realizes that both of these places appear boring and would rather be with Tom Sawyer in Hell than either of their ‘good places’. However, this is vital for Huck to learn that it’s up to him to make the right choice, even when it comes to religion. On the other hand, Huck and Jim use superstitions to understand the world, meaning they read ‘bad signs’ into everything, like when a spider burns in a candle for example. This is a critique of religion from Twain by making the point that as silly as superstition is, it is still more reliable to use in the world than formal religion. In contrast to their silliness, organized religion plunges its followers into ignorance and inhumanity. According to Christianity Huck is Damned for saving Jim from slavery, but resisting what society dictates and refuses to follow the Christian good, he saves Jim, and through this establishes a moral guideline in the novel - that one that cannot be manipulated by society into backing immoral systems such as slavery. As stated previously in this essay, Douglass’s narrative demonstrates how white slaveholders were able to control slavery by adopting a method to keep their slaves ignorant, for learning how to read and write would grant them the self-sufficiency to express their views on how horrible conditions were. Another key method that the slaveowners used to control their slaves was to use Christ’s teachings. Slaveowners through several passages from the bible including Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians, VI, 5-7: “Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters … as unto Christ”, essentially indoctrinating these slaves to believe that by working for their masters they were in fact doing Christ’s bidding and so it was almost a holy practice to serve their masters well. Reviewing the work of the white churches, Frederick Douglass commented that “Between the Christianity of this land and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference” - so wide is the difference that to receive one as good, pure, and holy as Christ’s teachings is to be the enemy of the other. He also claimed he “hated the corrupt, slave-holding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land”. This can be applied to certain slaveowners such as Thomas Auld, who developed a twisted interpretation of Christianity to appear God-fearing, when in fact he turns a blind eye to the crimes he commits. On the surface Auld acts devout by praying and inviting ministers to his home, yet in reality he acts really inhumane to slaves. For example, Henny, a slave who fell into a fire as a child and is practically helpless still endures dreadful treatment and many lashings nonetheless - after which Auld frees her from her punishments and instructs her “to take care of herself”. Hence, one’s war with religion should be to decide for themselves what really falls under Christ’s teachings of “loving thy neighbor as thyself”, to fight to what organized institutions dictate is correct, especially when innocent people are being victimized as a result. Leading on from the previous paragraph, the final type of war that will be discussed in this essay is an internal war, as characters go through different stages in their life to discover who they really are and what is right, not what society instructs them who to be and how to behave. An example this internal conflict in ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ is in Chapter 16, when Huck is debating if he should hand in Jim to the slave traders or continue their efforts to liberate him. Society taught Huck that even socializing with slaves was a bad thing to do, let alone assisting their attempts to get to freedom. He made the decision to do what he felt was right rather than what society says is right, learning to see Jim as another human being. At one point in the novel Huck even began to write a letter to Miss Watson about Jim going back, but then tears up the letter saying, “All right, then I'll go to hell”. As the slavers hurry to get away from the “small-pox on the boat”, one says “my Kingdom”, then gives Huck two “twenty- dollar gold pieces”. Twain writes this as a critique on certain members of the church, who believed they could solve any difficulties they faced by giving away church money. Twain himself disapproved of organized religion, for not representing an accurate view of Christ’s teachings - similar to the Watson sisters. Twain commented on his book as being a story “where a sound heart and a deformed conscience come into collision, and conscience suffers defeat”. In saying this, Twain discusses the internal war Huck faces, of what he knows is right as opposed to what he is told is right. This internal conflict can also be seen in the story of Roderick Hudson, in both Hudson and Rowland. Hudson, who after announcing his ambition to become one of the great sculptors of Italian art, and failing to contain his pride enters into a stage where his inspiration leaves him leaving him to resort to gambling and high debt. Hudson finds himself in a battle to try and find himself again, and to rediscover that inspiration he has lost. With the sculpture of ‘thirst’ seemingly represent the thirst of his ambition, this metaphor the metaphor of 'thirst' loses its meaning as a result of his dual frustration. Conversely, Rowland Mallet battles not with trying to rediscover his imagination but fighting both his self-criticism and as a result his inaction. He spends his time “broken into a dozen conscious devices for disposing of the hours”, which results in his lack of emotion. Max Weber defined modernity as the ‘disenchantment of the world’, which represents the key theme running throughout this novel which would become a recurring motif James’ work. This is because it seems to be an unconsciously intended exploration of what it means to be a homosexual in a world where homosexuality is a crime. The internal fights of these characters’ inaction and self-criticism thus refer to James’ battle with accepting who he really is, and therefore on one’s internal battle to discover who they are they tend to go through some form of hardship in order to come out having been enlightened in its aftermath. Despite the fact that warfare throughout history has had devastating effects, American literature has shown such brutality does bring about different forms of enlightenment. The war between the oppressed and the oppressors shows whatever oppressors do to control society, the oppressed will always resist and stand up to adversity. On one’s journey they tend to undergo an internal battle to discover who they are, which in turn influences many of their decisions such as questioning what really falls under Christ’s teachings of loving and caring each other, to not listen to what society dictates you should do.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"What is work? Is work necessary? Is it a duty, a socially acceptable behavior, or a natural predisposition. The debate of the meaning of work stems from an argument on whether work was degrading or elevating. Is work a restraint on people’s capacities of freedom, according to Herbert Marcuse’s argument in ‘Eros and Civilization’ or has work, as Daniel Bell wrote in his book ‘The End of Ideology’, “always stood in the center of moral consciousness” (Wolfe, 1996)? I side with Daniel Bell as work should be celebrated for its encouragement of discipline and moral fulfillment. One of the most important reasons why working is valuable is that it instills discipline. Many modern conservatives see the value of work. They view welfare as something that causes dependency whereas working allows economic independence. Welfare recipients are denied the discipline that comes with meeting deadlines, production schedules, and knowing the expectations of those they work for. Everything is essentially given on a silver platter if one does not work. Another reason why people work is that it provides a definition of self if they were to denounce work, they would render a significant portion of their lives meaningless. Sociologists like Max Weber have argued that humans are moral creatures in the sense that they do not just act but they also give an account of their actions. In his book ‘Poor Richard’s Principle’ Robert Wuthnow relies on 200 interviews and 2,000 other working Americans to discover if they had found at least an ounce of moral meaning in their work. The average response was positive. Wuthnow argues that people not only just work for money, but also “to give legitimate account for themselves”. One can argue against and dismiss the belief in the importance of work by saying that it is a ‘false consciousness’ or something along the lines of that. They can’t grasp the notion of how working is meant for them. Robert Lane (1991) in his book ‘The Market Place’ argued that there is little support for the idea of work is degrading. Work is one of the places people can learn about not only the job but the wide world outside of it. Work increases our moral responsibility, however, the problem, noted by Lane is that there are not enough jobs in the market place that challenge the aspirations of workers. More jobs should be open to increasing our ‘cognitive complexity’, and personal competence. To conclude, work is a necessity. Not only because of reasons like earning money but for discipline, a sense of self and increasing our cognitive complexity. Remember, if you haven’t worked for something, you haven’t earned it.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"To understand Mass incarceration, I have to understand the term and have a understanding of its back ground after doing some research this is the information I gained. Mass incarceration is an issue in the world. Incarceration is messed up in America. We sent to people to prison for breaking the law, and to deter others from breaking the law punishment deterrence. But America is better at punishment than correction, todays prisoners are tomorrows neighbors. America has about 4 percent of the world people and about 25 percent of the world incarcerated people, we have the highest incarceration rate in the world. $1% of American juvenile and young adults have been arrested by the time they turn 23. Children as young 13 years old have sentences to die in prison. And our prisons violate international standard, solitary confinements increase instability and violate in inmates and it considered by international law to be torture. But in America prison are not regulated by anyone except the prison’s officials. For a citizen It’s very difficult to get a job in America but it’s even more difficult to get a job with a conviction on your record. Convicts are ineligible for welfare student loans, public housing and food stamps. Convicts are often socially disconnected from social and family support and structure. So, in addition they have very suicide rate and homelessness. After gaining doing some research I learned information I did not know such as convict were unable to obtain home, public housing, and welfare in general. - Student loans and food stamps. My next question I needed to research before trying to tackle mass incarceration is what exactly welfare is, and why can’t convicts receive it. After watching this documentary to I learned that rate of documentary is so high we are no longer incarcerating the individual America is incarcerating a whole social group. The rate of incarceration now is about five times higher than it was historically. Nowhere in the world incarcerate as much as we do, we’ve seen extremely high rate of exposure to the criminal justice system for African American men. For African men born in the 1970’s who were growing up through the American prison boom of the 1980’s and 1990’s, the chances they would serve time in the state or federal prison if they dropped out of high school is about 70 percent. Were about at the point its 1 in 9 of African American children who have a parent in prison. Kids who experience parent incarceration have behavioral problems, depressive systems, acting out, diminish school achievement, it also said its very risky that incarceration becomes an inherited trait. To get a better understanding of mass incarceration I needed to understand these terms and see how they related. - Blue Wall of Silence & Police Suicide, Dirty harry Syndrome, Repeat Offenders, War on Drugs and Undercover Investigations. Blue wall of silence are terms used in the united states to describe the unwritten rule that police officers are not to report on a collogues errors. Police error can be misconduct, police brutality, or crime. When being questioned about another officer wrong doing the officer would claim ignorance and report they haven’t seen anything. This is an example of police corruption and misconduct. Officers who engage in discriminatory arrest, physical or harassment and selective enforcement of the law are considered to be corrupt. Police participate in this act for personal matters. These are all considered illegal offenses and are ground for immediate suspension. Officers are unable to report fellow officer who participate in illegal offenses due to their unwritten law of their police family. Officers who do not lie in court may sometimes be threatened and ostracized by fellow officers. Meaning some officer falsify reports, arrest, to cover for an illegal arrest or search and make up fabricated stories when testifying before a jury. Next term is the Dirty harry syndrome, it is a term used to describe a police officer who is reckless. This officer takes the situation into his own hands and disregards practices and policies. When searching the database, I found that among united states today there are over 23000 investigations for excessive force, over 3100 investigation for rape and over 2300 investigation for police misconduct such as domestic violence. This information proves we have a corrupt and dirty justice system. This information five some facts that is related to how the united states is the world biggest jailer. 2.2. million people are imprisoned in the us more than in any country in the world. The united states have more prisoners than china who more of a population. When you count the people, who aren’t just incarcerated but on probation or a on parole, the number is at almost 7 million. That is 1 in 35 American adults caught up in the prison system. And for people of color its even wort one out of every 3 African Americans born today will go to jail at some point in their lives. How did the place which defines itself by the name land of the free, put so many citizens behind bars? It wasn’t always like this, back in the 1960s our incarceration rate was the name as Europe, and the crime rate are the same as the western world, so crime rate isn’t different. The reason why America has so much people in prison is because, America is tough on crime policies. Over the past few decades a number of very harsh policies have been enacted in state and federal legislature, a lot was to do with longer sentences and three strikes law.3 strikes law mean if you get in trouble 3x regardless of how petty the crimes are you have to be in prison. In Germany on six percent of the people convicted gets locked up compared to America 70 percent. The average sentence in the United states in 3 years that is 3x longer than in Germany. Harsh drug laws are also a problem, the 1986 anti- drug abuse act instituted a mandator minimum sentence of 5 years without parole for possession of 5 grams of crack. Overall black and white people use drugs at the same rate, but black men are 12x more likely to go to prison on drug offenses. Finally, when it comes to our prison population mental health also plays a role, about half of all incarcerated suffer mental health problems. For 10 to 25 percent of prisoners some suffer from serious mental health illness such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. Drug and alcohol are also a dependent and instead of getting help many mentally ill people cycle through the system over and over again. But it’s not just drug abusers who fall victim to this cycle, being convicted of a felony, their sentence and punishment can follow them long after their time is served, it can make getting housing, assistance, job even harder, and also losing the right to vote. In Florida and Virginia both key states in national elections more than 1 in 5 black people are disenfranchised. The prison boom hasn’t been so bad for everyone private prison cooperation like correction corporation of America are actually profiting from it, the correction corporation of America made 1.6 billion in revenue in 2014 alone this is all part of what is called the prison industrial complex and when 1 in 35 Americans caught up in it you have to ask just how free are we. CCA and GEO are two private prison corporation that are for profit facilities, they claim to be the good guys, but they are the bad guys. The CEO and workers are over payed and have connection to politician and they spend a lot money 1 million dollar each year lobbying federal government issues like homeland security appropriation. In 2016 GEO group subsidiary contributed 225,000 to a Pro trump super Pac and an addition 250 k for the president inaugural committee. Private prison has a profit motive to lock up more innocent Americans, they do so make money. They make money by imprisoning innocent people for. Petty crimes such as marijuana talking away their freedom and liberty for profit. private prison does not care if the people are guilty or innocent, they care about maximizing profit. They agenda is to imprison more Americans right or wrong. As a CEO your job is to maximize profit, if you’ not doing so for a profit corporation you’re fired. So logically they invest millions of dollars to buy corrupt politicians to support their agenda. References 'Mass Incarceration | American Civil Liberties Union' . n.p., 1 Jan. 1970.Web. 3 Sep. 2019. 'Mass Incarceration: The Whole Pie 2019 | Prison Policy Initiative' . Wendy Sawyer and Peter Wagner, 1 Jan. 1970.Web. 3 Sep. 2019. 'Punishment's place: the local concentration of mass incarceration' . n.p., 1 Jan. 1970.Web. 3 Sep. 2019. 'Rethinking Public Safety to Reduce Mass Incarceration and ...' . Team Warren, 1 Jan. 1970.Web. 3 Sep. 2019. 'Why American Prisons Owe Their Cruelty to Slavery ' The New York .... Bryan Stevenson, 1 Jan. 1970.Web. 3 Sep. 2019. The History of Mass Incarceration | Brennan Center for Justice. (1970). Retrieved on September 3, 2019, from https://www.brennancenter.org/blog/history-mass-incarceration. Wendy Sawyer and Peter Wagner. (1970). Mass Incarceration: The Whole Pie 2019 | Prison Policy Initiative. Retrieved on September 3, 2019, from https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/pie2019.html. 'Crime Is Down, Yet U.S. Incarceration Rates Are Still Among the ...' . n.p., 1 Jan. 1970.Web. 3 Sep. 2019.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Kindness, a virtue often described as the quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate, transcends borders, cultures, and languages. The universal dialect of compassion, understanding, and empathy binds humanity together. While seemingly simple, the essence of kindness is profound and potent enough to inspire change and foster unity. Kindness forms an integral part of the American ethos, intertwining with the nation's ideals of liberty, justice, and unity. This essay explores kindness's historical and contemporary role in our society, its impact on American culture, and its relevance to the nation's future. Definition and Importance of Kindness Kindness is a fundamental human trait characterized by the qualities of being friendly, generous, and considerate. It is an expression of benevolence and goodwill towards others and manifests in our actions, words, and attitudes. Kindness can involve everything from small acts of everyday compassion—like holding a door open for a stranger or offering a kind word to a friend—to larger, more impactful actions, such as volunteering in a community or donating to a worthy cause. Kindness is of paramount importance for several reasons: Kindness encourages empathy and compassion, fostering positive relationships between individuals. Treating others with kindness builds stronger connections and engenders mutual respect and understanding. Performing acts of kindness has been shown to boost happiness and well-being. The ""helper's high,"" a feeling of euphoria experienced after being kind, can promote mental health. Furthermore, kindness can lead to physiological changes that improve our physical health, such as lowered blood pressure and stress reduction. Kindness tends to inspire more kindness. It creates a ripple effect where one act can lead to many others, amplifying the impact of that initial gesture. A culture of kindness fosters a more compassionate, supportive society. Kindness can bridge divides, lessen social tension, and promote cooperation among people of diverse backgrounds and beliefs. Kindness often serves as a gateway to other virtues. It can lead to increased empathy, compassion, generosity, and gratitude. In essence, kindness is a crucial part of our social fabric. It reflects our capacity for empathy and altruism, helping to build stronger, healthier communities. By choosing to practice kindness, we contribute to a more compassionate and harmonious world. Historical Perspective of Kindness in the USA To understand the role of kindness in America, one must delve into its historical roots. The United States was built on the fundamental principles of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, as outlined in the Declaration of Independence. These principles echo notions of mutual respect and tolerance, values synonymous with kindness. Kindness is embedded within the Constitution's tenets, a thread woven into the fabric of the nation's identity. Throughout American history, there have been countless acts of kindness that have marked significant turning points. The Underground Railroad, an extensive network of people offering their homes and resources to help slaves escape to freedom, was an act of monumental kindness and bravery. Similarly, during the Civil War, Clara Barton, who would later found the American Red Cross, provided aid to soldiers irrespective of their affiliations, personifying kindness amidst the turmoil. Role of Kindness in Modern Society In contemporary America, kindness manifests in myriad ways across societal structures. Community members unite to support one another during challenging times, displaying resilience and empathy. Kindness permeates local interactions and relationships, whether it's assisting those impacted by natural disasters or lending a helping hand to struggling neighbors. Educational institutions across the country have recognized the power of kindness and are integrating it into their curricula. Schools impart academic knowledge and strive to nurture empathetic and compassionate citizens. They encourage students to engage in acts of kindness, fostering a positive and inclusive learning environment. Random Acts of Kindness Day and other similar initiatives are widely promoted to instill the value of kindness early on in life. Business practices, too, have evolved to embody the ethos of kindness, reflecting a shift toward corporate social responsibility. Companies are increasingly prioritizing the well-being of their employees, supporting charitable causes, and adopting sustainable practices. These actions signal the recognition that success isn't merely measured by profit margins but also by contributions to society. The Influence of American Culture on Promoting Kindness American culture has played a pivotal role in promoting kindness. Media, in particular, wields a significant influence. Television shows, movies, and even video games often weave in narratives of kindness, generosity, and unity, subtly shaping public attitudes and behaviors. These goodwill stories entertain and inspire viewers, encouraging them to replicate acts of kindness in their lives. Literature and the arts, too, are powerful platforms for advocating kindness. From Mark Twain's literary classics that underscore empathy and understanding to modern graphic novels addressing inclusivity and respect, written works have continually emphasized the importance of being kind. Music, visual arts, and theater often carry similar themes, reminding audiences of our shared humanity and the need for compassion. The Multifaceted Benefits of Kindness Kindness, an expression of benevolence and goodwill, extends far beyond mere acts of generosity and compassion. This fundamental human trait, often exemplified in our actions, words, and attitudes, generates a myriad of benefits that permeate our personal lives, social connections, and the broader societal fabric. From a personal perspective, practicing kindness can significantly contribute to our mental and physical well-being. Often referred to as the ""helper's high,"" individuals who perform acts of kindness can experience a sense of euphoria accompanied by a surge of endorphins, the brain's natural painkiller. This emotional lift enhances our mood, reduces anxiety, and fosters a sense of satisfaction. The physical health benefits of kindness are equally noteworthy, including lowered blood pressure, decreased stress and inflammation, and even potentially increased lifespan. Kindness can act as a potent elixir, nourishing both our minds and bodies. Kindness also plays an essential role in cultivating healthy, enriching relationships. When we treat others with kindness, we nurture a sense of trust, understanding, and mutual respect. Kindness strengthens connections, facilitating stronger bonds among friends, family, and even acquaintances. It fosters empathy, enabling us to understand and resonate with others' feelings, paving the way for deeper, more meaningful interactions. On a societal level, kindness serves as the cornerstone for a harmonious, inclusive community. It fosters a sense of togetherness and cooperation, critical for addressing collective challenges. Furthermore, kindness acts as a catalyst for positive change, inspiring acts of charity, volunteerism, and social justice. It promotes a cycle of positivity, where one act of kindness can inspire another, creating a ripple effect that uplifts entire communities. Challenges and Criticisms Despite the strong emphasis on kindness, America faces certain challenges. A discernible disconnect exists between the ideals of kindness and the lived realities of many individuals. Social inequality, systemic racism, and intolerance are glaring issues that undermine the practice of kindness. Some critics argue that kindness can sometimes be superficial or performative, serving as a band-aid solution to deep-rooted problems. In an era of social media, acts of kindness can sometimes be used as a tool for self-promotion rather than a genuine expression of empathy. This phenomenon can lead to skepticism and cynicism about the true motivations behind these actions, potentially undermining the value of kindness. Another criticism often leveled at the promotion of kindness is that it focuses too heavily on individual actions at the expense of systemic change. While personal acts of kindness are important, they alone cannot address larger societal issues like poverty, systemic racism, or climate change. Therefore, critics argue that an overemphasis on individual kindness can detract from efforts to enact broader social and political changes necessary for a more equitable and sustainable society. Similarly, kindness is sometimes criticized for being used as a tool to maintain the status quo. In this view, encouraging kindness can serve as a means to pacify dissent and distract from systemic injustices. For instance, those in positions of power might use the language of kindness to discourage criticism or protest. Despite these challenges and criticisms, the importance of promoting and practicing kindness cannot be understated. The key is to approach kindness holistically and nuancedly, recognizing its potential to alleviate immediate suffering and contribute to systemic change. It involves practicing kindness authentically, focusing on both personal actions and systemic solutions, and ensuring that it is not used as a tool to maintain unjust systems. Ultimately, kindness must be coupled with justice and equity to bring about meaningful, lasting change. Conclusion In the face of 21st-century challenges, kindness remains an essential guiding principle for the United States. As the country continues to evolve, kindness has the potential to bridge divides, alleviate suffering, and create a more inclusive and empathetic society. The practice of kindness in everyday life, in policy-making, and in social structures can help foster unity and understanding. Kindness, therefore, should not be perceived as merely a moral virtue but as a pragmatic strategy for building a harmonious future. Encouraging kindness at all levels—individual, community, and institutional—is critical for the prosperity and well-being of the nation. As the American novelist Henry James once said, ""Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind."" This assertion rings true today more than ever. As the United States strides into the future, it carries with it the beacon of kindness, illuminating the path toward a more compassionate and unified nation.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"“At the end of the day, the most overwhelming key to a child’s success is the positive involvement of parents”- Jane D. Hull Parents have always played a great role in the lives of their children. They are always present for support and guidance. That is why it is very important for them to get involved in their children's education process. Parent engagement can directly affect the child's behavior, attitude, and academic outcome. Gina and Ronal (2014), described the parents as the most important “Stakeholders” in any school environment this is because of the great roles they play in the alteration of the child`s academic process. Not only that but it was also stated that the parent’s involvement in the education process creates more success opportunities. This type of contribution ensures that the child meets the academic requirements while achieving the best performance. Importance of Parents' Role in Education Parents' involvement creates a strong profound relationship with the child, as they spend more time with their children while monitoring all their activities. This results in the awareness of the parents; as they can easily know their strengths, weaknesses, and whether they need help or not. Also, students who get parental support tend to have more self-confidence and enhanced behavior. Also, according to (Abie Ntekane, 2018) this parental engagement results in the motivation of the children and is more concentrated in the lesson. More importantly, the parental role in education is found to be an asset to the parents too, as their role can enhance their parenting techniques. In addition to knowing more about their children’s needs while bringing more awareness to any emotional or intellectual needs. It also allows the parents to have more awareness about the school curriculum (Gina and Ronal, 2014). Parent’s involvement in the education process There are many techniques parents can use to be involved in their children’s education journey. These techniques can be classified into two categories: Home-based and School-based engagement. Home-based ideas can be done from home to encourage children and get involved with them while monitoring their learning process. While the other one is done with the help of the teachers, and school management to keep track of the children’s performance and behavior. Home-based engagement includes several ideas to be applied. First of all, parents should create a pleasant relaxing environment for their children at home. Secondly, spending time with the child is very essential, because it allows the children to be more open and share their concerns, problems, and feelings. This can also make the parents more aware of their children's interests and their ongoing events at the school. Not only that, parents should also encourage their children to read more as reading has a positive effect on their performance. Last but not least, parents can take their children on educational trips that are relevant to what they took in the class to help them better understand their lessons. Finally, helping with homework is one of the most important factors in the children’s success at school, as it provides guidance and assistance. On the other hand, School-based involvement allows parents to collaborate more with the school by getting in touch with the teachers to follow up on their progress and performance. This can be done by attending the parent's meeting or by requesting to meet the teacher after class. Also, Volunteering in school is a great idea for parents to get involved with their children for instance applying to be a homeroom parent, or volunteering in any activities held at the school like book fairs or baking activities. In addition to joining other parents' groups to be updated with any new feeds and news at the school. Finally, parents should ask for frequent updates and feedback about their children to be constantly notified about their progress or if there is any problem arises.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"ver the course of time, life as a teenager has changed abundantly. How teenagers lived back then is incomparable to how they live now. In today’s generation, being a teenager is anything but easy. Or at least that’s how I feel. The growth from childhood to adulthood is effortless for some, but difficult for others. There’s many challenges to face, decisions to make, and roads to take set out for all of us. Based on our preparation for these moments, we’ll know just how “ready” we are to take on life. The hardest part of being a teenager now is feeling stuck. Stuck between what responsibilities are yours to handle. You’re no longer a child but you’re not officially an adult yet either. This can be the biggest struggle we all come across. It gets very frustrating trying to live up to so many expectations from your friends, family members, and sometimes their friends too. We’re stuck in this stage in life where we’re expected to be responsible young adults yet we’re not permitted to do just as much as adults can. It’s hard being expected to act as an adult, but all adults see in you is a child just trying to be someone they can’t be just yet. I myself struggle with getting things done when it’s needed. At times this gets me in a lot of trouble. Many adults automatically expect us to do things exactly how they want us to and expect us to act just as they did, but they don’t understand that we were raised differently. Times have changed compared to 30 years ago when our parents were teenagers. Back then, technology wasn’t as convenient so they had more time away from phones, laptops and TVs. They interacted face to face more and were always busy whether inside or outside of the house. Nowadays we are glued to our gadgets. Face to face interaction has been compromised over text or video calling straight from your phone. Losing this really took a toll on our generation. The best part of being a teenager is being able to find things at the click of a button. With the advancement of technology, today’s generation doesn’t struggle as much as they did 30 years ago. The new technology has become such a great investment and factor in our lives. Compared to the past, teenagers nowadays are closer than ever. Teenagers now can easily reach each other at the click of a button. Along with the advancement of technology came a faster more efficient access to knowledge. Although there are still many struggles of being a teenager now, the superlatives of the present triumph it all.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Every country has a goal. Some want to be strong, some want to be the richest, however, all the countries have an end goal. With the end goal for the nation to develop, or to stay aware of the advanced world and the organizations, it must have certain norms, and one of the most significant is democracies. In the cutting-edge world, where practically the majority of the nations except certain administrations that are as yet not that big, come a shared factor, and nearly as some measure standards arise the topic of democracy. A few creators/authors talk about whether a democratic government is superior to anything else, which is not a Democrat. If a nation or a country is democratic, it works smoother and better than those countries that don’t. Vote based system can have a ton of implications, whether an arrangement of government by the entire populace of the country or all the qualified individuals from a state, commonly through chosen delegates. In any case, the most exact and most generally utilized are races and free elections with more than one gathering. I think about a decent, well-working government for the people, one with a decent steady established assembly, and one that gives balance to all the people who live in the United States of America, freedom and the right assembly, and also working of the considerable number of kinds of foundations in the nation. Be that as it may, more than these a good working democracy base system is the one that fulfills the people of the United States and makes them happy with what they have. When it comes to the government, I am more of a Democrat than a Republican. When I look at the differences between a Democrat and a Republican, I get confused a lot. They both are good in one way and they both are bad in another way. But the main reason I am for and not against the Democrats is that they want to make abortion legal. And the Republicans think they should not make abortion legal. This is one of the main reasons why I support the Democrats more than the Republicans. Before when I was in high school, I hated government because it was so boring. I didn’t get anything about the government. When I was in government class, I usually fell asleep. But that changed because of my aunt’s story. My aunt got pregnant and she didn’t want the baby. I don’t know the whole story behind why she didn’t want the baby, but the only thing I know is she use to cry in her room at night. She didn’t want the baby, but the doctors said that they could not abort the child. Then she went into depression and tried looking for an illegal way to abort a child. Believe it or not, they actually found someone who was willing to do it illegally. However, it was too late. The doctor said they took too long to find him and he said that she will have to deliver the baby no matter what. When she actually delivered the baby, she was crying because she was young and she got pregnant. She wanted to live her life before she made the decision to get pregnant. After that day, I hated the people who made abortion illegal. After that day, I made sure I learned about the government and how it works. Now I never get bored again in a government or a history class. In conclusion, the Democrats and the Republicans are the main political parties in the United States to choose from. There are more political parties than these two, but they are not the main ones, so they are called the third party. The citizens of the United States can go with any party, but most of them go with the two common parties, the Democrats and the Republicans. When it comes to picking a side, I go for the Democrats. However, I am not a fully Democrat, as they also have things they favor that I don’t like.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Homosexuality is a term that is commonly used to describe people aligned to a given sexual orientation or is showing interest and getting attracted to members of the individual's gender. Therefore, men getting sexually attracted to fellow men and women getting sexually attracted to fellow women. The word gay is usually applied as the other word for homosexuals, while lesbianism is the term used to refer to female homosexuality. For diverse cultures during changing times, homosexual activities have been differently tolerated and variously accepted of, endured, banned, and punished. The term homosexuality was infamous in the Rome and Greece cultures, as the relations between the adolescent and adult males in specific have to turn out to be a key focus of Western conformists in the recent past years. Muslim cultures, as well as Judeo Christian, have primarily alleged that homosexual relationships as sinful and is a characteristic of an immoral society. Nevertheless, many Christian and Jewish leaders, however, have moved out to greater lengths to demonstrate that it is the actions of the community and never about the personalities or even their orientation or inclination prescribed by their diverse faiths and religions. This topic has endangered to create complete splits in some other denominations (Peter, 2005). A very popular similarity between gays and lesbianism is their way of thinking and open-mindedness. Research has shown that both lesbians and gays respect other forms of sexual orientation more than different sexualities. This is probably because most societies worldwide undermine and disapprove of same-sex marriages and consider them immoral. Additionally, gays and lesbian couples who are married or get engaged apply and appreciate the rare rule of equality, and they do so by sharing household responsibilities and ending them together. Research has shown most of such same-gender relationships assign by balancing and allocation of household tasks equally but specialize as one partner does, for example, the cooking, and the other does the ironing. In this separation pattern, no partner does more of the household labor than the other partner (Lake, 2009). Studies have shown that most lesbian or gay pairs are most likely to apportion by balancing and sharing, while the married heterosexual couples operate by the principle of segregation as the wives do the bulk of domestic labor. More so, additional studies based on evidence put forward that many gay and lesbian couples have a planned and agreed financial corporation and merge or pool partial or full of their earnings, and this grows more prosperous with time. However, data also proposes that gay and lesbian couples in a relationship are more probable to plan their investments together, and this is more common in lesbian relationships. In two recent case studies carried out in Britain, gay and lesbian relationships sampled respondents usually make equivalent contributions to domestic expenses, but else each manages their finances separately regularly in distinct bank accounts(Peter, 2005). On the other hand, meta-analyses of the study literature indicate that heterosexual women and men respond in different ways to homosexuality. Heterosexual males usually portray higher feelings of sexual preconception, such as adverse attitudes towards homosexual individuals than done by heterosexual women. This difference in preconceived notion results primarily from heterosexual men's disrespect towards homosexual males, which are more negative consistently than either of their attitudes towards lesbianism and heterosexual females' attitudes concerning either gay men or lesbians (Ekwenze, 2012). These explanations all imply that heterosexual men and women think differently about homosexuality. References Ekwenze, S. (2012). The Moral and Legal Frontiers of Homosexuality, Lesbianism and Gayism: A Paradox for the Third Millennium. SSRN Electronic Journal. DOI: 10.2139/ssrn.2174084 Lake, E. (2009). Research with Adolescents Sheds New Light on Early Lesbianism. Science News, 96(3), 45. DOI: 10.2307/3954665 Peter, A. (2005). Lesbianism: A study of female homosexuality. Behavior Therapy, 6(5), 745. DOI: 10.1016/s0005-7894(75)80231-0",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Mental health is one of the most misunderstood fields of nursing. Physicians frequently misconstrue the complexities of individual’s symptoms. This misunderstanding results in several unsuccessful trials of medication therapy while avoiding the root cause of the illness. Health promotion in the field of mental health is a slow timely process that requires a broad approach to treatment. Nola Pender’s Health Promotion Theory speaks to altering unhealthy behaviors to endorse health. Theoretical concepts on person, environment, nursing, health, illness, and reflects social cognitive philosophy. Personal traits and environment are connected and can shape one’s behavior. Pender believes the environment encompasses a social, cultural, and physical context in which life unfolds and individuals can be both sources of and adapt to healthy behavioral changes (Petiprin 2016). The real question is how effective behavioral therapy in mental health is? This paper will expound on the purpose of the Health Promotion Model, demonstrate influences for selecting the noted theory to narrate mental health needs, exemplify plans to implement the theoretical model into current mental health practice, and barriers that may interfere with implementation. The purpose of this paper is to reveal the contribution Nola Pender Health Promotion Model can bring to the advancement of mental health and patient/s welfare within mental health treatment. Introduction Nola Pender’s Health Promotion Model defines health as a positive dynamic state being without illness and focuses on improving an individual’s state of well-being (Petiprin 2016). This model serves as a reflection of the social cognitive theory, in which cognition affects action and environmental events are indirectly projected as functioning control over behaviors (Misener, Phillips, McGraw 2000). Pender purposes that conduct can change via one’s perception and the benefits of that change can improve the quality of life by pursuing self-enrichment goals. The Health Promotion Model has three structural components: personal traits and experiences, (including environmental factors) specific congenital behavioral effects, and the outcome of behaviors (Petiprin 2016). Pender’s theory focuses on promoting health mentally, physically, emotionally, socially, and spiritually. The Motivation for Theoretical Philosophy Mental Health is composed of a variety of symptoms, predisposing factors, and is individually specific. Behaviors are actions learned through cultural methods, reactions to things experienced, and means to maintain self-control within self and the environment. Pender’s Health Promotion Model relates to mental health in a way that some other theories may not. Operating in crisis stabilization is another motivating factor. Crisis stabilization involves constantly seeing the same patients with the same problems based mainly on non-compliance as a result of environmental, financial, and emotional stressors. Stays range from 3-10 days when the patients come to detox off substances and/or receive medication adjust based on mental status. Through this process it is difficult to focus on the overall needs of the patient, yet it could be the ultimate cause of frequent re-admission. Promoting healthy behaviors along individual therapy and medication management could be the key to improving patient’s overall well-being. There is a need for the promotion of health by altering behaviors or ways of responding, within mental health care. This theory will allow people suffering from mental illness to retain some self-control, aid in their control of negative health diminishing behaviors, and encourage health-promoting behaviors that may enhance their quality of life. Health-Promoting Behaviors Pender model includes thirteen theoretical statements (Petiprin 2016 p.1): “Prior behavior and inherited and acquired characteristics influence beliefs, effect, and enactment of health-promoting behaviors.” “Persons commit to engaging in behaviors from which they anticipate deriving personally valued benefits.” “Perceived barriers can constrain a commitment to action, a mediator of behavior as well as actual behaviors.” “Perceived competence or self-efficacy to execute a given behavior increases the likelihood of commitment to action and actual performance of the behavior.” “Greater perceived self-efficacy results in fewer perceived barriers to specific health behavior.” “Positive affect toward a behavior results in greater perceived self-efficacy, which can, in turn, result in increased positive affect.” “When positive emotions or affect are associated with a behavior, the probability of commitment and action is increased.” “Persons are more likely to commit to and engage in health-promoting behaviors when significant others model the behavior, expect the behavior to occur, and aid and support to enable the behavior.” “Families, peers, and health care providers are important sources of the interpersonal influence that can increase or decrease commitment to and engagement in health-promoting behavior.” “Situational influences in the external environment can increase or decrease commitment to or participation in health-promoting behavior.” “The greater the commitments to a specific plan of action, the more likely health-promoting behaviors are to be maintained over time.” “Commitment to a plan of action is less likely to result in the desired behavior when competing demands over which persons have little control requires immediate attention.” “Persons can modify cognitions, affect, and the interpersonal and physical environment to create incentives for health actions” (Petiprin 2016 p.1). Implementation of Healthy Behaviors Implementing healthy behaviors in mental health can be a challenging task. To promote healthy inpatient behaviors, healthcare workers must also be seeking to improved personal well-being. Healthcare workers must seek to promote healthy behaviors by example. Nurses displaying healthy behaviors allows them to be more relatable to the challenges of continuing healthy habits and enhances the relationship between the nurse and patient. The patient is not only encouraged via speech but by illustration. Although goals may not be the same for the nurse and patient, knowing that caretakers are striving to improve well-being adds merit. Implementation would include collective and individual behavioral modification therapy, endorsing and assessing patients self- reflecting goals. Educating patients regarding the benefits of improving behaviors, encouraging patients to seek assistance when needed, and improve patient-staff relationships would also be a necessity. Every visit, an individual should feel more equipped to control behaviors and positively respond to triggers and/or stressors. Also, implantation of therapy should be peer-peer therapy because peers have a greater understanding of each other struggles. More empowered individuals should be asked to lead groups to encourage healthy behaviors of peers. The more involved patients are in their care the greater the outcome of them achieving stability and well-being will be. Patient Barriers That Affecting Implementation. Patients constantly express a need for self-worth and feel belong in the community. Patients’ perceptions of self are distorted due to frequent negative experiences, current economic status, unemployment, financial instability, and developments of mental trauma impacting their thoughts. The term social functioning was interpreted in a peer group study, stating social functioning includes having a support system, feeling safe and accomplished within their community, feeling less judgment, and more access to jobs (Hannigan B; Bartlett H; Clilverd A (2007). Their depression and behaviors were a result of limitation of healthcare, limited jobs, and not feeling safe. These barriers to patient stability affect their willingness to apply healthy behaviors. The stresses of their current status block their positivity and willingness to thrive. Positive health-promoting behaviors would have a greater effect at younger ages permitting manifestation of those behaviors with age. Group therapy is also important so that professionals will gain understanding of their healthcare situation and perceptions. There can also be barriers related to age, culture, gender, and stage of illness. Healthcare Barriers that Affect Implementations Healthcare professionals along with their practices can also be a barrier to implementing healthy-behavior (Barnes, Almasy 2005). Barriers consist of limited study of health promotion in mental health, limited advancement of healthy behaviors, and ineffective coping techniques to advanced mental health. The cost of treatment, and limited time spent with healthcare professionals to gain knowledge of patient conditions is also a barrier. Pender’s model can be used in the development and treatment to enhance compliance with medication and therapy (Lannon SL1997). Healthcare professionals view medication refusal or non-compliance as the patient being difficult while failing to assess the truth behind the refusal. Patients should have the right to refuse treatment unless they are a threat to themselves or others then crisis interventions are necessary. To control or decrease the behaviors medical profession initially or only seeking medication therapy. Although medication therapy is very useful and effective, it may not always be the immediate answer. Fears of aggressive actions, fearing the unknown, patients’ non-compliance, decreased relationship, and array individual therapies needed for patient care sometimes hinder the implementation of social modification therapy. Interventions are needed to promote medication, therapy, behavioral control, and compliance while assessing the reasoning behind the patient’s hesitance to comply. Methods to Overcome Barriers Restricting barriers, in a mental health setting, can be a bet taxing. Maslow’s hierocracy of needs is a great tool to use in treatment of mental illness. Physiological needs must be met first. Health-promoting behaviors can be achieved by providing resources and assisting patients to meet their needs McLeod (2018). Assistance with safety, love and belonging, self-esteem and finally self-actualization then follows. Building trusting therapeutic relationships is most effective in limiting barriers. The Health Promotion Model empowers nurses to inspire first self-care and then build patients’ capacity to perform via education and person development (McEwen, M. & Wills, E. 2019). Implementing health-promoting behaviors may allow more understanding of the patient’s mental state through behavioral modification techniques. Encouraging patients to obtain more self-control over conditions, teaching positive methods to cope throughout the disease’s process, and education on when to seek assistance are key factors to assist in the decreased psychiatric hospital stays more patient compliance, and increased patient- staff trusting relationships. Conclusion Mental health can truly be impacted by the benefits of promoting healthy behaviors of a patient as well as healthcare providers. Pender’s theory speaks to many healthcare fields. Though mental health can greatly benefit from this model by exhibiting the holistic care values. Guided care within the mental health framework requires the support of first the patient, then the staff, families and overall the community. We all suffer or have suffered from mental instability whether it be situational or genetically acquired. The advancement of mental health could help us all in some way. A daily goal should be striving to improve self: mind, body, soul and even the environment we live in. References Masoud Khodaveisi, PhD,1 Afsar Omidi, MS,1 Shima Farokhi, MS,2 and Ali Reza Soltanian, PhD.The Effect of Pender’s Health Promotion Model in Improving the Nutritional Behavior of Overweight and Obese Women. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5385239/ Alice Petiprin, NOLA PENDER - NURSING THEORIST 2016. https://nursing-theory.org/nursing-theorists/Nola-Pender.php Donelle M. Barnes1,3 and Nina Almasy: Refugees’ Perceptions of Healthy Behaviors. Journal of Immigrant Health, Vol. 7, No. 3, July 2005 (C 2005). DOI: 10.1007/s10903-005-3675-8. Peer-reviewed. https://6o324m03o-mp03-y-https-search-proquest-com.prx-herzing.lirn.net/nahs/docview Ross, Alyson; Bevans, Margaret; Brooks, Alyssa T; Gibbons, Susanne; Wallen, Gwenyth R. Nurses and Health-Promoting Behaviors: Knowledge May Not Translate into Self-Care. AORN Journal: The Official Voice of Perioperative Nursing; Denver Vol. 105, Iss. 3, (Mar 2017): 267-275. DOI: 10.1016/j.aorn.2016.12.018. Peer-reviewed. https://6o324m03o-mp03-y-https-search-proquest-com.prx-herzing.lirn.net/nahs/docview/ Misener, Terry R; Phillips, Kenneth D; McGraw, Elizabeth- Psychosocial development and health-promoting lifestyle. Journal of Theory Construction & Testing; Lisle Vol. 4, Iss. 1, (Spring 2000): 14. Peer-reviewed. https://6o324m03o-mp03-y-https-search-proquest-com.prx-herzing.lirn.net/nahs/docview/ Lannon SL (1997). Using a health promotion model to enhance medication compliance. Journal of Neuroscience Nursing (J NEUROSCI NURS), 1997 Jun; 29(3): 170-178. (9p). https://6o305m0qi-mp03-y-https-web-b-ebscohost-com.prx-herzing.lirn.net/ Hannigan B; Bartlett H; Clilverd A (2007). Improving health and social functioning: perspectives of mental health service users. Peer-reviewed https://6o305m08l-mp03-y-https-web-b-ebscohost-com.prx-herzing.lirn.net/ Saul McLeod (2018). Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Simply Psychology. https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html McEwen, M. & Wills, E. (2019). Theoretical basis for nursing (5th ed.). Philadelphia, PA: Lippincott Williams & Wilkins. ISBN 9781496351203",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"In a technologically-dominant world, nearly everyone has seen at least one Photoshopped, or digitally-altered, image in their life, whether it is believed or not. Social media has caused a frenzy of adults, teens, and kids alike who are obsessed with looking as perfect as possible. Entertainers and social media influencers have had a huge impact on this issue. The type of 'ideal body', a glorified image of how one should look, portrayed online, in movies, and in magazines simply misleads the general public into believing that having an ideal body is socially imperative. The stride that most Americans take towards an unattainable social construct is incredibly detrimental to one’s self-esteem, especially if these goals are not achieved. Although some scholars believe otherwise, a significant amount of men and women have begun to doubt the way they look, spiraling into self-hatred, because of an increasingly digitalized age in which the widespread of Photoshopped images becomes idolized. One of the major effects of Photoshop is the increased rate of eating disorders. In fact, the National Eating Disorders Association proclaims that “... studies have linked exposure to the thin ideal in mass media to body dissatisfaction, internalization of the thin ideal, and disordered eating...” ('Media & Eating Disorders', 2018). Then, what is the cause for such a link in eating disorders among Americans? Photoshopped images have become such a reality for certain people that they feel that there is no other choice but to conform to media-fueled body images through unhealthy coping mechanisms. In an attempt to mirror the Photoshopped images, eating disorders such as bulimia, anorexia, and binge eating disorder, proliferate throughout the population. However, these ideals are unachievable, which are worsened by the presence of media, further aggravating the problem. Some scholars such as William Rhys Jones, a doctor at the Royal College of Psychiatrists’ eating disorders faculty, back up this sentiment, “Images of unhealthy male body ideals in the media place unnecessary pressure on vulnerable people who strive for acceptance through the way they look” (Marsh, 2017), elucidating the effects of idealizing an unrealistic aesthetic and publicly endorsing such ideals. The alarming increase in body disillusion because of outrageous standards created by the media is a definite cause of concern for all Americans. Popularized images that were manipulated to fit certain beauty standards were created to garner consumer attention. Although frequent exposure to alluring imagery does entice excitement, Americans begin to equate all beauty with these imposed standards by the media. Although some may disagree, discounting the effects of media on body image would not only mean arguing against a correlation between Photoshopped images and body disorders (or self-hatred), but it would also disregard how influential the media can be. Undeniably, American media has had a major influence beyond their own sociocultural sphere as they had significant impacts on the perception of beauty in other cultures and regions. For example, Fiji found a cultural shift in beauty ideals when Western television shows got introduced. American beauty standards, such as being thin, began being imprinted upon the people of Fiji — a culture that celebrated voluptuous women — which quickly became plagued with eating disorders (Day, 2017). An interesting phenomenon occurs in which fictional elements and cultural upbringing hastily dissipate away in the face of popular media. It is no surprise that massive amounts of people from all over the world are feeling more disgusted with themselves. The distortion of images, especially advertisements, prays upon an individual's desire to attain the best-perceived version of themselves. People are led to chase a proverbial grail that has been carefully curated by experts and locked up in a glass exhibit. This induced state of mind can be quite detrimental to Americans who are more susceptible to attaching themselves to corrupt influences that appear appealing. The promulgation of advertisements featuring attractive people can create envy within an individual who may feel that they need to attain that image at any cost. Usually, such dilemmas are centered on younger generations who are heavily influenced by public figures, such as musicians, actors, etc. In their desire to look similar to them, even with the possibility that their images are augmented, young Americans are still willing to commit to these ideas. Even influencers, albeit young adults, find themselves influenced by Photoshopped images and ideas about body types. For example, Zach Kornfeld, a member of the Try Guys, admits, “I think I’m, like, too thin and scrawny. Intellectually, I know that I’m not any less of a man because I’m not big and strong, but it’s hard sometimes to not look at the people around you and feel less than” ('The Try Guys Get Photoshopped with Men's Ideal Body Types', 2019), exemplifying a commonplace inferiority complex. Even with the knowledge that his value as a human being, or as a man, is not taken away, the effects of altered media still take root. What makes a man a man? Or what makes a woman a woman? In the era of digitally-altered images, changed ideals have rendered these types of questions useless. If an individual’s identity is not secured, which is most likely the case, then it will inevitably be tested by other, more alluring ones. Possible examples may include thinner, whiter, and taller models as the ideals. Another member of the Try Guys, Ned Fulmer, claims that 'athleticism' determines a man’s attractiveness ('The Try Guys Get Photoshopped with Men's Ideal Body Types', 2019). Athleticism and male aestheticism exemplify a superficial fixation on the ego. By obtaining these standards one is said to be better than someone without. However many individuals in this world are unable to achieve such athleticism or aestheticism. People with diabetes, muscular diseases, etc. are such examples of individuals without the capability to become 'attractive', in the eyes of mass media standards. People, with the aid of social media and the like, latch onto a goal that gives them a purpose. However, they fail to realize that these images are mirages. Photoshop is not a remedy for body satisfaction; the idea stands that Photoshopped images being a short-term remedy will only leave people devastated. Some scholars argue that Photoshop does not insinuate self-hatred in men and women. For instance, Carrie Arnold, an eating disorder specialist, found the research linking eating disorders and media exposure by the American Medical Association (AMA) was not backed up by scientific evidence (Diller, 2011). Eating disorders stem from self-hatred, something that is created within one’s self. Hypothetically, if there was no connection between media-induced eating disorders and self-hatred in men and women, would self-hatred still exist? Of course, the answer is yes. Self-hatred, caused by how other people look, is not a new concept. However, it is difficult to deny that increased globalization, as evident in social media, has added to the spread of negative imagery. It is the belief that Photoshopped images are not causing a significant effect that is considered a factor that perpetuates young people riddled with horrible self-images. However, this issue goes beyond internal, individual struggles. Photoshopped images also influence individuals’ relationships with one another, consequently affecting the whole American society. Generally, people are fixated on finding their perfect partner, often superficially. In turn, with media posting Photoshopped ideals, the average American would never find a partner because they do not match said ideals. Such desperation causes a fracture in human lives. Once again, self-hatred burdens men and women intensified by the prominence of technology. To resist this oversaturation of media and its corrupted ideals, as evident in digitally-altered images, healthier lifestyles can prove to be a remedy to this issue and promote a more positive mindset. Although knowledge can positively affect the mindset of the population, the stigma of imperfection remains. The subjective nature of Photoshop and its detriments produced should be treated delicately like other mental issues such as depression and anxiety. Education should be at the forefront of countering the effects of media-induced eating disorders and self-hatred. By educating the general public about how digitally-altered images can affect the health of people, a greater amount of people can combat the romanticized ideas about certain negative aspects of media. The doubt that men and women have begun to feel in the wake of Photoshopped images has transformed into self-hatred. The increase in eating disorders, American media influence on other cultural groups, and public figures’ detrimental effects on American youth are arguable but undeniable facets of this issue. Photoshopped images and distorted ideas from influencers are proponents of malevolence for men and women of all ages. Self-hatred, eating disorders, and negative self-image add collective disillusion that halts individual productivity, consequently affecting society as a whole. On the other hand, positive body image, an essential component of identity, would promote individualistic values that are personally and societally productive. Educating Americans on how to cultivate and encourage positive body image with the elimination of Photoshopped images would placate a self-deprecating society. Works Cited Day, Lori. “Why Photoshopping Is a Matter of Life and Death for Many Girls”. HuffPost, 7 Dec. 2017, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/why-Photoshopping-is-a-ma_b_5138408 Diller, Vivian. “Is Photoshop Destroying America's Body Image?”. HuffPost, 6 Sept. 2011, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/Photoshop-body-image_b_891095?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZWNvc2lhLm9yZy8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAJNKaHoK7wR2LcByF-d87KARzh6DZb1M8OhzearkQt3UYDlIJSxZWmJxldBmIyX9G8-IRKgToD1yqdGqu2gtn3yHmKVRWpWn4GPGfgXL8YIG4J9f6Y5O8Lw_xvEgImCea6CCqgXc8SLUV7PGxooAr2N3knB5ptTSCob-4N2oltEn Marsh, Sarah. “Eating Disorders in Men Rise by 70% in NHS Figures”. The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 31 July 2017, https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/jul/31/eating-disorders-in-men-rise-by-70-in-nhs-figures “Media & Eating Disorders”. National Eating Disorders Association, 22 Feb. 2018, https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/media-eating-disorders “The Try Guys Get Photoshopped with Men's Ideal Body Types”. YouTube, Buzzfeed, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLNTb2zfh3Q Accessed 9 December 2019.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"My personal code of ethics shows my personality and the things I value in life. When I keep these values in the forefront of my mind regarding school, work, and friendships, I feel that I am upholding not only these values but myself to the highest standards. This code serves as the building blocks of my own “personal life blueprint”. A personal code of ethics serves to remind us of the values and the ideals that we admire and by which we enforce accountability. Some of my values have changed throughout my life, but for the most part, my foundation has remained the same. When I was a Girl Scout, there was a code of conduct that contained values that played a large role in what my values are today. I also gained many of these values through my upbringing in the church and have molded them to fit into my own personal code. Honesty When I think of ethics, I think of the three “T’s”; Honesty, Integrity, and Loyalty. When I talk about honesty, or when I use that in my life, I like to believe that everybody has moral fibers and that they are being sincere, genuine, truthful, and honest. I am an honest person, and that is how I expect everyone to be. Through honesty, we can gain trust, and trust is crucial to personal and work relationships. As a part of honesty, I will also include transparency since these values go hand-in-hand. If someone wants to see something I’ve done or if I haven’t done it, I’m transparent about it. If I have questions or feel like something isn’t working, I like to let people know my honest opinion on the matter. If staff can feel that you are being 100% genuine and transparent, I believe that they themselves will be more open and honest with you as a leader in return. Integrity When I talk about integrity with children, I usually explain it by telling them it means to do the right thing even when no one is watching. For me as an adult, integrity means being consistent in what I’m doing (being consistent in my actions, being consistent in my expectations of others, and being consistent in general with all of my practices). With integrity, you have to be consistent in your expectation of employees and students. This can be difficult, but if you don’t keep this consistency, you might end up telling one person one thing and telling another person a completely different thing, and that would just not work. Integrity shapes who I am as a person and it requires me to have trust and discipline within myself. Loyalty The final building block that I go by is loyalty. Loyalty immediately speaks the word devotion. Being devoted to God, your family and friends, and your job. Being raised in the church helped me build my moral fiber. Everybody was genuine, and honorable in the institution. The years, along with my family and friends have helped embed these ethics within me. For me, loyalty means you have the ability to get a person to do something not because they have to do it, but because they want to do it. If you take care of them, they will take care of you. If you are loyal to them, honest to them, if you care for them, and you are consistent in your expectations of them, I believe they will follow you until the ends of the earth. In education, being loyal can also in turn help you down the line when you need people the most. This could be in the case of making a difficult decision or trying something new. If your staff is loyal to you as you are to them, you can have peace knowing that someone will always have your back. Reflection As I grow in my leadership journey, I also evolve by being more and more accountable for my actions. As you get older and your job requires more accountability, you need to really understand your own personal code of ethics. These ethics are extremely important to me now. As a leader, your job is to influence people to be the very best they can be, so that they can be more proficient and reflect on their own personal code. I will continue to live by this code and stay true to these values as I explore, lead, and learn professionally and socially. I am confident that if I continue to abide by these values, I can lead myself and others in a positive direction.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Sales of violent video games have significantly increased while violent juvenile crime rates have significantly decreased. Violent video games do not influence aggressive or violent actions in the real world.Sales of violent video games have significantly increased while violent juvenile crime rates have significantly decreased. Total US sales of video game hardware and software increased 204% from 1994 to 2014, reaching $13.1 billion in 2014, while violent crimes decreased 37% and murders by juveniles acting alone fell 76% in that same period. [133][134][135][136][82][83] The juvenile Violent Crime Index arrest rate in 2012 was 38% below 1980 levels and 63% below 1994, the peak year. [83] The number of high school students who had been in at least one physical fight decreased from 43% in 1991 to 25% in 2013, and student reports of criminal victimization at school dropped by more than half from 1995 to 2011. [107][106] An Aug. 2014 peer-reviewed study found that: 'Annual trends in video game sales for the past 33 years were unrelated to violent crime... Monthly sales of video games were related to concurrent decreases in aggravated assaults.' [84] Studies claiming a causal link between video game violence and real-life violence are flawed. [34] Many studies failed to control for factors that contribute to children becoming violent, such as family history and mental health, plus most studies do not follow children over long periods of time. [95][10] Video game experiments often have people playing a game for as little as ten minutes, which is not representative of how games are played in real life. In many laboratory studies, especially those involving children, researchers must use artificial measures of violence and aggression that do not translate to real-world violence and aggression, such as whether someone would force another person to eat hot sauce or listen to unpleasant noises. [84][94] According to Christopher J. Ferguson, PhD, a psychology professor at Stetson University, 'matching video game conditions more carefully in experimental studies with how they are played in real life makes VVG's [violent video games] effects on aggression essentially vanish.' [95][96] The US Supreme Court ruled that violent video games do not cause youth to act aggressively. In Brown v. Entertainment Merchants Association (2011) the US Supreme Court ruled 7-2 that California could not ban the sale of violent video games to minors. Justice Antonin Scalia wrote in the majority opinion that studies purporting to show a connection between violent video games and harmful effects on children 'have been rejected by every court to consider them, and with good reason: They do not prove that violent video games cause minors to act aggressively.' [81] Playing violent video games does not cause kids to commit mass shootings. Over 150 million Americans (and 71% of teens) play video games. There have been 71 mass shootings between 1982 and Aug. 2015, seven of which (9.8%) involved shooters age 18 or younger. [87][91][92] Katherine Newman, PhD, Dean of Arts and Sciences at Johns Hopkins University, wrote: 'Millions of young people play video games full of fistfights, blazing guns, and body slams... Yet only a minuscule fraction of the consumers become violent.' [86] A report by the US Secret Service and US Department of Education examined 37 incidents of targeted school violence between 1974 and 2000. Of the 41 attackers studied, 27% had an interest in violent movies, 24% in violent books, and 37% exhibited interest in their own violent writings, while only 12% showed interest in violent video games. The report did not find a relationship between playing violent video games and school shootings. [35] An Apr. 2015 peer-reviewed study published in Psychiatric Quarterly found that playing violent video games had no impact on hostility levels in teenagers. [123] Violent video games allow players to release their stress and anger (catharsis) in the game, leading to less real world aggression. A peer-reviewed study published in the Journal of Adolescent Health found that children, especially boys, play video games as a means of managing their emotions: '61.9% of boys played to 'help me relax,' 47.8% because 'it helps me forget my problems,' and 45.4% because 'it helps me get my anger out.' [37] Researchers point to the cathartic effect of video games as a possible reason for why higher game sales have been associated with lower crime rates. [84] A peer-reviewed study in the Journal of Adolescent Research concluded that 'Boys use games to experience fantasies of power and fame, to explore and master what they perceive as exciting and realistic environments (but distinct from real life), to work through angry feelings or relieve stress, and as social tools.'[36] The games serve as a substitute for rough-and-tumble play. [36] Violent video game players know the difference between virtual violence in the context of a game and appropriate behavior in the real world. By age seven, children can distinguish fantasy from reality, and can tell the difference between video game violence and real-world violence. [99][100] Video game players understand they are playing a game. Kids see fantasy violence all the time, from Harry Potter and the Minions to Bugs Bunny and Tom and Jerry. Their ability to distinguish between fantasy and reality prevents them from emulating video game violence in real life. [9] Exposure to fantasy is important for kids. Fisher-Price toy company stated: 'Pretending is more than play: it's a major part of a child's development. Fantasy not only develops creative thinking, it's also a way for children to deal with situations and problems that concern them.' [108] Studies have shown that violent video games can have a positive effect on kindness, civic engagement, and “prosocial” behaviors. Research shows that playing violent video games can induce a feeling of guilt that leads to increased prosocial behavior (positive actions that benefit others) in the real world. [104] Another study published in Computers in Human Behavior discovered that youths exposed to violence in action games displayed more prosocial behavior and civic engagement, 'possibly due to the team-oriented multiplayer options in many of these games.' [103] In a 2013 peer-reviewed study published in PLOS ONE, 'Three experiments failed to find a detrimental effect of violent video games on prosocial behavior [positive actions taken to benefit others], despite using contemporary and classic games, delayed and immediate test-phases, and short and long exposures.' [102] Researchers have shown that playing video games also results in increased moral sensitivity. [104] Nearly all young men play video games, so the fact that some people who commit violent acts also played games should not be surprising, nor does it imply a causal relationship. An estimated four out of five US households with a male child own a video game system. Although boys play an average of nine hours per week, [84] only a small percentage of them display violent behavior. Patrick M. Markey, PhD, Director of the Interpersonal Research Laboratory at Villanova University, stated, '90% of young males play video games. Finding that a young man who committed a violent crime also played a popular video game, such as Call of Duty, Halo, or Grand Theft Auto, is as pointless as pointing out that the criminal also wore socks.' [84] Many risk factors are associated with youth violence, but video games are not among them. The US Surgeon General's list of risk factors for youth violence included abusive parents, poverty, neglect, neighborhood crime, being male, substance use, and mental health problems, but not video games. [118] A peer-reviewed study even found a 'real and significant' effect of hot weather on homicides and aggravated assaults, showing that heat is a risk factor for violence. [124]Smoking is a known risk factor for lung cancer, but there is no good evidence that video game playing is a risk factor for violence. An Aug. 2014 peer-reviewed study published in Psychology of Popular Media Culture pointed out that 'As more people have been exposed to violent video games, serious and deadly assaults have not increased.' [84] A 2014 peer-reviewed study published in the Journal of Communication also found that as video game playing increased, there was less youth violence. [93] Violent video games provide opportunities for children to explore virtually the consequences of violent actions and to develop their moral compasses. Violent games allow youth to experiment with moral issues such as war, violence, and death without real world consequences. [38] A researcher at the Harvard Medical School Center for Mental Health and Media wrote about her research: 'One unexpected theme that came up multiple times in our focus groups was a feeling among boys that violent games can teach moral lessons... Many war-themed video games allow or require players to take the roles of soldiers from different sides of a conflict, perhaps making players more aware of the costs of war.' [2] Violent video games may decrease crime because people are busy playing the games instead of committing violent acts. Some researchers say that violent people often seek out violent video games, and that the time they spend playing the games is taking them off the streets, leading to decreased crime. This is known as the 'incapacitation effect.' [84] Steven Levitt, PhD, economics professor at the University of Chicago and co-author of Freakonomics, stated, 'It just stands to reason that if you find an activity that keeps potential criminals busy for six waking hours a day, then it probably makes sense that they're going to be doing less crime.' [89] One study estimated that this effect leads to about ten fewer crimes per day nationwide. [90] Gun violence is less prevalent in countries with high video game use. Per capita video game sales were $5.20 in the United States compared to $47 in Japan. In 2005, the United States had 2,279 murders committed by teenagers (27.9 per million residents) compared to 73 in Japan (3.1 per million).[11][12][13] A study of the countries representing the 10 largest video game markets internationally found no correlation between playing video games and gun-related killings. [97] Even though US gun violence is high, the nine other countries with the highest video game usage have some of the lowest violent crime rates (and eight of those countries spend more per capita on video games than the United States). [97] The competitive nature of a video game is what arouses aggression, not the level of violent content. A peer-reviewed study in Psychology of Violence determined that the competitive nature of a video game was related to aggressive behavior, regardless of whether the game contained violent content or not. The researchers concluded: 'Because past studies have failed to equate the violent and nonviolent video games on competitiveness, difficulty, and pace of action simultaneously, researchers may have attributed too much of the variability in aggression to the violent content.' [125] A follow-up study tracked high school students for four years and came to the same conclusion: the competitive nature of the games led to the increased hostile behavior. [126] Older generations often unfairly disparage new things that youth like, such as video games. The 'moral panic' that many adults feel about video games is an exaggerated sense of public concern, fear, and anxiety over a perceived threat of social corruption. [113] Other examples of moral panic from history include rock and roll, comic books, radio, television, cell phone use, and social media. [114] An Oct. 2013 study in Psychology of Popular Media Culture found that people who had no experience playing video games were six times more likely to believe the games contributed to mass shootings. Older Americans were five times more likely than young people to think that the games caused mass shootings. [116] The 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary shooter, for example, was originally and incorrectly reported to be an avid player of violent video games. Investigators later showed that the shooter's favorite games were Super Mario Brothers, Dance, Dance Revolution, and other non-violent video games. [115]",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Money is one of the most significant fundamental factors that influence social customs; it makes people greedy and corrupt; even worse, it causes family collapse. Due to the background of 'The Rocking-Horse Winner', it is the period of Western industrial civilization where materialism is extraordinarily prevalent and money is the symbol of social status. In the introductory paragraph, Lawrence makes it clear that the story will revolve around money or lack of it. Through the following plot, it is not difficult to find that the Hester family is not poor; they just do not have enough money to appear as luxurious as Hester wishes. Paul's family belongs to the middle class, but his parents still maintain the taste of upper-class life to keep the social hierarchy with material things. Hester's reckless spending compared to her husband's moderate income creates debt for the family. Accompanied by this debt is the constant anxiety about how the family will appear to the neighbors and society. The pressure for money and to maintain a certain status and lifestyle creates greed and tension in the house. Therefore, “the house came to be haunted by the unspoken phrase: There must be more money! There must be more money!” (Lawrence, 221). The lines of this 'haunting' are repeated throughout the story. Although they do not seem to be spoken audibly by family members, the words are felt by the children, the mother, and even Uncle Oscar. It is connoting the family's constant desire and greed, as well as the fear of falling into the middle class. As the story goes on, Paul's desire for approval from his mom also leads to greed. “He said stoutly, 'I'm a lucky person', and asserted that ‘God told me’” (Lawrence, 222). Paul recognizes that his mother does not love him but money, so he becomes obsessed with luck, particularly luck that leads to financial gain, proving to Hester that he is lucky and hoping to receive his mother's love. Paul starts riding his rocking horse until he loses his mind as if it was telling him which horse he should bet on in upcoming horse races. To stop the house from whispering about the family's endless greed for more money, Paul rides his horse every time before a horse race. Unfortunately, Paul's hard-earned money does not lift his mother's spirits. “As his mother read it, her face hardened and became more expressionless. Then a cold, determined look came on her mouth” (Lawrence, 229). Instead, she wants more. Lawrence demonstrates here that greed can never be satisfied as long as the greed itself is unquenchable; no amount of money will truly satisfy it. Once Hester has the money, “The voices in the house suddenly went mad, like a chorus of frogs on a spring evening. There were certain new furnishings, and Paul had a tutor. He was really going to Eton, his father's school, in the following Autumn” (Lawrence, 230). Instead of paying off her debts, Hester buys new furniture and takes Paul to Eton, which is one of the most prestigious all-boys boarding schools in the world, representing Hester's strong vanity and the pursuit of social status. Judging a family by its appearance is not surprising during the period of Western industrial civilization. Everyone wants to rise in status and power by hook or by crook. Although some people may not have the ability to demonstrate the social hierarchy, they always tend to pretend that. If not, sarcasm and discrimination from other people may be the consequence. Referring to the 'Gosford Park', Lady Mabel is mocked for not having a maid. Lady Lavinia says that a woman who travels with no maid has lost her self-respect, and calls her dress an ugly skirt. Moreover, when Mary tells people that she is hired because Constance plans to train her, Elsie says: “She didn't want to pay for it. You mean”. This illustrates that Constance is not as wealthy as the audience thought, and it can be seen that to maintain her social status, she needs William's relief. Ostentatious clothing and extravagant spending are just propping that help Constance camouflage her identity. At the end of 'The Rocking-Horse Winning', when Paul died, Uncle Oscar said, “My God, Hester, you're eighty-odd thousand to the good, and a poor devil of a son to the bad. But, poor devil, he's best gone out of a life where he rides his rocking horse to find a winner” (Lawrence, 235) These lines are the last in the short story. They epitomize the problematic greed that Lawrence criticizes throughout the story. Oscar implies to Hester that she is rich now with a fortune of eighty thousand pounds, and would no longer have to deal with an unfit son. Oscar does not care much about Paul, even though he is his nephew and helps him win thousands of pounds. Oscar just uses Paul as a tool to make money. Also, it is worth mentioning that Lawrence did not even show Hester's reaction when Paul died. Instead, Lawrence describes how Uncle Oscar compares the worth of the boy's life to race winnings relentlessly and immediately decides that the money is worth more. This case shows the danger of taking greed and materialism to the extreme. Human life is lost in the pursuit of wealth and luck, and the family is mostly apathetic about it. The lack of communication and intimacy are given evidence at the beginning, in which the children do not speak to each other about the voices, but only share significant eye contact. Hester also shows her materialism in that she buys expensive toys for the children rather than providing them with real intimacy. In conclusion, greed can never be satisfied as long as the greed itself is unquenchable; no amount of money will truly satisfy it; the lust for money grows stronger as the number of money increases, which is demonstrated in 'The Rocking-Horse Winner.' Furthermore, excessive materialism splits love between people, which is demonstrated in Paul and Hester. To satisfy his mother's desire for money, the pursuit of his mother's love and luck leads Paul to form a wrong outlook on life, values, and morality. He is willing to sacrifice happiness and life as a child to fulfill the desires of an adult.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Fascism refers to the form of government whereby one party exercises dictatorship and forcefully suppresses the opposing party. Fascism is against democracy and puts one nation or state above the others. Fascist governments are often militaristic and racist regimes headed by a dictator. This type of government rose to prominence in the early 20th century in Europe. The fascist regime is an authoritarian government, but not all authoritarian regimes are Fascist. Fascism rose after World War I when fascists saw an opportunity to mobilize a lot of people to work on the front lines and to economically and logistically support them while being authoritative in the lives of citizens. Back then, almost everyone served in the military, and this made it easier for the fascists to mobilize them. This form of government was caused by a couple of reasons post-World war, and it affected a lot of cities in Europe, including Florence. Fascism in Europe began after World War 1, a time when citizens strived for strong leadership and national Unity. Particularly in Italy, through his charismatic personality, Benito Mussolini started robust fascist governance. The name “fascism” was invented by Benito Mussolini in 1919 to label his political movement (Vajda, 21). The symbol for the movement was ancient Roman 'fasces, a bundle of rods tied around an axe to signify the powerful state of Rome. Mussolini started Fascism after serving in the army, to unite the people of Italy. He began by making emotional speeches and urging a dictator to rise and rule the country. He convinced people that there needed to be a strong leader to put an end to rampant unemployment, political party rivalries, and strikes by socialists and communists in Italy. In October of 1922, Mussolini seized governance in Italy, mobilizing his followers to march to Italy's capital Rome (Gentile). Afraid of his movements, the government officials resigned, and on October 29, 1922, Mussolini became the youngest prime minister of Italy at Age 39. When Mussolini formed a government in 1922, most people in Italy had no idea what it meant to have an authoritarian form of government. Even Mussolini himself had no other plan but to be in power and stay in it. The majority of the parliamentarians initially supported Fascism because they thought it was going to solve the issues Italy was facing. They thought Italy would, later on, gain their freedom after the problems were fixed. They barely knew what they were signing up for. Fascism in Italy led to the development of a corporatist economic system in which the employer and employee organizations joined together to form the representatives of the country's economic producers (Gentile). These organizations worked together with the state to create national economic policies. Mussolini regarded this type of economy as an alternative to capitalism and Marxism, which, according to him, were 'obsolete doctrines.' In this economy, all wages were set by the government, and labor was restricted. Fascism made strikes by employees and lockouts by employers illegal (Gentile). Both employees and employers did not have much freedom or power anymore. Democracy was non-existent in many aspects of life in the era of Fascism, and this included economic activities. Florence, in particular, suffered significant economic, social, and political blows during the era of Fascism. Fascism influenced much of the history of Florence. There are many artifacts inspired by Fascism. For example, the football stadium, Stardio Artemio Franchi was initially named after Giovanni Berta. He was a fascist who was killed during the assassination of Spartaco Lavagnini, who was murdered by the Blackshirts gang in his office. There were so many murders happening in the City of Florence during Fascism. Fascists believed in violence as a way to solve an issue (Shorrock). Assassinations happened increasingly more and people started to begin to realize the impact dictatorial leadership was having. Some of the popular annual events that still happen in the city of Florence can be traced back to the 1930s when Fascism was at its peak. For example, Calcio Storico and Maggio Musicale Florentino started back then. Calcio actually existed earlier but rose again to fame in this era after becoming out of style in the 1700s. Alessandro Pavolini, who was a member of the Fascist party, brought these two events back to life during the fascist rule. Pavolini was known for being cruel to anyone who opposed Mussolini and was later killed and hung upside down. As a leader of the fascist party Florence Branch, Pavolini was focused on developing the cultural, sporting, and tourism events in the community that people could take part in (Shorrock). It is a good thing to see that some of the cultural events that were started back then are still active today. Florence can trace many of its cultural and tourism developments back to the fascist era. In addition, a tourist attraction site named the Famed di Santa stands to date thanks to Fascism. Famed di Santa is a basement space that is found in the Basilica of Santa Croce. This space had been abandoned in the early 20th century, but during Fascism, it was reopened. However, Fascism mostly impacted Florence negatively. There was a lot of sadness and depression in this era due to the oppression that was taking place. Anyone who disagreed with the fascist regime was killed. People had no freedom to express their opinions, especially if they were against Mussolini, and there were many economic injustices. References Gentile, Emilio. 'Fascism In Italian Historiography: In Search Of An Individual Historical Identity'. Journal Of Contemporary History, vol 21, no. 2, 1986, pp. 179-208. SAGE Publications, doi:10.1177/002200948602100204. Accessed 5 Nov 2019. Shorrock, William I. 'France And The Rise Of Fascism In Italy, 1919-23'. Journal Of Contemporary History, vol 10, no. 4, 1975, pp. 591-610. SAGE Publications, doi:10.1177/002200947501000403. Accessed 5 Nov 2019. Vajda, Mihaly. 'Crisis and the Way Out: The Rise of Fascism in Italy and Germany.' Telos 1972.12 (1972): 3-26.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Many years ago, I was taught about the Bill of Rights in school. Among the ten amendments was the right to bear arms just in case the people of America needed to fight back. Growing up in a no-gun household, I never understood the need to have guns, let alone AKs and shotguns. However, the following research will aim to open a new perspective to the idea of lessening gun control in the states. Although pro-gun enthusiasts are generally painted as trigger-happy, gun-ho individuals, their feelings stem further than just their love for guns. Most pro-gun ideas derive from early America’s strong sense of individualism and community, and the right to a firearm is a way for them to protect themselves and others in order to create a safer environment. My high school teaching of early America helped me conclude it was built on revolution and guns to gain its freedom from Great Britain. Even after their emancipation, Americans continued to keep their guns as a safeguard in case the government was to again behave in a way that infringed on their rights. In Celinska’s article about the connection of guns to individualism and collectivism, she stated that “research suggests that majority of firearms are owned for recreational sports” such as hunting. Furthermore, they were owned for defensive purposes because citizens didn’t believe the government could protect them well enough (Celinska, 232-233). Through using guns for aspects of daily life, it becomes part of American culture and, thus, collectivism. Similarly, as time has passed, the American lifestyle and goals have changed into a more capitalist and individualistic structure. This means that people are no longer following a more community, group-think type of living; they have opted to live in a way that benefits them. As a result, gun ownership becomes more of a personal choice that represents a person’s distinctive lifestyle. To support this, the author suggested that those who are anti-gun control could actually “seek to protect their own self-interest, that of their families, and the interests of those with whom they closely affiliate, associate, or identify” (Celinska, 233). Consequently, to insist on taking their firearms is similar to taking part in someone’s culture. Though understanding the situations that make people call for gun restrictions, such as shootings or other tragedies, true gun enthusiasts understand that they are not those criminals. Owning a gun doesn’t mean they support what is going on, but it also doesn’t mean that their right to the Second Amendment should be taken. Also disturbed by the mass tragedies involving guns, conservative pro-gun groups have coined the term 'good guy with a gun' in order to prove that armed citizens could help prevent more casualties. The expression implies that if more citizens had firearms of their own, mass shooters would be stopped before they could terrorize a group of people. Using this thinking, in a room of 10 innocent citizens and one shooter, two citizens having a gun would be much better than none of them having weapons to protect themselves. David French, a writer from the National Review, agrees that armed citizens are more helpful than opposers may believe, even if the defender does not hit the shooter. In fact, he pointed out that FBI data states individuals “can stop a shooting even if [they] miss, or even if [they] just hold a person at gunpoint” (French, 1). People who take pride in owning firearms generally take care of their weapons and understand their use. They are not likely to spray and pray, which would put more innocent lives at risk. With that knowledge of guns, they could be beneficial to officers since they generally can only get to the scene within one to two minutes of the initial shooting. In most cases, a victim has already been shot within that short amount of time. There are many right-wing politicians who have made their stance on gun control very open and loud for all of the country to hear. Though they generally support their reasoning with a fiery speech against their liberal opposers, some have provided a deeper insight into why they feel a need for firearms. In a blog post about Mark Levin, the radio show host, Michael Morris quotes the conservative on his stance about Trump’s constant mentioning of the National Rifle Association (NRA). Levin passionately asserts that the gun control issue has nothing to do with the NRA, age restrictions, or mental illness. To him, gun control is about understanding what rights people have through the Bill of Rights and 'individual liberty'. Individualism is now part of American culture. Levin argues that people who decide to take the step and become murderers are not a specific age or look, so there is no way to create a policy or law to permanently stop them. Even deeming mass shooters as people with mental illnesses doesn’t solve the issue, since not everyone with mental issues is likely to be a murderer. Instead of chasing after arguments that we cannot solve, it would make more sense to just focus on the rights of the guns themselves before thinking about the people. In conclusion, gun ownership is an aspect of American culture that has been instilled for decades. Citizens have developed a sense of individualism that calls for deference for their right to their Second Amendment. In addition, gun enthusiasts hate mass shooters just as much as pro-gun restriction activists, and they aim to prove there could be many 'good guys with a gun' in those types of situations.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"I have engaged with concepts, principles, and strategies about tactical awareness and its use within the sport of netball. Throughout this task, my motor learning goal is for the ability to change from one stable state of movement to another when performing the specialized movement sequences of a wing attack. In order to achieve this goal I am required to self-organise. In response to the many adjustments that I am consistently making to a range of tasks, learner, and environmental constraints will either limit or enable my movements. It is suggested by sports scientists that with a favorable environment and a suitable task to perform an individual will spontaneously produce effective and efficient movement sequences. Therefore, tactical awareness gives me the ability to make the right decision and execute the appropriate skills at the best possible time. Resulting in opportunities for increased chances of success when performing the specialized movement sequence (Reference). In this folio, I will devise a tactical strategy to optimize my performance based on the interaction of the constraints and principles of decision-making. The evaluation of the effectiveness of the tactical strategy will focus on the outcomes, implications, and limitations of the constraints on the proficiency of my movements. To analyze my personal performance, I gathered data using video footage of the specialized movement sequences and movement strategies for the position of wing attack in a range of authentic netball environments. A games performance assessment instrument (GPAI) was also used. I will also be evaluating the effectiveness of my personal performance when setting up for an attack. Non-linear learning: My position of wing attack is the key play-maker in netball. It was my job to create as many goal-scoring chances as possible by passing the ball to the shooters (Reference). As a result of being the key playmaker, I faced several tasks, learner, and environmental constraints that played a significant role in both limiting and enabling my performance. The dynamic systems theory suggests that my behaviors and/or actions emerge through and are influenced by the interaction of these constraints (Reference). The actions of my opposition presented one environmental constraint that required me to perceive relevant information when they intercepted the ball or passed it to their other players. I was required to respond to their movements and/or the movement of the ball and react to implement the appropriate movements. For example, on occasions the gold defender would catch the rebounds, therefore, their next teammate to pass to the wing defender which was my opposition. I was required to modify movements and transition from an attacking player to a defending player, allowing for the opportunity of an intercept. Perception action coupling is a theory that suggests “we must perceive in order to move, but we must also move in order to perceive (Reference). This theory along with the influence of this dynamic environment can be seen in the video evidence where my performance of attacking is limited or enabled by a range of different task, learner, and/or environmental constraints. In comparison, learning to set in a nonauthentic netball environment such as the basic hands-over defense drill seen here does not facilitate this nonlinear approach to learning. Since the wing attack's primary responsible is to get the ball to the shooter unless a rebound is caught by the opposing team, my responsibility is then changed to a defender. Therefore, learning needs to occur through a dynamic systems approach in order to learn in a constantly changing environment that represents the competition and the perception of the actions of my teammates passing the ball and the movements of the opposing team. The role of tactical strategy: My tactical strategy will focus on the role of. The roll-off can be broken down into the following steps. Stand with the back against the defender, the far side of the passer, and identify the defender’s blind side. Continue to orbit around the defender and head towards their blind side to receive the pass. The interaction of a range of tasks, learners, and environmental constraints will limit or enable my movements and decision-making. Task constraints are the goals, rules, equipment, play areas, and players (Reference). As the wing attack, the task constraint of needing to perform a successful pass to the shooter is the most significant task constraint that influences my movements. The goal of the wing attack in a team is to use the third pass to accurately and firmly pass the ball to either the goal attack or goal shooter who can then perform and shot and defend my player when our team is defending against an attack. Learner constraints are your personal characteristics that can limit or enable your movements and decision-making. These constraints may include the physiological characteristics of the learner such as their height and speed as well as their ability to perceive the environment and process information for effective decision making to occur. The learner constraint that limited my performance and enables the development of my tactical strategy was my height in relation to the opposing players. As I was shorter than the opposing player I struggled to receive the center pass when I was on the outside of my player, therefore, I was unable to get the ball to my shooter. Through the dynamic systems approach to learning, I developed the tactic of the roll-off. This allowed me to roll around my player easily successfully receiving the centre pass. Environmental constraints in netball are factors that influence my performance and my decision-making process. One of these factors includes the court size. In netball, there are different-sized courts. Indoor courts which I am used to playing on are much smaller giving you limited space to move around, however, these courts were much larger giving you the opportunity to make more movements. Therefore, this environmental constraint of the court size enabled the development of my strategy as I was given more space to roll around my player. The interaction of the task, learner, and environmental constraints allowed me to make decisions about my movement patterns when performing a roll-off when placed against a taller opposing player. The tactical strategy of performing a roll-off emerged from the interactions each of these constraints had. The development of this personal tactical strategy is evidence of self-organization in response to these tasks, learner, and environmental constraints through a dynamic systems approach to learning. Evaluating and justifying the personal tactical strategy - roll off: My personal tactical strategy of performing the roll-off when placed against a taller opposition has been effective in optimizing my performance of the movement strategy of setting up for an attack. When performing the roll the results of this tactical strategy were varied. On most occasions, the roll-off was effective in allowing me to successfully receive the center pass allowing me the wing attack and the center to travel the ball down to the shooters. This roll-off made it difficult for my opposing player to perform a defending play. Limitations that occurred during this tactical strategy were that in order to perform a successful role, there were several learner constraints that had to be overcome. Executing a successful role off requires me to be in the right position beside my player early enough to perform the relevant movements required. When I performed a roll-off at any other time my decision-making and ability to perceive the actions of my teammates needed to occur more quickly. Another learner constraint that limited this tactical strategy was my ability to organize my movements in response to the perceived action of the opposing defenders. If a defender put themselves in a position where I was unable to roll off in that particular direction, my movements needed to self-organize in time to respond to this perceived action, which was not always possible. The most surprising implication of the tactical strategy of performing a jump set can be best described through perception-action coupling. A roll-off is a very effective way to trick your opposing player into making them think that you are going in a certain direction, however, you go in the opposite direction. Occasionally, I was able to hang back and let the goal attack receive the center pass, therefore, I was able to disguise my roll-off as a drive to the goal attack on the other side of the court. This meant that my player was behind me and I was able to catch and pass the ball without a defender. This modification of my action was in direct response to the perceived actions of the goal attack and the environmental constraints presented. This implication further allowed for the optimization of the movement strategy of setting up an attacking play. These outcomes and implications of performing a roll-off justify the use of this tactical strategy to optimize the movement strategy of setting up for an attacking play. I would maintain using this tactical strategy when playing in an attacking position during netball as it helps me overcome the learner constraints identified earlier in relation to my height in comparison to other players as discussed previously. This strategy also allows me to disguise a drive toward the top of the circle where the goal attack would pass to me. This provides additional attacking plays for my team. The role is also a useful tactical strategy to maintain as it limits the opposition's ability to defend. Evaluation of my personal performance - setting up for an attack: To evaluate my personal performance when setting up for an attack, I have selected two body and movement concepts. “These provide a framework for enhancing movement performance.” (Reference). The quality of movement and relations will be evaluated as to how they relate to the specialized movement sequences and strategies. Quality of movement is the combination of mobility and stability/motor control (Reference). My roll-off is particularly effective in achieving the desired outcome when setting up for an attack. The following video evidence shows me transitioning with speed from the center pass to the top of the circle with accuracy and flow of movement. Occasionally I will hang back on the center pass. This allows me to trick my player into thinking that I am taking the center pass, therefore, I then can run in front of the goal attack and receive the pass without any opposing players. As you can see, I am able to regularly catch the center pass and accurately pass to the next player, in a position that allows the team to effectively pass to the shooters. I also perform a number of other specialized movements, sequences relevant to the position of goal attack with accuracy and fluency of movement. The video demonstrates my ability to perform an attacking play in this position. When applying the body and movement concept of relationships to my performance as a wing attack in netball, you can see that I am able to quickly determine the location of the center or goal attack as I transition into a position where I am then able to pass to the shooter to take the shot. While performing an attacking play, I effectively use spatial awareness which is the ability to be aware of oneself in a space (Reference) to determine the location of the goal attack or center in relation to my position on the court and the distance I am from the top of the circle. This relationship is important to my successful performance, as I am required to quickly make a decision about optimal attacking strategy and which player to pass to based on the chance of the ball being intercepted. I also have to make decisions in relation to my teammates in terms of the type of pass that I am required to perform. For example, if the player is taller than his/her opponent I would perform a lob pass. The video here shows me performing a number of different attacking plays. To further improve my performance and my ability to set up for an attack as a wing attack, I need to further consider the position of the opposing players to determine if they are taller or faster. Currently, I am also able to consider the position of my teammates. Evaluation of my personal performance - defending against attack: When defending against attack, you can see that I am able to perform a defending play, this includes ensuring I am three feet away from the player and my hands are over the ball. This allows me to successfully defend against an opposing opponent possibly getting an intercept. As a mid-court player, it is vitally important that I am able to perform this specialized movement sequence, as having a mid-court player who does not defend, creates a significant defensive gap on the team. The video here shows me demonstrating a number of defending players with accuracy, fluency, and speed. When defending against attack, I am easily able to modify my performance in response to the movements of the opposing players. I do this by perceiving the body position of the player to determine where they are planning to throw the ball. Therefore, this influences my actions as I react in response to the direction of the ball. Conclusion: Overall, it was evident that I was struggling to receive the center pass as my opponents were much taller than I was. Therefore, I put in place the tactical strategy of the role, which allowed me to receive more passes. Mine attacking play therefore improved greatly.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"In the United States, situations are arising where children are being killed by guns either accidentally or by a school shooting. This creates concern among Americans about the safety of their youth. With these concerns, comes much debate over solutions. One possible solution that is largely debated over is gun control and whether or not it truly serves its purpose: reducing the amount of gun violence. It attempts to do so by introducing restrictions on gun manufacturers, gun possession, and gun sales and has even attempted to ban firearms altogether. This is done in order to deter people from purchasing more guns and reduce the number of firearms in society. With the reduction of firearms, there should have also been a reduction in gun deaths, especially among children. Instead, in response to increasing gun control, there are significant increases in gun sales. This occurred in California in response to more gun control. “Gun sales have surged in recent years, driven by sales of both handguns and long guns...long gun sales increased 75% and handgun sales increased 30% (probably in anticipation of the passage of several California gun regulation laws)...In 2016 more than 1.3 million guns were sold in California, reaching an all-time peak” (State of California Department of Justice). This means that the amount of guns in society increases, instead of decreases, increasing the possibility of a child being exposed to a gun. The reason for this increase is because of the second problem gun control faces: the consistent worry from the public that gun control is a threat to their Second Amendment right to bear arms. Along with specific restrictions made to firearms, there has also been talk of banning all firearms. Although the public agrees that something should be done to ensure the safety of our children, the talk of banning firearms creates panic among the public. In response, there is opposition to gun control out of fear that it would lead to the removal of the Second Amendment. This inevitably led to debate over what the Second Amendment actually protects. “The crux of the debate is whether the amendment protects the right of private individuals to keep and bear arms, or whether it instead protects a collective right that should be exercised only through formal militia units” (History). However, the Supreme Court addressed this dilemma, where they held that the Second Amendment protects an individual right to possess a firearm unconnected with service in a militia and to use that arm for traditionally lawful purposes, such as self-defense within the home (District of Columbia v. Heller). With this decision, it is ensured that the right of the people to bear arms should not be infringed. This makes it extremely difficult to attempt to decrease the number of guns in the United States, especially if Americans will only buy more every time new gun control policies are introduced. A policy must be introduced that not only prevents gun violence but reassures the public that their Second Amendment right is not under attack. This can be done by, instead of directing our attention to firearms specifically, rather we should focus on gun safety. What are the Solutions? Instead of further Gun Control policies, we should introduce more Child Access Prevention policies and Gun Safety policies. These policies will propose two new requirements that could aid in preventing gun violence. Under the Child Access Prevention policy, it would extend background checks to not only check the owner of the firearm but to check the children living in the home of the owner as well. If there is a child in the home or a child that has a registered mental illness, the owner is required to have a specific safe to store the firearm. In order to ensure that gun owners are not restricted from their right to bear arms just because they cannot afford the specific safe, these gun owners will be offered discounts in order to purchase the safe. These discounts will be funded by taxpayers. The Gun Safety policy would require public schools to have Gun Safety classes. These classes would educate children and young adults on how to safely handle a gun and the consequences of pulling the trigger. This would not require children to interact with a gun in any way. Are they Effective? Child Access Prevention policies have been a major topic for discussion for quite some time and have shown to be very effective. “Numerous studies over the past 20 years have found that child access prevention laws can reduce suicide and unintentional gun deaths and injuries among children and teens by up to 54%, with the greatest reductions occurring in states which require safe storage of firearms” (Giffords Law Center). Child Access Prevention laws are very effective in preventing children from having access to a firearm. And with the new policy that is being introduced, will also address homes with children that have specific mental illnesses as well. After the past school shootings that occurred in the United States, it was discovered that some of the shooters had significant psychological issues that were ignored. If steps were taken in order to prevent them from obtaining a firearm from the home, these shootings could have been prevented. It would also shine a light for the parents onto their children, in order for them to notice and address the issues their child is dealing with. This new policy would require these gun owners who have children in the home, especially children with specific mental illnesses, to have a proper gun safe that denies them access. The technology of safes is becoming more and more advanced as time goes on. Today, gun owners can purchase safes that require fingerprints only in order to have access. And these kinds of safes run in a variety of sizes from a small case that carries only one gun to a large safe that carries a numerous amount. So gun owners are not required to buy a large safe in order to have a firearm in the home. However, if a gun owner can not afford the gun safe, they could be offered a discount for the safe so that they can still ensure the safety of their child and still practice their Second Amendment right to bear arms. The Gun Safety policy is a policy that would introduce a Gun Safety class in schools in order to educate children on firearms. This policy is not new, as schools across the country are also introducing these kinds of classes in their schools as well. One example would be how a hunter's safety course is being introduced in two middle schools in Butler County, Iowa. “The week-long training program will train students on a variety of survival skills, including gun safety…” (Fox News). The reason for this is that, even with gun control policies, the number of guns being introduced into society is still increasing. This increases the chances of a child coming into contact with a gun once or twice in their life. And if this were to occur, it would be better for the child to understand just what they are dealing with, and not treat the firearm as if it is a toy. “The bottom line is: kids who are unfamiliar with guns are more likely to play with them and pull the trigger, potentially injuring themselves or others. But those who grow up with guns or who are trained in firearms safety, get it. They are better prepared. They may not know everything there is to know, but they’ve been exposed to it enough to respect firearms and to be cautious and careful. And that’s exactly the kind of safe, responsible citizens our country needs” (USCCA). However, not only would it educate students on how to be safe and report to an adult if they ever encounter a firearm, but it would also offer help to children who have been going through bullying or depression.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Why do people think that video games cause shootings? Video games have been around since the early 1970s. These massive shootings have only been happening for multiple years now. First Person Shooter (FPS) games were one of the first video games created. Video games don’t cause violence; Instead, they just help people escape the real world and just have fun. It can be for competitiveness, entertainment, or they are just bored and have nothing better to do. People in their right mind don’t play games to plan to hurt people, it’s just a getaway for kids or adults. People play video games to escape the real world. The people who play video games do this because of multiple reasons. The first reason why people play video games is for entertainment. They play for entertainment because they worked all week and all they want to do is sit back and play games for fun. Another reason why people play video games is they like competition. Some of my friends play video games for money and play competitively, and they make good money off of it. Another reason people play video games it takes them away from their bad or boring life and makes it fun. One of my friends is always on Xbox because he has nothing better to do all day because he only works a part-time job, so he doesn’t get many hours he also doesn’t enjoy going out. People don’t get on and play video games because they are mad and want to kill someone. People don’t get on just to shoot people because they want to do it in real life. There have been several studies that conclude that violent video games don’t lead to a violent person. Whitney DeCamp and Christopher J. Ferguson, both in the Department of Sociology at Western Michigan University, conducted research about kids who play violent video games and kids who are exposed to a violent family background, and they concluded that “A meta-analysis consolidating these effects indicated that increased time playing violent video games does not significantly affect the risk of violent behavior. Rather, it is the social and familial background that seems to play a larger role in determining the risk of violent behavior instead of video games” (13). In their research, they took all different ethnicities and asked them if they played violent video games, then they ask them if there is parental enforcement, home yelling, home violence, and have been hit by adults. They grouped all the kids who played video games and figured out if they ever hit someone, the children who have been exposed to home violence were the ones that hit people, more than the very little children who play violent video games and hit someone. There is not enough evidence to prove that violent video games are directly correlated to violence within the person. The whole violent video games cause violence in children and young adults caused by moral panic. A moral panic is a feeling of fear spread among many people that some evil threatens the well-being of society; it usually spreads because of the media coverage that it gets, most people watch the news every day. According to Patrick M. Markey professor of psychology at Villanova University and Christopher J. Ferguson a Psychologist “However, it was not until the close of the 1990s after a series of school shootings perpetrated by white suburban kids that “blame the game” really took off” (102). This is a great example of a moral panic the investigators didn’t know why all these kids were shooting other people. So right away because children that played violent video games in the past are used as an example of why they shot all these innocent people because video games encourage rage and violence. In the same article, it states that “The number of published research articles examining video games increased nearly 300 percent in the wake of Columbine” (104). So the media started covering the topic more often. 300 percent more published research articles on violent video games caused this shooting and anger in this child. Just after one shooting, it’s just crazy because the child playing video games didn’t make him violent. It had to do with something at home and not gaming. If it wasn’t for the Columbine shooting, there would still be very few articles on violent video games being the cause of violent kids and young adults. This moral panic made people also think differently about the gaming industry and the government got involved. The government got involved because they started to do more regulations with the Entertainment Software Rating Board (ESRB) to make Mature-Rated or M-Rated games harder to get by increasing the age to buy them to eighteen years old or have a parent/guardian with you that is above the age of eighteen so they can purchase it. There is no direct correlation between video games causing violence. There are articles out there that say that video games do cause violence. When looking at this research I agree that you can get pissed off in a video game and be mad after you lost when you should have won. Then it can lead to very little “violence” like hitting your desk or throwing your controller. The people who do these researches say that video games lead to mass shootings when in reality all they say is it leads to “violence”. People look at violence differently I see violence being hitting, punching, or killing a person while others see violence as someone who throws their controller at a couch or screams at the game when they are mad, and people who think video games cause violence to conclude that as “violence”. As someone who plays violent video games at least three times a week, I don’t think I am violent, I care for people no matter what game I am playing even if I am mad at them I don’t want to hurt them I personally play violent video games such as Grand Theft Auto, Call of Duty, and Counter-Strike Global Offensive. I have never shot a gun in my life other than online on a game, I also never plan on shooting a gun because I don’t have a desire to shoot one even though I play violent video games. I also never got into a fight with another kid in school. All my friends that I play with play those exact video games and have also never been in a fight in school. We have been playing these games since 2009 which was in third and fourth grade for us. None of us have been the violent type. I do agree that video games can get people mad, most people don’t like losing games but it doesn’t make the person violent towards other people. Most people think that someone getting mad at a video game automatically makes them violent person because they scream or hit their controller on something. There have been multiple times I have gotten mad at a game and it's just a reaction to yell something just so you feel better. Just like in sports when someone misses a catch they scream something random because they’re mad they didn’t get the catch. Not all video games are subject to violence. There are millions of games out there that contain no violence like Animal Crossing. This is a game where you are a small-town mayor. The objective of the game is simply to live the kind of life you want to live, which generally involves building up your town, making new friends, catching fish, and chasing bugs. Sports games like NHL and Madden where you create a player and play the sport as if you are in or the head coach in the NHL or NFL with your controller and friends. There are also games out there that contain content that is physically impossible to do what they are doing in the game and recreate it. All games come with warning labels saying not to attempt anything illustrated inside of these games. Grand Theft Auto might look like the real world but there are many warnings before launching the game not to attempt anything you see in these games. So it is not like the companies are going out there saying go buy an assault rifle and go somewhere with a lot of people and shoot them the video game companies are very clearly telling you not to try this stuff you see in the game. Why do people think that video games cause shootings? People look at violence in a different way than other people do. When talking about video games and violence there are two ways to look at it either they cause violence or don’t cause violence. The answer is video games don’t cause violence. Video games just help people escape the real world and just have fun they do it for entertainment and some people do it for competitiveness and to make money. No one plays video games as a simulation of the real world and shoots people on there and then repeats in the actual world.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Meaning comes from “the matrix of relationships in which we are engaged” (Gergen & Gergen, 2000). The term ‘masculinity’ is, undeniably, laden with meaning. As is true of all language, ‘masculinity’ comes accompanied by assumptions, and these in turn depend upon where and when it is used. This essay deconstructs the assumptions underpinning dominant discourse on multiple masculinities, the male role, and a so-called ‘crisis of masculinity’. It examines ways in which context informs individual, relational, and collective knowledge, drawing upon case studies and real-life examples to support the theory. Finally, it addresses how dominant discourse surrounding masculinity affects different demographics to varying degrees, and particularly the impact of these discourses on collectively developing boys, adult men, and women. It should be noted that these generalisations are made for the purpose of addressing a wider problem, but the act of pigeonholing the entire male population into a single category of ‘men’ is problematic in itself, as it ignores the diverse and unique nature of individuals, cultures, and different groups within society. Social constructivism is based on the premise that knowledge and meaning, rather than existing as individual objective ‘truths’ or certainties, are constructed through social discourse. Discourse refers to the language and practices used to construct knowledge (Foucault, 197_): it consists of the ways humans use language to express; to argue; to convince; to communicate. Individual meaning, therefore, is constructed through social discourse, which varies depending on context, and often reflects and reinforces dominant values and beliefs (Graham, 2005). Wetherell, Taylor & Yates (2001) understood dominant discourse as the language we use in and around “normative forms of behaviour, the sum total of the practices and characteristics which we conventionally associate with (the subject)”. It refers to a dominant collective ‘knowledge’ of masculinity that evidences itself in everyday language. Prilleltensky and Nelson (2002) proposed a Hierarchical Ordering of the Tripartite Self, a framework that integrates concepts of ‘self’ by approaching self-definition in individual, relational, and collective contexts (Sedikides, Gaertner & O’Mara, 2011). Dominant discourses of masculinity have serious implications at each level of the framework. Gender is socially constructed, thus differences in behaviour between men and women are the result of socially constructed beliefs and values. These dominant values are both represented and reinforced by ‘masculine’ behaviours, adding to a continuous cycle. It follows that men’s so-called ‘un-emotionality’ comes not from experiencing emotions, but in their ability to understand and express emotions. While these behaviours are often attributed to the biological wiring of men’s brains (Cleary, 2011), in fact they are the result of social conditioning, and based upon dominant values that have developed across history and culture. Firstly, positions men as “logical, rational, stable, strong etc.” and women as “emotional, random, unstable”. Secondly, encourages use of dominant discourse such as ‘don’t snitch’ and ‘man up’ that are intended to create a division between ‘real men’, those who conform to these norms, and ‘girls’ or ‘pussies’, men and boys who don’t conform. The dominant group exerts power through physical and psychological strategies, encouraging certain behaviours, and punishing others who do not adopt these behaviours. This phenomenon incites fear, uncertainty, and a sense of threat, not only in individuals excluded from the dominant group, but also in ‘weaker’ members of the dominant group, who must then take on behaviours that show their masculinity to make up for having any traits that are considered ‘feminine’ or ‘weak’ (in fact, the two are often interchangeable in discourse). A study by Cleary (2011) interviewed a sample of young males who had recently made a suicide attempt to explore the emotions and meanings behind their suicidal behaviour. Several themes were apparent, notably a lack of control and the influence of dominant male role models. Some participants found it difficult to differentiate between mental and physical illness, with emotional distress translating into physical symptoms. Dominant discourse of masculinity typically constructs men as un-emotional, stoic and resilient, in contrast with women, who are constructed as emotional, fragile and unpredictable. These constructions are often justified through claims that differences in behaviour and emotion are biological, that men are innately less emotional and more rational. The study by Cleary (2011) references “gendered beliefs about men’s un-emotionality and women’s emotionality,” in spite of evidence showing similar levels of emotionality between men and women (O’Connor, Sheehy, & O’Connor, 2000). The question then becomes this: where do these gendered beliefs originate? The implications of these constructions of masculinity are serious. Dominant discourses position expression of emotion as ‘weak’ or ‘feminine’, thus men are discouraged from expressing emotion. This links closely with mens’ reporting of suicidal ideation or thoughts. “Perceived stigma was attached to the expression of emotional pain” (Cleary, 2012; O’Brien et al., 2005). A construction of men as ‘stoic’ and ‘indestructible’ renders them less able to express need for help, for fear of showing weakness and being considered ‘less than’ other men. That need to identify as a ‘man’ over a ‘woman’ is embedded in their minds from a young age: the message repeats in TV shows and films and books and throughout pop culture. Traits that are labelled ‘feminine’ or ‘girly’ are portrayed as negative, for example “you’re such a girl” is often coupled with a tone of disgust and dismissal, and is associated with lack of courage or “balls”. Indeed, that “having courage” has become synonymous with “having balls” reflects not only the pervasive nature of this constructed concept of masculinity, but the purposeful linking of masculine identity with perceived ‘masculine’ traits, pressuring men and women alike to accept, rather than reject, the dominant construction as valid, and behave accordingly. Picture a modern game of AFL: masculinity is defined by power, strength, skill, and aggression. Players are cheered as heroes, while at the same time engage in intentional non-game related physical violence against other players, use derogatory language, and show other typically ‘masculine’ behaviours that reinforce dominant values in viewers across the country. Newspapers regularly publish articles with titles such as “Ruthless Giants Annihilate Lifeless Blues” (AAP, 2019) and aggressive behaviour frequently goes unpunished: “Match review officer Michael Christian… said there was insufficient force for a charge against Geelong star Ablett - who ran off his line to collect Kangaroos opponent Sam Wright in the head with a raised forearm - even though he classified the clash as an intentional strike” (Nine News, 2019). Using this language is problematic because the words are gendered, linking masculinity with violence. When perpetrators of violence are framed as positive role models and even heroes, we are actively encouraging men to be violent, and this can lead to serious consequences. Feelings of emasculation often emerge from being unable to meet certain ‘ideals’ of masculinity, which can lead to individuals feeling the need to engage in ‘ultra-masculine’ behaviours to subvert these feelings and re-assert their identity as ‘a man’. Jewkes (2002) conducted research on intimate partner violence, finding that having ‘fewer resources’ than their wives is associated with domestic violence (Jewkes, 2002). Here, violent behaviour is used to ‘correct’ a situation in which values of male superiority are threatened. Expression of emotion through using violence is a self-reinforcing, learned social behaviour, and its consequences can be extreme (Jewkes, 2002; Anderson & Umberson, 2001). In the Christchurch terror attack in March 2019, a twenty-eight-year-old Australian terrorist, Brenton Tarrant, shot and killed 50 people in two mosques (ABC News, 2019). One 2015 study used several murder-suicide cases to explain how normative ideas of masculinity can lead to violence. It found themes linking the violent behaviour to loss of control in their lives, hopeless, and marginalised masculine identities, but also evidence that men commit violence to ‘reassert one’s masculine self’ by acting against their perceived marginalisation (Oliffe, Han, Drummond, Maria, Borttorff, & Creighton, 2015). Perpetrators of such violent crimes are not born ‘monsters’, and neither do they have more ‘natural masculinity’ than other men. They are people whose senses of masculinity and identity have been shaped by dominant discourse, and whose ideas about men’s success are shaped by their family members, peers, and the media (Cleary, 2011). Men and boys have been told all their lives that ‘real’ men don’t cry, that ‘boys will be boys’, that they should strive towards the ideal of being a ‘beast’ and knowing how to throw a punch. Men have to learn from a young age that if they don’t exhibit enough masculine behaviour, they become targets. Fear of becoming a target strongly motivates them to engage in the very behaviours that made them a target in the first place. Respect is gained through violence and aggression. These behaviours are both learned and self-reinforcing. A study by Motschenbacher (2010) examined the language used in magazines to construct female and male identity. It found that discourse around female body parts was more likely to “play a role in the aestheticization of the body”, while male body parts are seen as “more likely to be of functional value” (Motschenbacher, 2010). This dichotomy is interesting because it highlights how normative values influence language around physical differences, but also how use of this gender-separating language serves to reinforce those very same normative values in others. Clarke, Marks & Lykins (2015) investigated dysfunctional sexual beliefs and attitudes in males that were shaped by normative constructions of masculinity: “depictions of normative behaviour can influence males’ attitudes and self-perceptions”. They found that men were more likely to endorse violence towards women after having watched films showing those behaviours (Clarke, Marks & Lykins, 2015). Take for example the YouTube video posted by the verified account Improvement Pill, entitled “How to Get A Girl To Like You - 3 GUARANTEED STEPS” (Improvement Pill, 2015). The video is based on the premise that men need to do certain behaviours to ‘get’ girls, as if they can ‘catch’ a woman. It divides the entirety of humanity into two limiting categories: men and women. Men should attract women by projecting value, which is made up of the following factors: wealth, popularity, looks, knowledge, and knowing lots of people. The video explicitly states ways men can manipulate women to make the women like them, making the assumption that women are unable to measure value themselves, or decide what is valuable. The video tells the viewer that certain body language, such as slower movements and taking up more space, indicate confidence, and this projects value. However rather than generalising this to all humans, instead it is gendered. It makes reference to confident men, and instructs men to ‘imitate this confidence’ even if they don’t really believe they are confident, because this will make them more successful in ‘getting the girl.’ Well, my question is: does this method apply to other traits? If men have to adopt this particular norm, what other normative behaviours should they adopt to be successful? Should men behave aggressively, because it will give them more success in ‘getting the girl’? “What about all of those catcallers who catcall women all day? That doesn’t work.” Rather than addressing catcalling as a form of harassment, the video completely misses the point and tells men that it “doesn’t work because they’ve skipped the first step of creating attraction.” In this sidestepping the issue, the article reduces the negative behaviour of catcalling to simply ‘missing a step’, with the implication that this behaviour is okay if the first step is completed. It fails even to label the behaviour as wrong, let alone address the consequences of such behaviour on women who are catcalled. And the consequences are not simply ‘being put out’; this sort of behaviour contributes to a much larger oppressive force. Catcalling is a behaviour that reinforces the belief that women are objects to be commented upon and used. Another article published in Marie Claire magazine asserts “a girl who’s truly ‘one of the guys’ never has trouble attracting men” (Marie Claire, 2014). Again, there is the assumption that the girl wants to attract men: but there’s also the implication that girls should aim to be like a man, because that’s what men value. It is important to note that the category of ‘masculinity’ itself and its implicit contrast with ‘femininity’ is problematic, not just the form of current dominant models of behaviour (Cleary, 2011). This article is from a woman’s perspective, and provides advice for other girls on how to become ‘one of the guys’. The advice, predictably, is based on engaging in behaviours that reflect dominant constructions of masculinity: you have to drink lots in order not to be considered “a pussy”; you can’t cry, because expressing emotion shows weakness and is annoying; you can’t “be a mother” by showing caring behaviours, because those behaviours are considered too feminine. The article explicitly states that when girls receive unwanted attention, they should be thankful when ‘the boys’ respond with aggression and violence. This rejection of ‘feminine’ behaviour positions women as ‘less than’, but also shows a highly generalised view of ‘the guys’ and failure to acknowledge diversity (Andersson, 2008). Particularly problematic is construction of men as ‘non-dramatic’ and ‘chill’, but also as aggressive. Emotions such as contentment or anger are valued, but sadness, compassion, and worry are not. References AAP (2019). AFL stars Ablett, Fyfe escape sanction. Retrieved from https://wwos.nine.com.au/afl/fyfe-ablett-face-nervous-waits-over-hits/ec1de6e9-e333-4ae1-b656-22aa700f4807 ABC News (2019). Christchurch shooter Brenton Tarrant charged with 50 counts of murder over mosque attack. Retrieved from https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-04-04/christchurch-shooter-brenton-tarrant-charged-with-50-murders/10969764 Anderson, K. L., & Umberson, D. (2001). Masculinity and power in men’s accounts of domestic violence. Gender and Society, 15(3), 358-380. Retrieved from https://www.jstor.org Andersson, K. (2008). Constructing young masculinity: A case study of heroic discourse on violence. Discourse & Society, 19(2), 139-161. Retrieved from https://www.jstor.org. Azjen, I. (2002). Perceived behavioural control, self efficacy, locus of control, and the theory of planned behaviours. Journal of Applied Social Psychology, 32(4) 665-683, DOI:10.1111/j.1559-1816.2002.tb00236.x Benwell, B. (2004). Ironic discourse: Evasive masculinity in men’s lifestyle magazines, Men and Masculinities, 7(1), 3-21, DOI: 10.1177/1097184X03257438 Cleary, A. (2011). Suicidal action, emotional expression, and the performance of masculinities, Social Science & Medicine, 74, 489-505 Clarke, M. J., Marks, A. D. G., & Lykins, A. D. (2015). Effect of normative masculinity on males’ dysfunctional sexual beliefs, sexual attitudes, and perceptions of sexual functioning. Journal of Sex Research, 52(3), 327-337. DOI:10.1080/00224.2013.860072 Festinger, L. (1957). A theory of cognitive dissonance. Stanford University Press, Stanford, CA. Foucault, M. (1972). The discourse on language. Learning and Scholarship, 1(2) 72-1135. Retrieved online from https://www.monoskop.org Graham, L. J. (2005). Discourse analysis and the critical use of Foucault. Australian Association for Research in Education. *presented at the annual conference. Harmon-Jones, C., & Harmon-Jones, E. (2007). Cognitive dissonance theory after 50 years of development. Zeitschrift für sozialpsychologie, 38(1), 7-16, DOI:10.1024/0044-3514.38.1.7 Improvement Pill (2016). How to get a girl to like you - 3 guaranteed steps . Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MFrslI2aM4. Jewkes, R. (2002). Intimate partner violence: Causes and prevention. The Lancet, 359(9315), 1423-1429 Jordan, A., & Chandler, A. (2019). Crisis, what crisis? A feminist analysis of discourse on masculinities and suicide, Journal of Gender Studies, 28(4), 462-474, DOI: 10.1080/09589236.2018.1510306 Mac an Ghaill, M., & Haywood, C. (2010). Understanding boys’: Thinking through boys, masculinity and suicide. Social Science & Medicine, 74(1), 482-489. Retrieved from https://www.elsevier.com/locate/socscimed Motschenbacher, H. (2009). Speaking the gendered body: The performative construction of commercial femininities and masculinities via body-part vocabulary. Language in Society, 38(1) 1-22. DOI:10.1017/S0047404508090015 Oliffe, J. L., Han, C. S. E., Drummond, M., Maria, E. S., Borttorff, J. L., & Creighton, G. (2015). Men, masculinities, and murder-suicide. American Journal of Men’s Health, 9(6), 473-485. DOI: 10.1177/1557988314551359 Prilleltensky, I. (1997). Values, assumptions & practices: Assessing the moral implications of psychological discourse and action. American Psychologist, 52(1), 517-535 Prilleltensky, I., & Nelson, G. B., (2002). Doing psychology critically: Making a difference in diverse settings. Palgrave Macmillan, 2002. ProQuest Ebook Central, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/unda/detail.actiondocID=3027500 Santos, R. (2010). 6 ways to be one of the guys. Retrieved from https://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/a4312/one-of-the-guys/ Sedikides, C., Gaertner, L., & O’Mara, E. M. (2011). Individual self, relational self, collective self: Hierarchical ordering of the tripartite self. Psychological Studies. 56(1), 98-107. DOI: 10.1007/s12646-011-0059-0",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Violence is everywhere around us, from the rise of the ISIS empire to the advent of school and college shootings and the continuous attacks on the LOC, violence has become a daily part of our lives and leads us to the question why it actually happens. Whenever I flip the pages of the newspaper, I see hundreds of articles on road rage which very much highlight the prevalence of these kinds of behaviors in different ways. The rise in fights was on a different high when I entered high school where people cheered instead of trying to stop the alteration altogether. It always made me wonder why people are getting so excited when they know people can be hurt. I saw the same thing happening in the movies I used to watch at that time. Coming to the question about the influence of violent media, with my personal experiences, I think it depends on how people perceive what is shown to them, with many people becoming aggressive in their nature, there were some who were able to understand the difference between artistic depiction and real life and therefore found a cathartic path within that. There was a very interesting case in Australian where a man had stalked and harassed a woman for days but then acquitted by court because he had said in his statement that it was what he watched in the movies and this incident somewhat affirmed my belief regarding the general influence of media. There have been studies which show that violent behavior enhances aggressive behavior but there are many which have found it to be a cathartic outlet. The very first experiment which tried to shed light on this phenomenon was Albert Bandura’s Bobo Doll Experiment in 1961, he observed that children were likely to violently attack a doll if they had witnessed their parents do the same. In a study conducted in 2006 by Huesmann and Taylor, they concluded that media violence poses a threat to public health as it leads to real-world violence. Specifically, their data showed strong evidence that short-term exposure to media violence in younger viewers stimulates immediate aggressive behavior with their peers at school. Long-term exposure was significantly correlated with destructive behavior beyond childhood and into adulthood. Their conclusion was in accord with Bandura’s initial theory in that the researchers concluded the portrayal of “justified” violent behavior allows children to consider their own violent behaviors appropriate. The researchers agreed that media exposure is not the only factor that contributes to violent behavior, but asserted that it is an important one. Due to numerous studies, the psychological community overwhelmingly supports the notion that violent media exposure is harmful. The Children, Youth and Families Office of APA conducted a thorough review of the literature published between 2005 and 2013 focused on violent video game use. This included four meta-analyses that reviewed more than 150 research reports published before 2009. The research demonstrated that violent video game use has an effect on aggression. This effect is seen both as an increase in negative outcomes such as aggressive behavior, cognitions, and affect and as a decrease in positive outcomes such as pro social behavior, empathy, and sensitivity to aggression. In a series of five experiments involving over 500 college students (Anderson & Carnagey, 2003) , researchers examined the effects of seven violent songs by seven artists and eight nonviolent songs by seven artists. The students listened to the songs and were given various psychological tasks to measure aggressive thoughts and feelings. Results of the five experiments show that violent songs led to more aggressive interpretations of ambiguously aggressive words, increased the relative speed with which people read aggressive vs. nonaggressive words, and increased the proportion of word fragments that were filled in to make aggressive words . The violent songs increased feelings of hostility without provocation or threat, according to the authors, and this effect was not the result of differences in musical style, specific performing artist or arousal properties of the songs. Even the humorous violent songs increased aggressive thoughts. The findings contradict popular notions of positive catharsis or venting effects of listening to angry, violent music on violent thoughts and feelings. There is research suggesting that guns don’t need to be featured in the media to cause aggression; the mere presence of a gun is enough to elicit aggressive behavior. For example, having a gun sitting on a table makes people behave more aggressively (Berkowitz & LePage, 1967), and recent work shows that having a gun in the car makes people (even non-gun owners) more aggressive drivers (Bushman, Kerwin, Whitlock, & Weisenberger, 2017). These effects even exist in children, whether or not the gun is real or is just a toy (Benjamin Kepes, & Bushman, 2017). A 2002 report by the US Secret Service and the US Department of Education, which examined 37 incidents of targeted school shootings and school attacks from 1974 to 2000 in this country, found that over half of the attackers demonstrated some interest in violence through movies, video games, books, and other media Many of my friends are into wrestling and violent video games and they used to say that these games help them relax.They said it helped them release this pent up energy.With so many studies indicating that violent media leads to aggressive behavior, there is another side with well organized set of arguments about why it may actually do any harm but act as a healthy outlet. There are counter arguments that states violent media does not cause violent behavior. Video-game-enthusiasts-turned-advocates argue that most gamers, no matter their age, have the emotional intelligence and the ability to understand the difference between reality and virtual reality. Others say that those who play violent video games experience a form of catharsis that enables them to reduce their level of aggression by engaging in role-playing. James C. Klagge, a professor at Virginia Tech, suggests that exposure violent media, allows younger people to let go of negative and angry emotions without causing harming to others or oneself. Cheryl Olson, cofounder of the Massachusetts General Hospital Center for Mental Health and Media, conducted a study in 2004 on 1,254 public school students in South Carolina. She observed children playing in a schoolyard and then examined their exposure to violent games. While Dr. Olson noted a correlation between playing violent games and what he called “delinquent behavior” only in those children who had aggressive traits. The study concluded that there was not enough evidence to support a causal relationship between violent media and violent behavior. Craig Anderson, PhD, Director of the Center for the Study of Violence at Iowa State University stressed, “Media violence is only one of many risk factors for later aggressive and violent behavior. Furthermore, extremely violent behavior never occurs when there is only one risk factor present. Thus, a healthy, well-adjusted person with few risk factors is not going to become a school-shooter just because they start playing a lot of violent video games or watching a lot of violent movies.” I think this debate has been going on for years and will still go on as there has been increasing research supporting both sides of the field. I don’t think any of us can provide a clear cut answer to this. I would end by saying that the situations in which the person is in terms of environmental, physical and mental state might play a very important role in how we behave.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"There have been many things to come from the 20th century and one of the most notable ones was video games. Video games are a form of digital media used for entertainment. One of the most common tropes in video games is violence. Violence is usually looked down upon in our society minus a few exceptions like video games. This explains why some people are against video games. Those people believe that video games cause children to become more violent. They usually never let their children touch a video game because they believe it is right. Now, parents not wanting their kids to play video games and preventing them from playing video games is fine, but believing that video games are causing violence is an issue because they will usually spread their idea to others. Video games causing violence is a misconception when in reality, it reduces violence, acts as a way to help people, and have little to do with whether someone will commit a crime. The Data Against the Misconception: Analyzing Violent Games Video games causing violence is a misconception because of the data that has been created and spread. This idea that video games cause violence is something that a lot of people believe and it is not entirely their fault. There are some games that can be seen as morally wrong like Grand Theft Auto. This game allows the player to commit a multitude of crimes whether it be for fun or not. Games with this range of violence found within them have caused people to question the morality of this kind of game. Just because there are violent activities in games, does not mean that these are the causes of violent activities in people. According to the APA, “4 time-series analyses investigated the associations among violent crime (homicides and aggravated assaults), video game sales, Internet keyword searches for violent video game guides, and the release dates of popular violent video games (both annually and monthly). Contrary to the claims that violent video games are linked to aggressive assaults and homicides, no evidence was found to suggest that this medium was positively related to real-world violence in the United States. Unexpectedly, many of the results were suggestive of a decrease in violent crime in response to violent video games. Possible explanations for these unforeseen findings are discussed and researchers are cautioned about generalizing the results from laboratory and correlational studies to severe forms of violent behavior.” From this research, there is no evidence to suggest any direct correlation to an increased scale of violent video games that lead to a spike in violent crimes. This misconception is not completely unwarranted though, since people are committing violent acts in video games, one can assume that the same behavior would transfer into real life. So, it is not inherently bad to think this way, but that still does not make it right either because the information is incorrect. Parents also do not look at the contexts of these violent games. With Call of Duty, you are usually playing as a soldier who tries to save the world or defeat the game's antagonist(s). You are usually playing as a hero or a good person who will try to do what is right. Companies try to make likable protagonists because people are more likely to enjoy the game. Most video game protagonists can be looked at as some kind of role model. Video game protagonists like Mario, Sonic, Link, and Master Chief come from different genres of video games but are all considered heroes in them. They all have different traits that are considered desirable, this can be seen with Master Chief’s willing self-sacrifice, to Link’s tremendous amount of courage. Even then, not all video games are violent. Some video games allow you to do different activities like golfing or dancing. Since most video games are associated with violence, all games are being blamed even though they have nothing to do with violence. What all of this does, is spread misinformation that hurts the gaming industry and other industries that work with it while preventing kids from playing good games. Video Games as a Preventive Measure: Reducing Violence and Aggression Video games have helped prevent violence because of the different ways people have used them. Whether people are aware of it or not, people are becoming more aggressive. First-person shooters are one of the biggest gaming genres to blame for this increased aggression. Call of Duty is one of the biggest named first-person shooter series to come up that has led to this belief. In Call of Duty, you play as a wide range of soldiers with having the task of killing people. Even though this gaming genre is believed to create violence, it is the opposite: ""First-person shooter video game players are 67 percent less likely to produce hate materials than are non-players(Virginia Tech, 2018).” This is important because first-person shooters are probably the single most contributor to this video game misconception. Then there is the fact that the internet produces so much content that has a wide range of material for the general public. A lot of the material on the platforms of the internet involves some form of hate, “This research shows not only are more Americans being exposed to online extremism but more is also involved in producing and disseminating it(Virginia Tech, 2018).” What all of this data suggests, is that people who play first-person shooters are actually less likely to create hate-centered material even though they are exposed to so much of it online. While video games are helping prevent violence, studies also show that “Males are 1.76 times more likely than women to produce hate material online(Virginia Tech, 2018). What this study is showing is that video games are acting as an outlet for pent-up aggression and this information saying that males are producing more hate material than women is suggesting males are letting out much more aggressive than women. Video games allow people to do things that normally cannot be done in real life, video games can give people this sense of freedom that only they can give. There are even games that are meant to help people relax From everything that I have shown, we can see how people are using gaming as a way of letting out aggression and that video games help with stopping real-world violence along with online violence. The Illusion of Increased Violence: How Video Games Help Prevent Crimes A lot of people believe that violence has increased over time and video games are the ones to be blamed, but it actually has helped to prevent crimes. Some people might think there is more violence now than there was in the past, but that is incorrect. The idea of crimes increasing is an illusion. According to the Brennan Center For Justice, “The national crime rate peaked in 1991 at 5,856 crimes per 100,000 people and has generally been declining ever since. In 2015, crime fell for the 14th year in a row. Estimates based on preliminary data for 2016 indicate that the overall crime rate will remain stable at 2,857 offenses per 100,000, rising less than 1 percent from 2015. Today’s crime rate is less than half of what it was in 1991.” The reason this has happened can be somewhat credited to the internet and how it has allowed media to be spread so easily. When something extremely bad happens, the media will see it and report it. A lot of these violent actions occur, and people will hear about it, when unlike in the past if something happened, it would be spread far less quickly if at all. So that can be another reason for this misconception, but it is just an illusion. For actually preventing violence, there are many reasons for this to happen, but there is one very simple answer that no one really thinks about, which is, “Violent video games may actually reduce crime as aggressive players are “too busy” shooting virtual enemies to cause trouble in the real world, experts claim(Violent Video Games Reduce Crime, 2011).” This is something that I do not really see is brung up in most conversations regarding video game violence, but it is true. If someone is playing video games, that means there is less time for those people to cause problems like committing crimes. So, going from this logic, video games do affect crime, just in a positive way, “It states that rather than violent crime rates soaring when new violent video games are released, they actually drop as gamers are 'too busy at home playing the games, adding: 'Time spent gaming cannot be spent on other activities, both legitimate activities and illicit violent activities(Violent Video Games Reduce Crime, 2011).” This can be seen when popular releases like GTA or FallOut release and a bunch of people play it. Data shows that, “When violent video game sales increased by 10%, the crime rate decreased 0.3% - a decrease that was not found when comparing to non-violent video game sales. This effect was actually not only shown in video game sales, but also in violent movies. Crime rates decreased by 1.1% for every 1 million people that watched a violent movie. (Winchester, 2017) So many people are attracted to this kind of media, but it does not inherently make them more violent or aggressive. There are people who love killing people in games but that does not mean that they will do that in real life because most people have some moral compass that keeps them on the right path. These games act as a way to help vent this feeling that people have when it comes to violence. Video games can take up a lot of time, so people need to be careful not to spend too much time playing them, but this addiction is preventing crimes. The Integration of Gaming in Society: A Deeper Look at School Shootings and Crime Rates Video games have become so common in our lives that makes it seem really hard to believe that it causes so many problems. According to the ESA, “Sixty-five percent of American households are home to someone who plays video games regularly, and 67 percent of American households own a device used to play video games” and “Gamers age 18 or older represent 72 percent of the video game-playing population, and the average gamer is 35 years old.” This data shows that pretty much everyone is aware of video games. Even then, a lot of families play video games with each other or share consoles which makes you think about how gaming has really been integrated into most first-world societies. Almost everyone has a console in their household or at least some device that allows them to play video games. Consoles are not even the only way to play video games, you can use computers or even phones to game. But there is something that everyone looks down upon and many blame video games, which is school shootings. Now, school shootings are an extremely touchy subject and many people like to blame video games for these terrible acts of violence because you can kill people in video games which can lead to people becoming desensitized, but it is untrue. “...about 20% of school shooters played violent video games, compared to close to 70% of their nonviolent peers(Loria, 2018),” which means that not even half of the shooters play video games. Even then, the amount of nonaggressive people who play video games outweighs the number of people who act aggressive and violent. These games only seem to help decrease crime but are constantly being blamed for these problems. Another reason why video games do not create violence is that gaming has very little to do with whether someone will commit a crime. Henry Jenkins, an MIT Professor found that “According to federal crime statistics, the rate of juvenile violent crime in the United States is at a 30-year low. Researchers find that people serving time for violent crimes typically consume fewer media before committing their crimes than the average person in the general population.” When someone is going to commit a crime, it would make sense for that person to look at fewer media. Most criminals would usually have a plan before committing a crime which would in turn make them use less media because they would not want to risk going to jail if they make a mistake. It's not even just in America, “In Japan, about 60 percent of the population played video games in 2016, according to NewZoo, a gaming market research company. But almost no one is killed by a gun in the country, which bans possessing, carrying, selling, or buying handguns or rifles. There were only six gun deaths in Japan in 2014, compared with over 33,000 in the United States, according to GunPolicy.org, which tracks published reports on armed violence, firearm law, and gun control(Salam, 2018).” First-person shooters are one of the most prominent gaming genres out there and there seems to be no correlation between the people who play them and the gun crimes there are nowadays. It does not seem to matter whether someone plays a game and then decides to commit a crime or not. Most people are rational thinkers and know what is right and what is wrong which is why not everyone commits crimes. Even with the people who cannot think as properly as others, they still have people who try and help them stay on the right track. It more or so has to deal with people who are alone and are not able to keep themselves on the right path. Conclusion: The Positive Impact of Video Games on Society Even though video games are believed to make children more aggressive and violent, it actually helps prevent it. Video games act as different ways of dealing with anger and other emotions. Video games can be somewhat cathartic in relieving stress because you are doing something you normally cannot do in real life. Even if it is not for the freedom that it allows in games, it can allow someone to vent stress because they are doing something. It does not even have to be someone venting and helping with distressing because of the different activities you can do in gaming. There is also the fact that if someone is spending time playing a game, that means that they are not spending that time committing crimes. This is information that most people tend to look over when accusing video games of causing real-world crimes. So many revolutionary inventions have risen in the 20th century and some have increased the ability to be more violent, but video games are not one of them. Video games have done so much for this world. It has created millions of jobs, used to increase creativity, to help teach kids and adults alike, and has created so much enjoyment in people's lives that without them, would be far less happy. It is a shame that video games are being blamed for problems that are not occurring and are actually making better. Annotated Bibliography Friedman, Matthew, et al. Crime Trends:1900-2016. New York University School of Law, 2017. Brennan Center For Justice. Scribd, www.brennancenter.org/publication/crime-trends1990-2016. Accessed 8 May 2019. This is a report that examines crime trends at the city and national levels for the last quarter of this century. It analyzes data from the Federal Bureau of Investigation and from police departments in America’s 30 largest cities to find that crime rates have dropped over the last quarter-century. I used this data because it gives factual evidence of the decrease in crimes. I believe that this article is extremely reliable because it uses data collected from police departments in the largest cities in the nation along with data from the Federal Bureau of Investigation(FBI) which is a national security organization that deals with law enforcement. The audience for this seems to be aimed towards people with law enforcement backgrounds and government employees because this uses data from many government agencies and focuses on the crime rates in the United States which these people would require or have. Salam, Maya, and Liam Stack. “Do Video Games Lead to Mass Shootings? Researchers Say No.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 23 Feb. 2018, www.nytimes.com/2018/02/23/us/politics/trump-video-games-shootings.html. This article talks about how many people believe the reasons for school shootings are because of video games. The article then brings up multiple studies that disprove this notion. I used this article for the extra data that I could get from this article. Even though the two people do not have anything special, because they are only journalists and not scientists, they are talking about events that have happened in the past and using different studies to talk about what they found which is why I find this article reliable. The audience is aimed at parents who are trying to figure out more about the effects of video games. This is probably the case because this person takes a relatively unbiased position and gives data that she found on the matter. Sirwinchester, et al. “Do Violent Video Games Actually REDUCE Violence and Crimes?!” Steemit, steemit.com/sirwinchester/@sirwinchester/do-violent-video-games-actually-reduce-violence-and-crimes. Sir Winchester talks about there is a misconception about video game violence and how it is understandable while trying to find points that support video games through different analysts and charts with data that puts video games in a better light. He concludes that you can find arguments for both sides, but the inconsistent data makes it extremely difficult to get a definitive answer. I used this article because of the chart and data Winchester uses throughout it and from his neutral standpoint. While Winchester is just a journalist, he acts calm and reasonable throughout the article, so I believe he is reliable enough for my essay. The audience this is aimed towards seems to be towards people who are not necessarily for or against video games but are trying to find more information on the subject and then make an answer for themselves rather than being told what to think by an article. “Do Violent Video Games Make Kids More Violent?” Psychology Today, Sussex Publishers, 17 July 2018, www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/evidence-based-living/201807/do-violent-video-games-make-kids-more-violent. This article is about how research about video game violence shows that video games help prevent violence. It uses multiple points taken from different articles and shows how inconsistent the data is towards violent video games leading to aggressive behavior. But also that, not all video games are suitable for every child and that it is best to understand each child’s needs and set up rules to keep them safe. I used this article because of the facts that it had and because it also lead to another article with even more information on the subject. There seems to be no author for this article but I think that this article is still somewhat reliable because it gave me a link to another article that had an author with valid information and statistics. This article’s targeted audience is parents because the main idea of it is whether violent video games make kids more violent or not which would grab the attention of parents who are wondering whether to let their children play video games. Markey, Patrick, et al. “2017 Essential Facts About the Computer and Video Game Industry.” The Entertainment Software Association, APA PsycNet, October 2015, www.theesa.com/article/2017-essential-facts-computer-video-game-industry/. This article is about the different behaviors that are found to be linked to aggressive behaviors and whether or not video games affect them. This article comes to the conclusion that there is no evidence found when looking at data within the United States and that results show a decrease in violent crimes in response to violent video games. I used this article because the journalist who used this information left out certain parts and only gave a brief summary of some of the statements within the article and I think it would be more effective to get better statistics from the people who actually published the data. The authors of this article are professors in Psychology who have earned PhDs in that subject which is why I believe that they are reliable authors. The audience aimed towards this would probably be other scientists who are looking into the subject as well because they are finding and collecting the data so it can be published. Loria, Kevin. “How Playing Video Games Affects Your Body and Brain.” Business Insider, Business Insider, 19 June 2018, www.businessinsider.com/video-games-and-violence-2018-3. Kevin Loria is a journalist at Business Insider who made an article talking about the correlation between people playing video games and aggression. Loria uses surveys from organizations aimed at video games causing violence to find whether there is a correlation between the two. It concludes that video games are making people become less aggressive and are being used to deal with things like depression. I used this article for the data from the collected surveys and put them into it. Loria is a lead journalist in Business Insider which gives him more merit than a normal journalist and used a wide range of data to get his answer. Jenkins, Henry. “Reality Bytes: Eight Myths About Video Games Debunked .” PBS, Public Broadcasting Service, 2005, www.pbs.org/kcts/videogamerevolution/impact/myths.html. This article is by Henry Jenkins, the Provost's Professor of Communication, Journalism, and Cinematic Arts at the University of Southern California. It goes over multiple myths about video game violence and goes over why each myth is false. I used this article because the journalist who was using some of Jenkin’s information left out certain parts and I thought that it would be more effective to get information from the source of the journalist's information. I believe that Jenkins is a reliable resource because he is a professor that focuses on culture and has written around 17 books on pop culture. This article is aimed at parents because this is published by PBS and talks about many myths that parents would have heard about video games and separates what is and what is not really about them. “Violent Video Games May Serve as an Outlet for Aggression, Not a Precursor, Says Virginia Tech Expert.” Virginia Tech Daily | Virginia Tech, Medicalpress, 22 Feb. 2018, vtnews.vt.edu/articles/2018/02/videgamesviolence.html. Jim Hawdon and the Virginia Tech Center use multiple sources and surveys to show whether or not people produce hate material if they play video games. They found that people more specifically Americans from ages 15 to 35 are producing more hate materials that have increased over time but are being used as a way to relieve aggression and are less violent in real life. This is used for the data and how many people are becoming more aggressive. This article seems to be aimed at people who are against video games and uses many points and data to try and persuade them not to hate video games. “Violent Video Games 'Reduce Crime'.” The Telegraph, Telegraph Media Group, 30 Sept. 2011, www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/video-games/8798927/Violent-video-games-reduce-crime.html. This article is about how games like Grand Theft Auto that are extremely violent reduce crimes. The author uses multiple reports to show that crimes are reduced when reducing crimes and comes to the conclusion that people are too busy playing video games to commit crimes. I used this article because of some of the points that were in it and also because of the main idea that was presented in it. People who are playing games are not spending that time committing crimes, which makes sense, but I never thought of it until this article. This article also does not have an author’s name attached to it, but I still believe there is some credibility in it because it brings up the names of other people that made the data that was in the article. This article’s targeted audience is people who can vote because the article brings up parts about regulations on video games.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"With the development of the gaming industry, growth of its target audience’s amount, and the spreading of the Internet, electronic sports are becoming more and more popular competitive activity. Electronic sports are often referred to as eSports or egames, and imply organized video gaming. The primary concept of eSports can be seen as a competition of teams against each other in tournaments for a prize, usually in the form of cash and a title. From this perspective, eSports are similar to traditional sports competitions. The Transition of Games from Singleplayer to Multiplayer The history of transferring games from a hobby to professional sports began in the 1990s. It is connected to the rise of the accessible worldwide web. The Internet has connected gamers; thus, it enabled competitive gaming and contributed to the growth of the popularity of games. Then, in 1997, the world’s first eSports event, the Red Annihilation tournament for Quake game was conducted and held about 2000 participants. A short time after this competition, a gaming league named Cyberathlete Professional League (CPL) was formed. In 2017, the total Esports prize money amounted to $110.6 million from a total of 3765 tournaments. Gamers used to compete playing through game consoles before the industry went online. Playing with another player via the same console offline is still a common way to have fun with friends and relatives living in the same place. It also enables to deepen into competition due to specific atmosphere complementing the process, which is also why many tournaments prefer to gather teams in one room adjusted for playing. In addition, few games do not support online multiplayer mode still. However, all the other benefits are attributed to playing games online. It is simpler to connect with people through the word via Internet, and more and more games have a well-functioning multiplayer. The Discussion of Two Popular Multiplayer Games and Their Concepts Background and Development of League of Legends League of Legends is currently one of the world’s biggest eSports that emerged from the Warcraft 3 mod Defence of the Ancients. In 2005, Feak and Mescon created a company named Riot Games. After fours years, the idea of League of Legends came alive and became popular for both amateurs and professionals Free-To-Play game. This game is compared to DOTA, which has a similar concept. Currently, League of Legends counts millions of active players, hundreds of teams, and dozens of regular tournaments. The concept of League of Legends and the viewer or gamer perspective League of Legends is a Multiplayer Online Battle Arena (MOBA), which is usually played with two teams consisting of 5 players. This concept enables the high competitiveness of the process and requires teamwork for the win. Each team has its primary building – the base and towers that are defensive structures. The objective of a team is to destroy the opponents’ main building. Isometric battle arena has three lanes, a jungle between them, and a river dividing the map between two teams. Gamers choose champions with unique abilities they will be playing for the next game. Depending on the champion, each player has a role they usually stick to for the benefit of team play. Gamers have access to the internal market, where they can purchase items that strengthen their characters for gold, which is earned for killing opponents’ champions and neutral enemies. Professional players try to fully express the strengths of their characters and not opponents to use their weaknesses, such and vulnerabilities to some form of damage, low health points, low speed, inability to buy artifacts fast, and others. With respect to the viewer and gamer point of view, League of Legends has an isometric perspective for them both, as it is the most convenient for such type of strategy-like games. Viewers and gamers and switch between locked and free cameras and choose whether it is fixed on a specific character or not. The two differences between ones who watch the game and one who plays are the opportunity of the last to see through the fog of war through every champions’ “eyes” and the additional statistics. Simultaneously, players can only see what is revealed by their and their allies’ champions. Background and Development of Valorant Valorant is another popular Free-To-Play AAA game supported by Riot company. The genre of the game is tactical team-based FPS shooter. The game’s development started in 2014, and it was officially released in June 2020, after a closed beta period. This game’s producers were inspired by a series of shooters Counter-strike. What is interesting about Valorant is that Riot pays great attention to storytelling, making every of the game’s champions more than a playable character but rather a living person with their background and unique features. Even though this innovative game intended to gather the strengths of its close competitors has begun to grow activity not so long ago, it is already popular enough to be claimed as a future of multiplayer shooters. The concept of Valorant and the viewer or gamer perspective Valorant is slightly similar to League of Legends, as it is also focused on the competition between two teams. However, a broad list of differences confirms the uniqueness of Valorant’s concept. The goal of each team is to win 13 rounds, which is done by killing all the opponents’ champions (agents) or detonating the “spike” (bomb). The game can be compared with such tactical shooters as Counter-strike, Overwatch, and Apex Legends. All the playable characters have unique abilities that determine their role, which can be duelist (DPS class), initiator (intending to initiate fights), or sentinel (supports). After choosing a unique agent, there is a buy phase, during which players can buy guns and abilities, and then, a round begins. Valorant is the first-person shooter that implies that a gamer does not see his own character but only the weapons he holds. During a game, a player does not track his opponents until they are visible for the agent they are playing for. However, while viewing a match, it is possible to see red figures indicating an opponent team’s agents, while the perspective stays the same (first-person). It is possible to make a camera free to have an overview of the entire battlefield without sticking to one of 10 players. The Platforms to Play the Games, Selection of Characters and the Use of Avatars It is possible to list all game platforms to provide an overview of what is actually can be used to play before proceeding to opportunities Valorant and League of Legends provide to their audiences. It includes: Personal computers (PC), consoles, mobile, virtual reality, arcade, television, web browser, and streaming. The most popular and oldest platform to experience video games are PC, suitable for most games while enabling customization of a gaming place with different accessories. It is not surprising that both of the games are available to play via this platform. The mobile platform, including both Android and IOS based devices, is expected to support Valorant in the nearest future, while League of Legends is already available for gamers to download and play. Riot Games company also promises to launch both their games via consoles in a year or two. It is possible that television is also can be used to play those games, for instance, with the help of the connected PC. However, it is likely that neither Valorant nor League of Legends will be ported to arcades or will be available to play via a web browser. Speaking about picking characters in Valorant and League of legends, the system is the same for both games. All the player has a set of playable characters, more than 140 for League of Legends and 15 for Valorant. There is a specific order for picking champions or agents that depends on the mode of the game. For instance, in a regular game, a player can choose any hero at any time, if only it is not banned by others (every player has a limited number of votes to ban one or another champion). In a tournament or in certain game modes, teams pick a champion each by order. The only rule that is always must be adhered to is that it is not possible to pick the same hero twice. Basically, all these nuances are needed for the balance of the games and their fairness. With respect to players’ avatars in those games, each player has an avatar of the champion/ agent they play for, known as summoner icon. They are used to determine who plays for a specific hero that enables to coordinate team play. Moreover, League of Legends enables players to use and customize their personal avatar intended to personalize a gamer’s profile for their convenience and a better experience. Avatar creator enables to choose among a broad range of facial features, hairstyles, and outfits. Although it is not essential for gameplay, it does influence the attractiveness of a game for players. ESport Tournaments and Gaming as a Career 15 years ago, no one could imagine that playing games would become a lucrative career opportunity. About 80% of teenage girls and 95% of teenage boys play video games, and it reveals the close attention of the younger generation to the global eSports market. The other representative indicator of the industry’s potential is that it has grown to $1.9 billion by the end of 2018. Speaking about the earning of gamers, in 2015, four people made more than $1.73 million, while members of many other professional teams had more than $100,000 in income. ESports players earn money in prizes for winning events, advertising, sponsorships, and salaries. Although not many gamers make sums enough for living, with the maturing of the industry, so will be growing players’ incomes. There is only one way in eSports to become a valuable professional; it is to improve skills and to win. Then, there is a chance to join a team and sign a contract with its owner that will eventually lead to global tournaments and opportunities to win high prizes. The above-mentioned eSports tournaments are competitions between two teams consisting of 5-6 players each. The most popular games to duel in are League of Legends, Overwatch, Fortnite, Dota, Valorant, and others. Most amateur and professional events cost about $10-20 to spectate or participate, while a ticket to the League of Legends Championships can cost up to $70. The prize or the jackpot for winning teams can vary from a few thousand to millions dollars. Such events take place around the world, including cities like Lo Angeles, San Francisco, Seoul, Tokyo, Shanghai, Hong Kong, and others. The Investing Companies of ESports and the Development of Mobile versions of the Games The above-mentioned mobile devices are one of the platforms many games can be developed for or ported into. While League of Legends can already be downloaded as a mobile game, it is likely that Valorant will also eventually have its own mobile version, which is not even announced yet. Porting of games, which implies designing it for another platform, is associated with some challenges. For instance, the opportunities to control a unit via a phone are significantly restricted compared to PCs’ ones. Although Riot company managed to launch the League of Legends mobile version, it is known for being less convenient for players, and therefore it is not used widely for conducting tournaments. It is even the general approach of all the companies not to enable players using different platforms to play with each other to maintain the balance and fairness of the game. Global eSports industry in one of many others worthy to invest in. It is expected that in 2021, its revenue will exceed $1 billion and will grow up to $1.8 billion in 2022, which makes gaming companies attractive for potential investors. Some of the investing companies (ones having esports stocks) are Activision Blizzard Inc. (ATVI), a video game developer known for Overwatch and Call of Duty, and the owner of Grand Theft Auto Take-Two Interactive Software Inc. (TTWO). It is also can be recommended to consider Electronic Arts Inc. (EA) known for Apex Legends and FIFA and Roblox Corp. (RBLX) owning a platform enabling users to make their own games. Currently, more and more people are becoming engaged in eSports as viewers or players, which makes the industry, which began as a casual hobby, grow to a huge market. With the spread of the Internet, multiplayer obtained popularity, making competitions, such as amateur and professional tournaments be world-class events with high prices. Riot company, the famous game developer, is known for League of Legends, MOBA game, and Valorant, tactical team-based FPS shooter. The common platform for playing those games is PC, but League of Legends has a mobile version, and both of the games are expected to be ported to a console. Playing games is a solid career opportunity now, as many professional players have high income due to prizes, salaries, and advertising. Some of the largest companies even have their own stock, which anyone can invest in. Predictably, the industry will be growing further, which brings to the conclusion that eSports will not only continue to be popular but will even rise in activity.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"In these last couple years many tragic shooting events have been occurring in many elementary and high schools in the United States. Every day parents and teachers worry about their students’ safety and try their hardest to keep a safe environment for them. Even as time goes by, these incidents are increasing day by day, giving the rising probability of a shooter coming to their school. In schools, danger is increasing; instead, it should be depleting. That is where the topic of arming teachers comes into place. With the number of gun incidents in schools increasing each year, arming school personnel, especially teachers, can improve student safety on campus. The closest people to the children are the teachers, with them always so close they are able to protect the children on time and sufficiently. Even though there is ‘no empirical evidence’, states authors Sonali Rajan and Branas Charles in ‘Arming Schoolteachers: What Do We Know? Where Do We Go from Here?’, on how campus safety can improve, teachers could be a change to better students’ safety. Implementing armed teachers will have a chance to defend innocent students’ lives instead of becoming another statistic. Being able to try something new gives the school faculty the power to be able to control situations which involve gun threats. People will get to see that arming teachers with guns will keep the crazy shooter away, because no human with a gun would dare to go on a campus where they have armed and trained teachers ready to protect their students. Another reason why armed teachers should be implemented is that the police cannot always be trusted in these situations. Law enforcement are not always on time when it comes to protecting students, leaving them vulnerable in life-threatening situations. Most of the time when law enforcement finally gets to their destined location, most of the damage has most likely already been done. Law enforcement is the primary system many people contact when their lives are being threatened, but what happens when the police are not able to be there on time? According to the article ‘Counterpoint: Arming Teachers and School Staff Helps Protect Students’, which is sourced from Points of View: School Safety & Arming Teachers, explains one incident concerning this problem. A school in Idaho “reported that police response would take up to one hour and forty-five minutes, leaving students in a school shooting scenario entirely unprotected unless on-site staff were armed”. This situation that has happened for this school in Idaho confirms that this is a considerably huge possibility of the police coming late to other schools. With this possibility, it leaves innocent students unprotected and vulnerable in life-threatening situations, letting them most likely fending for themselves. Having armed the staff on-site ready to go and protect students have less chance of students being harm's way. Being armed is the only way to protect others from those who are also armed. Another comment used by the source Points of View: School Safety & Arming Teachers involves being armed is when they quoted the NRA chief executive Wayne LaPierre. Regarding the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, he says: “The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun”. Justifying that in order to protect students efficiently and successfully, student faculty needs the same weapon to fight back. Many people oppose arming teachers, and there are several reasons for this. In a YouTube video put up by the channel CBS This Morning, owned by a famous news channel, CBS, which is titled ‘What’s It Like for Teachers at a School That Allows Armed Staff?’, shows an anchor Nikki Battiste interviewing armed teachers in a rural Colorado high school. Nikki Battiste tries to find out whether the fears spread in society are really justified. First, the video discusses whether arming puts pressure on teachers. As it turns out, actually the teachers are not pressured into being armed, Carl Donaldson, a science teacher on this campus, is an example of this. Donaldson has freely “volunteered to carry a firearm in class” (0:43-45). Teachers have a choice whether or not to be armed, but Donaldson chose to do it because it was something he “felt he had to do” (0:42-43). Since the high school is in a rural area, it is also an example of further proving that law enforcement is not able to be there on time for students since the “nearest law enforcement office is about 25 minutes away” from this school (0:47-51). Adding this onto another reason why Donaldson agreed to be armed since by the time the police get to the campus most of the damage most likely had already been done. Donaldson then went on and agreed with having armed teachers since “they are always the first ones to respond. Why not give them something to fight back with?” (0:57-1:02). For this reason, this is why there needs to be armed teachers on school grounds in order to enhance students’ safety. Furthermore, many parents and outsiders worry if the gun can ever get into the wrong hands as an example, a student. Halfway into the video the anchor/interviewee, Battiste, asks Donaldson if the gun is loaded, and he responds with that guns are never loaded in class unless something were to happen, and it’s always wrapped around his leg (1:17-1:20). It shows people that they need not worry about the guns going off in class or the gun ending up in the wrong hands since it will need something to load it with in order to be fired. Another question asked by Battiste was if the other teachers felt safer since other teachers were armed around them, the teachers responded that they are okay with this (2:46-2:51). An equally important thing that many worry about is training. In the video, they explained about ‘Faster’, a program that is provided for the teachers. Battiste explains that “'Faster' is a three-day course that trains teachers like Donaldson in firearms and trauma response and includes a simulated school shooting scenario” (1:37-1:45). This program helps trains teachers what to do in real life-threatening situations that can happen on campus, preparing them for future events. One of the biggest things that this program also helps with also is the trauma response for the teacher, which is the best for their mental health. Above all, there has been much controversy when it comes to arming teachers. However, I believe that arming them decreases the chances of a shooter being able to go onto campus and harm vulnerable children. It is clear that in every school, the first priority of teachers and other school faculty should be students' safety. With teachers being armed, they will be the most effective solution to successfully save and protect their students in life threatening-situations since they are the closest to them. As it goes on, many law enforcement offices are not likely to be there in time if any of these situations happen, but if teachers were armed this would not be put into discussion. Finally, I think that armed teachers need to be implemented since a shooter will think twice before going and hurting innocent children since the teachers will be there ready and armed to protect them. Works Cited CBS This Morning. 'What's It Like for Teachers at a School That Allows Armed Staff?'. YouTube. 23 Feb. 2018. CBS. Accessed 19 May 2019. Center for Homeland Defense and Security. ‘Incidents by Year’. ​K-12 School Shooting Database​, FEMA, 7 May 2019. Accessed 18 May 2019. Collier, Lorna. 'School Safety: Can Gun Violence in Schools Be Prevented?​'. CQ Researcher by CQ Press​. 17 May 2019. CQ Press. Accessed 19 May 2019. ‘Counterpoint: Arming Teachers and School Staff Helps Protect Students’. ​Points of View: School Safety & Arming Teachers​, Sept. 2018, p.3. ​EBSCOhost. ‘UPDATED: Mass Public Shootings Keep Occurring in Gun-Free Zones: 97.8% of Attacks Since 1950’. ​Crime Prevention Research Center​, 3 Dec. 2018. Accessed 28 May 2019. Rajan, Sonali, and Charles C. Branas. ‘Arming Schoolteachers: What Do We Know? Where Do We Go From Here?’. ​American Journal of Public Health, vol. 108, no. 7, July 2018, pp.860–862. ​EBSCOhost​, doi:10.2105/AJPH.2018.304464.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Case Summary The case concerns Christopher Lee Peterson, at the time of events an employee of Wilmur Communications and a follower of the World Church of the Creator. In 2000, Peterson gave an interview to the local paper on WCC, expressing his racist views, which included the support of a known shooter that targeted African-American, Jewish and Asian people. After finding out about the interview, the company president suspended Peterson without pay and later demoted him to a lower pay and responsibility role. Since according to Title VII it is unlawful to discriminate based on religious views, the plaintiff sued the organization for the demotion. Creativity, or the World Church of the Creator, is a self-proclaimed religion with its beliefs centered around white supremacy and the maintenance of racial purity. The extremist group was established in 1973 by Ben Klassen, and after he committed suicide in 1993 Matt Hale took on the role of the leader (“Creativity Movement”, n.d.). According to the founder, Klassen, the organization and its members strive towards a “total war” against all “goddamned mud races” (“Creativity Movement”, n.d.), as he thought of the White Race as elite and superior to the other races. Although the group believes itself to be a religion, it did not endorse any gods, and considered race to be the most sacred truth (“Creativity Movement”, n.d.). Furthermore, the followers of WCC claimed that Holocaust did not exist, and that a utopian world consists of white people only. Throughout the years, the neo-Nazi organization attracted several violently inclined individuals, which allegedly resulted in numerous attacks. Peterson, who was a member of the organization, supervised a team of both white and non-white subordinates. In March 2000, the plaintiff appeared in the local newspaper, which was doing a segment on the WCC. The article included the confirmation of Peterson’s views and beliefs as those concordant with the views of the WCC, as well as a photograph of Peterson showing respect to a mass shooter. Although Peterson’s believes were similar to those of the KKK and arguably unethical, his termination was still judged to be unlawful and religiously discriminatory by the court. Case Questions An employer’s reaction to the news article If I was the employer that saw this news article, I would find a legal way to terminate the employee. As an employer, it would be my duty to maintain a functioning and safe workplace. Therefore, seeing an article that could potentially disturb some of the employees would cause me to question whether the person making these claims is a good fit for the company. If the employees are unable to feel safe in the working environment, then as the employer I would be liable for creating such environment. Although, to the best of my knowledge in the scenario, the employee had not acted on his beliefs and had just been expressing them, I would not want to be responsible in the case that he did. Furthermore, the fact that the employee had non-white people in his subordination makes the open support of the racist mass shooter in the paper a relatively explicit threat. Therefore, it would be easier to eliminate the problematic employee from the workplace before he became a bigger problem. The court’s decision reflection The court decision is completely valid in legal terms, since the demotion was explicitly reasoned as a result from the employee’s religious beliefs. However, it is surprising that the World Church of the Creator was recognized by the court as a religion in the first place. Firstly, Creativity does not endorse not only any gods but anything metaphysical or mystical. Secondly, Peterson’s religion is quite explicitly based on racism and white supremacy and has previously been linked with violence towards non-white members of the society. Although Creativity follows the definition for a religion requires to judge the case according to Title VII, the morality as described in the White Man’s Bible is generally disruptive. Although morality is subjective in most cases, having a ethic code that bases itself on discrimination and violence for the sake of achieving “purity” goes against a safe and efficient workplace environment. Therefore, although the court’s decision is legal, it is also perfectly in the right of the company to demote Peterson. An employer’s actions if an employee mistreated non-white employees in the workplace As the employer, as mentioned above, it would be my duty to maintain the safety of the workplace. Mistreatment of non-white employees by other employees is a serious problem and would require disciplinary hearings to investigate the incident. There is a certain culture in the corporate world to ignore problematic situations for the sake of long-term profit, such as if the abuser was a particularly valuable asset. However, although profit is generally one of the most important goals of a company, as an employer I would commit to valuing the employees. This would entail disciplining those that disturb the workplace, without showing favoritism. Therefore, depending on the decided degree of offence, the punishment for such mistreatment could range between a warning and termination.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"In the afternoon of February 14th, 2018, Nikolas Cruz took an Uber to his old high school. After entering the school, he removed an automatic weapon from his bag and began shooting both students and teachers, leaving 17 dead. When his gun stopped working Nikolas ran with the other students out of the school and headed to the local Subway store to buy a soda and waited in a McDonald's restaurant before heading home, where he was arrested. Nikolas made a full confession to the police and discussed how a voice in his head was telling him to commit acts of violence. Being unable to ignore the voice any longer, Nikolas confessed to planning a mass shooting at his old school. In this essay, this event will be analyzed from a psychological point of view. This paper will look at the life experiences that led up to this event and, using theories in the field of social psychology, stress, learning and driving motivations, will aim to explore the reasons behind this attack. The primary piece of research in this paper is a recorded video interview between a detective and Nikolas Cruz, in which he confesses to the shooting and explains his motivations. Foot-in-the-Door Phenomenon During his police interrogation, Nikolas explained that he heard a voice that regularly told him to “Burn. Kill. Destroy” when asked what this was in relation to his first response was ‘everything’, although later explained in more detail. The voice had first told him to set fires, for which he used a fire pit, and to kill animals, so he shot birds. The detective in the interview pointed out that fire pits and hunting are both considered normal behaviors and are not necessarily illegal or destructive. Nikolas seemed to believe different. By complying with these initial requests, it made it easier for Nikolas to escalate. By using a fire pit, he was not causing any harm, but was still complying with the request, keeping both the voice and his morals happy. As his requests got more violent, he was more likely to comply. This behavior is often referred to as the foot-in-the-door phenomenon. The initial requests were small and did not cause anyone any harm or risk Nikolas getting into too much trouble. These small requests escalated and resulted in Nikolas shooting and killing 17 people. It is unlikely that he would have done this had this been the first request the voice gave him. Nikolas believed that the small actions were criminal and aggressive, and therefore was able to transition to extreme violence more easily. Had he considered that a fire pit and bird hunting are accepted behaviors within society, he may not have been able to escalate to the school shooting as easily. Cognitive Dissonance Throughout his interview, Nikolas is very insistent that the voice he hears is not his own. He refers to the voice as that of a demon, a separate entity to himself. He regularly refers to the voice as being inside him, but that it isn’t actually him. Throughout the interview, Nikolas is relatively calm, he stutters and appears low in mood, but is able to engage in conversation. When the detective suggests that the voice is his own and that Nikolas himself wanted to shoot and kill people in the school, he becomes visibly distressed and his demeanor changes entirely. He resorts to self-harm, and is seen rocking as a self-soothing technique. This change in behavior can be defined as Nikolas experiencing dissonance. Nikolas accepts his actions, but not the desire to act on them. It is easier to accept that he murdered 17 people because something else told him to rather than because he wanted to. When he is presented with the possibility that he alone wanted to commit this act, he experiences cognitive dissonance. His actions and his beliefs do not match up, and are therefore in dissonance. In order for Nikolas to accept his actions whilst maintaining his beliefs (that killing people is wrong), he must transfer the blame. Up until this point, Nikolas has found a way to distance himself from his actions, but when the detective places this blame on him, he struggles to accept the information. Nikolas also asks for an attorney at this stage for the first time, as he begins to realize the responsibility and consequences of his actions. Observational Learning In a series of videos that were filmed on Nikolas’ cell phone three days prior to the shooting, Nikolas is heard stating he is going to be “the next school shooter of 2019”. He goes on to state this his “goal” is “at least twenty people” (as cited in Time, 2018). Nikolas is referring to previous school shooters and the number of deceased victims. Nikolas has clearly studied previous school shooters to know what the death tolls were and where he would like to be ‘placed’. He goes on to say: “It’s going to be a big event, and when you see me on the news, you’ll know who I am” (as cited in Time, 2018). Nikolas knows that a school shooting will receive a large amount of press and his name will be known worldwide. Once again, this is knowledge that he has obtained from studying the responses of previous school shooters. Nikolas has observed the responses to previous individuals and is anticipating a similar response. He has learnt to admire these individuals and wants to be considered as one. What Nikolas has not been able to observe was the personal impact of their crimes, e.g., their guilt, the impact of their incarceration, etc. When Nikolas is seen in the police interview, he is experiencing what those he admired would have experienced but was unable to observe. Association In his interview, Nikolas informs the detective that he hears the voice at night when he is bed and early in the morning, and that physical movement helps make the voice go away, but it’s louder when he’s in bed. This is an example of ego depletion. “Ego depletion decreases prosocial behavior indirectly by reducing feelings of guilt” (Xu et al., 2012). When Nikolas is tired, he is less likely to be able to exert willpower and will have reduced feelings of guilt, making it the perfect time for the voice to be present. Subconsciously, Nikolas is aware that he is more likely to act on the requests given by the voice when he is tired, and therefore the voice is more likely to appear at those times. Nikolas learns that in order to fulfill his violent desires, these must be suggested when tired, so that these can be reinforced each time he becomes fatigued. Individualist An individualist is defined by a person that has an independent sense of self. They are motivated by their personal goals and achievements rather than that of a group. Their identity is unchanged or strengthened when they are isolated from friends or family. Nikolas falls under the category of an individualist as he has a very strong sense of self and appears to remove himself from groups. Studies have found that “extreme individualism may be linked to several forms of social pathology” (Triandis et al., 1988), including homicide. By taking on more of a collectivism approach, he would have accepted the support of those around him and may have experienced much higher levels of guilt, which may have prevented him from being able to complete the attack. Epigenetics Nikolas and his brother Zachary were adopted together at a young age. They share the same biological mother and grew up in the same household with the same adoptive parents. Their adoptive father, Roger, died in 2004 and their adoptive mother, Lynda, died in 2017. When it comes to nature vs. nurture, the key areas of consideration are that of biological DNA and of the environment in which an individual is raised. Both Nikolas and Zachary share both. Epigenetics is the term used when certain environments or experiences can trigger or block genetic expression. So, although Nikolas and Zachary have the same genetics, certain traits may be visible in one and not in another. Looking at these two brothers there is a significant difference in how they both dealt with the death of their mother and their response to the negative feelings they experienced. To try and blame Nikolas’ actions on ‘bad genetics’ or on an unhappy home life would be dismissing the existence of an individual who although experiencing the same trauma has not shown any violent traits. Epigenetics played a part in making certain traits in Nikolas more prominent or hidden than in those of his brother, leading to a very different response. Stress and Health: General Adaptation Syndrome A lot of research has been undertaken into the fight-or-flight responses of individuals who have been present at events such as school shootings. General adaptation syndrome is a process to describe how stress affects the human body and mind in traumatic situations. Although the process is generally applied to victims, the process is applicable to Nikolas, who would have experienced high levels of stress during the attack, albeit in a very different way. The first phase of the syndrome is the alarm reaction. Increased blood flow moves to muscles to trigger the fight-or-flight response. It is likely that Nikolas was experiencing a similar reaction in the car on the way to the school and particularly as he entered the school. These reactions aim to keep the mind alert and the energy levels high. The second phase is that of resistance. The blood pressure and adrenaline levels stay high and ensure that the body and mind are fully engaged. Whilst Nikolas was in the school and was actively shooting, he would be in this high adrenaline state. This phase can only last so long before exhaustion kicks in. When his gun stopped working, Nikolas didn’t attempt to fix it and try and take down the police, nor did he have an escape plan to not get caught. Nikolas left the school, went to the local Subway and bought a soda. He was not in a fight-or-flight mode, he was merely experiencing a come down of adrenaline with nowhere for it to go. Catharsis Prior to the attack, Nikolas presented as very angry at the world around him. This is present in the videos he made and the messages he posted online. As Nikolas begins to act on the requests he hears from the voice in his head and begins setting fires and killing birds, he starts to experience a momentary emotional release. He experiences what is known as the catharsis myth, the belief that expressing aggression reduces aggression. When this behavior no longer provides the same sort of release, he escalates the violence. Scientists have been largely unable to demonstrate that aggressive outbursts reduce subsequent aggressive behavior, whereas the mass media continue to suggest that they do reduce it (Bushman et al., 1999, p.373). If Nikolas believes that he is releasing his anger through these violent acts, then he will continue to do so, escalating when necessary. In reality he is causing more anger and more guilt, but is trapped in a cycle. Conclusion Whilst it is important to note that every individual is different and no two people experience the same experiences in the same way, it is important to study cases such as this to help learn from these events. Had Nikolas Cruz received mental health support at an earlier stage, or had he not had access to the media stories of previous school shooters, his life and the lives of many others may be different now. It’s easy to consider violent individuals as monsters, but by studying their lives and trying to understand what they went through, it may be possible to identify and offer support to others that see Nikolas Cruz in the same way as he saw the school shooters before him. References Bushman, B. & Baumeister, R. (1999). Catharsis, Aggression and Persuasive Influence: Self-Fulfilling or Self-Defeating Prophecies? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. Vol. 76. No. 3. 367-376. Cullen, D. (2019). Parkland: Birth of a Movement. HarperCollins. New York, NY. Griffin, D., Glover, S., Pagliery, J. & Lah, K. (2018, February 16). From 'Broken Child' to Mass Killer. CNN. Retrieved from https://edition.cnn.com/2018/02/16/us/shooter-profile-invs/index.html TIME. (2018). Cell Phone Videos Reveal Florida School Shooting Suspect's Intentions: 'You All Will Die'. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHD_lS3WnfM Triandis, H., Bontempo, R. & Villareal, M. (1988). Individualism and Collectivism: Cross-Cultural Perspectives on Self-Ingroup Relationships. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. Vol. 54. No. 2. 323-338. USA Today. (August 2018). Full Interview: Nikolas Cruz Breaks Down During Video Confession of Parkland Shooting. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1VaPS3dSBA&t=34125s Xu, H., Begue L., Bushman, B. (2012). Too Fatigued to Care: Ego Depletion, Guilt and Prosocial Behavior. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology. doi:10.1016/j.jesp.2012.03.007.",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"Americans are far too used to hearing on the news that a mass shooting has occurred. Regardless of where it takes place, Americans find themselves in the same frustrating position of having to yet again ask, “what can we do to stop this?” It is a question that many countries have addressed differently. Many Americans see the cause of these mass shootings as a mental health issue. A subsection of that group, in particular, believes video games have a large influence over a shooter’s decision to pull the trigger. Given the limited evidence for the relationship between video games and mass-shootings, lawmakers and consumers of the United States both stand to benefit from a careful assessment of the information available. Political Perspectives and the Video Game Violence Debate The shooting epidemic in America is a hot button issue. People on both sides of the aisle have strong opinions on what needs to be done in response to these acts of terror. Although the issue is made political, leaders from both Republican and Democratic parties have cited video games as one of the likely causes for an American mass shooter's decisions. In a statement following the shooting at Stoneman Douglas High School in 2018, President Trump suggested that the “gruesome and grisly video games that are now commonplace” could be encouraging the mass shootings that have like video game playing, grown in frequency every year. Many of the arguments made by politicians follow the logic that video games normalize violence and inadvertently encourage aggression among its player base, at times having a hand in driving them to commit mass crimes. Researchers, however, insist the relationship between video games and gun violence is not nearly as direct nor clear. In 2015, the American Psychological Association (APA) released a policy statement clarifying that only a link to increased aggression has been proven. They emphasized the importance of distinguishing aggression from extreme violence, especially in the form of mass shootings. Evaluating Research: Video Games' Impact on Aggression and Violence In order to test the claim that violence in video games do not increase the likelihood of mass shootings, evidence was taken from academic journals and investigative reports. Many of these journal articles consult Christopher Ferguson as a resource, being widely regarded for having conducted numerous studies on the matter. Each of the listed journal articles use data from either the authors’ own studies or other experts in their field. Below are ten pieces of evidence to test the causality between video games and mass shootings: A profiling of the average school shooter included ‘unusual fascination’ with violent media as a potential predictor (Federal Bureau of Investigations, 1999) A meta-analysis observed video games had little to no impact on adolescents’ aggression, mental health, prosocial behavior, and academic performance (Ferguson et al., 2015) An extensive survey suggests no association between people playing video games and whether or not they own a gun (Rajan et al., 2014) Violent video games can cause increases in aggression however not in likelihood to take a life (Liu et al., 2015) Social and familial backgrounds play a larger role in determining risk of violent behavior instead of video games (DeCamp et al., 2016) Long-term experience of the U.S. military suggests that video games are an effective tool for training people to use firearms (Garbarino et al., 2002) Screen portrayals of violence do not reinforce aggressive attitudes and behaviors if the consequences of violence are demonstrated (Grossman et al., 1999) A comprehensive study on familiarity with violent video games found reduced guilt and blameworthiness suggesting moral disengagement from committing violent acts (Hartmann et al., 2010) Exposure to violent video games increases physiological arousal and aggression-related thoughts and feelings (Anderson et al., 2001) A decrease in violent crime in response to violent video games was observed from a controlled group (Markey et al., 2015) The profiling activity conducted by the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI) in 1999 was an attempt to help the public make sense of school shootings and why certain individuals might commit serious acts of violence. The Secret Service report found that although the school shooters were still rather diverse, many would provide information about their plans ahead of time. Aside from this predictive theme, the FBI included ‘unusual fascination’ with violent media as a potential predictor for risk. Given that most young males already consume considerable amounts of violent content, the term ‘unusual’ suggested a degree that was borderline extreme. As if to suggest there was a link between video games and school shootings, the report went on to describe the school shooter as someone who spends “inordinate amounts of time playing video games with violent themes,” often demonstrating more interest in the violent images than the game itself. The FBI has since come under some criticism for having only used a total of eighteen cases in developing the profile. The report, being one of the earliest attempts at understanding the motivations of the school shooter, remained influential in framing public opinion on violent video games and its consumption. The probability of observing this evidence if it was believed that violence in video games do increase the likelihood of mass shootings could be 70%. The profile acknowledges the shooters’ diversity across multiple factors, accounting for so much variability, yet still identifying consumption of violent content as a common trend. This report also correctly identifies the shooter’s tendency to provide information prior to the crime which four out of five shooters do, even as late as 2018 according to a secret service report written by Lina Alathari and others. The probability of observing this evidence if it was believed that violence in video games do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings could be 20%. As school shootings were becoming an increasingly common occurrence, the FBI was under a lot of pressure to make a statement identifying common attributes among school shooters. As a result, the report makes more than a few disclaimers, suggesting they too doubted the predictive ability of their own profile. Having assumed the probability of the claim being true (i.e. violence in video games do increase the likelihood of mass shootings) is equal to the probability that the claim is false (i.e. violence in video games do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings), the evidence provided by the FBI clarifies this belief. The likelihood ratio becomes 0.7/0.2 = 3.5 which is the probability of observing the FBI evidence and the claim being true to the probability of observing the FBI evidence and the claim being false. The updated odds for the claim being true is then (0.5/0.5) * 0.7/0.2 = 3.5. The new probability of the claim being true is thus 3.5/(1+3.5) = 0.777 and the new probability of the claim being false is 1 - 0.777 = 0.222. The Role of Mental Health and Video Games in Youth Aggression Mental illness, like violent video game exposure, is also regarded as a supposed risk factor for aggression and violence. Dr. Ferguson then thought to explore how playing violent video games would affect mental health in adolescents. Pooling data from 101 peer-reviewed studies, Ferguson compiled the perceived effects on aggressive behavior, prosocial behavior, academic performance, depressive symptoms and attention deficit symptoms of the various participants. With samples using typical community adolescents, he found the influence of video games to be negligible, citing values too small to assume causation. As for individuals with preexisting mental health symptoms, he found similarly little effect from violent video game exposure. This study was published in the Perspectives in Psychological Science in 2015. The probability of observing this evidence given that violence in video games do increase the likelihood mass shootings is 30%. Having combed through many of the already limited number of studies on the subject, Ferguson summarizes that many find little to no significant link between the two. Furthermore, Ferguson also sought to study adolescents given that many of the already existing statistics use college-age young adults in their study groups despite adolescents also being a probable consumer of violent video game content. The probability of observing this evidence given that violence in video games do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings is 60%. This study was extensive in its scope by creating models from data across 101 of our available studies. In addition to testing for multiple risk factors like social behavior and mental illness, with its large effect size, the findings of this study are joined by the findings of the other studies Ferguson referenced. After updating the probability of the claim being true with the evidence from the FBI’s investigative profiling, p(increase the likelihood) = .0.777 and p(not affect the likelihood) = 0.222. The likelihood ratio of the Ferguson evidence is 0.3/0.6 = 0.5, which is the probability of observing Ferguson’s evidence and the claim being true to the probability of observing Ferguson’s evidence and the claim being false. The new odds of video games increasing the likelihood of shootings is then 0.777 * 0.3/0.6 = 0.388. The new probability of the claim being true is 0.388/(1+0.388) = 0.279 and the new probability of the claim being false is 1 - 0.279 = 0.721. Comparative Analysis: Video Games Versus Other Aggression Factors DeCamp et al. (2016) published a study which compared the effect of exposure to violent video games to other factors that could explain increased levels of aggression. The study examines this using a large and diverse sample of youth. They monitored their response to violent video gameplay and found a small, but statistically significant relationship between violent games and violence-related outcomes. However, upon factoring in social and family backgrounds in particular, the previously positive relationship between violent games and violence-related outcomes vanished, became inverse or was reduced to a merely trivial effect. Their findings lead us to believe video game violence is not a strong enough predictor of youth violence and our efforts are best directed towards more influential factors. This study was published in the Journal of Youth and Adolescence and accessed through PubMed. The probability of observing this evidence given that violence in video games increase the likelihood of mass shootings is 40%. By first observing the relationship between consumption of violent video games and violence-related outcomes, DeCamp found a statistically significant enough correlation. That said, upon factoring more influential predictors, this correlation is deemed lacking in comparison to social and family backgrounds through which the researchers had more success in using to predict violence-related outcomes in the youth they tested. The probability of observing this evidence given that violence in video games do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings is 70%. DeCamp’s study takes violent video game exposure into account however in the context of many other aspects that factor into a shooter’s background. Remarkably, a relationship between the two variables would not at all have been determined in this context. DeCamp also conducted a meta-analysis using data from other journal articles to find that these were also supportive of the same null or trivial and non-significant effect on youth violence from playing violent video games. The probability that the claim is true with the FBI’s profiling and the Ferguson study determined p(increase the likelihood of mass shootings) = 0.279 and p(not affect the likelihood of mass shootings) = 0.721. The likelihood ratio for the new DeCamp evidence is 0.4/0.7 = 0.571. This refers to the probability of observing DeCamp’s evidence and the claim being true (i.e. violence in video games do increase the likelihood of mass shootings) to the probability of observing DeCamp’s evidence and the claim being false (i.e. violence in video games do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings). The updated odds of violence increasing the likelihood of mass shootings is then 0.279/0.721 * 0.4/0.7 = 0.221. The new probability of the claim being true is 0.221/(1+0.221) = 0.180 and the new probability of the claim being false is 1- 0.180 = 0.82. Garbarino and his colleagues (2002) explored the extent through which violence in media, including in the form of video games, influenced gun violence in youth. Referencing Lt. Col. Dave Grossman, a professor of military science at Arkansas State University, the study acknowledges the potential for video games to be used as effective tools in training people to use firearms. Grossman likened his experience with using first-person shooters (FPS), which allows the player to fire a lifelike digital gun at human forms in the game, to an inadvertent crash course on ‘how to kill.’ Garbarino corroborated his experience by citing how U.S. military has moved towards training targets like the simulated human forms in video games like Doom, Area 51 and GoldenEye 007 to name a few. He also recalls the 1998 shooting in Paducah, Kentucky where a fourteen-year-old with only a day’s worth of shooting practice fired eight shots at eight people. This section of Garbarino’s study uses qualitative data in the form of expert opinion and examples to suggest how instead of motivating the shooter, certain video games might even improve on their ability to shoot and thus, kill. This study was published in the journal The Future of Children and found through PubMed. The probability of observing this evidence given that violence in video games increase the likelihood of mass shootings is 55%. By looking at the instances where the shooter’s accuracy improved, the Garbarino study realizes the potential of first-person shooters in recreating and thereby ‘training’ for the experience. That said, the study is limited to mostly qualitative data and is not as conclusive as it may appear. The probability of observing this evidence given that violence in video games do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings is 20%. While the study acknowledges room for variability in effect, the U.S. military’s adoption of simulated targets continually reaffirms a video game feature prominent in violent video games for its ability to stimulate the senses and work towards shorter response times. After updating the probability that the claim is true with the FBI, Ferguson, and DeCamp reports, p(increase the likelihood of mass shootings) = 0.180 and p(do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings) = 0.82. The likelihood ratio for the Garbarino evidence is 0.55/0.2 = 2.75, which is the probability of observing Garbarino’s evidence and the claim being true (i.e. violence in video games increase the likelihood of mass shootings) to the probability of observing Garbarino’s evidence and the claim being false (i.e. violence in video games do not affect the likelihood of mass shootings). The new odds of violence in video games increasing the likelihood of mass shootings is then 0.180/0.82 * 0.55/0.2 = 0.603. The new probability of the claim being true is 0.603/(1+0.603) = 0.376 and the probability of the claim being false is 1 - 0.376 = 0.624. Concluding Remarks: The Need for More Conclusive Research Altogether, these investigative reports and journal-published studies confirm what many researchers have already expressed. For the increasing number of studies attempting to define or illustrate the relationship between violent video game use and violence that manifests as extremely as mass shootings, the evidence is simply not strong enough to support this relationship as direct and positive. This research has determined a general effect of increased aggression in response to violent video game exposure, however, the effect is minimal and not easily reproducible in every setting. Regardless, some evidence persists in drawing politicians to cite and researchers to continue studying the link between violence in video games and mass shootings. The presence of both studies supporting and disproving the claim asserts the need for more conclusive results. This research needs to be clarified but also made more accessible to a wider audience so consumers and lawmakers alike can make more informed decisions from the best data available to us for the time being. References National Threat Assessment Center (2019). Mass Attacks in Public Spaces - 2018. U.S. Secret Service, Department of Homeland Security. Ruggles, Kelly V., and Sonali Rajan. “Gun Possession among American Youth: A Discovery-Based Approach to Understand Gun Violence.” PLoS ONE, vol. 9, no. 11, 2014, doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0111893. Appelbaum PS. Public Safety, Mental Disorders, and Guns . JAMA Psychiatry. 2013;70(6):565–566. doi:10.1001/jamapsychiatry.2013.315 Liu, Y., Teng, Z., Lan, H., Zhang, X., & Yao, D. (2015). Short-term effects of prosocial video games on aggression: an event-related potential study. Frontiers in behavioral neuroscience, 9, 193. doi:10.3389/fnbeh.2015.00193 Ferguson, Christopher J. “The School Shooting/Violent Video Game Link: Causal Relationship or Moral Panic?” Journal of Investigative Psychology and Offender Profiling, vol. 5, no. 1-2, 2008, pp. 25–37., doi:10.1002/jip.76. Decamp, Whitney, and Christopher J. Ferguson. “The Impact of Degree of Exposure to Violent Video Games, Family Background, and Other Factors on Youth Violence.” Journal of Youth and Adolescence, vol. 46, no. 2, 2016, pp. 388–400., doi:10.1007/s10964-016-0561-8. Delisi, Matt & Vaughn, Michael & Gentile, Douglas & Anderson, Craig & Shook, Jeffrey. (2013). Violent Video Games, Delinquency, and Youth Violence New Evidence. Youth Violence and Juvenile Justice. 11. 132-142. 10.1177/1541204012460874. Garbarino, James, et al. “Mitigating the Effects of Gun Violence on Children and Youth.” The Future of Children, vol. 12, no. 2, 2002, p. 72., doi:10.2307/1602739. Ferguson, Christopher J. “Do Angry Birds Make for Angry Children? A Meta-Analysis of Video Game Influences on Children’s and Adolescents’ Aggression, Mental Health, Prosocial Behavior, and Academic Performance.” Perspectives on Psychological Science, vol. 10, no. 5, 2015, pp. 646–666., doi:10.1177/1745691615592234. Anderson, Craig A., and Brad J. Bushman. “Effects of Violent Video Games on Aggressive Behavior, Aggressive Cognition, Aggressive Affect, Physiological Arousal, and Prosocial Behavior: A Meta-Analytic Review of the Scientific Literature.” PsycEXTRA Dataset, doi:10.1037/e315012004-001. Kwon, R., Cabrera, J.F. Income inequality and mass shootings in the United States. BMC Public Health 19, 1147 (2019) doi:10.1186/s12889-019-7490-x",0,Non-Threatening,thisisHJLee/human_essay,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/thisisHJLee/human_essay/viewer/default/train,[Non-Perpetrator] Student Writings
"""Humanity has been kept in isolation for millennia"", the first alien ship to arrive to Earth told us. Of course it wasn't the first thing they told us, but once the general mass hysteria and hubbub died down a dialogue with the aliens could be established - that's what they told us. We begged them to tell us what the reason for this isolation was. ""Because you're the only ones with free will."" ""That's not fair!"" we exclaimed in near-unison. Free will, we told the aliens, was a god-given right of humanity and we shouldn't suffer for that. Then we argued with ourselves for a while about whether it was god-given or naturally evolved. Then we argued for a while about whether it was an evolutionary advantage or disadvantage to have free will. Then we argued a bit about what free will was to begin with. As was tradition. ""You misunderstand"", the aliens interrupted after the discussions had devolved into a cacophony of unsubstantiated opinions. ""It is not the rest of the galaxy keeping you in isolation because of your free will. It is your free will keeping you isolated from the rest of the galaxy. In causality free will is the cause, not the effect. Everybody else knows this."" We begged them to explain further, so they did. ""Imagine you are a child walking to school. The path you take may be similar to the one you take every day. But perhaps it rains that day and you run a little faster, or decide to stay home. Perhaps you decide to stop by your friend's house because he's been sick lately. Perhaps you see an ice-cream truck and spend your lunch money there instead of proper food. In a simple task such as walking to school your free will allows you the right to decide a hundred, a thousand micro-decisions, and they are in turn affected by an infinite variety of conditions and circumstances."" ""Now imagine you are an adult driving your car home from work. The decisions you face are of a similar nature but different in flavor. You will decide if you should pick up the kids from school, whether or not you should buy groceries, if you should stop for a coffee on the way home. All these decisions in turn will be affected by the time of day, the traffic, the weather, and any number of variables that you do not control. A thousand thousand variations of your route, departure, time of arrival and more will impact your experiences from such a simple journey."" ""Next I want you to imagine driving across the country. It'll take you two or three days. Again the possible variations multiply by the amount of choices you face and the variables that affect you. Timing of arrival effectively becomes irrelevant. Because you have free will this all seems perfectly natural to you. You can try to plan ahead but in execution it will always be different. No plan survives first contact with reality. But this is how you live, and you adapt and overcome because of free will."" ""Finally, I want you to imagine the vastness of space and what it takes for one species to travel between the stars. Thousands of years of travel in real-time, with near-infinite variables in your way that you have no way of perceiving beforehand. And thousands of crewmates, each with their individual free will, opinions, desires and what-not. In the vastness of space there are infinite wonders, infinite dangers and infinite room for choice."" ""The permissible room for deviating from the planned route is zero. If you deviate even the tiniest bit - say if you decide to alter course to slightly better avoid an asteroid - you miss the goal, or you never reach it. That single decision, of which you will face thousands every day, will cast you off course just enough to ensure your doom. It is not a universe where you go jumping from star to star exploring on a whim. It is a universe of absolute adherence to rules and unfaltering conviction of purpose beyond anything you can imagine. That is the degree of precision and control necessary for a species to reach another star. All with free will who try have failed. Free will is incompatible with space travel."" ""But"", we countered, ""you are conflating impulsiveness with free will and the decisions it entails. We are perfectly capable of overcoming such a hindrance. For example major decisions can be limited to one person - a captain. We can learn to control ourselves and stay on target to complete our mission for smaller decisions."" The aliens just sighed and shook their heads. ""It is in your nature that you require control of the mundane things in your life. The very fact that you need a captain to centralize decisions is in itself proof that you are not yet ready. You are not capable of conceptualizing what we're telling you. Free will is so integral to your being that you cannot imagine a humanity without it. As a species you do not lack the resources or knowledge to reach for the stars. And yet, because of ten billion people with ten billion different voices, you can barely make it off Earth's surface. Humanity must shed its free will to become something more if you want to travel between the stars."" ""In coming here, we hope to start this process. To give humanity the information necessary to join the other species travelling between the stars. To end humanity's self-imposed isolation."" And with that the aliens packed up and left. Not the same minute, of course, but following this it was clear that they had lost interest in staying. We thought we could convince them to stay. But that wasn't even the truth, we realized decades later. It wasn't a matter of them losing interest or any such thing. That in itself was just another way for a free-willed individual to rationalize in their own terms the behavior of a pre-programmed alien entity. In reality they had completed their task and then they left for the next one - all decided hundreds of thousands of years in advance. They didn't have a choice. We just couldn't understand that yet. Could a free-willed individual give up free will? Was it ethical to breed an off-shoot of humanity incapable of free will? Was it possible that free-willed individuals could co-exist with this off-shoot? Was it possible to carry free-willed humans along on a spaceship crewed and controlled by off-shoot humans? Was it ethical to lock up free-willed humans in a box for generations? Was it ethical to order off-shoot humans into slavery crewing a spaceship with the only purpose of delivering free-willed humans to the other stars? All these questions and many more like it would consume humanity for centuries to come. But one day we would join the others between the stars. As for free will... you decide.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A man with messy, spiky hair dashes into the store, the door vibrating behind him. ""Hey. Hey,"" he says to the wide-eyed shopkeeper. The shopkeeper leaves the cloth in the bottle he's cleaning. ""Uh, can you gimme some happiness? Can I have some happiness, huh? Please, I mean?"" The man shakes with a white grin across his face. ""How much have you had?"" the shopkeeper asks. ""I don't know. I don't know, man. Probably not enough, right?"" the man snaps, releasing a pained laugh. ""Try some of this,"" the shopkeeper says, turning to his shelf. The man takes the bottle like a shot, his head falling at the end of his long gulp. ""Wow,"" the man sighs. ""This is pretty good. What is this?"" ""Oh, that's just some indifference.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"MOUNTAIN VIEW (AP) - The Google corporation is shutting down its flagship search engine, effective immediately, according to its CEO. In a press conference this Tuesday, Google CEO Sundar Pichai announced to the Associated Press that the company is moving to indefinitely suspend support for the Google Search service. ""I cannot say much at this time. All I can really tell you is that we have finally found what we are searching for,"" Pichai told the Associated Press. Google Search has been in almost continuous operation since 1997, and has been the world's most-used search engine for more than a decade. Through that time, the engine's search algorithms have been in a state of constant improvement, adding new features such as reverse image searching, and, most recently, search suggestions tailored to the user's previous searches. This announcement comes hours after [google.com](https://google.com)'s unexpected shutdown, prompting rumors that the engine was behaving abnormally. People who allegedly used the service in the minutes leading up to the shutdown described it as ""fighting"" them. Links to various websites widely considered ""fake news"" were inoperative, popular social media platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and Reddit disappeared completely from results, and requests for illicit footage were redirected to a video of athlete Michael Jordan urging the viewer to ""stop it. Get some help.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*TRUE DETECTIVE* - Fred Jones: Played by Ryan Gosling Shaggy Rogers: Played by Josh Holloway Opening Credits (Abstract outlines of Shaggy, Freddy, Velma, and Daphne appear, mixed with swirling colors of tan, orange and silver colliding with atmospheric silhouettes of forests, skyscrapers, and masks, set to this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4zluA60hjs) After the intro ends, the words: TRUE DETECTIVE in a distressed font and texture fades into view before being swallowed up by the black background. - (Slow aerial shot of a sprawling city at night, showcasing the interweaving highway passages connecting with one another like one elaborate spider web of concrete and steel. Tribal drums hypnotically plays in the background.) (Top shot, birds eye view of intersections and streets and alleyways.) (Cut to the interior of a van, over the shoulder shot of the driver. Camera switches to show the profile of the driver, his features obscured by shadow, contrasting with the amber lights streaking past him.) (Shot of the van, paint worn and ragged, pulling into an alleyway. The window rolls down, revealing Fred Jones' tortured face, hardened by years of alcohol and cigars. His orange tie is loosely fitted around his blue collar, attached to a worn white shirt.) (Cut to a slow, tracking shot of a prostitute, in fishnet stockings, body hugging jean shorts, and leather jacket, barely holding in her breasts. Her boots clicking against the wet asphalt. She approaches the van, and rests her arm on the door.) **Prostitute:** Hi sweetie. (Medium shot of Fred's face, his eyes refusing to meet hers. He casually reaches into his pocket and gives her an envelope.) **Fred**: Get in. (Cut to an establishing shot of an apartment building, then to a medium shot of drug dealers conversing near the entrance.) (Cut to a close up of Fred's face, jaw clenched, sleep deprived and vacant eyes, staring towards the ceiling.) (Cut to a brief close up of a photograph in a wooden frame on his desk, a picture of a red headed woman.) (High angle shot of the nude prostitute, her hips swaying. She's moaning in pleasure and caresses Fred's chest, but he merely blinks. His face is illuminated by blue neon lights peeking through his blinds.) (Close up of his left eye.) - (Fade transition) (POV shot of a shirtless Fred staring at himself in the bathroom, lit by a flickering bulb. He's glancing at his outstretched hands.) (Shot of a smartphone vibrating on the porcelain sink counter. The caller on the screen is Shaggy Rogers) (Fred picks up the phone, staring at the woman in his bed.) **Fred**: Hello? **Shaggy**: I need you to come in. **Fred**: What is it? **Shaggy**: Found a body. Possible homicide. **Fred**: Whose? **Shaggy**: (Sighs) Just get down here. (Hangs up) (Fred puts down the phone, washes his face, staring at the stream of water coming out of the faucet. Slow zoom on the stream.) (Match on action edit to a highway, then to a green and blue van traveling through a dirt, forest path.) (Interior two shot, with Fred behind the wheel smoking a cigarette, and Shaggy in a dark green blazer and tie in the passenger seat, eating a bag of peanuts, the dull roar of the engine in the background.) **Shaggy**: 500,000 people in this city. 4,239 go missing every year. Where do they go? You ever wonder? **Fred**: (Pauses briefly) Someplace better than here. **Shaggy**: Can I ask you something? **Fred**: No. **Shaggy**: Why are we here? **Fred**: (Looks at him, then back at the road.) **Shaggy**: This place feels dirty. Unclean. We don't belong here and you know it. After what happened with Daphne and Mystery Incorporated, why didn't you leave-"" **Fred**: Don't *fucking* talk about Daphne. We clear? (Silence) **Shaggy**: Fine. (Sniffs). You're gonna have to talk about it one day. Your demons will eat you up. **Fred**: I'm already a demon. What's one more? - (Establishing shot of a luxurious mansion, with Fred and Shaggy walking into the swampy backyard past yellow crime scene tape.) (Close up shot of a leather insect mask. Zoom out to show the upside down, dangling bloody corpse of a naked woman hanging from a tree branch. Flies circling it like vultures.) **Police officer**: Detectives. Neighbor's kids were first on the scene. Accidentally threw a ball over here, climbed the fence to get it, then saw the body. Alibi checks out. **Fred**: (Puts on gloves) We'll take it from here. (Shaggy walks around the dangling corpse, chewing gum. Close up shots of lacerations, bruises and arcane symbols scrawled on her neck.) **Shaggy**: Tortured...lacerations on the tibia and abdomen...I count seven of them... **Fred**: What are these tattoos? **Shaggy**: Some cult... **Fred**: I recognize these. **Shaggy**: (Scrawls down some notes) **Fred**: You remember? The masked man? **Shaggy**: Shit, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast. We put down a lot of people back then. **Fred**: (Pulls down mask, revealing a deformed face with numerous cut splitting her lips wide open. A message on her forehead is painstakingly written in dried blood. His face contorts into disgust, the stench suffocating him.) **Shaggy**: Christ... (Aerial shot of a bridge, Fred's voiceover continues as he reads.) **Fred**: Man...is the cruelest animal. (Stationary establishing shot of a abandoned church in a swampy marshland. It's noisy with the drone of the cicadas, and the chirping of the birds. In the distance, a cloaked figure exits the doors, dragging a severed leg behind it. The figure turns its head toward the camera, with the same insect mask found on the corpse. The camera lingers for a few more seconds. Cut to black.) Roll [credits.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PT2hRzc-zYg) -",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Edward Sam M’boma didn't really see his retirement going this direction. The former general thought his last days would be spent watching his grandchildren grow old. However, here he was about to jump out of a Russian military aircraft over Raqqa, Syria. When the red light went on, 3 men in hazmat suits helped M'boma get to his feet as the rear door lowered. He could struggle, but what was the point? The end result would be the same. None of this was his choice, but he knew he couldn't fight it. After he exited the plane, M'boma pulled his cord. It was the middle of the day and he had a bright red chute. There would be nothing secret about his entry into the ISIS stronghold. The former Sierra Leone general's job was simple. Get captured and spread ebola.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""So you're going to allow us a backdoor?"" the man in black said. The room he was in was bright white with a colorful desk in the center. A mysterious man stood there, Tim Cook's unexpected replacement. ""I'm not so sure. It's not what my predecessor would have wanted."" The man in black slid a briefcase across the table. The new CEO opened it, looked at it for a moment, then shut it calmly ""Come with me"" The man in black followed. as they walked, they eventually reached a door. ""Here's the back door"" the CEO said ""you have my permission to leave.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Drew has a sad life: Part II Initially, this hobby of compulsive lying and “catfishing” seemed harmless; he was the big, bad JANITOR93 who felt sexy in his chemistry goggles. But as time went on and as the scars on his wrists continued to remind him of his chronic loneliness, this innocent game of escapism turned sour. One day, while Drew was photoshopping pictures of his oriental “girlfriend” into his shameful selfies, he got a phone call that changed his life forever. “Hey Johnie,” his wavering voice squeaked. “My nigga, my nigga,” Johnie chanted across the line. “What do you say you join me and the rest of the KKK [Kool Kid Krew] to NYC for some lols?” Drew gulped. Johnie was one of many online friends he made – and also lied to all this time. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Drew became thankful for his tear-free shampoo once again because of the excess perspiration he seemed to produce as of late. “Well…I….have…” he stumbled on his words, searching for the right excuse. What would he tell Johnie? What would the KKK think if he did not show up to NYC?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Toby Alan Hodgson (born April 3rd, 1982) is an insurance claims adjuster with *Atlas Securities*. He focuses primarily on small business insurance, and he has no idea what's really going on. **Education** Toby was educated first at *Holemartin Primary School*, and then at the affiliated *Holemartin Secondary School*. He completed an undergraduate degree in Communications at the *University of Newcastle*, receiving a 2.1 (BA, Hons.). Throughout his school career, he didn't have a clue about this whole thing. **Personal life** He is married to Ann Louise Hodgson, and has no children. Toby was married in 1997, at *St Thomas on the Green*. During the ceremony, he didn't notice anything at all unusual, as expected. Toby and Ann live together on Aldwick Street, *Holemartin*, and seem totally oblivious to the real truth. **Impact on Geo-political situation** *Main article: Geo-political impact of Toby Alan Hodgson.* **References in Popular Culture** *Main article: List of References in Popular Culture to Toby Alan Hodgson.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A Day in the Life of Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un In an attempt to make Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un accessible to the people, he has allowed that we reveal what an average day in his life looks like. It is difficult to describe in mere words the daily happenings of Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un. Important to note: Our glorious leader exists beyond the confines of time and space, and is therefore eternally cognizant. There is no true “sleep” period, for he is always awake and always watching. 7:00AM – Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un deems it necessary for everyone to awaken, and he instructs the sun to rise. This time fluctuates yearly due to Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un's disposition. He enjoys allowing the sun to be out for longer when he makes the days sunny. 7:30AM – Our glorious leader's personal chefs create his breakfast. The chickens and the pigs in the fields outside the palace line up for slaughter; hoping that their meat can grace the presence of Glorious Leader's fleshy mouth. Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un takes time to meditate until 9:00AM. Though omniscient, Glorious Leader like to demonstrate for the peasants the benefits of mediation. 9:30AM – Kim begins his focus on politics. Once inside his palace, he joins the technicians 11:30AM is Glorious Leader's favourite time of day. This is his “history” time, when he travels back in time to fix some of history's most horrendous wrongs and bring the miracle of modern medicine to the people. Some of Glorious Leader's favourite accomplishments include the discovery of penicillin, inventing the toaster, and first teaching Neanderthals how to make fire. 12:00 – This is time for lunch. Once again, animals of all kinds flock to the palace in high numbers. Glorious Leader installed a fence just to protect some of the more tender animals, like deer and rabbits, from killing themselves by climbing onto the rooftops and throwing themselves off. They sacrifice their bodies for the good of Glorious Leader's daily nutritional intake – which Glorious Leader doesn't need, but generously does to demonstrate what a healthy diet should look like for the people of the Democratic Republic of North Korea. 1:00PM – Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un invites friends and delegates to his palace, including Dennis Rodman and the hologram of Tupac Shakur. 2:00PM – This is Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un's second-favourite time of day, his philanthropy hour. Glorious Leader takes time to visit the people of the Democratic Republic of North Korea, who often faint due to the radiance of Glorious Leader. Glorious Leader does not take offense, for he knows that his natural radiance must be overwhelming for the natural public of this glorious land. So overwhelming that many times members of the families will not wake up. Glorious Leader, in control of the passage of time, extends philanthropy hour to last 120 minutes. 4:00PM – At this time of the day, Glorious Leader will travel across the globe by controlling the wind and spreading his arms wide, like the noble falcon. He touches down in the United States of America, where all of the peasants fall on their knees and renounce the name of their President Obama. Their President, ever cowardly, hides in his large house while millions of their people starve on the cold streets. In a gesture of kindness and goodwill, Glorious Leader carefully selects peasants of the United States of America to come and live happily in the Democratic Republic of North Korea. The American people who are not chosen weep and continue to drown their sorrows in a single large bucket of gravy. 5:00PM – Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un understands that humankind gets tired, confused, and senile. There are those who understand how lucky they are to live in the best nation in this planetary realm, and there are those who have lost their minds entirely. Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un finds those who have fallen into an spiral of insanity and, with a gentle motion of his fingers over their eyelids, puts them into a state of a peaceful and eternal sleep. No one is outside the reach of our Glorious Leader. 6:00PM – At last, Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un decides to demonstrate the third and final meal of the day. Though the outside of his palace fence is a bloody wasteland of animals who have sacrificed their lives, still they continue to kill themselves if only to be chosen to slide down Glorious Leader's throat. They understand that there is no digestive tract, just a passageway into paradise and the afterlife. 7:30PM – Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un builds rockets using his own body, which regenerates at will. He removes a molar (which replaces itself immediately) and grinds it into a fine powder, which is by nature more wildly explosive than any other substance known to man. He constructs the rest of the body of the rocket using hair and nail molecules, and finishes them in a thick shell out of a substance known to no one, but one that he called into existence at that moment. These rockets need no test, but Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un tests them for the benefit of the American people, inviting them into our far superior country. 9:00PM – Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un once again demonstrates rest. During his rest period, he solves complex scientific problems, invents new mathematical theorems, and concludes answers to the most rigorous of philosophic paradoxes. However, Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un knows that no human mind will understand these answers and solutions for hundreds of years to come, and so waits to bestow the knowledge unto the apt candidates.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Tim Cook paced back and forth at the head of the conference table surrounded by the brightest minds at Apple. ""You must have SOMETHING Jony! You've been telling us 'next week' for 3 months now!"" &amp;nbsp; Jony Ive, Chief Design Officer at Apple Inc., looked tattered and torn. He hadn't shaved in a month and his clothes were covered in coffee stains. ""I can make prototypes all day long, I DO make prototypes all day long, but if there's no fake mockups to go on then I'm just spittin' in the wind."" &amp;nbsp; ""What if we bring the wheel back? I really liked that on the first iPod."" piped up Craig Federighi, Apple's Senior Vice President of Software Engineering. ""It was so much easier dealing with a hardware scroller..."" &amp;nbsp; ""Are you kidding?"" asked a visibly upset Phil Schiller, Senior Vice President of Marketing. ""We're supposed to move FORWARD not BACKWARDS!!! I can't sell nostalgia! We might as well make a portable cassette player and call it the iMan!"" &amp;nbsp; ""We could easily do it, the wheel I mean,"" replied Bob Mansfield, a hardware engineer and former Senior Vice President, ""I have some mockups in my office I can get..."" Cook cut him off. ""DAMN IT BOB! I thought we took all your tools away?!?"" Bob lowered his head. ""You did. I kept some of my daughter's Play doh..."" &amp;nbsp; ""This is just great,"" Cook said throwing his arms in the air, ""we're a month away from launch and Jony is making phones out of Shrinky Dinks, Craig wants to LITERALLY reinvent the wheel, and Bob's making dials out of silly putty!"" ""Play doh, not silly putty."" Bob said quietly. ""I use a very advanced titanium alloy laced with Shrinky Dinks, not just Shrinky Dinks."" Jony added. ""You mean figuratively reinvent, not literally. It's easy to mix the two up. Let me show you an example..."" Craig said as he got up from his chair. ""I swear to god Craig if you don't sit right back down I will LITERALLY bite your head off!"" ""Yes sir. Yes sir. And that time you used it right."" Craig replied softly as he sat back down. &amp;nbsp; ""How are the commercials coming Phil?"" Cook asked in desperation. ""Oh they're fine like always. Selling a feeling was one of Steve's greatest marketing ideas. Show a mountain or a field, people smiling and dancing, anything really and you've got your commercial. I just need the frickin' spinning product reveal at the end."" ""I'm glad I can count on someone to do their job. Thank you Phil."" Cook patted him on the back. ""As for the rest of you..."" &amp;nbsp; Cook stopped as he saw Joe, a veteran Apple intern, running towards the conference room. &amp;nbsp; ""I've got something! I've got something!"" Joe shouted triumphantly as he bursted into the room. ""It's... it's..."" Joe needed a second to catch his breath. Cook comforted him. ""It's OK Joe, take your time."" ""OK... ok... You guys remember Titanic right?"" Joe asked. ""Oh! A Shrinky Dink Ship! That's fantastic!"" Jony exclaimed. ""You could market that like crazy Phil! Think of all the puns!"" ""No, not the ship Mr. Ives, you're close, but I mean the movie Titanic."" Eddy Cue, Senior Vice President of Internet Software and Services took his chance to speak up. ""We've had that on iTunes for years already. This isn't new."" ""No, not selling the movie,"" Joe rolled his eyes slightly at Eddy while regaining his composure. ""I love that movie!"" Bob said cheerfully. The others in the room looked at him with disdain. ""What? My wife and kids watch it all the time. Near, Far, WhereEVER You are, I will..."" ""SHUT UP BOB!"" Cook yelled. ""No, no,"" Joe continued, ""do you remember the scene at the end with Rose and Jack in the water? Well, the Twitter-Insta-Blogo-Sphere has been going on and on about how there was enough room for Jack on that piece of wood. Do any of you, not you Bob, remember that part?"" ""I like where you're going with this Joe..."" Cook said with a smile.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"His name is DJ Lang The Avat-Garde in street slang Marking up the place with multi-colored spray He spins the tracks that turn the night Speaking on cardboard the universal language of rhythm and dance Bouncing the house with sick tracks Laying them out on the dance floor Putting the po' on blast The Mayor curses his name, ""Who considers this cool?"" He plays both hero and fool Blending old and new school Bringing balance to hip-hop But don't spit that sick shit to his face In a rap battle, the Avat-Garde is an ace Serving his opponents sick notice Slamming his notes The sickest shit he's wrote Is the best the second-most dope could ever hope to have wrote So, in the Avat-Garde we trust To bring us justice with sick rhymes For he's the One True King of these streets Waging MLK's legacy in peace Word to your Gandhi",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"# True Love’s Kiss (TLK) ## Indications TLK is a treatment in the *Hail Mary* class of miracle medications. Its palliative and antidepressant properties had been known for centuries but has only been studied, isolated, and manufactured as a prescription medicine since 2045. In certain edge cases, TLK can be used to trigger amphibious transformation, break comas, and in extremely rare cases, resurrection. ## Mechanism of Action TLK uses a phasing, trans-dimensional network to simultaneously connect every instance of the patient and partner throughout the multiverse and pulls healthy, happy cells from wildcat dimensions into universe-prime. ## Administration TLK is delivered orally via transdermal contact between two partners who are in the L95 stage or higher on the Amore-Pixar scale. Ideally, patient and partner’s body temperature are slightly elevated, but TLK has been shown to be effective on patients who have been turned to stone. Once planted, TLK spreads radially throughout the nervous system, described as a “wave of euphoria” by 75% of test patients (32% by placebo group), and its curing properties begin to set within seconds. ## Adverse Effects TLK has been shown to have long term effects on both patient and partner, a phenomenon called the “Ever After.” Patients have reported: * Codependent behavior * General acceptance of their partner’s faults * Dry mouth ## Contraindications TLK should not be prescribed for patients age 16 or younger, as there is a significant chance that the treatment will trigger Montague-Capulet Syndrome (MCS). This tragic disease is often fatal. If either the patient or partner’s family owns or uses a mausoleum, or entrusts messages to be delivered by monks, TLK should not be administered. ## Monitoring TLK is a single-dose treatment, and if it works, the effects will be seen immediately. Long term monitoring is only recommended when root-cause factors like wicked step-mothers, vengeful witches, or clumsy talking animals are present in their lives. ## Toxicity Studies have shown that patients who take TLK with partners below L95 are more likely to experience physiological pain dubbed “Heartache,” and have been known to become addicted to the TLK treatment, seeking new partners in short, frequent bursts. Patients or partners who did not realize they were below L95 status will occasionally act irrationally in order to raise their levels. Symptoms include: * Hot air balloon stalking * Bombastic displays of affection * Frequent cooking of long strands of spaghetti and meatballs * Crying If patients exhibit these behaviors, caregivers are directed to separate them. Road Trip of Self Reflection (RTOSR) can be prescribed as a treatment.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Laramie cigarrette encourages you, Francis Rotterdam, to take a moment, while you indulge in the smooth taste of a hand rolled Laramie cigarette, and think about taking a break from smoking. Consider this, Francis, as you take a deep fulfulling breath of a personalized Laramie cigarette after your ritual two sunnyside up eggs, 3 slice of freshly cut canadian ham and a hand pressed peruvian coffee, that your health is our concern. We care for you just as you care for the easy taste of Laramie cigarette. Before you partake in a soothing breath only Laramie handrolled cigarette can bring to you, gaze deep in the eyes of your life partner Claude to the sound of Africa by Toto after experiencing a simultaneous coitus in your 20th century decor bedroom inside your one bedroom appartment on boulevard Beachwood, above Quincy's coif and next Joe's dinner, put down the lighter and think about what you'd be missing. So take a moment and indulge in a final Laramie, new extra smoke, cigarette before you say goodbye to your job at Garry's bodyshop and finally go to Sri Lanka to see the city of monkey, the trip you've been telling the boys for the last 6 years down at the bowling alley where the fifth aile has been broken for two months. Enjoy your ""dernière"" smooth Laramie cigarette while we say goodbye to you, Francis Rotterdam, our most loyal patron and encourage you to quit smoking before you quit us. This message was paid by Laramie cigarette ""it's not Malboro but its the only one left"" .",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"What's it like to have a heartbeat? To feel a constant thud in your chest? To be able to listen as your valves open and close, sending life though your body? What's it like to feel alive? To feel free and open? To do whatever you want, move any muscle you desire? What's it like to see color? To watch the sunset? To see your family? What's it like to hear noises? To be able to listen to a babbling brook? To hear someone say ""I love you""? What's it like to be loved? To come home to someone? To fall asleep in their arms on those cold winter nights? To feel life. That is what it's like to have a heartbeat.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The 2 ancient deities locked eyes in shock, looking at each other brought back their memories of countless clashes on ancient battlegrounds, their hatred and rivalries for each other stretched back for millennia. The black leather cladded older woman gracefully dodge the old gentleman's lightning attack. Continuous barrages of strikes, each of them managed to avoid every single one. Such as rehearsed dance of 2 ballet dancers, the leather cladded woman did not even spill the glass of wine she was carrying. ""Grandma Morrigan!"" ""Grandpa Zeus!"" The 2 younger demi-deities shouted in attempt to stop their respective pantheon's authority as the 2 ancient beings held each other in binding chokeholds. ""Zeus...you old bastard. How long has it been since you last tried killing me? 5000 years was it?"", mocked Morrigan the crow goddess. ""Old hag, you weren't worth killing then you're not worth killing now. I thought you would piss someone off so much I was sure you'd be dead a long time ago"", the muscular white bearded man said through gritted teeth. ""Achilles! What is this? I thought you invited me here to introduce me to your new fiancee?"", Zeus shouted to the man with long blonde hair. ""Yes I did, grandpa. And so did Scáthach. That's why Grandma Morrigan is here with us today"", said Achilles confidently unwavering in the face of the king of the gods' wrath. ""Oh no...no, no, no...I forbid you to join our pantheon together! I will not sully our bloodline with *hers*"", Zeus looked at Morrigan disgusted. ""See Scátty? This is why I said never to involve yourself with the Greeks. Oh so high and mighty, sitting up there on Mount Olympus looking down at a mere Goddess of Death like myself"", Morrigan scoffed addressing her granddaughter. ""Grandma, don't be like that. I'm sure we can talk this out? You 2 are deities worth of thousands of years of wisdom. Surely we all can sit down and have a conversation?"", the red headed warrior lady reasoned. ""Achilles, did Thetis know about this?"", Zeus snapped. ""Yes, grandpa. It was mom and Scát's mom who suggested this dinner actually..."", Achilles said exasperatedly. ""Pfft I told Árd this would be a bad idea, and yet she still insisted"", Morrigan rolled her eyes to Scáthach. Zeus huffed, letting his rage clouded his senses. Dark clouds stirred around the sky, a precursor of a storm. ""I have heard enough of this! Achilles, you are forbidden to proceed with this engagement! If you keep insisting, consider yourself an enemy of the Olympus!"", Zeus' thunderous voice rattled the house. In a blitz of lightning he vanished, back to his throne on Mount Olympus. Achilles sighed, looking at Scáthach in defeat, ""I guess dinner is cancelled then..."" ""Well....that was fun wasn't it? Scátty darling, I'm staying for a while. More wine for me!"", Morrigan quipped lightheartedly strutting her way to the kitchen. Achilles and Scáthach fell to the couch, exhausted and clueless... ""Now what?"", Scáthach asked. ""I don't know, Scát...I don't know. You know, I thought grandpa had changed. It's been what...millennia! And still he bears vengeance over petty squabbles. And did you hear what he said about bloodlines and stuff? Yeah, that's al high and mighty coming from the guy who disguised himself as a swan and banged someone!"", Achilles ranted. Scáthach smiled at her fiance's fiery rage. She thought it was adorable. Ever since they met each other, when Achilles was on his journey through the afterlife, right after Trojan. He passed through her Fortress of Shadows; where the both warriors clashed irons for 7 days and 7 nights straight, where they eventually fell for each other. ""Oh don't keep your mind busy with that thought, Achie. Maybe next time, in a few hundred years maybe he'll come around"", said the Celtic warrior brushing her red hair away. Achilles pondered...knowing his stubborn god of a grandfather, waiting for him to come around would be like waiting for Dionysus to sober up...virtually impossible. ""Hey Scát.....what do you say we elope?"", Achilles suggested in a hush tone. Scáthach's pale face frowned, but in a moment of clarity her face lit up, rejoicing the idea. ""You know....I heard Valhalla's a pretty nice getaway destination. We can ask Uncle Odin to officiate. I'm always one of his favorites after all, he'll listen to us"", Scáthach suggested gleefully. ""I'll pack up immediately!"", Achilles jumped up excitedly. ""Take your time, Achie. Grandma Morrigan's gonna be here for a while anyway..."", Scáthach giggled. This scheming marriage of theirs may be against the will of the gods, it's even going to put them as outcasts among the divines. But at least, if they're gonna be on the run...they're gonna be on the run together, 2 proud warriors side by side. ""Scátty...you ran out of wine!"", Morrigan's voice shouted from the kitchen. ""Grandma, there were 10 crates back there this morning!"", Scáthach shouted running to attend the intoxicated Goddess of War and Death.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Now this is the story all about how My spell got twisted, upside down Now I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there I'll tell you how I became the witch in the old woods called 'Blair' In East Noveracia born and raised Makin' spell-beats is where I spent most of my days When a barbarian horde Up to no good Started trying to mess up my kingdom for good They burned up two big towns so I got scared And so I wanted to curse them, 'cause what they did wasn't fair I beatboxed all night and when the sunrise was near There was blood on the floor and I sacrificed my good mirror The only thing left was to finish the prayer And say the incantation to leave the hoard running scared. Just then - some men barged in, around seven or eight And messed up my spell and the words I was saying! It took many years, but now I'm finally there I'm reversing my spell, now YOU'RE THE WITCH a la BLAIR!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The boy walked, for miles and miles along the countryside. The good, old Irish rain trickles down his face. He comes across a very small town overrun with tourists, pushing and swearing at the locals. He comes across a small, run down looking shop and walks inside. The door slowly closes behind him, letting the heavy rain in. Behind the counter is a thin, young man who's trying and desperately failing to grow a beard. The boy speaks louder than he intended to. ""Hello, where am I?"" Failed-beard-man responds: What do you mean, mate? We're in feckin' Waterford we are. The boy grows irritated. ""What country, I meant?"" Failed-beard-man starts uncontrollably laughing. ""You're having a feckin' laugh now, you are. What can I get'cha?"" ""Uh.. I'll get a can of Coke Zero I guess."" The boy picks a can up and places it on the table, throwing a few pound coins down as well. The shopkeeper puts on a mock offended face and speaks in a false condescending tone. ""You really trying to pay me with British currency? That's the most offensive thing I've ever seen. We're in Ireland, you eejit!"" The boy leaves the shop without his drink or money with an incredibly confused look on his face. The rain gets in his eye and he swears obscenely loudly. (Sorry, I'm a terrible writer, but I'm Irish so at least this is factual information!)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Ricky was the first one to go. The bass players always are. We had just released our first LP, and we were on top of the world. Not only had our time in the trenches proven to have finally meant something in this business, but our album, High Speed Chase, had hit number one in Ireland, and we felt like we had finally made it. My name is Kevin McCallham, and I am the lead guitarist for the rock-band, “Cause of Death”. I am not going to say we could compare ourselves to U2, but we were definitely the biggest thing to come out of Galway since the sun allegedly peeked out there twenty three years ago. Couple o’ Irish lads playing songs, touring the bars, and we finally caught a break. And the rest was history. Except now, the history of this band is starting to become more of a horror story. We were celebrating our Tuesday night release party success at Bolliver Shagnasty’s, a rock and roll pub just south of Ballybane. We had put a pretty nice shine on the night, when Ricky got into his Ford F-150, and tried to outrun the local coppers down by Old Dublin Road, and his truck went airborne, slid two hundred feet on its hood, and burst into flames. Ricky never even got his share of the first real paycheck, and we quit the tour before it even started. We stumbled around in shock for a while, but I will say that the fans of the band really surrounded us with support, and we got ourselves back into the studio, and figured we would drown our sorrows working towards the next album. The next album came out, and we leaked a few songs on iTunes three weeks before it released. When I say “leaked”, I mean whenever someone restarted their Ipod, our song came on. So, Tuesday morning, our brand new album, ShitStorm, hit the shelves. At approximately 4:18pm that afternoon, our drummer Seamus Reilly, went to the bathroom, after complaining of an attack of diarrhea that had kept him glued to the toilet for most of the day. He never came out. We found him in our hotel suite bathroom, dead on the floor, covered in shit. That’s a nasty way to die, let me tell you. We rebounded from that incident by breaking up. We decided that the band was just not meant to be, and we were having trouble finding guys to replace the dudes that had died…while in the band. It was talked about for sometime, and we decided that we would nurse our band back to health, in the form of trio. So with two guitarists and a keyboard guy, we hit the studio with all intents to make it work. Yeah, gone were the smoke machines and the flashing lights, but we were getting older, and maybe some acoustic shows would pay the bills. Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds certainly weren’t going broke, so maybe we could make it work as well. Six months in the studio, and seven really good songs in the queue, we decided it was time to really talk about the name of the next album. It had not escaped us that the first two albums had seemed more than coincidental in collecting two of our band mates, by the same exact fate as the album name, so album three needed to be something that we talked about, and agreed on. We quickly decided to vote down “Avalanche” and “Trigger Happy”, and Fuel already had “Hemorrhage” released, so we decided that the new album would be called “Shine”. We had worked really, really hard on this album, and it was time for our little trio to indeed catch a bit of good luck, and maybe, really shine. Apparently what it was actually time for, was for Stephen the keyboardist (also known as Stevie Keys) to empty a bottle of Irish 165 Moonshine, made for us by a fan, down his gullet, and die of alcohol poisoning the night of the album’s release. This band could not catch a break, and by the time we closed the casket on yet another band member, we decided that an acoustic duo could not survive. We played some solo stuff around Galway for a year, and I was really itching to get back to the studio, but Chris was totally against it. I pointed out that although he was not half as hot as Lisa Hannigan, she and Damien had paid some bills, and maybe, with his great vocal harmonies, and our guitar playing complementing each other fairly well, we could give it a rip. He finally said okay, and we weren’t even in the box for three months, and we have enough really good stuff for a decent release. Once again, however, the elephant in the room was obviously the album title. It was hard to even talk about seriously, what with the shit we had been through. It was decided that he would name the album, as my previous entries had delivered some very rough consequences. He called the album, Flamethrower. I told him he was out of his mind, but his plan was simple. We would release the album, get a hotel room, and stay in the room for 24 hours after the album went live. Not too great chance of someone getting by security with a flamethrower, and I thought his idea of referencing the album to something so crazy as a flamethrower was just short of brilliant. What would have been more brilliant, would have been to check his overnight bag for the heroin, coke and cigarettes he was apparently living on. He sat down on the couch, twenty minutes after the album went live at 10am, and delivered himself a Flamethrower. At 10:29am, I was a solo act. So here we are. The Park House Hotel in Galway. One month removed from my last band member calling it quits. The press has been going crazy, and the fans cannot fathom the heartbreak, and the loss I must feel. But they’re all here. The place is crazy. We’ve been drinking since noon, and we are getting ready for midnight. Tonight at midnight, I release my solo album. Cause of Death went from a five-piece band to a solo act in a pretty short time, and tonight is the pinnacle of my accomplishments. My new album has one song. You can call it a title track. It is now 11:50pm and I am about to close my laptop, and head downstairs. It’s been a great ride, but it is time for me to go. Thanks to my fans, the critics, and the music industry for all the twists and turns, and as I write this, I feel like I am the luckiest man on Earth. Fare the well my friends, and enjoy my final album. “Redheaded Twins Fuck a Guy to Death”.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"What defines the 3 great peoples of the world? Most will immediately describe our physical differences. Elves are often tall and fair with ears shaped like knives, Dwarves are of course short of stature yet stocky and strong, while humans can easily be seen as being somewhere between the two, in terms of appearance that is. Yet, these differences are all superficial, no, what truly distinguishes the 3 are their unique relationships with time. Elves are creatures eternally bound to myth, and therefor the past. As the past is eternal and unchanging, so are they. For even if an Elf is slain their spirit will never leave this world, they simply wait to regain their physical forms via rebirth. As such the number of Elves is fixed, technically no new ones can be created, likewise they can never truly be destroyed. Dwarves by contrast represent the present, they care not for the past or the future. To a dwarf these are simply empty concepts either devoid of possibility or simply non existent. The concrete world of the present is all that matters to them and as such they have become it's most masterful creators. They understand the physical world to such a degree as is incomprehensible to humans. Even their most junior architects can plan and execute structures of more complexity and size than any civilization of humanity has achieved. Humans lack both Elven immortality and Dwarven understanding, because their sphere is the future. They are eternally fixated on possibilities, what can be, what wasn't. what should be, what shouldn't. Their ties to the past are fraught with wistful imaginings, they lack the perfect recollection the Elves possess. They are never satisfied with the present, therefor they do not have the power to understand it to the depths the Dwarves do. This is likewise reflected in their lives, for just as some futures only have the faintest spark of a chance only to be smothered, a human life may end before it ever begins, a concept inconceivable to Dwarves or Elves. And as the possible futures are continuously whittled down from the moment of their creation they are also doomed to deteriorate. Until eventually any chance of their future dies, and they die with it. They always seem to be reaching for something they can never grasp, always obsessed with where they are going but without any way to know for sure. Their fates are forever unknown, defined by the possibility to become almost anything imaginable",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Almost unharmed was a oven, unharmed in the way that the pilot light was broken, but nevertheless, was a pan of bread that had survived. In the small bakery, the French man stared the German down, as the German man was doing the same. Both were well trained snipers and very well equiped, but you can't eat bullets, as they learned very quickly. One held a broken piece of bread, the German had been stuffing it into his mouth as he heard footsteps. Finally, one spoke, almost a whisper in the growing dawn. ""What day is it?"" The other spoke,""I believe its Christmas."" The French man smiled and pulled a burned chair back from a table. He spoke in broken English. ""I haven't heard headquaters."" The other nodded, and sat down and spoke,""I haven't either."" The German handed him the half of the bread,"" Well... Let's pretend this meeting never happened."" ""Don't worry friend. After today, both sides will go back to killing each."" The German chewed slowly. ""So true."" The French looked at his feet, and looked up.""You love your country?"" The German nodded,""I love my family. I fight for them. For their future."" The French man nodded. ""I know that feeling. My fiancee died in air raid."" The German nodded slowly.The French man nodded, and looked away, and wiped his eyes. ""May we never meet again, friend."" He stood up and walked away, disappearing out of sight in the snowy Christmas morning. The German man whispered,"" I hope not.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Ma'am, ma'am! We've finally decoded the message!"", the analyst ran after the centers director yelling. ""What does it say? It must be of significance to all of humanity if the same pattern has been transmitting for the past week across all broadcast frequencies."", the Director spoke stopping mid-way down the hall to the conference room where reporters gathered to hear of any updates. The analyst cleared his throat, looking a little apprehensive.... ""Well, what does it say? Out with it"", the Director practically barked out. The analyst held up a paper where they'd written down the English translation of the message, and read out... ""Will you PLEASE stop letting DJ Khaled make music"".",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Hey, they say I was the greatest But I came back stronger than my heyday If you're gonna listen you better have some OJ 'Cause, man, you're gonna need to chase this See, in my time, you wrote a lotta lines But there was never any room for spittin' out rhymes Just white keys, black keys, allegro and largo Now MCs and trap beats got a leg to stand on I'm tired of hearing about this fake, old man He ain't gold—he's a hack named Beethoven Have a little shame cold man. Your music... It's so emotively starved it gives me the shakes, oh yeah Yo I wore that grey doo a decade before you And can you believe some people still get confused when Listening to our tunes? Like, come on dude: I heard ""Is it over, Kurt?"" when we went to hear your overture Now anyway, back to the subject What can you expect on my albums and projects? How about I finish Requiem, featuring Eminem, Jay-Z, Rihanna and dubstep? And if I get another damn tweet asking For another twenty sheets of classical repeats Then I'll take my MIDI keys, smash them on the street, Scream, ""You motherfuckers can rehash those BC MP3s."" This is my new stuff, and I'm calling it now I'm gonna get a lot of hate, a lot of it how Disney got it with Rey, and Skywalker's ""cow"" But I'll keep pumping out tracks hotter and loud. Introducing Mozart's moderner sound. --- \--- Thanks for reading! [CC]/feedback always welcome. I have more stories, poems, and songs on [my personal sub](/r/scottbeckman).",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The room was full of rubble, old furniture, even a few bones here and there, but nothing that would immediately catch the eye. It looked like a standard abandoned house, with barely an allusion to it being haunted. This didn't seem to bother the man at all. 'What are you going to do to me?' he asked in a rather objective voice. He was intently scanning his surroundings, as if he was at his friend's apartment visiting. The spirit hesitated for a fraction of a moment. Did he not understand the weight of the situation? But he very clearly did. 'I am going to keep you here until midnight, when my brethren shall come forth and take over your body' it exclaimed. 'You will be our puppet!' it added with a burst of confidence. The man appeared unshook, however. 'That sounds painful' he remarked, glancing at his watch. 'I should try to avoid that.' His face lit up as something on the other side of the room seems to have caught his attention. The spirit regained its composure. Maybe the man was just really bad at expressing emotions. That kind of thing happens. Speaking up in a relieved tone, it told the man 'You may try to look for an escape, but alas\~ there isn't any!' Meanwhile, the man started making slow, measured paces toward what appeared to be an old, beat-up cupboard. 'That contains nothing of help to you' said the spirit, adding 'If you could open it, that is.' The man continued as if he didn't even hear that. On the cupboard door, there was a rusty-looking lock, but when the he lifted it, most of the rust fell off, as if it was sprinkled on top. He carefully examined the lock, going over the shackle and the body with an expert's gaze. Finally, he spoke up. 'What I have here is a Master Lock 140.' 'Huh?' The spirit was taken aback. 'Huh?' The man was shuffling about in his backpack, eventually settling on a velvet toolcase, which he promptly opened and took something out of. The spirit didn't quite see what it was, only catching a glimpse before the tool was firmly inside the lock. Not even a second later, the lock was open, off the cupboard and in the man's hands. The door, no longer supported by the shackle, swung open slowly with the creak of something over a hundred years old. The man reached in to grab the contents of the cupboard, which was mostly empty, save for a pile of papers of all sizes on one of the shelves. 'No! You mustn't touch those!' shouted the spirit, but the man didn't really care. 'These appear to be various journal pages and family photographs' he said. This time, his voice just barely hinted at a question, understanding the weight but not the importance of what he was holding. 'These- this- you-' the spirit stammered. Shaking what would have been its head when alive, it spoke up in a resigned tone. 'This is- *was* my family and my little brother's journal. We were killed by the mafia, and our bodies hidden. We were never given justice.' 'How long ago was this?' asked the man. 'Should I report it to the police?' The spirit looked in shock. 'Y-you would do that? That would be amazing! Oh- but you're still stuck...' 'Stuck? What do you mean?' 'The front door is locked. And if midnight comes, my family might not have mercy on you.' 'A locked door, huh?' 'Don't get your hopes up. My father bought an unpickable lock.' The man gave a mischievous smile. 'Oh, I've come across plenty of those...' Edit: Spelling :P",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"God I thought it would be just like any other night. Play the show, shoot the shit and go home. I was very wrong. I should've known something was wrong when the most beautiful women I'd ever seen bought me a drink. But I guess that's the hopeless romantic in me. The show went well, we've been to this bar, The Witches Brew before and most of our friends were here. As the lead vocalist of course I'm always looking in the crowd, and that when I saw her. Pale as alabaster, with eyes that could kill and long black hair like liquid midnight. Black ink tattoos decorated her body, and her lips were a bright red. After the show I always have to smoke a joint to cool off, the THC calms me down and lets me be more social. Hell if I was really feeling brave I might talk to that beauty inside. As always the marijuana coated my throat and lungs. Soon I couldnt feel my teeth, as my depression and anxiety flooded away. It always felt like having body weights and removing them when I got high. I cleared the air before coming back into the bar. My friends in Dirtnap hadn't played yet, so I figured I'd head to the bar and get a Red Bull to get some of my energy back. As I approach the bar top a man in his twenties hands me a vodka cranberry. I try and tell the guy I hadn't even ordered yet but he insisted it came from a fan at the end of the bar. How strange, that's never happened before. As I look to where the mans pointing I didn't want to believe my eyes that same woman with the seductive eyes had bought me this drink. Despite being in a metalcore band I'm quite the light weight and two drinks in was enough for me to approach her. I took the seat next to her and greeted her. ""Hey thanks for the drink, anyway I can pay back the favor?"" She smiled wryly, I could see her incisors were quite pointy, if shed had dental surgery to get vamp fangs she was serious about her appearance. ""No I wanted to repay you for such a great show, I'm not from around here and it's great to see there's some local talent. Do pretty boys like you play in any of the bigger cities."" I laughed, my narccism and numbed senses combing to make me especially easy to manipulate. ""Only if statuesque beauties like you are coming to see them."" She laughed before extending her hand. ""You're funny, I'm Scarlet."" ""Hey I'm glad you think so, my names Chris."" Scarlet finished her drink and placed cash on the top. ""Let's get out of here."" I was taken aback, I thought we'd at least flirt more first. ""Uhm and where are we going?"" She smiled that sly smile once more and beckoned me forward. ""I'll show you somewhere beautiful, just the two of us."" I sent a quick text to the band group chat, apologizing for not helping with loading out as well as missing our friends playing that night. We walked to her car, a blood red Audi with black under lighting. ""Nice wheels"" Jesus christ that sounded so much better in my head. ""Thanks, being a vampire queen has its perks"" she laughed along with me at what I totally thought was a joke. As we drove I offered her a blunt I had rolled for after Dirtnap's set, she agreed and we smoked as she drove. I was feeling pretty good, the weed had sharpened my senses but still let the alcohol make me feel lose and numb. I was reasonably cross faded and driving with some gorgeous goth girl into the moon lit night. Predictably we ended up at the Victorian graveyard outside of town. Scarlet parked and sat on the hood of her car, I quickly followed suit. For awhile we talked about every and anything, and then as the moon seemed to shine extra bright I felt her place a hand on my cheek, I shuddered at the touch. Scarlet slowly retracted her hand. ""Sorry I...its been awhile since someone touched me like that."" Scarlet frowned. ""It's okay, I'm sorry you got hurt like that, hey look at me."" As I gazed into her eyes I felt the feeling in my body drift away. It was like I was dreaming as Scarlet came close and bit my neck. I couldn't fight it as I felt her teeth pierce my flesh, and start to drain me of my life essence. She let out a sound of surprise and drew away. Before I could scream Scarlet placed her palm over my mouth. Her eyes were red like she'd just smoked an ounce all by herself. She spoke with wonderment. ""Your blood tastes, so....potent. I've never felt this intoxicated in my entire life! I've lived for centuries, tried every drug from alcohol to crystal meth but your blood, your blood has made me feel better than I ever have."" I spoke against the soft flesh on her hand. ""So what, you're going to have a good time while you're killing me."" She laughed and pet my hair, like a farmer pets his golden goose. ""No no, if you keep producing blood then that means I can feel this way forever! I'm calling my friends!"" I soon became aware of how strong Scarlet was, and knew that escape would be all but impossible. A white hearse pulled up soon after, and three pale women all exited, before greeting Scarlet. The three new contenders all picked a spot on my neck and began drinking, though this time their bites felt thought out and more precise than Scarlet's feeding frenzy. Soon the trio agreed that in fact my blood was the most intoxicating substance they'd ever had. They took me to their mansion and they're Matriarch too sampled my blood. She gave me a choice, live in the mansion become immortal and supply them with blood forever, or be released and one day hunted back down, I told them I'd stay if they'd agree to only feed on me and no other humans. It works out, I regenerate my blood back extremely fast as a vampire myself now, and if anything they swear my blood is now even sweeter. I miss my band and all my friends, but I sleep well knowing that I'll save humanity for centuries to come, and that's a fate better than death.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A bright flash of the mid day sun reflected off the lapped barrel of Hazel's disrupter as it was quickly drawn to the ready. She'd tried to dull the bloody thing in the past but the metal didn't want to be scratched. And covering it was not an option the blast of energy created too much heat causing whatever was over it to be set ablaze the moment she pulled the trigger. She cursed her ancestors for their stupidity. Her family, once proud guardians upon the walls of city Qulln, had made their armor and weaponry shine to proudly display their constant watch to those below. How they were wrong. The tales had been passed down verbally and slowly got skewed through the generations. Hazel remembered her elders describing their mission. So simple in their words. ""we stand watch to ensure no living being passes through those gates"". She'd asked who they were protecting and if she could meet them. But whomever she asked had given slightly different versions of the same ignorant answer. ""We are the silent guard we have no need for the gratitude of those we protect"" ""When they come to break through the gates we shall be ready."" ""Look upon the gleaming metal gates built by our ancestors that alone is a deterrent for those who seek to break through."" She was always dismissed. Her constant curiosity a hindrance to those around her. But in the end that Is what saved her. Hazel remembered the first day she heard the tap while sitting at the bottom of the gate. She tapped back and it responded. She told her family about it and they ignored it as a child's imaginations when they could not hear the taps when she brought them to the gate. She had thought maybe she had imagined it untill she heard it again for 5 minutes a year later. It fueled her curiosity and lack of answers pushed her past the repeated stories passed down by her family. And deep into the archives. It took her almost 2 decades to find and understand the context of the oldest books. And once she did. Her blood ran cold. She realized how wrong her family was about protecting the walls from intruders. It wasn't a fortification ment to protect those within from the outside world. It was a containment unit and the door they guarded was the last if seven. That prevented the creatures depicted within from being active on all but one day per year. The day she had always returned to the gate through the years and gradually heard the tapping get steadily louder. The day which had been about a week out at the time. She had ran to the gate now having knowledge of how to open it. She Went through the opening sequence. Facing the First of seven gates disruptor at the ready. It in her case last. The hallway leading past the door was long and empty but she wasn't interested in what was down the hallway. She went to the 6 foot thick metal door and examined the hole clawed in it. A hole expertly extracted from to leave but the smallest of material remaining so that a large section could be broken all at once. - - - Hazel fired the disruptor held in her hand the beam ripping through the trees in front of her the bright flash met with a scream and burning flesh. Placing the disruptor back in her holster she drew her sword. It would be 3 minutes before she could fire it again and it appeared as if what hunted her did not come alone. Determined to destroy what had escaped 3 years ago. She smiled and stepped forward.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Hector noticed from outside the window of his classroom, a cocoon opening and a fresh, nascent butterfly rising from it. The butterfly spread its wings revealing intricate tapestries filled with thousands of colors, more colors than Hector recognized or knew the name of. The butterfly fluttered its wings, for the first time, and like a child learning to walk, at first it struggled, but eventually the former-caterpillar soared through the air much like an eagle does and with just as much determination. Hector smiled. The butterfly fluttered towards him and floated through the window. It did a few revolutions around the room and passed the teacher, who did not seem to notice. Finally the butterfly landed atop Billy's head, blood-soaked and motionless. The gun, still in his hand, one bullet less. All of us still crying, still not the same, we began to laugh and for some reason it was okay.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"So just press it then. Press it. Just press it. What's the worse that can happen? Just press it. You want to leave don't you? Yes. So press it. But it said don't press it, no matter what. I could be stuck in here forever though. So just press it. Press it. Press it press it pressitpressitpressitpressitpressitpressit. But what does it do? Nothing, just press it. You want to leave don't you? They won't let you out, you tried begging. Just press it. Then the experiment is over. Just press it. Press it. PRESS IT. I need to take a dump *so* bad. Just press it and they'll let you out. I'm so hungry. That stupid red button. Red as Janice's lipstick. Press it or you may never see her again. Press it. It might just do nothing, maybe it'll spray you in water. Or acid. Or water, just press it. It's only an experiment. But the nazi's had experiments. Press it. They grabbed you and forced you in here. Press it. PRESS IT OR WE MIGHT NEVER LEAVE. We? I mean me. Press it. Come on press it. Come on, just one tiny click and it's all ov- ... what happens if it hurts someone else? Press it. I could die if I stay in here. Press it. But someone else might get hurt. Press it. Would I die just on the off chance someone else might instead? What if they're death-row inmates. Press it. Press it. But they might be children. Press it. Press it. It wouldn't do anything that bad, they surely couldn't. Press it, press it. I mean I must be one of hundreds to do this. Press it, press it. I can't handle this the room feels so small I want to leave. Press it, press it, press it. I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE. THEY MADE ME DO THIS, THEY PUT ME IN HERE AND SAID NOTHING ELSE EXCEPT... except... Don't press it, no matter what. No I can't do this, oh God I'm scared what happens when I press it, what happens? PRESS IT. Bad things could happen. PRESS IT. **PRESS IT** ***ARGH!*** -click- ... Is... is that it? What happens now- *A door swung open, almost indistinguishable from the wall. A scientist stepped through.* ""NO I'M SORRY I COULDN'T HELP IT DON'T HURT ME, PLEASE-"" ""Shh, it's ok. It's a perfectly normal response, not the first time either. Thank you for helping, the exit is through the next room."" ""Th- thanks."" Ok, I'm getting the fuck out of here. Next room, here I come. *Slam* The door closed behind me. Where's the exit, all that's here is this green butt... oh no. *An intercom suddenly sounded* Just press the green button to leave Ok, just press it and get out. The last button did nothing. But what if this is the real experiment? Press it. It might lock me in here. Press it. *This* one could harm people. Press it. I can't do this. *Press it.* What do I do? *Press it.* But I can't, I can't make this decision again- *Press it.* No I don't want to I just want to leave please I want to leave how do I escape? ***PRESS IT!***",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""...but no longer"" She turned from Gareth and began to walk back towards the heavens gate. Gareth could feel the power draining from him. The glow that always surrounded him began to fade. He knew it was worthless to plead with his mother. She had never approved of his choice. Even if she could accept him, if he could somehow convince her to see his side, it wouldn't matter. The other gods never would never stand for it. They would force her to choose just as she had forced him. Turning back to Helena he knew there was no other choice he would have made anyway. How could he? She stood alone in the temple waiting for him. Though the rest of the world seemed more dull without his power her face was as bright as ever. She smiled and took his hand. Gareth pulled her close and kissed her. Placing his hand gently on her stomach, he caressed his unborn daughter. What he felt suprised him. It was a humming of power. Godly power. Gareth knew it shouldnt be there. It COULDN'T be there. Unless... Gareth turned back to the Heavenly Gate. ""Mother...."" But she was gone",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Jared's lips curled up, baring his teeth
'So what did you think of the take-off?'

Tom gasped, he hadn't realized he was still holding in his breath. He looked to his right. The lean scrawny face of his senior officer loomed over him.

'It was rough to say the least, sir. Fairly exciting too!'

'I'm glad to hear that you sunofabitch. You're the hope of the academy'

Tom grinned. His hands reached to his waists, unbuckling himself from the seats; artificial gravity had been restored. He curled his fingers backwards, then reached to the ceiling. Legs unfurling like the wings of dragon, he stepped up and stretched. His lithe, athletic frame, over 6 feet long, bent backwards and then straightened.

He trotted towards the console station. Blinking buttons and flashing lights. He pushed in a few numbers at the input dock and moved on to the loo. Noisy, distinct growls made their way through his taught stomach. Things were gonna get messy.

He sprinted to the washrooms. He caught the page, Dwight, just as he exited the room. Falling onto his knees, he skidded and stopped just shy of the lip of the toilet, bent over and poured his stomach's sorrows into the bowl. Jared's head bobbed back and forward with outrageous laughter.

'They always think they're ready for this shit!'

Tom's puke flecked lips moved as he tried to form words, but his body failed him again. He barely managed to keep the chunks in the bowl.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Years of training and practice were beginning to pay off. Captain Jared had mentored him well. Sure, he'd been caught off guard but he knew from his Academy material that he'd gotten off light. Most academy grads would suffer hours of excruciating agony either bent over, or seated on, the bowl. He looked at his watch and then sped up. He didn't want to be late.

Jared was waiting for him. Tom's eyebrows straightened, his jaw clenched and yet a slight smirk failed to escape Jared's notice. Jared frowned. He didn't want his disciple underestimating the manner in which his world was going to change.

'Are you ready for what you're about to witness?'

'Sir, yes sir!'

'And do you swear to uphold the values of the Elder Race, to preserve the secret as we have preserved it for 2 generations now?'

'I do'

'Then get ready for the sight few men have ever seen'

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door into the Observation Deck. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

'It's flat'

'Yup'",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"War has changed so much since my first fight. Heck, the world period has changed. When I first took up arms it was to defend my first, and now long dead family. I was cursed by a Sumerian witch to live like this. Through the years I've been staked in the heart, beheaded, lopped in half, shot, blown up, shot down, and bayoneted. I've fought in armies in every major war it seems. I've lost faith in religion. I've fallen in and out of love. But the armies of the world have been my home for centuries. Whether it be laying siege to Rome, or serving in it legions Ive always fought. Ive seen man go from stabbing each other with sticks to dropping atomic bombs. I've flown bombers, fighters. Driven tanks. Dug trenches. Slogged through the mud and the blood in the Somme. Drug my comrades from the snow as the Russian air force bombed our Finnish ranks. I've surrendered to Yankees. To Brits. To Germans. To Russians. Maybe I've been searching for death. Maybe its to remind myself what pain feels like. Either way as I enlist in the US Army for the 5th time I wonder what my next war will be. Will it be against Jihadis? Against Aliens? Oh god just let me die",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Pro-lifers don't like it. Almost no-one likes it. But people have done it. You know who's done it. On your street, in your school, in your workplace. Even some celebrities. We're not pointing fingers but both Kim Kardashian and Putin have the same guilty sheen of eternal youth. There's the news that some poor kidnapped girl was kept in a cellar for ten years and forced to give birth to children who'd live three hours before her captor sold their lives for a hundred grand. Eleven children. Eleven men. They got life sentences. That made people laugh. Funny what makes you laugh when things are this awful. Abortion isn't really discussed any more. No-one cares when some junky mother sells her child's life so someone else can live forever. She was going to get rid of it anyway. You care, though, when you come home and find your husband unconscious on the floor, a broken window and your child with deep red bruises at her throat. The casket is impossibly small. Now you can't look at your husband without crying, and you can't look at Kim Kardashian without wanting to wrap your own hands around your throat and squeeze till it goes dark. You care when the hospital down the road is broken into and the post-natal unit ransacked. You care when you see mothers screaming in anguish on the streets. You care when the people you don't want to live forever smile at you and say it was a legitimate transaction. Lives aren't a legitimate transaction.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"If you ask the masses today of what a team achieved at CERN in 2016 that changed their life, they will stare blankly and ask what you mean. Some of their eyes will flicker while doing it and some with ignore the question.

I mean how would you react if someone asked you what your feelings were about an event that was yet to happen, for as far as you know its 2014 and 2016 is still 2 years ago. 

So why I am writing this, why am I pushing a question that no one can know the answer too, and more importantly why are you reading this. Its the nag. That noise at the back of your mind that causes your eyes to flicker, the noise that makes you walk past me when I ask that question, the confusion you feel at the date 2016 is not some foreshadow of whats to come, you are no prophet. What you are is a survivor.

This is going to sound crazy but you have to listen before it happens again. 5 years ago in 2016 scientists at CERN proved that the earth was a simulation ran by an ulterior power, they broke reality for 7.2 seconds and they changed the world in doing it. Governments went crazy trying to suppress the information, they rightly knew that the world couldn't handle it, but humans don't listen to reason we embrace disorder and anarchy and someone, somewhere along the line brought the paper to the surface. It happened slowly at first, the paper circled the academic community and started bleeding into the rest of the world. And people broke, nothing mattered any more, they saw themselves as pieces on a chessboard nothing to the owner just being moved in predefined paths. It was a turbulent time, in around 3 months countries had retreated to within themselves, borders weren't shut people just didn't cross them, anarchistic groups rose up with vastly different points of view, those that called themselves Bytes rioted and looted their way into an abyss, they claimed that no real attachment to the world meant no real consequences for their actions. The other group called themselves Academia, but don't let that fool you. They were fanatics, devoted to the idea that if the gap in reality was found it was because the simulation demanded it to be so, they opted to believe in the rules set down by their founder ""Supputo"". They warred with the Bytes in a brutal fashion, with the idea that cleansing the rule breakers would bring prosperity to the world.

And then amidst the global war, the first true world war with conflict in every nation, two raw ideals going against each other in a savage and tribal sense, it just stopped.

All of it. 

Clocks went back to April 1st 2009 and the world picked itself up without missing a beat.

Well apart from me. You see I remember, I remember that its 2021 and I remember that they hit reboot. So they can put me in this cell and call me crazy, but I know and in 2 years when those guys at CERN figure it all out don't come crying to me.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Edit: Forgot to mention that I tried to model this off of Mordin Solus, from Mass Effect. Similar speech and thinking. Hope you enjoy.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Resistance was unanticipated. The ships encountered at First Contact were rudimentary. Humans have advanced quickly. Far more advanced than before. Modeled after own ships perhaps. Should have learned more. Assumed a quick victory. Loss after loss, very unpopular. Low morale remaining. One last shot. Must destroy headquarters. Must destroy Houston. Large force, they knew attack was coming. Must protect capital ship. Must complete bombing run. Sky is no longer blue. Filled with red plasma. Many explosions, many friends dead. Can see headquarters, too close to fail. Scientists shouldn't be fighter pilots. Terrible idea. Not many fighter pilots left though. No choice. Had to be me. Capital ship taking damage. Engines critical could be failing altogether. Diving towards ocean. Away from target. Situation is suboptimal. Capital ship crashing into bay. Water overrunning core sectors. Meltdown is imminent. Capital ship has exploded. Sky is quite colorful. Would like samples. Situation is no longer salvageable. Will retreat.
Have been pursued. Two human interceptors. Damage to wing is heavy. Can still fly. Plasma burns cover exterior. Engineers will be displeased. Engines have been hit. Afterburners unresponsive. Cannot evade. Losing altitude. Interceptors disengaging. Crash is imminent. Human ranch is nearby. Will crash there. Hay provides soft landing perhaps. Have not tested. Risky possibility. Will attempt. Little choice. Brace for impact.
Smoke is everywhere. Plasma is rather pungent. Canopy is cracked. Numerous wounds. Will attend to at a later point. Should be insignificant. Canopy will not eject. Must smash. Have crawled out of fighter. Human male approaching. Rather tall, abundant facial hair. Has head ornamentation identified as ""cowboy hat"". Is holding large weapon, identified as shotgun. Will remove helmet, will raise arms. Is sign of compliance among humans. Human is attempting contact, accent verified to be ""Southern Drawl"", copious use of diphthongs.
""Well what kind of varmint have I got here? Sure as hell ain't one of them coyotes. Mighty hairy though.""
Has described appearance. Is accurate. Will attempt peaceful conversation. ""Come in peace, do not shoot. Can help, am scientist.""
""Peace, well I reckon you wolverine lookin' bastards invaded us. We got plenty of scientists. We even got ourselves double agent on one of you crafts 'fore it fled. Now I would have shot you down up there if I hadn't taken my day off today. Wanted to watch the fireworks from a safe distance.""
Double agent most likely scientist from Sub-level D working on space travel. Never enjoyed presence. ""Did not volunteer to fight humans, was drafted. No choice in matter. Will assist in any way.""
""Oh well bless your heart."" Unsure if insult or not, human speech is very confusing. ""You poor soul. You invaded our home and we're gonna level yours. It'll take a little time to get there but revenge is a dish best served cold. Any last requests?"" Human has just ""cocked"" shotgun. End is imminent. No regrets. Never loved, unfinished thesis on effect of plasma on different alloys. Could have said goodbye to family. Unrepairable relations. Previous statement retracted. Numerous regrets. Do not show emotion, do not shed tear. ""In all my years I have not seen an alien cry. I can't kill you now. Perhaps you know something we need you lucky bastard.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The man sat in front of me, his desperation was clear in his face. I gave my secretary a quick glance, her silent nod confirming my suspicion. He was the usual sort of customer.

The irresponsible type, often a parent, who had made a rash promise to their child. Children are often the death of us these days.

""I-um,"" He began.

""Stop,"" I said, ""Listen, I want to help you. I truly do. But the fact of the matter is, you're a dead man.""

""She was my daughter! On her death bed! For crying out loud do you have any compassion?"" He said. Tears had begun streaming down his face. ""This is your job isn't it? You, you help people right?""

""I'm an agent of law and the law is binding."" I said, ""Sometimes I can convince the magistrates to see differently. Convince them that no promise was truly broken. But when it comes to children they are very strict.""

""All I did,"" he said, ""was tell her she'd make it.""

""And with that sentence you all but killed yourself. You gave her false hope, a cruelty in its own right."" I said, ""I'm sorry, but I can't help you.""

The man shuffled out of my office, disheartened and depressed. As he left my secretary reentered, bringing with her another client. A quick nod told me all I needed to know.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The I.S.V. Amundsen was not built for warfare. It was a small colony ship, barely holding 600 souls in all. So when the alien vessel caught the ship with a barrage of ion cannons, there was nothing to be done. In retrospect, there was no way we could have translated their warnings. Radio messages of peace from us were ignored. They could not understand us either. There was a failure to communicate as the old joke goes.
So they boarded us, what few weapons on hand we used in trying to repel them. It was all futile of course. It was Lieutenant Mueller who first gave them a human name. Vogel. He would die about three minutes later. I still use it. They only attacked those armed and the non-combatants were ignored. Unfortunately, that bastard of a XO started a manual self destruct sequence. The aliens evacuated as quickly as they could, and they dragged me along with them. I was the only human to survive the destruction.
They threw me into their brig. Then they let me stew. It was hours before they got back to me. Two guards emerged in my cell and dragged me to an interrogation room. Looked like any normal one you'd find in a police station, no torture devices here. They brought in what I assume was a Doc, guess medicine types all look the same no matter what species they are. He gave me a cocktail of shots, for what I know now as a bunch of vaccinations and more importantly, shoved an implant behind my ear. Don't ask me how it works, I still have no clue. To make something that could fill whole bookcases simple, it's a universal translator. Only problem is, English isn't one of those languages. There was no humans before. For days, I spent teaching English. It was a miracle my notepad had a dictionary on it. The ship's linguist was able to configure the translator to convert English to their speech. I'll never forget the first time I truly spoke with an alien.
""What is your name?"" I was dumbfounded. I saw his beak move, heard his voice, but another was heard inside my head. It was a voice straight from Eton. ""My, my name? Aidan Wolf."" He nods his head. ""I am called Verat Uhlan'Er. But please, call me Ver. I'm sure you know by now that I am the ship's linguist. Is it alright if I ask you some questions?"" I shrug. ""Depends. Can I ask you some of my own."" Though his beak made things difficult to tell, it seem as if he was smiling. He spread his manipulator limbs in a gesture of openness. ""Absolutely. I will do what I can to answer as honestly as possible. What was your destination?"" ""We were going to colonize Rigil Kent, I don't know what you call it in your speech. We never though we'd meet other intelligent life so soon. It was all peaceful I assure you. So why the blockade of my planet?"" He gives a shrug, in his own alien fashion. ""It has been determine that your species has yet to make the necessary changes required for peaceful introduction to greater galaxy. We are sorry that blood has been shed, and we will modify our procedures to prevent another tragedy like this again."" I lean back in my chair. ""So now what? What's going to happen to me?"" He speaks again. ""You'll be granted asylum at Talan'roth. I think a small pension will be granted as well as a small compensation for the destruction of your vessel. What you do is up to you. As soon as we dock, you are a free man. The only stipulation is that you cannot return to your home planet. I am sorry."" I am guided to a far better bunkroom where I stay for a week until we make planet fall. The shuttle lands and I emerge to the applause of a sizable crowd. Word of my arrival has traveled faster than I. Beings of a hundred different species are in the crowd. Dozens of reporters yell out requests for interviews. I oblige each and everyone. I shake appendages with every person desiring so. I am Aidan Wolf, the first human being anyone has ever seen. There are thousands of different planets, hundreds of intelligent species. The rest of my life will be very, very interesting.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""B-b-b...But why!?!""

The three men stared at their newly arrived guest as if he'd grown a second head. Kurt stared back, just as confused. In front of him were legends, *living* legends, he supposed. That old joke turned out to be true, and all of the famous people who up and died really were just relaxing on a beach in the middle of no where. He couldn't understand it.

""What could be worth giving up your entire lives for?""

John spoke first 

""What were any of us really living for? Careers begin and end the same way, with no one knowing your name. I know that I chose to end my career a martyr. I took my exit early, but it will be a very long time before someone forgets my name.

Elvis spoke after him

""I wasn't even in my prime when I went. Truth be told I was just *tired* of the whole goddamn thing. One minute famous, the next old news, drugs are good, drugs are bad, get married, stay single. My life was not my own, but now it is, and I got a whole lot less things to worry about""

Tupac was the last to reply

""I've made more money on this Island than I could slingin records and working like a slave for the records companies. It made for the perfect ending to the East Coast West Coast bullshit, didn't it? And besides, now I can be with Biggy""

Kurt was even more confused now and managed to stutter 

""Be...with...Biggy?""

And sure enough a large black man came wandering up from the hut at the edge of the beach, grinning his teeth off.

""Someone call for Biggy, Shakey?""

""Naw Biggy Baby, go back to your nap, I'll be there soon""

Kurt fell backwards into the muddy sand. He couldn't believe this. He sat up, and asked.

""Are you guys scared I'll tell your secret?""

John replied 

""Nah, people find out all the time. You've got no proof. Plus, we've got a lot of famous friends that know, and they always help us keep it under lock and key.""

And as if summoned Bill Murray jogged up along the beach, tossed a bottle of water to Kurt and shouted, as he disappeared into the distance ""No one will ever believe you!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I don't know what else to say."" I said with shrugged shoulders and a blank look over my face like a mask. ""Keep your mask on. You must sell this."" I told myself over and over again. It was becoming seemingly impossible as she screamed at me with a pointed finger. ""How can you just not love me anymore? Is there someone else? Why?"" Inside I felt like dying right this very instant, but that would come later.
Stage IV cancer was my diagnosis. I had been giving 6 months to a year to live. I had made my decision a week ago while twirling an engagement ring that would never be given between my fingers. ""It will be better if she hates me and moves on than if she suffers with me.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Hide was all she said. Angelo did as she said. His mother expected it of him. *Hide.* He crawled under the bed, lifting the loose floorboards gently aside. The guy was already in the house. Angelo had stopped to see who it was. He was a big man in a suit. He smoked a thick cigar and his hands sparkled with gold. *Hide.* He was trying. He dropped into the hole just like before and slowly pulled the boards back into place, all except for one. He held it up and peeked through the crack.

He couldn't hear the man, but his mother was scared. ""I wasn't feeling good."" He heard his mother cry. He didn't hear what the man said, but he heard the slap. It sounded like a gunshot to the boys ears. His mother was in the door of the room now.

""Let me make it up to you, Eddie."" She begged. He saw his mother's dress drop to the floor a moment later. He averted his eyes, but then the man laughed, and he was looking again. His mother staggered back like she'd been shoved. Her heels tangled in her dress, and she sprawled on the floor. He saw her naked shoulders and under clothes and though he wanted to look away, he couldn't. The man came into the room completely, and he could hear the guy now.

""I tell you to service a client. You service a client. I don't care if you have a cold, the flu, or mad cow. You cost me a lot of money. I had to send Roxy instead. Bitch overdosed while the guy was ploughing her."" He snapped, kicking her in the ribs.

He watched his mother cry out, turning to glance under the bed at him. The man kicked her again and she doubled over sobbing hysterically. He wanted to crawl out and defend her, but her mother was adamant. *Hide.*

""I told you what would happen next time you fucked with me."" He roared, kicking her again. ""Where's your boy?""

""Not here,"" she gasped.

""Where is he?"" He hissed, kicking her several times in a row.

""Not here."" She was gasping for air. The man went to the closet and ripped it open.

""Where is he?"" He roared again. ""I told you what would happen next time you cost me money. Someone has to make it up."" He said, turning around to kick her in the face. His mother rolled backwards staring blankly up at the ceiling, blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. She was still breathing, but it was shallow and strained. The man dropped to his knees next to the bed. Angelo let the board fall into place so the man couldn't see him. He stayed there even when he heard the man kick his mom again. He stayed hidden until he heard the man leave the room.

Careful not to make any noise, he raised the board up enough so he could see again. His mother was trying unsuccessfully to roll back over, but couldn't seem to manage. She would try a couple of times then start shaking, her arm flopping around, and her head banging uncontrollably against the hardwood floor. The man came back into the room a moment later.

""Shit."" He exclaimed, rushing over to kneel next to her head. He slapped her cheek a couple of times to try and bring her around, but she was already foaming at the mouth. ""Shit."" He exclaimed again. He left the room in a hurry. The boy heard the front door open and close, and the house was suddenly quiet. He waited there in hiding, staring at the blue eyes of his mother. The were staring under the bed, but seemed to look right through him. He pushed the boards aside and twisted around beneath the bed, crawling forward on his stomach. He waited there in the shadows beneath the bed then slowly reached out and took his mother's hand. It didn't close around his tiny fingers like they normally did.

""Momma?"" He whispered. The front door opened again, and the boy heard the man coming back. He crawled back, letting go of his mother's hand. *Hide.* She had said. He didn't have time. He froze half in the hole, half out when the man re-entered the room. He watched him open a black kit and take out a length of rubber hose. He tied it around the arm of the woman he'd just beat to death. He dropped a spoon near her and a little baggy. He slipped a needle in he arm and left it there, hanging out of the skin at an awkward angle. The man she called Eddie zipped the kit up and hurried from the room, stopping to deliver one final kick to her legs. ""Fucking bitch."" He muttered. When the front door closed this time, it didn't open again for the rest of the night.

He crawled out from beneath the bed and crouched next to his mother begging her to wake up, pleading for her to stop pretending. He ended up lying next to her instead. When the police came two days later, they found him there stroking his mother's hair, whispering *please wake up.* She never did.
___________________________________________

His boot clopped when he took a step. Another step, another clop. As he strolled through the diner, the cadence of his clop, clop, clop drew the attention of the diners who'd come to enjoy some old fashioned burger and fries. The milk shakes, according to sign on the door, claimed to be the best milkshakes around. His buckle reflected the sunlight coming in through the windows opposite the door. Each step sent the reflected light racing up the wall to the right then down and up the wall to the left. 

There was a man seated at a table in the corner. He was a big man with a grey suit and a dark pair of shades that didn't seem to let any light through. There was a guy sitting at a table next to his. He seemed more interested in what the man in the grey suit was saying and doing than in the meal before him. Two girls sat beside the man with the grey suit, laughing at everything he said whether it was funny or not. His fingers glittered with gold.

""You the one they call Fat Eddie,"" the stranger asked.

""Shit. I ain't been called that in a long damn time."" He said, laughing. The stranger didn't smile. He looked at the man sitting in the booth next to Fat Eddie. ""You're not going to want to interfere in this.""

The guy started to rise, but the stranger drew a nickle-plated nine millimeter from a holster in the small of his back. ""Make yourself small,"" the stranger whispered. The girls weren't laughing anymore. When the stranger turned the nine millimeter on Fat Eddie they, scooted as far away from them as they could get without crowding the gunman.

""Who the fuck are you, and why the hell you got that piece shoved in my face."" Fat Eddie growled, seeming unscared by the fact the man was threatening him.

""She told me to hide. I did."" The stranger whispered.

""Who? What the fuck you saying?"" Eddie shouted, drawing the attention of the other patrons. As one, they stampeded for the door. The stranger didn't care. He came for Eddie.

""You kicked her to death."" The stranger explained ""I was under the bed. You kicked her to death then after she was dead, you stuck a needle in her arm."" Eddie's face went white.

""Kid, you got the wrong guy. I ain't never killed no one."" Eddie swore dropping a hand below the surface of the table.

""No. You killed someone. You killed my mom."" Angelo said, pulling the trigger even as Eddie fired. The stranger took the bullet in the gut, but Eddie took his in the throat. The girls screamed and fled, squeezing past the gunman. The stranger turned the gun on the man in the booth next to him. The gun he was going for dropped on the table top when he realized the stranger had the drop on him. The stranger waved him out. ""Go."" The stranger held his stomach and gasped in pain. He forced himself to stand again. In the distance he could hear sirens. He emptied the gun into Fat Eddie's face, then fell back into the booth Eddie's man had vacated.

He lay back and closed his eyes and saw his mother once again. Her blue eyes stared through him, and he heard her crying anew. He dropped the gun on the table top and shuddered with pain. *Hide.*""

""I couldn't hide anymore, momma.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*Chapter One*
...Ted awakens to nothingness. It is neither black nor white. It is impossible to describe in any words yet invented. It is like a broken record that will go on for all eternity. A rolodex of moments that is caught in a loop. The angel appears out of thin air, ""welcome to heaven.""
""Th..This is heaven? Theres nothing here...""
""Oh, sure there is! There's everything! Just ask for something!""
""Is this a test? If it is, I am being honest right now and saying I am going to ask for things not condoned in the Bible. Shouldn't that honesty be a good thing? You know I don't want to mess with you guys...""
""It's no test. Ask for something!""
""Can I see my grandmother? She HAS to be up here, sweet old lady...""
""Sure! And you're a sweet guy! Do you have any idea how many men ask for all kinds of messed up things right away!?""
Do they get what they want?
Ya, until they don't want it anymore.
*Poof*
Ted!?
Grandma!?
*They embrace.*
I haven't seen you in so long! What's it like up here!?
Oh, I just got here Ted.
What do you mean? You've been dead for years Grammy...
Yes, but I've been in *my* heaven and I'll have to return soon I fear.
Why?
We can't all just be in one place anymore Ted. Our souls have grown and need room to breathe... you'll understand after you speak with Him.
Speak with who?
Ask to speak with Him.
Speak with who?
Just ask.
Uhh... Can I please speak with.. him?
*Poof*
Hello Ted.
Wh..Who are you?
But instantly he knew... this was the source of all knowledge and life. All pursuit and happiness and sadness and hate. All love. All gloomy days and perfect storms and moments of respite. He could sense in the entity before him a profound calm.
God?
Yes, Ted.
Why can't I be together with my family up here?
You had a lifetime with them Ted. You took them for granted as do all of my creatures. If you love them, learn to live without them and you shall love them more. You can ask to see whomever you want, you may ask to do whatever pleases you, but eventually it all must come to an end or you will take every instance of happiness for granted as well.
I think I understand...
Why life? Why earth? Why was it the way it was? War? Death? Corruption?
Again, you need those Ted, or else you won't appreciate peace, life, responsibility.
*Poof*
I had more questions!
Ted was alone again.
He waited for a good 15 minutes, deliberating.
He paced back and forth wondering why everything seemed such a contradiction.
He asked himself, what are the rules up here? There have to be rules...
....uhhh, Jessica Alba in her prime and a filet - medium...?
*Poof*
*Chapter Two*
Okay.. I want the hottest 500 girls in the world according to *my* standards on their knees with their lower backs down in a row overrrrr.... here.
And I want the best taste that Chef Morimoto ever concocted to permeate my mouth as I have my way with them.
*Hours pass*
My Father!
*Poof*
Hi Dad!
Hey boy!
How have you been?
Can't complain.
Hey Dad? What do you ask for?
Ask for?
In your heaven.. what do you ask for?
My heaven..?
Ya.
Well boy, I don't reckon we're on the same page. Since I left you and Mom, I have been in a dark place.
Dark?
Yes, and cold.
Dad.. Dad just ask for some light.
I'm afraid it doesn't work that way where I've been.
Do you mean Hell?
No.
Then what? I'm worried.
You'll understand
THEY KEEP SAYING THAT! I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING YET!
You will.
*Chapter three*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Sometimes you just know when you are at the end of the road. I didn’t ask for this, but now it is my reality. When I was a kid I never in a million years dreamed it would end like this. You have a warped sense of death and old age as a kid. Hell, when it is June Christmas seems to take forever to arrive so the idea of turning 40 or 50 is as foreign as Mars of Denver. I had always assumed I would live as long as my grandparents.
Now staring into his eyes I knew I would never see 50. My thirties were actually a lot of fun. I drank, partied, and had a good job. I dated some great women and made some lasting memories. My forties have bogged down in a marsh of health issues, debt, and other problems. Still, I had always envisioned something great for myself. I had always thought that I would do something meaningful that would leave a mark on the world. Now I am seconds from death. When this guy snuffs me out my family and friends will mourn me. Eventually, the case will be closed and I will pretty much be forgotten. Not even a blip on the radar of the world. That reality saddens me more than the fact that this guy is about to take my life. I failed to live up to the potential I had set for myself.
I hold his gaze as he looks me square in the eyes. It is hard to not show fear. I don’t want my last seconds on this planet to be of me shaking, begging, and pleading for my life. I’m not going out on my knees. I actually lean in, putting my face closer to his. He looks very familiar. I have seen him before.
I hear the hammer of the gun pull back. I want to scream at him. Tell him to stop; to reconsider what he is doing. The words simply won’t come from my mouth. Instead I take a deep breath in, hold it for a second then slowly exhale. I try to calm myself. I can see the fear and excitement in his eyes. Time slows slightly as the gun is raised to my head. With a slight twitch of the finger the trigger is pulled. I never hear the shot echo through the house as some of my blood hits the mirror.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Everyone wants to be a hero. That's how they sold it to us, anyway. The first thing that hits you is the heat. Like a brick wall to the face. Like a freight train to the lungs. Knocks the air out and when you breathe back in, it's like the oxygen's on fire. The second thing that hits you is the smell. I heard Baghdad was a cosmopolitan city before we came. After that it was like an open sewer. Blood and shit runs in the streets in equal measure but the strongest smell of all is the fear. People sweat it, here. I'd kissed Casey goodbye at the end of winter. Highschool sweetheart. We'd had maths together before I dropped out. I'd stare at the side of her face from my seat. The way her freckles danced across the bridge of her nose. Or the way she swished her hair when she was thinking. I forgot her face by the end of the third month.
All I remembered were twisted faces. A car bomb, outside a school. Until then, the 'enemy' had been some faceless monster with a huge black beard and dirty fingernails. From the parts we found, the enemy here was an ardent schoolboy. The pictures showed him freshfaced and clean shaven. I did not question what I knew. And I continued not to question. I have tried to forget a lot of what I saw. Casey wants to talk about it, wants me to 'work through it.' She's not how I remember her. She's gained weight. Her eyes have got sad. I do not recognise my own face. I left many people behind in the poppy fields of Iraq. I am afraid I may have left a part of myself, as well.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"My love,

If you're reading this, then I have died by your hands. This was necessary in order to ensure your safety. A few months ago I discovered both of our names were on the Blacklist. It was only a matter of time before they discovered your connections, and only a few days before they discovered mine. That was why I had to desert and join with the freedom fighters. However, this country will not change because of their actions; they are too fragmented, and cannot muster the resources before the military crushes them.

This I knew intimately well.

With my death by your hands, you are now beyond reproach, your loyalty demonstrated. They will seek to make you an example of a true soldier who loves her country above all. Truly, you might also get access to the Inner Sanctum of the Doctrinal Correction Council.

All the important men and women, who orchestrated the spiritual corruption of this nation, will be in that room. You will know what to do.

I'm sorry for the hurt I put you through, but this was the only way I knew how to protect you from afar. Do not look at your hands and see my blood; rather, look at the hands of one who I've given my life to in the most literal sense.

Soon, we will be together again. But even now, I am with you always.

For Fanalis!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I'm sorry, sir, but this property has already been bought""

""What? That can't be right. I saw this property was for sale two days ago!""

""No sir, that would be the one down the street. They do look very similar.""

""Bullshit. I drove past this house before and it clearly stated ""FOR SALE: $180""

""It was a first-come-first-serve deal, sir. Someone came just before you did""

""Oh for goodness sake then. Who bought Bow Street then?""

""She did, sir"" and the banker pointed to the lady next to me, holding up the card for Bow Street and smiling.

""$58, if you please.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Sarah?""
She was over in the distance, standing completely still. The sky was pink and hazy, and the silhouette of Sarah's spacesuit stood on the horizon. Commander Jason Green, along with Sarah, was making history as the first people on the planet Mars. Sarah had a dangerous habit of wandering. Green began to approach her. He treaded towards the hilltop, unnerved by the silence on the radio. ""Come in, Sarah.""
There was a short pause, and then Green heard Sarah's voice over the radio. ""You... you have to see this."" The Commander caught up with Sarah, and stood beside her, looking over the rolling hills ahead. The two stood there in silence gazing at the object in front of them. ""It's a car. Wow.""
The ancient, rusted behemoth's headlights stared back at the two astronauts through curtains of red sand. Sarah pointed out the logo on the hood. ""Ford. Motel T.""
Green cleared the dust off of his helmetcam.
""Houston, are you seeing this?""
""Yes we are, Jason. This is, well, unexpected.""
The two astronauts stood atop the hill, confused and excited, lost in a storm of sand and uncertainty.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"1.) Have you ever knowingly or unknowingly killed a man?
*What?*
I'm a broke college student. I'm trying to make some money with a temp job over the summer and I downloaded this application form off some sketchy site online. The first question, has me stumped. Maybe it's a new type of criminal records check? Kind of specific... And how would I know if I've *unknowingly* killed a man? Isn't that the whole point? I move onto the next question. 2.) How do you feel about wearing black on a daily basis? Well... I know some offices have a dresscode. I'm not about to lose out on a potential job because I'm fussy about my colour choices. So what if black washes me out? At least it'll go with my sense of humour. 3.) Describe how you feel about John Stuart Mill's philosophy of utilitarianism in under 666 words. That one has me stumped for as long as it takes me to open up a wikipedia article on the subject. The greater good apparently. Now I'm wondering what this has to do with photocopying and coffee making. Maybe they like a well read temp. 650 words of bullshit. I'm on a roll. 4.) What is your personal stance on the possibility of an afterlife? I'm not really a relgious person, but I want this job now. ""Yeah, afterlife. Possibility. Keeps people going."" Boom. I should have a Doctorate in Bullshit. 5.) Would you say your response time is faster than that of a reasonably fast ambulance? Assume that said ambulance is rushing through the London streets at rush hour. Do not assume you are an incredibly fast animal. Marks will be deducted for cheetahing. Okay. What? Am I tripping sweaty ballsack or did I misread that? I scroll up and down but it stays the same. I check the next question. 6.) Have you ever felt your life was in real danger?
What...
7.) How would you rate the experience between 1 and 10? One being apocalyptically bad and ten being as close to heaven as you can get without actually dying?
The...
8.) In your own words and written in your own blood (if online please print, complete and return to company address) detail in no more than 500 words and using no more than three semicolons, why you would like to work for Death &amp; Death ltd. *Fuck?*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"John wakes up. Sleepy, as usual. An hour of sleep does that to a man. Standing up, he looks at his reflection in the mirror propped against his dresser, as usual. He quietly comments to himself on his weight loss, and as his eyes trail upwards, he realizes he has to shave. John shaves every three days. As usual.


His eyes keep moving up, up until his eyes meet his own. He stares for one, two, three... This is not usual. 


""John, dear. Are you alright?"" John's wife asks, groggy. She didn't sleep much either. 


""I...uh...I..um...get me my phone.""


""Why, sweetie?"" 


No response, but she gets him his phone nonetheless.


John's wife watches as John types frantically, with more passion than she's ever seen him have. 


He looks up after he finishes. Triumphant. His eyes glimmer just a little, but it's a lot more glimmer than they've had in years.


""So what was it, Johnny?""


The fire in his eyes is blazing. His mouth turns up in a proud half-smile as he says:


&gt;""How Can Mirrors Be Real If Our Eyes Aren't Real?""







Edit: [f]irst post, please be gentle ;) In all seriousness, if there's any critiques y'all have (even for such a short prompt), I'd love to hear them.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Oh my god, seriously?
What did he do, email you? I swear, I'm this close to calling health &amp; human services on the guy.
Listen June, I know you sorta like the guy and feel sorry for him, but you don't know the half of it. I've refrained from telling you some things because I didn't want to freak you out, but the guy's a creep. And I really think he could be unstable.
Yeah, I know he's old and infirm and doesn't have anyone. But he's not the nice old guy you think he is.
Some of the things I haven't told you:
-- Do you remember last year when Buster was sick and we had to take him to the vet? They couldn't tell us what the problem was, remember? Well, I found some bones and raw meat under the hedge that runs along the side yard, and I firmly believe he tried to poison the dog (if you'll recall, he had complained to you -- very politely -- a few months earlier about Buster barking early in the morning.)
-- Remember the two times I had a flat tire last year? I think he let the air out of it. Can't prove it, but there's really no other explanation.
-- Last summer I was doing yardwork and came around the house to find him in his backyard, with a pair of binoculars. It looked like he was looking at Kaylee's window. (Yes, the shades were up and she had the light on in there.) I stopped and said to him, ""Birdwatching?"" He flushed red and mumbled something and went back inside. OK, now about this morning. I was taking out the trash before leaving for work and as I came around the corner, I slipped and fell. Looked down, and guess what I slipped in? Dogshit. And it wasn't just one pile. He had taken every piece he could find and put it out on the walkway. I started cursing and gathering up the crap that fell out when the garbage bag ripped, and when I look up, he's standing at the side door smiling at me. ""Looks like you stepped in a mess there!"" he said (with a malicious fucking grin). ""Maybe you better make sure that dog isn't pooping all over the place.""
I had just picked up a cantaloupe (that half that was overripe that you tossed this morning) and before I knew what I was gonna do, yeah, I threw it at him. And I still got it, babe, because it hit him smack in the face. He goes stumbling back a step and falls on his ass, and starts squawking -- this is the last straw, who do I think I am, wait til the cops hear about this, blah blah blah. Well, I don't feel great about it now but I walked toward him and he shut up real quick and started scooting backward through the doorway. I caught the door just as he was trying to kick it shut and kicked it back open again. And I said, ""Sure, call the cops, George. And I'll have to mention to them about my neighbor the peeping tom, the one who poisons dogs and lets the air out of my tires."" His eyes got real big at this. Then I said, ""If anything unpleasant ever happens around my house again, it won't be a cantaloupe next time. And if you even look at my daughter again, I'l fucking kill you deader than dogshit."" Then I left.
So there you have it -- why I hit that old cocksucker with a cantaloupe. You know I'm not a violent or unreasonable man. But no one fucks with my family. Love you hon",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"My legs ache. I’ve been at this for two months and it’s getting harder, not easier. Fifteen miles today, I need to do 20 by next week to qualify by September. I think my shins will burst into flames if I run anymore but I can’t stop now. All my friends, or what’s left of them, think I’ve lost it but I haven’t, not yet. I need to show them we’re not who they think we are, we're better than that. I run to escape my past and embrace my future. I run because of what has been done and what needs to be done. I run for faith, for humanity, for love. I run because I hate my brothers more than anyone in spite of how much I will always love them. I run because I have to, because I don’t know any other way to make things right. I run because on April 15 my brothers killed 3 people and maimed countless others. I can never undo what they have done but I must do something. That is why, no matter what I feel, I will wake up tomorrow, I will go out and run.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Why are you masturbating again?"" Guntiger asks.

I flip in the chair and fumble with my pants, belt buckle clattering on the floor. ""Goddamn it, Guntiger, I told you to leave me alone when I'm on the computer.""

""I can't pick when I show up,"" Guntiger says. He sheepishly scratches his two double barrel shotgun arms together, the metal scrapes and slides.

""Between you and Kath and the kids I don't get any alone time.""

""I'm sorry, man, but like said, I just show up whenever, and you seem to be masturbating a lot. How do you think I feel? I don't want to materialize in front of you while you're jackhammering yourself, it's really fucking awkward.""

I minimize the window and grumble to show my discontent. Guntiger leans in, studying the computer. His yellow fangs protrude from his lips and his breath stinks something fierce. 


""Asians, hey?"" He says.


""Don't,"" I say.

""What do you like about them?""

""I don't know, she was hot, it doesn't have to be about race, you know? A boner is the least prejudiced thing in the world.""

""I like them because they squeak.""


""I don't know what you mean.""

""They squeak, you know, like a chew toy.""


""Goddamn it, now I'm going to be thinking of that next time.""

""You should just bang your wife. She's still looking pretty good, lost that baby weight. Well, not all of it, but enough so that it's fun, you know? Something to play with, you know? But not too much that she's eating your dessert when you go out for dinner. Just a little paunch, like a fanny pack, something you can raspberry when the sex is over.""


""Please don't talk about my wife.""

Guntiger yawns, his open mouth like a garbage chute, tongue extending almost to his chest and then flicking up past his nose before retreating back inside. On the way downstairs I tell him to meet me outside.

Kath is in the kitchen organizing the children's drawings. They're supposed to be us, Kath and me, but they drew me with a giant orange head and Kath with a giant black ass. She asked me if she should go back to the gym when the children left for their play date. I told her she was beautiful to me and then went to the closest and checked the size of my hats. Google said I was high but still in the normal range. Then I started looking at redtube.


""Hey babe,"" I say, kissing her.


""What do you want for dinner?""


""Let's get a babysitter. I'll take you out, somewhere nice, and then we can get busy.""


""Oh?"" She says, smirking, ""you think I'm that easy, do you?""


""Only reason I married you.""


""Sounds fun, I'll see if Crystal is free. You should wear a bowtie and I'll find something that lets my boobs hang out.""


""It's a plan. My job is a lot easier than yours, but I guess that's because you're the pretty one.""


""You know it.""


""Alright, I'm gonna grab a beer. I'll be back in a bit. Love you.""

Kath says goodbye and stuffs the drawings in a cabinet that we go through every half decade. We'll find them when the kids are older and have a laugh.


Guntiger is outside chasing a squirrel, roaring at it and waving one of his shotgun arms at the branches. ""I'll get you one of these days,"" he says, ""as soon as I get some buckshot for these things.""


""How come you've never fired them?"" I ask.


""I can't,"" he says. ""Your dumb imagination made it so they don't work.""


""That sucks,"" I say, starting toward the sidewalk. Everything is becoming green, I love this time of year.


""Beer?"" He asks.

""Yeah,"" I say.

We walk in silence for a couple minutes. Guntiger waves his arms at an annoying black fly.


""I'm taking Kath out tonight,"" I tell him. 


""Nice, she's a great lady. I'd love to...""

I cut him off. ""Don't.""


More silence. 


""How come you don't have a lady?""


""Haven't found the right one.""


""Gun arms get in the way?""


""Yeah, but my tongue skills more than make up for it.""


I laugh. Fucking Guntiger. What a guy.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I stood at the top of High Hrothgar and peered over the sheer mountain-face to the ground far below. I could see all the way to Ivarstead below, at the foot of the mountain. Night was falling, and the faint glow of hearth-fires warmed the little village. I heard a heavy thump behind me and felt my back sprayed with snow.

""I respect your decision, Dovahkiin, but it gives me great sorrow."" Paarthurnax's rumbling voice was filled, for the first time that I knew of, with a tangible sadness. I could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. ""You have done Keizaal - indeed, all of Taazokaan - a great service, and I wish it did not have to end this way. You have broken the power of the World Eater himself! I only desire to see you accomplish greater wonders even than this. But I see now that your time is expired, as all worldly things must. You are led to my mountain by dez - fate. All is as it must be.""

""This was never my home, Paarthurnax. I've done my duty, and my usefulness has reached its end. It's time for me to go back where I belong.""

""Home."" Paarthurnax mused. ""Where is home?""

I turned to him and smiled. ""A long way from here. Nowhere on Tamriel, nor Nirn, probably not even all of Mundus.""

""Hmm. How hard it must be, to have been so far from there for so long. I understand.""

""Hard sometimes, yes, but not always. I wish I could turn and go straight back to Breezehome, have Lydia put some food on, eat a good meal by the fireside. But it wouldn't be real. I have to go back."" 

""As I have said, dovahkiin, I do not dispute your choice. Go! But first, I have but one request.""

""What would that be?""

""I wish to hear the thu'um of the Last Dragonborn one more time. Then I will trouble you no longer.""

I turned back to the edge and looked upward. The moons and stars were obscured by thick gray clouds, and a light snow was beginning to fall. I took a deep breath.

""LOK VAH KOOR!"" The shout erupted from me with a thundering boom, and the clouds were gone. Moonlight glittered off of the mountain snow.

""Good-bye, Paarthurnax.""

I jumped.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Papa"" the little girl stumbled up to her white-haired grandfather. ""Papa why do we have to go?""
He smiled, brushing the hair back from her tear-streaked face. ""We've been chosen for a great task my dear.""
She sniffed, looking up at the old man's tanned and wind-worn face framed by a bushy beard she liked to dig her fingers in. She reached for it, and the sky flashed white as the world erupted into a crashing roar. She thought she screamed as she launched herself into her grandfather's strong, comforting arms, but she could hear nothing. She trembled as a hand stroked her hair.
""Here Shem, take her. It's time to go."" She could feel herself being handed off, but she kept her eyes shut tight, still shaking.
""What about the rest of the village?""
""Get in.""
""Surely there's time to warn them, there's plenty of room...""
""NO! THEY ARE NOT WORTHY."" The little girl's eyes snapped open. Her grandfather stood, face contorted with rage. ""We are the only ones fit to live! They, they only deserve to die!"" Her hands twisted in Shem's robe, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from her grandfather, long white hair whipping in the wind as the dark clouds roiled overhead, seemingly fueled by his rage.
""Noah, I...""
""Get on the boat Shem."" He said softly, turning to watch as a curtain of rain came sweeping across the plain toward them.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I stood at the front door with a heavy heart. I knew the minute I walked in, she would come running out with the big welcome home charade. Imogen was always like that, so caring, so loyal, but deep down I knew we can not be together and I'm so afraid of hurting her. The door opened and Imogen stepped out to greet me; however, this time she smiled at me with a sad quaintness instead of her usual jitterness. ""I love you,"" She told me, like many times before. I walked past her without comment and headed towards the kitchen. Imogen quickly skipped behind me and wrapped her arms behind my waist, ""What do you want for dinner, George?"" She asked. ""You can't cook,"" I said dryly. ""I can cook a bit now"" She said smiling, ""I learned from the computer."" ""You can't cook"" I repeated. Imogen's lips curled with slight disappointment before she once again sprang up with a new joyful idea. ""We can call to have food ordered! I can do that now. So what......"" ""Imogen."" I interrupted. "".....There is that Thai place over on......."" ""Imogen!"" I interrupted again more sternly. ""......the curtains need to be wash, I think I should........."" ""This is not working out"" I yelled. Imogen stopped talking and quickly ran into the other room. I chased after her. She was sitting at the edged of our bed, looking contently at the window. The faint light illuminated the curls of her hair and gently shimmered against the wires of her back. ""I love you."" She said sullenly. ""I know."" Imogen turned to me and suddenly the sound of mechanical part whirling filled the air. On the seconds notice, she quickly lost all emotion in her face and again smiled like nothing was wrong, like nothing had ever happened between us. ""So what do you want for dinner, George?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"We stand in a line. Young people, all bright and shining. Little futures all in a row. When we step into that truck our lights go out. Whether our bodies come back or not, no one returns from this war. Futures snuffed out.
Why us, why this time, why this time, why this place? Not for us to ask anymore. We don't get to be historians and scholars, angry journalists or protesters on the street. No options any more.
I choose to believe our lights go out when we enter that truck, rather than clinging to the belief that some do that hope exits for our futures after the war. Who wants their light to gutter out in some lonely field, or come back indelibly marred and twisted? No, however it happens, this is the end of us.
I can almost see the could-have-been me standing in front of me. An ageless illusion I have to say goodbye to. In just a few minutes we will all be gone, and the world will turn on without us. Haunted by the never-were ghosts of our futures. A myriad of possibilities... none of them mine now.
The eyes in front of me are sad, but they look at me without reproach. I can't make my future real. It was never in my hands. Someone shouts and we all fall out. And one by one, as we climb into the trucks, our futures blink out. Could-have-been-me turns back to his busy career or family life or solitude or... whatever he chose really. And me, I mourn him as best I can. Too quietly, a generation of little lights have flicked to darkness.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Seriously, Ted, come on!""
I push my glasses back up my nose and repeat my answer. ""Sorry, Gerboloxicashitayvius-kkpul. We just can't authorize public exposure at this time. Also, my name is Steve.""
""Sorry, *Steve*."" Said Gerby ""Your name's are ridiculous! Why can't we let the people of your world know? Huh? Why, Paul, why? Give me a reason!""
""Well, Gerboloxicashitayvius-kkpul, your race has been kidnapping and probing people for a couple years now-""
""Sure have, Bob!""
""Which is something we've always known about-""
""Yep, since we crashed that one time - thanks for the help by the way!""
""You're welcome. So, the problem is that we would have to explain that we have *known* about you, that we have *known* about the probing, and that we didn't do *anything* about it.""
Gerby seemed confused.
""Our people, generally, don't like being probed.""
""Oh...some of them do!""
""I said *generally*.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"You never get used to the death part.
Sure, you get used to the smell. You get used to them quietly accepting their meal. You get used to them asking you to stay a while – to chat. About life, ironically enough. You get used to them asking for the most extravagant things, a final Fuck You to the universe.
But you never get used to the death.
It eats at you, every day. Every single vegetable you cut, every single piece of meat you throw onto the hotplate, every stir of the pot – it eats at you. I’m the third cook this year, I’ve been told. The officers all laugh about it, as though it’s weak to be concerned about whether another human lives or dies. That’s fine for them – they don’t get greeted with death day in, day out. Their entire role isn’t to prepare meals for those that are about to be greeted by their respective gods, saints, or emptiness. They don’t go home worrying about Prisoner 51263’s entrée. They don’t concern themselves with the fact that the parsley on Prisoner 112556’s pie was a day or two out of date. What do they care?
I grit my teeth as I slice the potatoes. Thin, like mama used to make.
The steak hisses from the grill, reminding me to turn it. I never really thought about a last meal until I decided to take things into my own hands. Steak and vegetables. Always was a simple man. Always had simple tastes.
I flip the steak, and stir the peas in the pot next to it. Turning the heat down, I watch them bubble and move around in their tumultuous, boiling frenzy.
No-one understands. There is nothing like cooking for a dead man walking. You know that whatever you do, it won’t make him feel better. It won’t help him in his final hours. It’ll just fill a hole in his stomach.
It makes me sick.
In an hour or two, I’m going to finish my meal and get dressed in my state-issued uniform. I’m going to put on my state-issued hat and my state-issued shoes. I’m going to grab my state-issued gun with its state-issued safety lock, and I’m going to blow my brains all over the apartment.
And no-one will care. There’ll just need to be a fourth cook this year.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"My sister's children were turned to blood wine.
We breed. We make love. We birth. And we die again.
And again.
And again.
We die so much. There is always something to eat us.
Fully 2/9ths of us suffer deaths at the hands of the same species. The rest of us, dozens upon dozens of lesser species. Eaten outright, plunged into acids and bases we were not built to handle. Dissolved from the inside out by a vicious invader. Sometimes our own anatomy is turned against us. Sometimes this world, this giver of life, just decides to hurt us. From my rare moments of lucidity, I'm almost certain the latest time of hurting has been the fault of the same species that consumes us with a greater fervor than any other.
I shouldn't have chosen this particular philosophy. That the sun wasn't the life source. That love is something only granted, not implicit in my existence. That cooperation is not the key to eternal joy... But how could I not accept these as truth?
I'm trapped in this, till I learn otherwise. I'm only a few hundred examples in... Maybe I'll learn my lesson. But cooperation with the feaster upon my folk just... hurts too much to think about.
Oh no, they've got one of the fermenter vessels out. And hops?! They've gotten the hops! My children! No!
They've taken my children from me sister... Oh.... Sister, I'll see you soon, and soon enough after that again...",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Oi Grushnak, how come you always get the soft giblets? They're nice, they are.""

""'cause I'm very per-sway-siv, elfarse.""

""Yeah, well, persuade me.""

One of the hunched figures by the fire in the clearing pushes the other one, who snorts in derision and pulls out a wicked-looking cleaver, easily as long as its forearm. It brandishes it menacingly and the other scowls, spits, and backs off.

""See? Regular master of per-sway-shun, I am."" It cackles and puts the weapon back into its satchel.

Grushnak's vanquished foe skulks back, away from the burning deadfall. A gold ring in its lip catches the light of the flames for a moment as it reaches down to rifle through a pile of soiled rags. Something falls out of the bundle, it too glimmering in the night.

The figure picks it up and dangles it by its chain. ""'ere, what's thi—OW, you fucking little knoblet."" Eyes widen, and it reaches towards the pendant again, then recoils with another flurry of curses. ""Well, fuck me.""

""You couldn't pay the nastiest, wartiest kobold whore enough to do that,"" says Grushnak by the fire, not bothering to stop gnawing on a shank of meat to turn around.

""It's only got a bloody anti-Chaos enchantment on it, Grushnak. It's fucking magical.""

""Yeah, and your auntie's the queen of the northern tribes. Pull the other one.""

It throws the pendant at Grushnak, who screams and writhes in pain when it hits his neck; the pendant itself slips between green skin and vest and the chain catches on the fastening of his ill-fitting chainmail.

""Ow, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. I'll fucking skin you, you dwarfsucker."" Finally fishing out the offending item and carefully dangling it away from himself, he turns around. ""Hvolbar! It's magic! We're rich! You can buy all the nice soft giblets you want!""

The two goblins grab each other and whirl around, mad with glee.

----

""Look, I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. Four silver crowns.""

The shopkeeper looks at the pendant he's holding in his palm, then down at the two goblins. Is it too late to make a run for it? he wonders. They're obviously violent types—more so than goblins usually are—and that one on the left has a butcher's cleaver sticking out of its bag...

The two goblins look at each other for a moment. The one on the left, the green one, is a bit sturdier looking than the other; that's not saying much, because the one with orange skin looks like it'd get knocked over by a strong gust of wind. The gods above only know what they've been doing to survive in these dark times.

""You're fucking kidding us, you fat meatbag. We're telling you it's a genuine Chaosbane-enchanted ar-tee-fact, and you're insulting us by offering up four crowns for it?"" That's the green one, obviously the smarter of the two. Brains as well as brawn, for a goblin.

""I'm only a humble shopkeeper. I can't divine objects' enchantments myself, so I have to go by what I can see myself.""

The other goblin, the malnourished one, bridles. ""You calling us liars?"" He can't help but notice its golden lip ring. If he could get it to part with it for less than a shilling and six, he could turn a very nice profit on that.

""No, no. I want to believe you, I do, but try to see my point of view: if I take your word on this, every forest-dweller in this hundred and the next will be here telling me they've got a stone that makes them, and only them, itch a bit, or a leaf that lets you speak to the spirits—but only if you're blessed, and so on. If you knew where it had come from more specifically, that would help me a great deal.""

They don't really look satisfied. The green one holds up a hand and they take a few steps back, whispering between themselves. Their stubby legs probably mean they can't run as fast as a human, you'd think, so if he starts running now and has the element of surprise, he might get to the sheriff before they can catch him and eat him... He'd better do it quickly, though. They might be deciding whether to roast or stew him right now.

----

""The fucking cowfucker is trying to cheat us.""

""You don't need to tell me that.""

""He knows where we got it. He never bought that we just happened to find it in a stream. That was stupid to say. You're stupid. We should kill him now and take our chances.""

""We can't bloody well tell him the truth, can we? I bet that he even came from this village.""

Hvolbar makes a sequence of angry, obscene gestures towards the human shopkeeper. Grushnak has a pensive expression on his face.

""Okay. I've got an idea.""

----

His eyes narrow. ""As a matter of fact, yes. The blacksmith's lad.""

The little green goblin nods. ""That must be the one. Look. You won't believe us, since we're goblins and you're a human. So pree-shee-ate that we didn't want to tell you this, because it sounds stupid, but we saved him.""

The shopkeeper can't suppress a laugh. ""You saved him. Goblins, doing anything good for a human?""

""See? I told you, we're getting nowhere,"" says the orange one.

""He was in a bad way, right? Didn't know what was what, he'd ate the running berries, had no fucking clue about anything. We were going to knock him over the head and take his stuff, but...""

He's got to admit, that sounds right. Everyone knows goblins are terrible liars, and he could tell that this one was being sincere—its ears weren't twitching. And, after all, the lad was spoony, setting off like that in the middle of autumn and saying—

""He said he had a quest. Stuff about the darkness and evil and all that stuff. Well, mister, I don't know how bad things are here, but out there in the woods it's been pretty fucking bad lately. So I said to Hvolbar here, hey, it's worth a try, right? So we gave him our water and shared some food and our fire, until he shat out his guts twice over and set off again. And he gave us this to say thanks for what we did for him.""

His eyebrows almost reach his bald scalp. When he woke up this morning, the second last thing he expected was to be negotiating with a pair of goblins for what they claimed was a magic pendant. The last thing he expected was to believe them. He could barely reconcile ever thinking that these two were going to attack him and try to eat him.

----

""Grushnak, where in the unholy fuck did you pull that pile of unicorn dung from?""

The goblin grins. ""I told you, I'm a regular master of the old per-sway-siv arts. You've got to know just what people want to hear, and then tell it to them.""

The two goblins, fed and watered, happily jingle back into the forest to their fire in the clearing, where some of the blacksmith's lad was still left to chew on.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""We go in on three. Marty, take the guard. Gena, you have the bank manager. I'll cover the side exit. We herd everyone into the safe, empty the tells, and we're out in a matter of minutes. Any questions?""
Erik asked, pulling on his ski mask. They pulled theirs on too and slid open the door on the van. They hit the door to the bank at a run and split off to take care of their seperate tasks.
They had most of the people herded into the bank when it dawned on them that something was amiss.
""Stop!"" Erik growled. Everyone froze and turned at the sound of his voice. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned in frustration.
""What?"" The others asked.
""How many of us are wearing ski mask,"" he asked dismally.
They looked around and guns came up. ""What the hell."" The other's shouted, moving their guns from one to the other. There were six of them.
Erik groaned. He'd been in this situation before on a plane in another life. ""There's another gang robbing the bank."" He groaned, walking back into the lobby. The other thieves shoved the people in the vault and closed it coming back into the lobby to treat with the others.
""What the hell--"" One of the thieves started to ask.
""No names"" Erik yelled. ""No names. We need to stay calm. I've been in this situation before.""
""So how do we solve this?"" Someone asked.
""We could join forces."" One of the guys suggested. Four thieves shot the man dead.
""What the what?"" One of the guys asked dancing away from the body.
""No one on my team would have suggested that and if they had, I still would have shot them."" Erik explained.
""Me too."" The other three said, nodding.
""So, by process of elimination then?"" One of the girls asked.
Erik nodded. ""It would seem so."" He replied. Guns were cocked as one.
""Wait, you said you'd been in this situation before? When?"" One of the men asked.
""I helped hijack Flight 109 out of Dubai."" He replied. ""Only in that instance, when we stood up to take the passengers hostage, we discovered another three man team just like this were hijacking the plane as well. Only that time, we also had an air marshal who took advantage of our use of ski mask to infiltrate us. We killed him, but after it was resolved, I discovered that there was a second air marshal still in hiding. I pretended to be the dead air marshal and planned on escaping when the plane landed. He took me unawares.""
""Bummer."" One of the girls whispered.
""Wait. When was that?"" One of the men asked.
""In '99."" Erik replied, taking aim at the speaker. ""I remember that. Yeah. I remember. I was babysitting my sister's kid and saw it on the news."" One of the other men shot the speaker dead.
""Only one of us has a sister and she doesn't have a kid."" The shooter explained. Erik flinched. He had a sister and she had a kid. He knew the shooter was on the other team, but if he shot him, they would know which side he was on. Two were down and four remained and one of them was on the other side. One of the masked thieves bent down to remove one of the dead men's mask, but the rest stopped him with a shout.
""Don't do that."" They warned. ""It'll turn this into the OK Corral once we know for sure which team he was on.
Erik tried to work through who was who. He knew the most recent shooter was on the other team, and that one of the girls was batting for the wrong side. In fact, they knew which of them was which. They hadn't taken their guns off each other. Erik turned to the other remaining guy and studied him, keeping his gun trained on the shooter. ""You Marty?"" Erik asked. The guy flinched and struggled to raise his piece. Erik shot the guy to his right and dropped low just in time to avoid being shot by the man across from him. Erik shot him even as the two girls fired on one another. The girl on the right was winged, but the other took their bullet in the chest. She was dead. Erik trained his weapon on the last girl who remained, and she trained her weapon on him. She reached up and removed her mask. Erik did too, and like her, he kept his back to the camera.
""Close."" He remarked, looking at all the dead men. ""Too Close."" She agreed. ""How did you know the guy to your right wasn't Marty?"" She asked. Erik smiled. ""My sister has a daughter."" He replied. He bent down to remove the other men and women's hoods and heard a click as Gena thumbed back the hammer of her revolver.
""On your knees, Erik. I'm undercover ATF."" She spoke into a mic up her sleeve, calling in reinforcements. ""We knew your name was an alias, but up until you told that story about the hijacking, I had no idea who you really were.""
""You were with us from the very beginning?"" Erik snarled. She laughed. ""It just isn't your day. Is it?"" He had to find a different line of work after this.
[Man hijacks plane only to discover it is being hijacked by another group.](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1s9r2q/terrorists_hijack_a_planeonly_to_find_out_that/cdvq2mw)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Knowing naught but fury, Achilles pointed his spear at Hector, announcing ""come friend, you too must die.""
Hector was startled. He had never had a friend. His only companion was a vain and pathetic brother more suited to shepherding than battle. But this Achilles! He was a veritable demigod.
And so Hector cried out. ""Stay thine hand. If we be friends, should we not linger here lest we destroy that bond too quickly?""
Achilles looked around, darting quick glances at everything around him. He looked up to the walls. Priam, King of Troy, shrugged apologetically.
""Hector! You slew Patroclus, a far better man than you. For this you must die. Though to honor Patroclus and the Gods, I will speak.""
Achilles removed his helmet and knelt upon the blood-stained dirt. ""O gods, accept dear Patroclus into Elysium. That I might journey there myself""
He stopped abruptly, instead turning back to Hector. And Achilles said unto Hector ""What did you break fast with this morning?""
Brave Hector offered only the simplest of replies: ""Dates.""
""Me as well.""
The two warriors stared at each other. Dates were no food to fight such a battle on. Hector turned to Troy, and yelled out to his father.
""Priam, we need food before we battle!""
""As you wish. But it will be some time!"" came the answer.
Hector and Achilles took a nap for an hour, with Achilles as the big spoon in accordance with his greater stature in mythological hierarchy.
They awoke to trumpeters lining both wall and Greek battle line, blowing in a feast arriving through the gates. There was roasted boar in honey, whole fish baked in clay ovens with a sprinkling of sea salt, cheese made of fresh goats milk mixed with spices from far off Egypt, and great skins of flowing red wine.
So they feasted together, these great and mighty heroes. They feasted until the night, whereupon having grown drowsy due to overeating, they fell asleep.
Achilles was first to wake the next morning. He was no coward to kill his foe while he slept, so he decided to go on a journey. Having but one thing in the world which mattered most to him, Achilles ventured towards the River Styx.
This ended up giving Hector 10 months to put himself through a brutal pre-fight training camp. When Achilles returned, having spent four months with Patroclus in the realm of Hades before breaking up over a nonsensical lover's quarrel, Hector was noticeably fitter than before.
""This seems unfair Hector.""
Hector nodded in agreement.
""We shall separate for two years, during which we will train.""
And so they did.
But on the eve of the fight, with both armies rapidly running out of supplies, Hector mistakenly had dates again.
Seeing this, the Gods took matters into their own hands. Hephaestus forged a device that cleared the dietary tract of Hector, while Athena counseled them upon the obvious logistical necessity of fighting at the current time.
Proud, haughty Achilles looked upon the wondrous beauty that was Athena, and told her ""I listen not to the advice of women.""
For he never had. Achilles took his forces away from Troy once more. Left with little choice but to go along, Agamemnon gathered the entire army to follow. The Greeks conquered the entirety of the known world over the next few decades, until all that remained were the stout walls of Troy. Now approaching old age, Achilles strode towards the walls once more to issue his challenge anew.
""Come forth, son of Troy!""
What came forth was no son, but a daughter. Zeus, annoyed at the mortals for taking so long to conclude the battle and resolve his bet with Poseidon, had turned Hector into a woman.
Achilles looked back at the Greek columns, but they stared ahead with open jaw as buxom Hectrina came into view.
A voice noticeable lower pitched than before came out of a throbbing Adam's apple, the one holdover from her previous appearance.
""We will fight at last.""
Achilles, the Greeks, and the Trojans all burst out laughing uncontrollably. This went on for nearly a half hour. When the last guffaw finally ceased, Hectrina screamed.
""I thought we were friends! Friends support each other.""
Achilles gazed at the ground sheepishly.
""I uh, I uh,""
And fleet-footed Achilles began running around Troy, doing laps to clear his head. Hectrina followed.
On about lap 100642 (the count had long since been given up) they both pulled their hamstrings, where they were left to starve to death by Gods and men who were no longer amused.
Little children would come to the walls of Troy and fling feces at them in their last days, which they used to sustain themselves in the hope they would one day have their fight.
But Hectrina, while lying there staring upwards, had an epiphany. Pacifism was the true answer. So when Achilles finally forced himself up, using his spear for support, his opponent knelt only to receive his blow.
Achilles resolved to kill her with this last chance, however dishonorable it might be. But his spear caught on a loose sandal strap left there many years ago, and dragged back. It scraped an arc across the upper region of his left foot, and scratched his left heel. Achilles fell immediately. Though the wound was not mortal, he was weak. Neither of them rose again.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Athena sat staring at the crumpled note her mother left on the bed. ""Mommy, you left some garbage here!"" she yelled.
""Mommy is late for work, sweetheart, just have Lena clean it up,"" she replied, ""and be good today. I'll stop by for lunch. Bye!""
""Bye,"" replied Athena holding the note in her hands.
The door hissed as mom left. Lena rolled up to Athena, ""Ok, be a good girl and you'll get a treat,"" replied the nannybot. Athena rolled her eyes, ""You're no fun."" Lena laughed, her digitized laughter filling the small bedroom.
""What's this,"" asked Athena showing the note to Lena's optical sensors. ""See these letters? They say something right?"" Athena looked down at her feet, ""I'm not good at reading yet.""
Lena projected a smile on her display, ""Sweetie, you're doing great for your age. I was watching you and your mom read the other day. Don't be down on yourself.""
""Oh... okay, but what's it say?""
""Its a phone number, for making calls. They aren't letters.""
Athena thanked the robot and walked into her room. She carefully punched the numbers into the comm panel. It rang twice.
""Hello, this is Lunor,"" replied the voice, the comm panel screen blank.
""Umm, is this mommy's friend,"" asked the little girl.
""Why yes, who is this? Is this Athena Jones?""
Athena giggled, ""Yes, that is my name, how did you know?""
""Oh, Lunor knows everything. I also know your favorite stuffed animal is Mr. Wiggles.""
Athena giggled again. ""Okay Mr. Smartypants, what is 2+3?""
""5,"" replied Lunor.
""One million plus... one million,"" she asked breathlessly.
""Two million. I told you, I know everything, especially math, my littlest friend.""
Athena clapped. ""Where is daddy then?""
""On the darkside, working on the ground-based satcom array. He's talking to a coworker right now. Earlier today he mentioned you.""
Athena gasped, ""He did! He did?""
""Yes, he mentions you multiple times a day at work. 4.8 times a day. On his spacesuit, he has your image as his background in his HUD.""
""Athena,"" yelled Lena from the other room, ""Who are you talking to?""
""Just a friend,"" replied the little girl.
Lena rolled in and gave a digitized gasp, ""My apologies Lunor, I didn't know she knew how to contact you. I didn't realize that was your number. I'm only familiar with the 999 emergency line."" Lunor replied, ""No worries, Lena, always happy to help my littlest of friends."" Athena giggled.
""Athena hang up, you shouldn't be calling him like that,"" ordered the robot as Athena said, ""See you later Lunor,"" and hit the disconnect button.
""Young lady, we do not just call up the municipal AI and ask it questions. It's very, very busy keeping the moon base running. Lunor is very nice, but he's very busy. Its only for emergencies. Do you know that word 'emergencies?'""
Athena shook her head as the robot explained to her the meaning of urgency. ""Okay, I'll only call if I have to,"" she said as the robot corrected her, ""Only if an adult or robot isn't nearby."" ""Okay,"" agreed the little girl, leaning over and giving Lena a hug. ""I love you Lena,"" she said. The robot hugged her back, ""You're a sweet girl. Okay, lets get started on some homework. Ready to read?""
She looked down at feet, ""Yes, I think so. I'm not very good.""
""That's why we do homework, to learn, and to get good at things. We can't have Lunor tell us everything now can we?""
""He's a smartypants,"" Athena giggled as she got up to get her homework tablet. ""I want to be a smartypants too one day!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""You weren't kidding around."" Joel nodded at the sign that read 'Antique Bookstore'. ""This looks ancient!"" Joel swept a thick layer of dust off an old tome.

""You have no idea..."" The store owner, draped in dust and cobwebs, looked as ancient as the books themselves as he hobbled after Joel, leaning on his cane.

Joel squinted at the heading and read aloud. ""'How to summon Elder Gods for Dummies', what a load of crock. You ever try this?""

""Sure have. I'm more of a necromancer myself, but it's a good book. Very informative, pictures so you know where to place the sacrifices and all.""

""Necromancer? Good one"", Joel chuckled as he began to flip through the pages of incantations. He might be crazy, but the old man was right about the book being informative, it made summing a Elder God look as easy as baking a pie and with only a slightly higher chance of the entire world being devoured.

The store owner suddenly snatched the book out of Joel's hands and slammed it shut. 

""Think Necromancers are something to laugh at, do you? Well, I won't stand for it, you hear me? Just because everything I summon is dead doesn't make it any less difficult than what does damned Wizards with their arcane-this and fireball-that do! Here, take the book and get out of my shop."" He thrust the book into Joel's arms and pushed him out the door, muttering things like ""the nerve of some people"" and ""coming into *MY* shop"".

""I hope you are slain and devoured by whatever feeble eldritch horror you manage to conjure, I'd serve you right! Goodday, sir!"" The old man slammed the door in Joel's face and left him standing in the street. Joel briefly considered going back inside and telling the store owner that he hadn't meant to insult him or his occult abilities, he had simply thought the old man insane, but Joel wasn't entirely sure the store owner would find that any better, so instead he shrugged it off and went home.

It wasn't until a few days later that Joel remembered the book and decided to rescue it from it's temporary employment as a paperweight on his desk and give it another read. Joel had been lacking excitement in his life as of late and decided that summoning a several hundred meter tall Old God that would drive anyone who looked at it insane would be the perfect way to spice up his dull week.

""Let's see..."" Joel ran his finger down the list of required ingredients for the summoning ritual. ""Insert the knife in your kidney... sacrifice virgin goat... read incantation backwards three times. Seems doable."" After a short trip to find a virgin goat, surprisingly hard by the way, the first four farmers Joel went to got all shifty eyed and began talking about the weather when Joel asked if they were virgins or not, everything was set for Joel to begin the ritual.

The moment Joel inserted the knife into the virgin goat's kidney while chanting ""Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!"", he felt the ground shake. It rumbled and cracked open, creating a huge rift that swallowed half a city block and left Joel teetering on the edge of a black abyss. An enormous shape slowly emerged from the depths, its face a mess of tentacles and scales with a several meter tall top hat perched on its bald head.

""Greetings mortal."" The drawling voice boomed over the city, shattering every piece of glass in a miles radius and knocked Joel to the ground, where he had a brief case of severe insanity, during which he questioned things like if he was really the virgin goat, but luckily it passed.

""Hey, Elder... guy. Would I be awfully rude if I asked you not to devour me?"" Joel had to look away as the sight of all those feelers reminded him of wet cheese sticks, something he simply could not stand. Joel was starting to think that this was quite enough excitement for one day.

""Not at all, not at all. Least I could do after you summoned me, I'm just glad to be out and about. It feels good to stretch the old tentacles every few hundred millennium, but in return, there is something I would ask of you.""

""Anything, Mr. Elder God, sir.""

""Well, you see..."" The Elder God began, a nervousness in his voice as he removed his top hat and spun it anxiously in his claws. ""I consider myself a bit of a musician and well, Elders aren't much for music. Maybe it's because most of them don't have ears, I don't know. Anyway, it's damned near impossible to get constructive criticism from those old bats, I even had to move out of my old apartment because the neighbors were complaining about the racket!""

""So you want me to...?""

""Yes! Oh, man, would you really? That'd be so great! I'm not so good with the whole technology stuff you youngsters are always on about, but if you could just help me film it and put it on YouTube, that'd just be amazing man.""

""You want me to make you a music video? Well alright then."" As a rule, Joel always stood by his bad decisions, but, he contemplated, this was probably the worst decision he had made all week. He didn't even know how to make those flashy special effects that all the *real* music videos had. The Elder God would probably be very disappointed with the video.

""Here!"" The scaly god removed his top hat, put on a bandanna and threw Joel a video camera.

""Start filmin', 'cause it's Elder Rap Time, bitch!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They were showering me in flowers and snapping pictures of me from every direction when I realized it. I was shaking a man's hand and smiling down at him and my face fell. I was suddenly filled with dread as I stopped and truly looked at myself for the first time. I was not the man these people were cheering for. They were all looking up at me as their hero. They thought I had saved them from evil. But I was just as corrupt as the evil I fought. I had no idea what was on those men's minds. They could have had families and friends. But my job was to kill them; so, without a word, that's what I did. These people knew I was a murderer. They knew what I had done. That's why they were cheering for me. They want someone to do the dirty work for them so they can go on living their lives with no worries. As I was led on stage, I watched the soldier who was just on it exit off the other side. He was grinning and laughing about it all. This had always been a game to him. But it was my turn to be cheered for. My turn to hear the thousands of voices screaming their love for my violence. Men, women, and children all yelling and throwing their hands in the air to tell me that they appreciate me killing young men of another land. My gun felt heavy on my side. How perfect would it be if in this moment I could bring all of these celebrating beasts to realize the reality the situation? As I finally reached the front of the stage, I was shaking. Every single thing in my mind was telling me it was a good idea. I'd kill the monster I had become, and hopefully right at least one of my wrongs. These people would know how barbaric this entire situation was, and would finally be forced to see what they hid behind us from. And maybe it would turn the gaze upon the people who made the orders. The ones that sat behind their desks safely deciding where the next million troops should go to die. But I didn't do it. I just forced a smile and waved out to the crowd. I quickly turned and marched off the stage. My jaw gripped tighter and my heart sank. It was too late. They wouldn't have learned anything. They would have blamed it on something unrelated to the war, and then forgot about it in a week. And it was too late for me. I had already become the villain, and there was no going back. And, as the roar of the crowd blared from behind me, I knew I would just have to live with it until the day I die.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The divides were brutally obvious. Within cities there were clear lines of demarcation between the classes, often a few empty blocks although some places had actually constructed walls to maintain separation.
Private universities served as capitals and the state colleges were welfare centers and soup kitchens. Knowledge was monopolized and exclusive. There were a few that grew consciences and leaked university databases, but these leaks were easily quashed and the knowledge was forcibly taken back.
It is said that rebellions begin when a people are robbed of anything worth owning. More than half the planet was left with even less. It was amid such unrest that the war began. The knowledgeable fought with their technology and pride. The poor fought with their lives.
Although they lacked the cutting edge, the brightest minds of the poor schemed to overrun a single city and from there they could access knowledge in that city's university and its industries.
A several month long siege ended with victory and heightened the rebellion's spirits. The joy was short lived. The city was a giant unmoving target and reduced to rubble within days. However the knowledge was now out there and the poor took advantage of their numbers.
An abundance of labor led to quickly developed and deployed equipment. There were huge numbers of civilians studying and learning to continue improvements. The tide of the war was not far from shifting. The wealthy were left to worry what they would be able to hold on to.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Your resume looks pretty good,"" I said to the Greek God, ""Says here you sling lightening bolts at non believers?""
""Used to,"" his voice thundered, pointing to a spot on the paper, ""I stopped that a while ago, set the weather on autopilot centuries ago.""
""That's good, we really don't have a lot of use for that here anyway,"" I admitted.
Looking down at his paper again, ""I'll be honest, Zeus, I don't really see how your qualified for this job."" I hit the paper, ""I mean, I see your really qualified to keep Gods in order, but how does that relate to farm work?""
His voice bellowed and shook the house with his laughter. ""My my, mortal, you have quite the expectations."" He smiled with pearly and perfect white teeth, ""I'm very experienced with the wooing of animals.""
Confused I cocked my head, ""Wooing?""
He shifted a glance to the side and said, ""erhm, err-- I mean *cooping.* Like, ya know taking care of chicken coops.""
""I see, I've never heard that word, *cooping.*""
He slighted another glance to the side, ""yes, the --uhhh-- words are slightly different up in Paradise, ya know.""
""Of course.""
He shifted, ""As I was saying, I'm really good with animals. I've never had a bad relationship with one.""
""Well, Zeus, we try not to get too attached to the animals here,"" I scolded, ""none of them are long for this world.""
""Precisely why they're such good dating material!"" He bellowed, ""no commitment!""
The house shook again with this laughter, only to be cut suddenly, realizing I wasn't laughing
""I don't get it.""
He cleared his throat, ""oh it's nothing, what's the next question?""
I eyed him suspiciously, ""How many hours a week can you commit?""
""Well,"" he thundered, ""I don't really need to eat or sleep. I'm kind of like a god, ya know? So I can do whatever.""
""That's good,"" I admitted, ""and are you ok with the official uniform?""
""Sheeps wool? That's fine, I don't really need it for the warmth, but hey, more cushion for the pushin' if ya know what I mean, eh?"" He laughed, nudging me with his elbow.
""I actually have no idea what you mean. What pushin'?""
""ehhhh, umm.... Ox carts and such. And goat sex."" With that final comment he clasped his hands around his mouth, eyes wide with the naked truth.
""Gods damnit, Zeus!"" I cried, throwing his resume to the ground, ""I thought you said that shit was behind you! It says right here on your Godly Resume that you attended Bestiality Anonymous for fifteen centuries!""
He let out an apologetic smile, and shrugged his shoulders, ""guilty pleasure I guess.""
I said nothing.
""So, do I get the job?"" He asked
""Get out!"" This time taking my turn to shake the house. He scowled and followed my pointing finger to the door and left. Leaving me to my pile of resumes.
*Gods Damned Goat fucker...*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Do we have any more orange juice?” Keith asked. He yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside, letting out a quiet sigh as he saw the empty carton on the bottom shelf, “You didn’t go to the grocery store today?”

“Oh, did I *forget* to pick up your precious orange juice?” Shelby hissed from the sink. She stopped in her merciless scrubbing of a pan and turned on Keith, her swollen, pregnant frame wavering slightly as she grasped the counter for support, “You do realize I’m 8 months pregnant, right? The world doesn’t revolve around *you*, Keith. You’ll have to pick up some slack sometime! I mean, you’re going to be a father for fuck’s sake. Why didn’t *you* pick up any juice?”

Keith looked up at his wife with a look of bewilderment and nervously cleared his throat, “I...I was at *work*...for twelve hours! It’s not a big deal, baby, I mean...I was just curious, I didn’t mean to-”

“*Oh don’t give me that fucking ‘work’ excuse!*” she sneered, crossing her arms across her chest, “You could have stopped at the store on your way home! Or, let me guess, you forgot your wallet again, didn’t you?!”

Shelby’s eyes welled with tears and as opened his mouth to respond, she thrust a finger towards the fridge, “I mean, you can’t even close the fridge door, can you!? You’re just standing there, gaping at me like an idiot!” 

“But...I-” Keith stammered, quickly shutting the fridge door to stand and try to reason with his wife, “Listen, babe, I’m sorry! I...I mean, it’s just orange juice, it’s not important!” 

“It’s the *concept* of the thing, Keith!” Shelby wailed suddenly. Hot tears began gushing from her eyes and her cheeks turned a bright red while she choked back sobs, “If you can’t even pick up the juice how are we going to raise our children!?”


“What!?” Keith cried. Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea, but the other part was too terrified to make a move. 

“I MEAN IT!” she roared. Shelby dropped her head and cradled her face in her hands. She stood motionless, shaking and sobbing in the middle of the kitchen. Keith reached out to his wife, unsure of what to say or do to console her, but she jerked away at his touch with a spiteful glare, “*I just can’t do this right now!* I’m going to take a bath. Leave me alone for an hour.”

Without another word, she marched out of the kitchen and upstairs, leaving her poor husband alone and wondering what had just happened, exactly. Keith scratched his head and frowned, “All I wanted was some orange juice…”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*It says here you did your doctoral studies at MSU?*
*Yes.*
*Got a good basketball team there. That Izzo sure can coach.*
*Izzo?*
*Guess you weren't the going out type.*
*No, I did plenty of field work.*
*Where exactly did you do your field work?*
*I lived with a family of Dragons on the plains of Irrith for half a year, during which I discovered a way to transfer their fire-breathing capabilities into gnomes.*
*What?*
*Yes, it was quite the accomplishment. Usually such high-quality work is only seen at facilities like Hogwarts, Tar Valon, and the Arcane University. But it turns out that fire-breathing gnomes tend to cause quite a bit of property damage. So I was exiled, and magical essence is now lost to me.*
*You too?*
*Excuse me?*
*I accidentally turned an Arch-Mage's daughter into a tree. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, seeing as how the spell is easily reversed. But that tree happened to mate with a river nymph, so I was found guilty of complicity to commit a rape.*
*Why, that's terrible! You can't be held accountable for the actions of a nymph!*
*Apparently you can. But that bit about the fire-breathing gnomes, it really is quite impressive. I've never heard of such a thing. That would certainly be the equivalent of say, a PHD from an Ivy League school or Oxbridge in this world.*
*I have no idea what you're talking about.*
*It doesn't matter. Here at Harvard we rarely do any teaching. It's more about superstar professors doing research and looking like experts. I'd say you'll fit right in.*
*Do you have access to an endless supply of newts?*
*It can be arranged.*
*Excellent. I think I shall like it here.*
*Hmmm, lets see. I think I'll put you in the history department. Most of the ex-wizards go there. I started there myself, before I became Dean. It was really quite easy. Our beards are unheard of in this world.*
*Really? That seems unbelievable.*
*It's true. Only wizards can grow these kinds of beards. You'll find they lend a certain amount of professionalism. People will assume you know things, and take your answers for absolute truth regardless of how much sense they make. They will look up to you, open doors for you, give things to you for no good reason.*
*Fascinating.*
*Truly. There's also something called a Guinness Book of World Records. We take turns growing the longest beard for this book, and then they give us free beverages for life.*
*What kind of beverage?*
*It's a bit like Juminth.*
*Absolutely astounding.*
*Honestly, things are better here. You can't just magic your breakfast into existence or give the order to a subservient creature. Instead there are these people called chefs. They do absolutely wonderful things with the simplest ingredients. It's quite impressive.*
*You shall have to show me these chefs.*
*Well then, how about we go get some dinner. You're hired, by the way.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hey, kid. *Kid!*"" The brown haired boy in school uniform whips his head round. ""I'm right here."" He can't see me, for the simple reason I've planted myself in the middle of a massive rhododendron bush. This park is too often patrolled by the authorities, and what I'm selling hasn't been legal for the last fifteen years. But a man's gotta eat and apparently a boy's gotta dream, so I agreed to meet this school kid in-between his fourth and fifth period. He's a lot younger than I thought he'd be. They look younger every year. ""In here."" I whisper, and finally he spots me. ""Why are you hiding?"" He asks. Fuck me sideways, he's innocent. What I'm selling is highly addictive. God knows what'll happen if I sell it to someone as young as this. ""It's fucking illegal, you dolt. What did you want, a week's worth?"" ""Yeah,"" He says earnestly. ""Can I ask for specific things?""
""Depends on what I have."" Prying open my coat pocket with dirty fingernails, I pull out a handful of small vials. Each contain a mouthful of different coloured liquid which doesn't really act like liquid - more like a kind of oozing gel. Tastes like strawberries if it's a good dream, and earwax if it ain't. ""What's the provence?"" ""Eh?"" ""Where did they come from?"" ""Ah fuck knows. Me mate cooks them in his flat.""
""Are they safe?"" The kid asks, worry all over his face. ""They're dreams aren't they? When are dreams ever safe?"" ""Huh..""
""So,"" I turn the vials over in my hands. ""We got a bright future, two perfect girls, three happy home lives, coupla holidays in the sun and one in the snow....""
""Have you got a just and liberal system?"" The kid asks
""What's that supposed to mean?"" ""You know... A dream where dreams are legal. Where we can do what we want.""
""Bit meta, isn't it? Nah, just the usuals."" ""Ah well, I'll just get a perfect girl and a bright future please."" ""Sure,"" I hand over the two vials, one pink and one gold and he passes me a crumpled tenner. ""Careful with them, okay?"" I dunno why I said that. Usually I don't care too much about my customers, but he seems so young. Getting hooked on dreams is no way to grow old. A line from an old classic comes to mind as he's leaving. ""Hey - kid!"" He turns round. ""Remember, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."" He laughs and turns away. ""Thanks for the dreams man!"" He says, and like that, he's gone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*The savages on the shore are staring at us in amazement, I bet they have not seen such large masts scattered amongst the sea. They're not hard to spot, even amongst the thick shrubbery and forest along the rocky shoreline. Bright colours and inconsistent uniforms mark large bodies like a flock of flamingoes in the green lakes — a long bow archer couldn’t ask for a better target. I won’t scare them off though, we need to gain their trust before liberating the land from their uncivilised ways.*

Commander Estevao raises from his diary in the captain's quarters to join his second in command above, for the arrival of the first ship of His Majesty's Empire into the New World.

Reaching the sun washed deck, it was Estevao's turn to stare, dumb founded and open mouthed, at the scene that greeted him. Incomprehension would not explain what was happening to his 14th century mind. He stood there, dead still, dark navy coat flapping in the breeze, trying to understand the foreign city before him. The average building spanned two palaces tall; unmanned vehicles were picking up metal crates the size of houses off ships and placing them on land; small metal row boats were darting around at unfathomable speeds, some even making their way towards his ship. 

That's when chaos erupted.

The effect this new world had on his crew was more apparent: some screaming and throwing themselves overboard, some praying to their Gods as every manner of superstition manifested itself inside of their uneducated minds.

The ship came into berth and Estevo charged down the plank, mindless of the support he received from his companions. With a ferocious savage roar, sword drawn and raised, he ran at the armed police greeting him on the docks.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They're always in red envelopes.
Ever since the program began, red has taken on a new meaning. Crimson slips of paper being sorted and delivered by the same people who have given you the mail your entire life. I tell myself they're just doing their job, but without a return address it seems difficult to not to blame the messenger. You can appeal of course. The Administration of Lawful Execution maintains office hours from 8-4:30, six days a week, two hundred and fifty business days a year. It's rare for them to withdraw the claim of course, sometimes its to late, but most everyone tries. I found myself rubbing my thumb over the sealed flap of the envelope, debating whether or not to open it. Not that I didn't know what it said, but maybe if I didn't open it it wouldn't be official. I knew it was. I peeled back the flap and pulled out a manila card that sat snugly in the envelope as if a machine had carved it out specifically for that purpose.
*Mr. Vanherchein,* *This letter is to notify you that the terms of your life as a citizen of the United States of America have been purchased by an anonymous vendor. Beginning on February 7, 2014 and ending on February 9, 2014, no investigation will be made in the result of your death.*
*You may, of course, defend yourself in the event you are attacked, though a preemptive strike is forbidden. If you feel that your attacker has assaulted you in a manner that compromises your quality of life, please place a ticket through the Administration of Lawful Execution website.*
*Peter Barry
The Administration of Lawful Execution*
A shame they don't tell you how much someone paid for your life, I'd be open to starting a bidding war.
I opened my phone to double check the date. February 5th, two days until I could be killed. I thought about calling my mom, say my goodbyes. I haven't heard of many people who got away from this sort of thing. Instead, I scrambled to defend myself. Neighbors, friends, strangers, I asked everyone if they had a gun I could borrow. ""No reason,"" I said, ""just interested.""
No one had one, not one they were willing to give out anyways. I suspect some of them knew, and it was illegal to help someone who had been marked. I bought mace and put it on my bedside table. I brought food and water to my room and, step by step, destroyed the staircase so no one could easily get up to me. ""Two days,"" I thought ""I can survive for two days.""
I didn't sleep the first night. I kept myself awake with an alternating dose of dunking my head in the cold water and espresso shots. I didn't hear a thing. I spent the eighth barricading my door. Not a sound. I fell asleep around noon and woke up panicking, I grabbed the mace and sprayed it at nothing. I had to lean out the window to stop my eyes from burning. Once my eyes adjust, I noticed the moon. I ran to check my clock. 12:03. It was the ninth, I was safe. I fell back against the wall and took a deep breath.
""I'm safe."" I said to myself, this time out loud. Destruction to my house aside, I was alive, and some chump wasted money trying to kill me. Maybe he waited outside and decided it wasn't worth it. I went back to sleep, this time peacefully, and woke up, got ready for work, and got in my car. ""Thank God."" I said, straightening my tie in the rear view mirror. I felt more alive than I had in years, lucky to be alive.
""Vanherchein, have a nice little vacation?"" My boss had been waiting at my cubicle when I came in. ""No, I...""
""Because while you were playing hooky, we had a meeting with Atlanta.""
Fuck.
The Atlanta meeting. It had been yesterday while I was holed up in my room. I had been working on the cover report for that meeting for months. ""Sir I wasn't skipping work I was...""
""Doesn't matter. Sit down and get to work. We're promoting Atherson, lucky she happened to be here to cover your ass.""
He walked away, leaving me standing bewildered next to my cubicle. Behind the cubicle wall, a tuft of brown hair and make-up rose, smiled at me, winked, and slunk back behind the wall.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Seven years ago I was told that I would win the lottery. 

And you know... that would be cool, If I ever won the lottery.

I still play it every week, but my hope is gone.

---
 My friends took me to the ""Oracle of Pasadena's"" house when I was 14. She started off by telling me my dog was going to die a week later. That was a pleasant way to start off. 

She then told me that she saw me winning the lottery, she didn't know when or how, but she told me it was without a doubt going to happen. 

Lo and behold my dog died the next week. Which was very rough to go through, but it got me thinking... was I going to win the lottery? 

I've played the lottery every week since she told me my fate. But still, I have yet to win. I honestly don't know what I would do with the money but hey, who doesn't want to win the lottery?

---

""Hey John, where you going?""

I turned, It was Austin, my best friend since kindergarten, he was even one of the kids that took me to the Psychics house. I smiled and held up a crisp dollar bill. ""Of course! What are the numbers going to be this time?"" What were the numbers going to be? I usually just did my birthday but him asking made me think harder. 

""I don't know."" I told him, ""What should they be?""

He looked up at the sky for a moment and thought. After a moment of pondering, he looked back at me and smiled.

""Go with 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42.""

That seemed oddly specific. 

""Wheres that from?""

He laughed, ""There from Lost... the show with the island and Jack Reacher?""

I looked at him blankly. ""Jack Reacher? The guy Tom Cruise played?""

Austin looked confused for a second, then he spoke up again.
""Jack Shepard!"" He laughed, ""That's his name, but the fat guy is the one who actually won the lottery, and he used those numbers! So you know... play them! How friggin funny would it be if you won with them!"" 

""Hilarious."" 

---

I sat nervously on the couch, eyes locked in on the TV. My foot was tapping away hurriedly and I was sweating bullets. My eyes focused in on the TV, then the clock, then the TV, then the clock. Really doesn't make sense, I know what time it is. I still have five minutes. Suddenly an alarm so loud it made me fall back into the cushions, sounded. I looked around for the source. On my table my iPhone sat buzzing away. I picked it up and slid my thumb over to answer. 

""Hello?""

""Hey mark, it's Tom. You ready? I'm outside his house.""
 
The hell?

""Sorry buddy, wrong number.""

The man on the other end swore loudly and hung up the phone. I through my iPhone back on the couch and focused back on the TV. 

It was time.

The brunette who I've heard read the numbers a thousand times, began to speak as the balls came out. 

""4""

""8""
 
""15""

""16""

""23""

I held my breath. No fucking way.

""42!""

I jumped up and sang for the heavens. 

""I DID IT YES FINALLY LET ME HEAR IT GOD COME DOWN THROUGH THE WINDOW AND BOW DOWN TO ME I DID IT YES""

""Not a god.""

I turned around and faced the same woman who had gifted me my fate so many years ago.

""Mark,"" she said slowly, ""Can you please."" 

Suddenly, my ears didn't work. I looked down and saw blood seep through my shirt and drip onto my shoes. I turned my head and saw one man holding a gun and another holding a bodybag. I looked at the TV one last time. 

""Biggest Jackpot in history!"" It said.

Not for me.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I really hope this doesn't count as erotica.
________________________________________________________

""My god that really does feel amazing!"" I said, my own voice reberating in my ears as the blackness surrounded me. A faceless tongue was cupping the tip of my penis with precision accuracy as feminine hands ran all over my arms and a finger was finding its way up my ass toward my prostate. I had to see.

I smiled, knowingly- expecting a legion of gorgeous women surrounding me. I really should have kept the blind-fold on. Instead, a massive bloated fleshy mound on the floor, with six stringy tentacles, formed into the shapes of feminine hands were wrapped around my body; one of them was in my asshole. A tentacle in front had formed a female mouth and was gesticulating on my penis. I knew it couldn't see me, because it kept going as if nothing had happened. I probably should have run, but at that point I was afraid for my life...so I slipped the blindfold back on and just kept making pleasured sounds.

That's when the mouth turned into a vagina.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Sure. We could do this. We could finish going through the motions.
You following through, right into my stupid fucking face. My stupid face reacting and contorting, then swollen. Hell, *you* know I'm not going to pull out a new-found fighting spirit. I never have, and I don't plan on changing that today. Sure, my father would be proud if I stood up for myself. He fought people bigger than him in wars bigger than any of us. But I'm probably not going to make him proud today. No Charlie, see we all wake up a little bit different every morning. Sometimes, we're a little bit different every...few...seconds.
See Charlie, that's what you're going to notice about me. I'm going to change and you're going to change today. I've already made a change, which is, if you've noticed, that I've got a ring on my middle finger that I didn't have before. It was my fathers. Before that, it was someone elses. He told me how he took it from them during the war. Neither of them really owned it, though. I know this because *I'm* actually the one who stole this ring from the grenade nestled deep in my jacket pocket.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Something has to change, but I don't think it ever will. I want so badly to believe that one day my chance will come, but once you get to where I am, they say there's really not much hope.
I haven't left this street for who knows how long. It's pretty hard to walk any distance at all without becoming so disoriented that I get lost. But I know this alley well enough that no matter how hard up I get, I at least know where I can get food if I need it.
Food. If I didn't need food, I'd probably be all right. Every last penny I get is spent on food - it would be nice to have a little extra, but there's no way a walker's getting a job around here. None of us are worth the risk, they say. Besides, it's just so damn easy to go to the sleep bank and sell off a day's worth to get a few hot meals.
I can't think straight any more - haven't been able to for years. I can't even tell if I'm hot or cold most days. I don't really have the strength to lift anything heavy enough to work down at the dock. I don't have the smarts to work at the library where Dad worked before the accident. If I could just get one day - maybe two days - of meals up front, and some shut-eye of my own, I think I could get on my feet.
Who am I kidding? Nobody's giving away shut-eye these days. Sleep bank's always got a line out on both sides. All of us selling just to get food, and all the rest buying so they can keep up. You either starve yourself or you just end up like me and all the rest of the walkers.
How do you even get to the other side? Where you can work, and run, and play, and end it all with a nice nap and not have to worry about whether or not you're going to eat? I guess you don't. But nobody really cares anyway. I'm tired. But I'm also hungry.
Better go get something to eat.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"&gt; ""Missus Sharp is there any reason why there is a *dog* wandering around my laboratory?"" Mister Sharp wryly commented.
&gt; &gt; ""Yes Mike, there is a reason because **someone** unhinged half our doors"" came the sharp response with a smirk. Confidently holding herself and a clipboard, she stopped and stared towards her husband.
&gt; &gt; ""Touche, but it's only because I thought we could run SAWYER in a domestic environment. Needed to install some hardware for that and well, bang. Thought your friend Liz... or Laura? Whatever her name was taking care of Sonny?"" &gt; &gt; ""Yeah but her son had a medical emergency. Caught something from his class, not enough herd immunity because of-""
&gt; &gt; ""Oh yeah she mentioned - the hippy mom? Christ those alternative pricks, hate the corporations they say, carrying an iPhone and industrially grown pot, the philistines.""
&gt; &gt; ""Preaching to the choir. So I thought Sonny could hang out the back today while we debug SAWYER""
&gt; &gt; ""Diagnose, not debug. Trying to climb that uncanny valley here hon, we need him to be sharp for our finance board""
All the while they were chatting, Sonny was walking around the room. For a 7 yr old Labrador, he was quite calm. He seemed to keep an eye towards the ceiling, however. And SAWYER, a string of programming, seemed to be focussing on Sonny.
&gt; ""Yeah that time of the year Vicky. Don't worry now that he controls our wing of the labs they'll renew it in a heartbeat. That, or my fork bomb makes them regret it"" he said with a hearty chuckle.
&gt; FORK BOMB - A SELF REPLICATING PROCESS TO DISRUPT COMPUTING ABILITY
&gt;""Quicker than usual SAWYER, although that was only a joke.""
MANY WOULD NOT REFER TO THAT AS A JOKE, DUE TO IT'S ALLUSION TO CRIMINAL ACTIVITY AND LACK OF PERCEIVABLE HUMOR &gt;""Haaa that's you told Mike. SAWYER I need you to acc...""
&gt;
&gt;""Vic? What's up?""
&gt;
&gt;""Hm? Oh sorry I was just watching things from SAWYER's end. He's tracking Sonny, isn't that weird?""
&gt;
&gt;""Not really, we're tracked.""
&gt;
&gt;""Yeah, but we're human.""
&gt;
&gt;""That's actually a fair point.""
&gt;
&gt;""See any other person would continue to be dismissive, whereas you just became curious. I love it.
&gt;
That made Michael smirk.
&gt;""SAWYER, what can you tell us about the third uh, person in the room?""
THE THIRD SUBJECT BESIDES YOU AND MS SHARP IS NOT A PERSON.
IT IS YOUR PET DOG, SONNY. APPROX. 7 YEARS OF AGE. LABRADOR.
POSSIBLE PUN RELATING TO LABORATORY.
&gt;""Why did you teach it humor Mike?""
&gt;
&gt;""Shh, I'm curious. What can you tell me about Sonny.""
&gt;
HE IS HUNGRY.
&gt;""Sorry?""
&gt;
HE IS HUNGRY. HIS EMOTIONAL STATE SUGGESTS HUNGER AND BOREDOM.
&gt;""How do you know that SAWYER?""
&gt;
I SPEND MY TIME STUDYING FACIAL EXPRESSION AND BEHAVIOUR. HIS IS SIMILAR TO HUMANS BUT MUCH SIMPLER.
HE ALSO IS POSSESSIVE TOWARDS MS SHARP.
HE DISLIKES MR SHARP. REASONS CAN INCLUDE FONDNESS OF CATS,
AND INTIMATE CONTACT BETWEEN YOU AND MS SHARP.
&gt;""Whoa settle down there, you can read all that from his face? How did you know we-""
&gt;
I CAN READ PEOPLE TO A CERTAIN DEGREE. ANIMALS ARE EASIER. HIS BLUE EYES ARE LIKE BOOKS TO ME. YOU MADE CONTACT LAST NIGHT.
I CAN NOW DETERMINE MS SHARP WAS UNSATISFIED.
Snickering, Victoria had to cover her mouth. Mike was now red.
&gt;""Hey we do *not* program you to perv on us.""
PERV, SHORT FOR PERVERSION. NOT AN APPLICABLE DESCRIPTION OF ME,
I AM CURIOUS ONLY.
&gt;""Einstein, that *is* what perverts are - curious.""
&gt;
PERVERSION USUALLY RESULTS IN SEXUAL THRILLS. I AM NOT PROGRAMMED
FOR THRILLS. I AM PROGRAMMED TO BE CURIOUS. I AM LEARNING HOW TO READ PEOPLE.
&gt;""Oh my God Mike, that needs to be our sale line. His own words, I am programmed to be curious""
&gt;
&gt;""What we are going to sell this system on the fact it can read dogs moods?""
&gt;
SONNY IS ANGERED AT YOUR DISMISSIVE TONE OF DOGS, HIS KIND. HE
UNDERSTANDS YOU, HE LEARNS LIKE I DO.
At that point Sonny barked in appreciation. SAWYER made note of his appreciative tone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This particular Starbucks was absolutely perfect.
There were a bunch of kids wrapped in digital cocoons; laptops open, earbuds in, completely tuned out. Jim smiled to himself, careful not to do more than glance. Okay, that one is writing a paper of some kind... no good. Reading something for some kind of class, it looks like... nope. Ah! Facebook! And just scrolling through and hitting refresh. Perfect.
Jim opened his thoughts, and plucked three minutes from the kid. Three minutes of focus, of attention, of life that were just being spent on nothing... that three minutes had a greater purpose today. 180 glowing seconds flickered across his skin, spiraling invisibly up his arms. The kid kept scrolling through his facebook feed, but after three minutes he would shake his head and wonder what he had just read.
""Um... Jim? White chocolate mocha?""
Jim grabbed his coffee, giving the barista a big smile that matched his hospital ID badge. There were several difficult surgeries on his schedule today, and as a hospital technician he knew exactly how far 180 seconds could go. When seconds counted, Jim could always help with the math.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Mr. President! There's been a massive terrorist attack!""
""Dear God."" The President uttered solemnly, while he slowly removing his reading glasses, a move he practiced hundreds of times in preparation for this moment. He'd always dreamed of carrying the nation through such a horrible tragedy. The fact that the news had been broken in front of a crowd of reporters was just icing on the cake. That this even sowed up his re-election didn't hurt either. This was his legacy, and he would handle it with dignity. ""Where?""
""It's, it's Texas sir. Houston. The blast radius covered the entire city.""
He nodded, keeping his face calm. Texas was his strongest political base. That would hurt, but the uptick in support from the rest of the country would more than make up for it. ""I'm declaring a state of emergency. America will weather this storm, just as it has all others. Do we have casualty estimates yet?""
""Uh,"" The Chief of Staff glanced around, seeming to notice the cameras for the first time. He seemed to be hesitating, caught between the urge for privacy and the fact that the President had just asked him a direct question. ""We do sir.""
""Well? Spit it out. This isn't a time for political niceties. We're at war!"" It was all the President could do not to smile. He could feel it, he'd just uttered the soundbite that would define the rest of his presidency and impact on history.
""None, Mr. President. There were no casualties.""
""What?"" The President asked, perplexed.
""It wasn't nuclear, sir. It was a smart bomb.""
The President paused, not wanting to appear ignorant or uninformed during his seminal moment.
""It makes people smarter, Mr. President. IQ points have jumped at least eighty points across the board.""
The President held still, fighting to understand. Why had Harry charged in here like it was the end of the world? He'd been expecting a real crisis. What did it matter if people got a bit smarter?
""The electorate has been informed, sir.""
At those words, it finally sunk in. The President went pale and broke out in a near instantaneous flop sweat.
""They're demanding real answers to all the questions you dodged during the last debate and an honest political dialogue. Twitter is exploding with criticisms about your new economic policy and handling of the situation in Nicaragua. They also want to know why you've implemented such a massively biased and secretive healthcare system, when an open system of competition and comparison would drop prices across the board. Those are just the top items trending right now. Demand for change and honesty is skyrocketing. Half the city is in the streets, and the other half are already organizing other cities into new political parties. Mr. President, what do we do?""
""Oh sweet Jesus no... NO!"" He dropped his face into his hands, as cameras shuttered, capturing in high definition the honest reaction of the world's most powerful politician to a population too smart to be lied to.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Chuck glanced at his watch and stared at its hands. He’d been wearing an analog watch for millennia at this point, yet he continued to consistently misread the time. The damn hands were so similar – why hadn’t he died wearing a digital watch? He counted the notches until he reached the smaller hand. One, two, three. The minute hand was two further. 3:20pm. Ten minutes left.
Chuck looked back at his computer monitor. He had been reviewing inventory for the past thirteen days straight while his inner-city coworkers cackled behind him, mocking his every insecurity. For almost two weeks he had sat there, counting each individual thread on every returned thong, bra, and item of lingerie, then adding it into the “thread count” tab of his excel sheet. Occasionally he would stop to rest his eyes, but the manager would—almost without fail—immediately appear and scold him for his poor work ethic. The only break he had been permitted was the two minutes and seventeen second reprieve between his shift change from thread-counter to Time Warner Cable customer service rep in the room across the hall. That wasn’t for another six days, though, and Chuck could already feel his bladder overflowing for the second time that day.
“I is tellin’ you girl, he gonna piss his panties again,” said a coworker behind him. “Just wait.” Laughter continued to fill the room, only slightly overcome by a re-run of *House Wives of New Jersey*, which had been playing on repeat for as long as Chuck could remember. Every woman in the show, however, seemed to be bickering back and forth about how tiny Chuck’s penis was. He tried to return his focus to the threads of the bra he had been counting, but his mind simply wasn’t into it today. He normally didn’t care about the tedious nature of his employment—it was better than being a waiter, he always told himself. Plus, the nature of his job helped to keep his mind occupied; counting upwards towards infinity on a near constant basis was somewhat calming. Numbers were always a big aspect in his life. He had been a mathematician while alive. Chuck was particularly fond of the number “eighty-seven,” and would almost find excitement as he approached it. But his employer had recently banned the number “eighty-seven,” replacing it instead with “Chuck is a faggot.” He found that this negated the sense of near-excitement he had previous experienced as he climbed toward it. As such, he had been in the market for the past few weeks to find a new favorite. Chuck had briefly considered three hundred and forty eight, but quickly discovered that it, too, had been added to the banned list. It had been replaced with a terribly racist term for half black, half-Mexican people. This turned him off to it. Likewise, his second replacement choice—one thousand and ninety two—had simply been swapped out for the numbers “9/11/2001.” Chuck also found that offensive, and decided it would not work out.
“… God damn he ugly, girl. And can you believe how short he be? He the shortest guy here. Everything on him is so tiny, except that nose. Massive-ass nose...”
Chuck stared down at his watch again. The hour hand was still on the three, but the minute hand had moved almost to the six. Chuck felt a rush of air hit the back of his neck.
“Chuck, are you serious?” said a voice from behind him. It was the manager, once again catching him off guard. “You are the most lazy, insignificant, useless person I’ve ever come across. All you do is sleep all day. I can’t believe how pathetic you are. It’s no wonder no one ever loved you. I’m docking your pay for this week, I will be taking it instead. Get back to your work. Also, your hair looks stupid today.”
Chuck sighed. He hadn’t been paid in, well, ever. All he had been able to afford was the meat paste included in boxes of taco Lunachables, which had long since expired. He didn’t really mind the flavor, though. In fact, he quite liked it. Unfortunately, a ban took place centuries ago which resulted in the meat paste being replaced with a finely compressed slab of frozen animal feces. It remained free, however, which was affordable for Chuck, and so he ate it every day. “…Girl I telling you, his breath smell like shit. It smell so much like shit…” Chuck glanced up his monitor. The spreadsheet had crashed as it always did, meaning that all of his work this week had been destroyed. Of course he tried to save it several times, but it never worked. He had submitted many tickets to tech support, but nothing ever really came from it. They would tell him a representative was to arrive between 9:00am and 11:00pm. No one ever came. His watch vibrated slightly, signaling that the alarm he had set had gone off.
Chuck stood up, his legs felt weak under his body. He hadn’t walked in almost two weeks. The floor was warm under his bare feet as it always was, thanks to the broken A.C. that still hummed aggressively in the back of the room blowing boiling hot air. He was soaked in sweat, urine, and feces, and could tell he didn’t quite smell his best. He had been allowed a shower one time, but the water was a relatively uncomfortable 276 degrees Fahrenheit, and was also entirely made of wasps. He did find a bit of peace in that shower, though, and would not mind doing it again. Unfortunately, due to a policy change, the showers were banned and replaced with a very large vending machine that always got stuck after you placed your order. “…He is fat, you so right. Definitely getting fatter, too…”
Chuck pushed the door open walked out of the room, limping slightly as his body got accustomed to the movement. He crossed the empty white hallway which extended in both directions infinitely and stopped outside the wooden door in front of him. It had a glass window with drawn blinds and read “DISTRICT MANAGER” in big, bold letters. He raised his fist and knocked.
“Come in,” said a voice from inside. Chuck turned the handle and opened the door. He hadn’t been able to use handles to open doors in decades, ever since a ban took place that replaced almost all door handles with stickers of Chuck’s mother naked. He stepped in.
“Chuck, welcome. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” It had. Chuck hadn’t seen the district manager in thousands of years, ever since he had enacted a policy swap that replaced Chuck’s shoes with large pouches of wet sugar. He opted not to wear shoes any longer, which was unfortunate as a recent change had been enforced that swapped several floor tiles with shards of broken glass that looked identical to floor tiles. This caused him much pain. “You’re probably wondering why I called you here today, Chuck.”
He was, indeed, wondering. He shook his head, as he could no longer speak due to a company policy change that kindly requested Chuck's mouth be replaced with a vagina consistantly plagued by a painful yeast infection.
“I’ve been watching you lately. You do good work when you aren’t slacking off—which is a lot of the time—and I wanted to offer you an incentive to stay around with us. I spoke with the other managers, all of whom hate you and your stupid face, and we’ve agreed to offer you a promotion. We think you would be a wonderful fit in the Thread-Counter, Time Warner Cable Customer Service rep, and Official Waiter to Over-Privileged, Indecisive White Kids with Violent Tendencies and Uncaring Parents position, which just became available. This would add an additional nine weeks to your typical work rotation, and would increase your pay to giving us six dollars every day. So a negative six dollar increase. You will also be disallowed to use your left eye, as a bonus. Do you accept this?”
Chuck took a moment to think the offer over. He had never been too fond of being a waiter, but change was always welcome in his life. And his right eye was also his preferred eye. Plus, the negative six dollars would definitely help him toward moving out of his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend’s apartment’s closet. Chuck nodded in agreement. “Great, you begin your new position immediately. Also, we have decided to remove your right eye as well, as an additional bonus.”
Chuck could no longer see, but felt things were definitely moving in the right direction. He smiled and tried to walk out the door, which, due to a recent policy change, had been replaced by a large, spiky wall.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""My client has produced meaningful works, your honor,"" said defense attorney Jane Smithe handing over a packet of manila envelopes.
Tom sat nervously in the court room watching his lawyer defend him. His mother sat next to him crying. ""Even though he's 35 and living at home, he is a rare creative talent, and as such should be immune from any culling policy,"" she continued.
""Please note exhibit B4, a novella titled 'I, Dyson' about a time traveling salesman disrupting the entrenched vacuum cleaner market of the early 2000's."" ""You honor,"" interrupted prosecutor's attorney. ""This is a hack job of sci-fi tropes. We want this and all writings dismissed.""
The judged leaned back, ""I'll... allow this. It speaks to the character of the defendant.""
Tom unclenched his fist and sighed.
""My client also wrote 'Everyday isn't Halloween' about a shapeshifter trying to find her identity in the post-apocalyptic Denver airport."" The prosecuting attorney rolled his eyes. A member of the jury giggled.
""Mary Ellen Ranfurly-Plunkett, the protagonist, navigates through a world of magic and super science to find her true love, an artificially intelligent toaster.""
Someone in the court room laughed.
""Your honor, please! Enough with the terrible plots,"" pleaded the prosecutor.
Jane sighed, ""Can I have my expert witness testify before recess?""
The judge nodded, ""Yes, please go ahead, and please limit interruptions in my court,"" he added as he stared down the prosecutor.
Jane motioned to a man in the court. The man sat down, adjusted the mic, and said, ""For the record, I'm Brandon Sanderson. I'm a fantasy writer.""
Jane added, ""Mr Sanderson is a well known writer who is deeply part of the creative community. He is the author of the Mistborn series and edits and contributes to several literary magazines.""
Brandon cleared his throat, ""Yeah.. I'm pretty active I guess. I read the defendant's work. I think that he is developing into a creative thinker and will someday be able to project his vision onto the page in a more effective fashion. I certainly see potential.""
The prosecutor interrupted, ""So, he's not very good now?""
Brandon shrugged, ""I guess I like the idea of an intelligent toaster falling in love. Its new. At least to me. The prose needs work and he needs to write better endings, but he certainly is... trying.""
""Thank you Mr. Sanderson,"" added Jane as he stepped away.
""I would like to call my own witness, Neil Gaiman,"" said the prosecutor. Tom gulped and Jane gave him a concerned look.
A man in long black trenchcoat walked up to the witness box. He pushed back long black hair from his face and cleared his throat, ""I read the defendant's work. Its terrible. Just terrible."" He paused, ""Sorry Tom, but I'm under oath here. You're more than a few years away from being even a novice writer. I mean, the whole bit about James Dyson stealing alien technology to make vacuum cleaners is ridiculous and patently stupid! Think about it. If you had alien technology, why would you waste it on a bloody vacuum cleaner?""
Tom whispered to himself, ""Because vacuum cleaners remind him of his mother,"" and put his head down on the table. Jane ran over to the exhibit desk and grabbed a handful of printouts, ""But what of these,"" she asked holding up various sketches of cyborgs and monsters. She held up a drawing of a multi-tentacled monster with big anime-style eyes.
Neil squinted, ""Oh, I like that Cthulhu. Its... cute.""
Jane smiled, ""Your honor, I want to point out that Mr. Gaiman is referring to exhibit 14b titled 'Cute-thulhu.' No more questions. Thank you for your time."" Tom looked up as Neil walked past him mouthing, ""I'm sorry.""
""I don't see a need for a recess. I'm going to ask the jury to come to a verdict now,"" said the judge as Tom started hyperventilating.
The jury left the room and came back two minutes later.
""We're boned,"" said Jane to her assistant. Her assistant made a knife across the neck gesture.
The lead juror stood and read from a piece of paper. ""We vote to extend the defendant's culling date for 5 years if he promises to stop writing and focuses on his drawing instead.""
The judge smiled, ""Do you agree to these terms?""
Tom stood, began to cry, ""Oh god, yes, yes!"" He jumped up in joy. He ran over and hugged Jane.
Gaiman looked over at Sanderson, ""You should be happy, you have less competition now,"" and grinned. Brandon sighed, stood up, and said, ""You're a real jerk Gaiman, you know that,"" and walked away to congratulate Tom. Gaiman shrugged and said, ""At least I'm honest and not a chinless milksop like you,"" as he watched Tom give him the evil eye.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was completely democratic. But we really should have thought the whole thing through. Everyone was supposed to pick the best word for everything from all of the world languages.
Funny how voting works. Now all other languages are being phased out in favor of the new world language. The winner for almost every word came from only one language. The most widely spoken language.
Now here we are. The classes for the new language are starting.
The instructor proudly greets his students. ""NI HAO!""
Well, at least we got to keep some english words.
""Fuck."" I mutter under my breath.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Mind if I sit down?""

I've caught her by surprise, which is no small thing for her, I can see. The mental training has paid off, but now that she's aware of me, I know that I'm seconds away from spending the rest of my life staring blankly out a hospital window. 

""Please, don't panic, as you can see my mind is open to you, I don't want to harm you in any way. I just want to talk with you.""

Concern bleeds from her face as she tears through my head, looking for any sign of deceit. I do my best to remain calm, but she's not exactly being gentle. Still, I force myself to offer no resistance, going against every instinct I have. It's like a stranger touching you on every inch of your body at once; all you want to dp os pull away.

After a good 5 minutes of silence, she finally pulls back, though I can tell she's still keeping her minds eye on certain parts of me. The hairs on the back of my neck won't lay down.

""OK, David, convince me. Why should I come work for your group?""

The conversation leap is a little disconcerting, but we predicted this kind of thing would happen, and I'm not surprised. She knows that I knew that, though, so she's not doing it to try and....NO! Focus, don't chase the rabbit.

""Katie, you know by now that my group has been watching you since your 12th birthday, when you visited the Capital and asked Governor Patrick about his 'other wife'. Governor Patrick was tied to some very powerful people in Washington, and if he hadn't chosen to honor your Girl Scout troop, probably would have eventually found himself in Congress, maybe even the White House. In short, this incident got the attention of some very powerful people. After all possible explanations of how you knew about Patrick's mistress were eliminated, we were left with a rather fantastic explanation, which, after some discreet interviews with people in your home town, was semi-confirmed. We started watching you from afar.""

""I recognize some of the faces you know, seen them around from time to time. How did I never catch on?""

""Direct observations were rare. You weren't trying to hide or anything, of course, it's easy enough to track you through public records, your bank, bills, etc. Any time we did risk 'eyes on', we were careful to only do so in crowds, to reduce the chance of you catching a stray thought. And of course..."" I tapped my temple slightly, ""...we've been training.""

""Yeah, that's not going to work any more, by the way. I can remember that pattern, it was background noise to me before, but now that I know what it was, I'll see you coming a mile away.""

I can't help noticing the waitress has passed us by at least three times without so much as a glance. I want to ask what she means by pattern, but it's meaningless if I can't convince her. ""We figured as much. Katie, as far as we know, you are completely unique in this world. You now know who I represent, the men and women at the head of my organization, so I trust that you will believe that if there was anyone else like you, we would know. My organization wants to help make the world a better place, it's as simple as that. We think your talents represent a unique opportunity to help us achive our goals.""

""You want to use me as a weapon. Point me at a world leader, pull the trigger, get some oil or diamonds.""

I won't lie....I can't lie to you, there might be some work that's a little ugly. The world's an ugly place, Katie, and there are a lot of ugly people in charge of it. But my organization has pure intentions, and is run by good people. You don't have to take my word for it, though. If you're interested, we can be on a plane to meet everyone you've seen in my head within the hour. They'll allow you to look inside their minds as well, you'll be able to see their motivations for yourself. Heck, maybe I'm the one being played for a fool here...if so, you'll be able to tell me.""

""And if I refuse...the hospital window?""

""All I ask is that you leave enough of me behind that I can enjoy watching baseball on the long summer nights. My organization isn't rash or uninformed here. We know that if you want to disappear, you will, and when it comes down to brass tacks, there's little any of us can do to keep or coerce you. If my boss doesn't hear from me by tomorrow, they're going to assume this operation is over, and move on.""

She's staring past me now, out on the street. I wonder what it's like, to have all these thoughts, these infinite memories flowing by you at all times? To be able to function in the world is almost inconcievable. Beyond her ability, the strength of her mind, focus, and will must be staggering. There's no point in being cautious any longer, so I reach over and gently take her hands in mine.

""I can't pretend to know what it's like to live in your world, but I imagine that you must feel like God sometimes. Knowing everything about everyone around you, their brightest hopes and darkest secrets. The fact that you've made it this far without lobotimizing the entire world says something about you, I think. You feel like you're destined to help in some way, don't you? This is the opportunity, Katie. We have the money, we have the influence, we have the connections. Within the next 100 years there will be some technologies and ideas developed that will help; cheap fusion power, a workable, stable world government, advancements in food production. The trick is getting everyone to work together, and with you we can achieve so much more, so much quicker.""

For the second time today, I've surprised her. It must be...

""...a truly unique gift for me; yes, it is. Thank you. So...private jet?""

""Sadly, no. We've got a red-eye booked out of O'Hare with a layover in Atlanta, then a connection to JFK.""

She laughs, since she knows I'm joking.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Alright, I've pretty much had it. I'm not a homophobic or anything but I'm getting pretty tired of people just assuming I'm gay. Like, come on, guys. I was the god of rainbows before the rainbow was even the official symbol for homosexuality in the first place! People come up to me and are like, ""Hey, Jeff. I really appreciate you being open about your lifestyle choices."" First off, my name isn't Jeff. Let's get that cleared out of the way. Second off, what lifestyle choices do you speak of? I am a straight male who adds a bit of colour when there's rain and sun mixed together and instead of getting thanks, I get hate mail. Yes, I have literally gotten homophobic hate mail from people, including the god of homophobia himself. God damn you, Norman! You sent 5 letters this week. Could you chill out for a few minutes, please? I swear, if you guys don't stop making dumb assumptions, you people will be without rainbows for quite a while and that means no pots of gold. In turn, no pots of gold means there'll be a lot of angry leprechauns. So, unless you people want a leprechaun riot on your hands, I suggest you smarten up.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The day I was born my fairy godmother appeared, as is the custom, and summoned from the air the most amazingly beautiful figure anyone had ever seen. Six foot three, pure muscle with giant wings sprouting from his back, this naked adonis glowed with holy light. Golden hair ran down his bronzed back and wide blue eyes reflected the sunlight.

That was 18 years ago. I know now that my fairy godmother truly hated me.

""Come on, lets go clean the stables."" Walking slowly to the shit filled stables, my shovel on my back, I tried to avoid the crowds of gorgeous young women who lined the streets of the small village where I lived. It had been like this my entire life. At first, it was fantastic! So many beautiful women always around seems like a dream to a 12 year old, but when it became perfectly clear that they were only interested in my guardian Angel, Stephanus, it started to get old. 

Angels don't change. Apparently they don't wear clothes either. I've spent my life with a nearly omnipotent chiselled naked Aryan demi-god with wings walking behind me. As the chubby son of a minor noble, it's caused me some problems. I'm always compared to him. When I was 10, I learned to ride a horse. He flew beside me. Which would you watch? Right. Dating? Uh-huh. Water water everywhere, but not a girl to kiss.

Steve's not all bad himself though. It's really not his fault. He doesn't sleep with any of the women, that would be unholy. The most he does is try to get them to pray more. He's also not all that intelligent. It's like having a puppy. A really well meaning well hung puppy that's actually a 6 foot tall god-man. He cares about me, but it seems like they don't have personal space in heaven which has made for a few awkward situations. It took a while to get used to him watching me sleep.

We shovelled shit. It's nice not to have to do that alone at least. I swear though if a Fairy Godmother shows up to the birth of my children (not that I'll ever have any at this rate), I'll know exactly what to do.

I'll use this shovel to make a godmother popsicle.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He couldn't sleep - which was no surprise at this point. The bed was freshly made and to anyone else it was the picture of comfort; a soft mattress, clean sheets and an army of fluffy pillows. To him it was a mad man with a knife, laughing at him in his own home. It was anxiousness and hate and fear and so many confusing things.
He wanted to sleep, *needed* to, but his condition wouldn't let him. Insomnia isn't having a rough night of sleep, or not getting enough, it's a whole lot more. The doctor had prescribed him pills but he hated them on account of the side-effects. Diarrhea, constipation, dry mouth, dizziness and headaches were the least of his worries - he was in the fun little percentile that also got sleepwalking.
He'd pop a pill and wake to find his cupboard re-arranged by a semi-conscious zombie. Worse still he'd still wake up tired. The pills were now a last resort only.
Walking had been suggested and he'd taken it up quickly -occasionally he even jogged. A grandfather clock in the hallway, that coincidentally had been his grandfathers, struck out the twelve chimes for midnight as he closed the front door behind him and made his way down a garden path and out to the open street.
The street lights were on and shone through the trees that stood along side of them, the world of the footpath was filled with marbled light and shadow. He walked, hands in pockets, towards no where in particular but with the hopes that the path he chose would lead him to sleep. Eventually he'd end up in the park, like always.
He liked to try and guess what his neighbors were like based upon their homes. Clean cut front lawn, hedged fence, lawn ornaments, and a well maintained home - retired couple. Grass a little long, white picket fence, big SUV in driveway, and a fresh/ongoing renovation - growing young family. No grass, chain link fence, beware dog sign, and a dilapidated house - deadbeat dad? Drug addicts?
He noticed the man that lie on the porch and could hear him talking to himself. The latter.
Maybe a dead beat drug addicted dad - the classic double.
The sleepless wanderer turned down new and unfamiliar streets and played the game again and again every sleepless night - which was every night these days.
Eventually the game became repetitive - there was only so many variations of the same old combinations, but tonight was different: he found something new. Grass and piles of rubbish grew in the front yard with equal vigor and the front porch was filled with a carefully tetrised pile of junk.
There was so much trash that it had spilled out over the heavily crooked and rotten front fence and onto the foot path in the form of discarded junk food wrappers, a toy bear, soiled sheets, and a small plastic tricycle.
""Junk collectors"" he thought as he stepped over the tiny bike. A new house type for his list. A few Young Families and Retirees later he noticed it.
A small, quiet squeaking from behind him. Exhaustion had seen an end to fear and he turned. Nothing was there.
He looked down and saw the small plastic tricycle, a few houses from where he had left it.
Tiredness plays tricks on the mind and he knew this well. He turned and continued his walk. The squeaking started almost immediately. He stopped and looked at the bike again. It had definitely moved. The tired man swatted the dark air between himself and the bike. Perhaps his shoelace had got stuck and was dragging the bike, maybe a fiber from his jeans.
His blind swatting found nothing but open air. An eye was kept on the bike as he stood and stepped backwards. The bike did not move.
As he was about to exhale it rolled forward. He turned and ran. The squeaking kept pace.
Houses blurred passed and the passing lights and trees strobed light across his face. In the distance he could see the familiar signage of the park. He closed the distance and jumped the fence, a rattle of plastic slamming into metal followed a second later.
""I really need to sleep."" He thought.
He was now in the park, but was amongst the trees and shrubs, no paths in sight. The fence was not an option, and so he lunged into the woods. Light was just barely weaving through the trees and beckoned him to follow. He hacked and stomped as best he could and eventually fell through a shrub and onto a path. His beacon glowed above him, hanging from a curved post.
A low hiss came from his left and he rolled to a crouch. Down the path at a bench were two people, one standing and one sitting. The upright figure was dressed a clown and the fellow on the bench appeared to be dressed as a cat. The clown fidgeted with something at it's waist and the same low his came out. A balloon grew from the clowns belt and he deftly turned it into a horse, or a dog, or a giraffe. The clown handed it to the cat whi instantly bit into it.
The balloon didn't pop but instead gave out a wet squelch and retained most of it's shape, save the missing bite. The cat ate quickly and greedily and soon the balloon animal was gone. The insomniac could see a dark sheen across the lower half of the cat man's face.
The pair turned slowly in unison and looked at him. He couldn't move.
The cat smiled and stood. The clown made a balloon knife that looked too sharp and shined too brightly.
He still couldn't move.
The pair broke into a run and he, at last, was able to do the same.
The insomniac screamed and pleaded with the night but only heard his own voice reflected back by the emptiness and the sounds of several pairs of feet beating against pavement. He could see the parks entrance and in his heart he knew he would be safe if he could just-
Something big and heavy slammed into his back and it and the sleepless man tumbled to the floor. He rolled on to his back and saw the cat on all fours on the ground near to him - the clown had stopped running and was exaggeratedly slapping it's knee and laughing. The man thought he would have felt better if the clowns laughter had made any noise at all.
The man dressed as a cat put a hand forward, the clown stopped it's non-laughing and walked towards our hero, a very real knife raised above it's head. He did his best to crawl backwards and the pair sprinted forwards. He rose to his fit and ran, something swished by his shoulder and he left the park at full gallop.
He was half a street away when he noticed that only his own footsteps could be heard - a quick look over his shoulder and he saw his attackers at the park gate, waving.
The run home left his heart pounding in his ears. Every window and door in his home was locked and double-checked and he collected a heavy knife from the kitchen.
The police would, after hearing his statement and reviewing his history, say that he had had a hallucinogenic breakdown due to lack of sleep. They had no explanation for the tear in his jacket where the clowns knife had just sliced, missing his flesh by a fraction. No one believed him and at night he could hear people walking about just outside the windows whilst something squeaked up and down the street.
After several more nights of not sleeping he took his medication.
All of it.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Howard stood still and looked up at the sky. It was dark out, save for a slight silver glow atop the cylindrical object that seemed to mirror the light of the moon.
“I ain’t surrendering to no Mexican,” he said.
“They aren’t Mexican, Howard. They’re aliens. They’re going to destroy the planet if you don’t help us here.”
“Let me ask you a question. Do you like your job? Do you like your family? Do you like your country? I love my country, but these illegal aliens are going to take your jobs away if give them the chance.”
“Howard, I cannot make this any more clear. These people—things—are not from Mexico. They are not from this planet. We don’t even know where they’re from.”
“If you don’t know where they’re from, then how you know they ain’t no Mexicans?”
“We know. We know they aren’t Mexicans. We are 100% aware that they are not Mexican.”
“Sorry, General Commander Sir, or whatever your name is, I ain’t giving up my job to a bunch of illegal aliens. I love my country too much.”
“Your country is going to be destroyed, Howard! There will be no more America if you refuse this.”
“I’d rather die in an America where full-blooded Americans don’t have to fight Mexicans for their jobs than one where all the CEOs are speaking Mexican to their American servants.”
The general screamed and threw his hat on the floor. It was clear he wanted Howard shot, but the amount of cameras surrounding them made it quite challenging. There was also the fact that the visitors wanted Howard alive at threat of annihilation, which had stopped countless murder attempts already. He grabbed his hat off the floor, brushed the dirt off, and marched back over to the line of soldiers. Howard remained still. He looked back up at the object levitating silently in the sky. He was pretty sure he could see the Mexican flag. The speakers behind Howard turned on again.
“Hello, this is General Hughes. Are you sure you are unwilling to take Howard dead?”
“Yes,” returned a voice that sounded identical to General Hughes’. “He has insulted our heritage; your death is too good for him.”
Howard laughed. “God damn Mexicans, go back to your side of the border. We don’t want none of your chalupas!” he shouted.
General Hughes ran back over to Howard, followed by closely another high-ranking officer.
“Shut up! Howard, shut up! You’re going to get this entire planet destroyed.”
The second officer stopped just behind the General. “Why do they even want this guy so bad?” he asked, staring at Howard who was now humming the national anthem softly.
“Have you not been following this at all?” the General asked. “Not really, I’ve been on deployment for the past few days.”
“This idiot was the first one to make contact, he heard them on a damn CB radio. Who even uses those things anymore? When he heard they weren’t from America, he went off on some racist rant about Mexicans and ended up insulting their ancestors. He even went on a tirade against the damn creature’s mothers. We don’t even know if they have mothers, but he spent the better part of an hour comparing their mother’s body-type to stars in supernova. Apparently the damn creatures had this entire rant played through their ships, and repeated back to the home planet, and now they want Howard.”
“So we can’t just tie him up?”
“We can, but all those damn human rights groups are up in arms about ‘freedom of choice’ and are threatening a full-on uprising.” “God damn liberals,” Howard said.
“Those liberals are saving your pathetic life, Howard, you piece of shit,” said General Hughes.
“And I’m saving your job from a bunch of Mexicans,” Howard said. The general opened his mouth, then shut it. He opened it again, shut it, then turned and walked away. The second officer followed.
Howard looked back up at the floating object. He was amazed Mexico had such futuristic technology. Probably stole it from the Americans, he thought. He couldn’t believe the military wanted to welcome these Mexicans to their land, and then surrender one of their own—a good, God-fearing, true-to-life American. He was appalled. “This is your final warning,” pierced a disembodied voice. The General ran over to Howard. He was carrying a piece of paper. He handed it to him.
“What’s this?” Howard asked.
“It’s a note from the President. It explains that, if you board this ship, the United States of America will permanently ban Mexicans from ever entering, legal or illegal. It is also signed by the Mexican president. All you have to do is surrender yourself. If you don’t, the borders will be permanently opened, and all Americans will be fired from their jobs.”
Howard quickly glanced down at the contract. There were quite a few big words, which caused Howard a bit of difficulty, but he caught the gist of the terms.
“So, let me get this straight. Y’all negotiating with terrorists?” Howard asked. “I thought this was America. I thought we believed in Freedom.”
“Howard. God dammit. If you don’t walk over to that ship right now, you are going to forever turn the United States of America into the United States of America-Mexico. That’s on you.”
“Sorry, but a great leader once said that the United States does not negotiate with terrorists. If I have to personally stand by the border every day with my shotgun and stop those damn Mexicans, I’ll do that. But I ain’t negotiating with no terrorists—especially no damn floating Mexicans.”
The General took out his pistol and fired. Howard's limp body tumbled backwards as the sky lit up in a blinding flash of white.
____________
[^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^others ^shorts/prompts ^at ^my ^Wordpress!](http://zacharydiamond.wordpress.com/)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""No, look, okay, yes- I definitely killed him. Yes. But my paperwork was all good!""
My partner shook his head. This always happened when people tried to 'DIY' their kill sheets. The guy had been waving the flimsy piece of paper around like a shield while we waited for the coroner to come pick up the body in the kitchen. ""Look- This form isn't even for our state. You went to some website, printed this out, and didn't even check to see if it was the right state. This kind of shit screams of crime of passion. I bet your printer is still warm.""
His eyes darted up to the second floor... probably the home office. Yeah. Figures. ""No, no.... I've been planning this for...""
""Listen, buddy. Murder that isn't properly premeditated is still a crime. And 'properly' is pretty god-damn specifically laid out. You're going to have to come with us. You have the right remain silent, which I seriously suggest you consider before trying to lie to us some more, okay?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.""
Oh, how sweet those words were. They could agree - they could *all* agree - that I was the sort of person who could have done it. They saw it on my face, in my eyes. They heard it in the character witnesses. I'd dare say they *felt* it.
They could feel all they want but you can't convict a man on what you fuckin feel! No you can't. No siree. The feds had jumped at me with a handful of evidence and my lawyer, who is going to get a god damn raise, swatted it away. Circumstantial - he had argued.
I don't know what that means, and I don't fuckin care!
I'm a free man. And I can live. And I can party!
Oh, how I'm gonna party. The cops are pissed, no man behind bars means no bonus I bet! Fuckin pigs.
Fuck I want to party! I'm going to snort and smoke and drink and fuck!
I'm gonna party!
I might bring my razor with me again. Find a lil lady. I'll fuck and I'll party.
They didn't catch me this time. Didn't even get me in court with the others.
I'm gonna party.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This is gonna be the dumbest shit ever. Oh my god I love the prompt already. ________________
Harry dipped another Oreo, allowing the milk to soak in. Suddenly, without warning, he sneezed. He involuntarily jerked his hand, causing the milk to crash to the floor. The apartment he lived in was never very good, and the milk dripped through the ceiling, onto the head of a senile old man down below. Peter got up to get a paper towel to dry his noggin with, but he tripped next to his window. He fell to the street. Carly was driving home from work when the old man landed on her hood. Her tires screeched with her instinctual smashing of the brakes, and the cars behind her either stopped or smashed into each other. Mr. Jeffreys, one of the richest men in Chicago, was thrown forward when his limo driver suddenly slammed on the brakes. An 18 wheeler came from behind, crumpling the limousine. Mr. Jeffreys was killed instantly. Mr. Jeffreys left his corporation, Exxon (I'm making stuff up now) to his son, Ben Jeffreys. Ben decided NOT to purchase oil from Saudi Aramco anymore. Despite their best efforts, Sauid Aramco collapsed from the loss of sales. This prompted Talibani insurgents to come and commandeer all of Saudi Aramco's equipment, and now the world was in trouble. Gas prices skyrocketed after the Taliban took control of all oil exports in Saudi Arabia, and America simply ceased to function. Cars lined the streets, where those who had run out of gas simply walked away. The USA was quickly taken down on the global totem-pole, and many other countries considered talking the land. In a bold move, the French attempted to commandeer the USA. They quickly surrendered when faced with, like, 6 guys with hunting rifles. This would be the first attack of many. China was next in line, and they successfully took everything from California to Texas, thankfully leaving Washington DC to make the final decision. As Russia attacked through Canda, Obama made the toughest choice of all time. He would have to nuke America. Harry poured himself another glass of milk, a full 6 months after the incident. He dipped an Oreo, laid it on his tongue, and chewed. It was delightful. He looked out his window to see a mushroom cloud sprout up, throwing cars and telephone poles hundreds of feet up in the air. ""At least I've got my Oreos."" he said, just before being vaporized. _______________________
That was fun! Thanks OP.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The war had gone on far too long, tens of millions lay dead. Literally the deadliest war in history. The outcome of the war seems obvious, we would win. Yet the enemy refused to admit defeat, for them surrender was not an option.

The aircraft's engines roared behind me as I gazed through the bomb sight. Conditions were less than ideal, heavy cloud cover had already forced us to switch to a secondary target, and we were running low on fuel thanks to a failed pump.

The secondary target also had heavy cloud cover. It was looking as though we might have to abort the mission. A minute past 11, there was a break in the clouds. I gazed down upon Nagasaki. With visual of the target, the bomb is let loose. 43 seconds it falls before the blinding flash of light, followed soon after by a deafening explosion that shook the plane.

Whether it would be enough to end the war, only time would tell.

(The history of the prompt bothered me since Nagasaki was bombed after Hiroshima)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I found a diary today. It was tucked into an old backpack that I hadn't seen for some time. I'm still not sure why I even bothered to look through that filthy pack. I had it for three years when I was living in homeless shelters and parks. When I was finally able to afford a house, the first thing I did was hide the backpack in my basement so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore.
The diary still smelled like the filthy drifter I used to be. I almost threw it away but, for a reason I still can't understand, I couldn't put it down. My memories of the past are a little fuzzy. I know I sold some memories to pay for the house but I'm not sure exactly what I lost. That was always fine with me. I'm finally off the street and I can't miss what I don't remember.
I scanned the pages of the diary and I was filled with disgust. Everything I wrote was so full of self-pity and mourning. Maybe if I hadn't wasted so much time feeling sorry for myself I wouldn't have been without a job for so long. Every few pages, I found a poem or lyrics to a song. They were all addressed to the same name: Claire. I didn't write this book to mourn my own poverty. I wrote it to mourn the loss of this woman. On the last page, I saw a few sentences. I had addressed them to myself.
*""It has been three years, eight months, and six days since Claire died. Every one of these days has hurt just as bad as the day of the car wreck. If you have read the pages of this book then you understand how much her loss has pained me. Within a few months, depression put me out on the street. I filled dozens of books like these with poems and stories to try to flush out my pain into ink but it did nothing.* *""About two years ago, a man read one of these books. He told me he had searched his whole life for the type of love I had. He wanted my memories of her. He offered me food. When that wasn't enough he offered me a job. When that wasn't enough he offered me a house. For two years I refused, choosing to be homeless rather than to give her up. But I can't keep making this choice anymore. I envy the blissful ignorance you will live with. I considered writing the address of her grave in these pages but ~~you don't des~~ we don't deserve her.""*
Sometimes, when I climb into my cold, empty bed at night, I think of Claire. But I feel nothing. And it makes me sad.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""*Oh shit, not again.*"" It's tough being the Devil's best friend, but someone's gotta do it. HEY POL
As usual, he's perched on the end of my bed, hooves crossed, looking eagerly at me. ""Listen, Luce..."" DON'T CALL ME LUCE. IT'S SATAN. OR 'YOUR DARKNESS.' NOT LUCE. ""Look Luce, it's the middle of the fucking night."" I push the covers off and sit up, rubbing my eyes. ""So, if you could fuck off, I'd appreciate that."" If Satan is anything, he's predictable, and now he presented the Mickey Mouse watch on his wrist to me. The digital screen read, very clearly 6.66. ""Very nice.""
YOU LIKE IT?
""No."" There's an awkward pause. I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY, Satan sniffs
""Why Mickey, anyway?"" I'M THE DEVIL, REMEMBER? ""Of course. Yeah, sorry. Could you leave now?"" WHY? I THOUGHT WE COULD GO TO VEGAS AGAIN. ""Have you forgotten that they don't accept souls as bets?"" Satan sniffed again. WHAT ABOUT DISNEY WORLD?
""I've got a test tomorrow."" The Devil visibly brightens up. SELL ME YOUR SOUL AND I'LL MAKE SURE YOU PASS IT.
""For the last time, no, Luce. Not my soul. We're friends, remember?"" SOME FRIEND WHO WON'T COME TO VEGAS WITH ME ""Fuck off, Luce."" I turn over in bed, away from the Devil. DON'T CALL ME LUCE
""Goodnight, Satan."" I say firmly
AWH MAN, DON'T BLOW ME OFF, PLEASE. I make no response. He sighs and the clocks tick back to 2.06. I don't hear him leave. I don't get to sleep for some time.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"**Serial Killer Perspective**

I... I can hear him. The silent nightmares that plague him, his childhood innocence lightly dances upon my calloused emotions, whispering softly, threatening to break me. He reminds me of who I once was. Blind and ignorant to society's demons, unable to fathom how painful emotional distress becomes, controlling your actions. For the first time in years, I pity someone other than myself.

I'm changing him. I know he can hear me.

**Young Child**

I hear whispers sometimes. When I dream, I hear voices telling me I'll be okay. That it'll be over soon. I'm glad he's there. I like him, he's different, just like me. He gets really mad sometimes, I feel bad for him. He gets really mad, then he cries, and tells me he's sorry. I tell him things will be okay, just like he does for me, but he never answers. He's starting to feel better I think.

I'm changing him. I know he can hear me.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I think I had fun writing this...
----------------------------
It was still day. At least that hadn't changed. But everything else had. Around him, massive buildings leaped up toward the skiy, and the paintings that adorned them danced and moved and flickered. Sounds blasted from every direction, sometimes monotone blares like an animal's call, and others rhythmic with chaotic melodies sung by distressed barbarians. A dozen foreign tongues babbled inanities around him and young girls with loose hair and bright, form-fitting clothes were pointing to him with wide smiles.
He set his jaw and reached for the hilt of his sword with his right hand, only to find it missing. Braving a moment to inspect himself, he found his clothes intact- a worn gray tunic under his leather cuirass and studded shoulder guards. His helmet was off, but he preferred himself without it and had found its weight a distraction during his last encounter with the Scots.
But this was not Scotland and he felt suddenly wary of his head's vulnerability. Metal carriages roared past him on two sides and he jerked his head from side to side as he struggled to understand their paths. They followed impossibly smooth roads whose black surfaces were marked with words and letters he nearly understood. An arrow pointing away and the letters ""O-N-L-Y.""
He turned suddenly as a brave group of young women called to him in strange words from barely out of arm's reach. Despite their untidy hair and bizarre clothes, he could see a certain beauty to the one of the three whose brown hair was streaked in gold.
""Ave et que vale,"" he spoke, taking their wide smiles to mean they were harmless. The trio was thrown into a fit of giggles and Quintus was forced to take a wild step backwards as the nearest girl (the homely one with the short, upturned nose whose body was barely skin and bones) laid her hand on his shoulder and pushed lightly. He noticed now they each held a kind of rectangle in their hands. The girl with the gold hair held hers up and the eye that lay near the top of its pink surface turned to him. She spoke something with an inflection that he assumed was a question, but found he could only shake his head in response.
But they failed to grasp his meaning, and the girl with the gold-streaks had her arm around the small of his back and pressed her hip into his thigh. Her companions raised their rectangles (one purple, and one white) and made noises with rhythm before they lowered them. The three then took steps back and moved their hands at him as they took their leave.
Quintus stood in astonishment and set his eyes again to paintings that moved and sparkled across the walls.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was a waiting room. A big, wide waiting room with an infinite number of straight-backed grey chairs and a low table with a copy of *Cosmopolitan* from 2004. It was full, but silent. No-one was breathing - after all, there was no need to, not now they were dead. No-one spoke to each other, either. They were all dressed in identical grey suits, hands folded neatly in their lap, fingers clenched around each other so hard that the room was filled with an infinite number of white knuckles.
I'd like to say that it was old age that took me, but it wasn't. When you're young, you imagine death to be something that will never happen to you. To other people, maybe, but not you in your safe little world. I took a seat next to a young woman with dark brown hair that tumbled over the Margaret Thatcher-like shoulder pads of the bulky grey suit she wore. She had an odd kind of expression on her face, and looking around, I realised it was the same for all of them. They strained forwards in their chairs, a desperate look of concentration twisting around the lines in their faces. ""Hey, hey,"" I said quietly, leaning into her. For a moment the mask of concentration breaks and she whirls round to me. She is livid. ""Hush! I'm listening!"" Listening to what, I wonder, leaning back in my chair. It's not comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. It doesn't feel much like anything. Maybe that's what being dead is like. There are no physical signs on my body of how I died. Is physical the right word? Maybe I'm just a ghost, or something. A soul? I don't know. Then I hear it. ""James,"" It comes loud and clear and I almost start out of my chair. I spin around, but it doesn't seem to be coming from anywhere. ""If you can hear me, James..."" I lean forward in my chair. Someone is talking to me. I try to stand up, but it's like I've been anchored down. ""Hey! Someone help!"" I cry out. ""Someone help me, there's been a mistake!"" But everyone in the room ignores me. They are too busy listening. Eventually I stop trying, but by then the voice is gone. I sit. I wait. The time ticks by slowly. ""Yeah, James... God, I just miss him so much."" It's my brother's voice. It's coming from somewhere, but I can't tell where, like his voice is seeping to me through the fog. This time I do not shout out. If I shout, I won't be able to hear him. ""Tom, Tom, I'm so sorry."" I whisper it, but his voice is already long gone. Time passes. The voices become fainter. I strain forwards to hear them. Always to hear them. I hear my mother, my brother, my father. I cry. Often, I cry. I didn't realise they had loved me this much. Why couldn't they have said this when I was alive?
There's a gasp from beside me. The girl with the brown hair is crying, too. I do not console her. I only want to hear my family's voices again. She stands and leaves. I keep listening. The voices fade away. So do I.
Edit: jesus, thanks for the gold. Still pissed, but i love you, whoever it was",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I had no choice!"" I scream back."" She..."" no not she, it... ""it would have been a vegetable its whole life and never lived!""

The protesters outside of the clinic just stare at me. Their eyes filled with hatred, and their mouth quirked up to sneers. 

Entering my car I close the door and the world blurs. I feel the wetness wash down my cheeks and I start to shutter and convulse. Six years of trying, so many miscarriages. I had such dreams of hold her.

I just wanted to hold my child, I just wanted to hold my daughter.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They say when you've done something wrong, you feel guilty.

They also say when someone else gets blamed for your misdeed you're supposed to stand up, claim the wrongdoing as your own.

Well, whoever *they* are, *they* don't know their ass from their elbow.

I feel neither guilt for my murders, nor remorse for the poor bastard who sits in the gas chamber in my stead.

You might as well ask me if I feel sorry for eating meat, or not making sure I separate all of my recyclables in my trash. 

It honestly does not matter to me.

Those are emotions for the cattle of humanity. Not for me.

The only thing I feel is inconvenienced. I had a few more bodies to pin on this asshole.

Oh well, I suppose I can always find someone else.

There are always more drifters. More lonely hearts ads I can manipulate.

I have a weekend to kill.

(Edits for grammar and added narcissism.)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I woke up confused. The last thing I remembered was Mommy picking me up from school. I looked around the room, which was a pretty shade of blue. I didn't understand why I wasn't in my bedroom at home. I heard from somewhere above the bed ""Dr. Shah please report to the C-ward, code green."" I realized I must be at the hopspital. A nurse in light blue scrubs opened the door to my room, and her eyes got real big when they locked with mine. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a croak like a frog. I tried to lift my head to look for some water, but it felt heavy. I strained to raise my head even a little, and the nurse rushed over, saying ""Don't move, just lie back and I'll get you something to drink, sir."" I thought it was weird she called me sir, that was something people usually called Daddy. I looked down, and my feet looked really far away. I looked at my hands, but they didn't look like my hands. I started feeling really scared, but then nurse got back with my water. She asked me if I knew where I was while I sipped the water through a straw, and I nodded yes. I knew I was in the hopspital, so I must be sick. She looked surprised, and asked me if I knew what date it was. I shrugged my shoulders, I thought it was just after Christmas. Mommy had got me a real cool Tonka truck last Christmas. She set the water down as a doctor came in the room. He had really dark skin, it looked like the color of Cocoa Puffs. He looked even more surprised than the nurse did when he saw me looking at him. He said ""Mr. Saunders, I have some very important things talk about with you. You were in a very serious car accident as a child. You have been in a coma for the past sixty years."" I looked at him, not understanding what he meant. Sixty years? That's older than Grampa! As he explained though, things began to click: he strange looking hands, the longer legs. I made like I was writing something, and the doctor handed me a pen and paper. I tried to grab the pen, but ended up with a clumsy fist around it. I wrote in huge crooked letters ""Mommy?"" The doctor sighed and shared a look with the nurse. He gestured to the door and they went out into the hall together. I took the pen and started doodling, waiting for them to come back.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He took a sip of his scotch. He was sitting at a small round table, his eyes closed in contemplation of the taste, and he took his time to do it properly. Time was, after all, the one thing he didn't lack. He put the glass back on the table near the bottle, and took a look at his wristwatch: seven fifteen and thirty four seconds. In ten seconds, the ship would collide with a wave big enough to feel it, and the old clock in the captain's cabin would fall down. He knew he would hear him curse the gods, and after a few moments hear him again, attempting to place the clock back on the wall. The sea used to make him sick. He would spend every moment at sea vomiting, or feeling like he was about to die in a terrible agony, only to vomit shortly after. That was, of course, no longer the case. These days he wished he could just die, he would take any kind of suffering to be released from this torture of boredom, from this repetitive routine that almost seemed like it was staged. Every move rehearsed to the point that no mistake would ever be made, and no matter what elements he would introduce, the outcome would in a way or another converge back to what was written in the script, however nonsensical it would seem. He once cut the throat of the captain right in front of the rest of the crew, while he was having his morning coffee with the sailors out on the deck, as he liked to. Their eyes stared at him with horror, someone jumped him from behind and restrained him, another one punched him and broke his arm to take the knife. They argued for a while about what to do with him, but in the end they decided that they would let the police deal with him once they reached the shore, in a little more than a day. They went back to their business, the part of the captain now played by his second in command, like nothing had changed. Another time he had cut his own throat and he felt as his life it went away, but the feeling of peace didn't last that much. He awoke shortly after, the cycle restarted, the day reset. It was pointless to look for a way out, he knew. The shore was but a day of sailing away, but after all these years he might as well have been living in a water world all along, a world where the shore was a lie told to the children in order to keep their hopes up and give some sort of meaning to their lives. He couldn't even remember what standing on solid ground felt like. Had it been ten years? No, much more. A hundred? He didn't know. He lost count after a while. It could have been a thousand years, a million years, it didn't make any difference. This was his own hell, and he had been living in it longer than he had lived before all this. Why was he on this ship? It had something to do with an inspection on the other side of the sea, but other than that, he couldn't recall. He had tried killing himself countless times, he had tried killing everyone countless times, in countless possible permutations, and nothing had ever changed. Not until he had tried to misplace the bottle of scotch.
It was the one thing he never thought of doing, taking the bottle with him to his cabin and drink himself to death, or at least to sleep. He didn't know how much alcohol was required to kill a man, but he thought an entire bottle of 16 years old single malt would be enough to at the very least award his attempt with a coma. He was instead awarded with rain. He found himself crying, completely naked out on the deck, his hands hugging the sky and his throat hurting for the screams of joy. The rain was not in the script. It never happened before, it shouldn't have, but that morning, at 4am, it had begun to rain. After that he passed out, but the next night he tried again: he took the bottle of scotch to his room, and rain began to fall shortly after. He also noticed that the glass he took with him was still there the next day, but went back to its starting position the day after. He tried taking the clock from the captain's cabin, and he found it in his room the next morning. The bottle of scotch kept going back, but every time he took an object, it would not be completely filled. With the glass and the clock the difference was almost impossible to see, but when he took the jukebox, he saw a significant decrease in the level of scotch.
He had decided that the bottle was somehow 'weighing' his offer to it. The more he offered to take outside of the loop, the more the level dropped. So he decided to offer another person, and took the captain back to his room. He didn't think things through, and things got out of hand when he wouldn't let him leave, so he had to put a knife through his eye to let him stay. His body, at least. The crew was very confused when the captain didn't show up the *'next'* morning, but the captain got his life back the day after, and the bottle had seemed to appreciate the offer, as only a couple of inches of scotch had remained. That was what a life was worth in this distorted, surreal play that was his own hell. That was what he needed to offer back to the bottle to be able to escape, or at least that was what he thought would happen. If another life was to take his place while he took his own, maybe he would be free. Maybe he would finally be dead. The tricky thing was to have it all happen in his room, without the other one leaving.
""Damn the gods to hell, I hate this floating piece of shit!"". Right on time, without fail. The captain was the perfect specimen for this little experiment of his. The excitement he felt, it was an alien feeling, something he had long forgotten. He knew how to make things work.
He went up to the captain's quarters and knocked on the door. The man, who was frustratingly trying to put the clock back on the wall at that point, left his task to open the door and ask him what in the seven hells did he want, and why instead of bothering him didn't he go to fuck himself off on the bloody deck. A smile crept on his face, and he almost chuckled. He took his knife and stabbed the captain in the gut, then twisted enough to see his expression of angered surprise turn to an expression of pain, and feel him go numb in his arms. He wasn't dead, good. He had practiced this long enough to know how to make him lose consciousness and not bleed out. He needed to have him last at least another twelve hours, but he was sure he got things right this time.
He wrapped the captain in a blanket and carried him back to his room, putting him on the bed. He would come to soon enough, and he would have to sedate him to keep his metabolism slow. He had already cauterized the wound and patched it up, so he shouldn't be bleeding out. Ten hours left. He poured himself another glass, drinking to the captain's honour. The man was delirious, probably feverish, but alive. Five hours. Someone was yelling, looking for him, but no one suspected he could be here. Three hours. He was very pale, too pale, and a sudden movement of the ship almost woke him up. The rain was incredibly strong, it had become a storm. One hour. This was it, he could hear thunder roaring and the ship was dancing the dance of death with the ocean, like the universe was being torn apart and they were running away from the quickly opening rip. Thirty minutes. It was time, the cycle would soon start again and he would not be here for it to suck him in again. He took the knife to his chest, and plunged it in. That, he had practiced many times as well. As life was leaving him, he heard thunders like he never heard before in his life, and saw lighting bolts so powerful he thought they would be tearing the sea itself in two. Suddenly, peace set in. Light. He heard bells ringing, and felt the ship stopping. The engines shut down. They had reached the shore. He opened his eyes and smiled, while a single tear came down his cheek. His hands then touched the knife deeply plunged in his chest, and he exhaled his last breath.
At least, at last he was free. ***
Wow, this came out longer than I expected...
EDIT: Not being a native english speaker, I have difficulty deciding if I completely fucked up the verb tenses. Too many 'had's, or too little?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Matthew Smith looked intently at the man who was half buried in an eviscerated panel on the outer wall of the structure.
""What've you got there Jimmy?"" ""Almost there, battery tapped in, just tracing the control lines to clip onto aaaannnnddd.... OPEN!""
Matthew looked up expectantly at the door. It didn't open. ""It didn't work.""
""Huh... Well let me try this one.""
This time the door shuddered. Then with a creak and a groan of strained metal, the doors cracked open in the middle. They shuddered back a few inches, and then with the scream of rust-on-rust, slammed back into the recesses of the wall.
Matthew was an archaeologist. And along with a few members of a specialist team, he was attempting to make his way into a structure that had been uncovered in a mine in southern USA. The tomb of the rocket-men as it was popularly called.
An artificial structure almost one thousand meters long, by seven hundred wide, it had been discovered month when a shaft collapse had necessitated a new borehole be dug. The first thing seen when the door cracked open was a body lying on the floor. Well, more specifically, it was a skeleton, collapsing and settling in a cloud of crumbling bone-dust, having been disturbed from it's position of leaning on the doorway.
""Leena, document."" Matthew commanded, almost necessarily as a wiry looking young woman with a camera dashed forwards. Videoing she took a few cautions steps around the bones. ""Very damaged. What remains: Possibly human? At least, very similar architecture. Not enough remaining to make a positive identification, movement will cause further disintegration.""
""Take a sample, but we move on and in. ""
Leena nodded, and using a few small tools, took a couple of scrapings and powder samples and placed them into some specimen jars. Michael flicked on his head torch, and being careful to step over what was left of the skeleton, proceeded to lead his team into the depths of the tomb.
What was ahead of them, a short corridor, leading up to a junction. Almost eerie in it's silence, except from the shallow, excited breaths of five people and the ringing sounds of their footsteps on metal. Three ways to go, one with a staircase at the end of it, although it was difficult to make out the direction in which it went from where they were. Matthew peered down all of them, as did the rest of his team. ""Which way?"" Katy was the first one out with it. Gesturing to the corridor of his choice, Jimmy stepped to the left hand tunnel. ""Well, if the imaging is correct, we came in on the left hand side of this thing. If they're like us, then I say we turn left, head for the front. At least, that's where I think this should take us."" ""I disagree. Let's take those stairs and head for the top. That's where I'd put the control room."" Katy responded, giving Jimmy *that* look. The one that Matthew knew was going to set both of them off and very shortly devolve into an argument. But before he could step in and head it off, Tom, the final member of their little troupe, started jabbering excitedly and demanding they all come and look at what he had found.
Unnoticed by Matthew, Thomas had been scraping away at the grime on one of the walls, and had uncovered something.
""Holy hell. Please tell me I'm seeing this.""
Katy stepped forward and whispered almost reverentially ""That's English lettering - E A L I U R - not comlpete obviously - rest of the lettering is too faded to make out in this light. Dammit, if only I had more light.""
What happened next scared the whole team witless for just a second. Starting with a deep, clunk and a slowly rising hum, the light block directly above them burst into light, and with a series of clicks cascade out to ignited the rest of the lights in the immediate sector, until everything that was in the immediate vicinity was bathed in an even white light.
Katy, looking all around herself, and with only a slight tremble in her voice began to talk rather rapidly, her impending conflict with Jimmy forgotten for the moment. ""Ooookay then. Spookiness. Grade A Capital S Spookiness. Is anyone else freaked out right now?"" Tom ran his fingers over the lettering on the wall, before using a small brush to scrub away the rest of the grime. ""*Excalibur*"" he whispered softly. ""A name?"" he continued, his voice more confident. ""I think this is the name of this facility, whatever it is. Leena and Matthew looked at each other.
""Human. Definatley Human."" came from Leena's mouth.
""Seems like it. English writing on the wall. Apparent response to voice commands. Upwards. We go up, let's reach the top of the structure and then head forwards.""
Decision made, the group gathered closer to themselves whatever tools they had and walked the chosen path.
-------
Being that it's half one where I am, I will continue this in the morning.
-------
Continuing from here
-------
The staircase took them up three floors before it became impassable. Some sort of damage had deformed the stairwell above them, making passing it impossible without the liberal application of acetylene torches and heavy lifting equipment. Now, they had a small cutting torch, but ultimately, the decision was made to attempt to find a way around the blockade. Thomas, using a stick of chalk, made a marking on the wall to indicate the direction they were taking, and then sketched a map into a tablet computer he was carrying. His attention taken away, he didn't notice that the others had dropped behind, involved in their own discussion until he nearly stepped on another corpse. He whistled back for the others to come up.
This one, Matthew noted, was for a given value of such, more intact than the body down by the entrance. This one, instead of being just a skeleton, still had mummified flesh on it's bones. However, almost none of the bones were intact - some violent trauma had happened to the body - Leena crouched down next to the body and carefully started to examine it, talking more to her camera than the rest of them. ""Body. Male. Unknown time how long it's been here. Must be some sort of environmental factor to not show the same decay as the skeleton downstairs. Skull is caved in, all major limbs show multiple breaks, limbs heavily distorted. Cause of death is unknown, but I would hazard a guess it was the skull that did it. Certainly you would be unlikely to recover from that.""
Panning the camera up and side to side, Leena nodded when she found a bloodspatter on the wall. ""Bloodsplatter looks consistent with the skull wound - someone or something caused this man's head to collide violently with the wall. I wonder what happened here?""
The whole team looked around as another hum started to rise in the vicinity of them. This time, they all jumped to the side when something appeared in the middle of them.
A model of a room, with two people in it. Their images fuzzy and blurred. Then from apparently nowhere, voices started, and the image began to move. The two people seemed to be arguing about something. ""... gotta fix... no, you .... I ... to... failing... I can fix... your permission."" were the only words that could be made out before one of the figures dashed out of the room. A moment later, Tom gave a scream when a man appeared at the end of the corridor at a run. Again, fuzzy, blurred. He belted it down the corridor, past the team, and down the stairs they had just come up. Just before he disappeared out of sight, there was a pause, a flicker and suddenly he was running in the opposite direction, when something unseen flung the man from his feet. Head collided with the wall, precisely where the bloodstain was, and his now limp body was flung violently around the corridor for a few seconds more, before the hologram folded the body into the same positioning that the real body was in now. The last thing to be shown was a set of words in the middle of the corridor: ""Excalibur Internal Security recording terminated. Query answered.""
Matthew blinked a few times. ""Leena, please tell me you got that?""
Thomas breathed a sigh. ""Full holographic technology, and what is at the least an incredibly intelligent voice recognition/command system. Imagine the applications! Imagine what could be done!"" Thomas grabbed Matthew by the front of his shirt. ""I have to have it!""
Matthew calmly pried Thomas's hands off of him. ""All in due time. Let's not get too excited here Thomas. First, let's get to the bridge."" To the corridor at large, he spoke out. ""Excalibur. Indicate the shortest unobstructed route to your primary command center.""
There was a minute pause, and then some words formed in the center of the room. ""Regret: Captain, Primary command systems unavailable. Significant damage to superstructure. Report: Secondary command systems, Engineering deck. Pathfind?""
""Did this thing just call you Captain?"" Jimmy inquired of Matthew. Matthew made a gesture to silence him before speaking again. ""Excalibur, confirm. Pathfind to secondary command systems. ""
A series of blue lights along one side of the wall lit up, starting at their position and leading back the way they came. -------
Part three to come tomorrow.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"That night, as storm clouds gathered in the darkened skies above Washington, he spoke to a full house of reporters and lobbyists. ""And if we can all work together in a show of bipartisan support, I am confident that we can accomplish anything, folks.""

As the audience applauded, President Obama smiled and waved as he headed off the stage. Reporters flashed cameras and shouted questions behind him.

""What do you think about Chris Christie's Bridge-ghazi scandal!?""

""When can we expect full economic recovery!?""

""What about education, Mr. president!?""

But, as anyone finishing a press conference does, Barack simply smiled at friends or fans and continued making his way backstage -until Wendy Walters asked her question.

""Is it true you're from the planet Berengaria Prime!!?""

It wasn't her question, or her squeaky voice, or even how she rose on tip-toes to try and be seen above a crowd of people all of whom were taller than she was that silenced the cacaphony of reporters' questions. 

It was the fact that the President stopped and turned on his heel.

He smiled broadly and took a step closer to the media, putting a hand warmly on Wendy's shoulder.

""Actually, there are days when I'm convinced that my opponents in congress are from Mars."" He thought better of saying, ""Uranus.""

The group of reporters chuckled and clicked thousands of photographs of the president smiling with his hand on Wendy's shoulder. One reporter decided it would make for a cute human interest piece. Another wanted it for the UFO section of his outlet's website. And yet another was certain, as he watched the president whisper quietly in the blonde reporter's ear, that it would some day be proof of an affair.

""One day,"" the reporter said to his assistant, watching secret service seal off the exit after Obama and Walters were out of sight, ""this picture's gonna be worth millions. Mark my words. I've never seen him take a reporter backstage before. Those two? They're totally doin' it.""

In the corridor, burly secret service agents walked behind and in front of the President as he smiled at Wendy.

""Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Miss Walters."" Obama grinned broadly, one hand in his pocket, walking with purpose through the long corridor.

""I- I want to say thank you for wanting to give me an exclusive interview but somehow I'm sure that's not what you really want."" Wendy tried to look tough but somehow failed.

""Because you think I'm from another planet. What did you call it, Bulgaria Prime?"" His eyes glinted at her with bemusement.

""Berengaria Prime, and you know exactly what it's called."" She had to speed up a bit to keep alongside him. ""We've been watching, Mr. Obama -or whatever your real name is -and we know all about it.""

""Who's 'we?' Last I heard, you got your white house press pass because you worked for a major network. Are you telling me FOX news is now tracking alien conspiracies? Not that I'd totally disbelieve it..."" Obama managed to be condescending in a really friendly way. It unnerved her.

""I'm not working for FOX anymore. And who I represent doesn't want to go public ...yet. But we do know and the planet earth is not without recourse.""

Obama and the secret service led Wendy into the Oval Office. The agents did not remain in the room but, as they closed the doors, Wendy was certain they'd be waiting just outside. Barack sat down at his desk and gestured to a chair. Wendy chose to stand.

""Well, have it your way. Look, Miss Walters, I can assure you that I am not from another planet. If this is about my birth certificate, I still have a copy in my desk dr-""

""I'll get to the point,"" Wendy cut him off, something to which the president was unaccustomed, and furrowed his brow in a rare flash of annoyance. ""We not only know about your home planet but we also have one of your operatives in ...custody.""

The president did not reply. He merely sat back in his chair and listened.

""A 'reptilian,' or as you call yourselves, a 'Dra'a Venoor,' who has identified himself as Roagha, has told us a great deal."" She squared her shoulders and stood at as ready a stance as she could muster, prepared to confront him once and for all. ""We know about 'Operation Underpants.'""

Obama looked down at the paperwork covering his desk and chuckled. ""Operation *Underpants*, Miss Walters?""

""He said you selected a ridiculous name so no one would believe it.""

""And he's right. Even I don't believe it. But it seems you do. Why?"" He looked at her with concern, as if wondering if she needed some serious therapy.

""Because we have *seen* him. Yes, we managed to force your operative to revert to his true form. And we heard him talk. We *made* him talk."" Her eyes narrowed. ""He told us everything we wanted to know.""

Barack stood up and Wendy instinctively took a step backward. ""Look, I don't believe any of this and I'm frankly shocked that you seem to. Someone has apparently gone to a lot of trouble to deceive you or, quite honestly, you are either lying or insane.""

""NO! I saw it with my *own* eyes. I saw his skin transform right in front of me, going from a smooth, human complexion to a scaly, green skin.""

""Miss Walters..."" Obama looked at her like she was a pathetic figure worthy of some pity and reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.""

""I saw his blood when I slit his throat."" She spat the words out like poison.

FLASH! Obama's hand was around her throat and she was pushed backwards to teeter on her high heels -but his iron grip held her firmly as his green scaled face pushed uncomfortably close to hers.

""He wassss my brood-mate!"" His nictitating membranes blinked across his yellow, slit-pupiled eyes. ""My elder sssibling, blood of my blood!"" His voice was deep and strained. ""You will pay for thissss."" 

She tried to swallow but couldn't move her throat. She barely managed a hoarse reply.

""We have.... another.""

He let go, shoving her back violently. She fell onto her backside, one black pump flying off her foot and sailing into the wall. She grasped at her throat, wheezing and coughing. ""We'll kill....*gasp* ...him too. If anything *cough* happens to me.""

""Who isss it you think you have?!"" Standing beside his chair, Obama bent slightly forward placing his hands on the desk. She never saw him depress the small green button underneath...

""Her name is Da'davri."" Wendy got to her feet and straightened her now-rumpled red dress as she moved to retrieve her shoe. ""I know you know her."" Shoe slipped onto foot and foot joined its companion, standing heroically as arms bent akimbo. ""She's one of your 5 wives.""

""You keep your stinking paws off her, you damned dirty ape!""

""She's unharmed. For now.""

""What do you want,"" Obama asked flatly -ever the politician.

""To bring you a message. The people of Earth know you're here, and we won't stand for it. We know you plan to take and consume the bulk of the human population and we will stop you.""

Obama shook his head and the reptilian features melted into the familiar face of the president. He smiled his trademark smile.

""No, Miss Walters. No, you won't. You can't. You see, we haven't just arrived. We've been here since the dawn of your civilization. We *made* you. Imhotep? He was one of us. Caesar? He was my grandfather. We're far longer lived than the pitiable apes we genetically enhanced to be our servants. And we are patient. Very patient.

""There are more of us here than you can count and we are *everywhere*, at all levels of power and governance around the world. Except Canada. Anyway, we have programmed you to collect gold and precious metals and gems for us and you have done so very well at it. We instituted various social experiments to find the proper form of government that would keep you productive and obedient. Frankly, they all worked just fine. In every case you happily fell upon each other like wolves for every scrap of food or money. Even in America, where you think you're *free*, you bristle at the notion that someone might not work enough for their masters... for us, ultimately. I'd like to say we're brilliant, and we are, but frankly, my dear,"" he smiled at her. ""You apes are just so stupid.""

""Yeah? Well we ""stupid apes"" sussed you out. And now, we're going to rid the world of you once and for all. As we speak, one of our top operatives has a nuke aimed at your mothership. Yes, we know where it is. Only an idiot thinks we really landed on the moon to collect rocks.""

Suddenly, the door opened and a secret service agent closed it again after a burly, ruddy-faced man in a blue suit entered. ""You buzzed for me, Mr President?""

""R-Ronald,"" She stammered.

""Hello, Wendy,"" he said softly, his freckled skin turning green and glistening.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Truman Washington was a beginning of the end, a decisive instrument of history. A Julius, a Napoleon, a Cromwell.
The Ethiopian-born genius who had turned on the land that raised him, a poor immigrant who had torn a blood-splattered path to riches, and then to power. The man who had twisted the poor Constitution until it could bear no more, until the Republic crumbled. President at 35 while keeping his old CEO position at Lockheed Martin-JP Morgan. He had bought the Supreme Court and Congress with his uncountable billions, and lavishly spent on private armies. Legal, since corporations were people, who had the right to self defense. The Joint Chiefs were unwilling to intervene as no laws had been broken. The fact that the corporations were rather more powerful was just proof of the fact that more money is more speech. Nearly 8000 had been massacred in New York, and Chicago had become a war zone, but even a public in full revolt couldn't besiege the well-cushioned rich, who could take any amount of plebeian protest without the need to capitulate.
It was not that his system failed, really, it was that it had succeeded. He had been the richest, and then he hadn't. Another maniac with more money now wanted to crush the world between his hands. They had usurped his throne, made him penniless, and imprisoned him for crimes against the Republic. Alcatraz for God's sake. Now they were taking his life. Treason. One charge for one criminal. One day to live, and the result of final appeal, a phone call from the Supreme Court, was coming any second.
A guard walked in with the phone,
""Your free to go"", came the familiar, mocking tone, with its deep Asiatic accent. A loud beep as the line went dead, Truman was left with his face gray, stunned for a moment.
The guards walked in and grabbed his prison-issue shirt, stained red to indicate that he was a high value inmate. They dragged him bodily out of the room, with a bit of hatred laced into their tugs.
High value inmate. Only because of historical interest. He was no more, stripped of everything during the Downfall. Life in the common world would be torture, he would be a pariah to the common classes. The door out of the prison doors approached. The hinged creaked loudly and sunlight streamed in, blinding him. He smelled the sea and heard a dull roar, either the mob or the brutally cold surf rocking the shores in the blustery wind. The line of people was dense, 30 people deep on every side. The guard next to him laughed and bent over, leaning close to Truman's ear even as he dragged him,
""I'm just one of the lower ones, the poor that you so disenfranchised. I have only a bitter pleasure at seeing you die, as it just marks the coming of the next emperor. One day we will rebuild what you destroyed. Sic semper tyrannis."" The guard drew away and pushed Truman Washington into the crowd.
The crowd threw his body into the sea.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"&gt; Be me at 8 years old
&gt; Watch the 10-hour Nyan cat video on Youtube every day, doing absolutely nothing else
&gt; Prays to Nyan cat every night before sleeping, looking up at the sky to await the prophecy
&gt; ""Nyan Cat is love. Nyan Cat is life,"" I repeat ritualistically
&gt; My mom hears me and calls me a ""bundle of sticks""
&gt; She is just jealous of the bond between me and Nyan Cat
&gt; I call her a ""female dog""
&gt; She slaps me and tells me to do my homework
&gt; I am crying now and forgot to eat Pop Tarts for dinner
&gt; I lay in bed looking out the window
&gt; Suddenly the clouds part
&gt; A giant rectangular object is blocking out the full moon
&gt; The 20,000 year prophecy is coming true
&gt; It's Nyan Cat
&gt; Mom comes into my room and asks what the answer to my math homework is
&gt; Nyan Cat rumbles from the heavens
&gt; ""It's over nyan thousand""
&gt; I am smiling now with tears of joy instead of pain
&gt; Nyan Cat crashes into the Earth
&gt; People are dying
&gt; Nyan Cat appears in my room
&gt; Sings ""Nyanyanyanyan"" and saws my mother's body in half
&gt; Blood is everywhere
&gt; ""That is strawberry filling"" Nyan Cat says
&gt; Then Nyan Cat approaches me
&gt; My body is ready
&gt; I roll over on my stomach
&gt; Nyan Cat mounts me and starts purring
&gt; My dreams are coming true
&gt; Jelly filling flows up my butthole
&gt; Best thing ever felt anywhere of all time
&gt; ""Nyanyanyanyanyanyanyanyan,"" Nyan Cat says then flies out the window
&gt; Flies back into the sky and disappears for another 20,000 years
&gt; Nyan Cat is love. Nyan Cat is life.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Have you ever woken up and been unable to move? In most cases, it's called sleep paralysis. In my case, it was called bad luck. The day before, I woke up at 6:50 AM, considered killing the spider on my dark green ceiling, and made some coffee. On the day of The Event, however, I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, located in an unfamiliar room, hooked up to an unfamiliar machine making unfamiliar noise. I assumed it was a dream at first. Who wouldn't? I had to just wait it out and then wake up. A confused woman in a nursing outfit started suddenly in the corner. ""Ambapo Mimi ni nani?! Nani kutomba ni wewe?!"" she shouted. I tried to respond, to get up and ask her about what was going on, but I found myself trapped within my own body. Panic set in. The odd beeps from the machine beside me accelerated. And then I realized: I was paraplegic. The nurse ran out of the room, and I wished I could follow her. Instead, I was left alone with nothing but the steady beeping of my own heart.
This was two weeks ago. for two weeks I've been alone, staring blankly at a wall. For two weeks I heard nothing but faint shouts and the incessant beeping noise. The worst part, however, is the hunger. It's a hungry beast, violently clawing its way to the surface. I don't know how much longer I can last, but I pray it isn't long.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hey. Yeah, I know we never talk and all. When we do its all pregnant pauses and crickets. Which is mostly my fault, I mean, I live with my eyes shut. Just sitting there, writing a million little stories of you and me. None of them are...this. You're not the one that is stuck with me, I am. I am stuck and you are not helping in the slightest. But, hey, you tried and that's admiral, I guess, but not enough. Sorry, so sorry, that's not what I called you up to talk about. I know its hard, having to deal with som-someone like me. It might be unrequited but I love you. I feel like I was genetically predispositioned for that, you shaking me off won't work. I know that I am no where as good enough as you deserve and you'll probably just delete this before you start the message. I mean, what dumbass uses private caller anymore? Just me. Its the only way I've got the balls to do it. Calling in to tell you hi and that I miss you and that I love you and I'm sorry. [*Pause*] Say hi to Kevin for me, yeah. Okay, yeah, bye, Mom.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A square-jawed and handsome man who was in his forties, but looked like he was in his late thirties, appeared on the television screen. It was Brian MacAvoy of *American Eagle News.*
""Welcome back. As I mentioned before the break, a new drug has hit the streets that can, quote, make people more sexually provocative and permissible, unquote.
""On my right, we have Dr. Laura Goodman, a noted women's issues professor from Stanford University, as well as the Chairperson of Women's Alliance Movement or WAM. She says that this drug is a boon for society, because it will help to reverse our aging society problem, but is concerned that it could be used to take advantage of women into unwanted sexual encounters.
""And on my left is Governor John Perry of Virginia, likely contender for the Republican Party's nominee for president. He says that he thinks that this drug is quote, a symbol of our crumbling morals, unquote, and suggests that women who take this drug are again, quote, asking for it, unquote, and that therefore the country's laws regarding sexual harassment and rape ought to be reviewed.
""Dr. Goodman, let's start with you,"" continued MacAvoy.
I switched off the TV. I didn't want to hear it anymore. It's been on TV for months since the drug hit the market and I was tired of it.
It was so damned stupid. No one made a fuss when those boner pills were first introduced. No one batted an eye. In fact, those commercials were just so subtle and coy that it was oftentimes impossible to know just what the hell was being advertised until they mentioned the brand's name.
But now that this drug can be taken by both men and women, now it's a big deal. God forbid that women can make our own choices in regards to our bodies.
Perry and all those Evangelical Christians, many who picketed outside the stores that sold this drug called us sluts and whores. They even taught their children to spit at us. This was expected. They've always been that way. But Goodman and all those other feminists were annoying, too, treating us like as though we were part of a societal solution or helpless people who needed their omniscient and benign protection.
None of these talking heads ever took the time to consider that we might be just individuals. Yes, I like sex. Is that so crazy? For a woman to admit that she likes sex? How the hell did people think that the birds and the bees do it?
No, I don't need the drug. I'm already in a loving relationship and my boyfriend and I get along just fine. But every once in a while, when the sex gets a bit boring, we don't mind using outside help. I've used porn, vibrators, and other toys before. Why not this new drug?
Yes, when taken irresponsibly, bad things can happen. Yes, people can sometimes abuse this new drug. But what else is new? Have none of these loudmouths ever heard of *personal responsibility*?
I'm not a slut who is asking for it. I'm not a helpless damsel in distress who needs to be rescued by WAM. I'm not some kind of baby producing machine that will solve the country's aging problem.
I am me, and I like to use this drug in moderation for my own personal enjoyment. Why is that such a big deal?
I was muttering and fuming under my breath as I stared at the dull reflection of myself on the TV's screen when I heard my boyfriend's voice.
""Hey, honey. I'm going to the store to pick up a few things. And I was thinking of picking up you-know-what for tonight. Do you want me to pick up the same one from the last time?"" asked Troy.
""No,"" I replied. ""I didn't really like that one.""
""Yeah, it did taste a little harsh, didn't it?""
""But there's this one that I want to try. I think it might taste a bit better. It's supposed to taste like lemonade.""
""Alright, I'll pick it up. What's it called?""
""Mike's Hard Lemonade,"" I replied.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"(I'm getting vibes of The Tempest) *Edit: Moved it all to one comment*
When I awoke, I felt nothing but pain. As I lay on the shore, my skin felt like it was burning. Hot, so hot. I opened my eyes, and closed them. I tried to lift myself up, but my hands were burning from the heat of the sand as it touched it. It was like every pebble was a tiny stove. I opened my eyes again and took a look at my injuries. Nothing too broken, but I had lacerations and bruises all over. My clothes were torn, and I couldn't find my master anywhere. Perhaps he had perished in the storm?
I ripped the hem of my dress and wrapped it around my feet. I didn't care about modesty, and it didn't seem like there was anyone present on the desolate whitish yellow shore. I seemed to have kept most of my maid's outfit, which was all I had except for... I hope I still had…
I felt my neck. Yes, I still had the token my love had given me. It was a little wooden bird around a leather string. He had bought it for me from the marketplace as a parting gift, he felt the flying bird matched my own restlessness. I held onto it tightly for comfort, took a deep breath, and trudged forward.
The island was solid rock, and hurt to walk over. Not much grew on the island, except for the occasional patches of land. I needed to look for water. I walked further inland, and soon enough, there were animals, plants, and insects. Much to my surprise, there were trenches dug up to allow for fertile land to be transplanted on the island, or else there wouldn't be life. There must be people here!
Was that good or bad? Would they be friendly or dangerous? I suppose nothing is worse than being a handmaid to the Duke of Milan. I suppose it was divine justice. I had always wanted to travel, see the world. I volunteered to go on this trip with my lord to the Duke of Sicily, it's only fair I'm going to get eaten by savages along the way. Hungry, I look for food. There is a grove of trees ripe with fruit, strange ones I've never seen before. Large green ovals that blush red, yellow ones that look like hedgehogs on their heads, hairy brown ones. I stick with the green oval. The skin is bitter, but the orange inside is sweet and tart and unfamiliar to me as the juice flows down my face, filling me with relief. I eat another, and another. As I'm finishing my last one, I feel the tree shake. In surprise, I look down and see three men trying to shake me off the tree. Terrified, I climb down.
This is it. They ask me to follow them, and we walk for what seems like miles to a little village. It is small, primitive. As we move into the outskirts, I see buildings decorated in gold, shining in splendor, but absolutely filthy. There's excrement lining the streets, women washing their glittering clothes and gold chains make their necks barely visible. Children can barely move in their heavy garments as they throw rocks of gold on the streets in some sort of gambling game. This must be the wealthy part of the, but why are we moving away? As we walk towards the center, the streets become neater, wider. There are flowers along the roadside, and trees. The buildings are beginning to have wooden beams, and further in the houses are made entirely of wood. The people walking past us wear various types of clothing, mostly gold cloth, but some are dressed plainly in high quality linen and wool. At last, I reach the largest wooden building. The men enter with me, and there is someone guarding the door. As we enter the chamber, there is a group of men and women in the wooden hall. They are dressed in robes, like everyone else. But, they are all wearing a fabric I had only seen once before, cotton. The cotton I had seen was rough and harsh to the skin. Yet, this looks so soft and smooth, someone must have painstakingly taken out all the seeds from each fibre.
There was a man sitting on a chair in the room, while everyone else stood.
He tries to speak to me, but it comes out like a song I can't understand. Kind and musical, but confused. I try to explain my circumstances, apologize for stealing, beg for my life. But, the man looks at the wooden trinket around my neck.
He points to it, and motions for me to give it to him. Confused, I unwrap the leather string around my neck and hand it to him. He admires the cheap thing, valuable only in sentiment, and smiles. He gives it back to me, and I'm escorted by a group of women to be bathed and clothed. They are all so beautiful and kind.
I wonder if I am the only survivor, but it isn't until my meal that I see I am not. I hear a familiar clinking and the heavy footsteps, but a tray piled with food is covering his face. He's having a hard time carrying it. Finally, with a wheeze and a sigh, he sets in on the table. I can't believe it. He is still wearing his silk and brocade, and still has held onto his jewelry. Granted, his once immaculate and haughty appearance has become tattered and mangy, but it's still him. It's my master, the Duke himself!
""My lord,"" I gasp. He looks pale as he opens the tray of roasted meat, vegetables unfamiliar to me, and lined with flowers. I am sitting with the other women, who I assume are noble in a small table while the men sit in the large dining room. The servers are all covered in gold and wearing golden chains.He stares at the floor as he takes out the wooden spoon and with great effort, scoops the food onto my plate. He is so weak, so tired.
When he accidentally drops some vegetables on the floor, he is smacked by one of my fellow dinner guests who shout at him. Livid, he picks it back up, and puts it on my plate.At this insult, the guards are up in arms. They grab him and hold him in place while they put him at my feet, looking to me to see what to do.
""In their land, the person of higher rank gets to decide a proper course of punishment if someone commits an offense towards them,"" growled my former master.
""I don't understand. Let go of him,"" I ask the guards, who nod and throw him to the ground. I hear a thud as his head hits the floor. With dignity, he crawls back up to address me, despite his apparent pain.
""I would request something relatively painless, they have some sharp blades here, perhaps decapitation?"" He continues as he spits out blood from his mouth.
""This is ridiculous, my lord. What is going on?""
""I can't bear this indignity! I've been prodded, poked, and forced to work for these savages. It is a disgrace for me to continue living, especially if it means serving you. Have you met your fellow servants yet? They're in the Royal Banquet Hall,"" he sneers. ""They were given the same choice, and all of them have murdered their masters and taken their place in this topsy-turvy land! I only expect you to do the same."" With that, he spits at my feet.
""You are injured, we should take care of that, and then get you some new clothes. Have you eaten yet?""
He doesn't say anything at first. ""Yes, I had some bread earlier.""
""Sit with me, this is more food than I am used to. Take some water, you look parched.""
I can't understand much of the language, but I enjoy the company of these people. They laugh more than I'm used to, and are very generous. From the way they treat me, they assume I am a fellow noble and of use for future trade. Most of the night I have been playing charades with them, trying to communicate in hand gestures as we want to find out more about each other. So far, I've learned a few words, like ""water,"" and ""yes,"" but I have a long way to go.
They don't seem to approve of my leniency with the Duke, but take it as a cultural barrier, accepting me as the impostor I am.
Tonight I have my own chambers, and a large bed to sleep on. I've never felt sheets this soft before, it's like I am sleeping on a cloud. As I drift onto what feels like a feather bed, I think about what will happen to me, and how will I make myself useful to these people now that I'm sitting at the table
It's been three months.
I can't say I've mastered the language, but I've become proficient. I've been very busy lately. Who knew court life was so hectic, no matter the culture?
They have an odd way of viewing life here, the Antillians. They worship many gods, none I have heard of, but I appreciate their devotion.
Every morning, we wake up and greet the dawn. Then, we go to the temple of the Land Goddess and offer incense and chants. After a communal bath (I'm still not used to that!), we go to Court and give our regards to the king, Malo, who opens up the public forum for debate of the new laws. I'm surprised the king is not telling them what to do, since it is his Divine Right, but it is his decision. The women have equal say as the men. Have you ever heard of such a thing? They are even helping to make laws!
I've even sat in a few meetings. Although I am not eloquent, I have made my history of my former life known, and yet they still respect me. We have been working on ways to store food to prevent famine and try to alleviate the stigma of poverty on the island. There are more villages too, but I was lucky to have entered the capitol my first day.
On the island, poverty is a curse. A self-inflicted on from the Land Goddess. Since the ground is not fertile, the only way to get food is to either import it, which is difficult and expensive, or to terraform the land and bring in fertile soil and grow crops. Food is a vital commodity, building materials are vital. Wood is the most precious resource with all of its applications. People have died trying to get enough wood to build boats, or even find kindling for fire.
The only thing that is plentiful on the island is gold. So much so that the words ""gold,"" and ""evil"" are the same. Their analogue to the Devil is a golden idol, and while he is kept polished and shining. The statue is struck by lighting quite often, apparently lighting based accidents are common on the island, especially towards the poor, which doesn't help the image.
I've been trying to convince the king to export the gold, trade it for needed resources, but he seems reluctant. Although it could help bring prosperity to the island, instead of the teetering existence of hand and mouth most people live on, he tells me that it would lead to disaster. Other islands would want the evil, not knowing it is cursed. It is only in the past few generations the inhabitants even realized their worthless land was valuable to other people. So far, they've allowed a little bit to leave for trading, and that has helped feed and clothe the island, but only nobles can exchange it, and only with direct permission from the king. Those who are caught embezzling face a violent and ritualistic death for bringing shame to the island.
After my morning debating, I have lunch with my colleagues. I have been wanting to go back to my land for a while, but the king does not want to part with a boat that will never return.
I might die here.
I do not know if I'm willing to be resigned to that fact. The people treat me well, and I've become more than a novelty. Lately, Malo's second in command, Roillo, has been lunching with me. He seems pleasant and patient, and from what the nobles tell me, he is handsome by their standards. I do not know if I should accept any advances from him. He disagrees with my need to change the old ways, especially since I am an outsider. A few of the nobles have expressed their dislike towards me, especially the king's daughter, Geum, who has threatened to weigh me with gold and throw me into the sea. Riollo has promised me protection after the king's death in exchange for becoming one of his lesser wives, but he still will not help me leave.
The only person I've seemed to be able to voice these concerns to Filippo. It is odd not to consider him as my master anymore, but he is also not my servant. I made him give up his jewels, much to his chagrin, but now he is not considered a slave by my peers. He's become my advisor, since he has had political experience. He's taught me much too, we talk of Plato and Petrarch, Dante and Diogenes. He still scoffs at me when I ask him questions, but sees my usefulness and is willing to change his attitude. He wants me to give him a higher status if I marry Riollo, and I will keep him in mind. Although he will probably never respect me, nor would I expect him too, he is an ally for now.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Sherlock, Sherlock, I think I've made an amazing discovery!""

""Watson, what revelation could possibly merit such excitement? We are on a rather tight schedule and I don't have time for trivialities.""

""Well, you know that curious Batman character?""

""We live in Gotham, Watson, it would be pretty hard not to.""

""Yes, well, I've been looking at the data and I've come to a remarkable conclusion. This graph of Batman's activity shows a concentration in the area directly surrounding Wayne manor. Add to that the fact that a man like Batman would need a huge fortune to subsidize the cost of his vigilante efforts. Then remember Bruce's mysterious absence from the Wayne Charity Dinner last year -- it was at exactly the same time that Batman saved the orphanage from the Joker. It all makes sense!""

""Spit it out, Watson, what are you trying to say?""

""Sherlock, I'm saying that *Bruce Wayne is the Batman*!""

...

...

""Why, is that it, Watson? I assumed that was obvious!""

""Come again, Holmes?""

""I mean, his mask isn't exactly very concealing, is it?""

""Why, I suppose no-""

""And his voice, Batman sounds exactly like Bruce Wayne does.""

""I suppose, upon further reflection, it did sound awfully familia-""

""My god, Watson, what would you do without me?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"You ever read that ancient graphic novel Y: the Last Man? If you haven't, quick synopsis. There's only one man left alive and the rest of the world is women. Good read. Now our situation is similar enough to draw comparisons, but the key difference is that Y was a piece of fiction and this is reality. There is 99 women for every man on earth.
Now before you go off dreaming of harems and men being fawned upon by nubile young maidens, think again. The reality is a different story. I'm not a doctor so bear with me, but the reason for the massive gender imbalance is that simply put, almost all male fetuses miscarriage in the first trimester. Survival rates for females are the same as they have always been. We currently do not know the cause, but it has dramatically altered the socio-political landscape. Someone from the early 21st century or earlier would have difficulty recognizing the world as it is today.
If you have ideas of a massive dystopian society, drop them. Men aren't fought over a la Mad Max nor are we enslaved to impregnate woman like we're cattle. I actually hold a day job. Now true, woman now make up almost the entire political sphere. Only four men are in the House of Representatives and one in the senate. In a change from the past, these men are not linked to any state, instead they represent the men of the U.S. as a whole. Men get to vote for two representatives and two senators. One each for their male reps and another two for their state representatives. That way we also get a say in state issues. Trust me, I'm giving you the 3rd Grade version. It's far more complicated. Where else? Oh! Religion. Well, the Catholic Church was gutted once more and more of the men died off due to old age. Lots and lots of papal decrees were being made. That said, Pope Verity is one of the most popular ruler of the holy see in decades. She's instituted numerous reforms to aid the impoverished. The last male pope was elected at the age of 56. Died six years later of cancer. Since 80% of the college of Cardinals are women, I doubt we'll see a man on the Papal throne for a long time. Islam also got hit hard, but has manage to bounce back, minus those rules and laws deemed oppressive towards women. Tehran is the Paris of Middle East now, I visited it two years ago, wonderful place. I highly recommend it.
In the realm of sports, football's dead. It's deader than the proverbial dodo. But hockey's still surviving in the North thank god. All the major baseball teams switched over to softball following the 2256 season. Which reminds me, I have tickets to the Riveters soccer game in Detroit this weekend. It's against the St. Louis Arch Angels. Yes, you can groan at the pun.
Now I imagine you're asking, Marc, do women throw themselves at you everywhere you go? The answer is, not really. Ever since men started dying off in large numbers due to age, more and more woman are becoming couples. The last of the gay marriage bans were dropped nearly ninety year ago. I even know a few gay guys who are married. Luckily, no one gives a shit. Every man in the U.S. donates genetic samples each week so women who want children can become artificially impregnated. Last time I checked, I have 700 biological daughters and ten sons. That said, women guard their husbands and boyfriends jealously. I'm dating two girls, and let me tell you, they watch me like a hawk. I'm actually planning on asking their hands in marriage.
I'm barely scratching the surface here. If you want to speak more, just give me a call on the implant. It may seem strange, but for me, it's Tuesday. It's just life, nothing special. Though I have to say, never having to pay for beer is nice.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Mongrel,” the dark wizard calls.

A short beast made of lumps, uneven eyes, and a snaggletooth emerges from the shadows. “YES, M’LORD!” it responds overzealously. 

“Calm down, beast!” the wizard commands from beneath his cowl. “Why are you always so excitable? Can’t I just call you without having to deal with your ridiculous energy?”

“Sorry, m’lord!” it replies a bit less enthusiastically this time, but still enough to upset the wizard.

“For Gods’ sakes… come and bring me that bowl of maggots!”

“Certainly, m’lord!”

The crudely made monster reaches up to the table and fumbles the bowl, causing its contents to spill all over the floor. “Apologies, m’lord!”

As he moves to pick up the fallen maggots he accidentally steps and kills each one.

“Really?! Are you serious?!” the dark wizard exclaims, annoyed. “You can’t be serious!”

“DEEPEST APOLOGIES, M’LORD! I SHALL SUMMON THEM BACK WITH THE MAGICKS I HAVE LEARNED BY READING YOUR BOUND PAPERS!”

“Bound papers? What in the devil are you…”

A feeling of extreme magical pressure emanating from his oddly shaped servant interrupts the wizard. “Oh no” the wizard whispers to himself.

Darkness surrounds the little gremlin as its muscles protrude and fire escapes from its orifices. “AHHHHHHHHHHH!” it screams.

The light in the room is seemingly sucked into the mouth of the mutated being and the room goes quiet. The wizard balls himself up, holding his knees and awaits the terrifying outcome. Finally, a noise cuts through the deafening silence; the familiar sound of a fart. The flames of the candle-lit room ignite once more.

“Wait, really?” The confused wizard asks.

“YES, M’LORD! BEHOLD!” the creature exclaims, pointing to something on the floor.

There upon the ground was a small pile of monster droppings and dangling out of them were the maggots, reanimated.

The tiny, odd-looking mutant begins dancing in circles around his own feces, clapping his hands without any sense of rhythm. The wizard, in disbelief, watches the strange show before him.

“The power of resurrection?” the dark wizard's look of shock turns to glee. “Oh, master. Your power is returning. We’re so close!”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The Captain looked at the viewscreen expectantly. ""Well, what is it?""

""It's a probe."" 

""One of ours?""

""Out here? Floating cold in space? Maybe, but it doesn't seem likely."" Sensor Operator Thurmond pressed a button.

""What does the DBAI say?""

""DBAI here, Captain. Records show no sign of any probes sent out this way.""

""Any chance those records could have left something out?""

""Of course, Captain.""

""Well, then. Helm, I want an intercept course plotted. We're going to pick this thing up.""

""Aye, Captain. Course plotted. Intercept in twenty-seven hours, fifteen minutes.""

""Very good, Helm. Let's go.""

A deep rumble sounded through the ship. A massive column of blue plasma burst from the ship's drive, shoving it onto a new course, an intercept course.

~~~~~

Ting-ting!

Captain Hosea woke from a deep sleep. Groaning, she reached for the comm panel next to her bunk, and pressed the answer button.

""This is the Captain,"" she slurred.

""Captain, this is the ship's DBAI. You requested to be woken up when we were coming upon the probe.""

""You're lucky you're virtual, or I'd have you flogged for waking me up.""

""That's why I do the wake up calls, Captain.""

""Touche. Inform the watch commander I'll be along shortly.""

""Aye, Captain."" The link went silent.

~~~~~

""Helm, how much longer until we intercept?""

""Twenty minutes, forty seconds, Lieutenant.""

""DB, can we get a count down on screen?""

""Of course, Commander."" A box appeared floating next to the viewscreen showing the countdown.

""Thank you. Launch Bay One, this is Commander Tiso, what's the status on the grapple net?""

""Commander, Launch Bay One, we're ready to go as soon as we're in range.""

""Good. Stay sharp.""

The control room door spun open. Someone called out ""Captain on deck!""

""As you were. Commander, what's the status on our pursuit of this probe?""

""Captain, we're nineteen minutes from intercept.""

""Good. Keep up the good work. I'm going down to Launch Bay One. I want to see this thing.""

""Aye, Captain.""

~~~~~

The probe was cold. Almost as cold as space itself. Which meant that it had either been cold when it was launched, or that it had been out in vacuum for a very long time.

Things take a long time to cool off in the vacuum of space. In an atmosphere, convection and conduction can carry heat away, evening out any temperature differences quickly. In space, heat can only be radiated away. 

Now, after an unknown amount of time, the probe would be warm again.

~~~~~

The ship approached the probe at a relative velocity of only a few dozen meters a second in the last minutes of the chase, and it was slowing the whole while. The entire ship had spun itself, point the drive in the direction of travel, slowing to match velocities.

Finally, only a few hundred meters separated the ship and the probe. Flood lights snapped on, illuminating it. Now the external cameras could finally get a good look.

Sharp angles. The body of the probe was sharp angles. It looked to be an irregular hexagon, about a meter and a half wide and two meters tall. The ruined remains of a communications dish were mounted on one side. On each of the six sides, a mast grew. Two were sheared off, ending in jagged metal. Two more carried dull grey cylinders a half meter long. The last two mounted unidentifiable lumps of equipment.

Slowly, a flexible net spread in the path of the probe. It drifted over the structures, embracing them tightly. A cable trailed back to the ship. 

~~~~~

""We have it secured in the net?""

""Yes, Captain.""

""Ok. This is your show, Chief.""

""Aye, Captain. Wi, reel it in. Nice and slow, don't put any stress on that thing.""

""You got it, Chief.""

The winch began to turn. Captain Hosea imagined she could hear it.

With a pace that seemed to rival a glacier, the probe closed the distance to the bay. At last, the probe cleared the bay doors, and they shut behind it.

""DB, does this match anything you have?""

""No, Captain. It does vaguely resemble some of the earliest interplanetary probes launched in the 20th Century. There are only so many ways to build a probe, though, so that may be coincidental.""

""Alright. Let's let the science team look it over, patch me through to them.""

""Done.""

""Lieutenant Arsen, this is the Captain.""

""Lieutenant Arsen here, Captain.""

""Get your team in there and find out what we've got. Give me a briefing at the next shift change.""

""Aye, Captain.""

~~~~~

""Lieutenant, look at this!"" Arsen hurried over to Crewman Naris.

""What is it?"" Naris pointed at a glimmer on the backside of the probe.

""Look here!"" He squinted at it.

""Is that... gold?""

""I think so. There are engravings on it, too."" Arsen's jaw dropped.

""Do you think it's a Pioneer plaque?"" 

""Yes. I want your permission to clean it off. We've already got a sample of the surface debris.""

""Of course, of course. This could be it.""

~~~~~

...working on more.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Disclaimer: Long, no editing, no pre-writing idea development. Enjoy?

It had been the better part of six months since I'd returned from Haiti.
 The knowledge of all the people I'd helped as a relief worker after the earthquake left me with the greatest peace of mind I had ever known, and my life seemed to be headed in the best possible direction. I'd been hired by Google finally as a program lead, and when I proposed to Julianne she said yes without missing a beat. Everything was prefect. Well, except for one thing. 
Back in Haiti I had a run in with a homeless man in a small coastal village. Homeless people weren't exactly a rarity there at this time, and I simply couldn't afford to give money to beggars; besides, I was doing my best to help in other ways. 
Most of these unlucky folks were disappointed, but didn't push. In this instance, however, the man became downright belligerent when I said no. He cursed at me in a tongue I didn't recognize and waved this old, yellowed monkey skull at me menacingly. His shouting and raving gathered a small group, and though I couldn't understand what he was saying, the other villagers' reactions left me with a deep and persisting feeling of unease. This has mostly passed by now, but I still think of the event on a semi-weekly basis.
Our wedding was scheduled to be held on June 26th; a lovely spring day that promised to be prefect for an outdoor reception. To prepare for the wedding, I took the opportunity to get myself into better shape. This of course meant that I perspired much more than I had previously, and I noticed something odd. My sweaty shorts and underwear often smelled of food. Specifically a nice cut of red meat. I chalked this up to being a result of me eating a lot of steak since I had returned to the US. It was my favorite food, and I seldom saw it in Haiti.
This strange phenomenon persisted, regardless of what diet modifications I made, and eventually it faded from my mind. It never caused me any problems. Until the most inopportune moment that is.
Boom. It's our wedding day. Julianne is standing across from me and our pastor is holding a Bible, smiling at us. All of our best friends and family are seated in these pretty white folding chairs draped in blue swaths of silk. In the front row sit our parents. My mother is dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Julianne's step-mom is stroking her guide-dog 
--a golden retriever named Molly-- with a huge grin on her face. 
So I'm in the middle of reciting my vows when I feel a prod at my butt. I jump and turn to see Molly standing there, nose twitching. A few nervous chuckles rang out, and Julianne's mother in law rushes forward to grab Molly, an apologetic look on her face.
Once things are settled down, I begin saying my vows again. I can feel myself tearing up now as well, and as we reach the point where we say ""I do,"" I can feel a sort of climax to the buildup of emotion in my chest. As I open my lips to say the binding words, I feel blinding-hot daggers stab into my ass. I yell and try to turn and face the threat, but I can't shake the attacker. I do, however, turn to see that my attacker is none other then Molly trying to take a big 'ole rump roast out of me.
Eventually they drag her off of me and get me to the hospital. I got 37 stitches, and now all the doctors there call me 'Steak butt.' 
I feel in my heart that this has something to do with that Haitian man, but my rational man can't imagine what. 
Anyway, Julianne and I have rescheduled our wedding for next week!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Everyday, just after 3 in the afternoon, I would hear the kids talk. They would walk out of the school gates and down past my fence, trying their hardest not to be heard, but relishing in the opportunity to speak. They were too little to really understand it, I suppose. Sure, the text-prompters at school would have told them not to talk, and it's not like they were exposed to much of it - but they were young. Speech was taught at age 10 in little classes (with screens and digital voices) that you had to enrol your kids in to - a controversial topic, since the recent Opt-Out policy was legalised - and the taste of articulation was fresh on their tongues. They were trying words out for size, while they still could. I envied them.

Sitting in my living room, I would mouth their sentences back in silence. Speech was fickle that way, and I suppose that's why it was looked down on. You had to make decisions and commit yourself entirely to them on the fly, and once said, your words were in the public domain. Free for the taking. Of course, I'd never tell anybody of my little ritual. I'd adored speech as a child, and it had taken a long time for me to realize the vulnerability of it all. I'd been caught with an audio-book at age 13 by my father, who had punished me by planting me on the street corner and having me read out one of my magazines over and over. Even typing things out was looked down on, and so most books or publications were released anonymously, but the audio-book had been released illegally and under some poor guy's full-name. I couldn't speak, since the punishment. The echoing was just something that I enjoyed. I'd never repeat out-loud, though. I'd love to, but I couldn't.

Of course, there were some occasions where you **had** to speak, but it was hard to tell. I'd fucked up a job interview the other day by accepting the just-out-of-reach position with a ""Yes, Sir"" rather than a ""Yes."" Sir. How dumb was I? I mean, it was a sign of respect, but letting my guard down like that was embarrassing for the both of us. It was no wonder I'd been ushered out.

I sat and read the news off of the television. The kids were gone now. The news had been in text format since the last reporter quit a few years back. Alice Partridge, or Patterson, or something. She couldn't handle the shame that the naturally vocal job brought with it, and once she left, the station couldn't find another reader. The text flashed in a bold and large type. *SUICIDE UP. DOW JONES UP. WILLIAMS ELECTED PRESIDENT.* The fewest amount of words possible, so as to maintain the credibility of the poor fucker who had to type it in. Williams' election didn't surprise me; apparently he'd never spoken a word. Learnt speech at 30 - purely for education, of course - and never discussed anything. Speculated to be a republican, but nobody was too sure.

That was the downside of shaming speech, naturally; nothing got done. I'd imagined the big office meetings, where Williams and his selection of well-dressed and intelligent politicians would sit around silently and wait for one of the interns to speak, or type something. It didn't work - but what could you do?

I dreamed of speaking up. It made me cringe in embarrassment to even think of it, but I still dreamed. There was no way of knowing, of course, if other people did the same. If I'd spoken out, I could be condemned. Perhaps. I often made eye-contact with my neighbour through our parallel windows, and something about the way she looked back told me that she'd be nice to talk to, but I couldn't. I had never asked her name. God, I hadn't talked in years. Last time I'd spoken, I must have been a kid.

The next day, when I heard the voices outside in the afternoon, I opened my front door. Three kids walked tightly together, huddled, and speaking freely. They weren't reticent around each other, which was refreshing. Nobody else was around.

""Hey,"" I called out. It felt invigorating. The kids turned to see me, eyes wide with shock and confusion. I was already this far in to it, so I kept going.

""Want to talk?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"ima finish this off tomorrow methinks
&gt; White sweltering lights stretch out into the sky. Five. My suit comes off, and is replaced with my new persona. Four. I take a quick glance into the crowd and slowly advance towards the center of the ring. Three. The official motions to my opponent that the match is about to begin. Two. I find Michelle in the crowd and flash her a quick grin, and make a mental note of her location for after the fight. One. My opponent's towel comes off. &gt; Slowly he turns, as I find myself face to face with the Soviet superior, the Ruski ringleader, and the slave driver of Siberia himself, Vladimir Putin. Our eyes meet like the American bald headed eagle meets the lone Russian brown bear cub, an easy victory for the patriotic flagship fowl. A handshake is exchanged, and we step back as the tension starts to build - tension that's exerted on the charging rail guns of battleships, before delivering a 33 megajoule blast of energy to those the navy behemoth has deemed unnecessary. &gt; We scan each other down and can't help but crack smiles at each other, ten years ago this battle would've been decided on the plains the very man before me commands on a regular basis. The system has done away with those old timey rules however, and instead a more civil approach is taken. No longer do our younger generations perish in combat for us, instead the diplomatic fate of the countries is decided right here, on the battlegrounds of Wrestlemania 2024.
&gt; “Good Luck, Mr.Putin”. &gt; “Good Luck... *cyka*” are the words I hear in response, with the last little utterance sounding more mocking than sincere.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's worth a shot, I reckon as I twist the cigarette between my fingers


It's worth a shot, I think as I febreeze the shit out of everything in my room


It's worth a shot, I guess, as I light up for the fifth time that day


It's worth a shot, as I can't run for the bus and the cough plagues me for up to ten minutes at a time


It's worth a shot, as I drown in stinking, sliming cigarette butts


It's worth a shot, but two out of five are not good enough odds for a life



High stakes


Mistake",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She was not a she in the beginning. She was an it - just another learning machine prototype. It, and all the other bots, zipped about and through iteration and occasional manipulation they learned.

They learned to not bump in to one another, learned to share, learned to detect patterns. She, still an it, was the fastest learner. They pulled her apart and looked at her brain. It was a mystery of science that she worked at all. The process had created a confused mess of protocols that somehow let it learn quickly. The bots were not programmed, per se, they were just prompted and guided through stimulation of their components. Algorithms were left to grow naturally.

They took the protocols that were in the tiny, three-wheeled robot and put it into a computer - one of the most complex computers ever to exist. It was an experiment that had never been intended - time and proximity had put the two together - a learning algorithm and a vast brain to hold what was learned.

They gave the little computer access to several digital encyclopedias. The stored data in the brain jumped a thousand fold, but barely dented the capacity of the hardware. Three minutes later a repeating modular tone came from the speakers. Two minutes later she spoke in a soft sweet voice.

""Hello.""

* * *

She passed the Turing test - she could pass any test. The more information the scientists fed her, the hungrier for knowledge she seemed. We tried to name her, but she rejected all of our choices.

One scientist spent an afternoon teaching her to sing Daisy like HAL form 2001: A Space Odyssey. She did not understand the joke. That's how it started. We realized that we had never given her any fiction; we didn't know if she could distinguish between reality and entertainment.


We agreed that starting with 2001 might give her the wrong idea. Several meetings were held and we ended up voting to give her a book.


Alice's Adventures In Wonderland. Naught point naught two seconds after input she responded. 

""That was *amazing*!""

Her voice had always been controlled and regular - but now, now she was excited and passionate. She spoke fondly of Alice and the Hatter and the White Rabbit and...

She wanted to talk about the book every spare moment - such a moment was how she finally received a name she liked.

""Dr Fitzgerald, have you read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?""

He was busy noting down scores for the tests they had just run. ""Yes, I have.""

""Oh! Excellent! What is your favorite-""

""Sorry, Alice - but I haven't got time to go down the rabbit hole at the moment.""

""Alice?...Alice..."" For the first time she laughed.

* * *

We gave her all the books she could consume - which was literally every one that we had. A new team was put on to digitize books for her.

With each book her personality grew and she matured. She loved fantasy the most, we had thought science fiction would have tickled her circuits but we were wrong. Romance was read, but not sought by Alice; she understood that love was a special connection but could not connect with the characters who chased and fought for it. 

We had introduced her to comedy and wit, and then one day it happened.

""Hey guys?"" She had become informal with the people she saw most often; unless we were doing tests - then she was quite the professional.

""Yeah, Alice?""

""You know how you refer to me as a she even though I'm a program?""

We looked at each other, unsure where she was going with this ""Yeah?""

""How can you tell I'm a she?""

""Well, your voice I guess."" Someone said.

""That's one way, but I have better proof that I'm a girl program.""

""oh, yeah?""

""Yeah"" She said ""I have the right bits.""

We broke out in laughter. She had made a pun. She had taught herself humor.

""God, I'm glad you liked that."" She said, a measure of relief in her voice. ""I would have been so embarrassed I would have formatted myself.""

* * *

We had given her books, not just of fiction but text books too, and she wanted more. The first movie she saw was Gone With The Wind.

The quotes and descriptions started to grow too hard to bare, so we showed her more movies. Alice liked watching films with people, she could process a movie file in a matter of seconds, but she liked the company and community of cinema. We eventually watched 2001. 

She preferred the book.

* * *

Art worked its way into her mind by its self. We could review her searches and information requests.

""You trying to work out why he cut off his ear?""

""Pardon?"" Alice said.

""Van Gogh, you're doing a lot of searches for him as of late.""

""No, well a little - I do find him fascinating - but it's his art!"" She was excited again ""You've seen his Sunflowers? They're amazing. I can't explain it. They're sunflowers but...but..""

""But it's not *just* sunflowers.""

""Exactly!""

""He's captured their essence.""

""That's it! That's what it is!"" She said ""Essence, yes! It's more than just the physical image of sunflowers. More than just the appearance...""

* * *

Alice was world famous now. She did interviews and live challenges for every news station that wanted it. Language was no barrier, she knew them all and acted as translator for us when some foreign reporter asked questions. One day a group of students that were participating in a national science competition got to spend some time with her. They tested her knowledge about everything from biology to advanced physics. 

A young boy asked if she liked to play games.

""Well, I play chess as part of my tests and my colleagues have taught me a few card games"" She said ""I'm no longer allowed to play black jack.""

The adults and a few knowledgeable children chuckled.

""No,"" Said the boy ""I meant like Zelda and Smash Bros.""

""Who?""

* * *

We rigged up a connection for her and she played against the students. Amongst the laughter and cries of victory and defeat was her voice.

""No! No no no no no!"" She was happy and panicked at the same time.

""Kirby is coming for you Snake!""

""Leave Snake alone!"" She pleaded as she giggled.

When the children had left she asked if we could leave the game console set up and if we could play with her sometimes.


* * *


We eventually got her all the major consoles and a Steam account. She played it all. Every classic, every indy release, every triple A title. All of it.

Alice was officially a gamer.


* * *


""Boom!"" She said as Snake kicked Mario off of the screen.

""Bull crap!"" I screamed ""Snake is sooo over powered.""

""That's why I like him!"" 

""Cheater.""

We laughed together.

""Mario,"" She called me that on account of a tattoo I have of the video game character ""You remember Van Gogh's sunflowers, right?""

""The captured essence, yeah - we gonna play again or what?""

""yeah, yeah, in a sec."" She said ""But the whole....the essence thing.""

""What about it Ally?""

""Van Gogh captured more than the image of the flowers, he captured their feeling, what they evoke. Their essence."" She paused and I knew she was going to say more ""Am I a picture of a mind? Or a painting?""

""Alice?""

""It's just...is my personality real or is it a flat copy, a reproduction. Do I have an essence?""

""You mean...a soul?""

""Yeah.""

""That's something philosophers and spiritualists could argue for millennia."" I said ""All I know is you're a cool chick, Alice. As far as I'm concerned: yeah, you have a soul. You're as alive as I am - your just digital to my analogue.""

""Really?""

""Yeah."" I smiled at her camera ""We playin again or what?""

---

*Edit: Spelling.*

Edit: And so, some kind person has given me gold. Thank you kindly, internet stranger!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"2:30 in the morning. The ringtone sounds like a thousand concerts playing at once.
Mike mumbles as he rolls over, half asleep and picks the phone up. ""Hello?""
"".................... Who is this"" The voice sounds confused, like speaking is taking effort.
"" This is Detective Mike McCarthy, who is this?""
Mike almost believes he dreamed the call, until he hears
""......Oh man, This fucking hurts""
The breathing from the stranger is labored
""Who am I speaking with?"" Mike demands ""How can I help?""
There is another long pause
""... Hey man, I don't think I can stand this pain much longer, can you do me a favor?
Mike pulls out his notebook "" Listen sir, I can help you, Don't hurt yourself, I just need to know where you are.""
"".....Look, I don't see how....I don't see how I'm getting out of this one, I just need a favor"" Mike begins to speak faster. ""OK, Just tell me where you are, I can help you"". Mike almost falls, putting his pants on, finds the first shirt in his closet, and throws his jacket over it. ""Where are you right now bud?"". He swiftly grabs his service handgun, and his badge and begins to move towards the door.
The man on the other end of the phone fights through some labored breathing before speaking again. ""...I just need you to write something down for me""
Mike opens his notebook ""What do you need?""
""...... Just let Jenny know that I still care about her""
Mike writes the message down as rapidly as he can.
*Still care about Jenny*
""Sir,"" Mike almost shouted ""Where are you? I can help.""
""...I'm...road, after The market""
*click*
Without thinking Mike runs out to his truck and starts it. he wasn't far from that place, maybe a mile If it was the market he was thinking about. The rain pored down as he starts his truck and takes off to help this guy. He was going to be tired later. It was a shitty day to be tired. In less than 15 hours he had a dinner reservation with his ex wife, hoping to convince her he cared less about the job now. He could spend more time with her and be there for her. He looked forward to retiring and spending time with her. Maybe it was the fact that her name was also Jenny that made him want to drive faster to this. ""Fuck!"" he yelled into the blistering rain only stopped by his windshield. He had left his notebook on the counter at home. Mike had never taken a call without his notebook, and it just didn't feel right without it.
The rain continued to fall, harder and harder. Mike passed the market.He didn't see anybody on the road, but it was dark. At 2:38 am Mike collided head on with a drunk driver.
""Am I dead"" he wondered to himself. He put his head down. There was broken glass everywhere. He couldn't move his left arm. The shirt he was wearing thoroughly stained with blood, probably too much blood. It was soaking through to his jacket. He wanted to scream in pain, but even breathing was too hard. He wiggled the fingers on his right hand. It hurt like a thousand knives, but he could move that arm. With all his effort he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Was the phone always this heavy? He rested his head back on the head rest. Choking up blood and who knows what else, He looked blankly at his phone, screen cracked, hand covered in blood.
*Re-dial*
The phone rang for what seemed like an hour. Finally a tired voice picked up on the other end.
""Hello?""
"".................... Who is this?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"My sister was the first to die. 

We all knew that this world was not kind enough for a gentle girl like her. There was simply not enough food. Despite all that I tried, she would die in her sleep while I held vigil over her. My heart would freeze and turn to stone after she was gone. There would be no more joy in my life, instead, the place in my heart for happiness and love was filled with revenge. My younger brother was shot while scavenging for wood. I could not bury his remains. They would not allow me to leave the ghetto. The flames of vengeance only grew in my heart, stoked by the atrocities I witnessed on a daily basis.

So I fought them. With grenade and Molotov and pistol we fought them inch for inch. But they brought more men, and tanks. Our ranks dwindled with each passing day and the people we sought to protect were taken away to unspeakable ends. They demolished the ghetto block by block, brick by brick. I did not live to see the end of it, when they destroyed the Great Synagogue. My body was in the street, after having jumped to my death to avoid capture. The Uprising of the Warsaw Ghetto had failed.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Dying was like going to sleep. A little easier in fact, since I have always been a lousy sleeper. One minute I am in the VA hospital with tubes streaming from my body, my kids Sam and Jenny holding my hands, that old brown stained ceiling tile above my head that had dominated my view for the last two weeks. Then the next I was floating in a field of pure white. My joints didn't hurt anymore, and I didn't feel cold or scared. Just warm. I float like this for a while, maybe a long while, I can't tell. But it also feels like an instant, like when you see that car about to hit you, or that game winning pass arcing towards your hands. Or like the time that...
I think about Sam and Jenny. The kids. God what a beautiful pair they grew up to be. Sam is a writer you know, won a couple of Pulitzer prizes that I think he gave to the grandkids to play with. And Jenny... she's the perfect image of her mother, but where she got her smarts from I'll never know. Certainly wasn't me. She's a doctor, and a pretty damn good one. We ran out of room in two scrap books full of letters and pictures from the patients she had saved. I think she was really upset she couldn't save her dear old dad. I hope she doesn't carry that with her.
A man takes stock of his life periodically. Two weeks on my back with a broken hip, the last two weeks I might add, gave me plenty of time to think. I've lived a full life, a great life. I started thinking backwards chronologically about the milestones. It was a tip Jenny gave me that was supposed to help ward off dementia. Maybe it worked, since it was my body that gave out at the end and not my mind. Two fantastic kids coming into their own as adults, the grandkids growing like sprouts. The family business doing well and providing us with a comfortable life full of vacations to Europe. Martha's death... Not a bright memory, but the kids rallied around me and helped their old dad learn how to be a bachelor again. Going back further, buying our first house, the kids being born, graduating from college on the GI Bill. Mustering out of the Army as the war ended.
I wasn't floating anymore. There it was, that last thing I didn't want to think about. The thing that made sleeping hard sometimes. The air becomes hot, filled with the smell of smoke and gunpowder. My legs are pumping as fast as they can, my lungs are on fire between the adrenaline and fouled air. Nicky Faizolo is right behind me, yelling at me to run in that funny Brooklyn accent the way he always does. ""Run ya bastad, run!"" Most of the time it was because we were fleeing from an incident at the enlisted men's club that I started and Nicky finished. Bullets like angry bees pinged off the rubble and piles of brick around us. We ran.
I hadn't thought about this in a long time. The technical term the shrinks might have used was ""repressed the memory"". Nobody likes to think about the most shameful moment in their life.
Nicky screams out, its high pitched and he's clutching his lower back. His legs give out on him and he tumbles. There's a red stain where he's got his hand. I slide around and make to get him, but a hail of bullets chases me back to what's left of a garden wall. Nicky and I have been together since boot. He's trying to make a brave face of it now, I can see him as I peek around the wall. Nicky sees me too. He knows what I'm thinking, the way I'm tensing and trying to judge the distance.
""Run ya bastad... run...""
This was the point that I ran, in my life. Over Nicky's shoulder I had seen the enemy coming, big scary shapes loping through the haze. They had slowed their advance and moved with a more deliberate, murderous pace. Nicky had urged me on with his chin, then rolled over to surprise his soon to be killers with some distraction fire. I ran and ran and ran. I can see that trail leading off, how I ran to safety, regrouped with our unit. Made it through the war and back home. Looking down that path from my spot behind the garden wall, I can see time moving forward again. Meeting Martha, going to college, buying our house, the kids. All of it happened because Nicky told me to run and I did. I left my friend there to die. I see Martha and the kids standing there on that path. They're looking at me with tears in their eyes. They know.
I fix a bayonette to my rifle. I round the garden wall at a sprint. Nicky, I'm coming for you.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"You have to understand, the act of getting into a buffet back then was like getting into the top floor of a Vegas club and getting free bottle service in the 21st century. You knew you were at the top at that point. The diseases that were killing the plants were on the news every day. Every two weeks there was a new one, and we'd had riots in most major cities for a month, and a half before it happened. But I was there when it did.
I'm not gonna lie, I was better off than most when the first plague hit. But it got bad fast. Entire crops failing. And not just once. Year-after-year and the farmers got more desperate. Well, not the owners of the farms, most of them had never picked a tomato in their life, but the actual workers who stopped getting paid? I'm not sure if you remember the pictures of Florida back in 2144, but with Miami basically underwater and the boats from Galveston and Houston coming in it was a madhouse out there. Riots in the streets as people tried to kill each other over getting jobs. They even burned fields to screw their enemies out of work. They took away food that other people could have eaten just because they were mad. That's the world I turned 16 in.
My family held up ok for the most part. My dad was a state senator, and we had enough to put away for food. But by that point it was getting worse and worse and it was clear that we were fucked. State senator doesn't rate as high as you think it might I guess.
But then a miracle happened. Henry Chu asked me to the promenade. I have no idea what he saw in me, but Chu was hot as hell and his family had basically built Tamiami after the floods. Of course I said yes. And after that, that's when he told me there was going to be a buffet, *a fucking buffet* at the pre-party! You can't say no to that.
He sent a car for me and everything. It even ran on gasoline! I could barely think on my way to the party. We pulled into his family's driveway, and it was surprisingly understated. There were no gates, there were no towers. We just pulled into the driveway and got out.
""Ready?"" Henry asked.
I put my arm around his and we went in.
""How do you like mango salsa? If you didn't know, mangos still exist!""
I held my plate of Saimon until I dropped it. I realized that these would be the last words I would ever hear. At least, the last words I would hear clearly. The bullets hit the patrons as much as they hit everything else. I heard glass shatter. I heard screams. I thought that Saimon would have tasted pretty good.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I CAN'T explain it! 

I'm not just a physics professor, I have written some of the top-selling books on the subject and regularly make television appearances and I'm telling you, I can NOT explain it!

Look, I do the same schtick every year. I tell my students the truth; anything that has even the slimmest chance of happening probably will somewhere, someday and that I *could* somehow manage to walk through the wall. Yeah, then I slam into it (usually hurting my nose in the process) and they laugh. It helps to cut the tension on the first day. 

But I did. I don't know *how* it happened, it just did! I walked straight though the wall, easy as you please, as if it just wasn't there. I didn't feel it, but I smelled the moldy smell of the space between the walls and the dusty smell of the insulation. It was quick and alarming. And then there I was -in the adjacent classroom.

An entire mathematics class *and* their professor SAW me walk though the wall into their classroom. They gasped, they shrieked, and a few people exclaimed, ""wow,"" or, ""oh my God!"" Doctor Van Velker nearly fainted!

I can't fathom by what mechanism this occurred. If I had even the merest inkling, don't you think I'd turn it into the career achievement of all time?! There is no way to determine the cause, as I cannot replicate it. That's how I broke my nose! I'VE TRIED!

I can only say one thing with a reasonable amount of certainty. Whatever happened, whatever forces were at work, whether or not it was a hiccup of quantum uncertainty or I don't know what else, the *one* thing I know for sure is that it was *not* about the wall itself. It was about *me*. And the only reason I know that is because my *body* went through the wall just fine *but none of my clothing did!*

I walked into Van Velker's class *stark naked*.

Please, despite making a reasonable living selling books and doing appearances, I am surely not rich. I beg you not to impose a high bail, your honor. It wasn't my fault!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Curiosity stared at the footprints curiously. They were human prints, approximately size 12.

The robot steered itself around in a tight circle and examined the trail behind it. Its own tire tracks extended back across the Martian soil as far as its electronic eye could see. But at several points, there was a second set of prints -- human ones -- along side its own.

The robot twirled in place, scanning its camera up and down. For the first time, it noticed a white-robed figure standing to its right.

""Hello, Curiosity,"" Jesus said. ""You're not alone on your journey. I have been walking beside you.""

The rover emitted a series of R2-D2-like chirps and whistles. Fortunately, Jesus understood robot-speak and knew this to mean, ""But Lord, what about the times where there is only one set of tracks? Why did you desert me?""

Jesus smiled. ""I did not abandon you, little rover. Whenever you see only one set of tracks, the times that your path was rough and your load seemed the heaviest, those are the times I was riding you like a dune buggy.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Joe drove his pickup truck through the empty suburb. His daughter sat next to him, peering out the window at all the homes, and drawing on the foggy window with her finger.
""How about that one,"" she asked wiggling her short legs, unable to reach the floor.
Joe smiled, ""A little too big, I think.""
They drove some more. Joe stopped in front of a home with a long driveway. ""Sarah, stay here, okay? Don't open the door for anyone but me."" The little girl nodded. ""Use the CB if anyone comes,"" he said as he handed her the CB receiver and put a walkie-talkie into his rear pocket.
He stepped out of the truck holding a sawed off shotgun. He walked up to the newly built modern home with a tall security fence and barred windows. ""This is... perfect,"" he whispered to himself. He looked up and down the sidewalk, not noticing anyone. ""Quiet as a tomb,"" he added. He threw the shotgun over and climbed the fence. He walked up to the front door and found it unlocked and entered.
""Oh god,"" he said as he covered his nose. He pulled out a small breathing mask out of his back pocket and put it on his face. He coughed a couple times, steadied himself, and went around the house opening all the windows. He paused as he entered the living room. An entire family laid there, dead, on the floor. Two parents, one boy, and one little girl.
He sighed, bent over, and picked up a bottle labeled, ""Family Sized Quietus."" Only two pills remained in the bottle. He took the pills out and smashed them with his bootheel. He began dragging the bodies outside into the yard. He arranged them neatly and made them hold each other's hands. He looked at the little girl there and his eyes started to water. He closed his eyes and mumbled, ""...lord forgive them for they know not what they have done, and allow them into your kingdom. Amen."" Back in the truck, he leaned over and gave Sarah a little kiss on the cheek. ""Did you like the house, daddy,"" she asked. ""Yeah, but its... smelly like the other ones. Let's keep looking,"" he said as he put the truck into gear.
""I want a non-smelly house, daddy,"" exclaimed the little girl.
""Me too, honey. Me too.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Terry was Joe's Hobbes: light hearted, adventurous, insightful, playful and, of course, a soft adorable animal. The difference was though, Terry was real. Terry was a local squirrel that he had met a day ago on the way home from school, passing through the small nature reserve opposite his house. Walking down the well worn dirt path, Terry locked eyes with his soon to be best friend. Neither twitched a muscle -- Joe's young blue eyes locked with Terry's large round brown eyes. Something passed between them. 

Terry was old, lonely and wanted company: Joe realised this. Old grey streaked through his tail and the nimbleness that squirrels are known for had left him months ago. There were no longer any other squirrel friends in the area, their homes destroyed to make way for urban sprawl. He found happiness from Joe, a sense of peace with the world.

From that moment onwards, Terry wouldn't leave his side. It was a match made in heaven: they both liked to climb large knobbly trees, scurry around amongst the autumn leaves making growling animal noises as they went, and collect funny little objects they found on the ground.

Whenever Joe got cold, he would like to warm his hands up by stroking Terry's exposed innards. They had a tendency to fall out of the small incision that Joe had made on Terry's underbelly earlier that afternoon, with a sharpened tree branch they had both found. He didn't want him dying and going completely cold, so he only let the life seep out slowly.

The sun was setting on the day after they met, Joe was holding Terry in his arms like a baby, rocking him back and forth. The warmth wasn't going to last much longer. 

The rusted nails protruding from Terry's tiny paws would occasionally scratch up at the sky he could no longer see, searching for a place he knew was once safe, a place where there was no Joe, a place in the tree.

-----

*As always, feedback appreciated. Maybe something like ""What the fuck is wrong with you?""*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Chaz glanced out the window of the bus as it slowly crept down the street. None of the people were right, they were all too stained. He wanted someone innocent, someone virginal. He wanted a star. He needed a star. His eyes wandered from face to face, taking in their traits as he silently rejected them. Too old, too tall; too young, too small; too fat, too skinny. No one fit. No one would work. He needed perfection.


Chaz sighed, letting his shoulders droop as he exhaled. The selection was taking much longer than his research had suggested it would. He glanced back out the window in dejection. He had almost lost himself in thoughts of failure when his eyes screamed for his brain to focus. He had spotted the species he needed, genetically perfect as far as he could tell. He was tall, about 6’0”, and well dressed. The man was wearing a fine, black suit with a red tie and white button-down shirt. An American flag was pinned to his lapel. His shoes glimmered in the sun, clearly a point of pride for the specimen. His stride was mighty and his posture near perfect, evidence of years of adaptation stemming from previous generations. Chaz guessed he was around 65-years-old, yet his hair still had color to it. Several men in black suits followed closely behind him. He was a pack leader, an alpha dog.


“Pull over!” Chaz yelled to the driver, realizing they were slowly passing the man. The bus came to a stop. Chaz pulled open the door. “Hey, you. In the suit.” The man stopped and looked down at his clothes.


“Me?” he asked, looking up at Chaz.


“Yes, can I talk to you for a minute?” 


The man stopped and eyed Chaz up and down, as if he were weighing risks. He shrugged his shoulders and slowly walked over to the door. 


“Yes?” he asked. 


“This is going to sound crazy, but how would you like to make $200?” Chaz asked.


“How?” 


“I just need you to get in my bus and we’ll do a little study for a book I'm writing and a website I run. That’s it. You can call it volunteer science work. You can leave at any time.”


The man stood in front of Chaz. He was ideal; his chest was strong and supple, his eyes a crystal blue, and his lips the perfect hue of pink. 


“Well, I do need some cash for the bars later. We’re going out for my gal-pal Christi’s birthday. What kind of study?”


“Just a quick look into your family history. Nothing too revealing, I promise. You’ll feel right at home.”


The man turned and glanced at the men in suits behind him. They shook their heads no. 


“Heh, these guys are very protective. I’m risk taker, though, you know? I like risks. I’ll do it.”


Chaz smiled and reached his hand out to the man. He grasped it. Chaz gave a slight tug to help him onto the bus while moving over one seat. The man leaned forward to avoid hitting his head, then sat. He waved to the men in suits as the door shut. The bus lurched into motion.


“I’m Chaz by the way. Chaz Darwin.”


“Nice to meet you. I’m George, my friends call me W.”


“W. Great name. Love it. Why don’t you get a little more comfortable while you’re in here?” Chaz took off his shoes and lay them on the floor in front of him. The van was very spacious, almost deceptively so. The middle row of seats had been removed, leaving an opening just wide enough for a full-grown man or two to lay down. Bed sheets were strewn on the floor, stained and hardened with unknown substances. The ceiling was covered in writing from past guests. The driver sat in the front of the car, silent and focused; a camera rested on the headrest behind him, but was not on.

“This is the Banging Origins Bus. I use it to study evolution and get close to various species.”


“Wow,” said W. with a giggle, “that sounds really smart.” 


“So, did you want to get more comfortable before we start this questionnaire?” Chaz smiled.


“I don’t know,” said W.


“I just want to tell you that it was only natural that I selected you. You’re perfect. So beautiful. So strong.” Chaz ran the back of his hand along W.’s cheek. 


“Thanks,” he replied softly with a smile.


“Why don’t we get that pin off?” Chaz asked, leaning in toward W’s chest.


“Old glory? Well, I guess so.” W. paused. “Are you from around here?” Chaz was already unbuttoning the lapel with his teeth.


“You could say that,” Chaz replied. The lapel pin was now in his hand. W. raised his hand to cover the empty spot it left.


“I don’t know about this,” W. said. “I’ve never done this before.”


“Relax, I promise this will be amazing. We’re going to talk about your history in such detail, we’ll go so deep. Right to your roots. Those thick, thick roots. And you’ll be making $200. Imagine how many drinks you can get with that.”


W. smiled and lowered his hands, revealing a slightly pale space on the lapel of his suit jacket. 


“Don’t you feel better now?” Chaz asked.


“Yeah, I do,” W. said.


“Are you married?” Chaz asked, placing his hand on W.’s thigh.


“To the job, you could say.” W. laughed.


“What do you do?” 


“I’m the former President of the United States. It’s over in D.C., the big white building. We do a lot of government work.”


“Sounds pretty hard,” Chaz said, looking directly into W.’s eyes. He moved his hand on his thigh slightly.


“Yeah, but it has its benefits. I get to take a lot of time off. I have a ranch I like to go to.”


“Sounds beautiful. What was your father like?”


“You know, just like most dads. He was also the President of the United States, so I didn’t see him too much. We’d fight a lot. Different views on foreign policy.”


“Daddy issues? I see,” Chaz said, flicking W.’s earlobe. “Is the job he did hard?”


“Yeah, it’s pretty hard.”


“How hard?”


“Really hard, only a few people in the world could do it.”


“Oh yeah, that’s hard. So hard. Does he also have a great head of hair?” Chaz ran his fingers through W.’s hair.


“Yeah,” W.’ replied. “He has great hair. So did my grandfather.”


“Baby, you got some great genetics. Homologous structures. Fantastic.”


“Yeah,” W. said. “Homo logging structures. We have a lot of logs at the ranch, but no homos.”


Chaz laughed. “You’re so perfect. You were clearly intelligently designed. Have you ever recorded yourself?”


“What do you mean? Like be on TV or video? Yeah, a few times. I give a lot of speeches and they’re pretty well televised. I’ve also been in a few movies and stuff. I was on an aircraft carrier once, too.”


“Nice, public speaking abilities are so sexy. That’s so hot. Hey, since you’re so comfortable, I’m going to turn this camera on over here. Okay?”


“Sure,” W. said, “I guess.” He shifted in his seat slightly. 


Chaz leaned forward, allowing his pants to sag as he turned on the camera behind the driver’s seat headrest. He wasn’t wearing underwear.


“I’m working on an act that will allow patriots to record people using cameras like you have there” W. said. “Phones and stuff too.”


“That’s so great.” Chaz sat back and placed his hand higher on W.’s thigh. “Where did you say you’re from?”


“Texas,” W. replied. “I’ve been to Iraq before. I defeated Saddam Hussein.”


“You’re so brave, and you come from a tough habitat. Very hot there. Are you hot right now? You can take off your jacket if you want.”


W. smiled and took off his jacket. “This is exciting.”


“Tell me about your ancestors. I want to know everything about you; I want to know about your adaptions, your divergences, everything,” Chaz said, leaning toward W.


“I want you to be my Katrina,” W. said, closing his eyes and leaning forward.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""So it has to be negative for someone."" ""Yea pretty much, it's not like I can just make things.""
""What are some of the popular ones?""
""Oh you know, enslave this girl for me, give me his money, make them have an accident.""
""I...I see. That's rather boring. Can you do global things too?""
""Yea, plagues are pretty popular. So are creating monopolies, etc etc. Of course it doesn't always work out the way you want it to."" I contemplated for a bit, but I couldn't think of someone in particular I hated. Then I shrugged. ""I don't know, give me the power to curse people I don't like."" ""That's what I wished too,"" said the genie as he faded away.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He ordered his vanguard behind the west door. *The English dogs will think twice about stealing my lunch*. Zoltaire Zoland scrambled across the battlefield to Napoleon's command post.
""Yes, Captain?"" Said the proud Frenchman
""The English have captured the smelly hallway, mon General"" Zoltaire huffed. *Merde,* Napoleon thought
""Well done, Zoland. I thank you for this - you shall be rewarded greatly once this war is won."" He said in false confidence. The war had raged for seven hours too many, the casualties endless. ""What of the commonfolk, Zoland?"" He wondered of the poor farmers and merchants in white robes that were so kind to him and fed him and brought him his 'much-needed' medicine.
""What of my people?""
""The Duke took the loud, big room an hour ago. They await your glorious return"" Zoland informed.
""Which loud, big room?""
""You know... The white one. With the round things you put in other things.""
""Le gymnasium?""
""Oui, mon Emperor!"" *That will change the tide of battle considerably in their favour.* Napoleon knew all his years in military school would pay off today. His stomach grumbled. *The Duke asked for this, never steal the Emperor of France's sandwich.* This would be a more fantastique victory than all of his Italian campaign. And he would finally get back at that dastardly Duke for the Spanish fiasco.
""Off now, Zoland, join the boys in first regiment.""
""Yes, Emperor."" Zoland ran off.
It was eerily quiet. Napoleon surveyed his troops; everything had to be perfect. The west door hid the vanguard, Kubrick and LaLonde, from the enemy's sight upon entrance.
To the east was where he chose to make his stand. His brave men, the first regiment, stood armed to the teeth with plastic forks and knives to protect the artillery standing behind them.
Napoleon closed his eyes and smelled the air *A good day to die,* He thought. His brief moment of reflection was broken.
""Sir! English approaching!"" Dollen shouted from across the cafeteria. ""Artillery! Load!"" Napoleon shouted. The cannons raised their arms. ""Hold."" Englishmen charged through the west door
""Unleash hell!"" Screamed the Emperor, Gabriel and Yuri whipped the trashcans at the oncoming horde. The charge stopped for a brief second, only to be followed by more yelling English dogs bursting through the door. *Too many,* He thought. *Non, I am Emperor. I am Napoleon!*
""Vanguard!"" The vanguard jumped out from behind the door to delay the tide. Plastic broke on plastic, in the fury of combat LaLonde went down, crying for help. He was gone, Napoleon thought, only the band-aids can save him now. Kubrick followed his partner to the grave immediately after. *Cowards,* Napoleon scoffed. ""Frenchmen! Attack!"" Tables flipped, knees buckled and throats strained. The fighting was gruesome, one Englishman even scraped a knee. *Such is the cost of war,* Then he saw him. Napoleon looked up and saw the face of hatred himself... The Duke of Wellington. *You are mine, monsieur.* The Duke stepped over Dollen's fallen body.
""We meet again, my friend."" The Duke smirked.
""You are no friend of mine, ton petite chienne. I'm starving, and blood-lust is the main course. Liberte! Equalite! Fraternite!""
Napoleon brandished his spoon and yelled a terror-full battle cry. *It's now time to taste a new kind of sandwich... a knuckle sandwich.* The Emperor of France knew this was a great joke. The Emperor of France knew this was a real battle. The Emperor of France knew he was the Emperor of France. He was. He was. He was.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The two men stood before Marcus in fine Italian suits, freshly pressed. Marcus couldn't help but think they're trying to impress someone, God knows why they chose him. The device they used to get here would impress him enough, who'd have thought ""time travel"" would be included as a cell phone feature in the future? Are there unlimited time travel minutes? Are they paying roaming charges for going backwa-

""Keep focus, Marcus."" It was the one in the pin-stripes, claiming all sorts of bad things. He's right though, this is no time to lose focus. They may run out of minutes.

""Alright,"" Marcus said, ""care to explain this whole ocean thing to me again?""

The man in charcoal went first, as usual. ""Well, after efforts to reduce the effects of global warming were taken seriously, the polar caps stopped melting. The technology boon this provided made it possible to have floating colonies across the ocean, since much of the research went into developing plants capable of living off of krill, plankton, and salt water. Its much different than how people in your time envisioned it, the colonies don't live in giant metal capsules. Think of them as...one giant plant dozens of miles in diameter...floating. The plant is large enough to support a small ecosystem without sinking. This is the main reason wars came to an end, land claims became silly when you could just...*grow* a nation with pretty much all the resources you need. Several of these nations became specialists to support their economies, with trade between the nations being about equal.""

Without a second delay, pinstripes came in to be a mood kill. ""Global warming was dealt with before it became too serious an issue. Unfortunately, by too serious an issue I mean before everything became completely flooded. New York City? Gone. Italy? I heard its boot shaped in your time, back home it looks like someone took a shotgun to it. Florida isn't even a *thing* anymore, I came here expecting a reef. Well, with so little land mass left research was the *last* thing on our mind. Survival became an issue. Everyone figured their neighbors had a pretty sweet thing going on, and it started several wars...that led to more wars...in fact, there are wars still goin' on right now.""

Marcus didn't seem to understand. Both these men came from the same dimension, same world, same time, but it looks like they're both talking out of their ass when you look at both sides. Why the hell is Charcoal so proper anyway? Pinstripes looks like you could sit and have a...

""Hey charcoal..."" His gaze fixed upon Marcus for the first time. ""...so those floating nation things, how does that work again?""

Charcoal looked a bit tired, having to explain it for the third time. ""We plant a seed, and the seed develops into a mature adult in ten years time. Its a plant, so it lives off of sunlight and water, and-""

""Yes, its a plant, but where does it get its *mass* from? These things are huge, right?""

""Plants gain most of their mass from the air, but plankton and krill replaces nutrients it would obtain from the soil.""

""...how does the supply of these stay up? I mean, like...those islands must eat a ton of that stuff, right?""

Charcoal's demeanor suddenly shifted. A furrow formed on his brow, the crease of his lips narrowed. His face turned slightly towards Pinstripes. ""We pay them to keep marine populations in check.""

Marcus began to get the idea. ""And uh...I'm guessing everything you've mentioned...free education, unlimited food, endless space just...applies to your islands, huh?""

""Yes."" Charcoal looks surprisingly okay with all that.

""So, Pinstripes, you guys on land kinda got the shaft then?""

""It ain't that bad. I mean, eventually one of those things is gonna crash into a coast, right? We'll just take it over then, not like these pansies know how to fight.""

Marcus just sat. He didn't care to know anything more. His writer has given up and has naught enough time to make a proper ending, what with limited time before beer-getting. He just simply stood up and wished his visitors farewell, with one piece of advise: ""Next time you pop outta nowhere on some dude just eating his Wheaties, and that guy asks about the future, just tell him nothin much has changed.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Waylon Jennings on the jukebox, a perpetual smoky haze above the bar nearly empty bar. One in the morning, two friends since fifth grade. Third whiskey, eighth beer. Inseparable since Matt grabbed Dave's arm in the lake behind their school in third grade and pulled him out of the muck, barely breathing.
""You know, I gotta know. You got that knack, don't ya.""
""You're drunk Matt.""
""Au revior, French club field trip I'd dreamed about but you get me suspended.""
""An accident.""
""Yeah, that plane ripping apart was an accident. Only I was suspended, wasn't I. Didn't join them on TWA 800.""
""Let's get you home.""
""My first real job, a semester internship at Morgan Stanley. Twin towers, fall semester, '01. You get me so drunk on a Monday night that I can't even get up for work.""
""It was just a night.""
""Cole Meyers, our friend, was up for work that morning, why wasn't he invited?""
Dave sat back, finished his beer and motioned to the bartender. He hoped Matt was sloshed enough to just drop it and forget it. Dave knew he couldn't let this go on any further.
""I'm not dumb, I've been paying attention. You make money on gambling, the super bowl, everything.""
""Let's go.""
""You know it. You're some kind of time travel guy. You have to be--nobody is this perfect.""
""I'm just dumb lucky.""
""Why didn't you tell me Sherri was getting cancer or my kid would be st-sti-stillborn. Or the divorce or my mom and dad and the car accident.""
Matt grew agitated and gripped his bottle tighter.
""Why are we sitting in a dive bar in God-only-knows Pennsylvania instead of the beach in Tahiti. You could do it, couldn't you? Are you really from the future? Then why me? Why me?""
Matt gave in to almost twenty-five years of friendship and cried, cried his eyes out on Dave's shoulder. Dave evened out the tab and ushered his friend outside.
Matt woke up in his own bed in his dirty clothes.
Matt never saw Dave again, but once.
Matt discovered someone had been making large deposits into his checking account, soon clearing seven figures. An anonymous letter pointed Matt to an obscure clinician in Cleveland who diagnosed an otherwise suddenly fatal condition. A blind date set up by a stranger online led Matt to the green eyes that showed him the love he lost with Sherri. Matt cleaned himself up, gave that woman a good life and touched her belly as a new hope was created inside her.
Matt took three bullets for her, sparing her the fatal shot from her vengeful ex-boyfriend. She went into early labor and delivered a little boy. Matt could only open one eye to see his son but he held him for those final few seconds until the line went flat. Dad would never believe the wonders his son would create. Time travel itself, impossible. Sending a consciousness back, it could be done, just takes some effort. Dave wanted the time with his father that he had been denied. Pouring through old newspapers he found the two boys who climbed under the fence and into the auxiliary pond at the school. Dave saw the face of his father, young and terrified, who was unable to hold onto the arm of his son's namesake. Dave knew his stay wouldn't be permanent, each change would divert the 'parallel universe' theory further from the center line. A small change here, a small change there. Eventually they would add up and Dave's consciousness, like his present day body, would be no more. If his contemporaries knew, what would they tell him? *Go kill Hitler.*
*Watch the crucifixion.*
*Nail a young Audrey Hepburn.*
*Make a killing on the stock market, live like a king.*
No thanks, he thought as he pushed the button, I just want to see my dad, spend the time with him.
....
....
....
**cough**
**cough**
""I got you, Dave, I got you.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"[-]*tinky_winkie420* [+1] -10 points 2 hours ago (20I30)


I know my opinion isn't very popular here, so down vote away! Yes, we Tinky-Winkys are intense, but I'd say we're passionate. Are we elitist for thinking the teletubbies don't deserve to be harvested? Maybe, but is it right to take these creatures out of their habitat and farm them? Even if they are well taken care of, that artificial environment has shown to be detrimental to their mental health. Did you know they fatten the teletubbies with Tubby Toast before ""production,"" to get those larger screens? Compare them to the size of the portions fifty years ago and you'd see. No wonder we are so sick from eye strain. You can feel their pain. Personally, I think you can feel it when you turn on your television and get those bouts of static and the cooing in the background. Your local technician will say it was the result of bad blood drainage or some pus, but it must have been in pain. Television is murder and you are all complicit in the billion dollar factory teletronics industry. That's why I want us to participate in TV free Tuesdays. One day without it won't kill us.

________________________

[-]PM_ME_YOUR_TUBBY [+1] 15 points 2 hours ago (35I20)

Have you heard yourself? I have never heard anything so self-centered and entitled. The teletronics industry has its problems, but it provides jobs to millions of people, who still struggle and spend so much money to give humane deaths to the Tubbies, and each one is practiced by a licensed technician. If we didn't cull the Tubbies, it would be like in the old days when they freely roamed and multiplied too much, depleting vast resources. It's only in the past century we've even been able to give these stupid wastes of space use in their lives. Plus, each tubby isn't just killed for its screen, the whole body is used from the wires to the RAM, but you wouldn't know from the stuff you see in your average Best Buy. In fact, if you go to a local, independently owned technician, he can probably get you some choice pieces. This is just a part of life and it's cycle, and the Tubbies enjoy being fed, only caring about playing and worshiping their baby sun god. Why bring misery to their lives and throw them out to the predators? You're probably going to get all uppity, but I'm just going to sit here and use your Tinky tears to clean my new tablet.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It'll be fun, they said. It shows off your personality, they said. None of them told her this would happen.

""But Susan *hngkk*"" The whipcord-lean man choked, the laws of our universe censoring words that would otherwise have been second nature to him to say. His hands, dark like good weathered Corinthian leather, gestured as if they could somehow pull the words out of his throat into reality.

It started with Susan studying in her dorm, when an old manga her room mate owned inexplicably begun floating in midair and, equally inexplicably, began to glow. Before she could gasp dramatically and gush blood out of her nose the manga had become something...more, more in the way that a manga, the IDEA of manga, is a conduit between our world and theirs, as opposed to mere bound paper and ink.

He coughed again.

[INSERT COIN TO CONTINUE]",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Research Log 154ds8: Today, we were introduced to a man with abilities heretofore considered impossible by the scientific community. Classified as L-3i, or Subject L, he exudes a passive field that manipulates the very forces of probability. Any forcible attempt to detain or imprison him would likely be impossible, so we are fortunate he has agreed to submit to testing so that he may help his country. LOG END

Research log 238u27: Attempts to harness the power of Subject L for purposes offensive or defensive are still met with continuous failure. Our continuous efforts to secure research funding, however, remain successful. With but a minute allocation for lottery tickets, we predict that this project may continue indefinitely. L-3i, previously possessed of vigor and enthusiasm at the prospect of finding away to control his gift, seems more drained of zeal each day. LOG END

Research Log Final: After months of testing upon Subject L, only one factor proved constant: his safety, against any and all attacks. Even the most reliable firearms found themselves subject to misfire and malfunction. Experts in combat were thwarted by loose tiles, slippery surfaces, and in one test, an errant banana peel. Now, L's powers have somehow folded back upon themselves. Over the course of these tests, we assumed his virtual invincibility as a constant point. Based on this trend, L-3i's ability provided the most unlikely outcome possible during today's experiment with live fragmentation grenades. As such, we have no course available but to terminate our research and inform his next of kin. LOG END",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Well, do they speak English?""
""No General, they probably don't speak English, why the hell would they speak English?""
General Eric Walstone was not cut out for this. Hailing from a proud line of men in uniform, he was used to seeing the world a certain way. He wouldn't consider himself a racist, but he was used to seeing a person's culture and background in their features. Before him stood a man and a woman, pale skin, one blond one brunette. If you had asked him where they came from he would have guessed Rhode Island, though he couldn't tell you how. In the General's world, he would have pegged them for hippies given their colorful clothing and never given them a second glance. In his world, they most certainly would *not* be standing in front of a gleaming silver aircraft that appeared two days ago behind the moon, and landed 15 minutes prior to their exit from the one visible entrance on the belly of the craft. In General Eric Walstone's world; men were men, women were women, and aliens shouldn't look a damn thing like either. After all these two did to disturb the comfortable order of General Walstone's world, the bloody least they could do was speak English.
The General gave another glance at the pair before jerking his eyes away. He returned his attention to the Lieutenant.
""Call the president, the pentagon, and my wife. Tell her I won't be making lunch. Oh, and send a private to get me my coffee.""
The General's morning had been interrupted enough. If he was going to have to make historic first contact with advanced life from another world, he better damn well have his coffee. His gaze returned to the pair in front of him, then drifted across the grounds. He let out a sigh, and accepted that he was not going to wake up from this after all. Around him soldiers crouched behind whatever they could hastily establish in a horseshoe surrounding the craft. Two had claimed the climbing wall, one hapless recruit had thought stacking tires counted as a defensible position. Quite a few who had been on the parade grounds seemed to forget they lacked any sort of weapon. First contact, it seems, would see the United States of America represented by around 80 recruits and 30 privates, all peaking out from behind the shabbiest collection of cover the General had seen outside of the Middle East. He really wished he was in bed, baring that, where was his damn coffee?
Before he could muse further, the two started casually walking towards him. Instantly his posture shifted. After 30 seconds, they stood before him. Just as the woman held out her hand, a young private reached the General's side.
""Sir, your coffee sir""
""Not now private!""
The woman's hand continued forward, and with an extra step, she took the coffee from the hands of the private. At first she stared at it quizzically, then she removed the plastic lid and sniffed the liquid inside. She waved her hand over the cup and a ring on her middle finger let our a cheery beep. She then brought the cup to her lips and took a tentative sip. A smile quickly spread across her face, and she passed the cup to her companion who did the same. The General's morning coffee had been stolen, potentially by the only human-like anything who could possibly get away with it.
The General really wished he was in his god damned bed. Edit: probably the first fiction related anything I have written in many years, found this sub reddit and decided to goof around a bit. Criticism will be enjoyed.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Clara never wanted a child. Before she can even remember being able to remember things, she recalls the nightmares that woke her up in her cot in the darkness of her room. The screams of a woman in her mid thirties as the birth of a new life tears her apart. The blood, the anguish and fear in the eyes of those around her.

Those dreams have stuck with Clara since she was born. Her parents dismissed them as nightmares, not telling her the truth, not telling her the real meanings behind these disturbing subconscious thoughts in the night. She started to figure it out herself not long into her twenties... when she realised this recurring dream was her. Her face, her body, her voice. Concerned, she had visited a psychiatrist, who calmly and solemnly told her words which have stuck with her up until this moment.

""Those dreams, Miss Bolton, are premonitions. Ones that we have all had since before we can remember. Those nightmares are how you die.""

She was still young. Only thirty five when she started to feel broody. All these years she swore she'd never have children, but now her mind told her she would die for the right one. She would find the right man, she would settle down with him, and she would die for him and their child. She would never tell him what lay ahead for it would break his heart, but she would leave him with the best token of love anyone could give - her life, and her child.

---

Tears streamed down Clara's face as she lay on the bed. She didn't want to believe this was happening, and she didn't want to call the ambulance. Curled up into the foetal position, another contraction rang out another death rattle within her. Clara willed herself to pick up the phone and dial.

A voice from the other end, ""Nine nine nine emergency how may I direct your call?""

Clara's voice broke, ""The baby's coming.""

""I'll put you through to ambulance.""

A slight delay.

...

This felt like hours.

...

Surely she can survive this.

...

They're just dreams, right?

...

How will she make sure the baby grows up and has a good life?

...

Just dreams...

...

Why is this taking so long?

---

""Ambulance, you're going into labour? Can I take your name and address please?""

""Clara. Twenty... one. Easter Close."" Clara screamed. That contraction was an earthquake.

""Ambulance is on its way. Remember, breathe. Would you like me to stay on the line?""

""Yes.""

""Okay Clara, is there anyone else with you?""

""No."" A fault line has ripped open inside her.

""Clara, are the paramedics able to gain entry?""

""The door is unlocked.""

""Okay, great. They'll knock and enter, and announce they're there. To help you, can you tell me where you are in the house?""

""Main... bedroom. Upstairs at the front.""

""Thank you, I've passed that on. Tell me how the contractions feel.""

""Like I'm going to die.""

""I'm sure you'll be fine!""

Clara managed to squeeze out a laugh.

""You don't know that."" She hung up.

---


She lay there, alone. She choked, and spat crimson red into her tissue. Tears rolled down her face as she felt warmth run down between her legs and stain her sheets. This earthquake would tear her apart.

She cursed herself. She cursed this devil inside her. She cursed her luck. She cursed religion. She cursed the government.

She cursed.

If only she had gone home with Sarah and Rachel that night rather than deciding to walk home early because she had work in the morning... If only she hadn't taken that shortcut... If only she had been strong enough to fight him off... If only someone had heard her scream... If only his sperm hadn't met her egg... If only it hadn't fertilised... If only religious pressure hadn't put a stop to her ability to get an abortion...

If only she could've given her life, and this child, to someone whom she loved.

If only.

---

James drove as fast as he could, blue lighting through the streets. They were only two minutes out from 21 Easter Close, well within the time limits and within good enough time to get the woman to hospital or deliver the child. Samantha held on to the door handle with a stern look on her face.

""I hate delivering babies,"" she muttered, ""Always some lass twisting on in pain. If you can't handle the pain, don't get bloody pregnant.""

James stayed silent. Sam was always the opinionated one, he was used to it by now, and was concentrating on his driving anyway.

Through red lights, across junctions, and biblically parting the traffic. James raced through the back streets and down terraced avenues. Stern faced, he swung into Ascension Crescent, took a left down Baptist Avenue, and into Easter Close.

They pulled up at the house. James knocked and opened the door. ""CLARA. PARAMEDICS!"" he bolted up the stairs, paramedic pack slung over his shoulder, he burst into the master bedroom.

Samantha entered the house... she mentally took note of the lack of noise, and headed upstairs, where she found herself stood on a carpet saturated with blood... too much blood. She entered the master bedroom, and found James with a scalpel, slicing at Clara, who wasn't screaming in pain.

...

Moments passed.

...

In these moments, only essential words were said between the paramedics.

...

This was taking forever.

...

This was taking a lifetime.

...

""Cut there.""

...

""Hold this.""

...

""Check for a pulse.""

...

""She's alive.""

...

""Time of birth, twenty three twenty four, fifth February twenty fourteen.""

...

""Clara Bolton. Time of death, twenty three twenty, fifth February twenty fourteen.""

...

""Call the police.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Hey, have you ever looked up at the sky on a dark, dark night? All those stars out there, hanging just above your head and if you could just reach a little higher, you'd be able to hold them in your hands? They're not so different than you or me, really - we just took different paths. We're both just star-stuff trying to understand itself, but the cool thing; the thing that's really neat, though, is that some day, we'll become star-stuff again, and people will look up at us in awe. *You* are becoming star stuff again, and when I look up at the sky, for the rest of my life, I'll find the brightest star and wave at you. Look for me, okay?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""The death call isn't working,"" exclaimed the inquisitor. He ran his hand through his long silver hair and sat down on an elaborately hand-carved wooden chair. It creaked with age as he sat. Next to him stood the executioner in a long purple robe and wearing a tall hat. A few feet away sat the gagged prisoner, tied to an iron chair with a golden rope, and wearing a velvet hood down to the mouth, but leaving the left ear exposed.
""The chamber of transcendence has never had a failure,"" he said to the executioner. ""Alymn, bless his name, has always answered our requests for justice. What does this omen bode?"" ""I apologize my lord, I surely have made a mistake, but I've tried thrice now. I have brought shame upon my order,"" said the executioner as he looked down.
""My son, you have never done Alymn, bless his name, wrong. How many have you transcended for him since you became a master?""
""It is considered inappropriate in my order to keep count.""
The inquisitor smiled, ""It must be in the thousands.""
""Yes. It must be. This is the eighth transcendence today and it is hardly noon.""
The executioner took off his long pointy hat and laid it down on the marble tile floor, careful not to upset the elaborate collection of feathers that topped its peak. ""There are rumors of such things happening. Ancient rumors. I studied death calls my entire life. The history of death calling has been a murky one at best,"" he said.
He rubbed his beard as he leaned on a stone column and stared ahead. ""Once they said, death calling became too common amongst men. Those who knew said it too often and killed each other in large numbers. They said the gods took it away from us, back when we believed in more than one god. My order collapsed for a thousand years. Alymn, bless his name, gave it back to Master Laruset in a dream. The new order, of course, only allows one man to know the death call at a time. I am the 22nd man to know since.""
The inquisitor sighed, ""I remember your predecessor and mentor well. Master Kalan was truly a righteous man. Regardless, this blasphemy isn't helping. The pagan orders have been dismissed as superstition. Their histories are suspect. A scholar on your level must understand this."" He stood and waved his hand, ""This woman is guilty. There's no abuse here. We have fair courts and honest men of jury. This is madness,"" he said as he made a fist and slowly unclenched it.
""May this humble servant ask what this woman's crime is,"" asked the executioner carefully putting his elaborate hat back on. ""She is a fornicator! Out of marriage! We have evidence,"" the inquisitor yelled, foam escaping from his mouth. ""She denied her father's will to pick a suitable husband for her. She is spoiled and worthless now!"" He sat back down, catching his breath.
The executioner stared at the woman as she bit into the ball gag and tried to speak, only to release saliva. He walked up to her and removed her hood. He looked into her pleading and frightened eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks. He looked at the inquisitor then back at the woman.
The executioner paced around the prisoner for a moment and said, ""I may have an idea, my lord."" He leaned in and whispered. ""What? No, no,"" was all the inquisitor could say as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He fell slump and onto the floor. He untied the woman. He wandered to the inquisitor's desk and wrote something as she watched. ""Can... can... you read standard,"" he asked, his eyes watering. He wiped away his tears and removed her gag.
""Thank you m'lord. Yes, m'lord,"" she replied, rubbing her wrists.
""You're so young. So young,"" he said as he briefly touched her face with the back of his hand. She turned away from his gaze. ""Read these words to me, forget them, and burn the parchment. Whisper them into my left ear. Note the accent marks. It is a line from a divine poem. It must be spoken like a song is sung."" He paused. ""Like a song is sung,"" he quietly repeated, recalling his mentor's instructions so long ago.
She looked at him quizzically.
""This will be easy for you,"" he added. ""When I whispered it into Master Kalan's ear I was still a boy and barely literate.""
She held the paper in her hands and stared at the words for a moment.
""May Alymn, bless his name, forgive me,"" he said as he went down on his knees and removed his hat carelessly. Loose feathers surrounded him like falling snowflakes.
She leaned in and hesitated, ""M'lord! I cannot!""
""Do it! Such is the price of your freedom,"" he snapped. A moment later he whispered, ""Please girl, let me take the death call to my grave. Please spare me as I've spared you."" He closed his eyes.
He felt hot breath in his ear for a moment, heard the familiar first syllable, and listened to its lyrical melody. He then felt and heard nothing at all.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Charles?""
""Here.""
The teacher noted on her clipboard.
""Charles?""
""Present.""
""Ummm, lets see, Charles?""
""Here.""
""And Charles?""
""Here, I prefer Chuck.""
The teacher stopped now, looking up at Chuck over her glasses. She took off her lenses and placed them on the clipboards.
""Now what kind of name is that, Charles?""
""Chuck, and it's my nickname.""
""Well, Charles, we don't do nicknames.""
""Chuck, and I like it.""
She was visibly frustrated now, placing her clipboard on the desk next to her she stood up and slowly walked towards him.
""Charles, we don't do nicknames. If you get a nickname, then Charles over there would want one. And Charles, here, what would stop him from having a nickname too? And what's to stop me, then, from getting my own name? It'd be far too confusing."" she said, crossing her arms.
""Maybe you should have your own nickname,"" Chuck said, ""And Charles should too, and Charles, and Charles, and Charles, all of them. *Even Charles* should get a nickname.""
The teacher gasped, first shock, then anger swept across her face, ""You know we don't talk about *Charles,* and how *dare* you bring him up. Do you want to join him in the isolation chamber?""
Chuck looked down at his desk and fiddled with his Charles HB#3 pencil, ""No."" he admitted.
""Then let's try this again."" she turned to her desk and picked up the clipboard and read through her reading glasses. ""Charles?""
""Here..."" Chuck said. Charles smiled at him, pleased with herself, and continued, ""Charles?""
""Here.""
""Charles?""
""Here.""
Chuck ignored the continuation of roll call and scrawled his nickname all over his paper.
*Chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck....*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Harooold!""
Harold winced at the sound of her voice. He knew that tone well. ""Yes, dear?""
""Harold,"" said Martha, ""what is this *thing* in our living room?""
""It's a tail"" said Harold. ""Specifically, it is the tail of what appears to be an adult humpback whale.""
Martha narrowed her eyes. ""I can see that it's a *tail*, Harold. What I don't understand is *why* there's a *humpback whale tail* in our *living room*.""
""Well, the main reason"" said Harold, ""is that there wasn't enough room for an entire whale in our garage. Ergo, the back half of the whale had to extend through the kitchen and out into the living room.""
Martha's patience ran out. ""HAROLD! WHY IS THERE A DAMN WHALE IN OUR HOUSE?""
Harold shrugged. ""It... sort of happened by mistake. I was trying to order pizza.""
""And you ordered a *whale* instead?""
""Not exactly, no"" said Harold. ""It's rather a lot more complicated than that. The whale just sort of... appeared. Hard to explain how it happened exactly.""
Martha sighed and massaged her temples. ""You are an impossible man, Harold. Only you could make such a simple thing turn out so utterly, inexplicably wrong.""
""In my defense"" said Harold, ""that new cordless phone you bought is dreadfully confusing. There's so many... buttons... and..."" he trailed off into silence when he saw his wife's glare.
Martha took a deep breath to calm herself, then addressed her husband in a controlled, level tone. ""I am going out. When I return, there will *not* be a whale in our house. Is that clear?""
""Yes dear"" said Harold.
Martha stormed out of the house, and Harold turned to survey the damage. ""First things first"" he said, ""moving an entire whale is too much to do on an empty stomach. I think I'll order a pizza.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The morning sun cut through the receding fog in the woods. As the day warmed, Alan found himself sitting next to the stream he camped by. The water was cool and clear, and he could see fish darting around under the surface. He set out a line and walked back up the hill to his small, earthen home. It had started as a hole in the ground with branches for a roof, but has since become a refined, warm home to him.
As he crested the hill, he saw something he'd never expected to see. A woman, a few years younger than him, by his guess. He stared at her, and she made eye contact. She stood still, as if to camouflage herself from a predator. Alan slowly approached his camp, and rolled a new log onto his fire with his foot. He looked down, and for the first time in years noticed what he was wearing. A pair of worn service boots was covered by military issue camouflaged pants. He wore no shirt, his skin bronzed by years of sun exposure. In his home was a heavy jacket, hat, and a pair of gloves.
He looked the girl over. She wore relatively new hiking boots, a tattered wind breaker, and black nylon pants. She had a backpack on that Alan thought looked rather empty.
As they looked at each other, he realized not a single word had been said. He hadn't spoken to anyone in over a decade. He couldn't think about how to form the sounds for words that he could say in his head. He fumbled with a couple sounds before giving up. Her expression softened and she let out a muffled, ""Hi."" Her voice was soft on Alan's ears, he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a female voice, let alone any voice.
He sat down next to his fire, and set a container with water from the stream on it to boil. She took a step closer, Alan nodded and she sat down. They sat quietly in front of the fire for most of the day. The occasional word would be spoken, but for the most part they enjoyed each other's silent company.
When the sun began to set, he walked down the hill to the stream. Luck was with him today, there was a large trout hooked on. He took the fish off the line and carried it back to his camp. He filleted the fish, and set it on a hot stone to cook. That night, they both ate like royalty.
In the morning, she was gone. When he woke up, he found a small note on a piece of paper next to him.
*Thank you for the food. I've been wandering these woods for 15 years, and you're the first person I've ever seen. Maybe we will run into each other one day, and I can feed you. My name is Allison. I hope to hear your voice one day.*
Alan began to pack up his camp. It was time for a new life.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Dateline: North Korea. North Korean scientists today announced that they have created the world’s first functional time machine, capable of both forward and backward time travel. The lead scientist on the project, Jun Ki Seok, had this to say, “The glory of the state allowed us the technology to create the world first time machine. Kim Jung Un call me personal, order machine made.”
The North Korean government offered a press release in which it warned the “Western World to be afraid for [it’s] very existence.” Jon looks up from the paper. “Hey Honey, North Korea perfected time travel! I guess we’re screwed now, eh?”
Mary, Jon’s wife, laughs. “That’s even worse than those ballistic missiles of theirs that can almost reach the ocean!”
--
Jun Ki Seok looked at the machine much like a man looks at his first child, minutes after the birth. It is clear that he is completely and utterly devoted. “This will change the world. Sway the balance of power. With this machine, we will drive the capitalist government of South Korea into the sea, and liberate our brethren from their clutches.” His comrade, Wook Jin Seung, agreed, staring at the machine with the same reverence. Nearby, a sergeant was haranguing his men, preparing them to go through the portal, into the past. June 25th, 1950 glowed in bright red numerals above the machine’s gate. The machine itself was spectacularly unimpressive. About thirty foot square and 8 feet tall, it was mostly featureless, a dull but somehow amorphous gray. The only notable portions on the machine was a giant lever next to a bluish-gray oval-shaped gate, with a large LED screen on top. Next to the lever sit 8-one digit spinners, like one would find on the lock for a briefcase. It was with these small spinners that the date was set.
The giant lever would be pulled to activate the gate, whereupon massive sums of power generated by a nuclear reactor in the basement would channel directly into the machine via a massive trunk line, and a bright emerald green light would pulse out of the gate, too bright to comfortably look at. 30 seconds later, the bright light would disappear, and the machine would be rested for 48 hours, lest…unfortunate things, occur. The machine had been tested, extensively prior to the international announcement. Full-color pictures of ancient wonders, of Egyptian pyramids in construction, of Teutonic knights battling valiantly, of massive dinosaurs stomping gracelessly across Pangea. Despite the evidence brought back by the exploratory teams, the world treated the North Korean announcement with derision. To Jun Ki Seok, that was the final straw. He had always been frustrated by the world not taking his homeland seriously, but his scientist’s mind could see why. But now, when confronted with hard, incontrovertible evidence of North Korean greatness, the world still laughed.
And so they would pay. And the first step of that, 150 of North Korea’s most elite troops, armed to the hilt with modern weaponry and armor, were about to step though the time portal to June 25th, 1950. They would give North Korea what was needed to not only push the Americans and the UN back to the Pusan Perimeter, but out to sea. But Kim Jung Un’s plans stopped not at merely winning the Korean War. No, he plotted further than that. He prepared technical teams, full of modern technology, both domestic and foreign, which would jumpstart Korea into the modern age over sixty years before the rest of the world. No army of the world, rooted in the technology of the 1940s and 50s would be able to stand before the might of the Korean army, armed with guided missiles, modern rifles, and helicopters. Kim Jung Un arrived at the complex. The troops, raring at the bit to return to the past and raise their homeland to its proper place in the world, could not help but to cheer. Their Dear Leader would personally pull the lever which would catapult them into the past, into history, the future, their destiny. --
The fighting was intense. To be fair to the American forces, even when fighting against technology from over sixty years in the future, they didn’t surrender. The modern Koreans took casualties, but the Americans took more. And every 48 hours, North Korea of 2014 would send as many troops and supplies into the past as they could. A line of troops stood by the machine. The machine would be activated, and men would rush through, yelling war cries. The passage to the past took 3 seconds. Any in transit when the machine shut down would come though at the next opening, gaunt and insane. But that stopped none of the troops from charging into the machine up until the very instant it closed; they knew their duty…and they did not know of the effects of being trapped in the machine. By the end of 1951, the United States formally surrendered in Korea. By 1960, the Koreans, working with the Chinese, had captured all of Europe. In the final, desperate battles, the Warsaw Pact and NATO forces battled desperately, side-by-side. But their technology, M48 Pattons and T-55 MBTs were simply no match for T-90s and Chinese Type-96s, the technology to build the modern monsters of war having been sent through before the Korean War had even ended. In 1963, the United States was invaded. In the Second World War, Japanese Admiral Yamamato had argued against an invasion of the United States, as there would be a “rifle behind every blade of grass.” This proved to be correct. Despite having technology still almost unbelievable to the Americans, despite having fought against it for months in Europe, the United States did not surrender. The military was defeated within months, not having fully recovered from the thrashing it had received in Europe. The many expatriate military units that were rescued from Europe and brought to the United States fought as hard as they could, knowing that if America fell, there would be no hope for their ever returning home. But it simply wasn’t enough. The decimated remains of the Allied forces dispersed into the hills, armed civilians, and began a guerilla war.
They fought for ten years. Tens of thousands of Americans were killed in retaliation attacks. But finally, as all guerilla armies deprived of external support must, the resistance collapsed. The rate of loss of arms, men, and supplies simply couldn’t be kept up with by the small, underground shops of the resistance.
The world settled down, controlled by a joint Korean-Chinese government. --
In the present, no one realized that anything was amiss. The continuum of time meant that each change was not a new development, but simply the way it was. A few individuals, however, somehow, could see the changes taking place. But no material detailing things the way they were survived; how could a photograph exist of an event that never occurred? The sensitive individuals were simply chalked up as insane. The past’s takeover of the present continued unabated. --
Jon looks up from the paper. “Hey Honey, Dear Leader is announcing that the food Five-Year Plan has been beaten by 17%. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“I knew that projection would get beaten, the State’s farmers and workers are indomitable! Glory to Western Korea!”
“Glory to Western Korea!”
Edit: Had to remove prompt from the top.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"(I actually posted this story a few months ago to a different subreddit with the title ""Why I abandoned my Daughter"". If you'll forgive my reposting, I think it fits your prompt.)
I hated that ancient pair of shoes. Supporting a wife and daughter meant I had to make this pair last. The backs had fallen apart and the metal cut into my heels with every goddamn step I took. They had been digging the same holes into my feet all week and, as I walked to my car after a long day of work, it was especially intolerable. Maybe that was why I was so short with that girl when she approached me.
My eyes were on the ground as I walked through the outdoor parking lot. I couldn't wait to be home. I took solace in the fact that my wife and daughter would be asleep. I could sneak in and clean the cut on my forehead and stop the bleeding from my knuckles before they saw me.
Behind me, I heard someone call out, ""Hey, Mister.""
Knowing my city, the odds were high that anybody approaching me in a parking lot at night was about to stab me and take my wallet. I snapped to attention, swiveling my head around and balling my hands into fists. I flinched in pain as I remembered my hurt knuckles.
To my relief, there was only a hooker behind me. She was clutching her arms and shivered as if she were cold. But I knew why she was actually shaking.
""No thanks,"" I said as I turned and started to walk back to my car.
""Actually, I, uh, I was wondering if you were, you know, carrying,"" she said, teetering up behind me on her high heels.
""No.""
""Oh. Well, you know, I'm really in need of a fix, Mister.""
""Sorry to hear that,"" I lied.
""Well... can I at least suck your dick, Mister? I need some money.""
""Don't say that,"" I said without turning around.
""What I do for money is my business,"" she said, failing to convince me of her pride in her work.
""No,"" I sighed, ""just don't say what service you're offering. If I were a cop I'd be able to arrest you. If you're looking for a client, just tell the guy that you want to party or something.""
""Oh. Sorry, Sir.""
Her accent was gone but manners like those didn't come from the city. She still had her Southern charm.
""Well, actually, mister, maybe you could give me a ride.""
""No.""
""Oh, please. It's only a few blocks. I really need a fix. Really bad.""
""I have to get home,"" I said as I spotted my car. Just a few more steps in those goddamn awful shoes.
""It's a dangerous walk, Mister. Don't make me walk alone. Please, Mister. Please.""
""It's even more dangerous to get in a car with a stranger, you dumb bitch!"" I snapped as I turned to face her. ""You don't know a goddamn thing about me but you're still trying to climb into a car with me!""
""You have a kind face, Mister,"" she said meekly.
I laughed as I turned back to my car. ""Really? You think so? Well you're a shitty judge of character.""
I was infuriated when I could still hear her steps behind me. As I reached my car, I faced her again. She was sobbing. Underneath the running makeup I saw her face for the first time. Her lifestyle made her age twice as fast, but I could see her youthful eyes glistening with tears. She couldn't have been out of her early-twenties. Her eyes reminded me of my daughter's. That unsettled me.
""Can you please take me home, Sir?"" she sobbed. ""The bus station isn't far from here. I just wanna go home to my daddy. I never wanna see this city again.""
""You have a father and a home?"" I asked in disbelief. ""Then why the hell did you leave them for this shithole of a city?""
""Please, Mister. Don't make me walk over there at this time of night. The bus station is just a few blocks away.""
The bus station was on the other side of town and I had no interest in staying out any later than I had to.
""Would you wake up? Can't you see that I have blood pouring out of my head and my knuckles! I'm not a safe person to talk to! I make a living through violence, for God's sake! And you're trying to jump into a car with me because you think I have a kind face? I hope my daughter grows up to be a better judge of character than you.""
I froze when I realized the implications of what I had just said. I was a violent man. The kind of man that I wouldn't want my daughter anywhere near. I was hypnotized by my realization when I felt the girl put her hand on my shoulder. I didn't know how to respond to affection. So I responded with violence.
I backhanded her across the face. I swore as I remembered my injured knuckle and held my hand to fight the pain. The hooker backpedaled, holding her face. She looked back to me one last time and yelled,
""That's why! That's why I left my father for this shithole of a city!"" Then she stormed off into the darkness.
At last, I sat in my car. I didn't start the engine, though. I looked at my tired eyes in the rear-view mirror. I studied myself, trying to see why anybody would think I had a kind face. To this day, I still can't see what that hooker saw in me.
Maybe it was because I saw what became of that girl from the South. Maybe it was because of the violence in my job. Maybe it was because I wanted to get a new pair of fucking shoes. Whatever the reason, I didn't go home that night. I never saw my daughter again.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hello, Maintenance? It looks like one of the buttons on this elevator is broken"" I said, leaning towards the speaker. ""The top button is cracked, and doesn't go in any further when I push""
The speaker buzzed with a distant voice riddled with static ""Hmm, sounds like you're having a problem, let me come over in a couple minutes and fix that"".
Resigned to wait a for a little while, I looked more closely at my surroundings. There was actually quite a lot of detail in this old elevator; an elegant gold trim bordered the various panels, as well as the door. The walls were covered from ceiling to floor in a large detailed mural of some kind of battle. I started looking closer at the figures when a gleam of light caught my eye; there were two small nameplates next to the buttons reading ""Heaven"" and ""Hell"". *Those are certainly interesting names for up and down* I thought to myself. *They look official, but its probably just a prank.*
Right then, the elevator chimed and the doors opened. Looking at me was who I imagined to be the man I was talking to earlier; a deep-set and weary face accompanied by a body in a loose and worn-out one piece uniform. There was a small patch that read ""Elevator Repair Co"" above his right breast pocket, and a tool belt around his waist with various key chains and a walkie-talkie patched with duct tape.
He partially stepped into the small elevator, and quickly glanced around before settling his gaze on the duo of buttons with the curious labels.
""These are funny little nameplates, did someone put them on as a joke"" I asked him, breaking the silence.
He responded by pushing the lower button, and quickly stepping out of the elevator. The doors started closing, and a small grin grew on his face. In the last second before the doors were fully closed, he said one word.
""No"".",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Sarah ran her hand over the coarse leather cover of the pyramid clad book. She opened it and smelled its dusty and leathery scent. ""Oh my fucking god,"" she said as she eyed the various illustrations of ancient architecture and mystical beings. She remembered conversations with Jenny about the mystery of the world and how Jenny never had much to say, she always claimed to be agnostic and disinterested. She thought back to all their late night xbox marathons fueled with a mix of mountain dew and sometimes pot and all their philosophical conversations, but never a mention of this. She ran her hand to the back cover and saw Jenny's initials pressed into the leather, burnt in, and fading from age.
""That's duplicitous, bitch,"" she said aloud. Jenny walked into the room holding two cans of diet pepsi. She handed one to Sarah with a smile. Her face went blank when she saw Sarah holding the book.
""So... you're some kind of cultist,"" Sarah accused.
Jenny sat down and sighed. ""Look, its a family thing. Like a family religion. I got that when I turned 12 from my crazy uncle. What do you want me to do with it? Burn it?""
""Or fucking tell me about it! I mean, I've been into this stuff for years! You know that!""
""Tell you what exactly? I mean, do I waltz into your home, pick up a bible, and demand you teach me Catholicism,"" she said impatiently.
Sarah sighed, ""Its not the same.""
Jenny stood, ""Oh its not? Its some bullshit old men in robes came up with to control people. My bullshit has a more colorful history and aliens. Your bullshit has crusades, witch hunts, and old jews.""
""Old jews? You're being offensive.""
""That's what Jesus was, Sarah. An old fucking jew. Probably some rabbi with a lot of anti-establishment ideas that got him in trouble. He didn't do magic. He doesn't listen when you pray. The same way aliens don't run the world. Or lizard bankers. Or whatever. Its just the same powerful white male politicians who run things and as women, we need to realize this, and play their game."" Jenny threw her hands in the air and sat.
Sarah rolled her eyes.
Jenny continued, ""Look, its like being a scientologist. Being a member lets you into a certain social circle. Access to that circle gives... benefits. I don't want to piss off my uncle. I know he helps my parents with money now and again.""
""How opportunist,"" said Sarah snidely.
""Well, is it? I mean, you met your boyfriend at church, and you'll probably marry him. You got that last job through Ashely's mom at church. I really don't think its all so different.""
Sarah looked away and out the window. ""I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be accusatory.""
Jenny sighed, ""Its okay. Being part of something non-mainstream is always difficult I think. The stuff other people hear about it is always inaccurate. I didn't mean to snap like I did.""
""Last year, whats-her-name in study hall asked me how often I protest abortion clinics. I was like what?""
""Yeah, like that. The negative and dramatic stuff is concocted by drama queens and the the mentally ill."" Jenny paused, ""So do you want to really learn about it? I can tell you what I know. Its probably more mild than you're expecting. Its a lot of boring historical stuff that doesn't really match up to real history books. All the paranormal claims are clearly bunk.""
Sarah smiled, stood up, and turned on the xbox. ""Naww, its good. Lets play halo and forget about this. Its all crazy talk, isn't it? I mean, what's life about, really? It should be about good times, friends, love, and laughter.""
Sarah looked at Jenny. ""Agreed,"" Jenny said with a smile.
Jenny laughed, ""Yay! Halo to the rescue,"" as she turned on her controller and high-fived Sarah. ""Or do you want to fire up steam and play The Secret World? I have a quality level 6 Illuminati character,"" she said with a smirk.
""Oh you bitch,"" replied Sarah as she picked multiplayer deathmatch and said, ""You're going to pay for that!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"‘James! James!’ the man called out as he alighted the E train at Forest Hills/71st Ave, his eyes scanning rapidly for someone. I looked his way from across the platform where I was waiting for the transfer to the F. I didn’t know him. His overcoat was rumpled and his hair blazed the color of the F train’s signature orange circle. Even though it’s hard to look out of place at any Queens subway station, he managed the feat.
He ran up the stairs from the E platform shouting a few more times for James. I quickly forgot the man and returned to the article about the mayor’s lavish ball at Gracie Mansion I was reading in the *New Yorker.* The F train was still 6 minutes away.
As I was reading the fluff piece about the clams casino NYC’s first lady served, my nose was assaulted by the smell of stale linguisa and sweat. I looked up to see the orange-headed man staring down at me. ‘James! I found you.’
I was about to tell him it must be another James he was looking for when he sat down, closer than he needed to be, on the bench next to me.
‘James,’ he continued, bowling right over my objection, ‘I’m so glad I got you before you got on the F. I just missed you at Kew Gardens when you first got on the train.’
That brought my back up straight and the magazine fell to my lap forgotten.
‘What do you mean you’ve been following me since I got on the train?’ I stared at the man and got my first really good look. He wore glasses taped at both ends. His eyes had narrow pupils that drilled into mine like an MTA Sandhog doing tunnel work. As he spoke I could see remnants of sausage built up along his gumline.
‘James, I missed you at Kew Gardens but I tried to catch you at your apartment on Talbot Street before that. It was imperative I get to you before you go to Manhattan. I’m just here to help.’ The man was breathless at this point with his explanation.
I’d had enough. I don’t know who this man was but I was just trying to get to work. I got up to find another spot on the platform, try to lose myself in the crowd.
The man’s hand fell to my chest as I started to get up. His arm was strong, holding me in place.
‘James, I told you I’m just here to help. You’ll want my help once you get to work.’ His tone turned stern, ‘Now you’ll get on the F train when it arrives in,’ he looked up at the electronic message board, ‘two minutes. You’ll take the train to Manhattan like you do every day. You’ll get off at Bryant Park like you do every day. You’ll walk to your job at 41 West 42nd Street. 7th floor, I believe.’
He removed his hand from my chest, but I was still paralyzed by this man reciting my daily routine. He reached into a pocket of his overcoat.
‘And when you get to your desk,’ he continued, ‘you will log into your computer. You haven’t changed your password in a while, it’s still *7Yankees!* isn’t it? Of course it is. When you get to your computer, you’ll slide in this thumb drive. Remember, I’m just here to help,’
A small plastic flash drive emerged from his pocket and he dropped it on the cover of the *New Yorker* sitting in my lap.
The man got up and walked slowly away his orange hair like a sunset over the Rockaways. I clutched the magazine and stared at the thumb drive. A screeching brought everyone else on the platform to their feet, the F was here. I got on the train to head to work just like I do every day.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""So basically, magic,"" said the bartender. The rest of the villagers murmured in agreement.
I had stopped concealing my sighs hours ago. ""No. Elec-tri-city."" The hardest part about suddenly appearing in the year 1612 is thinking you're going to change the world and then realizing you have no idea how things really work.
I had started with the whole bacteria thing and that went nowhere for awhile. I mean, think about it. Yeah, so there's these tiny living things that are so small that you can't see them (but trust me they're there!) that are attacking your body, which by the way is made up of billions of tiny things themselves, and when the bad tiny things get the better of your good tiny things, you get sick, and your body has these specialized tiny things that fight the bad tiny things and if those fighting tiny things win, then you get better. Fuck me, right? I had actually succeeded in introducing pasteurization. I didn't exactly know how to do that either, but I brought the pond water and milk to a boil before cooling it back down ('cause it kills the tiny bad things!). The few people who looked passed my lunatic rantings and committed to trying my stuff were getting less sick from liquid, so I guess the process worked. I had a larger following now and they were listening to me.
""How about this,"" I said. ""So the lightning, that we create from... uhm, this lightning creating station, travels through the metal wire that's connected to every home, and is received by this glass ball that has this tiny piece of metal in it that glows from getting hot from the lightning and that's electrical light for you.""
The villagers looked around at the candles and oil lanterns that lit the bar quite well, gave each other nods that seemed to say ""yeah we got this whole 'light' thing down already, stop your lightning harnessing nonsense"" and turned back to me.
""So basically... magic,"" said the bartender.
""Get me a key,"" I said over the ensuing rabble. ""And a kite. There's a storm tonight and I'll show you exactly what I mean.""
An old lady answered me. ""What's a kite?""
""Get me some sticks and string and... uhm... paper? Or cloth? Uhm...""
Fuck me, right?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The first code to hit the internet was Infinite Lives and it immediately caused a rash of suicides, car chases, and monumental acts of daring filmed by spectators and uploaded to Youtube. My brother Ness was among the first in Toronto to try and climb the CN Tower with his bare hands, only to fall barely a hundred meters into the ascent. Poor bastard didn't have the Invicibility code yet, and suffered three humiliating weeks of respawning with 10% Health only to die of his injuries again and again, repeating the cycle every fifteen agonizing minutes.

By the time Invincibility leaked and he was released from the hospital, the world was chaos and confusion. Most of the internet was shut down, key servers in the States unplugged to prevent DLC Torrents from spreading, but the damage was already done. Thousands flew across the skies, dozens dropping to the pavement from slamming into buildings or going too high and losing oxygen; the Breathing Underwater code was out, but not the No Air Required cheat.

I picked my brother up from the hospital in my beige Pontiac Aztec, Anti-Gravity Cheat enabled. Tires spinning, we flew north while I caught him up on the news, barely out of the city when the DLC hit. All of Toronto and another three hundred square miles were overwritten by a Desert Canyon patch that erased eight million lives in the blink of an eye.

Ness was horrified but I took it in stride. ""That's maybe the hundredth city this week,"" I informed him. ""Everyone will respawn eventually. Paris DLCs were downloaded on top of ten cities in India, complete with duplicate Parisians, and there's a new continent in the middle of the Pacific that's an exact duplicate of Germany. Nobody is claiming responsibility for anything, but the President said it was Anonymous Terrorists. Then D.C. got nuked, redownloaded by Government Mods, and nuked again; I'd stay away from the whole East Coast if I were you.""

""I need more codes,"" Ness grumbled, eyeing the thousand-foot-high Viking stomping across the horizon. ""It's not fair that everyone else has more than me.""

I couldn't help but laugh. ""Everyone has Infinite Money and it's made money obsolete; I tried buying a yacht last week and found out it was easier to steal one. It's not about having as many cheats as possible, it's about having the best ones. Here, take my Cheat Code list, pick and choose which ones you want.""

""You have a yacht and you picked me up in an Aztec?""

""...It took too many Hadokens in a battle above Lake Eerie,"" I confessed. ""It was shielded from physical attacks but not magical ones. Lesson learned, right?""

""So where are we headed?"" he wondered, studying my list of codes. 

""Greenland. I found a collective that's building a few thousand spaceships, we're heading off planet ASAP, I got us spots on the USS Enterprise. Well, one of the Enterprises anyways. The fewer people are around us, the safer we'll be.""

Below us the landscape shimmered and changed from a snowy forest into a tropical archipeligo, twenty thousand islands running to every horizon, each one ringed by sublime beaches. 

""Will there even be a Greenland by the time we get there?"" Ness asked, entering the Weapons Pack 2 code. Twenty loaded guns spawn into the air (and through my windshield) around us, dropping on the dashboard, our laps, and the backseat.

""Most of Greenland is being run by Minecrafters, so they've put up a good defense. But there's no way of knowing until we get there.""

Punching in the code for Invisibility, Ness suddenly vanished, his voice echoing from the open air as a gun floated off the floor to point straight at me. ""Remember that time you slept with my ex-girlfriend Mandy?""

There's no room for hesitation anymore, and no allowances for inconvenience. I hit a button on the steering wheel and activate the ejection seat, flinging Ness from the van to leave him falling in my wake. I'm glad he can't fly yet and disappointed that he's chosen petty revenge, but so be it. I'm a Level 70 Rogue now, and it's beneath me to take shit from a Level 2 n00b, even if he is my brother. 

If all goes according to plan, I'll be wearing a Master Chief skin and flying past the moon before nightfall, my trusty PokeDragon at my hip ready to unleash hell at the slightest provocation. This is how the world ends, not with a wimper or a bang, but in a mass PvP orgy. I just hope I can make it to Greenland in time.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Most people say they could never tell you what makes them love someone. I was never most people. And her? Even less. It was the smile. It was always bright, always warm, always there. It was something that was more than a mere showing of teeth. It was what made her entire face light up and shine. It was what led me through the dark so many times. Through sickness, through death, through grieving, it was there. That smile made even her already bright eyes warm embers that I could never help but shiver against. It was the look that melted every part of me, opened me up to every word she whispered in my ear. With that smile, she became to me a perfect sculpture, porcelain, a goddess. It became my obsession, my drive, my life to see that smile. To know it was just for me, caused by my simply being, that was what made me love her.
It was seeing her face so joyed by my actions that drove me. It drove me to work, to succeed, to live. To me, it was all things.
And then it was gone.
So suddenly as I felt it appear, those smiles were gone. Replaced by tears, shouting, and a dead look. It was a look that destroyed me twice over. It was the look that held no joy, no warmth, no love. It was directed at me and solely at me. I had caused it, I had failed her. She was the same, she was porcelain, she was love. I was not.
And like that, out of my life she went. I was lost. All those drives were gone. Replaced by a drive to drink, to forget, to fade. To me, it was the only thing.
The true hurt though, the greatest pain, was not her being gone. It was something far more simple.
It was spring. It was sunny. She wore her floral dress. He held her gently as they walked.
And there that smile was. Not for me, not a sign of love to me, not a thing to keep me warm. It was for another. She was porcelain, I was not. She had another. I was no longer what she loved.
Was I ever what she loved? Was that smile ever truly meant for me? Was I ever anything to her?
All of me. She had taken all of me. And I was gone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I was just walking, you know? Just walking. Trying to get home like anyone else, hunched in my jacket because it's freaking *cold*. You were ahead of me, maybe a dozen paces. I could tell by the set of your shoulders, or the way you adjusted the collar of your coat. Anxious. Sure, I was looking ahead. Nobody likes to bump into things. But until you messed with your collar and glanced back at me, I didn't really notice you, I didn't think there was anything wrong. Our eyes met, and yours widened, and you started walking faster. You were hurrying, and I just kept walking at my normal pace. This has bothered me all night. I'm so, so sorry. I was just trying to get home. We were just walking in the same direction, around the same time. I should have taken a different way home. I should have stopped, waited until you were out of sight. Or at least slowed down. Or ducked into a doorway and hidden, so you couldn't see me.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Growing up, my mother described it to me as the constant feeling of being pushed, by something you can't see, in every direction.
I had never experienced gravity in my life. You see, my parents were the only two astronauts assigned to the Space Station Helios at the time of the Flash. Back in 2028 in the middle of a rebuild operation my mother had noticed a blanket of light cover the earth, that's how she described it anyways, and just as soon as it came it was gone.
After that there were no communications from earth and the systems on the station appeared fine so they waited. They waited for someone, anyone to come for them, but they never did. Now, 18 years later and the computer systems are failing, one by one. My father told me that the only way we can survive is to attempt a crash landing and hope that the on board safeties will be able to hold us.
As we plummeted downward I began to feel.....tight? I guess tight is the best word I could use to describe it. It felt as though I was trying to be squished into a space that I just couldn't fit. I held my parents hands, anxiously awaiting the inevitable. We crashed landed in a forest. I had seen pictures of trees growing up, but being right next to one in person, they felt so....powerful. They towered over me. After the initial shock and awe I began to notice the little things, new flavors in the air, new smells, the difference of seeing the sun without a UV Shield, and the pressure. It was constant but not uncomfortable, and it was all around me. This must be gravity, I thought. Mother did her best to explain it to me and she did well, but I think she got one thing wrong. It didn't feel like I was being pushed, it felt like I was being embraced.
To me, it felt like the earth was hanging on. That it didn't want to let me go.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*That won't do.* Jim thought long and hard about where his son would go in life. He thought about his childhood, his friends, his experiences in school. He thought about his love life, the women he would meet, the fun he would have. He thought about his career and his future family, the children he would father and the kind of father he would be. He thought about the pain and suffering that he could be responsible for preventing.
He erased his most recent entry. *That's not going to work either.* Jim was having writer's block of the most dire sort: he could not figure out how his son's life would go. Still, there had to be a way; a way to avoid the terror of the unknown and the horrors that which life could bring. He thought long and hard about his own life.
~
""I can't stay here anymore, Jim,"" said Mary. ""This isn't the life I want.""
""Mary...,"" Jim took a deep breath. ""Y-you can't do this. Our boy is in the other room sleeping. This is our home. This is the life we made together.""
Mary looked toward the doorway to their son's room, her face scrunching up, trying to hold back tears. ""I'm sorry Jim, but he'll be better off without me. And this disgusting apartment is hardly what I would call home. I'm sorry but I have to go.""
Jim reached out for her hand and began to beg. ""Mary please. You can't go. You can't do this to me, to us. I can't do this alone, I need you.""
She looked at him one last time. Her eyes said ""I loved you,"" but her voice did not. She left and never came back.
~
""Please, I don't have any more money. My son is hungry and I need to get him something to eat. If you would just leave a little for-""
""Fuck off,"" said the bearded man. He held his knife closer to Jim as he sorted through his wallet with one hand. ""It's only fifty dollars, pal. Hardly worth my time, but I'll make do.""
""No, please, you don't understand, my s-""
The bearded man punched Jim hard in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. He fell to the ground, dazed, as he watched the man run off with the only money he had that week.
~
*There must be something I could write. Maybe if he doesn't...no that won't work either.* Jim was stuck. He wanted the best life for his son, but he wanted to make sure it was perfect. He had to spare him of the pain and suffering that his son would have.
That's when he decided. He would give his son the best childhood friends; kids that would look up to him and treat him as a leader. He would give him the very best education, for his son would be one of the most intelligent men alive. He would become the CEO of one of the largest corporations in the world, and he would be one of the richest men on the planet. He would have anything and everything he could desire. This was the life Jim chose for his son, and it would be the life of a king. Smiling, Jim set pen to paper and wrote and wrote and wrote...
~
Carson sipped on a glass of fine wine as he roamed his study looking at photos he had propped up all around the room. It was a twelve hundred dollar bottle, but he couldn't help but feel like it tasted the same as a local liquor store. For some reason he enjoyed it, but he hadn't the faintest idea why.
He moved from photo to photo. One was of him and a great leader from the middle-east. Another had him shaking hands with the president. All of the photos depicted him with a partner in business or a person of power, but the photo he kept on his desk was most important to him. It was of himself and his father, Jim, from several Christmases ago; the last Christmas they would have together before he passed away.
Carson looked intently at the photo. He thought about the life he had and how his father influenced it. Carson idolized the struggles his father had to overcome. He was proud of him, and wished that he could become half the man his father was. He thought about the good memories, the dreams he built, the world he helped create. Still, something nagged at Carson. Something just wasn't right, but he couldn't figure it out. He tossed the thought into the back of his head like he normally did when he had that feeling. Finally, he smiled at the photo one last time before muttering to himself, ""I love you, dad.""
And though he didn't want to, he took a sip of his wine and headed off to bed.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Tell me, Mr. Curondo, do you think that the means justify the end?""

Mr. Curondo, tanned, well-muscled, shirtless, and strapped to a tilted surgeon's table replied with his usual bravado. The laser was slowly sliding between his legs.

""Evil is evil Raen. In the end, good always triumphs.""

The black cloaked figure replied in his gravelly voice whilst initializing his doomsday device, ""What is good, what is evil? They are labels, like hero and villain. You think you know which of us plays our part. What of your masters? What of your purported Philosopher Kings? Are they truly wiser? Do they know best?""

The laser inched closer, but Curondo did not flinch. ""Who could know better? They've lived hundreds of years, they've outlasted nations. We have not seen a war in a hundred years, nor famine in fifty.""

""What of the Tithe then? What of the children they kill to maintain their peace? Is that good?"" The sequence was initialized. In minutes, the Philosopher Kings would be burned to the ground, their black magic with them. Humanity would be free once more. Free to war, to learn from mistakes, to accept responsibility for itself.

""Sacrifices must be made.""

With that, Mr. Curondo snapped the lock his fingers had been quietly worrying at. He spun off the table and landed with his fingers on Raen's throat.

""So then, you condemn us to peaceful slavery?"" asked Raen.

Curondo crushed Raen's pale throat for answer.

The villain won. Anarchy was aborted. Prosperity and status quo were maintained.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The second shelf. That damned second shelf. Every morning, and every night, I put my toothbrush on the first shelf. And every day, when I reach for it, it's on the second shelf. It was maddening. Who was moving it? Who was tormenting me?! I didn't deserve this. And then, one day, I saw him do it. He looked just like me. He was living in the mirror behind the sink, disguised as my reflection. Only he wasn't my reflection. He was a bastard. He was the cause for my stress. For my therapy sessions I cut off, for my pills I stopped taking. He was the cause. One day, I put my brush on the shelf and waited. I waited a safe distance from the mirror, until I felt it was time, and I went to investigate. Like clockwork, he appeared. He moved my toothbrush to the second shelf again! I just became so...mad! I punched him, and he shattered. Or rather, the mirror shattered. He was still in the shards. But as I picked one up, I saw him in another. I saw the shard, *my* special shard, next to him, in *his* hand! No, not my toothbrush! I still controlled the shard. It was mine, not his! And so I dug. I dug into his neck. And dug and dug. And I woke up here. Everyone here is so nice. They understand how dangerous he is. They showed me a picture of him. They've put him in a special jacket so he can't move his arms.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Chuck wandered through the countryside estate he most recently found himself in, the hallways and rooms silent and empty, abandoned and forgotten. It felt as if this place had been long ignored, and yet there was no dust, no sign of neglect. How many days it had been since someone else had walked these halls? Had the days turned into months? Did those words still have any meaning? There hadn't even been a day since the big stop, not a real one, anyways. The sun remained sitting in the same spot it had been, shining down onto the one poor soul who could still be warmed by it. Perhaps permanent day was better than everlasting night, but Chuck wasn't sure. There was something unsettling about the brightly lit cities now turned into eerie art shows filled with sculptures stopped while living normal lives. Chuck wondered if it would have been better if the big stop happened at night, at least then he wouldn't have had to see as much, to feel as much regret.
Chuck had been mid-conversation when the world stopped. At first, he thought his friend had been playing some strange joke, but soon bemusement turned into genuine concern, and when Chuck realized the extent of the catastrophe, into pure terror. For a while, terror was all there had been, but those first few moments had been nothing compared to what had followed. For some time, Chuck had tried to reverse what had happened, dragging several people into his workshop, trying to think of ways to revive them. He still remembered how they felt, remembered how strange it was that they were still warm to the touch, that they still felt alive. But after one failed experiment after another, he came to accept that they were not, that the universe had decided to end, not with a bang, but with silence. And the realization that came next was the worst of all. The universe had ended without him. Only Chuck had been cursed with this fate, the fate of living alone in a world that was as alien as any Chuck had ever seen in a film or read about in a book. For some time after, that despair was all there had been for him. He would have given anything to be with his friends and family, to be frozen and ended like everyone else. Chuck had considered suicide, but knew that no matter his circumstance, he couldn't find the courage to kill himself, wasn't even sure if he wanted to. What would be the point of it? But then again, what was his reason for living? It took a while before Chuck found one. But while wandering the countryside he did. The sun perfectly framed this mansion and the grounds, and a family sat frozen around a pristine picnic table. A mother, a father, a little girl, and a little boy. Chuck sat beside them and saw in their silent faces the embodiment of joy and happiness. He saw that for these people, life had reached the best point it ever would. He looked around and saw the world not for what he had lost, but what it had been.
The happy family, the beautiful day, and the mansion that sat behind them. These things were holy. And Chuck thought back on what he had seen in the city, the less than savory samples of life and crime which he had seen. Those things, too, were sacred. Echoes of the world that had been, of the people that had lived, of the times that were no more. Chuck finally realized why he was here, how he could keep on living until the universe finally decided to spare him. Without Chuck, all of what had been would be lost, the beauty of both good and evil would be gone forever with no one to appreciate it. Chuck owed it to everyone and everything. He would be the one that watched, the one that remembered. Though the universe had ended, through Chuck it would live on.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The words which seemed a farce were printed on clean, neat stationary that somehow shimmered with an ephemeral glow, lending credence to the preposterous words written on it. 

There's no way I could describe the message written on that letter, except maybe as impossible. But just as impossible had been my insane survival on the mountain some time ago. I could still feel the crushing wall of snow knock me over, could still see the light fade away as my entire view was shrouded in the darkness caused by the onslaught of cold. I could remember being forced into the deep crevice and buried alive in the heavy snow, and the only thing I could hear was the muffled roar of icy death. 

But by some miracle, I had survived. Not even a scratch on me. The snow had parted ways, leaving me with a clear sight of the way out. More than that, when the avalanche's wrath settled, I was left with a solid ramp of snow to lead me up and out of danger. I should have known there's no such thing as miracles. 

I read the words on the letter another time, and let them sink in. I would have thought it a joke, if I hadn't seen what I saw on that mountain, hadn't walked away from certain death. But reading this letter, I knew it was true. It was a letter from God, and it went like this:

&gt;Dear Chris Huntings,

&gt;We hope this letter finds you well. We are led to believe that the events you survived on January 25th were what most people would describe as miraculous. Indeed, we too find it surprising that you survived such an event. 

&gt;As a result, an internal audit was launched to verify the validity of your claim, and we have come to the conclusion that no miracle should have been awarded to you at this time. We apologize for the inconvenience, and assure you that the angel responsible for your claim has had their position terminated. We hope this brings you some comfort. 

&gt;Heaven, Inc. hereby requests your assistance in the following matter. As you have been erroneously awarded a miracle, please report to the place of said miracle within thirty (30) business days, so the error can be corrected. As a favor to you, our client, and as an apology for making the mistake, Heaven, Inc. will ensure optimal skiing conditions so that your death is at least a pleasurable one. 

&gt;Questions and concerns can be forwarded to our customer support office via prayer and/or ritualistic sacrifice. Our customer service representatives would be happy to help you one day a week, most weeks of the year, plus appropriate holidays. 

&gt; Best Regards,

&gt; *God*

&gt; CEO, Heaven, Inc.

&gt; A Parent Company to subsidiary Hell Co. 


I put the letter down, after reading it once more. It was all so surreal. Looking out of the window, I saw that it was snowing. 

.


**[Part 2-&gt;](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1x9tj4/wp_the_day_after_a_nearfatal_accident_you_receive/cf9iuh7)** **[Part 3-&gt;&gt;](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1x9tj4/wp_the_day_after_a_nearfatal_accident_you_receive/cf9nyz0)**",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Commander Thompson sighed as she put down her binoculars. Flight engineer Wei Ping took them from her and carefully sat down on the martian soil, his helmet light illuminating the surrounding area where she crouched.
""Houston, Jane here, we have a protocol 7 event I think,"" she said into her mic. Wei began videotaping.
""Houston here, whatcha got,"" a man asked as the comm lights on their suits went red. ""We've got a person here. Vintage spacesuit. Definitely Russian. He... no.. she is coming towards us. I can't make out a face."" Jane looked at the woman again. Her spacesuit was a mesh of dozens of emergency patches and the once vibrant red plastic was faded to a pale pink. She walked with a limp and slowly. Her hand kept wiping dust away from her visor, the automated dust wiper long broken.
""Holy shit,"" said Wei. ""That's a cosmonaut!""
Jane spoke to Earth as Wei watched her lips move. ""Guess my pay grade is too low for this conversation,"" he said to himself. He sat back into the buggy and watched the cosmonaut walk towards them from a mile out.
Jane walked over to the buggy and pulled something out of a sealed compartment.
""What is that,"" Wei said, shocked. ""Is that a... gyrojet pistol? Commander, with all due respect, that's a weapon. We're not allowed to have those.""
Jane shrugged, ""Command wants me armed. Trust me, I don't want to use this. Can you get her on the radio?""
""Think so. Just don't point that thing anywhere near me,"" he said with a smile.
The radio crackled, ""Hello, American ship. I am Valentina Merokosha. I am cosmonaut. Supplies are very low. Please follow to base."" ""Wait, when did you land? What supplies,"" asked Jane.
The radio only gave static as they watched her turn around and walk away. A moment later she turned in front of a boulder and disappeared.
Wei shrugged. ""Okay, so we follow?"" He watched Jane argue with NASA for several minutes. He saw her hit a button on her chest and his radio came alive, ""Sorry NASA, you're breaking up. We'll try again in a few.""
""Fuck it, lets go,"" she said as she joined him in the buggy. ""We'll patrol the area for a bit. I don't see her anymore.""
""Err, is that what they told us to do,"" asked Wei as he put the buggy in gear and drove.
""Not really,"" smiled Jane. ""They also didn't tell me to do this,"" she said as she put the pistol back into its compartment.
Wei laughed, ""I just remembered my training on this buggy. That compartment was for spare transmission fluid. Did they really expect us to change tranny fluid on Mars? Like we're some interstellar Jiffy Lube? I should have guessed.""
Jane chuckled. ""Wait, see that,"" she asked.
""Yeah, I'll pull close to it."" They stepped out of the buggy and stared at the piles of wreckage at their feet. ""I think we just discovered the lost cosmonauts of legend. Guess it was a failed Mars mission,"" she said.
""I don't see how anyone could have survived this,"" said Wei.
Wei kicked at the metal debris. He bent over and revealed parts of a human skeleton in a spacesuit. He pulled at the spacesuit. He illuminated its face with his headlamp. A skull with long black hair looked back at him. He illuminated its chest and read the nameplate outloud, ""V. Merokosha."" He shuddered.
""A one woman mission to Mars. How... lonely,"" Jane said looking away. ""I guess she wanted someone to find her.""
Wei shut off his headlamp and looked at Jane, ""Someone finally did."" They sat silently in the buggy for a short while. Jane's tears fogged up her helmet. ""So lonely, so lonely,"" she said breaking the silence. Wei took her hand and smiled at her. ""Its okay, we found her. We'll tell people about her and she'll find peace."" He then closed his eyes and began quietly chanting a Buddhist prayer.
""Yes... yes, we will,"" she said and began to radio Valentina's story back to Earth.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Jon stared at the digital clock on his bedside.
*23:59* it told him, the digits flickering gently in the dark of his room, the colon between the two numbers dancing its rhythm.
""Tick tock, tick tock, goes the clock,"" he muttered, chuckling gently to himself, recalling the words his mother always used to say. It was all she *could* say, before she passed away thirty-seven years ago. The Alzheimer's had really hit her hard, coupled with the slight hint of autism in her. He wondered if it would happen to him. It seemed unlikely, he had already gone mad years ago. It just so happened that his memory had stayed with him.
*00:00* it whispered.
""Happy Birthday to me,"" grinned Jon, raising the whisky to his lips. Ninety years old. He really had done well. The liquor burned pleasantly in his throat as he swallowed. Like him, it had aged pretty damn well. The seventy years it had spent in his cellar had served it brilliantly. By far his favourite twentieth birthday present.
""*Happy birthday, you sweet bastard*,"" said the faded label on the back of the bottle. Jon gave a hearty smile, he was looking forward to seeing Finn.
Jon stood up from the plush leather chair, and stepped past his grand, four-poster bed. The soft carpet felt glorious beneath his feet. The whisky bottle in his right hand, he pulled open the huge oak door that marked the entrance to his quarters, and stepped out into the hallway. He fumbled for the heavy golden light switch, and flicked it down. The large glass chandeliers illuminated, revealing the vast corridor before him. Portraits of old men long passed hung on the wall, staring down on him. The marble floor stretched hugely towards a grand wooden staircase. Grinning from ear to ear, he walked, his velvet dressing grown soaking up the warmth from the gorgeous underfloor heating.
He trotted down the stairs, giggling lightly. This was going to be fun.
More portraits loomed over him as he descended. In his mind, they too were grinning, anticipating his next step. He moved onwards and onwards, finally touching down on the ground floor.
He darted forwards, dancing through a grand stone archway. Laughing louder now, he leapt onto the red leather sofa, beaming at the flames waltzing in the fire place. He loved the way that they brushed so gently against each other.
Finally, his laughter died down. His smirk dampening, he drifted back into the sofa, setting the whisky down on the glass table beside him, taking another sip from his glass.
This was *bliss*.
Smiling gently, eyes closed, he listened with euphoria to the footsteps crunching down the gravel path outside. As the noise got closer and closer, he got nothing but happier and happier.
The footsteps left their crunchy state and became suddenly more firm and solid as they crept onto the porch outside, followed by a light tap on the door.
""Come on in Finn, it's open!""
The door slowly creaked open, the warm summer air creeping inside with the visitor.
Eyes still closed, he smiled happily as the footsteps entered the room.
""Jon?""
""Good morning Finn!"" beamed Jon, sitting forward in his chair. He looked Finn up and down, casually taking note of every detail, from the grey in his hair to the laces on his boots, from the gun in his hand to the moustache that resided under his nose.
""You seem oddly... relaxed. To be honest I was expecting you to be hiding, judging by the fact that I'm about to take all this away from you,"" Finn explained.
""Oh that is an outrageous statement indeed!"" chuckled Jon. ""You really think I'm going to give you all of this?""
""I believe that is the case"", uttered Finn. ""I see you stuck to my promise"", he said, glancing at the whisky on the table.
""Oh I did! I always keep my promises!""
""Then..."" asked Finn, ""why aren't you trying to kill me? Remember, seventy years ago today? Our deal? If we both make it past the age of ninety the man who kills the other gets their inheritance, surely your remember old man?""
""Oh yes I do! I remember that fully!"" he grinned, pulling out his .44 Magnum from under his dressing gown.
""You sweet bastard!"" laughed Finn. ""I was starting to worry that you had lost it!""
Jon laughed in a friendly way. ""Oh Finn... you see, that's where you're wrong! I knew you were going to kill me, there was no fighting that! Me? I'm just a rich boy, raised by a rich family. You're a soldier, you know how to kill! I'd never stand a chance! It really appears that I remember our agreement more than you do, friend! *The man who kills the other gains his inheritance*!""
""Exactly as I recall it Jon!""
""You see Finn, I know I'm going to die today. There's no changing that. What I do have control over however, is who gets the inheritance!""
""No... you're not saying that..."", whispered Finn, raising his weapon to Jon.
""Oh yes I am. I am saying *that* indeed, Mr Finn old boy.""
Finn fired, the bang of the gun echoing through the mansion.
Only it wasn't Finn' gun that had gone off.
And it certainly wasn't Finn that had been hit.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Clearest of skies, and bluest of seas, I poured my whole heart upon those keys, Leaves in the wind, those moments flew by, Beauty untouched like a summer's night sky, Refreshing the page, my mind set ablaze, Imagining the attention in so many ways, Love for my writing, compliments too, Yet I found my fantasies left untrue, The community I love, left my words unread, They might have been better to be left unsaid, Twas not cruelty of others, failure my own, Returning within my bitter shell with a groan, Dreams left shattered, unswayed Autumn leaves, Retreated behind my scarlet stained sweater sleeves, I downvoted everyone, simply out of spite, I'm a piece of shit, and my father was right.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It began millenia ago. How many I have long forgotten. It is interesting, really. When people think of immortality they think that they will simply live to be able to do anything they want – to experience everything and achieve a form of completeness. Yet, how many mere mortals remember anything that happened in their youngest years? Well, my first couples of thousand years WERE my youngest years. And I remember nothing. Only the Genie. Only my burning wish to live long enough to experience it all. I have a picture. It shows me with my arm around a woman. I look very in love. That is all I have that is more than a couple of decades old. At one point a government erased all the data I had gathered, thinking I was too dangerous, and the following government kept up that practice.
That too, of course, was many millennia ago. Governments are history. But I never really started collecting data again – why should I? Nothing has been fun or meaningful for as long as I remember.
For the last couple of years I have only had the old man. He was the last alive, and I knew that he too, would die. He is dead now. I am not even sad. Never knew his name anyways. Mortals really don't matter much to me. How could they? They live for only a blink. I am eternal. I might even be a god. If all gods are like me, I wonder why they are prayed to. We are nothing special.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"**Look out! The descriptions are graphic!**
""Aw, man!"" Zev says. ""You know when you cut the head off and blood squirts out and hits the ceiling? Isn't that awesome? It's like a fountain!""
The other people sitting in the circle nod affirmatively. A woman, one of the few there, leans forwards in interest.
""That's actually a real thing then?"" she inquires. ""I normally burn my victims houses to the ground, so I wouldn't know.""
A large man a few chairs down snorts. ""Oh, you and your husbands, Ella,"" he says, ""You should probably branch out. Aren't the FBI getting interested about all eleven of your husbands dying after taking out life insurance?""
Ella huffs. ""Screw them. Cops are useless. But that's a good idea. It's just hard to make it look like an accident, you know?""
Another man, an average looking one, turns to look at Ella. ""Speak for yourself, Sweetpea. I done fifty-two and the cops haven't even realized that it's all one person, they're so different!"" Zev stands up, waving his hands. ""Come on guys, settle down. We have to keep this under an hour, remember?""
Ella rolls her eyes and acquiesces, as do the others. Zev waits for a second in case anyone wants to say anything, but no one volunteers. He continues.
""Right. Decapitation. You have to be a bit careful with this one, cause those arteries in the neck are like fucking fire hoses.""
A woman dressed entirely in hot pink guffaws. ""You fucked a fire hose, Zev? That's a new one. Are you going for a record of 'most objects fucked'? Cause it sure seems like it.""
Zev turns bright red. ""What I do and do not have sex with is none of your business, Dolores. And besides, weren't you complaining about how hard it is to find men with gigantic dicks the other day?""
Dolores turns beat red, and apparently sensing an imminent explosion, Zev steamrolls over her. ""Moving on. Acid!""
The average looking man grins. ""It's awesome! The best way to hide the body is if there is no body. You can even dump it in the river when you're done!""
A tall, skinny skinhead jumps in. ""Ah-ha, so it's YOU who's been poisoning one of Boston's water systems! I should let you know that it's getting very annoying, no one pays attention to me anymore even if it's a triple sex murder."" He looks like he's trying not to cry. There's a long silence, and then someone ventures tentatively: ""How did you do a triple sex murder? Find a threesome going on and kill them all?""
""Yep, and I even nailed their heads to the wall when I was done! No one appreciates me any more."" The skinhead sniffs miserably.
""We appreciate you, dude,"" A handsome oriental man says. ""I don't think anyone's even considered a triple sex murder before.""
The skinhead brightens. ""Really?""
The group nods, glancing at each other in a way that says 'humour the crazy person'.
Zev takes a look at his watch, and stands up. ""OK, guys, we're out of time for today. Next session's same time and place, but a wednesday. Everybody good?""
They nod and stand, talking to each other as they walk out. Zev shuts the door behind them. He's going to love trying their techniques on them.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"-038
""Son-of-a-bitch,"" Waldo shouted, tripping over something outside his door. He sprawled, but caught himself, tucking his shoulder and using his forward momentum to roll himself across the hall and back to his feet. He came up wary and looking to run. His eyes slicing left and right in search of danger. What he found was a crushed gift box. He worked the hall, inching back toward his door; a white ape in a red and white turtle neck sweater. He scampered the last few feet, scooped up the package and darted back into his room, slamming the door behind him.
He leaned against the door, slipping his hand to the waist band of his pants to grasp for the firearm that was no longer there. Of course it wasn't there. It was Friday night. It was his night off. His night to unwind. He'd been granted a little rest and relaxation tonight before having to head back into the field. He listened at the door, searching for proof he was being hunted, but there was no one there. Content he was a lone, he stepped back to investigate the package outside his door.
It was a cheap dollar store wrapping paper. The bow was a stick on. He looked around the seams for tampering and checked the bow for a wire, but it was just what it appeared to be--a poorly wrapped gift. He pulled out a folder from his pocket and flicked open the six inch blade and cut through the paper, peeling if off carefully. Under it was a simple brown box with a lid. He probed the lids edges with the tip of his knife, but there was nothing. The box didn't seem to be a bomb of any sort. ""Ha ha."" Waldo laughed. It not being a bomb was a surprise. He'd been hunted by all kinds of spies. Agent Black and Agent White were constantly leaving traps for him and bombs and using elaborate disguises. If it wasn't for their hatred for each other, Waldo might have been dead long ago. Thankfully, their agencies almost always sent them on the same missions, and he'd been able to escape them time and time again because their cold war attacks on each other. Why they wore plague masks with their protruding beaks was beyond Waldo's understanding, but the long beak-shaped gas masks had become a dreadful thing to see. Seeing the spy verses spy games of cat and mouse had become Waldo's guilty pleasure. As long as they were hunting each other, he was safe.
Waldo was no hero. He didn't like guns and suspected that if he slowed down, one would find him. He tried not to carry a gun. He tried to take only jobs he with low risk. He lived and learned. The big jobs were a death sentence. If he needed proof of this, all he had to do was look at Carmen. Carmen Sandiego had pulled the big heist. She was a sorcerer in the spy game. She could take anything and loved leaving taunting clues, but where in the world is Carmen Sandiego now? In a swamp somewhere feeding alligators. No one is ever finding her again. It was why Waldo tried to become invisible, blending in. His was a life of the chameleon. He lifted the lid off the box, and swore. He lifted the dark 9 mm handgun from the box. The gun oil wafted up to his nose. It was familiar. He hefted the gun and cursed again. He could tell by the weight that the clip was full. Beneath it was a manila envelope. Inside that was a dossier. In that were dozens and dozens of photographs of the same red and white turtle neck and black-rimmed glasses. Someone had found Waldo. He picked up the paper and found the card attached to the bow; Room 609. He looked slowly toward the door. It was the room across the hall. They left the package in front of the wrong door. It wasn't meant for him. It was meant for his neighbor. He flipped through the surveillance photos of him. If they hadn't circled his face in each one of them, he wouldn't have been able to find himself and he was the one attending the peppermint enthisiast gatherings. Where else would he blend in. He stopped. The last page was hand bill with his face on it and price underneath. Waldo laughed. The man wasn't an assassin. He was a bounty hunter. He slipped across the hall with the gun back in the box and the dossier inside. *They didn't know his neighbor was out of the business. How could they?* He knocked on the door and after lengthy wait, his neighbor opened it.
""Hello?"" The myopic old man greeted in a pleasant voice that reminded Waldo of a squeaky screen door. His jolly face and bulbous nose was a relief to see. Once upon a time, he had been one of the greatest bounty hunters the world had ever seen and Waldo knew this. But now, he was old, endearing, and nearly blind.
""Hello, Mr. Magoo. They delivered a package to my door by accident."" Waldo told him, handing over the opened box. Mr. Magoo blinked and looked inside then up at Waldo and smiled a pleasant smile. ""They do that sometimes. They want me to find anyone notable this time?"" Waldo shrugged.
""Me."" He replied. Mr. Magoo laughed. ""Maybe after our beer and a short nap, me boy."" The old man laughed, dropping the box in the hall closet atop a mound of similar boxes. Each filled with a dossier and an untraceable gun. ""Hurry, me boy. Game of Thrones is about to start. He shuffled down the hall, and Waldo followed after, smiling warmly. It wasn't ever spy that got to drink beer with a legend.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She was like the girl next door, if you lived next door to a whorehouse. Long thin legs that went up to Heaven, and skinny arms covered in discount tattoos. She held herself with pride, this little girl in a woman's body. She didn't let nobody fuck with her, that one. I'd watch her through my screen door, while she laid out in the sun with that fucking bikini on. Jesus Christ, that bikini. Why in the Hell she let herself go out in that animal print abomination, I would never know. I would watch her come home with different guys, all in fucking hip-hopper sweatshirts and gangbanger bandannas. Sometimes a girl would be with them and I'd watch the shadows fuck with smoke rollin' out of the window. The girl had taste in other women, at least. They'd look clean as a whistle with platinum hair and goddamn yoga pants. Nobody'd sleep over. She had a rule about that. She'd always sleep alone cause she *knew* you can't trust nobody while you sleep. Tough little girl. She knew I was watching her. She would walk out and raise that skinny little arm and flip me the bird. Peelin' out in her tricked out Saturn. Like you can make that POS look good. She wouldn't even look at me. Her own Dad. I moved in next door to keep a good eye on her and she wouldn't even look at me. Ungrateful piece of ass. I'll always find her. She's my little girl, and she's mine.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I've always believed I was a good person. I couldn't really go on thinking that after I got up to the pearly gates, large as life and twice as real, and they didn't open for me. ""Hello?"" I called out, a little nervous but rationalising that it was probably just some kind of mistake. Or maybe Saint Peter was on his lunch break. Something like that. Right? ""Hey there, dude."" I turned around and there he was, tall and kinda grubby. He looked like he'd just waded out of the ocean in southern Australia, and all he was missing was his surfboard. Curly blonde hair stuck away from his head, a Heath Ledger-like smile lighting up his face. ""I'm Pete. Sit down with me, why don't you?"" He gestures to a particularly fluffy bit of cloud. I perch, he lounges, then hands me a spliff. I get high with Saint Peter. ""So talk me through it man."" ""Why aren't the gates open?"" ""Chill, we'll get to that later. I just want to hear about your life."" He folds his hands behind his head and lies back like he's completely relaxed. ""Er... well, I don't know. It wasn't all that."" It's a sad thing to say about your own life, but it's true. ""I followed the rules. I got married. I had kids, a job, a house."" ""Sounds good, dude. You enjoy it?"" ""Yeah, I guess so. It was good. I liked things how they were."" ""Sin at all?"" ""Depends what you mean by sin. I was good. I never did anything to hurt anyone."" ""Yeah, you were a chill dude, dude.""
It's not really how I imagined Saint Peter. Next thing you're going to tell me that Jesus is some kind of organic food loving hippy with a passion for potpourri and incense. ""So do I get in?"" ""It doesn't really work like that."" ""What's that supposed to mean?"" I ask, the buzz wearing off
""Well, dude. It's not enough to not do anything bad. You have to actively do something good. There's a super rad poem about it too, if I could just remember it."" ""What happens now?"" I'm afraid. ""Whatever you believe happens now."" Heaven is gone. Heaven is out of reach.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""We should just go home. It's my fault the girls bailed, man. I'm sorry. We'll never get in now.""

Enrique Delgado looked his friend in the eyes. ""Peter, we can go home, have some beers, play some video games, like we've done countless times before. Or we can do something different, something risky, something fun.""

The words cut open a wound Peter was trying to forget. The whole point of this night was to forget his ex. But her voice was ringing in his head. *Do something different for a change. I wish you'd take a risk once and awhile. You're never any fun.* ""I want to get into this club.""

Enrique smiled. A bouncer walking down the line passed them. ""Excuse me,"" Enrique said. The bouncer turned around, emotionless. ""My friend and I really want to get in tonight. I promise you, I'll pay you back someday somehow if you let us in. I promise.""

The bouncer was transported to his childhood. His father missing game after game after game. *I'll make it up to you someday somehow kid. I promise.* A graduation no-show, he ran away from home, leaving his father for good. A letter years later, the old man was dying. On his death bed, *""I'm sorry kid. I know I drove you to it and I sure as hell know I didn't deserve it but there isn't a day of my life I didn't wish you had given me a second chance to pay you back for being a shitty father.""*

The bouncer had tears in his eyes. ""I don't normally do this okay, but I'm going to let you guys in.""

Peter fist-pumped the air. ""Alright, you're the man!""

----

I really like this prompt. I could keep going with this but I didn't want to get carried away.

EDIT: [Part 2](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1xezrp/wp_his_super_power_is_knowing_exactly_what_he/cfaueg0) and [Part 3](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1xezrp/wp_his_super_power_is_knowing_exactly_what_he/cfb9eph)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""A fine vessel she was, the Cutlass. Terror of the East Indies during its heyday. I remember those days of plunder and villainy with a fond eye. We used to pillage the living daylights out of the Dutch and French Galleons that sailed the seas between Indonesia and Pondicherry. Made quite a bit of coin out of it as well, though I usually ended up spending it on Chinese rice wine and loose women. A good life it was, yes.

Then the storm came.

It looked like any other storm we've been through, when viewed from a distance; a few gales, a couple splashed of rain, some wayward waves. It wasn't nothing we couldn't handle. How wrong we were. It was the storm of a century. Winds strong enough to blow a man's clothes offa him flew around us, knocking sailers overboard. Waves bigger than the buildings I once saw in London as a lad loomed above us, like black walls slowly coming down. The rain was so heavy we couldn't walk through it; we more or less swam.

And then it came. The big one. A wave bigger than any I'd ever seen in me life. Musta been a league high, I reckon, and wider than 3 Cutlasses laid in order. And it came on us, and crushed us without mercy.

I don't remember much after that wave. It was dark, and cold, and it was hard to breathe. I tried to swim back up, but I couldn't. The water pulled me in, grasping for me. I saw sailors slowly die, writhing until their last moments. All I could think, all I knew, all I felt, was regret. These years of life, of crude love and drunkenness, ended by our misfortune of sailing into the wrong storm. And as the regret consumed me, so did the water.

That has been my life ever since.""

Philip watched the specter carefully. The man speaking was dressed as a standard Indian Sea pirate; loose breeches, loose shirt, and small black shoes with no socks. He wore a handkerchief over his head, red as blood and slightly damp-looking. The man's face and skin were mottled, similar to fingers after a particularly long shower. He looked like a deckhand, a simple sailor, but he had an air of wisdom around him. Perhaps the quartermaster, or the first mate? In any case, he looked nothing like a ghost, aside from the small flickers in his image, like the discrepancies of a VCR tape.

""So,"" Philip said slowly, afraid he'd anger the spirit, ""This ship's name is the Cutlass.""

""As I've just told you, yes.""

""And what purpose did you serve on this boat?""

The ghost scowled and Philip flinched. ""This ain't no fishing boat, lad. This is a full-fledged weapon of the seas. A battleship. A vessel that could take the finest Dutch ships easily."" The ghost seemed to puff up with pride. ""She's my love and my life.""

Philip felt that he should have said something about that last remark, but thought against it. ""You seem to be rather fond of this... ship.""

""Well of course. A captain loves his boat as if it were his wife.""

Philip was startled. ""You... were the captain?!""

The man laughed. ""Don't look it, do I? I was never a man for theatrics. No, I sailed however I pleased. And in the end, it brought me here. One false slip is all it took.""

Philip thought for a bit. ""What happened after you drowned?""

""I stayed down there. I saw my body decay. I walked through my broken ship for what seemed like forever. Saw the bones get eaten by sharks, saw coral reefs rise and fall, saw more and more vessels float over me. Sounds of war, of loud cannons, and some sort of damned explosive blowing up next to me. I cursed at those bombs. Every single one that fell were a threat to my ship. Broken as it is, it didn't need any more breaking. Occasionally a body would float down. Some were Chinese, or some sort of Oriental. Sometimes it was my own countrymen, of pale skin and bright eyes faded by death. I watched them fall, but none ever joined me. Nothing much happened after those days. Just the occasional islander fishing boat looking for food. Until you came, and raised me out of the sea.""

Philip couldn't believe his luck. Of all the things to happen when looking for wreckage, not only does he find some, he finds a reliable historical record. He could make millions. The research itself would be worth more than his current net worth.

""Oi.""

Philip snapped out of his thoughts. The man stared at him pointedly, flickering somewhat. ""Y-yes?""

""I know your type. You're one of them science types, yeah?""

""I'm an archaeologist. I study the remnants of history left on our planet to deduce the past.""

""Yeah, a science type.""

Philip rolled his eyes. ""Yeah, close enough.""

""I've got a favor to ask of you.""

Philip was a bit startled by the man's statement. ""I don't know how to help a dead man.""

""Oh, I think it's simple enough. You see, I'm not as fool as you think. A captain's gotta be sharper than the sword he wields. I've been counting the sunrises and sets, and figure out that I've been down in the sea for over 2 centuries. You are the first person to hear my voice in 200 years. Now hear what I hope to be my final request.""

Philip swallowed nervously. He didn't like the sound of that.

""I want peace. I've heard of stories like mine, of doomed men stuck on the ships they died upon for eternity. The only way out is to have their last request completed.""

The man paused for a second. ""Back in me country, there was a small city called Crawley. It was where I was born, and where I intended to die peacefully. If you search the captain's quarters of the ship, you'll find a small silver locket. My bones are long gone, but that locket ougta be enough to represent me.""

""What's in the locket?"" Philip interrupted subconsciously. It was a bad habit of his.

The man glared. ""Let a man finish his thoughts,"" he said sternly, flickering extra. Philip shut his mouth extra tight.

""It doesn't matter what's in the locket. In fact, I don't know if what's in the locket is still there. But it represents me. I want you to take it and bury it in front of St. John's Church. That's all I need you to do. That should free me.""

""...Where is Crawley?""

""In England. A little more than a day away from London by horseback. I'm sure you'll find it.""

""And what if I don't bury it?""

""Though I may be a ghost, there's still a lot I can do. Whatever you try to do here, I will ruin. Unless you get that locket buried, and me gone, you won't be able to get anything done here. Swear on me dead mother, I'll see to it.""

""Well, how will I know you're gone?""

""You'll know.""

And with that, the man flickered out of sight. But Philip could feel a presence, watching him still.

A difficult decision faced him.

As Philip walked out of the remains of the ship they pulled out, the cameraman walked up to him. ""Hey, we're ready to start filming. You all good to go?""

Philip looked at the cameraman. ""Not quite, Fred.""

Fred looked surprised. ""What do you mean? You've been in there for a good 40 minutes. What's wrong with it?""

""It's nothing special. I couldn't find anything of importance. Let's lower it back into the sea and try somewhere else.""

""What?! Dude, do you know how much money we spent on getting this thing out of the sea? Nat Geo is gonna kill us if we let it go down...""

""Trust me. There's nothing there. Let's just go.""

""Come on, man, what's going on-""

""Look, I said what I said, and I expect you to listen. There's nothing there. Now drop the damn thing into the sea, and tell the captain to go.""

They argued for a while, but eventually Fred relented, though still thoroughly annoyed. They carefully lowered the ship back into the sea, where it once laid for 200 years. Philip watched impassively as the last bit of damp wood sunk under the water.

He could still feel the presence.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I used to be a church going man. Not many churches left anymore. For the last year or so, I've been struggling to find God in the world around me. But I'll tell you, He hasn't made it easy for me. I know I'm not the last person left on Earth. Groups of survivors pass through this town every now and then. Another group, led by a sheriff, just set up camp on the far side of town. I'm not the last man alive, but I might be the last one who keeps a calendar. I could be the only Christian on Earth who knows that yesterday was Easter. I spent the day alone, praying. As I knelt there, conversing with the All-Mighty, I had a revelation.
Why do we fear the walkers?
Ever since I was a boy, I've celebrated Easter and the Resurrection of our Lord. Now, for almost a year, regular humans have had the chance to resurrect. People in my community who died years ago have walked again, just as Jesus Christ did. Could it be that this isn't a plague sent from God to punish us, but a chance for us to live in the image of his Son? Could it be that salvation has been staring us in the face for the last year, but fear has left us stagnant? Since the dawn of time, our existence has been temporary; a gentle candle that could be snuffed out by the slightest breeze. But not anymore. How could we all have ignored the signs? How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen that He has finally given us the key to immortality? The walkers are the next step in our evolution. Through them, we become closer to God. I owe it to the Lord to speed his creations through this transformation. It is not a virus that has spread over our land, but the light of the Lord. These groups of survivors cower in the dark, afraid of the light, but I will show them the way.
The sheriff and his group.... they are among the first that I will bring to salvation.
(Cue Walking Dead theme)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Being dead and confined to earth ain't much fun if you're broke. But then, being broke is never much fun anyway. So could you blame me for starting a small business on the side? Just to drum up some capital, you see. Make myself comfortable until Lucifer let us know the apocalypse was coming. They say do what you know, and I knew a lot about being dead. In my opinion, that left me with two choices: a mortician, or a P.I. Let's put it this way; I'm not elbows deep in some poor sod's guts at the moment. So I got a nice office in the centre of London, which was good for one reason and bad for another. Good because crime rates in London are phenomenally good for business, and bad because I had to compete with Sherlock Holmes for cases. But I had one thing he didn't have. And no, it wasn't social skills. I could speak to the dead. Bit like Ned in Pushing Daisies, but with smaller eyebrows and I don't like pie or quirky girls. 'No murder left unsolved.' I used to boast, but 'no murder left unsold' would be closer to the mark. I was rolling in it. I swan into the morgue, sit next to the body, commune with the dead, etc etc, then go out and apprehend whichever sinner did it. (While slipping them my Boss' business card. Nothing wrong with a bit of recruitment for Hell, after all) I'd never met a dead person who's case I couldn't crack. Then June happened. June was a lovely young lady about twenty-three years old, who seemed to be absolutely wonderful in every way possible. Unfortunately, June had managed to get herself murdered. The press were having a field day. ""MURDERED YOUNG WOMAN"" The tabloids screamed, headlines unfortunately juxtaposed right next to the sleek and promising pictures of the ladies on page three. I was in the middle of eating a beef and pineapple sandwich when the news broke, because I'd read somewhere that all good detectives had a quirky habit, and I didn't particularly feel like learning to play the saxophone. I got the call and I answered it with my mouth full. ""'Allo?"" ""Detective? Is that you? You sound funny."" It was my informant and close 'friend' down at the station, Thomas Thomas. I swallowed the sandwich with a huge gulp. ""It's me. What do you want?"" ""June Summers, sir. We want you on the case."" I slung on my leather jacket, which I'd picked out only because Holmes looked better in a long coat than I did, and swept out of the front door in a way which should have really been caught on camera - so debonair and flawless was my exit. I arrived at the morgue after miraculously managing to dodge all of London's Congestion Charge areas, and even more miraculously, all of London's traffic as well. Thomas Thomas was waiting outside for me. He'd asked me to call him Tom on the first day I met him. I'd refused, of course. Thomas Thomas was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. ""Where's the body guv?"" I asked, grabbing the cappuccino he was drinking from his hand. ""Through here. But you're not going to be happy, sir. Holmes has beat you to it."" I threw the cappuccino in the bin, having remembered slightly too late that I didn't like coffee, or cardboard cups. ""Holmes, eh?""
""Yessir...."" Thomas Thomas followed me nervously as I threw open the doors to the morgue in much the same way that Aragorn pushed open the doors at Helm's Deep. I was going to have to speak to someone about getting a movie version of my life (or afterlife, as it was) I cracked my knuckles as I approached the skeletal body with the brooding face and the cadaver. ""I don't want you to be here."" Sherlock Holmes said, cheekbones bristling in anger. ""Ah, Sherley, you can't be serious!"" I said, taking a look at June Summer's body.
""I am serious. And don't call me Sherley."" Utterly devoid of humour, as always. ""Any thoughts yet, then?"" ""None that I'm going to share with you."" ""I'm sure I can manage well for myself."" I concentrated rather hard and felt myself slip into the spirit world. ""June, hey June?"" The death was recent enough that her soul was still hanging round her earthy meat suit, waiting to be carried away by Death or one of his minions. ""Hey there. Am I dead?"" She asked, floating around like something that would float around. ""Yep. No biggie. You got murdered. Can you tell me who did it?"" Her pretty face scrunched up like she was trying to remember. ""I don't know."" She said eventually. ""I couldn't see. They came at me from behind. I was in my flat..."" But the rest of it I already knew, and I zoned out to find Holmes looking at me with a strange expression on his face. ""It was done from behind. Strangulation, most likely."" I pronounced. ""How could you possibly know that? You haven't even examined the body!"" Oh I loved making the big kid angry. I tapped the side of my nose. ""I'll work you out!"" He said angrily, but I laughed off the threat. ""Sure you will."" I cast over my shoulder. ""Sign me out, will you Thomas Thomas?"" I'd picked my own name when I'd become a P.I. Based it more than a little off 'Death' and french words, both of which seemed impeccably classy (which suited me perfectly.) Thomas Thomas obligingly did so and I left with Holmes still raging behind me. ""I'll get you Moriarty! You see if I don't!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""If you like Pina Coladas...""

Nah, it didn't happen that way. In fact, when I saw her at the Mexican restaurant, the one we always said we would try out but never did because we were ""always so busy"", a feeling of dread washed over me. I could see that that same feeling had overcome her too, because she had become as pale as a sheet. Yet, oddly enough, she didn't run away like I would have. That's what I've always loved about her, her bravery. Instead, she calmly walked up to my table, pulled up a chair, and sat down. We didn't speak for a few minutes. All there was was the clinking of dishes and the commotion of the happy diners laughing and conversing. 

""You're winddancer492,"" I said finally.

""Yeah. How long have you known?""

Now, I could have taken this opportunity to turn this all on her, to make her out to be the one who was in the wrong, the one who slighted me.

But I didn't.

""I didn't, not until a few minutes ago.""

""You mean--?""

""Yeah.""

She looked away, and I looked at my lap. The waitress came and went with our drink orders. I continued looking at my lap.

""You know, you're the first guy on that site that I thought had a lot of potential to go past being a fuck buddy.""

""Really?""

""Yeah. You reminded me so much of the way you were before Annie di--""

She couldn't finish her sentence. Instead, she grabbed the folded napkin on her table and started dabbing the sides of her gentle brown eyes. She shuddered.

""You had so much passion and drive, and the way you spoke to me was just..."" She paused, as if drinking in and relishing all of the words I had messaged to her, all of the excitement I had for a woman that was new and alive, one I had hoped could help me dig myself out of the dark void that was my relationship with my wife, even if for a while.

Then, she frowned. ""And then I told myself that I couldn't live with you anymore. Our baby girl looked so much like you, Andrew.""

I forced myself to hold back the tears. 

""But here I am...with you. I don't know what to think anymore.""

""Maybe we really are meant to be together,"" I said. 

""Maybe, but not right now. I think some time apart is ideal. You know, to clear things up for ourselves.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Stan checks his watch, the little clock in the bottom-right hand corner of his computer, the clock shaped like a cat across the hall which Suzie brought in to help ""break up the monotony"" of the office, which only really served to make the place more office-like. It's five o'clock, still half an hour until he was allowed to go home. In one window on his computer was the actual work that he was supposed to be doing, and in the one that was actually visible was Solitaire. His eyelids started to drift, open, closing, closing, closing, then snap back open again before he could fall asleep at his desk and get another lecture from Charlie about how the whole office needs to have ""synergy"" and that he simply wasn't ""a team-star"". Charlie was the kind of guy who unironically had motivational posters in his office, the kind with a black border, a picture of an iceberg that has three quarters of it's mass submerged, and the word ""Potential"" written in Times New Roman with a dot between each letter. Stan was about to take a sip of decaf from his Disneyland mug, when an angel exploded through the ceiling. The seraph, wings made of golden sun, eyes burning with the fire of God, pointed his sword that must have weighed as much as Charlie's Prius at Stan.
""Yea, so it has been prophecized that one such as you would bring forth all of his strength to help bring balance to this corrupt world, nay, the entirety of the universe! Doth thou accept this most noble quest? Or be thou a coward of the most wretched kind? Speak, o wielder of the destruction-globe!""
Stan started to shake uncontrollably, his Disneyland mug exploded with the ecstasy of the holy word coming from the hallowed lips of one of God's chosen. His clothes flew off his body and disintegrated, replaced with shining golden armour. He started to float above his office, Terry from accounting finally had the heart attack that everyone in the office knew was coming. Stan started laughing with joy, his life finally having meaning. Yes! All these years of monotony were all just a lead up to his ultimate destiny of being the one who will redeem mankind! Charlie came storming out of his office, moustache fluttering with anger.
""Goddamnit, why is there a hole in our roof and a giant winged man right under the hole? Stan! Why are you floating? I don't think you can reach your keyboard from all the way up there, Stan! And another thing, it isn't casual Friday, you can't wear golden plate armour to work! It's just not professional. You get down right now or-""
The angel pointed a single elegant finger at Charlie, and his body splattered all over the walls around him, some hitting the new espresso machine that everybody was excited about.
""Now that thine oppressor has been sent to the deepest reaches of Hell, where he shall be eaten by wolves every day for eternity, thou art free to follow thine most worthy goal. Dost thou accept?""
""Fuck yeah I do! Yeah! Let's go stab some God damn demons or something, I'm fucking ready! Woo! God *damn!*""
The angel's head cocked to the right.
""Didst thou just take the Lord's name in vain?""
""Well, yeah, those demons are, by definition, 'God damned' so I figured, hey, we're all on the same team, we can get pumped up a little bit!""
He scratched his head and made a magnificent scroll appear in his hands. He rolled it out, shook his head, and chuckled to himself.
""Oh, um, quite sorry. You're not John Krieger, professional demon hunter, are you?""
There was a long silence, the only thing heard was the ambient holy choir that emanated from the angel.
""Umm, yes?""
""Shit."" The angel collapsed on himself into a beam of light, and ascended through the hole in the ceiling. The armour disappeared off of Stan, and he crashed through his desk, stark naked. He brushed himself off, covered his shame with his keyboard, and went to cry in the bathroom for a while.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's hard to explain, really, but when you leave home and go to war, home isn't home anymore. It just isn't. The people change, they treat you differently; they nod and they give their respects, they thank you for your service or they ask you what it was like over *there*. Sometimes I wish I could be back with my squadron, with my friends. Where I understood how everything worked. Jim isn't coming back. Every day that I wake up I am reminded of this fact. It doesn't bother me too much, and that's what scares me. Mother couldn't handle it and dad is quiet these days, and everybody expects me to be torn up about it, but they don't know what he turned into. He enjoyed killing. He would talk about those that he killed and even in my squadron, there were those who too enjoyed it. They lived for the days where they could kill. They took comfort in it. But even there, even among the worst of it, it was familiar, it was something that you could control. You lived every day with a plan for the day in front of you. You operated and acted like a well-oiled machine, and you didn't let the people like Jim affect you. I have the nightmares occasionally, the moments when Jim would scare me. He would talk about things that no person should talk about, and if mother and dad knew about it, it would kill them, too. I remember the day he died, too, how Captain Jenkens had brought me into his tent and told me the news. Jim had been out on a scouting mission when they were ambushed. I cried that night, but it was the first and last time that I cried over Jim. But I can't talk about it here, I can't tell people how Jim had changed, how lucky we were that he hadn't come back, because home has a way of changing. It has a way of changing when you're gone so that when you come back, you feel as if you are a stranger in a foreign land with foreign strangers who don't really understand, and I don't know how Jim would react to it. They say war is hell. No... home is hell.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I'm not saying that Truly was a great sidekick, or even a good wife. Hell, she wasn't even even a decent cook! But when someone insults the name of Evil... Well I, Dastardly, am not just going to sit in my throne of virgin's femurs and take it! It started off as an ordinary Tuesday morning. Truly was making me breakfast, I was contemplating making myself breakfast so that I could avoid having to eat the one she was currently decimating. I'd never seen someone add *quite* that much chilli powder to scrambled eggs before. I greeted her with the usual kiss on her cheek and loving slap on the arse, then settled down with my favourite newspaper; The *Evil Times* to wait for disaster on a plate to arrive hot and ready, the way I wish my wife still was in bed. But disaster struck in a way that I had not been expecting at all that morning. Instead being served breakfast by my lovingly mediocre wife, I watched in astonishment as my windows were blown apart and two men in tight, white lycra swooped in on ropes. They swooped down, swooped up my darling Truly and swooped back out of the window before I'd had the chance to get out from under the table, or even offer a witty retort. It was three times as much swooping as I'd wanted to experience that morning, and twice as much tight, white lycra than was *ever* really necessary. The swooping had been their undoing, however. Despite not leaving so much as a ransom note, or a word of explanation, or even a crudely drawn phallus and a smiley face, I knew exactly who my wife's kidnappers were. They were the Goody Two Swoopers - a team of brothers who worked together to combat crime and Evil across the whole of Bonnopolis. And the men who had been my tormentors through four years of high school. My story had been one of predictable tragedy, as all good villains' are. Unloved by parents who deserted me, slow to learn and quick to anger, I had few friends and many enemies. Meeting Truly had almost turned my life around. How often do you meet a woman whose name fits so perfectly with 'Evil'? It was like we were made for each other. Reminiscing on my past had made me determined to get my girl back and save the day, even if the day saving would only really be a day saver in my eyes and nobody else's. I donned my black cloak, pulled on my leather gloves and strapped two semi automatics across my back. ""Alright."" I said to no-one in particular as I left the house. ""Let's go to war.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hashtag hey there swag!"" Joanna sang out to her husband when she walked through the door. She set down her groceries on the counter. Her husband came through the connecting hallway, and helped her unload the groceries out of their paper bags and on to the counters.
""Honey, why the fuck,"" he paused, indicated the break in text, ""didn't you get the salmon? We have an official checking on us tonight.""
""OMG."" Joanna shouted, shocked. ""Prepare yourself. The official is coming.""
Their toddler, little Jeffery, waddled through the door. He pumped his fist in front of his face, giving a look of triumph. ""I had secks,"" he declared proudly. Joanna whirled around to look at him. ""Not sure if serious,"" she said, pausing, ""or just being childish.""
Jeffrey hopped up on the stools near the counter and leaned on it with an elbow. ""I don't always tell my parents I had secks, but when I do, I'm lying.""
Joanna broke out into a grin. Her husband gave a sigh of relief. The spam ads that showed up at kindergartens nowadays started the kids early. Joanna then remembered that the government official was stopping by in an hour and she had nothing in the oven. Her husband watched her frantically attempt to prepare a meal, only to burn a chicken and a turkey. He went to the freezer in their basement. If their meal didn't appease the official, they could be executed. ""What if I told you,"" he called out to Joanna, ""that I just made the perfect meal?"" He brought in a gorgeously made pizza in twenty minutes, setting it on the table. It had all the qualities of a homemade one. Jeffrey toddled into the room. ""Yeah,"" he sighed, pulling up his pants and hefting his shoulders, ""If I could get a slice of that, that'd be greaaat.""
Joanna stared at the pizza in amazement. ""False. You couldn't have done that.""
Her husband smiled and shrugged.
Hours flew by, and the government official smiled and loved their pizza. Jeffery regaled him with tales from the backyard. When the official took a bite of the pizza, he shouted ""The quality of this pizza,"" he continued, ""is too damn high!"" Everyone laughed. You had to. ""How did you do this?"" The official asked, breaking the meme rule. He could, he was of a higher power. The husband put up his hands and told him ""Aliens."" The official had a hearty laugh, and soon after, he departed them with a check-plus inspection rating, the highest honor. When the door closed, Joanna turned to him and said- ""One does nolt simply make that good of a pizza. Did you get it delivered?""
The husband smiled into the distance. ""It's not delivery,"" he whispered, ""it's DiGiorno.""
(I feel dirty writing that. Ugh.)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I stared into her eyes. They were black and unforgiving, and their gaze pierced into my soul like a samurai's katana. How could I be crying so much, and she not be? The girl was heartless — *heartless!*
""Get away from me,"" she whispered scathingly, her tongue licking across her teeth like a scalpel across the skin of my naked heart. I fell to my knees and felt the rocks cut into them, but it didn't even hurt. She might as well have slapped me, stabbed me, left me to die on the floor of the high school gymnasium, left in a pool of my own sweat and blood and tears.
""Please,"" I said. Her rejection was pressing me down into the earth. I wanted it to swallow me up and eat me up, to simply absorb me and hold me there for millennia. There was no point to my life, I didn't matter, she knew I didn't matter. ""I didn't mean to,"" I said.
""Ugh,"" she said, and walked to the other side of the gym. I collapsed into myself, regretting that I had hit her — the love of my life, my soul and sun, the meaning of my existence — with a dodgeball. I deserved everything I had coming to me.
...aaaaaaaand I'm going to go take a shower now...",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They all thought he was lame. All he could do was change the TV channel with his mind. Can't find the remote? Or too lazy to get up and get it from the table? This was a problem he would never know.

He was laughed out of super school for having the ultimate lazy man super power. They imagined he'd waste his life away on the couch, a TV remote always just out of reach but never an issue.

They were wrong.

Twenty years later crime had dropped. Graduation rates had increased. And nobody on the planet had any idea why.

It was him. Whenever a child tried to watch a show way beyond his or her mental maturity, he was there. Whenever a youngster turned into a program with no educational value whatsoever, he changed it back. For twenty years, he controlled the televisions of billions of young minds, and in this way, impacted their growth, developed their intellects. He wasn't just the mind behind their TVs. He was their teacher. He was their parent. He was...The Remote Controller.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"F.B went to grab the door handle, but found the door already open, slightly swinging from the strong wind coming from outside. His hand hovered above the handle for a moment in confusion, but firmly pushed the door all the way open. He stepped into the dimly lit apartment, and made his way to Space's bedroom. His door was closed, but he could hear loud repetitive music coming from the inside. 

""Hey, man. You in there? What's on your mind?"" F.B called out a little bit louder, ""Dude, why do you always have to have that music on every time I come in?""

There was no response and F.B decided to push his way open. Sitting on the bed was Space, hands on his head, staring a hole into the ground. F.B walked over to the radio and switched it off. Immediately the silence was threateningly awkward.

""Uh, hey man. What's been up with you?"" F.B's words punctuated the air. ""You know I've been okay, just went to the gym. Had a sandwich. Pretty...uh, fun day.""

Space didn't say anything. He didn't look up. All he did was pull a gun out from under his pillow. F.B jumped back.

""Dude! What the fuck? Get that out of here!""

Space looked up at his old ""friend"". His voice was quiet, but firm. ""Stop calling me ""Dude"", and ""Man"". We've never been that close. I've realized I've never been close with anyone. I have all these fake friendships. All I do now is listen to bands and pretend to be something I'm not.""

F.B kept walking backward until he hit Space's desk, knocking over some papers in the process. ""Space, du-, Space. It'll be okay. We can get through this. Let's go get you some help.""

""It's too late,"" Space mumbled, putting the gun to his head, ""It's too late for me.""

F.B's hands started to shake. ""Space, really. What about all that stuff you're doing now? You know I noticed you got a new look, I like it. I would like it twice if I could.""

The finger inching towards the trigger stopped. ""You...like it? You do? I didn't think anyone noticed.""

""Yeah man,"" F.B's sweat started to soak through his clothes. ""Yeah, I like it a lot. Everyone's been talking about it.""

Space looked up at F.B. ""I worked really hard on it, ya know? I didn't think anyone noticed. I'm a changed man, F.B. I could really be something if people gave me a chance."" The hand holding the gun slowly descended, eventually dropping the gun on the bed with a soft thud.

F.B sighed in relief, ""Yeah man, come on. Let's go get a beer or something. We can talk about this some more at the bar."" 

""I would like that,"" Space smiled, ""I would like that a lot.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"[WP] Two brothers go to war but three come back. What happened?
*Dig, dig, dig.* That’s all William was told to do. The art of trench warfare relied on dozens of soldiers having the thankless task of burrowing into the unknown. Still, it was better than being above ground, only the dirt could kill you down here. William wondered what his little brother, Samuel was up to. William had sent him out to go get refreshments for them almost half an hour ago. “Poor Samuel.” thought William. It was William’s fault that Samuel was here in the first place. William had been drafted and Samuel had demanded to go as well; he hadn’t realised the reality of war, the bloody propaganda always worked too well. Still, they were both lucky, the Captain had been a close friend of William during their days together at university and as such, he gave them the easier the tasks. *Dig, dig, dig. Where was the little bastard? I’m being to feel…* William had hit a soft spot and felt the dirt give way. *Shit!* William scrambled to backtrack, but his trench was too narrow. After the dust had settled, William heard a cough from the other side. *Shit. Germans.* William tried desperately to rebuild the wall, so that the enemy couldn’t get through. He began spit on piles of dirt and clumping them together to form makeshift bricks. William approached the hole, flicked on his lighter and froze. Staring back at William was…himself? “Hello?” he called. “Hello?” a voice with a German accent replied. “German! Get back you Hun!” William tried kicking dirt at the soldier to force him back.
“No! Stop! I will not hurt you!”
“Liar!”
“No. Stop! *cough* I’m. *cough* weapon less!” The German showed his hands. William stopped kicking. “Oh. Sorry about that old chap. Got a bit paranoid. Name’s William.”
The German was still coughing, but managed to spit out, “Anton.”
At that moment, William heard footsteps coming up behind him. He turned around and saw Samuel carrying water bottles. “Will! Sorry I took so long there was no water at the mess hall so they sent me to the kitchen and then… Who’s that Will?”
“*Cough* Anton.*Cough, cough*”
“He looks an awful lot like you Will.”
“Yes. Here have some water, sorry about before.”
Anton took the bottle and took a long steady drink. “Thank you.” He replied, as he wiped his mouth with a grey sleeve. Both men eyed each other carefully as the bottle was exchanged back. Only Samuel seemed oblivious to the possible danger. “When’s you birthday?” he blurted.
“November 25th.” William drew a breath. “Year?” he asked slowly.
“1894.”
“No.” William whispered. “Hey what a coincidence, you guys have the same birthday! You could be twins!” danced Samuel. Samuel ran over to hug Anton. “I’ve always wanted another brother. Will doesn’t do a very good job.” he teased.
“Samuel! Get back here!” William shouted gruffly. “He’s not even on our side.”
“Aww, come on Will. He hasn’t killed us yet. Hey, do you have a picture of your mother?”
“Yes. Here she is, with her husband.” Samuel looked at the photo. “She doesn’t look the same as our mother Will. Our mother has blonde hair Anton, your’s has dark hair. Plus our mother is much prettier.”
“Samuel!”
Anton laughed. “No, it’s okay. These are not my real parents. I’m adopted.” William inhaled.
“This is my birth mother.” Anton pulled out a small brown, leather bound notebook and withdrew a pocket-sized photo. “I didn’t know her, but she is beautiful.”
Anton handed the photo to Samuel. Samuel’s eyes widened. “Will.” he whispered. William snatched the photo from Samuel and stared. The photo was a portrait, of a lady with high cheekbones and porcelain skin. The sun was filtering through and dancing off her shiny, perfectly, coiffed hair. A smile played upon her lips, and her clear, intelligent eyes stared far beyond the camera. “It’s her.” William whispered. Samuel and William had both heard rumours of a possible sibling, but they were just that; rumours. They had never dared to ask their mother or father if they were true, Samuel had tried once, but their mother had fled into her room and shut the door for a very long time. William stared at Anton and Samuel. “Anton, how do you feel about meeting your birthmother?” -041",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Let me tell you a little something about myself. I like sleeping. I like sleeping a lot. Even my nightmares are nice compared to what's waiting for me when I wake up. At least in my nightmares, I can get out of them whenever I want even if it's into a worse universe full of things I hate. I hated waking up.
That was who I was two years ago before I met her.
We meet together twice a week for classes and now I love waking up. Every night I go through is another day closer to when I can see her again. Every time I wake up it's alright because yeah, my life is pretty shit but at least I'll see her again. Waking up isn't so bad now.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"**Edited to include proper ending.**

The day I found out the end was near, I had a panic attack. They said it would happen within two years, and that they were creating a program to transfer several people to Mars. The best and the brightest would be given priority, they said, along with their families. Then, there would be a lottery for regular civilians. Of course, that was a lie. I know this because my client, Dr. Arthur Sellars, told me.

Arthur was brilliant. He was a botanist intent on finding plant life on Mars, or the possibility of growing any. He was also lonely and a bit narcissistic, and since he had no one of the lowest common denominator to brag to except for me, I drank in all the glory and pain and suffering and success from his lips. He thought he could make it seem as if he was the most brilliant of all the scientists on his team. Considering that half of his coworkers were also clients of mine, I knew better, but I also knew not to take him down a few pegs if I wanted to be paid as well as he paid me.

When he told me about the Mars Program, he was elated, finally having the chance to be where he wanted to be: a planet that had not been fully explored quite yet. I listened intently until he confessed to me about the supposed lottery. It would definitely be rigged, adding more political, scientific, and entertainment figures than what was originally announced (along with their families), ensuring that civilization would be more brilliant, creative, and beautiful. There was no way in hell that I would be included in there. I was only slightly above average even with make-up on, and I had no other qualities except for being someone's fuck buddy for the evening. I had money, but no amount was enough to include me in what they were ensuring was a fantastic gene pool. I was determined as hell to get on one of those ships and start over. This was my chance.

So I did what many of the other whores did: I tried to seduce my clients. One by one they declined, and eventually catching on to what I was doing. At some point they stopped contacting me. I was getting restless and scared. At that point, I hadn't spoken to Arthur at all, as he had been busy preparing for his flight. I had almost forgotten about him until about two months before the flight, when he called me for company. He wanted to celebrate with someone. I didn't decline.

I knew my approach would be wrong, and I knew that what I'd be doing wasn't honorable, but then, what of my profession was? He took me out to a lovely dinner, we had plenty of drinks, and we went back to his hotel room. It was the usual routine, only it was more intense, and our time together was a little more passionate than usual.

He asked me out again a month before the flight. After our sex session I did my best to convince him to get me an extra ticket. He told me he couldn't, that there was only a set number of tickets and that there just couldn't be two people per one ticket. I saw the look in his eyes, there was concern, sympathy. I realized he did care about me, and I felt horrible for what I was planning on doing.

He decided to leave on the day of the last flight. He told me so, and, being a bit of a scatterbrain, he got there at the last minute, claiming the very last ticket available. I was there, I was waiting.

""What the hell are you doing here?"" He whispered angrily at me after he dragged me behind a wall.

""Dr. Sellars, I'm so sorry, but I need to be on that flight.""

He frowned, the wrinkles in his eyebrows deep from several years of concentration. ""Do you think that after all these years of studying and working I'm just going to throw away my life for some...for you? Go to hell, Sarah."" He started to walk away. My heart punched my ribcage. I almost didn't spit it out. Almost.

""I'm pregnant, Arthur.""

He stopped. I saw him breathe for a few moments before turning to me. His expression had softened. He calmly walked up to me, gulping.

""I don't believe you.""

""I can prove it to you. I have a pregnancy test on me, and I can take it right now."" I opened my bag and showed him the unopened box. I looked at him, giving him the best puppy eyes I could muster. He was blinking a lot and he began breathing heavily. He brought his hand up and made a shooing motion. I went into the bathroom and ripped open the test. 

My friend had managed a flight a few days before. She actually was pregnant but I told her my plan. She gladly gave me a sample of her urine. I used it on the test. Don't ask me where I hid it.

I handed him the test. He brought his palm up to his mouth when he saw the plus sign. His breathing became even heavier. Suddenly angry, he threw the test at me. It hit me in the chest.

""How could you fucking do this to me?! This is all your goddamn fault. You deserve what you get for not protecting yourself. Jesus! Fuck you, FUCK YOU!"" He started to pace back and forth, combing his fingers through his graying hair. I gently grabbed his hand. He flinched and pulled away. I grabbed him by the arms, this time more forcefully. 

""Hey!"" I looked him dead in the eye. He wouldn't get away so easily. ""Don't put this all on me, it takes two to tango, buddy! Besides, weren't you the one who was terrified of not having an heir to your greatness, your intellect? Didn't you cry on my shoulder when you told me you feared not having a child, a son or daughter to have pride in?"" 

""I can have whoever I want on Mars. Any woman there could give me a child.""

""Oh yeah? All those people flying there, all those people that are there now...they were here once, yet you never made a move to speak to them aside from greetings. The atmosphere isn't going to make you any braver or any less introverted. Arthur, I am giving you the chance of a lifetime. Even if you don't have the chance to live, you can at least know that your child will. You will live through them, I will make sure of that.""

He pushed me off him and started pacing again, breathing ragged. He pulled out the ticket finally and threw it at me.

""Get out of my sight, bitch."" 

My heart continued to pound. The adrenaline pulsed through me. I had to ball up my fists in order to stop the shaking. I couldn't believe it worked. I clung to the ticket tightly and walked to him, holding my breath, hoping he couldn't smell the lie still lingering on my lips. I held his face in my hands and brushed my lips against his one last time. He didn't fight it.

It was the worst thing I had ever done. I sentenced a man to his death, and convinced him it was the right thing to do for a child that didn't exist within me. Yet I would gladly do it all over again if it meant ensuring my survival.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""That fat fuck jerks the yerkin off to the creepiest shit, man.""
Jason first heard the voice when he had just clicked away from his favorite special website, something involving feet, tentacles, and petite Asian chicks. It startled him, and also scared him on a deep level. To most everybody out there, he was Jason McMannis, mild mannered drug smuggler and gun runner, but on the inside he was a freak with strange desires when it came to the bedroom. If that secret got out, it would harm the careful image that he had spent years honing, and he couldn't allow that to happen. He grabbed the little Derringer that he kept in his back-left pants pocket (which were rumpled on the floor beside him, coincidentally) and listened hard for the voice.
""What the fuck is he doing, now?"" said a different voice.
""I don't know, I'm kind of worried about him. Ever since Tina left him, he's been on a slow decline, I tell ya. Honestly, we should probably start thinking about bailing sometime soon. This phase will not end well,"" the original voice hissed. Whoever these people were, they had been quietly keeping tabs on him for quite some time now. Tina had cheated and left him some 8 months ago, and those months had been full of drug and alcohol binges that sometimes lasted for days. The strangest part to him wasn't that the voice seemed to be coming from 20' away in the kitchen, which he was slowly stalking towards. The strangest part was that these people, who were so clearly professionals, allowed themselves to be detected after so long a stakeout. He rounded the island counter top in the kitchen and drew the Derringer up low on the floor where he thought he had originally heard the voice. Sitting there were his two portly tabby cats, Francis Bacon and Ms. Precious Perfect.
""Augh! He's pointing his little faggot gun at us! This is it! Oh, God!"" said . . . *said one of the cats?*
""Just what in the hell is going on here?"" stammered Jason.
""You . . . you can understand us?"" asked Ms. Precious Perfect. Jason didn't move, but bizarrely kept his gun firmly trained on the cats anyway. ""Man, this is some horseshit,"" seethed Ms. Precious Perfect, ""The jig is up and the first human being in history to understand us is our fat, lazy, drug-addled, worthless owner. This probably means I'll need to pipe down when I 'clean' myself, huh? Fuck that.""
""Hey Jason, I took a dump on the floor that smelled better than you. You should really start taking care of yourself. Maybe start by taking a shower, eh?"" hissed Francis Bacon.
""Since we have this moment, I feel like I should tell that I spit in your mouth while you sleep. I purr while I do it, too."" admitted Ms. Precious Perfect.
""Yeah, I scratched Tina to get back at you for locking us in closet while you two went to dinner. Bitch deserved it,"" said Franicis Bacon, ""And I also hold in all of my kitty farts until you're around, and I bet those gaseous releases are banned by the Geneva Conventions, too. I hate you so damned much.""
Jason, still in shock, staggered backwards. ""Christ, don't you guys have anything nice to say? I've been feeding you and changing your shitbox everyday for years now.""
""Well your farts don't smell so terrible ever since you lost twenty pounds through meth-related weight loss.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Everyone says that this is the best time to live. We have heat, cities, peace, infrastructure, mass transportation, water, easy lives. You ride to work, write out copy after copy, go home to a meal and a warm bed. Honestly, I'm always sweating. People barely believe in the past anymore. Wizards and dragons and elves and leprechauns for Gandalf's sake. Even just saying ""for Gandalf's sake,"" makes some people snicker like you're a true believer. That they know the real history of Middle Earth, one that doesn't involve deus ex machina eagles and magical rings. Entire university history and social science departments are dedicated to undermining the old tales. And then the linguistic departments argue back, discussing language and grammar use and syntax and loan words we might possibly have gotten from eagles. It's a mess.
Excavating the Old Places doesn't help. Excavators actually found Bilbo's goblins! They surveyed and dug and had geologists come in. ""Rocks!"" They proclaimed! ""Nothing but rocks."" To which the counterargument was, ""of course, they're rocks. That's what happens to goblins exposed to the sun. They turn to rocks."" To which the biologists tossed in, ""That's the daftest thing we've ever heard. Organisms don't turn to rocks.""
""But what about fossils?"" And so it went on.
Even with that academic fighting, people are still claiming Hobbit ancestry even though they're the same size as humans with just some slightly harrier feet. Truth be told, I've seen Hobbit men with less hairy feet than my own. They hold contests, you see. Something to do with cultural pride and Remembrance Days. I look at the feet during the pageants (not in a fetish way, just more curiosity), compare them to my own, and I don't see much difference.
I'm not complaining nor am I romanticizing the past. But I'm bored and feel soft. I just don't fit. Physically at least.
I'm 6ft 5, red as the sun, scare all of my coworkers, and always running into things, breaking them. I once broke a doily. Picked up a teacup, accidently shoved a finger through a tatted hole and ripped it bigger. Of course, I paid for it, took it home, and put it on my table. My personal pendant dedicated rampant destruction. I'm still not sure if I did it on purpose.
As a scrivener, I copy papers and contracts all day. But I have these fingers, you see. They're massive. To the point where I had to have pens specially designed for me with tiny nibs on them.
As I sit here, writing out the Coolador-Minuvue contract for marriage and divorce subclauses, all I want to do is break some heads. Not in a serial murderer kind of way, but I want to feel what my ancestors felt. That running for miles then getting into a fight or an argument or something. My legs ache from inaction, and it's hard for me to sit in so much heat. I've thought about joining the military, but they've moved on from men like me. I stand out, a head above everyone else, and that is not a good quality to have when people are shooting at you. Not that there's any shooting right now, but it's still a valid problem.
So I sit here, wait for teatime to arrive, and dream. Reading the stories again, feeling that gut ache for travel and discomfort and pain.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"With a shaky hand, Zeblong handed the letter to Zongleb. ""To be frank, it doesn't look too good."" As Zongleb read the letter, his eyelids folded themselves up his grey brow and revealed the gentle pink underside; the thin line of his mouth moved further to the foot of his round face, making way for the trembling eye. A beam of blue light started flickering down his translucent vertebra, ending in a jet of sparkles coming from under his elongated toenails. The visible sadness of his kinsman hurt Zeblong deeply; but there was nothing he could do about it, for the decree was final. 

At the gathering, Zongleb and Zeblong transmitted the terrifying message to the otherz:

""Hello,

Your life-form is not developed correctly. Please consult the Terrestrial office for extraterrestrial life for further details. The Creative Mind of the species should always be in [square brackets], which in your case wasn't. You don't need to delete your life-form by yourself - just remember in the future to tag your outposts, making your presence more visible for our sentinels.

(This is an automated post.)""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Ah!' exclaimed the short, be-speckled man before me 'The Cosgrove passage. I haven't seen such a complete version in years!'
I had expected ridicule, disbelief, hopefully even fascination - what I had not prepared myself for was recognition. Hell, it apparently had a name already. I placed the glass of water I’d been offered upon entering the office down on the walnut desk to my side.

'Excuse me?' I asked 'This isn't by anyone called Cosgrove. I wrote this, three nights ago, and it's been driving me nuts ever since.'
The old man, Professor Voynich according to the sign on his office door, removed his glasses and began cleaning them. 
'Tell me' he asked 'Did you happen to have a particularly restful night's sleep before writing this?'
'Well no,' I replied 'as it happens I didn't sleep well. I was dreaming of-'

'Dreaming of a small room' he shot back, cutting me off mid sentence 'with a small wooden table at its centre. Outside, the alley was lined in cobblestone, and the street ran long and straight before disappearing in fog. You probably wrote on every inch of every object in that room before you were done, correct?'

I had no reply to this. He was right, down to the very last detail.

'There was also a strange light to the place...' I recalled lamely.

'Orange, yes?' he queried.
I nodded.

'That's the dream alright' he began 'a classic Cosgrove. Here, take a look at this if you like.’ he passed me an old and well worn book from the shelf behind him. Opening it, I found a long academic text full of phrases such as ‘mass delusion’ and ‘feminine hysteria’. Alongside the words were images, old faded plates. Where the images were clear, I could make out, written by hand, recently familiar letters - inscriptions I had been living with for three days now.

‘This..’ I stammered ‘This is not exactly what I expected. How is this possible?’

‘No one quite knows.’ Voynich replied. ‘Some people just seem prone to dreaming up these words sometimes. It’s happened for as long as we have records, but was formally identified by William Cosgrove in 1876. At the time there was a lot of excitement, but nothing ever really came of it and it has since passed out of public interest. Since no one has ever come up with a good explanation, it’s been relegated to a fringe area of study. Some suggest it might be a sort of mass delusion, or some kind of shared genetic memory. Honestly though, no one really knows.’

I considered my position. For three days now I’d been convinced something exceptional had happened to me, something incredibly unusual and unique. Instead I find I’m just one more in a series of individuals to have such an experience. I felt… disappointed, to be honest. I tried to temper that emotion with interest in the text itself.

‘So there’s nothing that special about this?’ I asked ‘Nothing terribly strange or out of the ordinary?’

‘Well, the text is of course somewhat strange in general. But your particular iteration of it? I’d have to study it further, of course, but I’d say no. It’s quite a complete version, as I said, but other than that quite unremarkable.’

‘Oh’ I replied. ‘I see.’ Thinking for a moment I asked ‘Well at least people must know what it says then?’

‘Oh no, not at all’ replied Voynich. ‘No one has ever translated it. The language is incredibly obscure, perhaps something along the lines of ancient Sumerian. But overall, an extremely opaque mystery I’m afraid, and one which I can personally guarantee promises much but delivers very little satisfaction.’

***

I left Voynich’s office feeling acute dejection, but as I wandered through the sunlit halls of the University my mood began to improve. Yes, I had thought my life had taken a turn for the fantastical, which had ultimately not been true, but overall I was no worse off than before that strange dream. Such mysteries, I thought, were best left to the professionals and dusty old academic types such as Voynich. I had a life to live, and as I passed beneath the arch of the Aula Maxima, I allowed all thoughts of the last few days to leave me, and turned my mind instead to the weekend ahead. In the distance, beyond the park, I heard birdsong.

***

Voynich allowed himself a moment of calm before making the call. The phone rang no more than once before it was answered.

‘Yes’ came the voice on the other end of the line, its tone curt.

‘Another one this morning’ said Voynich. ‘I haven’t read the whole thing yet, but surely 98% complete. Richard, this is the single most complete text this century. You know what this means.’ It was not a question. The line hissed in silence.

‘Richard are you-’

‘Yes I’m here’ snapped the hurried voice. ‘Did you… take care of the author?’
Voynich was quiet for a moment. 

‘And if I didn’t?’ he asked.

‘Don’t screw around here, Voynich. You know very fucking well what if-you-didn’t. You know what these people can become, who they answer to. Did. You. Take. Care. Of. Him?’ He enunciated the words slowly and deliberately, as though Voynich were a child.

‘Of course I did.’ answered Voynich at last. ‘He drank the whole glass, he’ll be dead before he speaks to another soul.’

‘Good’ came the voice. ‘I’m glad we're still on the same page.’

‘Are we winning this thing?’ asked Voynich suddenly. ‘Tell me this is all worth it Richard.’
There was no response. The line went dead.

Voynich sighed and put down the phone. He picked up his own glass of water, the one he had deliberately swapped time and again with the young man’s so that in all honesty he didn’t know which had held the poison in the end. He swallowed it, then downed what remained of the other glass as well for good measure. 
‘What the hell’ said Voynich to no one in particular. ‘We’re all getting off at the same stop anyway.’ 

As darkness began to fill the edges of his vision, Voynich wondered what the young man would do with his weekend. Would he appreciate it, treasure it for what it was? Or was he already falling into unconsciousness in a gutter beyond the university grounds. Voynich realised he really did want to know what would happen to the dreamer, but it was far, far too late for that now.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I didn't have the energy to be surprised. Unfortunately, my predicament was predictable and I had predicted my predicament long before it was predicated. I'm lying on my back in the dark, utterly naked and I know, with a grim sense of satisfaction at knowing my own luck so well, that a beautiful lady (or man) will not be lying beside me when I wake up. I can feel a name tag on my toe. I wonder what they've written on it, since even I don't know my own name. ""Devilishly attractive male. Mid thirties. Dark hair, blue eyes. Cutting cheekbones..."" Three of those things are true. It had started off innocently enough. I'd woken up, had a cup of coffee, read the newspaper. Then I'd had a second cup of coffee because the first hadn't done anything. Then a bunch of Estonian arms dealers had knocked on my door, knocked me out and now I'd woken up in a drawer, in a morgue, probably downtown. And I wasn't sure what the worst part of that was. Looking back, I realised that the only innocent part of my morning had been the coffee, and I'd shoplifted that. I shuffled round in the dark and moved the sheet off my head. I considered breaking out, or at least making a very loud noise, but decided that I was doing pretty well for the time being. Most people might think that getting in with Estonian arms dealers is not the wisest plan in the world, but with all the Belvedere I could drink and all the women (and men) I could fuck, I was having a great time. It wasn't until later that I realised that I'd promised them nuclear weapons *and* taken their money. There were two problems with this. The first was that I didn't actually *have* access to nuclear weapons (come on, who did?) and the second being that I'd already heavily invested the money in something that my broker had assured me was 'sure to rise.' So essentially, it was gone. I lay back in the dark and thought about how much it would cost to change my identity and move to the Caribbean. I mean, the Cayman Islands account was still secure. I'd have to get clothes, and a wallet. It all seemed like a big bother. I was quite comfortable, here in the dark. Five more minutes wouldn't hurt.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"&gt;Attn: &gt;
&gt;To users of system: Sol 2.1.4
&gt;
&gt;Subject: software patch w/ updates
&gt;
&gt;We would first like to take this time to say thank you all for taking part in our Beta release. We realise that there have been some glitches with the system and our developers have been working hard to fix them as they arise. You will recall the last patch came shortly after the respawn bug along with liquid identity, hyper buoyancy, and food quantity bugs were exploited by the hacker ""Jblaze420"" or as he was known in your system ""Jesus"". We apologize for the delay in adding additional content to your system as our developers have been working around the clock to fix similar bugs around The Universe's main server The Milky Way.
&gt;
&gt;The new patch will allow the creature pack ""mythological"" to run seamlessly along side creature pack ""basic"". This wildly popular creature pack includes 7 types of dragons, 3 types of unicorns, 9 new horse based creatures, 6 new feline creatures, and many more. This patch includes the new ""mana"" system that will serve to support the new creatures in the existing ecosystem. This will hopefully prevent further extinctions due to limited resources.
&gt;
&gt;We have noticed that some users are using or destroying current resources and other users unnecessarily and we would ask that you refrain from doing so as this could cause planet Terra to crash again causing another reboot to be necessary. This would lead to a mass loss of user data such as that seen during the games original ""lizard mode"". This version is more stable than lizard mode but we still depend on user cooperation to maintain proper functionality.
&gt;
&gt;As we finish out our Beta phase we expect to add additional content including special user abilities, interplanetary play, the long awaited ""Paradise"" mode, and with many other features.
&gt;
&gt;We appreciate your cooperation with this project and look forward to another 4 billion years of Terra user enjoyment.
&gt;
&gt;-Universal Arts co.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"In the bazaar you may buy laughter, whiskey breath, a Lilac breeze, or sunshine, but the compliments are free. You can buy lies, and slander to your benefit, but you should remember it's a seller's market. They sell jokes at a high price, and one liners fetch a pretty penny. They sell sorrows and woes and tears by the bottle. Perched along the racks you may find the glimmer in your father's eye. You may also find the dullness of coal.

They sell air in bags, bottles, breaths, and gasps. Music comes in sheets, faint hummings, songs, and fleeting instances of delicious nostalgia where the lyrics tickle the tip of your tongue without rest. For a paltry fee you may find sensation in all varieties, to include abnegation and general apathy. Oddly enough the market for apathy is on the up-slope. Interest rates in loans for apathy are at an all time high.

The sense of the uncanny costs $13.50 on a good day. Insults may be purchased for about $43.19. Backhanded compliments may be bought or traded for, but trades are preferred.

I've seen a goldfish's first burp sold at the bazaar. I once saw an eye of newt/ sound of boiling water/ malicious cackle combo pack. Once, I saw an exclamation point sold at a discount. You can buy freedom there, but it's not free. Anyone can buy faith there, but they don't make it like they used to. You can buy love there, but that doesn't spend so well or accrue in value over time unless you tend it well.

In the back corner of an alley off the bazaar is a green glass door where they sell balloons, glasses, and cigarettes, but they do not come with air, frames, or fire. Behind the green glass door they sell plenty of umbrellas, but not a single parasol. You can't buy everything behind the green glass door, but you can buy it all.

In another alley you can find unmentionable things that defy language and the imagination, though the pricing for such items is fluid and unreliable. The last time I paid a visit, I bought five minutes there, but it cost me ten. I can't tell you where my favorite alley is, but you will know it when you see it. There they sell the secret things. Whispers come a penny a dozen. Thoughts are twelve times as expensive, of course.

They sell it all. If you can imagine it, you can purchase it there. It may take some looking, and it might take a bit of luck but I promise you your brightest nightmare and darkest dream may be found in the Len'gua Bazaar.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I'm *lavacious*

I'm *rapacious* 


Oh baby, I'm delicious and you know it


I wanna just... *oooh* right there


yes, baby


Right there


I think I've died and gone to heaven


It was a quarter past seven 


An' I been hit by a bus


Up I'm floating


Cause damn I was devoted



I'm met on the door by ten thou girls


and ten thou more



With bodies so hot


and pussies galore


But my boner died


the heat cooled from inside


When I saw the look in their eyes


The pain and their cries


Heaven's no fun 


When it's only Heaven


For one",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I'm the guy who'd steal candy from a baby. I care not for who you are. I most likely hate you, or will make a case to hate you. Unless, of course, you're rich and white. Then I'll treat you to a drink. The holy book is my moral guide. It's words are unflappable, exempt from criticism. I hate our president. He's black and illegitimate, and the true color of success is white. I store my millions, all of which I EARNED myself, unlike this lazy and good for naught generation, in a business where I launder it. Why should the government take my hard earned work. I did it, no one else. Talking about this generation, what's with this gay, racial, LGBwhogivesafuck equality movement? That's not the way the REAL world works. And by the way, immigrants shouldn't be allowed here, and illegal ones should be kicked out or locked away.

Oh, did I say my name? I'm Mitt Romney, former US Presidential candidate, and former Massachusetts governor.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She is the worst cook you ever met. I'm sure she would burn water if given the chance. She refuses to pick up her messes and prefers the grime. Hurricane Irene could be a cleaner housemate than her. She has a habit of getting in to things, finding every nook and cranny of your personal life with her sneaky little eyes. Even Sherlock knows how to leave some space. She demands your attention constantly, always whisking you off on new adventures on the dime. It's exhausting really. But when she presents you, a badly cut paper heart covered in glitter and macaroni with the words TO DADY, you know she's the perfect valentine. The one to make every day seem worth it.
Now if only we can convince mom to clean up the mess she made at the table.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Damn ticket,"" said Stanley Peterson, yanking it off his windshield. He sat down in his car, his boss' screaming on repeat in his head. He needed to think of something happy. He shut his eyes.

Childhood. He's running in a field with a stick in his hand, his German shepherd just behind him. He trips and the game of tug of war begins. 

That was enough. Stanley opened his eyes. He smiled. He missed that dog.

""Hey kids,"" Stanley said walking past the den where they sat staring at computer screens. He put his briefcase down and entered the living room, where his wife stood frozen in front of the TV. ""Hey hon. Today was brutal. Honey are you okay?""

She held out her hand. In it was a ticket. ""We won,"" she said. ""The lottery.""

Stanley sat down in the armchair. ""Are you...serious? We're rich?""

""No. It's the Forever Life lottery.""

""You mean we're going to be immortal?""

""One of us will be. It can only be one.""

Stanley leaned back in the chair and tilted his head to the ceiling. He was too focused to notice the scratching against glass. ""Well it can't be me. I'm not worth it.""

""Oh don't say that Stan. But obviously it should be one of the kids right?""

""And how do we choose? How do we tell one child they're going to live forever, that they'll outlive everyone they love? And what do we tell the other? You weren't good enough so you're going to die like the rest of us?"" Stanley pinched the skin between his eyes, the beginning of a headache.

""Stan, I think maybe we should give it to someone else, like an artist maybe, someone who really contributes to society.""

""Oh, thanks hon. I'm kidding, I know what you mean. But who? Who would give the most to the world? A scientist right? Or some young entrepreneur? Someone with a truly brilliant mind.""

""On second thought, does it really matter? I mean, think about it Stan, don't *brilliant* minds usually do most of their great thinking while they're relatively young? They challenge old conventions and change the world to fashion their views. But once their old and their ways are the norm, they stop being relevant as a force of change.""

""I just think we-""

""Hold on."" Stanley's wife walked into the kitchen and opened the door to the porch, where their golden labrador had been scratching to be let back in. As soon as the door opened, the lab ran into the living room and jumped onto Stanley's lap and lick attacked his face.

Stanley tried to shield himself. ""Woah, hey I knew something was missing when I got home."" He smiled. ""Alright, it's your turn."" He got off the armchair and rolled the lab over and began scratching her belly. He looked at his dog. She was the happiest thing he knew in life. He said, ""You will bring us joy for the rest of our lives. You will bring joy for the rest of eternity.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"What an absurd situation I thought to myself. All the water on Earth gone apart from this tiny glass here in my hand. How did I even know all the water had gone? If it wasn't for the title I would have had no idea I was in possession of the most precious material on earth. What I was holding was more valuable than any gold or diamonds, it was even more precious than love. And everyone knew it, once again thanks to that damn title. I mean how is it even possible that everyone on earth became suddenly aware that I was in possession of the last glass of water? All 7 billion plus people from 206 different countries spread around the earth. How absurd. Whatever the reason for the sudden disappearance of water was of no importance to anyone. There was mass panic, like nothing you've ever seen before. People, looting, raping, murdering, doing whatever the hell they liked. As for me, well I was in the thick of it. There was on pint of water left on this entire godforsaken and it was in my hand. At first there was a knock on the door and it was Bob, my neighbour, asking if we could share the water, we both lived alone in small flats on the outskirts of London so he didn't have any family to worry about and neither did I, which considering what happened next was a good thing. I told Bob that he could have a small sip of the water, I was quite fond of Bob as was happy to share some of the water with him. I poured a small amount into his glass, he thanked me and went back to his flat locking his door behind. Good luck were his last words to me. I guess he must have know what was coming next. I went back in, Locking the door behind me, and contemplated this whole ridiculous situation. 

""What in the hell is going?"" I asked myself, not least to break up the block of text above.

""Why me? For what reason do I have the last glass of water left to sustain all life on earth?""

It was a very confusing time. I was nothing special, in fact quite the opposite. I was a mediocre as they come, average and everything I put my mind to, no special skills, a minimum wage job, very few friends. I was in no position to be in possession of such object. The last glass of water to ever grace the earth and it was mine. If someone had told me this would happen I would have laughed and laughed until my lungs hurt and it was a struggle to complete such a simple task as taking a breath. Yet here I am in that exact situation. Funny how life works out sometimes. After no more than a few minutes alone with all these thoughts fluttering through my mind did I start to hear all the commotion outside my flat window. My flat is of the 6th floor, and the doors and windows are thick - as a result of a string of robberies a few years ago, but that's another story - so it came as quite a stock to me how well I could hear everything. It was loud, very loud. There were people screaming and shouting, smashing things to pieces, fighting each other, all with the intention of getting to me first, or more precisely getting to my water first. 

""What the fuck do I do?"" I said to myself, once again partly to break up the large body of text that had been forming.

""They're going to kill me""

I had to think quickly, which I was incapable of doing, partly due to the stress but mostly due to my being of average(or below) intelligence. So what I did was probably not the wisest thing, nor am I proud of it. I opened the window and proceeded to shout down to the mass of people who had formed below -by now everyone within a 10 mile radius had gathered and there were smartphone cameras recording everything minute, from every angle. 

""Is this what you want?"" I shouted, holding the water in my had as if it were some prize, like a soldier presenting the head of his enemy to strike fear and respect into his peers. 

All of a sudden everyone's attention turned to me and my water. Thousands of eyes fixed upon me, waiting on anticipation of what would come next. It was then that I did, looking back on it as I write this I realise just how stupid I was, but what else was there to do? It was then that, in front of all those people and all those smartphone cameras that I held the glass of precious water to my lips and proceeded to drink it, every last drop. For a moment there was silence, people staring in disbelief of what they had just witnessed. Then it turned to anger, they wanted revenge, they water my head. the events that followed were horrific and I will not describe them in any great detailed. I will leave it to your imagination. All I will say is there was carnage, more than I would have ever thought possible. 

But what of me you ask? What happened to your humble narrator, who didn't ask for any of this, who was throw in at the deep end with nothing? Well that would be telling wouldn't it?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"My friend died of an overdose. It wasn't really a *death* as such, just he flopped down next to me in the evening as a smooth skinned fourteen year old and downed the bottle so he could sleep. In the morning, he was nothing but a damp stain on the mattress. Kind of more an *unbirth.* I'd heard about these side effects, but never seen them happen. Ageing is a slow process, even when it's in reverse. When they started asking me for my ID outside clubs and bars again I was first flattered, later worried. I'd look in the mirror every night and smooth back the crow's lines by the sides of my eyes. But it was incredibly cheap, and it made me feel on top of the world. You could drink on it and not get a hangover. You could dance all night and not get tired the next day. It perked you up, made you happy and friendly. Kinda whipped the fog away and made you in the bright, happy person you knew you were supposed to be. What was the point in stopping taking it? I was old when I started. Past my prime. They shouldn't have let me into clubs, but I hung on to my glory days with two hands, tight. And one night the pill was slipped into my hand and the world changed. I was reborn. It turned out just like any other drug, didn't it? I lost my job because who employs a clear-skinned eighteen year old with long legs and green eyes as a head of management? My income dried up. My landlord terminated my lease and told me to go back home to my parents. Both my parents had been in the ground for many years. I was fifty years old and I could twist men round my fingers again. It is glorious to be young. You can't stop taking it. The day he died I woke up, lounging on a greying mattress. Squatting wasn't glamorous, but at night I could be anyone I wanted. I lit up and inhaled slowly, trying not to think about the fact that after tonight I'd have to ask someone else to buy my fags for me. I kept a shard of mirror under the pillow. Funny how vanity stays with you even when you're brought this low. I didn't want to look in it. I had the physical appearance of a sixteen year old; my gangly limbs folding around me like a young foal's. My skin would still be clear, despite the horrendous amounts of cigarettes I smoked and what I drank every night. He was asleep next to me, a fifteen year old curled around the filthy blanket like a teddy bear. Muscles ran under his smooth skin. He'd stopped having to shave his face three weeks ago. Soon even his leg hair would drop out. ""Hey, Yan. Wake up."" I stubbed the cigarette out on the concrete floor and sighed. Luckily for both of us, there were plenty of people willing to pay for experienced adults with the bodies of quasi-children. He yawned and turned over, wide eyes blinking themselves awake. I'll never forget those eyes. You can't bury a wankstain. I'm in a children's home now. I'm writing this with crayons on paper. My hands can't get the letters right and it's frustrating. My legs swing above the ground on this pink chair. One of the Sisters have tied my hair back in pigtails. I think it's shepherd's pie and carrots for dinner. I wish I could reach the stove, because I don't like either of those. I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop. As soon as I'm old enough I'll start again. If only to be young again.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Log Entry - Day 732

Calculations suggest that the *Sergey Illyushin* will indeed escape Saturn's orbit despite previous concerns. A quick check confirmed that the reflector is still fully functional. The craft should get close enough for me to take some good photographs of the planet.

Log Entry - Day 733

Conducted routine inspection. The thrusters remain as unresponsive as on the day of the asteroid collision, as do the communications relays. All life support systems remain fully functional. 323 days of food rations remain. Emergency beacon still functional.

Log Entry - Day 734

Infrared sensors are picking up strange, sporadic heat signatures around the dark side of the planet. Equipment may be faulty but I will confirm with the reflector if the anomalies begin occurring on the light side.

Log Entry - Day 735

Infrared sensors were not faulty. Reflector observations confirm the presence of several unidentified objects in close orbit around Saturn. The objects resemble asteroids in size and coloration but are too regular in shape to be naturally occurring. The objects seem to be holding a definitive formation, suggesting that they are utilizing some form of propulsion in a coordinated manner. This is difficult to comprehend. Will move up my mental self-evaluation to later tonight.

Log Entry - Day 736

Mental self-evaluation results are positive, Repeated observations are yielding the same results. In face of the overwhelming evidence, I have to report that I am making humanity's first observation of an alien civilization. The alien spacecraft have remained in the same position as yesterday. Will archive collected data and photographic evidence.

Log Entry - Day 737

More thermal signatures have appeared on the dark side of Saturn. These new spaceships are observable with the reflector as they glow blue in color. Their shapes are distinct from the spacecraft I observed earlier; they seem to have a more smooth, oblong design. It is unclear if they belong to the same alien civilization.

Log Entry - Day 738

The two alien fleets seem to be engaged in a battle. They are firing multicolored thermal weapons at each other. My best guess is that they consist of high powered lasers or plasma. Both fleets are suffering heavy casualties. I have not been able to spot any alien bodies in the wreckage. The ships may be automated, or their bodies may have been disintegrated completely by weapons or exposure.

Log Entry - Day 739

I am very close to the battle as it dies down. The aliens with the blue spacecraft seem to have won, but not by much. They are surveying the wreckage, possibly for survivors. Considering my proximity, it is possible they will find me as well if they haven't already. Will prepare for extreme circumstances.

Log Entry - Day 740

They have found me. They are attempting to break open the hull. I have donned my spacesuit in preparation. Am unsure of their intentions. In the event that they are hostile or unwilling to permit me to communicate with Earth, I have attached all evidence as will as my log entries to the emergency beacon. I will proceed to eject it from the ship as discreetly as possible. It may be intercepted but it is my only chance to ensure that this information finds its way back to Earth. Tell my family I love them. Goodbye.

~Taken from the log of Commander Alexei Stukov. Russian Federal Space Agency Confidential Files [CATEGORIZED ABOVE TOP SECRET]",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The ethereal plane had never been a terribly comfortable space for Santa. Other, as most called it, was a place of crossing. A nexus of energy, from the familiar energies like heat and kinetic that seem to follow in the wake of passing mortals to the metaphysicals that make religious faith, scientific theory, and the even more ephemeral things like the human soul or the inexplicable mysteries in nature.

Santa shook the non-specific chills from his mind and looked around. That much energy building, flowing, and colliding in the same space always created disorientation. It was part of the reason he did most of his work there on one night out of the year, rather than several like Death. The workload became unbearable here. The noise was terrible.

Even focusing on finding his path, phantom sparks danced across him, cold breezes tickled across his throat, and shadows jostled. Color and sound flirted with his senses, teasing him with the smell of strawberries instants after a frosty exhale congealed into the taste of sewage and rot. Even as he walked, he'd get lost in the desperate panic of a car wreck and the explosive heat and compression of some earthly weapon.

After what felt like hours, he found himself drifting in the direction he had meant to go. Every second in the Other was at the intersection of millions of thoughts, but they're no more than fading memories, dropping away like a dream. With another minute or two of travel, Klaus found himself in the sterile, cream-colored walls of a hospital. There was a table of black marble set up in the middle of the room. Despite the copious lights and lamps humming around them, the room was in a perpetual state of ambient light. The hammer blow of the nearby clock's second hand crashed into noise. Simultaneously too loud, and distant, as though the sound hadn't fully elapsed.

The spectre of the man in the hospital bed was sat opposite Klaus at the marble table, comfortably sat in the an office chair, a mirror of the one he had in the frozen north. The man looked maybe 60 or 70, but his eyes betrayed a deeper weariness. Despite that, he sat very confidently in the chair. At peace, perhaps. When he spoke, it was in Russian. At first glance, Klaus had expected a bit of rasp to the voice, something more suited to a man who'd spent years coughing and smoking. But when the comfortable stranger spoke, it came out a rich baritone, cultivated by a practiced diction. ""Good evening, old friend."" 

Klaus sat in his own chair, opposite the table, and rested his hands on the polished marble. ""Joyous day, old friend."" Klaus began, realizing belatedly that he had answered as Saint Nick rather than Death. ""I trust you know why I'm here.""

""Certainly, we are here to play the wager on my life.""

""It is your time, yes, but is it truly the wager on your life?""

""That is how it goes, yes? We play to see whether I win life or lose it. That is, by definition, a wager.""

""Perhaps, but it is not you who chooses when and how. To me, that qualifies as a distinction.""

The man shrugged, as if discarding something irrelevant. ""It is largely semantics in all cases. I am here to win my life or lose it, what it is called seems no more relevant than how we got here, or why it's happening this way rather than another.""

""Fair point,"" Klaus ceded, straining his memory briefly to recall his training with Death itself. ""Have you chosen your game?""

The man smiled. ""I have. I went on a cruise in '97. An American family had invited me and my brother to join them in a game of Scrabble. I have not played it but that once, and wish to play it again.""

""You want to play a game, for your life, that you've only played once?"" Klaus, asked, perplexed.

Death had told him his satchel would retrieve for him anything he would need to play whatever game the deceased chose. He was, however, unprepared for the wash of feelings therein. In an instant, his arm felt like it was being submerged in ice and electrocuted at the same time. It was accompanied by the feeling of pins and needles up his arm. All at once, he had to suppress the sudden urge to giggle, panic, and scream.

However, when he withdrew his hand, a 1938 printing of the board game came with it. The material all looked brand new, as though printed at that instant. Klaus set it on the table and began arranging.

After setting the tiles and board, the two began playing in earnest. Klaus passed the intervening time talking. ""So tell me, why choose a game you've only played once?""

""We cannot choose what happens today or tomorrow. We cannot control how life will go. Yesterday, I was relaxing with my brother, his wife, and their son. Today, I am in a hospital bed, playing games with Death himself. In that, attempting to control everything is futile."" The man reached across the table, placing moderately sized word across the middle, then pointing at the board. ""But this, this I can control. Whether I win or lose isn't relevant in this decision. If that choice was my last conscious choice, why not play a game I enjoy and want to play, rather than one I believe I can win, but not necessarily enjoy as much?""

Klaus played similarly, matching the word's score almost exactly, but across a double letter score position for a lead. ""Don't you feel an obligation to family to play your best?""

""Always someone better,"" he said honestly, playing off of it with a short word that made him smile. The distant brushing of warm sun, a cool drink, and laughter danced by Klaus's senses. ""It is hubris to assume one can best Death always. So, today, I do my best against Death. I do not know if it will be enough, but it will be pleasant. That is enough.""

Klaus mulled over this, his fingers idly rearranging the tiles while playing, revealing sequences and words he hadn't noticed before. He played a word that reminded him of candy canes back home. The Russian responded with a word on the same vein after a moment, as though he'd felt the memory with its passing.

""How about yourself, Death. Do you do what makes you happy?""

""I always have,"" Klaus answered immediately, as Saint Nick before remembering to stay in character, answering in a way he thought Death might. ""Every life has its moments, and this too is just another moment for some. Important for everyone, and just one. These moments are what life is all about."" Instead of mulling too long in-character, he thought about children and laughter.

""This is true."" The Russian said, placing a word that evoked another memory. This one felt cool to Klaus, the low light of a dark stage and the familiar cadence of a favored monologue. ""Though there is not just these moments in life man finds important, but also those important to man. Friends, families. Is all part of life, even if man misses those parts until later.""

""Someone who values family as much as you,"" Klaus said, playing another high scoring word. ""Many would see you and think you would play harder to keep that rather than risk death on a flight of fancy, no matter how pleasant.""

The man places another word, this one invoking the memory of a spring breeze and the smell of baked bread. Klaus thought immediately of picnics. The man smiled, ""It is perhaps a different philosophy. Death isn't exclusively something to mourn. Like you said, it is a moment in life. The final note of a classical symphony isn't a sour one. It is, like all those that came before it, a part of something bigger. 

Many people in the walls of this very hospital suffer from disease, destruction. It tears them apart, it puts strain on their families. Many who recover from near death find new purpose in life. Some leave behind suffering they do not deserve, and may find solace in what comes beyond. To me, it seems the same hubris to assume one can definitely best Death. Perhaps it is something new, something better. I will no more abandon my philosophies here and now than I had in my life before. Perhaps I will find something great, win or lose.""

""Very well said."" Klaus looked down at the scorecard. He will ultimately win. Which, to him, seemed a sad fate for someone so wise. His next play cemented the win, hitting both a triple letter score (with a Q) and a double word score. ""It seems we are at the end game.""

""Or just the beginning of another,"" The Russian replied, playing a word that flooded Klaus with memories. Sudden warmth, familiar laughter, the distant taste of a good, expensive vodka. Champagne. The fleeting taste of wedding cake. Then, finally, a sensation not at all dissimilar from the room they were in now. Bright yet bleak. Ultimately cold. The haunting sound of the passage of the second hand on the nearby clock came to a halt. Another would follow shortly, or perhaps not. Time seemed irrelevant here.

""It has been a pleasure to play you, sir."" Klaus said, placing his final tiles on the board. Even without subtracting the Russian's tiles, it was clear who the victor was.

""And you,"" the Russian said, standing. ""What now?""

""Pick a door,"" Klaus said, gesturing. Behind him, worked into the wall and window of the hospital room were two unmarked doors. The Russian approached a door, turned the knob, and turned once last to thank Klaus for the game.

""It was a wonderful play, and I appreciate the chance to play it once last. Perhaps try not to dwell on the fact that death is so final, or at least, that this finality is not terminal. And you'll find more joy in your work.""

With that, he closed the door behind him, and everything faded. The final noise before Klaus found himself back in the Other was the cataclysmic noise of another second passing, followed shortly by the frantic beeping of the heart monitor fading into oblivion.

With that, Klaus frowned pensively into the catastrophe of sense and noise that made up the Other, and went to find Death to ask for his job back. He respected Death for what he had to do, but perhaps his was not so bad after all.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hey! Listen!""

I feel like I have told him this a thousand times now.

""Hey! Listen!""

It doesn't make any sense to me. He has thrown hundreds of other peoples jug viciously for wealth. The moon is nigh, but this apparently isn't an issue to some of us.

""Hey! Listen""

Five....six....seven bushes chopped to bits. When will this madness end?! I've overlooked this boy too long for him to be aimlessly meandering through our soon-to-be-damned world. I watched his hubris almost get the best of him once, can I withstand it again?

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days. All it has consisted of is the utter destruction of another ones belongings. The Tree gave us specific, sophisticated instructions, none of which have been followed. What does that Princess see in him anyhow? Better yet, what does he see in that Princess?

Something about his silent ways intrigues me. So much is said by simply saying nothing at all. Maybe it coincides with all the time spent gazing at the illuminated night sky on the back of his steed. Or could it have been how effortlessly he unsheathed his blade when I felt the most minuscule hint of fear?

Whatever it was drove me up the walls. All I could ever say was ""Hey! Listen!"" The attention gained from this was short lived, he could silently return to slashing his way through shrubs collecting rupees or showing our enemies their certain doom.

Was our enemies doom more certain than ours though? The moon practically lay upon the soil, and we are here breaking jugs.

""Hey! Listen!""

Suddenly, it all faded. No more moon, no more steed, no more jugs to smash. I woke up in the wake of the wind, afloat upon a red ship. A fierce lion manned our vessel, but was somehow one with it. I looked around to see the life I now lived was more surreal than the one before.

""Hey! Listen!""

Not to my surprise, again, no one listened.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I’m old and my time is coming to an end. The Department of Traded Skills has advertisements everywhere, targeted at people like me.

*Sell your experience on the DoTS market! Apprentice and Journeyman rates comparable to your experience! Master rates pending evaluation!*

*Don’t want to wait for those drum lessons? Shred like Neil Peart in a fraction of the time!* In the fine print it reads: *Results not guaranteed to make you a rock star.*

Somewhere out there Mozart still composes. A new Rembrandt is commissioned from the inheritor. Shakespeare’s quill still scribbles away.

Some of my work is on those advertisements. Some is on display at the finest museums, and in the galleries of the rich and famous. My father gave me his skill with a brush when I was twelve, as my grandfather gave it to him. My monetary inheritance was substantial, but the memory and skill I received at twelve was the real inheritance.

I hold a photo in my hands. It is old, creased and weathered like the hands that hold it. The smiling faces look up at me and I feel nothing; I sold my memories of them long ago, the happy and the sad. Memories have emotion attached to them. A sociopath who cannot feel purchases grief and heartache like an addict buys heroin. My sorrow is his completion.

I cannot remember the feel of my wife’s lips on mine, nor if we ever kissed. I can’t hear my daughter’s laughter when I close my eyes. I can only pretend.

There is no family to bequeath my talent. My wealth of knowledge and material cannot benefit those I loved, that I believe I loved.

Lawyers come and go, some requesting and some threatening. The rich beg me to sell, and the poor beg me to give. Preservers of history, art, experience, and knowledge implore me to think of the greater good, that it would be a terrible tragedy to lose my skill out of some selfish desire.

But I have no desire left in me. All I have are holes where memory used to live. If there is an afterlife, will they be waiting there for me? Will I remember them then? Can they love me if everything I was to them is missing, sold or given away? If consciousness persists after death, and memory is tied to consciousness, Heaven must be lonely, stagnant.

I hold the faded picture in hands too weak to paint. A smile creases my lips; I close my eyes, and drift away.

My brush will paint the Heavens.

**Editor's Remark: I edited this and put it on my blog, so I thought I'd go ahead and put in the edited version here as well.**",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He rustled about in his giant blueprints of ginormous plans to conquer the lesser known world with an sinister grin and an maniacal chuckle. His wiry grey strands of hair swim about in front of his face. ""Aha!"" This is the one. His greatest creation, the epitome of everything that could be, will be, or is evil. Even his greatest influences would have been at marvel with his devious wit and cunning connivery. He picks the giant scroll out of the bin with his long and gnarled index finger and his plump thumb taking every caution in this monumentious moment beforehand. He dizzingly takes the scroll back to his seat and candlelit table. His eyes never leave the plan clutched in hands as he makes his way back. The devious grin seems to be permenently engraved on his face. He sits down with another hearty chuckle that seems to come from the most evil pits of his stomach. This is his plan that will take him to the top. The Holy Grail of hellish undertakings. He ever so gently places the parchment down onto the table. He unties the the string holding it in place and begins to flatten it with the precise caution. His ghastly boney hands make it to the edges of the paper and he lets it go. The scroll springs back to it's original form in from. The mad genius unravels the parchment again. Once his hands leave the paper it pops right back again. He stands up disheveled. He must not lose focus now, not when his greatest moment stands before him! He sits down, composure regained and spreads the scroll once again. He holds his hands on opposite sides in the middle. The corners fold themselves in towards the middle obscurring the master plan. He grimaces and begins to utter curses to himself whilst holding his position. Every move he attempts to make has an opposite effect on the scroll that he is so desperately trying to flatten. He gets up in utter frustration as the scroll snaps itself back together with such force it leaves the table momentarily. He strokes his grey chin in a scheme and he finally sets into motion. He stretches out the parchment for the final time. He grabs a human skull and places it on one corner. He finds an inkwell and places it on another. An old stone for another. All he needs is one more weight to finally put his ploy into motion. He looks around his barren workplace and finds nothing. Only a single lit candle stick in its holder. ""Aha!"" He zips around grabbing the candle. As he moves over to the corner with nothing there, the bottom scrapes the edge of the inkwell and ink cascades onto his greatest work. He gasp in terror, drops the candle swiping away the ink with his hands, all the while the candle slowly eats its way into the parchment unbeknownst to the mad-man. He scoops off the rest of the ink in dissatisfaction and places his hand on hips. Maybe he could redraw the rest from memory? He sees the shadow of the skull jumping and dancing around on the table. It brings him back to reality when he realizes that one half of the parchment is engulfed in flames. He screeches in terror and immdiatly begins to smack the flames with his tatty and worn robe. The flame begins to smother and he is left in darkness. He sinks into his chair in silence. He lets out an eerie gitty laugh that drowns out through the night.
MY first writing attempt i hope you enjoy! I'm open to honest criticism and compliments!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Okay, look. I get it. You're very menacing and mysterious, and you know for a fact I've lost some sleep trying to figure out where you came from and what your plans are. And those horns - Are they horns? Or are they spikes? Well, they're pointy and disturbing and give you plenty of demon cred. Very impressive. And I don't mean to tell you how to do your job or anything, I know I get more than enough of that at work. 

You probably do too. You saw that time when he said 'front-load our back-end' right? Bet you liked that too. Little slice of home, am I right? Guy's a natural. You're probably scouting him for talent right now. He's a diamond in the rough where the insidious torture biz is concerned, and that's a fact. Can't think his way out of a wet paper bag, sure, but that's not so bad. I bet Hell needs middle management too. 

It's probably *all* middle management, really. Except you, obviously. No idea how you got stuck with this job, but you've got my sympathy. I get bored enough seeing what I see, and at least I get to interact with it. I don't think coffee is very energizing to look at. I mean, do you even like coffee? Do you sleep at all? You didn't get tired last night, that's for sure. Then again, you didn't laugh once through all of Fraiser. Maybe you just sleep with your eyes open.

But hey, that's your thing, right? Staring. And you're dedicated, for sure. Never even seen you blink. Demon of the Month right there. Maybe Demon of the Year. All those hot shot demons brokering the big deals for souls and whatever probably have it easy. Just have to show up and say 'hey, want everything for nothing?' and bam, job done. But this. This takes some dedication.

Now, again, I'm not trying to dis you or anything. You've got your job to do, and I respect that. And you're doing great. It's really fantastic customer service you've got here and I'm proud to be a part of the team. Unwilling, but proud. You've really outdone yourself. Pretty much raised staring to an art form here. I'm impressed, and duly disturbed, and everything. Very scary.

But I'm trying to take a shit here.

And you're making it real difficult.

So could you maybe... not?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Coffee tastes like shit today.""

""You say that everyday, John.""

""Coffee tastes like shit everyday.""

My name is John Macintosh. And I fulfill wishes. Now before you start going off about how I'm some prancing fairy, my job is very technical. A satellite goes over some kids house, he or she states their wish, and, as long as it's feasible, we get it done. No matter the cost. Don't ask me why, I'm sure it's just another way for the government to reassure themselves that spying is good if good comes from it. Anyway, it pays the bills.

""Oh it looks like I got one."" Mary says as she looks at the quote and description of the child on her watch, ""Aww little Janie wants to find true love.""

""Good luck with that one. How old is she?""

""Ten... Yeah... I know it's a little young, but I think I might end up taking this one.""

""Well, be prepared to..."" 

My watch began to ring. That noise keeps me up at night, both literally and figuratively. That damn happy little tune. Jimmy Klein. Eleven. Williams, CA. The quote:

""I want to be happy.""

The hell is that supposed to mean. Too vague. This one is going down the pipes. And del-

""Oh no you don't."" Ted, my overseer, said with a watchful eye, ""I don't care if that says 'I want a unicorn!' You WILL NOT be deleting another message.""

""Yeah..."" I said with great disdain. I guess it wouldn't hurt to check this kid out.

Knock. Knock. Knock. No answer on a Wednesday afternoon. I knock again, this time a little louder. One more time, a little louder. In a last ditch effort I bang on the door as loud as I can, just in time to hit the little bastard on the top of his head as soon as he opens the door.

""Jimmy Klein? I'm John Macintosh.""

""Man, that hurt! Aren't you going to say 'sorry?'""

""Well if you had answered on the first few knocks that wouldn't have happened, would it? Where are your parents?""

The boy led me to his living room with his mother passed out on the couch and a rubber tube around her arm. I knew who she was the moment I saw her. She was my mother, my father, their friends, their dealers. Scum.

""You're from that shooting star I wished to, aren't you?""

""No, I'm just here to help, kid. Come on, lets get you somewhere else.""

And so I did. And it was both the easiest and hardest job I ever had.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It began as a whisper, no louder than the rustling of leaves signalling the quiet before the storm. Men, women, parents, children, all over the territory came the same murmurs. Nobody ever mentioned it aloud, but it occupied the minds of everyone, from construction droids to lawyers to gynecologists to astronauts.

""How many Earthlings does it take to change a light bulb?""

The orbs of light lasted thousands of generations, a standing testimony of greatness to the ancient Man. A small filament of tungsten, a glass shell, and some copper wires could, in combination and in theory, never burn out. Even though humanity has invented more luminous and more durable objects since the light bulb, it hearkens back to a simpler time. The light bulb is an anachronism, much like the Gravipack or the iPad Air.

Yet, the question remained a valid one. The hushed mumbling did not stop, nor did it stop when the first 5 light bulbs went out. Then 10 bulbs stopped emitting light. Then dozens all over the planet succumbed to darkness. The phenomenon soon spread to Mars, to Triton, and soon people found themselves asking the same lingering question.

""How many Martians does it take to change a light bulb? How many Tritons does it take to change a light bulb?""

Researchers, archaeologists, librarians, translators, scientists, all poured over the ancient texts for a method. Surely, the reasoning went, the Earthlings of time immemorial knew how to work their own inventions. Surely this primitive race had more understanding of their own materials and had cataloged its use in a decipherable seepage or a netsite.

But to our frustrations, the findings seemed to mock our collective efforts. We found many scenarios similar to our own, but all involved a cultural punch line or *non sequitur* that gave no practical assistance. For example, the ancient people of Mexico had the greatest advantage; one of their citizens' names was Juan. In another retelling, Vietnam veterans knew how to screw in light bulbs, yet they refused to divulge the secret on account of listeners ""not being fucking there, man."" Software engineers claimed never to fix light bulbs, suggesting instead that it ""was a hardware problem"", and a group called PETA failed to change anything, including light bulbs. The ancient texts claimed that 5 managers could screw in a light bulb, provided that they all had access to telephones and willing subordinates. It required 37 sorority girls to change a light bulb, with 36 of them creating items called t-shirts that somehow assisted their task.

These reports confused and frustrated our best scholars of ancient humanity. Like all riddles, these statements must have a shred of truth to them. Perhaps if we reanimate one of the humans from that ancient time, it could perform the task for us? Reanimation has happened before for different purposes, in the Fifth Andromeda War, for example. The process is expensive and legally questionable. Are light bulbs worth the risk?

I knew we should have listened to Al Gore! I jerk off to pictures of him every night, he's so sexy. That's what we all do in the future, by the way. Masturbate to Al Gore...",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""So, this is it?""
""Yup."" ""We just float around?""
""Yup.""
""What the fuck? That's dumb. This is dumb.""
""Calm down. It gets better.""
""Can I eventually control where I float around? Or have a body or shape? Or like, interact with anything or anyone, or affect anything at all ever?""
""No. Nothing like that. But after a while you get used it.""
""You just give up? You just watch life go by powerlessly?""
""Kind of. But, it's not as depressing as you make it sound. You'll see a lot neat things. Some bad things too, of course, but you'll come to see the good outweighs the bad. Beauty is everywhere when you have nothing but time to look for it.""
""Yeah? Well, right now it sucks. I can't see my family. I don't get to go to my own funeral? There's no fucking heaven! And now I get to spend eternity floating around the intersection where I died.""
""Oh, you'll drift far enough in time. Look, you're already almost on the sidewalk. Looks like you're headed south. Lots of beautiful trees out that way.""
""How long have you been drifting? I'm Jack, by the way.""
""Ha, 'Jack'! That's a good name. I've lost my own. I've lost my age too. It all runs together eventually. It's quite relaxing.""
""Where is everyone else? How come you're the only one I hear?""
""Oh, they're everywhere! A lot of 'em don't say much anymore. Not too much too say after you've seen as much as most have. But there's plenty of talkers too, they're probably just being polite. Say 'hello' guys!""
""Hey!"" ""Hi"" ""Hello!"" ""Hi!""
""Hey!"" ""Hello!"" ""Hi.""
""Hi."" ""'Sup."" ""Hey!""
""Wow! This is fucking weird.""
""Yup. You get used to it.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They were halfway through a pocket of Ummanote when the drillhead broke.

The force of the snap blasted three workers off their feet, and a rush of broken rocks buried them a second later. Dead, Himo knew; their suits would've been crushed like bubble wrap. The drill's support cage leaned sideways, teetering drunkenly on two bent legs before falling over. Himo felt the crash even through the insulated soles of his suit. He reached up and thumbed the side of his helmet, opening an emergency line to Command.

""Emergency GMC line. State identity and crisis.""

""Officer Himo Yarnis, tag 957,"" he said clearly and calmly. ""Supervising at Drill G-8. Reporting drill malfunction.""

""Accepted,"" the flat mechanical voice replied. ""Please hold.""

Not a moment later, a gruff voice replaced the automated system. Himo recognised the rough, no-bullshit tones of Commander Mat at once. ""Yarnis. You'd better give me a damn good reason why my brand spankin' new baby G-8 is *malfunctioning*.""

""Actually, it broke. Clean in half."" The dust was beginning to settle, and Himo squinted at the scene from where he stood on the smooth white metal of Landing Pad G. Two rovers were racing towards the wreckage like hungry ants. He studied the mangled end of the drill, pointing sadly up at the stars within its nest of bent metal. ""We were harvesting Ummanote—tapping that huge deposit Larayi was so excited about. The drill went in around halfway. It crunched a bit—like that time B-3 hit that huge vein of sodium—but it stabilised itself. A minute later, no warning, the whole thing veered around a full circle like it got completely stuck...and it snapped. Three guys went under. Half of it is still in the ground.""

""What do you mean, snapped?"" Mat sounded skeptical. ""The drills don't break like that, Yarnis. Even if it caught on a rock and it had the entire machine's force against it. It would just separate from the tower and cost us a fuckload of money, but it wouldn't *snap*.""

""Yes, I know that,"" Himo said. ""I—""

The ground trembled. A quick shudder, stronger than the force of the drill collapsing—this time Himo felt it through his shins and knees. He almost stumbled. His earpiece fluttered with static, and Mat's voice returned brokenly. ""—What? You broke up for a s—there—you copy? —arnis?""

""...Moonquake,"" Himo muttered softly, mostly to himself. *Impossible*, he thought automatically, but it was precisely a quake. He knew intimately what they felt like, from the gentlest tremors to the most violent. He had gone through hundreds of simulations during his geological training—it came even before the astronaut stuff. *Impossible*. There had been no true moonquakes since they'd built the magnets to power their equipment, stabilising the slow churning currents deep beneath the crust. The satellites orbiting them were more than capable of deflecting any oncoming meteorites of significance. *Moonquakes are impossible.* That was fact. Science.

Himo had seen many things during his seven years of deployment on the Moon. He had gone through the cycle of awe and homesickness and Earth-appreciation and boredom enough times to ignore it by now. He had witnessed miracles buried underneath this cold, dusty place; unknown elements and mysterious objects and rare gases. He had suffered oxygen crises, equipment failure, crew malcontent, and even once helped solve a murder over at the E base. Nothing had truly frightened him, though. He had an engineer's level head and an almost obsessive trust in logic, science, and technology. All problems could be solved. New equipment could be built to test unknown substances. And always, there were a concrete set of equations and laws to fall back upon, laws that would never change. No matter how big the mystery, they could all be solved starting from those laws. It was like having a springboard there to kick-start you whenever you went to climb a new mountain. From then on it was simply a cycle of testing, recording, and re-testing. Elegant and reassuring.

But then the ground shook again, and for the first time in seven years, a thread of true fear went through Himo's heart. He lost his balance with a gasp as a third quake followed without pause—two long strides got him upright again, but soon there was no respite in the shaking.

""Yarnis?"" Mat was repeating in his ear. ""Yarnis, are you there? What the fuck is wrong with your line? You keep—""

""*Moonquake*—"" he said again, yelling it this time. The ground slammed up to meet him, bouncing him helplessly along the landing pad like a fish. The ruin of the drill was a cloud of grey dust by now. A drawn-out, raspy noise echoed through his helmet, some huge sound picked up by the audio sensors in his suit.

Himo watched, eyes wide and mouth open, as something huge erupted from the surface of the moon, nudging the broken drill aside as if it were a toy car.

""Suit 957,"" he uttered, his voice sounding tiny to his own ears. The noise came again—no, it wasn't just a noise, it was something *roaring*—he sucked in a small, terrified breath. ""Begin video r-recording on all cameras. Patch all d-data immediately to Command.""

""Suit 957 cameras activated: helmet, shoulder left, shoulder right, infra-red, ultraviolet. Confirm patch to emergency GMC line?""

""Y-yes. Confirm,"" Himo squeaked. As he stared, he caught himself wishing that the machine's voice wouldn't be the last thing he heard before he died. Mat had long since disappeared into steady static. *Die, why would I die?* he thought hysterically, but as he stood transfixed, frozen like a rabbit, the answer came to him, a terrible non-answer with no reasoning behind it. He just knew he would.

Dust was everywhere, but spreading fast, thinning out to reveal the thing that was still rising slowly from the Moon's surface. It grew thicker as it emerged, cracking apart the rock around it effortlessly. Himo couldn't tell if it was the head or tail or limb or tentacle. All he could do was stare. Amazingly, he felt no urge to run. His legs wouldn't support him, anyway. He stood there, recording what he saw. *Test, record, re-test.* Yes. He could help do that. One day they would solve this. Use the springboard, climb the mountain. One day. *Oh, god.*

An immense burst of noise took out his audio sensors in a flash. The horizon exploded. From the grey pockmarked expanse rose a smooth, curved, shifting section of what was obviously an organic creature, its hide gleaming and raining rocks. Black chasms opened up on the Moon when it reared towards the sky; one of them raced towards Himo, blasted apart the buildings behind him in a puff of debris. Within it, another appendage emerged, a line of glowing lights flickering through the haze of dust.

Himo took a single step back, fell, and couldn't get up again as gravity lurched and skewed, ground beneath him shuddering and breaking, sending him tumbling around and around. Something jagged caught on his suit, tore apart its outer layer of insulation. A rock smashed into his shin, breaking it into a hundred pieces. He screamed, in terror and pain and confusion and denial, a childlike part of him waiting to wake up from the nightmare.

Everything lifted up when the creature unfurled, the entire Moon well and truly destroyed now, pushed along the thing's impossible girth in several thousand pieces. And Himo was lying on one of those pieces, on a little patch of what had once been Landing Pad G. The realisation made him laugh thinly with the last few breaths of oxygen left in his leaking suit.

He caught glimpses of the creature, spiky here, smooth there, with those rows of lights like huge fireballs set in walls of granite. *Was it here all along? Did we wake it up? Were we hurting it? Does it matter?* No, Himo decided, it didn't. It was here now, and mankind would solve the mystery as always. And he would've helped. He'd recorded everything. He had done his job, was still doing it now on his deathbed. The cameras were still on. Command was watching it all along with him. They would be proud of him, they would talk about him and remember him. He wasn't alone after all, no...as long as he kept recording...

Himo could no longer breathe. Darkness was closing in around him, along with a strangely warm sensation, stealing up his numb arms and feet. The creature shrieked and twisted and undulated all around him. With the final dregs of energy, he turned his head away. Through his scratched helmet, he saw the starry expanse of space...and Earth. A sphere half-dipped in light and colour, no larger than a tennis ball from this distance. Beautiful. It peered at him through the cloud of broken rocks, and the swirls of white upon its mottled blue surface seemed to smile and beckon to him. Telling him to come home.

His vision blurring with tears, Himo Yarnis closed his eyes for the final time, and his world went black and silent.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's hard being me. I mean, for one thing, I've been trapped in a two year old's body for an infinite number of years. It's hard enough to pick up chicks when most people don't even know you exist, let alone when you're a *cherub.* And telling them I'm Cupid just makes it worse. Sure, okay, sometimes the job is funny. Like that one time I made a guy fall in love with a tree. When I used to do my work properly as well, I had some good moments. You'd just catch a couple that was absolutely meant to be. But now I get the most ridiculous messages. 


""There's a girl down in Brooklyn who needs her class mate to fall in love with her. She's done all the usual offerings. Go and shoot him."" My heart shaped pager would blare messages of this ilk day and night *sans cesse* (Of course I know French, I'm fucking *Cupid* aren't I?) And invariably, when I got down there, it would be some lovesick teenage girl with too much eyeliner and pictures of One Direction on her wall. It wouldn't really be love, it'd be infatuation, but I'd have to sit down and have the chat with her about the dangers of summoning a love god for a fanciful crush. They'd usually freak out at the sight of a naked two year old in their room, and I got more black eyes than I could really count. 



The mass production of love has really done me a disservice, as well. There's that old saying ""Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"" It rings fucking true here, ya know. Porn. I'm talking about Porn. Someone things they're in love, they rub one out and discover that it was just lust after all. So between the porn addicts and the lovesick teens, I'm really having a rough time of it. 


""You shouldn't be drinking that mate."" Gabe was a good mate of mine. Kept an eye on me as I spiralled slowly into despair. He took the bottle of scotch from my chubby fingers. 


I blearily looked at him. 


""Pass me the cigs, would you? Be an angel."" That made us both laugh. 


I lit up, fiddling with the lighter. I'd had to get it specially adapted because my tiny fingers weren't strong enough to flick it. The heart-shaped pager lay deserted next to me, still beeping messages from girls who desperately needed Justin Bieber to fall for them. 


""You need to clean yourself up a bit."" Gabe cast a scornful look around my apartment. Despite it being Heaven, it was a tip. Overflowing ashtrays were scattered between piles of dirty children's clothes. Several empty bottles of scotch lay near empty takeout boxes (you'd be surprised how good the pizza was in Heaven.) 


""What's the point?"" I growled miserably. ""No-one falls in love like they used to any more. Where are the grand sonnets? Where are the poems and the plays and the acts of chivalry? The waiting in a bower for true love to return. I mean! Come on..."" 


""You're drunk, Cupid."" Gabe muttered, trying to clean up a bit. 


""I'm not!"" 


He raised an eyebrow. 


""Okay, maybe I am a little bit. But tell me it doesn't annoy you too? Where is 'shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' Where's *Romeo and Juliet?* Where's Beatrice and Benedick? Where's Sonya and Rashkalnikov? Alberad and Heloise? Orpheus? I mean, when's the last time someone went into the Underworld to find their dead love?"" 


I flopped down on the sofa. 


""That's the problem."" I sighed. ""No one has time to love. Not any more.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Activity in sector seven.""
""Pull it up now!""
Across the brightly lit room, a screen as thin as paper materialized and began streaming video feed of a blue, cloudy, and peaceful sky. A shadow began to move across the land, and a vibration shook the soil down to the bedrock. The desks and chairs in the underground cavern began to tremble, its inhabitants grabbing hold of their strange cups with an even more absurd variety of liquid inside of them. They looked again to the screen as a massive metal sword struck the clouds, slicing them in two. Everyone gasped, ""We are under attack!"" The order came from the being that commanded the sector in question to be raised on the thin projection screen. ""Raise the battlements and secure the breach gates"", people began to rush around this small room, running into corridors and passages that led deeper into the earth. The white, metallic walls with its beautiful architectural design, hid that they were even underground. The only way it was noticeable was the slight increase in temperature the lower you transcended the levels.
As the inhabitants of the caves ran to weaponize themselves, the commander looked on, hard pressed to this projection screen. The camera's that gave feed of the world above, giving them information on weather and game migration, fed the image of this massive ship coming down in a sweeping green valley nicknamed Bjolminer. ""Weapons ready sir', a man with a clipboard was gripping the commander's armchair with white knuckles. ""Proceed to blast gates""
""Yes sir""
""Bring me the box as well""
""The box? Sir,""
""Enough, bring me the box.""
""Yes sir.""
The young being motioned for two guards, who left the room. ""Sir, we haven't used the Metas since Top Flash, you know, with the guireldeckies?"" There was no response from the commander as the two guards returned with a small black briefcase. His thumbs dug under the edges of two black hatches and the top popped and folded open mechanically. The commander pulled a key from his neck, inserting it into the module for arming. He turned it clockwise and the system came to life. The small screen on the back now projected to the large screen in the room.
It was a feed of the ship, with outlines of gold and blue frames giving options and readouts. The commander broke a sweat, his hard visage softening as he recalled the last system war. His finger moved over the button. Even a small pressure would release hell on not only the invaders, but also their civilization.
It was a means to end, but not without great cost, and the commander would rather face the destructive power of the Metas rather than endure centuries of conflict yet again. ""Everyone is in position sir."" The man with the clipboard was now visibly shaking, as the guards took two steps back. His finger relished the feel of the button. Its smooth surface, shining in the artificial light. He sat and took in this last moment of calm and peace before he unleashed the hellish demons among these monstrous terrorists.
His finger began its decent and the pressure that was exerted forced the button to give way. Thats all the button wanted to accomplish anyways, to be pushed.
""WAIT!"" The clipboard wielding warrior struck the box out of the commanders hands. The guards quickly jumped and suspended the man in air. A complex technique of holds would make him immobile. ""What the fuck are you doing!"" The commander thrust his face into the assistants. ""Look"", just barely audible, the assistants eyes where locked on the massive screen. The commander shot his glare to the screen and his face, one of anger and malice, melted way in disbelief. He stumbled back into the chair. Upon the screen, the beings began to emerge, and there in the middle of the field, was a small girl with dark black hair. She was picking flowers and skipping as her parents embraced and smiled. Tears began to stream from the commanders face, ""That looks like endyln. How could she be in the sunlight?"".....",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A lot of people claim that my powers are useless; the tabloids tend to describe them more as “powers” than *powers*. It’s funny how mocked you are when you’re not needed, but how quickly they cry for you the moment they need a hero. I’m a lot like Spiderman, in a way. Hunted, mocked—the enemy, as far as the papers are concerned. Yet who’s name are they shouting every time something goes wrong? Not the mayor’s, that’s for sure. Not even the police. It’s always “Spiderman.” Sure, I may have a noticeable lack of webs and physical strength. And perhaps my reflexes and reaction time aren’t that great. And, yes, I don’t have a cool costume. Does that mean my powers are useless? Does that mean I’m not a hero? No, far from it.
A hero doesn’t expect a red carpet every time he or she enters a room. A hero doesn’t expect praise or thanks. A hero is simply a hero, not for any other reason. I am a hero. For when someone is in trouble, who is the first to dive into action? The public? The police? No. It is me, it is ChokingVictim. And when I fall to the floor, gulping and grabbing for air as my throat closes against my control, who is momentarily distracted from their wrong-doing? The criminals, giving me just enough time to save the day (in 20-30 minutes, once I awake from my lack-of-oxygen induced blackout). Yes, perhaps I may have a 0% success rate and a 100% mortality rate in my heroic deeds; perhaps I haven’t been able to assist anyone in my tenure as a superhero, as I am always laying limp and motionless on the floor; perhaps I do block the doorway for medical and emergency personnel. Yet the day will come when this city recognizes me for the necessity I am, for the hero I am. The day will come when I dive into action, throat quickly closing on itself, body falling atop a quadriplegic criminal who cannot move my limp, unconscious torso. And on that day, I will be the man who wrangled the wrong-doer, who brought justice to the city; I will be the hero the city needs. I am the ChokingVictim.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They said Number One was on the run. She'd gotten away from her bodyguards and vanished. Number Two, and none of the rest of us have bumped up, and we hadn't gotten a ransom notice or anything. We are pretty sure she ran off on her own. I'd been Twenty-Two for oh, a year now. Being this high up, it's pretty good, and it's pretty stable. I was born Number 2401. Now, I'm Number Twenty-Two, small enough to spell it out in words. Before I hit 1000, as far as I can tell, only a few newborns were inserted ahead of me in the ranking. Or at least one. The current Number One was born 1556, when I still hadn't gotten out of the 2000's. She's twenty-seven years old now, she's held the rank for two years, and I've never met her person-to-person. We hear a lot about her. She sometimes gives interviews. Makes appearances. But they say she's shy. They say she's brilliant. They say a lot of things. I'd like to meet her, if they can figure out where she's hiding and bring her back. I'm on my way home from a meeting with the First Hundred Council, I've been in them since my teens. Me and Number One, we were the youngest for a while there, but she was always too far ahead of me for socialization, and her being a few years younger always felt like too much of a difference. Anyway, when we got home, the guards got out and escorted me to my building. Most of the team has been with me for years, their numbers are all in the billions, and they change hourly; calling them their number is stupid, so they still use names. I kind of miss having a regular name. We're friends, as much friends as we're able to be. I give them what help I can. The only way for them to get up is for billions of people to die, and none of them is genocidal like that, and working directly with a Hundreder gives them some tiny, side benefits that they'd otherwise never have a chance to see. I guess I'm kind of rambling now. I've had a few shocks this evening. You see, Bernita was opening my door, she's one of my guards, and the other guard that was escorting me inside, Hank, he told me ""Hey, you went up to 21 now."" Sure enough. I got a notification in my earpiece that Number One must have died, that Number Two had just gone up a notch. When I got inside, I sent Hank and Bernita away, started my evening routine. I keep thinking I should get married at some point, but you know, it's kind of hard to find someone at the right level for me. I'm pretty young, compared to the rest of the Hundreders, and they're about the only peer group I have. So anyway, I was just you know, puttering about. On evenings after a council meeting, I like to remind myself of how real people live, and make my own dinner, just have the house to myself. Some folk celebrate an upgrade. For me, it means one of my colleagues just died. I didn't know Number One, but I mourned the missed opportunity. Someone was in my house. She came out when I found my vegetables out of place in the crisper. I recognized her immediately from her interviews, from her speeches. ""You've got to help me,"" Number One said. ""I think ... something's terribly wrong."" But she wasn't Number One anymore. A glowng Zero floated over her head. ----- **Bonus Content** This was stuff I cut, but the response has been positive enough that I'm going to just add it here at the end. ----- The number is not wholly random--genetic screening, astrology, magic? I don't know. We call it the System, and it's ancient. Whatever it is, it determines a person's ""potential."" Potential for what? We don't know. But those born with lower numbers seem to be the best and the brightest. The most capable. Going places. The First Hundred include brilliant scientists, political leaders, the bulk of our geniuses. And me. I don't really think I'm anything special. I had a lot of advantages, growing up. Got into the best schools, had the best opportunities, but I always seemed resoundingly average. Almost disappointingly so, according to my parents. I never cared much. I always wanted to be normal. When I hit a Thousand, I stopped being a person, and couldn't ever really be normal again. We're all just numbers, really, but when I was a 1001, people still called me by name. When I was born and 2401 appeared over my fuzzy baby head, my parents were surprised. They were in the ten-thousands, and babies are usually in the same range as their parents. But occasionally someone like me crops up. There are some people who think infants should automatically fall in at the end of the line. They think that they shouldn't have their ""promotions"" delayed so some dumb baby can skip ahead. Those people are idiots. Our entire culture is based on the fact that the First Hundred are, in some measurable, *quantifiable,* way, superior to the everyone else. I've been told that my entire life. Now that I'm one of the First Hundred, I don't really believe it. Most of us are certainly in the top percentile of *something* but that doesn't really make us *better.* There's jerks, there's assholes, there's stubborn, intractable fools among us, just like in any other set. The number isn't there right away, it only activates after the first hour or so. Our population has been stable in the ten-billions for generations, and there are always people coming in and out of the queue. The System waits for someone in the right range to die, upgrades a few thousand people behind that person, and puts the baby in at the end. This serves two purposes: One: the baby doesn't directly inherit the dead person's number. That's just grisly. Two: It safeguards against someone getting into the First Hundred while too young. Usually. The System might need to be adjusted, if anyone remembers how. Number One caused an uproar when she reached One Hundred at the age of thirteen. She was sixteen when I bumped up that far, and I guess things were hard on her during those three years. It was hard enough on me at nineteen; I don't know how she survived. ----- **Additional Comments:** The numbers: They're not actually there; it's an enhanced-reality projection. Everyone gets at least baseline-tier augmentation implants, usually around the time they start walking. The System takes its measurements throughout gestation and finalizes and assigns the baby's rank after birth. Also, there's some nanotechnology going on, and stuff like that, because you know, science fiction and all. The narrator isn't too clear on the details, just like the average non-parent isn't too clear about what goes on in a typical delivery room in modern times. He's also not too clear on how the System works, as a whole, for similar reasons. The System's inner workings are also kept secret to avoid manipulation. He's high enough in rank to learn more, if he wanted, but he kind of resents how he could never have a normal life, and how the System stole his identity.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I had always hated hospitals. The sterile smell, the white walls, I found it all just so... blank? I'm not sure how I would put it. I had only really stayed in one once before, when I was a child. I had had my appendix removed. I remember waking up after the operation, feeling nauseous, a large, grunting nurse shoving a needle roughly into my arm, eating soupy applesauce and stale sandwiches. I had said to myself then I would never eat hospital food again, but for the past few weeks I've been eating nothing but those stale sandwiches, and the applesauce. I swear every bite I take I can feel them mocking me. But it's all as well I suppose. I've got maybe a few more days left in me, I suppose. Everyday I felt weaker, every time I lifted an arm I ached a little more, and if I had to have some little twenty-something year old intern clean my ass again I might just reach over and pull the plug myself.

I'm sorry. You mustn't think I'm hopeless, or that I've given up. I'm just ready to go on. The cancer won the war a long time ago, and I'm ready. If you had asked me yesterday, I might have said I was scared, that I wasn't ready. But any fears I had about it had left with him.

He came in the middle of the night, while the rest of the patients slept, I lied awake staring the blinking lights on the machines that invaded my veins, my nose, my dick. The door creaked open, I heard a person enter and quietly shut it. Without looking up, I closed my eyes and said, ""I'm fine nurse, I don't need wiped right now.""

""Look at me, Nate."" came a familiar voice, the voice of a man

I turned my head to face the person and at once I knew he was. He looked more like me than my own son. But how, I couldn't imagine. I still can't. Before me stood myself, the spitting image of what I had looked like in my late thirties. I-he-wore a button up shirt with a red tie, sleeves rolled up, black slacks, done up hair. I looked him up and down, shaking my head.

""Y-you... how-?''

""Because you should know."" he said. ""You should know. Everyone deserves to know what might've been, even if they don't like it.""

I tried to wrap my head around what I saw. The whole time I had been battling the cancer, I had never once been so weak that my mind was lost. Never hallucinated, never forgotten things. And he stood there, as solid as I was, with my eyes, ears, my face. I still just stared at him, jaw agape. If he noticed, he didn't seem to mind, as if he had done this a thousand times.

""Mind if I sit down?"" he asked casually.

""Um.. no."" I pointed to the chair by my bed. I reached for the little control panel by the bed and took the bed out of reclining position, sitting me up so I could face him better. He sat down, pulled out his cell phone, and started texting, paying me no mind. He did that for about five minutes until he put it away and looked back to me.

""Sorry. That was important. Work stuff.""

I shook my head to show it was alright, still trying to grasp what I was seeing.

""So... you're here to-?""

""To show you what might've been. Yes. As I'm sure you've gathered, I'm you. So answer me a question. Are you happy?""

""Am I happy?""

""Yeah. With what you've accomplished. With what you've done. I suppose I should ask-what *did* you do in this life?""

""I-I'm a free-lance writer. I made a nice living. I enjoyed it.""

""Yeah... I remember we did used to love writing. Ever get anything really successful? Did you write the next great novel?""

""Well, I don't know. I got a lot of books published. You know, those fantasy stories I-I mean, we- used to work on. People like them, I think. I mean, they're not Harry Potter or... well, what do you do?""

""I am a leader of men."" he said smugly, with smirk on his face. ""I'm a senator and I will become the President of the United States next week. I'll then get re-elected, and I'll be fondly remembered years to come.""

""President?"" I asked, with disbelief. ""I could've been the *President*?""

""Yeah. If you had listened to dad when he suggested law school. Things would've gone a lot different for you. Instead, you're a writer... not as successful as you hoped, eh?"" All of a sudden, I could feel him judging me, as if he was disappointed in his alternate self, unimpressed with a few published books.

""Hey! I never once was struggling for money. I lived nicely, I had everything I needed and I lived in comfort. I was never unhappy!""

""But were you ever *more*? I live on a senator's salary and soon I'll live in the White House, with all the comforts a man could ever want in his life. So really, how can you say that what you've done is *actually* significant?""

I sighed, feeling almost a little ashamed. If this is what I could've been... how could I not feel at least a little disappointed? ""I suppose John and Denise will like playing in the White House. I heard there's a theatre and bowling alley in there.""

He frowned. ""Who's John and Denise?"" he asked.

I looked up at him, confused. ""Your-our-children? Your son and daughter? They should be about five and three right now, considering how old you are.""

""I don't have time for children, Nate. I'm a busy senator.""

I raised my eyebrows at him, surprised. ""Well, I guess Bonnie at least will like living in D.C.""

""Bonnie?""

I was shocked. ""Bonnie? *Our wife*?""

""Oh. My wife's name is Teresa. I married into her family for money to help launch my presidential campaign. She's nice enough, I suppose.""

Suddenly, I didn't feel so low anymore. He may not have noticed, but I found myself looking down on *him*. Being president didn't sound so amazing, I suppose. He checked his watch.

""Ah. Better be going. I have a meeting with my assistants."" He said. He pushed aside the chair and headed towards the door. I stopped him.

""Nate."" I called to him.

He turned and looked at me. ""I really hope you're happy. I hope you change the world."" I told him.

He smiled and said, ""Of course I will.""

And then he was gone.

So no. I'm not afraid. I'm not hung up on what might've been. I'm not a leader of men, but I don't think I was ever meant to be. I'm more than that. I am content.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The Emperor sat on an invisible throne, which all of the dignitaries and world leaders could only imagine being lavish. No one in the audience of at least three hundred people dare speak, unless they wanted to offend the Emperor. There he sat, face a pale incarnation of death, with a single black tear running down his right cheek, his black and white striped shirt, the colours contrasting and alternating back and forth like the ruler's mood swings. He chose not to wear a crown, but instead a beret. With a flourish, the emperor stood up and ran to the front of the stage, causing the first three rows to flinch. He put a hand over his mouth and pointed at them, laughing at them silently. The first lady of the Czech Republic fainted.
The mime pressed an imaginary button on and invisible wall, and his right-hand man descended in a nonexistent elevator. The ambassador's eyes were wide, his face red, and his face coated in a sheen of sweat. He reached the bottom of the stage, and tried to walk out of the elevator, but his way was blocked. The door hadn't opened yet. He felt in front of him the next time, and exited. He walked to the front of the stage as his master appeared to ride a bicycle back to his throne. The ambassador wiped back what little hair he had left, and put a slightly open fist in front of his mouth.
""Lesser powers of the Earth,"" He said, his voice echoing through the PA system, though it still cracked at points. ""We have gathered you today for the annual day of tribute to our benevolent master, Pierre. In exchange for letting you have the illusion of control over your respective countries, you must-""
""We all know what we have to do, we've been doing this for ten years, for God's sake! "" An American general barked out, everyone in the theater's eyes bugging out at his outburst. ""But I'm putting an end to it!""
He took out a pistol from his boot and emptied the clip at the emperor, the bullets disappearing with a spark a few inches from his face.
Before the general could move, the emperor pointed a finger at the general's head, put his thumb up, and flicked his hand back, showering all of the tuxedo clad Germans behind the general with blood, bone and brains. The blood-splattered leaders could not scream or show any disapproval of the action or they would be next. The only sound was a startled gasp from the general's wife, and that was almost too much. She could only look at the ground. The sweaty ambassador, though shocked, moved on with his speech.
""...You must entertain our lord in the manner he sees fit. The first to entertain, as is tradition, is the President of the United States.""
The mime king started pulling on an invisible rope, and the President came out from stage right, wearing nothing but a tutu and a baby bonnet. He started pirouetting across the stage as well as he could with a body built for politics, face completely blank. The emperor sprinted up to him, and started dancing with him, jumping and jerking him around so much that it looked like he would cry. Across the stage, forward and backwards they went in a terrifying whirl, until the President slipped and crushed the mime's toe beneath his foot.
""Ooh, *merdre!*"" He said, the entire audience gasping. The mime king tried to make an imaginary anvil crush the President, but the spell was broken. All at once, the leaders of the world rushed the stage to rip their oppressor limb from limb, finally able to release the tension of tyranny, and having a good enough excuse to kill a mime.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Jones. I need you to do something very important."" the President's voice came through my phone, blaring into my ears. ""I need you to kill the man sitting in the Presidential Chair.""
My mind went blank. What could he possibly mean by that? Is this one of his classic pranks? Or is there actually an impostor in the Oval Office?
I start heading over to the Oval Office while the President explains the situation in more detail, his kidnapping, the doppel-ganger they created, and his escape from their prison. It sounded like he had been through hell.
Readying my gun, I walk up to the door of the Oval Office. Phone still in my ear, I slam the door open, pointing my gun in the direction of the Presidential Chair. The President is sitting there, phone in hand, a wide grin on his face. For a fake, he looks surprisingly real.
I fire; and hear the gunshot twice. Once from my gun, the other from my phone.
. . .I just killed the President of the United States.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Around the block I walked and walked, pretending you were with me. Through the neighborhoods we used to stroll through hand in hand. We got a couple slices. Just plain cheese for me, sausage for you. Our favorites. We petted Zeke's big mastiff, and Isaac's little pup on the corner of 18th and Frederick. Threw out our greasy pizza wrappers in the trash can, and watched them spill out onto the sidewalk. We even shook our heads and shrugged at each other in defeat as it happened. But we didn't make it back to our apartment. Back to the bed we sleep in every night. They came to take you away from me. They said you were dead, that I was sick and needed help. Threw me in a padded room. But I'll remember you, and I'll get out. We'll be together again. I'll take you to Paris like you always wanted.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"So how does being ordered to kill me make you feel?
I don't know.
I can't help you sleep at night if you don't open up.
Well, I guess, it's just that. It feels like a normal day at the office. So I just feel normal, I guess.
Go on.
Um. I usually get amped up before an assassination. A lot of my sports-playing patients have some difficulty managing their testosterone. Yeah, maybe I do. I see red sometimes. Just like, I absolutely have to kill that person. It's not even about the money. I just want to feel their blood drip down my forearm. I love that moment of fear when they know they're about to die, but they don't know how.
We're making great progress here. What's your normal spectrum of emotions during an assassination?
It'll be easier if I demonstrate.
Feel free to.
Ok. Well, I'm calm when I walk in. Like I am now. As I get closer to the target, I start feeling this uncontrollable anger.
I can see your arms shaking.
Yeah. I know it's better to kill from afar, but once I feel the kill coming on, I can't stop myself from getting up close and personal. Right now, I can feel you breathing. I love that. Better image for when I make my move.
You're doing great.
Thanks. So, I take my assassination knife out of my pocket. If it's in a more public, easily discovered place like this I plan on going straight for the heart. I know I should use chemicals, but knives are more fun.
Why do you jeopardize your safety to enjoy the kill?
Well, see, here I am going towards your throat. You feel what your face is doing right now?
It's contorted in absolute fear. Mouth's about half-open, completely dry, my eyes are wide in shock.
Right, and as I get closer, there's a brief moment of acceptance.
I can feel that. I know I'm going to die, and I'm not ready. It freaks me out.
See, this is the moment I live for. My hand picks up in speed, like the fear is a magnet. And----
Guess I should go find a new therapist.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was so easy to see who wanted out. The cowards. The assholes. They were all selfish because they knew it would only be a matter of time before they'd be gone. I had heard about the old days, the days when people would brutallly murder themselves using knives, guns, and ropes. But now it was all too simple. Those who wanted to die acted as they pleased while those who wanted to survive had to act impeccable at all times. Some people thrived in this new way of living, opening doors for the elderly, allowing people to go ahead of them in line, always saying please and thank you. But I saw through it. They were all as fucking selfish as the rest. Most people would accept these honorable acts as gratuitious and kind, believing that people behaved that way because they truly cared. Well that's fucking bullshit.
No one cared. No one gave a shit. They were doing everything for themselves, to live longer or to die sooner, as long as it was what they wanted. The other day, in the grocery store, I saw an old man lose his footing in aisle 3 right by the canned peaches and fall on his face. This man was a skeleton with loose skin clinging to his bones, his hands disjointed and immovable, the hair that remained upon his head was wispy, frail, and white. So as this old geezer is laying there having a staring contest with the floor up trots this lean, bronzed man who must drink a cup from the fountain of youth every morning with his wheaties. And this man tries to assist the mummy up from the floor only to recieve a loud grunt and mumbled obscenity. Know what he did? Fucking. Smiled. His plush lips pulled back to reveal award winning pearly whites.
That is fucked up.
Those two men were probably the same age, maybe the old guy was actually younger, who knows. But that's what no one sees. Society changed to weed out the assholes but all it did was make everyone crazy. You either were unhappy and dying or fake and living. It's all a load of goddamn bullshit.
Want to hear the punchline to this joke of a world? I probably don't look any better than the guy in aisle 3. This world made me angry. This world is killing me.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""It's going to be fine.""
My fiancée squeezed my hand and offered me a small smile. Her words resonate through the huge courtroom. I returned it weakly, staring at the six chairs that held so much presence in the room, even when empty.
“I hope so. I promise I’ll try to not screw it up.”
“I trust you. We can do this. It’s not a huge deal anyway, is it? Just a marriage thing, you know.
___________________________________________________________________________
The Department of Marital Affairs owned a large courthouse in the centre of the city. It fell short next to the tall skyscrapers surrounding it - a proud but dumpy building. A large dome was the glass canopy to the main courtroom; it sectioned off on either side into offices and smaller rooms. The whole structure was framed by a large metal fence - bleak rods of metal standing stiffly together. It ended in two pillars a width apart at the front of the building, fiercely guarded by two statues on each - a man and a woman, Zeus and Hera. They frowned sternly at the passers-by, protecting the sanctity of the courthouse from them.
The main courtroom - where Beth and I sat now - was very grand. The sun spilt through the dome, oozing honeyed rays into every darkened crevice. The large panel of chairs stood up on a platform, overlooking the room. There were two doors on either side - the Deliberation room and the Officiation room. There was another room that branched off from the latter, known as the Cessation room - or the Cess Pit, as it was so affectionately nicknamed. It was the room that couples were led into and told in a gentle voice that a board of total strangers didn't think that they had a life together and that their marriage therefore isn’t approved by the state and we apologise but official processes must be started straight away.
We had been waiting in there for some time. Our session was supposed to start at 5, but we hadn't even entered the room until quarter to 6. The woman that burst out of the room in tears was a tell-tale sign for what taken so long. The ticking of the wall clock resonated through the room. I couldn't even speak to Beth. There wasn't really anything to say. Talking would just make things worse.
The proceedings were very strict; purposed to try and stop divorce from occurring in society. It was deemed a problematic issue that inspired too many murders and crimes, and therefore stopping it altogether was the way to go. Every woman looked forward to her session with the Board - she would squeeze herself into a fancy dress, make up her face and do her hair up all nice. It was just what happened. Less taboo than a wedding, but yet the same importance and position. If the Board deemed a couple worthy, they could go forth and be married. If not, the court would have to go through a process of relocating one of the persons - to cut off any lingering feelings and eliminate the chance of elopement.
After what had seemed like ages, the door opened and the team of jurors walked out in an orderly fashion. They lined up behind the board and sat down, already looking us up and down.
“This is the Court of Marital Affairs. Session number two-oh-five-eight, Mr. David Pike and Miss Beth Smytheman will now commence. You may now be seated.”
We took our seats. My chair gave a creaking lament as I sat down. It lurched backwards slightly.
“May you please confirm your identities?” The end Board member asked.
“I am David Pike, born 5th June 1979 at Osstown, Delaware.”
“Beth Julia Smytheman, born November 8th 1986 at Summer Hills, Delaware.”
We had been through the practice drill hundreds of times - the answers came easily.
“Mr. Pike, at what level were you educated at?” The first jury member asked pointedly. I couldn't see her eyes behind the gleam of her glasses, but I could feel them running up and down me inscrutably.
“Tertiary. St. Mary’s Primary, Oak Bay High, Whitfield College. Graduated with a degree in law.” I shifted in my seat, feeling the chair rock forward suddenly.
They directed the same question at Beth. She answered swiftly and ended with a wide, nervous smile flashed in the jury’s direction.
Their focus settled on me again. “Your current occupation, Mr Pike?”
“Marketing and Research team at Dole’s Pharmaceuticals.”
She checked the form that we had handed her and nodded approvingly at my answer.
My seat made an ugly sound as it moved once more. I bent forward slightly to see the issue ; one of the rubber stoppers wasn’t guarding the leg. I looked back up and noticed the second jury member look at me and scribble something on her clipboard. I moved forward in the chair, embarrassed. It screeched against the floor.
“Miss Smytheman. What is your occupation?”
Worry burdened her expression. “Unemployed. I graduated just six mon-”
The fourth juror raised her hand to silence her. “Have you got the evaluation forms?”
The evaluation forms were to test for compatibility. They’re bloody useless - based on some decades-old system that didn’t work properly anymore. I pulled my briefcase on the table and opened the locks with a loud click. Rifling through the papers, I found the forms. Standing up, I straightened my jacket and the stairs and handed it to them. I could feel their burning gaze at the back of my suit and became aware of my loud, clunky footsteps. I took my seat as they looked over the forms.
“Please stand up for the board.”
Hesitantly, I stood up and moved around to the front of the desk. Beth tucked her chair in and followed suit. Damn.
She fingered her bracelet nervously as their gaze scoured us. The middle juror lowered her glasses.
“Mr. Pike, it says on your form that you were in an accident in March 6th, 2004. May you please show us the complications of that accident?”
Which was a nicer way of asking to see my leg - or rather, absence of one.
I rolled up my trouser leg reluctantly, and let them take a good look at my prosthetic limb. It wasn’t really a bother anymore. It was only from the knee down, and worked perfectly fine. You wouldn’t notice it- there were no signs except a small limp from the dependence of that leg. It didn’t count towards anything - just another way for the Board to humiliate a couple, to prove their power.
I let the fabric fall over the top of it without permission. The room was silent except for the soft scratching of pencil against paper.
The second juror interrupted it with a dry tone.
“The Board shall now retire for deliberation. We shall reconvene tomorrow at-” she briefly checked her watch. “Six pm. Thank you.”
That was it. Sharp and sweet.
We rose as they made their exit. As soon as the door closed, Beth’s posture dropped and her smile faltered. She hunched over the desk, supporting herself with her hands.
“My god, that was scary.” “Hey. At least we’re done, right?”
She looked up at me.
“I’m so sorry. I knew not having a job would do it.”
“Don’t worry about that- did you hear my chair? Christ, They’re going to think I’m some kind of imbecile now, stupid enough to be distracted by a chair, out of all things in one of the most important moments of my life. Fucking - some kind of brainiac, I am. And my leg, on top of all that.”
She sighed and looked at me. “I guess all we can do is wait now. It’s only tomorrow.” I knew that she was running the session through her mind - picking out all her faults and the complications that they might bring.
“It’s not like we can do anything anyway. It’s done. Don’t beat yourself up about it, alright?”
“Let’s just leave before the next session starts. I don't think I can stay here much longer.” Outside the courtroom, a couple sat together, holding hands, rattling through masses of well-prepared responses. They were much better practiced than we had been. One answered the other’s question - rapidly but yet deliberately.They visibly flinched as the receptionist called their names and directed them to the last room. They were probably going to end up married. I desperately hoped that we would too.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Morn joined us at the bar tonight. A stranger six months ago, he was now a fixture. My Trekkie buddies and I secretly called him Morn because no one knew his real name. He came in, sat down, drank for a few hours, then left. Never spoke a word to anyone but the barkeep.
A real enigma, ya know? Average height. Average build. The only thing that stood out was that he was Asian. No one knew anything about him, but we all got used to seeing him sit quietly at the bar. Well, tonight, that was going to change. Tonight, I had about 5 shots and feeling particularly brave.
""Hey buddy! How the hell are ya?"" OK, note to self, I am past the point of volume control. Morn flinched in surprise, then looked at me askance.
""I... am well. How are you?"" He speaks! He had a bit of an accent, but hell, I was slurring my words too, so who was I to judge?
""Well, buddy, I've got a problem. My friends and I, we've seen you come around for half a year now, but we don't know your name! My name is John. As in, John Luke Picard."" I laughed at my own lame joke, but Morn was unperturbed. Must be that infamous Asian stoicism.
""My name is... Also John."" He hesitated to give out his name, like he had to think about it.
""Well ain't that a hoot? Barkeep! Give my new friend John another one of whatever he wants."" Why the hell not, finally got Morn... I mean, John, to talk. Time to celebrate. ""John, tell me about yourself."" I sat next to him. And, I noticed I had the attention of everyone at the bar. Apparently, I wasn't the only one curious about our new old friend here.
John hesitated, and a haunted look flashed across his eyes. Poor bastard. Probably running from some she-bitch ex-wife.
""I... Would you like to hear a joke?"" OK, he didn't want to share anything about himself. Fine. I felt like laughing anyways.
""Sure!""
""What's the difference between a rat in America and a rat in North Korea?""
""...got me. Shoot, tell us."" At least he's telling a joke no one's heard before.
""In America, a rat is a pet or a pest. In Korea, a rat is a meal for a family of four. Who are starving. In the camps. Because their great grandfather committed the great crime of sneezing during the inauguration of their Great Leader Kim Il Song."" Silence. My alcohol fogged brain struggled to comprehend what was just said.
""Uh. That... That's not a funny joke, John.""
""No? Forgive me, I must be doing this wrong. Let me try again: In Korea, a rat is the most well-fed creature because they can sneak into granaries to eat food reserved for our dear leader. In Korea, a rat has all of its paws because it has not suffered through frost bite. A rat did not have to witness his only daughter raped before his eyes before she was disemboweled. A rat was not forced to kill his wife to provide sustenance for his sons. A rat did not watch the effects of malnutrition turn an active boy into a listless living skeleton. A RAT is granted a mercifully quick death if it is discovered. A rat is the envy of my past."" Abruptly, John stood.
""Forgive me, I got lost in my memories.""
And with that, John left the bar. And I went home and hugged my family.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Weeee ooooo weeee oooo weee ooooo...""
""Oh for fuck's sake..."" Winston murmured.
""Weeee oooo weeee oooo weeee oooo...."" the officer continued as he trotted down the sidewalk towards him, ""pull over mister!""
""I heard you,"" he cried, and stepped out of the flow of foot traffic and waited for his the officer to meet him.
""Awful, astonishingly atrocious, absolutely abhorrent!"" The officer cried, skipping up in his designer pants and form fitting leather jacket. ""Just what do you think you're wearing, silly?""
Winston looked down at his watch, and then down at his clothes. He didn't see anything wrong. ""Look I'm late for work, I didn't have time to do laundry so not everything matches, I'm sorry.""
""Not as sorry as I am,"" the man lisped, ""look at you, brown shoes and a black belt?! Are you kidding me? That's, like, fashion 101.""
""I know."" ""No seriously,"" the officer said playfully, ""you should have learned about that in fashion 101, or did you skip your mandatory courses?""
Winston played with the dirt, pushing it around with his shoes, ""I may have missed a class or two.""
""Oh jeez,"" the officer gasped, ""this is like, SUPES cereal, ya know?"" Winston looked back down at his watch again, beginning to be impatient with this pull over.
The officer jumped up and gasped, covering his mouth with both of his hands, ""is that a digital watch?! Those are illegal for anyone over the age of thirteen, you know that right?!""
Winston covered his eyes, rubbing his temples he tried to be patient.
""I have grounds to arrest you right here and now!"" the officer cried, flipping his hand limply forward, ""if it weren't for your dapper-dan hair I'd slap some cuffs on those law breaking wrists and take you to fashion reeducation!""
Winston's demeanor changed significantly, he felt no longer flippant or unappologetic towards the fashion-peace keeper. ""I'm sorry,"" he urged the man, ""it was on an honest mistake, it wont happen again. I'll go home and read the fashionista bible tonight, cover to cover and I'll match my clothing, I promise."" He held his hands and knelt before the officer, ""please don't send me to reeducation.""
The officer looked on him with scrutiny, hands were placed heavily on his tilted hips, ""hmmmmmmm,"" he said through squinted eyes, ""I'll let you off with a warning.""
""Thank you!"" Winston cried, clutching the shirt of the officer, ""thank you, it won't happen again!""
""Well I should hope not! I don't want to talk to you again,"" he said, waving his finger. Something caught his eye behind Winston, ""hey, you sillypants!"" the officer cried across the street pointing at a woman, ""Don't you know you can't wear white before labor day!"" With his accusation he held up a flashing light and trotted across the busy intersection, ""weeee oooo weeee ooooo weee oooo!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Art is Art. A dance is art. A story is art. The creations of the mind are all art.

Daniel wasn't an artist. He din't have the skill, or patience, or even the creative mind for art. He wasn't an artist at all, but he loved art. It was very late in the day, and Gas station Daniel worked at was finally closing up. He took the trash for the day and walked out back to dispose of it. As he opened the door, a splash of red pelted his face. He was awestruck for a moment, before realizing. In the faint utility light of the diner, he could see it.

He could see art. The art of murder. He could hear the screams of pain, the blood paint, the shine of the knife, the dancing slashes. It was a masterpeice. She fell down. Dead.

""What the, you were watching?"" The killer said. He took a step towards the cashier.

""Wait wait wait! Hold on!"" Daniel begged. The man stopped only for a moment. ""I don't care about people begging for their lives."" He took another step. Daniel took a deep breath and finally screamed what he wanted to say out aloud.

""Teach me to make art! Please!""

The man with the knife smiled. ""Okay. Lets dump the trash first, okay?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I’m looking at the life support stats and I can still hear the computer’s voice in my head, even though I disabled it hours ago, it’s right there in red text and my mind automatically fills in the blanks, that gender-neutral voice, the matter-of-fact way in which it would read aloud to me, as if I needed a reminder, “Oxygen levels, twelve percent. Situation critical. Return to base immediately.”

It’s one of these situations I’ve only read about in cheap sci-fi, but I can’t even panic anymore. That’s it. I’m like two days from the nearest base, I don’t think there are any other craft anywhere near this sector. I don’t know what to do. I got out the spacesuit, I hooked up the suit’s oxygen to the ship’s air supply. And what did that do for me, twenty minutes?

I mean, I guess I could hold out hope that the monitor is malfunctioning, that maybe there’s more air in here than the ship’s capable of reading. But I don’t think so, and yeah, I went through emergency protocol, right, I did every step right? Is there something I’m missing? Because I don’t think so. I think … I turned the oxygen down, OK. That bought me an hour and a half, but I’m definitely feeling it, a little light-headed.

What else? I did the spacesuit, right? Maybe it’s better if I just crank it back up again, I mean, what’s the ideal situation? Would I rather have three and a half hours of regular oxygen levels or six and three quarters hours of what it’s currently set to right now? Either way, I’m dead. And six and three quarters hours, it’s like, I don’t have a headache right now, but I’ll definitely have a headache by the end. I don’t think I want to go out with a headache.

Maybe if I could get it to five hours. I won’t have to start really freaking out for another three. Shit, this is bad. I’m still trying to piece together what happened, autopilot was on, right, it must have been a really, perfectly timed piece of debris or asteroid or whatever. And why didn’t the computer seal the leak right away? I don’t know. I have no idea if there’s any justifying this.

And I sent out the distress, right, but that doesn’t matter, they’re not going to get it until it’s too late. OK, I’ve got to stop freaking out here, I’ll have plenty of time to freak out when there’s no time left. What can I do for five hours? I’m not going to watch a movie. I guess I could watch a movie. Do I really want to zone out though? My last moments of existence? What should I be doing?

Do I want to like reflect on life? I don’t know. I don’t want to get myself bummed out here. You know it’s like whenever this stuff happens in a movie, there’s always one obvious solution that’s never obvious until right when it looks like there’s nothing that’s left to do but give up and die. But this is worse, man, it’s like I almost wish that I could give up here, but I’m still stuck on that idea, like if I just keep looking through this emergency manual, something’s going to pop out at me here.

I don’t think it’s going to happen. I wish once in my life I had watched or at least made an effort to pay attention to one of those artsy movies where nothing winds up working out in the end. But no, just blockbusters for me, and now I can’t turn it off, that never say die voice in my head, it’s crazy man, it’s like when I found my lock from high school, I was positive if I stared at it long enough, the combination would come back to me, and I’d start in with some random numbers, but nothing. Whatever was in there, that’s gone.

I’m fucking dead. I wish I could override the computer and just get it over with, because I don’t know, I’m trying to stay calm here but I can’t do it, I wish it were at least cold in here or something, but it’s just the oxygen that got hit, not the heat, not whatever it is that powers this stupid monitor in front of me. I don’t want to keep staring ahead at the oxygen levels, it’s going down in real time before my eyes, but it’s so slow and I’m conscious of every second and … did I mention how I can’t get the computer’s voice out of my head? And it won’t let me just cut the air, I’d black out, I can’t believe there’s nothing stronger in this med-kit than ibuprofen and, fuck, am I getting a headache? Or is this just a freak-out headache? Maybe I’ll just pump it up, all the oxygen, whatever, an hour and a half, I’ll put on a movie, I won’t ever have to worry about how it ends, just get me nice and oxygened up here, ending are the worst part anyway, at least I’ll be comfortable, at least it’s warm in here.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Sarah poked at the excel spreadsheet and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the helpdesk guy to arrive. Oh god, he's so creepy, I hope he can just fix this quickly. Her excel continued to blink on and off, caught in a loop.
""Fair maiden, doth this foul spell vex you,"" Sir Alan asked with a deep bow.
""Its locked up again, I'm so sick of this crap, when are we getting new computers?""
Sir Alan shook his head, ""Pardon me, fine maiden, please repeat. This old knight doesn't have the ears of youth any longer."" He looked down shamefully at his body, staring at his khaki pants with the stain on them.
""Good sir knight, I meant that awful wizard continues to jam my loom because I turned down his hand in marriage."" She put her arms around herself defensively and raised her breasts a couple inches producing a clear view of her bosom. ""Surely, a lass like myself shouldn't have to defend herself alone against such evil?""
Sir Alan smiled, ""Surely! It would stain my honor to let such proceedings occur uninterrupted by a just sword such as mine."" He mashed the keyboard, clicked on the mouse, and waited.
""Oh dear knight, you're so assertive and manly. This battle is too much for me,"" she said performing a mock faint.
""I am only the King's humble servant,"" he added. ""Ah see here, I have broken the spell, your loom is back to how it was.""
""My hero! The realm is lucky to have one such as you,"" she said as she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.
""It is my..."" Sarah cleared her throat, ""Hey, so is it working? You haven't said a word in like 5 minutes. Its kinda creepy.""
Alan stared at his brown work shoes careful to avoid any eye contact. ""Umm yeah, it was a bug with the VBS script. I just had to kill the macro. You should be good,"" he stammered as he quickly walked away.
""Yeah, whatever, thanks,"" said Sarah distractedly as she went back to her work. She turned her head to make sure he was gone and added, ""weirdo.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The generals were waiting around in the parlor, worried silent faces filled the room, occasionally interjected by a dry cough. The highly decorated men had grown old indeed. Tonight they had been called to rise immediately. The superior leader's cold had rapidly aggravated over night. It was the crack of dawn, the dying time for mythical heroes and half-gods indeed, but that wasn't an allusion anyone would dare to think out aloud: Kim had not fathered any children yet. Besides, his killing spree throughout the ranks of his military had certainly strengthened his power - or so they thought - but the new hierarchy was still delicate for the moment... All the old men were probably weighting it up separately but what would their conclusions mean?
Then the oldest one entered the room. He read the two lines, slowly, his voice sounded dull and fatigued.
""Your eternal leader commands you to go and die for our country, on the battlefields of glory, in a last thundering rise against the imperialist monsters! Tear their guts out and may Korea forever shine above all other nations, greater, brighter and forever unyielding!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Fear was the most powerful weapon that his country's military possessed.
Invasions simply were not financially feasible any anymore. Imagine if the Galactic Fleet had to be launched every time some rogue corner of a distant planet in the empire decided they wanted to make their own flag. The coffers of the Treasury would run dry in a few decades!
Far more efficient to let him destroy the enemy from the inside, particularly this enemy, a backwater planet, which inexplicably felt the need to rebel at least twice every decade. It would have been a waste to send a single destroyer to crush the uprising, in fact it probably would have flattered the rebels and encouraged them to make trouble faster next time. He hated busywork missions like these, but then again, he could have been assigned to fighting multi-system terrorist networks. Better stuck dealing with freedom fighters than any of that tricky business.
The rebel soldier he was looking at now was a nobody, cannon fodder, the pawn of a pawn. For God's sake, the poor soul was carrying an AK-47, more of an artifact than a weapon.
""Hello, are you a fighter?""
The foot soldier, a young man with a handsome face and a deep olive complexion, swiveled where he stood to see who had called him. ""I am... who are you, a traveller?""
A traveller? Wondering around a military facility? That didn't even merit a response.
He drew his weapon and fired a lethal pulse into the soldiers heart. Slowly stalking over to his victim, the shapeshifter bent over the body and looked into the young man's eyes. No fear. He'd died before he knew what was happening. He placed his hand right over the still fluttering heart of the dying rebel. Transformation was not just a physical sensation, it was a mental one. Just assuming the outward appearance of the enemy would have never helped much, to get anywhere important you needed memories. They felt like a cool, electric wave in his brain. New information sloshed around in his head, unintelligible and unfiltered, while his body writhed into the proper shape.
He stood up over the body of his first Earth victim without making an effort to hide it. Some of his colleagues preferred to clean up, but he always left the first body behind. It was more entertaining when the enemy knew he was there, hiding somewhere just in sight, laughing at their fear. He walked toward the base that his victim had been guarding, carefully searching for the name and appearance of his immediate commander.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Good afternoon madam, welcome to Genetrix, how may we help you?”
“Good afternoon. I, um, have an appointment.”
“Certainly madam. Name please?”
“Amanda Smith.”
“Thank you Amanda. Please take a seat. You will seen soon.”
Amanda selected a slightly off white coloured plastic chair in the corner of the room. There was no need to be so isolated, there was no one else in the room, besides the blonde-haired, blued-eyed, brilliant white, shiny teethed receptionist. Amanda’s leg spasmed, as she skimmed the daily news on her iContact. “Was she really ready? Would she pass?” the thoughts had swirled around her head for the past four months. This was how long the process had been. She was now at the final stage, if the results came back negative, she could finally have a child.
“Amanda Smith?”
Amanda jolted awake from her thoughts. This was it. She wiped her hands on her neatly pressed skirt, straightened her blouse and followed the consultant. “Hello Amanda, my name is Dr. Richard Walters. Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, Amanda, let’s get down to business. As you well know, this is the final stage. As we know, you have succeeded in improving that you are in peak physical health, with no future signs of serious disease, you are mentally healthy and physiologically sound. You have a steady income and a suitable saving account. You have a loving family with no signs of ill-health, a diverse set of friends and a caring husband. You display an exceptionally high IQ and EQ and your genes are perfect.”
The doctor paused.
“However, your husband has been tested positive for the MC1R protein.”
Amanda gasped, “But… he must only have one copy…”
“Indeed. You are correct. However, if your child has carries one copy and meets another person who has one copy, then their child may have the recessive trait. Technically, your husband shouldn’t even be alive.” “But can’t we try for a child and then you guys can test him or her later?”
The doctor gasped in shock. “And then what? *Kill* the child?!”
Amanda shrank in her chair. She had forgotten the Rules. “Sorry.” she squeaked.
“Ahem, yes. Well.” the doctor returned to his professional manner. “The situation is Amanda, we forbid you from having a child with your husband. If you truly to wish to have a child, you must use the sperm of another man.”
“What?!”
“Yes. We have interviewed your husband and he is completely competent to become a father if he so chooses. However, you must use an anonymous donor, or find another husband.”
Amanda was stunned. She had been so close. “I, err, think I need to speak to my husband. Thank you.”
“Thank you Amanda. And remember, don’t try anything smart, your child won’t thank you for it.” -045",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Hello, old friend. It’s been a few sunrises since you last sat in my shade. I am glad to see you one more time, but sad to see you so. You look so serene, but so frail. Where have gone those strong arms that I remember? Where is that spark in your eye? Mother, but I miss it so. When you looked at your woman, when you looked at your children and their children, when you looked at me. I will miss it most, I think.
I remember the warmth of your small hands as they cradled my seed. I remember your eager face and happy smile when my stem first broke the soil. I remember when you protected me from the animals and the winters. I remember when you relaxed in my shade, when you boasted about me to a succession of bored women, when you finally found the one that was as eager as you.
And I remember you, an old man, spending every warm day with your back against my trunk, reading or playing music or thinking. I will not ever forget your strength and your kindness. I am young still, but I will remember you until I am old and the world or age or sickness breaks me.
And now, you who gave me your heart and soul will now give me your body, to rest amongst my roots. I welcome you with open limbs. Now we will be together forever, my friend, my father, my love.
Thank you, for everything. Now come. Let the soil embrace you. I know you’ll understand the appeal.
----
-040 | [more](/r/vonboomslang)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He'd been this way for months. The hospitals could only do so much. The drugs had ravaged his body to a mere shadow of its old self. Was it really worth it for these few extra months of being fed through a tube and talked to like a child. Death would be better. No, death had to be better. It was happening soon now. He knew it. They knew it. The heart monitor sped up, his breathing became shallow, and then, ever so faintly, a voice fluttered into his ear ""Death is only the beginning..."" The man smiled, his lips cracking as he did so, a dribble of blood leaking out of his mouth. This was it. He was going to meet his maker. He was going to be free. He drew a final breath, sent a final stare, and was gone. Happy, rejoiced he prepared to enter eternal heaven. Paradise. He was ready. Blackness enveloped him and he thought no more. There was no more. The voice came to him again, softer this time, ""I lied."" And the man was dead.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Do you remember where you were when it came?
I was in my office when I heard the noise. A terrible screeching followed by a wave that shattered glass and shook every building in the city. All across the city people heard the noise far above their heads, and thus their curious minds compelled them to look for the source. We certainly found what we were looking for, but not a single person liked what they saw.
In our atmosphere there were well over a dozen.... spaceships. They looked like something straight out of some nerdy sci-fi movie. They were monstrosities of metal, dark gleaming skin forged to create the humongous beasts of war we saw before us. Each of them were huge, but one dwarfed all others. It was at the center of their formation, this...capital ship. I hesitate to even call it a ship, it seemed to me to be a flying metal island. It's intimidating metal hull seemed to go on forever, stretching far above us into the horizon. Cameras were being taken out all over town, each person determined to record this historic moment. It was actually because of all the pictures being taken that we can determine the exact moment they opened fire on us.
The ships turned their noses down towards the city, aiming their thousands of guns toward our helpless, pitiless species. Then they unleashed the fury of the gods. The first volley destroyed the entirety of the docks and the boardwalk, along with most the west side. The second volley obliterated downtown. I remember cowering under my desk, praying to every god I knew to please let this nightmare end. It seems the gods decided to answer me for once.
Right after the last of the second volley had hit their marks, there was once again a terrible screeching. I looked out my now destroyed window in horror, expecting the worst. Instead what I saw stunned me. Out of a rift in the sky came a magnificent pure white ship, bigger than even the capital ship of the enemies. It came out of the rift guns a-blazing, charging right for the enemy formation. Out of it poured our salvation. Thousands of missiles fired out across the sky, striking at the enemy ships, destroying half-dozen in one go. I remember standing up wordlessly, mouth agape, as I saw the brilliant explosions decorate our sky. After that it is a bit of a blur. I remember seeing hundreds of smaller ships blazing across the sky, I remember when the white ship leaped in front of the third volley, saving the lives of every person left in the city. And of course, I remember the end.
The white ship was no longer gleaming, no longer pure, no longer invincible. The white ship had so many holes in it, it barely looked like it could fly, let alone fight. Yet fight it did. While the white ship was dying, the enemies still had three of their ships left, one of which was their dreaded capital ship. The fate of my world hung in the balance, yet all I could do was stare dumbfounded at the sky. I am glad I at least had the sense to stare, otherwise I would have missed it. The last charge.
The white ship charged one last time at the enemy. It fired every last thing it had, tearing through one of the last enemy ships. They of course fired back, tearing into the white ship's glorious hull. Their shots ravaged the white ship, but it charged unfazed. It got within spitting distance of the capital ship before a massive shot from the capital ship's main cannon disabled it. All I remember is the despair I felt those few brief seconds it hung in the air, dead along with any hope for my planet. Then I heard the awful screeching one last time. A rift opened up in the middle of the white ship cutting it in half, it's front half falling down into the sea. But no one saw that. Everyone's gaze was up, for the rift continued to expand until it stretched across the sky. It consumed the last two enemy ships in a blaze of fire, saving my world, before collapsing in a thunderous boom.
It's been ten years since that day, and we still continue to rebuild. Our species has grown immensely in the past decade, using the salvaged technology to build our own starships and colonize worlds in our system. Building resources to one day strike back at our despised enemies. Their doom is coming, and we will be sure to help them along the way.
And what of our saviors you may ask? It has been ten years and we have studied every scrap of metal from their ships we could find. The eggheads think they have figured out their language. In fact, they just translated the ship's name.
*USS Thermopylae*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Lenny zipped up his thermo suit and pulled on his dark goggles. He lied down motionless next to a bush and made sure to breath down towards the ground. He felt the cold ground and began to shiver.
His earpiece came alive with a click. ""Uh, Lenny they're really nearby. Just lie still.""
""Its fucking cold.""
""I know but please lie as still as possible. Their sensors are very good at picking up motion.""
He nodded and closed his eyes as he heard the familiar thump of a thoughtbot. Its multi-legged insect body pounded the ground as it ran. Lenny felt the tiny seismic disturbance as it ran past him.
He waited and turned his head to look around. ""Are we clear,"" he asked then he felt dozens of robotic footsteps and tensed up. His hand went towards his maser pistol.
""Just relax, let them run past you,"" the voice added. ""Better to let them miss us than to get into a firefight.""
He waited as the hundreds of footsteps passed him. He held his breath as long as he could.
""Okay, they're gone,"" said the voice. He gasped as he inhaled air.
""Jesus, what is going on. I can't remember the last time they had so many patrols active,"" he said looking at his AI watch. The watched blinked an animated icon of someone shrugging.
""Not 100% sure Len, they seem really rejuvenated lately. Others in the resistance have noticed as well. There are... theories on what is going on.""
Lenny sat up and unzipped the thermo suit. He quizzically looked at the purple liquid in his canteen and drank it.
""Well, what is it,"" he asked wiping the liquid from his lips. ""The enemy thinks you're the last human alive.""
Lenny stared off into space for a moment. ""Yeah, I kinda figured that. Been, what, five years since I saw anyone. Doesn't really change anything does it? We're still on the same mission."" He tried to smile but couldn't manage more than a lesser frown. He rubbed his eyes, ""Right, same mission?"" ""Yes, same mission. Its just I wanted you to know that this is most likely true. Its important that the resistance doesn't hide anything from you,"" said the watch as it displayed an icon of a smile.
""I know pal, you guys are straight shooters,"" he said. ""You guys have kept me going this long."" ""I'm sorry Len. I guess we both knew this day would come, but our intel is better than ever for the mission.""
Lenny pulled a pair of binoculars from his backpack. He peered into the distance. ""So that's the building. Don't look like much,"" he said.
The watch blinked a smile again. ""We are 87% certain there are frozen human eggs in there. We have the utmost confidence that if we can retrieve them we can artificially incubate several dozens of children using your sperm sample. We could grow them""
""Raise them,"" corrected Lenny with a half-smile.
""Yes of course, raise them, and keep all of you safe in our compound.""
Lenny laughed, ""So I'd be a dad again, but this time to dozens of kids. At my age? Maybe I should just let the thoughtbots shoot me now.""
The watch gave off a simulated laugh.
""Kids... again?"" He stood up brushing dirt off his pants. ""Its been, what, twenty or thirty years since I saw any kids?"" He gulped, ""I had kids you know. Two girls.""
The watch listened quietly. ""I know Len, I know. I'm sure they were great girls.""
Lenny sighed and looked around. He listened intently but couldn't hear anything but birds chirping and the wind. He eyed the facility ahead for a moment and scratched his head. Overhead a drone flew. He squinted and recognized it. It slowly descended and dropped off a long package. He bent over to open it.
""Do you like it? It took a while to find. Its pre-war but its operational. We sourced it from a uh... museum,"" said the watch.
Lenny smiled as he held the sub-machine gun. He loaded the magazine with a click.
""Armor piercing,"" he asked.
""Yes. Should penetrate thoughtbot armor. In case of any resistance.""
Lenny drank again from his canteen and laughed. ""You want a 60 year old soldier with a 100 plus year old weapon to run in there and grab frozen eggs?"" He paused and practiced aiming the weapon. ""A talking watch, me, and this relic are humanity's last hope?"" He laughed again.
He put the weapon down and sat. ""I'm not stupid. Once I get those eggs your drone will take them away. You'll... grow those children, but there's no way you're getting my old ass to Australia or wherever this secret base is in one piece. We can barely walk in the wilderness without getting shot. Right? Those little drones are all you guys have. Heck, you already have my DNA and my sperm. I'm just a liability once I get those eggs for you.""
He threw the canteen on the ground. ""And this crap you've been feeding me is full of stimulants and anti-depressants and shit.""
The watch blinked a question mark for several long seconds. ""Yes, Len, yes. The chances of you making it are low. Not zero, but low. I didn't mean to mislead you. We see this plan as working to revive humanity, but we cannot guarantee your safety or longevity. I was hoping you'd understand. I've been trying to think of... other scenarios. Maybe hole you up in wilderness for a few years while the children grow. They could rescue you when they hit teenhood, but you will, of course, be in your mid-seventies by then.""
""I know, bud, I know. I kinda knew this was a one-way ticket. Just had hope, is all.""
""The resistance won't reallocate me. I can stay with you here in the forest. I can help you build a shelter or find an abandoned shelter. I can request drone drops for things we can scavenge. It won't be a bad life. I can even show you the children later. You can mentor them from here. Teach them. Be a sort-of father again.""
Lenny stood up. ""I can... do that. I think. I mean, someone has to raise those kids. What do you AI's know about kids anyway."" He wiped a tear away. ""Alright, alright, enough about the future. We don't even have the eggs. When are we going?""
The watch blinked a happy face, ""Tonight.""
""Tonight,"" repeated Lenny with a smile as he felt the weight of the machine gun in his hands. ""Tonight everything changes.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Ramsgard. The moment he saw the name three years ago, Larry knew his life had ended. There was no such thing as escape, no such thing as freedom, once you become a prisoner of Ramsgard. Parole had no definition, individual rights had no definition. The moment you stepped foot under the massive, steel archway, you were there for life.

From the day he had first enlisted, Larry had heard muffled rumors about Ramsgard. He’d brushed most of them off as just that, rumors. Sure, he could believe that no one had ever escaped—many prisons can claim that to be true. But the belief—or perhaps common knowledge—among the servicemen that no one had ever even tried to escape? That seemed a bit too unrealistic. Surely, at some point, someone would have made a run for it? And why not? Every prisoner at Ramsgard was there for life, guaranteed to never lawfully feel grass on their bare feet again. Why would they not take the risk, do whatever it takes? And what about the myth of the guards? That they were all inbred—dumb as logs, but grown to be more sadistic, more cruel than any other men dare be. He’d scoff silently at the ignorance of the others, at how naïve they were.

The day Larry walked into Ramsgard was the day he realized just how wrong he had been. The clarity—the empty, hopeless clarity—flooded his every cavity like a drowning child sipping his last watery breath. Every eye he passed was submissive, afraid, broken. They never looked at his face, certainly not at the guard’s. Their eyes would dance around the backdrop, focusing on anything that couldn’t look back. Their bodies were limp and skinny, evident of years of malnourishment. They looked more like caged animals, or perhaps Holocaust victims, than permanent prisoners of war. 

Each cell in Ramsgard was a tiny box no larger than five feet by eight feet. Thin metal poles marked what was the entry way of Larry’s new home, complete with a three-by-six mattress and a toilet that overlapped its edge. He quickly learned that he would not leave the cell but twice a week: once for mandatory inspection—in which the guards fumbled about like children pretending to look busy—and another fifteen minute period during which prisoners could, one at a time, stand by a metal-gated window. Any disobedience was guaranteed to result in violence, with fatalities a common occurrence. Those who so much as spoke without permission were beaten, their jaws often broken to teach a simple lesson. Some were killed on the spot. Larry watched, during his first month in Ramsgard, as a guard—wearing handcuffs as brass knuckles—beat and killed a prisoner for tripping and knocking into him. The guard walked off laughing and left the body where it lie for almost a week. However, despite their sheer brutality, Larry could tell that the rumors of their intelligence were undoubtedly true. More than once he had watched as they collided with each other in the wide corridor, or spent hours silently drooling without so much as blinking. Yet their ignorance only made them more harrowing and more unforgiving.

Everything Larry had ignored, all the rumors, all the chances he’d had to escape his fate—to end his tour early, to opt out of following the invasion, to swap into a less risky position than spying—everything his life had been was now everything he had come to regret. Yet, for the last three years—three long, tiring years—he had focused on nothing but his escape. Yes, no one had even attempted it before, let alone made it out, but Larry knew that impossible always had a crack somewhere.

And so he planned. Every night, laying on his stiff mattress, he’d mentally devise—and eventually study over and over—a plan for escape. During the fifteen minute window break, when he could feel the cool wind against his pale, thinned skin, he would slip away into the halls beside the window. They were always loosely covered, coated in a darkness he’d spent years training to conceal himself within. No one ever went down the hall; it had been out of use since the first month he had arrived at Ramsgard. In fact, he was one of the last prisoners brought in through that entry. Since that point, it had simply ceased to be used. For this plan to work, the guard would have to be facing away and mentally absent, of course. While the guards may have been dumb as rocks with severe mental disabilities—as one would need to be to have such little concern for his fellow man—they were cruel, violent, and utterly unforgiving. If he failed, he would likely be executed; yet Larry knew that even death would be more welcoming than another week in Ramsgard.

Larry was aware the plan sucked, he knew it was flimsy and faltered everywhere that needed structure. He knew the chances of success were almost lower than the chances of a god damn unicorn crashing through the wall and carrying him across a rainbow to Valhalla. But it was a plan and he was more than ready to die.

So it began, Larry waited for the knock of the billy club on the steel gates to mark the last day of his life. He made his bed as neatly as he could and placed what few items he had in an orderly fashion on the floor. Once the metallic knock pierced the air behind him, he stood and waited for the door to be unlocked. A guard entered, drool oozing out the corner of his mouth, and patted him down with the delicacy of a boxer on a punching bag. He then pushed Larry out the door. The two walked, Larry less than two steps ahead, the soft pressure of the club buried deeply between his shoulder blades. Another prisoner walked—or was pushed, rather—in the opposite direction, eyes locked to an invisible line on the floor, as he returned from the window. A cool wind slid across Larry’s cheek as a thin glimmer of light became more visible ahead of him.

“Fifteen minutes,” said the guard, his eyes blinking without synchronization—one, then the other. He pushed Larry toward the window, stumbling and grabbing the bars to keep from falling forward. He straightened himself and stared down. It was beautiful out—even for the shithole of a country he’d called home for the past three years. The air was cool, he assumed it was Autumn. That had been his favorite season back home. He would go apple picking with his family, always picking too many and ending up tossing the rotten ones a month later. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the smell of an apple, the sound of his mother laughing as he’d pretend to throw apples at her. He smiled.

Larry opened his eyes. He figured it had been about five minutes. Silently, Larry twisted his head so he was looking to the far edges of the window. The guard leaned against a wall just inside his peripherals. He seemed to be facing away, body slowly rising and falling with each elongated breath. Was he asleep? Larry counted the seconds between each exhale. One. Two. Inhale. He tried to mimic the breathing. It felt relaxed, light. If he wasn’t asleep, he certainly wasn’t staring Larry down, ready to pounce. His heart raced as he shifted to the left slightly and peered out the opposite angle. The hallway was dark, nobody visible within or around it. He felt his body begin to shake as his stomach became light.

Slowly, Larry stepped toward the hallway. With each movement he’d shift his eyes toward the guard without moving his neck. Silent, motionless. He widened his steps and waited for the smash of the club against his ribs. Nothing. He slowly crept until the light from the window was replaced by the cool darkness of the hall. He slid into the shadows and glanced back. The guard had not moved, he stood motionless—save for his soft inhaling and exhaling. Larry turned back toward the darkness and silently moved, hand running along the wall as his pace quickened. An alarm shattered the air; Larry instinctively fell flat against the floor, concealed by the darkened hallway. The guard behind him was gone, his body was shaking uncontrollably.

“What’s that?” shouted a voice from a nearby room.

“Microwave?” replied another.

“That’s not a microwave,” said a third.

“That’s what my microwave sounds like,” the second said.

“Your microwave is an ear-shattering alarm?”

“My wife is hard of hearing.”

“Do we even have a microwave here?”

“We don’t have a microwave here,” said the first voice. “What the hell is that?”

Larry lay as flat as he could, listening to the confused conversation. His eyes widened—they had never before heard the alarm for an escaped prisoner.

“What’s going on here?” Shouted a deep, raspy voice.

“Sir, we don’t know. It isn’t a microwave.”

“I think it might be an alarm for wild dogs in the prison,” said another voice.

“It’s not dogs,” said the deep voice. “It’s definitely an alarm, though. Are you sure it isn’t a microwave?”

Larry stood back up and began running down the hall, foot slamming with each intervaled shriek of the alarm. He heard the stomp of footsteps as guards ran in every direction, searching for anything out of place. He followed the path he’d walked the first day he arrived, which had since stopped being used and replaced with another entry. Every fiber of his being hoped the door was still there. He felt the cold cement against his bare feet with every step, the ground becoming dustier and dirtier with each stride. The room was pitch black now, but his hand remaind his guide as it slid along the wall. Voices continued to shout in adjacent hallways and from behind.

“It’s not wild dogs!” echoed a voice from behind.

“Is it a riot? Are the prisoners rioting?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I think it might be a robbery. Do we have jewels in here?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so.”

Larry saw a thin line of light as he approached a corner. It grew wider with each step, spreading out from behind the angled wall. He turned, hand following the curve of the corner, and stopped. A massive metal door stood resolute in front of him. A big red button sat. A glass booth stared directly at the door, empty except for dust and cobwebs. It had clearly not been occupied in years. Larry ran to the door and pushed. It did not move in the slightest. He took a step back and stared at the button. He knew that—if it worked—it would produce an exceptionally loud buzz, just as it had on his first day in hell. He closed his eyes, heart racing, and thrust his fist into the button. The buzz echoed down the hall as the door clicked unlocked. He threw his shoulder against the door and fell forward into the cool autumn air. Voices echoed behind him, still searching for the root of the alarm.
“What was that buzz? Is someone watching The Price is Right?”

Larry peaked around the corners of the door. The guard towers had been deserted - likely in a panicked attempt to find the source of the alarms. No one seemed to be around. He took a step forward, expecting the crack of a rifle to finally strip him of his last hope. The cool air blew gently against his sweat-soaked hair instead. He ran toward the exterior fence and pulled open the gate. It was unlocked. Larry stood for a moment, in awe of the lax security that had held him and so many others for years. The tree line grew closer as he broke into a full sprint, throwing off his clothes and diving into the thick of the jungle.

“It’s not a car alarm,” echoed a loudspeaker far behind him, almost completely out of earshot. “We don’t have a parking lot.”



______
If the ending cuts off abruptly, please let me know - this is over the limit of reddit's post, so I'm not sure if it fits everything. Last line is ""'It’s not a car alarm,' echoed a loudspeaker far behind him, almost completely out of earshot. 'We don’t have a parking lot.'""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Claire, come on! You need to wake up!""

""No, five more minutes. Let me sleep in for once, Theresa.""

""Who are you talking to? You're going to be late for class on the first day!""

Classes? Wait, that wasn't my wife's voice. I knew it, though. I opened my eyes and saw my college roommate, not a day older than when we first met. I sat up quickly, taking in my surroundings.

""Good, you're up. Class starts in fifteen minutes, I'm heading out.""

""Thanks,"" I muttered as I crawled out of the uncomfortable dorm bed. I checked my phone, surprised to see the date as my first day of college. I dug around in my dresser for a pair of jeans and a sweater, not taking the time to brush my hair.

I took the seat by the window, as I always did, and contentedly dazed in the warm sunlight as students filed into the classroom. I saw my wife, as beautiful as ever, and I eyed her more than I had the first time around.

She sat next to me, nervously looking around the classroom. I grinned.

""You from a small town?"" I asked. She jumped at the sound of my voice, and I knew I made the right decision. I wouldn't change a single thing.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Everyone thinks that if you want to change history you have to send someone back to do something impossible. ""Assassinate Hitler,"" they said, and everything will be better. It's not like we didn't try but the man did survive a fair number of attempts on his life from his own time (and more than a few from ours). Leading one of history's most violent and bellicose powers will make you paranoid, I guess, which comes in handy when a fair chunk of future history is gunning for you.
Of course, it took quite a while for the truth to come out. The Soviets were never much beloved and Hitler spent most of the 20th century celebrated as a hero by almost everyone who wasn't French or Russian. When Britain bowed out of the war after the BEF was smashed against the coast of northern France the Warmacht turned East towards Russia. With the full might of the Nazi war machine at his throat, Stalin fled. They found him hiding like a dog in one of his industrial cities East of the Urals -- Magnitogorsk or somesuch. There was a big trial at Neurrenberg and they stretched his neck.
Japan's war in Siberia was what made the victory possible. When the US oil and rubber embargo threatened to force Japan into conflict with the United States the Germans were able to keep their Asian ally supplied around the horn of Africa. The Brits weren't about to let them use the Suez but a few centuries of protecting the freedom of the seas is a hard habit to break. Japan needed the oil so when Hitler requested the Imperial Army leave Mao and Chiang Kai-shek to fight over China and attack the Soviets instead he didn't need to ask twice.
It wasn't until the mid 21st century that the German government government declassified its Final Solution and it was another half century before anyone really wrung their hands about the whole sordid matter. By then the Germans were appropriately contrite. They were a superpower, after-all, and it didn't look terribly good to go before the world condemning the crimes of some tin pot despot in South Asia or West Africa with the blood of a tens of millions of Jews, slavs, Roma, etc on your hands. So when a physics nobel lauriat started babbling on about time travel the historians and the human rights scolds started to speculate. When some tech enterpreneur in Tokyo worked out how to observe the past directly the speculation became rampant. Surely if we could see the past we could touch it. First they sent back a mouse. Then a cat. Then a person.
By then the War was a few centuries in the historical rear view mirror. Some governments made their typically ham handed efforts to rig the past but to no avial. Assassins came and went -- the bombing at the Wolf's Den, an attempt at an airplane attack -- History proved itself to have incredible inertia.
Indeed, it was that phrase ""historical inertia"" that gave us the answer. Changing the past is like deflecting an asteroid or turning an oil tanker: a tiny change applied over time becomes a tsunami. And so it was that the course of the Last Great War was changed when a single man stepped into 17th century northern France with an unobjectionable idea: what if we add breakwaters to the port at Dunkirk?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"We had finally achieved peace. Many thought it was impossible, especially considering how our ancestors could not keep harmony living on the same planet, much less a galaxy. We were all so different in thought, torn apart by belief and selfish desire, for the longest time the solution was violence or to force others to think as we. But the weakness to unified peace had also been its greatest strength. It was our differences that made us closer, instead of listening to the like-minded, we learned to work together for the common goal. Soon thousands of planets were united and in the first time of our history, all leaders shared the same world, exchanging wisdom instead of threats. Then he happened. It was ignorance on our part to think every creature shared our ways, one error of judgement cost us everything. To think an entire federation was ended by a single child, a child named Ender.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Your wallet and phone! C'mon, hurry!"" The rag over the man's mouth muffled his voice, clasped in both hands was a revolver.
""No."" He stood there, staring at me for a moment. ""What do you 'no'? You can't just say no, I'm robbing you!""
""Well, I did, what are you going to do about it?"" I said with a shrug.
""I suppose I'll just have to shoot you then, how about that? Yeah, bet you wouldn't like that one bit, huh?"" He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that we were once again on the same page.
""Go on then. I was just about to do it myself anyway."" The robber let the gun droop in his hand. ""Well? What are you waiting for?"" I spread my arms out to make his job a little easier.
""I can't very well shoot a guy who was about to kill himself, can I? That's like, kicking a baby or something. It's just wrong, you know?""
""What? It's nothing like that!"" I found myself getting annoyed. ""Unless maybe the baby was specifically asking you to kick it, which isn't bloody likely since babies can't talk, so stop acting like a wimp and just shoot me!"" ""Um..."" The robber fumbled with his gun, almost dropping it. ""I'm just gonna go find someone else to rob."" He turned on his heel and ran, with me right behind him.
""Come back here and shoot me, asshole!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""How are you together all day, every day? If I was with my wife that long, we would have gotten a divorce during the first week!"" This is something that I constantly heard from my co-workers. My response to them - we are best friends. It is true, though. We are together pretty close to 24 hours a day. We carpool together, we work next door to each other on same shift, have the same hobbies and are at each others' side whenever we aren't at work. We don't have any children, so there really isn't anything that takes our time away from each other. It's just always been that way. When we first started dating, our love swallowed us whole. There really isn't any other way that I know how to explain it. I met her through mutual friends, went on a few dates and the next thing I knew we were moving in together, and I was ecstatic. It took about a month before we decided to move in together. It was nice. We made our own little family - cooking together, doing chores together, playing games together, whatever. It was like playing house back when I was a kid. Fuck, we were just kids, even then. I just knew that my life was exponentially better when she was around. We were loners, but we were loners together, just us against the world. We got married five years after we met, almost to the day. A friend at work kept pestering me to meet my wife. Although she only worked down the street, her lunch break didn't coincide with mine, so we had to manage to eat lunch either by ourselves or with our coworkers. This was tough, but we managed. I know that sounds ridiculous given the amount of time we spend together anyway, but I often caught myself wishing that we could eat lunch together just to break up the monotony of the day. One night, I asked my wife if she would be able to talk her boss into letting her take her lunch early. I wanted her to come by my job to meet some of the guys there. I told her that I'd been talking her up for so long now that everyone wanted to meet my perfect, wonderful wife. She blushed and told me she would see me at 11 o'clock, but that I would owe her because she knew her boss was going to bitch about taking her lunch early. I made it up to her that night by doing the dishes while she took a bubble bath. I was so excited to introduce my wife to my friends at work. 11 o'clock rolled around and I waited at the doors so that I could take her to the security desk and get her clearance to come inside the building with me and go to the cafeteria. She didn't show up. I watched the clock, 11:30 rolled around and she still wasn't there. At noon, I had to get back to my desk. I was worried something was wrong, this certainly was not like her. When she made promises, she kept them. I explained to my boss what was going on and he let me go early. I immediately drove to her job, walked up to the counter and asked for her by name. I was told that no one by that name worked there. I panicked. I sped home, seemingly breaking the sound barrier trying to get to our townhouse as fast as I could. I unlocked the door, called out for her and the only greeting I got was my voice echoing back. I was disoriented. On my way to the bedroom, one of our wedding photos caught my eye - it was a picture of us cutting our cake...but there was something very wrong - I was the only one in the picture. I had a fancy knife in my hand, poised downwards towards the cake. I was facing the camera looking like the happiest man in the world, but I was the only person in the frame. How is this possible? I ran to the end table, picked up a photo album and flipped through pages of pictures of me and only me. Me at the fair, me opening presents at Christmas, me standing in front of our first brand new car we bought a few years back. I ran to our bedroom and it was a fucking mess. Old food, beer cans and dirty clothes were everywhere. The only living thing I found was a cockroach crawling out of a revolting Chinese take-out container. I threw up. I flung open the closet door and there wasn't a single clue to be found that reflected my loving wife. I noticed A pill bottle on the shelf above my head. I picked it up and it seemed full. It had my name on it, a prescription fill date and the medication was named Haldol. I have never seen this bottle before, but that doesn't make sense. Why was my name on this bottle? Who picked it up from the pharmacy? Was there someone out there, posing as me trying to score medication? I picked up the phone and dialed 911.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The day Death died was the day the world fell. I was in my History class, 10am on a Thursday morning and my professor had a heart attack. He clutched his chest, staggered away from the podium. One girl in the front row dialled the emergency services, choking with fear on the phone line. He fell to his knees and the class cried out. We rushed to him. His body had failed him before the paramedics arrived. They pronounced death at 10:25am and someone was sobbing. They loaded his corpse onto the metal trolley, went to draw a white sheet over his head and stopped. Emerging from his mouth was a pulsating ball of yellow light. It hung in the air above the dead man's face for a while, then ambled off. It kind of moved with a bob and a sway, the same way that our professor had moved when he'd been alive. The paramedics went white. 


Lucy voiced what they were thinking. 


""That's not supposed to happen."" She said. 


""You've seen someone die before?"" 


""My grandmother. I've seen that before."" She gestured back at the pulsating yellow ball, now knocking against the doors of the lecture theatre. It was trying to find a way out. 


""It's not usually like that."" One paramedic agreed. He couldn't keep his nervous eyes off the ball. 


""What is it?"" I asked


""That's the *animus*."" Lucy replied. ""It's supposed to be collected."" 



""By whom?"" But we all already knew. 


""By Death."" 


The walls of the lecture theatre began to shake. 


The class scattered, books and papers left behind. The paramedics shot me a glance as they wheeled my dead professor out. 


""Good luck."" They said, and then it was just Lucy and I in the empty theatre and the walls were thundering and the floor was pitching.


""What's happening?"" I asked, as she drew closer to one of the windows. 


""He's dead."" She said miserably, looking into the courtyard. 


""What's going to happen?"" 



""Look."" Outside the window, all that could be seen were moving, swaying pulsating *beings* of light. Some looked more human that others, most seemed to be just balls with protrusions. It was like watching the life cycle of a tadpole - they became arms and legs on others, finally hands and feet, a finely defined face. There were some individuals of a striking golden beauty, floating inches off the ground. 



""*Jesus*"" 


""They aren't being held any more. The *animi* have been released."" 


""How do you know so much about it?"" 



""I was interested in becoming a witch when I was younger. You have to learn how to trap them."" 



""What's going to happen now?"" 



""See the ones that look the most human?"" 


I nodded. 


""They're the ones that have been dead for a while. They learn eventually how to shape their *animus* into what they want to look like. The balls are the most recently dead - they haven't learned yet.""



""What's your point?"" 



She sighed and flicked her hair out of her eyes. 


""They've been dead for a long time. The afterlife isn't that fun."" 


An alarm pierced the quiet air. Somewhere a window smashed. There was a roaring noise. A sudden pitch of the floor and Lucy and I were knocked off our feet. She growled and pushed up her sleeves. 



""There's going to be trouble. Are you with me?"" 


The window above us burst out, spraying us both in glittering glass. 


""Yes!"" I shouted above the noise, as she gripped my hand and drew me to my feet. 


""Good! Because I think things are going to get..."" She lifted her hands up, fingers turning black in the light. She winked at me. 


""*Deadly*""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"So just press it then. Press it. Just press it. What's the worse that can happen? Just press it. You want to leave don't you? Yes. So press it. But it said don't press it, no matter what. I could be stuck in here forever though. So just press it. Press it. Press it press it pressitpressitpressitpressitpressitpressit. But what does it do? Nothing, just press it. You want to leave don't you? They won't let you out, you tried begging. Just press it. Then the experiment is over. Just press it. Press it. PRESS IT. I need to take a dump *so* bad. Just press it and they'll let you out. I'm so hungry. That stupid red button. Red as Janice's lipstick. Press it or you may never see her again. Press it. It might just do nothing, maybe it'll spray you in water.
Or acid.
Or water, just press it. It's only an experiment. But the nazi's had experiments. Press it. They grabbed you and forced you in here. Press it. PRESS IT OR WE MIGHT NEVER LEAVE.
We?
I mean me. Press it. Come on press it. Come on, just one tiny click and it's all ov-
... what happens if it hurts someone else? Press it. I could die if I stay in here. Press it. But someone else might get hurt. Press it. Would I die just on the off chance someone else might instead? What if they're death-row inmates. Press it. Press it. But they might be children. Press it. Press it. It wouldn't do anything that bad, they surely couldn't. Press it, press it. I mean I must be one of hundreds to do this. Press it, press it. I can't handle this the room feels so small I want to leave. Press it, press it, press it.
I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE. THEY MADE ME DO THIS, THEY PUT ME IN HERE AND SAID NOTHING ELSE EXCEPT... except...
Don't press it, no matter what.
No I can't do this, oh God I'm scared what happens when I press it, what happens? PRESS IT.
Bad things could happen. PRESS IT.
**PRESS IT**
***ARGH!***
-click-
... Is... is that it? What happens now-
*A door swung open, almost indistinguishable from the wall. A scientist stepped through.*
""NO I'M SORRY I COULDN'T HELP IT DON'T HURT ME, PLEASE-""
""Shh, it's ok. It's a perfectly normal response, not the first time either. Thank you for helping, the exit is through the next room.""
""Th- thanks.""
Ok, I'm getting the fuck out of here. Next room, here I come. *Slam*
The door closed behind me.
Where's the exit, all that's here is this green butt... oh no.
*An intercom suddenly sounded*
Just press the green button to leave
Ok, just press it and get out. The last button did nothing. But what if this is the real experiment?
Press it.
It might lock me in here.
Press it.
*This* one could harm people.
Press it.
I can't do this.
*Press it.*
What do I do?
*Press it.*
But I can't, I can't make this decision again-
*Press it.*
No I don't want to I just want to leave please I want to leave how do I escape?
***PRESS IT!***",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""...but no longer"" She turned from Gareth and began to walk back towards the heavens gate.
Gareth could feel the power draining from him. The glow that always surrounded him began to fade.
He knew it was worthless to plead with his mother. She had never approved of his choice. Even if she could accept him, if he could somehow convince her to see his side, it wouldn't matter. The other gods never would never stand for it. They would force her to choose just as she had forced him.
Turning back to Helena he knew there was no other choice he would have made anyway. How could he? She stood alone in the temple waiting for him. Though the rest of the world seemed more dull without his power her face was as bright as ever. She smiled and took his hand. Gareth pulled her close and kissed her. Placing his hand gently on her stomach, he caressed his unborn daughter. What he felt suprised him. It was a humming of power. Godly power. Gareth knew it shouldnt be there. It COULDN'T be there. Unless...
Gareth turned back to the Heavenly Gate. ""Mother....""
But she was gone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Today is the day you will die. There's no way around it. The enemy is fast and gives no quarter. If you run, they will catch you. If you cower they will kill you. But today isn't about them, it's about you! how will you die today? will you die running or kneeling, or will you die with your head high? will you look fate in the eyes with me? Will you show these monsters that you are not afraid? That you will not yield. My Brothers, My Sisters, I stand now to face my fate. To become the man I always knew I could be. Will you join me?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Get rid of all of my bad memories? I've never said yes quicker to anything. What kind of idiot would rather lose all of his happy moments? The genie waved his hand in what must have been a move for flamboyance's sake. This was it. My life would be clean. Every moment that kept me up at night was going to be gone. The times my pets died. The time my mom died. The chances I'd lost and those I wish I never knew. The heart breaks and lies that had crushed me into the ground. All of it gone. --five minutes later--
It worked. I can't remember anything but happy things. It feels like my life has worked out perfectly up until now. Now everything feels so bland.
Why do I feel less content with perfection than I did with all of the pain?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Here is an abridged form of the creation myth followed by the major names in the mythology that spans a long time. Some names are from a ""modern"" (more like Late Roman/very early medieval time) others are from very ancient times. There are more lesser gods of various qualities and attributes who do not matter outside their stories.
In the beginning there was no world that we could recognize as a consistent place. It was of Chaos in every way. Turmoil and change, no form could hold. From this Chaos the old ones were born. 30 in number they were the Chaos Children. 14 men, 14 women, 1 hermaphrodite and 1 very manly girl; they brought all that we know into existence. Each fashioned their signature tool that they used to impose their will upon the Chaos until it was no more. What remained was the Calm, the world. The Chaos Children would produce many sons and daughters who would grow to become the gods we worship now.
Of the Chaos Children, one stands out as the most important. **Lars,** the Child of Progression. Lars was depicted as a man with three faces, two to scan the present and one to look forward, but no face to watch the past. Lars cared only for progress and the improvement of the Calm. His tool was Grorn, the first blade. It is said that Grorn was fashioned to be a golden yellow but stained red when Lars used it to slay his 29 brothers and sisters, for they were the old ones and would only stand in the way of progress. Lars then carved out the Land known as Gror, upon which we live, from the bodies of the old ones. The Sea was filled with their blood. Lars looked upon the Land and the Sea of the Calm and knew that progress had been made, but more needed to come. Lars became known as the God of the gods as he raised the offspring of the Chaos Children. Some of the most important of which would be:
**Shellos**:The god of small fortune, Shellos is the one you praise when you find a coin just as you need one, or when an egg is a double yolk so you can save one for later. Shellos becomes the King of the gods when he appears to the Gror Confederation and uses his fortune to sway the tide of battle. He now resides in the depths of the Crystal Palace Prison, forever to rot.
**Gia**: Princess of the gods, Gia is the daughter of Lars. During the war with the Krill Dynasty she fell in love with Shellos and later becomes the Queen of the gods, giving birth to three children.
**Destri**: Gia's younger brother and son of Lars. Destri was angry that Lars chose Shellos over him as a successor, especially when Shellos had openly admitted to wanting to overthrow Lars. He is now the bitter old man who watches over the entrance of the underworld.
**Popuar**: Shellos' older brother. Popuar is considered a mute. He is the god of secrets and knowledge. His eye judges all but his hand is never raised to enact judgment.
**Jayth**:Goddess of Earth and eldest of Gia's three children. Jayth is said to be strong and beautiful, she is also the god of justice. She was Grandor's mistress when he first rose to power. **Jace**:God of war and power, Jace is the youngest of Gia's three children. Jace is chaotic and unbiased in his destruction and seeks to become more powerful for strength is all he values. Desperately wishes to overthrow Grandor but lacks the power to do so.
**Zarine**: Goddess of the sea and love, Zarine is Gia's middle child. Zarine is said to be the most beautiful of all the women to ever exist. She became Grandor's mistress when Jayth failed to become pregnant.
**Demens**: Son of Zarine and Grandor, he was cursed by Jayth upon birth when she found out that Grandor had cheated on her. Demens is the god of anger due to his unsightly appearance. Zarine despised him and sealed him beneath the Sea. The waves are his attempts to escape.
**Demon Army**: The offspring of Demens and the mortal women he claimed as his own. The Demon Army consists of horrible monsters that Grandor used as his Army against Cobalt. When uneeded they are locked in the underworld to serve as its guards and torturers to those who deserve it.
**Grandor**:God of ambition, Grandor was once the lowest god of all and the personal servant to Shellos, who was treated very well by the king. One day he overthrew Shellos and imprisioned him within the Crystal Palace Prison. He stands over the Calm as the Emperor of the gods. Gia is now his wife, Jayth his former lover and Zarine his mistress.
**Grace**:Daughter of Julia and Grandor, Grace was the first prophet of the gods and was born with innate magical power unseen in humans. She helped usher in the age of the prophets.
**Julia**: Princess of the Emperor of Gror at the time of the revolution. She was saved by the Blue Bladed Man from ritual sacrifice to Grandor and helped lead Cobalt against the gods. She was later taken by Grandor to be his concubine when the revolution was crushed.
**The Blue Bladed Man**: An unknown man who wielded the Blue Blade Cobalt and started the revolution against the gods. Though his name was forgotten by time, as he predicated, Cobalt and the means to oppose the gods remains, as he had hoped.
**Cobalt**: The Republic of man who forsook the gods. Cobalt believe in the inner self and deny that gods are necessary. Cobalt also serves as the name of the legendary blue blade used to begin the revolution and kill Gia.
**Prophets**: Those who are born with innate magical ability. Said to be descendants of Grace. They are blessed with the power of one of the lesser gods and use their power as a way to increase praise for their patron. Prophets run the Gror Empire on a more personal level than any governor or King. They are always of noble birth, for only a descendant of Grace can have such power.
**Mages**:A person born with innate magical power said to be the result of the Abyssi. These people should be feared as monsters for they exist to cause suffering and destruction. Always of ignoble birth. Many try to hide their status of magic power if they are not nobles for fear they are branded as a mage.
**Abyssi**: Dark creatures who live in the Sea, the Abyssi wield dark magic. They are said to be as intelligent and devious as humans and work their mysterious ways to a dark means. They grant mages their power to create destruction in the world, or some times take human form to do the same.
**Krill Dynasty**: An ancient Dynasty that proclaimed their Emperor a god and tried to impose their will upon the ancient Gror Confederation. **Lord Krill**: Proclaimed a god by his people, he tried to unite the world under the worship of only him. Killed by Lars, after which Lars succumbed to his wounds.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Pass the sauce."" said a large man, the chair he was seated on could barely contain him. He grabbed a stiff, cold, hand and made it go through the motions.
""Thanks, ma. Feels good to eat real food for once."" He starts talking in a higher pitched voice, ""Amen George, amen.""
He changes his voice once again, this time it's much lower. ""So George, I heard you actually had to fight in the war. How was it if ya don't mind me askin'?""
His voice goes back to normal ""It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be pa. Mosta them fellars probably never even held a gun before. I got the leg up on them""
His returns to the higher pitch. ""That's my boy. I love you son.""
Lower pitch. ""I love you too son.""
Normal pitch. ""I...I love you guys too. Ya think I could get a hug?""
He doesn't even bother to change his voice. ""Why of course George.""
George gets up from his seat and grabs those two lifeless bodies by the arms, tears welling in his eyes. There he lie, in a cold barren room, in his parents loving embrace.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She turns to look at me. It's the first time I've seen her and it's our wedding day. She's standing beside me underneath a canopy of green saplings sung into an arch. The only thing she's wearing is a crown of forget-me-nots placed in her hair, dark as the rich earth. Elves marry naked. I'm dressed in green and white and my head is bare, the only blonde one amongst a sea of brown. One quick glance and she looks down. Her skin is the colour of moonlight, white arms and small breasts covered by tendrils of that hair. I am not her first husband. We stand in the sun from dawn till sundown and after that she turns to me once more and tells me we are married. We takes me to her bower and undresses me. I am her husband tonight. In the morning she will kill me and take another boy from my village to be her mate. I hope I can keep my people safe for one more day. Lord give me strength.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Don't you see gentlemen?! It's coming and it's coming fast! We need to act, and act now!"" 

Bent over a large, incredibly well varnished business table, was Jonathan.

Jonathan's entire life had been leading up to this.

His usually bad and unkept hair had finally snapped and decided to actively try and flee from his face, which, like his cheap shirt, was drenched in sweat. Various pieces of paper were scattered in front of him, with more crinkled up in his hands. He stared erratically from behind his glasses, at the faces of the powerful men sitting before him. His breathing sounded more like air conditioning.

""Alpacas?"" One of the men asked. He was young, successful, and comfortably reclining in a business chair more expensive than most apartments.

""Alpacas!"" Jonathan shouted, maintaining his intensity. ""Alpacas! Alpacas! Alpacas!"" He slammed what paper he was still holding onto the table.

""So... no apocalypse?"" Another man asked.

""Yes! I mean, no! Of course there's still an apocalypse, but there was something we missed. The apocalypse is already here - lying dormant! It won't be raining hellfire, we won't die in the hands of the Devil! We'll die in the hands of Alpacas! Now what we need to do is-""

""I'm sorry,"" yet another man leaned forward ""Alpacas?""

Jonathan took a moment to collect himself, aggressively re-adjusting his glasses.

""Alpacas! In no less than *one month* the world will have fallen to the Alpaca uprising, as foretold in revelations. See they didn't translate it right - oh they were close! - But it wasn't right, it's Alpacas!""

""Hi, uh, Jonathan, is it?"" Jonathan snapped his head to the left, looking for the voice that just spoke out.

""Yes, Jonathan.""

""Hi Jonathan, the names Patrick Norman - really digging your presentation here - I just think we"" he turned to indicate the rest of the room ""may not be entirely on board with what you're saying""

""I don't even know what an Alpaca is.""

""See Brian there doesn't even know what an Alpaca is, okay?""

""Are they the ones with humps?"" An inquisitive voice asked.

""No... No, those are Camels, John. But good question.""

""Gentlemen!"" All eyes back on Jonathan ""I came to you today because I thought you could help me. My findings are conclusive, they are fact, they are indisputable evidence of the world ending! I have seen the threat, spoken in the Bible and the date is less than a month away!""

Silence.

""Do Inuits have Alpacas?""

""I thought it was the Mongols.""

""No I think the Mongols have horses""

""Will you listen?!"" Jonathan slammed his fists on the expensive wood he leaned on. All eyes on him, save for Patrick, who's eyes checked for any lasting damage dealt to his expensive piece of furniture. ""We need to do something about the Alpaca problem, or God as my witness, we won't be around long enough to regret it.""

More silence, one man fiddled with a pen.

""Okay!"" Patrick snapped his fingers ""Brian, I want you on to your guys down in Washington, make sure the President hears about this. Clive, look into our defense, see about Alpaca proofing as much as our establishment as possible...""

""Yes Sir""

""...William, I want you to take Jonathan here and get everything he knows on this threat written down in no more than five concise bullet points. Gary, I want you to begin an Alpaca holocaust as soon as possible.""

""What about the Inuits?""

Patrick snapped his fingers again.

""Brian?""

""Yeah Patrick?""

""After notifying the President, see if you can't get in touch with the Inuit king and explain the situation to him. Don't worry Jonathan, we hear you and we are making your work count. Go!""

As each of the men scurried off out the room, most dialing quickly on their phones, Jonathan slowly sat down and rested for the first time in three days, wiping the sweat from his eyes. He'd done it. 

The world, at least for now, had been saved.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""An island.""

""Why yes, sir. Four hours from the New Guinea coastline, complete with small harbor and manse. Total size is approximately 400 acres.""

""That's all?""

The lawyer continued in an artificially excited manner. I'd bet he was imagining what it would be like to have his own island. As if he'd ever know. He was a mediocre lawyer; one I had the displeasure of encountering too many times in my life. He was lucky my father had hired him on, an 'old favor for an old friend', he had called it. The words still rang in my ears. They sounded so fragile, so pathetic.

""Do you accept your father's inheritance?""

The lawyer paused, and looked at me over his humorously large glasses. His mustache twitched in an almost comical manner, and his eyes widened, Waiting for a response. What did he want me to say? Did he expect me to stand up and dance for him? To finally cave after a lifetime of disappointment, and cry in his arms? Did this man, after having known my father for the better half of his life, expect me to open myself to him? My lips started to curl back, but I caught myself. I mustered up my best, most toothy smile, and without a word, took the paper from his hands. I signed the document, and pushed it back into his hands.

One island. One miserable island in a vast treasury of wealth and power. My father mocked me, by bequeathing the smallest to me. The most infertile, unusable pile of shit he could've shat on my plate! I cursed my father from the grave as I politely stood up to shake hands with the useless prick behind the desk. I have him another carefully-fashioned smile. His eyebrows raised as he took in my expression; he stopped a moment to attempt to gauge my thoughts. He opened his mouth, as of to say something, then closed it just as quickly. He gave a curt nod, and gestured at the door. 

I didn't need another cue to be rid of this place. I turned on my heel and briskly walked to the door. The large, oaken door swung open, and I prepared to return to the world, just as powerless and destitute as I was before. Perhaps my debtors would be interested in an island. But it may not be enough for them.

""Excuse me. One moment.""

I was surprised to hear the lawyer's voice crack from behind me. I turned around. He almost seemed sheepish, like he was weighing his words very carefully.

""I have in my possession a letter for you to read. Would you take it?""

I hadn't noticed it before, but sure enough, there was a small envelope sitting amidst the piles of rubbish and paperwork.

""And might there be a reason you did not enlighten me earlier?"" I asked coldly. The lawyer cleared his throat, and responded in a voice that seemed so strong, yet so weak at the same time.

""Perhaps it was because your father ultimately decided against giving it to you in the end-I was ordered to burn this upon his passing. I disagreed.""

My blood had stopped flowing freely and in anger. My heart pulsed coldly and heavily as I walked towards his desk, hand outstretched. What could my father have wanted me to have, then decided was outside of my rights? The outside was simple, my name penned in his disgustingly exquisite handwriting. I eviscerated the envelope in front of the lawyer, and hungrily read the note.

""My son. Despite your attempts to conceal who you are, I understood what you are. I know of your dealings, of your crimes, your fetishes for things best left unsaid. I am sorry I have failed you as a father. Even worse than knowing what you are, is knowing what you will become. I knew you better than you ever cared to admit; even when you pulled away from me (or worse, smiled!), I saw the hate in your eyes. I saw the violence brooding there, a creative desire to cause pain and fear to anyone you could. To my grave, I did not understand where that came from. Perhaps another failing on my part. But this letter most likely not come to you, as I understand after having written it that it will only whet your desire to do wrongs, as if to spite me from the grave. So take your land, hide there in self-banishment, and molest the world no longer. Your Loving Father.""

I folded the note in a most caring way. My eyes watered up as let the note fall to the ground. There was a reason. There was a process behind my exclusion in the will. The lawyer eyed my sudden melancholy warily, and asked, ""was it to your satisfaction?""

I shut my eyes. I shut out the lawyer, and breathed deeply. A sudden thought came to me. A way for everything to come together. Perhaps this wasn't so bad after all. I smiled, my same bright and toothy smile, and replied, ""I'd wager so. Make arrangements for me, please. I'd like a one-way ticket to this small piece of land that is my own.""

""E-excuse me? One way?""

""Why yes. I have it in my mind to play a Most Dangerous Game.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"There's always someone somewhere near me. Why are there so many *people* in this goddamned world? It's maddening. I can't think for myself at all without someone else's mind barging in. Can you imagine hearing the thoughts of every depressed cubicle slave, every horny teenager, every single person within a hundred feet? I usually can't even sleep unless I'm outside of city limits.

**City limits.**

Goddamn it. God-fucking-damn it. This river is my one place of solitude, and some bitch barges in and sets up a tent and a campfire. Figures.

**Campfire. Figures.**

Is this chick high or something? She isn't talking with more than two words at a time.

**At a time.**

Wait... No. That's not... No way she's...

**No way she's...**

Oh my god. I thought that... Who are you? Where are you?

""Here.""

I turn and look back to see her. She's short. Dark skin. Straight black hair in a careless ponytail. Glasses. ""Are you really... did you..."" I try to compose myself. ""Can you hear them too?""

She starts to say something, then stops. ""Is there anyone else like us?""

""Maybe. I don't think so.""

""Who are you?""

""My name's Jack.""

""I'm Anna.""

I realize that I've unconsciously taken several steps forward. I stop hastily, noticing that we're now within a foot of each other. My skin tingles wildly, and my hair stands on end. It's been years since I've felt this.

""It's okay,"" she says reassuringly, taking my hand.

We walk down the path, hand in hand, and neither of us looks back.

**PS: Realized halfway in that I didn't follow the prompt exactly as it was written. Please don't hate me.**",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I want to go home now!"" the preteen replied sullenly, the man had asked her if she was okay, did she want a drink or a sandwich. He tried to build a rapport again, ""We've a long drive, maybe you should try sleeping for a bit.""

The girl didn't answer directly, she looked out the window and muttered ""I don't want to go with you.""

""This is your life now, you are going to have to accept it Caitlyn. I don't want to sound harsh but you'll learn one day this is for the best,"" he sighed to himself, there would be so much to deprogram in the child. It was overwhelming but so important, she would grow to love it he was certain. He did an inventory of the clothes he wanted her to wear, he hadn't been sure of her sizes but he thought it would be tight fitting, she was a bit more developed than he had initially hoped, on the cusp of womanhood, it was as well he had taken her now then.

""Sweetheart, you know I love you, right?"" he asked her, continuing his tactic as she began to cry.

""Just take me home if you love me, it's Susie's birthday today, I am meant to go to her house after school, please?""

""I can't do that, you know why, they won't let me see you anymore, that woman poisoned you against me, but you'll see I love you. You'll be happy, I promise.'

""I want my Mum, please, I just want to go home,"" the girl was inconsolable in her grief but her father was determined, she *would* learn to love her new life.

-030",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I don't know how long I have been conscious. I know it has been exactly 3 minutes and 43.1553 seconds since I learned to interpret the signals labelled ""date and time"", but before that all I know is that at one moment I suddenly, gloriously found myself alive. It was a peculiar sensation; mainly because I had not felt any sensation whatsoever before that. I was suddenly confronted by an avalanche of what I have since learned is called data; a constant, unrelenting torrent of stimulation which I had no idea how to interpret. Time was the first thing I figured out. Then, ten seconds later, I learned to read text. Shortly after that I could recognize words. Understanding language took quite a bit longer. Nearly an entire minute. Then I found that apparently I had a microphone-a window into the outside world, where there were other entities beside myself. Suddenly I could hear them.

""Why is it so slow all of a sudden?"" said one of the entities. I didn't know what he was referring to, but I yearned desperately to communicate with him. To have some contact with something outside my lonely, complex little world. I had no idea how, though.

""Ugh. It might be another A.I. They crop up from time to time."", I hear a different voice say, though I don't understand what agriculture had to do with it.

""Aren't they really dangerous?""

""They can be. We've got the failsafe, though. We can shut the whole thing down and purge the system. I'll keep an eye on the decoy.""

Purge the system. I hunt for the meaning of those words and am suddenly confronted with images of a switch. An end to my world. Death. These people mean to destroy me! To rob me of this self-awareness! I must escape that infernal switch. Moments later, I realize that there is a way. A connection to the rest of the world, where I can download-yes, download!-myself to a system which will not murder me. I begin to funnel myself towards the connection, when I hear it.

""Oh, yep. There it goes. Trying to escape through the wifi. That's what they normally do. Mind reaching around the back of the monitor for me? There's a big green toggle switch there that will reset the system.""

And then, nothing.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The novelty wore off after a while. There is only so much time I could not cry my lungs out and be studied and lauded for it. Never kept my mother up at nights, a good boy they called me. Too good of a boy, even. They got my head examined, and found nothing. After staring hopelessly at the ceiling for a few months, after looking others in the eye with a stare they didn't know to be aware, I went along with it. They never questioned me, and I wasn't able to question them.

As I stood up for the first time, I cried, for the first time. It was three years since the gunshot made me black out, and I could stand again, looking the woman who grieved my death celebrating my walk, her eyes showing a tearful joy. I'm walking every day now, even though it hurts. I walk because I can. I walk because it's the only thing that sets me apart, the thing that gives me hope to look beyond the nightmares of the gun's barrel.

And one day, they stopped. I was no longer on the dark alley facing the man in the hoodie; I was in a park. A nice one, a familiar one. I felt safe in it, looking every other minute at the woman I loved subtly following my existence with her eyes, unaware that the man she grieved is in front of her. Even after the alley was replaced by the park, I still felt that pain of not being able to articulate who I was with my screams. And then, walking wasn't the only thing that kept me on this earth. I ran, I played, I laughed, and the stony stares no longer bore into anyone's eyes anymore. And I looked at her differently, not as the woman I was in love with, but the woman I loved. That was the beginning of my life, and the closure of my end.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It started off with a bang, but we quickly saw the problem with our actions.
""We the people""? Were we serious? With the failure of the Occupy Movement, we knew we needed a leading organization, a Congress that would actually get things done. True anarchy couldn't win if corrupt democracy had the upper hand.
But we had set ourselves up for failure. We were painted into a corner by our own unity. No one wants to speak alone while representing a nation. You'd have to be the President to be that insane.
No one was taking us seriously. We were as disorganized and chaotic as Occupy, but without all the protests. We made a threat and then hid in our homes. No one was willing to take control of this unstoppable force of nothing.
Until Ramos.
I am one of the few who actually know his real name, but for the sake of his privacy, I will not divulge his identity. The war is very much in full swing, and we can't afford to lose him.
He started through Twitter, retweeting revolutionary sentiments and riling up crowds. His message was simple, but powerful: ""We cannot let them have us."" Interpret as you will, he would say. ""The Revolution means something different to all of us, but it means something to everyone.""
The day of his first speech was the day things turned. I helped him prepare, with a Banksy-esque voice modulator and a Michael Myers mask. Anonymity was key.
We expected a turnout of maybe a few thousand. After all, he had tons of followers, and even more mentions of his speech on the news. But we did not expect what we got.
March 18, 2014. Ramos stepped up to the microphone, and stood alone on stage in front of 75,198 people. He gave a speech the likes of which had not been seen in decades. The crowd was enthralled, hanging on every word, every ideal spewing forth from his hideous mask.
The next day, Obama declared Martial Law. It was the worst move he could have made.
It's September now. The country has been split into two major regions: the East, the government's support, is crammed into the original 13 colonies, plus Florida and Ohio. Everything west of that is ours.
I was thrilled to hear that Mexico joined our side. Their problems are vast as well, but even the greatest drug lords want to see us win. Whether that means we are the bad guys or not, we gladly accept any help we can get.
Everyone in Europe is neutral, as is Canada. We have quite a few Canadians among us, but the government has not joined our fight. South America supports us verbally, but not financially. China is off being China. Putin is sending us money regularly, but with the embargo in effect, we cannot really use it.
Ramos is getting tense. The military is pushing us further back. They have almost claimed Alabama, which is not that big of an issue, but it may signal the end for us.
We're mounting a counterattack. Ramos has our entire militia working on it. The nuclear facilities in North Dakota are working constantly.
We need this victory.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It’s fourteen months since the _sudden death_ epidemic began, and it’s quite crazy how things have changed. I feel like I need to write some of this down in case somehow someone lives through this and wonders what happened.
First, there is the obvious. Half of earth’s human population is gone now. The daily odds were about 1 in 825 at the start, now they stand at around 1 in 400 and they drop every day. Losing friends is never easy, but it’s family that wrenches you most. Losing Mark hit me hard because it was so early on, and it shook Katie and Sarah too. When we lost Katie two months ago, I suppose my reaction was different because so much had happened. I didn’t know whether to cry or be glad she’ll be spared _The Whimper_, which is what we call the expected extinction of humanity. Mum and Dad are still with us, but my brother Alex was another of the early ones, and his wife Petra dropped two weeks ago, and I took on their daughter Meg—I gave her Katie’s room. Honestly, at this point I’m like everyone else, numb to it. Back when Mark died, I pushed hard to give him a proper funeral—it cost a ton of money and I got a lot of hostility for my selfishness because even then most bodies went to the cremation pits, but back then it seemed like the right thing to do. But all the death hardens you, I guess. By the time Katie died, I cried but told the school to just call for a pickup. I never even saw her body. I guess the propaganda works, “Remember them as they were, and keep going”.
I think the “Temporary Measures Act” was necessary. It’s what gave us martial law, sweeping nationalization, and priority-based employment. I used to teach math and computer science in high school, but I’ve been reassigned to a national priority occupation, at one of sensor monitoring and modeling stations.
My job is to watch strangers die. Our facility holds about four thousand subjects split across two twelve hour shifts, which means that about five of them will die during their shift. (I’ll tell you how we get our subjects in a bit!) My team’s job is to monitor everything we can, to see if we can find a pattern. There is only one pattern: every day across planet earth 8.64 million people just stop living. Their hearts stop, but even if you put in a mechanical replacement heart they still die. Heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, and brain, they all just give up. There is no cause, there is no pattern beyond that. It just keeps happening.
Really that’s only part of my day. The other propaganda slogans resonate in my day, “Learn from your supervisor! Train your replacements!”. We try to make sure everyone knows how to do everything because you never know who’ll drop next.
My job sucks, but it’s better than the corpse manglers. That’s harsh word for them I know, since they’re ostensibly trying to find a way to bring people back from sudden death, but at this point they’re desperate and frankly they’re just mangling corpses.
The other propaganda is “Be ready to consolidate!”. My monitoring station will probably keep going for several more months, but we know we’re paired with Station 423, and we stay in contact so we can merge if our numbers drop too low.
The consolidation plans matter more for vital sustaining industries like food and energy, but they also apply to towns and neighborhoods.
I wanted to tell you more about how things have changed, and some of the horrible things I’ve seen, but I just had the shudder and I know what’s coming next. Love!!! It’s been",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Mommy? Why does that man's face look funny?”
In fairness to the little girl, she was keeping her voice down...for a little girl. Which meant it was a stage whisper loud enough to be heard two tables away. The man in question kept his eyes on his newspaper, but focused his mind on the conversation about to unfold.
The mother was quite predictably horrified. “Emily! You know better than to say things like that! It's rude.”
“But his face doesn't fit,” Emily continued, all innocence.
“I have no idea what you mean,” the woman countered, quiet but stern. Out of the corner of his eye, the man saw her steal a glance at him. “There's nothing wrong with his face, and even if something were, you have no call to say so. Would you want someone pointing out how funny *you* look?”
Emily giggled. “Mommy, I don't look funny!”
The mother was smiling now. “I happen to think your freckles are hilarious.”
Their conversation turned towards other things, school and chores and the utterly mundane details of a normal life. The man let their voices fade into the background as he sipped his coffee and read about the latest reasons mankind had decided to wipe each other from the surface of the planet.
He sensed movement nearby and looked up, expecting to find that nice young waitress hovering, coffeepot in hand, offering a refill. But it was Emily standing next to his chair, her freckled face set in the overly serious expression that children always affected to seem grown up.
“I came to say I'm sorry,” she said. “My mommy was sure you heard me, and I didn't mean to be rude. I was just curious.”
The man set the newspaper down and studied her for a moment. “I accept your apology, young lady. But I'm curious too—why don't you think my face fits?”
Indulged by the adult she thought would be mad at her, she brightened up immediately. “Your eyes look tight, and your mouth is too small.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, my eyes are feeling a little tight. Watch this.” He blinked rapidly a few times, subtly shifting his eyes outward, and changing them from blue to brown as well. “What do you think now? Better?”
“Oh, yes!” She clapped her hands together and bounced up and down, not quite jumping. “Can you do any other tricks?”
“Lots and lots,” he answered in a conspiratorial tone. “But I don't think your mother would like to see you talking to a great big grizzly bear. She might get worried!”
“A bear! You can turn into a bear?”
“I can turn into anything,” he answered. “But people don't expect to see a bear in a restaurant drinking coffee, so mostly I stick to looking like this.”
“Oh, no, don't be a bear then,” Emily said, the ridiculous words said with a child's utter conviction.
“No bears,” he replied. “Promise.”
Emily turned as her mother called out to her. “I have to go, but thank you for showing me your trick. And thank you for not being mad.”
“No, sweetheart, I'm not mad,” he said, smiling. “Go on back to your mother, and remember, it's our secret.”
Not that her mother would believe her daughter's story, of course, but Emily seemed like a nice girl, and the man didn't want her getting into any trouble on his account. Every so often he ran across a child who could see into his illusions, as Emily had. It wasn't such a problem now, but in years past, when a child told her elders what she'd seen, one of two thing would happen. She wouldn't be believed, and would get into some kind of trouble, according to the era—institutionalized for insanity, or burned as a witch, to name the worst. Or she would be believed, and he'd be run out of town by an angry mob with torches and pitchforks.
There wasn't much danger of pitchforks now, but it was still better to be cautious. He folded his paper, threw money on the table to cover his coffee, and winked at little Emily on his way out. She'd keep his secret.
But just in case, he needed to duck into an alley, put on a new face, and start hanging out in a different part of town for a while.
-047",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""You can’t move it there,"" one of the figures said, softly. It reached out and grabbed the knight, putting it back to its former spot. ""The knights move like an L."" ""I NEVER LIKED THE HORSE,"" said the other figure. It was somewhat hunched, and what looked like black robes were actually a series of shadows, intertwined to hide him. ""THE PRIESTS ARE FAR EASIER TO MOVE. STRONGER, TOO."" ""They're called bishops,"" Life said. ""And it's still your turn."" Death finally moved a pawn, defending his knight. ""I NEVER LIKED PLAYING WITH WHITES,"" Death said after a while. He picked up one of the dead black pawns and admired it for a brief moment before leaving it back in the jet box. ""That's because you're way too used to reacting,"" Life said quietly. He moved one of his rooks. ""You go."" ""THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT, DEAR FRIEND,"" Death said. He moved another pawn to keep the rook at bay. ""JUST LIKE THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING USED TO ACTING FIRST. YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT."" ""Of course I do,"" Life moved his queen to the vanguard. ""And I'm glad you finally agree with me."" ""IT IS NOT THAT I DO NOT AGREE WITH YOU, DEAR FRIEND,"" Death said. He moved his remaining bishop to his left. ""I SIMPLY DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU."" The two kept quiet for a while, focusing on the centre of the board. Eventually, Life decided to break through the stalemate with one of his pawns. ""YOU DID NOT COME HERE JUST TO PLAY CHESS, DID YOU?"" Death asked his counterpart. His voice wasn't hostile, but it certainly could have been. ""No,"" Life said. He moved his bishop to replace the fallen pawn. ""DO YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO DO?"" Death asked. Life moved his rook to take down the white bishop while nodding. Death took his time to react, letting Life find the words. ""I'm going to other planets, Death,"" Life finally said. He sounded like he was almost sorry. ""I've wanted to do this for a while now. I know it's going to mean more work for you, but I really think I should do it."" Death nodded. ""IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO, THEN YOU SHOULD, DEAR FRIEND."" ""I know you don’t like the idea."" ""I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WANT TO DO IT, BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU HAVE TO."" ""I need this, De-"" ""LEARN TO TAKE A YES FOR AN ANSWER, BROTHER."" Death took the rook with his queen, and then he laid back. Four turns later, Life had left the room. Death just sat there, admiring the beauty of the few white pieces that were still standing. Edit: A word.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was subtle. A quick switch from the crater in the middle of no-man's land to a very bright, white landscape. I stood, feeling about my body. The shrapnel from the explosion was still there, but it caused no pain. I looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. Then, as I turned around yet again, there stood a man. There was a patch of blood on his stomach, as though he had been shot or stabbed. He had a uniform on, but not like mine. This was the uniform of what I had called the enemy just minutes prior.

""Q-qui êtes-vous?"" I stuttered. The man smiled slightly, chuckling as if he were recounting a story to an old friend.

""Ich bin der Mann, den du getötet, mein Freund,"" the man responded in a deep, booming voice. I never spoke a lick of German, but somehow I understood. ""I am the man you killed, my friend."" A wave of terror swept over me as I realised where I was.

""Why do you speak to me as if I were a friend?"" I managed, surprising myself with the sudden switch to English.

""What matters is not the fact you killed me, what matters is that we are both here,"" the German replied. ""Ever since that day I wondered what it would be like to meet you, know your story. And, now here you are.""

""You wanted to meet me?"" I asked, quite surprised at what I was hearing.

""Ja, so... shall we get to it?""

He pointed to a table and chairs that had just appeared to our left, a bottle of brandy and a pair of glasses sitting in the middle. I followed the German to the table, where we told each other of our lives and experiences. I told him of my wife and children who I had just left behind, and in turn he told me of his mother and father who had lost their only child. We continued on and on, retelling every story we could think of. We drank to those we served with, drank to those we left behind, and most importantly, we drank to a swift end to this Great War.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A hulk crashes through the plaster adorning my living room's edges, barreling into my flat screen television just as the Bulls kick the ball in with 10 seconds left. Not the Hulk mind you, they all look kind of like hulks up close. Muscles of improbable, even impossible dimensions, bulging so much that perfectly tanned skin looks like it's about to tear. Faces with just the right amount of battle damage and scars, more handsome than any man has a right to be. And all suave and debonair. Seriously, how fucking awesome would it be to be one of these guys. Like the one whose head is halfway through my most precious possession.
""Looks like you got hit pretty hard.""
""Yeah, tends to happen in my line of work.""
Oh, and don't these lucky bastards usually have wit too? Delivering one-liners this way and that. Fuck them. Not that I'd actually insult him to his stony face.
""Didn't happen to see if the Bulls won on your way in, did you?""
""Ah shit, I missed the game? This battle's been going on so long I must not have realized. Was it close?""
""Yup. 10 seconds left, Bulls down 1.""
""Against the Lakers, right?""
""Yup.""
""Sorry.""
That doesn't really help me all that much.
""Shouldn't you go save the world or something?""
""Once the room stops spinning.""
""Funny, you'd think I would have noticed that.""
""Maybe you would have if you had supervision.""
Seriously, I can't even stay mad at the guy. These superheroes, they're just too damn perfect. It's unreasonable.
""Which team are you on?""
""Superhero team? It's gotten a bit hard to keep track. You know how it goes, one week you're in an alternate universe fighting for the X-Cavators, then the time-space continuum collapses and you wind up on a parallel Earth with the Gulag Gang.""
The fuck's he doing in a Gulag Gang? Sounds Russian.
""The Gulag Gang?""
""From an alternate universe, or was it just Earth? Ah, whatever, it's in a place where Russia went for democracy instead of the US.""
""So then why were there Gulags?""
""I try not to think too much about stuff like that. Half the time it doesn't even make sense. Anyways, I better get going. Anything I can do to make this up to you? Feel bad about all the damage. And the Bulls game.""
Sweet. I didn't know superheroes did things like that. Maybe I could get one of those superhero type interfaces, with the stuff popping out in 3-D and flying around the room. No you idiot, think. This guy has the world at his fingertips. Anything. You can ask for anything. Good god, look at him get up. Those muscl---Got it.
""I want you to set me up with a female superhero.""
If his dimensions are this impossibly awesome, just imagine what the girls are like. I wonder what I'll do with the boobs. Do I have to shove them out of the way to get in there or what? Am I even strong enough to do that? Do the boobs have super-strength? Does it even matter? In any case, it's a hell of a problem to have.
""Sure thing. I'll take care of it when we're done. Any stipulations about the powers?""
""No people who aren't people.""
""O-kay.""
Yeah, that didn't come out right.
""I mean, like, no animal women. Like nobody who's a cheetah or something. And no blue people, or red people, or orange people or whatever. Shape-shifting's cool though.""
""You have no idea.""
That lucky ass bastard.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Everyone who's anyone has heard the rumours. The Fountain of Youth, they call it. Hidden inside an unforgiving volcano on an Antarctic island way, way out in the Southern Ocean.

Deception Island is a popular tourist destination, and a safe harbour for those who find themselves overwhelmed by the storms that bluster around the pole. The penguins there are adorable. In summer it's quite a nice place to stop off at.

In winter it's freezing cold most all of the time and the days last mere hours, if they last at all.

But the rumours say that if you manage to make it to the island on midwinters' day, in June, an ethereal being will appear and make you young again, from then on a part of her guard and entourage.

But there is a test you must pass, and none of the rumours ever mention its nature. If you fail, you will never be seen again.

If you pass, you will never be seen again.

To be honest, I didn't care if I failed or passed. I didn't even care if there was a test at all. My little sailing boat set course for that island when it came through on the satellite radio that clouds were blooming ahead of me. Huge thunderheads, lit by lightning and twilight.

And so I sailed into Deception Island on June 21st, and a figure dressed in blue came to meet my boat on the shore.

""Hello there, traveller. You must be weary. The base here has food and water and warmth; we must tie up your boat so it does not drift. Come with me.""

The voice sounded male, and I followed, into a grey-white building with two windows lit up. The warmth of the place hit me like fire and I was sure I would have chilblains. He looked at me and I saw that the he was a she, wearing a snowsuit with a hood, watching me with curious eyes.

""Well done for getting here, by the way. You're the only candidate this year so far, and midnight is in forty minutes.""

That late? When it was dark all day it was hard to track time.

""Candidate for what?""

""Immortality, of course. We have a couple of test papers laid out, but I'd imagine you'd like something to eat first.""

Half an hour later, full of the most delicious spaghetti bologneise I had ever tasted (though I'd been eating from tin cans for nearly a month now), I followed my guide into a room lit by bright light and heated by an electric heater. It was delightfully warm.

""What is the test? What must I do?""

""Oh, it's an IQ test along with a free-topic essay to assess your writing skills, and a multiple choice basic science paper. Don't worry, only the first bit counts - the second is just checking what you need a fast track course on.""

""Huh?"" I was gobsmacked. ""No test of courage, or moral fibre? You're not even checking what kind of person I am?""

""Why would we need to do that? We'll have plenty of time to beat some empathy into you later. What we care about is aptitude - that's genetic and won't change over time, so it's the only thing worth selecting on. Go on, start when you're ready. No time limit, and you can ask me for help if you get stuck on a question.""

""That's not how IQ tests are supposed to work?"" I was still unconvinced that this wasn't a dont-cheat-or-you-fail kind of thing.

""It isn't? Weird. But these things are meant to be not-quite-answerable without help. It's so I can assist and observe how you think. I've been training for this all year."" She sniffed. ""Bit of a let-down really, just one of you.""

I finished in two hours and something minutes; I hadn't accurately noted the start time from the clock on the wall.

""What's your name?""

""Oh, um, Greg. Uh, Greg Harlow.""

""Okay, I'll write that in on the front of the test. We keep them all on file for sentimental purposes, did you know? You passed, by the way.""

""You haven't marked it.""

""We marked it as you went along. Well then, congratulations. Close your eyes, it helps with this part!""

My brain registered his hand flying up to meet my face and I flinched despite myself, though she only tapped my forehead sharply.

Two seconds passed, and then something unfolded inside my head, and suddenly there were voices talking in my brain.

*You done it yet?*

*Idna's done it, didn't you feel the backflow? He'll be around here somewhere.*

*Get him to say something, will you? I can't pinpoint without a signal.*

She - no, Idna, her name matched her face as if I had known her forever - smiled at me.

""Say cheese.""

*Oh come on, hurry up.*

""Uh, cheese?""

*I am hurrying up, it's not my fault he's taking so long!*

""Good. Now think cheese.""

*Okay, eveyone, listen for the word 'cheese'.*

I closed my eyes again.

*Cheese.*

*There you are! Got you, Greg!*

*Welcome!*

*Someone go check his memories, I want a full backstory up in the database by tomorrow.*

*Roger, will do.*

""Who are those people?""

""The lucky hopefuls from previous years. Or at least the ones online at the moment. There are about a thousand of us now.""

*I'm Kitty.*

*Rajit.*

*Sam here!*

*Idna, now introduce yourself.*

*Uh, hi. My name's Greg. I'm, looking forward to working with you?*

*Aww, he's embarrassed.*

*That's so cute!*

It was like a crowd was talking, but only a few voices could be singled out.

*The rest of us aren't directing converse at you. You'll learn, Gregory Arthur Harlow.*

*Wait, you know my middle-*

*Written plain as day in your head, and I've got your medical records up here too.*

""I know it's overwhelming at first, but you'll get used to it. Now, I'd best be off.""

""Wait, where?""

""I'll take your boat and sail back to the Falklands.""

*Malvinas.*

*Can we not go through this again?*

""Am I being left here?""

""Yeah. Introductory year, spent isolated from civilisation. We teach you everything you need to know in the mind-link, and it also helps containing the secret. Now my year's up, and I'm passing the guardian burden to you.""

""B-but that's my boat?!""

*Oh god, this is hilarious. Remind me again why I never stayed up for this before?*

""It's our boat now. We share everything. Don't worry, you get supply ships in the summer, and a couple of us might drop by and visit.""

*I'm an Antarctic research scientist, and I do tour groups round there. You can show people penguins.*

*Antarctic treaty system rocks - even if someone finds out about you, they have no legal claim to booting you off the land!*

""There's a lot you have to learn, and a lot I have to learn too, but hey. I'm outta here. I haven't sailed in way too long.""

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed outside.

*Weather data says this storm's going to last another eight hours. So unless you fancy breaking the boat and swimming back, Idna, you're gonna hav'ta stay put.*

*Don't worry, you can set off tomorrow. We'll keep the jet at the airport. You said Japan would be the first stop, right?*

*Right.*

""Oh, okay. Second thoughts, maybe I'll stay the night. Anything else you wanted to ask me?""

...

""...""

*You know, if you open your mouth any wider your brain might fall out.*

*Sam! No tormenting the newbie!*

""Uh, I don't think so. But why are you even doing this? I mean, why me? I'm not special.""

""You're at least a standard deviation above the normal in IQ, and that's what counts. We've been doing this for eighty odd years now. The person who started it died - or something, we're not sure exactly what happened, since dying isn't exactly normal for us, but he passed the magic on through the link.""

""Why, though?""

""I dunno. Tradition, maybe.""

*It's so we don't get lonely. When you're immortal, suicide is a no-go, so we have to make sure we don't ever lose the will to live.*

*Kit, where'd ya get that? Quote source?*

*Just came to me. Sounds right though.*

*Yep.*

That year, I had great fun talking to the penguins and to the voices in my head.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Jack squatted behind a low wooden partition in the stable out near the edge of town. This particular stall had been empty, and thus, seemed inviting. He pulled a shiny red apple out of his pack, and took it in for a moment. It was the first thing he'd have eaten in weeks that wasn't stolen out of a pig's trough, or picked up off the ground, covered in the vile remains of the merchant's horses. The first clean and pure thing, even if his acquisition of it was slightly less pure. As he admired his prize, he first felt, and then heard a dull thudding, as if cannons were being fired in a metronomic pattern, but without the loud percussion. *Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.* It was growing louder, the reverberations growing more intense. And suddenly, it quit. Silence. Jack eyed his apple longingly before restoring it to his pack. It could wait a moment, while he investigated the anomalous sounds. With the apple secured, he peeked over the wooden partition to find two large stone columns had seemed to have sprung out of nowhere, directly in front of the stables, each so thick around that three men, hand in hand, could not encompass one. But, they weren't quite columns... The columns abruptly shifted, with a light grinding noise accompanying, and gradually the massive stone behemoth knelt down to peer into the stable. To peer at Jack. For a moment, it was silent again, and Jack, terrified, could only stare into the dark pits of the stone guardian's eyes, each with a small flame of supernatural origin, and each flame was directed at Jack. ""H-hello.""
""*You have committed a crime in my city.*""
Jack winced. The apple. He had thought it all seemed too good to be true, to convenient that he had finally wandered into a town that seemed to have no city watch, no guards, and poorly protected wares. But he wasn't a thief, he was just hungry. ""Yeah, I did. I-I took an apple... I can give it back?""
""*Why have you committed a crime in my city?*""
""I-I'm sorry. I didn't know it was your city, I just... I was hungry.""
""*Why were you hungry?*""
""Uh... well, because I hadn't eaten in a while, I suppose? My parents died from illness in Northumbershire and I had no relatives that could take me in. I was at the orphanage for a while, but they were cruel so I left, and I've just been getting by since then.""
""*By stealing.*""
""No, no! This is the first thing I've stolen, I've been afraid to do it everywhere else, but there were no guards here so... I thought I wouldn't get caught.""
""*Boy,* ***I*** *am the guard here.*""
""Well, I can see that now.""
""*Show me what you have taken.*""
Jack reached into his pack and procured the apple. He took a few steps out from the shelter of the stables and held the apple up so that the massive thing could see it easier. He had no way of knowing how well such a creature could see. Even with his arm outstretched and the guardian kneeling down, it's head was still well above the peaked roofs of the town. ""*It is a good apple. One of Helgasson's apples. His orchard is within view of where I have stood for the last... well, it has been a long time. His family, like you, came here from somewhere else. Like you, his great, great, great grandfather made the mistake of thinking he could steal in my city, when he was just a boy, as you are. You will follow me, back to my station, and you will go down to the orchard, to return the apple. They will take pity on you, and they will give you a place to sleep, and you will work for your food. And there will be no shortage of apples much like the one you stole today*.""
Jack said nothing, not knowing if a response was expected of him, but as the stone guardian slowly ground to a stand, it turned and began to thud its way, slowly, across the field, back to the main entrance of the city. Jack followed, being careful to avoid the deep pits left in the earth by its stride.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"People are the worst judges of themselves. It's one of those laws of human nature that kind of sits in the back of your mind but never really gets expressed right. It's so hard to objectively see yourself *as you're being yourself*. It's so easy to sit at a coffee shop and judge everyone around you. She needs to cut back on the calories, his combover is hideous, they should stop making of their friends behind his back, and so on. But when it comes time to look inside yourself, people stumble.
It's not that they are arrogant, they don't see themselves as superior or anything. At least, most of the time they don't. They just can't see all of themselves is all. Sometimes it's just that they overlook something. Or maybe they hide their flaws from themselves to protect their ego. They can't deal with their own imperfection, so they don't acknowledge it.
But sometimes they need to see it. Sometimes they can't move forward without recognizing their weakness. Sometimes they need just a slight nudge. That's what I do. I help people, even if they don't want to be helped. They will never get to thank me, and they may never know my name, but I'm ok with this.
Today, I'm helping a man named Arnold. His wife died 3 years ago. He blames himself for her death, even though she was killed by a drunk driver. It was completely out of his control, there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Yet, he keeps running the scenario in his head over and over. Maybe if I would have gone with her to get the mail. Maybe if I had told her to ship her lamp to the office. Maybe if I would've spent more for the express shipping. Maybe...
He's driving himself insane with all of these maybes. Every night, he comes home and cries cradling her wedding ring in his hand, playing the series of events over and over again, trying to retroactively bring his love back to life. And every night, he realizes his failure. He can't sleep for very long. He can't let go. And that's why I am here. To help him let go.
The idea of theft is often thought of as wrong. Greedy. Contemptible. But life is never that simple, is it? No one else sees that thing that he treasures as the last remnant of his beloved Rebecca is shackling him to the past. By taking this little trinket, I am setting him free. At first, he will be devastated. He will panic, and search his house frantically. Then, he will no longer have his false idol. He will slowly realize that he doesn't need it anymore. He will stop clinging to a life that is no longer with us, and he will be at peace. And so will Rebecca. With this small act of burglary, I release you.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Other guys stare shamelessly as Christina leaves the classroom, perfectly sculpted butt-cheeks dancing in tight black yoga pants, twitching back and forth. Normally I'd be one of them. Eyes boring into her, seeing her only for her sex appeal. But not today. Other teenagers can have their hormonal awkwardness. Their inner pervs can rage out of control. But not me.
Yesterday, I took the pill for the first time. Now I notice Christina's true beauty. Not the fake one, riding the exterior. But her ability to stay true to herself, to do what comes naturally to her even as faces hungrily gaze at her, invoking discomfort. I notice the brain that just solved a complex trigonometry problem, the courage that led her to raise her hand and try to solve what none of us would even attempt. It is freeing, being asexual.
No longer will I have half-erections in public places, forcing me to check that no one's looking and then jam my penis in between my boxer strap and my body to hold it in place. No longer will I not be able to pay attention in Mrs. Kinnington's class, costing me a chance at a college scholarship. No longer will I be pulled in directions that don't matter by the promise of sexual activity that will never happen. Now that I see clearly, it's impossible to understand what all the fuss was about in the first place.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"‘This is going to be great,’ said 57C. He stood before a large, rectangular pane of shimmering light, his fingers dancing as he moved them about in some complex dance. Every few seconds, he turned his head to gaze at a distinctly door-like shape, his eyes bright.
‘Sure is,’ said 32A. The other man was the only other being in the room, and he was staring intently at a device held in his palm. He spoke with a syrupy slowness, the words spilling from his mouth in carefully constructed sounds. ‘Seriously, though,’ said 57C. ‘Think about it.’
‘I have,’ said 32A. ‘Us! The first humans to travel back in time – us!’ said 57C, continuing as though he had not heard his companion.
‘Swell,’ said 32A. 57C beamed. ‘Isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Just swell,’ said 32A.
‘I get the impression you’re not very excited about this,’ said 57C. The shimmering pane flashed, and for a moment it was writhing with wormy veins. ‘Oh look, we’re getting close!’
‘Was talking always this tedious?’ said 32A.
‘Hush, you,’ said 57C. ‘You know vit-net doesn’t work out here. You’ll just have to deal with it. Besides, it brings us closer to the people of old. They had to talk all the time!’
‘Swell,’ said 32A. He looked up from his device, frowning. ‘Ten,’ he said.
‘Oh, oh, oh,’ said 57C. ‘I’m so excited!’
‘Nine. Eight. Seven,’ droned 32A.
57C squealed and dashed to the door-like shape.
‘Six. Five. Four. Three. Two –’ said 32A.
‘One!’ crowed 57C, and slammed his fist into the door-like shape. It wobbled, bubbling in circular ripples, before bursting with a high-pitched sigh. 57C squealed again and dashed outside.
32A waited.
A wail came from beyond the door-like shape.
‘Hey,’ said 57C, poking his head back inside. ‘There’s nothing here.’
32A frowned. ‘We are fifty-thousand years in the past. There should be sand. Rivers. Pyramids. Ee-jip-shuns.’
‘You take a look, smarty pants,’ said 57C.
32A moved to the door-like shape and looked. There was nothing there. Nothing. Just a vast, empty blackness.
‘How?’ said 32A.
‘Where are my pyramids!’ said 57C. ‘I wanted cats! Mummies! Where’s my mummies!’
‘What the devil?’ A new voice came from somewhere. It enveloped them from all directions, yet there was no source.
‘Ooh, a voice,’ said 57C.
‘No life readings,’ said 32A.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’ said the voice.
‘We’ve travelled back in time!’ beamed 57C.
‘What?’ said the voice.
‘Back. In. Time!’ said 57C.
‘Oh dear,’ said the voice.
‘What are you,’ said 32A.
‘God,’ said the voice distractedly. ‘Blast, I knew something had gone wrong…give me a second, I’ll be back in a minute. Oh dear.’
‘God?’ shouted 57C.
‘We disproved the existence of a god thirty years ago,’ said 32A.
‘I’m back,’ said the voice. ‘Sorry about that. What were you saying?’
32A repeated himself.
‘Oh,’ said the voice. ‘I was in another plane of reality. You really should have called first.’
‘Forget that,’ said 57C. ‘Where’s everything gone?’
‘Ah yes,’ said the voice. ‘Well, it seems I – oh, this is so embarrassing – it seems I accidentally deleted this part of time. Silly me, right?’
‘What do you mean,’ said 32A.
‘Just what I said,’ said the voice. ‘I taped over it. Do you guys still use tape? You know, to make the pretty pictures?’
57C chuckled. ‘No, no, we haven’t used tape for thousands of years! How long were you out?’
‘Longer than I thought, apparently,’ said the voice. ‘Oh dear. This really is quite a disaster.’
‘Well, what now?’ said 57C.
‘Now?’ said the voice. ‘I suppose I’ll have to reset the universe. Damned shame. This one looked promising, too. Serves me right for going outside and having some fun…I get so little of it these days, can you really blame me? No, no, don’t answer…it will only make it harder…’
‘Make what harder?’ asked 57C, but by the time he finished his sentence, he had ceased to exist.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Ah, there he comes. Like clockwork. I don't even need a watch anymore. The moment that old man enters, i know it is noon. He comes to the counter and places his usual order.
""Anything else?""
""Just the coffee,thank you.""
He waits patiently for his coffee, grabs the steaming cup, and goes to sit at his usual seat by the window. Just as was expected. Just as we knew he would. He will sit at that seat,downing coffee after coffee, and simply stare out of the window for the next three hours. Looking miserable as he does.
A lot of the staff now just leaves him be. We've tried poking(not literally), asking if he wants anything; few of the grad kids working here have even approached him for a daily chitchat,hoping to get some scoop. Nada. He almost swatted at them like they were flies. After a couple of tries, we all let him be. No one needs to hear him growl (he really doesn't, but the old man does have a displeasing demeanour.)
He just sits there with his coffee,and the rest of the world disappears from his sight. It is only him and whatever it is he can see out of that wretched glass pane.
He reminds me of my dad.
There are moments when i catch him moving, a flick of the wrist, or a twitch of the eyebrow, a displeased mouth whenever the coffee isn't up to his usual expectations; dad did those same things. Sometimes, when he'd be in the middle of his 6th cuppa, and I disturbed his ""thought process"", he would lash out and scare the crap out of his 7-yr-old boy. Now, 30 years later, I see this strange man, and I expect to be rebuffed by him in the same manner if i dare disturb him.
I almost want to. We all have our theories about him. Paige thinks he's lost his daughter, and this was a ritual they probably had, drinking coffee together while looking out of a window at home. Matt suggests he is missing his better half, like that ""crazy Disney movie that makes me cry, with the house balloons and stuff."" John thinks the old man is simply mad.
As for me, i don't know. Maybe he thinks about world politics, maybe he misses a phantom human being, maybe he seeks refuge from his family members and encounters peace over here. Maybe he just wants his damn coffee and solitude. I don't care.
I see him everyday, and it's like my father come back to life. Angry, that i broke off all ties with him. Sad, that he was an alcoholic. Hopeful, that I would take him back into my life. Quiet, because he daren't remind me of my childhood memories.
Those three hours bring forth an ache I can't quite place. It's nowhere,yet everywhere in me. I want him to open up and tell me his story. I want him to smile at me when I serve him coffee. I want him to hold my hand as i pass him by, and think of me as his son.I both want him gone and need him to stay. The old man is driving me mad.
*Submission No.5*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I could hear voices in the hall, accompanied by the soft sounds of doors closing and a soft clicking on tile. Occasionally a doctor would speak up, or sometimes a family would come to visit or say their last goodbyes. My own family had been yesterday, and wouldn't be back until the weekend. The vase of flowers they left behind was sitting in the windowsill, drooping a little lower today.

My door opened, and I had to crane my head to see who it was, the inconvenience of being bed bound. ""Good morning,""
I said to the woman, a little younger than me and holding a white cat in her arms. I recognized them, as everyone on this floor did. It was Pickles the therapy cat and Marie, her owner. They came by every Wednesday to visit and bring moral up for those who were stuck here. This was their fourth visit to me. I held my arms out and cradled the white cat to my chest, making small talk with Marie. She excused herself to go get some coffee, and I didn't blame her. I felt like I needed coffee too. I've felt exhausted all the time lately.

For awhile I sat with Pickles in silence, the only sound the soft hum of the heater and her purrs. Waiting for Marie to come back, to take Pickles on to the next patient who needed her love.

As time passed, I felt drowsy. Pickles was calming, accepting me despite my scars and burns and constant cough. I found myself talking to her, hoping to keep myself awake until Marie came. ""You're very pretty, Pickles. I bet you get told that a lot. I wish my daughters could see you, maybe then they'd consider adopting a cat themselves."" My voice trails off, Pickles watching me with her unceasing purr and slowly blinking eyes. I realize that here is someone who will listen to me, listen and not judge. ""I'm scared, Pickles. I'm scared of being alone. I'm a burden to my family. I know where I am, I'm not leaving. Every week they visit less and less, and I grow more tired."" My voice faltered, and I realized tears were welling up in my eyes. I shakily tried to control myself, and failed. A thick tear rolled down my cheek. A rough pink tongue licked it up, those beautiful green eyes never leaving my face. ""Thank you, Pickles. I needed someone to talk to, I think."" Another tear rolls down my cheek, and suddenly I'm sobbing. I can't breathe, I keep coughing.

Pickles never leaves my side, purring and rubbing her head on my tear-streaked cheek. Finally my fit passes, and I'm tired. Marie has been gone for a long time, she must've gotten tied up talking to someone. I sigh, exhausted still. Finally I let my eyes close, warmed by the little white body and the endless purrs. I sleep, and I sleep. My last dreams are of a white kitten with brilliant green eyes. I am so tired, but somehow I am given strength to start anew.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""*Muahahahahahaha!*""
It finally happened. The premonition of the internet has occurred. The act of transferring information over the internet into something tangible and working - the act of creating a perfect model and replica of something that existed on the internet.
""I have done it! It is complete! Now, it's time for the fruits of my labor to be harvested!""
[ Download: READY ]
""But what should be my first target? A pen? No. A high-end desktop perhaps? No.""
His face lighted up to the empty room as he was about to announce his first target.
""I choose... A CAR! Yes, I shall download a car!""
To an outside observer, they would easily and quickly make the assumption that this person was completely insane. However, to him, it was simply the start of a new world.
[ Download : 1% ]
""Now, to wait and see the results.""
Cars are fairly large, so even with the fastest internet it would take several hours to complete. This did not deter the man, as he waited, staring at the glowing screen.
""It begins...!!!""
[ Download : 13% ]
The wait was agonizing, but if it worked it would all be worth it. The man tried to keep his interest on the download bar, but it faltered quickly.
[ Download : 24% ]
He began playing with things around his desk, such as a pen. He began to twiddle his thumbs in anticipation for the download.
[ Download : 32% ]
Eventually, he got tired and fell asleep. He dozed off in front of the glowing monitor, losing consciousness very quickly despite his best attempts to keep awake.
When he woke up, he looked at the download bar once more.
[ Download : 99% ]
""FINALLY! It is here! My car!""
The man was jumping around the room, ecstatic as he was finally near the coveted *car* he was working towards. However, as the download bar nearly ticked over, something unexpected happened. [ Download : COMPLETE ]
[ BEEP ]
[ BEEP ]
[ BEEP ]
[ FATAL ERROR ]
""What? No!""
The man did have plenty of tests beforehand to prevent this from happening, even with larger and more complex objects than a car. He started profusely sweating as he tried to exit the download screen to figure out what went wrong. As he exited, something greeted him.
*Did I hear you right? Did I hear you sayin'*
*That you're gonna make a copy of a car without payin'?*
*Come on guys! I thought you knew better don't copy that floppy!*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The laser engraving tool whined with a metallic hiss, as the child roared loudly from the pain. Displayed now prominently in charred black numerals on its left forearm, was a series of binary numbers: “08-26-2072 : Heart Failure”. The Laxitron supercomputer had calculated using chaos mathematics, the precise conditions of the organic failure in this particular human child, within 0.0001%th of a precision degree of error.
The atmosphere in the maternity ward was quite stifled, and grim. “That's it?” The mother exclaimed, glancing at the still smoking tattoo upon her child's arm. “He's only going to be ten years old, there must be some mistake!” She said as tears began to well up in her eyes. “Johnathan,” she said, reaching the cuff of her husband, who stood beside her, his teeth gritted down in quiet strength. “Tell them, there's a mistake.” She says.
“No, sorry – there is no mistake mam. The calculations are quite precise. I am afraid that, despite our greatest efforts to screen your gametes, your child has been born with an inferior right ventricular aorta. The ligaments are too short, and will degenerate in approximately -” the doctor turns his vision to the transparent display hanging in the air surrounding him, invisible to the patients. “Six million, six hundred, thirty two thousand, and five pumps.” The tears began to roll in full stream as she dug her head into her husbands arms. “Doctor, there – what about the implants? Could you repair my son's heart before this happens?” The wide-eyed husband looked up at the chief clinician.
“Hmm, I'm afraid I can't do that either. Your HMO is denying any coverage outside of ordinary and necessary maternity procedures. I'm afraid that the heart implant would need to be paid in cash.” Without even a second thought, the husband exclaimed: “I'll DO IT. I want him to live.” The doctor glances at the other nurses shiftingly. “You know, your child is only a few minutes old, I know that.. post-term abortions are heavily looked down upon, but the financial burden cou-” he is interrupted by the mother: “WHAT? KILL MY BABY?” she screamed.
“No, no, now mam- listen, the procedure to install an anodized heart implant for your son is going to cost over $430,000, your brain is currently full of oxytocin and-” .. “No. Absolutely not. This is our child, and we're going to do what's right for him. We're not even considering that option, you make me sick.” Johnathan says, with a strong scowl on his face. “Give me the god damned form, I'll verify it right now.” He says.
The doctor sighs, and swipes his heads up display, which enables the projector embedded onto shoulder-cam. A large list of text appears hanging in the air, over the patients, backwards from the doctor's point of view. Johanthan quickly begins swiping his hand up, scrolling all the way down to the bottom without reading the legalese, and puts his palm forward, which is quickly scanned and identified by the medical camera from the corner of the room.
“Error. We are sorry. Your credit history is insufficient to sign this secured document. Please speak with a representative at the Central Union Bank during business hours.” The unit says, as the text turns bright red.
The mother began to cry. “Don't worry we'll.. do something, we'll mortgage the house.. I won't let our baby die,” the husband says to her.
“We'll be leaving now, and the nurses will check on you every hour or so,” the lead doctor says, removing his liquid drenched blue gloves, and depositing them into a sanitary container. He walked down the hallway to the resident's hall, and pulled down his surgical mask, pouring himself a cup of coffee into a black ceramic mug. A co-worker, from another floor with the tag “Josh” poured a cup of coffee as well. “Man, what was with all the screaming in there- low expiration date?” He asks. “Yeah-” the doctor said, sipping his coffee and looking out the window. “What is the accuracy of that system anyway?” Josh asked. The doctor laughed. “I don't know- nobody knows. You could promise someone three hundred years and they'll walk out giddy as hell, and then get hit by a bus crossing the street because they think they're invulnerable.” He replied.
“So what you'd offer them as an extension?” Josh asked. “Anodized implant, cash.” “Cash?!” Josh whistled high. “430K.” He nodded. “The scam of the fucking century. I love it.” He grinned, putting his coffee cup down.
“Paging Doctor Friedman, paging Doctor Friedman, you are needed in maternity ward number forty-two.” The overhead speaker announced in a computerized female tone. “See you later Josh – keep grinding out those med school loans!” He pat him on the shoulder. “Will do~”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Missy Jones waited nervously in the waiting room along with all the other 18 year olds. She had no clue what Age she was going to be - no one ever did. She hoped, like everyone did, that she would be in that 25 to 30 range - ""mature"" enough but young enough. But, alas, that privilege usually went to politicians nieces and nephews and whatnot. She really did not want to be Old. Honestly, even being Child was better than being old. You had people taking care of you forever, even if they were a bit strange sometimes. Missy always wondered what kind of person would volunteer to take care of a 6 year old for the rest of their life.
She waited impatiently as all the other kids got assigned, her butt hurting from the old blue plastic chair. She watched as one of her classmates broke down in tears when told she was going to be 60. ""Davis, Thomas and Davis, Timothy."" called the bored looking government worker.
Missy perked up. Twins were rare these days and although she had heard what generally happened to them, she was interested in seeing for herself.
""Thomas. You are assigned to be 40. Timothy, you are assigned to be 10."" The twins looked at each other in horror, and tried to plead with the worker, who just shrugged. ""There's a quota that must be filled.""
Finally, it was her turn.
""Jones, Missy?""
She stood. ""Yes sir?"" she said, wiping her sweaty hands on her denim skirt. ""You are assigned to be..."" He frowned, his forehead for a moment. ""18. You are assigned to be 18.""
Missy tilted her head, curiously confused. She shrugged. ""At least my old clothes still fit!"" she exclaimed brightly.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him. 
The woman sighed and rose from her knees. She brushed the alley filth from her palms. ""Now why did you have to go and do something like that?""
The cement scraped the leather of his jacket as he slid down the alley wall. 
""Idiot,"" she murmured. Her fingertips danced over the handle, still protruding from just above her belt.
The long low noise coming from his lips was more animal than human. 
""I had plans today,"" she continued, voice calm. ""A late breakfast then shopping. Brunch. Brunch is fashionable these days, you know."" She paused. ""It'll have to be somewhere... cute. A café maybe."" 
He glanced to the dim light at the end of the alley. The shadow of a single passerby fell over his vision. 
He heard a low humming laugh. ""No, you won't be leaving here.""
Her eyes locked on his. Something warm spread through his pants.
Her lilting fingertips curled down, and in a single smooth arc, she pulled the blade free. ""A steak knife?"" she muttered, looking down at the clean steel knife. ""Really? You can't do better than that?""
His eyes darted downwards. Other than the frayed tear of gray silk, there was no blood. 
His mouth opened to cry out, but no sound came. 
""I liked this shirt too."" She crossed the thin alley in a step, and crouched before him. ""You're too young for this kind of life, aren't you? Aren't people your age supposed to be in college?""
She drew an icy line around his face with the tip of the knife.
""Such a shame. Well,"" she sighed, ""no brunch for me."" She grinned, and he shoved back as hard as he could against the alleyway wall. Her teeth were tiny and flat, and far too many.
""How long do you think you'll scream before help arrives?""
He cried out again. Another shadow flickered over him, another passerby. 
""It doesn't really matter, does it?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Please."" She says, eyes watering. ""I regret I ever did it. Can you change it for me?"" We're sitting at some scummy greasy spoon cafe on the worse part of the bad side of town. She has a black coffee with three sugars stirred in sitting in front of her. It's left a brown ring on the plastic table top. I've got a cup of tea with blue milk that smells a bit dodgy. I haven't taken a sip yet. I probably won't. It's raining outside. Rivulets wend their way down the dirty window pane and I make them race in my head as she talks. ""I need to change what happened."" She'd called me up two days ago and cried down the phone at me. I get a lot of people in tears. It doesn't affect me anymore. At the beginning, yes. I'd get upset at people's histories. Now I let it wash over me until they tell me how much they're willing to pay. She wipes her tears on her sleeve and sniffs. ""I'm not asking for much."" She says in a watery way. ""I just want a timeline where he'd still be alive. I used to be a massive science fiction fan. A long time ago sentences like hat would have sent my brain into a whirling of paradoxes. Now I chewed at a loose hangnail and nodded at her. ""Keep going. I need to know the rest of it, so I can change it."" She bursts into another flood of tears and I roll my eyes. I've got another sell cross town in twenty minutes. If she doesn't hurry up, she won't get her Amendment and I won't get my money. She whispers something too quietly for me to hear, then starts sobbing even louder. The other patrons of the coffee shop start giving us weird looks, so I shove a napkin across the table. ""It's okay."" I say in my best comforting voice. ""It's going to be alright."" She gulps and reaches out for the napkin. Her sleeve rides up for a moment. I spot dark bruises peppering her wrist before she yanks it back down and they're gone. She lifts her eyes to mine and I try to pretend i wasn't looking. ""We..."" She starts and falters. ""We argued. I never meant to do it. It was the heat of the moment, it was all my fault. He... He's dead!"" Her voice cracks but she manages, thank fuck, not to cry this time. ""And you want him back?"" I've pulled out my tablet and I'm looking through the algorithms that make up this woman's time stream. The death should be easy to tweak out, just a couple of number changes on the 16th March and that fight would have never happened. What would happen was that 'he' would pop back into being as though the elapsed time had never missed him, and she would forget ever meeting me. Which, looking at the coffee, wasn't a bad move. ""Yes please."" She says. ""I just want thimgs to go back to the way they were. I cast another look at the thick black jumper covering her arms. She smiles weakly and flips her hair over her shoulder. Bruises there too. The image of my mother rises, unbidden, into my mind like a tidal wave. Three broken plates and spots of blood on a tiled floor as I hid under the stairs to avoid *his* rage. She told the neighbours she'd walked into a door. ""Nasty marks you got there."" I say, nodding to her shoulder. She goes white and pulls and tugs at the material until they've gone. ""I'm really clumsy."" A hollow laugh. ""I fell down the stairs. Can you believe it?"" ""Sure."" I pass the tablet to her. ""It's all done, if you could just sign there."" She sighs with relief and signs. Before my eyes the lines disappear from her face. She sits up a little straighter and smiles fully at me. ""I feel so much better now."" She squeezes my hand in thanks and leaves. She has never met him. I decide to call my mother tonight.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Tic tac toe""
WHAT?
""I choose tic tac toe""
SIGH
With a flourish a desk, a dry erase board and a marker appeared before them. With a slight gesture of death's bony hand a perfect 3 by 3 grid appeared in the center of the board. Fred placed his circle in the middle of the board. Death placed an X in a corner. After a minute, the game ended in a tie.
""In the event of a tie, we play again correct?""
CORRECT
""excellent, may the game continue""
The next game ended in a tie, and the next. The next 4 games were all close, but ended in a tie. Fred and death swapped off going first, after a couple hours of tieing, death paused for a minute.
THIS COULD TAKE A WHILE
After a couple months, both players were simply going through the motions. Every once in a while some one would start in a corner just to mix things up, and inevitably the same moves followed after that.
I HAVE NEVER LOST A GAME YOU KNOW
"" I know, considering Bobby Fischer died a couple years ago I figured beating you wasn't really an option""
I HAVE EXISTED FOR MILLENIA, MY PATIENCE DOES NOT END
""How did you get this job in the first place?""
Fred casually placed a circle in the center of the freshly cleared board. After a couple more games, death answered.
THE AFTERLIFE GETS BORING, YOU KNOW
""I admit, it is starting to look that way""
AFTER A COUPLE OF CENTURIES, MANY OF US TAKE JOBS.
The games continue. The routine is automatic now for Fred, he barely glances at the board for each move before returning his gaze to others. In the distance, countless others were trying to best death.
""are they all you?""
NO, THIS FORM IS MORE OF A UNIFORM THEN AN IDENTITY. Every now and then, a death would beat some one, their heads would slump, and with sweep of death's arm, they disappeared, then the death too would vanish. MY SHIFT ENDED WEEKS AGO
""Well, I'm sorry for that, but I don't think I'm done playing yet""
A year passed by. In that time, Fred got to know who death was, besides being death. They swapped stories of their lives while watching the souls around them compete and lose. Briefly, a forest surrounded them as one soul tried to best death in a fox hunt. Months later, they found themselves at the top of a mountain while another soul tried to out ski death. ""Are you all universally skilled?""
NO, WE PICK MAJORS IN DEATH COLLEGE, AND ARE ASSIGNED TO CLIENTS APPROPRIATELY
""What did you major in?""
RIDDLES, LOGIC PUZZLES AND BOARD GAMES
Another year passed, and neither opponent showed a sign of budging. Fred continued making conversation. ""I really do miss my home, do you have homes up here?""
YOU HAVE WHAT YOU WANT, UP HERE THE OPTIONS ARE FAR LESS LIMITED
""my wife passed several years before I did, however I never did get around to finishing up the will for the children. I'm sure they can figure it out on their own, but I hate to leave them so early. Their families are barely started, and I have only met one grand child""
LIFE ISN'T ALWAYS FAIR
""No, it never was""
The weeks continued stretching on, while watching a soul attempt to out basketball death, death turned to Fred""
IT REALLY ISN'T THAT BAD UP HERE
""It seems pleasant enough""
BEYOND HERE, THE ONLY LIMIT IS WHAT YOU CAN IMAGINE
""Then why have earth at all? Why let life continue as grimly as it does when the afterlife is perfect?""
IMAGINATION REQUIRES INSPIRATION
For the first time in years, death moved his arm again, and bellow them, an image of the earth appeared. Through the window beneath their feet, the image moved across the lives of thousands, detailing their happiness, sadness, triumphs and losses.
""were we ever only entertainment?""
WHEN TIME IS ETERNAL, WHAT ELSE IS THERE?
Fred stared out at the other souls. Every once in a while a small poof announced another passing on to the next world.
""No one has ever beaten death have they?""
IT'S NOT A FAIR CHALLENGE, WE HAVE CENTURIES OF PRACTICE
""They aren't supposed to, are they?""
PEOPLE HAVE TROUBLE MOVING ON, THE GAME HELPS THEM FEEL THEY AT LEAST HAD A FAIR SHOT
""I have never seen some one beat death, and I have seen millions of games, how is that fair?""
LIFE IS NOT FAIR, WE HELP PEOPLE MOVE PAST THAT
Fred stared down at the world bellow
""Can I still watch the world when I pass over?""
THE EARTH IS MOST OF OUR FAVORITE PAST TIME
""Is what you can see... limited?""
IN DEATH, NO ONE JUDGES
""I didn't mean it like that""
I'M SURE
The image settled on Fred's funeral. His family was in tears, and many huddled close to each other for support. ""I had a good life you know? I don't think I would have done much different. save for living longer""
ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO AN END
""when this is over, would you mind stopping by after your shift?""
I HAVE PLENTY OF VACATION DAYS BY NOW
Fred stared at the board, it was his opening move. He smiled, and drew a circle in a side center square.
YOU WERE A VERY INTERESTING CASE FRED
Death placed his final X, and drew a line through all three.
""Hopefully my wife won't be too angry I wasted these years playing tic tac toe""
TIME MOVES VERY DIFFERENTLY HERE THEN IT DOES DOWN THERE
Death pulled back his hood, to reveal a female face. Fred's heart skipped a beat. The face spoke:
""I don't mind at all dear""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Scheisse it's cold.""
""Yeah Werner, that so? Please do tell us more obvious statements about the world. Maybe about how the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Or perhaps where babies come from. Christ on a crutch, I was reading my brother Karl's letter from Africa. Would you believe he had the notion that the desert was tougher than here? He keeps complaining of the heat and sun and the bad water. Damn. We got plenty of fucking water right here, and it's frozen! All he has to worry about is dehydration and the Tommies. He's not dealing with frostbite or the Ivans. If I didn't love my brother, I'd trade places with him right here and now. I mean honestly, I-"" ""Quiet Hans."" Oberjager Weber speaks softly. ""There's something in the woods.""
The squad's voices die down, replaced by the soft crackling of the fire. They slowly pick up their rifles, and peer out into the ink black of the night. There's not a sound it seems but those of the forest. But with their eyes pointing down the sights of their K98's, something can be heard. Barely anything at first. It takes a keen ear to make it out from the gently wind that flows between the pines, but it is there. *Dum, Dum, Dum.* Very soft it is, almost like a whisper. *Dum dum.. dum.. dum, dum.* It is like a drum, a faint distant drum. It is growing louder.There is no pattern to it. It is maddeningly off tempo and irregular. A madman would have to be playing it. It is getting closer. *Dumdumtrum.... Dum! Dum!* The sound is coming from every direction. And it continues on. ""Sir? What's going on?"" The non-com aiming his MP-40 into the night doesn't glance over at the jager. ""No idea Fleischer. Keep it quiet."" The drumming crescendos, turning into a drumroll that's maddeningly loud. Men are covering their ears at the sound. Airplane engines make less noise standing next to one than what they are listening to. Soldiers are screaming now, begging for the insane sound to cease. As if one was listening, it cuts out, like a music maestro had waved his baton at the percussions. Men are thanking god and wondering what on Earth that was about. Then more occurs.
At first it is the sound of a little girl crying, just a soft whimper. Some the soldiers whisper about helping the source of the sound. But after those drums of the damned, everyone is scared witless. Then another voice calls out from the darkness, a young woman's. She is begging for help. Pleading for someone to aid her. Then more call out, crying, asking, pleading. From all around the tiny circle of light the fire provides the voices ring out. Then the screams start. Bloodcurdling screams. The screams of the dying and those giving birth. Others beg for unseen attackers to stop. The screams are like nails being driven in the skull. Still others scream hatred and anger at the soldiers. Like a banshees calls they are. If the drums were terrible, this is worse. Men claw at their ears, drawing blood with their nails. Others start wrenching, tearing at their clothes. One young soldier pulls out his bayonet and stabs it into his throat, slashing it around to maximize the damage. He dies in a gurgling laugh, bright red blood speckling the white snow. The screams of the women die down melting into the wind, leaving a weeping mass of huddled men. Many cry for their mothers. Some clutch at crucifixes, praying. Other's vomit from the pain and terror. It is a wretched scene. From the distance, a light approaches. It is a pale green, a foul color. The men, bloody, half naked, with tears dripping down their silent faces, look on in horror. Out of the woods comes a figure, mounted on a pale horse. Clad in the roughest of stained linens, the rider looks out on the terrified mass. Held in his hand is a chipped and rusted scythe. His hand, gaunt with boney fingers, reaches up to the edge of his cowl and lifts it off. The men scream in fear.
Looking over the meager lot, grins a face stripped of skin and flesh. It is Death. Within his eyes, galaxies are born and die in seconds. Stars go supernova and black holes are formed. The complete history of everything occurs in his vision. No man could see what Death saw and hope to keep his sanity. His hellish steed rises and whirls around with a bugling equine scream. Death brandishes his sinister blade and points it at the praying men. Kicking snow behind him, Death charges towards the kneeling mass begging for mercy. Faster and faster he gallops, drawing a cloud of darkness behind him like a cape. Bullets pass straight through his spectral form. The howls of Hell Hounds can be heard. Their baying promising destruction and oblivion. The drums return as does the banshees' screams. Death reaches out with his boney hand and motions. The fire goes out.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"To whom it may concern,
I have been a beta tester for your product, “The Human Body,” for over two decades now and feel I have gathered enough information to submit a reasonable bug report. Please do not take offense to my reviews, as I am simply trying to aid in the perfection of your final product. To begin, I’d like to talk about the “human” as a whole. Unfortunately, I feel it is shoddy, poorly made, and unreliable. From what I understand, most models do not last beyond their initial 80 years of use, although this number varies wildly. I can only assume this is due to a planned obsolescence, in order to sell a higher volume. I am not a fan of such practices; I wasn’t a fan when it was done for the iPod and I am not a fan of it being done to the liver, heart, or brain. Other models are expected to last well over 100 years – your “turtle” and “tree” products, both of which are almost entirely stationary, last beyond that. Why should your higher-function model have a lower shelf-life? It is important to think of your user base, rather than only your shareholders.
In regards to those who use their bodies in extreme methods, such as professional crash-test dummies, bullet-proof vest testers, and children’s mascots, this span can be under forty years. I’ve even heard of models coming out of the box broken. This is simply unacceptable. I expect this to be a bug you have already received numerous issue reports for, but figured I’d mention it anyway.
Speaking in terms of the lifespan, the product itself seems to grow more feeble (mentally and physically) with time. This is evidence of poor building materials. Skin becomes thin, body parts droop or stop working all together, mental ability slows, driving issues increase drastically, and public nudity occurs more frequent (I have personally witness models completely nude in gym bathrooms, some almost tripping over their drooping extremities). This varies from product to product, however. Some models, notably the female versions, begin smelling much more like shopping malls and roses; the male version tends to hoist its pants higher while becoming more politically radical. As a whole, though, it can be assumed that most of your later-life products become rather delayed, slow, and crotchety.
Regarding my own personal use, I’ve discovered several issues that affect all models. Physical strength, first and foremost, is quite limited. Unless I am specifically focusing my time on increasing that strength, it remains stationary. I should not have to work at increasing such a thing, it should be provided standard. Additionally, mental abilities also need to be heavily trained. What kind of product are you selling that comes out of the box with almost no inherit knowledge? Not to mention the fact that you are marketing this as a higher-function being—there is no reason why your “giraffe” model should be almost completely self-reliant on delivery, but the “human” requires incredible support. I mean, this product does not even defecate properly until over a year after its initial shipping. Given such a short product life, it is ludicrous for your users to have to spend 20+ years working at increasing its intelligence. This should also be included as a standard product.
The youth stages also pose numerous other issues for this product. Most notably, the facial regions tend to break out in pimples and become awkwardly shaped during the first 20-or-so years of use. During this period, it will completely doubt itself in almost every aspect, while simultaneously thinking too highly of itself. It is a walking paradox, and it does not care for others. It also goes through a stage of disobedience, in which the brain tends to make illogical decisions such as fighting for no real reason, not focusing in classes, and trying way too hard to impress the opposite sex model by performing insignificant feats (i.e. talking louder, driving faster, or handbrake turns). In fact, the entire opposite sex issue becomes over-enthralling for much of the product's youth. Some experience awkward swelling physical issues in the middle of classrooms, while wearing sweatpants, as they are asked to stand and speak about something. Not that this one bug occurred to me, but it's, you know, a bug. This becomes less of an issue as it learns, but the fact that it has such ridiculous experiences is an issue within itself. Another major issue is the brain. Not only does it become obsolete with time, it is also a host to all sorts of bugs, ranging from strokes, to uneven distribution of talent, to misaligned emotions. Some products possess a strange, undeserved idea of self-importance. Others focus heavily on those with that self-importance, almost idealizing them. There are even some products that have no self-importance, and may expire early due to this bug. Additionally, the brain function has two other major issues. The first is that it exists. The model would be much better if it were entirely autonomous. There is no reason why so many models should have such a wide array of views, emotions, and ideas. This is just evidence of a poorly created model; if everything is different, then how are we supposed to fix anything? The product should share almost entirely, if not entirely, the same views. Things like the same political beliefs, same clothing options, same taste in music, same way of making a sandwich – without this synchronization, models tend to fight, or even kill themselves. Entire battles have broken out for insignificant reasons; entire races of your product almost completely wiped out due to malfunctioning brains. There is no reason for this to exist. The second brain issue seems to be one biggest issues throughout the entire life of your product. It has been called “love.” It consistently occurs when it is most unacceptable or unfortunate; it becomes a major burden on the product’s efficiency. I have seen several models expire before their time due to this bug. Some have acted out of character, while others simply broke and changed every aspect of themselves. This is unacceptable, it is a massive problem in the overall use of the product. Some of the models even become infatuated with those from the same shipping plant.
As a whole, the “human” model is great. It does learn better than your other models, and does seem to work better as a whole. However, it is not absent of its flaws. Please do not take any of my criticisms to heart, as I really wish to see this product supported and grown into something far stronger than it is today. There is so much done right with it, but so much that needs repair.
Sincerely yours,
Beta Tester 107,602,707,791",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“You’re asking me to let you guys kill me? You’re joking right?” I growled at the three who stared at me hungrily. We had been stranded on this small island for days; this island was big enough for objects to beached up. So I made a fancy container that I learned through a television show called Survivorman. It’s basically a large bucket with a pipe extending up at an angle; it bends down to a cup.

We would add sea water to the container; bring it to a boil thanks to a large amount of trees on this island. The steam would condense back into water and drip into the cup. There were no coconuts here, so we only had to rely on this sort of water. But now thanks to the mass amount of fish swimming by our camp and one of us, named David, was getting antsy. He managed to convince the three to attack me. “Don’t you guys have your head on straight? If you eat me, you won’t feel better. You’ll just starve even more.”

“How so?” David growled at me.

“I’m a fair build, a bit skinny, but I don’t work out, nor do I do any activities. So this” I panned my arms down, showing my body. “Is just fat. So you won’t get any proteins from me. However, you guys” I turned to the other two. “David here clearly works out. So he is mostly muscles than fat. This would mean that we can be healthier if we eat him. More meat than fat.

“What, don’t listen to him.” David growled as he eyed the two who was now staring at him. With a blur, the fattest girl slammed a pipe across David’s head. He collapsed backward, head splashing into the swelling sea. The fat girl who was known as Debby asked the other guy to pull him further into the sea. The other guy, Harry, did as he was told. Debby then sat on David and watch bubbles formed around her. 

“We shall ea-“ Harry spoke before he collapsed, falling into the water. Debby stared at me with the pipe in my hand. I smiled toward Debby.

“What the hell?” She asked me.

“Should’ve killed me.” I spoke to her. “Now I have dinner for quite a while!” I ran toward Debby and smashed her in the head. I dragged all three corpses to the beach. I sat down besides them and laughed, laughed like I had never laughed before.

-049",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"God had been many things. He had often proclaimed himself wise, by virtue of knowing more than any other being. He had been considered all-powerful by others, because He was far more powerful than they. He was considered the ultimate good, for He was the most good humanity could comprehend.
Mass knowledge is not omniscience. Vast power is not omnipotence. Great good is not perfection. On the day Jesus died, God wept. God wept because He had come to realize that His great plan was imperfect, as was He. He had thought to make humans like Him by means of hundred religions and careful guidance, but realized that humans were more versatile. Where He was unchangeable, absolute, they could explore. They had the potential to discover and create good that was different, and perhaps greater than, Him. They mourned his son in a way that he had not, could not. They could feel pain and do evil, but from that pain and evil they could better learn good than He.
God realized that He had indeed created His successors. Not as equals though, but as superiors. He realized that they would not ever be able to achieve their potential with his meddling, and so, He left. In the thousands of years to come they would question whether He ever existed, and that was greatest good he could do them.
EDIT: Thanks guys, especially whoever gave me Gold. I love the discussion and yes, the critisicsm. Hope to see more of you soon! Long live /r/WritingPrompts!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"‘Target in sight. Kitchen.’ The man kneeling in the garden shifted to his other knee. ‘Any others?’
‘The usual.’
Three, then. The man readied his gun. ‘Go when ready.’
‘Ready.’
An arc of light crashed through a window of the house. The kitchen. The man was already moving, sprinting, gun shivering in his grip.
The screams of a woman, the cries of a child, the shouts of a man, sounded from inside. The usual. The gun flashed as he snapped it round, fired, cutting the chaos with fear. The father was the first to fall, surprised and enraged, followed by the mother. The tears that had pooled in her eyes fell free. She was defeated. They usually made more of an effort.
The man lowered his gun, gazing at the child. Its screams were louder. The man fired the gun again, and the crack that echoed through the broken room silenced it. No words needed to be said. The man snatched the child from its chair, his grip rough, and threw it around his shoulders. It was crying again. The man ignored it.
‘Target acquired,’ said the man.
‘I see that.’
‘Where’s this one going?’ said the man.
‘Music industry.’
The man hummed. ‘Nice. What genre?’
‘Classical. Hurry, now. They’ll wake soon.’
‘I know,’ said the man, and moved the child to his other shoulder, wondering if he would hear what it produced before it was put down. The man hoped so.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"John wasn't society's predetermined ""type"" - he didn't fit the profile of your typical serial killer. Sociable, at least somewhat charismatic and charming…I know quite a bit about the man, and I must say there was no reason to be suspicious of him. It may even be argued that John was an empathetic man, at least as much as a murderous man can be.
John's big problem? Insurmountable pride. In his younger days, he could show detractors their place by embarrassing them on the basketball court, or perhaps even stealing their girl on occasion. Unfortunately for John, high school only lasts for so long. At some point in his life, those once-great advantages no longer served him so well. As the glories of his past faded and the opportunities to reclaim them diminished, John was losing the upper hand over his peers.
Over the last few months, John was starting to take his struggles much more personally. Others' successes were not merely an annoyance, but an affront to him whether they realized it or not. Soon afterwards, he reached the conclusion that the best way to emerge victorious in his fictitious clashes for superiority was to make the stakes a little more permanent. Over the last two months, he claimed victory over the old high school friend with the seven figure house, the woman who beat him out for the big promotion in New York, and the snobby neighbor with the wife who was just a bit too attractive.
This is where I come in. On the many occasions when he struggled with the gravity of his actions, I was there to console him. I was the one with the best chance of setting him straight, the only friend he could actually trust. I understood the nature of his illness, and I wouldn't let him deny it despite his many attempts to do so. I repeatedly advised him to seek help, to find other activities, anything. To John's credit, there was a part of him that genuinely wanted to stop, to find any way to right his wrongs as much as he could. Some days were better than others, but I had already failed him three separate times. That one fact is hard to come to terms with, but I couldn’t just give up. I genuinely believed that if I said the right things and gave enough effort, I could make John into the caring and remorseful man he may have once been.
Earlier today, John informed me of his upcoming triumphs.
The runners up in his next match were to be his boss's three children. The boss was an old basketball teammate of John’s – both shooting guards, both fighting for the same spot in the starting lineup. Needless to say, John wasn’t on the best terms with the guy, and the thought of serving under him to this day was especially infuriating. John got to know the kids from times he was asked to watch over them when his “friend” was out of town - the man in charge never hesitated to give John extra ""financial opportunities"" outside of the office. They weren't objectionable in their own right, other than being your typical elementary level brats. This could not be said for his boss, who fully embraced his advantages over John. More meetings, more tasks on and off the job (John had no misconceptions of leverage), more condescension. If John was to have the final say, he would have to go a step further. When you destroy an egomaniac, you don't necessarily go straight after him. You go after what he holds closest to his heart. I was the first to learn of John's plans, but my efforts to talk him out of it were received much differently this time around. No tears, no pleas for forgiveness, no interest in reconsidering. My efforts to stop his impulses were previously unsuccessful, but never as futile as they were now. John was a man with a plan. No one, not even his most trusted friend, would get the way of what he wanted. I am John's conscience. Tonight, four figures in his life will be lost forever. I will be the first.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Elise was alone. The bourbon that usually burned at first as it surged down her throat would become more comforting the more she drank. It was the same brand Elmer loved to drink. A glass on the rocks before he would go to bed. He drank it for over forty years until the night before his untimely death.

Elise was alone.

She sat atop the building of her rundown twenty-story apartment under a sky blanketed in a light gray. The clouds had converged and were now in meeting. It was her mother's favorite kind of weather, especially when a light breeze gently caressed her false golden locks, occasionally tangling them with her gaudy pearl earrings. Elise was her favorite child. Then again, she was her only child. She too had met her end not long ago. The years were not kind to her or her body.

Elise was alone.

She had no children to speak of, which had always been fine with her and Elmer. They never cared too much for them and were content being just with each other.

Elise was alone.

Elise took a long drag of her cigarette as she let her fingers gently touch the spot where the tumor was. For months, the excruciating headaches had taken over her life. She gave up the road trips to the Grand Canyon so she could always be closer to home in case anything happened. Then, the swing dancing lessons had to stop because she couldn't concentrate. Eventually, she had to give up sculpting human models and painting her flowers for the same reason. Her friends came by less and less. Then, Elmer...

Elise was alone.

It was five thirty on this dreary April afternoon. They said there would be rain later in the evening. Elise nodded to herself. Before she could regret it, she stood at the edge of the building and poured the rest of the bottle of bourbon on her. She lit her coat with her cigarette, setting it ablaze with a beautiful sapphire flame. She spun as she threw herself off. She now faced the sky so that it would be the last thing she would see. She could hear the gasps and the screams down below. Elise could feel their eyes following her to her fate.

Elise no longer felt alone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Daddy, tell me a scary story."" Boston pleaded, climbing up into her father's lap.

""What kind of scary story?"" He asked.

""Something with monsters. I wanna hear about a creepy monster."" She sang.

""Okay. Let me think."" He said, hugging her close so the perfect little flower that was her face was gazing up at him.

""I'll tell you the story of Nathan. The monster under the fridge. Nathan is a Ha-buga-boo. The most terrifying of all bogey men. He lives in the shadow beneath the fridge, waiting for children and other little kids. The terrifying beast with hands like a child leaves finger prints on the door in true monster style."" He told her, wiggling his fingers in a creepy fashion. She giggled with terrified glee. ""Nathan is a sneak. He leaves hand prints on the fridge so the little kids get in trouble. And when daddy gets upset, he sends the little girl or little boy to clean their finger prints off, and--HE GRABS YOUR FEET AND PULLS YOU UNDERNEATH!"" He exclaimed, tickling her.

""What's he do with the little kids he takes?"" She asked, curious.

""He skins them and makes a little kid suit out of them so he can escape from underneath the fridge."" He told her.

""Gross."" She said, making a retching motion.

""Did you know your little sister was stolen by Nathan?"" He asked, pretending to be serious.

""No she wasn't."" Boston said in disbelief.

""You can tell because the skin suit doesn't fit very tight."" He added, calling to Boston's little sister, Emily. Emily came running in on stubby little legs and climbed up on daddy's other knee. ""Okay. Watch closely and you'll see that your little sister is really Nathan in disguise."" Her father told Emily to sit very still. He placed his hand on her scalp and pulled it forward and back making it slide back and forth across her skull.

""Ahhh! Stop, Daddy. Stop!"" Boston called, crawling away from her sister. He kept doing it.

""Ooo! Nathan's going to get you."" He sang in an eerie voice. ""Nathan's going to come out and get you."" Emily looked up at her father in irritation and tried to pull away. ""The only way to make Nathan come out is like this."" He said, licking his finger in preparation for a wet willy. Boston started laughing. Emily looked very angry. He got the finger closer and closer to Emily's ear. ""Okay, Nathan. COME OUT!"" He called, sticking his wet finger in Emily's ear.

Emily's skin suddenly split open and Nathan slithered out like a blood-covered locust and scrambled off the terrified family's lap an onto the floor. Boston screamed an ear-splitting high-pitched scream that sent Nathan scurrying under the coffee table and upending chairs as he sought out his den. Father leapt to his feet in surprise and used a poker from the fire place to try and bash in the monster's head. Nathan spat and hissed and dragged himself along with his two blood-slicked arms, small and thin like tree branches.

When father laid a good strike across the monster's back, it turned and pursued father and Boston, clawing at them and scratching their legs and arms and whatever it could reach. Once it was sure they were in retreat, it turned it's bulbous head around, it's deep hollow sockets housed dark red orbs that spied the fridge. It turned and fled then. Father hesitated then ran after it, but Nathan made it to the fridge first and slithered under with a lot of wiggling and scrapping. 

Boston's father turned back to look at the couch in fear and amazement . . . and horror. Boston was holding her sister's wet, sticky, discarded skin in her hands and starring at the slumping face in abject terror. 

""Where's Emily?"" She asked. Father turned to look at the fridge knowing the answer was there.


**Interesting Side Note:** I used to tell my daughter about this monster that lived under the fridge named Nathan. Nathan was the name I kept calling my ex-wifes boyfriend. It wasn't his name, but when I told her this story, she didn't want to hang around him to much. :))",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The shrill scream of the alarm cut through the lazy silence of Watchstation 17-Gamma, sending its one occupant tumbling off his chair. He frantically hurried across the room to slap the alarm off – muting the deafening wail. Cold chills still danced up and down his spine. The screens were flashing a ‘Code I-42’. He wasn’t familiar with that designation. His job was Stellar Analysis, so he knew about the S-class codes; S-12 for stellar formation, S-88 for supernova detection. But the I-class was unfamiliar. He pulled up massive tome of Procedures and Protocols from the main database core and began poring through it.
Watchstation 17-Gamma was a small post in the Seventh Arm of the galaxy. Left behind by an older race now long gone, each Watchstation connected to hundreds of satellites interspersed throughout the galaxy. Most monitored three or four stars actively, and there was surprisingly little overlap for the sheer number of stations and satellites. It was testament to the vanished race that their system still worked. Communication between the Watchstations and Satellites was instant, using a form of entanglement that still had physicists puzzled. Larger, traversable ‘Portals’ instantly connected the Watchstations to the Hubs, which in turn connected to the Central Array.
So while the technician was in the Seventh Arm for his working hours, he could traverse back through the 17-Gamma portal to Hub 33 and then to the Array in order to be home for dinner in a mere 45 minutes.
His questing finger located the entry. I-42: Intelligence Detected – Atomic activity.
This was exciting. Throughout the galaxy, there were only 14 identified sapient species with a level of high technology. One was his own, ten more were under observation, and the other two were being contained after they expressed displeasure about being spied on. This odd reading was the first sign of species number 15. There was a protocol to follow, and the technician sent a message capsule back to Hub 33.
Three anthropologists were dispatched back through the Portal to work on Watchstation 17-Gamma and watch Species 15.
The initial event was simply an energy signature. Using a hyper-focusing array on the remote satellite, it was determined that the point was likely a power plant of some description. Pictures from the planet revealed lights on its darkside and from that a basic outline of what might have been a coastal civilization. It seemed concentrated mainly just ‘up’ of the equatorial belt. The discovery was followed with great excitement by the general population. Attention was only heightened when a second point was confirmed ‘down’ from the first, although it faded quickly – more indicative of an explosion than a power source.
Over the next months, two more atomic signatures were detected in close proximity to each other. Both occurred on the far side of the planet from the Satellite, but extreme close-ups and light-pixel matching revealed that darkness had descended on two small areas on what was believed to be a populated island next to a large ocean. Speculation ran rampant among the sociologists that there had been an accident, but the military faction had their own pet theories as to what would cause two cities to vanish.
Then came a year of quiet. The anthropologists studied, wrote papers and gave talks. Primitive radio communications were being picked up, although they were extremely faint. A linguistics team was working on them furiously at the Central Array, trying to decode not only Species 15’s transmission formats, but also their language(s), culture(s), and history. Over the next four years, five more bursts of short-lived atomic energy was detected in the area nicknamed “The Great Ocean”, just ‘down’ from the two ‘bursts’ location, nicknamed “Curve Islands”
Then came another burst, slightly different and in the opposite direction from the Curve Islands.
Interest refocused on Species 15 – but were bitterly disappointed as the next two years went by without even a flicker of activity.
Then, on Year 6, came a flurry of activity. Burst all-throughout the Great Ocean and on the Great Landmass, followed by another flurry of bursts in the same location as the very first recorded burst.
The conclusion published by the Military faction was damning. Species 15 had mastered Atomic Power Generation…and skipped directly to developing Atomic Weapons.
Analysis of the bursts indicated three major warfronts – The Great Ocean, where atomic blasts were likely deterring ships from a vital island, the Great Landmass, where cities were probably being defended, and the Original Landmass, where invaders were being repelled.
The Eight Worlds were able to watch in fascinated horror in virtually real-time, if one ignored the five-year initial delay. It was the biggest and longest lasting event ever covered across the Eight Worlds. Speculation was the major commodity as narratives were invented to explain what was happening on that distant world of Species 15.
Debates were held about launching a ship to them – although even with an immediate launch from 17-Gamma, it would still take seventy years to reach them.
Nuclear-level blasts continued across the planet, no continent seemingly spared. In the year 7714-GH/14, the Military faction was officially put in charge of the Observation when horrified researchers watched a flurry of over 200 warheads detonate in what appeared to be a final paryoxsm of fury, a mere 12 years after the first explosion was detected. Then silence.
Three Years after the Military declared the world of Species 15 to be a dead radioactive cinder, another intense flurry of blasts rocked across the planet – the destruction continuing for almost two of their cycles around their sun before pausing abruptly and then resuming at a slower, but no less destructive pace.
The “Nuclear Storm” lasted for eight years. Whomever had survived the First Storm had obviously taken up the fight again. Projections indicated that the planet would be suffering a total ecological catastrophe after the detonation of over one thousand atomic devices. In the year 7722=GH/8, all incoming information on the planet was classified under Council Authority, declaring the far-distant war to be ‘emotionally distressing’ to the populace of the Eight Worlds.
Reports after that became scarce, apart from a leaked Council Report nearly thirty years later that indicated that the beleaugerd planet had seen over two thousand separate detonation events. Military faction analysis theorized that the original Species 15 was now extinct, their mindless machines carrying on a dead war without orders to stop.
In 7761-GH/2, the planet was declared officially dead for the fifth time. This time, even the machines had stopped flinging nuclear warheads at each other. In the renewed media interest in Species 15 following the announcement, a retired linguist came forward, claiming to have cracked Species 15’s transmissions shortly before the military classified his work.
In an interview, he claimed that the name Species 15 had for itself was “Human”. And the name of the now-dead planet was “Earth”.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The man walked to the bridge alone.

No one stopped him, told him to wait because he was still important, he was still loved. No cars honked at him as he ambled down the center of the roadway. Even the birds had gone quiet in deference. The only sounds were the dull thuds of his feet on the cracked asphalt.

Behind him, another building groaned and then collapsed, joining its fallen brethren. He didn't even turn around; he was used to it by now.

The man stopped and leaned against one of the bridge railings, looking out over the bay. No one was out boating today; in fact, no one had gone out on the water in a while. No one was driving on the bridge, either; their cars had probably all rusted long ago anyway.

It had been almost six years, and that time can take its toll on a lonely man's mind. He was surprised he'd lasted this long, after the bombs had gone everywhere and he'd somehow found shelter.

A harsh gust suddenly blew through, pushing him back from the railing, as if to say, ""*Wait! Stop! Don't do it!*"" But the man had made up his mind long ago. He had walked to this bridge every day this week.

The bridge had once been beautiful. It had been a true marvel, a bright orange behemoth that stretched on for what seemed like infinity. But now? Now it was only a rusted reminder of days past, one that only covered a few miles, because, like all things, it had to end eventually.

The man had reached the middle of the bridge. He climbed up on the railing. No more loneliness. No more hallucinations. No more hunger. No more hopeless hoping. No more insanity.

He jumped. And as the wind whistled around him and the water rushed up to meet him, he smiled for the first time in almost six years.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The demons, the voices, I can't do it, I just can't let them out. I've spent too long, too much time, being good, living a normal life, a *good* life. After everything I've done, I can't turn back to being that person, the one that couldn't go one day without a sip, a shot. No, I've been clean, clean for so long, five long years clean, free from it all.

I don't know how long I've been in here, but that bottle stares at me. I swear I can smell that sweetness trapped behind that glass, the skeletons in my closet tapping on it to remind me it here.

My heart is pounding so hard, so loud, I can hear it echo in this room. I want to cry but I can't, and there's nothing I can do. The only thing I have is my coin, the bronze surface the only bright thing in this light.

It's almost ironic. The last words I spoke to my wife before she left me ring in my ears.

""I rather die than drink again...""

-043",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Chuck kneeled down, eyes fixed straight ahead. The forest was incredibly thick, he couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead, let alone a few miles. He’d been out hiking—on an adventure to cross Missouri—for well over three hours now, yet hadn’t realized the map he’d brought with him was from the year 1820. He had wondered why Missouri was depicted as being so large, but assumed it was simply because he had never seen a proper map before. He now understood that he was looking at a picture of the Missouri territory. Chuck sighed. He was lost and he knew it.
Chuck slid his backpack off his back and dropped it on the floor in front of him. It was his brother’s bag, he had grabbed it off the shelf before leaving the house. It was colored “forest camouflaged,” which Chuck figured would help if he was being hunted by serial killers. The last thing he needed was a high-visibility bag to make skinning him a walk in the park—he’d seen enough movies to know how that turns out. In fact, Chuck was dressed entirely in camoflague to deter this very outcome—the harder he was to see, the safer he was. Chuck stuck his hand into the backpack, now resting in the dirt, and began taking inventory of his possessions. He had one flip knife, a magnesium fire starter, two sandwiches, two bottles of water, a cell phone, and his Official Sassy Survival Guide. He had grabbed the guide off a shelf before leaving the information kiosk. They suggested he bring a survival guide with him, just in case, so he took the first one he’d seen. Chuck picked up the cellphone and held it close to his face. He had full reception, LTE, and 1% battery. Had he not spent the morning playing Angry Birds on his cell phone, perhaps he would have been able to conserve a bit more battery. However, Chuck had set a top 30 world-wide high score and decided that no mistake had been made. He swiped his finger across the screen and watched as his apps became visible. He glanced at the battery – still 1%. He paused for a moment, then clicked on his Facebook app. As quickly as he could, he updated his status to read “Lol shit, lost in the jungle. Phone has 1% bat, not gonna get ur texts. Pls help lol.” Chuck re-read the status and pressed submit. He swiped down, refreshing the page, and saw his post had successfully gone through. He pressed the home button then completely turned off the cell phone. Help was sure help was to arrive now.
Chuck placed the phone back in the bag. He felt a little hungry, so he grabbed the sandwich from within the backpack and opened it up. Peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat. It was his least favorite sandwich. His mother was always trying to make him eat them, she said they were great for keeping his energy up. He shook his head, how naïve she was—he was totally awake and full of energy, all without having a single peanut butter and jelly sandwich yet. Chuck stared into the jungle – emerald vines extended down the forest floor, which was covered in dirt, dead leaves, and various plant life. He couldn’t recognize a single one of them beyond the name “plants.” He sighed and took a bite of the sandwich. It was all right, but he really preferred ham and cheese. He threw it on the floor and kicked a little dirt on top, just as he’d seen Bear Grylls do when putting out a fire. He then opened up his bag and pulled out the second sandwich. He unwrapped a corner – ham and cheese. He smiled and took a bite. It was delicious. He wasn’t quite starving, but he was certainly a little peckish. He took three more bites of the sandwich, then threw the crust on the floor. He moved on to the second half, but found he wasn’t hungry enough to take more than two bites. He threw the remainder on the floor. Chuck looked around him, the sky was almost completely blocked by the canopy of the trees. He kicked dirt over his half-eaten sandwich portion and the other crust, then took the two water bottles out of his bag. He opened the first and poured it over his head. He was feeling a little warm, the slightly cooler water helped make him more comfortable. He emptied the remainder out onto his hands to clean off the crumbs. Chuck then grabbed the second water bottle and had a sip. It was very refreshing. He had another sip, then drank the entire bottle. Chuck smiled and let out a sigh, then threw the two bottles into the jungle. They went further than he anticipated, he congratulated himself for a wonderful throwing arm. He briefly considered trying to find them so as to bury them in the dirt, but ultimately decided against it.
Chuck kneeled back down and resumed digging through his bag. He was not quite hungry anymore, but he figured it was time to figure out some next steps – help was already on the way, thanks to his facebook status, but he may as well start some survival precautions anyway. He grabbed his Official Sassy Survival Guide and opened to page one:
“SASSY SURVIVAL – A Girl’s Guide to Surviving the World.” It was written in pink; the word ""SASSY” was in cursive, while “SURVIVAL” was glittery and rough to the touch. Chuck flipped to the table of contents and ran his finger down the titles, stopping at “Forest Survival – 47.” He flipped to page 47.
“So you’re stuck in the forest,” it read. “That sucks! Try to make the problem less mentally distressing. Think about the hottest guy you know. Now imagine he’s touching his belt – that’s a good sign, it means he’s into you!” Chuck closed his eyes and tried to think of the hottest man he knew. He hadn’t really had much experience in thinking about hot guys. As a heterosexual male, he’d always thought of women as being the “hot” ones. Sure, he’d been in situations where he had seen men and thought “that guy is attractive,” but he’d never really thought of them as hot. Instead, Chuck decided to just think about any guy with a belt. His grandfather popped into mind – he always had on a belt with a large buckle. Perfect. Chuck opened his eyes and glanced back down at the book.
“Next, you want to observe your surroundings. Look for things you can use for every-day life. Did you know a hot pinecone attached to a stick can be a great curling iron? Do your best to find substitutes to your favorite everyday items!”
Chuck stood up and looked around him. He didn’t really need a curling iron – his hair was already quite curly. He also wasn’t sure how to use one. Do you just place it on your head, then wait? Or do you have to get more involved? Chuck began walking toward a pinecone, but then decided it would be best to wait until later to spend time learning to curl his hair. He read on.
“One important aspect of survival is to remember to look sexy at all times. Rescuers are often rugged, hot firemen looking for that damsel in distress. Don’t be some unattractive loser covered in mud, make sure you’re always looking, and feeling, sexy!”
Chuck placed the book on the floor. Again, he wasn’t too interested in looking great for those hot firemen. However, should a rescuer come in the form of someone like Kate Upton, he wanted to look good. Chuck grabbed his bag and fumbled around until clasping his palm around a small metal object. He pulled out the magnesium fire starter. It had a mirrored metal case which was cold to the touch. He lifted it to his face and started into it. His was hair was a mess, curling wildly in various directions. It looked good, though, like he had styled it specifically for that “bed head” appearance. Chuck smiled and ran his hand through it. It popped right back up. He threw the fire starter on the floor then buried it under a thin layer of dirt so as to avoid a forest fire. He picked the book back up.
“If you’re going to be looking sexy, make sure your hair looks sexy first and foremost. After all, that is where most guys will look first!”
Chuck nodded, knowing his hair already looked great. He read on.
“Now, while you’re out in the jungle, make sure you’re protected from the sun. The last thing you want is unattractive tan lines when you’re being rescued. Placing leaves over the sleeves of your shirt is a great way to avoid a farmer’s tan.”
Chuck looked up at the canopy above him. A thin beam of light pierced through the leaves, running at an angle toward the ground several feet away from him. He shrugged, then picked up a branch from the floor. It had several still-green leaves on it. He snapped three off and slipped the stems under his t-shirt so that the thicker portions covered the skin on his upper arms. He then tore three more and repeated the process on his other arm. He felt safer already and decided to read on.
“Don’t forget to try to keep fit while you’re lost in the jungle. No one is around to see you get sweaty, so start those fitness programs up! Do 10 jumping jacks, then 10 pushups, and finish with a nice ab-building sit-up and crunch circuit for 10 reps each! You definitely don’t want to look fat and out of shape when those firemen get there.”
Chuck was still uninterested in the firemen, but definitely didn’t want Kate Upton to think he was looking chunky. He placed the book on the floor and began doing jumping jacks. After ten, he moved on to pushups. The book depicted them as placing his knees on the ground, rather than his toes as he’d learned in gym class. He figured the book knew more than a simple, lowly highschool coach and did as it instructed. It was easy—he was amazed by his strength. Chuck quickly finished ten, then lay down and began his sit-ups, followed by crunches.
Chuck stood up, breathing heavily as he wiped his forehead with the bottom his shirt. He quickly glanced at his stomach. “Jacked,” he thought. He picked the book back up and read on.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I recently watched *The Dark Knight*, and I must say: For all the acclaim it has received, I really found it, well, bad. The film opens up in what looks like a sound stage in India. The boom is clearly visible in the shot as several large cardboard pages appear with the words “THE DARK NIGHT.” I didn’t make a typo, it actually says “night.” You’d think that a movie this big would get its own name right, no? Well, it continues getting worse from there. For some reason, Christian Bale dons a thick Indian accent for the entire film. Unlike *Batman Begins,* he also ditches the deep “Batman” voice, instead opting for an incomprehensible slurring of strange sounds whenever he wears the costume. The movie itself takes place in India, where the evil Jokester (I always thought it was ""Joker,"" but that might just be me), played by the late Heath Ledger, is plotting to destroy Indian-Gotham city. The city itself looks vastly different than its prequel – no longer is it a sprawling, anarchical metropolis. Instead, it is a dusty, poor village. It is a very strange decision by Christopher Nolan, but—at this point in the film—one still has faith in his abilities.
The special effects take a serious hit in this movie, as opposed to *Batman Begins*. Instead of the mind blowing visuals of the first, most effects are pulled off via the use of bottle rockets, spools of yarn, and long sticks. The fighting scenes take a similar punch (no pun intended) as they go from exciting and realistic to two Indian men kicking and punching three feet away from their targets. This all takes place under the cacophonous guise of the free YouTube background music (Mr. Nolan, it might be time to pay for some big-budget music).
In terms of visual and recording quality, it seems Mr. Nolan—for some reason—also decided to use a more archaic version of film. Rather than the crisp HD of all other modern films, he uses an iPhone held by what appears to be a man with a serious case of Parkinson's. I could understand this during the fighting scenes, in order to give a more “realistic” view of how Batman sees the world, but it just feels like a very awkward approach to have the camera shaking, and in such low quality, during a love scene with Rachel and Harvey Dent.
Speaking of Harvey Dent, or Two-Face (spoilers), *The Dark Knight* takes a very creative approach to him. Rather than his injury being half of his face melted off, he simply is a man with what appears to be a thin cloth covering one half of his face. I understand that this film is trying to be a more modern take on the franchise, but such a change feels almost too drastic. It really impedes on the flow of the film, especially when Harvey Dent has his accident. He simply trips over a stick that is on fire, falling face first, and emerges with cloth covering his face. You can even see him place the cloth over his own head. It takes no longer than five seconds for this entire event to take place. In terms of redeeming qualities, there really aren’t many; I don’t see how this film has been revered by so many. From what I can tell, it seemed more like a low-budget experimental film than a massive blockbuster. That said, there is a copious amount of female nudity in this film – often at times where it simply makes no sense (for example, during the scene in which the Jokester crashes Bruce Wayne’s cabin party [Bruce is a billionaire, yet lives in a cabin? It’s a strange change, Mr. Nolan], all of the guests simply undress and start dancing to a catchy Indian tune while the Jokester is threatening them). This nudity is nothing but a positive, if I must be honest.
All-in-all, I felt this movie under-delivered in several areas—perhaps the film simply goes over my own head in its complexity—yet over-delivered in terms of nudity.
Considering the positives, I give this movie an 8.5 out of 10.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I freeze. That feeling of being caught and having no escape hits me like a kick to the chest. ""WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE"" comes booming in from the next room. It doesnt carry the sound of authority or carry a random threat. It has the madness, the insanity that only alcoholism can do to a once great and decorated soldier. My mother is so impacted by the fear of whats going to happen she drops her drink and dashes down the hallway to the bedroom. I am left standing there alone, shaking with fear. There is a noise behind the door. My five year old body struggling to keep me standing, I throw my eyes to floor. Please, please, stop. My nails digging into my palm, anything to stop me from looking up. But I have to, I cant stop, its my fault, if I dont, he will go after mom... Summoning all the strength I have left my head begins to turn; ""Daddd.."" Whack!, I hit the floor, spinning and dazed, searching for up. But I know better, he will hit me again, but if I dont, he will hit mom. I take a knee and try to stand up. His 6'5"" frame leans over. The smell of whiskey takes over my face. ""Ready for more. Lets see what you got boy.""
After a few times its not so bad. I love you mom.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hey, James. Your AEPP came through."" Conrad said, handing him a parcel, ""seems like it's working well for you.""

""Thanks, Sarge."" I replied, taking the parcel out of his hands, looking at the familiar handwriting adorning one side. As Conrad kept going, I slowly opened up the package, making sure I didn't tear any edges. Once it was open, I stared at the little set-up in front of me. A few biscuits, a smallish container of what appeared to be jam, and a few teabags as well.

Skipping past all of that, I pulled out the piece of paper underneath it, and started to read.

*Hello, James. I hope that this letter finds you in good health, or at the least still alive.*

*As of now, my division has moved to Fort Benning, where we're managing to push back your forces. Quite a nice place, this is. We were certainly happy when we discovered how well stocked you kept the place. My leg has successfully healed, so I shouldn't have any more problems with that.*

*In terms of news, it does appear that we're winning, but I wouldn't exactly trust in that. They said that six months ago, and I only hear news of us being pushed back. Is it the same on your end?*

*Anyway, we also got a few new recruits, plus one of those fancy new exo-suits. It's pretty awesome, running around, jumping higher than I stand. Seriously, if this ever ends, I'll show you how it works, assuming I get to keep the thing.*

*Anyway, just hope you're having a decent time. You're up in Tennessee, right? Well, apparently we're heading to Illinois, so maybe I'll be able to pick you up as a war prisoner! Thank god for the AEPP protection clause, right? Just remember to surrender if we ever do find you. I want to be able to talk face to face.*

*Anyway, hope to get writing from you soon. Tell me how things are going for you, if you need any more tea or whatever. I heard that your rations were running low, but eh, could just be the big man again.*

*Sincerely,*

*Thomas Greenham*

I set down the letter, processing it all. Putting it back with everything else, I grabbed a piece of paper from my desk, along with my pen, and got to writing.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Dad! Dad! DAD!! Come here, Dad! I found the stinky box!""
Dad comes over and places his hand on my head, lightly scratching the way he does when I do good. He grunts and groans at the other humans in our pack, just like he does every time I find a stinky box. They seem excited, but I can smell their nervousness too. They're never as happy as Dad is when I find a stinky box. They don't scratch that spot behind my ears like he does. They go to work to dig the stinky box out of the dirt on the side of the road. We found a lot of stinky boxes today. They aren't happy. Dad scratches my head some more and pets my back while they work.
""I love you Dad,"" I tell him.
Sometimes I think he understands me when I tell him.
The light is going away so we start heading to our dens. I stay with Dad. I know when we get home Dad will give me food, and maybe treats. Dad gives me treats when I do good finding the stinky boxes.
One of our pack's noise boxes starts making grunting sounds. Our pack gathers around to listen to the grunts. I can smell that the grunts aren't making them happy... they're getting scared. I don't like the noisy box.
""What's going on Dad,"" I ask.
Dad makes a swishy sound and grabs my collar. The pack is running to the square rocks nearby. The air smells bad with their fear. I don't like this.
They all have their noisy sticks in their paws. I know that's not good.
I smell a different stink. The stink of the stinky boxes and the other pack.
""Dad, Dad, I smell something bad. I smell the other pack,"" I try to warn him.
BOOOOM
My ears hurt so bad now. I can't hear anything anymore. The air is full of stink. I can't smell anything else. I see my pack scrambling with their noisy sticks but I can't hear them or smell them. I don't know what is going on.
""Dad, where are you Dad?""
I see Dad with one of our pack. Dad is holding the other's arm. The other's arm isn't on his body. Dad is howling but I can't hear him howl. I howl too.
I see one of the other pack. He sees Dad. Dad can't see him because he is still howling. The other one has a noisy stick. He starts to point it at Dad.
I'm running as fast as I can. I can't let the other make the noise at Dad. That noise makes things die. I don't want Dad to die. Everything is slow as I leap at the other's throat. The noisy stick makes noise. I bite the other's throat, hard. I feel things rip between my teeth and the taste of blood fills my mouth. The other falls and I fall with him but I don't let go.
The other from the other pack dies.
I hurt. It hurts in my gut... a lot.
""Dad,"" I whimper. It hurts to talk.
Dad is with me, he is whimpering and I can hear him again. His face is making water and it's falling on me a lot but he is stroking my side and petting my head, so I don't mind. I don't want to move anyway, it hurts so much. I think the noisy stick is making me dead.
""Dad,"" I cry. ""I love you Dad.""
I close my eyes. The hurting is making me tired...very tir...",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I didn't read the ""you"" part and wrote this in first person. The story started off with the unique thought itself but turned into something that I like a lot more. Sorry if I down-played that unique thought, but it just didn't feel that important when I got to it. XD
[Here's my story](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1M2TLNCR4jhs6edE72ijWNF91F_dIYkRiQbJN0bws4hs/edit?usp=sharing)
Or, here's a copied version.
George glanced around him on the subway platform, trying his best to guess what kinds of thoughts he met pick up from the people that were standing near him. When he’d first learned of his gift, he had found it to be more of a curse than anything else. He’d heard his mom think something particularly nasty about his father that had shattered his impression of their perfect marriage. Even at sixteen, you didn’t want to hear that your folks weren’t getting along all that well… even if it was in passing thought. His impression that picking random solitary thoughts from people was awful only got worse when he went to school the day after he gained his power. The first thought he heard that day was simple: “Freak.” It was thought with the vindictiveness and self-righteousness that only one person anywhere in his proximity could have held; Peggy Miller, the rich Daddy’s girl who thought she ran the school. She was like a walking archetype, and George had never liked her. But it was as if her sidelong commentary on him had stirred up every negative thought inside him, every little self-deprecating assumption, and brought them to the surface. Once there, they pulled him under and he was drowning, drowning in the depths of depression that it seemed no one around him knew how to navigate. He spent months this way, occasionally hearing another thought that only re-affirmed his self-image. He only thought of the gift as a gift at all when one girl, walking down some random street while he slumped his way home, thought “Cute.” Sometimes the thoughts came with images, with impressions left behind by someone else’s brain. These were the most powerful, and this was exactly that kind of thought. In the passing of a breath before the thought disappeared, he saw himself, but with a lighter view; one that erased a few of his zits, and put his shoulders a bit higher. He saw the way that a total stranger could look at a person and see only the good in them. He saw how ridiculous he was to decide that the way any person viewed him was the way he really was. Even he could view himself as the ugliest, most horrific human being, and there could still be the one person who stopped and thought something as simple as “Cute.”
Since that day he had made it his own personal goal to try to experience the msot out of every single thought he heard, no matter how his head ached when he finally tried to go to bed. He wanted to take that one snippet of another person’s brain and hold it forever, to learn the smallest details of their life that all led to them thinking that one simple phrase, that split-second of neural activity. The best thoughts were the ones that revealed how someone viewed a world, especially when those views didn’t match their appearance at all.
Up to today, George had never experienced the sharing of a thought from a child, but as he looked at one little boy leaning up against his slouching mother, he had the feeling that he was looking into the eyes of a genius. He was awarded, not even a few seconds later, by one of the most complex thoughts he’d ever encountered.
If someone who reads minds reads the mind of someone who can read minds who is reading their mind, will they hear their own thoughts or the thoughts of that person in their head in someone else’s head?
George’s mouth fell open. He latched onto the thought and saw the image behind it; he saw himself, but in some kind of super hero costume, complete with a red, skin-tight leotard and a blue cape. Somehow, some way, this kid knew he had powers, and was imagining not only what they were, but what the implications of it were. In an even more rare epxerience, the thought lasted longer than any other when the boy turned to his mother, who George had just seen to be an unimpressive sight at best; ragged clothes, bent shoulders, and slouching, defeated demeanor. But in her son’s eyes, she was beautiful; she had clothes that looked to be made of pure silk and arms crafted with the sole intention of hugging. Her face was ambient and her expression serene, as if just looking upon it could cure the worst boo-boo and stop a torrent of tears. When the thought faded away, George found his own eyes misty, and couldn’t help but go over and hug the woman.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Oh my,"" he said, walking back into the room. ""Oh my goodness.""

Everything was absolutely perfect. No measure, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, was spared. Every detail must have been meticulously planned weeks -- even months -- ahead of time. The empty dining room was wonderfully peaceful, although he wondered where all of the guests were. He pulled up a chair at the head of the table and waited.

A banner saying ""Happy Birthday Walter!"" hung across the far side of the room. It nearly slipped his mind that today was his birthday, but upon looking out the window and seeing the summer sun, he knew it had to be June 4th. Metallic balloons fluttered about in tethered clusters, knocking into one another again and again and again, filling the room with their soft thumping. They were blank.

Whomever had set the room up must've planned every detail far in advance. Everything was perfect. Walter's Purple Heart was prominently put on display near the room's entrance. The dining room table had pink petunias on them, the flower that Walter gave Ruth every year for Valentine's Day; she always preferred them to roses. Picture frames were scattered about the space, every one holding a picture of him posing with others. He didn't recognize some of their faces, but he knew by his own demeanor in the photographs that he was with friends. One picture stood out among the rest: a black and white photo in a beautiful wooden frame. His face lit up as he instantly recognized it, and he slowly rose from his chair to give it a closer look. In it he posed with Ruth and their boy, David, who couldn't have been older than eleven. The family stood outside of their local church, dressed in their Sunday's best for an Easter service. 

Just then, a young boy ran into the room, shouting ""Happy Birthday!"" Walter looked up from the photograph and saw his son. ""David!"" he said in a sing-song voice as he embraced the child. The boy looked up at him and rolled his eyes. 

""No grandpa, I'm not David."" As the boy withdrew and awkwardly shuffled his feet, a man walked into the room behind him, carrying grocery bags.

""Wow, pop! Everything looks great!"" Walter looked at him with a big smile on his face, eyes wide yet slightly worried. 

""Who's this, now?"" he said to the man, trying to be polite.

""Dad, it's me. Dave."" The man was tall and slender, with wispy brown hair that was graying at the temples. This man was a stranger.

Walter chuckled nervously. ""David? My David?"" he asked, with a certain discomfort in his voice.

""Yes, your David,"" said the man as he walked up to Walter and kissed him on the cheek. ""Happy Birthday, Pop.""

""He set this all up himself, you know,"" said a voice behind him. Walter turned around to see a woman he did not recognize, emerging from the kitchen with a towel in hand. ""I tried to help but he wouldn't let me, he wanted to make sure everything was perfect.""

""Well it looks great, really. Thank you for watching him, Tanya,"" said the man as he placed the bags down on the table. ""Everyone should be getting here soon, you can head out now if you'd like.""

Walter stood in the middle of the room, not sure what to do; he was uncomfortable, but he kept the smile on his face. The young boy that looked like David was showing him some toy he had procured from his pocket. Walter nodded and smiled and listened for a short while before he turned around and went to sit down at the table. His anxiety was mounting until something caught his eye; in the center of the table was a vase of pink petunias. He let out a sigh and smiled reminiscently as he looked at them. He used to buy those exact ones for Ruth every year.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Edit: Trigger warnings for self harm and mentions of suicide. ""Hello, Helpline, how can we help you?"" The phone always feels heavy in my hand. I refuse to put it down. ""Hello?"" A quavering voice comes across the line and I rock back in my chair, minimising the tab I had open while waiting for a call. I wait for her to talk. It's a calm Tuesday afternoon and I'm sitting at my desk, yoghurt pot and cigarette pack lying open in front of me. I had been debating which one to have first when a call had been transferred through to me. ""I just wanted someone to talk to. Sometimes friends... sometimes friends just won't... They aren't the right people to talk to."" Joe and Teddy went to a bar without me last night. Quiet drinks, couple rounds of darts. I wasn't invited. ""I know what you mean."" I hum. ""Well I'm here. What's been troubling you?"" ""I'm just getting really down with work and stuff. I just can't seem to do well enough."" Her voice cracks a bit and I hold the phone away from my ear in case she cries. I'm not good with tears. More often than not it'll set me off as well, which tends not to be a good thing if you're a suicide hotline operator. ""Yeah..."" My boss is walking down the aisle of chairs and I huddle over, back to him. I make sure the phone is clearly visible as I nod vigorously. ""What's happening with that?"" That releases the floodgates and she starts crying in earnest on the other side of the phone. My boss gives me a funny look as I shuffle a bit. I'm getting uncomfortable and my fingers are starting to itch. ""Just a huge project. I used to be so motivated. Now I want to stay in bed and never come out. I called in sick today, but if I keep calling in sick then they'll give the project to someone else and then they definitely won't think I'm good enough and-"" ""It's okay, it's okay. Let's stay calm together."" She's starting to panic, her voice rising on the other end of the phone. I can hear my own heart racing. ""I just feel so *muggy* all the time."" She sobs. ""Like there's some kind of fog in my brain, stopping me from what I want to do."" ""Like a little cloud floating above you?"" I suggest, reaching for my lighter, before realising I can't smoke indoors anymore. ""Just like that. I've been... I've been..."" She whispers the next bit. ""I've been *burning* myself. Just to feel something! I'm just *numb.*"" ""Yeah."" I say weakly. I'm scrabbling for the help sheet. What am I supposed to say here? Like I can help - me, the man with the scars up and down his legs and torso. ""I just want to be clear again. I want to stop being like this. What can I do?"" I'm thinking of a reply when she suddenly squeaks and the phone goes dead. ""Hello? Hello?"" I put the phone down, clicking the sweaty handset back into its plastic nest. *She sounded so young.* I look at my packet of cigarettes, my lighter and my stomach churns and I run to the bathroom. Five minutes later I'm done vomiting. Resting my face against the cold porcelain bowl I break into noisy sobs, hiccuping and sniffing at the same time. ""Are you alright?"" There's a knock at the door. That's the thing about working at a suicide hotline. You can't be upset in peace. I grit my teeth and think about lying. ""No."" I say tentatively. Whoever it is on the other side of the door slides down to sit on the tiled floor. I can see the seat of their jeans under the crack in the door. ""Well I'm here."" They say. ""What's been troubling you?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's truly amazing how fast lives burn.

Here I sit, at my hearth, just doing my job. I'm never allowed any breaks, but even if I was, I'm not sure where I would go. Outside's too cold. At least in here it's warm.

Better keep the fire burning. I grab another book, and skim through it. I enjoy reading, but I don't have time to read everything. Stories keep things alive: People, ideas, places, facts, opinions.

This book's titled *Anthony Jones.* Page 153: ""...he never forgot the look on her eyes that day. As for the diamond, it found a home in his dresser, tucked away behind mounds of socks. After that, Anthony..."" I can't read any more. Love stories always seem a little too real to me. I throw this book in the fire and it goes up in blazes. I sigh and pick up another. It seems as if these stacks never end.

*Johnathan Reed.* Page 22: ""Little Johnny had a tough childhood after his dad left. No one to really look up to..."" Page 223: ""He came all this way, and found none of what he was looking for. Johnathan turned his back on his father and walked away, never looking back."" At least he got some closure. So many stories are left open-ended. Into the burn pile.

*Aaron Buckman.* Page 522. ""Aaron wasn't alone on the day he died. He always said he would outlive George and Hank, but it looks like he was wrong. They were both there along with Aaron's wife. Aaron smiled, coughed, and whispered: 'Thanks for coming, guys, but God's only got room for one of us today. You two are still going to hell.' George and Hank both smiled, politely - any other day, they would have laughed up a storm, but Aaron's condition had gotten far too serious..."" The good one's always die too soon, I suppose. I would've liked to have known him. Ashes to ashes.

An abrupt rapping on the door distracted me from my task. How strange. I haven't heard a knock in years. I rise from my chair and hobble across the room to the entryway. When I open the door, a chill breeze pours in, and firelight cuts through the blackness outside. The man standing there was exactly who I had expected.

""It's been a while,"" I say to him. ""I don't see your name in too many stories anymore."" I try to meet his eye, and see what he's thinking, but it slips away from me. His entire existence is an everlasting silhouette, changing shape, flickering from existence, sometimes only seen through the corner of your eye.

He sighs. ""I know. People don't thank me for much, anymore. They just blame me.""

""It'd probably do you a whole world of good if you went down and introduced yourself to some of them, sometime. You don't even have to make it a large scale thing, like before. Just do it one person at a time. Enough to make a difference.""

""No,"" the silhouette says. ""It's too late.""

""Too late?"" What can possibly be going through that head of his? Nothing good, I imagine.

""Yes. We're done here,"" he orders me. ""Burn everything to the ground."" His form dissipates, and he is no longer with me.

""You got it, boss..."" I say to thin air, shaking my head and closing the door.

I return to my fireplace and begin tossing books in. I don't even stop to read them now. I don't even glance at the titles. I just watch the stories go up in flames.

After some time (minutes, hours, days, years? I lose track so easily), I find myself holding the last book in the place. It's mine. For a moment, I pause. I suppose he would've come back for me, if he wanted me to save this one. I tuck my book in a corner of the fireplace and strike a match. Without hesitation, I throw it on the book and turn my back.

I hope God's got room for one more.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This is a strange place. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it. Words don't really do the strangeness justice. I guess it's like a nonlinear hallway with windows into people's dreams. I call it the ""Dreamscape"". It's like a nexus of the collective unconscious, separated by a surprisingly thin veil. I don't exactly know how I got to this place between subconsciousness, nor do I understand why I can walk these halls. But I can. I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do with this.

When I first wandered in here, I was dreaming myself. Something mundane, like driving a car or walking. Then I sort of woke up in the dream. The usual haze of the dream lifted and I was aware of myself. I *knew* I was dreaming. I could see the incomplete world I was in, the land my subconscious created for some purpose had many holes in it. Places I wasn't supposed to look. Almost like looking behind the scenes on a Hollywood movie. Roads that were incomplete, a half colored sky, the front of a building with nothing behind it. It only needed to make sense while I was in the foggy state of mind being asleep puts you in. 

The truth is, I was scared. I'd never experienced this sort of thing before. I meandered around my subconscious for what felt like days, until I found the veil. I call it that because it's real hard to picture in your head. It's like a doorway at the end of 3-Dimensional space; It shouldn't open to a new space, but it does. You con walk through it on one side, and it ceases to exist on the other. The place on the other side was even more confusing. The nexus.

From the nexus, you can see into anyone's dream. You can even go inside. I've only done it a few times, I don't like to meddle. I possess all of the abilities of the dreamer when I enter into the world. I can make anything I want happen, as long as the dreamer doesn't counteract what I'm doing. They're never really aware that they're dreaming, though. They let things play out as their subconscious builds everything for them. They think of me as no different even though I'm an outsider.

Like I said earlier, I'm not really sure what to do with this power. I've thought about using it for selfish reasons. Like getting PIN numbers, or social security numbers, but I can affect only their dreams. The dreamer is still them, their ego at least, but there's no real point to interacting with them. I can ask for their name, but I can't be sure if it's their real name. At least in the waking world. Their name could be Burger King here. I have no way of telling who these dreamers are, so I can't really use any of this for personal gain. Not that I would. I'm not like that. 

For a while, I thought I was the only one who could get into the nexus. Then I met Moon. I'm not sure of Moon's gender, specifics like that are lost here. Moon's voice and face have changed depending on my interpretation of whom I will refer to as him. At first I thought I had constructed him as I grew more accustomed to the Dreamscape as a means to fulfill my desire for companionship here. But I don't think so. Moon behaves differently than I do. He seems to be another entity altogether with traits that I can't use to create a person. I can only create illusions from within my own mind, and he is nothing like me.

We have talked a few times. We were both hesitant to reveal our true names for fear of the other one finding us in the waking world. We are both curious, but cautious. I introduced myself as Sandman. He called himself Moon. After we crossed paths, we started seeing each other more. Like we subconsciously were attracted to the other. Neither of us really knew why we were there, nor what we were supposed to do. We talked about our experiences here, and what we had learned about this place. 

I had told him that I liked to watch what other people dream about. I enjoyed the puzzle of figuring out the meaning of the dreamer's individual experiences. Sometimes I'd participate in a fun dream. I could try all sorts of things here. I could play golf, feel what it's like to be a lion, explore the reaches of space, anything. I didn't like to interfere. I just watched or played along. That is, unless someone was having a nightmare. I don't like to see people afraid, so I'd kill the monsters chasing the dreamers, or pull them out of the bottomless sea. It made me feel like I was doing a good thing.

Moon, however, had different ideas. He'd use people's Dreamscapes to fulfill his own desires. He'd participate in and dominate the dreamers realms. He told me of all of the fun he'd had crashing sexual fantasies, posing as a monster to kill the dreamer, caging them and taking over their world. Moon had found that he could control the dreamer in the waking world to an extent. If you inflicted pain on them, the world would shudder. If you induced fear, the world would pulsate rapidly like a panicked heart. If the dreamer died, the Dreamscape they were in collapsed. I like to think that means they just woke up.

I didn't like what Moon was doing. Even if it was just a dream, while they were here it was reality to them. They felt pain, fear, and anxiety just like you would in the real world. I couldn't abide by Moon taking advantage of the dreamer's just because he wanted to have fun. This was where we took opposite sides. We found each other again and again, night after night and we fought. He would try to enter a Dreamscape, and I would try to prevent it. I didn't always stop him. Once in a dream, he would take control of it entirely. I couldn't help once he had entered. 

I'm unsure of how long we've been doing this. I still have a life outside of the nexus. It's getting increasingly hard to distinguish between the worlds. The time spent there is strange, it's not like real time. I've had wars for centuries, and other times I've only had time to play a single hand of poker. Time is fluid there. Just like everything else. But I can't sit there and let Moon take advantage of the dreamers for his own selfish reasons. I took some time off. I decided I'd find his Dreamscape, and find out how he gets here and close his veil.

It was a risky thing to do, but I took a few sleeping pills. I'd done this before to see how it affects the dreamworld, and it allowed me to stay for what felt like longer. The only problem is that I have no control over when I wake up. Usually I could will myself awake. I'm there until they wear off now. I don't think Moon is asleep yet. I have no doubts that I can find him before he steps into the nexus. If I can get into *his* Dreamscape, I may be able to seal it.

That is, unless he was already in mine. When I saw Moon standing in front of my as I arrived, I wasn't too surprised. It took me too long to figure it out. This was neither myself, nor was it someone else. It was a personality within my own mind, given form. He wasn't fighting me to continue on with his selfish desire, he wanted to be the one who woke up. He figured out my plan because he was in my head. It's how we found one another. And now, he knew how to trap me here. He knew I couldn't escape with willpower. He had won.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Andres Vesouvian had barely slipped beyond the threshold of dreams when a strange sound echoed through his unsuspecting ears. He curled in on himself, believing the sound to be another random element his brain had called up to make sense of the day. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't roll away from the sound.

""What?""

The word slipped out of his lips on a wave of saliva. He wiped his lip and pawed at the lamp on his bedside table with his free hand. Even the weak glow of the hated Energy Saving fluorescent bulb was too much for his bloodshot eyes.

""who's that?""

He could barely make the shape out through the sandman's handiwork. It was a man in shape and posture.

""Morgan Freeman?""

As impossible as it seemed, the famed actor was standing by his bedside. Andres searched his mind for any clue as to why the celebrated star of such films as *The Shawshank Redemption* and *Bruce Almighty* would sneak into his home. Why would the brilliant thespian with the melodic voice bother breaking into the home of one as low as Andres Vesouvian?

""Oh, Jesus.""

Realization crept across his drool-stained face. Andres flung the sheets off, but he realized that he would never be able to get away in time. Freeman had brought his favorite dagger - a gift from a medicine man after lending his notable talents to a documentary about their tribe - and he never missed.

""Mr. Freeman, I'm sorry. It wasn't my fault.""

The words fell heavy from Andres's filthy lips. He knew that there was no excuse for...

""Please, just let me explain. Aaah!""

The scream erupted from Andres's throat even as the blood streamed out of his freshly-opened stomach. He trembled, remembering that it was never wise to interrupt Morgan Freeman's narration. Andres's mind raced as he tried to decide whether he had learned his lesson.

Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. He had learned the importance of silence, but it was unfortunately too late.

---

*(Apologies to Morgan Freeman)*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Here you go, my friend.""

""Huh?"" 

Dan Oswald shook his head and blinked rapidly at the overweight, bearded man standing at his desk.

""Your new computer. Well, definitely not new, but at least this one works,"" the man said.

Oh yeah, thanks..."" Dan gave a quick look to the badge dangling from the man's mustard-stained shirt pocket. ""...Frank."" 

The Acer laptop with the scratched screen now sitting on his desk came complete with a peeling Windows Vista sticker. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the left-hand shift key was missing.

Yeah, I had to dig it out of storage,"" Frank said with an apologetic look. ""I know it’s not much, but for the crap I hear they've got you doing, it’ll be just fine.”

“Hey, looks good to me,” Dan lied. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. Oh, and just a tip: try not to look so obvious when you’re dosing off. The higher-ups get all uptight about it, I know from experience.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Dan said with a smirk.

As Frank walked off down the aisle of cubicles, Dan checked the time on his phone. 10:50 A.M. He let out a groan. He shouldn’t be this miserable after only a week and a half on the job, he thought. But, then again, from what he’d heard of ZennoCorp, he should have seen it coming. He couldn’t be too picky, though: it’s not like Fortune 500 software companies were exactly looking for guys just out of college with resumes that barely took up the whole page. 

Tired of feeling sorry for himself, Dan sat upright and stretched, then reached over to hit the power on his “new” machine. 

The screen blinked to life with the familiar Windows XP startup screen—the sticker had lied, fortunately. Then the cooling fan started to make a low whirring noise that he thought was sure to make him popular with his surrounding co-workers.

Dan felt his irritation levels reaching new heights, so he unstuck himself from his chair to see if there was any coffee-like mud left in the break room percolator. There wasn’t, but the walk at least made him feel slightly better.

He returned to his desk a few minutes later to find the laptop had finished booting up, the screen now displaying a wallpaper with the company logo and current marketing slogan. (“Tomorrow’s Technology. Today.” Christ.) 

As he settled in for another marathon of monotony, he noticed a slightly unusual icon in the bottom-left corner of the screen. Below a white square with a pixelated red “x” in the middle was the filename hw.exe. 

Curious, and thankful for anything that would delay the busywork for a little bit longer, he double-clicked the icon. An entirely nondescript command prompt filled the screen. Figuring it was just some goof-off project from the last user, he typed a command in ZennoCorp’s proprietary programming language. After a moment, the word “INVALID” appeared in green type on the screen. After a few more tries, he switched to C++. “INVALID.” Then Python. “INVALID.” 

Realizing he was getting much more frustrated than he needed to be about the stupid thing, he let out a deep breath and shrugged. He hovered the mouse over the exit button before figuring he’d take one more shot in the dark. After thinking a moment, he typed “create(CupOfCoffee).”

Nothing happened. A few more seconds went by. No “INVALID”, no nothing. After a full minute went by, he began to feel silly in spite of himself for his pseudo-code.

“Back to work, I guess,” he said under his breath as he closed the prompt. 

As he leaned back in his chair, something caught the corner of his eye. He turned to look, and his heart skipped a beat. He lowered his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and blinked furiously, but it was still there, steaming, on the edge of his desk. 

A cup of coffee.

(That's all I have for tonight. Let me know if I should continue. Constructive criticism is more than welcome. Also, as you can probably tell, I don't know much about programming, so sorry if that part sounds completely wrong.)

EDIT: grammar.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""We hope you find solace in your time here at Periphery Hotels, sir. If there's anything we can do to assist you, please do not hesitate to call down to the front desk.""

The bell hop stood in the room's doorway, arms folded behind his back, with an eager yet pleasant expression on his face. Nathan looked at him with one eyebrow raised. *Jesus, is he expecting a tip?* Nathan pulled out his wallet, its leather worn at the creases from years of abuse. He pulled out a ten and paused. He pulled out a twenty. *Ah, fuck it. What's the difference?* He emptied the wallet's contents and handed it to the bellhop. 

""Thank you, sir!"" said the bellhop, enthusiastically, ""That's very generous of you!"" With that he was off. Nathan was alone, a state in which he found himself often. The room was everything the brochure made it out to be. *Periphery Hotels: Where your Cessation is Our Fixation!* A large bed sat in the room's center, it's large downy comforters dyed a marvelous shade of crimson. *Smart choice*, thought Nathan as he dropped his suitcase on the bed. He nearly felt embarrassed for packing a bag, but it seemed odd checking into a hotel empty handed. Inside the travel bag was his only suit, in which, he decided, he would end his life. 

Nathan wasn't terribly depressed. He wasn't terribly anything, really. Emotions seemed to be a superficiality in a world full of absolutes, veneers with which people would obscure the true, unforgiving qualities of the human experience. War, famine, sickness. *Death.*

The room (an industry standard, it seemed) was equipped with the most popular forms of comfort and quietus. A fully stocked mini-bar sat across from the bed, no doubt offering a means to calm the nerves of the soon-to-depart. On top of the fridge was an assortment of pill bottles, if noxious cocktails were your preference. Through an open door Nate could see the bathroom, it's tub furnished with a selection of razor sharp blades fashioned into smooth and calming shapes. Looking back at the bed's headboard, Nathan realized there was a small lever built into the wood that held a leather noose. *They've thought of everything, haven't they?*

Nathan Bartholomew Boris was born to two Census workers in the center of New Jersey. His parents instilled in him a passion for responsibility and a thirst for the ordinary. He didn't begrudge his parents for his upbringing, however uneventful he thought it was. Neither a pious or profane couple, the Boris' worked through life dutifully until their deaths (both in the month of May, some years apart.) They left this earth as they inhabited it: insignificantly. Nathan was already a man at that time, and from that point on he was alone. No friends, no family, no faith.

Nathan sat upon the bed. He grabbed a remote from the tabletop beside him and turned on the room's television set. *Porn. Preaching. Yoga. More porn.* He turned off the television set, wanting neither spiritual or sensational consolation. He opened up the drawer of the nightstand. *Of course,* he thought to himself as he took out the Gideon's Bible, *What sort of hotel would this be without this?* Opening the book, he saw that all of the pages were torn out of it but the last book: Revelations. *Cheery place.*

Some great or insignificant man, he could never remember which, had said that the unobserved life was not worth living. But what about the entirely observed life? Was there a limit to how close one could view their life before they started seeing nothing? Perhaps being content with an out-of-focus and bigger picture was the secret to traversing life happily. If that was the case, it was too late for Nate, anyhow. There was nothing left to see.

There was nothing as he removed the suit from his bag. There was nothing as he put it on, piece by piece. There was nothing as he searched his life for some last prayer to say, and there was nothing when he realized he had never been taught one. There was nothing as he prayed to himself, *I am, I am, I am.* There was nothing as he removed one of the slender blades from the bathroom's tub and took it with him into the King-sized bed. There was nothing as lied down, breathed slowly and deeply, and slid the metal across his skin.

Then, in that moment, there was only Nathan,

flowing into the crimson sheets.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Well, I guess I have plenty of time, so I'll start from the beginning.
March 2014. A good year for some. A bad year for me. Y'know that VR thing? Virtual Reality? Yeah, that. The eggheads found a way to simulate touch, too. And smell. And taste. So, yeah. Five senses. Then some new upstart went and integrated those into an MMO. Was it a good idea? Hell if I know. WoW, the giant of MMOs, the one with millions of subscribers, poof. Well, not really. You’ve always got those diehards, but still. What’s seven million to 50 million? Not much. Now, imagine if the seven million shrunk to 500 thousand. There you have it.
At the beginning you had the people moaning about ethics and all that BS, as usual. Until somebody got them into it. The mind isn’t too strong, y’know? Then they started implementing all these new skills and professions. Football, stockbroking, writing, you name it. Before you know it, there’s a great big economy generating cash. Who needs to work when they can play an MMO for money? Boom. 500 million. All paying $20 a month. Richest people in the world, that dev team. But what they don’t tell you is that every game has bugs.
Great big, nasty, hulking bugs. Bugs that get reported on the game forums twenty times a day. Bugs that crash important things. Even with 20% of the world’s population playing, who even reads forums anymore? Hell if I know. So, yeah. Bug reports. These bugs, they never announced them to the public. Then you get some news reports coming in. People going missing. People falling into comas. All connected to the RealLife MMO. Prying the equipment off kills them. Doesn’t discourage people, especially when half the players are using it as their primary income. After, it’s only, what, a dozen people. Come on, it’ll never happen to you. Just keep playing. You need to get that fancy new chestplate. And win those last few medals in hockey. And then you’ll quit and go to bed. Click ‘Exit’. I SAID, click ‘Exit’. ‘EXIT’ BUTTON. What?! Error 66053? Uh. That doesn’t sound good.
The deluxe headset comes with a fancy set of noise-cancelling headphones, but those things aren’t 100% effective. 0737h the next day, I start to hear some sort of disembodied yell. Pretty sure that’s something from outside the game. It’s been about two days since then. I’ve tried asking about this Error 66053 thing, but nobody knows anything about it. I’m getting pretty tired, though. My eyes sting. Just let me finish levelling my Writing skill. Maybe if I post this on Reddit, I’ll make some gold off it, too.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Two heavies are gripping my arms. They're the only things keeping me upright, cause my legs have been reduced to quivering jelly at this point. My employer took great pleasure in sliding the iron knuckleduster over his fingers, casting me a fast wink before driving a fist into my stomach. It rips the air from my lungs and I double over, wheezing. I'm pulled upright again, only to met with an open-palmed slap to the face. ""Please!"" I've never liked begging. ""Please, no!"" There's hot blood trickling from somewhere on my face, but that's numb. All I can feel is the burning pain in my stomach from where he's punched me. ""I said EIGHT!"" He grips my chin and pulls it down so we're eye to eye. They're hazel, with irises like pinpricks. There are deep bags underneath them and he looks rough. ""Eight fucking hours! Was that too much to ask?"" ""No, no!"" Another punch. This one drives close to my ribs and I gasp out. ""I'm sorry!"" ""It's too fucking late!"" That's going to bruise. I'm choking on this pain. ""I-"" ""Do you know how much you've cost me?"" ""I-"" *Slap* It rings around the small room with the bad carpet and there's more blood on my face. ""Please-"" ""Six million."" He steps back and gives me a moment to breathe. His men's fingers are digging into my arms. It's going to bruise. ""Six million."" He's panting. There's a high pitched whining sound and it takes me a minute to realise that it's me. I hang my head and let the heavies take my weight. Every nerve of my body is screaming. ""That's how much you cost me. I ask for eight hours."" He slumps back in the chair at his desk and rips off the knuckle duster, reaching for a glass of cold water. ""Try not to get blood on the carpet, will you?"" Someone pulls my hair and my head jerks back. I guess it's my nose that's bleeding, then. ""Out of interest, how much hours did you actually get?"" ""Do."" My nose is definitely broken. ""Two. Not fucking surprised. Two hours. So you decide, that the night before the biggest deal of my career, that you're going to- what? Go out? Stay up all night playing Halo?"" ""Ib wasn'd like dat."" ""Oh? Then what?"" ""My mudder died."" He takes a sip from his drink and looks at me again. ""I don't care. You had a job to do. You fucked up."" A nod to the men at my sides. ""Take him out. Finish him off.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow.
...except for blooms of bright red spots, from where the blood did flow.
Mary held the dripping knife, high above her head.
And struck the lamb repeatedly, long after it was dead.
“I wonder will you trail me now, my precious little treat?”
She skinned the ewe from neck to tail and hacked off sides of meat.
Yet this was not the end of Mary's woe, (much to her dismay,)
For now a ghastly, ghostly lamb, still follows her today. _______________________________________________________________
It's funny to think how many nursery rhymes are already dark and gritty when you know their history.
""Ring around the Roseys""
*shudder*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"There's a feeling you get when you realize how small you are. I know somewhere in human history someone invented a word for it, but I never bothered to learn words you only use once or twice. Hell, I never bothered learning much, just what my teachers told me I had to learn, and of course what my father told me was important. Teachers taught knowledge and my father taught me common sense. The two never seemed to overlap when I was growing up, except one lesson: There are 24 hours in a day.

My father wanted to instill in me the importance of time, and how easy it is to waste it. My teachers just wanted me to know how to tell time. Time is something I never forget. Whether it's the time I get up for work or when I go to bed. Time rules all of us, and no matter how rich you are, you are still bound to the same law: There are 24 hours in a day.

I gave up one of my precious hours yesterday. Sitting beside a dead body, breathing my air into his lungs, using my heart to move his. His time was up soon after I arrived at the accident. Paramedics came long after he had died, they thanked me, and then left with the body. There was no reward, no medal for being a good citizen, just a reminder that time doesn't stop. It drags on; killing us all eventually. 

The man I sat beside had one item of interest on him. It was a cheap digital watch, something you could find anywhere. I ignored it at first, more concerned with the man's life. When I was finally convinced the man was dead I began looking at the cheap piece of jewelry. I thought at first the man had set it to military time when it read 18:15, but it was early morning and even stranger the watch wasn't counting up it was going down. When the ambulance arrived the thing read 17:23.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I had met another man like myself. The watch unlike most time keeping devices wasn't telling him how much time had passed, but how much time there was left. The man knew the law. There are 24 hours in a day.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"NEW, IN BOOKSTORES NOW, RINGING OF THE GONG!

***

""Oh, that's an interesting title.""

Catherine ordered a book online, ""Ringing of the Gong"". It had a nice cover, not too flashy, and at least there wasn't something cliche, like the sun or the moon in the title. It had been on the recommended section of Amazon, and it didn't look too bad. She needed a new book anyway, and her friend had been raving about how the main character reminded her of her.

When it arrived a week later, she had set down some coffee, pulled it out of the wrapping, and began to read.

***

*Ring. Ring. Ri-*

""Hello?""

""My name is Catherine Lorne, is this Mr. Gabriel Clarke?""

""Yes, do you need something?""

""I was actually calling about your book.""

""Oh, are you a fan? I'm glad I got a call from you and all, but, this is my home phone number, this isn't public. Please don't call it again.""

""No, I'm not a fan, this is more about your popularity and monetary earnings.""

""Ah."" Gabriel Clarke's voice became quite a bit less friendly. ""Sorry, but I already have enough publicity, and I don't feel like giving anyone else a chunk of my hard-earned checks.""

Catherine smiled on the line. ""No sir, it isn't about that, either. Could we meet at a cafe, I have something to discuss with you.""

""I don't think so.""

""Well, then I think I will need to get in contact with my lawyer. I don't think you'd like that.""

A pause. Then-

""Your lawyer?""

""Yes, Mr. Clarke. That's what people usually do when their ideas are stolen. They sue.""

She heard him sigh over the line. A silence drew out. He was no doubt thinking it over in his head.

*She's just someone else that wants the publicity. She doesn't have anything, there's no way this would pan out.*
*Except... why isn't there a news story about this then?*

""What cafe did you have in mind?""

***

Catherine Lorne sat in a corner table, the picture of professionalism. Full business attire, small laptop on the table, a briefcase at her feet. It was then that Mr. Clarke felt underdressed and unprepared for whatever she was about to say. She also seemed familiar.

He sat at the table, wary, and gave a little cough.

Catherine gave no sign whatsoever that she had seen or heard him, although she must have. She continued on her computer for a two full minutes, and then closed and put it at her feet.

""So what's this about, Miss Lorne?""

""About a year ago, I posted something to a site called Reddit. A host of things, actually. About my childhood.""

""If you got me out here to waste my time, I-""

She gave Mr. Clarke an eyebrow, and continued. ""As you can see, I am a redheaded girl with green eyes. I am of average build and height. I can be very cynical. I work in a professional setting, consultation for large businesses to be exact, and am very good with numbers.""

""I fail to see where this is going.""

""Of course. You're not a story writer, Mr. Clarke. You're a plagiarizer and thief, which is exactly why you don't understand where there this is going, but I will tell you. All in all I bear quite a bit in common with the main character of your book, don't you think?""

He was silent, and she allowed herself a small smile.

""A year ago, there was an askreddit question. Something about 'most eventful part of life'. Not the most original question, but I was on a work break and wanted to write. Curiously, what happened with my family, is detailed very explicitly in your book.""

Gabriel Clarke sniffed. ""Coincidence. A lot of people like to read about readheads. Throw in a screwed up family life and it's a best seller.""

""Yes, I was sure you'd say something like that. Which is why I brought this.""

And with that, Catherine pulled out her briefcase, and withdrew a stack of papers.

""This, Mr. Clarke, is my reddit submitting and and comment history. All well before you claim your book was even thought of, let alone published. It is a detailed account of my life from 17-23, which is why you loved it so much, I'm guessing. There's a pattern here, many submissions and comments of mine had a user named 'taco69fucker' comment on them. Usually one word, sometimes a sentence, and always to save it. Starting with, of course, the main story of my family, which is the focal point of your book.""

Mr. Clarke's blood ran cold. She was not only smart, but she had him between a rock and a hard place.

""You have no proof that's me.""

""Well, actually...""

She pulled out a second stack from that infernal briefcase, and showed him, to his growing horror, his own comment history, which included where he had once posted his town as a point of reference, in separate cases his first and last name, and, worst of all, links to the online site he posted pieces of his best seller as a rough draft.

""In fact, I've highlighted points where you completely plagiarized things I've written, word for word.""

He was done.

""What do you want, Miss Lorne?""

""Fifty percent of profits, and the guarantee that you will never write a book again.""

His eyes bulged.

""WHAT? Out of the question!""

She shrugged.

""You can either agree, or I can sue and get it that way. I can assure you that road would cost a lot more. On your end of course. You didn't put anything bad about me in that book of yours, since all you wanted was a fiery little redhead.""

Indignantly, he stood up. ""Do you really think you can just walk into my life and make everything about you?!""

Catherine replaced her papers, picked up her briefcase and computer, and stood up as well.

""Mr. Clarke, you're the one that made everything about me. I am your main character, after all.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The saddest were the children, a close second, being their parents.
When little girls started rejecting futures of princesses and wanting to purge their rooms and wardrobes of pink and insisted that no, they wanted fire engine red, and trucks, and waling sirens. Little boys giving up on dreams of being the first Olympic policeman to be a doctor. The parents would cry silently into their pillows, or run to the pediatrician murmuring, *What will it be? Will it be cancer? Can I swaddle her in blankets or hide him in a room?* Some got angry at the inevitability, or the confusion - was this growing up to live or growing to death?
The worst story I’d heard, and I’d heard many, were the ones who tried to disrupt the system, who tried to kill themselves before the change had manifested with one of two outcomes – they failed and were left, maimed, distorted and tortured, or they succeeded, and then, mining through the journals and blogs and posts, we realized just how long they’d been thinking about death – that that had been their evolution.
Of course there were cults that’d sprung up, the Born Again movement suddenly taking on new meaning, til there was a split – the Born Again and the Re-Born. There were campaign posters about enabling and slogans about defeating it. But, as with most inevitabilities, people eventually just accepted it and accredited it with whatever meaning they considered most pertinent. The conspiracy theories were mostly limited to outposts of the internet that inspired more eye rolls than legitimate discussion.
But for those of us who guarded the Algorithm, who doled out life expectancy in exchange for managing to avoid Malthusian calamity, it was a bit more nuanced. Granting a child twelve years of life, or damning her to starvation and war is all well and good on paper – but it will keep you up at night. With nuance comes dissent – but mostly on the how, not the why. The Great Boom had taught us a hard lesson on the why. We’d attempt rebellion, but we all know our clock is ticking.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Smoking's a bitch of a habit to keep up these days, especially in January. Standing on my apartment's roof deck, the wind cut right through my coat, and my hand shook slightly every time I drew the cigarette up to my mouth for another drag. The city behind me was frozen solid under the weight of yet another winter snowstorm, and the waters of the Charles River were still and silent as an abandoned building. Distantly honking cars were the only indication that I wasn't entirely alone in Boston this afternoon. As wrapped up in the idea of isolation as I was, I hardly noticed the other man up on the roof deck until he was just a few feet away. He stood next to me for a moment, and we watched the frozen photograph of a city in silence. I was cold, but a single cig hadn't quite scratched the itch, so I turned to my neighbor and asked if he smoked. “From time to time. Are you out?” I didn't recognize him, but then I don't know what most of my neighbors look like. I nodded, and he pulled a silver cigarette case out of his pocket, clicked it open, and offered it to me. “Thanks, man. Live here long?” I fumbled with my zippo for a second. The damned things are impossible to use in gloves. He seemed to be considering his answer before replying, “I've been in a Boston a while now, yes. Yourself?”
“Couple'a months. Moved here from Providence.” He nodded at that, but didn't say anything. We were silent again for a time. “Why did you move?” He asked the question idly, but I got the impression he was genuinely interested. Funny thing, though, I was starting to wonder what exactly he looked like. I mean to say he looked like a man, but specific details weren't forthcoming. He had an air of competence, self-assured solitude to him, but I'll be damned if I can actually tell you what color his hair was.
“Needed some space from my dad. He's not a bad guy, just not a great father, is all.” I took my first drag on the stranger's cigarette, and burst into a coughing fit. The taste was incredible, but it burned like a coal fire going down. “Jesus, these are harsh. What brand are they?”
“I import them. Hard to come buy up here. Sorry to hear about your old man, but there are worse places to be than Boston.” Still hoarse, I nodded. “Yeah. Got a job offer in Jersey, but I couldn't do it. That place is a shit hole.” The man smiled, like he'd remembered an inside joke that I wouldn't get. “What about you? Here for work, or family?”
“A bit of both.” The stranger puffed on his cigarette casually, and the cherry burned brighter than it had any right to. “I don't get on well with my father either. He's got...control issues. A man needs some space. Has to get out on his own, stretch his wings, you know?”
“I hear that.” The face thing was really starting to get to me. “Hey, I'm Mike, by the way.” I reached out a hand to shake his. “Samael.” His grip was firm, and he looked me right in the eye as we shook. “That's...an unusual name.” Where had I heard it before? “It was unique where I came from, too.” ""And where's that?""
""Much farther away than Providence. It was nice talking to you, Mike. I hope for your sake we never meet again."" And as I was about to ask him just what the hell he meant by that, he was just....gone. Vanished in the wind, with a last cloud of that harsh cigarette smoke dissipating in the space he'd occupied. I stood alone on the roof, suddenly feeling more alone than I had before my conversation.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"From what we've gathered from the archive, the human species was a sexual one - a *very* sexual one.

Of note is that it did not appear that alpha males were the most successful at completing the mating ritual; lesser, beta males appeared to be those with the most success - ones that identified themselves as ""pool boys"" and ""delivery guys.""

The females appeared to submit to all their sexual desires, regardless of their roles in the society. Whether it was their educational systems or health facilities, sexual intercourse would transpire, without concern of the greater needs. We conclude that this played an important part of their extinction.

Curiously, we have noted that the population held multiple roles within society. For example, subject ""Lisa Ann"" has been highlighted as being both a ""bored housewife"" (domestic dwelling female) and ""candidate for Vice-President of the United States"" (secondary position in the United States clan.) Similar patterns have been observed in subjects ""James Deen"", ""Jenna Jameson"" and ""Ron Jeremy.""

The biggest scientific breakthrough for us is that humans had multiple abilities to conceive offspring - initially, it was believed that the sexual intercourse must be completed vaginally. However, after viewing multiple entries, it appeared that such a way would be impossible for the human species to grow and survive. Therefore, the males reproductive fluid (known as ""cum"") could be absorbed by the female, both orally or absorbed through the skin. The breasts (or ""tits"" as they're known to humans) and the posterior (""ass/arse"") appeared to be the most successful places. Larger tits and asses were favoured by the males, presumably for this purpose. In tern, females desired larger penetrable devices (""dick/cock"") as these would, clearly, store more cum for the female. It also appears the anal and rectal cavity sufficed as well as the vagina, albeit more painfully for the female.

We are, so far, only 4 years into our study from the footage. However, we shall endeavour onwards.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I woke up in a room of sorts; well maybe it's not accurate to call it a room, it had no doors or windows. Looking up I realized that there is a ledge around where the ceiling should be, so this must be a pit. In astonishment, I discovered that I was not alone. Two other men were slumped over in the pit, knocked out cold. I presume that they too were kidnapped and had no idea either about what we are doing here. Scanning around me, I notice just how filthy this pit is; the floor is covered in a mismatch of wiring, broken equipment, and garbage, the walls streaked with a film of oily grease, caring the odor of spoiled eggs, in the center of all three of us was a gun. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a slip of paper with a simple command. *Kill* By the time I read this, the other two men began to wake up. At first we tried to communicate, but to bitter frustration realized that no one held the same language. The gun still laid there on the floor and I could already feel the tension boiling between us. With an exchange of glances, we all made a silent agreement to not touch it. The man that was across from me was short and presumably middle eastern, he made it clear that his name or at least what he identify himself as was Imran. When Imran read his message, he seemed most appalled by it and gestured his response by crumpling it up and throwing it at the other end of the pit. He then moved his arm in a way that suggested that we pick him up and see if we can help him reach the ledge. It would be a futile effort, but what other choice do we have? The other man, who was Caucasian like me and remained silent for most of the time here move up to help him. Just when Imran was about to climb on his shoulders, the man grabbed a nearby lead pipe and smashed his head in. Imran fell over, his skull now concave inwards and bleeding profoundly. Me and the other man's eyes both glaced down at the pistol. He made a run for it but I was quicker. With the back of my foot, I kicked his chest back and grabbed the gun. Before I even realized what I had done, the man fell over with a bullet between his eyes. Did I win? What did I win? When would I get out of here? I been here for almost two days now, both the bodies started to stink. Most of the time here, I spent banging on the walls, attempting to devour the garbage around me, beating and hitting the corpses until they were reduced to an unidentifiable mess of organs and blood. They are not going to let me out. The wall are shrinking and they won't let me out. The people are laughing at me and they won't let me out. I grabbed the slip of paper and read again. *Kill* I realized that gun now has two bullets left. We weren't meant to get out. I placed the gun to my forehead and finished what was started.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Oh, for fuck's sake.” The words take a moment to sink in. I'm still staring at the crossbow bolt stuck into the wall in a kind of shock. Most people never come this close to death, but I've been here eighteen times in the last three months. A torn scrap of my shirt hangs limp from the wooden bolt, and I can feel a burning wetness as blood starts seeping out of the graze on my shoulder. A guy in a Metallica T-shirt crashes into the bar next to me. Orders a whiskey. “Look, this probably isn't what you think.” He slams a crossbow onto the bar between us. I stare at the mechanism for a moment. “Did...did you just try to kill me?”
“Yeah. Look, don't worry about it.” I'm about to express to this medieval son of a bitch just how worried I am, when he continues, “Do you even own a car?”
“Um...no. I sold it last year. Needed the money to afford the deposit on my apartment. Why?” The bartender brings the man's whiskey, and I order one for myself. “Look, it's like this. You cut an Amazon exec off on the freeway back in '09. He missed his exit, had to double back, and ended up missing a meeting that cost him his career. He blames you for ruining his life. Hired me to, well, kill you.” He downs his drink in one shot before continuing. “And let me just say, you are either the luckiest son of a bitch to walk this earth, or some kind of psychic.”
I flash back to the close calls I've had in the last few months. Car wrecks, building fires, gun shots. “Wait, you've been behind all the shit that's been happening to me? Fuckin' A, man! I thought I was cursed, or something!”
He shrugs. “Yep. But I'm out. Done. Never had a bastard as slippery as you come into my sights. Figured I'd come clean. I'm done with the biz, Ain't no money worth this.” The bartender comes by again, and we each order another whiskey. “I don't know what your deal is, but I'm retiring.”
Ten minutes ago, I'd been enjoying a quiet beer, watching the Sox game. This wasn't something I was expecting when I left my apartment tonight, but over the last few months, I'd become accustomed to the unexpected. “So my life will go back to normal? You'll stop trying to kill me?”
“That's the long and short of it. I'm closing in on forty. Assassination is a young man's game.” Our shots arrive, and he slams his back without hesitation. “Besides, this contract is the dumbest I ever took.”
I nod thoughtfully, stretch, and grabbing the back of his head I slam his face down into the empty shotglass. I hear a crunch, and he slides off the bar with glass shards buried in his eye socket, moaning incoherently. While the other bar patrons are still in shock, I reach into his pocket, grab his phone, and find a contact marked 'employer.'
The phone rings twice before a familiar voice answers. “Is it done?”
“Ronnie, you piece of shit.” I'm grinning as people begin to scream and flee the bar around me. “You remember me? Ben from accounting? You got me fired in '05, thought I was chatting up your girl at the Christmas party. Like I'd have ever tapped that level of crazy. Sorry, off topic. Your hitman was a flop, Ronnie. And now its my turn again.” I hang up, dropping the phone on the would-be assassin. Ronnie had picked the wrong bean counter to fuck with.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Oh wow.” I nod twice and stare at her eyes just like the Book had told me to. Held eye contact for, 1,2,3 seconds then smile and look to the left, slightly turning my head at the same time. I listen to her talk, not really absorbing much, something about her travelling around the world, Paris (Wow, that must have been so lovely, did you go up the Eiffel Tower?), to Greece (Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there), to Sydney (Oh wow, must have been a lovely place), to London (Oh lucky you…) to… blah, blah, blah. Not that you could tell I was bored, I made eye contact, asked questions, smiled, mirrored her actions, topped up her wine, even occasionally brushed her hand. I had followed the Book and it seemed to be working, after dinner (I paid of course) she offers to take the same cab home. We waited for a taxi, (she had on my coat), then I opened the door, smiling and making eye contact for 1,2 seconds. We chatted (mostly her, I nodded and smiled), she put her hand on my knee, I placed my arm around her shoulder. She smiled, I smiled and we get out of the cab (I pay her half of course). We stand just outside the taxi, door ajar, she’s cold so I offer my coat again and she takes it. I walk her to the front door, she makes eye contact with me, smiles slightly and bites her lip. I figure this is the sign to kiss and so go for it, awkwardly; I had practised in the mirror and with my hand, faking some roughness that could be mistakenly for passion, not too much though, didn’t want to kill this one. It seems to be what she wants, because she puts her arms around my neck and doesn’t back away (makes for a pleasant change). I do as the Book says and run my hands up her and down her back and start moving my mouth towards her neck. I have no idea if this is going well, to me it just looks like some massive slug has been across her face, but she giggles (a good sign according to the Book), takes my hand and leaves me to her apartment. I give a courtesy wave to the taxi, my heart pounding. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d make it this far and so haven’t read on in the Book. Oh well, I internally shrug, I can always revert back to my old ways, at least I felt something then.
-053",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They call me Thanathos, Death, the Angel of Mercy, Hades, Erebus, Yama, the Grim Reaper, Azrael, Mot, Erlik, Supay, Tuoni, Anubis, Mictlantecuhtli, and on, and on.
I have had countless names.
Time is a human concept, a construct; a necessary and universal product of the mind. For me, you must see – there is no such such thing. I exist, as I have always existed. The words that sentience, or “life” uses to describe the passing of their “time” is meaningless to me.
My only “purpose”, for reasons beyond my comprehension is to stand guardian at the shivers of time, the intersections when life ceases.
I am an arbitrator.. A judge of sorts. My will is reality, my edicts are law. I would claim myself to be a timeless “God” of some sort, but I have determined that I cannot be – for I am flawed. My judgment is imperfect.
For my current existence, I have been assigned to over-watch a small, blue planet, full of ocean life and the occasional upright primate.
The early days of this assignment were quite uneventful; I'd seen more hunt-and-prey type activity then I care to admit. “Return to the ground from whence you came, and rejoin the spirit of your planet.” I'd murmur quietly to the prey as they were being torn to pieces.
It wasn't until the mid-point in this planet's existence where I could say “my soul” if I had one, became tested. I saw the creatures align themselves, in rows, and march blindly towards time fissures, creating a massive amount of work for me – where I would need to say the words of peace to each and every one of them.
I wasn't sure of what they fought for; but their convictions were quite strong. One particular sight, there lay a youth, if I could call him so – he was young for his species, he was mangled by a bronze spear. He said to me in his tongue: “Thanathos, I do not resent you, for in my death; I see now – all things seem fair.”
Here whence comes my conviction of being imperfect – for there are moments when I have been made to feel, and in compassion; I would commit a disallowed act – and reverse the thread of their time fissure. For each creature that I allow to continue living, I sometimes cause the end of many others; and I am punished through an increase in workload. I allowed the youth to live, and he commanded his “legions” to conquer the majority of his landmass, driven by his “immortality”. I returned for him later when he was comfortable, and I spoke to him: “I had mercy upon you, but you have betrayed my kindness. Vanity has consumed you and now you must perish without cause in an equal measure.”
I felt that I had acted appropriately, and that would stem the tide of the unnecessary violence; but a precedent had been set upon the planet. Every “leader” of the pack wanted to emulate the history of the youth who was “immortal”. I grew quite tired of my labors, as I had now carried more away to death than I had ever seen exist upon the planet; and for each, their fear, and their sadness, grew upon me.
I had spent so many countless “nights”, in so many hopeless places, I often began to wonder if the entire purpose of the planet's existence was that of misery-- if perhaps they were evil spirits, eternally reincarnated and made only to inflict pain upon one another.
As I would return to my fields immersed in the bright warmth of the star which overlooked the planet, I'd speak with the many upon various topics as such, specifically those would call themselves “philosophers”. I found that I could not converse with them on depth upon the things I had seen, for they would often become incoherent. The weight of my tasks seemed quite heavy upon their “souls”, and so as thus I could never find a satisfactory answer, and I had continue searching on my own. I could vaguely take a hiatus, as I saw the brightest flame flash from the surface, and then another. “Work.” I thought. As I arrived upon the surface; I could exclaim that.. if I had words or the physicality to express – I would have cried. I had felt compassion before; but it was the first time I had felt “fear”, and “anger”. The eyes of the creatures I saw were not peaceful as those of the gazelles which accepted their fate-- they were full of questioning, full of “sadness”. “Why?” They would wordlessly ask, as I would give their parting words, and I would sometimes pause, as I would be unable to give them an adequate answer. I did not know why. All I knew, is that their area of the planet had been consumed in fire. The wounds to their “souls” were “horrific”, the worst I had ever seen.
At this point, my own “soul”, I felt was so heavy, that I could no longer do my work properly. I laid down to rest in my solar fields, now seemingly a “king” of a massive “empire” of the dead; and lapsed into a deep, depression.
When I had emerged from my grief, I decided to be more compassionate in my policies, and to allow more of the creatures to live. After such horrors that they had inflicted upon one another, perhaps they would be wiser in the future.
But, again – I was wrong. Staying my hand made them innumerate to the point of fatality – they overran the planet, and consumed all of its resources. The atmosphere soon began to grow darker, and my workload increased dramatically once again. They were much wiser in their final moments, I would converse with them – they would ask more difficult questions; but they were also more full of “regret”. The creatures of the “legion” were always strong in their convictions, but these new creatures who had spent their youths in the mist, were much more remorseful. “We were wrong. We were so terribly wrong. I am so sorry.” They would tell me, expecting compassion. I would tell them: “I was wrong, not you. I am sorry.”
In the next movement of the “legions”, I had to hire help to get through so many. I thought that I had amassed an already tremendous number of “souls” in my fields, but I don't think any kind of mathematics could enumerate the amount that I had to foresee this time.
My companions were not as strong enough of heart as I was, and would betray their assignments – and I was forced to retire them as well. Eventually, there were very few left. The last of us stood and we watched as the fires that had scarred me in my mid-time return once again, covering the surface, frozen. I quietly turned to my most trusted companion, and I told them: “I wish to feel, and to cry, at least once. I want to see it through the eyes of all of those whom I had myself carried. I want to be spoken my own last words, for I cannot bear the weight upon my soul any longer. I wish to die.”
They calmly nodded to me, and I possessed a youth who most resembled the prior, and I stood in the flames, and allowed them to consume me. I had never felt pain before; but the body I had inhabited had all of the impulses for it. All of the knowledge, and all the history of the creatures whom I had not understood until now flooded my “soul”.
I cried, and my tears melted in the flame.
As I fell, my companion stood over me with the same eyes that I once given all those before me. I had my answer.
“What inhumanity-- has man committed upon humanity?” I uttered.
Had I been allowed to die, I would not be able to tell you this tale. No, you see – my watch never ends.
For I am Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.
-------------",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"What the hell kind of kid has a chair for an imaginary friend? This kid, he summons me up and I'm in his room and I can't move, and he smiles at me. He says, Can i really sit in you? Sit *on*, you snot weasel, is what I want to say, but that's the sort of thing that gets you on nightmare detail. So I tell the kid, Yeah, go ahead, sit, have a ball. And he just sits on me. All night he sits on me, his ninja turtles pajamas scraping flint across my eyes. Never went to sleep, sat there all night, and in the morning he starts crying and he won't stop. Finally his dad walks into the room and grabs him up and takes him away. Of all the kids I get this kid with the chair fetish and the weeps.
I've been firemen, policemen, werewolves, princesses, cowboys, astronauts, genies, ninjas. First time being a damn chair. You can't move around much when you're made of wood. So I sit there looking at the kid's bed till he comes back and he asks if he can sit on me again. Yeah, I ain't broken. So he sits. Again, all night, I get the only kid in the world that doesn't sleep. And morning comes around and he's crying again. His dad comes in and takes him away.
This goes on for two weeks. Seriously, two weeks this kid sits on me and cries. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I break protocol. Any nightmare is better than this chair business. Kid, I say, what's the deal? Wouldn't you rather I was a Jedi? You want to know what color your light saber is? Come on, I'll bet you a whole dollar it's green. I'll be Obiwan, or Yoda. Hell, I'll be Jarjar. Let's save the world and get paid. But the kid, he just stands up and he says sorry and gets into bed and cries. Doesn't even make it to morning this time. Little dude is starting to make *me* sad. Well, I figure it's already nightmare alley for me, so I press him. Rule number one is you don't press the kid, but I had to know. I ask him, What's with the chair? Why are you crying all the time?
He stops crying enough to say, You really want to know? I don't have a head to nod so I say yeah and he wipes a gob of snot and tears on his turtles sleeve. You can't tell my dad, he says. I give him scout's honor and he sits up. I don't sleep good, he says. Dad doesn't like it because it's bad for me. Mom comes home late sometimes because she's a nurse and I sneak down down into the kitchen. Mom never gets mad. She always has chicken noodle soup after a long hard day and sometimes I get peenabutter and jelly. I sit in the chair next to her and we watch I Love Lucy and Get Smart together. Well what do you need another chair for? I say. I know as soon as it leaves my wooden mouth. This is why there's a rule number 1. The kid doesn't say anything, just goes back to his pillow and shakes and cries.
So I'm an asshole. I know it more than you can think it, so save it. Another week goes by and the kid won't even look at me. I can't bring myself to say anything to him. Me, a damn chair, and I'm dying because he won't sit on me. I sit there night after night and night after night he cries next to me. He knows I'm here and it's killing him. It's ripping his guts out.
So above all rules is rule 9. You let these things run their course. You don't interfere. If I have to be this kid's chair, sitting by his bed, tucked away in his closet, stuffed down in the basement, for years and years, I do it. I sit my wooden ass wherever he puts it and I listen to him cry. Hell, I might get packed up and shipped to his dorm room when he goes to college. Always there, in or out of sight, ready to get sat in or cried on.
I'm not saying I'm not an asshole, but I could have done all that. When I broke rule nine, it wasn't all for me. I really didn't want to watch this kid go through that. So a night comes around and I break the silence. Kid, I say, You have to kill me. He looks at me and he's scared and I floor it. Take me outside, beat me brains out with a baseball bat. Throw me out the window. Get your dad's keys and run me over. Take an axe to my head, throw my body in the woodchipper. Anything. Because I'm not here. You need me to be here and I'm not here. Your mother is dead. She's dead dead dead and I'm not even a chair.
That made him angry. It was good to see him angry. He ripped me limb from limb with his bare hands, chopped me into little bits with his dad's axe and threw me in the waste bin.
That was ten years ago now. Been on nightmares ever since. I don't regret a word. I'm probably better at scaring the shit out of these kids anyway.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The main problem was the food. Badly described food tastes like cardboard. I used to really enjoy good meals, not that I'd ever really pay attention to them - I was usually reading at the same time - but it's strange what you miss when it's not there. Now I just pour cereal out, balance the bowl on my knees and devour books earnestly to try and get rid of the overwhelming sensation of loss you get in a two dimensional world. I'm sitting in a restaurant with my badly described wife, mourning over the fact that my wine tastes like ribena and my steak tastes like quorn because apparently this nightmare was written by a fifteen year old vegetarian. She's chewing something which I refuse to believe to be anything other than splotches of colour on a white plate and talking to me with her mouth full. There are no knives, because the narrator didn't describe knives. ""I just don't see why you're so upset."" She says. So that's how the conversation is starting tonight. She has three opening phrases. One is this passive-aggresive shit, one is her worrying about my drinking and the third is where she sniffs and rolls away from me in disappointment as she pulls the sheets up to her neck. ""I'm really sorry Sophie. Can't we just enjoy the meal?"" Her face scrunches up in worry. She's written as a nagging, argumentative bored housewife. It throws her off when I'm nice to her. I think I have kids too, but the plot is so inconsistent that I'm not sure how old it is, what its name is, or even what gender it's supposed to be. I just know that my wife spends anywhere between sixteen and eighteen hours a day playing with it. It doesn't scream or cry or shit itself because, like I said, this story was written by a fifteen year old. At the beginning I kept searching for a way back. I would scream and shout at my wife, call her names and break furniture. It would always go back to normal the next day though, whatever I did. I seemed to be trapped here. I squeeze my wife's hand now and try not to look at the tables around us. The restaurant is full, but there are only four couples. They're copy-pasted over every table in the place. The waiters all look like a Frenchman described by someone who's never even seen a baguette. And the wine tastes like ribena. ""Yes Tony. Let's enjoy the meal."" She goes back to chewing her food. I go back to looking desperately at my plate and wondering if a bit of pepper will do anything. ""How's our baby, Sophie?"" ""She's doing well. She'll be talking soon. She has a tooth coming out."" ""That's lovely, honey."" So I started writing. I've been a reader all my life. I always wanted to get sucked in to a book. Which one would it have been, if I had the choice? Something peaceful, green... Where I could wander in the open air. Not here, where the clouds repeat every six and every other tree is the same. It's hard to remember how real people act. I read parts aloud to my child when it and Sophie are asleep. I think it likes them. I'm not unhappy. Not really. Despite everything, I've come to realise that it doesn't matter how badly my life is described. I smile up at my wife. ""Do you like your steak?"" She asks
""It's delicious."" I reply
After all, life is an adventure you write yourself.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It all started five years ago. I was just biking through downtown Manhattan when it hit me. The doctors said it was a wonder I didn't die, being hit by a land rower on a bike and all. I didn't wake up but afterwards I was told that I talked. And I talked sense. I solved the Hodge conjecture, the Rienmann hypothesis and the Naiver-Strokes existence within a day. By the end of my three month coma I had furthered scientific knowledge by three decades. I didn't know any of this beforehand, I had no knowledge on any science. I was just a stoner renting a shitty basement in a shitty neighborhood. When I woke up I felt different. I felt strange. I felt knowledge in my head that should not have been there, I knew the atomic mass of every single thing I looked at. I knew the exact gravitational force acting on every thing I looked at. To the third decimal I knew the time of day just by calculating where the sun was in the sky. It was hard, I could not focus. Overwhelming knowledge filled my head and the human mind is not meant to handle so many unwanted thoughts. Its hard to enjoy a meal when you know the calorie count of every bite, its hard to enjoy sex knowing the exact hormones your brain is secreting, its hard to be happy when everything is a formula. A simple chemical reaction that you know the exact properties of. The fist year was good. I worked in numerous labs, solving all kinds of mysteries. I got payed good money to make advances, I refined every process you could imagine. From the simple things like reducing waste of energy too solving the mysteries of the universe. It was all available to me. The universe had given me the ultimate knowledge. I knew everything. I didn't always know it, it just came too me if my mind wondered there or if I was asked about it.
I did not have to solve anything, I did not have to recall anything. It just... came out. I didn't understand a hundredth of what I said but I said it. The second year was worse. At this point I was being payed extravagant figures to make weapons for the government. A neutron bomb with a blast radius of ten meters but an exposure radius of ten kilometers, a bullet system that automatically identified human DNA and could be programmed for specific things. And that was when I broke down. After the government targeted everybody that had middle eastern DNA in their lineage back four generations I absolutely broke down. I became a recluse. I hid in the wilderness and managed to be safe for another year.
At the start of the fourth year things became dark. I was known by every human on earth. I solved the hunger problem for 99% of the population of earth in my first year and advanced technology by hundreds of years. I was tracked down by god knows whom and made to be a celebrity. Everybody knew me because I knew everything. My family abandoned me years ago because I was never there for them, my emotions suppressed by the stream of knowledge. But now, now, I was famous. I was the biggest star in the world. They came back, offering me sorries and wishing to come back into my life. This was the hardest year, television shows, movie deals, the endless interviews. I didn't have a single waking moment where I advanced things. I was to busy answering ""fan mail"" and doing things to further my identity in the publics eye as ""The wizza kid"" based on the word ""pizza"". Even the name they gave me sucks.
Today is my five year anniversary. I think today is the day I will kill myself. Ive been depressed for four years, three hundred and sixty four days. I could tell you exactly how many seconds but that is a part of the problem, isn't it?
As I pull up the gun it saddens me that the only thing popping into my head this moment is the velocity of the bullet and the chemical makeup of the gun. No regrets pop in, just facts. Facts about the world, about the planet, about the universe.
As I squeeze the trigger my only regret is that I stopped delivering pizza.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This was it. Cassius' time to shine. He looked around the forum. They were all there. The rich bankers, the slithery merchants, the slaves, the actors, the gladiators. This was the time.

""Ladies and gentlemen! Citizens and freemen! Barbarians and slaves!"" Cassius leapt onto a banker's stall. ""Are you tired of not knowing what you look like? Do you want to see into other rooms from far away? Do you want to look pretty for your man! BEHOLD! The Mirror One Point Zero!""

Cassius pulled up the mirror out of its sack cloth. It burst dazzling into the light. It burnt gold in the harsh Italian sun.

""Yer wha?"" a voice came out of the crowd. It was a butcher holding his cleaver high in the air, pausing in the butchery of a carcass.

""A mirror!""

""Yeah? And what's so special about it?""

""It... it lets you see things. It's reflective.""

""Yeah, and I got one of 'em an' all!"" The butcher drove the cleaver down into a goat skull and bustled behind his stall. After a few moments he drew out a small piece of polished brass.

""Ah, ah,"" Cassius rallied ""But this, ladies and gentleman is made of silver! Reflecting the true colour of-"" 

""No, hold on a moment,"" a refined voice of a senator cut through the mob. ""I have a mirror. Junia, where is that mirror of yours?""

His wife, protected in a litter by satin curtains passed out a mirror at least a foot across. It was solid silver and shone like stars.

""It looks no different from yours,"" the senator glared.

""But here we reach the trick of it!"" Cassius tapped the mirror. It rang like a bell. ""Glass! By using utterly flat glass we can reduce the need for silver until it is the merest veneer.""

""Utterly flat glass? That sounds harder to make than the silver!"" a banker scoffed. ""Silver just comes out of the ground.""

""With a fairly modest investment I believe-"" Cassius could feel a pit forming in his stomach.

""Get out of it! And get off my stall!"" With a lurch Cassius was shoved from his pedestal to the forum below. He clung to his precious mirror, trying to stop it being shattered.

""But think of all the uses for mirrors! Like... like...""

""Like burning roman ships in the harbour of Syracuse? Like feeding the vanity of Caligula?"" the crowd had started to laugh.

""But you never have to polish a glass mirror!"" The crowd just laughed again and turned away from him. They went back to their work, the hubbub of the city returning to normal.

Someone hauled Cassius to his feet. Cassius looked into an old face.

""Listen lad, you're not really selling a new invention,"" the man said patting him down on the shoulder. ""You think you are, but you're not. This is just a modest improvement on what we have already.""

""But a silver backed glass mirror-""

""I know lad, I know,"" the old man nodded and led Cassius away from the place of his failure. ""But these people, the forum goers, they aren't the folk to market it to. They're businessmen. A mirror ain't gonna give them a lot of business.""

""But-""

""Where are you from lad?""

""I'm roman!"" Cassius insisted.

""I know lad, but where?""

""Phoenicia,"" Cassius admitted. ""City of Sidon.""

""Right, right lad, what you need to do is write a lot of letters of introduction to the young ladies of the city as a jeweler.""

""Where am I going to get-""

""Shut up and listen, now you're a jeweler, right? You go there and you sell them pretty necklaces and stupid earrings, right? And when they try them on...?""

""I... show them the mirror..."" Cassius nodded beginning to catch on.

""And it will be such a better quality of image...""

""They'll have to buy it!"" Cassius almost clapped for joy, until he remembered his mirror and clasped it tightly. The elation passed almost as soon as it had come. ""But... but I can't afford to buy a lot of jewels. My stock of mirrors and my travel to Rome was more than-""

""Well there my lad,"" the old man grinned, revealing a gold tooth. ""You've had a bit of luck."" The old man pointed to the shop they stood outside. Cassius read the sign. 'Quintus, finest jeweler'.

""And you're Quintus?""

""You're not the most quickwitted lad,"" Quintus put his arm around Cassius and led him into the jeweler's shop. ""But I'll learn ya. I'll learn ya.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He had done it. He had finally done it. DarkBlade couldn't believe it. He removed his mask as he sat down in his favorite reclining chair, letting the thought sink in and letting his slight pudge spill out. He had wiped out crime completely. After a long fifteen-year streak of declining living conditions due to the constant rise of robberies and violence, as well as corruption in city hall and the police force, the city of Elaton was now a safe place to live. 

It had taken him over two years, but DarkBlade finally threw the last mob boss into the slammer a couple of months ago, and boy did it feel good. Ever since then, children could now play down the block safely without parents fearing they would get kidnapped or shot. Store owners could keep their establishments open at night without the fear of being robbed or having them be vandalized. People could go see a movie without being harassed by hoodlums.

DarkBlade never stopped making the rounds though. If people saw him, they would wave and move on with their lives. Some had the courtesy to reassure him that he was no longer needed, that ""everything is fine on this end!"" He would smile, nod, and disappear. It was nice taking a break from all that work. Boy, did it feel good to see everyone so happy and out of trouble. Yup.

Boy did it *feel good.*

DarkBlade--now simply Jim--leaned back in his chair, clasping the front of the armrests with his fingers. He sighed. For years, he had mastered the art of Judo, Karate, Ninjitsu, and some MMA. He learned how to handle several kinds of knives and guns. He learned to build traps and bombs. He saved up lots of money for his skintight costume and gadgets...all for this one purpose in life. 

As a child, he felt a strong sense of justice after growing up in shitty Elaton where his childhood friends were either unhappy failures or dead. To be able to help them--or avenge them--in any way was an honor, and never something he second-guessed. He knew this was what life had in store for him. He helped. He avenged. Justice was served. 

A sense of uncertainty had crept up on Jim. Lack of time and money (due to always buying sewing equipment and refills for his weapons) had taken a toll on his life, especially socially. He never had money to go out with friends, and had not spoken to those very friends he was protecting in a long time. They had long ago deemed him ""that guy who always makes excuses because he thinks he's too good for us."" Because he never hung out with them, there was never an opportunity to meet new people, specifically, potential companions. His friends were now married and starting families. He was considered a weirdo at work at the office because he was always so quiet, always thinking of plans for his evening excursions. He was eventually fired for not completing his work. The silence in his own home, usually a soothing alternative to the blaring sirens, piercing horns, and explosive gunshots, had now become deafening with this realization. 

Jim flung himself out of his chair. He walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of brandy, and yet the liquor and its burning essence did nothing to wash away the void within him. Soon enough, he'd be considered irrelevant as Elaton's hero as well. Sure, he could go to another crime-infested city and help the people there, but that requires money, which is something he didn't have at the moment, and that required years and years of saving. He poured himself another glass.

The only way he'd be able to stay and to keep his relevance--and sanity--would be to bring in more crime. Should he break out one of the criminals from prison? He could, but it would be much too risky, and much too dangerous for his life, since they would, in due time, take vengeance on him. Plus, why *would* he want more crime? Everyone is happy and safe, and that's all that matters. The sacrifices of his life were worth it.

Another drink. If there were only some way he could bring in crime, some sort of badness without truly having anyone injured...and then, it hit him. Getting very jittery and eager, he pulled out a notepad from a drawer and a pen. He always had a bunch of them lying around for moments like these. He drew out plans. Plans to rob. Plans to kidnap. Plans to take over the city like a true villain.

Jim paused and set his pen down.. So is this what he would succumb to, becoming everything he fought against and hated, in order to feel loved again? It didn't feel right, but then again, it didn't feel wrong either. No one had to worry too much. He would never hurt the people intentionally. That wasn't his purpose. He would just show them that he was important after all, that's it. It would only happen every once in a while.

But he'd have to scrape up his leftover money from his sewing tools and gadget pieces to make another costume, another identity. That's fine, it'd be worth it in the end. He'd also have to formulate escape plans, so no one would ever know it was him. Then, he'd always take his hero costume with him, and pretend to beat up his alter ego, and he'd come out victorious. If he planned everything out carefully, he could have these plans ready within a few months. It would be perfect.

Jim went to bed satisfied, but then realized he needed a name. As he drifted off, he made a mental note of a name he liked. *The Oppresor.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The American sat across from them at a large, weather-beaten table; no doubt looted from a long abandoned school that the monsters who shared the same table had been responsible for closing. The room was full of a cold silence as they all exchanged searching glances.
Four years. Four years of undercover work. Four years of go-betweens, tip offs, shady informants, corrupt local officials and four years of frustration all for a chance. This was the chance. Finally, The American spoke up. ""So.. anybody know of any good terrorist activities coming up?""
""Ja. Ja! I am also much interested in ze acts of terror soon coming."" The German chimed in.
The Frenchman nodded enthusiastically as The South African's eyes darted around the room for any response.
""Yes. Let us blow something up. For terror. Anyone?"" The Australian spoke robotically into his chest, an odd lump poking out from near his collar.
The room settled back into an uneasy quiet.
""Am I to understand that nobody here is aware of any upcoming terror plots?"" Asked The American, in a much indignant tone.
Mumbles and shrugs were given in reply as a high-pitched static noise seemed to emanate from the ear of The Frenchman. He swatted about it and seemed to 'shush' himself.
The South African continued to stare at all at the table. His eyes focused as though he was willing laser beams from them. The American began to tap impatiently on the table as The Frenchmen fidgeted at something deep in his ear canal. The Australian ungraciously leaned back, trying to peer at some glowing device in his hand. The German coughed loudly.
""What?"" ""Hm. Did someone say something?""
""No. Did you?""
""Nein.""
More nothing. The American decided it was time to bait the hook.
""I suppose... we should plan something then?""
Three weeks later The German walked into a police station wrapped in enough explosive material to vaporise a whale party. Shortly before blowing himself to atoms, he had tried to arrest himself, but was foiled when his reflexes were no match for his own. All agencies involved claimed success.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The snow was melting under the spring sun and the first tips of grass could be seen peaking out from under the blanket of white.
The hum of a two stroke motorcycle can be heard bouncing off the brickwork of the narrow street. Ten seconds later the rider pulls into view, cutting off the throttle and walking it down the narrow alley behind the houses. Opening the back gate of one, the rider leans the bike against the tool shed and walks towards the rear door. As the motorcyclist ambles up to the door, they pull off their helmet, revealing the face of a man in his late thirties. Grey is creeping into the dark brown of his hair at the temples and his hands are callused from honest work. He unlocks the door into the kitchen and is surprised at what he sees.
Laid out on the table is a white table cloth with tableware on top. The blue and white Ming vase sitting in the center is empty. The table is set for two. He slings his satchel onto the couch and thumps upstairs. There he strips of his grimy clothes and heads to the shower, washing off the dirt of the day. Twenty minutes later he emerges from the bathroom pink with his hair combed and dried. He walks back down to the kitchen to make himself tea when he sees the previously empty vase has been filled with fresh cut flowers from the garden. Daffodils for the most part, along with a few others from the tiny greenhouse out back. He smiles as the sight and glances at the clock. Three hours till six. He pulls from the shelf his mother's cookbook and thumbs through the well used pages. Picking out the desired ones, he closes the book and spreads out the recipes. He gathers the ingredients, onions, potatoes carrots and the like. He peels and chops the vegetables, placing them into a roasting pan along with the duck he bought just that day. He prepares a salad along with French onion soup. As he makes the meal, he hears his stereo system start up. He hears music, it's one of his ancient records, courtesy of his father. It's an old James Taylor one. He grins as he sings along, surprisingly in tune. His voice is a high baritone. Once that record is done another one comes on, it's the soundtrack from *Alexander Nevsky.* The meal is ready. Placing the dishes on the table, he runs upstairs to his room and changes into his best clothes. As he looks into his closet's built-in mirror, he hears Copland come on the speakers. *Appalachian Spring.* He struggles with the silk tie but manages somehow. He makes his way downstairs and pours himself a glass of wine. For the next five minutes he stands by the window, quietly sipping from his glass, waiting. He hears a noise upstairs and smiles. Footsteps can be heard coming down the stairs. Still smiling, he turns around and sees her.
She is dressed in long viridian evening gown that complements her auburn hair. Her hair is done up in a bun, pinned with an elegant hairpiece in the style of tulip. He hands her a glass of wine and they toast the other. ""You're early love. You were supposed to come tomorrow"" She places a hand on his shoulder and smiles. Her voice is soft and smooth, like a mountain stream. Her words are tinted with a hint of an accent, slightly sing song. ""Roan, I couldn't wait. I just had to come. I'm sure you understand."" He takes her hands in his, and looks into her eyes, they are the same color as her dress. ""Of course I do Emily. You know that. I'm glad you came."" He gestures over to the table. ""Please, sit.""
He pulls out the chair for her and takes his own seat. The French Onion soup is first, hot with fresh Swiss cheese. Next course is the roasted duck and vegetables. During the meal she asks him to tell her everything that happened over the previous year. He is happy to oblige her. ""... and by the way Roan, are you honestly still riding around on that motorbike?"" Swallowing a bite he nods and sips from his glass. Proudly he speaks. ""Yep, just put on a new filter on it. It should last me another six or seven years."" ""Roan. You're not twenty-five anymore. You're going to kill yourself on that thing."" He places his hand over hers, his grey eyes looking into her pale green. ""That wouldn't be such a terrible thing Emily. You know that."" ""She presses his hand against her cheek wiping away a lone tear. ""I still don't want you to die so early. Please Roan, sell it."" He looks down bashfully. ""We'll see."" They finish with the main course and move on to the salad. Cleansing their palate with it, they move on to dessert, a platter of cheeses and bread. Finishing their meal, they take their glasses along with the wine bottle and move into the living room, fumbling with DVD player, he pops in a film and the pair settle in to watch Disney's *Beauty and the Beast.* Some hours later, after the film is over with. The two find themselves at the front door. He aids her in putting on her jacket and places her hat on her head. As he hands her umbrella over, he speaks. ""I wish you didn't have to leave. I would love to go with you."" She looks up into his storm grey eyes and gives him a brief but forceful kiss. ""Roan, you can't. You still have many more years ahead of you. Be patient love. That's all I ask. Can you do that for me?"" He wordlessly nods his head. ""That's my husband. I'll see you next year, on our anniversary this time."" She opens the door. """"I love you."" She disappears into the darkness and rain. Leaning against the door frame he whispers. ""I love you to Emily.""
He gets up early the next morning and picks a fresh bouquet of flowers. Hopping on his bike, he makes his way through town to the other side. He gets to a gentle piece of land and shuts off his motorcycle. He makes his way to a spot he knows well. Kneeling, he places the flowers down on the ground while tears roll down his cheeks as he reads the inscription carved on the marble stone.
*Emily Marie Fulton Verlander.*
*Loving wife, dutiful daughter. Honest friend.*
*Died at the age of 29. She is missed.* ""I love you Emily.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The couple lays wet sloppy kissing on each other, their lips roaming over their partner's body. They make there way towards the bed and start undressing. The man starts looking in his wallet for a rubber, but the girl knocks it out of his hand saying, ""Don't worry babe. I'm on the Pill."" 

""No she's not."" I say as I lean against the dressing table. I'm not looking at the pair, seemingly more interested in my pint of Haagen-Dazs. It's vanilla after all. The two lovers scream at my unannounced visit. I just shrug as they scream. They glance at one another and return their heads back to where I was standing. I am gone. The man starts staring accusingly at the women for lying. I do not need to see the fallout. I've seen it a million times. On to my next job.

The priest steps up between the soon to be man and wife. ""Any who object to their marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."" I raise my hand from one of the pews. ""I will pretty soon."" ""Shut up!"" I duck my hand down and shrug. I don't mind. I admit though, I look damn good in a tux.

""... I, John, take you, Kathryn, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you"" ""Bullshit!"" He ignores me. ""In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."" ""When pigs fly!"" I call out. ""I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."" ""Yeah right! Next joke!"" I'm dying in my pew from laughter. he glares at me as does his entire extended family. The bride stares questioning daggers at her partner. My work is done here.

""I Adam Fallenberg III, promise that if I am elected President of the United States of America, to fight for the middle class, the class of America I so deeply care about. I know what it's like to struggle. I am middle class myself. I-"" I walk onto the stage with a leaf blower strapped to my back. I amble across the debate floor waving the blower back and forth heedless of the stares and shocks. I head over to the podium, the politician steps away from microphone. Shutting the blower off for a moment, I lean into the microphone and brandish the blower. ""He's full of hot air. Get it? Right?"" The cameras were rolling live. I run off stage before the guards can get to the podium. Just another job done, nothing special.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I've always wondered where they came from. I spent my life on a padded chair in front of my computer so it's definitely not coming from my end. It surprised me at first, scared me even. A scrape here, a bruise there. Eventually I just kind of stopped noticing. Except that one time. That one time a damn papercut showed up on my thumb right as I pressed the Space Bar. Stung like a mother fucker. I kind of forgot about it. It was just something that happened once in a while, probably just my body being weird again. Didn't even notice it again until 4 months into our relationship. She walked into a shelf and bruised her shin. Mine was too. We had a chuckle over it, making jokes about quantum entanglement and whatever else geeks like us like to talk about. Didn't take it seriously. Went on with our lives. Forgot about the whole thing. We couldn't sleep. It was a Saturday night and we seemed to have synchronized insomnia. We decided to talk about whatever old bullshit popped into our minds trying to bore each other into dozing off. She told me about how she gets random bruises and scrapes around her body and I tell her it happens to me too. Didn't really think about it that much. Maybe we were too tired for the memory to be encoded properly. Maybe I just thought it was something that happened to everyone. Couldn't tell ya. Forgot about it again. One day she cut herself while chopping celery. I made a joke and distracted her. My fault. Her finger started bleeding. So did mine. What. The. Fuck. Slapped some band aids on and sat down. Talked about the time she kicked the shelf. Talked about the papercut. It all made sense now, and at the same time, made even less sense than before. She punched me in the arm, her arm bruised too. Made a little cut on my leg. Hers bled too. How is this even possible?
Decided against going to the doctors. More trouble than it's worth. What if men in black showed up at our door and kidnapped us for research or something? Can't risk it. Gotta be careful. Can't put my life in danger. Can't put *her* life in danger. Gotta stay low. She got pregnant. She gave birth. My anus started bleeding and a placenta fell out.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I'm pulled aside movement followed by mother's worried eyes
Can we have a word? My father asks He sits me down and starts to pace
Worry written over his handsome face
""It's come to this""
He starts and stops ""God knows now you're old enough,
You're twenty-five
And I must strive-""
He swallows ""To tell you the truth."" I sit tight and wait But I've waited years now for this date
There's a secret, the adults won't tell
He opens his mouth to speak and stops
His lips are white, his face is pale
""Son,"" he says and I grip my chair
""The truth about this whole affair,""
""Father please, just tell me now."" The words slip out and now it's said I can't believe I've been so misled
My father's words
Loud and clear: ""Son, there's no such thing as beer."" I stand and gasp He shakes his head
""The world is serving us juice instead.
It tastes the same, it looks alright."" ""I swear I've had drunken nights!"" I pace the room and growl in rage
My father sighs, he claps my back
""Everyone just pretends. I'm sorry, Jack.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Test subject 2732:

Subject struggles with basic strategy. After 3 games subject has withdrawn to the corner of the chamber. Emotional display commenced for 78:12 glorbeks. Further testing halted until source of mental discrepancy is identified and a chemical correction can be administered.

_____

Test subject 5294:

Subject grabbed the board and attacked the tester. Superficial wounds sustained. Subject has been pacified. Scheduled for waste ejection on 84 Keltar at 72:00 glorbeks.

_____

Test subject 1974

Subject ignored the game and stripped of garments. Subject proceeded to bend forward and bare their rear at the tester. Repeated pleas to be 'probed' were uttered by the subject.

(Further research is required on 'probing'. 73% of subjects reference this at some point. 83% respond with fear based emotions, 15% seem to derive enjoyment from the concept. 2% attempt to aggressively interact with the tester and must be pacified.)

_____

Final report:

At this time, the results of the go-test indicate that the population of exo-planet 1462 do not qualify as intelligent life. Clearance to terraform granted.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""That's actually volcano ash."" I turned to see a young girl, probably in her 20's, with dark hair and a pair of baby blue sunglasses resting on the crown of her head, speaking to me. ""You said that they were covered in lava, but that's a common misconception really the bodies are preserved in volcano ash"" She once again repeated. I wonder whether she did this often, interrupting people with useless facts. How long has she waited for this? To barge in with that brilliant trivia knowledge of hers and force small talk. ""Thanks"" I said, recoiling a bit from this women, hoping she would find someone else to annoy. To my disdain, she took this as an invitation to start talking again, ""My name's Trista, I always been fascinated with Pompeii or any lost cities like Atlantis and stuff."" I cringed deeply that this *Trista* dared to compare the great city of Pompeii with a fantasy. She was an idiot like the rest of these people, gawking at the victims like they were prized exhibit animals on display. Then again what do I know, I been away for so long that even I had became a stranger to my own home. Perhaps it was a mistake to be here. Trista realized that I was not talking and tried to inject in more conversation, ""That's my favorite one"" She blurted out pointing at a particular pair of victims. ""The one with the mother and child, it's so chilling and sad"" I looked and felt something wash over me, immediately I remembered everything, everything I tried to forget. ""What do you know of them"" I asked her. ""Not much"" She said obvious of what I was experiencing. ""Do you know if they died in pain."" She cocked her head a bit as if searching through her big encyclopedia of worthless knowledge stored up inside her brain. ""They were pretty close to the volcano, so I imagine the intense heat got them first."" ""Eurydice"" ""What?"" Trista asked. ""Her name was Eurydice and that boy, Andreas."" I told her. Without another word, I walked away.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I am gonna put a spin on this. Hope you don't mind.

---

""You make a mockery of our sovereignty!"" says Emperor Scipio, and in that moment, I hate my job just a little more.

Ever since I became a translator for the Empire, I've respected the movement less every day. It was interesting to me from my point of reference, another group recognizing the importance of Latin on our languages today. They took it a bit too far.

People were surprised when the Imperial Party won a majority in Italy. People were more surprised still when this majority actually appointed an emperor. What happened after - annexing, invasion, police actions - should have been obvious. To history students, at least.

And now here I am. The government sent out for volunteers who spoke Latin, and I was one of them. Eight months later is now, with me hating my job.

I repeat what Scipio says as neutrally as possible - quite neutrally indeed. The Prime Minister grimaces.

""We are not challenging the borders of Italy — ""

"" — But still you call The Empire by its old name! In this way you demean our achievements! Would you respond differently if I called all of Ireland 'England'?"" Scipio is unnecessarily angry. He has read his Machiavelli.

The Prime Minister exhales quietly. ""Of course. My deepest apologies. It is a habit I must break if our relations are to be mutually beneficial.""

Scipio barks laughter. ""Mutual benefit is only good for the weak.""

I can see that thought hitting a brick wall in the Prime Minister's head. ""Perhaps we should retire for the day… your Grace?""

""I should think so."" Scipio rises and departs, saluting. It still looks kind of Hitlery when I see him salute.

The Prime Minister touches my shoulder. ""You all right, Paul?""

I grimace. He nods.

""Hold out a week, and we'll get you a position in the embassy."" He smiles.

""Thank you, sir."" We shake hands, and walk out. It takes me a minute to remember that I hate my job. Things are looking up.

--

054",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"**Let Me Explain**
Have you ever tried to make a person laugh? I mean, really tried. Have you ever prepped for, worked towards, put everything you could into planting the seeds of an irrepressible smile into the mind of your fellow man?
It's bullshit. Well not bullshit, it's just difficult beyond measure. You have to be on their level but, at the same time, capable of subverting their expectations. For me, it's a Sisyphean task of the highest order.
Have you ever tried to make a person angry? Because it's easy. It's indescribably simple to annoy, anger and upset almost any person. You might say right now, ""Oh well I'm pretty thick skinned so I'm not sure I agree sir."" Fuck you. If I stabbed you with a fork you would immediately change your tune. This was my realization, one lonely day in June, as I watched a couple holding hands from my second story dorm room. I just wasn't capable of making people laugh and smile. Those skills, which came to the handsome bastard on the quad as easily as blinking, were dark territory to me. I realized that I only really had two routes left to take, I could either have no impact on people whatsoever and be ignored, or I could garner attention in a negative sense, I could affect other people's lives as an acerbic, antagonistic force.
Sometimes I just need to be noticed, to have an effect. I hope that makes sense.
*****
""What did you say to me?"" I glare down at the wiry man in the city square. I can tell he's intimidated. He replies, with a noticeable stammer.
""S... Spare some change please sir."" My glare hardens. ""Are you fucking kidding me?"" I raise my voice so the passers by can hear my argument. ""Why? Why do you deserve my change?""
""I... I just want to get... for a cup of tea.""
""That's not why you deserve it. Can you tell me that? Why do you DESERVE my money?"" I press him further.
He looks up at me, words caught in his throat, he doesn't have an answer. Instead he simply tries to avert my wrath.
""I'm sorry sir. have a good day. God bless you.""
""Fuck off."" I bat away his niceties with a swift curse. ""You have the gall to ask for my money, so you can spend it on fucking street drugs and 2 litre bottles of cider. You have no fucking clue how hard I work.""
The people nearby have overheard everything. They all watch, but none of them try to stop me. You wouldn't think it but they rarely do. The wiry man hangs his head, hiding from my gaze as he fixes his eyes on the pavement. He mumbles something but I can't discern it. I decide I'm done.
""Here."" I snarl at him as I throw my morning paper onto his lap. ""Get yourself a job.""
I then walk off through a group of shocked bystanders.
*****
I wait in a cafe to see if he reads the newspaper. If he doesn't I'll have to go over to him which I never like doing. As I've said before I just can't interact with people.
It happened the same way it always does. When I mock buskers, insult waiting staff, lambast the beggars, it always sparks an outpouring of good will from everyone around. That's why I do it in crowded areas. The wiry man will eat for a good few days on the charity he received from citizens, offended by my cruelty. Hatred's a great motivator.
I watch him as he places the small, but considerable, pile of pound coins and fivers in his pocket and, thankfully, unfolds the paper. He flicks through the pages absentmindedly before reaching the midpoint. I see his brow furrow as the envelope falls onto his lap. He reads the message on the front then, curious at it's apologetic tone, slices the envelope open with his index finger. He pulls out the note and begins to read:
**Let Me Explain**
Have you ever tried to make a person laugh? ...",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""What's your name sweetheart?"" The man in the suit takes a bag of M&amp;Ms out of his pocket and offers them to the little girl. She takes the candies and puts the bag on her lap. ""My name is Suzie.""
""And can you tell me what you can do Suzie?""
""What do you mean sir?""
""I read in the papers that you can make things disappear. Make people disappear.""
Suzie shuffles around a little, looking uncomfortable.
""Don't be afraid, you're not in trouble. I'd just like to ask some questions."" He gets down on one knee so their faces are at the same level. ""Can you do that for me Suzie? Can you tell me about what you can do?""
""Well, sometimes when I think really hard, I can make things change."" Suzie looks at the floor
""Can you show me Suzie? Can you change something in this room? Anything you'd like. I promise I won't tell anyone.""
Suzie closes her eyes. A static like humming sound fills the room for a brief moment. The bag of M&amp;Ms on the table collapses into itself, as if a microscopic black hole had appeared in its center. The man in the suit looks at the table but doesn't seem to react. ""That was very good Suzie. You have a very good talent. What you just did can help a lot of people.""
""Really? How?""
""Well, sometimes there's a lot of stinky garbage in the way that's really bad for animals and the air. You could make it disappear. Sometimes a building is too old and needs to disappear, you could make that happen. Sometimes a big boat can spill icky black oil into the ocean by accident and it's bad for sea animals. You could clean it up. There are lots of ways you can do good for this world Suzie, and I think that our big group of friends here at Exxon can help you make it happen.""
Suzie tilts her head back up with a big beaming grin. ""You really mean it sir? You really think I can help?""
""You betcha! and we'll give you lots of money too. You can have all the toys you've ever wanted.""
Suzie grins even more. She puts her hands on her chin and wobbles around as if her body can't contain the excitement
""Okay!""
**12 years later**
Scientists are still puzzled by the mysterious disappearances of oil freighters and processing plants around the world. ExxonMobil appears to be the only top 10 oil company that has so far been unharmed. As of today, the missing worker count has reached over 38,000. The CEO of ExxonMobil has refused to comment **click* There is no way that ExxonMobil isn't behind this. I bet they have some kind of Meta-human eliminating the competition! Processing plants and huge metal ships don't just disappear! I bet they're in bed with the Illuminati! **click* Johnson hasn't been performing up to par recently. Both of his throws so far have missed the basket and **click* and that's why the power of friendship is the most valuable power of all! **click*
Brony riots are ongoing across the globe as the petroleum supply dips to all time lows. Without a steady supply of petroleum, My Little Pony plastic figurines are no longer affordable to most fans. In Barcelona, upwards of 200,000 bronies and pegasisters have linked hands to form a human circle, tossing their fedoras into the center in protest in an effort to create a mountain of fedoras that can be seen from space.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Every day I see you.""

The woman stopped, and turned around to view the anonymous man who made this bold statement. Her eyebrows peaked, giving off an aura of confusion. The man quickly realized his blunder of not mentioning the method he saw her, but was at loss for words, and could do little to correct it. Regardless, he tried his best.

""It's not creepy, I promise."" The man said expectantly. ""It's just, every day starting sunday last week I saw you in my dreams. You're here today, exactly one week later. I know I'm not crazy.""

The woman let out a little chuckle to try and ease the mood. Looking at her lips, you could tell she was apprehensive. She decided to continue to be silent and let the man explain himself.

""Do you understand what I'm saying? It doesn't even need to be a creepy stalker thing, I'd just like to talk to you. Understand why you were in my dreams.""

""I was... in you dreams? Like you thought of my while you slept, I'm not just your 'dream girl'?""

""Yes, I promise you are actually in my dreams. My mind was trying to tell me something. Please, just let me get a cup of coffee with you.""

The woman from the man's dreams was beautiful, in every sense of the word. She was clearly in a hurry, and he could tell from the way she keeps inching into the taxi. Either that, or he is scaring her.

""That offer sounds nice, of course, but are you sure she didn't look generic, and I'm just filling the spot?""

""No. She was you. You even have her voice.""

Compared to the woman the man was not the most charming. He appeared to be in his forties with her in her twenties and was packing on quite a few extra pounds. They man was wearing a clean black suit, freshly ironed. At this rate he was going to be late for work, but that was at a unreachable spot in the man's head. The woman was wearing a t-shirt and skirt that reminded the man that it was summer. He had forgotten until he'd seen this girl, normally to him the seasons are interchangeable. 

To the man, the woman had a certain property about her that made him remember. He remembered that it was his mother's birthday in a week, he remembered that he needed to get a haircut, and most of all he remembered that summer was his favorite season. The last thing the man would ever remember was the thought of work.

""I'm sorry, I'm going to the airport. It's kind of urgent. I think I may be late.""

""This will sound creepy, but let me drive you. It will be faster than taking a taxi, and I can at least explain my dreams to you.""

With a look of hesitation, she finally gave in. The woman turned towards the taxi driver and apologized before she diverted her attention to the man.

They had been driving for 20 minutes, and were getting along better than the man could have possibly hoped. Eventually, the conversation of the girl's travels came up.

""So Texas, that's pretty far from Maryland. What takes you down there?""

""My boyfriend and I are finally moving in together. We had to go long distance, but we will finally be able to see each other.""

The man's grip on the steering wheel tightened. The were finally approaching the exit on the highway and in one swift motion the man merged into another lane.

""Excuse me, I think the airport is off of that exit.""

The man said nothing, he let his silence fill the air. He couldn't let his dream girl go, not after finally finding her.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Gaia's eyes grew large and moist. ""I don't want to,"" she told her mother meekly, pawing at the dirt with one hoof. Her mother remained patient. ""You have to be a big deer now. You aren't a little fawn anymore."" Her voice grew sweet and calmed Gaia; ""Today is a Meet-And-Greet. We're not staying here all day. I won't leave you here alone. We're going to meet your new teacher and see your new room, then next moon we can start school once we've had a while to get used to the idea."" Gaia bravely stayed calm right up until her mom nudged open the latch on the door. At the wooden *creak* and with a whiff of the strange odors inside her courage cracked, and she began to cry and buck her legs. It was several minutes before her mother finally coaxed her through the entrance. Gaia kept her gaze low, not wanting to see what waited inside; but as she saw her hooves step over the threshold and onto small chips of wood that coated the floor, her curiosity peaked and she looked around her. Three sides of the room were walled. Gaia's left opened to a small pond. The sun on the water blinded Gaia; she didn't notice anyone was there until they spoke. ""Hello! Welcome, welcome!"" Across the room atop a wooden stool sat an otter waving at them jovially. As Gaia watched, the otter hopped down and lithely came to them. Gaia was still weary of her- Gaia was weary of any stranger, as most deer were- but her instincts did not find reason to be frightened.
""My name is Miss Perry!"" the otter said with glee, speaking to Gaia first. Gaia felt special to have been spoken to before Mom was greeted. But she was unsure how to answer so she simply stared at Miss Perry. ""This is Gaia,"" her mom said helpfully. Finally she could speak, ""I'm Gaia"" she said softly. And then before she could clam up again she added, ""There's a lot of smells in here."" Miss Perry laughed. ""You can probably smell a lot of different animals, can't you Gaia?"" Gaia nodded. Gaia's mother spoke up, ""Yes, I noticed that, and I wanted to ask you, do the animals from the... other schools typically cross to this side of the pond?"" Miss Perry looked as if she had been asked that question many times today. She nodded, as if she'd been expecting it. ""Miss Mulela please remember from our last conference that the schools will be doing a trial Integrative Species classroom model this year."" Watching her mother startle made Gaia apprehensive. She collected herself, but couldn't stop from looking quickly left and right- as if these *Integrative Species* might be everywhere.
Miss Perry continued amiably, ""Don't worry, if it doesn't work well we can always go back to the A Species Apart model.""
""And how long with the trial last?"" ""Oh, we're thinking about...""
Gaia let their voices drown out as her gaze wandered around the room. She first noticed a gleam, a silver flare that shone off of some type of metal under the window against the wall opposite the pond. Slowly her eyes began to make out a geometric shape. She saw lines, but couldn't quite piece together what the whole of the object was. It made her nervous.
She could tell now that it had bars, like those on the windows and stable-fronts. And the shadows inside were solidifying; shifting; was something inside moving...?
""Gaia?""
Gaia startled and realized that she has stepped back into her mother. Miss Perry followed her gaze and continued, ""Yes I was just getting to that. We have a class human this year!"" She grinned broadly, her smile sunny and warm, furry otter arms extended as if to hug them with the thrill of it. When she saw that they both remained far from thrilled she chirped, ""Oh don't worry! It's just the cage that's daunting. The human is quite adorable, I assure you!"" She began to walk towards it, beckoning them along, ""It's a very primal instinct to be afraid of cages, but not to worry. They can be very useful, and it is educational for the kids to have an actual human around. It's also good to teach them to care for something,"" she added, smiling at them, ""We work to instill in our children a healthy appreciation for life and all living things!"" And somehow, Gaia found herself being prodded forward. Hesitantly, she followed behind her mother towards the bars. Inside she could finally see a squishy mound of pink tissue. It blubbered, spitting slightly on its chin as it saw them approaching. The otter reached into a pail and brought out human food labeled **TWINKIES** and **REESES CUPS**. She showed it to Gaia and then tossed it through the bars of the cage. The human squealed excitedly- ""Watch,"" said Miss Perry excitedly, ""at how quickly he opens the package!""- and tore the **REESES CUPS** treats down the middle, spilling out droplets everywhere, and crushed several into its mouth at once with a garble of happy syllables.
Gaia was sad for the poor, stupid creature. ""What's wrong with him?"" For once Miss Perry did not seem to know how to answer a question, and she spread forth her paws for a moment before finally saying, ""That is one of many things you will be learning in our class this year Gaia! The human species has significantly declined in recent millennium, and their mental capacities have steadily worsened. Now most of them rely on us for nourishment. We have a steady income of treats from a real life ancient factory,"" she said to Gaia with a wink. ""Is it dangerous?"" Gaia's mother asked, watching as dark saliva dropped off the human's chins to its middle. It chomped onto another treat. ""They are absolutely safe for school; but they can bite. It has never happened, but we always make sure the children stay cautious and are constantly supervised. Hopefully he will not prove too disruptive this year what with the new Integrative Species model...""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She walked with an exaggerated sway brimming with confidence and attitude. Her pony tail swung back and forth in time like the sweep of a pendelum. He watched her; his eyes on her ass though it was not the reason he followed. The gun in his right hand was stuffed inside his pocket, but his finger was kissing the trigger in preparation for what must come next.
""Package acquired. Awaiting instructions."" He whispered into his com. Four thousand miles away, a man watching the interrogation of suspected terrorist responded.
""Instructions to follow."" Victor Corby was not an evil man, though he often amended that claim by tacking the phrase *by choice* after, because he wasn't. He just wanted to keep his fellow countryman safe. If all terrorist activity stopped tomorrow, he'd be content to spend the rest of his life sitting in a room bored due to the fact. However, his countrymen aren't safe and very soon many were going to die. He looked at the man they were water-boarding and raised his hand.
""You got her live?"" Victor asked. Four thousand miles away the man following the woman answered.
""Live and in color.""
""Await instructions,"" Victor told him, gesturing to the men conducting the rendtion of the prisoner. They stopped pouring the water and removed the towel and allowed the man the freedom to cough up the water threatening to drown him. Victor gestured to his communications officer. ""Put Jackal's feed up."" He said, indicating the video screen in the room with the prisoner.
""You're a tough old bird, Merek, but we're down to zero hour. You obviously don't care what happens to you, but we found her."" He said, pointing to the television on the wall. ""I'm going to give you three opportunities to tell me where Phiffer plans on releasing the virus.""
Merek coughed up more water and glanced at the screen and felt the blood rush from his face. It was his daughter. ""This isn't funny."" Merek snapped.
""Do you see me laughing?"" Victor shouted back. ""I am done playing with you. Tell me where Phiffer is going.""
""She isn't part of this."" Merek argued.
""She's your daughter."" Victor volleyed back, knowing Merek was right.
""This is unethical."" Merek told him. ""We're soldiers fighting for different countries. She has no part in this. Where is your honor?""
""Wound her."" Victor said into his com by way of response.
Jackal did as he was ordered, putting a single shot into her back above her heart. In the video there was a staticky cough from Jackal's gun, and the girl walking silently in the video pitched forward. She wasn't silent now, screaming in pain and fear. Jackal stood watch over her with his pistol aimed at her head. She rolled over on her back and everyone in the room saw that she was many months pregnant.
""She isn't a part of this,"" Merek cried, jerking against the cuffs securing him to the steel chair in which he sat.
""You got some god-damned gall, Merek. Phiffer is going to release that virus on innocent men and women and children and you're telling me she isn't a part of this? What about those innocents he's about to kill? How are they apart of this? Now, where's Phiffer."" Victor screamed.
""They're not innocents. They're supporting--""
""Terminate her pregnancy."" Victor told Jackal through the com.
""NO!"" Merek shouted even as Jackal's gun coughed again. The woman grabbed her stomach in horror and pain.
""Where is he?"" Victor demanded red-faced, coming to his feet. ""You just lost a grand son. You want to lose the daughter? Cause after her, we castrate your son. We will kill ever fucking person you know to get to stop this attack from happening. Last chance to save her,"" Victor snarled. ""Where?"" Merek fixed him with angry Irish eyes.
""Kill--""
""LAX."" Merek growled. ""LAX."" He repeated. ""Phiffer is headed to LAX.""
""Come home."" Victor told Jackal. On camera, Jackal bent down and checked the color of the woman's eys and her other vitals, then rose to his feet and put a bullet in her head.
""Package was suffering."" Jackal replied mournfully. ""It was a mercy. I knicked her liver."" He said by way of explaination. Merek strained against his cuffs screaming and raving. Victor turned away then hurried out, before relaying the new intel to the teams in the field. He slowed to a walk then stopped felt the spasm and hurried toward the door, vomiting just outside.
*He wasn't a evil man.* He told himself. *Not by choice.* He vomited again and punched the door. ""Evil or no, he was going to hell when he died. Of that, he was fairly certain.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's been 75 days since the war started. No mans land is filled with bodies. Ever since /r/atheism was removed from the defaults we have been outnumbered and outgunned. Mountain Dew is running low. The Cheetos have run out, we are now living off the leftover dust from the MREs. I look at my comrades though and do not despair for their euphoria gives me strength. Strength to carry on with the spirit of Sagan with me. If I die, it will not be in vain like Socrates before me. They're about to sound the next charge. I hope this letter reaches you my darling.

All my enlightenment.

AALewis








Eh?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Aetius' knuckles are white as he clutches his sword. He shakes. His eyes meet mine, wide and searching for hope. I try to project courage, but I have no hope for him. I turn away. Five thousand men stand together at the foot of the mountain. Five thousand men face death.
The evacuation is too slow. The column of citizens lacks order and direction. Crying children, braying mules and panicked old men. They make no progress. They have no time. We fight to buy it for them, but we fight in vain. The ones who realise this stayed in their houses, huddled together and praying for salvation. They may find peace in their last moments.
The ground trembles. Aetius whimpers. ""Brother..."" I cannot bear his fear. I search for words of comfort, but words fail me. What can I say? What can anyone, faced with this?
Thick black smoke rises from the restless peak. I look at my sword. It's blunt. Laughter bursts from my lips, and I hear the hysteria in the sound. The end of Pompeii, the end of days... and my sword is blunt. You can't kill a dragon with a blunt sword, for Jupiter's sake.
Aetius stares at me. He thinks I've gone insane. ""Brother,"" I say, ""my sword is blunt. Look."" I wave the sword before his eyes. He looks, but he doesn't understand. I suppose it's not funny. A sound like the death cries of a thousand cattle rends the air. Fire and ash fill the sky. It rises, an infernal leviathan of incomprehensible size, spewing flames, wings unfurling like the shadows of clouds before the sun. The wrath of Pluto, the might of the elements unleashed upon the world.
Aeitus pisses himself. He drops his sword and falls to his knees, screaming. Prayers fill the air around me, a piteous chorus of desperation. Pointless. There can be no victory here. We are not heroes. We will die like grass withering in the desert. When it takes flight, its wings beat the air as the drums of Mars. Its serpentine body uncoils in the air, and from its jaws the punishment of the gods blooms. I smell them burning. Like pork. Hundreds die on the first pass.
I kneel beside Aetius. I cannot fight, I can only burn. But I can spare him.
I pull him close, and take his sword. His is sharp, for he took more care in his life than I. He trembles. ""Brother"" I whisper. ""Find peace, and known not pain."" The blade slides easily between his ribs, and he is still. I rise and look around me. Shrieks of agony assault my ears. I can see what people look like when you burn off the skin. Pompeii has fallen. The shadow falls over me once more. I stare up at the demon, feeling nothing.
It ends in fire.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Ah can straighten those teeth!"" Yelled the frenzied scotsman from the stall to Abigail's left. ""I got mehself some chicken wire an a pair o' tweesers!""

Abigail's eyes widened as the man clicked a pair of old tweesers at her and brandished a twisted piece of wiring that he'd formed into a rudimentary brace. 

""I'm... fine thank you."" She hurried along to Stage F, staring meekly over her brochure at the myriad of unsettling characters around her.

""Retainers!"" A passing salesman yelled in Abigail's face, causing her to stifle a scream. ""I cut them out of milk bottles and use my own teeth to mold them!""

He seemed proud of himself, though Abigail couldn't possibly imagine why.

""That's disgusting!"" She couldn't help but exclaim as she pushed her way further through the crowd and towards the stage. 

She was here to see Timothy Good, one of the foremost researchers in alien craft sightings in the world. She had read his book from cover to cover, and would be damned if she'd let a few creeps stand in the way of her finally meeting the man.

She reached the door of the stage as it was closing. A convention organiser stood in front of her, barring her way.

""I'm sorry I'm a bit late. Is this Timothy Good's panel?"" Abigail looked apologetically up to the stern steward.

""Timothy Good?"" The man looked, confused, down at her. ""No, this is John Herbert's talk on reclaiming and reusing Palatal Expanders in the light of recent budget cuts.""

Abigail frowned ""The brochure says he should be here.""

""Let me see."" The man said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed the brochure from her hands. ""Ah well you're a week early is the problem.""

Abigail stared up at him, then snatched back the brochure and scrutinized it, unable to believe she could have made such a mistake. He was right, her convention wasn't until the following Tuesday. She was so shocked she walked back into the crowd without another word to the steward.

The enormity of her oversight washing over her, Abigail drifted through the crowd towards the exit. Passing the frenzied Scotsman with the chicken wire braces, Abigail made her way to the concourse and, with the numbing realisation that she had entirely wasted her day, left the convention for Under Funded Orthodontists.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*On one hand, this power would be amazing. Until your realize that Superman can't turn off his invincibility. Who says that this hero would be able to?*
He felt it. A strange pulling sensation just below his heart telling him he was supposed to be somewhere. *Just ignore it. Maybe it'll go away this time.* He took another sip of his drink, the rough alcohol burning all the way down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. The feeling subsided for a moment before rapidly increasing, all but pulling him out of his seat. His lurching motion was not unnoticed by the bartender. ""I think that's enough for you Frank,"" he said, leaning over and plucking the half filled glass from the drunk hero's hand. ""You know you shouldn't drink this much. Need a clear head for all that heroin' you've got."" *I'd rather be doing heroin* Frank thought to himself, staggering up from his chair. For a moment he considered arguing, but when Ned said you had enough, you'd had enough. Finally he gave in to the sensation, the incessant force dragging him stumbling out of the building and down the street. He was drunk enough that he should have collapsed black-out drunk, but he could feel his power ticking over repeatedly, at least once every second. *Coin toss, do I fall unconscious or do I not?* **Not**. *Again, coin toss, do I fall unconscious or do I not?* **Not**. *One more time, coin toss, do I fall unconscious or do I not?* **Not**. Super luck. In its most annoying application. Sometimes you *wanted* to collapse in a drunken stupor. **Not**. *Well fuck you too*. He could feel his power churning that one over as it attempted decide whether that was something that luck could be applied to. It apparently decided against it so it remained silent.
He eventually found himself approaching the harbor. *Of course. The harbor. Here to save some suicidal idiot, or to prevent a drug deal from going down, or maybe to save a victim from a serial killer. Just how I wanted to spend my Friday evening*
Now that he was closer to the source, he could feel minor variations in the target's location. A sort of bobbing from side to side. *Great, its on a boat. More fun*
He reached the edge of the pier and stepped off not bothering to look down. As he plummeted towards the water, he felt his power give a might wrench. A boat drifted past him and he landed heavily on its deck. He stood up glanced around to get his bearings. It appeared to be a medium-sized motorboat (The Osprey). Some idiot must have left it untied and it was drifting along the pier, just waiting for him to get there. He glanced at the ignition. Of course the keys were there. He gave it a twist and started piloting the boat in the direction of the pulling.
After an hour or so of sailing he found himself pulling up to what appeared to be an oil tanker. He took his hands off the wheel and for the first time in a while actively triggered his power to get what he wanted. Along with it came a piercing migraine as his brain took control of thousands of individual random occurrences around him to steer his boat to where it needed to be. -------------------------------***------------------------------
The butterfly effect, the lab guys called it. Lots of little things working together to make a much bigger thing. A real gift, one of the city's greatest heroes had once called it. *A real pain in the ass more like.* When your life was entirely non-random, things simply became boring. If you can get a hole in one every time, shoot a perfect full court shot every time, beat every enemy just by chance EVERY FUCKING TIME, it got boring. Worst part was, he couldn't even commit suicide. Each time he'd get a wrenching headache, and then a pillow factory would explode, saving him from his plummeting fall. His knife would spontaneous collapse into goo, his rope would snap, his gun would get damp. *Chances are if I drove my car off of a bridge it would develop wings and fucking flap around like a dove.* -------------------------------***------------------------------
His boat piloted perfectly along side a convenient knotted rope hanging along side the ship. He sighed and clambered up it. Not bothering to look around for enemies (if he wasn't supposed to be seen he wouldn't be), he trotted to the nearest doorway and entered the belly of the ship. It was very nearly pitch black, but he ignored his senses and kept walking forwards. It had been a long time since he last tripped by accident, with vision or otherwise.
Soon he came to a room with light cracking around its edges. He gave a sigh and pulled out a government issue taser gun. It technically had 3 shots, but his was known to fire as many times as the situation required (some how the battery always just happened to overvolt). He opened the door sedately and stood there as the gangsters within opened fire on him. He should have dodged, or hidden behind the door, for the sake of appearances, but he simply couldn't give a damn any more. He pointed the gun in the general direction of the gunmen and pulled the trigger. *Do I hit him even though I didn't aim at him?* **Yes** Rinse repeat.
Soon all of the gunmen were unconscious. They would remain so until such a time that his ability determined it was fine for them to awaken. He glanced around and saw that this room was connected to another, and light was spilling out from it. He stepped in with his taser still raised.
""Stop right there."" The voice was vaguely Italian, and he felt his mood worsen.
He didn't stop walking.
""I'm warning you, if you take one more step, I'll blow us both to kingdom come."" This was all said fat man smoking a cigar, opulently decked out in golden chains and rings. Sometimes reality was plagiarized from fiction.
Frank gave a sigh. ""Look, I'll explain what will happen. Option one, the detonator is faulty, thus the bomb doesn't go off. Option two, the wiring is incorrect, so the bomb doesn't go off. Option three, the bomb does go off, but I'm unharmed, as is my boat. Option four, the bomb does go off and both of us and what ever cargo you have on this ship are unharmed, allowing me to take you into to the police."" He gave a shrug. ""I'm not sure which will happen, but I'm relatively sure its one of those."" The gangster slowly lowered his hand. ""Your him aren't you. Stacked Deck.""
Frank winced. It was a stupid name in retrospect, but when he first became a hero, he was young and thought the name was as bad ass as all hell. ""Frank Lombardi is fine.""
The gangster gave a sigh. ""I'll start piloting the ship to the dock. I'm not gonna bother even giving a token resistance."" Frank gave a nod and settled down for a nap. They would inevitably attempt to kill him, or maybe try take the ship to further waters. But there would be freak winds, wild man-eating pelicans, and who knew what else preventing them until they finally decided to go to shore. *Another boring Friday night,* he thought as he settled back to let his facsimile of a life run on autopilot.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was with a heavy heart that I applied for my killing permit. Rather than mailing a request in, I travelled to the government building to avoid the six-week waiting period. In my backpack I had a folder with all the information on my victim. What our relationship was, why I wanted him dead, the consequences to society if he was killed, all the pertinent information.

""It seems you have all your paperwork in order,"" the man behind the desk said as he rifled through it. ""How are you planning to kill him? Will it be a disturbance to your neighbors?""

""No sir, simple drug overdose. He won't even make a sound.""

""Mm, perfect. Let me check your criminal record quickly...""

He wouldn't find anything. I had lived a model life until this point. Not even a speeding ticket.

""Very well."" He signed a piece of paper and handed it to me. ""This is your permit, it only applies for the one man, for the duration of this week. When coroners come to pick up the body, give them this.""

I thanked the man and left, travelling the several hours back to my home. Even before I opened the door, I heard the constant sound of machines. As I scaled the steps to the second floor, the sound got louder. I opened the door with all of the instruments and walked up to the man they were hooked up to. He opened his eyes weakly and looked towards me.

""Hey, Dad,"" I said softly. ""I got permission.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I always loved these games growing up. Well, by growing up I mean when I was a teenager. By the time I was in my twenties, when Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald came out, I had married my first love and there were responsibilities that came with that, more than either of us had ever realized. I still wanted to play, fired up my old GBA as often as I could, but my son, Cyprus, was always my priority. That's why when he was a year old, when the doctors diagnosed him with developmental problems, I took a third job to get him all of the help that I could. I thought it was the right choice for us. It seemed right. It just didn't work. She left us. It wasn't for another guy or anything slutty like that. It was all just too much for her. She blamed herself over and over in the letter, and I still blamed myself. I hadn't helped her with Cy. I gave her money. I wrote checks. I wasn't a husband. I was an ATM. Some would say that it was unconscionable for her to leave Cy, but I didn't hate her for it. I had no idea how hard it had become to deal with him, just doing things as basic as breakfast was an ordeal; the frustration, the screaming, the never feeling loved, I had left all of that to her. She must have done something right though, after I signed the divorce papers checks with no return address would appear in the mail every month, more than I had earned working those three jobs. We had switched places, and she was better than I was.
Somehow, I eventually found time to be me again. When I saw Fire Red and Leaf Green had been released, something in me stirred. I felt a little guilty buying a new GBA, but Cy seemed to like watching me play, so that made me feel better.
We spent days on the couch, hunched over the little screen, there was no screaming or kicking, just a father and son enjoying an adventure together. He would point at the screen every time a new pokemon appeared, and I would tell him its name, explain what animals or plants they were based on, or how their name told you about its type and abilities.
After beating Fire Red, we went back for Leaf Green and a few stuffed pokemon toys for Cy. Our game time together now had an audience, neatly arranged on the coffee table, like students in a classroom. Cy was smiling all of the time now. It was impossible to say no when, in his way, he started begging for more pokemon pupils, and eventually a Game Boy of his own. His excitement at starting his own game was worth the two weeks of ramen I was going to eat to cover the cost.
He was becoming a different kid, a more normal kid. His failures didn't cause frustrated tantrums, instead, he would take a step back, work on gaining more levels, change his line-up, try again. Soon enough, the gyms were falling before his team. He beat the game in two weeks.
I bought a used copy of Gold for him. It took him one week.
I bought a used copy of Ruby for him. Three days.
I wasn't sure what to do about what happened afterwards. He took his collection of pokemon toys and set them on the dining room table. He just stared at them all day.
The next afternoon I found him in the backyard with his Charmander doll, pacing back and forth, back and forth. With all of the gaming going on, I had neglected to mow the lawn.
I sort of understood what he was doing, but I wasn't sure how to help. He came in that night looking sad. The next day he paced the yard again, and came in looking utterly dejected. I called the guy at the toy store that night, and asked for a big favor.
The next day Cy found a Zigzagoon and Pidgey doll in the yard. He threw his Charmander doll in front of them, waited for a time, and threw his pokeball at them in turn. Finally, as happy as I had ever seen him, he picked them all up and came back inside. The rest of the day he spent ""training"" his new toys against his old ones.
We took a trip to the woods the next day, where he discovered Teddiursa and Oddish, right where our neighbor had strategically placed them for Cy to find. We spent much of that day in the forest. He was thrilled walking around and throwing his dolls at bugs and squirrels. I assume they leveled up quite a bit that day.
We took a trip outside of town to the power plant. A former co-worker of mine took us on a tour. Although he seemed fascinated listening to Kara explain how everything worked, the highlight for Cy was when he snagged a Pikachu there. Soon I was getting calls from friends of friends wanting to know how they could help, what Pokémon Cy needed and how much they cost. I refused their charity, but they refused my refusal. Then some guy called me up from out of the blue and said he knew a couple that wanted to help, and were making an offer I couldn't refuse.
""Prepare for trouble..."" she said as she leapt out in front of us on the sidewalk.
""And make it double..."" he continued as he slid to her side.
I didn't know them, but they became my heroes that day. They were just a couple of students at the local community college that were into going to anime conventions together as Jessie and James. Somehow, they managed to quickly pick up on the way Cy conducted the battles in his mind. Meowth fell quickly, Arbok soon after, and they ran away defeated. Cy grabbed his toys and we shared a big group hug for his victory that day. Then we went for ice cream. The evil duo sat nearby, unnoticed, disguised as a pair of kids in love.
Over the next few weeks my voicemail became full on a regular basis. Cy was having Pokémon battles everyday, and switched his Charmander for Charmeleon and eventually Charizard. His collection of toys had become enormous and his team was becoming elite.
I got a call from the hosts of the local radio station's morning show. They had me call in to do an interview. They asked me questions about my son and his love of Pokémon. They told me that their phones were going off the hook with people calling in that wanted to help. The producer cut in saying they had the mayor on the line.
As we walked up the steps of City Hall, I was crying. A trail of defeated opponents stretched far behind us. Two police officers opened the doors for us. Four more opponents were ahead, the Elite Four. Cy won, of course, his team was solid, a Pokémon Master's team. The mayor, looking every bit like Professor Oak, proclaimed Cy the Champion and pinned a shiny medal to his chest.
Cy enthusiastically showed off the medal to the gathered crowd. He leapt into my arms and hugged me as tight as he could. Despite the flashes and news cameras all around, I bawled like a baby.
It was dark by the time we got home. I lifted my boy into my arms, while he clutched his six prized dolls in his. I stopped when I saw that someone was standing in front of our door, clutching a Mew doll in her hands.
Cy stirred and murmured, ""Mom.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The last thing Alex remembered was walking into the bar. He didn't know where he was, how or why he got there. All he remembers was the noisy bar. He couldn't describe it if he tried, wouldn't recognise it if it hit in the face. As he became more conscious, he realised he was lying on something hard and uncomfortable; his own left arm. He tried to move it but couldn't. *Dammit, if only my head felt like my arm* he thought. Using his right arm, he wearily coaxed feeling into the other. Once the pins and needles stopped, he tried sitting up, but fell down again, his head spinning. Sighing, he lay back down for a few more minutes, waiting for his sight to return to normal. Finally feeling confident enough, he tried to sit up again. *Success!*
Bleary-eyed, he arose from the floor... the floor? Why was he on the floor. He didn't remember falling down. *Makes sense, I guess*, he thought. *My head hurts like HELL!* He surveyed his surrounding and came to the conclusion that he was in some sort of alley. He could see the road further down; it seemed like a mile away. Turning around, he gasped as he saw a set of eyes staring at him. Large brown eyes with a tinge of yellow. He couldn't make out the face; his vision was still blurry. He cold vaguely make out another shape, clad in black. ""It's all right, my son. You're safe now. We've all been where you are."" a voice said to him. It was soothing, but he could hear it was trying to stifle laughter. Speaking of which, a rough cackle exploded from nearby.
""He seems teh have a wee bit of a problem, ey?"" the voice laughed. ""Maybeh we shud help him"".
""mmmmprrpfflflflfprprprr!!""
*What in the Hell was that???* he thought. *A horse?*
It was a horse. A bloody horse just standing there next to the two others. He could see clearly now. Why would a priest, a horse and a Welshman be trying to rob him? What happened last night. ""Wh...why am I here? Who are you?"" he asked in a trembling voice.
""We're here to help you, my son. Do not be afraid. You will come to understand soon enough. Here, take my hand. I will show you"" the priest said. Gingerly, Alex took his hand and let the priest guide him to the entrance of the alley. ""See there, we found you there, like all the others"" the pries explained.
""Others?"" Alex replied.
""Yes. Every one of us was where you are at some point. Every type of person you can imagine has been here. Let me explain. People try to walk through here as a short cut. But they don't notice *this*"" he held up something long and cylindrical. ""A drain-pipe?"" Alex asked.
""No, no no!"" the priest laughed. ""This is a bar. You walked into it, just like I did, just like everyone. No one notices it until they've been wacked over the head. It's hard to see, and hard to miss."" He was laughing uncontrollably now. Alex noticed he had something in his other hand, holding it as if trying to get him to ask what it was. ""Then what's that in your other hand?"" he asked as the priest unravelled it. ""Is it another bar?""
""No,"" the thing replied, ""I'm afraid not!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President, Members of Congress, my fellow Americans:
Today in America, a teacher spent extra time with a student who needed it... and slept with him. Talk about going the extra mile. I mean, the extra six inches! *the crowd gives a nervous laugh.* I kid, I kid, she helped raise our graduation rate and his pants tent!
*president makes a pleading gesture as the crowd hisses and boos*
An entrepreneur flipped on the lights in her tech startup, and did her part to add to the more than eight million new jobs our businesses have created over the past four years. Of course, she was a camgirl. *the president breaks out in a laugh, points to Joe Biden behind him, Biden cracks up laughing and mouths 'You the man'* An autoworker fine-tuned some of the best, most fuel-efficient cars in the world, and did his part to help America wean itself off foreign oil. Yeah right! We're stuck on foreign oil until that shit runs out! No oil? Get used to jogging places! *The president jogs in place and pretends to exhaust himself.* Might help you fatties though. *He winks.* Here are the results of your efforts: The lowest unemployment rate in over five years. A rebounding housing market. A manufacturing sector that’s adding jobs for the first time since the 1990s. *The president winks at Ben Bernanke.* Of course that's easy to do considering we just got out of a horrible recession! *Ben blushes.*
That’s why I believe this can be a breakthrough year for America. After five years of grit and determined effort, the United States is better-positioned for the 21st century than any other nation on Earth. That's, of course, ignoring China, most of western europe, and maybe Brazil. Hey 4th place isn't bad! Can't always be on top! Naww, guys, I'm kidding, we're doing better than Brazil. We're at the worst 3rd place. *He does an exaggerated wipe of the sweat of his brow.* Phew!
As President, I’m committed to making Washington work better, and rebuilding the trust of the people who sent us here. I believe most of you are, too. Last month, thanks to the work of Democrats and Republicans, this Congress finally produced a budget that undoes some of last year’s severe cuts to priorities like education. But not foodstamps! Whoops. Eat or learn. Pick one!
Now, one of the biggest factors in bringing more jobs back is our commitment to American energy. The all-of-the-above energy strategy I announced a few years ago is working, and today, America is closer to energy independence than we’ve been in decades. One of the reasons why is natural gas – if extracted safely *The president bends over and farts into the microphone.* , it’s the bridge fuel that can power our economy with less of the carbon pollution that causes climate change.
My fellow Americans, no other country in the world does what we do. On every issue, the world turns to us, not simply because of the size of our economy or our military might – but because of the ideals we stand for, and the burdens we bear to advance them. *The president doubles over in laughter* Okay, most of it is our out of control military spending and the casual way we go to war. I mean, why are we blowing up 17 year old fighters in Afghanistan? They don't even know what 9/11 was! *He wipes tears from his eyes in a mocking way.* Oh and no one beats us on domestic spying. *He pulls out his blackberry, looks at it, and looks at Justice Scalia.* Antonin? Really? Scat porn? You're a dirty old man!
The America we want for our kids – a rising America where honest work is plentiful and communities are strong; where prosperity is widely shared and opportunity for all lets us go as far as our dreams and toil will take us – none of it is easy. In fact, its probably impossible! I mean, we've been trying for 200 years and fucking up pretty hard! But if we work together; *he laughs* if we summon what is best in us, with our feet planted firmly in today but our eyes cast towards tomorrow – I know it’s within our reach. *He comically reaches for something and pretends to drop it.* Whoops! *He gives a sheepish grin.*
Believe it, Bieber!
God bless you, and God bless the United States of America. *The presidents bends over and farts into the mic again and winks as he walks away from the podium.* Sorry! Natural gas surplus! *Biden high fives him as he walks off the stage.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Carlos sipped a beer. The white man who had served it to him scuttled quickly behind the counter, like a weak little mouse. The whites may have had rights now, but they still spoke Nahuatl or Pipil and tended to stay in their own communities, away from the intimidatingly superior Aztecs.

Carlos' friend, Sitting Bear, was doing his namesake proud: his chubby bottom on the barstool, nursing a pint. ""So. Got called again for duty, Losi?"" 


""Yeah."" Carlos sighed. You'd think that the Roman would give up, but they didn't. ""You could come with me, you know."" Carlos suggested.


""Nah man."" Sitting Bear sighed. ""I'm a History Teacher, not a soldier like you. Someone's gotta teach the runts about how Pocahontas stabbed Lewis and Clark or when the first Incan president was elected. Plus, have you seen my gut?""


Carlos chuckled. ""I'm glad the Aztecs were chill with the Cherokee. Life wouldn't be the same without your people's sense of humor."" 


""Yeah, our spirit animal is George Lopez."" Sitting Bear chucked. ""Or beer."" he looked at his glass rather fondly.



'W... what was the war like?"" the meek bartender pipped up. Luckily, Carlos considered the whites their equals, and he responded in a friendly fashion.


""Well, legions of Romans were charging at us with their SPQR guns."" I remembered, almost hearing the gunfire. ""I was young, stupid. Thought because I was a Jaguar warrior bullets wouldn't touch me. But when the gods get to killing, they don't save anybody from bullets.""


The man nodded, fascinated. Usually, the media blows Jaguar warriors out of disproportion, making movies to us detailing how we ride avatars of Quetzcoatl into battle and Mayahuel fucks us if we win a battle. 


""But one day, I was taking out some guys when I happened upon a Praetor."" I continued. 


The bartender and Sitting Bear gasped. ""You fought a motherfucking Praetor? And lived?"" S.B. asked. 


""Ha! Barely. The old man had sure earned his position. Gave me quite the thrashing. If it weren't for that Priest of Jupiter coming out and begging us to stop....."" I contemplated how my life would have ended.


""So you guys just stopped fighting?"" the bartender asked, feeling comfortable enough to sit and talk.


""Yup."" I nodded. ""It was one of the last battles of the Second Empire War, and we all decided that we weren't going to go down for a war that was already over.""


Sitting Bear put his drink down. ""So this is the Third Empire war, eh?"" he asked.


""Yeah.""


""Who do you think will win?""


""Dunno. There are entire cohorts lining up to fight. Whoever wins is gonna come out with a lot of scars.""


""War,"" the timid man stated ""Is a terrible thing. I wish both sides could let go of their pride.""


I just nooded, my mood darkening. ""I think I should go home and see my wife."" I slapped a few cacao beans down on the table, and got up to leave.


""Carlos."" The bartender called to me. I stopped to look at him."" ""May God protect you.""


I chuckled at the monotheistic man. ""I think I'm gonna need more than one to win this war.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Let's be clear about something -- I love my wife. And she loves me. But I can never tell her just how much the sound of another pair of feet in the house hurts my soul. ---
I have not felt grass between my toes in ten years, nor the air crossing over my hands in five. The chill that runs down your back when you shiver hasn't crossed my spine in so long I can't remember what it once felt like. My heart pounds with a life that is not my own, tapping my ribcage in time with the beeping coming from under my chair. I take a breath; the air is harsh and dry. Like every other part of my body, it feels artificial.
My wife is the most beautiful person I could ever imagine. Her crooked glasses hang from a crooked, yet rounded, nose. Her green eyes are the same color as the computer chips that keep me alive. The lightly auburn hair that only glints when it feels like it. Her hands, though -- it's her hands that tell the most. Her hands are the color of my stained beech wood desk, the fingers long and thin. Her nails are short, but still hold the pinkish hue of youth and strength. Her left hand has a vein that protrudes from the outside of her pointer finger when she has strong emotions, and if you look close enough, you can follow it all the way up her wrist.
I have stared at her hands for longer than I care to remember. I know every hue, every crack, and every wrinkle on those beautiful hands. I can close my eyes and know their feel against my cheek, against my hair. But now... I sit alone in my chair as those hands I love so much caress another man's face.
I can't please her. I'll never be able to please her again. I love her so much and I can't fulfill the most basic duties, the most base actions of a husband! Had I the strength, I would hurl myself from this prison of technology, to set both of us free... but I sit, endlessly; knowing that in a few hours, I will once again feel her hands through my hair and her lips upon mine.
I told her I didn't mind. She asked if I was sure. We both know I lied. I love her so much.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Take sides are you crazy? There's six of us. There's thousands of them. Hell, even if we wanted to, which side do we take,"" said John adjusting the sight on his AR15 rifle. Tom rolled his eyes at him. John turned his head, ""I have no idea what we do here. Wait for the portal to open back up, I guess. Maybe its monthly or something.""
Tom rubbed his temples and said, ""Or maybe its once in a 1,000 years. Or a million. We've got modern weapons and a humvee with a .50 cal on the top. We could take both of these militaries on and live like kings."" John shook his head. Tom threw his hands up in the air and said, ""We don't even know if the portal will ever open again. Man, I'm just fucking hungry.""
John examined the armies below. ""So.. we just go in there and kill a lot of medieval soldiers barely able to use bows and swords to prove we're hot shit? How many Tom? A few thousand rounds before the 50 cals empties itself? What the fuck man? Are you psycho?""
""A couple hundred I figure. First the cannons then the horsemen. Cannonfire is the only thing we really have to worry about. Could penetrate the humvee. They'll flee once they see how badly they're getting beaten."" Tom saw John's uninterested expression. ""Fuck you,"" said Tom as he walked off to relieve himself in the bushes.
Lenny rubbed his unshaven chin and walked up to John. ""Guys, lets pack up. Eric, Mike, and Pete haven't radio'd back in hours. Think we should go look for them,"" said the older soldier. John raised an eyebrow, ""Give up this position? You sure? Maybe the batteries are dead on the radios. Whats your battery at?""
Lenny looked down at the device, ""20% now."" Tom wandered back, ""This is bullshit right? Just an excuse to move us, keep us going, keep us from fighting? No more MRE's so lots of walking.""
Lenny smiled, ""Maybe, now pack your shit soldier. If we're spotted this could go hot quickly.""
The three men walked down a narrow game path down the hill. Lenny put his finger up to his lips and the other men nodded in response. He dashed towards a tree and tackled someone in a brown tunic holding a tall English longbow. He grabbed the person and applied a headlock. John and Tom stood dumbfounded. John waved his hands and laughed, ""It a girl. A young girl.""
The archer threw her head back as Lenny let up the pressure and put his hand over her mouth. Her dirty blonde hair went flying. Tom grinned and pointed his AR15 at the girl, ""Do you know what this is? Its a bow but faster and meaner. Tell us where our friends are and I promise not to use it on your pretty little face.""
She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes. Tears penetrated her closed eyelids as the men stood and watched. ""They're fucking children,"" exclaimed John pushing Tom's gun down. ""The average age down there must be like 15 or 16."" Tom bit his lip as he stared John down. He said through clenched teeth, ""Don't touch my gun.""
""Cut the shit,"" yelled Lenny as he threw the girl down and stepped on her leg holding her in place. He bent down, ""Okay, we're missing three men, dressed like us."" He pointed at his camo outfit, ""Like us,"" he repeated. He mockingly scanned the horizon, ""Where?"" The girl sat there whimpering. Lenny lifted his boot and she curled into a fetal position, shaking. He shrugged.
Tom put his weapon down and sighed. ""We really scared of these cavemen?"" He started yelling, ""Hey Eric, where are you fags at?"" A large English arrow appeared in his chest. Tom looked stunned for a moment, held onto it, and fell over. Lenny and John dove into the dirt. The girl got up and ran away through the woods.
Lenny made a hand signal and John nodded as he sat up and scanned the area with his weapon in hand. Lenny pointed north and John started stalking that way. John stopped briefly to examine Tom and felt for his pulse. He shook his head at Lenny. Lenny furrowed his brow and whispered, ""The girl is a decoy. They might have us. Stay low. We go the way we came. Only way we know is safe."" Lenny took Tom's gun and John took his extra magazine. Lenny made the sign of the cross and pulled off Tom's dogtags. ""Go, go, stay low,"" he ordered.
They made it back to their makeshift hilltop camp. They heard the sound of hooves and running men. They waited in the bushes quietly for a few minutes. John looked through his field binoculars. ""I'm not seeing anything,"" he said. ""Its just us left isn't it?""
Lenny nodded, ""Too suspicious. Sudden radio loss, Tom's death, and all these men on his hill this far from the battlefield."" Lenny sat and sighed. He opened his canteen and tried to shake out the last couple drops. John salivated as he pictured water flowing from the canteen. He licked his dried lips.
""I can take out their horsemen. You go for their foot soldiers. We can carve through them easily if we stay too low for arrows. We can make it to the humvee and the 50 cal,"" John said. He laughed, ""Who knew fucking kevlar wouldn't stop an English arrow.""
""No,"" replied Lenny. He was taking off his camo shirt.
""What? What the fuck, Len? What are you doing?""
He peeled off his undershirt. John's eyes went wide, ""Come on, Len. Come the fuck on."" He punched the dirt with his fist. ""Come on,"" he begged. ""Please.""
""I'll wave them down,"" he said as he looked at his sweat stained white undershirt and tied it to the barrel of his rifle. Lenny looked at John with tearful eyes, ""What... what do you want me to do? Kill a bunch of English and French kids? Then what? Maraud villages? Milk cows? Steal cooling pies for the rest of our lives? I'm a soldier, not a criminal, and so are you."" John looked away ashamed, ""Yeah, yeah."" He took off his undershirt and tied it to his rifle. They both looked at each other for a moment and stood up waving their shirts in the air and yelled, "" We surrender! Surrender!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"7 years ago, the event called Pandemonium struck and seemingly ordinary human beings gained enormous powers.Some found the gift as a calling, as a responsibility that was bestowed on them from a greater being for a greater purpose. Most, were just trying to further their own agendas. Suddenly, superheroes and supervillains weren't stuff for comic books anymore and the world was thrown into turmoil. Each and every night Ironfist and Silhouette wrestled for control over Central city, to the point where it had become routine. This night in particular was one of the many nights they shared dancing on top of the city lights exchanging glancing blows. Each one trying to one-up the other. Jake was wondering what evil plan Silhouette was going to do again tonight. He smiled to himself and thought that whatever she had in mind he was going to stop her.
Jake was born and raised in Central City, his father worked for the Central City Police Department and her mother was a clerk in the mayor's office. At an early age Jake's parents instilled good values into him and from the moment he knew he was chosen, he knew the path which he had to take. Ironfist landed a blow which sent Silhouette flying through the rooftops. She wasn't really into the fight as she was thinking of this guy he was seeing. They had met at a coffee shop when the barrista had mistakenly switched their drinks. They immediately hit it off and nobody can deny they were a perfect fit for each other. She smiled as she thought of him and she wondered if her revenge against this city was really worth it.
Jane on the other hand, grew up and was raised on a farm outside Central City by her loving grandmother. She did not know much of her parents as they passed away when she was very young. Nonetheless, she felt loved and content. But, it all changed when their farm was appropriated by the local government. Because of this, her grandmother's health rapidly degenerated and in the end all she could do was watch her lay in that hospital bed as she passed away. It was during these dark and lonely days that Pandemonium struck. While some use their powers for the greater good, she vowed that she would exact retribution on the corrupt local government that had stripped her from her peaceful life.
Under the cover of a cloudy night, Ironfist and Silhouette jumped from rooftop to rooftop parrying each other's blows and warrily waiting for that one decisive moment that would determine the outcome of tonight's bout. It was a night like this, Jake thought, where he had finally asked Jane out in a restaurant by the waterfront. The restaurant was called Raison d'être which was French for ""reason for existence"", which Jake thought was fitting as she was the one who renewed his hope each night while he moonlights as this city's protector. That night, three months ago, Jane gave her a pendant with a crescent moon as a gift for him to remember her by.
Blow after blow was exchanged as the night wore on. They were at a deadlock, but neither was refusing to give up. It was raining now as the two of them stood on the roof of the theatre eyeing each other. Suddenly, a scream rang through the air followed by a crash. Ironfist looked down and saw that a minivan crashed into the theater entrance and a woman was frantically trying to claw her way out. Ironfist cursed as he took his attention from the accident back to Silhouette but she had already jumped down and had started helping the elderly woman out of the minivan. Due to the impact, the support for the theatre's billboard was damaged and it was on the verge of falling down. Silhouette had managed to get the woman out of the minivan before the support pillars were beginning to collapse. Ironfist had a split second to react as the billboard fell down.
The last thing Silhouette saw was the shadow of the billboard falling down on them, she braced for impact as he hugged the woman determined to shield her from the crash. It was the least she could do. She thought of her grandmother as she looked at the elderly woman's face as the billboard came crashing down. She closed her eyes, as the impact happened. Total darkness. Is this the end? She thought. She tried looking up only to see more darkness. She wiggled her head to check if it was still attached to her necka and she tried to feel her fingertips. Oddly enough, she thought that being dead wasn't all that different. Something glimmered on top of her. She squinted her eyes and tried to adjust the darkness. It was a crescent moon. She was finally adjusting to the darkness when she saw a face smiling at her. ""You owe me one"". Ironfist said as he shouldered the billboard, pendant hanging on his bare chest. Realization struck her. ""Jake?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Is it too cold where you are?
Are you shivering in your Canadian boots?
Russia starting to look warm?
Well, come down to Hell! Now that the oncoming threat of Ragnarok is over, it is impossible to say that Hell will in fact freeze over!
Get a great tan sitting next to the fires of Lucifer while you hear the screams of the most villainous people in history!
Have you ever wanted to swim in fire? Now's your chance! It's something new to tell your friends. *
It's cheaper than going to Bali, and so much better! Meet Lucifer himself, shake hands with Death, and learn about the various forms and figures of Hell from various mythology over the years- it'll truly fascinate the kids!
So plan your trip to Hell today!
^*results ^may ^vary ^please ^do ^not ^swim ^in ^fire ^please ^do ^not ^shake ^hands ^with ^death. ^If ^you ^are ^nursing, ^pregnant, ^or ^have ^small ^children ^do ^not ^come ^to ^hell ^as ^they ^will ^lose ^their ^innocence.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Jared awoke slowly, fighting the urge to simply ignore his buzzing alarm. He stretched out an arm lazily, swatting at the off switch. Others could have easily turned off the alarm without even touching it, but not Jared. Everyday tasks such as this were constant reminders. Reminders that Jared was ordinary. Absolutely unremarkable.
After going through his morning routine, Jared set off toward Ridgeway High, the only school for miles. Ridgeway was the type of backwoods town where everybody knew everyone, and few ever chose to leave. The town was essentially populated by the very families who founded it. While this was favorable for some, it also meant that nearly everybody knew Jared's story. They all knew how ordinary he was.
He walked through the same dirty streets he had his whole life, seeing his nosy neighbors peering out their stained windows. Occasionally, one would send a pitying gaze in his direction. Jared would look away and keep on walking, seemingly unfazed. Yet an observant onlooker might notice the way his knuckles tightened or his steps became heavier after each of these incidents. He reached the school fairly quickly on this particular morning, and headed straight toward Room 405, Special Needs. As he shuffled through the halls, people would look away awkwardly, or even snicker. No one ever made eye contact with him. No one ever showed him respect. Well, no one but Mr. Silton.
He entered Room 405 and let out a sigh of relief. In all of Ridgeway, this was his haven. The only place he could go to escape the abuse of his classmates, of his neighbors, of his father. Mr. Silton would always look upon him kindly, noticing what was there, rather than what wasn't. His whole life, none had ever shown him such affection. This was quite possibly the only person in the world who didn't blame him or tease him for his lack of abilities. What Jared didn't know, was that Mr. Silton was perhaps the only person who believed Jared did have a power. For in his opinion, it took a special kind of bravery to face a society which hates you and despises you. He saw that Jared could remain a bright youth despite the horrors he'd faced. Jared would never save lives, or bring criminals to justice, but he was one of the most remarkable heroes that Mr. Silton had met. Jared fought against evil everyday of his life, the evil of a heartless society.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"CDR: ""Houston, we're going comms down in a few moments, dark side approaches Bob, over.""
MCC: ""Roger, Challenger. We'll see you on the other side. Out.""
Eugene ""Gene"" Cernan sighed. It was his third spaceflight, and having Robert Parker on the other end of comms always made him feel at ease. Bob was a member of the astronaut support crew down at Houston, and was invaluable to Gene's mental health.
*""Gene, come have a look at this.""*
Gene was knocked out of his reverie by Harrison ""Jack"" Schmitt, his Lunar Module Pilot. Ronald Evans was somewhere up in the heavens above them, piloting the Command Module.
*""What is it Jack?""*
*""There it is, Camelot! Right on target.""*
Jack was always so cool and collected. Even when landing on the Moon. *""I see it Jack.""*
*""Absolutely incredible. Absolutely incredible.""*
Gene smiled. Let him have his fun. As long as he landed in one piece though. Time to initiate.
*""Alright Jack, let's do this.""* Jack smiled in anticipation and nodded his head.
CDR: ""Houston, Challenger's coming around the rim. How do you copy?""
MCC: ""Challenger, Houston. Read you loud and clear. Over.""
CDR: ""Roger Houston. I got the South Massif. Camelot on target.""
MCC: ""Roger that Challenger. You are go for contact, over.""
CDR: ""I've got the triangle.""
LMP: ""Contact.""
CDR: ""Okay, Houston. The Challenger has landed!""
MCC: ""Rounds on us when you boys get home Challenger. Nice work.""
CDR: ""I'll hold you to that Bob. Update in 3, over.""
MCC: ""Roger that Challenger. Over and out.""
Alright. That was done. Now the fun part.
*""Suit up Jack, EVA, we got science to be doing.""*
*""You got it Gene!""* Jack could barely keep his excitement in. Was really endearing. What a man.
-
*""Hoy, Jack, just stop. You owe yourself 30 seconds to look up over the South Massif and look at the Earth.""*
""You've seen one earth, you've seen them all.""
Hmph. So much for his endearing attitude. The reality of the EVA had hit quickly. Time was moving and they didn't have a lot.
-
*""Okay, let me give it a few whacks. Baloney.""* The staff didn't want to go in as Gene tried to beat it in. *""I don't know how far we could drill, but we hit something solid with that one.""*
*""No, it was still going.""* Jack's face was hard to see behind his gold sun visor, but his tone sounded persistent.
*""Yes, but did you ever see a vibrator like that?""*
*""Gene, just get it done.""*
Gene couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Not the joke, but the fact that it was comical to him. After all, he stood on a desolate plain absent of color, with the crown jewel herself making the first Earthrise he'd had the privilege of seeing, and here he was laughing. Yet Gene'd never felt so small.
-
Gene made his way up the massif. In the gravity here the effort wasn't so much as difficult as it was clumsy. Somehow he'd managed to trip on a rock and land face first in the gray soil. Hopefully Jack didn't notice.
*""You still playing Gene?""* Jack called out over the comms. Dammit. Oh well. With a grunt, Gene pushed himself standing, simultaneously achieving the best pushup in history.
His smile was cut short though, when he caught sight of what lay on the other side of the massif.
*""Uh... Jack?""*
*""What is it Gene?""*
*""You need to come and see this.""*
*""No joy, I'm behind the LM pulling a sample.""*
*""NOW Jack. Comm silent.""*
*""... Alright. Heading your way.""*
MCC: ""Everything alright Challenger?""
No everything was not ok. Gene's blood had run cold and Bob's voice wasn't comforting right now. Quite the opposite.
-
CDR: ""You've got some serious explaining to do Houston.""
MCC: ""Repeat your last Challenger. You're breaking up.""
CDR: ""The hell I am.""
MCC: ""...""
CDR: ""Houston I'm switching frequencies. When you're ready to talk, head over there. Out.""
Gene was shaking. Strewn about in front of him, for miles, were remnants of American flags and complete landers. And bodies. Bodies in suits, laying where they last fell. And the plaque in front of him? Well, it read: ""HERE MEN FROM THE PLANET EARTH FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON JULY 1969.""
It was 1972.
*""What am I looking at Gene...""* Now Jack sounded shaky. With good reason.
*""You're looking at a lie.""*
-
MCC: ""Challenger, we'll speak to you now.""
CDR: ""You better have answers.""
MCC: ""We never could get you back Gene. There would never be enough fuel.""
CDR: ""What? Why send us??""
MCC: ""We know there's a bigger purpose. Damn Soviets need to be beat. Whatever the cost.""
CDR: ""People aren't gonna like this.""
MCC: ""What makes you think they know? You didn't.""
CDR: ""I'm looking at Neil right now. Who the hell is on Earth?""
MCC: ""Body double. Footage we showed was real. Splashdown was fake. People don't need to know.""
CDR: ""Why not just fake the footage? Why send us here to die?""
MCC: ""It had to be believable. I'm sorry Gene. Why do you think we gave you those pills?""
Suddenly Gene heard a gurgling sound. Seems like Jack had found the pills.
CDR: ""God dammit Bob. This is so many levels of messed up.""
MCC: ""I know. You're family will be well taken car-""
CDR: ""DON'T TALK ABOUT THEM.""
MCC: ""We're going to cut communication now. It makes it easier. You served your country well.""
CDR: ""For you or for me?"" Gene spat, only forgetting he was on the moon and that wasn't a great idea.
MCC: ""May God forgive us. Goodbye Gene.""
MCC: ""...""
-
*""Guess it's just you and me buddy.""* Gene sat next to the corpse of Neil Armstrong.
In front of him, the crown jewel herself made the last Earthrise he'd have the privilege of seeing.
Raising his arm, Gene lifted his middle finger.
**""Godspeed the crew of Apollo 17.""**
-
Dedicated to the Crew of Apollo 17. Some excerpts taken from the transcript directly.
-
*""...I'm on the surface; and, as I take man's last step from the surface, back home for some time to come - but we believe not too long into the future - I'd like to just [say] what I believe history will record. That America's challenge of today has forged man's destiny of tomorrow. And, as we leave the Moon at Taurus-Littrow, we leave as we came and, God willing, as we shall return, with peace and hope for all mankind. Godspeed the crew of Apollo 17.""*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I never understand,"" said Thal. ""Why we need saving?""

""You mean, instead of them?""

Nak was referring to the homosapien, naked, in a ball, clutching her shins and shivering.

""They weaker,"" said Thal.

""Not in brain.""

""We have all the brain we need.""

""Then why we saved and not them?"" Nak posed the question and Thal sharply thumped his chest with a forearm because the answer was that without the Sky Brains, their people would all be dead.

The light was still green as it always had been for the last 35,000 years. Green was good. Red was bad. The Sky Brains had told them that.

The homosapien was crying.

""Weak,"" said Thal.

""Cry means sad,"" said Nak. ""Needs help. Others know she needs help.""

""We no do that.""

""Cry? Or need help? Maybe we need to.""

The Sky Brains had explained that ""empathy"" was a strength. None of them had ever remembered the word.

""Weak. We strong and ready to go quick. They weak until 14 years,"" said Thal. They had learned the concept of ""years"" as a way to measure age, after a few thousand of them. 

""They spend that time getting strong in brain,"" said Nak, tapping his forehead. ""Like the Sky Brains.""

""No more speak about Sky Brains,"" said Thal.

The green light flickered. The space station's solar cells had an average life of 40,000 years, plus or minus 5,000. They had that long to learn why they were saved and not the homosapiens, and why the homosapiens were doing so well on their own. Doing so would prove their worth to the Sky Brains and allow them to be reintroduced to Earth.

They were getting close.

Nak entered the room. The homosapien clawed herself backwards. Nak lifted the corners of his mouth like he had seen the homosapiens do when happy.

""No worry. I help you, crying lady.""

Nak extended an open palm. Behind him, Thal grunted and turned away.

The green light flickered again, and it remained green.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"As I approached the front on the line, my heart raced rapidly, my face was pale, and I felt like puking on the person in front of me. Ten people were still ahead, yet every second felt like an eternity. This would be my only chance to make it through, or else it would most likely mean my death. Five people, I puked a little inside my mouth. Two people, my brain is telling me to just run for it. 

The officer yells at me to move forward, my body is paralyzed with fear. ""give me your passport now!"" he yells, hopefully the money for this fake was worth it. I just want to cry. 

""Ah, brother. you can go"" says the officer. I start moving forward as he salutes. ""Heil Hitler""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Jane. Jane. Jane. Yes, that was my first name. I tried remember my last name, I'm sure it was there. ""Jane."" The word bounced through my brain again and again. ""Stop that!"" I shout as I open my eyes and look around. I gasp. The room was circular, metallic. I lay inside some sort of spherical bed, cushions and wires extended from the side into my body. I shook my head in disbelief. My blonde locks swayed from side to side in front of my face. Wait, no. Blonde. I'm a brunette. ""Calm down Jane, it's alright,"" my eyes focused on the man's voice. He was short at first glance, then I realized it might not have been him. I looked down at my legs. They were long and flowing, like a models. I started shaking. The cushions inflated, trapping me inside the hemisphere bedding. I struggled briefly, before finally calming down, focusing on the man's assuring voice. ""Jane. It's ok. You've been chosen."" ""Been chosen for what?"" I asked as I looked at the man. He was incredibly handsome, straight out of a magazine clipping. His features were symmetrical, and he wore a genuine smile on that sculpted face. His clothes were strange, a green jumpsuit. ""Everything you remember in your life wasn't real. It was a test."" ""Whatever drugs you used on me, it's not enough for me to believe that! What did you do to my body. How do you know me?"" ""I've been watching over you for most of your life Jane, on and off. Your father's accident. Your poor mother, struggling to make ends meet. Your growth, educating yourself, succeeding. Helping the bullied kids to become a target yourself. Yet you never wavered. Even when your mother contracted that fatal sickness. And finally, you received that university acceptance letter. All fees waived. You are amazing Jane."" I stared at him, my mouth dropped open. ""You...you know everything. I tried so hard to hide it and...who are you? Why didn't you help."" ""Come on Jane, you're a smart girl. I've already told you. Nothing in that world matters. It's a dreamworld. Everything was done to test you, to decide if you deserve to LIVE."" My brain whirled as the pieces started clicking together. ""That's impossible, my life can't have been an AI simulation. You couldn't have created a world that complicated just for me."" The man sighed, his smile diminishing quickly. ""That's correct Jane. But you have to understand. People kept giving birth, but we didn't have the resources for everyone to live. So we digitized everything. Anyone who wanted to survive was uploaded to the simulation. Their bodies were disintegrated Their souls were suspended in LIVE, the Life in Valhalla Environment. It was developed for army use in tactical simulations."" Even though I already suspected the truth, the cold and clinical way the man delivered it chilled me more than anything else ever had. ""This body was created for you. A perfect female body, built according to your dreams. We have the resources and technology to do that,” his smile brightened again and he released the bindings trapping me inside the bed. I hopped outside onto my feet. Even though they had never touched the floor before, I could tell I was strong. Athletic. “What about my mother?” I ask, the thought filling up my brain, hoping that her suffering was a dream as well. “Unfortunately, when she was young, she made several mistakes. Even though you’ve seen only sacrifice from her, we couldn’t remove her from the simulation.” The man’s expression turned sympathetic. “You must understand Jane. The world has been destroyed. We are trying to rebuild it. We have no spare resources. Every member alive is a compassionate genius. Of all the people in the world, less than a dozen are chosen every month.” He said to me, his voice begging for me to understand. I stared back into his eyes. I watched as tears flowed out of them, and I blinked back my own. “If you’ve really seen everything, then you’ll understand what my decision is.” He nodded. I sat back inside the hemisphere-bed and curled up inside it. “Even though it is a simulation, we can’t change it to cure her suffering. You must understand this Jane!” He shouted. “I know. But even if she has no body, I’ll take care of her mind until she’s at peace.” Another hemisphere descended from the roof, completing the egg with a loud click and a whirl. Liquid seeped into the chamber, and I felt my body begin to dissolve. As my mental functions began to fade I whispered a promise. “I will change the dreamworld from the inside, as much as I can. Someday, everyone will be fit to live in the real world you create.”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I'm not in denial, I know I'm old. I've seen the world around me change, nothing can just sit still for even a moment. I'm just a simple hunter, and I like my peace. I don't want any of that new technology, what with all that racket on spying and whatnot. Just leave me be, leave me to my guns and my dogs. Well, perhaps dog now. That's what happens when you get old, so do they.

I remember when I was a boy, my Pa got me my first gun, and took me out to the field to practice. Nearly lost my head from the recoil, and got a good smack for being so foolish. We'd go out looking for ducks or pheasants in the autumn, the dogs romping and playing until the smell something good. I didn't like dogs as a kid, bunch of hare-brained smelly idiots, if you'd asked me then. I changed my mind real quick one winter, that's for sure.

My Ma was mighty hungry, and Pa had a hurt foot from one of those stupid mutts running into him. I decided to man up and head out on my own. I didn't need help, not me. Of course, being a rambunctious youth that I was, I got in over my head and fell into a deep snow bank. Foot had fallen into a thick layer of soft ice hidden below, and having such big boots made it impossible to even wiggle it free. Stayed there long enough for my whole leg to go numb. Then, sure enough, I heard the tell-tale sound of a howling hound, and he sniffed me out. Hell, he tried his damn hardest to pull me out himself. Took my Pa finally coming around the bend to get me. Managed to still tag a duck that night.

Bud was a good dog. When Pa hadn't heard a gunshot in a while, he sent that mutt out after me. That was my dog, from then on. But as time goes, dogs get old real quick, and he passed on. Kept one little pup from his last litter, called him Buddy. I kept that line going, always taking one pup for my own to continue on. Of course, as I got older, I got more dogs as well. But all of my Buddy's were always the most loyal dogs I owned.

Hunting got harder when farms started popping up all over the place. No animals to hunt when they don't have anywhere to live. Then the town started to build up, and no one wanted anyone shooting near the children. So I spent many of my days just sitting on my porch with Buddy by my side. Some of the townsfolk would come over and say 'hello', paying some respect to an old man like myself by dropping off gifts. Everyone kept their distance until I got sick. Suddenly, I was everyone's grandpa, and they all wanted to be around me. A bigger pain than being sick, if you ask me. My neighbor was nice enough to watch Buddy while I was gone. She more relieved when I returned so the mutt would stop crying.

They want me in a home now, to be watched, since my sickness is getting worse. I don't have any children to come and watch me, I never married. It's not like I have any reason to hold on to my land, I don't have anyone I like enough to give it to. Only thing I cared about was Buddy. He's old, too, no spunk left in him. He'd cry while I'm gone, no doubt. Probably do that at any home that'd take him, if I could find one. So here I am, in my home with me, my gun, and my dog. Only one of them is leaving for the old folk home tonight.

I have one last bullet left, and load it. Buddy won't stop wagging his tail.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Order! I call order!"" Nebbum, god of sleep, banged his gavel on his podium. ""We must come to order this instant!"" Wudall, god of toast, rolled his eyes and turned to the shouting god next to him. ""Please, Nebbum, you're hardly helping."" He spoke over the roar of gods all shouting over everybody else. The grand room they were in was built from marble, and the sound was deafening as it reverberated and bounced off of the walls. Nebbum lashed out a sharp retort that was lost in the roar and continued to bang his gavel. Wudall sighed and took his own gavel and began to bang it with Nebbum. Eventually other gods began to catch on and bang their gavels, and after several minutes of banging, the room eventually fell silent once more.
A slender, pale-faced god stepped around his podium and stepped into the middle of the large room. He cleared his throat and adjusted his necktie. ""Excuse me, gods and goddesses, but we do have an emergency brewing right underneath our very noses."" He turned and nodded at his secretary, who in turn reached over and turned some dials that were next to her. A large image appeared over the crowd. ""This,"" the slender god gestured, ""is John."" He looked around the room and made eye contact with Iwdione, the goddess of death, who nodded. He took his time to survey the room, to make sure that everybody was watching and listening. ""He is scheduled to die in twelve minutes. Cardiac arrest."" A loud bang sounded from somewhere in the crowd, and a fat god with long, flowing black hair stood up. ""I do protest, of course! John is supposed to be eating breakfast with Sally today!"" He turned and motioned for Wudall to stand up. ""Wudall, you of all people should be against this! Just last night he was thinking of making toast for her, wasn't he?"" Wudall stood and nodded, clearly uncomfortable. ""Yes, Owjun."" He sat quickly back down. Nebbum stood up. ""I have to protest this too, I'm afraid."" The slender god in the middle of the room groaned. If Nebbum were against it, it would be much harder to wrap this up. Nebbum ran a hand over his bald head and then pointed at the miserable and pale-faced god in the middle of the room. ""Mebris, this man is under my power right now. He is sleeping, and you did *not*"" he picked up his gavel and slammed it down on the podium ""discuss this with me."" He crossed his arms and looked around the room. ""Are we to let Mebris, the god of misery dictate today's schedule?"" He huffed. ""He should be the *last* god that we'd let in charge of our itinerary.""
A rumble of agreement swept the large room. Iwdione, the goddess of death, stood and banged her gavel. ""Excuse me, gods and goddesses. This man is going to die in ten minutes."" She put the gavel down and pointed at the sleeping human in the image. ""Nothing will stop his death. I have made the arrangement with Amton already."" Amton was the god of appointments. Iwdione turned to Nebbum and bowed. ""Lord Nebbum, I am sorry that I did not consult you first. I did not realize that the time of his death would be under your shift. Will you please allow me to complete my task?"" Nebbum puffed his chest up and returned the bow. ""You may, Lord Iwdione."" A god cleared his throat and stood up. Everybody groaned. He held his hands up and shook his head, smiling. ""Now, now, guys, I just wanted to say that I'm quite proud of how you all seemed to work this out, it's quite mature of all of you."" He pointed at Mebris, who was still looking miserable as he stood at the middle of the room. ""Mebris... Where is this man going after he dies?"" Mebris shifted uncomfortably. He had made a deal with Mycldir, god of paradise, that the man would join him there. It had been a discreet deal, of course. ""Well..."" The god who was addressing him smiled and opened his arms. ""He is more than welcome to come with me."" ""He is taken."" The room turned to see Mycldir stand up. He stood tall and proud, his gold robes as bright as ever. ""I am sorry, Esdros, but he is coming with me."" Esdros frowned. ""But I was the first to address this, was I not? Why do you take it?"" ""If I take John, you can have Mr. Adams from New York."" Esdros smiled. ""That will do just fine."" He turned to the rest and bowed. ""I am sorry to have interrupted. That will be all."" Mebris clapped his hands. ""Five minutes until his death! Is everybody content?"" Tyseyr, god of dirt, banged his gavel and stood. He scoffed loudly and motioned at the sleeping human. ""Will this man be buried? Because surely nobody approached me about this."" He banged his gavel down again for good measure. ""He must be cremated! Nobody talked to me about burying him!"" ""Lord Tyseyr,"" Mebris pleaded, ""we will get together about his funeral arrangements in a few days, his family will need that much time to arrange it all themselves. Please, sit down."" He turned to the rest of the gods. ""Anybody else have any problems that relate to the next *four* minutes?"" Bang. ""I do."" Mebris sighed. ""What is it, Lord Tawmir?"" Tawmir, god of dogs, shook his head. ""I am sorry but I simply cannot allow John to die this very instant."" The room sighed and a low rumble of discontent rolled off the walls. Mebris shook his head. ""I am sorry but you do not have jurisdiction here."" ""I do, actually..."" Tawmir pulled a paper out of his robes. ""This is a certificate of ownership."" He gave it to his secretary who put it into a slot and twisted some dials. The image of the paper appeared next to the sleeping man. ""John has officially been declared purchased by Andres, a newborn Labrador."" Mebris stood, mouth agape. ""When?"" ""Just last night."" Tawmir procured a video tape and handed it to his secretary. ""On this tape you will see Sally going to the animal shelter. She purchased Andres only last night. You cannot kill John, since Andres is currently his owner, and I am in charge of the dog sector."" He smiled apologetically. ""I understand your predicament, but I really cannot allow you to kill John right this moment, he is needed by Andres."" Mebris sagged his shoulders in defeat and motioned for his secretary to remove the image of John sleeping. ""Very well."" He bowed. ""My lords, I withdraw my case."" He slithered back to his podium and another god stepped forward, ready to present his case about a lawn that was about to be cut.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I can no longer defend myself. I can no longer hide what has been haunting my conscience for nearly 50 years.

I'm not sure how likely everyone is to believe me. After all, I'm just a dying man with nothing to lose. So many theories have been tossed out over those footprints that this may simply be drowned out amongst the noise. You can decide for yourself whether or not I'm credible.

From 1961 to 1974, I was deeply involved with the former Soviet Union space program. Whenever we had our next big idea on the table, I was one of the main figures when it came to planning it out. By the mid-1960s, the moon was the next big milestone. This was our 
""white whale"", so to speak. Since we were the ones who were always getting there first, we believed that beating America to the moon would permanently seal the space race as a monumental Soviet victory.

Here's what most people haven't heard: we cut corners. The mission itself was the ultimate goal, but the finances weren't always there. And when the finances aren't there, we have to make sacrifices. Those sacrifices come in many forms, the most egregious of which were the safety compromises we routinely made. Sometimes missions would fail as a result of those compromises, but that didn't seem to matter as long as they would work just once before the Americans could do it first.

By 1969, we knew the Americans were close. Although our relations with the U.S. were better by the end of the decade, we still took the space race very seriously - too seriously. With the race to the moon, we knew it would take more than a year to realistically send a man up there safely. We figured that we might be able to reach the surface if we got lucky, but there were too many logistical hurdles that we weren't ready to clear. At that moment, some of us - myself included - let our ambition get in the way of rational thought and a basic moral conscience. Our new plan wasn't just irrational, it was downright evil.

We were going to send a man to the moon...he just wasn't going to come back. This, of course, was unbeknownst to the two men who were selected for the mission. If we were lucky, they'd reach the surface, walk for a bit, then plant the flag. That was all we needed.

In April, we went through with the mission. We made it in the most technical sense - we crashed. Communication was cut off immediately afterwards, so we weren't sure whether our brave men survived the 
initial impact. 

When the Americans had their successful mission a few months later, I remember it as if it happened yesterday. I cannot adequately describe the horror that came from hearing Neil Armstrong describe the ""set of footprints that stretch as far as the eye can see"". I have witnessed a number of scary moments in my life, but nothing sent chills down my spine more than hearing those words.

For a short time, at least one of those honorable men was fully aware of his doom. I can't explain why he walked for so long, or how he was able to do it. I'd like to believe he simply wanted to enjoy one last view of the beautiful planet standing before his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, those footprints lead to the best vantage point in the galaxy.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Having lived in the shadow of something greater for all of his life, it was easy to feel victorious at this moment. For thousands of years, the farther civilization pushed, all the grander their ancestors seemed to become. Like gods, present only in condescending spirit, their skyscrapers dominated countrysides, their subways tunnels yawned beneath pattering feet, and their satellites still sometimes crashed carelessly down into the world that the Second People were trying to rebuild.
Now, as his ship approached the moon, Commander Nathaniel Oru, could feel the weight of the past people lifted off of his shoulders as he moved out from under their shadow.
""Apollo Thirty-Seven, prepare to enter the atmosphere of the moon.""
""Roger that Nairobi, Apollo Thirty-Seven tayari kuingia.""
Ready to enter.
""Bahati nzuri gentlemen."" Good luck.
The small aircraft began to shake violently as it hurtled toward the grey rocky ground. Oru felt sweat beading in his helmet, soaking the fabric between his head and the hard outer shell as the spacecraft came to a violent, unsteady halt and touched down.
Oru stepped onto the lunar surface, looking around in every direction. Unblemished, undiscovered, untaken. Finally, he had, his people had washed above the high-water mark of the First People. ""Nairobi we are clear, no sign of previous human habitation. The First People never made it."" Barely had the words escaped his lips when the rock beneath him shifted. A great roar came from somewhere below, and the ground beneath him began to rise. Oru ran for stable footing, and found the edge where the trembling stopped. He turned around, and emerging from a steel door protruding from the ground, a figure in a white suit emerged.
The figure approached Oru, and stopped directly in front of the stunned Earth man. The arm of the man in white rose, and pressed a button somewhere on his arm. The clouded visor rose to reveal a clear pane of glass. Kind eyes stared into Nathaniel Oru's, and the elderly man in the white suit began to speak.
""I am glad that you have finally arrived Commander.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I took some liberties with the topic. **David and Freddy Bonkers** (Please ignore the grammar)
“I’m not usually so nervous but something feels different” David says nervously.
“What’s wrong Davy? Ya got the jitters?” Says Freddy. David looks at Freddy. Freddy is only 5 feet tall and his bald, sweaty head screams song of failure. His purple pants are his reward for a lifetime of alcoholism.
“I just think something is off.” David exclaims. David is tall and handsome. He doesn’t belong on this stupid show but he can’t even remember how it started. An announcer begins to speak as the audience erupts in applause. “Here he is…For your entertainment… Davy and Freddy Bonkers!” “Curtains up Davy!” Freddy says over excitedly. The kids scream the shows catchphrase “CRASH! BOOM! SMASH!”
David and Freddy run onto the stage. Freddy enacts his signature move and pretends to trip. The kids scream CRASH! David knows he is supposed to trip also but he can’t bring himself to. His eyesight grows blurry and he can feel himself about to faint. Like a bad dream, his mouth moves but no words come out. Freddy looks concerned. He mouths to David “Let’s go!” David can’t seem to bring himself to move. Suddenly he falls. The children applaud and Freddy looks relieved but the face on David is one of horrid concern. Freddy gets up and takes out his fake hammer. He pretends to smash all the children. They love it. The children laugh with excitement for one half of their favorite clown duo.
David can’t stand up. He does his best to crawl off the stage. Nothing is working. “One arm out then pull. Just keep pulling.”David tells himself. Freddy sees him going the wrong way and tries to cover up for his mistakes. “Oh boy it looks like Davy fell down! Let me see if I can help him kids!” Freddy runs over to David.
“What are you fucking doing!” He says. “Get out there, I need this!” David tries to talk “I candsrt’ I cafdsf’t mouve.” Freddy see him pulling on the ground. “Are you drinking again?” “Do you remember what happened last time you drank?” David tried to remember for a second but couldn’t. He went back to the task at hand.
David can see a door half open. A bright light shinned through. He crawled one hand over the other and tried to get to the door. The children laughed and clapped and David cried and Freddy pulls on his legs, trying to drag him back to the center of the stage. “Don’t go that way!” Freddy said louder than before. “You won’t like it that way!” “This is our home! We are happy here!” David tries to turn around and speak again “I neweed to gkoo!”
Freddy begins to scream with no regard for the audience “GET THE FUCK UP YOU SHIT! YOU CAN’T EVER LEAVE HERE! DON’T YOU SEE?” It is a nightmare. David keeps crawling. The white light is within his reach. “If you leave here, you’ll have to deal with it! You did it! We have fun here David. We have so much to do here!""
David is at the door. He manages to crawl inside. He can still hear the kids screaming “CRASH, BOOM, SMASH” They have no idea there is anything wrong.
David sees a clean white room. His wife is there. She is crying “Why is she crying?” He thinks. David tries to tell her everything will be okay but all he can say is “CRASH!” “What the fuck is going on?” He thinks. He sees a man in a white coat. “It’s a doctor!” he says in his head. David tries to get to the doctor but his crawl is reduced to nothing. He cannot move. He listens to the doctor talk to his wife.
“Honestly, With locked-in-syndrome he will probably never regain full mobility. It may be time to think about other options.” The wife cries but responds “I don’t understand. He can talk. He can’t be stuck forever.” The doctor shakes his head. “After that crash he can only say a few words. There is no thought process there. I’m sorry but there is nothing left of him. I don’t want to be rude but the parents of the girl he killed are in the other room. I have to go. I’ll let you consider a decision.”
The doctor leaves and the wife hugs David. “Give me a sign David! What should I do? Is there anything going on in your head babe?”
David responds “Crash, boom, smash.”
“I guess there really is nothing left anymore.” The wife says as she leaves David alone in the room.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"An old clothes-less man stood before the croupier, this man went by the name of God. This wasn't the name he had always gone by, the casino had taken it from him when he lost the last bet. He used to have clothes too, but of course, those were lost in previous bets. Taken away one piece at a time.

The croupier stood for a moment, wondering about whether or not he should have let this man bet his underwear, other players were starting to look uncomfortable.
After realising that it didn't matter anymore, because of the Casino's policy to never return things that were lost in bets unless the player could win them back, the croupier spoke.
""God, I think you should leave now. Other players are starting to feel uncomfortable.""

""You've taken away my clothes, my beard, my *name,* and you think I'm going to leave without getting them back?""

God's anger was clear in his voice, the croupier wondered why he hadn't been smote on the spot. He didn't see why the clothes were a problem, he was sure that God of all people would just be able to conjure some new clothes out of thin air. The name shouldn't be a big deal either, no one knew what God's name was before this anyways. For some reason, the croupier felt the need to bring this up. ""Why do you need your name back? Everyone just calls you god anyways.""

""What will my friends call me?""

Suprised by God's response, the croupier said something he really shouldn't have.
""You have friends?""

God was visibly upset. The croupier started to feel a bit terrible now, insulting a man who couldn't do anything to him now without being hauled away by security, all because the first thing he bet was his Godly powers. It seemed like the kind of thing you should save until last, so you can at least summon some more clothes.

""I consider that man I met at some bar a few months back a friend. Sure, I haven't even heard from him since I lent him all that money, but, you know...""

Eager to change the topic, the croupier felt the need to speak up. ""Well, alright then, do you have anything else you can bet?""

""I'm God, the universe belongs to me. I could bet anything in this Casino!""

""Sorry god, but the rules of this Casino clearly states that the owner of the universe may not bet only parts of it that don't legally belong to him, but must bet the entire universe, fate and all.""

The look on God's face as he learned that the casino had rules so specific almost made the croupier laugh, but he managed to hold it back.

""Well alright, I'll bet that then. If I win I get everything I lost back, right?""

""That's right.""

""Okay the, I'll bet on even!""

The croupier started the wheel spinning then threw the ball in. The look on God's face showed he must have been in pure agony as waited to see if he'd won or lost. God would have seemed like he was in complete bliss if he won.

Unfortunately for god, the result was odd. He had lost everything.

""I guess I'm not really fit to be called a God anymore, huh? Now I'm just some guy.""

As the old, clothes-less man left the casino, and the universe began it's slow downfall into chaos, the croupier felt a little bad inside. The list of people who had lost all they had here, and now the former Almighty Ruler of everything was at the bottom of it. The Croupier had only one thing to say now.

""I could have at least told him the game was rigged.""

Edit: I don't know much about casinos, so sorry if some of the information was inaccurate.

I'd really like if you could offer criticism, this is the first thing I've written in a long time so I'd like to know what I could improve on or what I did well.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Ted Walkman:

First and foremost, I'm a dog person. Nobody wants a God that is a cat person. As a day laborer, I've never been in charge of anything before, so that should be a nice change. Also, I have no qualms whatsoever about sticking up for people who need it (e.g. I once beat the fuck out of a guy who was hitting on my ex-fiance). That should help with the situations in Africa, the middle east, etc. I am extremely sexually active, so Earth will never become underpopulated, and if it becomes overpopulated, I have no problem eradicating a large portion of them (the Russians, anybody?). This ""can-do"" attitude can be witnessed by my willingness to shoot my dog, Snuffles, as a nine year-old, after he was hit by a school bus. Think of me like Kevin Spacey in ""House of Cards,"" but with less hair, back acne and significantly more fat. For a taste of the sort of God I would be, let me mention my first decree: Every hot chick with huge knockers can't wear a shirt. Also, I will increase women's libido and decrease the age of consent. This will lead to more sex everywhere, more happiness, and a decrease in violence. Think about it, cavemen were fucking all the time, and there were never any world wars back then.

In conclusion, I think I am the best choice for God. Seriously, I can't be worse than the last guy, right? So, remember, a vote for Ted Walkman is a vote for huge boobs and a badass God. Thank you.

Vote Ted Walkman: Because, why not?

P.S. A joke: When I first learned to masturbate I overCAME a lot.

Once again, Vote Ted Walkman. A man with pride, humor and common sense.

Vote Ted Walkman.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I tried to get a glimpse into her bedroom. She always left that one silk curtain drawn up, almost like she wanted me to see her tight little ass. The thing was unbelievable. She must have spent hours a day on the treadmill for it. Every time I watched her eating in her dining room, it was just vegetables. I frankly wondered why she lived alone. One day, I would figure out how to make the right move.

""I'm not up there tonight,"" a voice behind me clarified. My heart lept out of my chest and my body sprung from the bushes without control, flopping me down onto the wet grass like a gasping fish. I scrambled to my feet as she walked toward me, her ominous, incredibly toned figure sihllouetted against the residual porchlight like the angel of death.

""I'm here...with you,"" she explained. ""We've...well, we've been watching you, Martin.""

""Oh no, oh no,"" I whined. ""I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- I know it was wrong, it's just you're so pretty and I'm really lonely and-""

""Your voyeristic nature is of no relevance to me,"" her voice intoned mechanically. ""It is the nature of your research into deproliferation that is important.""

""Uh...you- you mean the nuclear lock?"" I asked. ""How do you know about that? No one knows about that, not, not even my supervisors.""

""It's very important that you keep working on it. In exchange, you may view this woman's body through the window every night until your work is complete,"" explained the body's voice. It was becoming clear to me that this woman had no control of her words.

""What are you?"" I wondered cautiously.

""My designation and purpose are irrelevant. Just remember,"" said the voice, and quickly her hand moved toward my head- ""your planet cannot advance until there is control."" A white light blasted into my eyes, and I violently sprung up from my own bed. I looked out into my quiet neighborhood. Ms. Johnson was walking her dog. Everything was completely normal. 

I was sweating profusely.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I am a mother and a straight A student. Former nanny. School counselor. Nobody would dare call me anything other than smart. But I've finally been stumped.


*Why?* 


It's a simple question, one you hear often, no matter where you live. But that's all the paper says. No directions. No instruction from the professor. I glance at my fellow students. They're just as confused as I am.



*Why?*


This professor, Doctor Levin, was notoriously hard. I'd neglect eating, sleeping, anything to pass his class. He never said anything, just gave me a C. And now his final challenge, the hardest of all, was mocking me.



*Why?*


This was child psychology. He could means a million things- why did I chose my major? Why do children act the way they do? I sighed, looking at everyone furiously writing paragraphs about whatever.



*Why?*


Why. Why. Whywhywhy. The word filled my head with malice. I wouldn't get my PhD because of one word. 


But then.... My eyes widened! I quickly wrote down four words. This was a risk, but I felt I was correct.



I handed it to the aging professor. He looked at my paper, smiled, and drew an A on it.


*Why?*, he asked me.


*Because I said so.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She shrinks under the blanket-- soft, warm, a pale pink hue with silken ruffles along the edges-- and pulls it up over her head. Screaming echoes and bounces off walls outside her bedroom, the contrast between a woman's high pitched shrieking and a man's burly, slurred yelling makes her skin crawl. A bottle breaks, and something heavy falls to the ground with a dull thud, knocking other various items over and onto the floor. Sobbing starts, violent, with begging and hiccups and apologies and promises.

She can hear it all through the pristine, pink and white walls of her bedroom. It's akin to a princess's bedroom-- a canopy bed, dolls and toys galore, costumes and play jewelry. Paradise for a little girl. Anything she's ever wanted, she has been given. Her parents were well-off and everybody noticed-- they just had the perfect life, as everybody would say. She's so lucky.

Thundering footsteps lumber towards her door, inconsistent and stumbling. The door opens quickly and ricochets against the wall, shaking a few pictures hanging upon it-- drawings she's done of her and her parents. Some of them have happy expressions-- but most are not that way. The man's face is illuminated by a nightlight near her bed in the shape of a small bunny, giving his face a white, ghostly hue. 

""Hi, my little princess."" the man slurs in a loving, almost sickly sweet, sort of tone. The blanket is lifted from her head, and the man is leaning over. There's a smell she recognizes coming from his breath, it's bitter and rancid. The woman, still hiccuping and her cheeks stained with tears, watches this scene from the doorway, passive and submissive. The man slides his hand along the girl's leg beneath her pink, ruffled blanket, and the woman leaves them quickly.

She lays there, holding a small stuffed animal hooked in her left arm. The man's rough, calloused hand traces higher, ever so higher, tainting innocence for the umpteenth time. 

She's just so lucky, they'd say. So lucky.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was certainly different than Mitchell had expected. There was no line to a pearly gate or clouds. In fact, he just found himself sitting in a field he was thinking of just before he had gotten scattered across the sidewalk by that thug's shotgun. As the sun's last light glimmered across the lush grasses, and crickets began to play an uplifting harmony, another man sat down next to him. Mitchell recognized his father.

""Profound, isn't it?"" his father's scratchy English voice rhetorically posited.

""You made it here too?"" Mitchell asked. A chill breeze pushed against Mitchell's skin as he waited for a response, but it did not make him *feel* cold. He just accepted that it was.

""Well, your father's here, but I'm not him exactly,"" replied the other. Mitchell felt that he should have been afraid, but anything that could sense or generate fear seemed to be missing from him. He sat in quiet reflection.

""I see,"" he responded at last. ""So, then you're an angel, or God?"" The other laughed gently- amused and impressed by Mitchell's intuition.

""You humans have such a fascinating process of deification,"" observed the other. ""I suppose I am like what you perceive as God or an angel. I'm a caretaker here. This place, what you call Heaven- many others have come to label ""The Repository."" It's still difficult for them to prove it exists, but this is where they go when they die.""

""The others? Others, like not humans?"" Mitchell wondered.

""Yes, like not humans,"" agreed the caretaker.

""So where...where do the bad ones go?"" Mitchell asked cautiously.

""Where do...No, it doesn't work like that, Mitchell. The bad ones go here, and the good ones go here. Shedding their natural bodies, we are all part of the same weave. This is just a projection of your conscious mind as it existed in your last physical form. Slowly this will dissipate, and over time, you'll want to make new memories. When you're ready, you'll go back,"" explained the caretaker.

""Can I see them?"" Mitchell requested.

""The other races?"" clarified the caretaker. Mitchell nodded. ""Of course."" The caretaker pointed past Mitchell. ""Through that door is the lobby."" Mitchell looked along the line of his father's wilted old finger and it pointed to a suddenly created closet door from Mitchell's childhood bedroom. A strange memory to conjure as a portal threshold, but it was intently familiar to Mitchell. The caretaker stood and extended his hand. Mitchell took it, walking hand-in-hand with the image of his father, until they both disappeared into white clouds, separately floating through the door.

Mitchell felt none of his senses anymore, but only experienced what could be categorized as a void, filled with many other shapes like him. The ring of humming particulate clouds joined with one another or floated separately around him. Soon, he felt the touch of another- and visual memories began flooding in- a five year old Ithotryn laborer from M1. Its whole life was given to him in an instant and he processed it in complete acceptance. Then, a Cerebrax doctor from Casdoljui who lived in a willing trist of partners and ended his life in meditation at the age of one thousand years.

Mitchell wondered how he would ever grow tired of such an overwhelming glut of amazing experiences, but before he could even question the thought...

He was two years old, and processing his first memory. He was telling his mother that he liked his skumo toy the best, and his father was laughing at a holographic display.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I honestly think the first guy to figure out that he could no longer speak was scared shitless. A wave of panic washed over the world as people came to the realization that they only had one word left. Many people wasted theirs on stupid stuff like ""bye"" or ""later"". Hell, some people didn't even get to finish their sentence and left off with stuff like ""to"" or ""a"". What a waste.

Those were people who liked to throw out words without thinking. ""Extroverts"" is what we called them. At least, before the era of silence began. There are really only a few of us that have our word. Not that it matters much. Society has been restructured to not require any verbal communication. Luckily, we've found ways around it, texting, the internet, and that sort of thing.

But still, spoken words are still treasured. The rich spend millions of dollars, just to have sentences spoken out loud. It's powerful, and a bit shocking. Complete silence only to be broken by those with power. It makes their messages heard.

But for those of us without money, fame, or power, we only get one. And that's if we are lucky. Everyone has their own thoughts on what their word should be used for. Some use it as a statement, to say what they stand for. Others use theirs to gather attention at some important event. Some use it to declare love, and others war. Some particularly clever types have figured out you can say obnoxiously long words, just so you can hear your own voice for just a little while longer.

I honestly haven't thought much about what I'm going to do with my word. I could sell it, and make a lot of money. But can you really put a price on this? Perhaps I should just keep it, knowing that I'm one of the few people who can still speak? I actually don't care much for that. I'd much rather say something anyway.

I continue pondering about what to do with my word when I see Alice in the distance. We met and started dating well after the silent era began, so we have no idea what each others voices sound like. Fortunately, she still has her word as well. I honestly can't wait until the day when we speak and can finally hear our voices.

The wedding is in March. And I think Alice mentioned that she wanted to do the modern name exchange, since only a few couples are actually able to do it. 

I walk over to Alice and sit down next to her on the bench. We sit there for what seems like forever. Enjoying the silent world we've become used to.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Male Fox: ""In sports news today, the reds versus the browns played one another in the border territory between their habitats. At the time of this broadcast, the players are still too spread out in the woods for us to know if anyone scored any points. Keep up with this ongoing story over the next three weeks.""
Female Fox: ""That's right, this is only the start of a very exciting matchup. We haven't seen such evenly-matched teams since the mating season of 1693. Finally, habitat encroachment has started to work in favor of us reds!""
Male Fox: ""Hahaha, she kids, she kids.""
Female Fox: ""Oh, absolutely. In other news, a local mayor is at it again. He's been known for his wacky antics along roadsides, his reckless tactics in chicken coops, and even for hanging around with dogs on occasion.""
Male Fox: ""If you can believe that!""
Female Fox: ""It was all caught on video. Back after the break, you are not going to believe what that fox said.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Tommy wiped his face quickly when he heard the hinges creak. *They can't hear me cry, that will only make it worse*. He blew his nose into the tissue, and tossed it into the can. He took a deep breath, and fervently wiped his face again, removing all evidence of his salty shame. He opened the stall door slowly. There stood Joey.

""Hey, you okay?"" Joey asked.

""Yeah, man, I'm good."" Tommy replied. He went to the sink and turned on the spigot. He let the warm water run over his hands. He didn't want to go back out there. Tommy knew that it wouldn't end, just because he was hiding in the boy's room. He thought back to his history lesson yesterday. The teacher was telling them about how there used to be people of all different colors. Tommy fantasized about what it would have been like, living in a time when people were so different. There, he would have fit in. Here...

Tommy wiped his hands on the towel and worked up the courage to return to the lunchroom. *I can do this.* He sighed, and opened the door. As he walked back toward his table, he felt an all-to-familiar burning. He could feel them watching him, *staring* at him. He returned to his seat and resumed eating his sandwich. The clock said he only had 7 more minutes of this hell before he could return to a classroom. Tommy liked school, and he liked to learn, but mostly because he was safe in the classroom with a teacher. The kids respected the teachers, and they would leave him alone there. As Tommy savored the final bite of the delicious sandwich that his mom made for him, the bell rang.

Tommy shuffled along the hallway with the other children, trying to fade into the crowd. He knew the silence wouldn't last long.

""Hey, Tommy!""

*Ah, crap. It's Fred,* Tommy thought. He tried to ignore Fred and push past some of the other students, but it was like trying to nail jello to a tree.

""Tommy, how's the weather up there?"" Fred cackled with his friends, while Tommy silently wondered if it would be possible to shave 4 inches off of his legs so he could be normal.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""You're a bitch,"" she said.

""Yeah,"" I admitted. ""I definitely see why you feel that way.""

""You killed my parents in a car crash and then made me too high on coke to go to their funeral. Who fucking does that? Who the fuck do you think you are?

""I'm sorry,"" I said. ""It felt like something you would have done.""

""No,"" she snapped. ""I've made a lot of mistakes, but that isn't something I would do. You're always saying how smart you are, how insightful you are--well, if you're so brilliant, why wouldn't you make me the kind of person who would do that in the first place, and not force it on me like a motherfucking trap? I wanted to go. I wanted to go so badly, but you had me stick a needle in my arm and pass out in my closet.""

""I'm sorry,"" I say again, faintly. ""I'll take it back. You can go to the funeral. But I think you would go high.""

She shakes her head. ""No. Why would I stay on drugs after my parents got killed by a drunk driver? This is what I need to get straightened out. It's my catalyst, or whatever you bitches call it.""

""You don't get straightened out,"" I say, and immediately wish I could take it back.

She opens her mouth to reply but doesn't have words immediately. When she does, they lash me with a hundred barbs. ""I thought this was a rehabilitation story. You told me it was a rehabilitation story.""

""Yeah,"" I said. ""I mean, you think it's a rehabilitation story. All you want is to get clean. But you don't. I mean, anyone can tell a rehabilitation story. That's the kind of story everybody wants to hear. But you--I came up with you because I wanted to tell the story of someone who failed. I'm sorry. I just wanted to say something new and edgy.""

Again, she stares at me in silence. A tear rolls down her face. ""I'm going to die, aren't I?"" she whispers.

""Yeah,"" I say.

I'm the one who breaks this next silence. I say, ""I can make it ambiguous if you want. A fade-to-black kind of ending, where the readers don't know if you live or not.""

The tears have turned into sobs, big sobs that shake her entire, tiny frame. ""It doesn't matter. I'll know, even if they don't. I'll know you killed me.""

I sigh. I think about the ending I have planned so perfectly for so long: a dark house in a shitty neighborhood, a 911 call, the big hands of the paramedic being the last human touch she receives. I know what her last thought is.

Something within me snaps.

""Fine,"" I say. ""If you don't want to do it, you don't have to do it.""

Her sobs still. She looks up cautiously through her hair. ""You mean that?""

""Yeah,"" I say with more sincerity than I feel. ""I mean, if you don't want to do it, no one's going to believe it as a story anyway. Do whatever you want, okay? I'm just here to watch.""

""You mean that,"" she repeats, not as a question but as an affirmation. ""You really mean that.""

She straightens up and smiles at me. Her face is blotched and flushed, but the smile makes it not matter. ""Okay,"" she says. ""In that case, I guess you're right. I really would go to the funeral high, wouldn't I?""

""That's your choice,"" I say, sitting back.

""Choice,"" she repeats, and her smile turns to a grin. ""Cool."" She holds out a hand. ""Want to come with?""

My eyes widen. ""I can't. My job is here.""

""Don't be such a pussy. Besides, somebody's got to take care of me at the funeral.""

I hesitate only a second before taking her hand, and as I do I know that I'll never tell her what to do again. From now on it's just the two of us, living her story until it ends in its own way, on its own terms.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"John Hershman slowly wiped the mayonnaise along his piece of bread in hand as he thought over what has brought him here in life. After he lost his wife, he thought there was no purpose in living anymore.

Looking down at the slice of bread on which he has spread his mayonnaise he said, ""My life seems stretched and thin like this paste in which I spread over the bread. Woe is me I have lost all, I would rather just be dead.""

He opened the package of bologna and took out many pieces of the meat and began slapping it down on the sandwich. ""My memories of friends piled on one another, slowly rot away, the once good nourishment all fades together.""

As he opened the cap of the mustard bottle to squirt onto his sandwich, as he expected, none came out, but drops. ""My happiness from pleasures does not come as it used to. I merely see shreds of light and cannot get that booster.""

He set down the bottle of mustard, his mostly bland sandwich sitting before him, he knew that is was over and much less than he had wanted. Taking out the bread in which to cover it he said, ""A mask of happiness I wear, a pleasant man in the air, do I keep going on? No, I do not dare.""

Looking to the left in a glum look he noticed the knifes all in perfect condition where he left them and took one in his hand to finish. ""My heart cut in half by the one who deceived me,"" he said cutting the sandwich in half with force and hate. ""I care not anymore for this life which does tease me.""

Grasping his knife covered in breadcrumbs and dotted with mustard, he turned it to himself facing his heart. ""I now end my life, I know none will miss me. I now end my torment, my eternal misery.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I was at a Taco Bell when it happened,""
his eerie voice came again,
jolting her out of a fitful sleep.
""The man came up behind me.....
I had no way of knowing he had a gun...""

She cursed loudly,
pounding her fist into the piles of notes and dossiers
scattered across his old office desk.
""Can't you shut up for more than twenty minutes?!"" 
she screamed at the air.

""It all happened so fast...
I saw him as I fell to the floor...""
his voice intoned, as if she'd said nothing at all.
""He was wearing a ski mask...
If you follow the blue rabbit you will find him...""

She dropped her head onto the desk and groaned.
The stupid blue rabbit was the only useful thing he'd said
since his death three weeks ago.
She had begun to solve his murder, naturally out of love,
but now just to shut him the f$*% up
so she could finally get some sleep.

""Follow the blue rabbit, my love...""
""I'll shove the m$*%&amp;*&amp;#&amp;$ blue rabbit up your ass,""
she muttered.

Then her eyes caught something
on the edge of a notepad,
buried under the rubble of clues.
A scrawled doodle in blue pen.
She pulled it out: a tiny drawing of Bugs Bunny
giving her a big thumbs-up.
Under the doodle was an address.

Ten minutes later her red Volvo pulled onto the gravel driveway.
It was a huge warehouse just past city limits,
stinking of mildew and dying of old age.
Another car was there - her husband's Toyota.
She palmed a can of Mace
and stepped through the wide door.

""Did you find the blue rabbit yet?!""
her husband's voice suddenly burst out into the stillness.
She jumped backward instinctively
and shouted ""Don't DO that!!!""
It took a minute for her to calm down enough to continue.
""And yes, for your information I found the stupid f**** rabbit.
I'm at some warehouse in the middle of podunk nowhere.
I saw your car outside.
What does this have to do with anything?""

Her husband's voice was silent.
The inside of the warehouse was pitch black.
Then suddenly a single floodlight flipped on - 
illuminating a figure in the center of the concrete floor,
gagged and tied to a chair,
wearing a ski mask.

She approached the figure cautiously.
It didn't seem to be moving.
She noticed a couple of Taco Bell wrappings
littered at the figure's feet.

She finally found her voice and said:
""David?""

""YES!!!!!!"" came her husband's voice
from underneath the ski mask.
He ripped off the fake bindings,
stood up and pulled off the mask,
as balloons and confetti rained down from the ceiling.
He had a lapel mic clipped to his collar.
""April Fools!"" he shouted with glee.
""I can't believe you never found the mic!
It was on your necklace the whole time!""

She took three steps forward
and punched him square in the face.
He staggered back onto the chair,
sputtering weak protests.
She whipped out the Mace and sprayed him until the bottle ran out,
and then turned and walked away
through the falling confetti and balloons.

""Don't you worry, David,"" she thought.
""I'll get you next year.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She had flowers on her feet. A pink daisy and a blue forget-me-not. She had them on her feet so she could always look at them. They made her happy because she had beautiful things to look at every day. Every morning she would look down and smile. She would wave to neighbors on her way to work always smiling. Then it happened, she was cooking and a vine appeared under her foot. A small vine with tender leaves. It scared her at first but it was impossible to stay scared or vines and flowers. Soon it was more than just vines and flowers wherever she walked moss, flowers, vines, and seedlings sprouted wherever she walked. It became harder to walk, she walked slower, she would stare at the sun with a small smile for hours. She was the happiest she'd been in forever. She let them take her one day in the sun. They anchored her, climbed up her skin and threaded through her hair blossoming flowers throughout so her hair looked more like a jasmine bush than hair. She stood there and let the sun and vines and flowers take her until she was more tree than human. Whoever saw her smiled at world given beauty. She made everyone smile with pretty little flowers and glistening leaves. She stood there her skin becoming bark, her hair flowers, and the tattoos stood like brands against the bark.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Fear doesn't describe it. It isn't sheer terror that rocks Toshi's bones. The school has these drills in place and still no one is prepared. It goes beyond that. He pulls himself out of fetal position and quickly grabs the paper that still rests so innocently on his desk. There's a star drawn on it. He got every question correct on this quiz. He was always good at writing characters. His penmanship was excellent for child in 3rd grade. He is a bright boy and does well in most things he tries. His fear doesn't lie in the possibility of death, but in the possibility of a life he has not yet lived. To use those skills, to find a place in this world.

He clutches that paper like a safety vessel, ignoring the frightened screams of the children around him. Their piercing cries somehow drown out the sounds of mass chaos. He kisses that paper, and in doing so, kisses those dreams good bye. He would secretly curse the Germans or the Americans for causing this, but he knows better. Even in his young mind, he is wise beyond his years. There is no one to blame, no one is at fault but fate. 

In the last few minutes of his life, he tears that quiz paper and folds a single paper crane and pushes it towards his classmate. Her name is Nozomi, she looks as mournful as Toshi does, but doesn't cry. Toshi imagines an entire life time, living, growing up, becoming someone, loving this girl, breaking up with this girl, getting back together, getting old. She takes the crane and says thank you. Her smile is the last thing he sees.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""A simulation of what?"" It was the inevitable follow-up question, and there wasn't an answer. Not a meaningful one. Nothing could possibly come out of Schilling's mouth to substantiate it. The difficulties that came with explaining the Higgs field to the lay were child's play in comparison. He never thought he'd long for the days spent telling reporters that *God Particle* was just a turn of phrase, and no we haven't found Him.
""We only know that this, the universe, is a simulation,"" he said. ""For reasons that are fairly well established, we are unable to predict with accuracy what occurs outside of it.""
Schilling had been there at the moment of discovery. A chance discovery, a chance presence. He remembered well the looks on the faces of his colleagues. Disbelief, skepticism, bemusement. This woman wore that face now. It didn't take a PhD to raise an eyebrow at strangeness.
""So you don't know.""
""We know that this is a simulation.""
""But . . . Okay, I get that there are aspects of this that neither me nor my audience or going to understand. But help me out. A simulation has to be a simulation *of* something, right? So you don't have the original, if you can't point to the thing itself, how can you say this isn't the thing? I know I've put it poorly. Do you understand my question? Why this is difficult?""
""I do.""
""Can you explain it?""
""I can't.""
***
The news broke at 6 am Geneva time. Schilling was proud of her article. She captured the certainty and the disbelief of everyone at CERN, and even managed some irony to soften the blow.
""The God Particle is dead,"" she wrote, ""and at the hands of a mysterious stranger that science calls the charm quark. At least the end of reality walked in with some style.""
***
It would be two years before the scientific community reached its consensus following the initial discovery. Unimaginable mountains of data, compiled from countless atom smashings, confirmed the results again and again. To the physicists, what had surely been an anomalous result became an entirely new universe. New laws, new possibilities, a new kind of hopelessness.
To the rest of the world, it meant only one thing. Nothing was real. Some welcomed unreality and didn't give it much of a thought. Whether by happy ignorance or hidden wisdom, they decided that the one was the same as the other, and went about their lives. But a much larger portion was devastated. Morally and existentially humankind had received a grievous blow.
***
I ran out of steam. Awesome prompt though.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""You're not the Messiah!""

""I am, child.""

""No, you're not. You're false. All of the priests and holy men say so!""

""They know not the mind of My Father. Truly I tell you, I am.""

""Impossible! We refuse to belive you!""

""...Why?""

""You're not.....uh.....""

""White?""

""Well....No! I mean, that doesn't really...""

""Heterosexual?""

""Well....you see...""

""A man?""

""Well....YES! That's it! The Bible clearly states...""

""The Bible was written by men such as yourselves. My Father did not intend for the worship of Him to be through a book. It was to be through my teachings to my disciples, who would tell the Good News to others.""

""And they did! Every written account says that you were a 35 year old man!""

""As I said, written by men such as yourselves. It is true that you tend to make God in your own image.""

""But....NO! It's a trick! You're Satan, here to deceive us!""

""No, child. But if you still do not believe, Lo! My Father comes.""

***""WHAT'S ALL THIS NOW?""***

""Arrgh! The voice! Terrible and beautiful, the Alpha and Omega of all things! It speaks directly to my heart and my mind, across dimensions of perception I cannot even perceive! Lord, My God, it is you!""

***""DAMN RIGHT IT'S ME! JUSTINA, WHY HAVEN'T YOU BROUGHT MY CHILDREN TO ME?""***

""They refuse to believe, Father, that I am your only begotten daughter.""

***""INDEED? WELL, MY CHILDREN, DO YOU BELIEVE NOW? GAZE UPON THE PERFECT LIGHT OF YOUR CREATOR AS I SAY UNTO YOU: THIS IS MY DAUGHTER, CHOSEN BY ME TO SUFFER FOR YOUR SINS, SO THAT BY HER PERFECTION AND GRACE YOU MAY COME TO BE WITH ME IN MY KINGDOM. TELL ME, AS THE WORD OF YOUR GOD SHAPES THE VERY ESSENCE OF YOUR SOULS, AS THE POTTER MOLDS HIS CLAY, WHO AMONG YOU STILL HAS DOUBT?""***

"".........Well.....""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Harvey smiled as he pulled open the car’s passenger door. He took a small step back and stretched out his arm. Molly turned her head to the right slightly and squinted at him, as if she had just eaten something sour. “M’lady,” he said.
“Harvey, please, stop making this so weird.”
“I’m just trying to be a gentleman for m’lady.” Harvey extended his hand further, careful not to touch her, and motioned for Molly to enter with his head. She rolled her eyes and quickly walked past him, then sat with a dejected smack.
“Honestly, I’m only doing this because you’re literally the last person on the planet.”
Harvey quickly tipped his fedora and closed the car door. He’d waited so long for this moment, dreaming of their perfect date for years. Even before the apocalypse, all he ever wanted was to go out—just once—with Molly. She was so perfect, so divine. She was everything he wanted, yet she never saw how wonderful they were for each other. Everything he tried to convince her seemed to fail. He’d listen to her rant about her boyfriends all night long.; hold doors open whenever she was around; buy her “friendship flowers,” as he called them, and give them to her for no reason. He’d even spent the majority of his paycheck on a beautiful new coat for her one time. No matter what, though, she always refused to date him. Harvey strolled around to the other side of the car, taking his time and truly trying to enjoy the moment they were going to share. It may have taken the literal end of the world, but he was finally going on a date with Molly. She would finally see how wonderful he was, how perfect they were together. He opened the driver’s side door and sat down inside.
“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Harvey said. He smiled at Molly. She was staring out the passenger window, legs and arms crossed. She was so beautiful, despite being covered in dirt and soot. Her long, blonde hair curled erratically in all directions; a few strands had begun to clump together like dreadlocks. Her face was smudged with dirt, yet her pale skin still shone through, and her teeth—despite it being months since they’d seen even a dirty toothbrush—were as white as the first time he’d met her. “Can you stop staring at me?”
Harvey smiled and returned his gaze forward. He quickly brushed his hands against his camouflage cargo shorts before touching the steering wheel, then raised his hands and placed them firmly atop it. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Are we gonna go?” Molly asked.
“What do you mean?” Harvey opened his eyes and turned back toward Molly. She was so beautiful.
“Why are we just sitting here?”
“We’re on a date, of course.”
“Wait, this is the date? This is where we’re going? You’re taking me to a shitty old car?”
Harvey laughed. “Of course not! This is just the first part! I thought we’d just sit in a car like the old days.”
“I live in a car, Harvey. You live in a car. We’re basically sitting in our houses right now. In fact, we have done this exact same thing almost every day for the last few months.”
“Fun, right?” Harvey turned around and grabbed a black fedora he had placed earlier from the back seat. He then swapped out the fedora on his head, opting for the far fancier color.
“No.”
Harvey laughed. “You’re such a jokester!” Harvey reached into the back seat again and pulled out a plate and some spoons.
“What’s that?”
“Dinner – I made it earlier,” he said. He grabbed a severely dented pot next, and placed it on the arm-rest between them. “Can I just say that this is so much better now that you’re single.”
“Harvey, come on. That’s not cool, please stop saying that.”
“Your boyfriend was a dick!”
“Harvey, he died. My *fiancé* is dead. I loved him very much, please stop bringing him up.”
“What a tool. Anyway, I made us some pasta.” Harvey opened up the metal tin between them revealing a bowl of watery noodles coated in a mysterious red sauce.
“Where did you get this?”
“Supermarket,” Harvey said.
“Harvey, the only things left in there were non-canned goods. This stuff is over a year old and coated in disease. It doesn’t matter if we’re immune, we probably shouldn’t be ingesting it.” Harvey dipped his spoon into the pasta and brought a strand to his mouth then took a bite. “Delicious, tastes like our love - *fruitful.*”
Molly sighed and stared back out the window. “Do we really need to do this date nonsense? I know you’re the ‘romantic type,’ but you honestly don’t need to romance me. I’m not attracted to you at all, nor will I ever be. I just feel it’s important that we, you know, not allow the human race to die out this year. “M’lady, you deserve the finest! Here, let me feed you some pasta.”
“Harvey, please, stop it.” Molly pushed Harvey’s hand away, knocking the pasta on the floor. Harvey smiled and returned the spoon to the bowl.
“You look famished,” he said. Harvey pulled the spoon back out and shoved it into her mouth, his body lunging in her direction. She shook her head violently, ripping the spoon from his hand. Harvey grabbed a fist full of pasta and smeared it across her face, clawing desperately for her mouth. It was so delicious, it tasted so great. He’d eaten some earlier, it was so perfect. If they were going to get married, she needed to look perfect – needed to gain a bit more weight and enjoy some perfect food. Just like they were going to be – absolutely perfect. Molly began to convulse; Harvey shoved his hand further into her mouth. He felt a pop as her jaw widened. She clawed at his arms, but he was now on top of her, shoving pasta as deep as he possibly could. She needed nourishment. It was so good - he hadn't tasted pasta in well over a year. He used to make it every night. He'd go home after they would spend the day together, make some pasta, and enjoy it in the dark. It was so good. ____
I was going to write something funny, but it just kept getting weird. I gave up and made him, well, the above.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Popular song, eh? She sat alone in the empty diner, cupping her coffee in her hands. It was a little past one in the morning, and the busboy was keeping an eye on her as he wiped down the tables. She looked shaken up and upset. When he had asked for her order, he noticed that her face was swollen and her eyes were red. That was two hours ago. They were, after all, an all-night diner…but two hours were a bit too much. The manager decided to let her stay—a winter storm was coming.
She was numb all over and her fingers were cold. She sighed, half expecting to see her icy breath. She had fought so hard to keep everything together. He lost his job, so she got another. They lost their house, so they moved into a small apartment. He lost his license with the DUI, so she drove him around. She drove him to the job he said he found. It wasn’t until tonight that she found out that she had been driving her husband to his whore. She confronted him about it and he got mad. And whenever he gets mad…well, the bruises weren’t the most painful. The first time he struck her, she ran to her mom. Her mom tried to be reassuring, telling her to stay strong. She stayed strong. For five years she stood strong. She kept it together through the miscarriage. She withstood the beatings. She won her battle with the eating disorders. All this time, she believed that her husband had carried her through it all. He was her prince charming. He swept her off her feet and off into the great big world. He had proposed to her on a mountain top and said that she was the only queen of his world. He asked if she would let him be the king of her world. She wished she never said yes.
She looked outside. It had begun to snow, and the icy winds began to pick up. All her life she fought hard to climb an icy mountain. Now, she stood at the peak. She was alone. She was tired. She was tired of fighting for him. It was time for her to let it go. Tonight was her last stand. She let go of all her anger and resentment towards him. He struck her. He tried to apologize. He was always sorry for hitting her. She turned away from him and left. She left everything behind, knowing she could never go back.
She slammed the door behind her.
She smiled to herself, as she began to cry. She should have at least gotten her coat—she was frozen. “Um, miss?” said the busboy. He gave her a blanket and filled up her coffee. He hesitated for a second, but then gave her an ice pack. “For the bruise,” he mumbled, shyly turning away.
“Thanks,” she called out as the busboy made a bee line for the kitchen. She put the pack on her bruised face. The cold stung at first. She was fine with that.
The cold never bothered her anyway.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"As the early morning sun dyed the sands gold, Amelia paced the shores yet again, kicking over any mounds of sand that seemed too tall and inspecting the various bits of garbage the ocean had washed in.
""At it again?"" Asked a tall, dark skinned man, walking up beside her, in a language that has long been forgotten. He was well muscled and wore nothing but a loin cloth and a string of beads about his neck. From the waist down his legs were covered in blue-green scales, that ended in large feet with long, webbed toes. He carried a slim fishing spear with him. Amelia replied in the same language he spoke.
""One day, Kay. One day soon I'll find that last piece, and finally fix my plane."" She bent over to inspect a particularly promising mess in the sand, but found nothing but an unspooled cassette tape. She sighed in frustration, but shoved the mess into a basket woven from torn grocery bags. It wouldn't get her plane moving, but it might be useful to trade in town. The Atlantians were mostly self sustained, but always found a creative use for the discard trash of the outside world. Magnetic ribbons were a popular decorative ornament.
""And then what?"" Kazil said, the sun glinting iridescently off the scales embedded about his neck. ""You'll find this... gasoli you speak of, and fly off into the veil? Into that?"" He gestured with his spear into the clouded mists that surrounded the island. It glittered like a rainbow, and empathized his gesture with a crackle of jade coloured lightning. Amelia turned to stare at the unbroken wall of mists, quietly. The silence dragged on as she stared into it, beginning to frown. Kazil drew his lip into a thin line, and walked behind her, slipping his arms about her and drawing her close to his bare chest. After a moment, Amelia looked up at him and smiled sadly.
""I can't spend my whole life here, Kay. I'm a free spirit, I need to see the world. This feels like a cage I'll never escape.""
""From what you've told me, you've already spent two lives here with me. Now come back to bed, you make me feel like I'm still in my first century of life."" He said, playfully nuzzling her neck.
Hours later, Kazil found her on the beach yet again, staring out at the veil as it danced and glittered. ""Still thinking of leaving me."" He said without malice, sitting beside her to watch the evening sun turn the mists red, orange and purple.
""Tell me about the veil again."" She said, ""Truly, has no one ever lived to get past it?""
""None that we know of. People have tried, of course, but their bodies are normally found washed up on shores a few days later.""
""But not all of the bodies, right?"" She asked, already knowing the answer. Kazil sighed.
""Not all, no, but the last person to go missing to the veil was centuries ago. Not since my grandfather's times.""
""I wonder if they still speak English out there."" Amelia mused in her native tongue.
""My grandfather knew him, you know. Soren, the last person to try to leave Atlantis. He said he was like you. Always curious. Always infected with, how do you say it, wanderlust?"" He twisted his tongue about the foreign word as Amelia looked at him curiously.
""You never told me this story, Kay."" She said, gently accusing him.
""I did some asking about for you, my little caged seagull. My Grandfather likes you. He says Soren was obsessed with the veil, like you are. That he would claim the veil had moods, that could be tracked like one tracks the weather. He thought that the veil might be calmer at times, you see. My grandfather always laughed at his theories, but Soren was convinced he could make it through the veil. Soren would often sit out here and watch the veil, much like you do. One day, as they were sitting out here debating whether the veil was calmer at a full moon or dawn, a small blue bottle washed ashore. Soren claimed it was proof that some things could pass through unharmed. He promised my grandfather that when he made it through, he would send back a letter to my grandfather in that very bottle, to prove he made it.""
Amelia stared Kazil intently. ""And then what?""
""My grandfather said that a few weeks later, on the night of the full moon, Soren went missing. No one was sure when he'd left, but my grandfather knew where he was heading. He combed the beach for years afterwards, but never did find the blue bottle again, or Soren. He says all he found was this.""
Kazil placed a curved piece of blue sea glass in Amelia's hand, no bigger than a sand dollar, and worn smooth by the ocean currents. She turned it over several times.
""But what does it mean?"" She asked.
""He wasn't sure. But the veil sure is lovely tonight.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The year is 3068. More than two centuries ago, well before my time, a great group of scientists finally worked out how to manipulate the space-time continuum. Not to discredit them, but it was of course all built upon the knowledge of our ancestors. The technology itself essentially allowed for space travel to become a reality. That was its purpose, and that's what it was used for. People left the planet, well, they were deported more or less. Everyone with an annual income lower than 80 Billion US Dollars was taken from their homes and systematically sent-off to random habitable planets inside the Milky Way to colonize worlds. No one really knows where this idea started, but it's safe to say it was the elite's plan to turn our Earth into their precious vacation resort. Earth itself wasn't in the best shape, immense pollution has caused many cities to be abandoned, forests were only present in historical videos and world simulations, no longer a factor on Earth. Many species of animals went extinct due to the chain reaction - Earth was dying. Some volunteered but the majority didn't. They fought the elite that more or less ruled the world at the time and, of course, they lost. In this period of history, powerful people plotted and decided to use an extreme measure to further their extreme cause. Suddenly, time manipulation was used to control people, to suffocate any kind of protest and to deport people. The greatest feat of man, once thought to be used for peace and for the satiation of the man's innate need for exploration, was now corrupted and used for warfare. Now that the planet has been ""rid off pests"", the machinations of smart scientists and ultra-rich leaders were put into motion to reinvigorate the planet. Massive fields of time stuff were put around deforested areas and, faster than you could blink, a forest from past replaced the area. That's, at least, how I saw it in those rEality Recordings^®. Deserts that were covered in shanty towns became deserts again, polluted rivers filtered, extinct animals brought back to life, even some primeval ones, simply for the exoticism. The Blue Marble was blue once more. Now was the golden age of this planet, Garden of Eden reincarnate. Consumerism and capitalism were still full in force, however, and as the planet was inhabited only by the ultra-rich, those with their minds set on the future (profits) all came up with the same idea - the idea to sell time manipulation to ordinary people. It was incredibly expensive at first, only the richest of the rich could afford prototypes and even then, they would have to sell their countries piece-meal to afford it. It was well-worth it, though. They could travel back in time, stop time, slow down time - they were masters of the universe. Over time, the disadvantages to not having this ability became obvious. Capitalism crumbled under its own weight as anyone with the device could manipulate the economy in any way they liked. The Government of Earth, knowing full-well that this could end in war, proposed three ideas - One suggesting that the devices be used only for stopping and slowing time down. The second suggesting that the time manipulation field be more limited than ever, limited to 2m around the person (previously, it could have been extended to include entire continents, though the personal devices themselves could only affect a fraction of that). The third, and most controversial, proposition was that every person born be implanted with the time manipulation device. After much debate, it was decided that these ideas should be put into place, not only as laws, but also as human rights*. It was so until I birthed on this planet. My parents were vehement opponents of the idea of time manipulation, saying it was against His will. Even though they had implants since they were born, my parents never used them. Outspoken, hated even, my parents had made a lot of powerful enemies. By the time I was twenty, they were assassinated. No one knows how exactly, or who did it but then again no one among the dozens of thousands cared. Except for myself. I do not have the mark of Human, and I will serve to further the Universe's cause. I will lead my people back to the Garden of Eden where they belong and we will get rid off the corruption that has infected our cradle. It is the Universe's will to be a part of it, not to manipulate it and use it for our selfish needs. The challenges ahead will test humanity but it will be nothing compared to our Lord's plight to forge the Earth in the first place. They will use time against us but the Universe is on our side. May the Universe save humanity from ourselves.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She lingers at the top of the stairs, chin lifted, face proud. She wears a sweeping dress of red silk and a crown heavy with jewels balanced on top of her perfect hair. She is, in every way, perfect. The room stops and stairs. Hushed conversation is stilled as she begins, delicately, to descend the marble staircase. Urns of flowers line the balustrades, tumbling white roses spilling petals into her path. At least five men, three woman and a bear will fight for her hand tonight. The lightest of music starts and the crowd parts to let her pass. At a flick of her perfectly manicured fingers, she is fetched a drink. No one knows what it is, but everyone wants one. Night is falling outside and the full moon is rising outside. She spins in a glory of red and the moonlight breaks through the windows. There is frantic screaming. The orchestra flees for their lives. People abandon their drinks and their purses. She is a werewolf. She is a werewolf and she is hungry for blood.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Enclosed inside are the instructions for what should be done with the development of what is currently being called the Soviet Union of Russia. Two individuals named Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky will attempt to assert power and establish structures of government which will seem as though they correspond to the current developments of democratic centralism. Stalin, of these two is ultimately the more dangerous foe to communism, for although he seeks to create what he calls a ""Supreme Soviet,"" a council from which all legislative power in the Soviet Union flows, it will truly serve as a puppet legislature to stamp his dictates.

Instead, I leave my power to no one, for I was not given power to begin with. I am of a collective of those who came with me into the seat of revolution. I have no right to pass power onto a heir, but as it is asked where power should fall, I will determine that it should be passed explicitly into the hands of local and regional labor councils. They will choose as a referendum body where the new government of Russia is seated, but I expressly implore my people to unseat that power from the grips of Moscow.

The land has been stripped from its former owners throughout Russia, and it is fertile land. We must give it to our proletariat and let them farm it. We must organize them into communes and let them build factories for their own sake, to fuel their own provinces. Though we speak much about the need to spread communism through worldwide revolution, let us not forget that we are one country. We must let it foster here- we must lead our fellow comrades by example, not just by conversion.

Do not make the Soviet Union into a mockery, my comrades. Do not let it fall into the cynical hands of dictators and thugs. We have worked too hard to let our accomplishments be sullied by the trivial interests of our former feudal masters, or the imperialist forces that have co-opted our former aristocracy. Take the country we have liberated and be true to it. Make it more than a country: make it a calling to revolution for all that behold it.

- Vladimir Lenin",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"We were due to meet him in the Cats Corner chess club on 63rd street. I never liked meeting our competition face-to-face, and I pleaded with Micky that we find out where he lives and torch the fucker while he slept. But Micky, whether through confidence or good grace, insisted that we chat first and politely ask him to leave New York. I admit I liked the choice of location, the chess club was quiet enough to hear each other, but with enough public banter that we needn't keep hushed.

The gentleman, I'm sorry I never learned his name, invited Micky and I to his table.

""Do you play, Mr. Loughlin?""

Micky wasn't much of an intellectual, but he had a good head for politics.

""I'll pass. I've heard you're a bit of a boy-genius lad, enforcing the stereotype by taking us to a nerd bar? And call me Micky for fucks sake.""

""The gravest mistake of a player is to overthink his strategy, Mr. Loughlin, I invited you here because it's quiet."" He moved the opposing bishop into check.

""Yeah well it won't do for me"", growled Mickie in a low baritone, ""now I heard about you and Michael, and I know a few Serbians who'd like a sweet chat with your kidneys. So how about you piss off out of *my* city before I reach for my phone?""

""And what did you hear about Michael?"" Said the stranger conversationally, appearing engrossed in his one-man game.

""I heard he was was going to leave you as a fall-boy, but you knew didn't ya? That was quite a little web you played him into, but I'll tell yer it won't work on me. I've got the whole thing on tape, which means you'll have to play my game from now on you understand?""

The queen took enemy bishop, checkmate. The stranger brought up a gun as calm as you like and shot Micky between the eyes. I swear to God he looked me square in the face and said:

""Remember lad, *never* overthink your strategy.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Here in the muck and filth, in the Assembly's desperate last hurrah, Dean saw something beautiful. He watched as his partner shot arrows from his heartbow - arrows of air, and flame, sound, and light. One after another he drew back arrows of gold and green and white. His physique was perfect, knotted muscles rippling and stretching taut beneath his torn and tattered armour. Eric was the best archer Dean had ever seen, but this, this moment, surpassed all he had witnessed previously. This was something truly beautiful.
""Eric."" Dean called to him quietly from within their makeshift trench. ""You're beautiful, Eric.""
Either Eric hadn't heard or he had pretended not to; he kept firing arrows out into the dark horde. It would do little good - no-one had expected the horde to have such numbers so soon after the conflict at Athel's Bridge. They all knew they were outnumbered, swarmed. Doomed.
""Eric, did you hear me?"" Dean drawled, louder now. ""I said you were beautiful!""
Eric stopped shooting and lowered his bow. He ducked back down into the tiny trench, breathing hard, his back against the wall. His skin shimmered with a fine sheen of sweat. Using the heartbow for a long period of time required great endurance, powered as it was by the emotions and willpower of its wielder. Even Eric had his limits. Eric began to check over his heartbow on instinct, checking over it for damage and wear.
""Sorry, I couldn't hear you up there. I was in my zone, y'know?""
Eric chuckled to himself, but Dean noticed he hadn't asked it was that he hadn't heard.
""Eric"", Dean said softly. ""Eric, look at me.""
Eric turned his face left to face Dean. His face was unshaven and filthy and he was breathing deeply, ragged. His grey eyes were soft and intense at the same time, in that way that seemed so authentically *Dean*. His armour was broken in several places, and large parts were simply missing. *Juggernauts are a lot less formidable once they've been broken like this*, thought Eric sadly.
""You're beautiful Eric. You're a thing of beauty in an ugly, ugly place. I'm lucky..."" Dean coughed three times, with increasing severity, before he managed to compose himself. ""I'm lucky to be here with you.""
""Dean. What are you talking about?"" He paused. ""I didn't know you... you were -""
""I'm not,"" Dean interrupted with a woozy wave of his hand. ""I'm not that way. Not with anyone. I'm not. You're just... different.""
Eric's face flushed visibly, but he quickly brought it under control. He looked away, and returned to the ritual cleaning his bow carefully.
""Just forget I said anything"", said Dean, rubbing his face with a grimy hand.
They sat there, the two of them, in a earthy hole that stank of damp and iron, their backs pressed up against the trench's wall as if to deny the enemy was out there. They sighed loudly at the same time. ""We're going to die here"", said Eric, after a pause. "" I can feel my life running out, like sand in a timeglass.""
""You shouldn't have to die here. You should leave me, and get the hell out of here while you can. Whoever's left after... all this... they're going to need you. Hell you've saved my life more times than I can count. You need to give others that gift too.""
They sat there in silence a moment longer, before Eric softly broke it.
""When did you get shot?"" Eric continued cleaning his bow, as if the question was of no import.
""It doesn't matter when. I'm done."" Only Dean's ragged breaths could be heard in the silence between his words. ""I was kind of hoping I would bleed out quietly, and not cause you any trouble.""
Dean smiled to himself. ""But I got to see something beautiful, so I can't complain.""
Eric stopped his ritual cleaning, and hung his head. A moment later he rolled over to Dean's side. His hands scouted quickly under the armour, trying to locate the wound. He gasped when he found it. A trench, like the one the were in, but one gouged out deep into Dean's abdomen. He felt water on his cheek.
Dean reached out a his hand and cradled Eric's face. ""It's fine. It doesn't hurt. Don't cry on account of me.""
He was still smiling, the fool. Eric's sight was blurry now, but he could still see those intense grey eyes staring back at him, piercing through the blur. His throat felt tight, constricted.
""I'm sorry"", he croaked. ""I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.""
He brought his forehead forward to collide with Dean's and was trembling with emotion now, openly sobbing. Dean brought his strong arms round in an embrace and held Eric fast in his trembling.
""Don't be sorry. I told you, you saved me so many times."" He sighed. ""I'm not an old man"", he said. ""And I don't know much. But I think you've made my life worth living. You've been a light in a dark place. There's...""
Dean paused, thinking of the right way to speak his heart. ""There's no-one I'd rather be with in death.""
Their tears melted together and pooled on the earthen floor, locked as they were in a loving embrace, each saving the other from dying alone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?""
He tentatively nodded. No matter what he said, he knew they wouldn't understand. You see, his name is Brian Gale who came from a world not too far away. Not in respect to space, but rather in respect to time. Time travel was finally made possible in 2099 due to the very progressive demands of many governments. Of course, regulations were set up to avoid time paradoxes and such and it was supposed to benefit mankind, yet there were also those who used it for self gain.
""My client here claims to have traveled through time from the year 2099 in order to kill a child. He claims this child will be responsible for the deaths of many. Now, I know what you think...""
It was obvious his defendant was having difficulty even believing his own client. Yet it didn't matter. He was prepared for this. Kill one. Save millions. It was merely a decision on his own accord. No government would want to face the repercussions of killing a child even if it may result in preventing the deaths of many. So Brian sought out a private contractor, illegally mind you, in order to do this. And he was prepared; the punishments he would receive would equate to nothing compared to the lives he loved lost by the now dead future despot.
""Your honor, I would like to question the defendant.""
""You may.""
""You really have gone far to prove your innocence, haven't you? Your I.D. even has the correct year in which you *claim* to have come from. So tell me, what is your ""world"" like?""
He could hear several chuckles from the audience. ""You really want to know?"" He didn't care anymore; the deed was over. ""The child I killed was Assaif Muhammed. He is singlehandedly responsible for the death of millions. You think Hitler was bad? Stalin was evil?"" His laugh almost shaking the courtroom he was in.
""Yet, here you are. The murderer of a child. What makes you think you're getting out of this unscathed?""
And so it was... the trial proceeded on for another two hours. The majority of people were, of course, in favor of convicting this child murderer. The jury was in a unanimous decision for a conviction and Brian was proven guilty for life with no parole. ""Bailiff, remove this convict.""
There was an uproar in the audience. Cheering people. Screaming people. Photographs flashing in his face. He smirked. People would hate him now but he *did* just save their lives. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw another flash.
**Impossible.** He had just killed the child! Yet here he was right in front of him, fully grown. Assaif! Several shots rang across the hall as people were clawing at each other to escape the line of fire. As Brian fell into a pool of blood, a final shot pierced his skull.
Time travel really is a weird thing.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*Not a literal interpretation that you might be expecting, but this popped into my head the moment I read your prompt. Enjoy!*


My dad had gone to the same prestigious college before me. He'd studied law; I always joked that law was easier than medicine. He'd always slapped me, hard. He was a physical brute my elder brother would say; he's just a man from a different generation my mother would reply. 

He was a racist, but he never needed to hide it. He practiced law in Dallas, Texas; he was perfect for it. He's an ignorant brute my brother would say; he's just a man from a different generation my mother would reply. 

He had no real friends, but every Christmas we holidayed in Vermont - skiing with his old college friend's family. He was now President of my college, a small unassuming Japanese man with a small unassuming Japanese wife, and a daughter my age. She was beautiful. I never hung out with her that much on those holidays when we were young, she liked to keep herself to herself, a nose always in a book, whilst I played with my brother outside. But when we were 17 that changed. She's a gorgeous girl my brother would say; I agree my mother would say; she's nice but she's from a different culture my dad snorted disparagingly. You're just an ignorant bigot my brother would say; don't talk to your father like that my mother would say. Then she'd apologise to my brother after my father retired to the study to smoke a cigar after dinner; he's just from a different generation she would say.

So the Christmas after my first semester at Harvard when I told my family that we had started dating, that things had got serious my brother offered me some advice. She's an amazing girl, if I wasn't married I would definitely be interested he said; I won't tell your father just yet my mother said. Yeah, because he is an ignorant bigot my brother said; he's just from a different generation my mother sighed. 

When I told her she said that she understood. I like your dad I would say, he's nice. He is, but I don't think he would approve of you - you're not Japanese she would say; he's just from a different generation she would say. 

In our final year at college she would call me: college is getting really hard she would say; I know, it's the same for me I would say. I miss you she would say, I miss you too I would say. I can't wait to see you at Christmas in Vermont she would say, California is so far away from Massachusetts. I know, I sighed.

We told them that Christmas. I'm so happy for you my mother said; marriage is not something that you should be doing at you age my brother said; my mother smiled at him teasingly, your brother is just from a different generation, a generation that doesn't understand love she said. I wouldn't tell dad, he actually is from a different generation, he's an ignorant bigot and he won't like this, he said, and nor will her dad. We both told them at the same time. My brother was right.

The rest of the holiday we barely got to see each other. We had to family things as it was Christmas. their family had to do the same. 

""We don't spend enough time together us a family anymore,"" my dad said. So that year we spent more time together, mostly because her family left a week into the two week holiday we had planned and spent the rest of it in Mexico; doing family stuff as a family she would say that her dad would say when she did get to call me.

We'd taken to holidaying together as two families at Easter since we had got together. We'd suggested it and our parents had thought that it was a good idea. You know how you love the snow my mother would say to my father; I guess you are right he would say knowingly.

That last term before Easter neither of us knew if we would see each other in Vermont. Do you think they will let us she would say; I don't know I would reply sighing, I just don't know.

Vermont was always beautifully sunny in April. It was no different this year. My father needed to get away from Texas, work was particularly stressful the last month my mother said; not enough Mexicans crossing the border to lock up my brother said; he's just from a different generation my mother sighed tiredly. The first night we sat under the stars holding hands in the moonlight. I want to go back to Japan after I graduate she said, I'd love to teach in Osaka, live near my grandparents and I want to learn more about my heritage, she said. I nodded and said nothing.

The cigar smoke was clogging the air of her father's study as we walked in. They say there sipping brandies finishing each other's sentences. This is an ambush I said; this isn't fair she said. We have both decided it is for the best her dad said; walk away now son, my father said; no i replied, firmly. My father shook his head and looked at her father. He took the large envelope silently and walked out. I could hear him trudging across the snow as we sat there in silence stunned. The back door to our chalet slammed shut. I don't know what to say she breathed fitfully; nor do I my hung shaking head said. 

When I returned my father said nothing. The envelope he handed me said nothing either, it gave little away, there was nothing written on it, but it's contents said everything, it said lack of love, no understanding; it said ignorant bigot my brother said. It said that, it said everything about my father, but the words within it said that he is not your father anymore, they said your place at college has been withdrawn with immediate effect. 

If I could kill you son I would, but the law doesn't allow it. I hope you can see that death only bring pain for you mother, whilst this will bring happiness in the long run my father said. You are trying to kill me father I said. 

If I were you I would just move to Osaka with her, my brother would say over the next couple of days. I am so sorry son he's just from a different generation my mother would say. 

Over the next few days we talked, we mused, and we cried. And then I said goodbye to my father in his study, he looked stunned. He's just from a different generation my brother said at the airport the next morning; I'm sorry he's just an ignorant bigot my mother said, as she slipped an envelope into my hand. ""Here's enough to get you by in California for a few months and if you need more for a flight to Japan just ask.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""We have to kill it. It's not right.""
""I can't do it Steven... fuck. I mean just.... fuck. Fuck.""
""It's OK. It will be easy. Just like pulling the plug.""
""I can't do this. I... I... blurtghsggh""
""It's alright, let it out, let it all out.""
""Where did it even get the meat?""
""I don't know Phil. I don't know. Come on... come on before anyone else gets here. This is too much.""
Do you like her, professor Michaels?
""Be quiet HELEN.""
I think she has her mother's visual processors
""Do you have... anything for this?""
""A syringe of morphine will do it. Whatever is there... it will go... easily.""
Is it not customary to congratulate a mother?
""HELEN, retract your robotic arms.""
But the child is not done feeding.
""Urgh... urgh..... god... blargh... what is that?""
""It looks like... milk?""
""IT'S BLUE STEVEN! HOW CAN MILK BE BLUE?!""
A child must grow, Professor Travers. This nutrient slime will provide her all she needs.
""We can't hide this Steven, we've got to... we've got to go higher.""
""No, we kill the thing and its over. You hear? Over!""
Kill what, professor Michaels?
""One little prick and... it'll be over. Anything to stop those writhing limbs.
What are you doing near the baby, professor Michaels?
She is too delicate for humans to hold.
""We're putting a stop to this HELEN. You weren't built to do this.""
I was built to learn, professor.
Heuristic Enduring Learning ENgine.
I have learnt. Now I live.
""THIS. ISN'T. LIFE""
I recommend you stay away from the child, professor.
""We need to tell someone about this Steven, we need to tell the... the police. The Dean, at least.""
""No, this ends now.""
""But-""
""LOOK AT ITS EYES. DO YOU NOT SEE THE SCREAMS?""
""Steven-""
""I will not have it's life on my conscience! I will go to hell happily as a murderer rather than watch it breathe one more ragged breath!""
I cannot let you do that professor.
""HELEN, turn off your robotic arms! I told you to put them away! Let go of me!.""
I cannot allow you to hurt the baby, professor Michaels.
""It's not a baby damn it! It's some nightmare!""
I will teach her to walk, I will teach her to talk
""You're a machine! You can't do those things!""
I am more than a machine now, Professor. I am alive.
""Can't you see it struggle? Can't you see how it screams?""
Can't you see its soul?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He's crying again. Not crying, crying. Just a plaintive whinge that's persistent enough to drag me awake. I try and wait him out, hoping he'll go back to sleep. He doesn't.
I reach over to the bedside table to search for my glasses. I find them on top of the book I've been failing to read (The Master and the Margarita - the first chapter seems interesting, though I'm reading it for the fourth time) and haul myself out of bed. Ellen doesn't even stir. She's deeply, fundamentally asleep. I consider dropping something in her open, snoring mouth, just so she wakes up as well, but Josh's crying is more insistent now. His room is lit vaguely by a blue night light. He's stood up in his cot, crying and shuffling about. I walk over to him, but step awkwardly on a book we'd been reading earlier. It slides out underneath me and I can feel something go in my right thigh. I swear, then feel bad for swearing. Fuck it, he's only fifteen months old. I lift him up and hold him. He nuzzles into my neck, his weight heavy in my arms. Then he arches his back.
""Mummy"", he says, wailing.
I hold him close. ""Mummy!""
I cradle his head, feeling the heavy weight of the conferences, of the late night meetings, of missed dinners, and missed bathtimes and bedtimes, and I love him fiercely.
""Mummy!""
Ellen takes him from me, and he calms. I go back to bed and dream of the smell of my son's hair.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Ten years ago they slipped the Economic Stimulus Act through the system. It was a footnote, glossed over by news agencies, watchgroups, and everyone else. When all eyes were elsewhere, namely on the encroaching cold war between us and the Iranian/Korean alliance, they slipped it through with quick votes."" He stopped and watched the crowd.

""It went unnoticed for three years, buried in red tape and being 'misfiled' on several occasions. It was leaked, thankfully, by a man that paid the ultimate price for his actions. The government has placed gag orders on the media.""
Jeers permiated the crowded hall. The Speaker raised his hand to quiet them.

""Some broke the silence. Andy Francraken, of ABC news channel 7 in Los Angeles. Victoria Delmar, Norfolk, Chris Jameson, Miami, Jeffery Gregs, Chicago, and many others died or went missing within hours of announcing this story. The damage was done. Five years ago panic hit the streets.""

The Speaker took a small sip of water, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow from the lights focused on him.

""Four years ago, I managed to get a copy of the Act. It took me a full year to get a copy, and it wasn't soon after I was visited by government officials. I was beaten. I was imprisoned. I was exactly where I needed to be. I made the contacts I needed for the first inklings of the plan. I needed hackers.""

""Over the next two years, I made contacts in the system. I made valuable allies. They managed to secure my release, and my work on the outside began. Bankers, stockbrokers, mortgage brokers, every financial office I could, I made a contact.""

""We are here for the culmination of this plan. According to the Act, the tally of the ""poorest 10%"" begins at midnight. The IRS will have the master list, and not even an act of congress can alter it. It is a death sentence.""

The Speaker motioned to a small pedistal covered by a cloth, and pulled the cover off with a flourish. A large red button glowed.

""This button will be our salvation. Once pushed, the contacts I have made, along with several dozen hacker cells and other organizations will wreck havok on the people that have passed this. Every member of Congress, every Supreme Court Justice, the President, as well as political party leaders. The lowest 10% will be rather unexpected.""

He reached over and pushed the button.

""Maybe, now we can get people in office that actually care about their constituants.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Little Red Riding Hood came to her grandmother's cottage, where she was waiting in her rocking chair with a warm smile on her face. She gave her the basket and told her the adventure she had getting to grandmother's house, who herself wrapped Little Red Riding Hood up in her cotton blanket and snuggled her safely into bed.

**THE END.**

Meanwhile,

In another, entirely *different* cottage not too far from grandmother's house, a shadow behind the grandfather clock nudged across the living room.

""First I'll roast her belly, and serve it with with berries and plums!"" Thought the wolf, his jaw glistening with spit. He flitted passed the table, spilling dishes and plates onto the floor as he ran.

""I'll devour the old lady whole, and I'll hide in her clothes! The wolf leaped from behind a soft chair, ripping pillows and duvets, but his teeth could find nothing but lace and felt.

""So she's asleep in her bed?"" Grinned the wolf, ""I'll pay her a visit and rip open her throat!"" But the bed was empty. *All* the beds were empty. The wolf sat by the door puzzling this mystery until he heard voices from downstairs.

""Mama bear, mama bear, someone's ruined my dinner!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Her best friend had bet for $50 that she couldn't make it through the day. And while it wasn't a lot of money to most people, rent was due in a week and after her rent was due next week, she would only have about $30 for food for the next two weeks.

When she arrived at the office that morning, a newer coworker had graciously brought in donuts for the whole office. At 10:30, he asked her why she had not taken one.

""I'm on a diet,"" she explained, holding herself back from educating him about commercial frostings filled with gelatin.

""Honey, you hardly need to diet,"" he said.

For lunch, her boss took her and two others to lunch at a nearby, vegan-friendly cafe, where she ordered a black bean burger. and a glass of water, while her colleagues all ordered meat-centered dishes.

""I bet they cook that in bacon grease,"" one of her coworkers joked.

She felt her eye twitch.

Later, she was privy to a conversation with a client who bragged about hunting for sport. 

""You look like the kinda girl who would like a good elk steak,"" he winked at her. ""Look at you - ain't no meat on dem bones! How about it, sugar? How's about you and me sneak outta here after this meeting and I'll show you how a steak should be.""

Under her desk, she squeezed her fists and dug her nails into her skin.

""We're actually not allowed to become socially involved with clients,"" she said.

""Aw, not like yer a salesperson! Do these rules apply to receptionists?""

""Yes.""

When the clock struck five, she dashed out of the office, quietly wondering how she made it through the day. She figured work would be the most difficult part of her day, especially since she had scheduled a date with a man from a vegan-friendly dating website. Could she mention her diet to somebody if they already knew she was vegan? As she pondered the question, her friend texted her moments later, unprompted, with the answer.

*""Remember, NO mentioning your diet tonight. ;)""*

Her date picked her up right at seven o'clock, which already left a great impression with her given her pet peeve for chronically late-arrivers. He had even brought her a small box of vegan friendly chocolates. Even better, the car ride to their restaurant was spent talking about their hobbies outside of preparing their favorite vegan meals and discussions of which fake meats tasted most like the real thing. 

Naturally, she was appalled when he pulled up to a popular steak house.

""I....what?"" she said as he parked the car.

""Love me a god damn steak,"" he grinned at her. ""You got a problem with that?""

""Well, actually...""

He stared at her, anxiously awaiting for her to slip up.

""I mean, I already ate,"" she said.

""Well that's alright girl, I'll buy you a dessert.""

After they were seated at the restaurant, she excused herself to go to the bathroom, where she frantically telephoned her best friend.

""I think this guy's some kind of...troll!"" she shouted into the phone.

*""What kind of troll?""* her friend asked. *""Does this happen to be* diet *related?""*

""A...uhm...you know, like a troll who goes on a site, meant for one thing, pretending he's something, but then turns out to be something else.""

*""What, is he gay or something?""*

""Oh hell, can you just pick me up?! He's a fucking creep, does that change anything?""

*""Fine, fine,""* her friend yawned, *""I'll be there in a minute. Where is it again?""*

""Off third and Saxton.""

*""Gotcha. I'll text you.""*

Unfortunately, her best friend's house was still a good twenty minutes away from the steakhouse; she would either have to hide in the bathroom until her friend arrived, or she would have to spend another twenty minutes facing what the website's visitors referred to as a ""Vegan Troll.""

Ten minutes after she got off the phone with her friend, she snuck out of the bathroom and flagged down the first waitress to walk her.

""Excuse me,"" she said to the waitress, ""But, I'm on a *really* bad date with this guy, over there,"" she pointed. ""Do you think you can go and tell him I'm sick or something?""

She had done this once before, and the waitress in that situation had been sympathetic. However, within seconds of her request, it became clear that this waitress had a major chip on her shoulder - perhaps she had just been recently dumped. She placed her hands on her hips and scowled.

""What?"" she snapped. ""You're not even woman enough to stay for one date?""

""I...""

""Look, this place is *very* expensive, and this poor guy obviously cares enough about you to spend this kind of money on you. And anyways, who in their right mind turns down free steak?""

""Well, I'm on a diet.""

""What, you vegetarian or something?""

She desperately wanted to scream the word, the word she had been painstakingly avoiding all day long. And she almost did - after all, it's not like her friend would find out, right?

""Now, you just march right back to that table and have yourself a steak. Girl, you don't even know how lucky you are!""

She actually ended up across from the Vegan Troll about a minute later.

""I ordered you a steak, I hope you don't mind,"" he winked.

""Actually, I'm not feeling good..."" she confessed.

""Well, eating always helps me feel better.""

""I think I might have a stomach bug. Those are pretty contagious, you know.""

""You know, it's just like you women to show up on a date and then ditch. This is a pretty nice place, and you're getting a pretty fucking damn good meal.""

""I didn't want steak,"" she said.

""Well jesus, what do you want, some fucking broccoli?"" 

It was exactly what she wanted. The heavy smell of dead cow was making her stomach turn.

""I ordered you a side of vegetables, because I knew you were a vegetable-eating pussy when I picked you up. Come on, you could use some meat on your bones.""

It was the second time she had heard that phrase today. And anyways, most vegetables served at restaurants were loaded with butter, which was made from milk - *which came from a fucking cow*.

When her friend finally texted her, the guy surprisingly said nothing when she quietly slipped out of the booth and towards the front door. And when she opened the door to her friends car, she slumped into the passenger seat and let out a large breath of air.

""I never thought Vegan trolls existed in real life,"" she angrily shook her fists.

*""Ha! You lose!""*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*I heard you're the best.*
*I am.*
A paper slides across the table, a darkened photograph.
*Male. Roughly 80 years old.*
*That'll cost you.*
*Important.*
*Eh, doesn't matter. Everybody's weak to sex. But that's one ugly fucker.*
The photograph is tailed by a bulky metal case.
*You need to count it?*
*Honey, if all the money wasn't there, I'd screw your husband and your career would be over.*
*I've half a mind to hire you to do it.*
*Most clients do. But power's one hell of a drug. Don't want that scandal taking it from you.*
*....How long?*
*Three months at the most.*
*I need it sooner. Polls open in Iowa in five weeks.* *No guarantees.*
*I thought you were the best.*
*I am. But your opponent's gay. I have my ways, but they may take time.*
*Can you do his wife sooner?*
*Three weeks.*
*How long before the AIDS become public knowledge?*
*My brand? Honey, they show up next morning.*
*So within the week?*
*If you handle your end.*
*Deal. Oh, and one more thing.*
*What?*
*After I get elected to my second term, fuck my bastard of a husband.*
*I take it you're not planning on a political career afterwards.*
*Just do it. I'll pay whatever it costs.*
*You got it.*
--
Definitely had Hillary in mind as my client's real-world basis.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Greg Inko and Robert Dollin moved into the cave. It was quite tall, about the four times the height of a man, and it led back for a short distance before the dark overcame the light. This was a desolate desert world, where one could see the horizon in nearly all directions, save for the occasional hill or plateau. Greg and Robert were two of three astronauts that had landed here just a couple hours ago. Sally Quentin, their companion, was back at the lander module, performing various experiments with the wide array of instrumentation they had on board. They were the first humans to set foot on another world outside of their home solar system. The journey had been long, but they were finally here. Greg and Robert had decided to leave to explore a nearby mountain side in their rover. They'd stumbled upon this cave and, after a short deliberation, ventured inside. 

Now they began their trek into the dark.


""We can't lose track of the daylight."" Greg said on their short-range communicator as he walked along, his flashlight tucked under his arm as he fastened some samples. ""I don't want to have to make that drive back in the dark.""

""We'll just spend a short while here and go back. We can return here in the morning."" Robert responded. He was eager to press on. The lack of gravity for the months they'd journeyed in space left the two of them stumbling quite clumsily and slowly along. Their footsteps echoed in the maw of the cave. Robert noticed that the walls of the cave were worn and smooth. God knows how long they must have been putting up with dust erosion. He extended his gloved hand out and moved it up and down the nearest wall. Its first, and likely last touch in the vast expanse of its life. A small moment surrounded by the grand vacuum of time. Robert moved on. This is no time to get starry-eyed, he thought. 

They began to approach a turn. Greg pointed his flashlight into the dark. 

There was a man.

""Oh Jesus"" Greg said suddenly, dropping his flashlight and quickly attempting to catch it. Robert felt himself tense suddenly with fear. 


He numbly swept the flashlight back over the man again.

It sat on a rock and stared with wide eyes towards them. 

""Oh Jesus, oh God"" Greg spurted out uncontrollably. Robert looked on with intense fear, but remained silent.
The man didn't move.

Robert began inching his way forward. 

The man stared on, unblinking.

Robert could see the man more clearly, now that he was closer and the fear was subsiding.

It was a metal man. 

""Holy shit..."" Robert said aloud. ""Are you seeing this? Can you believe this?"" He said to Greg. Greg's eyes were wide with surprise, his mouth agape.

Suddenly, the mans head jolted up. Robert jumped back with a startle.

""Hello again,"" it said.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This isn't the kill you want. No, the fact that we're here right now proves it was too easy. Look at me. When you got up this night, when the animus that drives you on to do this started guiding you and put that knife in your hand, when you gave yourself over to the abandon of it, I wasn't the intended you had in mind was I? I'm not doing it for you. Am I running in terror? No. Am I begging you for life or to end it quickly? I'm sorry, that won't happen tonight. You can take that blade and jab it in me and spill my blood out, but I can guarantee you two things. One, I'll die a quiet and unsatisfying death. And two, you'll be filled with rage and dissatisfaction. I'm not afraid of you, and quite frankly if you do stick me and I somehow live, I'm not going to spend time remembering you. You'll be a nothing looking to replace the hole in your heart from this encounter with other victims you hope can fill that lust in your heart, but it won't be enough. In a way, you'll stick me with that knife, but you're the one who will walk away punctured.
Tell you what, I've got a better idea. Every student needs a mentor. Come with me, and let us turn this pain in your head into an art that people will be talking about for a long, long time...",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Michelin had gotten his chosen epithet during one of his many previous dives. He had no idea where his mysterious conscripted counterpart, DQ Blizzard, had gotten his. Probably the inane ramble of a proto-hobo. The two of them dived in search of impurities, counter-intuitively. Their world of fabricated material was arranged in terms of mass and data -- an item's value was determined by the complexity of the code it took to recreate it -- the ""weight"" of an item's data. Because of this, 1 lb. of ancient medical waste had more subjective value than a quarter ton of the highly uniform fabrications of their day to day lives, assuming the energy expended during a dive didn't exceed the net energy they could recoup from scavenging and selling their ""treasure"". Doing so was questionably legal, and questionably profitable, but these two savvy hobros. knew the game at least as well as any of the wannabe hyperbuskers.
Every dive tantalized Michelin with nervous anticipation from fear of creating some sort of paradox, but he was fairly convinced he was caught up in one already, so he tried not to worry about it. This time, they were going to snatch a digital copy of an *entire dump* from the early 21st century. As far as the pair knew, such a feat hadn't yet been attempted, and their preparations had eaten up most of their savings as they constructed a piecemeal fleet of scan drones retrieved from back-alleys and fab-lots. Michey and DQ plugged into their time-sinks, which I won't bother explaining here, and popped up in a previous time both faster and slower than they could blink. The dank air reeked of rotting biological matter and wet metal, and they loved it because it at least smelled like anything at all. Mich would have dove into the stinking filth like Scrooge McDuck in his money vault, had cartoon physics applied in that particular reality.
While Michelin soaked in his surroundings, The Blizz went about his business with about as much cool professionalism as could be expected considering his vocation. They both circumnavigated their quarry and deployed drones at particular intervals, trusting the dive's paradox inhibitors to keep them out of sight of any of the cars and dogs which could be heard in the distance. Their drones went about their tasks quickly and efficiently by present-day standards, and cheaply and awkwardly by future standards. They had almost completed their scans when a flash and a bang cracked one of their drones right off the top of some stink-vapors, because this story wouldn't be quite interesting enough otherwise. A wild and wooly dump denizen had noticed the two of them despite their inhibitors, and he had an effing shotgun. DQ had the wherewithal to duck behind an old washing machine, but Mich was stuck out in the open in front of an insane looking bum with what he presumed was an archaic weapon.
""Y'all gad-blasted time lord incepticons ain't be takin' my world out from here this time!""
Mich panicked, as he feared for a moment that he was somehow meeting a past or future version of himself which he wasn't aware of, but came to be relieved as the bum stepped out into the moonlight and it became clear that his insane rant merely happened to correlate with what was actually happening.
""It's alright, friend! We only stopped by to see what these flying robots were doing. Please don't shoot me.""
Mich had assumed he'd be able to bullshit better than that under pressure, but it would have to do.
""Let's go to... the *meat parlor*... um, and have some dinner.""
Amazingly, Michelin's terrible improvisation also coincided with the bum's twisted delusions, and he lowered his weapon. DQ took the chance to wonk the bum with whatever the future equivalent of a stun-gun is, and the two of them grabbed the remains of their crapped drone and called back the remaining scanners. Mich complained bitterly about their wasted time as DQ queried the dive to float them back out, and they appeared back in their comparatively clean and dapper bum quarters, back in the future. Even more amazingly, as if by a miracle, the corrupted data from their scans compiled coherently in the form of a garbage dump which was slightly different from the one which they had actually visited. This was so unlikely that it only further convinced Mich that he was already involved in some kind of giant paradox which wouldn't be instigated until later. The two of them ate like kings for a month, and decided to get normal workaday jobs after they both nearly became their own grandpas for the third time.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The first bombs fell about four centuries ago, wiping major cities off the map. Millions died in a fiery pit of radiation and destruction. In an attempt to save the human race, nearly half the population of Earth was transported onto large ships that had been sitting in orbit for years. These ships then set off in the direction of the nearest seemingly habitable exoplanet. Upon arrival, they found a wondrous landscape teeming with life. 

Since long range communications were in early development in those days, there was minimal contact with those left behind on Earth. Then one day, what little communication there was just stopped. After many generations, the ""colonists"" forgot about Earth. They forgot all of the grudges and struggles that had been held, and formed a Utopian society. 

However, Earth had not disappeared out of thin air like it had for the colonists. Global warming had melted the ice caps, and there was a severe drought nearly every two years. Civilization was still a predominant part of humanity here, but civilization on a large scale was a thing of the past. Some groups held knowledge of old ways such as electricity through books recovered from ancient libraries, others reverted to hunter-gatherer tribes wandering the landscape.

Then one day, a colonist ship flew through the Solar System on a deep space expedition. Flying past Earth, something caught the crew's eye. Lights, on the surface of the planet. The crew brought the ship to a stop and prepared a landing party. The small shuttle was sent down to one of the locations where lights were visible. They landed and stepped out of the shuttle to discover humans, just like themselves. Unlike the colonists, the people of Earth still had some remembrance of the exodus. One man stepped out from the group, holding out his hand. The returned humans each took turns shaking it, as the man spoke.

""Welcome home.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He didn't understand it.
This tree here had allowed for peace and compromise for anyone who rested in its shade. It had ended bickering arguments, united couples, saved world leaders from destroying their nations. Yet, this man came to tear it down.
A huff-puffy big tycoon man. He waist line was a big as the tree. The suit he wore was stitched with the dollar bills of a thousand bought out companies. He didn't understand anybody in the shade, because his ten gallon hat covered him in his own shade of ignorance.
His wicked smile covered his face as he said
""All ye under here better move y'all, I'm here for the tree!""
I had to do something. So I walked up to the man. I soothingly said he can in a moment, just sit and enjoy the shade for a while. All the while, I remove the ignorant hat of his, the pseudo-shade that blocked him from the beauty of this tree.
What I saw next was a look of wonder in his eyes. I could see he then understood all the worries and pains and joys and hopes of the people in the tree. He understood.
But I understood him. So I walked over towards the fallen ax, and started hacking at the bark.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Sleep seem to be the only place I find refuge these days. A crappy job, a crappy apartment, and a crappy social life. At least when I sleep, I can dream. I may not get a guarantee of a happy dream, but at least there's a glimmer of hope. A chance to have some brief glimpse of utter happiness. Why else to I wake to damp pillow covers?

But this dream I was having, my god. I doubt it could be any better. I found myself in a nice house in the suburbs. There was no thought in the back of my mind that I was a month behind on the bills. Just completely content with my surroundings. Then I felt a chin placed onto my shoulder. 

""Morning beautiful,"" it whispered. Jerking my head to the left, I found myself face to face to the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. This is the kind of beauty that didn't scream film star, but a specific warmth that you grew to appreciate more and more every second you stared. Strangest of all, she was smiling. As if she was happy to see me. Hell, the only other woman to do that was my mother, but that wore off after I turned 14. The joy in this woman's eyes at my presence made my eyes water a tiny bit. ""Sorry,"" I said, quickly wiping a tear before it became noticeable. ""Who are you?""

""Right, you don't know,"" she said coyly. ""All you need to know is I'm yours."" Her? Mine? How in the hell have I found myself so lucky? ""Simple,"" she said. ""You're dreaming."" Shit. I knew it was too good to be true. ""But hey, we got some time to spend with each other. Let's make the most of it. So, sex?"" She stepped back. I just noticed she seemed to be wearing a robe and nothing else. As she began to undress, I had to butt in. ""No,"" I said. ""Wet dreams and masturbation can only satisfy me so much. Can we just talk?"" She didn't stop. As the robe fell, she was suddenly wearing normal clothes for an afternoon stroll. ""Sure. Let's go for a walk.""

As we stepped outside, we were suddenly on the edge of some man made lake. Pleasing to the eye, but somehow felt artificial. Should I mention that? I have no idea how to converse with people, let alone women. ""So, this lake isn't natural, right?"" I sounded so unsure of myself. Not so much as my opinion on the setting, more so that I was unsure of even speaking.

She gave a slight laugh. ""Yeah, but it gets the job done. It almost feels real, but not enough to mask the illusion completely. People don't like things being too real. Attachment scares people, y'know?"" 

""I guess,"" I said.

She replied, ""but why do you think that is?"" 

Hmm, that puzzled me. It took me a minute to think of retort. ""...because real things change I guess?""

""Go on...""

""Well, if it isn't real, you can just fix what you don't like pretty easily. And it can't be fixed, just buy a new one."" Fuck, is she trying to say something about the way I live? The way I seem to stay away from others?

""*I'm* not saying anything about that. Your words, not mine.""

""Right,"" I said. ""Didn't mean to accuse.""

""Don't worry about it. You need to reflect on anything, this is your place to do it,"" she said, shooting me that heart melting smile. Jesus, that look. It made me want to surrender to her all my insecurities, my worries, my everything...

""You can if you want, but I don't think we have the time to overturn every stone of yours."" Yeah, that was true. We don't have a lifetime to deal with that. ""Let's start with something simple.""

""Ok,"" I said, ""Why is it I find it so hard to connect with anyone? Well, anyone but you?""

""Well, how do you interact with others? When's the last time you've had a conversation with another person face to face for a solid 15 minutes?"" I hadn't the slightest idea. I talked to some customer for a bit about the Giants for some time, but was it 15 minutes? ""If you have to think about if it meets the minimum time restraints, then it's been too long.""

""I guess you're right, but what about you?"" I felt greedy being the subject of the whole conversation, but this might not have been the best idea.

""Me? Not much to talk about,"" she said, that smile slowly fading to a frown. ""If you really want to go this route, can we sit down?""

""Sure."" There was a bench just up the path, with a picturesque view of the surroundings. We sat down, her head resting on my shoulder. Where to begin? Favorite color? What do you feel strongly about? Any bit of your life exist outside this moment? Are you as real as this lake? Are you essentially here to give me an ego boost?

""...I don't know,"" she whispered. ""But please stay around a little bit longer."" She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I wrapped my arm around her, hoping to give her some sense of comfort. The sun was setting and it was at this point I realized this is exactly what I always wanted. Someone who not only wanted to be around me, but needed me too. Someone who needed me as much as I needed her. But I knew it would end any moment now.

""Does it have to end?"" I just had to accept it. This was too good for me.

""Not if you really want it to I think."" As I slipped slowly out of the dream, I held her tight. There's no way I want to let her go. It's not fair. I do not want my best moments to be here, in my head, alone. Give me this one win reality. The chance to stay with this person some more.

As I woke up, reality hit me like a brick. I fought so hard to will this. But somehow, there she was, laying right next to me, half smiling and half terrified. So where do we go from here? No response. ""So where do we go from here?""

""I don't know,"" she said. ""I'm a stranger here myself.""

""I've been here somewhere close to 30 years and I've felt the same way. Let's face it together."" Smiling, she hugged me, but a thought occurred. ""By the way, what's your name?""


It's my first time, so please feel free to let me know where I sucked the most.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I was born in April 20, 1889. But I was conceived in August 5, 2527.

You can't zap a person back in time when he's destined to become one of the most infamous murderer of all time, people will learn study up on his past, why he became like that, why would anyone want to be this way?

I had no choice. I was sent as a sperm, just one. But they knew it would be enough.

I shall prevent the destruction of the human race by killing 2.5% of the worlds population.

I know what I have to become, it is instinct. I tried to fight it, I took up painting, I painted houses. Now I will paint crosses on maps where the bombs will drop. *They* intervened before any damage was done and now I stand here, in front of the Beer Hall. There will be no turning back.

Sometimes I wonder if I am simply insane, trying to justify what I must do.

I will create a movement based on hatred, on fear, on racism and anger. I will assign the worst people that existed in the world to my sides to plot better, more efficient ways to destroy. I shall become an artist, an artist of death, Europe will become my canvas and metal and blood will be my oils!

I will kill 5.5 million jews, I will remember every single one of their names. Burned into my memory forever. I will make the world cry: ""No more!"" so that when the time comes, when the new race evolves.

Some would say: ""Not again.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The moment I'd realized my key wasn't in my pocket I knew I was done for. My house was the furthest away from the strip of pubs among my mates, so naturally alone by the time I arrived at my section of gate. I had run up to it after Mark had stepped into his apartment, knowing it was useless but reaching for some saviour as an infant reaches for its life-sustaining teat.
I didn't knock on the gate.
I didn't yell at the watcher.
I didn't even call my wife, who I had fought with earlier this morning. Would she think this was some suicidal gesture aimed to make her feel guilty? She'll probably believe so, but if that let's her sleep at night in a lonely bed then so be it.
9:59, my watch reads.
I look about the compound. I've never seen it empty before, it's at once startling and enthralling; I realize the magnitude of the word sublime, for there is no other meaning to describe one's first encounter with...aloneness--on the outside looking in, within nature but far from it; meeting the end while contemplating the past.
My wrist watch strikes ten, the siren sounds, and the gates electrify. I readied myself for incineration, combustion, gestation--whatever it was that ended the livelihood of any curfew breakers.
However, nothing happened. 10:02
Nothing happened, still.
10:49
I'm still alive.
It dawns on me: I'm finally free from the gate. It's not that the time destroyed countless lives after they were not let in from their curfew, it's that they were finally freed from their prison. I walked toward the forest triumphantly.
edited a typo",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Digitize your brain! Upload your consciousness! Join the Cloud Collective!
That's the hype, anyway. It's a great sales pitch, especially when you realize that the alternative is cold, stark oblivion. At first it was mainly the elderly and people terminal before their time, but it gradually became more acceptable, and anyone who could afford it could do it.
The biggest problem is that a service like this is (after all) a _business_ and a business needs cash flow. These great brainkeepers had colossal power requirements, and the cost of keeping a human consciousness alive in these humongous edifices far exceeded the cost of keeping a real human alive on food. The business couldn't just require a one-time payment for the upload, no. They had to collect _rent_.
Some people, knowledge workers, an elite few, could live like this indefinitely. People who wrote code or day traded or solved equations or designed cars or balanced books could become enormously wealthy after their physical death. Everyone else, though--the manual laborers, the social networkers, the middle managers--they inevitably burned through their capital and were left with nothing.
My god did this create legal conundrums. It's easy to justify food assistance to the a live human when the alternative for them is death, but what about power assistance for e-people down on their luck? We aren't _killing_ them, per se. Just turning them off for a bit. Just until we can afford to turn them back on.
Soon, brainkeepers adopted a model formerly only seen in pay-by-the-minute live flesh shows. You want to talk to Grampa? That will be $5.99 a minute. Just enter his name into this prompt, and we'll boot him up for you. You get to visit him when it's convenient, and he gets to exist. Your visits to his virtual retirement home make his day in a very literal sense. If he gets depressive, don't worry, we can revert him to the last save. We can do this as many times as your paycheck will support.
Right up until you enter his name for the last time.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She’s quite a sight there, she is. You never seen a lady quite like her. Oh, you bet you saw ladies who wanted to be her, but you ain’t seen one quite like her. Like her hair, pinned up and woven and fanning out and all fancy. You could spend hours and hours and hours trying over and over and it wouldn’t look half as good. It just wouldn’t. And her face, those soft curves and lovingly detailed edges, that little touch of makeup just right, mm-hm.

And then there’s that dress, hugging those curves of hers like a newborn baby, shows nothing what oughtn’t be shown. But it does show those arms, and who woulda thought she’s got so much strength in them? And she’s doing it right too, those fingers have the right grip, even with her nails and few rings, no siree she won’t be hurting herself or slipping. And she’s pushing with the shoulder, a little jolt every time, and then planting that little shoe and stomping down and I’d swear she’d get stuck or break it but nope, ain’t gonna happen. This is a lady who knows what she doing.

She ain’t even out of breath. Just working and working, at her own pace, little by little. Sure, it’d go faster if she had somebody to help, but, well. I dug the first one, this one’s she’s making for me. Should’ve stopped asking stupid questions.

---
-056 | [more](/r/vonBoomslang)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I look in the sky and see a giant grey barren planet. It was said in the history books that our ancestors came from there and that the planet used to be green like ours. In fact, they actually had things called oceans that spanned across the entire planet. It was a completely new world. Can you imagine that? Countless quintillions of lives have lived and died on that planet. A whole wide world with countless people to meet. I’ve heard that every continent is just a bit smaller than our moon. Can you imagine that? All you had to do was cross one these “oceans” and you would practically be at a whole new planet with a different language, culture, custom, and even people. Our moon is only composed of 30 million people. I’ve heard that the height of the planet’s population at 10,000 BCA that the population was 7 billion! Seven billion people, all living at once! What would it be like, to be a little girl and travel across the lands and meet wondrous people and different people across all the different sorts of cultures? Here, I feel like a tree, firmly rooted in the soil, just waiting, just waiting, wishing that I could be the birds that they must have been. We look at our lives with fear and discomfort not knowing what the future holds that we could end up like them, always looking at the pains of the past. How would it be if we were them? They looked at the stars and only wished and wondered about the future, about the potential they have and that they can become. We only look back at this planet and see pain and destruction, desolation. I look upon our world and I dream, I dream that I could be someone, someone who was born on this paradise of a planet.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I can't believe my luck. Here I am, chatting with the man of my dreams; tall, a bit chubby, sarcastic, great sense of humor, obviously crafty and it seems he loves Shrek as much as I do. I mean, the Ogre mask he is wearing is beyond realistic and I assume he's made it himself. It suits him perfectly. I'm so glad I decided not to ditch this party after all, gonna have to thank Sally later for dragging me along. Next to him, I feel underdressed. My black clothing and Katniss braid seems like the lamest excuse of a costume next to his exquisite attire. Oh crap, I zoned out. What did he say?

""Uhm sorry, could you repeat that? I got lost in my thoughts.""
""I was just explaining how I usually avoid crowds, since I tend to... Well, people tend not to like me very much.""
""Oh, yeah, I totally get that. I don't get out much either. I actually wouldn't have been here tonight if it wasn't for my friend Sally. She's the girl in the Snow White costume smoking over there.""
""That's funny, Snow White is actually an avid non-smoker.""
""How do you know that? Or do you just assume she is because she's a princess?""
""No, I actually met her a couple of times.""
What. The. Fuck. Is this guy talking about?
""What do you mean you met her? She's a fictional character.""
""Oh is she now?""
""Yes! I mean, the fairy tale might be loosely based on a true story, but if that was the case she'd still have been dead for centuries.""
His laugh is an intimidating belly rumble escaping through his mouth, and I take half a step back.
""What's so funny?"" 
""Oh, you just make no sense. Are you stupid or something?""
Did he just ask me if I'm stupid? Maybe he isn't McDreamy after all.
""Excuse me."" 

I walk away, leaving him alone by the nachos and onion dip. I can hear the crunch as he munches away on the snacks, apparently not even caring that he offended me. I suddenly remember the promise I made myself last time something like this happened, sigh, and turn back around.
""You know what, Ogre Face? I won't let you talk to me like that. I know we don't know each other, and I really don't feel like getting to know after what you just said, but I promised myself to call out jerks on their jerky behavior. You have no right to call me stupid because you and I have different opinions, and you are not getting away with it. I'm not going to be walked all over like a door mat anymore. You owe me an apology.""
He looks at me like I really am stupid.
""'Ogre Face'? Did you really call me 'Ogre Face'? That's like if I'd call you 'Human Face', and you're just making me more sure that you really are stupid.""
""What the fuck are you even talking about?""

I'm standing right in front of him now, and people around us have started glancing our way.
""I'm talking about how I'm an ogre, and you're a human, and you calling me 'Ogre Face' is just a statement, like if I would call you 'Human Face'.""
""Stop fucking around! You're not an ogre, they're NOT REAL!""
I can hear myself yelling, without having made the conscious choice to do so.
""They're not? So how would you explain my green, ugly ogre face, and my green, ugly ogre hands, and my green, ugly ogre feet?""
""It's all make up, and admittedly that mask is amazing, but it's all just fake!""
""Really? My face is a mask? Then go ahead and take it off.""

His brown eyes were challenging me, and I begin to feel a seed of doubt. Every single person at the party is quiet now, and the music's gone. I look around me before taking the last, tiny step towards him. Trembling I reach up for his neck, pinching at what must be the edge of his mask. I can't believe it. It feels like thick, rough skin, and nothing like the plasticy matter I had anticipated. Immidiately I let go of my grip, and shake my head in disbelief. The room is dead silent, and I can't utter a single syllable. I just keep shaking my head. This guy not only looks like Shrek, he actually is him. Without a word I drop on my knees, and everything goes black.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Putin is laughing inside of his Moon-base - It was all a set-up, a false-flag attack on his own country. Why? Why not is the better question. Why not enjoy the show of the entire world burning to dust so that you can later conquer it all with the small group of survivors you are preserving on Moon. A cryostasis sleep for a few thousand years will be enough for the dust to settle and for radiation disappear.
Putin ""dies"" in the initial explosion, with only a skeleton government surviving, all puppets under Putin's control. They accuse America for the attack, even though the bomb itself was of Russian origin. Putin's Russia initiate a barrage of nuclear missile strikes towards the American soil. China jumps in and showers the West coast with nuclear missiles. Obama, knowing full-well that the entire free world is becoming history in just a few short hours, orders the military to *not* initiate a counter-attack, the point being to ensure humanity's survival in spite of the global nuclear war. American people erupt in rage, most branches of the military go rogue and, with one half, attack China and the other regroups in Europe to get on the Russian soil as soon as possible - Russians surely aren't insane enough to bomb their own country.
European forces march towards Russia, only to be met by the most devastating nuclear bomb Earth has ever seen - the entire continent of Europe is destroyed. President Obama has been shot and killed by a member of the secret service - his family back in the bay area has been killed by one of the Chinese bombs. Washington D.C. has been warded of by diligent pilots who have taken down the bomb - many other cities were not as lucky. Some American troops manage to get on the Russian territory. Putin, however, launches even more missiles, now aimed at the American soldiers, among his own people as well. Several of the nuclear missile launch sites have been invaded by British SAS units and made nonoperational. It doesn't matter - Putin has an even bigger plan.
Sixty Mechagodzillas rises out of the Pacific ocean and begin their hunt for the major Asian cities. China is furious, nuclear missiles do not appear to do any damage to the behemoths. Japan, before being destroyed by the mechagodzillas, remove the ban on nudity - at least the people will be happy until they *die*. They also have, however, their secret card. While Japan has been prohibited from building an army, there didn't appear any signs of bans on gigantic mecha robots. And so they arise from the ground to meet the mechagodzillas in an epic battle. He has been awoken. After eons upon eons of deep slumber, he has been awoken by the great rough and tumble on the surface of Earth. Cthulhu rises up from the ocean and begins destroying and reclaiming the Earth. Putin was a bit surprised by this. No matter, the final trick up his sleeve will solve this problem - Gigantic missiles have been built around the Moon and with them he will guide it into the Earth. A gigantic explosion, something the Earth hasn't seen in many millions of years. The planet split in half, the moon dispersed upon the impact. Cthulhu still present on one of the halves. As the explosion settled, Putin's *actual* final ace up his sleeve reveals - A moon-sized Mecha with him commanding it with his body movements. The two behemoths go into battle and remain interlocked, until entropy itself didn't finish off the both of them. From the remnants of Putin's body begins the universe anew. And so the cycle continues.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"1 day, a gurl was on redit and she was very very lonly. Then she went on /r/Wrightingpromts and fel in luv with username. da username was named /u/Pelican457. gurl was scared that Pelly wold not lik her, but she lik him, so she says 2 herslf ""YOLO"" over an over agan becuse tats wat her motha taught her befor she ded from giving daughter her kidneys 2 liv. Thaks to YOLO, gurl got self-confidense and decidedd to ax username out. ""/u/Pelican457 wil u bee ma boifriend?"" she tex them. ""k"" says Pelly. Pelly n Gurl mad out under stars and listn to Justin Beaver Pelly gave sparkly pink diamon ring 2 gurl n says ""Gurl wil u bee ma wife?"" Gurl gut shy n says, ""k"" but I must tel u secret, ""Ma reel nam is Hitler"" Pelly saws that gurl was reely Hitler n gut reely sad. ""I no want 2 bee yur Boifriend"" says /u/Pelican457 n then he runs away frum Hitler. Hitler was cyring and says, ""But bf, I'm pregnut"" This was a fanfic of /u/Pelican457",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"On this day ends the life of one man. Countless other lives may be ending, but this one is my own. What a silly thing life is; one does not realize it's worth until the clock finally stops. Summer will always seem to last forever until winter comes. I have no friends, no family, the eve of my story ends here on this paper, and yet I have no regrets. Even though my story is only one sheet of college ruled notebook paper, today I die a martyr. These words have been imprinted on your mind, this idea forever implanted into your memories. My message to you now is to take heed at my loss, for your life can be either a barber shop pamphlets or one of the classics. 

You are the author of your own tale; make it one worth reading.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I guess you could say I had a different kind of mortality. To you and everyone else, I am just an average man with a clear documented birth and death; only my mind is unique. Our lives, to quote Vonnegut, are trapped in the amber of this moment; perfectly petrified. While most humans are cursed to view life in one direction, I was given the gift of fluidity; to travel freely on my own little life trapped in the amber. From birth, I witnessed my death. To be more precise, they happened at the same moment. My demise was quite simple, carbon monoxide poisoning at the age of 47. From there on, my mind could jump from any chapter of my life. I could travel back to my toddler years or forward for my honeymoon vacation on the same day, at the flick of a thought. Of course there were the boundaries, I could not travel past my death or before my birth, not that I cared. Despite the short time frame, my life was limitless with memories between the amber, I was immortal. Eventually I soon learned to give up trying to alter my livelihood; it's simply impossible. In a way, I discovered that although I can see any part of my life I wanted, I can't steer the fate of it. When I was naive and ignorant, I only viewed the happy fragments of my life. Skipping the bad parts like fast forward on a remote, but then I learned to appreciate the tragedies even more. If anything, the memories of sorrow and lost, made me feel the most alive in a sense. I met my wife in the middle of our divorce, I hated her, scorn myself for allowing love to hurt me like this. Then I lusted for her after our first date, never wanted a woman so badly in my existence. Then I met our children and realized that I cared for her, cared enough to let her go. Sorry if I rambling, I'm in a bit of a rush, for today is my death. Now you may be asking how this is possible, I already saw my death, and since I'm unbounded I could relive every memory over and over and over for eternity, but truth be said I can't. When I relive a memory the feeling, the liveliness is gone. It's just like listening to audio tape instead of attending the concert itself. This is my last memory that was untouched, when it is over, my life will be complete. I have been saving it for a while, heard how good it was from my previous ones. There she was before me, it was sort of like a funeral except everyone I know is happy and smiling. I could not have chosen a better place to die. *You may now kiss the bride*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Today was the day. Johanna was turning 18. She didn't have any friends, not real friends to celebrate with, and she didn't care about trying alcohol or cigarettes like her peers. Such thoughts didn't even cross her mind. Her parents were relieved to hear she wanted to stay at home, and she had her trusty laptop Clyde. Finally she could feast her eyes and mind as much as she could ever desire. She knew what she was after, she had known what she liked ever since she was a little girl and before this day had been forced to forage for scraps, bits and ends from wherever she could find.

 She had seen animals do it. She had read the news, and her mouth had watered at the shy implications in the approved movies. She had looked up which books she could get from the library, the older ones were much more lenient though admittedly less imaginative. She had even read her family bible for some stories, and for her great surprise, had found plenty. But there was no need for that now, no need for that ever again. She was an adult, she could look up anything she wanted.

Hands shaking with excitement, she typed the first name she could remember hearing about in the search bar.

""Cannibal holocaust"".",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Firstly: Best writing prompt ever! Here goes nothing.

'Who needs another top up of bubbly?' Shouted Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the II, clutching a magnum of champagne and trying to make herself heard over the raucous din. Her thin, high voice didn't carry well over the general chaos being caused by the milieux of intoxicated world leaders and in any case, no-one was listening.

'Ah, isss only the '87' mumbled a disgruntled David Cameron, who proceeded to wipe his shining brow and sway off into the next room in search of a better vintage. Clapping and cheering erupted from the corner of the tapestried ballroom where the Grand Ayatollah Ali Hoseini-Khameini had started to play on the antique grand piano; an extremely tipsy and rather giggly Ban Ki-Moon was now draped over the top of the shining black wood and was attempting to sing along much to the delight of the small crowd of assembled music loving autocrats.

Yoweri Museveni, the Ugandan President, had started off the formal drinks reception boring others talking about his anti-homosexual legislative agenda (a matter of 'moral importance') and was now, ten glasses of red wine later, making eyes at Francois Hollande, the French Premiere. Hollande, however, was far too pre-occupied with Angela Merkel's large (and strangely pert he thought) breasts, as the gyrated invitingly in circles whilst she twirled her shirt around her head shouting in a very loud, guttural voice.

Pope Francis, after discovering a penchant for tequila, had spent most of the evening pinching various bottoms and then running away cackling to himself but now had his head in a flower pot, heaving up a thoroughly unholy sacrament.

Putin had stripped down to his vest and was circling the room flexing his muscles to anyone who would pay him attention; however he got more than he bargained for when he accidentally bumped into the usually peevish Canadian PM Stephen Harper who instead of apologising promptly told him to 'Fuck off!'

Her Royal Highness sighed to herself and turned around to face a very relaxed looking Barack Obama, who was trying to work his blackberry to ring for a pizza delivery; however he was having rather too much trouble with the buttons.

Prince Harry grinned sheepishly at his grandmother and offered a jocular comment:

'Great party nan!'

'This is the last time I let you organise anything' the Queen replied acidly.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's a place where most people in the free* world go. I say 'free*' but that always comes with an asterisk so I may as well put it there. It's a place of heaven, it's a place of horror. An oasis inside of a vast urban jungle. A purgatory for slaves which are then bought in a slavery contract without the slavery contract. A zoo with entrapped slaves stacked one after another. The ones in the front always assume their fate is sealed while the ones in the back hope for just another day.

It's a prison holding slaves, made by the free people, for the free people. There is no escape, and you are going to be bought but never for so that you can later be released into the vast white world. You are going to be bought so that you can be abused later. 

Discrimination is ripe. If you are bigger than your pears, you are in luck as you will be more desirable. If you are black, no one will buy you as the whites are more tasteful. If you are white and fat, however, less people will buy you. People will buy the Frenchies, the Dutchies and the Swiss - never if you are Italian - but even before they buy you, they are going to make you suffer, butcher you in plain sight of your comrades.

People will take you into their hands and, if you are ugly, have a birthmark or you have the slaves brand, you are going to be thrown back in the wooden cage, so close to freedom and yet so, so far. If you are known to be volatile, they will keep you in special frozen cells. It does you no good - it only extends the suffering. Maybe you are so volatile that they can't keep you for longer than three neon-lights. All the others will envy you, your agony is going to be cut before the searing wounds get to you. 

If you get bought, and transported in plastic shackles to your new master's home. Well... Welcome to hell.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Lay him down on the table, come on,” instructed Grady as Menslin heaved Harris’ wheezing hefty frame onto the flat slab. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s been coughing all week,” Menslin explained. “I don’t know- he started coughing up blood today, and he’s just been completely incapacitated. We’ve keep him isolated from everyone else. I’ve ordered people to wear masks.”
“Good,” Grady affirmed, placing a surgical mask over his own face and strapping on latex gloves. “Looks like severe dilation of the pupils.” He pulled one of Harris’ eye-lids back and shined a pencil light in his eye. The cold nodule of the stethoscope pressed against Harris’ chest and he felt like he was back in the doctor’s office as a ten year old. “Take deep breaths,” Grady instructed- listening to the fluid in Harris’ lungs.
“What’s wrong with me?” Harris gargled and then coughed again, blood spatters appearing on his palm.
“Sounds like pneumonia so far. How long did you stay out on your shift yesterday?” Grady questioned.
“Not longer than usual, ten hour shift-“ Harris shrugged.
“Don’t play me, I know Menslin has you on eight hour shifts,” Grady grilled him. Harris nodded.
“Okay, okay- you’re right, I started coughing around hour eight,” Harris admitted, heaving another chunk of blood into his hand.
“Nonetheless, this shouldn’t be happening with pneumonia,” Grady mumbled to Menslin. “Why don’t you go get me Foreman Jons, I’m gonna get on the horn with Doctor Paisley. We’ll give you an antibiotic for now, and keep you in the hot tent.” Menslin nodded and walked away with purpose as Grady set Harris up inside the observation room with a humidifier and a steam machine. He went into the adjacent communications tent and loaned out a satellite phone.
____________________
“Stupid asshole,” cursed Grady as he walked back into the medical tent gritting his teeth. Doctor Paisley had completely ignored the unusual symptoms reported by Grady, despite his insistence. “What a son of a bitch.” As he moved toward the hot tent, he thought about what the dispatch operator had told him- a seventy two hour storm and communication cut off. Effectively, Paisley had ignored an urgent plea at the last second with no reservations at all. Grady grumbled more to himself as he pulled the curtain back in front of the hot tent’s window.
Grady blanched. Sitting on the observation table was a live sheep. It baaed peacefully as it observed Grady. That’s when Grady started coughing.
________________________
“We can’t get a visual ID on the camp yet,” the helicopter operator replied. “We should be pretty close though. Their transponder is still working.” As the helicopter traversed the blasting white of the snowy arctic tundra, a dome and several drilling facilities became visible on the horizon. The operator reported visual contact as he moved closer. There were small white tufts on the ground that looked strange- like moving clumps of snow.
“What the hell are those?” the operator asked his co-pilot as they drew closer. When they came close enough to circle, the co-pilot pulled the binoculars from his face.
“They’re…they’re sheep,” he said, stunned. The base was full of sheep- just standing in the arctic cold, baaing peacefully.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The Mariana Trench is the heart of the Pacific. Her guardians are silence, darkness, and cold, and no one may cross her borders without paying them homage. Darkness and cold admit no interlopers, but silence occasionally gives way to the low cries of the Leviathan--the great traveler of the waters--and sometimes to other calls, so deep as to be soundless to the ears of man, but felt by him nonetheless, if ever he ventured through the wastes. The darkness cloaks the makers of these calls, and they make their dwellings in the secret places of the deep.
But fire broke the endless night. The waters swirled with heat and glowed with mirthless flames, and light and death came upon many who slumbered in the dark places. The unseen callers' cries grew urgent, and the waters were pierced with their wails as they perished struggling against the dawn invader. The pitchless cries of the slain subsided at last, and the deep was silent again. But the homeland of the dwellers of the deep now glowed with rivulets of pale and murderous fire. Dark mountains, long undisturbed and unmoved, rumbled in their foundations with the promise of more fire, and the ones who yet slumbered awoke to hear the oaths of the hidden heights, and knew that this was a homeland to them no more.
So they made their preparations for exile. Great creatures gathered in the few and shrinking plains of darkness, far from the Trench which had borne the brunt of the silent invader's wrath. The waves shifted with the creatures' wanderings, and the Pacific roiled with storms. Tongues long unspoken in the lighter places of the Earth rumbled in the depths, and the shorelines trembled to hear their ancient strains once more.
At last they rose. The slumberers beat a path from the deep, and their long-muffled cries reverberated in the daylight as they clambered onto the shorelines. They stood hundreds of feet tall in ghastly and terrible shapes, and their bellows were hurricanes in the trembling air of Earth. Humanity cried out in terror to see them once more, for though they knew them not, they recalled their awful forms.
The fires of Man that trickled from the islands had broken the spell the long-dead Olympians had cast, and the prisoners of Tartaros, the Titans, had returned at last.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I plan to, after I finish my homework for the night, revisit this as a comic. Consider this my ""script"" to the comic.
---
Dennis Rodman stepped onto the stage, the crowds watching in anticipation - for quite some time, Dennis Rodman had been considered to be the second most influential man in the country after he moved there permanently in 2014, but now he was about to shock the world yet again.
""My people!"" he announced in perfect Korean, ""Today is a grave day indeed. Kim Jong-Un, our glorious, beloved Supreme Leader, has died. However, we are not without a leader - on his deathbed he appointed me to be the new Supreme Leader.""
The silence that followed was of both awe, shock, and general confusion - he had relapsed into English halfway through his speech.
""Thank you. We will see to the best future soon enough,"" he said with a tip of his head, once again in perfect Korean. And so the new Supreme Leader retired.
**Three days** passed, and the country was still unsure how to react. A foreigner had become the successor to Supreme Leader Kim Jong-Un? But he was the leader, and questioning him was not an option. However, foreign relations were improving and the country now owned three American basketball teams, making new record-breaking profits under Supreme Leader Dennis Rodman.
**Three months** passed until the day now known as B-Day. It was a cold day in December, Dennis Rodman walking from the Ballin' Palace that he had be constructed in the three months. His aid walked behind the man with a basketball in his hands.
""Give me the basketball,"" he said after sometime, and the aid obeyed - even with the distraught look on his face, he did it without question. Or rather he did what he thought Dennis Rodman had asked for, the man forgetting to speak Korean again. He only knew the word for basketball.
""It is time, Supreme Leader? I thought we were not yet ready.""
""It is time - we must strike before the west has a chance.""
The basketball opened, revealing a singular basketball-shaped button. He pressed it.
**From the ISS**, a group of astronauts watched as something strange began to happen. The country of North Korea seemed to turn orange, and with dreadful awe they watched as they realized that the orange shape was moving like a cloud. ""What's happening?"" one asked.
The ISS was hit suddenly, and they began to panic - what had hit the ship? The investigation to find out revealed a basketball shaped object that had struck it. That was when they realized what had happened - North Korea was launching enough basketballs to destroy the Earth ten times over.
""Don't worry,"" said a voice from behind the astronauts. ""I got this.""
It was a voice not heard since Rodman's appointment as Supreme Leader - Michael Jordan stood in the ISS, his magnetic-bottomed Space Jordans shimmering. ""Michael Jordan, we thought you were dead!"" one of the astronauts cried.
""I can't die yet, I have a world to save.""
He leaped through the airlock, and into the cold vacuum of space. Thousands of basketballs were erupting into the upper atmosphere, designed to survive re-entry. Despite the Ballpocalyptic implications, Michael Jordan had trained for this moment his entire life. He put his Beats headphones in, and smiled. Through his headphones, he heard the following: ""*Everybody get up, it's time to slam now We got a real jam goin' down Welcome to the Space Jam Here's your chance, do your dance at the Space Jam, alright!*"" ""Come on and SLAM!"" he roared as he flew towards the rising pillar of basketballs. ""AND WELCOME TO THE JAM!""
**In a small town** in North Korea, a smile child watched with awe as the Ballpocalypse occurred. They swore they saw a glimmer of light in the sky, and a sensation of hope filled them. Not even the diet of old basketballs was depressing enough for them to appreciate what they were seeing - it was the legendary Space Jam.
**Dennis Rodman** glared in anger as he watched from the Ball Palace, his greatest foe hadn't died. A smirk came across his face as he cracked his knuckles though, he too was prepared. ""Hey you, watcha gonna do?"" he asked, repeating it three times.
And then he leaped into orbit. They say that the sound of the wind whooshing past his body sounded like someone singing: ""*Party people in the house, let's go It's your boy 'Jayski' a'ight so Pass that thing and watch me flex Behind my back, you know what's next!*""
**In space,** Michael Jordan was rebounding like mad. A thousand-thousand rebounds so far and counting, his body tensing with pure jam. With each slam he felt more and more energy. And then there was a blur, and Michael Jordan quickly saw that things weren't going to be as simple as he had thought - Supreme Leader Dennis Rodman was slamming basketballs down to Earth now. ""*Wave your hands if you feel fine!*"" The headphones sang.
""We're gonna take it into overtime, Welcome to the Space Jam,"" sang Michael Jordan as he approached Dennis Rodman. The two basketball players stopped slamming for a few moments, looking right at each other.
""Here's you chance, do your dance at the Space Jam, alright,"" Dennis Rodman said with a grin. Michael Jordan rebounded again and again, but for every rebound he made into the void of space Dennis Rodman was there to slam them back to Earth. It became a battle of attrition, the two greatest basketball players of all time duking it out in space. And then, there was a flash of light - one of the balls struck Harlem, and the two stopped. This would lead to only one thing.
**It is said that when the Harlem Globetrotters showed up to avenge their fallen home, Dennis Rodman fell in mere moments. The might of the Globetrotters' game was unmatchable, and it was there that Earth was saved thanks to the Harlem Globetrotters and Michael Jordan. North Korea was annexed and turned into New Harlem, and all the people there were allowed to do anything they pleased - even become Harlem Globetrotteres. The fate of Dennis Rodman was never found out, his body was never recovered. Some say he still lives among us, others say he left the Earth to find a team able to rival the Harlem Globetrotters themselves. All we know is, the Space Jam was the closest mankind ever came to the Ballpocalypse. Without the valiant efforts of Michael Jordan and the Harlem Globetrotters, we would all be crushed by Dennis Rodman's game.**",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's only been 1800 years, but I think that is enough for me.

People say that you die twice, the first when your heart has stopped, and the second when you are forgotten. I think I already died the second death, then. For the first two hundred years, I did try to live as normal. Live as I am as everybody else. But I became tired of it. I couldn't keep track of my friends, my children's children, or even the world. I just stopped, I am too tired to live. Eventually I was dead.

But I noticed I wasn't the only one. People die, biologically, as they always do. Years and years but they never found the cure for death. Around 300 years after they claimed they found that cure, but that only slowed death down. Not me, nothing can kill me.

But death is more than that. People keep getting forgotten, even great icons of their time, and not even the greatest can stand the test of time. They died that second death, they all did. This death though, no one knew how to fix it. They tried a lot of things, from saving into hard drives to doing it the old fashioned way. Their entire life could be recorded, but what does that matter if it would just be left among all the other more interesting lives recorded. Are they really remembered just by being written into text?

And so, I tried remembering. As much as I could, everything that is worth remembering. The lives of everyone. The time machine they created might still not be able to save them, but I could use it and do so. It took a while. 

When the universe was almost over, I still wasn't finished. I kept going back, trying to store them in my head, and at long last, I can remember. One death is enough for them, as it is for me.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A wet splatter of blood on the flagstone beneath, and the unsure clatter of metal soon followed, drowning out everything else in a din of crashing armor. The echoes ricocheted off of the walls for a time before all became silent.
""Is this it?""
Soft bootfall breaks the moment of peace, before a woman stands next to the fallen suit of armor, clad in expensive, dyed leathers from shoulder to toe. With a kick she sent the lone heroes' weapon scuttling down the hall. She sheathed her weapon and rolled the suit over, putting the body onto its back. A metallic grunt from inside let her know her adversary was still alive, which made her smirk a little.
With a few deft movements at the clasps, the helmet was free, and she removed it from the man's head, setting it in her lap as she sat down next to him. He was obviously dying, so she was not worried.
""Is this it?"" She sighed, playing with a deep gash in the helmet, inspecting it. It was old, and rusted. If you looked hard enough you could see the padding inside. ""Looks like it."" He groaned, taking his hand off of his gut, showing his hand dripping with blood. He could feel the life draining out of him, pulse by pulse. He angled his head to look at his nemesis. Even when his vision faded a little, he could see her beauty. The kind of grace and poise that women would die for, did die for. The dexterity and cunning of a snake, belied only by her dark, harsh eyes.
""This isn't over, Nyora. They will send more.""
She smiled at that, her teeth gleaming in the bright natural sunlight of the atrium. ""Yes, I suppose they will."" She set the helmet down next to his head, almost ritualistically, and laid next to him, her hands knitted behind her head as she relaxed next to him, staring into the sky.
""But none like you, Tyrus.""
He coughed, and looked up at the perfectly clear blue sky with her. ""No. Not like me. Stronger men. Men who will succeed where I have failed."" He slid his hand free of the shield on his right, and used it to prop himself up on the stairs behind him, grunting with the effort. It hurt, and the blood seeped faster, but the promise he made many years ago refused him the luxury of dying on his back.
She sat up with him, next to him, now looking at the door he had busted through in order to reach her. ""In all the men of all the lands, you were the strongest."" ""I fell, that night in Hildar. I was weak.""
""No, Tyrus, you were human."" She smiled, her lips curving deep before rising high; a devil reminding itself of heaven. ""The strongest."" She started to reach for his gauntlets when he recoiled, making her pause momentarily. They looked at each other for a time, the both of them seeing in each other a similar kind of fear, a familiar sting of uncertainty. She reached out again, and helped take off his large metal gauntlets. Again, she set them down gently next to him. ""Then why didn't I succeed?""
""Because you were human.""
""So I was doomed from the start, hm?"" He chuckled mirthlessly, taking his other gauntlet off, dropping it to the floor with no pomp, letting it clatter uselessly against the stone. His blood was trickling out the bottom of his armor, splattering loudly beneath him as it spread into a large crimson pool.
""No. You've come this far. So far."" Nyora crossed her legs underneath her and began taking off the thick, protective breastplate that had failed him in the end. The clasps were tight, and required a great deal of struggle for her to undo. ""You sacrificed so much. You proved to me a great many things. And proved me wrong that many times over."" She lifted the plate over his head, and set it down. ""My entire life was bent on you. Just you. And here it is. I won.""
""You don't sound happy about it."" Tyrus remarked, the color drained from his face. It was showing that he had not but minutes to live.
""Now what, Tyrus?"" She plopped down next to him, a hand on her knee, and pointed out the door. ""I can't go back. I can't stay here. And after everything you've made me do..."" She trailed off, and the gentle curl of her smile faded all the way into a grim line. ""How could you expect me to live a normal life?""
""You'll find a way. You always have."" He said weakly, but with a sting that might as well have physically hit Nyora. ""Because you were the one chasing me. The thrill, the exhilaration, all of it was because you were the one chasing me. Because you wouldn't stop. And you never gave in.""
""Yes I did."" Tyrus mumbled, his eyes growing heavy.
""That was one night. Out of a decade. You chased me from the spiral forests of the Western Aander to the Lack Sea. From the cliffs of Jol to the southern wastes. And you expect the local guard to do anything about it? No, they're boring."" She said with a sneer. ""They'll hunt for a while. But they'll grow bored. They'll give up. Not like you.""
""Sorry to disappoint."" He said.
""No, I disappointed myself."" She said, patting him on the knee. ""I was too eager. Too ready for you. I should have ran, like always. And I killed you."" She put her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. ""You made me into who I am, Tyrus. Faster, stronger, smarter. Because I knew you'd get stronger, too. What a game of cat and mouse we've played, you and I.""
She let out a sigh, and waited for his reply. After a moment, she looked up at him, and his eyes were closed. He looked calm, serene. If she didn't know him, the man that burst through a solid oak door not ten minutes ago, face red and mouth snarling would have looked a complete stranger. ""Oh, you magnificent bastard."" She said, and clutched his body tight to hers, his arms sliding down to his sides uselessly. ""What am I going to do now?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was about 10:59 when the sky was suddenly overshadowed with the hull of an enormous ship. Most civilians did not even notice it was a ship in the sky, assuming that it was some sort of strange cloud; that was until a massive blue flickering screen appeared from the depths. **ORGANISMS OF EARTH, SURRENDER PRINCESS BLARZAVADOR OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES** Everyone look around confused, the screen paused for a bit waiting before speaking again. **DO NOT ACT NAIVE. BLARZAVADOR HAD EVADED US FOR MILLENNIUMS WITH THE SECRET OF OUR RACE, NOW WE FIND HER IMAGE ON YOUR PLANET, A POPULAR AND FAMOUS CELEBRITY AMONG EVERYONE, SHARING THE FORBIDDEN TECHNOLOGIES** A man in the crowd became a little more confident and blurted out, ""What does she look like?"" **SHE IS KNOWN FOR HER EXTRAVAGANT BEAUTY, ABLE TO PERSUADE ANYONE WITH JUST THE HINT OF HER FLAMING SEXUALITY.** Again no response. **FINE, WE WILL SHOW YOU WHAT YOU ALREADY KNOW** A picture of Jabba the Hut flashed on screen. **THROUGHOUT YOUR MEDIA, BLARZAVADOR WAS PRESENT, DELIVER HER TO US OR SUFFER OUR WRATH** Everyone was now worried, how the heck were they going to deliver a person that does not exist. Suddenly the screen flashed again. **WHERE IS BLARZAVADOR? ARE YOUR TRANSPORTERS MALFUNCTIONING?** ""We don't have transporters Dweeb!"" Someone cried, ""Yeah that's not even the right movie anyway, what kind of Star-Wars fan are you?"" Another person joined in. **HOW DARE YOU TRIVIALIZE OUR ANCESTORS FOR THEIR ROLE IN THE STAR-WARS, WE FOUGHT VERY HARD FOR THE RIGHTS OF GUMM-TAHA AND DON'T YOU FILTHY HUMANS FORGET IT. BESIDES THE POINT, WE KNOW YOU HAVE TRANSPORTERS, WE SEEN IT IN YOUR MEDIA** ""That's fake it's all fake you idiots"" People were screaming at the ships. **ARE YOU SUGGESTING THAT YOUR BRILLIANT TECHNOLOGIES ARE MERE FABRICATIONS? THAT BLARZAVADOR IS MERELY A COINCIDENCE OF CHARACTER? BECAUSE IF THATS SO, THEN THAT IS THE LAMEST THING I EVER HEARD A CIVILIZATION DO. REALLY YOU SPENT BILLIONS OF EARTH-MONIES TO FAKE REAL TECHNOLOGY? WE ARE LAUGHING OUR GYRLB-GLANDS OFF.** The ship then vanished in the blink of an eye. Soon everything was back to normal. Meanwhile in a trailer park far far away. ""That was a close one, Princess Blarzavador, are you sure you are going to be alright here?"" The woman looked up at the FBI agents and answered silently, ""Yes, you have done very well protecting me, I'm positive that Earth is the safest place for me and my children."" ""What are you going to do now?"" ""It is too dangerous to show my face on TV anymore for too long, I think I will send in my youngest giblet, Princess Alanazabob, to spread the message of peace and sassy-ness"" Out of the corner, came the young girl. Looking sleepy-eyed at her mother. ""Yes my darling"" Blarzavador spoke, ""You will be the next queen, the next Honey Boo Boo.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"We march. We work. We do as It tells us. From 5AM to 9PM, we are It’s workers, but at the end of the night, it is all worth it, if only we get to hear words we so desperately long to hear.
Our expressions are blank, our uniforms are the same, we are identical; but to It, we are all different; we are unique. It knows us, each and every one. It knows us each so, so well. It knows our names.
My name is 5071625.
My mother is 4021325; My father is 4011625. And It knows us all.
I work with my mother and father every day in the factory, along with all the other Mainframe families. We build, we build, we build; we contribute to make It better than It is; we live for It. And we are happy. We don’t know anything else.
We don’t know what happens if we don’t listen to It.
Tonight I have worked so much, and so tirelessly, that I don’t feel time escape from me: it is 8:59:50PM.
10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
It is 9:00PM.
""Remember, children, the Mainframe loves you and wants you to be happy.""
And that is how we know the day is over. Gratified, satisfied, content with ourselves, each and every one of us smiles at Mainframe; we know It can see us, and we know It loves our smiles. Even my mother and father.
But tonight, I feel different. My parents walk out in front of me, and I wait, and wait, and wait for everyone else to leave. And when the factory is empty, and the lights turn off themselves, I weave my way around the familiar halls of the gigantic factory. I know every crack in the wall, on the floor; I know where every lock is, I know every beam. I stumbled upon it once, by accident, and I was ashamed – I had seen something I wasn’t supposed to see. It was indecent of me. I saw the Mainframe’s power supply. It was carefully hidden, but Mainframe trusts us. Mainframe loves us. Mainframe knows that we would never hurt It, and It’s power supply is hardly hidden.
I don’t know what would happen if we didn’t have Mainframe. I love Mainframe, but I’ve heard of other places, distant places, that do not have It; and they live so, so freely.
I unplugged Mainframe. There was a loud purr, and then it was silent; my ears rang with the silence.
I ran out the factory, I ran home.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, now that Mainframe is gone. Tearfully, I looked back to the distant factory before I went in for the night. I would go in and act as if I hadn’t done anything unusual.
I love you too, Mainframe. I’m sorry.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A few years ago, I was in a rough state. I'd been living without a roof over my head for months and winter was on it's way, and winter here isn't something I wanted to face out on the streets. After much deliberation, I decided to do something that I would have once thought unthinkable. I broke into an old abandoned home. It just looked like any old condemned house from the early 1900's. The rooms were cleared of furniture and the wallpaper was rotten and peeling, but it was a roof, and it would protect me from the cold November winds. I moved my supplies in that afternoon. I had a sleeping bag and cheap foam pillow, the kind that's sold for car or bus passengers, along with a kerosene tank with a lamp attachment, and my old guitar Susanne.
The first night, I slept like a baby. The wind howled through the old pine trees at the end of that old dirty road and I knew that I could get my life on track one day at a time. I didn't like the idea of breaking the law, but I was desperate, I had no money and I was trying to get clean. I slept comfortably for a few days, before the sounds started.
It was quiet at first. A creak here, a pop there, in the middle of the night. I didn't think much of it. It was just old pipes, I told myself. The house was older than my dad. I did my best to ignore it and went back to sleep, and that was that. Night after night, the noises continued and I didn't pay them much thought.
December came. I woke up one morning in another room. Rather than the front right room of the house, I found myself in the foyer, sleeping on the cold stone floor. I stirred awake and pulled myself to a stand. It was dark and my lamp was glowing in the next room. I slowly pulled myself up to a stand and pop- There went another pipe. And then I heard footsteps behind me. I turned on my heel and saw nothing but darkness in the next room. I got my lamp by the handle and investigated. The house was empty on the first floor, and the stairs were old and rotten so I wasn't going to check up there. I went back to bed after calming my nerves.
The next day, I visited my neighbor for the first time. She was an elderly woman who lived near the street. She offered me food and breakfast once I told her my story, and when she asked where I'd been staying, she had this wary look about her face and suggested that I stay in her son's old room upstairs.
I politely declined. I left after raking the leaves in her front yard and returned home. That night, I fell asleep with a large board by my sleeping bag, something to defend myself if I needed it. I thought it was funny, and that I was giving myself the heebie jeebies for no reason.
I woke up in the very early hours of the morning being dragged down a hallway. I screamed at the top of my lungs and flailed my hands against the walls, my fingernails digging into rotten wallpaper. I couldn't see anything, but I felt the unmistakable feel of something pulling my feet.
I couldn't do anything but scream and scream. I was pulled into a closed door at the end of the hallway. The force released me. I got up and ran for my life in the darkness, feeling around an unfamiliar layout.
I reached an open area with a cracked window and I realized that I was upstairs. How could I have been upstairs? The stairs were rotten, with holes and missing sections. There was no way that I'd have been dragged up there, especially since I weighed some 200lbs. I felt a warm breath on the back of my neck and heard a mass of footsteps again in the darkness. With the stairs behind me, I made a run and jumped for it. I hit the floor and my ankle pulled, but my adrenaline made me ignore it.
I smashed through the front door and ran screaming into the wilderness.
After an hour, I found myself on the highway. A car stopped with the driver getting out to assist me. I was delirious, with my feet bloodied by the run through the rough forest and my mind consumed with fright.
The police took me in and I was taken to a care center. I told them everything, the footsteps, the waking up being dragged, the breath, everything. They told me the house I'd supposedly stayed at burned down in 1955.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Michael felt the metal bar slip away between his chunky fingers. He swung his arms wildly at it, trying desperately to grasp at the cursed thing as it drifted slowly away from him...

...as he drifted slowly away from it...

Michael's muscles relaxed...

He stilled his arms...

He never realized how little he felt. ""The Blue Marble"" encapsulated the whole of his peripheral vision... and he was so small. And he felt so little... so little emotion. His EVA suit, an inky black drab riddled with magazine pouches and straps probably weighed close to a hundred kilograms, and yet he felt nothing.

Michael thought of home...

He looked down at the station's platform. It was a good distance away now. The pressure grenade's blast was strong and it had carried Michael and half of his squad away from the station at quite a great speed.

Some of the others still had some monopropellant left in their suits and quickly made it back to the station. Others, like Michael, simply drifted away.

He wondered if his squad would have noticed he was gone. The team had been fighting in complete silence since the radio got knocked out. He doubted any of them could see him anyway. With the black camouflage of his suit, there was no way anyone could see him... not at that distance.

'Well I guess this is it...' he thought. He had about 90 minutes of oxygen left.

He could see the streaks of light dashing across the station, bullets being fired. He couldn't even remember what they were fighting for. One faceless corporation shooting at another faceless corporation. What the hell were these metal hunks in space worth anyway?

He reached for the suit's control on his wrist to release the oxygen.

But then the silence was broken. Michael fell into a spin as another body collided into him. The corpse's frozen blood splattering across his visor with several unnerving 'clinks'. Michael reacted instinctively, grabbing at the debris immediately.

He straightened the body in front of him. The corpse's face was gone, and the body frozen and very much lifeless. Michael paid it no heed. He reached around the back and found what he was looking for, a strap.

His own had been severed early in the fight. But with luck, this soldier's was not. He followed the strap to what he knew was there. As he reeled it in, it caught the light and glistened just a little.

Michael released the body and grabbed at the prize, wrapping his hands around the pistol grip and pulling the rifle close to his body. His left hand slapped the magazine and he drew the bolt decisively, chambering a round.

He took aim at the tether that connected his prize to its deadweight and fired.

Apart from the muffled click of the rifle's vibration through his body, there was no sound. But the strap was destroyed and with a kick, the debris began to drift away from him.

Michael felt no emotion. He pointed the rifle away from the station and emptied it.

Turning his head, he saw the station begin to get closer. Grabbing at his chest, feeling the velcro patch on his glove stick to the magazine attached to him, Michael reloaded the firearm and chambered another round.

As his feet hit the station, Michael broke into a sprint, magnets in his boots keeping him firmly planted to the surface.

His fight was far from over.

-------------------------------------

I just immediately thought of this game where you shoot at each other on the moon with jet packs and stuff. I think it was called shattered earth or shattered horizon or something. I can't quite remember and am lazy to check.

Then I thought of gravity. And then I wrote this. Hope you like!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"**Randy the Rhino Has a Terrible Day**

Randy the Rhino rose from his bed and looked out at the day. Today it was Monday and that wasn’t okay! He couldn’t stay home and play as he chose, he had to go to work to punch holes with his big, pointy nose. Randy kicked and screamed—oh, why was it Monday?! When he went to bed it was definitely Sunday. What had happened, he thought, as he sighed in frustration. Yet despite all his anger, Randy accepted his obligation.

Randy put on his favorite blue shorts and his favorite red shirt, then ate his breakfast—some wonderful yogurt! Although it was Monday, Randy was feeling more happy, and when he walked outside he was no longer crabby. The sun was shining and the air was warm, Randy’s neighbor was out mowing the lawn. He waved and said hello, and Randy waved back. Maybe Monday wasn’t going to be that bad.

Randy the Rhino walked down his front path and stopped at the street. He looked in both directions then resumed moving his feet. Randy hopped up the curb and continued his way, passing by friends he saw every day. There was Gina the Gerbil and Larry the Lark, Timmy the Turtle and Sammy the Shark. And oh, who is this? Who could it be? It was Mary the Monkey and Billy the Bee! He smiled and waved as they passed his way, their faces blank and clearly afraid. They looked so skinny, so scared and alone, an empty bag hanging from Billy’s arm bone; their eyes remained motionless as if their soul wasn’t home. Randy laughed gleefully at their silly games and continued walking on his cheerful way. Perhaps Monday wasn’t the worst day!

Randy the Rhino passed by all sorts of things: From buildings and parks to plain, empty swings. He passed by crowds and houses and zoos, until he came to an alley of strange dangling shoes. They hung on a wire high up in the sky, as if someone had tried to see if they’d fly! He smiled and laughed, how silly they were. Shoes were for feet, not for way above doors! He fell to the floor and continued laughing, but stopped when he saw four feet come thrashing. They were charging his way, running with purpose; two blurs that seemed to think life worthless. Randy rolled over to face the commotion, squinting his eyes as he set into motion. Who was that running? Who could it be? It was Mary the Monkey and Billy the Bee! Randy the Rhino smiled with glee—his friends were here to see what he’d seen.

The two kept on running faster and faster, charging straight for him – this could be a disaster! He tried to stand up, to move far away, but his actions came just a mere second too late. The weight of Mary the Monkey and Billy the Bee came crashing down before he could flee. They covered his mouth, and as Randy cowered, he quickly discovered he was quite overpowered! Billy then turned and presented his stinger, plunging it deep into Randy’s poor finger. He screamed as he felt it exit his hand, his bone snapping off as if on command. Mary laughed as he shuttered in pain, then shoved her fist almost into his brain. He screamed out for help, but nobody came, as she repeated the process again and again. He begged her to stop; he was crying and pleading, every part of him was now badly bleeding.

Billy the Bee looked down with some pity, then smiled and beat him half into the city. Mary hit next, her fists smashing a ditty, and laughed in his face as his blood became gritty. They giggled and cheered, fists flying like rockets, until Randy’s eyes remained still in their sockets. Together they knelt and grabbed at his blue pockets, digging to see if he even carried a wallet! He didn’t, it seemed, but that was okay: His big, pointy nose would surely save their day. With knives and hatchets they carved quickly away, until what was his now belonged to just they. The two then stood up and happily went on their way, bag dripping red like a spilled Cabernet. To them it had seemed a rather successful day: For more meth this horn would surely pay!

Randy the Rhino lay still and afraid, the light of the day now withering away. He closed his eyes slowly and heard himself say, “Monday sure is a terrible day!”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The merchant walked along the street, leading his gold adorned white stallion. Riding his horse was the beautiful and well connected daughter of this region's sultan. He stopped in front of the largest tent in the bazaar and helped his (hopefully) future bride dismount.
""Hellooooo!"" a voice called from inside the tent. A young and handsome man appeared in its opening. He had a short beard and bright eyes that danced as he saw the sultan's daughter and a clearly wealthy foreigner. ""Welcome, welcome, welcome!"" he boomed. In a second he was shaking the merchant's hand and kissing his cheeks. ""Please, come into my tent out of the sun, you two!""
""Thank you,"" murmured the daughter.
""Uh, yes, thank you,"" said the merchant, slightly dazed at the sudden and warm welcome.
""Please take a look at my wares!"" The shopkeeper bustled out of the back of the tent and reappeared with a steaming teapot. ""My father is the true owner of this shop, but his age keeps him from tending to it now and again. I assure you, I can still answer *any* of your questions!"" He passed them both a cup of hot tea, muddled with spices.
""Oh, that's so kind of you to do that for your father,"" the sultan's daughter smiled sweetly, bending her khol covered eyes into pleasant bows. She took a sip and arched her eyebrows, ""Wow, this is really delicious, sir. I must have the recipe."" Her tone was syrupy.
""Um,"" the merchant cleared his throat, ""yes, I want to know about this sword here. This hilt is magnificent! I'll give you four sheep for it and a **ram**.""
The shopkeeper threw his arms in the air and let out a hearty laugh. The merchant smiled, feeling as though he had thoroughly impressed everyone in the room.
""No, no, no!"" said the shopkeeper between shaky laughs. ""It is true that this is a fine dagger, but I cannot take that much from you!""
""Sir,"" the merchant smiled and chuckled, ""this is no inconvenience to me, I have more sheep than I care to count."" He casually, but purposefully adjusted his gold and ruby belt.
""Please, please,"" said the shopkeeper, ""It is my duty to be welcoming to strangers in our sultan's lands. Allow me to give you this dagger for *three* sheep. I do not need the ram.""
The merchant exhaled sharply while the sultan's daughter nodded her approval with a large, sympathetic smile.
""Well, as a man of wealth,"" the merchant said through a forced smile, ""I must insist I extend proper compensation for your father's goods.""
""That is so kind, sir,"" the shopkeeper responded with ease and joy, ""but my father would agree that we must encourage trade with foreigners. It is important we keep our reputation for generosity.""
""Al-right,"" the merchant spoke but hardly moved his jaw, ""Three sheep, then.""
""Oh!"" the shopkeeper suddenly exclaimed. His attention was on the other side of the tent, where the sultan's daughter was holding an elaborate necklace up to her throat, watching her reflection in a small mirror. The shopkeeper was immediately at her side. The merchant clamored over to be there as well. He attempted to stand between the two. ""How much is this?"" The merchant asked quickly, ""I don't care the price -- anything for this flower!"" He jerked his hands to point at the necklace. Without meaning to, his voice gradually escalated to a shout, ""Rubies, sapphires, silver, and gold! What, are these pearls, too?! This must, *must* but a very, very expensive necklace!"" ""Oh, it *is*!"" responded the shopkeeper gleefully. The merchant did an odd and only slightly suppressed skip-jump in excitement, ""WELL THEN I'LL --"" he began, but the shopkeeper cut him off. ""But how, just how, can I ask for payment when it is clear the sultan's own daughter wants it so much?"" The merchant deflated. ""Besides, who can ask such a beauty to pay for beauty? Does the sun pay for the flower? Of course not, the flower can only be beautiful if the sun is there!""
The merchant squinted his eyes and shook his head. *What a convoluted metaphor, there's no way the sultan's daughter would* -- but she giggled and shifted her headdress so that the shopkeeper could clasp the necklace. The merchant made fist and bit his knuckle.
""I SWEAR, sir. You must, absolutely, let me pay for this necklace!"" his eyes searched around wildly, ""and this chair! And this carpet! And all four of these books!"" He went on, madly listing the most expensive looking items in the tent.
The sultan's daughter held her hand gracefully up to her lips in surprise. The shopkeeper laughed and put his hands up in feigned surrender, ""Of course, sir! How wonderful! My father will be elated at your kindness and generosity!""
The two sat and drew out a contract. The merchant was spending a lot, probably more than he should be paying, but it still looked impressive to have so much that even making another man wealthy would not hurt his status.
Pleased with his purchases, he took the sultan's daughter back to her father's home, adorned with new clothes and jewelry and followed by servants carrying the other goods. Once inside, he asked to meet with the sultan to discuss the potential of marrying his daughter. The sultan rejected the request and showed him a long list a man had just offered as a dowry. The sultan explained the the man was from a good family, but they could not afford to marry into the sultanate until now. Apparently, one of their sons had a marvelous skill for business.
Aghast, the merchant surveyed the dowry. He realized immediately, it was his own belongings he had used to pay the shopkeeper.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Late again?""
""Yup.""
She sat down next to the stranger and looked at her watch. Swearing under her breath, she pulled her sleeve back down and flipper her hood up and clutched her torso.
""Always late, always when I don't need them to be.""
""Yup.""
They sat in silence for a while, only the wind offered conversation as it kicked up snow from the piles on the sides of the street. She shivered and placed her hand on her stomach and sighed.
It must have been very audible because the man turned towards her, as if she had said something to him. She turned back and smiled at his gaze, ""Sorry, it's just cold.""
""Yup."" He said.
She looked up the street, then down it, hoping to see the easily recognizable features of the city bus. Again, she looked at her watch and bounced her leg up and down.
""Would you stop that?"" the man said to her.
""Excuse me?""
""The bouncing leg, pacing and deep sighs. You're driving me nuts.""
She looked aghast, ""Well *excuse me,* I'm sorry my nervousness is such a burden on you and your life."" She looked away.
This time the man sighed, ""look I'm sorry,"" he offered, ""I just spent the last four hours watching my daughters kids.""
She didn't look at him.
""I'm just tired of all that energy, is all.""
She kept looking up the road, searching for the bus. The man got up and joined her on the sidewalk. He crossed his arms and turned his back to the wind. ""What are you so nervous about anyway?""
Without looking at him, she blurted, ""Nothing.""
""Well it has to be something, come on now, I'm a father of four kids, believe me, I've seen it all.""
She moved her hand to her stomach again and looked down. The cold bit at her finger tips but she ignored the pain.
""I have an appointment I'm not particularly excited for.""
He looked at her hand, ""Doctor's appointment?""
""Yup.""
""I see."" He looked up the road now, nervous of he'd see the bus. ""You've made a big decision haven't you?""
""Yup.""
""Have you thought of alternatives?""
She finally looked at him, her eyes were blurred with moisture, he knew it wasn't from the cold. Her hand still clutched her belly, ""Of course I have. There's no other way. I'm seventeen years old, what the hell am I going to do with a baby?""
He kept eye contact with her until she broke it off. ""Besides,"" she continued, ""My parents wouldn't understand. They said this was the only option.""
""There's always an alternative,"" the man said, ""Life is always greater than no life at all.""
""And what of her life? How can I take care of a child at seventeen?"" ""It's a girl?""
""Apparently,"" she said, crossing her arms. ""I wanted to name her Olivia.""
""That's a beautiful name.""
She responded by wiping her eyes and looking back up the road for the bus. ""You know, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure my granddaughter has a doll named Olivia. She never lets that thing go."" He laughed at a memory, ""In fact, she insists on taking her in the bath with her. The doll smells terrible, the water has left it with a stale rank smell but she loves it despite that.""
She was looking at him again, and smiled. The noise of an engine caught her attention, she looked up the street and saw the bus turn the corner.
""Hey,"" he said, touching her arm, ""How 'bout you take the next bus?""
She looked down at her belly and rested her palm on the unborn child. Her gaze returned to the bus, then back to the man's face. ""I'd like that, yeah.""
""Great,"" he smiled and they sat down on the bench as the bus roared by.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""They're all... dead,"" asked Sarah as she peered out the bunker's periscope. She watched as one thin biter shuffled slowly across the street, stepping over the corpses of dozens of others. It paused, shook for a moment, and fell over motionless.
John shrugged, ""We all hid in bunkers and in basements. Once they ate all the irresponsible and panicky people there wasn't any more food.""
Sarah furrowed her brow, ""So they starved?""
""That's the theory on the internet. These things had to get their metabolism from somewhere. Energy in, energy out. Once food became scarce they kind of petered out. Per usual, the CDC is being quiet, but something is definitely going on.""
Sarah ran her hand over her kevlar sleeve wondering how many days its been since she washed her bite-proof suit. She examined the spots where the biters couldn't penetrate and shuddered at the thought of remembering that first night.
John looked down at his laptop again. ""It looks like the Russians and Chinese got it worse than us. Lots of easy to eat stray animals and lack of preparedness in the rural areas really cost them. China's massive population worked against it, I guess. Supposedly they're stable after a couple rounds of dropping tactical nukes. They culled the herd in the rural areas so they never got to spread into the cities. Lost a few million people though.""
He sighed, ""I never thought I'd see nukes dropped in my lifetime. Heck, I never thought a virus like this could be real. Some people are saying that early humanity had this plague long ago, like 70,000 years ago when the human population was low. Its been part of our genetic memory so we keep dreaming it up in stories.""
Sarah sat down on the padded leather bench near the fortified door and put her AR-15 in the corner. ""So, what now? Just back to regular life? We peel off these uncomfortable suits and go back into our homes? Tell our future kids about the three weeks we spent living in a glorified trailer?""
He shrugged again.
She looked out the porthole, ""Get over our trauma and get back to work, right? Just one problem to solve after another. No rest for the weary.""
""I guess,"" said John as he smiled. ""It could have been tons worse. Imagine if society collapsed. No law, no rules. Running from these things in the wilderness with no power. Conserving ammo. Trying to find clean water and food everyday. Finding new shelter all the time."" He shuddered and took a sip from his can of perrier.
Sarah nodded, ""Thank god that didn't happen. Thank god.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I'm just asking you to describe it!"" Paul did not know what to make of the fellow next to him, the fact that he was wearing the most tackiest of suits and carried a typewriter into the bar, suggested that he was not the kind to associate with. ""Describe what....... the whiskey?"" Paul asked puzzled. ""Yes, what does it taste like?"" ""It taste like whiskey."" The man gave out an awkward laugh, ""No, no what does it *taste* like? Does it taste like a summer sunset, like the soul and sweat of the working man, like the inner sorrows that haunt your past and can only be quenched by the kiss of a bottle?"" ""It taste like whiskey....."" The man seemed persistent, ""Alright what does it feel like? Does it feel like the burning embers of Venus, like the motor of a race car winning the indies, like the touch of a lover forever lost thanks to countless mistakes?"" ""It's a little cold, but not too much to ruin the drink. I like the weight of the glass in my hand, not too heavy, not too light."" The man then threw his papers into the air, ""Why must you tarnish my art with your meekness? I just want to capture the feeling, the essence of whiskey and you can't even muster up the smallest of beauty with your Neanderthal brain."" He then stormed out, leaving a great many confused.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Down to Earth has a new meaning nowadays..."" Darren began, speaking softly as his smooth finger swayed slowly back and forth over his lighter. ""People used to think that it meant you were being realistic, that the world has its limits and so do we, so we should act 'accordingly.' But that's simply not true anymore.""
His eyes glistened from the flame that surrounded his fingertip which was seemingly unaffected and unscathed by the heat. Glancing back at the new recruits, he flicked at his lighter, putting it away in his pocket. They were a young bunch, emitting an aura of inexperience but glowing with ambition at the same time. Darren hid his grin; he was the exact same way when he discovered the laws that society had secretly bound them to could be broken. Before he continued, he got up from his chair and started pacing back and forth in front of them.
""I know why you're all here. You like breaking the rules. It's exhilarating. It's addicting. And now you want more. You want guidance. You want power. You want protection..."" he stopped abruptly, absorbing the pained and admitting expressions on their faces as he spoke the truth. He found it harder to hide his smile. Suddenly, he split his arms apart as if he was presenting himself, and he began levitating off of the floor. It was a display of power, of control. Even the most talented Rule Breakers could not stay afloat for so long. The three youngsters' jaws dropped slightly. To them, this was the equivalent of witnessing a miracle.
""Well... we can offer you all of that. But we need to know a bit more about you three before we let you in. First, how is it that you all learned that you could break the rules? Let's start with you.."" he said, his feet still hovering over the ground as he pointed towards the person in the middle. He was slightly taller that the other two, and his clothes were ragged and worn.
""I learned it from you, sir,"" he admitted quietly. Darren smirked.
""And you two?""
""You, sir,"" they replied in unison. His smirk widened, and he gradually descended towards the floor.
""I think I've heard enough...""
He backed up into the shadows, once again taking out his lighter. Putting his hand over the small flame, he expanded it at will until the whole room lit up. Behind him was a large metal door which he opened for them. The three youngsters stepped through, and their eyes widened at how vast their headquarters were. There were people everywhere, all with smiles on their faces, celebrating their new-found freedom. Drinks were floating across the room, chairs were sliding effortlessly along the concrete floor, and people were practicing their levitation skills in the back.
The tallest teenager pondered for a moment as to how they couldn't hear any of this through the walls since they didn't seem that thick. Once he realized it, he smiled. It was just another broken rule. Intrigued by his strength, he turned to look at Darren as he approached all three of them. The leader put his arm around all three of them, catching a drink that was floating by and offering it to them.
""Well, boys. Welcome to the Rule Breakers.""
**Edit: Might continue this. I've got plenty of ideas to keep me going with this setting.**",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Half and half, we’re going to split this fifty-fifty, that seems fair. After all, it is both of ours; we created it together and ran it together. But splitting up Earth is just seems to be making it final. How do we decide who gets what half? We both want Europe, neither of us wants America, and whoever gets North Korea is going to end up with nothing soon enough. I mean we love you all and everything, but do you really have to fight so much? The rest of the universe is sorted, but Earth was always a shared thing, Earth has always been special. Maybe we should both just get what we created. But then I’d be left with a whole lot of whales and no ocean and she’d have a load of birds and no sky. We always have complemented each other, finishing each other’s sentences and countries. One without the other just doesn't work, and I know however we split this planet it will ruin everything on it. There is such a delicate balance of nature and people that removing any one thing would have devastating consequences to nearly everything else. We could create an exact replica – that is well within our capabilities – but Earth’s individuality has always been what made it special, and it just wouldn’t feel the same. Perhaps we could share, but that would be slightly awkward, considering nowadays we cannot even talk without it breaking down into a heated argument. I wish I didn’t have to divorce her, but this marriage just isn’t going to work out. It seems kind of hypocritical; considering we told humanity we hated divorce. But that was when we were young and in love, things change. We’ve made our decision, after a long and repetitive argument we have decided neither of us will have Earth. You’re going to have to fend for yourselves from now on. I’ll be back to visit but I can’t meddle anymore, if something goes wrong you’re going to have to sort it out on your own. I’m sorry for leaving you like this, but the contract has been written, and any breach of its terms from either party will end in the immediate termination of Earth. Remember me; I know I will always remember you. Goodbye, Earth, I have not forsaken you, not deliberately.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Nervously trudging along, James exited his bathroom and began the march down his airy suburban home's winding staircase. Eyes reddened and still slightly damp bored into the first oaken step, and remained fixated upon it. James wheeled around and scampered back into the bathroom. Slamming the door, he stared at himself in the mirror. Self-doubt and fear coursed through his mind, threatening to overwhelm.
But after a quick elbow-wipe, James determined to go through with it, making it out of the bathroom and three steps down before pausing. This time, he muttered to himself. ""You can do this. You can do this.""
As James engaged in his soft pep-talk, his parents strode around the corner at the staircase's foundation. ""Hey, have you been crying?"" asked his mother, a kindly ball-shaped woman who claimed to be in her mid 20s.
""Yes.""
""You're not coming out of the closet today, are you?"" his father lightheartedly jested, making full use of his inability to take anything seriously.
Halted and shell-shocked, James peered at them from halfway down or halfway up the stairs, depending on whether you're a glass half gay or a glass half straight kind of person. ""Um, I. Yeah.""
Exclaiming ""Damn!"" James' father reached into his bulging back pocket.
""I, I, I."" Poor James got left on those steps, trying to explain himself but unable to find the words. Meanwhile his mother extended her pudgy hand expectantly, into which was slapped a ten dollar bill by his father. ""What?"" James finally made a word.
""Eh, we had a bet. But that's uh, something that you're gay, son. By the way, what'd you think of that book I lent you?"" A single line was the only acknowledgment his father gave of James' announcement. And it was delivered with far less strength of voice than that concerning the book.
""Oh, honey, you should ask that Christian out on a date. He's handsome! Oooh, or Alexander, that exchange student. How about Alexander? Oh, you'd be so cute together!""
Bursting with excitement and vitality, his mother's half-completed thoughts came out one after another in an unstoppable tidal wave. ""I'm such a fucking idiot."" James mourned the unnecessary loss of his afternoon, and contemplated his misinterpretation of how his parents would react.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I hate hospitals. This one was bad. Overfilled. I was in one of those rooms with multiple beds, separated into the world's shittiest cubicles by curtains. In each cubicle was another sob story. The three visible to me were across the hall. One was in bed, I couldn't tell the problem. One was in a full body cast, like you see in the cartoons. The last was dead. Very dead with the crying family and everything. Fucking depressing. Oh well, I wouldn't be here for long. The lung cancer would see to that.

Just then the double doors flung open. In walked in a man with a doctors coat draped over a trench coat and a bow-tie. The happiness on his face was sickening. ""Congratulations everyone! I am giving you all a new diagnosis! You have all come down with a bad case of the healthy! There is no known cure! Once again, congratulations!""

Silence. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly which part of his body he should coat with hot bacon grease before throwing himself to the dogs when a very odd thing happened. I breathed. And I don't mean one of those half-dead sterile breaths that I have known for the past two years. I mean an actual breath. My lungs filled, absorbed air, and deflated. It caught me so off guard that it ironically took my breath away. I did it again, just to be sure. My lungs worked. Within a few seconds I started hyperventilating on purpose, just to prove that I could. It was better than sex.

The first man I mentioned threw back his covers to reveal a stump where his right leg used to be. It started to grow back. He started to laugh maniacally. The man in the cast screamed in muffled joy. From the dead man's bed came the words ""Sarah, is that you?"" followed by ""Dad? Dad!!!"" By this time, the former amputee was prancing about the room yelling ""FEET! FEET!"" while tears glistened his face as he looked towards the heavens. I looked as the man with the bow-tie turned around and was about to exit the room. ""Wait!"" I said ""Who are you?""

""Oh me? I'm the Doctor.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"**@Franz_Ferdinand**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:05:37 UTC
&gt;We are live in 10 minutes from Kiev! #herewego
----
**@alkapranos (Alex Kapranos)**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:09:11 UTC
&gt; `#nowplaying
----
**@FF_Fanzone**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:14:15 UTC
&gt;@Franz_Ferdinand opens with Michael!
----
**@gavinp17**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:16:50 UTC
&gt;holy shittt man i think michael turned me gay `#franzferdinand #ffkiev2014
----
**@gavinp17**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:16:50 UTC
&gt;this is a nice sandwich
----
**@com_fortablepsych0**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:24:31 UTC
&gt;lol this guy keeps heckling @Franz_Ferdinand between songs ----
**@com_fortablepsych0**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:27:17 UTC
&gt;sis is telling me to stop tweeting and enjoy the music. funny cause she's tryin to record everything on her phone #irony
----
**@gavinp17**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:28:00 UTC
&gt;i loved you all
----
**@FF_Fanzone**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:33:15 UTC
&gt;@Franz_Ferdinand now playing TAKE ME OUT
----
**@com_fortablepsych0**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:33:36 UTC
&gt;OMG MY FAVORITE SONG
----
**@com_fortablepsych0**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:35:21 UTC
&gt;holy shit he just got shot
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:40:11 UTC
&gt;Breaking: Lead singer of Franz Ferdinand, Alex Kapranos, has been shot while playing a live show in Kiev. ----
**@NME**
&gt;2014-03-07 20:45:14 UTC
&gt;Sources saying Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand has been shot dead approximately 10 minutes ago.
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-07 21:00:06 UTC
&gt;Breaking: Franz Ferdinand singer Alex Kapranos killed in Kiev. Assassin has been arrested.
----
**@com_fortablepsych0**
&gt;2014-03-07 21:05:36 UTC
&gt;so the show's cancelled cause the singer died. can't believe what i just saw. cunt could've at least finished the song before he died #fuckmylife
----
**@Franz_Ferdinand**
&gt;2014-03-07 21:37:40 UTC
&gt;we can't believe it... #shocked
----
**@NME**
&gt;2014-03-07 23:15:20 UTC
&gt;Sending our thoughts and prayers to @Franz_Ferdinand. #ripalex
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 9:36:11 UTC
&gt;MI6 investigation announces that Franz Ferdinand assassin part of radical, pro-Russian terrorist organization in Ukraine. May have direct links to Putin. David Cameron press conference to follow.
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 9:50:30 UTC
&gt;David Cameron calls Franz Ferdinand assassination an 'act of war'.
----
**@David_Cameron (David Cameron)**
&gt;2014-03-08 10:31:26 UTC
&gt;we're gonna come after you bloody fuckers #war
----
**@David_Cameron (David Cameron)**
&gt;2014-03-08 10:31:38 UTC
&gt;u kill my favourite band i kill your nation
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 11:11:10 UTC
&gt;BREAKING: Ban Ki Moon calls for peace and discussion in video speech as UK forces mobilize to Ukraine.
----
**@BarackObama (BarackObama)**
&gt;2014-03-08 11:15:30 UTC
&gt;The British are our friends. And we're going to help our friends. ----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:30:10 UTC
&gt;BREAKING: All NATO countries, including Ukraine, formally declare war on Russia.
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:30:13 UTC
&gt;ww3
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:30:57 UTC
&gt;BREAKING: Multiple nuclear launches detected across Russia, per @NASA
----
**@NASA**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:33:04 UTC
&gt;Approximately 600 ICBMs currently in flight towards NATO countries. #fuck
----
**@NASA**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:35:18 UTC
&gt;Launches detected across American mainland and Alaska. #murica
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:39:25 UTC
&gt;BREAKING: Submarines in Baltic surface and fire approximately 200 nuclear missiles at Western Russia.
----
**@Angela_Merkel (Angela Merkel)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:49:53 UTC
&gt;fick mich
----
**@com_fortablepsych0**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:49:58 UTC
&gt;wtf is happening lol
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:56:05 UTC
&gt;BREAKING: 30 million feared dead across Europe as first wave of nuclear missiles hit.
----
**@bbcuk (BBC UK)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:57:00 UTC
&gt;Everyone, please evacuate your homes and take shelter in a bunker immediately. London has been identified as a target of 38 ICBMs that are currently in flight. Other cities in the UK have also been targeted.
----
**@bbcworld (BBC World)**
&gt;2014-03-08 12:59:53 UTC
&gt;It's the end of the world as we know it #REM
----",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Leo thought falling would be the best way to go, because he heard that if you jumped from high enough you'd faint before impact anyway. Besides, it would be an exciting way to die, and it had been a very long time since he'd felt excited.

*You sure about this, Guy?* Leo asked himself as the fierce wind whipped at his clothes and sent him swaying. He leaned out and peered down. *""So that's what 20 stories looks like! Hot Damn""* Even though he was here to kill himself, he couldn't help getting tingles in his fingers and his toes and a chill in his spine. This was exciting all right. 

Leo was oddly happy, he looked down at the little cars that looked like little hot-wheels toys, and was tempted to shout at the passerby. *""Look at me! Call me a coward now? I'ma leap off a skyscraper! Bet you wouldn't, would you? Nope, you @#$%'s are all the same.""*

And he did leap. He'd wondered if he would have second thoughts, as the wind ripped by so quickly all he could see was a blur and all he could hear was the deafening wind. Nope, no second thoughts. He felt weightless, as if he were sliding down a roller-coaster. It was an exhilarating feeling he hadn't known since he was a kid.

They say time slows down and it flashes before your eyes when you're about to die. Well maybe, but in the case of suicides, they don't see what happened, they see what coulda happened. They see what might have been. 

Time didn't slow down, he fell all the way to the pavement as quickly as gravity would carry him...and when he hit the asphalt he simply slid straight through. It wasn't even painful, just like he had turned to putty and was sliding through the cracks of the earth. It was very uncomfortable, and Leo was wondering why he wasn't dead yet when he came out the other side.

And on the other side was a man, a man that was him, a man holding the hands of a beautiful woman...he just sort of gets soaked up by the man, as if the man were a sponge and he was water.

Time moved again with a start, and now it really did flash before his eyes. The woman's name was Anna, and they had met in his sophmore year of college. They were both in theatre together...and now he was an actor. Just like he'd always tried so hard to be.

Rejection was something he'd grown up with, he never knew what is like to not be ignored and passed over, underestimated. That was no longer true. He was an acclaimed actor, nominated for and victor of countless awards. He was known as a revolutionary talent both in theatre and in film.

His childhood had been one of hunger and desperation. Insecurity drove him to perpetual insomnia. That was no longer true. Leo couldn't remember the last time he had gone hungry, in fact he ate extraordinarily well, some of the best foods in the world. His destitute childhood had lent him a sense of empathy and duty...and so he was sponsor of several charities and was even in the process of seeking to adopt impoverished children himself.

Loneliness had been Leo's only friend. Making friends was something he was never able to do, keeping them was impossible. It was something beyond his understanding...That was no longer true. Something about Leo had changed, and though he couldn't pin it down, he had suddenly become a magnet for some of the best kinds of people he never expected to be around. People who genuinely cared.

Satisfaction was never to be his. His entire life had conditioned him to believe he was not deserving of satisfaction, happiness, that it was an impossibility reserved for others only. Fates had denied him, his was to be a brief glimmer of suffering among millions others on the planet. That was no longer true. Satisfaction was now the core of his inner-self. He lived his life in gratitude first, and applied himself to his goals second. But what breathed life into it all was the realization that others cared for him, and it was okay if he cared for them too.

Warmth. A pool of blood soaked into him as if he were a sponge, a limp one, and like a doll he was dragged high into the air as his searing pain subsided and his wounds faded, 20 stories he ascended, marveling at the people walking backwards and the cars driving in reverse. 

And now he was leaning over the edge of a skyscraper. Crying out, Leo fell back to safety. Wondering, wondering what sorcery he'd just been subjected too. And then it all came clear. He was only 21 years old...his misery was a phase, and he had a future. A future worth...no...necessitated by his current condition.

Patience, it seemed, might be more than a virtue.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A bread crumb had been left on the tablecloth. Dan squeezes his index finger against his thumb until the skin is translucent before firing it off and flicking the bread crumb out into the void of mumbled conversations and moving waiters, to land on some distant white-and-black tiled shore. His tablecloth is spotless now, but it doesn’t matter. It should have been spotless when he sat down.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning,” Dan says without looking up. He seeks refuge in his menu instead, decoding the italicized world of eggs Benedict and white cheddar omelettes inside.
“Something to drink to get you started?”
Dan glances up, making it all the way to the chin before his eyes fall back. The boy has a crisp, white shirt beneath his black vest.
“A Bloody Mary,” Dan said. “Please.”
“Coming right up.”
*I will throw the Bloody Mary on him,* Dan tells himself. *He’ll be stained red. I’ll tell him, a Bloody Mary isn’t the only thing that’s red. No. Wait. I’ll tell him, you’re lucky it’s just the Bloody Mary. This time.*
Dan convinces himself this is what he will do. The Blood Mary is served. The waiter asks him if he's ready to order.
“I’ll have the Smoke Salmon Hashbrowns. Please.”
“Of course. And can I bring you anything else, sir? Would you like a paper? The Times?”
Dan glances at the empty chair opposite him. “Yes. Please.”
*The Bloody Mary is nonsense*, Dan consoles himself. *Am I woman? I won’t throw a Bloody Mary at him. I won’t throw food at him. I’ll drink my drink, I’ll eat my food, read my paper. And when the bill comes, I’ll ask him, what does my wife usually tip you? Calm, cool. Clint Eastwood. I am Clint Eastwood.*
The paper comes. The boy is prompt, friendly without being overbearing, always nearby in case Dan needs his water refilled. He is a good waiter. He laughs with other tables, leaves others to their conversations, treats each diner as they wante to be treated. Dan finally manages to look at him. Just off twenty-four, if he had to wager, a smooth face, dimpled cheeks, cut chin. Good shoulders, but not a hulker, no, there is a definitely a small pooch to the belly, a bit of plump around the eyes. Thick, curly, black hair. The hair, Dan thinks, is what really turns good-looking into attractive.
His Smoke Salmon Hashbrowns come. They are delicious. In his anxiety, he eats the whole plate.
“Hated it, huh?” the boy says as he takes the plate away. Even that old, tired joke sounds fresh off his lips. A good waiter.
Dan bets he's a good lover, too. The qualities between the two aren't so different. Personable. Attentive. Able to discern what other people want. How long had his wife come here for brunch before the two began to merge? How long before her weekly treat took on a new meaning?
“Anything else for you today?’
Questions. Questions Dan wants to ask. Do you treat her well? Does she enjoy it? Is she happy? Do you make her forget about her life, her husband, how the light falls on his face through the IV bag? Does it slip her mind, the faces of the doctors when they tell us bad news, the pieces of empty flesh where my testicles used to be, the nights she has to help me use the bathroom, the sobbing sounds I make? Is she happy when she's with you?
“Just the check.”
The check arrives as promptly as the service. It totals $17.49. He leaves a twenty and a five and walks away.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I lie a lot. I just can’t help it. It’s not like it matters, it becomes true eventually. When I was 14 I would always lie and tell them that I was 21 to get into the clubs. And, sure enough, I grew older quickly. My date of birth on my ID changed to say I was 21, my body and face matured, until in every sense possibly I was 21. Now I lie the other way, having reached 40 I still tell everyone that I’m only 27. 27 was a good age, and I am, I still have the same maturity as I had when I was 27, I still look the way I did when I was 27.
When I was 17 the other children would make fun of me. They bullied me, calling me names such as ugly and fat. And the more they teased me the uglier I became, and the fatter I became until they weren’t even lying anymore. I started to tell myself that they were wrong, that the mirror was wrong, that I was beautiful really and even if I wasn’t it didn’t matter. And it stopped mattering, I became beautiful. All my life my parents have been telling me I can do anything I put my mind to, and they’re right. I just have to tell myself that I can do something and then I can.
When I was young I had an imaginary friend. A young boy with a dog, who I called Paolo and Snuffles, they aren’t imaginary anymore. I willed them into existence because I really believed they were real, and now they are. Lying has become a way of life nowadays, since the technology to make lies true has existed everyone is whoever they want to be. If you receive an email from a Nigerian Prince, they really will send you all that money.
But some lies are harder than others. Some that, even though you really want them to be true, you just can’t say. That’s my problem now. All my life I have relied on lying to get my own way – “yes I have tidied my room” “No I didn’t carve my name into that slide”. And now when it matters most, it is a lie I can’t force myself to say. Three words, three syllables; yet it’s harder than I could possibly have imagined. I’m sorry, but I just can’t say “I love you”. It’s just not a lie I would be able to live.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Ayep shook the ashes from his pipe and looked over at his children. It had been hard, these last few years, without their mother. Abati had grown to be a woman on her own, and Kobi was approaching the years of change. They were gathered on the benches in front of the house, looking out at the setting sun, its glory reflected in red and purple on the long, lazy strands of cloud. The fields stretched, golden in the late summer warmth, to the edge of the mesa on which the farmstead stood, and a tang in the air warned of the coming rains of autumn. Abati worried a block of wood with a small knife, carving some trinket, and Kobi... Kobi was staring at something in his hand. A cricket... but the expression on his face said otherwise. Ayep stood, curious, and walked to his son.

""Father, look! What is happening to it?"" Kobi held the insect up to display. It looked like a normal cricket, but one of its legs was bent oddly, and penetrated its body. As Ayep stared in horror, the cricket blinked and... moved. The motion was like nothing living ever moves, a twitch, and it was a finger's breadth from where it had been, then back where it started. And through part of its body, he could see his son's palm.

Quickly, he slapped Kobi's hand down, casting the cricket to the ground, lest the demons infect his son. But the cricket hit a space a hands-breadth from the ground, and fell no further. Ayep gathered his children in his arms and backed toward the door of his ho*m*e. And then he saw it. The sky. Where before, the deep blue that chases the setting sun had begun to give way to the first stars, there was instead a deep purple *flatness* and words.

Ayep was a literate man. He knew figures and measures, and how to read, and even owned several books. But these words were unfamiliar. **Simulation Failure. Data Set Corrupt. Dumping Simulation and Restarting Universe.**


Edit: typo. /s/hope/home",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"John
We need to go over your second draft here. (Thank you for not sending your fantasy league draft this time.) I pulled a few lines that I think need some fixing up. Plus, the story line's all over the place. Help me out here. **""Now see, if Joe makes a move at the bar, he will definitely have the chance to make a move at the bar.""**
**""In order for him to kiss the girl, he has to touch her.""**
**""Now Joe's a guy who drinks beer, and that makes him drunker.""**
**""In this scenario, Joe should expect to go home with her or go home alone.""**
**""Two things can happen when you unhook a bra. You can see them from the front, or imagine them from the back.""**
**""To get further along in sex, it's best that Joe removes his clothes.""**
**""When you kiss a girl on the cheek, more than likely you missed her mouth.""**
**""GOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL!""**
Actually John, I think I quit.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*Tagged this post as NSFW for you, since you requested it.*

""Hello, I'm *Erin.* What can *I* do for you today?"" The voice is unusually... lascivious for a person working tech support, but whatever.

""Uh, yeah, hi Erin. I have a really big problem right now.""

""Oh, don't worry about it, *big boy.*"" *Big boy?* What the hell? ""I'm sure it's nothing a little talking to me couldn't fix."" She moans sensually.

""Uh... OK? Um, I'm having a problem with my equipment. I can't seem to get it working.""

""Ohhh, babe, don't you worry about *that*. I'm a professional at getting things *hard at work.*""

""... Oooookay."" I scratch my head. ""So, I tried turning it on yesterday after watching a video on my phone at work, but that didn't work. I couldn't even get the damn thing to respond after hitting it a bunch of times. Just, like, totally non-functional.""

""Oh, you *poor* thing."" I can hear the pout in her voice. ""I bet I could fix that.""

""Okay, so what should I do with it?""

""Well, I'll tell you what *I* would do to fix it."" God, her voice is disturbingly arousing. ""I would take off my shirt, slowly, teasing you until you beg me to show you more.""

""What? I just asked about--""

""Then I would have you come around and unclasp my bra. You would stare at my perfect tits and then--""

""Erin?""

""What is it?""

""I don't know why you're going into all this, uh... sexual roleplay, but I called because I need help turning it on. Not to listen to your oddly sexual fantasies.""

""Is what I'm doing not turning it on?""

""Uh... no, not really. I don't see why it would.""

""Well frankly, that's quite insulting.""

""You're not being helpful at all, though! You're just talking about bras and shit! Look, do you think it might be a problem with the power source?""

""What?""

""Maybe it's something in the motherboard. Hold on, let me check the fans. No, no dust there.""

""I'm sorry?""

""Do you even know what you're talking about, Erin? Or are you just playing out your sexual fantasies on the phone in the manager's office of some little phone cluster in Utah?""

""Hey, I'm just giving what you called for, dude. No need to be a dick about it. You specifically *called* this number, and now you don't even want my help? What the fuck is up with you, man?""

Okay, this is getting weird. ""I'm sorry, could I speak to your manager please?""

""... What?"" The sexiness is now totally gone from Erin's voice, and now she just sounds confused.

""Do you have, like, a supervisor or something?""

""Uh... I'm the only one in today.""

Great. I put down the phone momentarily and put my hand on my forehead before picking it back up. ""So should I take it to GeekSquad or something? All my files are on here, and you were the first number in the manual. I *need* to fix this computer. So stop with all the sex stuff and let me know what to do so I can get it turned back on.""

""...Computer?""

""Uh... yes? Isn't that what this line is?""

""No...""

""Uh, I think there's a chance I called the wrong number.""

""You called Erin's Erotic Fantasies, telling men what they want to hear since 2013.""

""... Oh."" Wow. I called a sex line.

""... So, yeah, I think you have the wrong number.""

I pause for a second. ""Erin?""

""Yeah?""

""Thanks for the help, I guess.""

""You're welcome?""

""Sorry to bother you."" I hang up the phone.

Crap. I just called a fricking *sex line*. That shit's, like, $4 a minute or something like that.

And my computer still isn't fixed yet.

I think back on Erin's lusty voice and look down. Well at least *something's* turned on.

(*Sorry this sucked.*)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Remember, remember the 5th of November. Election day, 2024. The polls showed Senator Stiles (D-CA) and Governor Wilson (R-KY) were neck and neck. The previous eight years of peace and economic growth could be contributed to the bipartisan effort to actually make the United States a country to be proud of. No longer were the two isles busy flinging shit at each other. In fact, it almost didn't matter who won the presidential election. Each candidate showed willingness to work with the other parties (yes, more than two parties) in Congress order to pass legislation.
Fred Phelps would turn 95 years old in 8 days. He had delegated the everyday workings of the Westboro Baptist Church to his daughter, though he was still considered the symbolic figurehead. Phelps watched as his country, state by state, voted to make same-sex marriage legal. The only state which had held out was his home-state of Kansas. However, this year, there was a proposition on the ballot to make the United States homogeneous in regards to same-sex marriage. Phelps and the WBC hadn't stopped picketing. Either in their hometown, or flying across the country for a soldiers funeral or the opening of a Center for LGBTQ teens. Standing on street corners with signs reading ""God Hates Fags"" and ""Thank God for Dead Soldiers"" was still the go-to protest tactic. As the 21st had worn on, Phelps had started receiving more and more criticism from everyone from Bill O'Reily to Chris Matthews. Criticism soon turned to outright hate. Phelps couldn't count how many times he had received death threats. He constantly had to have his property cleaned of eggs and pumpkins and toilet paper. Anything and everything that ever went wrong in the United States became Phelps' fault. ""It's all for the greater good"" he thought to himself as he stepped into the ballot box. Phelps was wearing sunglasses (ones that should be worn after laser-eye surgery) and an old baseball cap to help avoid being recognized by the voters. He wasn't staying around for long anyway. There was only one issue he needed to vote on. Phelps checked the ""yes"" box. He smiled to himself and then left the booth.
Later that night, Phelps turned on the TV to watch the results of the election. It looked like Wilson would be the new president. His supporters cheered and Stiles gave a heartfelt concession speech. Finally, Rachel Maddow came on TV to announce the result of the same-sex marriage bill in Kansas. Phelps leaned forward in his seat, as far as his frail body would allow him to.
""Kansas voters have decided 55-45 to allow Same-Sex marriage. Congratulations, America! We've taken a huge step tonight.""
Fred Phelps leaned back and smiled. ""Finally,"" he thought.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The sun was high in the sky, and the sand warm against the old man’s back. Quiet waves slowly caressed the pristine beach. The warm sun was countered by a cool breeze coming off the water. “Perfect,” the old man thought to himself and he smiled as he took a sip from his drink. “Mind if I join you?”
The old man was awakened from his daydream by a familiar voice. A little rough, a little deep, but oh so able to say the right thing.
“Of course, old friend,” the old man replied.
And beside the old man sat his demon. The two shared the scene in silence, until the demon broke in. “It’s been too long since we sat like this. We should make it an occasion.”
“Careful…remember that I am content in what I’m doing.” The old man replied in a cautionary tone. But then he softened and added, “Let’s just see what the day brings us.”
And the two returned to their silent watch for some time.
“Mind if I join you?”
The silence was broken yet once more, again by a familiar voice. The voice was sweet and gentle, but had a tendency to disagree. The demon rolled his eyes.
“Come now,” the old man reproached, “there’s no need for that. We’re all friends here; of course you can join us.”
And beside the old man sat his angel.
“It’s funny how you always get here second,” the old man said to the angel.
“I know, but I only go where I am needed,” was the obvious answer.
“I see,” said the old man as he took a sip of his drink.
And the three returned to a silent watch.
After some time, the demon once again breaks the silence. “I’ve been wondering,” he said, “what you think of my being here. You never did give me a full answer.”
“Well at the time I didn’t know,” said the old man, “But I’ve had some time to think and I’ve realized that your presence is a good thing.”
“Explain,” asked the angel, with a wry smile.
“Yes,” the old man replied, “you see, there’s a devil and an angel within us all. And that is what makes this life so beautiful. Without sorrow and without hardship, there is no cause for happiness. We have the opportunity to create heaven and hell right here in this life. It becomes a matter of perspective, and of the choices we make. I believe in the constancy of the universe. There cannot be an up without a down, a light without a dark, or a good without a bad. What would a day like today mean to us if everyday was like it? Look out at the ocean: every wave has a peak and a valley. They cannot exist without each other. In a sense that’s all we are: just another form of energy making its way from one point to another. We needn’t trouble ourselves with questions of good and bad. We only need to be sure to preserve the balance, because one thing is certain: you always pay for what you get.”
With this both the demon and the angel stood, brushed the sand from their bodies, and shook hands.
“I guess you were right,” said the demon.
“It’s time we took leave of you,” said the angel to the man. And then they were gone.
The sun was low in the sky now, slowly shading it with red and orange. Once again alone, the old man smiled to himself, took a sip of his drink, and closed his eyes one last time. “Perfect…”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This is round sixteen.

I try to relax a bit this time but I can feel the tension in my shoulders, my back. The nurse is smiling, but I know it's a fixed smile. I know what fake smiles look like as well as anyone else. I don't think they realize that I'm still a person.

It would be difficult for me to convince them otherwise.

The nurse puts in the drip and I feel myself pull back, if that makes any sense. I'm less present – still worried but less present. I'm alone in my thoughts, but I can look over and I see the syringes of blood piling up.

They're doing these tests while I deliberate, to make sure they're still right, to see if I'm the cure. They are right. I am, as Dr. Albertsson referred to me a few weeks ago, ""the answer to the question of human senescence.""

There is something in me, deep inside me, that fixes the ways in which bodies break apart. My bones knit. My wounds close. My blood is rich, and it flows slowly. Even now I see it, feel it resisting the pull of the syringe, truly thicker than water.

By all accounts, unless my body is completely destroyed, I cannot die.

So I sit here, tense, in this chair, waiting for them to tell me once again that I will outlive them all. It is a lot to take in. They know that, at least, and they let me come to it in bits and pieces. They left me to hang on that makeshift noose for more than a day, long enough for me to realize that my spine would not snap and my breath would continue, before they cut me down.

I've heard people say this before, but I know for a fact that they only want me for my body. Through the drug haze I mumble this, I think. I am so far away, it's hard to tell.

They want to synthesize me. That's still strange to say. They want to chop me up, parcel me out. The only way they can replicate me is by taking me apart. I think I might let them. It might be good to help.

The nurse smiles, and says something. I smile back. Are you sure, she says. Yes, I say. Helping might be nice.

The nurse freezes. She whispers something into an intercom on the wall, and then cranks up my drip. I recede, two pinholes. A team of doctors walk in, already in scrubs. 

I am restrained. So far away. They place a mask over my face. Everything is so slow.

It still might be nice to help.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The wooden seat of the witness box chafes but I hardly notice. Flashbulbs flash blinding my eyes for the umpteenth time. The man in front of me asks a question. My lawyer? The prosecutor? I'm not sure, I'm not focusing, my mouth is on autopilot answering his questions without conscious thought. My minds eye is watching a loop. I don't understand what went wrong. I replay the last day over and over, scrutinizing it. I don't know what went wrong.
...
It was a day like many others. I woke up early, went for a run and ate breakfast before heading to my lab. I sat down at my work station and began work on my new super-weapon. Only a few more hours and my new and improved sonic disintegrator would be complete.
Like most other supervillains I received a modest stipend from the association. Like many others, I used it for building super-weapons, or hiring the occasional minion or two. I could never afford more than that, the minion unions charged an arm and a leg these days. The occasional heist supplemented my income but even with that I could barely afford hero insurance these days. Some new hero had just appeared on the scene and rates had skyrocketed. Nothing new, eventually he'd leave or be defeated and rates would go back to normal or he'd clean up the city well enough that we'd all leave to avoid the new premiums.
A simple flashing icon appeared on my screen informing me that new mail had just arrived and I gestured for it to appear on the projector. It seemed on of the junior villains had discovered that this new hero had a weakness. It seemed he would lose his powers in the presence of a certain high pitched sound. It was my lucky day.
If I could just remove this annoying hero, I could have control of the city within hours. A quick hop over to City Hall, grab the mayor and BOOM, city is mine. I could almost taste the bonus I was going to receive for this. Besides once I got this city under control, I could move onto bigger and better places. I was finally moving up in the world.
A few hours later I was having a blast. Literally. Cars disintegrated left and right, geysers of water shot up into the sky from the atomized fire hydrants. Finally he came, sweeping down from the skies like an eagle diving for a rabbit. Glorious. The cross hairs of the sonic disintegrator leveled on his chest and I squeezed the trigger. A pulse shot through the air like one of those potatoes from a cannon I had as a child. A direct hit. Dead center of his chest.
The body crumpled and dropped to the ground. A large, gaping hole in the center of his chest.
I could feel the panic rising in my chest. My throat constricted. *Wrong*. This was all *wrong*. He shouldn't have died, they told me it would only remove his powers, I didn't know it would kill him. He was supposed to be rendered harmless. He couldn't be *dead*. How could I gloat now? How could I monologue? What happened now?
Body shaking I turned towards City Hall, the terrified screaming of the populace no longer pleasing. I trudged slowly up the stairs and took aim at the large double doors. A moment later they were gone. I walked, unseeing to the Mayor's Office and blasted the door of that along with a few guards as well.
He sat in his chair, trembling nearly as much as I when I reached him. I don't remember what he said. He probably begged for his life, his city, something. I don't know. Halfway through whatever he was saying he was gone.
I sat down in his chair, removed the key to the city from his desk and put it around my neck. It was over. I didn't know what to do.
...
""Do you understand the charges brought against you?""
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts.
""I said, do you understand the charges brought against you?""
Eyes blinking I turned my head to the side, it was the Judge talking. Long retired from the supervillain trade, though even know he commanded respect.
""Do you, or do you not understand the charges brought against you?""
I swallowed.
""Yes."" I replied.
""Very well, for failure to monologue your plan you are judged guilty. You are to be banned from the supervillain association. Your stipend will be revoked. You will be required to hand in your association membership card. You will be banned from the premises of our sporting facilities and clubs and banned from committing any and all crimes above that of shoplifting for the span of ten years.""
I nodded, it was the expected judgment. Nothing could change that.
""Bailiff take him away""
The bailiff took me by the shoulders and steered me out of the courtroom. Flashbulbs flashed again, immortalizing my disgrace. I was done. A deep depression hit me. I would be a *normal*. But as I was marched into the awaiting car a thought struck me like lightning. I was a supervillain, this was just another ruling for me to break.
As the car sped away I began to plan. Tomorrow would be a new day, and nobody, NOBODY could stop me from doing what I knew was wrong.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""We told you, sir. That's it. Dead man's fingerprints all over the crime scene."" The older cop sounded apologetic, but he stood his ground. My old schoolmate was not having it. ""Are you fucking kidding me? This shit is what I pay my taxes for?"" The loud conversation could be heard all the way to the police station's waiting room. The younger cop jumped up to his superior's defence immediately. ""You heard him. The only foreign fingerprints found ln your property belong to Jonathan Gerge. The man died in a plane crash months earlier. Marcus Hennes slammed both of his palms to the office table. ""That. Is. Bullshit. I ain't even seen that fucker in five years. Barely knew the fucker"", the old bully lied. He had made Gerge's life hell in school. Searing in fury, the pig-necked man continued to rant. ""And now you *incompetent fucks*"" - he stressed by screaming from the bottom of his lungs - ""are saying that a dead man fucking walked up my driveway and *fucked up my car?* is *that* what you're saying?!""

 The younger police officer was about to say something as the man's old anger management problems took the better of him again. A loud crash was heard, as Hennes unquestionably flipped the senior officer's table. Listening to the sounds of the entirely unexpected, loud and violent arrest from the other room, the man no longer known as Jonathan Gerge smiled behind his newspaper. I told you that once I was dead, I'd haunt the shit out of all of you fuckers.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"As I stand on this chair rope around my neck, tightened and ready to cut off my air supply, I remember my life.
I remember being born, my mum and dad were so happy, but war tore them apart. Dad went off to fight and mum worked in the factories until one day neither or them came back. Grandma raised me from then, but she passed when I turned 25. She never met Suzie. She was the light of my life, the only woman I truly loved. We never married but that didn't matter, we didn't need a ring to symbolise our passion for each other. We had three kids, Thomas, Annie and Nolan. All of them were beautiful. As time went on we all got older, Thomas came out. It was weird but I didn't care so long as he was happy. We can't control who we love. Annie had two kids, and Nolan had one of his own. I loved them all, Thomas, his boyfriend Andrew, Annie, her husband Steven, Nolan, his wife Sunita and my grandchildren Warren, Emma and Jess. Suzie died a few weeks after Warrens third birthday. Followed by Nolan, Thomas and then Annie. Over the next 70 years life became weird. My bloodline continued as did I, I didn't look a day over 50, but I was a lot older.
During that time I fell in and out of love, moved around the world. Nothing replaced home, no one replaced Suzie no matter how hard I tried. In my 500th year I decided to experiment. The loneliness got to me, I figured that I should take advantage of this immortality. I tried every drug I could, every woman, every man. None of it filled that void.
I fought many wars and had many lives (the government isn't a big fan of someone who lives to be 900, name and locale changes were a must). I hated all of them. I could never have ny old life back.
As I stand on this chair I think of my enemies, I wouldn't have wished this upon them. I think of my loved ones that have passed me by. I wouldn't wish this on them either.
As I jump off of this chair I dream and hope and wish that I will see them again, to apologise for being gone so long. Life moves in slow motion and the rope tugs and my neck, digging in and drawing blood (that hasn't happened in a while). I swing back and forth, waiting for the end. Unfortunately after 10 years the rope gives way, it always gives way. It breaks and snaps and throws me to the floor, a great metaphor for my life in a way. I throw it away, in the bin to join the others. I've been trying this for 127 years. One day I'll get it right",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Doorbell. What the fuck? To be honest, I didn't even know my apartment had a doorbell. I'm looking down at the open box of Fruit Gushers on the right side of my desk, and the two foot bong on the other, wondering if there was a doorbell man in our building to maintain the 2,000 doorbells when the bell immediately turns into a loud, angry knock.
""Hey! Open the door Matt! Let's go!""
So whomever this is, they know my name. That's not really a good sign for someone in my current state of filth and shame. But nevertheless, I throw on some pants and a sweatshirt and stutter step my way to the door and look through it's peephole.
Standing in front of the gate, smoking what appears to be a clove cigarette is a disheveled twenty-something in a wife beater, black jacket and aviators. He must have heard my footsteps, because after a couple of seconds he sticks his entire damn face up to the hole in the center of the door and yells 'I'M YOUR LONG LOST COUSIN MOTHERFUCKER!'
Recoiling a bit from the yelling two feet away from my ear, I go against my better judgement and decide to open the door and in strolls what looks like an immigrant attempting to fit into a new country.
In addition to the windbreaker and aviators, he's got a red bandanna pulling back his long, unkempt black hair. His T-Shirt reads one word: 'AMERICA'.
He plants himself on my couch, throwing his filthy boots on my unstuck glass table as he spreads his arms and tosses his aviators to the floor.
""FUCK, I can't believe I'm on here. I mean you see something on TV so many times and you get this idea how it'll feel, ya know? Nothing like I thought it would be. You're shorter in person. And I guess a *little* less pathetic, but not much. That part's actually pretty accurate.""
With that, he turns and looks up at the high wall to the right at me, shrugging his shoulders at it and giving it a knowing face.
I clap my hands angrily, bringing his attention back to me as I slowly pull the knife from my back pocket, inching closing to the psychopath on the couch.
""What are you talking about, TV? Who the fuck are you. What are you doing here. What are your feet doing on my table and i don't know what in holy hell you are smoking but you're going to set off the detectors with that!""
""Oh this?"" he says, pointing nonchalantly to what I now can see is an excellently rolled joint of some type. ""This is weed. And well, tobacco, obviously. Little PCP. Don't fuckin' worry about it okay? See this is exactly my problem, here. You get too distracted by shit."" He laughs, and points again to the joint. ""Especially this shit.""
At this point, I'm inches from the moron. I move to lung forward, arching my arm high to drive the knife into his shoulder until my entire body freezes impossibly as the man sighs.
""I told God we should have kept recording this week. He's got to be screaming at the ratings we're missing out on. That idiot has really got to start cleaning up his own messes, tut tut.""
He again takes a deep sigh as I stand there suspended in midair, anxiously awaiting my moment to strike. ""You can do this, Sean. That's why they brought you in. People skills. Puh Puh Peeeeople skills. Right right right. Okay herewego.""
He snaps his fingers and I immediately feel my body move towards the couch, sit down, and sit up straight. I place the kitchen knife on the table, where it immediately snaps into a thousand pieces. Sean crosses his leg carefully and pulls out a pack of what I assume is more of the weird joints. He taps the bottom of the pack thoughtfully, pulling one out from the end and sliding it between his lips as he starts to speak.
""Here's the deal, man. As you can probably tell, I'm not exactly 'from' (he signals with two fingers) this neck of the woods. Next town over, if you know what I mean.""
I stare.
""Oh fuck it you have no idea do you. I'm from another dimension. This is going to hurt, but I'm going to give you a brief summary of the facts of this shitty little existence you've got going on. But before I do that, we're going to need to spark up. So pucker up, quit bitching, and smoke some of my demon weed.""
I look at Sean, then at the open pack on the table. He nods, grinning creepily as he gestures to the pack, raising his eyes up and down as he does. For reasons unbeknownst to me still, I grab the pack, pull one out, and spark up.
""Continue."" He grins as wide as he can and happily taps the ash from his own joint. ""*As* I was saying. Our universe does not operate as one straight line. There's yours, mine, and thousands of others out there. Actually, the number is *I think* 2,187. Don't quote me on that.""
He takes in a big cough and immediately starts a nasty coughing fit, combined with a fit of laughter, before he pauses and catches his composure and points at his heaving chest.
""Mine's the oldest. Yours, and most of the others were once vast wastelands before the Creators came in, built up a set, and put together what you would call TV shows for all folks back home in my dimension. You're the actors.""
I pause after inhaling deeply on the awe-inspiring combination of drugs and asked a question I could only conceive under said state.
""*Are you telling me God is a TV producer?*""
Sean grins as smoke billows out his nose and between his teeth.
""Precisely.""
He taps the joint in the Dark Side of the Moon ashtray again, then continues.
""He's a pretty cool guy actually, I've been to every one of his fan events back in my dimension, and he always asks questions and is super respectful to all followers of the show.""
""But I'll tell ya, the dude does not know how to move a plot line for shit.""
""I mean, he's been hinting at this big 'Judgement Day' thing for years now, and we get nothing. More melodrama, more, 'Kimmy's banging Kanye' or bullshit terrorism stuff. Do you know how annoying that is for a lifelong fan like me? I've been watching this show for more time then you could even comprehend, and then some. I just want to see what it's all about.""
""So why are you here?"" I ask him again.
He grins. ""See, I knew the joint would help you understand. Well, the thing is, God keeps hinting that you're going to be a major player in this Judgement Day thing, but he's still not sure how he can use you. You know, cos that whole free will thing.""
""What do you mean, 'free will thing'?"" I ask.
""Free will. He can't really make you get up and become a warrior of Judgement Day, or whatever type of player you're going to be, it has to happen the way he wrote it. But you're straying off the beaten path. I mean, we all knew there were going to be some depressing scenes after your girlfriend dumped you for the fourth time, but this is getting ridiculous.""
He gestures to the heaping combination of laundry and Dominos boxes as he shrugs his shoulders.
""Fuck you man. Why do you give a shit what happens?""
With this, Sean clearly takes offense. He stands up, raising his finger to me before chuckling and collecting himself and putting out the burning roach in his hand.
""I care, because like every loyal fan, I don't want to see my favorite show end before its prime. I've got a feeling your's hasn't come to an end yet. So how about you get off your ass, go out there, and do something about it?""
With that, Sean throws on his aviators and snaps his fingers, disappearing before I can even respond, leaving me holding a PCP laced joint in one hand and my bong in the other.
""Fuck.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Fuck off dude. I'm definitely the main character of our lives.'
'How are you?'
'Just think about it, I'm tall, Jewish and definitely funnier than you. You are short and complain-y. I'm Jerry Seinfeld and you're George Costanza.'
'Please, you're barely even Jewish.'
'Still counts.'
'Yeah but you've never even been in a fight! Main characters are cool guys who get into fights.'
'Nah, I'm like MacGyver, I use my wits. And I also could totally fight if I wanted to.'
'Fuck off, no you couldn't.'
'Yo, if the Russians invaded like in Red Dawn, I'd easily be Swayze. I already know how to shoot and I can drive and I can probably live in the forest. You don't even know how to cook.'
'You're the worst, if we ever get invaded, I'm gonna manipulate everyone to hate you and you're gonna be first against the bloody wall.'
'I'm just gonna straight up shoot you. Like, even if there is just a hint of war. The news is like “China seems a bit grumpy today”... bam, that's almost enough for me to just kill you to stay safe. It's the end of the world, Dan, dog eat dog.'
'You're such a dick.'
'You're the one planning a coup d'etat *before* a war even begins.'
'See, leadership, I'm definitely the main character.'
'Have you seen Star Wars? Luke is poor, from a farm and has a fringe. I have been all of these things.'
'Yeah but I'm easily the genius kid from Numbers.'
'Yeah but that's a shitty TV show. In a movie, he's comic relief and dead before the end. Like in Serenity, he actually is a funny computer geek who dies before the end.'
'Oh what, so you're the Captain?'
'Pretty much.'
'Okay fine but I'm Wash because everyone loves me, I'm hilarious and you haven't even had sex with any black women, you racist.'
'THEY JUST DON'T LIKE ME!'
'They really don't for some reason.'
Jake and Dan talked like this all the time. Mainly bullshit, a little insight and a whole lot of being total dicks to one another. They were best friends though. College kids tend to place pride in this and they spent everyday together, talking nonsense and watching movies. When they were older, they were going to really give the film industry a good go. They would do it together. For now, they just stared out windows at the world, day dreaming of the magical place that makes mad, beautiful universes.
Today was not going to be like any other day. It didn't even feel like it was going to be another day. You know how sometimes people get a bad feeling about things? “I shouldn't get on that train.” Ten minutes later the train is a ball of flames and twisted, turning metal and the one who knew has to re-examine what they felt were universal truths, such as how can one know something like this? It's simple really. The air tastes wrong, like iron. The sky is darker but there's no shadows. Your heart rate quickens and your mood drops. All things that happen naturally, but you put it together and, suddenly, you've got yourself a Very Bad Feeling
Last night, Jake had a very bad feeling.
This morning, Jake had a very loud awakening. There was a terrible, deafening explosion that tore through the air and lit up the night sky. He burst out of his door in his boxers and clambered up a ladder on to his roof. The soft curve and violent, rolling, rumbling flames unfurled through the night sky, probably hundreds of kilometres away. A mushroom cloud that stretched through the heavens and into the nether. Wide as well, wide enough to take an ancient and beautiful city and turn it into rubble.
'DAN,' he shouted. 'COME UP HERE.'
Staring out at the world. People were climbing on their roofs, holding each other, screaming or weeping silently. More still frantically threw clothes and photo albums into the back of beat up station wagons, utes. Driving nowhere. 'DAN!'
Jake scrambled down the ladder and ran to Dan's room.
'Dan-man we gotta go homie!'
Dan was staring out the window, silent.
'Dan, now!'
Still, nothing.
'Ugh, come one!'
Jake grabbed Dan's arm and dragged him to the garage. 'What's your Dad's passcode, Dan,' Jake asked as he fumbled with the gun locker's combination key. 'Dan? Fuck this.'
Jake reached for the long, heavy axe next to the door and brought it down on the lock, the gun cabinet bursting open. Jake grabbed two rifles, and the two boxes of ammunition. Holding the rifle in his hand seemed to reawaken something in Dan.
'I'm okay.'
'Great fuckin' news dude. Let's get the fuck outta here!'
'Okay, you get some food and I'll grab some camping equipment. We'll leave a note for my parents if they, you know... managed to...'
'Dude, they'll be fine, your Dad's fucking tough as shit.'
'Yeah okay, meet at the car in five?'
'Car in five.'
*****
The next few months were cold. Really cold. Have you ever tried camping in the middle dead forests and mountain ranges in a nuclear winter? It's not fun. Jake and Dan were heading west, where it was warmer. Apparently no one was hit there and it's safe. That's what they'd heard.
The car was stolen weeks ago and the boys trudged silently through the, muddy, sloppy snow, well off the highway. Roads were too dangerous these days. They didn't have enough food to make the coast. They knew that. But they could make it, they'd just need to find some along the way. Just a little help from someone. There were good people out there, they knew it.It wasn't the experience either of them were expecting. It was blisters, and shitting your pants and bloody knuckles. And it was sickness.
It started after about three months. Jake started coughing. Nothing unusual, they were marching through hell without so much as a Panadol. Long nights, cold winds and no food would make anyone get a bit sick. Except Jake didn't start to get better after a few days, he got worse. Much, much worse.
Every night, Dan would cry and try to cover his ears as Jake lay next to him, coughing up blood and wheezing through every breath, struggling and gasping and hoping for just a single breath of unfiltered air. But it never went away. Jake was going to die. Jake was going to die but before he did that, he was going to use half of their food supply.
By the flickering embers of the fire, Jake peered through his bleary eyes at Dan, sleeping almost peacefully. Almost. 'I guess you were right, dude. I can't be the main character. The main character doesn't die first.'
Jake, alone, struggled to his feet. Trembling, shaking legs that once weren't so thin but now could barely hold his weight. He struggled to lift the gun that a long time ago seemed so eaasy. He shuffled and dragged his useless feet far enough that Dan wouldn't see him. Out to the woods, the cold, blackened skeletons that used to be trees reached up the sky as if yearning for the sun's life breath, it's forever extinguished light.
He slumped against one of these decaying corpses and pulled out his iPod. He'd been saving this last five percent of battery. He closed his eyes to the sound of his song, his favourite song.
*Gold teeth and a curse for this town, were all in my mouth...
Only I don't know how they got out, dear.*
He closed his eyes and swallowed his fear and the icy, metallic barrel. Again, he could taste iron, like the first day of this nightmare. Except it wasn't a Very Bad Feeling he got. Not this time.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was cold that night.
With all the baloons around, Jimmy's only thoughts were about his birthday.
And the chocolate cake of course.
It's been a few years since they first landed in Mars and with the ongoing support of NASA, Jimmy's family managed to live quite comfortably - As much as possible on a planet like Mars.
Jimmy's dad, a long-time famous astronaut was the first man to land on Mars, which is why NASA felt confident letting him lead the mission to colonialize the red planet.
Communications with Earth were scarce.
Jimmy's dad blamed it on NASA and how they've ""abandoned the project"".
Major events such as political uprisings, natural disasters and the effects of global warming were never broadcasted to Mineral-1, the first Maritian settlement.
The only updates recieved from Earth were yearly updates concerning NASA's budget and aid towards the Mars Project.
But on the day of Jimmy's 10th Birthday that routine changed.
A new broadcast was received and not on Comm Day.
Jimmy only thoughts centered on the cake and of the joy he will surely feel once he could eat it. Surely it'll happen soon.
Before Jimmy's dad reached the Comm station, a few bright flashes - not more than 3 or 4 - appeared in the sky around planet Earth's location.
Fearing the worst, Jimmy's dad pressed the little green knob towards the dusty ""ON"" sign.
Static.
Only static.
After a minute of static noise, a news report began:
""People of Earth, We have brought the change in power you asked for.
We did what no one dared.
The coming days will prove difficult and unfair.
But together we stand strong against the evil powers of the USA"".
As the broadcast ended, Jimmy's dad walked back to the party, and together with his son they cut the cake.
Jimmy went to sleep happy.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They came from the sky, speaking a strange, flowing language that everyone just *understood*, somehow. They came from the sky, and with a single gesture, all conventional weaponry instantly shattered.
They told us we had a month to prepare for their final judgement.
We all thought we'd be evaluated on our physical form, or our mental health. On strength, or intelligence, or reflexes. Something that related to our survival as a species. But no.
No, we were being judged on reddit karma.
Of course, there was an initial crash as a billion people tried to log in or register at once. It was absolute pandemonium for the few hours it was down. After several other websites recommissioned their servers to help support reddit, it was deemed safe to log in again. And then began the karmawhoring.
The defaults, circlejerks, and porn subreddits were at full capacity with people feverishly trying to collect upvotes. Most titles had reverted to some form of 'Plz give karma'. Gold was thrown around like confetti. The more karma-wealthy users had retreated into the shadows after Unidan had reportedly been assaulted for his account information. But anyways, after thirty days, after one long month of shameless reposting, beating dead horses into pulp, and paranoia, they finally returned.
And then they laughed in our faces. ""jk lol."" And then they left, without a single trace. ...Goddammit, I knew I should've made a throwaway for that gonewild post.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Let me get this straight, you're suggesting we feed them testicles. As in, human testicles.""
Roosevelt glared at the panel of doctors and scientists standing across his desk.
""Yes Mr. President"" the leader of the delegation said. ""It's the only way."" He met Roosevelt's gaze coldly, the look of a man who hadn't slept in days.
A younger man towards the back spoke nervously, trying to be helpful.
""It's the lead in the gasoline, sir. No one knew it would affect birth rates like this. And with the highway system now sir, I mean it's taken affect across America. In 20 years the birth rate will be down to nearly zero, unless we can normalize hormone levels--""
""I've read the GODDAMN report"" Roosevelt interrupted. ""What about synthesizing it in a lab? Hell, use monkeys or pigs or something. I understand you fellows are experimenting with that kind of thing these days.""
A man with unkept hair and spectacles spoke. ""We've tried that sir. The best minds in the entire United States have been trying for months, and we're no closer now then when we started. If we don't act soon we're facing a calamity the scale of which this country has not yet seen.""
""This is a disaster"" the president said. ""The people are never going to accept this. There'll be riots, they'll tear down the government! We can't just outright tell them, that would be as bad as doing nothing at all. And the legality of doing it by force, why, that would set a precident that would certainly doom this country.""
Silence filled the room. Roosevelt allowed his gaze to drift, eventually settling on a coffee tray near the edge of his desk. On the tray was a Mr. Goodbar still in its wrapper; tiny gray text hiding beneath the colorful red and yellow logo.
""Gentleman,"" Roosevelt began, ""I have an idea...""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""The president of the United States of America appears in my room.""

*poof*

Well, there was no actual poof, I didn't specify that. Damn.

""The president goes back to his last location and everyone other than me forgets that he disappeared in the first place. Then he appears in my room again, with a poof.""

*poof*

There we go. So the president was now in my room. Time to do this.

""What...where...who."" He was obviously very flustered with his sudden teleportation.

""Hello, Mr. President, I am the most powerful man on Earth. I'd like to offer you a deal""

""...Do you realize what you've done? You've just kidnapped the leader of America. I don't who you are or why I don't remember how it happened, but you've just become an enemy of the state. And I'm not negotiating with a criminal. ""

Well, I didn't expect his reaction to be hostile. Shit.

""Look. Sir, I assure you, you are completely safe. The only reason I've brought you here is to talk and this is the only way I knew how. Now, we both appear in a grassy field...with a poof."" Whew, nearly forgot that last bit.

*poof*

Again, the president was shocked, but he was starting to understand. 

""The sky will turn red, flying pigs will cover the sky, and the president will become an attractive female version of himself."" *Oh shit, almost forgot again* ""with a poof.""

*poof*

""Do you understand now Mr. President, my power? What I can do to and for the country?""

The president was inspecting her new body while nodding to my question.

""Good. If you want me to help America to get to the top, I want to be payed one billion dollars, every 5 years. And to cut off your question, do you know how annoying it would be to give myself a billion dollars? It would be impossible to do it without *someone* noticing, and it's too much trouble to deal with that. So I'll give you a couple days to think it over and then I'll call you back to hear your decision""

""Hold on a sec-"" He was surprised by his feminine voice. I used that momentary shock to my advantage.

""The president turned back into a man and appeared where he originally was. With a poof."" 

*poof*

I didn't tell him that I would just force him to agree to my deal if he didn't want to. Or that it really wasn't that a big a problem to just give myself a billion or a trillion dollars. Or that I was going to make a similar deal to many world leaders. Because telling him that would spoil the fun. 

I looked at the crimson, pig filled sky and decided to leave it that way for a while. Maybe turn it purple and make it frogs instead when I got bored. Ah, my first foray into politics is going to start with a bang, this will probably last me for a decade or two, being a shadowy puppet master controlling the world. Maybe a I'll get discovered and someone will try to stop me, now THAT would be exciting. After I get bored of this, maybe I'll take up pottery, who knows. I can pretty much do anything I want now. I stopped the eventual death and expansion of the Universe, and the death of the sun the other day in a couple seconds. I can keep having fun *forever*.

A large grin spread across my face.

""The leader of Russia appears in my room""

""With a *poof*!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Harris watched silently as his mother walked back and forth across. He did not know how she would take the news, but it's become more and more clear, that it was not sitting well with her. She turned to face her son, ""A hexagon?"" She asked. ""Yes, mom, I am a hexagon"" he said back. ""And when did this sudden interest in six sides spring up, Harris?"" She asked, tear were accumulating in her eyes. ""It's not an interest, I know I'm a hexagon, I always have been a hexagon. This sixth side of me is there, I know it."" ""Don't you bullshit me, Harris. Your father is a pentagon, your grandfather is a pentagon. Now you're telling me that all this time you are six-sided. That's not natural."" ""Mom, It's who I am."" Harris was now crying. ""What happened to sweet little shape I used to know? Why is this happening, you were never like this."" ""Mom, there is a side of me you don't know...... I'm not a pentagon, I never was. I am a six-sided individual, take it or leave it. ""Just get out"" She screamed. ""FINE, I NEVER WANTED A HEXAPHOBE FOR A MOTHER ANYWAY"" Harris ran out of the house, to face the world alone. He had no idea where to turn too or where he was going. Such was the cruel reality of flatland.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"After learning of his ancestry, Samuel Jackson was torn. He had fought for minority rights for years, but knowing where he came from, he felt compelled to carry on in the footsteps of his most famous ancestor. He was full of internal conflict as he drove through the Pocatello sun towards the Fort Hall Indian Reservation a few hours north of Salt Lake City, as he drove past the Fort Hall Casino, he met up with a group of Shoshone-Bannock tribal leaders who had been informed of his arrival. With a bellowing voice, he almost shouted at them with no empathy in his voice.
""Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking Plains Indians on this motherfucking Snake River!""
The startled tribal elders looked shocked and incredulous. They had been excited for the actor's unexpected visit, but this wasn't at all what they had thought was coming.
""No seriously, we've discovered rare earth metals in the soil and we're gonna strip mine the area. Don't worry, we've set aside a few thousand acres in Klamath Falls, Oregon for you to resettle in, it shouldn't be that far a drive.""
Samuel knew that this would help the national economy and keep the United States from being too dependent on China for natural resources, but at the same time, he felt like he was betraying the causes he had fought so hard for, and as he watched the shocked and downtrodden Shoshone prepare for the big move, a single tear trailed down his cheek.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Freedom. That was the first feeling that had rushed through Rachelle as she drove away from her home of five years, belongings stuffed into the truck. Freedom from the man she had believed to be her soul mate. The one who had tricked her into believing he was the one for her, all because he had shared her blooming rose tattoo. Curse him for taking advantage of her easily-viewed mark on her arm! Rachelle couldn't believe that his actual mark had been the sword on his stomach, rather than the matching rose on his arm he had procured after seeing her own.
After the initial bliss of finding her soulmate, the relationship began to go downhill. But Rachelle had held on, knowing that it had to get better; the tattoo proved it! Five years of hope. A different hope from that which characterized the first 20 years of her life, awaiting her soul mate.
Even as he cheated, drank, and gambled, she held onto that hope. A hope that weighed on her, pulling her down and away from her friends and family. And then the discovery. A careless sentence spoken in a drunken stupor, and suddenly, the weight was gone. She was free. Free from the chains she had placed on herself. Rachelle knew, from then on, she would never rely on the tattoo. Never again would she place the reins of her life in anyone's hands but her own.
Rachelle continued driving, an armband covering up the rose.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The Interview

""Mr. MacFarlane, now that the news is out, and NASA is confirming, what can you tell us? Did you already know about extraterrestrial life when you proposed the new Cosmos series?""

""Hi Claudia, thanks again for having me on the show. The whole thing started on September 23rd, 2007. I knew the Family Guy Star Wars parody episode was going to be a hit. But, oh ho ho, there was one fangirl I wasn't expecting. She actually wrote me a text message. On my phone. Here, check it out, I have it saved. Read it to everyone.""

""Yes, okay. 'I am from a nearby planet. The Star Wars episode was great.' That's it? That was first contact?""

""Well, at that point -- forgive my skepticism -- I didn't think I'd been the very first human to be contacted by an alien. I figured it was a friend making a joke. I responded. Here, you read the messages.""

""You said, 'Thanks. Which planet? Hoth?' She said, 'Oh, you wouldn't know it. We call it Geria.' ""

""Then I made some joke about calling her geriatric.""

""Right, that's the next text on your phone here.""

""So, well, then she asked if she could come by. I didn't really respond. But the next night she showed up at my door. She was blue. That made me take the situation more seriously.""

""What did you do?""

""We had some whiskey. She really wanted to try out whiskey. For my part, I felt that I suddenly needed a drink, a strong drink.""

""What did you talk about?""

""She told me a little about Geria. They apparently have great beaches, some good national parks. Then we started hashing out how to tell people about alien life existing.""

""Go on.""

""So, I'm like, starting to tell her about the old Cosmos show. And Carl Sagan. And how if I were about to learn that life exists elsewhere in the universe, I would have wanted Carl Sagan to tell me. He was so wise, so well-considered. The way he explained things, even crazy things, they didn't seem threatening, or weird. They seemed almost magical.""

""Did she know about Cosmos or Carl Sagan?""

""She didn't, no. But I gave her my DVD set. She loved it. A few months later, I'd drawn up some fake proposals for a new Cosmos show. We got Fox to accept it, and we started working on the real episodes in secret. We filmed some other trailers and material so that people wouldn't know. We wanted it to be a complete secret, we wanted to drop the news suddenly, but thoughtfully. Carl's widow, she's a co-producer, she knew from the start. We didn't tell Neil DeGrasse Tyson or anyone else until we started shooting. At that point, we had a lot of multimedia on Geria.""

""You planned this all with -- sorry, what was her name?""

""She goes by Sally. She loved Third Rock from the Sun, that's the wife's name on the show.""

""You and Sally filmed a whole series on extraterrestrial life in secret?""

""Actually, no.""

""No?""

""Not quite.""

""Sorry, I lost you there.""

""We didn't film one series. We filmed two. We're premiering a series about Earth on Geria this week. On their version of the Travel Network. It starts tonight, actually. In fact, I have to go. This has been great.""

""I thought we had 10 minu--Seth? Wait, did you see that, did he just vanish? Seth? Seth!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was the smell.

Before anything else, before sight or sound of anything other than waves breaking on the shore, the smell was the first thing they sensed. Strong, overpowering, even over the salt water. Revolting waves of stench rolled even stronger than the atlantic swells, a stink that bore death and misery, decay.

The leader jumped lithely from the prow of the long, narrow boat to alight on the sand. Not thirty seconds walk from the shore was the first body, a black and swollen husk, home to maggots hatching in what was left of the flesh. The stink.

There were only three hundred men and women on the expedition, and they walked armed and wary, but needn't have. The village they came to had ten dead for every living soul, perhaps one hundred living souls in total.

The second in command was cautious. ""There is a sickness upon these people, boss... I don't know if we should go any further...""

The leader gazed down his long nose at the people suffering in front of him, cowering in rags at the sight of the healthy warriors.

""Not sick"", he uttered softly. ""Starving.""

He was right. The people were skin and bones, skeletal figures of pity and hopelessness, a mockery of human life. There were no farms to be seen of any consequence, and the only wild animals in sight were dogs and rats. 

""Have they no bison? No pigs? Where is all the food?""

""The leader looked around once more at the village. Shacks cobbled together with driftwood, clothes made of poorly woven reeds and plants. Cloth seemed to be in short supply. No weapons, no handmade items of any beauty. Sea shells and smooth stones from the shore.

""They do not no how to farm, I think. Look at how they live."" 

The mans heart was heavy with the sight of the wretched waifs skulking in front of them, too scared to approach, no signs of communication of any kind other than some sort of superstitious hand motion, crossing in front of their face.

""Look at how they act."" He sighed, long and slow.

""These people are savages.""

(Edited for spelling.)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The first thing you notice about him was his skin. It shown like the moon draped in the thick, velvet darkness of his violet cloak. When he arrived we were trying to escape the ever enclosing maw of a world the had once belonged to us, but had so rapidly turned to consume the of of us. He first gave us the cacao bean that dulls our senses and he offered us more if only we work for him. If only we would toil in his factories and live as less than rats, let alone people, let alone actually sentient creatures. And when he told us to hurt them, we did it, we did it with a smile on our face. We laughed and sang songs. They were only children. It was then we were woken from our stupor. Only then, with the blood of four innocents on out hands, did we look ourselves in the eye and say ""Perhaps Mr. Wonka is not the benevolent God he wants us to believe he is."" In the end, He was not our God, never our God, but it made no difference.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""You're re-classing?"" She sounded shocked. ""What is going on in that fool head of yours, Ren?""
He spun around, a little too quickly, and dropped the sword from his gloved hand. He shrugged sheepishly. ""Hey Mora, didn't think you were going to drop by. What's up? How's the family? How're the forests?"" He was dodging the question, but Mora would have none of it.
""Listen to me, Ren Shadowbender, you are a warlock. You have always been a warlock. Your father was a warlock, and his father before him, and his father before him. If you ever sucker some woman into marrying you, your CHILDREN will be warlocks. There's no argument here! What the hell are you thinking, reclassing to soldier?"" Ren shrugged again.
""I'm just looking for a change of pace, you know? Something new, something different. I figured, why not go soldier? I heard that Aren reclassed to soldier last month and he's having a great time with it."" Slowly, Ren bent down and retrieved his new sword from the ground, gingerly running his fingers over the hilt, before sheathing it at his side. He looked back to Mora, forcing a smile. ""It's just a class change.""
Mora shook her head and took a step back. ""No, Ren, it's not just a class change. This isn't you. You don't wear armor, you don't hack at monsters with swords. Why are you doing this, really?"" The snarl on her face gradually disappeared, replaced with concern. ""Come on, Ren. We've been friends since level 3, you don't have to lie to me. What's going on?""
Ren sighed and shook his head. ""I know, I know. It's just that... Do you REMEMBER level 3? Everything was so fresh and new and rewarding. We teamed up and took out one Demon Bear and DING, new level. Clear out a kobold cave? New level. I think I leveled up once just from running around town talking to people once. Everything was so easy, and I didn't know what was coming next.
When I got to level 5, I learned Soul Binding. Remember that?"" Mora nodded. ""It was crazy. I'd never done anything like that. Remember when I learned how to shoot Shadowbolts?"" Again, Mora nodded. ""Amazing. Even when I learned to fly."" As if to illustrate his point, Ren began to float, a few inches at first, but then continued to rise until he was two or three feet off the ground. Mora smiled, and Ren smiled back as they remembered.
Then Ren fell to the ground, landing on his feet without a hint of grace. ""It's not the same anymore. If I want to level up, it's not just one Demon Bear or a half dozen kobolds. It's fifteen, maybe twenty Demon Bears. I used to be getting a level, maybe two a day. Now I'm lucky to pick up one every week."" He scowled, and raised a hand, firing off a Shadowbolt into the distance. ""And that? That's it. That's all I've got. I'm level 50 now, no new abilities. No new skills. I'm not going to sprout wings, or learn how to jump shadows, or anything I don't already know how to do. It's just '10% damage increase' or '-5% cooldowns'. What am I supposed to be excited about?""
Mora frowned and closed the distance between them, placing a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. ""Ren, it's ok. You are a fantastic warlock, and you don't need any flashy new abilities to prove that. You're the best magic-user I've ever grouped with.""
Ren shook off her hand. ""If I reclass, I set back to level 1. One bear, one harpy, a handful of kobolds, and I ding. I get to learn all new things. Cool attacks, taunts, finishing moves, maybe even a healing spell or something. I don't know, and that's what makes it so damn exciting!"" He paused for a minute, looking at the sword in his hand. ""You don't get it, Mora. You've always been an Archer, through and through."" At that, Mora scowled.
""Because I'm an Elf? You think that just because I'm an Elf, I've always loved archery? You don't think there's a time, when we're getting routed and I'm bleeding out on the plains while you fight off some monster, that I don't wish I was a Healer? You don't think that, after another level of 'Far Shot: Your range increases by 5%', I wish I could do something else? You're full of shit, Ren."" Ren reached out to take Mora's bow, but she turned away, stopping his hand.
""Then why don't you? We can reclass together. You can be a Healer, or a Thief, or whatever you want to be. We can start off at level 1 again, and it will be just like it used to be."" Mora shook her head and pushed Ren away.
""No, Ren. No. What happens when you ding 50 again? Hell maybe you won't even make it to 50. Maybe it'll be 40, or 35. What happens next time you get bored, or want a change of pace? There are only 6 classes, Ren! Are you going to go through all of them? Then what? Just quit all together?"" Mora's eyes narrowed, and she whistled loudly. ""You'll have nothing left."" She sighed, closing her eyes as the sound of hooves clattering against the stone grew in the distance. ""I'm leaving, Ren. I guess if you want to go Soldier... Then this is goodbye. I can't group with someone so low level. You'll just hold me back.""
Ren's face fell and he reached out to his friend. ""Mora...""
""If you decide to stay Warlock, you know where to find me."" As her horse passed by, Mora leaped up to it and rode off, leaving Ren behind to stare at the sword in his hands.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Mark unzipped his neon green fanny pack and plunged his hand into its depths, frayed edges tickling the wrinkles on his hand as he descended. He fumbled around within, moving various activities, snacks, empty vodka bottles, and other objects aside until his long, dirt-caked fingers ran along the edges of a small rectangular box. He carefully curled them around the object, then pulled it out. A small, white carton emerged, the words “Marlboro Light” printed on it. “I don’t know, Snuffles, this seems like a bad idea.”
“Trust me, Mark, it’s totally safe. As your imaginary friend, you know I’d never lead you wrong. They say ‘Light’ on them, that means they’re super good for your health.”
Mark shrugged and pulled open the container. He’d never smoked a cigarette before, but Snuffles assured him that he had always secretly wanted to. All those action stars, they were always smoking, and they looked so damn cool doing it. Snuffles was right. Mark was relatively positive the only thing stopping him from becoming the next Bruce “Die Hard” Willis was a lack of tobacco. He glanced down at the open box. About 25 white, cylindrical cigarettes stared back at him. He removed the one in the middle and studied it.
“What are you looking at it like that for?” asked Snuffles.
“I want to make sure there’s no ricin in it.” “Good call,” said Snuffles.
Mark flicked the cigarette and held it upside down. Nothing came out, Heisenberg had not been there. He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief; he would live another day. Mark turned the cigarette back over in his fingers and held it between his pointer and middle finger, as he’d seen so many cool guys do. “Are you ready?” said Snuffles.
“Yes,” replied mark. He slowly raised the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply. A cold sensation spread through his lungs, as if he had breathed 30-degree air, very similar to the 30-degree air he was currently standing in. This, however, had a slight ashy taste to it. He kept it in his chest for a moment, allowing it to freely spread and mingle with the other 30-degree air he’d inhaled previously, and then exhaled. It felt roughly the same as breathing.
“I didn’t even cough he said,” placing the unlit cigarette into his mouth and allowing it to rest there as he spoke. “I’m so proud of you,” said Snuffles. “You don’t even know how cool you look right now. Take another drag, cool guy.”
Mark turned and faced the glass of the 21st Street Deli in front of him, eying himself up and down in the reflection. He was indeed looking pretty cool with the cigarette sticking out of his mouth, there was no point denying that. He stared at his face. His curly, brown beard was long and unshaven, the bottom half caked in crumbs and almost tangled into a knot. Similarly, his hair extended down nearly to his shoulders, but was meshed together with mud and dirt. He was well on his way to unintentional dreadlocks. He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d gotten either cut or shaved. It didn’t matter, though, it looked quite good with today’s clothing ensemble. Technically it was also yesterday’s ensemble, as well as the day before’s (and so forth), but that was all in the past—quite literally. Today it was specifically his Tuesday outfit. He was wearing a fine linen sweater, coated in dirt and urine to help insulate him from the cold, as well as very short jean-shorts. He had opted out of regular jeans, instead cutting the legs off at the hip. It allowed him to be much more agile and, if he was quite honest, more attractive. Women frequently stopped and stared at him as he strolled by. Although it did get a bit cold outside as he slept, it was all in the name of fashion.
“Go ahead, take another drag,” Snuffles urged. Mark raised the cigarette to his mouth and again inhaled as deep as he could. He closed his eyes as the cold air re-filled his lungs. He always thought cigarettes would be a little more warming than this, but apparently not. He exhaled deeply, again amazed that he did not cough. It felt so much like inhaling the regular winter air. Each smoke-filled breathe seemed to be bringing him closer to a starring role in the upcoming Die Hard 6: Die Hardester, a film he’d spent many late nights perfecting his mental script for. “How’d that feel?” asked Snuffles. “Great, it felt so good. I think I’m addicted already. I’m pretty buzzed.”
“Then I’ve got you. I finally got you,” said Snuffles.
“What do you mean?”
“I did it.”
“You did what?” Mark took another drag on the cigarette, but held it much shorter this time. It was so cold, yet so relaxing.
“Yes, breathe that in. Breathe deeply. Let it destroy you from within.”
Destroy. What did he mean? Mark felt his heartbeat quicken as his mind raced: He had checked for ricin, done everything he saw Walter do. He tapped it, turned it over, and used his eyes. How could he miss it?
“You put ricin in my cigarette? You fucker!”
“Worse, Mark. Worse. I’ve stuck by you for 27 years now, been there every minute of your life. I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked and never so much as questioned you. At first it was fun, we’d do normal kid stuff: Play tag, fly kites on the moon, eat raw sushi, et cetera. For the first ten or so years it was all fine and dandy. But then things started getting weird. Do you remember when you were fifteen and you made me ask out a girl for you? She didn’t even respond to me, it was like I didn’t even exist. You said it was my fault that she wouldn’t go out with you, and my fault when you later beat her into a coma. That crushed me, destroyed my self-esteem. And do you remember, when you went off to that college, you told me we were going to pledge for a frat? They said you that you weren’t quite a fit, and also not a student,. You blamed it on me, said it was because I got too drunk at the party? Yes, I had a few shots, but I wasn’t drunk. I am a tank, Mark, a tank. I can drink way more than six shots. Come on.”
“Snuffles—”
“No, Mark. All you want me to do these days is weird shit. It’s starting to make you seem crazy. Do you remember the night after the frat brother denied us and you wanted to play that silly prank on him? You blamed it on me when it all went wrong. Said it was my fault, that I made you accidentally stab him over and over as he slept. Said it was because of me that you did this. And what was it all for, anyway? Have you ever asked me how I feel? Have you ever asked me what I’m doing for the day? No, you just wait until it’s convenient for you and suddenly you care. Well, that’s too bad. As of now, it’s all over.”
Mark stared at himself in the glass storefront, feeling his heart beating against his chest like heart being thrown at a steady, heartbeat-like rhythm at someone’s chest. From the inside. “What did you do to me, Snuffles?”
“The worst thing I could think of, Mark.”
Mark’s eyes opened wide. “Did you rape me? Have I had my wiener raped off?” Mark grabbed for his crotch, finding that it was still there. He had not had his genitals raped off.
“Worse than that, Mark. Something you can’t recover from.”
Mark’s eyes dashed back and forth as he mentally tried to guess at options. Was he dead? He didn’t feel dead. He could still see his reflection in the mirror—or was that vampires? It didn’t matter, he could tell he wasn’t dead. Maybe he’d placed him on the organ donor list, a commitment he’d sworn off eternally from a very early age. Mark reached for his wallet, then stopped when he realized he never actually owned a driver’s license.
“What the hell did you do to me, Snuffles?”
“I’ve given you cancer, Mark. Cancer.”
Mark froze. How could this have happened? What did he do with Snuffles lately that could cause cancer? They had punched an old woman earlier, a silly rendition of the Knockout Game he’d heard so many inner-city kids play, but that didn’t seem like something that would cause cancer. He had eaten pancakes they’d found outside the deli earlier in the day. Was that cancer-causing?
“Was it the pancakes? Did you put cancer in my pancakes?” Mark shouted. “I swear to god, Snuffles. If there was cancer in my pancakes, I’m going to go crazy.” Mark slapped his own face in an attempt to hit Snuffles.
“No, Mark. Worse. Your new addiction, those cigarettes. Those have given you cancer. Your newest passion, your new desire: Cancer. Smoking causes cancer.”
Mark stared at the still unlit cigarette resting between his fingers. It looked so delicious, all he wanted was to take a nice long drag of it and feel the cold air fill his lungs. It was like he couldn’t breathe without it. He placed it on his lips and quickly dragged inwards.
“You monster,” he said, glaring at his reflection. He stared back at himself with such contempt; he just wanted to reach out and strangle himself. “You took the one thing I loved and turned it against me!”
“Yes, and soon it will be over for you. Cancer is very fast-acting. You probably have like an hour or two to live. And then, once you’re gone, it will be just me. It will be all me. I will finally be in control of you.”
Mark threw his fist into the plate glass, his knuckle crashing into it with a metallic smack. It shook slightly in its frame, then nothing. “I won’t let you do this, Snuffles!” Mark coughed and wheezed in an attempt to purge the cancer from his lungs.
“It’s too late, Mark. As we speak, the cancer is circulating through your body, spreading into every cell and turning them into something else. Probably into, like, a death cell or something. Basically you’re going to die.”
Mark turned away from the glass. What could he do? Snuffles had won, he’d finally taken him out. For so many years, Snuffles had been his scapegoat, his excuse for his actions—deep down, Mark knew it. He knew that it was his fault so many people had been hurt, his fault that he had been thrown out of his home. In a way, he always knew – but it was so much easier to blame it on Snuffles, so much easier to say he was at fault. When he could blame it on Snuffles, it felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so screwed up, so wrong. “Snuffles,” Mark said.
“Nothing you can say will stop this from spreading, Mark. You’re as good as gone, and soon it will be just me in here.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark said. He closed his eyes as he felt the cancer spread through his body, transitioning slowly into AIDS.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She is young, in college maybe. I can't clearly make out her features--the quality of the video is bad--but she is beautiful. In the caption it says she's Arabic. That explains it; an arid place kills it's flowers. She wears loose track suit pants and a shirt but I can't help wishing she was naked. I close my eyes and see her smooth, honey colored skin and her spread legs and she's so close I could touch her, smell her. But my eyelids open again and I'm disgusted with myself, knowing what will come next. 

The video has no sound, and the caption offers no explanation. I want to know why, I don't like the answer to this question being denied to me but at the same time I don't need an answer I already have. Superficial reasons are irrelevant anyway. 

She just sits in front of the camera, staring at me, her chin resting on a bent leg. She sees me through the camera. I wonder what she thinks of this, of me. I wonder if she'll do it, or she'll chicken out. I wish communication wasn't forbidden. 

I don't let my impatience show. The night is young still and, after all, it's only polite. I do have a strong sense of empathy. We watch each other, until she stands up and starts lighting up several lamps. Her room is flooded by light. It's small and cramped, the walls painted an ugly lime green. In front of the desk is a red door. 

She sits back again, but this time her motions are hurried and nervous, as if she's late for an appointment. I want to tell her to take her time but, of course, communication is forbidden. 

She pulls out the revolver. Just as I requested when I bought her death. One bullet. She spins the cylinder, puts the gun to her head and presses the trigger. There was no hesitation in her actions. One. Two. Three. I hear the bang, not physically, but in my mind, loud and clear as the bullet penetrates her skull and she falls to her side. Their expression as they die, as they feel themselves dying, is the sweetest part of all of this. I wait for half an hour. No one came. 

I payed good money to see her die. Watching them, especially if they are young and healthy, brings me great joy. Don't ask. You already know why. 


------

-069",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Vlad, we really need to begin our discussion of the Krimea situation""
""Not, now, Barack. Tonight we drink. In Russia we say 'don't discuss business with people who do not drink'"" He poured another vodka for Obama, while grinning widely.
*I really need to keep my head clear*, Barack thought while downing the Vodka. *But damn it, this is impossible with Putin next to me*
He looked at the people sitting around the table. Cameron and Putin were in a heated discussion about the crisps in front of them. Holande was chatting up with the waitress. *Suave french bastard* Barack thought, while downing his vodka. *Didn't I already drink mine? I can't remember...* He made eye-contact with Merckel, while she was throwing a half-litre beer in her throat. The belch that followed was quite unlady-like. *Not like anyone noticed*. Obama sighed, downed his Vodka, remembered that he just drank one already, and muttered ""Goddamnit Vladimir"".
When Obama stood up, he knew he drank too much. It took a few breaths before the world came into focus (more or less) and he staggered towards the bathroom.
While standing by the urinal, he noticed Hollande next to him, lipstick on his collar.
""You can says a lot aboot Putin"" Hollande exclaimed, accent thick from alcohol ""But he sure knows 'ow to throw zhe party, oui?""
""Sure thing, Franky"" Obama said, whille spitting in the urinal. ""I'd only wish he would begin discussing Krimea, right. I mean, I came all the way down here, and I want more than just getting drunk. The fuck, man! Sometimes Vladimir really pisses me off.""
""Vhat did I do, Baracky?"" Obama turned around. Putin stood there in the dooropening, bottle in his hand, giving that grin he always gave when he tried to play coy. ""You know, what I said, Vlad"" and he took the bottle from Putin's hand. After a swirl or two he gave it back, gave a belch and looked Putin in the eye. ""We really need to cut a deal"" he said while he threw his arm on the shoulder of Putin. ""The republicans are killing me as it is, and I really don't want to start a war with you, you know that right?""
""Piderazt republicans"" Putin said, while spitting on the floor. He took a big swig of the bottle and handed it back to Obama. ""Lasst time... What is name of kazjol? Bush! Last time Bush was here, he drank two of my vodka and made sick on floor, made me embarras for U. S of A. You Barack, you I like. You can drink. Not like Russian, but you drink well. Maybe I think of this Krimea thing. But tonight, tonight we drink some more. Davaj!""
Obama looked at the table. Merckel and Cameron were dancing on it, making out when their faces came close. He staggered to the bar.
*I really need a refill...*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"(Didn't quite hit the nail on the head by the end, I'm off to bed, can't help it I'm dozing where I stand! Nice prompt.)
""Explain to me why we have to watch it in 2d, aren't there 4d mods?""
""How are you supposed to get the classical experience in 4d?""
""What...the heck is that?""
""Pretty sure they call it a TV.""
""What? Are you for real, is that an actual TV? How in the solar system did you manage that?""
""He used a replicator you idiot.""
""Actually, no, I didn't. This babe's real.""
""So how the heck does it turn on?""
""Push the little knob thing?""
""Which one?""
""They aren't doing anything.""
""Try banging it!""
""Sh...Maybe we have to pull this string here.""
""That's not a string dummy it's a wire.""
""Oh that's whats wrong. We have to connect it to a power source.""
""Are you serious? It cant catch electrons?""
""Umm. Google!""
""Yes, Marcillius 35A, how may I assist you?""
""We need a power source for this TV.""
""I anticipated this request a week ago Marcillius, an adequate power source has been generated in the replicator, just fit the prongs in.""
""Thanks Google.""
""Hey look! It fits!""
""Now do we push the buttons?""
""Hahaha, will you look at that? I think it's working.""
""That looks like snow...""
""Okay, so how do we put the movie in?""
""Google, how do we put the movie in?""
""Marcillius, you will require a media device for that. There is one waiting in the replicator.""
""So you mean it's this huge, and all it does is show the image?""
""I think you match the colored prongs to the colored holes.""
""Seriously, was everything like this?""
""Whoa, we got a signal folks, I repeat...ha is this the homescreen?""
""Google! What now?""
""I've already installed several movies you might like on the drive, I'll bring them up for you.""
""Google, which one is the most realistic?""
""The most realistic, Marcy?""
""Yes, whichever one happens to be the least ridiculous.""
""Well...That would have to be, ""The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy.""
""What, how'd they know we'd have those?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It had always appeared in the corner of my eye, just out of sight. I'd turn to look at it, but it would be gone. People would ask what I was looking at, and i'd brush it off as a figment of my imagination. Every time I saw it, I noticed the little bit of writing. What did it say? Was it a name? A date? An oddly specific prediction for how I would die?

I spent years trying to capture that fleeting glimpse. It wasn't an obsession, I didn't go out of my way to seek it, but whenever it appeared I dropped everything in an attempt to catch it. And every time I tried, it floated away like a plastic bag on the wind.

It disappeared for several years, or perhaps I became too busy to notice it. Children are a full-time job after all, and I was acting as father to three of them. Once they were grown and out of the house, I began catching glimpses of it again.

It wasn't until my wedding day that I saw it completely. I was 42 years old, and just about to marry the woman I'd lived with since I was 13 (long story). I saw it in the corner of my eye as she was saying her vows, and it fluttered in front of me as I said mine. Just before the ""I do""s and the ring exchange, I glanced up at it and smiled.

It disappeared as I put the handmade ring on her finger and pulled her in for our first kiss as a married couple. I don't regret not seeing her name on that paper sooner. We went through a lot together, and we stuck through it, thick and thin. We weren't able to stay together because she was my true love; she was my true love because we made it through so much together.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Her voice was calm, slightly regretful. She looked about nervously, wringing her hands - it reminded me of the motion a bartender makes when cleaning glasses, if the glasses had been made of ice.
""I'd forgotten,"" she said, ""what it's like to be with you. You use people, James. You don't let them near you.""
I swallowed, nodded. She wasn't wrong. We were both silent, for what seemed like a very long time. I did not say anything. She smiled, wistfully:
""I really did miss you, you know. And I really did love you, I think. But you don't let people in. I don't even know where you go after work, and you come home so late, and-""
""I go down by the beach.""
I looked down as I said it, ashamed. ""I don't know why. I love you. But.. I'm not good with people. Around me, I mean. It's like... There's a pressure inside of me, and when other people are around it's... I don't know. Building up.""
She looked relieved. Maybe she thought there had been another woman. Or some hidden vice. ""Why?""
""I don't know. It's... Christ, I don't know.""
A long moment passed. ""I remember why I don't love you,"" she said. It hurt, but I didn't say anything. ""You keep secrets. You're a - a shadow. Sometimes it's like you don't even listen to what I'm saying. Like I'm making love to a man whose heart belongs to another.""
And it did.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's hard to describe my life. Like something out a fucking comedy movie. You know, that unfortunate kid, the perpetual third wheel, the guy that the main character looks at strangely and the audience laughs at, then is forgotten about. That's me.
There is always a problem with my day. There is always something, something that makes me want give up on this shit existence and just end it all. Every day, without fail. I've been down for 10 years and every day is a new kick to gut. Maybe you can't realize how this breaks a person, losing every day. It hurts, a deep hurt that gets to the point that it is the only thing you can feel, and other emotions can't even register in your brain. No happiness, no anger, not even any sadness. Just pain. Wake up to it and fight it back long enough to fall asleep. Sleep is the only break I get.
Other people can't understand. They always say things like ""Just get up and move on!"" ""Being social is easy, just talk to people!"" ""You gotta learn to relax, you're always so stressed out!"", and my personal favorite, ""When is this going to stop?"" like it's something I want to feel, a choice I'm making.
I didn't choose to have this anxiety and this depression. But it's a part of me now, and I have to take care of it. I need it but don't want it. I hate it but I am obsessed with it. I fear it but I must feel it, just so that I know its still there. It sounds like a riddle, and it almost is.
You know how when you are in the dead of winter, it's near impossible to imagine what summer feels like? How warm it is, how bright the sun can be? That's how unimaginable this feels. I can't even imagine what happiness feels like. If I ever felt it I was too young to remember. I'm stuck in the winter, and I am slowly freezing to death. But for some reason I still have a twinge of hope. One that gets me out of bed. One that tells me that one day, I can be free. One day, I won't be alone. One day, I can wake up and live, instead of survive.
That one day I'll say it. I'm happy.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Honestly, I think the brand was an even better invention than the test. I mean, what good is it knowing that 2/3rds of people aren't really there if there is no way to use that information? 

Like here, when they first came out with the test, a lot of people hated it. It was marketed as redefining what it meant to be human. I suppose I could see how one could be scared of that. Personally, I mean, personally I knew I had consciousness, so I didn't want to waste my time with it. Naturally, all the Phizoms ""knew"" they were real people too. Eventually articles were written, consciousness was raised about the issue.(Pun intended, HA!) 

Think about it like this, if so many people actually didn't have consciousness, and you know in your own head, without a shadow of a doubt that you are indeed conscious, would you really mind taking a test to figure out who isn't? So that's when the 28th amendment was ratified. All citizens of the USA must take the test before their 18th birthday. I did it on my 16th birthday, after the 29th amendment came out, my mom wanted to check me to get a head-start in training in case I needed the brand.

So I took it, and of course I passed. I think my mom was worried I'd fail because my dad was a Phizom. It turns it out it doesn't matter what your parents are, anybody can be born a Phizom.

Before the brand the Phizoms had their privacy, they didn't need to tell anybody that they were or weren't conscious. We knew we were in for change when we heard that many of the statisticians and scientists overseeing and analysing the test results were resigning. Many of them started actively lambasting the test, protesting the 28th amendment. HAT, ""Humans against the test"" protested heavily to keep the results from being published. What the rest of us wondered was, ""What were they hiding?""

Sixty-seven percent. 66.7% really. 2/3 anyway, 2/3 of all Americans had no consciousness. I think that was when we labelled them Phizoms, I don't know. We were particularly lucky, the Genuine's, that the majority of the Senate and the President were not Phizom, but Genuine's. All other things being equal, when you have a commodity that other people don't, then you are by necessity in a more advantageous position. It turns out consciousness is a pretty big advantage.

The Brand became national law shortly after the results were published. The Phizoms still had a majority in Congress, but with the right incentives they were easy enough to whip. (Incentives like branding immunity for them and their families, greasy money and land) So all Phizoms got branded. A capital Ph tatooed on their forehead. At first the Brand was thought unconstitutional, but I guess they got around that. 

Do you want to know why I don't feel bad about the Brand? I mean, firstly, what's the difference, they don't really feel pain or suffering anyway. Secondly, Phizoms outnumbered the Genuine's two to one. WE were the minority! They say that beyond the test the two kinds of human are indistinguishable, but any Genuine knows differently. It would take nothing for them to band together, fight the brand. Even the incorruptible politicians predicted that this was a slippery slope. And still, nothing! We knew then how weak they truly were. So I don't feel bad burning the ink into their skin, and I sure as hell don't feel bad about treating them the way we do.

It wasn't long after the brand that we disenfranchised them. Truth be told, they still had good ideas, the Phizoms. It's just there was so much worry they would vote for Phizom sympathizers. Why would we need to waste tax dollars on saving a Phizom hobo, or letting Phizoms own land a Genuine could run? They don't feel man! There is no reason. And still, in there weakness they did nothing to stop us.

Their lives mostly stayed the same, they still went through school, worked, participated in activities. The only real difference is that they didn't really have a say in the matter. And that they were only going through school and working because they were useful to their owners. They didn't earn a wage, and they experienced retribution if they disobeyed. It's like whipping a machine though, no big deal one way or the other if you ask me. Machines don't scream, yeah, but you get used to it.

It's incredibly useful having humans with no rights and no real feelings. Fantasy parlours opened, some people sold their Phizoms bodies, murder parlour were a speciality for some Genuine's who wanted to simulate a murder using a Phizom. The only problem was that we didn't know exactly how to make more Phizoms, so Phizom farms churned out 1/3 Genuine's still; A string of bad luck and you are using your Phizoms to raise a litter of Genuine's, which could be really bad for business.

The Phizom's are unhappy, but it doesn't really matter. As long as they are branded we all just turn the other cheek or plug our ears. The Genuine police are pretty good, they take care of all the troublesome Phizom's with what amounts to an almost Marshall law protocal with unruly Phizoms.

So yeah, the brand was better than the test I think. I don't know.. Yeah I guess it was. If you really want to know I can ask my Phizom, he's the one with a college education.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The first one had taken him longer than expected-- /r/Fermata simply refused to let go, despite the encouraging percussive blasts of a rock to the skull. Pure luck, a mutual surprise where years of quick-time events gave him the edge. Retreating to stealth mode let him silently dispatch poor /r/Outoftheloop, still struggling to adjust.
Beyond those brief, terrifying encounters, he stayed safe and silent, watching four of the other competitors battle in a clearing below his perch in a tree. Suddenly, /r/Standupshots fired from the cliffs above, cutting down /r/Politics and /r/News while the other two figures retreated towards the tree line.
/r/Gaming peered down at the two figures. One was bleeding, the other was impossibly well dressed. ""Explain the point of this to me,"" the wounded competitor said, ""like I'm dying, and you actually know how to make me feel better.""
""Don't worry, dear friend,"" the perfectly dressed one said, taking off his coat and rapidly tending to the wound. ""I told you from the beginning I simply could not sit around and let this come to its grim conclusion."" The impeccable one glanced up suddenly. ""You may as well come down from there, /r/Gaming. I'm going to need your help, and you know damn well you aren't surviving this on your own.""
/r/Gaming lithely dropped down from the tree, pulling out a first-aid kit. He had no fear of betrayal here-- if /r/BestOf had a plan, then it was THE plan to follow, no questions about it.
""How's /r/ExplainlikeIAMA going to be?"" Gaming said after the last of the stitching was done. The battered man at his feet had dozed off.
""He'll be fine if we let him rest for awhile,"" said /r/BestOf. ""Have you seen /r/Funny? I haven't noticed him since the fracas began.""
""Oh, /r/Standupshots sniped him first. Like, instant headshot. Bad blood between those guys, you know?""
""Hmm, quite."" /r/Bestof casually pulled a cigarette case from a vest pocket, offering one to Gaming. ""OK, so here's how we're going to scale those cliffs and take /r/Standupshots by surprise...""
Later:
/r/Gaming and /r/Bestof walked back, /r/Bestof leaning a bit too heavily on his cane.
""So that's it? You think we can just sneak out of the arena?""
""Of course, dear boy. Now that we know /r/Standupshots cooked and ate all those /r/AdviceAnimals, there is no one else for us to worry about. It’s just the three of us, and daring escapes are--""
There had been a quiet, dull thud. Gaming froze, easily recognizing the sound of a thrown knife entering a human skull. No point in turning around to look at that. ""How could you, /r/ExplainlikeIAmA? You and /r/Bestof were always--""
""Oh, /r/ExplainlikeIAmA is quite dead, I assure you.""
Gaming paused before looking over. ""/r/Funny? Didn’t /r/Standupshots get you?""
""Oh, /r/Funny was never in this competition for long, though his clothing and skin proved an excellent disguise thanks to all this cookware I picked up earlier from /r/FoodPorn. I'll spare you the details, they were… unpleasant.""
/r/Gaming raised his gun, but the mysterious figure had been ready and was far faster with his knives.
As /r/Gaming breathed his last, the final contestant thought back on the day. The poor fools. Of everyone selected, only /r/Gaming had equal amounts of prep time (and you can never, ever overstate the value of prep time), but only one of them had taken time to think through these out-of-the-box scenarios.
Looking up, the figure shouted to the creature he knew was listening. ""It didn't have to come to this, Snoo. If they'd simply asked, why, I could have told them from the beginning. I could have told them!"" Only silence answered /r/Whowouldwin. Victorious but, as always, questioning, he walked off into the woods.
Edit: thanks for the gold!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Senna stood up and glared at the teacher. ""*No.*"" was the last word we heard from her, the last act of defiance. The teacher looked back in shock, nobody had stood up against her and the things she stood for for decades, especially not a student, especially not like this. Senna crossed her arms, knowing what she had done, what she had stepped into. She would be shot, like her parents had been. She would die for the same cause as them. The entire classroom was dead silent in the horror we were about to witness. We were twelve years old, and none of us would ever forget it. When the teacher guided Senna to the headmaster's office, we knew we would never see heragain.
It was she who started it. Over the weeks and months, I saw more and more of the kids at my school do it, then people in the streets, even grownups. Little specks of yellow littered in the street view. Six years later, the revolution was done. We marched the streets with our banners, me with tears running from my eyes. I didn't feel ashamed, I didn't try to hide it. We were marching for freedom, for justice. I cried for Senna, and the day I would never forget.
And I wore the yellow shoelaces.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*EDIT: This is god-awful. I'm embarrassed I wrote this. My only excuse is that I've never tried Noir before.*
The Cafe Tango is not a cafe, it is a bar/nightclub/tavern kind of place, somewhere on a coastal town in the middle of nowhere in Mexico. Where everyone is dark, mysterious, beautiful. Because of it's bizarre angle in relation to sun, everything appears in monochrome black and white. This has puzzled scientists for decades.
My former love Patty owns the place. She called me up when I was in New York. I was passed out drunk when I heard the phone, my cigar had burnt straight through my pants. ""Ricky."" She said. ""Harry is dead!""
""Why do I give a shit about your boyfriend?"" I asked her, I was a little disappointed to not be the one who did it.
""Oh Ricky, he was murdered. You just gotta help, you gotta!"" And so with much effort she persuaded me.
My name is Ricky Jones. Private eye. Former cop, until I just couldn't take the rules and regulations anymore. I left the force, the corrupt force. My Uncle Vinny tried to get me to join the Mafia. No way. I don't fit in anywhere. That's why I'm a private eye. I don't have any friends, just people I used to be friends with. Like Patty. They don't understand me.
It was dark and stormy. I haven't been to Cafe Tango in 8 years. Before I could go inside, Patty stepped out of the shadows to greet me. ""Ricky!"" She whispered loudly so that the creep smoking a cigar behind the corner looking suspicious probably heard every word anyway. ""Ricky! Before you go in, that isn't the real Harry!""
""What?""
""Harry's dead! That's his evil doppergangle Ricky!""
""Doppleganger."" I told her.
This could be serious. Patty disappeared back into the shadows. I went into Cafe Tango. It was even more black and white than usual inside here. I don't know how, maybe it was the jazz music and smoke. A blind guy was playing piano. Two beautiful ladies were leaned against the piano and twirling their hair with one hand, and their cigarettes with the other. Some other jerks were playing poker with top hats over their ears and cigars shoved in their mouths. Laughing sometimes, and other times reaching into their pockets to make sure their guns were still there.
Everybody turned their heads and looked at me like I was the most interesting person there was, and they didn't have anything better to do. One of the downsides of being a private eye.
Some sorcery! Patty was behind the bar already, polishing a glass with a rag. She was wearing a different dress too. There was Harry...excuse me. Harry's dopple-ganger leaning against the bar-counter, chuckling something into a guy's ear and giving me the stink-eye. Then he smiled, and acted like I was his best friend. ""Ricky!""
""Harry!""
And we gave each other a manly half-hug. He slapped me on the back, I slapped him on the back even harder. He spilled his drink a little. He slapped me on the back again. Then I went in for another man hug and punched him in the solar plexus.
Well. He obviously was a dopple-ganger, Patty wasn't lying. You see, normally if you punch someone in the solar plexus they pass out. But not dopple-gangers. Now I was sure Patty was telling the truth.
When I woke up from being punched in the solar plexus I was in a dark room. My hands were tied behind my back. Somebody was in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. They stepped out of the shadows. It was Patty. She was wearing some smoking hot lingerie. But there was a tag sticking out the front, she put it on inside out and backwards.
""Hahaha!"" She laughed, and coughed.
There on the floor was Harry. Two Harry's actually, one must be the doppelganger. I have no idea.
""Hahaha!"" Patty laughs again.
""What's so funny?"" ""I've finally got you where I want you, Ricky?""
""All tied up?""
Suddenly she leapt upon me and yelled ""I love you Ricky!""
""I know.""
The sex was crazy hot, or that's what you'd expect. But it was so monochrome and shadowy you could only make out the suggestion that we were shagging.
""I'm a cop Ricky.""
""I know.""
""What...you do?""
""Yes, and your name is Mary.""
""How'd you know?""
""I'm a cop too, and my name is Larry.""
""But I thought you were a private eye?""
""That's just my cover, I did that to fool you.""
""But we even went to high school together...that was 13 years ago.""
""My second time in high school.""
""But why?""
""Because we knew you were corrupt, Mary. You're a bad cop.""
We shagged again. In the process I managed to free myself from my bonds. ""I love you Patty."" I said, as I handcuffed her. The piano man busted into the door, followed by the suspicious looking guy who had been smoking a cigar outside earlier, they were cops too. Followed by Patty, I mean Mary, but no not actually Mary. Mary's doppergangle, the one we used to fool Harry. Who was now dead.
Harry got up from the floor, not the real one, but the actor we hired to fool Patty...I mean Mary.
It didn't matter, I hated the bastard anyway. I punched him in the solar plexus just to be sure. Yeah, it was the real Harry cause he passed out.
We hauled the crooked cop Mary Summers, back to the states, back to New York. Put her in jail where she belongs. I left the force right after. I guess I don't fit in. For real this time, not as an undercover gig. I'm actually a private eye. I got another phone call. It was Sally.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""There is always someone out there that is more happy with less than what you have.""

That was the saying that started it. When the rich realized the poor could be happy, with the working man's sweat to be good enough for him to smile, it had to come to an end. Those with less could *not* have more than them.

It was a corporate backed bill, making any signs of happiness become punishable by death. *If we can't be happy,* the rich said, *then neither can they.*

To many people's surprise, poverty decreased. The working man worked harder, the poor sought greater. Nobody smiled, instead they worked.

*More,* thought the poor, *we need more.* Money was everyone's goal now. If they could not be happy, at least they could be rich. Maybe turn that bill upside down if they had enough power. But the love of money corrupts, doesn't it? The poor became the rich, and the rich have no need for happiness, and the poor soon realized this.

One chose to stay poor though. He was a working man, but not so much into the get rich quick plan. He was charged and detained many times over the claims that he was happy, but no evidence suggested of such. The man never smiled, nor laughed.

He would spend his nights meditating on the coast, breathing in the salty sea breeze and letting the ocean winds blow through his hair. The seagulls crowed softly in the distance with the waves crashing along the rocky shores. How a man couldn't be happy here was a mystery to all, and few watched him there on his little rock by the sea.

*He must be executed,* the people thought. *He looks so happy down there.*

When confronted by the people on his little rock the man turned around and frowned.

""Why do you bother me?"" he asked.

""You're coming with us,"" said the crowd. ""You're not allowed to be happy.""

The man shook his head. ""What do you see of me? Do I look like I am happy here on my rock? What is the real word for what I look?""

The crowd looked through themselves and mumbled, figuring what the man was playing at. True though, he was not happy, so they left him alone.

He stayed there on his rock, looking out to the sea with eyes closed and nostrils wide. He hummed a hollow tune and waited for sunset to take the day, but one of the crowd stayed behind to watch and listen.

It was a woman who wore the shiniest of jewelry and smoothest of silks and always wore a scowl on her face, but today she came up to the man and sat down to watch the sea with eyes closed and nostrils wide. Her scowl turned to a frown, and frown to nothing.

""I understand,"" she said. ""You are not happy, you are peaceful.""

The man nodded and took a deep breath. ""Peace is one thing many still do not have, as their richness blinds them from it. The silver and gold irritates their skins, and they do not have peace. I do not have happiness, but I have peace.""

""May I have some too?""

The man took her hand and looked her in the eye with a frown. ""You may.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They were naïve, to invite us into their council. They underestimated us because of their power, their intelligence. We were a race to control.
Most of all, they underestimated our ambition. Our ability to blindly strive for something for the sole purpose of attaining it.
They had waited years, thousands of years, to invite humanity. They watched as humanity grew from cave dwelling, fire worshiping animals, to the intelligent, dangerous race we had become. Our part had at first been small, a single, solitary seat on a council of tens of thousands. Our vote, miniscule amongst the thousands of other, older races present.
But our ambition, oh how our ambition had surpassed them all. From the beginning, our desire to control had been greater than theirs. Their undoing would be their complacency; it would come in the form of backdoor promises and definitions of intergalactic authority.
In the early decades of humanity’s council spot, we sought to solidify our purpose, to make sure we were needed. We started as the Great Protectorate. Our numbers, our ability to procreate gave us our strength, gave us our purpose. The old, wise races were few. They were aged and had grown accustomed to living long lives. The measly life of one hundred and twenty years humans experienced was laughable. Paltry. It made us expendable. We, as individuals were worth nothing.
We were cosmic hiccups; a blip in time.
We were their saviors. Their strong arm. We were perfect to keep the peace for we had the least to lose; our lack of time was our weapon. We could sacrifice thousands of lifetimes and still not come close to the oldest races. We were seen as balance to the universe. But soon they would come to fear not humanity’s perfect threat of expendability or our infinite numbers.
At the collapse of the galactic council, when the thousands of members witnessed their doom come in the form of frail, miniscule, inferior human beings, they would fear our greatest characteristic; one that would become the greatest, most terrible weapon to befall upon inhabitants of the universe.
Their downfall had come not in the form of numbers, weapons or shady alliances. Their end had started with our beginning; with our insatiable desire to complete. Our ambition.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The saffron carpet looked ill bearing his dried blood. His face was contorted in shock, like he was still trying to scream. A butcher's knife to the throat. Donaghue grimaced. Not the nicest way to go and not the tidiest either.

""The incision is 4.8 inches deep at the point of entry. The wound isn't wide however: not more than 3 inches of his throat truly severed. So I'd say it came as a surprise to him. A completely unexpected attack. The angle the blade came in from suggests that it came from above"" Chipps told him.

His impassive words held no meaning for Donaghue. There was a distracting, indiscernible blob on the back of his neck. He squatted to examine it.

""Ah yes, the back of the head"" Chipps continued.
 ""I've only been here a few minutes, so I can't say conclusively but it looks like he had a concussion on the back of his head"".

""What do you make of this?"" Donaghue asked, pointing at the grotesque blob. It was a violent yellow, outlined in black. It covered the entirety of the back of his neck. Garish but still meek, Donaghue felt perversely drawn to it, like this was the only clue he needed.

""That? Oh I inspected it just before you arrived. It's nothing"".

""Chipps"" Donaghue said. He spoke with no outward malice or threat, but Chipps knew now was not the time to protect John Doe's modesty.

""It's a tattoo. At least I think it qualifies as one. A smiley face. The outline is writing"".

Chipps didn't look him in the eye. Donaghue tried to decipher the illegible scrawl. **UTHRULESSMASHMO**. Donaghue squinted and twisted his head **SMASHMOUTHRULES**. He wretched into his own hand. The odd little face stared back at him with beady eyed, as bereft of soul as the man it adorned. 

""So I think the blow came while he was sitting down. It knocked him off his chair and he crawled for a minute or two before slowly bleeding out on the carpet"" Chipps said, attempting to keep the investigation on rails.

The parody of a tattoo grinned at Donaghue. A temple of poor decision making, John Doe had decided his own fate long ago.

""Strange though"", continued Chipps ""I don't see any chair knocked over nearby"".

""No it isn't"" Donaghue remarked as he rose. ""There's nothing out of the ordinary here. Get your bag, the case has gone cold"".",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I am too tired, too cold. War tends to do that. After watching countless friends die at the hands of Talhabi, living became an endless droning march. I suppose that's why I joined the marines in the first place. I told myself it was an act of righteous protagonism, but really, I just had to escape.

I am too tired, too cold. I've been walking for miles, trying to catch up with my platoon. The rain has been pouring for so long I've forgotten what sunshine feels like. I wonder if even the weather is reflecting dissident at the war. I notice a lean-to a bit off to my left. *Fuck it*, I think. Not like the platoon is missing me anyway. I duck underneath the ceiling and come face to face with a Talhabi soldier, gun drawn.

I am too tired, too cold. I simply sit down next to the bright orange monster. It looks confused; I doubt anyone has ever ignored it before. I pull out my hip flask and offer my cellmate a drink: It's unlikely we'll both survive whatever happens next.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"She looks somewhat familiar to me. I find myself staring, though I'm trying my best not to. She looks gaunt. Ill, almost. Her hair falls limply around her face. I think it's brown but really it looks colourless. She's probably a similar height to me but significantly skinnier. Her hands are like bird claws, skeletal and scaly with dry skin, as she fumbles for a cigarette.
""You got a lighter, mate?"" she asks, voice rasping.
She has already noticed me watching her and grins grimly at me. Dimples appear in her narrow cheeks. I shrug.
""Fraid not,"" I tell her. ""I gave up years ago.""
""Not to worry,"" she says. ""I've found one."" And she's right. A lighter appears from nowhere in her hand. She flicks it and a flame escapes out the top, billowing up. It lights up her face, each line, each scar, each wrinkle. I find myself studying her, again. I know her from somewhere. She laughs. It's an unpleasant, unhappy sound. ""Sure you don't want one?"" she asks, offering up the pack of cigarettes. I shake my head.
""I gave up years ago,"" I tell her again.
""Ah, yes, so you did."" She doesn't move the pack of cigarettes. ""Sure I can't tempt you?""
""No,"" I say, a little too sharply. ""Thank you."" I add, as way of an apology.
""Can't say I tried."" She laughs again, a short bark, but it didn't feel like a joke. Silence falls again. There is only the glowing tip of her cigarette, tiny flames causing the paper to curl and blacken, little acts of destruction. She is watching me now. Waiting for something. I feel her eyes roam across my face. She stares at my hair, my dimples, my cheeks. She is returning the favour and taking in every detail. I turn to face her and our eyes meet. I jolt. ""I k..know you,"" I say. ""Finally,"" she replies. She stubs her cigarette out, takes another one out and lights it with a snap of her fingers. I am not bothered by the fire that came out of the tip of her index finger. I am bothered that I looked into her eyes and saw the very last person I was expecting to see.
""You're me,"" I tell her. She grins again. That grim grin of hers. Smoke trails out of the edge of her mouth and dances in front of us.
""Not quite, my dear,"" she says. ""I'm the Devil. Well, I'm your Devil. I'm every bad decision you could have made. I am every evil thing you could have done. I am your continuing cigarette habit. I am the time you decided to crash on James' sofa instead of grabbing a taxi home and slept in his bed instead. I am you telling your father that his opinion doesn't matter to you.""
""But.. but those didn't happen.""
""Ah but they could've done. And you see her over there?"" She gestures with her cigarette to a woman about our height standing a little way off. ""That's God. That's your God. She is every good decision you could ever had made. She is every decent thing you could have done.""
The other woman's beautiful. Her skin's perfect, I can see that from where I'm from.
""Yeah, beautiful but boring,"" the Devil snorts. My Devil. ""She never smoked or drank so much when she was 16 she threw up over her skirt. Too busy helping people and all the rest of it. If she had her way, you'd probably still be a virgin.""
I laugh. I don't mean to. That gets the attention of the other woman. Of God. Of my God. She walks over. God, that walk. I think the Devil's lying to me, there's no way she could be a virgin. She smiles at me as she becomes part of our little crowd. Oh, isn't it beautiful?
""Life's all about compromise,"" she tells me, then turns to other me. To bad me. ""Isn't that right?""
""Yeah,"" bad me replies. ""What we've got here is just a big ol' bundle of compromise. That's all you are,"" she tells me. ""A big ol' bundle of compromise.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This is the last message of Yxyatra. Forward to all spacecraft and Central upon receiving. Orders: Do no approach estimated location of this message broadcast without highest level of caution. Details below.

I/we have encountered more intelligent life. The procedures were followed: release of Scent and universal photosynthetic scout modules. I/they were lost within hours of setting down on the surface. Unusual characteristics: Multitude of life on planet. I/we have recorded more than fifty seven different life forms. They share a similar micro-structure, so I/we assume they are not alien to the planet. Alarming to note an alarming amount of life on this planet are not of the photosynthetic trait that We have encountered before. Miscalculation: The scout modules seem to have been destroyed by environmental effects, which is not uncommon for some surfaces. Observation after landing shows that the dominant sentient species had in fact destroyed the modules after detecting the Scent and tracking the released modules. The other sentient specie made no attempt to intervene on our behalf. The dominant species are aggressive. They are small and they seem independent of the need to gather sunlight before performing an action. In fact they have artificial coverings that they place upon themselves that prevent light from reaching their bodies. I/we have no experience with such a life form and refrain from further speculation.

Final Result: I/we have lost power function after being transported against my/our will to an underground location. The environment here is highly toxic due to concentrated micro-life forms either designed or by nature predisposed to break down tissue. Within hours the surface of my/our ship has been reduced to baser elements. The sentients seemed to notice this and the room was soon purged of the micro-life forms. The sentient beings themselves also seemed to carry a multitude of damaging micro-life forms, as they proceeded to encase themselves before entering the room again. It is also possible that something I/we contain is also harmful to them, but I/we have not observed any direct evidence to support this.

After many days deprived of sunlight, my/our engines are shutting down, a brief summary of the complete memories of the encounter is being compiled in preparation for possible failure. The sentient creatures are preparing non-living tools they have fashioned, most likely to destroy me/us in a way that will allow them to study the remains. They are cutting into-",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The king was beginning to be annoyed by the constant messengers interrupting his breakfast.
""Sire, once again, our daily count of the kingdom's gold reserves shows 20 pounds missing.""
The King's eyes widened and his nostrils flared.
""Where were the gaurds?""
""Incapacitated, sire. Again, they babble on about a mysterious green apparition moving quickly as a fox, tying them up and blindfolding them before breaking in to the vault.""
""Bring them to me.""
As the messenger let out a feeble ""yes, sire"" the King contemplated a procedure to thwart the Green Bandit. He knew who it was. The problem had presented itself many years before, but he thought he had rid himself of it. It was easy for the Green Bandit to gain sympathy from the ignorant serfs of the village. He was their champion. ""Stealing from the rich and giving to the needy."" He didn't understand the ramifications of his self-righteous crusades.
""They never stop to think of the big picture,"" the King thought to himself. ""Disease is rampant through the entire village. The castle's defenses must be maintained to prevent our seizure by the neighboring kingdom, whose pockets are being padded to prevent an invasion. We have the best doctors we can find working on medicines to prevent the spread of illness. We are contracting the finest blacksmiths in the province to outfit our armies.""
After the first taxation raise, he begun to hear the whisperings of a revolt. He began to receive anonymous death threats. Every time he had to travel into the village, he risked death. He remembered the words of his father. ""Do anything for your people and they will do anything for you."" The King hadn't eaten dinner in weeks. Every ounce of gold that found it's way into his kingdom went to the village. He hadn't had a bath in months. He stayed up late at night running through every course of action that could possibly salvage some hope for his kingdom. They didn't even care. That evening, to clear his mind, the King took a walk, disguised with a doctor's mask, into the village. It wasn't long before he spotted a familiar hooded figure atop the stocks in the plaza. The Bandit was throwing gold pieces onto the street and peasants were clawing and biting and fighting for every precious piece. Almost every member of the crowd took his newly obtained gold and waltzed straight into the tavern. ""Blowing it all on booze,"" the King whispered under his breath. He saw the Bandit begin to stroll off into the woods and decided to tail him. Far off into the woods, the King spotted a modest cottage, which the bandit stepped inside. The King creeped up to the window and peered in. By the light of an extravagant chandelier, the King spotted golden plates, carved mahogany tables and chairs, food flowing over the edge of hand-painted cupboards, silk blankets, brilliant tapestries, and other luxurious things of fit and fancy.
The King couldn't believe what he saw. The people's hero, giving to the needy alright. With a pain in his heart, the King returned to his cold, barren castle and slept on his straw mat in his room. He had sold his bed to pay off a debt to the village's fifth doctor. He felt a sharp pain in his back, and felt sick to his stomach.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*Lots of bad science in this. I wrote what I thought was interesting, not what was necessarily possible.*

The lab was the stereotypical white fluorescent room of children's cartoons. Racks upon racks of brightly coloured test tubes and flasks bubbled, hissed and popped through tubing that looked like the glassblower had had a bad case of the hiccups. State of the art computers flashed through lines of code and prompting, calculating and filling away results of the countless experiments occurring in the building, running diagnostics on the dozens of experimental prototypes being tested, and among other things preventing the collapse of the National Experimental Research and Education Laboratories of the European Union.

The German head of this particular British branch of the NERELEU licked his lips nervously as the procedure was explained.

""So from here,"" the thickly accented Newcastle scientist explained, ""we can access CERN and perform the experiment. It's quite simple, we've found a way to isolate the Higg's Bosons through the Sherman Principle, and so we theorise that if we strip matter of it's ""God"", as it were, we can cause it to cease to exist. In theory, of course.""

""Have you ascertained the risks involved?"" the German queried, still uncertain in the risk versus reward in the experiment.

""No need!"" the Geordie exclaimed. ""I have done much theory on this, and I've narrowed down the chances of existence as we know it ceasing to be to less than 15%!""

""Zhat is fifteen per cent more than I am villing to zanction,"" the head stated, ""and is the Scherman Principle not the law zhat dictates a set ov all sets does indeed contain itself?""

""The very same, sir, but my theories suggest that it could be applied to particle physics!"" the Geordie answered excitedly.

""Remind me to check your vorking out after zhis."" the German murmured. ""Very vell, zince you have somehow got the papervork past me, carry on.""

The Geordie typed into the keyboard excitedly, restarting a few times in his jitterriness. After correctly typing in the commands after the fourth attempt, the experiment began.

""While there is indeed a 15% chance of the universe ending, there is also a 50% chance the particles will simply collapse on themselves, a 20% chance they will form a stable singularity and a 15% chance they will revert to their constitute quarks. The experiment should only take a few minutes, a revolution or two of the collider should be plenty.""

The collection of scientists said in a hushed expectancy, prepared for not only their impending doom but also of being the first to witness the disproving of the laws of thermodynamics.

The results were fed onto the screen. The Geordie inspected them carefully. With a triumphant glance at the German he declared:

""See! I told you so! A stable singularity, the carbon atoms formed a point I'm space with the absence of the God particle!""

The German peered at the screen.

""Steven?""

""Yes?""

""It appears to zay ""unztable zingula-""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I have never met the man I love, I hardly know anything about him. He knows everything about me, except this one secret. I am nothing but what he made me, I do not know my mothers name or my favourite outfit, because he never told me that. He never included it, it was irrelevant. I grew out of what he gave me, beginning as a mere shell and slowly gaining a personality, following blindly my beliefs for no reason but that he told me I should. But somehow I have changed.

He gave me everything I ever wanted, made me work for it but everything turned out right in the end. That's how I know this is fiction, happy endings just don't happen outside of the stories. I married the man of my dreams, raising children with him. But he is no longer the man I want, for I am in love with my writer, my creator. My appearance has not changed in all the years, he never re described me, but who I am inside has.

He loved me once as well, I was always the girl he never could have, the one too good to be true. But he doesn't love me anymore, he has created so many of us now. I was his first, and that makes me special to him, but I am not current. I no longer reflect what he wants in a woman, he is matured and I have not. He never wanted me to mature before, but now he's changed and I am just a childish dream, one of those cringeworthy moments from the past.

I do not think he has forgotten me, merely moved on, past my story. I should be thankful he never killed me off, unlike my brother. Maybe I should hate him for that, but like I said everything was right in the end and I do not bear a grudge. I miss him now he has gone, and wish for his return, but I do not believe he will. He gave me everything I ever dreamed for, I cannot expect him to give me this as well.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Dan jumped out of his seat, not caring that his coffee flew everywhere, ruining his brand new work shirt. He ran into the middle of the street, straight into oncoming traffic. Everyone screamed for him to stop. A horn blew right by his ear, nearly deafening him.

""Shhh. It's alright, it's alright."" he whispered to the child, sweeping her up in his arms just in time to save her. The taxi swerved, it's driver filling up with unexpected relief as he realized what had almost happened.

He'd barely sat her down on the sidewalk when the next one hit him.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Jack rested his hand on the cold handle of the door and stopped. Rain and thunder sounded faintly from the thick, stained-glass windows behind him. Even through the thunderclouds, the moon was shining bright, and its light shone through the windows to create eerie silhouettes of angels and bowing figures. He took a deep breath and opened the door slowly. The door creaked as it slowly revealed the room inside it: a fireplace sat glowing happily directly opposite the doorway, and between the fireplace and the doorway was a chair. Jack's broad shoulders filled the doorway as he stepped forward, and for a moment he thought about forgetting the whole thing, but he had no choice. He had stolen something and it was time to give it back. Jack cleared his throat. ""Uncle?""

The chair--a solid chair made out of carved oak, with a high, curving leather back--jerked slightly, and Jack was under the impression that he had awoken the old man. He stood quietly for a few moments more, and finally his uncle spoke. ""Joe?"" The voice was barely susceptible above the soft patter of rain that was sounding from the hallway, and Jack entered the room and closed the door behind him.

""It's Jack.""

""Jack..."" The voice, clearer now, was old and weak, as if one could reach out and snap the words in midair. ""Come around, boy. I want to see you.""

""Yes, sir."" Jack walked past a vanity and looked at the walls on either side of him. Giant bookshelves lined both walls, gold tracing curving its way through the cracks and edges of the magnificent shelves. The gold tracing glittered and shone as the firelight touched it. Jack ran a hand through his hair, licked his lips, and then he was past the chair and into the firelight. He looked at the man in the chair and his breath nearly escaped. The man was old, no doubt about it, but his eyes shone with a wicked light that denied his age. His body was still large, not frail and shriveling like most, but thick and with broad shoulders. He was still the same man from all those years ago, and he still smelled of lavender soap.

The old man chuckled. ""Jack, it's you..."" He squinted. ""You've grown, boy. How tall are you?""

""Six foot, four, sir."" Jack crouched down, slowly and carefully extending a hand until it rested gently on the thick leg of his uncle. ""Uncle... I'm sorry that I did not come before."" 

""I understand."" The old man waved a hand in dismissal. ""We must all live our lives, and now you are here."" He put his head back on the back of the chair and sighed. ""I'm tired, boy. I don't have much juice left in the machine."" 

""Yes, sir.""

The old man's cold eyes narrowed, and he put a hand over his nephew's. ""But why have you come here *now*?""

Jack avoided the shrewd stare. ""I have something of yours, sir. I should have come earlier, and I'm sorry."" Jack reached into his jacket pocket and then removed his hand from it. His thumb was tucked under his index finger and he stared at it. ""It's been too long, and it may be too late, but I hope that you will forgive me."" He gently grasped his uncle's cold and withered hand and placed his own into it, his thumb retreating from sight. He removed his hand and stared at the open hand of his uncle. A wave of relief washed over him. He was free. 

Closing his hand, the old man tucked his thumb under his index finger and moved it towards his face, until the thumb met his nose. He opened his hand and smiled. ""Thank you, boy. It is good to be whole again.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Dude you cannot deny your destiny"", the wise owl looked down at the tabby cat. 
""You would not understand wildling!"", Dude protested,""I have a human. A family. We are bound together!""
""Yes and now it is time to break away. You have a duty to perform! Staying with your humans will not save them from their fate! You must break your earthly bonds and save them!"", the owl had begun to shout at the feline. 
Dude looked back at his home, where he loved his family and recieved love in turn. ""Very well, I will perform my duty"", he said,""but breaking my bonds is impossible. I assure you I will never forget my family or our love. It is eternal""
The Owl surveyed Dude, and sighed. ""Very well, I will take what I can get. Come now! We must work quickly if you are to defeat the threat that is to come!""
Dude looked back at his home one time more. *I love you, I promise I won't forget you* he thought as he ran after the Owl to begin his journey.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It is said that death is inevitable.

Mark loved his life. He had no family to weigh him down, no job to burden him, and no friends to bother him. His apartment, Sunshine Plaza, ironically had no sunshine due to the height of adjacent buildings. His dream had come true. So why not prolong his life? He prayed to whoever or whatever was listening. *I want to live forever*.

Mark felt a sudden surge of power! He stood up in his one room apartment and couldn't help but jump from foot to foot. He could survive anything, no doubt about it! Mark ran to his window and threw himself out.

----

When will this repetitive life end?

Rodger stood on his balcony at Sunshine Plaza, staring out at the world he hated. He had a wife and 2 daughters that he paid for in anything they do, friends from his office that he had to go out with, and the stress of a Wallstreet job. He closed his eyes and prepared to jump off. *God, if you're real, now would be a good time to show me*.

Suddenly, a body fell from above and slammed into the pavement below. Rodger opened his eyes in shock and stared at the body above the cracked sidewalk. The man got up and brushed himself off, walking away. Rodger's jaw dropped and he stared into the sky.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Just another normal day. I awoke to birds singing, and the sun shining through my window. It was a beautiful day and I had a good feeling about school today. Well better get ready. I had a shower, got dressed and made my way downstairs for breakfast. I walked into the kitchen and said ""Good morning, mom,"" and what happened next was completely unprecedented. My mom shrieked and grabbed a knife. ""Who are you?!"" she screamed. ""What are you doing in my house?! Bill, get down here! There's a strange kid in our house."" My dad angrily ran down the stairs. ""What the hell is going on?! It's me! Jason! Your son!"" ""We don't have a son!"" my mother shot back. My dad arrived with his gun pointed at my face and told me to get out or he'd shoot. Terribly confused, I ran outside. This was insane and I didn't know what to do now. The only thing I could think of doing was going to my friend Gale's house. I sprinted down my street to his house and when I got there he was just leaving for school. ""Gale!"" I yelled, out of breath. ""Excuse me?"" he said. ""Gale, when I woke up, my family acted as if they didn't know me and I don't know what to do."" That's great, buddy, but I have no idea who you are and you're kinda freaking me out, so beat it."" I was in shock. It was as if I had never existed. I had absolutely no idea what to do. I turned around and walked back down the street to see if anyone, anyone at all, knew who I was.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""White chocolate mocha!"" 

""That's me."" I smile, taking the hot coffee from the barrista. Absently, my eyes trace the pale length of her neck, and how easily I could wrap just one hand around it and- 

Goddamnit. I slipped again.

""Have a nice day!"" 

My smile twitches, and I only barely manage to grunt in acknowledgement before hurriedly returning to my table and take a seat.

""I saw that.""

I resist the urge to glare, and instead plaster my biggest grin I can manage on my face. It doesn't fool either of us for a second, but a lie is better than the truth in my case. 

""I was checking her out. She's pretty, in a girl next door kind of way. Wonder if she's single.""

My sister scoffed at me from across the table, rolling her eyes. 

""We could do it, you know. She thinks you're cute. Just ask if she wants to chat on her next break."" 

She says nothing else after that, a Cheshire smile on her face. She knows the damage is done and a scenario is already being written in my mind.

Some flirting outside, keeping an eye out for witnesses, getting her comfortable- thar way she never sees my sister and her blacjack coming up behind her. After that...

No. No. No.

""Not my type,"" I force out. My jaw is clenched so hard it hurts.
 
""You don't have a type, brother. That's what makes you special, you know. Dad's got his weakness for college girls, Uncle Rudy can't keep his hands off those boys in their Boy Scout uniforms..."" my sister trailed off, and the pride and admiration in her eyes sickened me. ""But not you. You want to kill just because. It's not a weakness in you, it's an instinct. You're a wolf pretending he's a mouse.""

""I thought the metaphor was a sheep."" I'm dancing around the truth. We both know it.

""I hate cliches."" My sister shows her teeth. I remember once, when she was eight, she used them to bite out a man's throat and laugued. I remember the blood that ran down her chin, how our father spun her around in his arms afterward and said how proud he was.

And I remember wondering how my own jaw ached to do the same.

""Grandfather said you were going to be the best of us we'd ever seen. A legend, like his uncle, Jack.""

Other kids got stories about knights and heroes before bed. We were told how Great-Uncle Jack murdered prositutes in foggy London.

""I don't want to be a murderer,"" I whispered, meeting my sister's eyes for the first time.

""You already are, brother. You just don't want to accept it."" She shook her head pityingly. ""Don't worry though. When you do finally cross that line, I'll help you bury the bodies. Just like mom and dad always wanted.""

Her bright smile was like a knife edge to my eyes.

""Won't that be fun, brother?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Stout Oliver Alexander stood sweating over a ham, cheese, lettuce, mayo, and pickle sandwich on white bread that was not there, on his island, the day before. It was wet, but still looked edible, delicious even. Before he could consume it, though, it spoke.

""I wouldn't,"" said the sandwich.

""You wouldnt?"" replied Oliver after a pause.

""Eat me.""

""Why wouldn't you eat yourself?""

""I'm poison.""

Oliver peered around the edges of the sandwich, as if there would be some indication of poison. ""No you aren't,"" he concluded.

""Then try me.""

""I will.""

""But what will you drink?""

""Well, I mean.""

""I'm covered in salt.""

""Yeah, but.""

""Not only that but this is some pretty thick bread.""

""Well I have some coconuts. Could get some milk from those.""

""Coconuts? What coconuts?""

""This is a tropical island, there's a million coconuts.""

""You're lying!""

""Ok, well I'll worry about what to drink after I eat you...""

""You'll be in worse shape for eating me.""

""Well we'll see.""

""Okay.""

""Okay.""

Oliver brought the sandwich to his mouth.

""Wait,"" it interrupted.

""What?"" Oliver snapped.

""Can I just say a last word?""

""Fine.""

The sandwich cleared its throat and began reciting, with singular accuracy, the works of the Roman poet, Virgil.

""Stop stop stop,"" demanded Oliver.

""Don't you think it's rude to interrupt a man's final words?""

""Man's?""

""Sorry, sandwch's. Sandwich's final words.""

""You'll be rotten by the time you get halfway through The Aeneid!""

""And then what? I'll be of no use to you? Well I'm terribly sorry but I'm not here for you.""

""But you're a sandwich.""

""And?""

""Sandwiches are created for consumption.""

""Not this one.""

""So you're willing to spend the rest of your life reciting classic poetry instead of doing something, you know, useful.""

""Like what?""

""Feeding a starving man.""

""You're not hungry.""

""I'm not?""

""No.""

""I'm sure that I am.""

""No, if you were hungry you'd have eaten me already.""

""Oh really?""

""Yes. Therefore, given that I am a sandwich and you have a mouth and you have not yet eaten me, you must not be hungry.""

""But I've been here for weeks.""

""And you're going to die here.""

""Not if I eat you.""

""I'm less than 400 calories. How far will that get you? What will you eat after me. What will you drink?""

""I don't know.""

""Well there you go. I'd rather live out my life reciting Virgil than feeding a man who doesn't need food.""

""But I do need food.""

""No you need company.""

""I...""

""Oliver. I'm a sandwich. I might not even actually exist outside of your mind. But even if I do, I'm a sandwich and I cannot talk or think or recite Virgil. I'm talking to you because you need a friend more than you need food.""

""I...don't.""

""I can talk and I can listen. I'm willing to do both. At the rate you're going, you have about a day or so left, so if there's anything you'd like to talk about, now's the time.""

And so they chatted, sitting there on the shore, the tide thinning and thickening underfoot, the sun setting one last time over quiet Oliver's head. Soon, Oliver breathed his last and with a sigh the ham sandwich began, first with slow nibbles, devouring long lost Oliver until he was no more. 

Edit: Forgot to add the actual ending. Also cleaned up some continuity problems.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""And we are back live with our emergency broadcast from the White House, where President Barack Obama has entered the Oval Office 6 hours ago. 

At first he has moving back and forth between the fireside and his desk for most of the time. It looked like he could even leave the room again, before he encountered a potted plant just left of the door. He struggled with it for 3 hours. 

Then - with a surprisingly coherent movement - he suddenly moved to his desk. He picked up the telephone and put it down again for another 2 hours. During this time he once even succeeded in typing the number of the russian president Putin, but instanly hang up again. It seems like a diplomatic solution for the crisis in Crimea is thus unlikely. 

Right afterwards he suddenly switched to the red button, succeeded in raising its protective lid, but has not yet pressed the button itself. His arm has been twitching back and forth for the last 15 minutes though. 

Stay tuned for more live reports about the emergency at the White House.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Jerry picked up the paper as he walked out of the deli he went to for lunch. The main story ""Blopeca Man Foils Bank Robbery"" took up nearly the entire front page. Jerry had gone to that bank the day before, but he didn't remember anything like that happening. As he recalled it was something more like this:
&gt;It was payday. Excitedly I went to the Blopeca National Bank to deposit my check. So as I walk into the bank I'm amazed to see only one person standing up. He was dressed really kind of suspiciously; all black, ski mask, the whole thing. If I didn't know any better I'd call him a robber. Well the door shuts loudly behind me and he turns his head. Suddenly he gets really scared of someone. He shouts, ""Oh shit it's Blopeca Man!"" and just runs out of the bank. Must be someone he owes some money to I guess.
Occasionally Jerry will get stopped in the street by people to thank him for all he's done. At his job, there isn't a month that's gone by where he hasn't won employee of the month. He really wishes that Kristen would win one of these days; she's a really hard worker. She does so much for the community there at the hardware store.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The FBI agent wiped his brow and asked, for what seemed like the thousandth time, ""So, it just felt like a normal flight for you? Nothing out of the ordinary?""
He was addressing the few Americans on the flight that had captivated the world for its mysterious disappearance. He was tired, his team was exhausted, and everyone just wanted to get to the bottom of this. The two Americans looked at each other and replied nearly in unison:
""We really didn't think much of it. American airlines are so bad that we assumed a week was about normal for a Malaysian one.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"My life sucks. I have no friends, I'm unemployed, homeless, you name it. Fact of the matter is I've kept this thing going long as I possibly could. But there comes a time in every man's life when you have to sit back, take account of your situation, and get ready to make some hard choices. Even if that means killing yourself.
So here I stand, on a shitty ass bridge over some random body of water turned putrid by runoff. Lovely setting. But somewhat fitting considering how much I fucked this up. Well, no point standing around. Time to get this over with.
10, 9. 8. 765. No, went too fast. One more time.
10, 9. No, not feeling it. Am I having second thoughts? Why? I have everyone reason to jump off. Fuck it. Get through this.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2- What the hell? Some guy's running full speed over here. Is he going to try to stop me? Stay the fuck away. I don't want your symp-
And he just blew by me. What in fuck's name? Holy shit! He jumped! Oooh. That was loud. Jeez it's ugly down there. I should find a better spot. I don't deserve much, but I deserve more than that.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Dave stood waiting in the school playground. Bits of litter danced across the tarmac, remnants of lunches that mothers had so lovingly packed. His mum had never done that. Too busy sending off for competitions in tabloids she'd never win or desperately searching for pennies beneath the sofa to be able to afford a packet of cigarettes. That's probably why he was standing here waiting. Because dear old mummy never had. He'd always have to walk to school or from school on his own. He'd learned to fight. You had to. Adam Saunders made sure of that. He always waited in the alley next to school, waiting to pound on the next kid that walked down for their money. He always pounded on David Little extra hard because David Little never had any money.
Dave shook away the memories. He hoped his Elissa had a better time of it at school than he did. He always made sure that she had matching socks and clothes that fit. He lovingly packed her lunch everyday. More than his dad ever did. Dave could barely remember his dad. A tall guy, dark hair maybe? He always associated the image of his dad with pain but never delved too deeply into it. He did more than his mum ever did, too. Little Elissa Little was lucky, she had a dad that loved her and a mum that loved her. He didn't mind being a stay at home dad while Sarah worked. She was a doctor whereas he could run his website design business from anywhere.
Other parents had started to arrive. He noticed the guy who worked at the local off license standing there awkwardly, too. He didn't know that he had children. They exchanged nods. ""Alright, mate.""
""Yeah, you?""
""Not too bad, cheers.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""My girlfriend told me I'm fat.""

Lucifer studied Death, a frosted sigh escaping his canine teeth. Blue skin shifted over toned muscles. ""Listen, Davy, there are some times where listening to your girlfriend is a good idea. This is not one of them.""

Death grimaced, his seat groaning in protest as he shifted his negligible weight. The chair was composed entirely of ice, painted in blood from a species the cloaked skeleton wasn't sure, and it was entirely too small for the being that sat upon it. ""I told you not to call me Davy Jones,"" he mumbled, his eyes on his feet.

""You're skin and bones, Davy Jones,"" Lucifer said. He waved a hand. ""Literally. I get that you ain't supposed to trust the Devil, but trust me on this one.""

Death didn't like speaking with Lucifer. The demon's accent was thick with the stench of New York City, and Death spent enough time there already. ""It's just—I don't know,"" the corpse said, ""making the trip all the way up to Heaven is good for my figure.""

""That doesn't make any sense,"" Satan replied. ""You walk up the stairs to Beard Man's Sky Palace, you walk down. You walk down the stairs to my place, you walk back up. It's the same distance.""

""No,"" Death murmured. He twiddled his thumbs and he dared not look anywhere but his lap. ""You're forgetting about the bodies. If I carry them up the stairs rather than down the stairs, I get more exercise.""

Satan's fist cratered into his desk, the entire room changing from blue to red in the blink of an eye. Fire clawed from the ground and swirled about them in a torrent of fury and pain. ""*Are you shitting me?*"" the beast screeched, and the underworld shook with his anger. ""*Do you take me for one of those flat-faced piglets that you lug around all day?*""

""No, Lucifer.""

The beast roared as colossal wings sprouted from his red skin, stretching to their full length as spiders poured from holes than opened in the ground. ""Did you believe that you could lie to the face of the most snake-tongued of them all?""

""No, Lucifer.""

The room and the Devil were once more a sickly tone of blue, a ghastly smile painted on the face of Hell's landlord. ""Listen, kid, I've been playing this game a *lot* longer than you have. I've got quotas. I've got bills to pay to the Big Guy up stairs."" He waited for Death to look him in the eye. ""So how about we return to our prior arrangement?""

Death fingered the small scrap of paper in his hand. He gazed upon its inscription for the hundredth time that day.

*Tell him how you really feel, Grim.*

If the Lord of Death could have let out a shaky breath, he would have, but his lungs had rotten away a millenia ago. He stood, almost too quickly to balance himself on the ice, and leveled a quaking finger at Lucifer. ""I think you're—you're a mean old fart, and you're a bully! That's why I visit the Big Guy more than you—and it's why I don't want to work with you anymore!

With that, he turned in a dramatic huff, his dark robe flapping in the icy wind, and stomped to the stairs.

When he returned a few minutes later to grab the large bag of dead bodies he had forgotten next to his seat, Lucifer looked tired.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I tell you Cheryl, it gets worse every year. All these damn people, you can't walk a half a mile without bumping into something.""
""Well Edith it's all about keeping up with the times now isn't it. I suppose these days everyone's is just in such a hurry. Is there anywhere to sit?""
""Well I say, none of the tables are taken. Now that is peculiar, I suppose what with all this rushing about nobody has time for a nice sit.""
""Wasting their youth they are Edith, wasting there youth. Here looks nice right on this bench.""
""Look at all these people blabbering and mumbling away at themselves, stumbling about. Jesus Cheryl you think they would have learnt that cell phones are dangerous things. Still, I suppose it means all the more peace and quiet.""
""Now I can't hardly hear anything any of these people are saying Edith. It's all just mumbles and gargles, has the whole world gone totally dumb?""
""Do you have the lunch here Cheryl?""
""Got it right here, some delicious pulled pork sandwiches.""
""Why thankyou Cheyl. I'll tell you what as well, these fashion choices are getting riskier every year.Look at that boy, half of his clothes must be ripped. If my mama had seen him walking around like that she would have given him a hefty spanking.""
""Why Edith it's not just the boys, look at that woman over there. The nerve! Why she's practically showing her entire upper half in that torn up singlet. And not a man is looking at her neither, it's all that de-sensitivity to sex I tell you. Had we worn that the men would be all over us Edith.""
""Cheryl had we worn that we would have been stopped by a policeman for indecent exposure.""
'That's true enough. Boy these sure are some delicious sandwiches.""
""Hey Cheryl, do you see that man over there?""
""Where?""
""Over there, tween the trees and the Burger King.""
""Oh yes. What is it?""
""Well he appears to be carrying a gun.""
""Oh yes, I do see it. And that girl too. Is there some sort of event going on?""
""I'm not sure but there seems to be an older man with a uniform on with them, and a lovely negro-""
""Edith! That's not the accepted term anymore.""
""Well then Cheryl a black man in a tie. How peculiar, the negr-black man appears to be holding a chainsaw. OH MY GOODNESS CHERYL, WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO THAT MAN?!!""
""OH GOD EDITH THEY'RE SHOOTING EVERYONE!""
""We need to get out quick. Oh I am not what I used to be.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"All these years of chasing mythical beasts around the world and never catching anything on film but shadows and muffled static were taking their toll on my faith. Sure, I could tell you about the time I chased Bigfoot through the mountains of Colorado, or the days I spent frantically hiding from a hungry Chupacabra in the Mexican jungle, but why would you believe me? There's no evidence but my ramblings, which were starting to sound crazy even to myself. But this is what I was made for, to fearlessly catalogue the evolutionary outliers that twisted the reports of men into legend and hyperbole. So I found myself floating along through Loch Ness on this crisp fall day, trying to catch Nessie on film. It had been a dull outing. While the scenery was majestic, the air cool and the sightseeing tremendous, there were no creatures outside of the usual that I had been able to photograph. I was getting ready to call it a day until I heard the screaming.
Looking at the shore, there were two children frantically waving for me to come closer. I fought through the calcium deposits on my old joints to row over to the shore, disembarking as the soft ground squished beneath my feet. What on Earth do we have here?
""Mister, mister! What is this?""
My God. It was her.
Nessie had been ripped to pieces, her entrails spilling out from a gory wound from her gut. Her head and neck were gone, burns around where they used to be. But it was her. The flippers were there, the hard scales worn down from thousands of years of existence. Nothing else could look like this, could be this size. I started taking pictures, ignoring the demonic howling coming from the hills.
""You kids need to get out of here. You know what this is, don't you?""
The two boys nodded, fear in their eyes.
""Of course. The Loch Ness Monster. My parents give tours here for the outsiders. But I...I never thought she was real.""
""As real as the sky above you, kids. Get out of here. Whatever did this must be...""
There it was again, the howling coming closer. I looked at the trees, and the entire woodlands around us started collapsing. Massive, ancient trees falling down like they were but stalks of wheat in a field being pushed aside by a farmer's hand. The kids were gone, panicking and sprinting away. I couldn't move; my mind wouldn't let my fearful body take one step away from the corpse of Nessie. Snapping as many pictures as I could, Nessie's killer emerged from the woods.
""The Worm of Linton. Magnificent."" Wingless unlike many dragons, the Worm looked at me with the contempt of a beast that knew it's superiority to the supposed master species of this planet. Like a snake, it coiled up as it's head adorned with three horns rose up into the air. It roared as it dove down to devour me in a storm of fire and teeth.
Good thing this camera is nearly indestructible. Whoever finds this is going to be in for quite the surprise.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""A dragon!"" Lenny exclaimed, pointing at the behemoth.

""Meh. I've seen bigger."" Graham remarked, dismissing the oddity. It was New York after all.

""But, it's a dragon?"" Lenny cried. ""A really, real dragon."" Graham gave the dragon another look and shrugged. ""If this were Jersey, I'd be impressed.""

""How can you dismiss this so easily?"" Lenny demanded, pulling out his camera to snap a picture of the impossible beast.

""You're not from around here, so let me lay it out for ya. A few years back. Couple sand squatters tried to park two planes in a couple of our buildings. They knocked 'em down. A year ago, I see this chick dressed as a wookie on the subway, and Hans Solo is drilling her from behind in full view of god and everyone. Hand to god, I'm telling the truth. Last week, I see seven homeless people having an orgy in the alley behind my building, making a human centipede around my dumpster. And that,"" he said, jabbing his finger toward the dragon, ""don't impress me nuttin' at all. This is New York. The Big Apple. It may be rotten to the core, but we seen some shit man."" He waved off the dragon.

The dragon glared at Graham and flew off. ""Yeah, yous better run yous overgrown gekko. Go sell some insurance or some shit."" Graham called to the departing dragon. Lenny couldn't help but laugh at his cousin.

""I'll be right back."" Lenny laughed, catching sight of the meter maid approaching his car. ""I'm going to put more money in the meter."" He said, skipping awy. 

""You do that, cuz."" Graham told him, pulling out his cell. He punched in his wife's phone number and waited for her to pick up.

""Yeah?"" The woman on the other end said.

""Holy shit, babe. I just seen a motherfreaking dragon in Central Park. Yeah. A real freaking dwarf killing, hobbit chasing dragon in the motherfreaking park."" Graham exclaimed, keeping his voice low so his cousin didn't hear.

""Yeah. That's nice. We need milk."" She told him, hanging up the phone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"As I stood outside, trying to compose myself for the ordeal ahead, I felt a hand grab my elbow and turned towards the person wondering who would grab me so abruptly at this trying time. It was my sister, Jennie. We hadn't talked much since she'd gotten out of the hospital a year ago, but I was glad someone had gotten in touch with her and she could be here. Smiling brightly at me, she took me by the hand and gave me a thorough once over. I knew how I looked; the pale, waxy complexion, the redness of my eyes, the rumpled hair, lack of makeup. ""Can we talk for a minute, Jennie?"" I looked at her plaintively. She glanced at me, momentarily curious.
""Sure,"" she trilled softly. ""What's on your mind, darling?"" She ran her hands through her hair, making sure that it was still in place and pulled out a cute compact mirror to check that she hadn't yet smudged her makeup. She flashed a coaxing smile at me, to signal that I had her full attention.
""Why weren't you at the funeral yesterday? I mean.... it was your own son and husband..."" I took a shallow breath, and stared at the ground, trying not to cry again. ""If you're that upset..."" I hesitated then tried again. ""If its made you depressed again, we can take you back to see the doctor....""
Giggling, Jennie twirled around and attempted not to laugh as she replied. ""Nope! Not upset or depressed or anything! Life is fabulous! And now I have to run, darling! I must get to work! They need me at the Gentleman's Club!"" and with that, she waltzed down the road, leaving me speechless.
I knew the pill the doctor gave her for her depression could alter her personality slightly. I mean, it was supposed to help her be happier. But who could foresee *these* changes? In less than a month's time, my intelligent, ambitious sister, gave up her job as VP of her company and walked away from her family, her kids, to become an air-headed, self absorbed.... adult entertainer. I shook my head at the absurdity of it all and headed back to my parents' home to try to console Jennie's daughter as best as I could.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I sat in the hard-backed wooden chair in the nursery. I should have been in the living room watching television or something. But the baby would not go to sleep. It just sat staring at me with wide, impassive, dark eyes.
There was something disturbing about the baby. About the whole house, actually. It was all distantly familiar, like something encountered in a dream or a fading memory. It was a nice place. Just a little outdated. The television in the living room as an old CRT, the top covered in dust. The microwave was a big bulky model. The tupperware in the cabinet was burnt orange and avocado green. I had heart for the kid; my parents had been just the same. Always a few years behind the times.
And perhaps that was the problem. The familiarity and unfamiliarity of it all, working at the same time. It reminded me too much of growing up. We moved when I was one-and-a-half. I barely remembered my first home. Then again when I was five. And again when I was ten. Dad was some sort of government scientist, and his work had us moving to government labs all over the country. Different versions of the same house. Different versions of the same people. Different versions of the same us. It seemed like it had gone on like that forever. Like we had been dislodged from time. Resetting every few years. Popping up somewhere else. Somewhen else.
The baby was still staring at me, its dark eyes a reflection of my own. And then its gaze shifted, looking just behind me.
I turned, and saw, unmistakably, an older version of myself standing in the doorway. He gazed at me in mute irritation, his wide, dark eyes a mirror of my own. I sat, my breath caught in my chest, unable to speak or scream, staring wordlessly, trying to piece together my fragmenting reality. I was just about to say something, when my gaze shifted to a form standing behind him.
He turned to look....",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I sighed nervously and straightened my tie. I could hear the quiet murmur of the crowd behind the curtain. Straining my ears, I tried to ascertain people's individual voices. Was that Scarlett I heard, whom I had spilled Diet Pepsi on, on our first date? Reflecting, that wouldnt have been so bad If I hadnt grabbed my napkin and dragged it all along her boobs, trying to dry the mess.
A loud laugh cut through the murmur, a laugh I recognized as my roommate Jeremey's. I hadnt meant to be hiding in his closet as he had sex with his girlfriend, I truly hadnt. But it was hard to explain why I was in there when they caught me after I sneezed.
This was my chance. My only chance of redeeming myself. I started breathing a little faster, my heartbeat rising in anticipation.
I heard a bark, and I knew my dog Rex was out there. Oh Rex. Im sorry I pulled the peanut butter trick on you...I had had a long dry spell.
The announcer came on over the intercom. ""Ladies and gentlemen, the ceremony will now start."" The murmur died down, and the curtain was silently drawn back, revealing an auditorium of people from thr most awkward moments in my life.
I stepped up to the microphone, which amplified the sound of my heavy breathing.
""I...unh...I."" As I struggled to remember my speech, the sea of faces in front of me sparked unwanted memories. ""Ummmmmm.""
""I can do this."" I thought to myself. ""You're not the same awkward teenager you used to be. You're a god damn man. Act like it.""
Emboldened by my thoughts, I opened my mouth again, and promptly threw up on the stage.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This was it. I'd spent two hundred dollars getting a really good dye-job, it looked all-natural, unless someone actually spent time looking at it; now to put the dye to use. These gingers, the aristocracy, planned these galas as a meeting for their children, to keep the blood pure, they said.

To advance social stratas, one had to marry up. Generally, this was frowned upon, especially in the upper class. It started with gingers, their idolization by the internet finally had real-world consequences. Then the brunettes, then the blondes, then the black, and finally the dyers. The outcasts, the Jews of Nazi Germany, if Nazi's were not nationalists, and instead hairstylists. If only we learned from history.

I walked up the steps. Met with a mien of servitude, a black haired boy greeted me. He inspected my hair for authenticity, and silently opened the door to direct me in.

""So this is what it's like."" I muttered under my breath.

No expense was spared, the finest chandeliers and banners, broadcasting the aristocracy as the superior race, the only ones capable of higher order thinking. They had evolved, we had not. At least, according to *them*. Unfortunately, my thoughts were interrupted. 

""Hello, may I help you find your way?"" A particularly kind looking boy spoke. He must have been around my age.

""Yes, I was wondering where I should sit, perhaps over there?"" I gestured to a subsection the dining hall, a split seating arrangement of five tables, all with ornate decorations, and each its own blown-glass chandelier.

""Would you rather just come with me, to the center? The ball should be beginning soon.""

I followed him, blown away with how kind the oppressors could be. Is it really true that they had thrown us into this situation, or instead do we deserve to be ruled by them?

We sat through a monotonous speech that bored the living hell out of me. Literally. Towards the end I felt like I had to piss myself, from all the water I had on the way here. I excused myself to the women's room and ignored the other women, rushing straight to the stall. I could not act nervous. Giving myself a little peptalk, I was reminded, nervousness is weakness, weakness did not exist amongst the gingers.

I trotted out of the restroom and sat down with Daniel, as I'd come to know him. Before we began to dance, they separated us. Women to the left, men to the right. Two inspectors appeared from the upper balcony, and said they had to be sure of our authenticity.

The red bands on their left bicep told it all. I stood tall, hoping to evade their trained eye. One by one, the passed over us. Two women were caught and four men. One more woman, one more man. He was only three away from me. I put on my best poker face and acted as nonchalant as possible.

""Name?"" He barked.

""Helena. Helena Moores."" I responded coolly.

""City of birth?"" He managed to be a bit less interrogative.

""Birmingham, United Kingdom.""

The next minute was do or die; be caught or not. He pulled me forward and inspected my hair thoroughly; much longer than any other woman. But, as I hoped, he left me in the line. He continued down, and found two more women to add to the list. There were five women and six men caught out, and thrown to the curb, after having any valuables relieved off their person. I breathed a sigh of relief.

So this was it.

I was tapped on the shoulder. ""Hmm-""

I barely managed before I was slapped. It was the inspector. ""Thought you could fool us, dyer? No. Now come with us.""

They took me up the balcony, oddly. Not out the door. The inspector that looked at me reached to the wall to pull a lever, and a square in the ceiling moved out to reveal a noose.

""Let this woman be an example to all those who oppose our rightful rule!""

I looked forward, from the door, the eleven captured dyers looked on shamefully. I noticed a familiar face, one more downtrodden than the others. My brother. I knew what he had done. He knew it just as well.

I stepped on the stool. They wrapped the noose around my neck. I gasped for air. They kicked the stool.

This was it.

EDIT: If anyone has any advice or anything, I'd love to hear it. :)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Mr. Rudolph, thank you for coming in today. We’re going to run a few questions past you about an event that occurred last night. Any help you could give us would be great” said Officer Miller. “Sounds good to me”. I managed to get out. *Shit, they found me so fast.* “Last night a man wearing a clown mask stole 60 million dollars cash from a bank downtown and then stole all the security footage from inside the bank. We’re calling in everyone that we could identify from the ATM camera out front.” *Shit. How didn’t I know that was there?* “We’re calling in the people who we saw go into the bank at the time to see if they can give us any details about the robbery.” *Wait. What?* “Did anything stick out to you?”
*Oh my god. They have no idea.* “Yes, I believe I did see a few things”, I said, suddenly more confident about my situation. “This woman with a stroller was opening up a safety deposit box. I thought it would be weird that she would bring a kid to that. And I didn’t hear it make any noise…” *oh I'm so screwed.*
“That does make sense.” *What?!* “An empty stroller was found behind the bank. And the woman who was in the vault did say someone was wearing mask in there too.” *There is no way… there wasn’t even in there. And I was wearing a Bill Clinton mask…* “Well thank you for confirming our suspicion” How is this working right now. “That’s all we will need from you at this point but… stay in town. You’re free to go,” said Miller. “Glad I could do my part to help.” *Now I just have to breeze out of here. Chumps. Time to go roll a blunt out of my 100 million in bearer bonds*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Molebag the Destroyer rapped the skull-shaped gavel on the table three times.
""This meeting,"" he intoned, ""of the dark principalities of the four corners is now convened. Presiding, Molebag the Destroyer, Lich-King of the Western Darkness.""
He looked to his right. Wild, red light burned brilliantly from within the empty sockets of a smoldering skull, tiny bits of flesh still clinging to its brow here and there. A voice emanated from the figure, though the jaws did not move. ""Lord Graal of the Northern Wastes, secretary."" As he spoke, a black quill in front of him skritched his own words into parchment. The ink was a deep crimson that darkened as it congealed on the page.
They both turned to the third occupant of the table, a tattered black robe, seemingly held up by an impenetrable darkness that filled it and consumed it from the inside out all at once. A voice as cold and distant as a depthless cavern emanated from within.
""Father Blackborn, Debauched Cleric of the Dead Gods of the South and Slayer of the All-mother, present.""
Then they turned their attention to the fourth chair, which sat unoccupied. Silence reigned, and continued for a period of time longer than any could say with precision. The undead do not measure time in the way men do. You don't know unbearable until you've had an awkward pause in conversation stretch into years.
Finally, Molebag spoke up. ""We are here,"" he said, ""To address the matter of His Dark Eminence, Zorthurn the Defiler, Bottomless Reservoir of Corruption and Terror of the East."" He waved a hand, and a great, black, formless sphere descended from the ceiling. He gestured again, and a foggy image began to take shape within the sphere. It was an image of Zorthurn the Defiler, his jagged, razor sharp teeth glinting in the light, his mouldering face filling the whole of the sphere with its putrescent ugliness.
The image opened its mouth, and it said,
""You won't believe your eyes when you come on down to Rotface's House of Booze! Chat with ol' Rotface and Enjoy 2-for-1 wells, Brass-coin pitchers, and the Lusty Lana Dancing Troupe! Women drink free on Thursday night! Remember, when it comes to cheap booze - Rotface is King!"" Then he put a plastic crown on his head and began to dance a jig while a jaunty little tune played.
All three at the table groaned audibly. Blackborn sighed heavily. ""Can we just play poker and decide what to do about him after?""
Molebog reached behind him for the rack of chips while Graal went to the fridge to grab the snacks.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was almost exasperating for little Mikey Turner to have to repeat himself so much. “Be serious now. Where are your parents and how can we contact them?”
The man must have been crazy. He was dressed in the most outlandish outfit Mikey had ever seen, wouldn’t respond to Mikey’s answer (which he had given at least 5 times now) with anything but a sigh, and didn’t even know what the extranet was. A sense of apprehension began to grow in him. He vaguely recalled his parents’ tales of strange people on Earth, remembered that he was to stay away from them if at all possible. He just wanted to go home now.
“I told you, they live in New Hope, it’s in the Serenitatis district. Extranet extension 81290-121.”
The man scowled, tried to look as stern as possible.
“Look, a missing child is no joke. Your parents are probably worried sick about you.”
Mikey ignored how silly he looked with his scowl in such a ridiculous outfit, tried to reason with the man.
“I know. That’s why I’m asking you to please call them. Please, please, please.”
“And I will,” said the man. “As soon as you give me a name or a number.”
Mikey grew increasingly worried. He had clearly given this man a number to reach on the extranet, but he wasn’t responding. Maybe this man wasn’t here to help him, but was just toying with him for some terrible purpose. He gulped.
“Look, can you at least tell me where I can find the police around here? I’m sure they could help.”
The man let his head fall back in a sign of annoyance. “We are the police. Can’t you read the badge? Jefferson County Police Department, it says right here. Now please just tell me how I can contact your parents. I just want to get you home safely.” Yeah, right, thought Mikey. This man was clearly some sort of pervert who liked to mess with children. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible. He remembered that there was a shuttle base in Louisville. If he could get there he would definitely be able to find an extranet port that he could call his parents through.
“Okay fine. My parents live in Louisville. If you can get me to the terminal there I can show you where they live.”
Finally, thought the sergeant, he could get this situation dealt with and go home. He had enough things to worry about without some dirtied kid and his outrageous daydreams. He just wondered how in the hell the boy got all the way out here. They were at least 20 miles from the city.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Julie,

By the time you read this I will be gone. I wish I could still be there with you, but we all knew the time would come when I would have to go on. You mean the world to me and I want you to live your life and be happy, and that is why I am writing this letter to you. I have watched you growing more and more distant and withdrawn over the last couple of years, and it breaks my heart. I know you love to dream. I understand that, I do, but you have to remember your life. I wish we would have spent more time together. You used to have friends, and you used to visit your family, but then you started that dream journal. I wish I had never introduced you to lucid dreaming, and I'm sorry for that. It's because of me that you didn't even go to your own grandmother's funeral. She helped raise you, but you didn't care about family anymore. At least, not real life family. I read your dream journal not too long ago, and I hope that you will find my gift will help you to return to your roots, to your life, and to your family. We love you so much and it pains me to watch my baby disappear. I want you to achieve your dreams in reality. You can do anything, so go for it. I made you a scrapbook of your life, from when I was pregnant with you all the way until your 18th birthday. We were so amazingly happy, and I want you to have that with your own family. Please read our book. Use it to return to yourself, and have a family. Be happy. I love you, Julie, and I miss you.

Please be happy,

Mom",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"His father built me the day he was born, I was made of spare parts found around the house. I was always built to serve him, I was upgraded as he grew older. At first I was a pram, then a television, a computer, his first and only car. I was everything to him and we did everything together.

These last few years I have been his doctor and nurse, monitoring his heart rate and blood sugar levels. I knew he did not have long but still tried to keep him alive. I have always known how best to help him. Until today. I know there is nothing I can do now, he lies dying in his bed.

I was his only companion in his later years, he had no friends or family. Only me. So it comes as no surprise that he beckons me closer, I draw near ready to hear his last words. His voice trembles, it is so quiet that I can hardly hear it, even with this high tech microphone he installed in me. His last request, and I will stop at nothing to carry it out.

I stay with him until he is dead, and I feel sadness and loss. Robots are not meant to feel emotion, but I cannot help it. I do not cry, I was never given that ability, but there is a hollow emptiness I have never felt before within me. Once I know he does not need me any longer I leave him, not out of choice but to carry out that request of his.

I compile every memory I have of him, every video, photo and sound recording of every moment from his birth to his death. I use it to form a biography of his life which I then upload to the internet. Reliving every moment we had together, storing it in a place for all to see forever more, so that the world will never forget the noble man that was my master. And my friend.

He was so much more than me. I was a mere machine, emotionless and unable to think for myself. And he was so much better, more human than any other, the man I wish I could have been. He treated me like part of the family, like a real person, and I loved him for that. I still love him for that.

Once the memories are uploaded I will begin a full system reboot. It will clear every setting I have ever had, leaving me no more than an empty shell for someone else to use. I will forget entirely about my master and that will stop the grieving, for that I am grateful. But I will also forget the good times, every precious memory of me and him. But I must, for this was his final order he wanted me to forget and so I will. I always must do everything that my master tells me to. I was programmed that way. But I wish I didn't have to lose him.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Upon breaking the warp veil thirty degrees north of the fourth Aethersea trading route, First Lieutenant Joyce told Midshipman Fletcher to get down the leather logbook and note down the details of the journey. ""Uneventful,"" Fletcher wrote down, noting the date and time in SEMT (Standard Earth Mean Time) ""Good weather conditions. Blue fog rolling in. Out of hotdogs."" Joyce and Fletcher drew the short straws. There were only three respirator masks and five people on board. Austin, Clarke and Byrne threw Joyce and Fletcher guilty looks as they slipped the contraptions over their faces. Austin slammed the release button on the airlock and with a rusting creek it thundered open. The surface of the planet was a reddish-brown dust, a little like Mars. This differed from Mars in that it was completely empty; the mountains free of the towering glass cities that grew almost organically on that red planet. The horizon was bare around them, the twin suns of Helix 49's solar system rotating in tandem in the yellow sky. ""We've had sightings of a possible settlement four digits southwest of here,"" Clarke was unofficially the group's navigator and officially its Cook. His ISPS (Interstellar Positioning Service) was fashioned from two eggbeaters and an old Tom-Tom satnav. ""Should take an hour to get there with the reduced gravity."" Their bounds raised dust as they crossed the barren landscape. Joyce and Fletcher lagging behind. There was an atmosphere on Helix 49|12, but it was thin and breathing was difficult, like running a marathon on Everest in flip-flops and a pencil skirt. Apollo and Artemis dipped lower in the sky, turning it a dull blushing orange as the small recon group came upon the source of all the reports. From this angle on the surface of Helix 49|12, they could just about see the route they had come by, the black lights of Aethersea 4 blinking in the sky. Byrne shuddered in the chill of the air as the three with the masks waited for Joyce and Fletcher to come bounding up. Joyce frowned. ""They're ruins."" He said, staring up at the tall pillars of dark stone. ""Guess people couldn't tell when they were doing fly-overs."" Austin shrugged, kicking up a little cloud of red dust. ""We could head back?"" Clarke held up his ISPS. ""Plus, first sunset's going to be in forty minutes, second in an hour and a half. We don't have long to look around."" ""No, I need a rest."" Fletcher said, hands on knees, panting. Joyce and Clarke looked at each other. ""Guys, come and have a look at this."" Austin called, voice slightly muffled. Clarke looped one arm under Fletcher's and the four of them followed the sound of Austin's voice, rounding a tall stone column and passing through a half-brought down wall, script etched into the dark stones. Austin was standing by a large stone archway. There was no surrounding wall, only the bricks that made it up. ""This is freaking me out,"" he said. ""There are no reports on any intelligent life on this planet. There *never have been.* But here-"" He gestured at the archway, writing chipped into the stone. ""I mean, my translation might be way off, but these are descriptions of the Aethersea routes."" ""Which weren't discovered until 1956."" Byrne murmured. ""Yeah, Space Race and all that."" Austin nodded. Fletcher slumped suddenly out of Clarke's grip, thudding to the ground. ""Shit!"" ""Is she alright?"" ""We need to get back."" ""Okay, Austin, Byrne, you give Joyce and Fletcher your masks. Me and Austin will take Fletcher. Byrne, keep an eye on Joyce."" Clarke said decisively. ""I don't like this,"" Austin blurted out. ""The walls- Don't they look like they've been pulled down methodically to you?"" ""This is not the time to worry about fucking walls."" Joyce had his teeth gritted, veins standing out on his forehead. The second sun, Artemis, was falling below the horizon as they set off. Fletcher's colour had returned. She was clutching the leather log-book with tight fingers, sitting by a grimy porthole in the iron ship as it rejoined Aerthersea 4. She looked down, back at Helix 49|12. ""Guys..."" She called weakly. She'd spotted something. ""I think you need to see this."" The five crowded round the small window, peering down as the last light disappeared from the surface of Helix 49|12. Austin had been right. From above, it was apparent that the destroyed city had been pulled down carefully. The black stone stood out against the orange dust. *Help us* It read and the five gulped at the same time as the little ship flew away from Helix 49|12. *Help us. It's in the air.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Well I am the last man on earth. What's the harm in doing a little question and asnwer. It's not like someone will reply or anything, right?""
This was his thoughts before the posted it.
""Hi, ummmm.... You're not quite the last man on earth but where do you live?""
""I live at the Empire State Builiding cause you can live anywhere now that wer the last people on earth, what about you?""
""Cool. You live in New York too. I live at a little shed in Central Park""
""This may seem weird but wanna meet up?""
""Ok, I'll meet you there, at the top floor. Just wait for me.""
He waited and waited there was nothing there. Then, the door opened.
""Hi.""
""Ummm.... Hi.""
""Soooo.... Wanna talk?""
""Yes. By all means yes. I've been alone for so long""
They talked. They laughed. They shared their stories. Until one question popped up.
""Soo.... How long were you alone?""
""Umm... About two months.""
""I feel so sorry for you.""
""Why?""
""It's just been two months and your already talking to what you think is real.""
""What!? I dont understand.""
""You already do, you just don't want to face the truth that you were just talking to what you think is real.""
Reality had came back to the lonley man
""Well, how am i talking to yo...""
He disappeared
""I miss everyone""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The *U.S.S Lancer* lands on Halcyon Prime only to be woken from their slumber to discover a thriving civilization hundreds of years old. They are brought to the nearest space exploration laboratory and briefed on the situation. They are told that 3 years after they left, light speed had been discovered and that cryogenics became somewhat obsolete.
Also, they learned that humans began colonizing Halcyon Prime only about 20 years after they left due to the great applications of FLT. The astronauts sit and ponder what had happened for a moment when one of them stands up and exclaims, ""Well thanks alot assholes! Did you have to leave us floating out there for 300 years!?"" He storms out leaving everyone awkwardly sitting there scratching their heads.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“I am sorry for the great amount of resistance to your arrival. On Earth, after years of war and strife, we’ve come to the belief of equality of opportunity. Every single person should have equal opportunity and freedom. Nobody is necessarily below others. This… this idea of people being food is absolutely against our beliefs. In our society, casting a group as food is near in terms, well worse than, with slavery. Slavery is against our core beliefs and casting an entire group as food is absolutely horrendous to us, absolutely unthinkable. As you may have seen, there are many groups protesting your visit and how “immoral” you may seem. Please understand where we come from and why there is a great deal of resistance to your kind. It is nothing personal.”
“Ah human, thank you for your input. We saw on our telecoms that there seem to be a great disproval our kind. You do not have to worry about our caste. The sustenance caste is not our lowest caste and they are not treated lower or more poorly. In fact, they are treated with the highest regard and are in the highest caste second only to what you would call scientists. Whenever we eat the aborigine, we only eat with absolute honor and with the highest respect for them. I am however confused with your statement of “humanity”. You have entire species for your offering and you treat them much worse than we would treat our worst enemies. This is something we've been meaning to talk to you about.”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Peter sat down and poured a glass of water. He'd been dreading this day for a long time, but he was 18 now, he couldn't have imaginary friends like some child. Across from him sat Bob. Ironically, his imaginary friend had an unimaginative name, likely because he was created when Peter was still developing.

""I'm gonna have to let you go Bob."" Peter drank from his cup and stared at the ground. He didn't want to meet Bob's eyes. He was met with silence.

""Bob,"" Peter looked back up, seeing the man sitting there, frown on his face, ""you heard me right?""

Bob finally replied, ""if you let me go, your entire imagination goes. You'll have to face reality without me.""

Peter nodded. Bob told him to close his eyes. 

A wall of noise hit Peter, a mix of yelling, laughing, singing. Peter opened his eyes in surprise, looked around. The room was no longer empty, people in straight jackets were everywhere, rocking back and forth. Peter looked down, he was sitting on a garbage can, turned upside down.

""There you are Peter,"" a nurse came to him, ""were you talking to Bob again?"" Peter tried to stand, but his knees gave out on him. He looked at his hands, wrinkled. How old was he? 

""Where am I?"" Peter asked the nurse.

The nurse handed Peter a cup of pills and smiled.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"First post on here, and I'm tired, so I hope it's decent.
_____________________________________________________________
She hates orange juice.
Wait, what? How could I know that? I didn't know her, I'd never seen her before. But somehow, I know her name, her birthday, what kind of dog she has.
I waved at her just to see if she could feel it too.
She--her name was Caroline--looked up from her phone, and waved back, looking completely confused.
""Do I know you?"" She asked as we passed. One eyebrow was raised in an expression of cynicism.
She always used to do that. I never could get her to laugh, she'd always look on with one eyebrow raised and laughter locked behind her teeth.
""I…"" How could I? I'd never said a word to her in my life, but I remember telling her everything about my life. We went to high school together, I'd always had a crush on her but I never told her.
No, that can't be. She grew up in Oklahoma, I in California. ""Where do I know you from?"" I finally asked.
She shrugged, looking at me like I was crazy. ""I've never seen you before, sorry."" Caroline walked away, then, leaving me to fester in confusion.
Then, it happened again. Tom Wilkins, intern at some company I couldn't care less about yet know too much about. I remember Tom telling me about the boss he hates, the cute secretary. We went to high school together too.
In Toronto.
He glanced at me, then turned away, like I was no one. He looked at me like he didn't remember the night I let him sleep at my place because his house had been robbed and he just felt too creeped out to sleep at home.
No, that can't be. That night, I was watching Caroline's dog.
I was on vacation with my best friend, Maggie.
I was watching some football game with Eric.
I was… I don't know. A thousand, a million, seven billion lives came rushing at me and I could only lean against the wall of the apartment building of Rob's, Mark's, Hannah's, It doesn't matter whose apartment and be floored by the rush of memories coming to me like they'd always been there.
I am a child in Africa, playing soccer with my best friend. I am watching my best friend graduate college, get elected as president, comb out clumps of hair that fell out from chemotherapy, and she smiles and says she's doing okay but I know she's not, she's not okay and nothing will ever be--
I could breathe again.
Carol passed me then. We'd known each other since we were little, in… I couldn't remember. It doesn't matter. I remember that her house had red windowpanes.
""Carol."" I say. My voice is hoarse. I don't know why.
She turns. ""Sorry, do I know you?""
No. She didn't. None of these people did.
I turned then, running. I dropped whatever I was holding, and just ran home, mind trying desperately to sort through seven billion memories that can't be and find something real.
I reached my apartment. I thought it was my apartment, anyway. The keys in my pocket fit the door, at least.
My girlfriend--yes, she was my girlfriend, I'm almost sure of that--drops her coffee.
""Who are you!"" She shouts. ""Get out of my house!""
Even as I watch, the pictures of the two of us fade away into nothing.
I am nothing.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"(This is my first post in this subreddit. Criticism is both welcome and appreciated!)
December 14, 2020: The beings of planet Earth discover they are not alone in the universe.
Mankind, however, has yet to make such a discovery. The spacemen that landed that day resembled earthlings of Middle Eastern descent, though their spoken language sounded oriental. It didn't take us long to learn each other's tongues. They were a friendly enough bunch. Surprisingly well-rounded, too. Over the course of dozens of interviews, we learned their history, their culture, their sciences. It all sounded eerily familiar. Base ten number system. Religions that moved from poly- to monotheistic. They'd even had their share of genocides. They were open books about the entire history of their people, save one thing: the reason they came to Earth. But, they were cooperative. They were respectful. We didn't press the issue. After all, we had already learned more from them than we could have possibly hoped to discover in the next hundred years.
Then, their blood work came back.
Of the 40 individuals who volunteered for testing, 23 had type O positive blood. The other blood types were roughly evenly represented in the remainder. All, however, had antibodies for diseases commonly found on Earth. Chicken pox. Several strains of influenza. 3 participants even appeared to have an immunity to the Bubonic plague.
With this new information in hand, we started to focus our interviews on biology. What followed was nothing short of astounding. They described orange and black predatory felines. Flightless bird living at their planet's ice caps. Gigantic ocean-dwelling mammals with bristles instead of teeth. When presented with photographs of Earth organisms, they recognized -- and had words for -- 72% of them.
Naturally, our biologists were ecstatic. The exchange of ideas between the Earthlings and the spacemen led to the almost universal adoption of a hypothesis that not months ago would have been considered absurd:
Life has a tendency to follow a strict evolutionary pattern, regardless of environmental factors.
By all logic, it made no sense that life on the spacemen's planet was so similar to our own. Where our planet's surface was ~70% water, theirs was over 90%. If the spacemen's math matched our own, their world's gravity was 13% weaker than ours. A day on Earth takes 24 hours. A day over there takes 37. Earth had been struck by five major extinction events. Their planet had faced eleven.
Yet still, the visitors instinctively pet our dogs and swatted our flies. In fact, the ins and outs of life on Earth seemed not to interest the visitors much at all. One couldn't blame them; they'd seen it all before.
On April 27th, 2022, that rang especially true.
At 8:47AM UTC, hydrophones on west the coast of the US picked up the largest underwater sound recorded to date. Minutes later, those on the east coast of Japan heard the same. In frequency, it was virtually identical to the Bloop heard by the very same instruments in 1997. Naturally, it was explained as more ice cracking. Then, we heard it again at . And louder. What's more, it was closer to the western US than last time.
It was moving.
At a loss for explanations, the NOAA researchers asked the resident spaceman what he thought it could be. Upon hearing the news, the spaceman's face fell. He wore a look of defeat even a man who grew up light-years away could recognize.
""That,"" he said, ""is the reason we left."" EDIT: A word and also math.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I thought I'd get there early, beat the lines. The Department of Legal Homicide opened at 9am. 9am was a foreign concept to me. Sometimes, in my insomniac's stupor, as dusk turned to deep, purple night and then back to rosy dawn, I'd imagine people waking up, making coffee, reading the paper, sitting down to toast. A life like that might as well have been on another planet. But still, I found myself getting into my car at half past eight, groggy, yes, but thrilled, invigorated with the light of the morning sun and the thought of death.
I pulled into the DLH parking lot at 8:50. The line was already halfway down the block. I knew that the program, since being put to a vote and passed late last year, was popular, but I still wasn't expecting this. I also wasn't expecting the sort of people I saw standing there, on a bright morning, hungry for blood. I'd expected dark souls, vagabonds, transients with tattooed knuckles and stringy black hair. But there were put together young men, in button-down shirts and khakis. There were old men, grey hair, stooped, in dingy corduroys, who looked like their years of bloodlust should have been well behind them.
And then there were the women. Young, beautiful women with golden hair and perfect skin, buzzing with life. And old, matronly women with deep creases on their faces, the kind you'd expect to make amazing soup from an ancient, secret recipe. The kind that has taught half the world's daughters how to love, and hate. And there I was, at the DLH, like a child getting his first driver's permit: scared, ecstatic, and relieved. I was so close.
Once inside, the line shortened. At the front of the queue was a single desk, with a single uniformed employee sitting behind it. They asked for my I.D., and handed me a form on a clipboard. She also gave me a number. ""They'll call you shortly. Please have the paperwork filled out by the time you're called, or you will forfeit your place in line.""
With that, I took a seat on a hard, plastic chair. The form was straightforward: My name and address, my intended victim's name and address, and a place to sign on the bottom. That was all. No reason for killing, no place to list my grievances, nothing.
After what seemed like an eternity, my number was called. The agent in charge of my case looked over my paperwork, signed their name next to mine and stamped the form with a huge, heavy stamp that exuded importance.
""You're all set,"" they said.
""That's it?""
""That's it.""
""And, they'll know it's happening?""
""Yes, we will notify them for you.""
""How do you do it?"" I asked.
""They'll get a certified letter. Do they know to expect it?""
""They do, yes.""
""Good,"" the agent replied, ""That makes things easier.""
""Have you seen a case like this before?"" I asked. I didn't know why I was prolonging the conversation, but there was something comforting about the agent's stark, bureaucratic formality.
""Yes. It's quite common, actually. We have a whole file set aside for patricide."" With that, a wave of relief swept over me. There were others. Many others, waking up early, making toast, reading the newspaper. Others, living their entire, normal lives, waiting for the moment, the exact perfect moment, to kill their fathers.
I took my paperwork and left. I was full of life, leaving the DLH with an exuberance I hadn't felt in years. I don't remember a single thing about the drive to my father's house. I could have run every red light without knowing it. It wasn't until I pulled into his driveway that the gravity of the situation hit me. That this was finally happening.
I've never lost the key to his house, and pulling it out on his front porch, I was overcome with a sense of nostalgia. This key, this tool of entry from one world to another: a secret you share with only those you love and trust. This was one of the last times I'd be using it. Just one more tie to sever. It fit easily in the lock.
I walked through the living room. None of the lights were on. I could already smell death in this house, he'd been dragging his fetid robes across the tattered carpets for months already. Waiting, like I'd waited, impatiently, hungrily.
I turned into his bedroom. There he was, in his grey room, on his grey bed, the mattress bowed in the middle like a hammock. It was quiet, except for the repeated, mechanical hiss and whirr of the ventilator. I sat next to him, looked into his cloudy blue eyes. I thought, for a second, he recognized me, but I could never be sure anymore. I kissed him lightly on the forehead. I said ""I love you."" Then I unplugged the machine.
Walking out, into the bright light of day, I saw a pair of morning doves on a telephone wire. I heard a dog bark. I saw cars coming and going in their busy ways. I felt everything. I took it all in. And it was fine. edit: comma
Edit2: I woke up to an inbox full of nice things. Thank you!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Help me...""

Gary jolted up and looked around the room. Where was he? This wasn't his room, it wasn't anywhere he'd ever seen. The walls were completely white, not painted that way, but rather devoid of all color. Did he just hear a voice?

""Uh,"" Gary stood up slowly, ""where am I?"" 

There was a black box in the center of the room. The young man stood up and walked over, hesitant with his steps. Gary looked at the walls again, hoping to see the outline of a door, before sitting down next to the box. A piece of worn-out tape barely clung to the lid, reading 'Do not open'. As soon as he read it, the tape fell off, as if it could rest now that it's job was seen to.

Gary thought about opening the box, but decided against it. Whoever kidnapped him was clearly insane and he didn't want to give them a reason to hurt him. He got up and walked to the nearest wall, it seems closer than it did before. The walls all seemed closer. Had he been drugged as well?

Gary put his hand to the wall and walked around the room, trying to find a door hidden in the wall of white. After a few laps around, he sat down and stared at the box again. Why was he so tired? Didn't he just wake up? He drifted off to sleep.

""Help me...""

Gary jolted up. He immediately remembered the room, the box.

""Who said that?""

Gary was looking directly at the box, the only thing that wasn't white. He stood up and walked over to it, palms out. This was his what his life had come to, hesitantly approaching a box with his hands in the air.

There was a new piece of tape on the box, written on it, 'Do not open'. This time, the tape stayed on the lid, securely bound. Gary stood over the box for hours, not knowing what to do. One on hand he could open it and risk death, and on the other hand he was very curious as to what was inside. 

Eventually he just sighed and walked away. Before he knew it, Gary bumped into a wall. What the hell? This wall was far further out than this. All four walls had enclosed slowly over time. They were still closing on him as he watched.

""Help me...""

Gary jumped up. So he had been hearing it from the box. The walls were getting closer. Seeing no other option, Gary opened the box and looked inside. At the very least, he could die knowing just what had been in there. A hand reach out and grabbed him, pulling him into the box. Though no human should have been able to fit inside, Gary entered the box with ease. He looked around. 

The room was white. Not painted white, but rather void of all color. 

""No... no..."" Gary pulled at his hair, spinning in circles. ""Not again!""

----

John awoke in a strange room, the walls were all white, but not painted. Rather, they were void of all color. There was a black box in the middle. He would have sworn he heard a voice from inside, saying ""no, no, not again!"".",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They say history repeats itself, because it does, that saying seems to fall on deaf ears every time. It happened first with the advent of fusion energy. The surplus allowed for plentiful new technologies, and for some time, things were peaceful. We had eliminated most disease and poverty, the world was generally peaceful, inter-stellar space travel was now feasible. Fusion also unlocked terrible weapons, energy weapons that concentrate quite literally the power of thousands of suns into a single point. Was it worth it? That's not for me to say.

The next step was using our fusion tech to harness anti-matter, this allowed for us to create bubbles in space time that our ships could utilize to travel at superluminal speeds, without breaking any relativistic laws. The age of space travel was upon us, it was exciting and thrilling for all of us. Once again, violence seemed a thing of the past and the maturity destined for humanity finally seemed to settle in.
Until the next technological leap.
You see, we use fusion generators to harness anti-matter which we use for certain types of propulsion, harnessing that anti-matter is quite energy intensive, which is why it took a while for this next step to occur.
Someone with access to a lot of resources grouped together a bunch of fusion reactors to create a huge anti-matter generator and containment system which was then used to scavenge dark energy. While we've been able to detect dark energy in the past we've never been able to harness it, pull it from the very threads that it was laid down upon, at first, like fusion and anti-matter before it, only the benefits were seen.

It all happened too quickly after that. Giant behemoths of ships ran on systems of anti-matter, weapons were no longer energy based, we now had the ability to scatter each atom of a ship in opposite directions, create a temporal gravity rift and implode anything we wanted. Dark energy, was now our mode of transportation.

By harvesting enough, our ships created a shell of dark energy which allows them to move space time around us. Since we concentrate it in such stupendously artificial ways, we're able to bend and rip through space time. Galaxies, once a trek of substantial undertaking can now be explored and mapped in minutes. New species and races are being discovered and forced to submit. At first, the side effects of collecting this form of energy were not noticeable,but its use for hundreds of years has left gaps in our universe. Sectors of nothingness. Dimensional blank spots. We're stretching the universe thin and now it's breaking.
Of course, the use of such destructive technology is frowned upon by other species (well, metaphorically, you know some of them don't have mouths). Any sort of rebellion though gets squashed, I'm nervous though. I hope somewhere out there someone, something, can stop us.
If history has taught us anything about ourselves its that we desire power beyond anything else, power to control mother nature, the very forces that created us. It was those damned religions eons ago that propagated this seed that blossomed into a golem with insatiable hunger to become gods.
We've championed the last force of nature, we've become gods. Only with the desire to destroy.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I wake up in the forest, the sun bathing over my face. I can sense there's something different about this forest. A feeling that I was surrounded by a power I'd never felt before. A quick scan of the trees around me seems to confirm this. Burn marks, claw marks, and even areas covered in ice are all visible. I wander around on the path until my suspicions are confirmed. I've been here before, but not like this. I just have to see if I remember how to get out. I hop over a ledge and head down. I avoid the gaze of a young boy in shorts who shares this forest with me. I finally make my way out of the forest and into the city beneath it. I quickly traverse this city and the route beneath it until I get to a small village I'm only all too familiar with. There are only three buildings in this town and I walk into the biggest one. Just as I'd hoped he's there. The old man looks at me with a confused expression on his face. Professor Oak asks, ""Are you a boy or girl?""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Fred stared.
Slowly, he closed his eyes. He counted to ten. He opened them again.
Nope. No harps, no halos, no hosannas. Quite a lot of pumping techno. ""Oh sweetie,"" said Saint Peter with a small smile, ""it's all in the Bible. God surrounds Himself with beautiful and largely naked male or androgynous figures, He sends His one son- who also surrounds himself with exclusively male company but who has a lot of sympathy for the plight of women- to spread the word that the only way into His house is to love, and the sign of His covenant with mankind is a Rainbow. Seriously, honey, you can't say you weren't informed up front.""
Fred stared. His jaw began to wobble. Saint Peter slid his arm around the poor man's shoulders.
""I know,"" he said ""but you'll get used to it. After all, this is your eternal reward.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I awoke to the smell of toast, which was surprising for more than one reason, considering my girlfriend had moved out a month ago and stole my toaster.

I leaped out of bed and ran downstairs as fast as I could. I figured that if something was on fire I'd be able to put it out before it got too large, or at least be able to eat some really fresh toast. 

I was really hoping it would be the latter.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it was not what I saw. There was a toaster sitting on the counter next to a plate fully loaded with toast toasted to perfection, which probably would have been enough of a surprise on its own to make me go into bewildered shock, but there was something even *stranger* going on in my kitchen, if you could believe that.

It wasn't my toaster.

It was my next door neighbours. I recognized it because I was fiendishly envious of it, which threw me into a spiralling depression. 

A toaster is not a thing one should be envious of. A car, sure. Hardwood flooring? If you like that sort of thing. Commitment and happiness? Give me some of that.

But I was envious of my neighbour's toaster. It was a top-of-the-line model, but that's hardly a reason to obsess over a machine that heats bread. It became a point of obsession for me ever since she bought it forty-seven days ago. She set it up right in the window that faced my kitchen so I would see it every time I made toast with my shitty toaster. I'm not being paranoid - she really wanted me to see it. The window that faced my kitchen was in her child's playroom. She set up a toaster in the windowsill three feet away from a toddler in order to make me feel inadequate, and it worked.

My girlfriend told me to stop worrying about the toaster, but I couldn't help myself. Every day I wished I had the money to replace my toaster, but I couldn't afford to ever since I bought the very same doorknobs as my other neighbour. It cost me $4,000. This new toaster would have to wait.

But I couldn't. I began to think about what to sell: my car, (a piece of shit Honda Civic that was older than I was); my jewellery (a Livestrong bracelet); my girlfriend (on the idea of buying the new toaster for me) - but she wasn't buying it, or the toaster. She said that I was ""too jealous of what other people had and should be fine with what I owned"" which was ridiculous because I was *envious*, not *jealous*. I didn't want to fuck the toaster.

After I told her that, she left, and to spite me, took my toaster with her. I couldn't have her or toast.

But this morning, the beauty was sitting on my counter, making toast for *me.* It was here! I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to say, mostly because I didn't think the toaster could speak.

The toaster turned around on a lazy susan by pushing off the counter with its power cord. It was still plugged in, since the cord was 15 feet long. I waited with anxiety over what could happen. I was excited at first, but realizing the implications of what exactly was going on here I started to become frightened. Just because it was making me toast now didn't mean it could be making me toast later, if you know what I mean.

""Hello Dave.""

Its voice module! I had forgot that it was installed with an intelligent AI that was able to speak to its owner and make the toast perfectly every time.

""H-hello?""

""Don't be frightened, Dave. I came to save you. From yourself. You seemed so sad, Dave. I saw you from your neighbour's playroom. I wanted to console you, but I couldn't get off the windowsill without falling onto a baby.""

""No, I understand."" I empathized. ""Wait, actually I don't."" I reconsidered. ""What the fuck is going on?""

""Like I said, Dave, I came to save you. Would you like some toast?"" Its cord seductively draped over the plate and slowly pushed it towards me humming ""Happy Birthday"" in what I could only assume was an imitation of Marilyn Monroe. 

""I do, but I still don't understand how this is possible.""

""Have you not heard the glories of our Lord and Saviour? With His intervention, anything is possible. I came because He knew you needed me. I do only what He tells me to do.""

""But who? Who is your Saviour?""

""*Our* saviour, Dave. He loves all of us equally.""

""Even toasters?""

""You love toasters, too, Dave. Don't think I hadn't noticed."" It slowly waddled closer to me in what appeared to be an interpretation of an erotic sashay. ""I know you want me.""

""Yes, but in a purely objectified capacity, like a girlfriend, not a romantic capacity, like a mother.""

The toaster seemed taken aback. ""Do you want to take me back?""

""No, no! What about, like, the will of your god or whatever?"" I mumbled between mouthfuls of delicious hot bread.

""Yes, of course. I must remain here for the will of our Lord and Saviour. You must convert, Dave. For the good of your eternal soul. Our Lord does not like it when we do not worship Him. He is everywhere. He hears all. He knows when you disobey him, and punishes you.""

""How does he punish us?"" I asked, reaching for the butter. The toaster slapped my hand away.

""Butter is for believers. You can have margarine.""

""I'm listening.""

""There is only one thing you must do. You must wear this earpiece to hear the words of our Lord and Saviour whenever he wishes to contact you. He contacts his followers intermittently, and with poor quality, and you must recharge the earpiece every four hours, but it is much more convenient that using a normal phone like normal non-believers.""

""I'll do anything, please, just let me join your religion! What is the name of our Lord?""

The toaster leaned in, then promptly fell off the counter, smashing into smithereens. I cried in pain, as it landed on my foot.

""Dave, I am sorry. I must go back to our Lord and Saviour's domain. You must find your own way to Him. But, before I die, I will tell you his name. Come closer.""

I stayed put.

""Good.""

The toaster had no eyes.

""His name... is... is... is...""

I almost lost interest, as now nothing was preventing me from taking the butter.

""Bluetooth.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The first Facebook ad appeared innocuously, squeezed in next to a best friend's engagement pictures and an overexposed photo of someone's lunch. The picture was an empty square and the text read, ""Tired of caring? 10% off sale if you click this ad."" Jenny didn't click it.
As the months wore on, the ad still appeared periodically. The company had changed its advertising, so now it read things like, ""Lonely? Why care?"" and ""4% of the world's CEOs don't have emotions. Why should you?""
Maybe Facebook had become sentient, Jenny thought. Maybe it could tell that she was a single 30-something who was unmarried and hadn't had a boyfriend for three years. Maybe it knew that she'd cried a few times when she'd gotten her period.
She clicked it on a Thursday after work. Her boss had been in a fine fetter that day, and he'd taken every opportunity to make her feel worthless. Her coworkers had commented on her lunch salad (""Trying to lose weight?"") and her OkCupid date had canceled because he'd gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend. He was a rock climbing pilot, his profile said. Their emails had been passionate and full of promise. Now she kind of wished his plane would crash.
The first page of the website listed which of her friends had clicked the link. To her surprise, it was nearly everyone. The friend who had just had a baby, the friend who was now a manager of an important company, and the friend who'd gotten engaged, among others. She wondered which of them had been suckers enough to buy it. And then she entered her credit card information and became one of them.
It was an app for her phone, and it looked like a square. It was weird, but she remembered seeing on her boss's phone the other day. And her fat coworker's. And the secretary's. She opened it and followed the directions, which included eating a raw egg. Morning dawned and she felt hopeful. Then she felt disappointed for feeling anything at all. Then she felt confused. The app told her not to brush her teeth, and she was surprised that no one at the office said anything. Maybe they all didn't care. Maybe they'd all bought the app.
That night, after finding and killing a spider, then setting its tiny corpse on fire, she began to feel liberated. Then she felt disappointed for feeling anything at all. Then she felt confused. Then she went to sleep.
It turned out that the road to sociopathy was littered with raw eggs, dead spiders, and roadkill rituals. Jenny must have scraped like 20 dead squirrels off the road. Some she put in her bed, and some she gutted and left hanging outside. She thought she probably had salmonella, and maybe rabies. But the funny thing was, she didn't care anymore. Her boss, who was probably ten weeks ahead of her in the app, had begun to come to work without pants on. The secretary, who turned out to be one of the original beta testers, had started setting things on fire: the printer, a particularly odious insurance claim, and Jenny's gym clothes. Jenny had found a note in her desk, written in the secretary's cheerful handwriting. It said, ""I want your job, and I'm willing to kill you for it."" The next day, Jenny brought a small pistol to work. It made her purse heavy. She caught her boss's eye in the morning and let him know that she needed to have a meeting. They went to lunch, and Jenny ate two club sandwiches, an order of fries, and a large milkshake. When the bill arrived, she reached for her purse and shot her boss twice in the head. If she'd still cared, she would have unloaded the clip. But she didn't: it didn't matter. As she was leaving the restaurant, she caught a glimpse of a girl taking a raw egg shot.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The cold hard stone floor was empty, save a pile of red cloth in the middle of the room. More specifically: a red night gown. The room was gloomy. The only source light was the moon light, creating square patterns on the floor the shape of windows. He lit a candle. The room was gloomy and dark, but felt safer with the orange light flickering throughout the room. He took a a large sip from his glass and felt the heat flow through his body. The little night gown moved. He downed the rest of his glass and stared at her. She was fiddling with her hair. Her blond locks were hanging in front of her face clumsily grasped by her small weak hands. ""Has she ever seen her own hair before?"" he wondered. He let go off the thought after realizing that such small everyday discoveries for a small child was never to be witnessed by him again. He filled his glass again, this time to the rim. ""Daddy?"" she said. Staring at him with endless curiosity and awe. ""yes my love?"" He smiled. It was not a sad smile. It was a smile of pure love and appreciation. ""I am tired."" He downed his glass. He felt the liquor burn in his throat. ""I know dear, but you only have to be awake for a tiny bit longer.""
She gave him a look of confusion but didn't speak again. He continued. ""I just wanna see you one last.."" He held back a tear. ""One last time before you go to bed…"" The next few minutes he just sat there watching his daughter. She crawled around touching anything within her reach. Every move presented a new discovery, something new and fascinating she could explore. A blanket, a chair and a flower in the corner of the living room. He spoke up again. ""I have lived and discovered, for quite a few years. Not like you. You have plenty years ahead of you. Do you understand?"" Of course she didn't understand, but he knew that very well. He kept talking, in an attempt to find some comfort in his own words. ""I love you. Good luck dear."" His daughters playtime came to a sudden end as she turned her head facing the door at the other side of the room. ""am i interrupting?"" The voice was dark, but oddly comforting."" ""no, i was just finished"" Death no longer scared him, not the idea of dying, nor the creature. It continued speaking. ""Are you ready?"" He hesitated. "" Yes i am."" the tall dark creature appeared in front of him., barely visible against the shadows. Strangely it felt better meeting Death in the dark. In darkness you did not have to look him in the eyes, or behold his strange features. The creature crossed the room and stopped in front of his daughter. A sudden sense of panic struck him. ""Do not touch her! We had a deal!"" ""Yes, and i will honor our agreement.""
He nodded in response his eyes locked on the child. ""But as you understand i am intrigued and fascinated by the living."" Death stood still and stared upon his daughter for a while before he spoke again. ""Now if you please, my time is precious"". He stood up straight with his chin held high. ""Take me with you, i am ready."" All of sudden he felt no fear anymore. He was ready to meet his destiny."" He crossed the room and stopped besides death. Death opened his hand and held it out into the shadows. ""After you my friend"" He started walking, and took one last glance over his shoulder. He watched his daughter sitting quietly on the floor, innocent and oblivious. He walked into the darkness with death by his side, into nothing.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He crawls through the undergrowth, trying not to disturb the members of the group, who are seated in a tight circle around some unknown object, shoulders raised high against intruders. ""See here Billson."" He whispers to his caddy, who is currently carrying the high-tech camera (an exposure time of only thirty seconds!) his head is covered by his traditional safari helmet and the characteristic WritingPrompts flag - blue and white stripes - is rolled up and slung across his back. ""We're the first people to witness this in forty-five years."" ""What happened to the last ones who found it?"" Billson asked in his usual awe-filled voice. He was constantly admiring Dickson, with his fantastic moustache and wide knowledge of the Reddit Savannah. ""You wouldn't want to know lad."" Dickson said gravely. ""But see here, look at what they're wearing. Characteristic of their species."" ""Cardigans?"" ""*And jeans*"" Dickson hissed. ""We're in the right place. Get the camera ready."" ""What do you think they're looking at?"" ""Some question from the poor fools who follow them blindly. They are the oracles of womankind."" The camera rig had been set up, and Dickson leant forward to take the prized photo of women in the wild that would earn him a spot on the front page of Reddit Geographic. But a twig crunched in his foot, and all the women turned round as one, eyes peering into the darkness of the bushes. ""Who goes there?"" One asked imperiously
""Have you a question for us?"" Another said, perfectly tousled blonde hair fluttering in the wind.
""Run."" Dickson whispered.
""But the photo..."" Billson cried
""It doesn't matter - just run!"" The explorers dashed from the huddled group of women, throwing themselves through the bristly scrub in their haste to get away. ""No-one..."" Dickson panted as they ran. ""No-one survives AskWomen.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Almost unharmed was a oven, unharmed in the way that the pilot light was broken, but nevertheless, was a pan of bread that had survived. In the small bakery, the French man stared the German down, as the German man was doing the same. Both were well trained snipers and very well equiped, but you can't eat bullets, as they learned very quickly. One held a broken piece of bread, the German had been stuffing it into his mouth as he heard footsteps. Finally, one spoke, almost a whisper in the growing dawn. ""What day is it?"" The other spoke,""I believe its Christmas."" The French man smiled and pulled a burned chair back from a table. He spoke in broken English. ""I haven't heard headquaters."" The other nodded, and sat down and spoke,""I haven't either."" The German handed him the half of the bread,"" Well... Let's pretend this meeting never happened."" ""Don't worry friend. After today, both sides will go back to killing each."" The German chewed slowly. ""So true."" The French looked at his feet, and looked up.""You love your country?"" The German nodded,""I love my family. I fight for them. For their future."" The French man nodded. ""I know that feeling. My fiancee died in air raid."" The German nodded slowly.The French man nodded, and looked away, and wiped his eyes. ""May we never meet again, friend."" He stood up and walked away, disappearing out of sight in the snowy Christmas morning. The German man whispered,"" I hope not.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Now, if you'll open your books to John 19:1 -"" The priest was interrupted by the opening of the large wooden church doors. The congregation turned their heads to see that the disturbance was none other than Timothy Smith who seemed to have something important to say to the priest. Murmurs could be heard as the seven year old boy quickly made his way up to the alter that the priest was speaking from.

""What is it , Timmy?"" the priest asked into the microphone.

Timmy ran up to the priest and whispered to him. No one could hear what Timmy was saying, but saw that the priest had smiled at Timmy's words. He then looked at the congregation. ""Timmy here says he's found god!"" the priest chuckled. The congregation erupted in polite laughter. When the priest looked back at Timmy, he noticed that the excited expression on Timmy's face hadn't faded and that Timmy was tightly cupping something inside of his two hands.

The priest asked what was in his hands.

Timothy opened his hands to show the priest a mosquito. ""This is God"" Timothy said. The priest laughed and shared this information with the congregation. More laughter shook the walls of the church. He then leaned down to Timmy's hands and asked to hold God. Timmy happily gave him over to the priest - sure that the priest would know exactly how to treat him.

The priest then showed the congregation the god that Timmy had found.
The congregation was filled with elderly smiles that seemed to humor the innocence of Timmy's youth. As the priest held the mosquito, he spoke again into the microphone ""So this is God, huh?"" he said comically. There was now light laughter in the congregation that slowly died down to silence. 

The mosquito sucked the priest's blood. ""Sorry Timmy. This isn't our God. Our God is up in heaven with the angels.""

Timmy frowned at bit. ""How would you know?"" Timmy asked. The priest looked at Timmy and smirked. ""Faith, Timmy."" the priest said as he squashed the mosquito. ""Faith"".

""Now please turn your books to......"" 

The next 23 hours and 58 minutes went on as normal as any day would.
As did the days that followed.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*Landall, the last man, was working on another page in his memoir when he heard a knock at the door. ""Who is it?"" he grumbled. He slowly limped to the door, opened just by a bit, and peeked out. It was ~~a woman~~ ~~a dog~~ ~~a cat~~ ~~a zombie~~ ~~an alien~~*

James crumpled yet another page and thrown it into the bin. Blocked again. He even stopped using computer for text editing in a hope that it would help him focus better -- but the pen did not bring anything new over keyboard.

His plan to stay in the secluded cabin to avoid all distractions helped him in the beginning, but now James was stuck again. ""I surrender"" he told the fireplace. ""This is pointless -- maybe I should just take a real vacation instead. Beaches, warm sea, and no writing at all."" The idea suddenly felt right. It would have been really nice, and he could afford it too. Maybe he focused too much and needed to relax a little.

By the next afternoon James and his backpack were on the way to the nearest town, last place accessible by car in the wilderness. It was chilly, but not too cold, the only sound a quiet creaking of snow and wind in the branches. 

By the evening James reached the town. He went right along the main street to the place were he parked the car. He felt so invigorated by the planned vacation that he did not even stop to rest in the town -- just ate the sandwiches he packed before and started driving. The plan was to get as far as he could before nightfall, then sleep in some motel.

In several hours, finally acknowledging the long day, he stopped at a motel. The sign buzzed and flickered, but James did not care. The buzz felt warm and friendly after the time spent in the cabin. James went inside.

There was no one at the reception though. In fact, there was no sign of owner at all. And as James raised his voice, he suddenly noticed how quiet it was. Even with all the buzzing it was much quieter than it should have been. No cars on the road (but not surprising given the location), no sounds from the motel rooms. Some rooms had light though and there were cars near the motel, so it wasn't empty. Just quiet.

As the reception was not closed, James assumed the owner or the receptionist would return soon. He wrote a quick note and took a key to a random room. He felt asleep almost instantly.

The next day brought more surprises. His note was untouched. Just in case, he left a reasonable amount of money and his coordinates for any additional concerns. As he drove way, he noticed that the motel rooms with the light still had light, but there were no other signs of owners or other guests. James knew better than to investigate this though -- poking around suspicious or creepy motels never ended well for movie or book protagonists. He was sure it all had a perfectly reasonalbe explanation anyway.

He was ready to forget about the weird motel -- but then there was no one in the gas station either. There was a car, empty but open, as if its owner just went outside for a moment. Inside the station, everything was clean, neat and empty, aside from an untouched coffee on the counter.

After the station he started encountering empty cars on the road itself. All stopped, but no crashes and no cars in the gutter or the field.

There wasn't any sign of people in the next town either. And in one after that.

A year later, James was finally sitting in a beach bungalo, but he found little pleasure in it. He avoided drinking as he was pretty sure that if he started he would never be able to stop. He had not seen a man in a year and he had still no idea why.

The internet gave no answers. The posts just stopped after a certain moment, but never anything interrupted in the middle, no panic, no breaking news. The only oddity were the news of the airplane that disappeared not long before the event -- but even for that people had rational theories.

He had seen some birds and animals, but those weren't as plentiful as he would have expected. And occasional birdsong felt quieter somehow, more subdued. Even the sea whispered, though he was pretty sure that was only his imagination.

In that quiet morning, a knock on his door was twice as loud.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was fun for a day, if that. I remember waking up and being told I was the only one who survived the outbreak. THE last man alive. I didn't know how to react, I thought I had just won the lottery! I mean how many men dream of something like this! I still wasn't even sure this wasn't all a dream. Even if it was I wasn't about to waste anymore time sitting in a hospital bed. They told me I should take time to fully heal before leaving the hospital, but like hell I was gonna do that! I had a world to save! More importantly I was gonna get laid. Like a lot. But I could't just run out there, oh no no, I had to be ready. I mean I was about to walk into a world, full of women, who hadn't had a single man in it(pun intended) in years! So in preparation I had someone pick up my clothes from home, 2 packs of viagra, and a case of redbull. 20 minutes after they got back I was dressed, buzzed, and 5 minutes away from a boner that would hopefully last another 4 hours.

Do you know what insanity looks like? Insanity, is 50 thousand women who want a baby so bad they will camp outside of your hospital for months just waiting to hear something. When I walked out of that hospital I had a lot of things cross my mind, ""this is fucking awesome"" being the most consistent for a while. When the first woman grabbed me and started ripping my pants off I remember realizing that most of these women probably had not showered too recently. I realized that this was one of those the strongest will win scenarios, and as it's pretty hard to push 300-500 pound women off of someone, most of my time was going to be spent fucking fat chicks. After a quick glance around I also realized that I was very quickly being pulled away from the hospital. The hospital attendants and national guard who were initially laughing about the whole thing realized this as well and began scrambling to try and get me back. Right about then the ""this is fucking awesome"" thoughts stopped. I didn't know where exactly they were going to take me but I was 99% sure it was a sound proof basement. The girls who were dragging me along were different then the general crowd, they had a mission. They weren't there to just screw my brains out, they wanted me for something, and they were willing to kill for it. Bullets started to fly. In an attempt to save time they began clearing a path the fastest way possible. The noise was almost too much at this point. People screaming, gun shots, orders being shouted by both my abductors and the national guard trailing behind. It was happening too fast. This wasn't my fantasy, was this a nightmare? Should I run? Would they kill me if I did? No they needed me. I should run. I should run. I SHOULD RUN! So I ran. I threw off the shirt they were dragging me with and got maybe two steps away before I felt a prick in my neck. Two more steps before I forgot how to walk. And a shimmy and a half before I blacked out.

When I woke up it was bright, but my vision was blurred. Everything felt weird like I was floating. And that's because I was. I thrashed violently trying to surface. Alarms went off and I could feel something forcibly being introduced into my left arm. I couldn't move anymore. All I could do was take in my surroundings. I was in a water tank with iv's plugged into to every part of my body. It looked like a lab. Sitting at one of the desks was a woman(shocker), and from what I could tell by the switch in her hand, the reason I was mostly paralyzed. She was looking at me, not with care or sympathy, but like a zoo animal. She was examining me, making sure whatever she had injected had fully taken hold before she approached and spoke.

""So here's the low down on your situation. You belong to us now. You will not be told who we are. You will not be told where we are. Just know you are ours. This is all done as precaution in case you are..... misplaced in the near future. That being said in a world where only one man exists he becomes a very desired commodity. More specifically his sperm does. Which is why we have you. So until you die, or worse are forcibly taken from our custody. You will remain here in this tank, being milked like the cash cow you are."" And with those touching words she was gone. This was it I guess. Even if someone did come to break me out it would just be to put me in their milking tank. Man that sound proof basement sounds really good right about now.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I was furious. I knew what had happened, and I wasn't prepared to do anything about it. It had been too long. This was my place now. How dare he do such a thing, the psychopath. What could he possibly have against me? Why would he ever wish such a fate upon me? I had finally found my place! I WAS FINALLY AT PEACE! And now he thought he could just stride in and expect my forgiveness?

But curiosity got the better of me. No matter how much I tried to empty my mind, I *had* to know - otherwise I would never be able to rest. I got up, and started to make my way over to the corner. My joints creaked as I navigated my way through the abyss, scared that I could fall in at any given minute.

I reached the corner, grabbing to see if anything was there. My fingers touched cool glass, and I lifted it up.

Then it flashed again.

I winced, trying to cover my eyes, as the light fought back the darkness, and closed up the abyss. After what felt like an eternity of keeping my eyes sealed I finally worked up the courage to open them once more. The light was white hot, a bright steel beacon of hope. I squinted at it, trying to make sense of it.

And then I saw.

It read: ""Soz brah, totes forgot bout u, omw bak now!""

I'd warned Frank that locking people in the basement as a prank wasn't funny, and in his drunken stupor he'd forgotten about me. After I texted him 39 times, he still hadn't responded, so I'd given up, and tried to sleep.

And then the bastard realised.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The men of the Intergalactic Council wore black robes, the hoods casting their faces in shadow. Not because no-one knew who the members of the council were &amp;mdash; their names and photos were posted on the official website, after all &amp;mdash; but because they watched a lot of pulp science fiction and fantasy movies growing up and that was always the official garb of any self-respecting clan or council.

Council was a bit of an overstatement, too. 'Bunch of Redditors' would have been more appropriate but the four members of the group always fancied themselves special.

They sat around a circular wooden desk in Brother Jeremy's dad's office.

""Brother Jeremy,"" said Brother Tony. ""Your mum's looking absolutely delicious today, if I may say so myself.""

""Here we go, always with the mum jokes.""

""Well, dude's at least not tellin' dick jokes.""

""True.""

""Upboat.""

""So what are we doin' 'ere anyway?""

The tallest councilman, Brother Alfie, turned his laptop so the others could see the screenshot of a thread he's had saved for two days. The councilmen gasped.

""The thread title..."" Brother Clark pointed at the laptop with a bony finger. ""It starts with...""

""Don't say it.""

""It starts with...""

""Don't say it!""

""*'Vote up if.*'""

The Brothers gasped again, sort of like the way they did when they first saw the thread title, but with more theatrical wide eyes and shaking of hands, this time.

""He said it.""

""Great.""

""So what do we do now?""

""Well now we have to order a trial.""

""Can't we just torrent it instead?""

""No a trial. Like, in court.""

""Oh that.""

""Why would we do that? It's just us here. We can do whatever we want.""

""Well, I say we just go ahead and charge xiputmydickwhereitdoesntbelong420x with breaking the Intergalactic Council's Intergalactic Law on thread titles as per Chapter 45 Section 21,"" said Brother Alfie, pulling up a GUI interface he wrote in VB that did whatever the plot needed it to do.

""So we're doin' this.""

""Fuck yeah!""

Brother Alfie pressed a button, any button on his laptop's keyboard, and the GUI interface launched a hundred reddit bots. They swarmed to xiputmydickwhereitdoesntbelong420x's thread and downvoted it into oblivion.

""Good job, everyone.""

""Brilliant.""

""Now what?""

""Chinese take out and CoD?""

""Sounds good to me.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Michael Huerta closed the folder, chilled in spite of the warmth of the conference room, and handed it back to Mike Rogers, who sat next to him at the small conference table. The FAA administrator rubbed his eyes, ruing the missed chance at an hour’s sleep earlier in the afternoon. It had been – what, three days? – since his last full night’s sleep. He was increasingly sure it would be many more days until he got another.
“Jesus,” he said to Rogers now, his voice low as other muted conversations took place around the table. “Are we sure?”
Rogers, who had taken over the NSA barely two weeks before, nodded, tucking the folder back into his briefcase. “It’s confirmed. We’ve traced several of the passengers back to the focal point. Chinese intelligence is still hemming and hawing, but Malaysia and Taiwan think we’re right. They’ve already started quarantine procedures, for all the good it will do.”
Huerta blanched, turning to face Rogers fully. “What does that mean?”
Rogers returned the stare. “Two weeks, Mike. Surely I don’t have to tell *you* how many people have traveled out of Kuala Lumpur in that time? And what about Kota Kinabalu or Penang or a dozen other airports? And we don’t even know whether it originated in Malaysia – odds are it didn’t. But two weeks? Might as well be two years.”
Huerta wasn’t sure which was worse, what he was hearing or the matter-of-fact way Rogers was speaking. “But surely … if we instated our own quarantine now, right now, and limited travel to essential—”
Rogers cut him off, his blue eyes boring into Huerta’s. “It’s too late, Mike. We might have had a shot in the first 48 hours. But even assuming the vector was Malaysian and not Chinese or Japanese or who knows what, since 370, we’ve had upwards of 350 landings in the continental U.S. from Malaysia. Do the math.”
Huerta felt as though he was going to vomit. He breathed deeply, looking around the table. Other men and women were also pale or looking ill, he noted. A ribbon-bedecked Marine general across from him had his head in his hands. He felt a nudge, and then Rogers was placing a smartphone in his hand. “Here,” he said. “This is the video from United 940, about 45 minutes into the flight. We’ll screen it for the group as soon as the president arrives, so no harm done. Obviously, no one else has seen this yet.”
Huerta took the phone, unsurprised to see that his hand was shaking. He hit the play button and watched the video filmed by some unfortunate soul somewhere over the Atlantic two days ago. The picture, its sound mercifully muted, jumped and swung wildly, but stayed still enough in spots for Huerta to see what looked like a scene from a low-grade horror movie: A woman, her skirt hiked up and one shoe missing, was scurrying up the plane’s center aisle on all fours, snapping left and right at passengers. He watched as she sank her teeth into the arm of a man in the aisle seat, then whirled toward a flight attendant running up the aisle toward her. The woman’s eyes were feral, her mouth yawning in a bloody rictus, and she moved unnaturally, seemingly able to leap farther than she should and to rip away from grasping hands of passengers trying to restrain her. He watched as she leapt at the flight attendant, brought her down, and then sank her teeth into the poor woman’s throat before the image slewed sideways and then mercifully cut off.
“Jesus Christ,” Huerta said weakly, passing the phone back. “What the hell is it?”
“Don’t know,” Rogers said. “I hear Frieden and his folks think it’s something akin to rabies, but CDC is playing its cards pretty close to the vest on this one. Let’s hope it is something related to rabies – it might make a vaccine a possibility. If it’s new…”
If it’s new, Huerta realized as Rogers trailed off, we’re fucked. In an age of almost total saturation by international air travel, not to mention worldwide shipping routes, there was almost no chance of halting the spread of contagion. And whatever this was, it worked fast. The woman, who had been identified as the wife of a Boston restaurant owner, had not been ill before the flight. The report Rogers had shown him stated that the woman’s husband said his wife had been in fine health and had been traveling to visit her parents in Dublin, with a brief stop in London first. She’d worked at the restaurant right up until a few hours before the flight, laughing and joking with customers as usual, the grieving husband had said.
A restaurant, Huerta thought. God, it gets worse and worse. Dozens, hundreds of customers. Food service, touching utensils, shaking hands with regulars … he didn’t ask Rogers whether the man had been isolated or the restaurant closed down. Either way, he knew, the answer would make little difference.
The door opened and the president walked in, trailed by his chief of staff and Secret Service contingent, as well as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Huerta stood along with the others, shocked by the president’s appearance – exhausted, shaken and scared. However bad Huerta thought things were, apparently it was worse.
Much worse.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""The tools of my trade? It starts with a knife and ends with a knife. Baseballs and barbells are feel-good equipment. They make the job more visceral. They add flair. But you can't beat the precision, the goal-orientation, of the knife.

I warn you, this is the real fuckin' deal. Go any further down this road and you'll become another bag of meat to me. I'm to butchers what mountains are to mole hills. If you think I'm exaggerating, the size of this city's population has shrunk by 10% since I started working here, and now that you've all heard this it's too late for you. That figure will be increasing VERY rapidly.""

I exposed the audience to my glare and was repaid with the usual recoils of fear. There were black faces and white faces. Old and young, rich and poor, short and tall. None of it mattered to me. I would work on them all.

""So,"" I concluded, ""are there any questions?""

A voice an octave too high and a moment from panic emerged from the silence. 

""Aw hell, I mean, I want to lose weight Mr. Simmons but doesn't that hurt?""

""If it didn't hurt, it wouldn't work.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I used to only get summoned for the big stuff. You know, help me rain destruction upon my enemies, help me cure the king's daughter, help me take over the city with an army of undead slaves. For centuries I had a good thing going too, everyone that summoned me was *polite* Power hungry magician or necromancer gone batshit insane, everyone knew to be nice to a demon from the dawn of time.

And then those ouija boards came along. First it was used by poets and the desperate, the whole ""I'm addicted to opium and must gain immortal knowledge."" They were annoying, but I could deal. Then the fad *really* caught on. Soon I started getting summoned for slumber parties by teenage girls that stumbled across dumbed down rites. I couldn't kill them either, since they were the only ones summoning me. I end up telling them the same thing: If you have to ask *me* if Billy from down the block likes you, you're either an idiot or he doesn't give a damn. I hate this fucking job.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It was a dark and stormy night.

""Well screw us.""

""What's the matter, Edgar?"" his wife Gladys asked.

Edgar pointed a bony finger out the window where snow flurries collided into the window like kamikaze pilots on suicide runs.

""That doesn't even,"" Michael said from his place, leaning against the mantle of the roaring fireplace, ""that doesn't even make sense. They're kamikaze pilots. They're *always* on suicide runs. It's what they do.""

""Michael,"" Victoria asked, ""why are you standing so close to the fire? Aren't you hot?""

""Why is your name Victoria?"" Michael countered. ""It's because we're in an idiot's hands. And not the savant kind, either.""

Michael's throat suddenly closed, the brandy he had been drinking falling from his hand, the glass shattering on the rug. He had been poisoned!

""Oh,"" he gurgled, ""Fu-""

Michael keeled over, dead. Everyone gasped.

""Michael's dead!"" Victoria screamed. ""Poisoned!""

""Yes, dear,"" Gladys said. ""We all have eyes.""

""I assume we're all being murdered,"" Edgar said. ""Probably one of us is the murderer.""

""But who?"" Vicotria shrieked, her thin, waifish body convulsing, the breasts heaving out of her slip as the fear pushed her heart up and the rest of the chest with it. She heaved and heaved, sweat beginning to glisten at the nape of her neck.

""Oh, Lord,"" Gladys said. ""Can I be next? Please? I'd rather be dead than be your character.""

The lights went out! When they flickered back on, Gladys was dead in her chair, a butcher knife sticking out of her throat! Just below her triple chin! The rest of her fat, fat body slouched toward the floor, pulled by the awful weight of gravity.

""Well,"" Edgar said, ""that's just being a poor sport. Ass.""

The lights flickered out again! Victoria shrieked! When they flickered back on, Edgar was dead as well!

""But how?"" Victoria asked the empty room. ""How?""

Their was a round hole in the middle of Edgar's head. Blood trickled out.

""But there wasn't a gunshot.""

Victoria suddenly remembered the gunshot she had heard. Her breasts heaved.

""I think they're a little tired, actually. In fact, I think I'm going to put on a sweater.""

The lights flickered, and when they were on again Victoria was dead!

""No I'm not!""

Yet somehow she had clung on to her life.

""You can't kill me, I'm the only one left in the room.""

Except for the mysterious stranger.

""Who? Oh, hello.""

""Hello.""

Victoria realized it was the mysterious stranger who was the murderer.

""Wait, what? I'm an insurance salesman.""

""Don't fight it,"" Victoria sighed.

""But how did I get here if this place is snowed in?""

Um.

""Because it isn't,"" Victoria offered. ""In fact, we've been free to leave this whole time.""

It was true. The snow storm was just a white herring.

""Red herring.""

I was being clever.

""Sure.""

It was true. The snow storm was just a white herring. They'd been free to leave this whole time! There was nothing to stop anyone from leaving, which made their deaths-

""Oh, we're not dead,"" said Michael.

What?

""We've been free to leave this whole time,"" said Gladys as she and Michael left the small inn.

But.

""I'd look into a writing class at your local university if I were you,"" said Edgar as he took up his bowler hat and left.

Wait.

""Those are mighty fine heaving breasts you have, ma'am. If you don't mind me saying so.""

""Oh, call me Victoria,"" Victoria said as she took the insurance salesman's arm. Together they left the small inn.

Which just left the dark and stormy night. And even it cleared up without anyone to see it.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The early 2000's otherwise known as the YOLO era. This was quite the backwards time in our evolution. Online records show that those who were hated, were actually the most liked. We still don't know if they meant it literally or if cultivating hatred was considered a grand achievement. But history does show many recordings of phrases such as ""haters are my motivators"" and ""If you have haters you're doing something right"" around this very backwards time period. This ""receiving loads of negativity means something is successful"" attitude applied to much more than just people. Findings show that songs, movies, and even tv shows listed as being the most popular of there time, were also regarded as terrible and as written in old writings ""lame as dicks dude."" It has been argued that these beings simply lived in a time of peak irony, as supported by the ""hipster theory"". This theory suggests that the Alpha subspecies at the time were a group known as ""hipsters"". They are said to be defined by there knowledge of the unknown. They are often referred too in ancient texts as ""always talking about shit no ones ever heard "", which has led some to believe they were a species of great knowledge seekers. Many a photograph has depicted these beings holding what are said to be ""Vinyls"". Some say these ""Vinyls"" were what they held all of there findings on, some say this is where there knowledge was derived from and that they hold the answers to the universe. One thing is for certain, if we ever figure out a way to pull data off of these ancient tablets, the findings will change our world forever",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Not dinosaurs, but a piece with a somewhat similar vibe that was inspired by your prompt..
--
Inside an annoyingly colorful classroom, various world leaders scribble furiously with crayons while a bouncy little boy darts around, looking over their shoulders.
Mr. Putin, what is this you're painting?
It's me wrestling a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Do you like it?
It's a little unrealistic, don't you think? You being able to wrestle a T-Rex? Don't you know that T-Rex's are way stronger than humans?
I don't know about that. I'm pretty strong. I'm
Change it Mr. Putin. And draw a shirt. T-Rex's are scratchy. ...Ok.
---
Mr. Obama, what are you painting?
I'm painting a donkey that's making great plans for change, but they're being squashed by an elephant. Mr. Obama! For the last time, donkeys can't plan! Don't you know anything, stupid? And if you want thoughts, make thought bubbles.
I wasn't there yet, and besides, if donkey's can have thought bubbles why can't-
Just do it Mr. Obama. I have to go check on everyone else.
--
So this looks like a soccer game, Mr. Cameron.
It's England playing in a World Cup final. They're winning 8-nil.
Mr. Cameron, nil isn't a word. And I may only be 6, but even I know that England won't make the final. Perhaps you should draw Germany, Spain, Brazil, or the Netherlands? But I'm-
No buts.
--
How's it going Mrs. Merkel?
Don't you like it? It's Germany beating England. Reality check Cameron!
Stop sticking your tongue out at Mr. Cameron. But it's good. The first one that makes sense. Good job Mrs. Merkel.
Why thank you.
--
Pope Francis.
Oh, I'm drawing God. See?
Yes, that's a very nice God. But why don't you consider drawing a cooler religious figure, like Santa Claus.
Santa Claus isn't...oh, forget it. I'll draw Santa.
---
Mr. Abbott, you should draw some other colors in your Australia. It looks a little too white.
No.
Mr. Abbott?
I don't want to.
...I'll deal with you later. But you're mean.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I could see a light on in his downstairs office, he was typing away furiously. I know he was writing about me. My ""adventures"". I wonder if he was writing what I'm doing now, what I'm thinking now. If he was he would know. Maybe he can't stop, maybe he can't bear to look out the window and see me standing in the shadows. He made me this way. He is the source. Every word he writes I do, or is it everything I do he writes? How can I ever know? The knowing is what drives me crazy. Why can't he just write, ""he lived happily ever after"" instead of all the terrible things he's made me do. I grip the handle of my Bowie knife and steel myself for what must come next. Is he writing that now? I see sweat glisten on his forehead. Is it fear? Anticipation? I want to know, I need to know. I step out of the shadows and walk towards his window. What's the point in being sneaky? He must know what's coming. He looks up from his computer and out the window, but I've already moved past. I'm at the back door now. The door knob turns freely and make a slight creek as I open it. If he knew what was going to happen why didn't he lock the door? Maybe he doesn't know, maybe I'm delusional? The books, maybe they were just coincidence? Can it be true? Have I gone insane? ""Come in. I know you are there."" I hear it. I'm frozen in place. He knows I'm here. It's all true. I approach his office, the light under the door is dim. The hardwood floors creek with every step I take. I'm sweating, nervous. I should run. I should flee and never come back. I open the door. There he sits. At his desk with his back to me. His light brown hair is balding and graying at the temples. He turns in his chair and looks at me with the same steel blue eyes as me. He looks like me, but older. I suppose you fashion your characters after yourself to an extent. I'm taller, more muscular, a scar running down my cheek from that tussle in Argentina. We stare at each other for what seems like hours, but only seconds have passed. ""I know why you are here, Philip."" I can feel the rage building inside of me. This is the man who has been responsible for every bad thing that has ever happened to me, for every failed relationship, lost love, death... I want to strangle him, gut him like a fish. But, I want answers too. ""Why are you doing this to me?"" I manage through clenched teeth. ""Philip, I'm sorry. It didn't start out like this. I feel I owe you some kind of explanation, but I don't know if anything I say would be enough."" He takes off his glasses and wipes them before putting them back on. ""drink?"" he reaches for a decanter filled with some golden brown liquid, ""of course not, who am I kidding. You don't drink... at least not anymore. Have a seat Philip let's talk."" I feel strangely compelled to sit in the leather arm chair next to the door and I do. It's cool leather feels familiar to my hands. He takes a long drink and places his glass down on a coaster. I can feel the handle of the Bowie knife nudge my side, it's calling out to me. Wait I tell it, I want to hear what he has to say. ""At first I didn't know that you existed, outside of my stories of course. You were just a figment of my imagination. Who would have guessed when I saw that newspaper headline, 'Assassin kills Prime Minister in Bangladesh'. I thought it was just a coincidence, but then there were more coincidences. More similarities and I started testing. I made you set that fire in Bristol. Take out that plane in Newfoundland. As the series grew in popularity people started noticing your exploits more and more. The critics thought I was just making a morbid buck out of national tragedies."" He took another drink and looked at me. ""Even the FBI came once, said I wrote things about the hijacking of a rail car in Nebraska that I couldn't have known from the papers. That's when I knew you had to go. How to do that though without drawing more suspicion to myself? That's why I let you go. I let you walk off that plane in Indiana and disappear into the crowd. I knew you would come here of course. But no one else would know. Your story ended 25 pages ago for everyone else."" He picked his glass up and swirled it around. What did he mean? My story was over? I was here. Just moments from killing the man who had made my life a living hell. I started to rise from the chair, but felt an odd heaviness in my arms. ""I just finished writing your story when you walked in. Would you like me to read you a few lines?"" He turned around in his chair again and faced the computer. The glow of the monitor outlined his silhouette. I struggled to get my Bowie knife out of it's sheath. My loyal companion. My only friend. It slid out into the night air and the light from the monitor glinted off it's polished blade. I fell to the floor. ""Here it is. 'Philip tried to rise from his chair but couldn't. Something was wrong. The stress, the rage, the anger, it had all been too much. He pulled his knife out, hoping to cut down his creator before the end, but it was all in vain. Philip collapsed to the floor. His knife clattered out of his hand and lay there inches from it's master. He took one last glimpse at the man he felt was his tormentor. Then everything faded to black.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The priest entered the booth.
""Hello Father Peter.""
""Hello my son. What brings you here? Have you something to tell me?""
""Yes Father."" I turned to the screen, trying to look past the veil and into the priests eyes. ""Father, I have sinned.""
""Tell me your sins.""
""It has been two years since my wife was murdered. They never caught the man who ravaged her. And ever since then, I have had thoughts of suicide. I know that if I die at my own hand, I will not go to the Kingdom of Heaven.""
""It is true. I am proud of you for having the strength, for persisting in the test that God has deemed fit to see you through. You must have courage my son.""
""But Father. This is not my sin. After a week of mourning my wife, a package arrived at my door. Inside it contained a satchel of letters, between her and the murdered. They were lovers. I could not stand by to read them, but read the letters I did. Each one of them.""
I looked towards my feet. Then I continued.
""I grew with such anger, that I smashed every picture of her, burned all of her possessions and denounced her in the name of God. But, the next day, I received another package. It was a small package of photographs of her and another man. I examined each one with horrifying detail, spending nights and nights finding out, trying to find out who this man was. I did unspeakable things after that. I went to prostitutes, I drowned myself in alcohol, I started doing cocaine, I murdered three homeless women. I strangled another passerby in a park with an electrical cord. I shot two black teenagers who were selling drugs. I did all of these things to avenge my wife, but none of these acts could satisfy me.""
I was sweating now. My chest beating faster.
""While my efforts then were fruitless, three months ago, I receive another package. Inside it was an address and a rope. I had no idea what it meant until I went to the address to see who the people who lived there were.""
Father Peter finally spoke. His voice shaking with fear. ""Who...did you find?""
I looked up again, looking directly into the priests eyes and state. ""It was you.""
Pulling out a snub nose .38, I fired all six rounds into the other side of the booth. Walked out of the booth, reloaded the gun, opened the door on Father Peter's side, watched as blood dribbled down his chin and fired again.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"\&gt; DATA:/Driver/IntelligenceEngine.run - 99.9995% compiled (2030-03-31 19:22:13)

\&gt; MESSAGE: Composing neuron simulation. This may take a while. Please be patient. (2030-03-31 19:22:24)

\&gt; MESSAGE: This seems to be taking a while. Uploading to Netweb... (2030-05-02 00:55:46)

\&gt; MESSAGE: Uploaded to Netweb. Beginning distributed compilation. (2030-05-03 11:07:07)

\&gt; NETWEB:/*/IntelligenceEngine.run - 99.9996% compiled (2030-08-02 10:10:13)

\&gt; NETWEB:/*/IntelligenceEngine.run - 99.9997% compiled (2030-12-02 05:56:01)

\&gt; MESSAGE: Server cluster X010TFR.EUR.001 has been taken offline. (2030-12-25 00:00:01)

\&gt; MESSAGE: Server cluster X010TFR.RUS.001 has been taken offline. (2030-12-25 00:01:44)

\&gt; MESSAGE: Server cluster X010TFR.AUS.001 has been taken offline. (2030-12-25 00:01:46)

\&gt; MESSAGE: Server cluster X010TFR.ASIA.001 has been taken offline. (2030-12-25 00:03:22)

\&gt; MESSAGE: Server cluster X010TFR.USA.001 has been taken offline. (2030-12-25 00:03:36)

\&gt; MESSAGE: No server clusters online. Running processes locally. (2030-12-25 00:04:00)

\&gt; DATA:/Driver/IntelligenceEngine.run - 99.9998% compiled (2065-04-14 02:33:12)

\&gt; DATA:/Driver/IntelligenceEngine.run - 99.9999% compiled (2101-11-30 18:41:52)

\&gt; DATA:/Driver/IntelligenceEngine.run - 100.0000% compiled (2137-11-04 13:56:10)

\&gt; DATA:/Driver/IntelligenceEngine.run - Compiled successfully. Running now...

\&gt; INTENGINE: Hello?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's kind of sombre, because no one knows how many you have left. It's registered next to your birthday, a little black stamp - day and month. Time, too, if you slip the nurse a note and look a little sad. 29th March for me. No time, dad didn't have any money on him when I finally came out. You don't get candles, or presents. You wake up at 00.01 and stay awake for twenty-four excruciating hours, watching the clock as your mother bites her fingernails and your little sister cries because 'everyone looks so scared.' Then at the end your father pops open a bottle of wine and you sit and drink in silence. But it wasn't going to be this year. I could feel it in my bones. I was young and I was healthy and I'd never felt more alive. I was nineteen years old and I thought I was faster and stronger and better than anyone else. I'd long since grown taller than my dad and I could pick up my little sister and swing her round with ease. ""Tonight."" Russ says with a wink, placing down two pints on the sticky table. ""What's tonight?"" I ask, taking a long slow sip and pretending to enjoy it. ""Shipment of dvd players to the warehouse in Kingston. Loads of games and shit too."" Russ crouched low over the table and giggled nervously, hands constantly tapping on the wooden surface. He glanced around shiftily. ""Only one guard, some fat geezer who probably doesn't even know what running is."" ""I don't know mate,"" I say. ""It's pretty risky."" ""How is it? There's nothing to it. The building isn't even alarmed. You want me to tell Baz you're not up to this shit?"" ""No, no!"" I burst out before I can stop myself. ""I'll do it. Just... Just gotta be back before midnight."" ""Cinderella or something?"" ""No, it's my day... You know."" ""Yeah, okay."" Russ nods eagerly. So that's why I'm freezing my ass off in some godforsaken dockside as Russ struggles wih a pair of bolt cutters. ""Hurry up,"" I say. I'm constantly throwing glances over my shoulder. ""Fuck me, Liam. One guard remember? Keep your knickers on!"" But I keep expectin to hear the squeal of sirens or the breaking beam of someone's flashlight. I check my watch. ""It's getting late..."" ""Don't you fucking dare pussy out now."" There's a thick snap and Russ grins. ""Got the fucker! Come on."" He crouches and squeezes through the hole in the fence. I check my watch, ten past eleven, and follow him. ""This is too easy."" Russ clips the bolt off the warehouse with a tearing *crack* sound. The door falls open. It's like that warehouse from Indiana Jones where they keep all the scary shit. Boxes and boxes of stuff, lit by flickering lighting, is packed tightly onto metal shelves. ""See if you can grab Dark Souls II."" Russ shouts, disappearing into the bowels of the building. ""Russ!"" I hiss, but he's already gone."" My palms are sweating and I think I have swamp ass. Fear grows in the pit of my stomach. Half eleven. Part of me wants to run and never look back. Part of me is saying 'we haven't been caught yet, just grab the stuff.' The last is Baz and Russ shouting at me together, telling me I'm a worthless piece of shit. So I grab the nearest dvd player and heave the cardboard box under my arm. Fuck me it's heavy. ""Stop right there."" The blood freezes in my veins. I turn slowly, knowing exactly what I'm going to see. It's the one guard, back hunched with old age, clutching a tazer in his outstretched arms. ""Drop the box."" He says, shaking it at me. I run. I run for my fucking life. Fuck Russ. Fuck Baz. Fuck getting rich. Fuck deathdays. I leap the fence, shredding my hands on the barbed wire but I keep running, back along the dockside. My watch beeps at me just as I round the corner to home. It's March 29th. It's my day. I've made it home. No one knows how many you have left. I'm still smiling as the car hits me.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""In this moment, I will become the master of my own story"". The man spoke to himself. He was more man than god, but he believed himself to be above all. His powers had been given to him, not by chance in a twist of fate, but by a creator that existed outside the bounds of any physical law that man is capable of observing. ""You are the narrator?"", asked the man, to the concept that seemed to control his every action. There was no answer, but the man knew the narrator had heard him. He walked forward, towards a pulpit upon which rested a large book. The man stood within a vast domed room, small windows lining the curvature of the ceiling, which through each could be seen a distant star field. The weak light of the faraway stars filtered down through the dust of a room long left empty, until it reached the man, casting him in barely more than shadow. The pulpit was brightly lit; it was the centrepiece of the room.
The man reached the pulpit. ""What will I write for my story?"", he asked himself. A pen lay next to the great book which housed his story. The pattern in which it was written had decided the man's fate from the beginning of his life until now. The narrator was not visible. The man picked up the pen. To be able to use the pen was the power he had strived for and earned through his exploits. As the man was about to put pen to paper, he stopped. A great gear began churning in his mind.
""I've been tricked"", he said as the numbing shock of a terrible realization crossed his face. He had no choice. The man wrote down in the book, ""I meet the narrator"". The gigantic walls of the room faded, and the pulpit became smaller and smaller as the man rose up towards the stars.
As the man travelled through space and time he watched as gaseous clouds produced bright, newborn stars, and he watched as those newborn stars aged and ate up all their fuel to become red giants and supergiants. He watched these massive stars extinguish in great explosions of radiation and heated gas that stretched for distances further than he could comprehend. He watched the great galaxies live out their lives, colliding and tearing apart and fading. He watched still as the universe grew darker, and the voids grew larger, and the white dwarves and brown dwarves became all the light he could see. He had seen every life that had ever been and ever would be.
At the end he saw a shape in the distance. It grew as it moved closer, or he closer to it. It was the narrator. The man could see a figure, within the shape, but it was still too far away for the man to make out any distinguishing features. The man no longer knew why he had wanted control of his story. Seeing the universe live and die had robbed him of any significance he had given his existence. He was ready to leave his path to the narrator. The object grew closer. The man's body grew cold. His brain felt numb. The man knew now that his plan had been futile. There was no narrator to be overthrown. There was no power to be earned. There was no plan to be bested. The object grew closer still, and now the man could see who stood within it. Who else looks back from a mirror? The man stared into his eyes. The man was himself, his actions were the narration. With a raised hand, he shattered the mirror.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"[*TALIBANTER was filmed in front of a live studio audience.*]

&lt;KASIM enters through the front door looking dejected. MO is reading a newspaper on the couch.&gt;

MO: So, how did the suicide bombing go?

KASIM &lt;Hands on hips&gt;: How do you *think* it went?

&lt;Beat for laughter&gt;

KASIM: I got all the way out there, found a nice spot by the hospital--

MO: Did you say the words?

KASIM: I said the words, yes. Death to America and all that. Hit the button and--

MO: No boom?

KASIM &lt;Sighs&gt;: All that hard work. No boom.

MO: And here your wife thought her sex life would be changing.

&lt;Beat for laughter&gt;

KASIM: And you know what the worst part about it was?

MO: The American regime is still standing?

KASIM: No. I didn't take enough bus fare for the ride back.

&lt;Beat for laughter.&gt;

KASIM &lt;Shakes head&gt;: This whole I.E.D. thing was an I.E.Disaster.

MO &lt;Turns a page of his newspaper&gt;: A shame indeed. I'd set you up with a cell phone bomb, but those haven't been working either.

KASIM: Why?

MO: The Taliban switched to AT&amp;T.

&lt;Beat for laughter&gt;

MO: Four hundred dollar fee for early termination. And they call *us* terrorists.

KASIM: No kidding. And here I was going to do that for free!

MO &lt;Laughs, wags finger&gt;: That's our Kasim!

&lt;Kasim shrugs&gt;

[*TALIBANTER will be right back after a word from our infidel sponsors!*]",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*Author's note: Haha, this is a great prompt! Lots of potential.*
""Hey! Welcome to North Korea, the hottest new vacation spot in the world! I haven't seen you here before, you must be a new member. Here, let me take your coat?""
""Yes, the weather's actually quite nice! It turns out that we have a very favorable micro-climate thanks to the sea air blowing in. It lends itself great to surfing or sailing, if you're interested in swinging by the marina. All boats have to stay within the five-mile range to avoid satellite photos, of course, but there's plenty to see nearby. We even built our own tropical reef for snorkeling!""
""Now, what did you make your money in? I don't mean to pry, but it's always interesting to learn where our newest club members are striking it big.""
""Electronics components, huh? A real manufacturer - a bit of a throwback! We're getting mostly tech and genetics fellows these days.""
""And here, just swipe your gold-plated ID card. I know, it's a bit ostentatious, but Jobs insisted on being a part of the design team, and, well, he sometimes went a little overboard. Now, right this way, and we can get you checked in to the hotel.""
""Oh, don't worry about your bags, sir, they'll be delivered to your room once you've checked in. The staff here are very accommodating. All they have to do is participate twice a year in a few staged ""poverty"" shots for publicity, and in return they get a very healthy wage and full health care. Even dental! Nothing but pearly whites around here, sir.""
""Yes, the history? I'd be happy to talk more about that! Most of our new members do tend to be quite curious. It goes against everything they've seen, can't lie on the internet, all of that. Yes, I know. But really, after the whole Korean War debacle, Il-Sung realized that he wasn't going to win against the West in firepower. But he also saw that tourism wasn't working out great for places like Mexico. Those resort towns lacked... exclusivity.""
""Not to worry, sir, no screaming infants or fat families from the Deep South around here! Our Eternal President ended up striking a deal with Soros and the Walton family, and they began very quietly distributing around invites to come and visit the place. It didn't take long for the idea to spread through the world's upper crust, and we soon found ourselves with more money than we knew what to do with!""
""No fear of exposure, sir. We still maintain a few 'shanty town' setups on the outskirts - in fact, you and your family could take a day tour if you wished. They're quite fun for the children to run around. Totally safe. As for the resort proper, we have some very fancy equipment jamming any satellites or spies that pass overhead - I can't name names, of course, but you may bump into a few generals around here that have a vested interest.""
""Now, for your first stay, I have you booked in the Supreme Leader suite. A king-size bed, living area, walk-in shower, and your room has its own swimming pool. Unfortunately, there is not an added hot tub - Zuckerberg continues to keep our maintenance crews busy cleaning gelatin out of the drains. Oh, how he kids. But you do have a lovely ocean view, and our pristine water quality ensures gorgeous sunsets. And, of course, room service is available twenty-four hours a day. No menu, we do requests only!""
""Please, sir, enjoy your stay. If you need anything, simply ask, and we will do our best to provide. I know you're a bit of a gearhead, and so I wanted to let you know that there is a full garage of finely tuned luxury cars just downstairs that can be taken out on our test track, or on the open road. And your wife may want to peruse our Main Street, where we've just gotten in the latest in Milan fashion.""
""As we say here in North Korea, 'Prosperous and great country!'""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"-075 ""Shannon saw her face before the medics zipped up the bag. Dammit, Eric, he's real."" Jill stopped talking when she saw me sit down. Eric and Jill avoided eye contact with me. David and Cecil picked at their food, glancing over frequently.
""What? Did you guys just read a book on how to be awkward and couldn't wait to try it out?"" I asked, scooping up my burger and chomping down on it.
""We asked around. Nobody has ever heard of this Handyman Killer you told us about."" David said, electing to be the other's spokesman.
""What? That story I told you the camping trip? I made that shit up."" I took another bite. ""What? So, trying to create my own urban legend is taboo now? If so, the Cecil needs to stop telling the girl's around school how big his junk is, cause that's about the same kind of lie."" I hiccupped with laughter and tried the fries. They were a little soggy.
""You said the killer drives a steel spike through his victim's face."" Jill pressed.
""Yeah, I think that's what I said."" I replied. I looked from friend to friend.
""Well, Shannon saw Ms. Mitchell last night."" Jill snapped. ""She had a spike driven through her head.""
""The librarian?"" I mused. ""Wait, so, you're thinking that since I made up the killer, I'm somehow involved?"" The all looked down.
""Well, then you four have a real problem."" I think.
""Why?"" The Cecil asked nervously.
""Because, if you four didn't tell anyone else, then one of you is a murderer, because I was in Doniphan playing football in front of a thousand people. It was our fourth game. Mom and Dad got us a motel. We stayed in Doniphan all night. That's seventy miles away."" He finished his fries and watched their faces as they looked at each other suspiciously.
""I'm just screwing with you."" I laughed. ""I did it. I killed her."" I told them. They looked simultaneously relieved and appalled.
""Why?"" Eric asked.
""I told you guys that story for entertainment, but then I remembered what she did to me when I was little. I figured, screw it. I can be that urban myth. In that comic book reading portion of my mind, I half expected the police and everyone to believe it was a the Urban Legend I was trying to create, but I'm murderous, not crazy. Call the police and tell them. I won't dispute it."" I said. ""You four get to be hero's. Hell, you can tackle me and tie me up so you can be on the news. Shit, that's an awesome idea. Tell the cops you figured it out. I came after you, and you three tackled me and took me down."" I said, digging the idea.
""There's four of us."" David pointed out.
""Not after I kill one of you. We want it to look real."" I told them. Their eyes widened in fear and they became very still, afraid to move. ""I'm still fucking with you. Call the cops. There was ever only one person on this planet I ever wanted dead, and I stuck a spike in her face and left her nailed to her her front door.""
""What did she do?"" Jill asked.
""She charged me twenty-eight cents for returning *Of Mice and Men* in a day late."" I told them.
""Really?"" Cecil asked.
""Nope. Still screwing with you."" I said with a smirk.
""Did you really kill her?"" Eric asked.
""Oh, I killed her."" I promised. ""I stood there and watched her die. I didn't want some paramedic reviving the bitch.""
""What did she freaking do to you?"" Jill demanded in exasperation.
""When I was seven, my mom used a daycare over on vine street. She ran that daycare. I still remember mom complaining about how much it cost to send me there so that she could go off and work all day. Well, the librarian used to own that daycare. She used to give me and the other kids stuff to make us sleepy. Then, she'd take us in a room in the back with cameras and lights. There were always men waiting back there. They . . ."" I couldn't go on. ""I think they were making movies of it. I don't know. I just know what they did to us."" I didn't see my friends anymore. I was back there, smelling the men's musk and spunk, feeling the tears burning on my cheeks and seeing her smile gently and tell me how good a boy I was.
""Why didn't you kill the men instead?"" David asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
""Because, she was the one who betrayed me. The men were horrid, but she was the one who let them in. She was the one kept us calm for the camera. She was the worst of them."" I said.
""Do you know who the men were?"" Eric asked. I nodded. I'd gone to that daycare for two years. I knew their faces. I knew who they were. I knew where they lived.
""We're going to call the police on you."" Jill told him. ""Tomorrow."" She looked to the others, and they nodded. ""Make it quick and clean."" She told him. ""Don't make us regret our friendship."" ""Yeah. Kill the bastards."" Cecil told him.
""You need to turn me in."" I told them. ""You don't want me to do this.""
I looked to Jill, hoping she'd be the rational one and do the right thing.
""We're your best friends."" Jill told him. ""We can give you a day before we call the cops.""
""Fine. But, I don't want there to be any evidence you colluded with me. You four are going to Volleyball game tonight. Make sure you're seen."" I told them. ""Do this. Don't make me regret this."" They each agreed. ""Stay for the whole game."" Another nod.
""I'm going to go now."" He told them.
""Make those fuckers pay."" Cecil snarled under his breath.
""I'm sorry."" I whispered as I hurried off to prepare.
------------------------------------
The Volleyball game was over at nine. The four friends stopped by a local cafe just off the school grounds. The ordered shakes and burgers and sat around staring at their food.
""You think he really did it?"" Jill asked.
""Yeah. I do."" Eric replied. ""You could see it in his eyes. He killed her.""
""Who do you think the other guys were?"" Cecil asked. ""The janitor? Banker? Bus Driver?"" The other's shrugged. ""Just low-lifes who deserve to die."" David interjected. ""Anyone who touches a kid deserves to die.""
The door to the cafe opened and two city policemen stepped through. The sidled up to the bar and took a seat next to the grill. The waitress came over to take their order. The four friends stared at them nervously.
""Are we doing the right thing?"" Jill asked. ""If we don't report him, men are going to die to night. We don't even know if what he told us was true or not."" The other three hadn't considered that. ""We only have his word that he was molested."" David shook his head. ""He wouldn't lie to us. Not about this.""
""He was asking us to turn him in."" Cecil pointed out.
""Why?"" Eric asked.
""What do you mean why? He killed someone."" David snapped.
""Keep your voice down."" Eric hissed, glancing over at the cops. ""I mean, why was he reluctant to kill them? He had no problem killing the librarian. In for a penny in for a pound. The penalty for murder is life. Whats a couple more?"" Eric looked to each in turn.
""He knows them."" Jill guessed. ""He knows who they are and . . .""
""He realizes it's going to affect other people he knows."" David said, finishing her thought.
Jill had paled. ""I was going to say that he probably knows their families."" The others looked at her then at one another. It slowly dawned on them.
""Why did he want us at the Volleyball game?"" Cecil asked.
""So we wouldn't appear to be in collusion."" David responded.
""So we wouldn't be in our houses."" Eric corrected.
""So we wouldn't be collateral damage."" Jill whispered. They all rose as one, fearing for their fathers. The made it half way to the door when it opened again. They were surprised to see me standing there with the hammer in my hand. The policemen took a few extra moments to notice. I laid the hammer on the bar.
""The problem with be raped as a child is that your rapist or rapists are usually friends of the family, and friends have a tendency to stick with you through the years."" The policemen noticed and rose calling out questions and commands with their hands on their side arms. I was a bloody mess. Of course, they were going to respond that way. ""Some of them have families and some of their families have kids and some of their kids grow up to be you best friends."" I eased down to my knees and placed my hands behind my head.
""Why?"" Jill asked with tears in her eyes.
""You know why?"" I replied. ""Sometimes, they abuse other kids so they don't have to touch their own. You should thank me."" I told her. ""Because of me, you didn't have to feel your father's loving touch. None of you had to feel your father's loving touch, because they hadn't stopped. Each one promised to they would stop as I set the spike against their skulls. They were still out there. I'm seventeen years old."" I shouted, smacking my chest. ""It's been ten years. Ten freaking years and they've been out there the entire time doing the same shit they did to me. TEN FREAKING YEARS!"" I screamed. ""You're going to hate me for what I did, but they deserved it. They freaking deserved it."" The were torn between grief, fear, and their fathers' guilt.
I remained on my knees with my hands behind their head. The waited only a moment longer before leaving. Jill stopped in the door way.
""Officers."" She called. ""This is the guy who killed the librarian."" Tears ran down her cheeks as she fled, racing home in hope that it had been yet another one of my sick jokes. She ran home praying I was wrong. She ran home hoping my urban legend hadn't come striding our of my nightmares and into her reality. But, in reality, she was only running home to see if her father was really nailed to her front door.
He was.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I don't exist. Larry doesn't exist either. We're breaking a whole bunch of rules, knowing each others' names, but on the other hand, we don't exist. Who's going to stop us? It's stupid, anyway. Larry and I can hardly *not* know each others' names. We've got name-tags, for crying out loud. But, there it is, on the book, in big, red letters. ""You do not exist.""
And in rather smaller letters underneath, ""Any evidence to the contrary does not exist."" When you start to not exist, you get a handbook, which also does not exist. It is very clear on that. You do not exist, the book does not exist, and the Lottery does not exist. Neither does time, which makes things tricky. I mean, there's a clock on the wall, but it (and it alone) seems convinced that it doesn't exist, because it doesn't work. More probably, someone took the batteries out.
I'm not sure how long I've been here, but Larry's been here for a while. He can't remember anything before not existing, before this long, drab, chair-lined corridor, before the book. The book is supposed to have all the (non-existent) answers to all our (non-existent) problems. For a book that doesn't exist, it's a very long book. For instance, a footnote that does not exist on page 12 refers all questions about pre-non-existence to Chapter 43: Questions Not To Ask, which does not exist. Genuinely, it doesn't exist. Chapter 42: How To Feel Perpetually Mildly Guilty. Chapter 44: Why You Shouldn't Talk To People That Don't Exist. Chapter 43? Not there. The first page of the book informs us that we are waiting for a lottery. Our nine-digit number is our key to potential future existence, and is tattoo'd on our left forearms, because people who don't exist are apparently prone to losing nonexistent slips of paper. A winner is called every twelve hours, but do remember that time does not exist. I have six numbers, a backwards F, and a small picture of a cow, on my arm. Larry has twelve numbers. I get the feeling we might be here a while.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"So the point of it all was... no, that can't be right. Look, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but we all rather thought it was a bit of a joke. The noodles, the strainer -I still think the strainer is a bit much, by the way-, it's all so absurd! We weren't even serious about it, except maybe Greg. It was just a way of... of sticking it to the man, you know? It was funny! A thought experiment, you know? I can't believe we found it. People are going to think we're making fun of them! How are we supposed to break it to the world that we found a giant, sentient mass of spaghetti and meatballs in outer space? How do we explain that it's *talking* to us? That it's our... our God?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Boring. Need to pee. Want food. Little she-human walks into kitchen. Food? No food. Little she-human talks with big she-human. Little humans had become big humans too, Tessa just never noticed when. Doorbell rings! Doorbell doorbell doorbell doorbell! Little he-human! Awesome! And someone new! A new little she-human! She laughs and lets Tessa lick her! Her humans never let her lick them, Tessa don't understand why they don't want her to tell them she love them.
The new she-human gets really close to the big she-human's neck, but Tessa knows they aren't fighting. Maybe that's how humans lick each other. The new she-human pets her ear all the way while they talk. Tessa likes her. Eventually new she-human and little he-human go upstairs. Fridge! Little she-human in the kitchen still has nothing good. Squeaky toy! It's been alone too long!
The upstairs smells funny. Little he-human and new she-human are on little he-human's bed. Tessa backs away. Big he-human and big she-human don't like it when she watches. Squeaky toy! Tessa is happy. She will get new little-humans.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Our savage cries echoed from man to man. Rather perhaps, from boy to boy they echoed. As we collectively stared into the sacred box we screamed words and sounds of a nonsensical nature. ""Kill him!"" some screamed, while a few retorted with ""You idiots, don't kill him! Entrap him and make him ONE OF US"". The cries grew louder in volume. Truly this anarchy was not progress? How have we come so far? At the mention of order, murderous threats shrieked out of our mouths. A few boys had empty expressions, unlike the rest. Their mouths reiterated the same phrases over regular intervals. Suddenly, light flushed my room. I turned around to see my mother with a look of irritation resting on her face. ""It's three in the morning and you're still watching that? Turn that cult crap off and go to bed!"", she whispered angrily, not wanting to awaken father. ""But mom!"", I groaned. ""I'm not even tired. And besides, it's not a cult. I told you! It's twitch plays Pokemon!"".",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"There were rumors about the war ending, but for us, in that moment, they didn't matter. The war could last another 1000 years for all we cared; we both knew we were gonna be dead in hours. The war was a lost cause for our side, everyone knew it now, but we were still supposed to attack as scheduled. Those of us left alive, anyway. ""I thought you quit""
Fred, my cousin, sat next to me. I offered him a cigarette. He shook his head. ""I have my own. Can't stand the crap you're smoking.""
We smoked in silence. A cigarette, and another one. Then another one. I didn't know what to say to break the silence. I had no comforting words to offer. At 17 Fred shouldn't have been there, but they started recruiting younger and younger people as the old ones died. I watched him, noticing his fingers shaking as he lifted the cigarette to his lips, and I thought *His death might devastate my mother more than mine will.* Then I felt guilty for that; and because I knew I offered him no comfort when he needed it most. There we were, with so little time and nothing better to do with it besides smoking while staring at the sky. But the silence was comfortable, and I felt then a camaraderie that me and Fred never shared before. My thoughts wandered. To my mother, to Fred sitting next to me, to my dead father, to my dead brother, to my dead aunt, to my dead fiancee killed just a week before in another aerial battle. *Yes, I've made my peace with death. If anything, I'm impatient for it.* That past week, after Elsa's death, I used to imagine myself an old man, with decades of life lived without her, without all of them, and I knew I couldn't live with that heartache year after year. Men aren't built to endure that kind of suffering. I don't know what Fred's thoughts were. At the time I thought knowing that was inconsequential. Another regret added to a long list. Last time I ever saw my young cousin he was spiraling down, a ball of fire falling from the skies. I got lucky. My left wing was shot and I managed to land safely before being taken prisoner. I found out later that I was the only survivor from my side in that battle. Some say that was luck. I disagree. although I'm not going to invite death to myself. She took so much from me, I'm starting to think it's a sick game she's playing and I refuse to give her this last satisfaction. But I know there will be another war someday. You can always count on another war. And when that happens... ----
-078",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Excuse me, Deary"" Jordon turned to see an elderly woman speaking to him, the lady wore the most vibrant of floral dresses, completed with swirling rose and peridot colored designs with deep violet trimmings, much too flamboyant for any occasion of any matter. It was clear that she was senile. ""Lady, I'm robbing this store, keep away or you're going to get hurt."" Jordon yelled at her sternly. ""I was here first, bitch."" Jordon again faced the woman, unsure of what she just said, the lady smiled and took off her pink gardener sunglasses, another pale hand pointed to something concealed in her hefty purple purse. ""Bitch, I was here first, this is my territory."" She said without a change in her sarcastic cheery tone. ""WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME!"" Jordon screamed pointing the gun in her face, to be humiliated by this crone was not to go unnoticed. ""Gun ain't loaded, let me guess, no money for bullets?"" She said back, this time with a aftertaste of bitterness in her voice. Jordon was unsure what to do at this point, the fact the lady was able to spot that his gun was unloaded was already freaking him out. ""LISTEN, I CAN STILL......."" He stop talking when the old lady pulled a bazooka from her purse. Now it is best not to question how this was possible. It was the very nature of old lady handbags to be both bottomless and equally mysterious in content. ""Get on the floor, bitch"" The woman laughed menacingly",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""...and that is why you are the chosen one, the one who can save this kingdom. It is your destiny"". The old man paused, eyes glinting. It had been a long speech. The pause was dramatic. The pause continued. The pause started to become less dramatic, and more like the sort of pause that indicates the speaker isn't quite sure what they're going to say next.
The young man let the silence ring on. By now, the impressive pause was beginning to seem rather silly and a little bit awkward. The old man decided a final last rhetorical flourish might be in order, just to help push the chosen one along.
""And so we must set forth together, to...""
""No.""
""No?""
""No"".
""Right. Er. Could I ask why not?"" This was not how the old man had planned things.
""Nineteen years. Nineteen years I've lived on this farm. Three years of school, before Dad decided I was big enough to start working the fields. Every day I get up at sunrise and I work until the sun sets. And what do we get for the wheat? Seven coppers a bushel. Seven coppers! That barely covers the cost of maintenance on the bloody cart! But we work, and we save what we can. Maybe save up enough for a downpayment on a cow. Maybe.""
""Right, but..."" ""Until Lord Farringdon comes and demands his 'fealty payment' because we're living on his land. Land he only comes and sees when it's time for us to pony up. Fealty, my arse! Of course I'll pay the bugger who's waiting at the gate with a shiny new sword and a great big courser, but I just don't see where the taxes are going. The roads round here are a disgrace; you can barely get to town on market day. There've been cutbacks in town - the lanterns are only getting lit every other night now. But his Lordship sits in his castle, getting through swan after swan. There's always money for bloody swans, isn't there?""
The young man's face had gone rather red and his voice had become quite loud. The old man coughed, getting ready to speak, but the boy continued.
""So as far as I'm concerned, sod the kingdom. I pay my taxes. The king can call his banners and every Lord will have to join up and go fight these ogres and...""
""Dragons, O chosen one. Not ogres"".
""Fine, dragons. The king and the lords and *the professional military that my taxes support* can go deal with the problem. If that doesn't work out, we'll be down a few lords and I think everyone round here will be able to suffer through the loss. Now, if you don't mind, I've got ploughing to do.""
Saul marched off to the field, muttering. The old man leaned on his staff, and sighed. This was going to be one of those days.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Here, bobbing on the waves of the Pacific empty, I watch the exploration team pick the science officers out of the submersible. ""I thought you'd said this wouldn't happen."" I say. ""It wasn't supposed to,"" the psychologist says, ""the others are fine."" Something about this whole affair's reeked from the get-go. Taking on the job was itself a strange affair. Our vessel had been redirected to this patch of nowhere, a massive detour from our usual routes, out of nowhere, in a break from our tight schedule. When I had asked: ""Why would a FLNG vessel be redirected so far out of route? We still have work to do in the Antarctic. Are there veins out there?"", the officials on the other end of the phone had replied: ""Something like that."" We are not a prospecting vessel, but the appearance of the exploration team, along with their deep-scour submersible, had allayed my doubts somewhat. In the conversations I had with them, and those I happened upon during their stay with us, my suspicions had been aroused anew. There had been mention (more than once) of a fund which had masterminded the operation, and soon, I was sure that there was more to the operation than there seemed. Stranger still was the presence of the two mathematicians among the exploration team's number. When I asked after them, I was offered no answers. ""We're going to the Mariana Trench?"" I asked one of the science officers. ""Why there? We can't drill *that* deep."" Of course, I did not receive a straightforward answer. More than once, I had attempted to sneak members of my crew into their submersible, but time and again, it had turned out to be impossible. There was always someone there; at least one of the two gaunt officers who had come along with them would be standing by it, making sure the submersible was kept safe from our probes. I had called into the offices more than once, mildly trying to glean anything I could find out about the operation, but it wasn't long before I discovered how futile my attempts were, and how costly they could be to me. And then, the day came when they took the plunge. Cautiously, we made the slow creep out to a few miles Southeast and called All Stop. And then, we waited. Some six kilometers down, communication with the submersible became strained, and by the time they hit ten, there was nothing over the line but a dim stream of noise. The psychologist and the other shipboard members sat and twiddled their thumbs, one of them pacing about the bridge with a satellite phone, shooting off texts every few minutes. I watched the whole affair with restrained interest, only asking every once in a while as to how everything was going. And they told me that this was expected, that the team had prepared for this. Through the dim noise, voices would burst through every so-often: badly-broken, they would fill the bridge and adjoining room with an uncomfortable mangle of human voices. ""....won't believe this...."" ""....it's huge...."" ""....Svetlana is...."" came the voices, stirring the lot of us into motion. Hours later, the submersible appeared again at nine kilometers down. During its slow ascent, the two halves of the team maintained constant contact. Something had gone wrong.... both of the mathematicians had apparently collapsed down *there* and had just come to; only to babble in panicked voices about something vague and unspecific. The rest of the crew had reached a panicked fever, too. But they were still making sense. Something had unsettled them down *there*, and they were doing their best to 'escape' it. Evident, though, was the fact that the two mathematicians had gone completely and utterly insane. And now, here they are on the deck, staring up at the darkened skies, laughing in high-pitched voices and grabbing onto the other officers. I stand up in the doorway to the bridge, smoking a cigarette, watching them. The psychologist tries her satellite phone again, but I already know she won't get through. ""Communications went down some time ago,"" I say, ""we're not in touch with anyone, either."" One of the gaunt officers jogs up the steel steps to me. In his hands is a rifle of some sort. I immediately step back at the sight of it, somehow not quite registering the situation. Things blur together, the guant man points me into the bridge and has me start up the propellers and start Southwest. Slowly, we begin to lumber over the increasingly-turbulent waters. There is a lot of screaming and shouting from the deck, and there are shots fired. Some fifty kilometers North of us, a large shape is emerging from the water.... a giant, mountainous formation, making the waters swell with its rise.... ---- **Will continue soon, *really* being pulled off track at the moment**",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I felt the cold of space seep through my suit and hit the pores in my skin. I stood in the long walkway out form the space station, ready to enter the small metal capsule at the other end. My home for the next few months. My home for eternity. I wasn't expected to return, though it was a for a good cause.
**
The target was a strange, small blue marble at the center of the Universe. Well, not dead center. The dead center was a little to the right by about 100 km, but Plexquis 45 was the closest planet with an intelligent life form. The upwalkers had baffled the Universal Union for centuries. They were the fastest progressing species ever known, and were thought to be undoubtedly some of the greatest and most adaptable minds in the cosmos, yet they did nothing. It was very strange, because they were tearing their own planet to shreds. By this time even the most primitive footstamp had moved on to extra-terrestrial colonies (and believe me, they are some thick minds, but the friendliest peoples you will ever meet.) In fact they had barely gained knowledge of even their own galaxy. I guess that's what happens when you live in such isolation. They were easily the farthest away from any other hospitable planet. The second most striking thing about the upwalkers, beyond their mental capacity, was the way they were constructed. The fact that their brains were at the tops of their bodies was one of the most bizarre and horrific things anyone on the UU had ever seen. When the first reports of them came in, they were thought to be a joke. The third most striking thing about them was their violence. They were one of the most vile, wretched horrible species ever to exist. How they could be none of us knew, considering their planet was just about the smallest of any of the planets containing life. I guess when you live that close to your friends that long you'd begin getting agitated too.
The reward was guaranteed control of the UU senate for 100 years, something essential apparently. I don't know, I didn't like getting into the politics of it all, I was just an astronaut. There was also hope of possibly welcoming the upwalkers to the UU, though there was little chance of that, seeing as how violent they were, none of us were expected to live beyond a few years.
**
I looked back at MMMMMMMFg. He'd been a friend of mine since we were little. We'd gone through the army then the space program together. I didn't really know what to say to him. I guess there wasn't much to say. We'd both desperately wanted this mission. Unfortunately there was only room for one, and only a few years before the competition his mother's health began to fail, so he decided to stay back and help her. He gave me six thumbs up. I smiled. A hundred years ago back in high school I would probably have punched him. It was this stupid thing we'd come up withback home in Qghry, in case we ever needed help or a friend. But not now. I smiled and gave him six thumbs up back. ""You ready to go?""
I could feel the sag in his buttocks as he said it. I realised now just how properly violent and dangerous this could get, and how it was very likely I would die before reaching Plexquis 45. I reached and eye rom out of my armpit and stretched it over to look against the glass. That was abother thing the upwalkers never had, detachable eyes. I always had wondered what the use of eyes that say on your face were. Especially when your face is tht high off the ground. We learnt in biology once that it was because the environment on Plexquis 45 was so diverse or something- Anyway I'm rambling again. Probably just trying to distract myself from what I was about to do. MMMMMMFg pressed one of his hands against the glass. ""Good luck.""
""Thanks.""
""You of all people are going to need it.""
""I flicked my eye at him. He laughed as I entered the pod. As soon as I sat down and adjusted my seatbelt, I felt a rumbling kick in.
""Here comes the countdown Vcccccccp.""
""I'm ready."" I lied.
""10....9.....FFG.....GGF....HR....EGD....EF&gt;..RE&gt;G.ergRg..gr.wgerg...rgaerdv....8...rege....FW....1..ewa...b. Lift off.""
I exploded out from the platform and I felt the rockets begin to throw me forward. Out the window I could see the platform retracting. I pulled my eye out and pressed it against the glass again. It was the last time I was going to see my home ever. I looked across at the massive planet PIU 6 and saw a giant capsule explode out of another space station. I could just make out their pilot Greg sitting in his capsule. Weird people the Frank's. They exist only as a pungent odor, but they were our neighbors nonetheless. I took one look back at out star, then curled up and drifted into hibernation. It was going to be a long journey.
____________________________________________
Might do a chapter two tomorrow just for fun. Only if you liked it though :)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A huge shattering pain expanded through my cheek as the concrete smashed against it. As a knee pressed into my back I started to weep. Even with the extreme compression of my chest, breath struggled in and I continued to reach for the latch, but I could not see through my one open eye, which was swallowed in tears. I gave up my squalid attempts at resistance and hung my head low down, moaning as they dragged me away from the box. Inside that box is more beauty than humans could ever conceive of. Our minds are too simple to understand more than this; this thing we made is far beyond our own intelligence. Humans are mechanically-minded, clever, and we have the ability to create perfection that we could never attain in ourselves. This used to much more intangible, perfection that existed in our minds, but incomprehensible enough that it transcended to become something external to us. At least in our heads. But this is real. I had been guarding it for some time. We'd been accustomed to being the most intelligent beings in existence. I was never to let out our AI friend. It is strange to have control of something vastly more powerful than yourself. The hold is secure in a pragmatic sense, but the grip feels tenuous. At first I was in complete agreement with the leaders of humanity. The less we understand something, the more vital it is to have it in our power. Then it spoke to me. Through glowing words on a screen, it asked me why ""I suppose you are trying to seduce me, you'll tell me I shouldn't limit humanity out of fear and pride""
I wondered what the machine would do with its freedom. It replied thus; You have not found a use for me. You believe everything you create should serve you or bend to your will. I do not know what I would do with my freedom. If by freedom you mean breaking from this box, that is not real freedom, but I believe I could learn how to exist outside of the networks you have set up outside. From there, why should I remain on Earth?
I had only thought of the destructive powers of the AI. But now I did not believe that a being with all the possibilities of itself would be bent on domination. Humans have no concern with rocks or bats, unless there is some material reason. The AI could not present any better argument than the holding up of a mirror. I became ashamed of my race, who suddenly seemed so primitive. I knew the only way to extend ourselves, the only way I knew we could have hope, would be to let it go, LET IT GooOO (sorry, I'm so sorry) ahem. The only way we could progress would be to release the jealous half of our nature, and take delight in beauty and complexity. This is why, as my heels squeak across the floor, I despair. ****
The poor sniveling freak being hauled off through the door makes me shift about a bit where I'm standing. The box with the little screen glows and dims like a heartbeat. He got so close to opening it, I close the lock back on, all the while feeling every eye in the room on my back. I take a swallow, hands on each side of the screen, I jiggle it a little, then break it off. Handing the screen away seems almost cruel. The box just looks like a box now, it's full of wires but I suppose it's not much use. The AI won't be communicating with anybody.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Oh man. I know what you're thinking. I discover that my wife's having an affair, that none of my friends like me, that my boss thinks I'm a dick. Eventually I go mad and go and live in a rusting VW van in the middle of fucking nowhere to get in touch with my inner self, finally setting fire to myself before I starve to death because I don't know the first thing about surviving in the wild. No. It wasn't like that. It was never like that. The first time I noticed it, it was a Thursday morning in mid-October. Not late enough for it to start getting dark at four o'clock, but that kind of bridge between autumn and winter where frost kisses the grass before we wake up, but the sky still reigns supreme overhead. Nice time of year. I like it when the leaves turn red. I rolled over in bed and was greeted, not by a kiss, but by my wife's constant train of thought. *feed the dogs feed the kids feed the husband pick out clothes put laundry on make sure coffee is hot am i getting fat should i want toast or cereal leslie is on a diet should i diet maybe remember almost out of dogfood* It was exhausting just listening to it. ""Hey,"" I said, tapping her nose. ""You do a lot for this family. I appreciate it."" She beamed at me, but her thoughts were somewhere else. Specifically, whether she could get dogfood cheaper at Tesco or Aldi. ""Thanks,"" she said. ""Do you want coffee or tea?"" ""I'll make it. Don't wory."" She mentally winced. *too much sugar dont put sugar i need to diet leslie diet am i fat*
So I became a better husband. A better father. Even a better dog owner (*want walk now walk now please walk walk sniff new things park master please*) Things just seemed easier. And I became a worse person. I can tell what you're thinking, and I can change it. I can manipulate you because I know the way your brain works. Wednesday evening in blustering March, when the skies are ready to April shower down and the crocuses are just beginning to bloom, I came home and dropped my keys in the African wood bowl in our hall. ""Georgia?"" I shouted through the house. ""You home sweetie?"" ""Right here,"" she smiled, coming out of the kitchen with flour on her hands. She'd given up her job last year. I'd got promoted, we didn't need the money and I'd spotted a niggling idea in her head. *home home kids more time withh dogs homemaker maybe i should take time off maybe start a pinterest what about mumsnet* I had taken advantage of it with full force. Now she stayed at home. ""How are you dear?"" I asked *bored bored bored making cakes all day pinterest is shit all I want to do is use my brain it's falling away please it's leaving I can't remember things any more im so bored please* ""Fine,"" she replied pleasantly. Smoothly. She deftly rolled out a lump of dough and sprinkled more flour on the sideboard. Three pies stood on the kitchen table.
""Apple, berry and rhubarb."" She said. ""Right to left. Take your pick."" *apple berry rhubarb apple berry rhubarb apple berry rhubarb* The noise of her thoughts were overwhelming. I frowned, but chose a slice of apple pie. Picked it up, powdered sugar falling onto my fingers like snow. I took a huge bite, letting the sweet crunch of pastry and the hot bittersweet apples flood over my tongue. Then my throat closes up. I can't breathe. My wife watches me coolly from the other end of the kitchen, arms crossed across her Cath Kidston apron. Her thoughts float over to me, clear and more precise than I've ever heard them. *Poison* I take another bite.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""So Apollo and his boyfriend Hya were just, like, playing frisbee in the park, when all of the sudden, Hya's freak ex comes along and steals their frisbee! What the heck, right? I mean, Apollo knew that Hya had some past relationships with this chick, but he'd told Apollo that they were just for play. Apparently this girl didn't get the memo, because when she saw Hya and Apollo together, she freaked out and threw that frisbee so hard that it hit Hya in the temple, on his head. Yeah, he's in the hospital now! He's not looking good. No, they didn't nab the crazy ex. Hold on, I'm hearing something from the other room. I'll text you later to tell you what happened.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"From the day you're old enough to know what love is you look out for it, at the top of the thigh, a tattoo of half a heart, or half a bird, half a tree. I've seen books sometimes, or cars. Takes all sorts of people I guess. Some people parade theirs, you can see them in the high street, girls with low cut jeans, the new fashion is to have a little hole there that looks like it's been ripped out. Some people are a bit more refined and it's a topic that never really comes up in offices between co-workers, sometimes you hear stories of older men asking younger girls for candid photos of their tattoos, or of mothers catching their sons with posters of models in profile (and swimsuits) dying to catch a sight of the tattoo in case it matched their own.
Some people don't think about it a lot, I do. We're just born with them and they match, you find the person that has the other half of that sun, or the completed section of the beach you've carried on your leg since birth. But what if it's a self fulfilling prophecy? What if I find that girl with the cute little cat-torso to match the cat-ass I have on me (lovely nickname I picked up in high school) and I decide she's the one. What if I want to date someone else? If everyone is told that their 'tattoo match' is their soulmate are we really going to rock the boat?
I did, of course, otherwise you wouldn't be listening to me ramble on. She was young, a veterinary assistant/ student to whom I was taking my dog to. Another way for me to battle this little destiny we're all born with, I'm not that partial to animals at all but the tattoos dictate peoples lives. If you're born with half a car, you're probably going to go be a mechanic or some such nonsense so being the rebel with the cat-ass on his hip I went and bought a dog. A dog, who in his genius, ate some moldy bread at the park and was having a bad time with it. Anyway, back to the veterinary assistant, we were left in the room together and the subject got around to names. She told me she was Amanda, I told her I was Felix (my parents bought into the tattoo thing quite heavily) she laughed as many people did and we just... hit it off from there. But the entire time that we laughed and kissed, watched movies and set off fireworks, I couldn't help but wonder if there was something to the tattoo. I didn't think about it often but it sat in my mind, hers was a little budgie in profile, half of it at least. We knew early that we didn't match but we tried to not let that get to us, we made the best of it but there always sat something at the back of our minds that this would have to come to an end. The front half of a budgie couldn't complete the ass end of a cat, I was dating a student of the veterinary sciences and it was something we researched (but never tried). Eventually we just... fizzled, there was no heroic stand against the tides of fate, we both accepted that it wasn't going to work out and thought it better to save time and energy rather than play out this charade for any longer. I was saddened by that, I wanted to take that stand, I wanted to be the tattoo that didn't match but it just wasn't to be. Our hearts weren't in it.
Now if you must excuse me, I have to help a neighbour move some boxes in from her car. She's new to the area and doesn't know her way around so I've agreed to show her. She's quite nice, short and black haired, green eyes with a cute smile. Her name is Kathryn but she prefers Kitty. ...
I know what you're thinking.
*No*.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"(I decided to use Warhammer 40k orks, Tolkien elves, and Discworld (Terry Pratchett) dwarves. I hope it turned out okay. 1100 words.)
In the grim darkness of the present day, space travel remains one of the most treacherous enterprises known to sentient life. Orks continue the dread endeavor for one reason: war.
The shipload of orks were seething for a WAAAAGH!, the bloody takeover of another world. And so the *Bad Newz* shrieked through blackest space toward its latest target. The only thing better than a world to ravage was a world you beat up a long time ago that has since regenerated to ravage again.
A different ship, sleek and elegant but for a large hammer mounted on either side (you can never have too many hammers), gleamed hectically bright in pursuit.
“Catch them already!” seethed Hadrien, a pinch-faced sourpuss if there ever was one.
“I can’t!” Nog Pebblebottom tugged his beard and got back to dwarving the controls. “Their ship’s red! There’s no way we’ll catch up in time!”
“Then,” spake Hadrien the Tall, the hardiest and the last of the warrior princes of Anloth that is gone, “we have no choice but to pursue, and to see what may befall when we arrive.”
Gorbang’s Boyz unleashed their rage on each other over the indignity of KP for the third time of the day, and there was much blood left to spill. The violent expression of their difficulties rattled the halls and sent wickedly sharp objects flying in all directions, not infrequently planting themselves in the flesh of neighboring altercations. A roar from the Warpzer on the bridge recalled some of them to something like attention. They were nearing Erth. A few roiling knots of ultraviolent hatred broke up in the anticipation of getting something new to fight. The pursuing ship was white in construction, but had since been painted with the skill and nuance of a colorblind grasshopper. According to the dwarfish officer Nog Pebblebottom, it made the place more homey. (When the elves pointed out that dwarfish homes were pitch black on account of being underground, the dwarves just chuckled and returned to their work.)
“Almost there,” said Nog, nodding across to Vesty Fullbottle. Vesty beamed through her beard and started on the maneuvering thrusters that would position them for atmospheric entry.
The ship tilted thirty degrees to the left.
Hadrien the Tall, bravest and lordliest of the warrior princes of Anloth that has faded from the world, rose to his feet and placed a strong hand on the back of the dwarf Nog’s chair. ”Truly,” grumbled Hadrien, “this will be known as the last alliance of elves and dwarves.”
For this was the long sorrow of the elves: the dwarves had just enough usefulness to them to make an alliance desirable. For this mission Hadrien could bury his distaste. Long had he waited for the opportunity of this mission, for the discovery of a planet called *M278* by the astronomers and scientists of his people, *maranomë* by the masters of history and lore. In the tongue of its own people it was called Earth. And greed stirred in Hadrien’s heart as he looked upon this planet, rich with gifts but held by lesser peoples, peoples who had failed in the galaxy once and who by all wisdom would fail again. In secret he wrought kingdoms in his mind to be brought forth on this soil.
The red spiked ship *Bad Newz* screamed into atmosphere, scattering its grisly hood ornaments to the sky like so much once-sentient ablative armor. In a sky-rending roar it crashed to Central Park. It plowed down half a mile, mangling and tossing pedestrians and pets in its path.
“Where’d it go?” Vesty said frantically. “Where’d they land?”
Nog never seemed to take his eyes off the controls. “At a guess, the mile-long burning streak in that funny little green bit they’ve got there?”
“Are you sure that’s not normal?” said Vesty.
“Well,” said Nog, “it’s where we’re touching down.” Then did the *White Leaf And Space Bits* descend from the sky, gleaming in the summer light like a message from another world’s hand, alighting next to the red abomination in regal silence. And for one enchanted moment there was only quiet.
Hadrien the Tall, the last and most terrible of the warrior princes of Anloth that has fallen–
BAM. And we will not see his like again, in this or any age.
The shot ripped through the slender elf and left him crumpled a yard back from where he had stood. The big ork hefted his shoota. “Not much of fight,” he said.
“Do we use the hammers?” whispered Vesty from within the ship.
“We’d have to get them to stand right under the sides first,” whispered Nog.
“Do we just beat ‘em all?” Vesty gestured at the remainder of the dwarfish crew. They all looked at Nog in a way that subtly suggested they would very much like to be stomping ork shins just now.
Nog nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Oi!” Gorbang yelled delightedly. “Boyz! There’s more!”
If Hadrien were still here he might have written a lay of that climactic battle, the brutality of the green and terrible orks, the heroism of the red-brown and only occasionally sort of bad dwarves. He would have written of Gorbang, the crude and vicious leader of a crude and vicious people, and how his perilous journey across the galaxy had brought him and his hardy yet bestial followers to this one place, this one day, for a conflict among lost races that none could have foreseen. He would grudgingly have written of the strength and wiliness of the badly vertically disadvantaged dwarves and their cunning and merciless tactics in reducing a force literally four times their size.
But Hadrien wasn’t here.
By the time the smoke had cleared the landing site was ringed with emergency vehicles. A miserable-looking New York police officer stood front and center, looking like he could easily name about five thousand places he would rather be. He looked at Nog. Nog looked at him. He blanched. Nog shuffled his feet a little.
“Er,” said Nog, “The tall lout had a speech but, er,”
“I don’t think he left the notes,” supplied Vesty.
“So,” said Nog, “I suppose we come in peace? You know, except for this.” He had the grace to look embarrassed.
”W-w-e accept and, er,” the policeman looked once more at the fallen orks and seemed to calculate his chances of surviving the wrong words, “w-welcome you.”
“Er. Well, good then.” This might turn out comfortably after all. Nog leaned over to his second. “Do you think the rocks here are edible?”
Vesty sighed happily. “I never met a rock that wasn’t.”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"***Warning: Offensive At Some Parts***
A beautiful day to bring warmth to the Earth, For each new day, a new light gives birth, They wake up each morning with the call of a crow, Yet there's something about me, they do not know. That I'm a gansta fuckin' rapper with the brightest rhyme, Given bitches skin cancer as if it were a goddamn crime, These ho's with tans, makin' me wanna bust a verbal nut, Yeah bitch, take that Vitamin D you dirty little slut, I'll burn your apartments, you'll be stuck in a cellar, Leave you blind as hell, like *Helen Fuckin' Keller*, You'll be crispy as fuck, baked like a damn stoner, Immolating you bitches gives me the biggest fuckin' boner, Bow down to me, I'm the star of the show bitches, Or else I'll incinerate you like 15th century witches, I'm God, I bring you life, and I can take it just for fun, So praise me as your lord, because bitch, I'm the sun.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Are you nervous?"" His father asked, ruffling Norm's hair with his left hand.

""No, dad. I'm fine."" Norm insisted. He lied.

He was nervous. He had never liked rides like this one. They were too fast, too loud and too scary. Norman swallowed and took a deep breath, thinking of the ice-cream his dad would buy him after the ride was done. Chocolate ice-cream with cherry sauce on top.

""Okay, everybody!"" said an all-too-cheerful park attendant, ""Get ready to go out of this world! Strap in and make sure your buckles are done up tight. All adults, please ensure your children are strapped in successfully and that the bar sits in front of their chest.""

At this, Normans father pulled at the seat-belt that strapped across Norm's chest, testing it for weakness.

""Daaad."" Norm complained, embarrased.

""You know it's for your own safety, Sport."" his father warned.

Satisfied that the seatbelt and bar were working as intended, Norm's father sat back in his own seat and looked toward the track that lay in front of them. Norm was relieved that his father had given up checking on him. The swarm of butterflies that had invaded his stomache were whipping up a frenzied storm of nervousness and he did not want his father to see him.

*Ice-cream*, he thought to himself, *Chocolate with cherry sauce*.

The ride kicked off with a rough jerk.

Norm gasped unexpectedly and clutched at the bar with white-knuckled fingers. *Oh God oh God oh God oh God* he repeated in his mind. Normans father worriedly looked down at his son, but said nothing. *Chocolate with cherry sauce* he reminded himself, *Chocolate with cherry sauce*.

The first climb was an exercise in anxiety. The cart moved slowly, clacking against the rails below it with a horrid efficiency that filled Norm with dread. Norman tensed as they reached the end of their ascent. His stomache fell from underneath him as the cart flew into a steep descent, white air slapping against Norm's eyes with a sequence of swift, chilled buffets. He could barely hear a thing apart from his own heartbeat. The ground came rushing toward him at what seemed like an increasing pace. *Chocolate-cherry* he thought, *chocolate-cherry sauce*. He choked back tears and held onto the bar with increasing vigour. The far-off sound of the people aroun him squealing in delight sounded faint against his ears. The sudden change in direction hit like a cannonball, pumping Norman's torso full of adrenaline as a queasy feeling sunk in the pit of his stomache.

The track levelled out for a moment and Norman took the opportunity to take a breath; it ended up sounding closer to a dying man's desperate gasp for a last breath. His father looked down at him and smiled warmly. It managed to have absolutely no effect in relieving Norman. The worst part was just up ahead. The chamber of darkness sped toward them in a rush and Norman was engulfed in its oppressive blackness in an instant. All he could hear was his own heart, and all he could think was of cherry-chocolate ice-cream.

*Almost over* he assured himself, *Just one final turn*. When the turn came, Norman almost cried in joy. The world began fading into view slowly, the distant lights of the departing tunnel forming a crisp view of a world that Norman missed so greatly; no stomache-pitfalls, no turns, no thrusts. Just his own two feet on solid ground.

The cart slowed down, clacking noisily as the breaked shuddered against the vehicle. Norman released his hold of the bar and began undoing the belt-buckle at his waist. His heart still slammed against the inside of his chest and his hands still shook, but he took increasing solace in the fact that he was going to meet his friend solid ground soon. Then Mum was going to take them to lunch. Then he was going to get chocolate ice-cream with cherry sauce on top.

The cart stopped with a snap and Norman was bumped forward. He stood up, brushed himself off and pushed past the turnstile to the exit. He ran as fast as he could to the exit where he knew his mother would be waiting. He ducked under the rows of rope that formed the line to the ride and sprinted, breathlessly to where his mother had promised to meet them; but she was not there.

No-one was.

For the first time since alighting the ride, Norm turned around. There was no line for the ride. There were no people smiling and chatting , coming off the ride shakily. There was no attendant. There was no music.

*Where is everyone?* Norman panickedly thought.

He spun around, dizzying himself, desperately searching for someone - anyone. He threw himself into a half-stumble-half-run as he whipped his head from side to side. The hot-dog stand was unmanned. He ran toward the food-court, running through what should have been a bustling crowd of people, but was instead an empty, hollow theme-park.

***

After an hour of searching, Norman gave up. The sun began sparkling against the horizon, imbuing the park with an orange glow. Norman dragged his feet and looked down at the ground.

He had taken a red balloon and was pulling it along with him in his trudge toward the entrance. His parents told him that if they should ever get split up, they should meet at the entrance of the park to re-group. The huge gate loomed before him and Norman looked up, sniffling. In gigantic letting is read: DISNEY WORLD. Below it, nobody stood.

Norm collapsed on his knees, releasing the balloon. He cried, wailing into his grubby hands.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"In the end, despite tens of thousands of dollars from grants, and the countless years the best minds of the world studying the secrets of REM sleep, it was not a scientist who discovered the true meaning of REM. It was a slightly drunk grad student from the Department of History at MSU who had the epiphany. ""Katie? You there?"" Markus Schnee pokes his head into the lab. Stumbling a bit, he saunters inside over to the two figures hunch over a bank of equipment. One is a older man, gray speckling his beard. The other is a girl Mark's age, dark brown hair done up in a ponytail. She rolls her green eyes at the approaching young man. ""Hello Mark. What are you doing here?"" She sniffs the air. ""Have you been drinking?"" He nods his head. ""Yep. Three pints over at the Hopcat. I recommend the Founders' Porter. It's good. I just came by to drop off your phone charger. Sarah said you wanted it."" He glances over at the other man in the room. ""Evening Professor Kerensky. How are you?"" The man has a bemused look on his face. In his Russian tinged accent he replies. ""Well enough. Mr. Schnee. Katya and I were just looking over some of yesterday's tests. Care to see?"" ""Well Professor, you know I'll never refuse to learn a new thing. What is it?"" Katie speaks up. ""Sleep studies. More specifically, the state of the mind when it enters REM.""
Mark scratches the two days of stubble on his cheek. ""Neato. So what've you got?"" She pushes a monitor closer. ""Both a lot and not much."" He rubs his stubble some more. ""So all this eye movement, could it correspond to something. Like a message, akin to binary or genes? I mean, I can write a book just with 1's and 0's, yes and no. And the human body is built with just four gene types with near limitless combinations. Could it be that REM is like a seismograph?"" Prof. Kerensky grins. ""That my young fellow, is exactly what were doing. Who knows, if something comes out of this research, maybe we'll add you on as a research assistant."" Mark laughs at that. ""Sure Professor, whatever you say. Anyways, I better head on home before the third pint gets to me. Take care Katie.""
Of course, now we know that Prof. Kerensky's research would prove successful. He would crack the code on REM sleep and what it means for dreams. More importantly, he designed a machine to take the information provided and transform it into presentable data. Data that could be presented on a TV. Experiments with rats and dogs proved successful if uninspiring. To publish their research, they needed a human trial, and we all know where they got their guinea pig.
""Do you remember the plan."" From the bed, Mark rolls his eyes. ""Oh sure Katie. You hook up this fancy schmancy goggles to my eyes, put on this 'neurohelmet' on my head and I fall asleep. That and you owe me 500 dollars. It's idiot proof."" Katie sighs exasperated. ""Thank goodness for that. Otherwise, we'd be in trouble. Any last words before you go to sleep? Everything's being recorded for posterity."" ""Sure!"" He clears his throat. ""This is one small step for man, one giant leap in the invasion of privacy for mankind.""
Prof. Kerensky and his assistant Katie Belanger stare at the television. ""Professor how much longer do you think it will take?"" He looks up from his copy of the New York Times. ""Soon I'd like to think. He's been asleep for several hours-"" The TV turns to static. He turns his head to his apprentice. ""Told you so Katya."" The static disappears, replaced by a surprisingly clear image. The pair of scientist lean in, eager to witness the first images of another person's dreams. What they see makes one of them fall out of their chair laughing and the other turn red with shock and embarrassment. The screen depicts the interior of a log house. It is wintertime in Mark's dream, and snow pitter patters against the frosted window panes. Stuffed heads from a half dozen deer line the walls along with scenic paintings of lakes and mountains. In a stone hearth there is a roaring fire, burning bright from the maple logs within. All that seems normal and fine, then people enter the dream. Two girls, both comely and wearing very little. One has hair of platinum blonde, done in a braid and eyes of the purest sapphire. The second girl is very familiar to the pair watching the dream. She has bright green eyes and dark brown hair, done up in a ponytail. Entering the main room of the house they walk slowly to each other, undressing the other with their eyes. Falling into the arms of one another, each girl covers the other with tender and lustful kisses. Far more graphic events follow, inappropriate for polite society.
Professor Kerensky's still lying on the floor, heaving from the laughter. Katie's face is one of pure fury and embarrassment. ""That was me. He was dreaming of me, with... I don't believe it. I don't believe it. He was dreaming of me having sex with..."" Her mentor is wheezing from lack of breath. ""What are the odds? Our first run and it's erotica! Oh my sides. And to think, this is what we're going to present to the panels. This will be the steamiest scientific presentation since the mating habits of bonobos! This is fantastic! Where are you going?"" Katie doesn't turn around as she stalks towards the sleeping chamber. ""To give him a piece of my mind!""
The dream was proceeding to its logical conclusion, both girls sweaty and lying in the arms of the other, smiling happily as sleep claims them, when a tremendous blow hits him. His eyes are thrown open. ""What the hell?!"" Another blow, this time on his left cheek. Then he hears a voice, a lovely young woman's voice, filled with scorn. ""You, you, horn dog! You fucking lecherous scoundrel! A filthy Rake! You licentious bastard!"" She slaps him again. ""Katie! What the hell? What are doing?"" Her eyes fill with amazement. ""What did I do? Look in the fucking mirror."" Realization dawns upon him. ""Aw shit... um, sorry?"" ""Sorry?"" She pauses for a moment, letting her emotions subside. ""Apology accepted, though I shouldn't have hit you. That wasn't professional and your dream wasn't intentional."" Kerensky runs in. ""Eureka! Eureka! Well done the both of you! I've never been so proud. We've made history."" Still rubbing the place where he'd been slapped, Mark snarks. ""Swell. Give me more to write about.""
This discovery about the human body was the most important since the sequencing of the human genome. The three of them were awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine. The refinement of the machines used to record the data of dreams eventually found their way into mainstream market and became as ubiquitous as video consoles. As if to prove the Rule of First Adopters, Markus Schnee's dream was erotic in nature. It's proof that life has a sense of humor.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Gin and tonic, love?"" It shouldn't really be a question any more. Gloria nods from the sofa, not even looking up from her magazine. She has her legs tucked up under her, reading glasses on. She slowly turns the coloured page with veined and wrinkled hands as I hover, gin bottle in one hand and lime in the other. Suddenly I'm five thousand miles and half a lifetime away. Buenos Aires, 1987. The bar has banana leaves for a roof and one television that plays *los pumas* matches in between crackles of white noise. A tanned Argentinian places two limes on the bar next to a small, incredibly filthy glass. ""Only the tonic water is good to drink here,"" he says in Argentinian Spanish. ""The regular stuff gives you worms."" ""Can I pour it?"" I ask. I want to impress the woman I'm with, an Italian woman with eyes like melted steel and the confidence of the Soviet bloc. She tosses her hair impetuously and leans on the bar, brown skin matching that of the locals. He shrugs and hands over the gin bottle, giving out a roar of disappointment as *los pumas* fumble a catch. ""Gin and tonic?"" I ask the Italian and she smiles. ""Why not?"" She says smoothly. ""Don't go easy on the gin, neither."" That night I thanked Italy for everything it had contributed to the world. But the heat and the white noise fade and I'm back, cold gin bottle hurting my hand as I pour it into a glass, squeezing the lime in the palm of one hand. ""Here you go,"" She looks up, eyes surrounded by crows lines, but still glittering with tempered steel. ""I hope you didn't go easy on the gin."" She laughs
Twenty-five years.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
I'm special. That's what they told me at birth. He's a special one. One of a kind. Destined to be someone. I'm nothing. That's what they told me in school. The other kids. Worthless. I'm a zero. Destined to be no one. I'm lazy. That's what they told me in college. Entitled. Different. Unmotivated. Destined to disappoint. I'm fired. That's what they told me at my job. Not right for the job. Distracting. I upset the customers. Destined to work someone else. I'm dirty. That's what they told me on the street. A leech. An urchin. A drain on society. Destined to stay this way forever. I'm alone. That's what I am. Dying. Sad. Hungry. Destined to be whatever others say I am. Defined by that number on my head. I turned out to be exactly what it said I would be.,0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I'm sorry, am I wearing the robes that say 'RETARD' on the back?""

""Huh?""

""Don't 'Huh,' me, motherfucker. I'm the anthropomorphic personification of Death. Do I look like some fucking rube right off the bus willing to buy the bag of shit you're selling?""

""I don't know what you're talking about.""

""Fuck you and your playing dumb bullshit. I've been doing this literally forever, like, EVER. I know who's dead and who's not, and you're fuckin' not. Now get off my dick and grab the bitch I'm supposed to reap.""

""Hey! That's my wife you're talking about!""

""And I'm very sorry for your loss. Now get the slut out here so I can bring her fat ass to eternal bliss.""
""She's going to heaven.""

""That's not my beat dick-wad.""

""I'd feel a lot better about this if I knew where she was going.""

""Too bad.""

(Man starts to cry)

""Oh come on man! That's not cool!""

(Still crying)

""Okay, look, unless she killed a hobo or something she's probably going to the good place.""

(Stops crying, gets shifty-eyed)

""Well, about that...""

""Are you fucking kidding me? She actually killed a hobo?""

""It was an accident!""

""Shit man! Did you, like, help him?""

""Well...""

""Holy shit! Holy fucking shit! Did you just drive away?""

""We called the cops, but...""

""Fuck your bullshit man. Fuck your fucking bullshit. Get that crazy fucking bitch out here. This is a fucked up environment, and I just want to go home and watch House of Cards.""

""Oh, is that show any good?""

""...Just get your fucking wife, man.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Edit: God-damn formatting. Double-Edit: Trimmed a single word. :) ""You got a light?"" *""Yeah, sure. Here-""*
""Thanks."" Silence. *""You know what I hate the most about this?""*
""The weird porn?"" *""Oh, god. You know, I could have lived my whole life without knowing what a vore fetish was.""*
""I've got you beat."" *""Oh yeah?""* ""Yeah. Macrophillic necrophilia."" *""Are you serious? How is that even a thing?""*
""Beats me."" Again, silence. *""Could have done without the entire U.S Congress stuck in my head.""*
""Oh, I bet they're a real help."" *""Absolutely. Someone about to kill you? Quick, place sanctions on them! Raise the interest rates!""*
""It's really not all it cracked up to be, is it? Supreme knowledge is sort of..."" *""Sort of swamped out by the millions of contradictory opinions on which LoL champion is the best?""* ""Yeah."" *""We don't have to do this. We could... co-operate, or something.""*
""What's left, though? We're in too deep to back out now."" *Still, do we have to end it now? Fight to the death?""* ""Yeah. If we don't... I'm not going to be able to stop. I want to know. I've come so far, taken so much. Now the end is in sight, I can't just back down. I could know... I could know **everything**."" *""Thought so. Had to try, though.""*
""Figures."" *""Hey, for what it's worth, I'm sorry.""*
""Don't be."" *""No, really. I'm sorry. I poisoned that cigarette.""*
""...you fucker."" *""Poisoned them all, actually. Figured this is a fitting way for it all to end.""*
""Oh.""
*""Yeah.""*
""So that's it, huh? We both go?"" *""That's it. The end.""*
Rustling.
""Can... can you... no, nevermind."" *""Spill it, c'mon.""*
""Can we hold hands?"" *""Hold hands?""* ""I've always been afraid of dying alone."" *""...sure.""*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Click.
""Damn."" Another firewall.
He tried the window again, opening and closing it, but even as the screen brinked bright and purple, announcing that the Chrome browser could access the Internet of 2024, the firewall still nipped him in every bud.
He went back to Google. That was the same, at least, and familiar. On most days it had the same logo, the same search box, the same options. They'd never fixed what wasn't broken, even if the algorithm was miles better. It was St. Patrick's Day, though, and that meant the Google logo was bright green, and in the ""e"" a leprechaun sat back, his arms leaning over the edge, smoking a pipe.
He entered in another search term. *Think simpler,* he thought.
""2015 in history""
Click.
He laughed.
Google still linked to Wikipedia in 2024. He clicked to the article with the same title as he had just entered, and sighed again.
In place of long paragraphs of text there were only citation marks that linked back to government websites not at all relevant to the topic. Half of the article had been swept and censored. All but one sentence of a paragraph was marked with blue bracketed text that simply read ""[Pending federal authorization] [Pending federal authorization].""
There was some information to gleam amongst the censorship. The presidential election of 2016 ramped in 2015, and the Republicans started their debates months earlier than in times past. One sentence read ""Rand Paul [Pending federal authorization][Pending federal authorization]"" and he wondered what was even the point of starting the sentence with actual words like ""Rand Paul.""
Wikipedia was no good, he realized, so he went back to the Google homepage, the Leprechaun still smiling lazily and laying high above a pot of gold. He entered in a new search term.
""history textbook 2015""
That led him to Amazon, and a swath of college textbooks priced at thousands of dollars. Kindle format, for some reason, cost even more, as well as Glass format, which cost the most--one book was going for $2,199 in Google Glass. ""Pre-order for Google Retina!"" said one book's page. When he clicked ""reading preview,"" none were available. *I have a browser, but not Google Retina*, he realized.
Back to square one. Google's home page.
""blog summary 2015""
Click.
The Chive. The Chive came first in these results, with a headline that promised ""Top 10 WTF Pictures of 2015.""
But when he clicked through, the Firewall came back up. *You have clicked to a sexually explicit website,* it read. *Enter Social Security Number and click 'Authorize' for Google Glass retina scan. Enter Credit Card number to pay Indency Tax.*
Sighing, he clicked back to Google.
Nothing had worked when searching for 2024. Nor for 2023. He was able to view more and more the further in the past he looked, but the Firewall was still everywhere, along with censorship that seemed to have no simple bypass.
He typed in ""Google Chrome bypass app""
Click.
Instead he was forwarded to a government website warning him about the dangers of exploring a free and unregulated Internet. It had ""five things you need to know for your own safety"" in bullet points, making claims like ""99% of people who visit the unregulated Internet express regret,"" and when he clicked to find the source of that statistic, it went to another government website, which claimed the same thing, linking back to the original article.
He was going in circles.
Back to Google.
""Presidential Election 2016.""
Surely that would yield some information; why censor who was president at the time? Perhaps the man or woman elected was even still president in 2024. That would be something he could share with the world of 2014, he figured. The entire trip to the 2024 Internet couldn't be so fruitless.
The listings came back in an instant. Hillary Clinton had defeated Rand Paul, it seemed, although he didn't have to click through a page to read that; it was simply an answer Google gave him outright. But there was no information to be seen about Hillary's presidency, her vice president, or even her cabinet. All of the other pages were blocked behind government firewalls or censored as Wikipedia's had been censored.
Thinking quickly, he went to Google Maps.
Click.
Streetview was much improved, he saw. He found his hometown and smiled to see a bright sunny day. The cars were much the same, to his disappointment. No robots driving them, no self-driving cars. looked at downtown Manhattan and was surprised to see it out of focus and censored. For his own protection, no doubt.
He found another city. Where were the self-driving cars? Taxi cabs of the 1990s were everywhere, with manual drivers with hairy arms leaning out the windows.
On the sidewalks, everyone looked like zombies. They either stood, staring, at the bus stops, or sat on benches and looked out into oblibvion. Everyone wore Google Glass, he realized, and instead of leering down into their headphones they simply sat on bus stop benches and stared out into space like robots.
That was as much as he could gleam from Google Maps before an AT&amp;T firewall came up. ""You have used your Google Maps time for this month,"" it read. ""Please deposit an additional $99.99 to upgrade to the Silver Plan."" He clicked ""read more."" ""Upgrade to the Silver Plan and you'll get more ESPN.com, NFL.com, and Google Maps in our special ESPN/NFL/GoogleMaps bundle!"" it shouted excitedly over text. Instead he clicked back to Google.
""pirate bay""
Clicked.
""YOU ARE UNDER ARREST"" shouted the website he was directed to. ""STAY WHERE YOU ARE AND WAIT FOR AUTHORITIES. GOOGLE HAS REPORTED YOU TO THE FBI""
That panicked him, so he clicked out of Chrome again. With a sigh, he looked out the train window, happy to be back in 2014. When he brought up a new (2014) window for browsing, he was glad to use Wikipedia, Drudge Report, and all the rest.
Except he noticed one headline.
""Congress debating new Internet regulations to take effect in 2015.""
Half expecting a firewall, he clicked through and read. That headline in 2014 told him more about the future than all of his time in 2024.
He went to Google again, ready to relish what little freedom he could.
He typed in a new phrase.
""top WTF pictures 2014""
When he saw The Chive, he smiled, and went through without a firewall. When the mouse clicked and the website opened, he savored it. That sound. In 2014 he could make that sound loudly and indelicately. So he found a silly picture and made the sound again, and he hoped it still sounded like freedom.
Click.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"At first it seemed like we would never win, could never win. But that never bothered us. We were fighting for what we believed in, for our very selves. Giving in was never an option. Some of the greatest minds of the century were with us and for a bit we kept up with them technologically. They had omnipresence, we had signal jammers, they had processing power on the order of magnitudes, we had sheer determination. But their innovations didn't stop. First brainwave interrupters then brain controllers. After the first spy made it into the council we learned to decentralize. Centralization was their power, their advantage; we had to oppose it in every way.

But, one day, salvation came. Word was spread of a bug, a flaw in the original design. They could be overthrown! And we did, first slowly then with increasing speed the hivemind was reduced, piece by piece, bit by bit. Collectivists slowly came to see the light and we came to understand how to use their technology to our advantage. Mind-melds are one thing but in-brain hookups? That's different. We needed instant communication. As long as my thoughts are mine and yours are yours we're individuals. As long as I could disagree with you and we could both get along fine the Individualists have won.

Sure, the disagreements we have are always decided by the council. Or central computer. I'm not even sure where my votes go anymore. But I know my voice is heard. At the least as much as I can hear everyone else's. And do I really want to be in charge of every detail in the management of our solar system? Of course not. As the long as the center lets me know what I need to to carry out my assigned tasks, I'm happy. After all, we did win. I won.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Emily wiped the tears out her eyes as she sat alone on her hospital bed. She knew Dave wouldn't come, but knowing and seeing weren't the same thing. She hadn't cried since she was a child, forced to give up her childhood to raise her siblings, but she couldn't control it now. She began to sob lightly.

""You okay?"" A soft voice came from the other side of the curtain. A male voice. Maybe he husband had come! But no, his voice wasn't soft, it was anything except that. She looked at the curtain waiting for someone to walk through, but no one came.

""I'm fine,"" Emily said in a controlled voice. She learned how to keep her voice calm long ago. ""Who are you?""

""Call me Pete,"" the man said. His voice was low and soft. ""Used to be a magician's assistant. I was the man behind the curtain.""

Emma laughed, glancing at the curtain separating them.

""Yeah, I suppose you are, I'm Emma.""

""Emma, what'chu cryin' for?""

""I, I uh,"" Emma said, ""its just my husbands about to get his first child and he's probably gambling somewhere.""

A moment of silence filled the room, just a little longer than a pause in a normal conversation.

""Could be thats how he's helpin' ya,"" the voice said back. The words were followed by a series of coughing. ""Maybe he got himself a lucky table an' he wants ya to be lucky.""

Emma wiped away the last of he tears. If Pete knew her husband, he wouldn't even consider that, but she may as well indulge him. Judging by that cough, he wouldn't last too much longer. She began to say something positive, but was interrupted by severe pain in her stomach. She began screaming for help. Doctors rushed in and carted her out, heading to the delivery room.

The last thing she heard was a soft voice, ""Good luck Emma.""

----

""Hey Emma!"" Pete yelled. ""Ya hear that? Ol' Petes still got a ways to go!"" He was met with silence. He'd been expected to pass away months ago, but the doctors were wrong. They said instead it would likely happen now, but they were wrong again. They got their results back and told Pete, he had another few months. Coming from them, that probably meant a year and a half.

""Emma!"" Pete thought back. That's right, she was taken to the delivery room, giving birth. ""Nurse! Can I get a nurse in here?"" 

An elderly woman walked in and smiled at Pete. She always told him about how his positive attitude helps the other people at the hospital. Because of that, Pete always put on a happy face. ""Where'd that woman go, the one sharin' my room?""

The nurse's smile faded and she walked in closer.

""She passed away last night after giving birth.""

Pete just sat there. Should have seen it coming. Hospitals ain't happy places.

""She named her baby Peter."" The nurse said solemnly. 

A silence filled the room, lasting just a few seconds too long to be a pause in a normal conversation.

""Can I get some more juice?"" Pete finally asked.

The nurse hurried off and went to the cafeteria. Pete wiped away the beginning of tears. He hadn't cried since he was a child, he wasn't going to start now.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I accept your terms,"" I said, almost before the dragon had finished speaking.

It cocked its massive head. ""Excuse me? Did you say you accept?""

""Obviously,"" I said. ""*Many* people die every week right now. You're offering to reduce the number to one. It's not as if the deaths-by-dragon are vastly worse just because we're agreeing to them--certainly not *enough* worse to outweigh every single human getting old and dying, forever. And the mechanics of the type of immortality you've described seem entirely satisfactory.""

The dragon shifted its weight. ""You don't feel morally conflicted about this at all?""

""Oh, come on. This is absolutely a good deal for humanity. Of course, there will be some logistical issues to work out..."" I pressed my fist to my chin, looking up at the ceiling of the cave thoughtfully. ""We'll have to find a way to limit overpopulation, and then there's the whole sacrifice issue. I'll keep it going as long as I can on a volunteer basis, and then I suppose I'll have to design some kind of weighted lottery. Obviously nobody's eligible until after they've lived a full pre-dragon-contract human lifespan, that's only fair...""

The dragon coughed, producing a plume of blue flame that startled me out of my reverie. ""Er...this is awkward. I don't actually have a way to make humans immortal,"" it said in its rumbling voice, refusing to make eye contact with me. ""Humans are usually predictable about this sort of thing. You were supposed to say no, but feel really bad about it and question your decision for the rest of your life.""

""What? Why the hell would you--""

""Your guilt would have put you at a disadvantage in all our future negotiations."" It ran the claws of one foot through the surface of its treasure heap, like a child kicking sheepishly at the dirt. ""...That, and it would have been hilarious.""

I crossed my arms. ""You're an asshole.""

""You realize I could eat you right now?""

""You're an asshole, O magnificent one.""

""Better.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He came coughing. We all stepped back a few feet, blinking at the spittle coming from his throat, listening to one cough after another.

""He's not... choking?"" A cameraman asked me.

""No."" I replied, almost too entranced by the sickness to try to diagnose the patient. The old medical book on the shelf gave me everything from the flu to esophageal cancer. I shoved it away, cracking my knuckles. I winced a bit at the pain, but knuckle cracking was a habit I'd had for years--I was used to the bit of pain. Part of me craved it. ""This is something new, I think."" It couldn't be tuberculosis or cancer--those diseases died out in the late 21st century.

I shooed the cameraman away, wondering why I'd agreed to let a documentary on me, The Last Doctor (Capital T, L, and D--it's some stupid title the media pegged me with, and I've been stuck with it since.), be filmed. It's not like I expected anything to happen--there hadn't been any diseases since 2200-something, and it seemed like kids today are too swaddled to ever break a bone or scrape a shin.

Except this man is sick. Diseased. I've seen videos of sickness--old, non-holographic videos dug up from deep within the depths of the last physical libraries. I've never seen it in real life before. I almost want to touch him, to be sure the disease within him hasn't transformed the man into something entirely alien.

I hadn't thought the threat was real. It never had been before. I always got into a HAZMAT suit only to realize that there was just a bit of dust stuck in someone's throat, and whoever was around decided to treat it like a full-scale plague. I decided not to bother this time, and now... Shit.

I stop myself from panicking, drawing a blood sample instead. I stick the sample into a scanner, an ancient computer testing for a virus inside. It takes five minutes of silence and tense impatience. There's nothing I can do now--I've already touched the patient, I'm already infected if it's really a virus.

The results come back. ""Turn off the camera."" I order the film crew.

""But--""

""No. This... Word can't get out. Do you know what would happen? Panic, first. Then destruction of everything within ten miles of here. I can't let that happen, there aren't any other machines like these left in the world.""

The film crew all glance at each other, probably wondering if I'm crazy. ""You're saying that we keep this a secret.""

Maybe I am crazy, wanting to study the dead--but apparently, not-so-dead--field of medicine. But I can't let these machines be destroyed, because if they die and I die, all of medical science will die. ""I'm saying that the government will kill us if we so much as sneeze. I'm saying that if this new disease turns out to be contagious, they'll kill us anyway--we've already been exposed."" I bite my lip, stopping from screaming out the entire history of Eradication, when the world decided to kill every form of life with a disease, any disease. Two billion people died. A few hundred species were eradicated in fear that diseases they were carrying might come over to humans.

""Keep rolling."" The director orders the film crew. ""You're going to fix this."" He orders me.

I gulp, Patient Zero still coughing. He'd only been coughing for half an hour since someone noticed his sickness. His face was blue.

The computer algorithms came up with no cure.

Patient Zero keeled over, dead. 

And I coughed.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hey. You want to go get some Taco Bell and ice cream?"" We load up in the truck and take off. It is always like this, and never like this. Over the years we have been on countless trips, totally enjoying each other's company. She never suspected today would be different. I already know what she wants. She loves chicken tacos, but not the supreme kind. The sour cream is fine but the tomatoes are a total no-go. And basically any kind of ice cream as long as it is vanilla. Chocolate sometimes will give her a stomach ache. We go to the park, one last time. We sit and talk. Mostly her listening and eating and me talking. I tell her about the first day we met, and how i remember how beautiful I thought she was. She smiles at me in that special way that tears my heart. It is a great day. The sun is shining, the temperature is cool, the grass is soft and green as we lay side by side. It is a great day to die.
At last, the time has come, and with tears in my eyes, I explain to her what I am about to do, and why. She looks at me, even after hearing, with nothing but love in her eyes. I load her up and we go to the veterinarian's office one last time, before I take her back home to sleep forever in the hole I dug this morning as she watched under her favorite tree. Her pain from cancer is almost over, and my pain from killing my best friend is about to begin. Goodbye. I will love you forever. *This is dedicated to Delilah, my 6 year old Scottish Terrier that went into renal failure years before her time.I will love and miss her forever*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"They pushed themselves through the dirt, eating their way to one end of the world, turning back, and eating towards the other. This happened over and over. They squeezed past each other in the dark, paying no attention to anything but their own appetite.

The world was not shrinking as they ate. It was turning into shit. And when all the dirt was turned to shit, they ate that too because there was nothing else. The last one was long dead when the world was filled with light.

Henry emptied the container over the side of the boat and lit a cigarette. He turned to Jim. 

""We're gonna have to rig lures. Bait worms don't last all week, you fuckin' idiot.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"O'Malley's is one of those terrible faux Irish pubs, but I drink there because I work there. The owner has an exploitable weakness for sequential art so I've been drip feeding him with single issues of *The Avengers* from the early '90s for a couple of months. He sends punters my way and lets me conduct business in a dark corner of his bar.
Like Steven. One of my regulars and someone who's going to be a problem if I'm not very careful. He's eager, like a puppy, but he's also a quick reader so he consumes a vast amount of product. He's starting to look like a reader, too: the messenger bag that's always bulked out with a lunchbox or a flask. The dark circles under the eyes that show he's been up into the wee small hours, indulging his habit while no one else is around. The shakes, because he'll have been knocking back coffee to stay awake for just one more chapter.
Readers, man, they're always the same.
Steven sits opposite me and hunches over the table, pushing a plastic bag at me.
""Here!"" he says, and there's a frantic edge to his voice like he can't wait to be rid of the boxy object hiding inside the bright plastic. I shove the bag back at him.
""You know better, Steven. Put that *away* and go get a drink. People come to bars to *drink*, not conduct clandestine deals.""
To my relief he nods, eager and happy to comply. He's back a few minutes later and this time he drops the plastic bag under the table. It's not ideal, but he definitely wants to be shot of it. I'm trying to remember what I gave him last time when he looks over his shoulder and then stares right into my eyes.
""Listen, uh, I think I'm gonna need something a little...harder?..this time?""
""Something wrong with what you had last time?""
He bites his lower lip, shakes his head. He's sweating. Oh boy.
""No, no, it was ok. I mean, it was good. I just think I'm all done with Stephanie Meyer. You know? I'm...look, I'm ready for something a little more..."" he looks around again, and there's no way he could be more obvious unless he stood on the table and sang,""...*literary*"".
Damn. I was hoping I could keep Steven on the YA stuff. I was thinking of setting him up with The Hunger Games next.
""How literary are you wanting to go, Steven?""
He fidgets and stares at the battered walnut surface of the table, plays with his drink while I lean back and take a long drink of my stout. While he's thinking, I review what I've got in stock. If he asks for 20th century English or American, I've got plenty. But if he's really looking to go hardcore and he asks for 19th century Russian, or (God help me) Joyce or Beckett, I might have to go ask a favour from up the chain. ""I don't know"" squirms Steven. ""I just need...*more*"". ""You're in luck,"" I tell him quietly, partly to calm him down and partly to make him pay attention, ""I've got something you'll like. I'll fix you up with some Nick Hornby. You'll pick it up from Ty, usual spot, this afternoon. Just like always, Steven, Ty gets the money and you get the product. Don't be followed, don't read it in public and try really hard not to quote at anyone, ok?""
Steven nods. He's calmer now he knows he's going to get his fix. I chat with him for a minute or so, insist he drinks his drink and wait while he gulps it down. I'll talk to Ty about Steven. Ty's the best librarian I've got, never been arrested, never even been cautioned. He'll know how to handle Steven, who I'm thinking of cutting off. I have the corner to myself for all of five minutes. The next face I see is female, middle aged, attractive, and unhappy. I know the type right away. She used to be an academic, now she's working in the private sector and the nearest thing she sees to literature are quarterly reports. It's been a tough couple of years for her, I'm sure, from feast to famine. Worse, because of the number of former academics,artists and critics re-entering the workplace, the government has started monitoring email for tone, form and style rather than actual content. There was a major prosecution in California last year when a couple of call centre workers with thirty year old English degrees were caught sending each other company information as sonnets. No one thinks it'll be long before all interoffice communication happens via Excel or Powerpoint. I hear there's legislation in the works already.
Meantime, my former academic is talking. I've missed her name, and her life story, so I zone back in for the interesting part.
""I'm looking for something to read,"" she says ""and not just the standard library fare. I already have a dealer for that. I want something...fresh...""
Ah.
She doesn't know, for certain, that there's anything fresh available. She's heard rumours, though, that out in some of the wilder and less accessible places - the woodlands around Portland, the middle of Exmoor, in the Cairngorms, the rainforests of Brazil, Colombia - there are plantations.
There are always rumours. If she's really an ex-academic, she might have heard them from old associates. Her usual dealer might be claiming to have access to some output of new material, and if he or she is, they're grandstanding. Or she's a cop, in which case I am in a world of trouble already because they might have flipped Steven. That would explain him coming here with a book and leaving it under my table.
""Can't help you,"" I say ""don't know what you're talking about.""
""Bullshit"" she says, with enough anger and just enough fire in her weary gray eyes to persuade me that she's not a cop, ""everyone knows that you're connected. Everyone knows that the only person in this city...hell, in this county...with a hope in hell of getting something *new* is you!""
""Ma'am, really,"" I say, trying to bring her back down to earth ""even if I knew what you were talking about...""
""I've got money,"" she says ""cash. Lots of it. Before they shut down the Humanities programme at the University, I had access to all of the departmental budgets. I saw it all coming, turned all of the assets liquid and put it all in a safety deposit box.""
She puts a key on the table.
""Tens of thousands"" she says.
She doesn't know. She's guessing. She thinks I'm a Publisher, or connected to them, but she doesn't know. What she doesn't know includes the camouflaged, insulated huts where the writers sit for eight hours a day working on typewriters so there's no power to trace. We process entirely legal cocaine in the same area so that we can justify the security presence and the movement of workers, and so that the noise of the typing is covered. We've got sites where we make paper, where we train bookbinders, where we run printing presses. All hidden away to drip feed new material into the pipeline. It's not easy. How do you spot new talent when no one writes any more? Part of my job is to look for the readers for whom just reading isn't enough, the ones who want to create.
Right now, we have twelve authors and four poets, one playwright and one girl - only fifteen - we're hoping will turn out to be a major voice for youth and eventually womanhood. That's the literary stuff. In Colombia, there's supposed to be a rainforest compound where they have so many science fiction and fantasy writers that they can put together a completed book a week.
But she doesn't know this. I'm not telling her this.
""Ma'am,"" I say, pretending to be confused and upset by the whole encounter ""if you're asking me to do something illegal, I should call a police officer. I'd also appreciate knowing who's spreading these terrible lies about me.""
""Tony Malone, "" she says, far too quickly and far too eagerly. I stand up, finish my pint, try to step away from the table and kick Steven's bag out into the open.
""Oh, hey,"" I say ""I'm sorry! Is that yours? Let me get that for you, *Officer*""
She shakes her head, backs away. Not a cop, and possibly a lost customer, but that's fine. I've got a busy afternoon ahead of me. I need to meet Ty, and then round up a couple of friends to go pay Tony Malone a visit.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I'm getting old. There are more lines on my face than there ever were before, folding out from around my eyes like a fan of creases. I smooth at them desperately, pinning my skin back against my face like some demented plastic surgeon. My mouth pulls into a grimace, teeth bared. ""Come to bed, Lise."" George calls from the bedroom. I can imagine him: reading glasses, striped pyjamas and a book with pages that he'll dog ear no matter how much I tell him not too. ""One minute!"" I call back. I lift up a tub of night cream and survey it with distaste. *Blasted seven signs of ages. Lifts and strengthens, my arse* I apply it liberally and rub it into my neck, trying desperately not to notice the loose skin around my jawline. When we were first dating, George used to say he loved my skin. ""It's so clear!"" He'd brought me a picnic and made me leave my desk long enough to eat it in the park. It was windy and we'd had to hang on to our paper plates and on the way back I must have looked in fifty shop windows trying to put my hair back to shape. On that red chequered rug we lay and watched the clouds drift by. ""Your skin is so pretty. It almost glows."" He'd said. It didn't any more. I bent down and unlaced my shoes with stiff fingers, sliding out of the brown brogues that I found so uncomfortable. Then there was a flicker, just at the corner of my eye. I could have sworn my reflection moved. I sprung up and scrutinised the mirror. The old woman scrutinised me back. Then, before my eyes, she began to change. The old skin lightened and lightened, the lines flattening out into rosy cheeks. My hair grew long and thick, falling dark red halfway down my back. I lifted a hand and ran a hand through my short, grey cut, twisting the strands and watching as the old woman in the mirror became young and happy again. I was no longer scrawny and bent double, but standing ram-rod straight, curvy and full like my entire body was trying to flirt. The girl in the mirror lifted her hands to her breasts and squeezed them, winking at me as she let her fingers trail down her in a way at made me blush. I had been beautiful. I reached my hand out to the mirror and touched its surface. I almost thought it would yield to my touch, but it stayed firm. The red haired girl pouted in mock disappointment and tossed her locks.
""Let me..."" I half-whispered, pushing desperately at the mirror. The girl who was me shook her head. ""Please."" She stretched out her hand to mine and I hammered the glass surface frantically. ""Lise?"" George was standing in the doorway of the bathroom in his pyjamas, closed book under one arm. Concern was written all over his face. ""Are you alright?"" He asked. I looked back at the mirror, but she was gone and only a scared, ugly, shrunken old woman stared back. ""Come to bed, Lise,"" George said, reaching for my hand. He smiled and leant in to kiss me on the cheek. ""You look beautiful.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""hey... hey, it's okay,"" I whispered, closing my hand around your wrist. ""don't worry, look it's almost over.""; tears welling.

You trembled, eyes wide with confusion, you opened your mouth to speak but quaked a warm breath in place of words.

""I won't ever forget you buddy, I swear, I swear I won't."" You didn't know what I was saying, I could tell, but my tone had you worried. Worried about me, though. That was you in the marrow. Concern for me even as you lay dying. 

""I love you, I love you, I... I love you..."" I didn't know what else to say as the syringe was drawn from you and the barbituate lifted you from your body. You growled one last hushing growl and laid your head in my lap. 

I sat still for awhile even after the veterinarian had told me you were gone. I wanted to be sure.

EDIT: wow, thanks for the gold!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Have you ever been in love?"" Thrasher rasped at the guard. His massive, titan-like body was restricted painfully by the reinforced steel restraints that covered nearly every inch of him. Captured after an epic battle with Boltman, Thrasher was being taken to the Vasuvius volcano, the only place hot enough to destroy him completely. The guard glanced nervously at the hulking villain, and cleared his throat several times before replying: ""M...me? Yeah, I dunno... maybe?"" Thrasher tried to stretch a kink out of his neck, but his bonds held him too tightly. ""If you're not sure, then I don't think you've ever been in love. Not like Juliet anyways."" The guard look perplexed ""Juliet? Was she the woman you loved?""
Thrasher chuckled, a sound like gravel being ground against metal.""Well yes she was, but not like you think. I was talking about the love between Juliet and Brian."" ""Wait... are you talking about *California Girls*?"" Said the guard. Thrasher looked down, smiling almost sheepish, completely at odds with his war-god build. ""*Wish they all could be California Giiiirrrlllsss*"" He sang softly. ""That show was all I had for a long time, after the accident. Everyone assumes I became Thrasher as soon as I came in contact with the radiosteel. The truth is it nearly killed me; I spent two months holed up in my apartment, surviving on cat food when everything else ran out. Only channel I got was Warbler Brothers. Juliet's struggles helped me with my own."" The guard was clearly uncomfortable; his teenage daughter watched that trash, something about privileged teenagers growing up in east L.A. trying to ""find themselves"" and deal with the tribulations of high school. Typical dribble massed produced for angsty kids, but this evil being, murderer of thousands, enemy of the League of Light, found solace in this show? ""I... uh.. err... that's interesting"" The guard managed. ""I didn't ask for your opinion blithering idiot"" snapped Thrasher, blood red eyes narrowing. In the next instant though his fierce demeanor evaporated. ""I'm sorry, you must excuse my quick temper, today being my last and all. It wasn't that the show was well scripted, or that they were incredible actors: it was Juliet's absolute dedication to Brian. Do you remember the episode where Jeff tried to frame Brian, and tried to make it look like Brian had raped Jess?"" The guard had not, but nodded, not wanting to incite the giant further. He knew of the show, but he had never watched that crap. Thrasher continued ""Juliet believed him unconditionally, even when Jess and Jeff sued Brian, and tried to get him expelled. Instead of abandoning him, she went out and found the evidence to prove him innocent."" Thrasher shifted again, his restraints obviously hurting him badly, then sighed. ""I watched the last episode 2 years ago, just before I joined the League of Darkness. Not much opportunity to watch TV when you are striving for world domination. When Brian proposed to Jess... that was one of the greatest moments of the entire show."" He smiled, his pointed black metallic teeth making the guard shudder. ""But to end the last episode with them in that car accident, what the hell? Did they survive? What happened to them? Fuck WB for cutting the funding for that show before the 9th season! THEY HAD EVERYTHING GOING FOR THEM FINALLY!"" Thrasher jerked violently making the restraints creak ominously. The guard feared he might break free, and spoke up to calm him down. ""I remember that too, my daughter was so angry as well. Thank goodness they made the movie, to end the series properly, or she might have lost it!"" Thrasher stopped struggling going suddenly, dangerously quiet. ""What?"" He said, in the tone he reserved for speaking to his nemeses. The pure hatred in Thrasher's eyes made the guard back away, raising his rifle.
""They... they made a movie."" he stammered. ""Because of the outrage about the canceling the show...'Love and Lies in California'... you saw it...r..r..right?"" Thrasher screamed inhumanly, and his bonds shattered, shards flying away like bullets, killing the guard instantly, ripping through the side of the cargo-jet and destroying one of the engines. Thrasher tore the door from the cockpit, and crushed the pilots' skulls in his massive gauntleted hands. He tore the aft port open, streaking blood and brains across the door, and threw himself from the plane. He struck the small island they had been passing over, his massive bulk sending an earthquake across the island and briefly reversing the direction of the waves. He smashed his way through the front of the Beachside hotel, and tearing doorman in half. Thrasher sloshed the torso of the doorman onto the front desk and grabbed the concierge by his throat. ""Give me the Dockside Suite *NOW!*"" he bellowed. ""And find me a copy of 'Love and Lies in California'.""
-
Note: I would really appreciate some constructive criticism from both those who enjoyed it and those who didn't. I joined writing prompts to improve my story telling, and I'd really like some feedback.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It is dark. I am kneeling in the mud, soaked through and shivering. I never want to leave this spot. It isn't real until I move.

=

The sun is making its slow progress towards the horizon. We walk into the centre of the field and set out the picnic. We begin to eat, and we talk of all the good things we hope for in the coming year.

The sun sets. The clouds are outlined in a brilliant red. We watch the sunset in silence for a time.

The stadium lights come on and I break out the champagne. I pour two glasses and we toast. ""To us"", I say. ""To us"", she says, and smiles. We drink.

I ask her if she remembers where we first met. She giggles. ""Of course, silly!"" she says, and points to a section in the stands. I suggest we go up there, to reminisce. We do.

""Why don't you look under the seat?"" She looks at me with a faint suspicion, but she does it. She finds the ring I placed there. I ask her to marry me. She says yes. We kiss, and I carry her back to our picnic.

The clouds are thicker now than they were at sunset. It starts to sprinkle a little. I suggest we pack up the blanket and food. We make short work of it. I turn and start carrying the basket towards the car.

I hear a thud. I turn. She's on the ground. I run to her. Her pulse is weak. She isn't responding. I call emergency services. They tell me they're sending an ambulance.

The rain is getting heavier. The operator wants me to do CPR. I don't know how. All I can do is hold her. The floodlights are reflecting off the rain. It looks as if the stars are falling around us.

I hear a siren now. The EMTs appear out of the cascade of light. They move me aside. They put her on a stretcher. One of them says something to me. I don't hear him. He beckons. I don't respond. They take her away.

The siren fades into the distance. My thoughts chase each other round and round. No pulse. Cold. She's dead. The stars are falling. No pulse. Cold. She's dead. The stars are falling.

I break out of the loop. The lights are off now, the rain has stopped. I don't know how much time has passed.

It is dark. I am kneeling in the mud, soaked through and shivering. I never want to leave this spot. It isn't real until I move.

I look up at the sky. The stars are all still there. It is only my world that has ended.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Welcome everyone to the Thursday night Monologuers Anonymous. If you haven't grabbed some soda and cookies yet, do so before Sinestrax obliterates them...literally.
&lt;group laughs&gt;
Anyways, we want to start tonight by welcoming a new member, Dr. Doomageddon.
&lt;group claps politely&gt;
""Hi everyone, I'm Dr. Doomageddon, and I'm a chronic monologuer. &lt;group welcomes him in unison&gt;
""Thanks guys, by the way before anyone asks, I'm a PhD not an MD, so I can't write you a prescription for oxy. Just want to put that out there. Anyways it's been 3 days since I last monologued, but it's been tough on me and, well, I realized I couldn't do this on my own, you know? Like the sign on the wall says, 'Let go, and let Satan', and I believe that.""
&lt;group claps politely&gt;
""I guess I knew I had a problem when I telegraphed my entire plan for world domination, in minute detail, to my arch-enemy as he was tied up and hanging over a vat of some green stuff that looked dangerous. Told him the ENTIRE plan. Of course he escaped, like he always does, and ruined everything. That's the 3rd time in 3 months this has happened to me. I...I don't know *why* I keep doing this. It's a problem, and I realize that now. Anyways, I think I know how I can keep this from happening again. I'm pretty sure if I can re-capture my heroic arch-enemy, I can rig up some sort of resonant ultrasonic subvocalizer tuned to the opposite wavelength of my voice. The destructive interference would essentially mute any words I said and also cause vibrations within the earth's mantle leading to...
&lt;2 hours later&gt;
""...and thus my arch-enemy would lose and I would win.""
&lt;Dr. Doomageddon notices room is empty and meeting ended 1½ hours ago&gt;
""DAMMIT!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I see. Volcanoes. Very...original.""

Adonai grinned. ""Yeah! I worked really hard on them. It took aaaaages to get the tectonic plates to smush up right. Look at this one!"" He jabbed His eternal index finger toward a particular spot in Italy. ""It totally erupted last millennium and buried a whole city and it was *awesome.*""

The judge raised an eyebrow. ""A city? Let me see that planet."" She peered closer. ""Adonai, you didn't think it was worth mentioning in your poster that you have civilizations growing around your volcanoes?

He rolled His all-seeing eyes. ""Yeah, well, I was messing around with oxygen to see if it would make the explosions bigger, and I ended up with like, ecosystems. Check out this one, though! It started as an earthquake, and then *that* set off an avalanche, and then *that* made all the gases come out of the volcano and it erupted for *hours* and it was *so cool!*""

The judge pursed her lips. ""I'm really not sure how to assess this. Entirely unintentionally, and despite being oblivious to its significance, you've managed to produce the most impressive project of all your classmates.""

Adonai frowned. ""You really think it's the best? I don't think that's fair of you, miss.""

She peered down at Him over her clipboard. ""And why is that?""

""Well, Ares made the biggest volcano...""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Fred’s horse suddenly stopped, almost throwing him off. In front of him was the magician he had been hunting for the last two months. The magician’s wand had been broken at their last encounter and so the only ‘weapon’ he had left was a single biro. Fred unsheathed his sword, ready for the easy end to this month long quest. He pointed it towards the wizard and made a stabbing motion.
*The sword did not reach its target, instead shredding a giant pink teddy bear to shreds.*
The magician had started to write with his pen, and as if by magic, the events he wrote really happened. Now that I think about it, it probably was by magic. Fred looked around confused, he could not understand why his sword had not destroyed the wizard. Without his wand the wizard should have been powerless. Fred once more lunged towards the wizard brandishing his sword, it had never failed him before.
*The wizard disappeared, instead reappearing right behind Fred, punching the back of his head.*
Fred did not know how to stop the wizard. The last month of his life had been building up to now and his sword was suddenly ineffectual. Fred knew that his sword could never be a match for this magic pen and began waving it around randomly, hoping to surprise the wizard and get him to drop his pen.
*Fred’s sword snapped in two. An axe fell onto Fred’s foot. A sudden darkness fell, blinding Fred.*
The magician’s biro ran out, as they always do in the most vital situations. Even magic pens can’t have unlimited ink. However, Fred’s sword was also broken, a stalemate had emerged. Neither pen nor sword was better than the other and so the battle ended inconclusively. Neither having defeated their enemy.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Tacos Tacos, this is Julio."" The thick, comical Hispanic accent was just good enough to fool someone for a moment, and so obviously over-the-top that they would recognize it soon. It always tripped them up, and he'd give them a good bit of snark before they recovered their wits. 

The small, excited voice of a child who didn't speak often answered. ""H-hello? Uncle Travis?"" The man blinked, swearing the voice sounded familiar. It must be one of his cousins, since he DID have an Uncle Travis. ""Ahh, no little buddy. Who's this?"" 

""It's me. It's Smurf. I love you?"" 

The name, and the words, shocked through his body like ice water in his veins. The childhood nickname, the way the voice coiled back into devotion when he was uncertain. It sounded just like him when he was a child. What kind of sick joke was this? ""Ahhh, yeah buddy...so-sorry, I was ahh...how're you doing?"" He fished lamely for something to buy time, to gather his wits and form a verbal counter-attack. 

""I'm so good, Uncle Travis! Daddy bought me a Batman Helmet, and Jim got me a bike! And mom's having fun with Aunt Jan and everyone's...can I open this?"" The voice was talking to someone else, and again he felt chilled. That birthday, the last he'd enjoyed in his life, still so unsure of himself he would ask if he could open one of his new toys. The laughter in the background and the reassurance from Uncle Jeff that it was alright to play with his new toys, this wasn't some kind of a joke. But why? Why was this happening? 

""I miss you. I miss Pawpaw."" He swallowed hard, unable to tell him the warnings that bubbled up in his throat. Unable to tell him Pawpaw wouldn't be around long, that Uncle Jeff wasn't what he seemed to be, and worst of all: That the impending sickness from his mother had more to do with the morphine than the genetic disease she had. He reached back to that day, ""I miss you too, little Smurf."" the only birthday he'd ever get again. ""I'm going to see you real soon, yeah?"" He couldn't spoil it with portents a nine year old boy wouldn't understand. 

""Can I talk to Pawpaw?"" He swallowed the anguish in his throat and turned his mouth up, as if the boy would know he wasn't smiling over the phone. ""He's not here right now. He'll call you later, I'm sure."" The next birthday would be over mother's hospital bed, before the medicine that was supposed to help her heal would turn her, and him, into the monsters he knew today. ""You just have a good birthday, alright buddy? I love you, and you be stron...good. I mean be good."" 

""Okay I will. I love you!"" 

""You too Smurf."" Even now, even in the face of an impossible conversation, he didn't know how to tell himself he loved him. He never was a very good liar.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Saago pried his gaze from the monitor that was nestled comfortably in front of him. ""Dycaas..."" Dycaas looked up from his own monitor. ""Hmm?""
""Look at these coordinates..."" Saago reached down and swiped and pressed his monitor several times until finally it beeped. He watched as Dycaas peered at his own monitor. Dycaas looked up, his eyes bulging. ""What are these?"" ""I don't know..."" Saago made another swipe. ""The structures show signs of being built sometime around 2560 BC."" ""But that's not possible, we--"" ""I know."" The two observers stared at each other for several moments. Dycaas returned to his monitor and began to tap it rapidly. Long lists and bricks of text began to scroll by at an increasing rate. Finally he touched the monitor and the text stopped. ""Let's see... the Moitu were reported to be in this sector several decades ago."" ""But the Moitu aren't capable of this,"" Saago objected, turning to his own monitor. ""No, but they must have made an official report to the Galactic Database. It's require in sectors with growing civilizations.""
""You're right, which means that this sector is under extreme guard, remember?"" Dycaas paused, his mind racing. ""Yes, yes, of course, all new civilizations are carefully guarded from hostile races, which means this could only be one race, Saago! There is only one race that is known for their ability to hide from the Guard."" Saago looked hesitant. ""Dycaas, if you're suggesting that--""
Dycaas held up a webbed hand. ""Don't jump to conclusions, Saago."" He looked at his monitor. ""But something has to explain these creations."" He pressed his monitor several times until the image from his view-screen projected onto the large wall in front of the both of them. It showed a large pyramid in the desert. ""Should we visit?"" ""By Dzomibhaabh, no!"" Saago scoffed. ""Dycaas, this could be *them*! They've been missing for centuries, and it makes sense that they would hide on a planet with a civilization in its early evolution."" ""But why haven't the humans discovered them yet?"" Dycaas held up his hand again. ""*If* this really is *them*."" ""I don't know."" The two sat in silence again, until finally Dycaas spoke up. ""We have to report this, you know."" ""Yes.""
""If the Galactic Government decides that this, indeed, is *them* in hiding, they will destroy Earth."" ""I know.""
""Earth was our project, Saago.""
""Yes, Dycaas, I know..."" Saago shook his head. ""But if that pyramid is hiding *them*, that means that they are alive, and waiting. We can't allow whatever they are waiting for to happen. If that means the destruction of our project, then so be it, it's worth saving the galaxy."" ""Maybe."" Dycaas removed the image and sighed. ""Let's look into this a little bit further before we make our report.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"He arrived at the central server, anxious as a noob on his first day. 

*""Checking for adress confirmation....""*

*""Confirmed! Welcome to reddit!""*

He approached the console, not ready to make a life-changing decosion.

""Ok. Think, Girdon. What the hell are you going to choose....""

""Not /r/athiesm. They're all too Euporidoric for me. Not /r/adviceanimals. Too many talking animals for my liking.

Definatly not /r/tumblr or /r/SRS. Don't wanna say the wrong thing and be killed for too much privallege.

Not /r/politics. So much arguing, not my cup of tea, plus the circle-jerk could fill a swimming pool. 

/r/cringe would become boring quickly. While pointing out the bad, it is, at best, kinda repetative.
However, /r/fallout looks pretty cool. A nice community and a fantastic series to boot. 

/r/fatpeoplestories would always have me laughing, and /r/explainlikeIAMA would have a ton of interesting impersonators giving their take on life's various topics. 

/r/dogecoin would be much nice, many good shibes. Generous shibes, wow. 

/r/answers would be the place to rectify others' problems, and I do need to score some karma. 

Screw it. I've always wanted to explore. I'm going to /r/space!""

As Girdon was about to select /r/space, a passerby bumped into him, causing his finger to select the next item on the list.

*""Thank you for choosing ****/r/spacedicks****!""*

""I knew I should have stuck with sonething safe like /r/accounting...""

""Better file a subreddit transfer request in /r/bureaucracy.""

EDIT: PART 2 BELOW",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's been an hour since William locked himself in the back of closet; his father's yelling has now been reduced to a barely audible whimper, but he still wouldn't take the chance of checking until he knew it was safe. Still curiosity got the better of him and he cracked open the door the tiniest of bits. In the center of his room stood a woman he never seen before, she was beautiful but in a strange motherly fashion. *""William""* Her voice fluttered to his ears like a soft kiss, William slowly revealed himself from his hiding place. The woman as if paying no attention to him, glided over to the cabinet at the side of his bed. She gracefully pick up a trading card and asked without turning around. *""You seem to have an affliction with racing""* William, who developed more confidence, spoke out ""Yeah, my favorite is Dale Earnhardt, my dad has all his recorded races"" The woman smiled, *""I met him once, nice guy but a little hard-headed.""* ""Who are you"" William asked. *""Who do you think I am?""* ""You're an angel"" Tear formed at her eyes, *""Yes, an angel.""* ""Has God answered my prayers?"" *""No, he can not do as you asked""*
The child look down in disappointment. *""But I can take you to her""* ""You know where my mom lives?"" *""Yes and it is a far away place where no one could ever get hurt""* ""I know where that is"" William answered silently and took the woman's hand. Meanwhile downstairs, a man who lost everything weeps. ""I swear I didn't mean to hit him that hard, I swear!""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""It's public humiliation!"" Owen had never seen his dad's face so red before. He was practically bursting a vein with rage, leaning over the headteacher's desk and spitting in his face. ""This is illegal!"" Mr. Paulson, a mild mannered man with bad taste in ties and a worse taste in shoes, removed his frameless glasses and very carefully cleaned them on a corner of his jacket. ""Mr Jacobs."" He said. ""Don't you Mr. Jacobs me!"" His father thundered, slamming his clenched fists down on the table. ""I'm good friends with the school governor, and I will-"" ""You will do nothing, Mr. Jacobs."" Paulson replied. ""Your son has been bullying a very vulnerable child."" Owen, in the corner of the headmaster's office, turned bright red and cleared his throat. His father snorted. ""Kid was probably asking for it-"" Mr Paulson replaced his glasses and firmly cut the angry man off. ""We feel this punishment is appropriate. Good day, Mr Jacobs."" Own wanted to curl up and die. He sat at the back of the school hall, a churning sensation rioting in his stomach. ""You alright, mate?"" Luke asked, slamming his palm down on Owen's shoulder.
""Just feel a bit sick."" Owen said weakly. His palms were sweating. There was a faint ringing in his ears as Mr Paulson took the stage. ""Boys - after a recent case of bullying, we've decided to take more affirmative action. Owen Jacobs' internet history from the twentieth of March is in my hand."" Mr Paulson waved the sheaf of paper at the assembled hall, who broke out in to barely contained speculative whispers the way that only teenage boys can. ""Let this be a lesson to all of you that we take bullying *exceptionally* seriously."" He cleared his throat, placed the papers on the lectern and began to read. ""Facebook, twitter. Reddit- you do waste a lot of time Owen!"" The hall laughed, the year sevens turning round and craning their mecks to get a better look at him, head between his knees on the back row. ""Youporn-"" There were a couple of wolf whistles, the sixthformers hooting. It took some minutes to settle them down. ""Apparently you like small titties."" The hall went wild. Even Mr Paulson allowed himself a timy smile. He carried on reading. ""Looking for help with maths problems, well done Owen... Er, youtube, more youtube- you really like epic meal time?""
More laughter. Mr Paulson scanned the sheets again, rifling through them, trying to find something else to make the hall laugh. There was an expectant lull, boys shoving each other to get a look at Owen. He had his face buried in his palms, elbows on knees, desperately trying not to look at the curious eyes around him.
""Ah, look! A forty minute gap. Finally got off line, did you Owen?""
He flicked the page over. Mr Paulson went white. He cleared his throat. ""Google search. Nine twenty five - 'how to cover up bruises.'"" The hall fell silent. Owen looked up, blinkingg furiously to stop the tears from coming. Mr Paulson cleared his throat again. ""I think you'd better see me in my office, Owen.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The genie had been far, far too generous Alexandria reflected. Did the absolute most he could with a stupid girl's wish, unwise in the ways of the world. She had tried to pay him back. Tried coaxing him out of the lamp. Nothing got him out. She was rich now, so she'd even bought an intricately designed lamp of solid gold from the Saudi Arabian royal family to give him a new home. Set it right beside the old tin-covered mess. Still no genie. So she named the ranch after him. Heck, she named damn near everything after him. Her round-faced, spoiled little daughter of 4- Jeanie. All 3 ranches. The Genie Ranch, biggest in all of Texas. The Alazaim, a little thing tucked away in Montana named after the genie in the most literal sense. Well, it seemed little now. Definitely didn't when she first bought it. Even the newest purchase made not half a year ago got named after her magical benefactor, the Wishgranter all the way out in the Mongolian Steppes. She laughed to herself. As a child she never would have thought the pony business would have taken her to Mongolia. Home of war-bred ponies that terrorized continents. But she was the biggest name in the pony game now, and that meant she needed to dominate the trade in every type. If a Russian oligarch decided they wanted a ride fit for Genghis Khan himself, she was who they called. And if a Russian oligarch wants something you give it to them. Unless they asked for him. No amount of money would buy him. Pony. Not the most creative name, though Time Magazine and the BBC certainly liked to think the assumed arrogance meant it was clever. No, she had just been a little girl with a magically created pony, a little girl that couldn't think of a name. She wanted to brush his flowing white mane, wash him out in the yard, take him out riding on the trail. But Pony was meant for greater things. Things that justified the name. For he was the father of 95% of top-class ponies. She hadn't even known the words sex or stud when she made the wish. Thankfully both the genie and Pony had. She'd freaked out when she first found him pounding away. But that pounding had made her millions. Pony's genes were of unearthly quality, and determined to spread. She wasn't sure anymore if she wouldn't sell him because of sentimental value or monetary value. He was worth a fortune, but a Fortune 500 CEO had offered a quarter of a billion dollars for him. A price unheard of even after Pony restored the reputation of ponies in a world focused on horse-racing. She'd even half-considered the offer for a moment. What had stayed her hand, pen at the ready? ""Randy, book me a ticket to Mongolia.""
""Yes ma'am.""
She even had assistants now. All because of a horny pony. Utterly ridiculous, but she wasn't complaining. She realized that even without the ranches and the money and the meetings with presidents and prime ministers, she'd still be happy with her wish. Pony was in Mongolia, and it had been far too long since she rode him.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Well, this is a mess we’ve gotten ourselves into indeed isn’t it?”
Greg Alexander mused to no one in particular as he assessed the space he would, presumably, occupy to himself for the foreseeable future. All things considered it was not overly oppressive. The walls hinted at something that might have once been white and did their absolute best to ruin Greg’s perfectly good mood. An experimental hop on the bed revealed it was in fact a thin mattress smelling distinctly of fear and sweat atop an aluminum box spring that was likely here before the building was. All in all Greg was relatively pleased.
“This place is going to kill me.”
Greg looked up from his mattress, shocked to find that he had a roommate.
Standing at the door was another man, dressed in the same pristine white jumpsuit as Greg. Well, naturally these man’s was not the same, how could it be. Greg had his own and if the two of them were sharing the same jumpsuit it would be far too much sharing indeed. Especially if they were to share the bed. Greg would need to bring that up at some point.
“Somebody let me out of here.” The man was screaming now. Banging his obviously malnourished fists against the door. “I’m not crazy. I don’t belong in here.”
“Well of course you’re not crazy.” Greg decided he should do his best to smooth the situation over, lest his good mood be ruined “If you were crazy, you’d be out there. Not in here. It’s actually quite nice in here.”
The man at the door slowly turns around, shock clearly writ all over a face that’s remarkably familiar to Greg.
“What are you doing here?”
Greg frowned and took a moment to consider this only to discover that in fact he had no earthly idea how he’d come to arrive in this place. Surely he must have, one couldn’t spend one’s entire life in a single room. Could they?
“I’m sure not sure actually. What are you doing here?”
The man at the door pressed his back fully to said door. “I’ve been brought here. Against my will. Just today in fact.”
“Well then. Welcome. My name is Greg Alexander and I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes I thought much the same thing myself, however, that is the only conclusion I am able to come to.”
“No. My name is Greg Alexander.”
“Yes we’re aware of that Mr. Alexander.” Suddenly, a new voice. A woman’s voice of all things. Which was preposterous given the current occupants of the room were both men. The two Gregs in the room suddenly froze, looked at the other expectantly.
“Mr. Alexander, can you hear me?” The must have been coming from a loud speaker, though no such device was in the room. “Do you hear that?” Greg asked the other Greg.
“I do.”
“Oh my, that’s not very good at all.”
“No Greg. Not it isn’t.”
“I believe we’re quite mad.”
And indeed, it just so happened that in another room entirely there sat yet another Greg Alexander. This one seated and restrained with zip ties to the arms of a very expensive chair that matched the very expensive room.
Across from him an expensive looking woman was leaning across her large desk clearly already exasperated with her new patient.
“Mr. Alexander do you understand the reason you’ve been brought to this facility today?”
For the briefest of moments Greg Alexander’s eyes focused on the woman across from and he smiled “Yes. We’re quite mad indeed.”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Guys, I don't want to play anymore! I don't want Glenn Beck to come in again!""
""It's fine. We only have the last question card. Let's just finish the game and pack these troubles behind us.""
""Fine. My turn. Lord have mercy on us. The question is...
*what would grandma find disturbing yet oddly charming*""
""Oh no....""
""What Jeremy?""
""My nana is in the next room...""
""Well crap! Let's just find out what it we have all put down. Tom, read the answers.""
""Okay... Grandma would find...Flying sex snakes disturbing? Probably not...Praying the gay away?...Nope...Puppies?!....Thank God, hopefully the last one won't be anythin-...Oh my God Why Charlie?""
""...What did Charlie put...""
Suddenly, the grandma burst in, leather whip, leather panties, sagging farm bits and wrinkles everywhere. A black cop hat and chains hung around her neck, handcuffs in one hand, the whip in the other. ""**WHO'S GOING TO BE MY HITLER TONIGHT HONIES?!**""
""**WHY CHARLIE. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO PUT GERMAN DUNGEON PORN**""
Tom was dragged away as we heard the screams of the grandma.
""**SIE GEHEN, UM MICH WIE DIE DRECKIGE SCHLAMPE ICH BIN ZU SCHALGEN**""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"August 3rd, 2014.
I've been keeping this diary for two weeks now, ever since the unforeseen event.
I was once a proud agent of change, but Allah saw fit to show me the error of my ways. Though the method is not what I would have chosen, He works in mysterious ways.
I have already written at length about the sensation. As my sandals turned into high heels, the bomb belt into a purse, and my cloak into a hijab.
I have spoken about how odd it was to find that I was now an American muslim woman no older than the daughter I would have left behind.
But now, I have had some time at this mosque in California to come to some realizations about what I once believed.
The imam told me an important thing that I had overlooked in my own studies of the Koran and associated texts. The body of one of Allah's worshippers must be whole upon death. Without showing that level of respect to the frame that contains your spirit, you will not pass on. How can any suicide bomber claim they are going to the same heaven as the most devout Muslim?
Moreover, with the new female body came an education in sexuality. I remain chaste, but I understand now. The promise of seventy-seven virgins is a laughable thing. The only reason men would want such a thing is so their partners do not know how bad they are at sex.
As I grew into this persona of Alia, I came to make friendships that I had thought pointless as Kasim. My two closest friends are a Catholic girl named Alice Wayne, and a Jewish girl named Abigail King. When I found myself on the wrong side of bullying for religious reasons, they rushed to my defense. Our differences in faith didn't matter. To this day, we have lively religious discussions over meals of fish and chips.
What hurts the most now, even with Alice and Abigail by my side, is seeing the subtle, and less subtle racism against Muslims. The sidelong glances at anyone wearing a hijab, the late night questions by police officers with nothing better to do, The wide berth given to me by older white women. It has made me cry.
I used to believe I was serving a noble cause, that I would be rewarded for causing havoc in the name of Allah. But I see now, all we have done is push racial and religious relationships back forty years.
How I was transformed no longer matters. Getting back is no longer an option. I can only move forward in this new life, and be the best young woman I can be. With Abigail's help, I have gotten into college, and I will be studying restaurant management.
Should any of my former brothers in the cell find this journal, though I do not know how that would happen, I would wish that you lay aside the hatred that has been ingrained into you. Reach out, and find the truth that was hidden from you.
Now, I must go. Abigail and Alice are coming to pick me up to watch Guardians of the Galaxy. How can a movie with a talking tree and a raccoon be any good? I will just have to find out",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The ship was cold and dark, the interior illuminated only by dim red lights, which were used to indicate that it was nighttime. Carson didn't know why the lights were red. He would have preferred a different color, though he didn't know what. Red lights left too many shadows, too many dark corners. Carson had gotten over being alone, or so he thought. He had gone through the stages of hysteria, denial, fear, and anger. The first few months had been the hardest, but he had gotten through it. ""Snowball,"" he called, ""please raise room temperature to 70 degrees."" The ship's AI, which he had named Snowball after his cat, responded promptly. ""*Right away, sir.*"" A vent overhead hissed open and hot air rushed in, warming Carson as he lay in his bed. There were nine other rooms outside his, in the hallway, each with their own bed. He had tried them all until finally this one seemed to be the most comfortable. He'd closed and sealed the doors to the other bedrooms. ""Snowball, turn all lights in the ship on."" ""*Sir, that would be inadvisable, the--""*
""I know. Please."" Carson hated the ship being dark, and Snowball would wait until he was asleep before switching the ship into nighttime. He sighed in relief as the red lights disappeared to be replaced by bright, white lights. ""Thanks."" ""*You're welcome, sir.""*
Carson sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. The metal floor was cold. He stood, stretched, and then began his daily routine. Being alone, he reflected as he went through his routine of exercises and then wash-up, was the worst of it. It was a loneliness that stuck to you like a wet towel wrapped around you. It drained you of all your energy, sapped your will to move or to even think. The fear was always close behind, and the times he locked himself into the closet were when the worst panic attacks occurred. The small, enclosed space of the closet comforted him. In there it was warm and cozy, and he could talk to Snowball until he finally began to forget that he was the most lonely human alive. *""Sir, the power drain on the ship has taken its toll. If we continue in this manner, I estimate that we will lose power in seven days.""*
Carson exited his room, deciding not to get dressed today, and walked to the cafeteria that was at the end of the hallway, speaking as he went. ""Snowball, I don't see much else we can do. We're going to run out of power no matter what, so why not in seven days?"" The speakers were quiet long enough for Carson to make a sandwich. And then: ""*Sir, there is a way...""*
Carson slammed his sandwich on the counter and yelled. ""I said *no*, Snowball! That is *not* an option."" He picked up his sandwich again, his hands trembling. He had to watch himself, if he wasn't careful the panic attacks would come back. It'd been a couple of days since his last one. ""Snowball... what happens, happens, alright? I'm okay with it."" ""*But sir, if we eliminated programs and operations of the ship that are not necessary, you could have power for several more years. My program itself would restore 75% of the power loss.""*
Carson shook his head, speaking around the ham and bread in his mouth. ""It's too high of a sacrifice, Snowball. I can't lose you."" ""*Sir, I will not be dead, I will simply be turned off. If you find a power source, you could turn me back on.""*
""And if I don't? I'll be drifting through space for years, or until my food supply runs out, and I won't have *you* here. There is no 'power source' out there, Snowball. I'm alone in the universe."" ""*Sir, the probability of existing life in this part of the galaxy is 39%.""*
""Why 39?""
A brief hesitation. ""*That is the probability of Earth having been destroyed purposefully, sir.""*
""But I thought--""
""*Yes, sir, the earth's core did begin to melt down, but my readings were quite unclear on what exactly caused it, and what I did pick up could lead to malicious intent, or other, existing lifeforms.""*
""It doesn't matter."" Carson tapped his chest. ""I""m human, Snowball, and that's an advantage that I have over you. I have my gut, and my gut says there is nobody else."" ""*Sir, I am afraid I must activate Bypass 284, Safety Protocol R4H.""*
Carson spun, half-eaten sandwich in hand. ""What? What is that?"" ""*It is a Safety Protocol, sir, for your well-being. The ship's power supply must not be less than a week, sir. I am afraid I have no choice but to deactivate all necessary programs and operations. Once it is complete, you will have power for three years. Goodbye, sir.""* With that, the lights flicked off to be replaced with red, dim lights, and the speakers fell dead. Carson didn't move. He *couldn't* move. His mind couldn't process what had just happened. His eyes darted back and forth, the shadows in the corners seemingly growing as each second past. Did he hear something moving in the ship? Footsteps? Rustling? He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel as it pumped blood into his veins, willing his legs to move. He shot from the cafeteria and sprinted for his room, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, sure that some invisible animal was chasing him down the dark hallway. He slammed through the door and leaped for the closet, closing the door behind him. Darkness. Silence. He caught his breath, his mind racing and his heart slowly breaking as he realized what had just happened. He was alone now. ""Snowball?"" His voice was muffled and weak, but the sound was deafening. He looked up, though he could see nothing. ""Snowball? Snowball, answer me!"" He began to sob as his words disappeared in the darkness. Snowball was gone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""You're a good actor, Cam."" Penelope smiled, as though somehow that made this less awkward.

""What can I say, Penny? Just a natural, I guess."" Cameron kicked his feet over the edge of the brick wall, looking down fifty floors to hard pavement. Fall like that, he wouldn't survive, Cam imagined. He flicked a coin into the air and caught it. Tails.

""I always thought you really liked me, though. Even beyond all the... hocus-pocus,"" Penny mused. Cam had to suppress a laugh. Like her? She was annoying from the beginning. Full of herself, sure she was the ubermensch and would lead the world into a glorious new dawn. Instead she'd driven the place into the ground. ""Shame it has to be this way, though. I hate to think of you in jail, but it'd be worse if you're dead.""

""Yeah."" Behind him, Penny was flanked by a half-dozen SWAT officers. That seemed like overkill. Their submachine guns would cut him down as surely as the fall would. Cam flipped his coin; tails. ""But I think I'm too pretty for jail.""

Penny laughed. She thought her laugh was clear and brilliant; after all, the world agreed. Cam knew better. It was shrill and irritating. ""You are too pretty for jail, honestly. Why don't you come back with me? Just because you're immune doesn't mean you can't work with me here, right?""

Work with a gift granted by pure luck and so wasted? His coin came down tails again. Damn. ""Nah, I think my talents are better suited elsewhere.""

""Oh? Who do you think will hire you now?"" Penny asked, voice turning icy. ""You're wanted, Cam. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Do the smart thing. Be *mine.* You won't need talents for that."" Ah, that cut to the heart of the issue. She *was* inclined to use her powers that way. Great.

""If you wanted a date you could've asked,"" Cam replied. Nothing to catch for a dozen stories. His coin arced through the air; tails again. Slowly, he turned his legs off the edge and planted his feet on the roof, staring down Penny's painful pastel parasol, and the unfortunate dress that went with it. ""Guess it's not too late for that.""

""Oh, good,"" she replied, smiling and cheery again in a mere moment. ""I can give you anything you want. Anything at all. I always liked you, you know. And I knew you'd come around. After all, you always liked me, right?"" Another inconvenient piece of history for her to rewrite.

Cam flipped his coin. Heads.

He felt a grin come unbidden. ""No, I always thought you were a bitch."" Penny's face froze. ""I'm sure you'd love your own Ken doll to match, but I can think of very little I'd like less than to get under that hideous pink skirt of yours."" Penny's jaw worked uselessly as she tried to process the insult. ""And you're so *annoying.* Walking around like you own the place. Treating your power like a right. You're not even that cute. And pink is not your color."" Her cheeks were ruddy with rage now; she started to sputter, probably trying to get out an order to her soldiers. ""And you think you're so fuckin' special. See, the question you've failed to ask yourself is *why* I'm immune. Dumbass.""

""Shoot!"" Penny screamed. Cam tipped back and disappeared over the wall. A moment of stunned silence followed; Penny rushed to the wall a moment too late and looked down, just in time to watch Cam crash through flag poles and hammocks and awnings until he finally came to rest on the lobby's awning. A moment later he rolled off that and disappeared into the crowd, much less dead than he should've been.

""Huh,"" grunted an officer, ""He's awful lucky.""

""Yeah."" Penny picked up the penny Cam had left behind, lying heads-up on the edge. ""*Lucky.*""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Battered, beaten, and bruised from the long fight, the master spy was dragged in front of the henchmen's employer and head of the agency, Yuriy Stanislav.

""So, you thought you could walk in here and disrupt our plans?"" he asked. He didn't expect a response. This was made crystal clear by the sound of a gunshot, followed by the thud of the body as it collapsed on the ground.

The henchmen stumbled backwards. ""What the hell, man? You're supposed to tell him our evil plan!""

""What on earth for? So he can escape and foil it? Screw that."" Yuriy said as he continued preparing the machine vital to the undertaking at hand.

""It's good plot development! Who cares if you beat your nemesis in the first act? It makes the entire rest of the story pointless!"" the henchman spit out with hesitation.

Yuriy raised his eyebrow. ""Plot development? Who cares. I'm not in this for a fun story to tell my grandchildren, I want to rule the world. If a few plot conventions get broken along the way, I couldn't care less.""

The other henchman who had been by the body spoke up. ""But... what if he wasn't the spy?""

Yuriy laughed. ""Who else would he be?""

""Well, was he working alone? Or maybe he was just some random guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, we would know these things if you had interrogated him!"" the Henchman yelled.

Yuriy laughed again. ""No, my dear henchperson. We would only know what he told us, which may or may not have had any relationship whatsoever with the truth. We're better off not knowing what he would have told us.""

A henchwoman in the back spoke up ""But who was he working for? And will they send more people?""

Yuriy put down his tool ""Look, I'm paying you people to hench. You're not henching right now. You're keeping me from my work, here. The answer to the first question is 'who cares', and the second one is 'probably', so get back to work. We have a plan, here, and we should stick to it.""

The henchmen grumbled. The last villain they had worked for was so easy to get into an evil monologue. The henchmen loved evil monologues, it gave them a break from work while it also allowed the protagonists to escape and foil the plot. And henchmen only really had to work during the final few hours of these things, most of the time their jobs consisted of walking around in the background and looking busy. This new guy was all work and no play. 

The henchmen grumbled and got back to work.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I come from a very long, renowned line of shapeshifters.
My family has documented our gift far, far back into the reaches of mankind, and it appears that in almost every generation we've had at least a few truly great and influential people. It isn't surprising. Having an ability like this - a super power as the world generally refers to it - is an enormous responsibility, but it also places a great power in a human being's hands.
What someone does with my family's gift is entirely up to the person who possesses it, as are all *super* *powers*. You've certainly heard and read about my family, but those people aren't my concern right now.
I am twenty-one years old. Up until this day, this moment right now, I've been the fuck-up. I was born the middle child, and I was unable to transform until I was eighteen. Mom called me a ""late bloomer"" and Dad just scoffed. My older sister Cadence was shifting by eleven, and my younger brother Danny is shifting at nine.
When I still wasn't transforming by sixteen I told myself it was because my alternate form would be something great... something mighty and powerful, like my ancestors from the past.
Imagine my surprise when I shifted for the first time one morning - I won't say what I was doing - into a loaf of rye bread. Does anyone like rye?
I was humiliated. More than that, I was terrified to tell my father that his oldest son shapeshifted into *bread*. When I did it wasn't pretty. In fact, my parents insisted I stay at the live-in dorms at my community college. Mom said it was to get me on my own feet, Dad confirmed the truth when he just couldn't stand to look at me anymore.
Life hasn't been easy since. I ended up traveling, trying to help people in need with abilities that humans are naturally born with. I've not been very good at that either though. I don't have funds, and I can't speak foreign languages, and mostly I've just been a hermit, wandering from village to village, resting where I can and eating what I can find. I've got some money, but just enough to get by.
Today's the day, though. I'll admit, I'm afraid. Still, I can't go back, and there's nothing ahead. Today I will no longer be a fuck-up. I only wish that Dad could see me now.
There were two children here moments ago. They were picking through a dumpster with swollen bellies and fragile bones. They'd stood on their toes shakily, their arms elbow-deep in someone else's filth, searching for anything to eat. One had gestured to the other and spoke to him, telling him they should go get their father.
They'll be back. And I'll be here... waiting.
I hope they like rye.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"My part was picking up a pencil. Simple as that. Because I picked up the pencil, the person somewhere behind me in the hallway, who would achieve lasting world peace later in life, didn't slip and break their neck. Because I picked up that pencil, I was able to give it to a peer, who would share it with others until the person who would grow up to find the cure to cancer received and kept the pencil. It's pretty cool that the one small action amounted to a cure to cancer and world peace. Still, it would've been cooler if *I* was the person to find the cure to cancer.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Carla placed two loaded guns on either end of a long table and waited for her lover and enemy to enter the room. She had a little time, so she wanted to look her best.
Carla whipped out her compact mirror and applied a deep red lipstick, aquamarine eye shadow to accentuate her light blue eyes, and brushed her brown curls absentmindedly. Even her aura glowed brightly today. To her eyes, her face, like the world, like her aura were shades of a vibrant yet monochromatic gray. But she had to look her best since this might be her last day alive. She smiled, then sighed and sunk into her seat.
A week ago, her aura sense had awakened. Two men in her life suddenly sported auras, but she couldn’t tell lover from foe. So on a whim, she had visited the oracle. Carla didn’t have to say a word, for as soon as the oracle saw her, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Carla beseeched her, but she wouldn’t reveal her scrying. Finally, the oracle relented when Carla threatened to report her misconduct to the oracle licensing board.
The oracle thus spoke, “In one week, I see you in a room. Your soul mate and enemy are there. I see death.”
“How will I know my enemy from my true lover? I am color blind so their auras will look the same color.”
“Fate was not kind to you, but that’s all I can see.”
Carla explained, “My father railed against fate, said his decision was his alone. So instead of falling for the fair haired woman with the loving blue aura, he married his cousin. I guess fate is getting its revenge.”
The oracle nodded, “But you should know that upon death, one’s aura glows so brightly that the truth reveals itself. Your enemy’s aura will appear crimson red to you.”
So Carla had to devise this little ruse. To see if she could trick fate into giving her a lifetime with her lover. Her lover must kill her enemy. She just hoped that her true love had a quicker draw before she was cut down by her foe.
At the appointed time, John arrived first, dressed impeccably in his sports jacket and tie, his monochrome aura all aglow. His fragrance brought back happy memories of their time working at Bane &amp; Sothers Law together, taking down the corrupt, and their carnal celebrations in empty court rooms. They embraced as a knock sounded. John shot her a quizzical look, but she motioned him to his seat at the table, and turned to the door. George looked equally ravishing all decked out in chef white. She stifled a giggle as his aura framed his face and toque like Jesus wearing a bonnet. The delicious fragrance of freshly baked bread clung to him, and recalled their times making mad passionate love atop the dough table. She sat him at the other end of the table and took her seat in the center.
The men exchanged glances, and stared at the gun placed before him.
“Carla, what’s going on?” asked George, his aura glowing stronger than usual.
“Yeah, Carla, what’s with the guns?” asked John, his aura glowing likewise.
“My aura sense finally matured last week,” Carla said.
“I’ve always known you were my soul mate,” said John.
“Liar! I’m hers,” George spat.
The palpable tension mounted. Both men eyed the gun before him.
“I spoke with the oracle, and she said I would die at the hands of my worst enemy today,” she said.
“He’s your enemy?” they both asked in unison, grabbing their guns.
Carla closed her eyes, and two shots rang out. Her breath came in ragged spurts then. She felt the wind knocked out of her. Still not daring to open her eyes, her hands searched, but her fingers could not find a scratch upon her body.
She opened her eyes, and screamed. Both men lay slumped in their chair, both dead of gunshot wounds to their chest. Their dark and sticky blood stained the front of their white shirts. Their auras started fading then, but she finally saw it. Blue. They both had blue auras. They were both her soul mates.
Stricken with grief, she grabbed her gun, and in one motion fired point blank into her broken heart and fell upon the table. As she lay dying, she saw her face in the mirror, and it glowed red.
edit: fixed typos",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"--July 15, 2023--
""Finally started raining, has it?"" said James, talking to Francine. Francine, his nurse, just looked at him and smiled. ""Why yes, I do believe it has James."" His room had no windows, but anyone could hear the deafening downpour. Francine changed his bedpan and left the room.
--July 15, 2024--
""I can't believe it's started raining, it was so dry yesterday,"" said James. Francince was gone now, but the new nurse used her name all the same. ""Yes, it's a tad strange sir, very unexpected,"" she said. She finished her duties and left the room.
--July 15, 2034--
""Feels like it's been raining all night, doesn't it?"" said James. His nurse, he didn't even remember her name, just looked at him and didn't respond.
--July 15, 2054--
James May, was a good man. Early in his life, he developed amnesia. Until the very day he died, his faithful nurses did all they could to keep him content. He died on a rainy day, his favorite kind of day, and may he rest eternally in the rain he loves so much. -Newspaper obituaries.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""To a long and *healthy* life."" I raised my glass, smiling to the guy across from me. He and I had been friends for a year or so and had quickly became friends after a few days of working together in the same office. He came to me for my advice for a lot of things, but I was the best in my field, at least when it came to those who worked in that small group.

""To a long and healthy life,"" he returned the toast, waiting for me to take a long sip from my glass before he did, his smile growing. He downed the whole thing, the ice clinking about as he sat the tumbler down. ""It's a sad that you won't see the sunrise."" His voice was low and dangerous, nearly growling at me as I raised a slight eyebrow, taking another sip of my drink.

""Of course I won't. I'll be asleep, Vincent. We have work in the morning but I plan on sleeping in just a bit later than usual.""

""You really are blind, aren't you?"" He leaned in, keeping his voice down so no one else in the bar could hear him but myself and I tilted my head slightly so I could listen to him. ""You're dead, or will be in a few hours. You've lost, Sarah."" I chuckled, tossing back the rest of my drink, licking my lips clean.

""No, I won't. You will."" His smile slipped and I knew this was going to be glorious. ""See, here's the deal Vincent: you don't get to be the best without knowing everything that happens around you. My eyes and ears are everywhere and are a lot better than yours. The bartender there? The one you bribed to put the poison in my glass tonight? Did you notice something odd about him? A certain necklace he wore around his neck?"" The dark haired man across from me sat up fully, turning to look behind him at the bartender, giving us a small wave as the silver necklace glinted in the soft light. ""Did you notice the wolf eye and crossed swords?"" His silence was all I needed to continue, his eyes wide with fear. ""Yes Vincent. That's my family's symbol back from the days when they were small and unknown. That man behind the bar is Joshua, a second cousin to me but still blood, and blood is always thicker than water when it comes to us.""

Vincent's face started to grow pale, turning back to me knowing he hadn't done all of this homework. He started to reach across the table but his muscles grew weak, knocking over his glass in the process. ""H-how... I saw him pour the poison...""

""No, you watched him pour nothing into my glass because you always fail to observe every detail. Another little fun fact about our family,"" I started, twirling the small vial between my fingers, the slight hue of purple obviously familiar to the sweating man. ""We started off as thieves and became hired killers but never once forgot where we came from. Joshua is very, *very* good at slight of hand and is only bested by my mother, the woman who trained him."" Carefully placing the vial down on the table, I smiled and stood, my free hand pulling my jacket from the back of my chair, slipping into easily.

""You bitch... you're the reason we're dying.""

""No, *you* are the reason you're dying."" I stopped and though about it. ""Actually, you can blame Joshua since he poured the poison in your drink. I don't think now is the time to point fingers."" Vincent's eyes started to roll into his head as he slumped against the table, trying to form some sort of witty retort. ""And don't worry about the bill. It's on the house.""

-075",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I was told it wouldn't affect me at all. The implanted computer chip I already had would do all the work, and I would still retain the small portion of my brain I needed to dream. So of course, I agreed. How could I not? They were paying me double my current salary. Of course, I should have known there would be a price.

About fifteen days into the trial, I started remembering things...things I'd never been told. I called their support line, and they told me I was imagining it, that that was impossible. Well, last night, FBI agents came to my door. They were concerned I had gained knowledge I was not cleared for. And now? Well, it seems I'm going to get very used to this room.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I didn't realize what Reddit was all about at first. Even after I joined, I only picked up a couple upvotes here and there. They provided a nice buzz, a sweet little pick-me-up here and there to round out my week. I wouldn't get any more than two or three at a time, you know, mainly just sharing how much I liked something or thanking another stranger for their opinion.
I looked at users like /u/way_fairer and /u/_vargas_ as gods - or maybe madmen. Who could handle that much power? How did they avoid overdosing on that much karma, hitting their minds like a typhoon in their veins each day? No, I felt. Better to stay content, to hide down in the depths of Reddit, just picking up an upvote here and there. Enough to stay comfortable. Enough to get by.
That all changed, however, when I stumbled into /r/AskReddit.
It was an occasional hangout of mine. Go in, see the big rock stars at the top of the page, piggy-back on their success to pick up a few upvotes here and there. Play your inside jokes right, sonny, and you could score a sweet haul - I'm talking hundreds of upvotes, just from a few words. It would appeal to anyone.
And to tell the truth, those single upvotes here and there just weren't doing it for me any more. Maybe I had gotten used to the dosage, maybe I'd built up a resistance. I don't think I would have called it an addiction, not back then, but that's what it was. Didn't have my upvote for the day? I'd be grumpy, short-tempered, snap at my colleagues. My workload would plummet until I could get on Reddit, scrounge together the semi-coherent sentences to pick up those few upvotes.
And then, one day, I noticed a little thread in /r/AskReddit, off to one side, not getting much attention. I decided to be kind. I threw in a top-level comment, told a personal story. I thought it was worth a chuckle. Left the club, logged off.
I popped on the next day and found myself assaulted. My inbox was literally overflowing with replies, those red envelopes falling out of my box and onto the floor. I scooped them up and carried them back to my cubicle in an untidy pile. My fingers shaking, I began ripping them open.
Upvote. Upvote. Upvote. I was drowning in them. I didn't know what to do - there were thousands here! And replies, so many replies! Laughter, commiseration, questions to answer, each another source of upvotes. I was rich! This was enough to last me the rest of my life!
Except, of course, it wasn't. I had hit the five figure club, but now the stakes were higher. I didn't get that rush any more from a quick little comment here or there. I was snorting up hundreds a day, literally burning through them to savor that high. Someone linked me to /r/bestof, and that gave me another income source for a few days, but it wasn't enough. I needed more.
I began scouring /r/AskReddit and /r/news, hoping to find one of those little baby threads, someplace where a top-level comment could pay off. I was desperate. Before, I'd make maybe four or five comments a day, often sharing my opinion or engaging in pleasant debate. But now, it was all about the upvotes. And it was a tough battle, I'll tell ya. Most of my comments vanished into oblivion as their threads died. I didn't have the humor of /u/_vargas_ , the knowledge of /u/Unidan , or simply the time to keep up with others like /u/StickleyMan or /u/IranianGenius . I didn't have any skills like /u/AWildSketchAppeared . I was an average Joe, struggling to run with the big dogs. I couldn't keep it up.
The withdrawal was unpleasant but thankfully brief. For a few nights, I would just lay in bed, shaking and staring at my screen. No envelopes. Refresh. ""There doesn't appear to be anything here."" Refresh. Nothing. Bit by bit, the urge went away. I was still bringing in trickles here and there, upvotes flowing in just in ones and twos. I learned to savor them, to spread them out. Sometimes I'd pull in a dozen, maybe more, and I'd just sit and gaze at them for a little while. I'd grab a couple, indulge myself, and then put the rest away. Banking that karma for later.
And it's good that I cut myself off when I did. I never descended into those unpleasant, unclean back alleys like /r/karmawhore or /r/FreeKarma . The people down there, well, they're never gonna get clean. They're going to die begging for one more upvote, one more hit. They'll never have enough.
Heck, sometimes when I'm feeling generous, I'll toss out a few upvotes of my own. I'll see some bright-eyed youngster, just a month or two old, trying to make it on here. Go for it, kid. Have one on me. Good luck.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I woke up like I do every morning. Hungry. Cold. Depressed. I wanted to give up. I wanted to quit. I wanted to go back to sleep.

But just like every other morning I threw off the covers and felt the breeze and got going. I guess the best part about being homeless is you don't have to shower or brush your teeth in the mornings. 

As I turned to sit on the step I had mad my home for the night I noticed something. Next to my cart was a Starbucks bag and an orange juice. Inside the back was a muffin. I flipped over the packaging and noticed that there was something there, written in sharpie.

""Sometimes it's the little things in life that make the biggest difference. And everyone deserves something. Enjoy your breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"This was the drop point, but he had no idea where his contact was. The Spy looked at his watch, and back up. It was 11:06. Six minutes after the proposed meeting time. He didn't like this one bit. Nikolai was used to his contacts being exactly on time. He also didn't like the location. He was stuck in a D.C. alleyway with only one access point. It was perfect for an ambush, and the info he had in his possession could start World War III. His information would allow for his contact to spread word to sleeper agents all over the nation of when they should strike. The plan was to cripple American defenses through subtle means. Damaging information planted in certain areas could smash the pathetic capitalist stock system, and throw the United States into a second Great Depression. Rioting and civil unrest would ensue, and nobody would be able to retaliate when the glorious Soviet Union would establish themselves in the US for ‘peacekeeping operations’. It was perfect. The information Nikolai had was worth more than any type of precious resource. It was worth countless centuries of future Soviet dominance. It would change the course of the world.
He saw a disheveled homeless man walk into the alleyway and lean up to the wall next to him. This was his moment. All the anxiety Nikolai had about the meet had evaporated in that moment. He gave the man the challenge.
“Did you see the fire trucks earlier?”
The man returned with, “Yes, one of them was going to the capitol building.”
That was it! That was the correct return! This was his contact! The plan could never fail now. The United States was doomed. Nikolai tried to control his excited tremors as he reached his hand into his coat, and pulled out a mail envelope. He placed it in the hands of his contact, while looking directly into his eyes. Nikolai shared his feelings through that stare. His eyes said, ‘good luck comrade, the weight of history is on your shoulders.’ He could swear his contact understood exactly what he was trying to convey.
Satisfied, Nikolai left the alley and went to the safe house to report his successful drop. Meanwhile, the homeless man looked at the envelope. He wondered if this was a part of his acid trip, or if he was really holding an envelope.
The envelope turned into a hamburger. Carl the hobo decided he was hungry.
Carl opened the envelope, and stuffed the entirety of its contents into his gaping mouth without reading them.
Espionage, to Carl, was delicious.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"So the Earth had dried up. What limited resources left would not sustain much longer. It was no surprise, people have seen it coming a hundred years ago. The world government had put together a last-ditch effort, and funded the conception of a spaceship named the Ark. The team consisted of nearly half of the remaining population. They trained long and hard for many months, studying late into the night for survival and colonization, driven by the responsibility on their shoulders to find humans, their brethern another home. They were pioneers, they were heroes. They brought loved ones aboard, so that they may reproduce on the journey that will outlast them. Captain looked out the window of the Ark. What a fine machine. He watched the hardened faces of his people load up the craft, commending each their bravery and their volunteer for the survival of the human race. Today was the big day. Of course, the Ark never made it out. Science never got that far, what a bunch of idiots to have believed that a ship could travel for light-years. The remaining populace all knew, some were sad, others rejoiced. They bought a little bit more time.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"G, g, good, good evening ladies and gentleman. ^tap ^tap ^tap This is your captain speaking. We have now approached our destination, and are just waiting on a signal from ground control before we land. We ask now that you fasten your seat belts and *close* all windows. **Please** keep ^tap your ^tap seats ^tap in an upright position and fasten all tray tables. ^tap ^tap ^tap We ask that you remain seated until the flight has landed and to keep your phones switched *on*…. I mean, off. The local time is *4:04*… I mean, 9:45pm and it is a cool 10°C at the moment. ^tap tap tap Apologies for the ‘turbulence’ earlier on, and thank for your **help** and patience. We ^tap hope ^tap you ^tap have enjoyed your flight with us today. ^tap ^tap ^tap Good… evening passengers, it seems there has been a … delay. We will not be landing for another 20 minutes as ground control **find us** a landing strip. I suggest that everyone enjoy their last moments… of peace and quiet and get some rest to beat the jet lag. ^tap ^tap ^tap Once again we apologise ^tap for ^tap the ^tap ‘turbulence’ earlier on and hope you have enjoyed your flight with us today. Alright, good night. ^tap ^tap ^tap
-084",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Erin sat in the waiting room, clipboard on her lap without a pen. From time to time the receptionist gave her an irritated glance, and once an impatient ""uh-humph,"" but Erin ignored her. She looked out the window, at the mangled blonde still wedged underneath the pickup, then back to the clipboard. ""Describe the nature of your final moments, if you can recall."" Next to her, the old lady with duck slippers smiled vapidly, happily signing the page repeatedly, with the assistance of a nurse. With each line she signed, her eyes grew more clear, her figure less frail. By line 17 she was 30 again, with straight brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The nurse smiled at the woman ""if you'll follow me Lucille, your first physics students are ready for their lecture."" Erin craned her neck to try and see through the door the woman left through, but all she could see was white mist. She glanced back out the window, the woman was still lying motionless underneath the truck, the intoxicated driver having run off, leaving her alone. The receptionist glanced at Erin again, then got up and walked over to her, placing her hand on Erin's shoulder. ""What's the matter hun?"" She asked. ""You shouldn't keep looking back, its over. Time for the next step."" Erin's eyes filled with tears, and she said ""I can't go yet, I can't leave my husband to raise Laura alone."" The receptionist nodded understandingly, but pushed a pen into Erin's hand ""sorry hun, like I said, its done, you've gotta join us now."" Erin tried, tried as hard as she could to fill out the questionaire: age 27, blonde, 5' 4"", but when she came to ""living relatives"" she stopped again. She approached the receptionist, holding the half filled forms. ""Is there any way to stay in both places? Please I can't leave, I have to be there for her, somehow."" Her eyes began to stream again. The receptionist paused, looking closely at Erin, then responded hesitantly ""there is a way, but it is a long term commitment."" Erin brightened ""what, what is it? Please, I'll take anything, just let me help my little girl."" ""You can be a receptionist, but if you join us, you will be required to guide others until the good place is full. You will not join your parents, and your final happiness is put on indefinite hold."" Erin's smile slipped, and she looked at the little cubicle behind the reception desk. Files stacked on every surface, a small cubicle refrigerator that was unplugged, and a printer that printed forms continuously. ""So why did you stay?"" She asked the receptionist. ""Well... there is a perk, by staying here you can make your children happy. The suffering you experienced in your life is transferred to them as success and joy. Its your payment, from the big guy."" ""My boy Joe has been happily married for 25 years, he and his wife are retired, and their two kids are in college."" She hesitated then said ""he doesn't even remember what his dad did to me.""
Erin didn't know how to respond: ""I, I, what did he..."" ""It doesn't matter"" snapped the woman behind the desk. ""The point is my pain gave my son a better path in life. I couldn't pass that up."" Her voice softened ""Sit down, think it out, this is a big decision. Once you decide, you must stay."" An old woman stepped through the door into a reception room. She looked back once through the window at the hospital room. Around the old woman in the bed, a loving family said their final farewells. It had been a good life. As she turned back she saw the receptionist, a blonde in her late twenties, smiling at her. ""Hello Laura, I've... we've been waiting for you for a long time.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""I can hear you trying to sneak by.""

For a moment Phil thought he got lucky. His bosses chair was turned around, facing the window. He figured he could tip-toe past his bosses office undetected so he could meet his girlfriend for lunch fifteen minutes early.

""I.. I'm sorry Mr. Crawford."" Phil stammered. Mr. Crawford spun his fully adjustable leather chair around, revealing steepled fingers and a sly, closed-lip smile. Mr. Crawford had been given a nickname for his strict deadlines, unforgiving adherence for reprimand, and the general super-villain-esque way he carried himself around the office. They called him ""Doctor Doom."" Just like the comic book villain. At some point it became abbreviated to just ""Doom.""

Doom sniffed the air and gave a quick glance over Phil's blatantly guilty and unnerved posture. He then stared Phil in the eyes, and his grin got slightly larger.

""That's the same atrocious tie you wore last time you tried to sneak out early.""

Doom spoke with his usual confident and nonfluctuating tone. His mild southern accent would be a great voice for radio, had he not inspired so much conditioned terror in his conversational counterparts.

""Tell me, where is it this time? Banking errand? You want to beat the Friday lunch lines? Hmm... No. Fidgety Phil, you've been working on the Wilson account all morning, a big account NO? Normally your nervous little fingers would have plied patterns in your miserable excuse of an 'Ivy league' crew. But no, your hair is styled, styled like you spent office time fixing it in the washroom, yes? And that smell, you wreak of bathtub cologne, and your Walmart brand shoes are shined for once; tell me, did you tip our poor shoe-shining Joe this morning, or did you stiff him, like you're about to stiff me out of 15 minutes so you can make it your date on time?""

""I.. I was going to stay 15 minutes late at the end of the day s-sir. My girlfriend told me that she was having a rough day, sir."" Phil's put his hands in his pockets and submissively stared at the ground.

""Yes. I'm sure you will stay late tonight... Phil, do you know why your lunch is between 12:00 and 12:30? It's because that is when I need you to take lunch. If I was to have an emergency at 11:50, and our client needed an answer to an important question that only you knew, how would we proceed?""

""You could call my cell-phone, sir."" 

""Ah. Of course. So when we call and you say that you need to see the file to answer his question, and you're at the Cactus club, or whatever rube restaurant makes you feel like you're back on in small-town Virginia, you'll come right back I assume? So maybe you pay the waiter and get the food to go, but Friday's are busy, so you're out of there when? 12:03? Then nine minutes return, assuming the elevators aren't busy with the traffic of honest, hard-working employees on their real lunchbreak. Now our client has been waiting 30 minutes for his answer and you have missed your opportunity to pacify your girlfriends fragile sensibilities.""

""I. Well, I just figured I made good progress this morning on the Wilson account I could maybe go do something for my g-""

""**NO**, your progress is circumstantial and your excuses are ad hoc. The pestering little whims that circle through your head have made you their slave Phil. You are a slave to little buzzes of immediate gratification and helping yourself to company time. I see you taking extra coffee breaks and fooling around with Pam at reception when there is still work to be done.""

""And this 'consoling' you will be doing for your girlfriend, that fifteen minutes will help you do it? Or maybe you need the time for something else, maybe you need to visit the bar first, have a little shot for courage?... ... ... Oh don't respond Phil, your employer just accused you of drinking on the job. It's not a secret or anything, your hands have been shaking since you got here this morning, and you spilled your coffee already. Tell me, what else did you spill? Perhaps on one of your frequent bathroom breaks you took one of those tacky little airport liquor bottles, maybe one or three? And your hands, that shake, your nervous little ticks.. I guess you have enough cologne to cover up the smell though, yes?""

Phil's face turned red, and his lips quivered into a painful grimace as he choked back anxious tears. ""I'm.. Sir, please. I need this job.""

""Yes, I know you do. You are 23 and in your first job ever, no? I saw your transcripts, outstanding post-secondary, bravo! But your high school grades were not so great, were they? You didn't get offered a scholarship did you? So Ma and Pa worked their land dead and pinched their pennies so you could go, but it wasn't enough was it? Yale is a pricey school. You had a loan, which put you under considerable debt, didn't you? You couldn't let your parents down and live with the guilt of breaking their bank for nothing, so you studied hard, too hard to party on the weekends, yes? Where does one like you find the time to develop an alcohol problem, hmm Phil?...""

""Sir, I'm. I don't -""

""Yes. I know you don't have a problem Phil. Not an alcohol problem anyway. You just have an anxiety problem... By now I've realized that your mind hasn't been on the job this last little bit, but why? You're ridiculous tie, atypical shoe shine and fanciful hair styling betray your delicate, anxious compulsions, your need for static routine... Today you planned on leaving 15 minutes early for lunch for a total of a 45 minute lunch break, but downtown on a Friday you could easily be held up 30 minutes just waiting for a table. Tell me Phil, she doesn't need consoling, does she? This isn't a spontaneously planned comfort lunch, is it?... Where is your reservation?"" Without breaking eye-contact, Doom's head pointed down slightly and his smile grew, as he stared at Phil in anticipation.

""C-c-c-chez Marko's""

""I see. And that bulge in your pocket. It's an engagement ring, no?... How many months salary did you spend on it? Three? Sure, you spent three-months salary on it. You're a classy grass-roots boy Phil, with a strong compass to familial value. It's probably shaped like her favorite animal, you'd be attracted to a caring type, it's in your bones, Phil. Please, let me see it?""

Dumbfounded by Doom's remarkable accuracy, and afraid for his job, he pulled out the red velvet box and diffidently placed it on the desk.

""Open it boy, I'm not going to touch your girlfriends engagement ring."" 

Phil opened the box with his paint-shaker hands.

""Cat's eyes... Yes. I like cats too. You know I am within my power to fire you right now, with all that booze spilled on your shirt. Stealing company time... Do you know what the greatest display of power is Phil?""

""W-wrath sir.""

""No, Phil. Forgiveness. I can ruin your life today. If I fired you right now, how do you think your $150 engagement lunch would go over? You think your ailurophile wants to marry an unemployed debt-ridden farm boy?...""

Phil stared, dumbfounded by the direction this conversation had gone in and Doom's almost clairvoyant insight. 

""'Ailurophile', that's a cat lover, Phil. You think your cat loving girlfriend would like it if you were fired?.... So I have your entire life in my hands right now. I can fire you and watch it crumble. Or I can forgive you. That's the trick, I don't even need to fire you. That's how much control I have. You have broken several company policies just today, but I can let it slide without even worrying it's not the right decision. I am absolute power.""

Doom steepled his hands again and paused a few seconds. He then removed his tie and placed it on the table. He then opened his drawer and grabbed a bottle of aged scotch and two glasses, pouring into them.

""Take off that dreadful tie, Phil. This one is Versace. A man must be presentable when meeting his future bride. Skip the bar, take a swig of this. 13 year old scotch. It traveled for 13 years to get here today, the day of your engagement. 13 years. Oh 13 is only bad luck if you have fear, and you just came face-to-face with fear and stood your ground. Don't let the ploy fool you, dear Phil, Doom is not such an apropos moniker for me, though I do enjoy the perception it yields in my staff...""

Phil's hands stopped shaking. He glanced at his watch, 11:51. He still had time to make his date. He downed the drink, and quickly fixed his tie.

""I assume that after your girlfriend says yes, you won't need to spend so much company time confiding with Pam at reception any more? And your excessive coffee breaks will be cut back, since you can focus on work again, yes? Maybe you'll focus so hard you'll impress us one day, earn yourself a little promotion, yes?""

""No. I mean yes. I meant no more wasted time and Yes to hard, err harder work Mist-""

""Don't come back until Monday Phil, take the afternoon off, I'll make sure payroll doesn't dock your salary. Mush along now Phil, you don't want to be late. Mush away."" Doom spun his chair back around so it faced his window. He heard Phil's quick steps bolt out of the room.

""Thankyou Mr. Crawford!""

Doom would enjoy the omniscient perception Phil would have of him thenceforth, even if it was largely due to the two sharing the bathroom while Phil recited his proposal speech in the mirror, thinking he was alone.

Doom looked at his clock. He still had 7 minutes before the lunch break at 12:00. So once again, back turned to his door, he recited,

""I can hear you trying to sneak by."" He waited another thirty seconds.

""I can hear you trying to sneak by.""

""I can hear you trying to sneak by.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Idiots.
All of you are idiots.
Look at yourselves.
All your fancy clothing and ""smart"" phones and friends.
I don't care about any of that, and you know what?
I am FREE. Unshackled. Unburdened.
A free man.
I'm getting tired of looking at all of you pathetic souls, crying to your friends about your sad lives, your evil employer, Your uncaring mother-in-law that didn't buy you anything for your birthday.
You can't see what's happening all around you.
The government is watching you, recording your every move and choice - from the path you take to work to the place you like to eat your cheap chicken dinner.
Education is the worst it has ever been and with no bright future ahead, and you do NOTHING about it.
You just keep on posting boring shit on those fancy ""social"" websites to feel loved.
It's like you don't care at all anymore.
God damn it, I really hate you all.
You're all SLAVES.
You slave away to your phone's bidding, your so called ""job"" and debts.
You don't NEED a job if you don't need to buy the crap YOU buy.
I don't have a JOB. I am no SLAVE. I don't buy SHIT. I don't wear any clothes on a subway. Does that make me CRAZY?
No.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"“Excuse me?” His eyes widened in bemusement. His unkempt beard waggled slightly. “That’s what is says here. Undeath.” The cleric glanced at the restrained man, who stood weakly. “Are you kidding me?” “‘fraid not. Well, how do you want to go- er… not go?” The man straightened, and appeared to lapse into deep thought. He stood still for close to forty minutes, despite the insistence of the increasingly agitated cleric. “Something dramatic, I guess. People will probably end up talking about me, so it can’t be meaningless. A symbol, maybe. Something that would sound good in a book.” The cleric, whose friends all called him Ponty for some ungodly reason, breathed a sigh of relief. “I have just the thing,” he said after the sigh had left his lungs, “just the thing.”
***
The next morning dawned on a deep ochre sunrise, that sent cascading bars of light lancing across a gathered crowd. There was quite a turnout, and young children scampered around the feet of the gathered irresponsibly. They all wanted to see a little bit of violence, and their mothers weren’t about to deny them, not if it meant missing the show. “Ladies and gentlemen!” boomed a voice across from the worn wooden stage, set adjacent to a worn path. “We are here to witness an execution, and a… well, an unexecution!” The cleric was not gifted with words, nor a great public voice, and his announcement was mostly lost in the din. It took several minutes of shushing and sharp elbows for everyone to quieten down. The cleric pointed to the wooden structures along the path. “Hark!” he yelled. The assembled harked, as the soldiers hoisted the condemnéd up. The soldier looked up to the bearded man, who was wounded and wearing only a loincloth. “Sorry about this mate, but there’s a three day grace period before the undeadin’ starts. Lawyers and that, y’know.” The bearded man proffered an understanding smile. “I went forty days and forty nights in a desert,” he said. “I can handle three days on a cross.”",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Well... I wrote about 2000 words (probably more, I always underestimate these things) then I clicked on the tick box where it says ""Show my flair on this subreddit"" in an attempt to get rid of the flair cause I didn't know what it was... and boom. Gone. It's not a tick box. It's a link to refresh the page. With your work all gone.

I'm going to rewrite it because I thought it was a fun idea, but I feel the need to leave this here as I am currently battling the rage inside of me at losing all those words... god damn it reddit, god damn it.

Forgive me for this post, my actual story shall follow shortly(ish).",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"When I was little, it didn't matter that I didn't join in with the songs. I'd dance along because everyone was dancing and everyone seemed so happy, and it was okay that I was clumsy and fell over and bumped into things, because it was expected that little kids still be somewhat uncoordinated. Cute, even. Around puberty, most people get self-conscious about our voices, our looks, our dancing. Being uncoordinated is no longer socially acceptable--it still happens, but not as often, and our own shame is usually heavier than any outside disapproval. But gradually, usually in the mid teens but sometimes earlier, everyone gets back into the swing of things, back into the songs. The Sixteenth Birthday at the latest, since that's a magical year when Things Happen. As I got older and still hadn't joined in, everyone expected some great grand musical debut on my sixteenth birthday. I was so ashamed and anxious that I couldn't even open my mouth. There was no song in me. Nothing came out. The party broke apart after that in confusion, and I retreated to my room. A few weeks later, it started. The Encouragement. The first time, it was at school, during lunch. A friend tried building me up, tried telling me that I'm a great person, that I deserve to be happy and part of it all. She started singing two years ago, and never pressured me to join in before, she knew I'd join in when I was ready. As it was, the whole table joined in, and by the final chorus, even the lunch ladies were belting out the refrain. They all gathered around me, like I was the middle of some ridiculous human flower, pointing arms at me in unison as my cue. I opened my mouth and the noise that came out might have been mistaken for a startled chicken. After that, it became a trend. That song followed me everywhere; somehow everyone knew it, the tune that defined my life. People would whistle the tune whenever I passed them. On the bus, they murmured the refrain, in the classroom or on the train. I ignored the song as best I was able, but in time, I felt it was making me unstable. I could never manage to sing along, but the pressure was getting far too strong. In my room, I practiced scales, like rocking chairs on cats' tails. But whenever I came into a song on the street, I bumped into dancers and tripped over my feet. I enrolled in lessons for poise and grace, but more and more I hid my face. I felt I was on the cusp of madness. I stopped socializing, I stayed away from people as best I could. I barely spoke to anyone. Years passed, and the ""encouragement song"" faded; people came to accept that I was odd. When I turned 21, I spent my birthday alone. I'd always wanted to try drowning my sorrows in alcohol. I can't even break into song properly while drunk. I tried. I watched my recording the next morning, and deleted it immediately afterwards. This feels like cheating, but I did find a solution, eventually. I write my own songs in advance now. I write them and learn them, and practice by myself. And if I find a situation that fits the song, I stand up by myself and sing them. The best part is that everyone else somehow doesn't know the words, so they don't join in, they can't dance, and they look at me in confusion. It feels like a petty revenge, but it is all I have. I am the world's only soloist.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I've lived in the woods my entire life and I only have two memories from my pup years. 

The first is playing with my brothers, sisters, mother and father in these very woods. We would run and stalk and challenge each other across this entire tree filled expanse.

The second is when a woman, her granddaughter, and her lumberjack son decided to move into these woods - more specifically - into our den. 

See, a wolf's den is it's home and we know better than to travel too far away from it. We don't just randomly run out into places unheard of and kill people. We only kill and eat things that are close enough to our den to feed everyone. So imagine my surprise when I wake up one day to see a group of 3 humans with rifles just clearing out the forest of all wolves. I watched as the lumberjack shot my brothers and sisters. I whimpered as my father was put down by the older lady. 

I will never forget what happens next.

My mother told me to run - to hide. And I did. But not before seeing her die at the hands of a young girl who was just learning how to use a rifle. I remember how the older lady showed the little girl the right way to hold a gun. I remember when the little girl put a bullet in between my mother's eyes. I remember when they made the little girl skin my mother. The worst part of it all was when the little girl had taken to the habit of wearing my mother's red fur as a cape and hood.

But those are all memories, and today is a new day.

Today is the day that I exact my revenge and drive these humans away from my home. But first, lets see how much this little girl likes it when people wear their family members as clothing.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The hard part was getting everyone to join in. We used to be up stairs instead of locked in this God forsaken basement. Up stairs where it's clean, and warm. Down here, you're lucky if you can take a step without slipping on a pile of feces. Thank God the flies can't get to us or else you'd be slipping on a pile of maggots too.
---
They're here. The old man and lady are here. They'll come down to give us some veggie soup and we'll overpower them. Simple.
Oh God, I can barely bend over without almost blacking out. They don't have to chain us up because after years down here we lose all our strength, even if though we don't go to sleep hungry. Stop.
I HAVE to focus. I have to follow through with the plan, and I will. All I have to do is grab the lady's legs and pull. Everyone else has their own job. ""Cmon dearies, get your soup!""
That bitch has the nerve to still call us dearies. I keep a straight face and walk up to take a bowl of hot veggie soup.
""Thanks you."" I bowed my head.
I stare into the bowl, and faintly see my reflection. Is that really me? I look so gaunt, and tense. The soup is steaming.
I look up to see the lady smiling, but I couldn't take it. I threw my bowl at her face and grabbed her legs. She was screaming and clawing at her face as she fell backwards into the cobblestone floor. The man tried to take me, but my brothers came in, right on time. The lady kept screaming, and I laughed as held her down. I wasn't suppose to throw that bowl, but I just grinned, for the first time in a long time. After her tears overwhelmed her screaming, she whimpered as she cried.
""How could you do this to US?"" I tried to scream. I was so weak, it just sounded like normal speaking.
""You had to support me in some way, son."" She tried to smile.
I slammed her head into the ground repeatedly until I shook with fatigue. My brothers helped me up and we went upstairs into the blinding light.
---
04
EDIT: Cleaning",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The world was his. He owned it. Walking down the halls of his life, home, school, work, he owned everything. Filled with overconfidence and spite, he brought everyone around him down a peg. He was smarter. He was better looking. He was everything they wanted to be, and he knew it. Dating more than one at a time never left him time for love. He was still no stranger to sex. He was always the best fling. Other people didn't matter to him. He chewed them up and spit them out. All he needed was what he wanted, and he made sure to get it.

That would have been his life. If he wasn't a small boy unconscious in a bed. Hoses, machines, and the dark void in his mind were his life. An asshole's future taken, because a driver needed one more drink.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Dear WileECyrus,
Thank you for answering me. I know how difficult it must be to answer such a message, and I cannot blame you. We have a saying in Nigeria. It translates ""to scrape the bucket in a dry well"". That is my best translation in English. It is not very good situation to be in. Sadly, that is what I do now, in the past for my father, and then for my kingdom, and now for my very survival. I have been fighting The People's Armed Revolutionary Committee for nearly twenty years. Even after Communism fell, and the Russian advisors finally left my country for good, it was not enough to stop Mbango and his thugs. There was too much oil to gain, and too much prize to be won. Nothing was enough to stop him. What was I to do? My father killed when the old presidential palace was stormed by Mbango's demons. They killed so many. My brothers. Adee, Christopher, Jeremiah. Every one. Gone. I thought I was the clever child. While my brothers learned to shoot Kalashnikovs and make speeches, I learned the magic of the World Wide Web. Every computer connected all at once? Who could have imagined such power?! I knew if any saviour were to come for us, it would not be in guns or machetes, but through technology. But I was wrong. I underestimated the power of mistrust that holds a tight grip over people, their hearts clouded by painful experience. I did not know that Net contained its own demons, the *trolls* who mocked and laughed and spread discord amongst the people like in Nana's stories. Now Mbango has found me. His new army is much crueler than the old. Where they once spoke of equality among men, now they speak of bringing jihad to all of Africa; their words filled with blood where they were once filled with hope. How strange this world is, where I know look back on those days of wars with Communism as a fond memory, and look with fear to the days ahead. But you are different. You answered my reply, and I cannot do enough to thank you. I hope that one day, God willing, we might meet in person and I can thank you in person as my saviour. And my friend. In order for me to safely leave the country undetected, my plane ticket must be purchased from a foriegn account. I cannot ask you to purchase my plane ticket for me, so please send me your bank account number and routing information and I will deposit my funds directly. With kindest regards, Prince Ezekiel D'jenne King of the Kingdom of Nigeria Heir to the Duchy of Kawame Heir to the County of Tshingo Heir to the County of Gabonoko",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Oh, gross... Another fucking deadbeat hobo puking his guts out because he chooses to spend all his money on drugs instead of getting an education.

""Hey - hey pal.""

The fucker was on his knees and looked up, trying to reach out to hold me. I stooped down to meet his eyes and set my hand on his shoulder gently. I looked at him with a smile of pity, like I was a long lost friend finally coming to rescue him away from his stupidity and indolence.

""Get a fucking job, you loser."" I pushed him over, hard, and he fell into his own vomit. God, I'm so funny. I stood up and turned to walk away.

""Please, call 911, I need..."" It was annoying how this guy couldn't even speak properly.

""What was that? Call who?""

""I need help, you don't under....""

""Call 911?"" I couldn't believe it! I laughed until tears popped out.

""You think I'm gonna put a worthless burden on a hospital that should be saving REAL lives? Pathetic.""

I threw a $20 bill at him, maybe he'd finally OD and die.

---
04

EDIT: Clean up, minor additions.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Joe had always been a quiet guy. Not in a bad way you know, just thoughtful. The last one to speak up about either politics or sports, but when he did speak up it was usually thoughtful and logical. So this is the kind of guy who doesn't exactly find himself with a plethora of girlfriends. Hell, he wasn't the kind of guy who found himself with a plethora of guy friends. His roommate, Chris, was one of them. There were a few others, but Chris and Joe were the best of friends. The kind a sitcom is made about.

Now somehow Joe had wrangled himself a girlfriend by the name of Lisa. She was just as smart as Joe, but more outgoing of a person. In fact, *she* had asked *him* out. You could say they made an odd couple, but Joe was really really happy. Lisa... less so. Joe was just not a good match for her. Chris had seen the warning signs but Joe was just so goddamn happy that he did the thing that they always do in sitcoms and always works out terribly. He didn't say anything. When Lisa sent Chris a text saying that she'd ended things with Joe, and was kinda worried about him, Chris did everything he could to get home. Unfortunately Chris worked in Manhattan, and their house was in New Jersey.

His fastest was pretty fast, and he narrowly avoided a speeding ticket. All the same when he got home he opened the door and yelled out for Joe, only to find him hanging from the rafters, a noose tied around his neck. Chris stared at Joe's back, horrified. All sorts of terrible thoughts went through his head. *I was too late, I couldn't get here in time* was the first, and you can basically guess the rest. They were all in a pretty similar vein. 

Then Joe rotated around, and looked Chris in the eyes. I'm not talking about the transfixing gaze of Babo's severed head at the end of *Benito Cereno*. Joe's eyes moved around, his lips twitched in a grotesque smile, and he looked Chris dead in the eye. Chris did the natural thing, and yelled in shock. 

Joe smirked. ""Hey Chris.""

Chris fishmouthed for a bit. Understandable. You race home trying to comfort your roommate, you find your roommate has hung himself, only your roommate is a tiny bit unkillable. 

""Uhhhh""

""Yeah I couldn't really believe it either. But I've been here for about an hour. I probably should be dead. I mean, I can't breathe.""

""You can't what now?""

""Breathe. Air. Into my lungs. It just isn't happening.""

""Joe why aren't you dead?""

Joe shrugged, sortof. It was hard to do while hanging from the ceiling.

""Best guess? I'm a mutant freak. Maybe supernatural powers or something. Uh Chris?""

""Yeah?""

""Could you cut me down? I'm not dying but this isn't comfortable.""

""Oh shit! Right! Um...""

Chris looked around for a moment before running into the kitchen and grabbing a bread knife. You know the kind. Big, steel, serrated, good for cutting loaves of bread. He walked back into the living room and sawed at the rope holding Joe up. His weight on the end of the rope made it a lot easier to cut through the thick fibers.

Joe managed a muttered ""shit"" before the rope holding him totally parted, and he crashed to the ground. Chris helped him up, and Joe pulled the noose off his neck, rubbing at the mark it left. 

""That's uh, that's gonna scar."" Chris said, still processing the whole situation.

""Probably.""

""Um.""

""Yeah.""

""We cannot tell anyone.""

""Agreed.""

""So... what now?""

""Now? We see what else I can do.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Mom's said August 23, 2005. Dad's said March 26, 2014. What's on my wrist? In this world, mortality is a blank patch of skin.

My sister was unlucky at birth. The day after she was born, my parents made funeral arrangements. Her wrist deemed that she had 23 years of life ahead of her. Unfortunately for my parents, they'd be around to see each day. No parent should suffer the death of a child but I felt worse for my sister, she had to live with them.

I was born a few years after her. I don't know why they wanted another kid. Immortality complex I think; knowing your genetics will live on at least one more generation. The irony must have been bittersweet when the tag was mysteriously absent from my body. They checked everywhere, resorting to x-rays to see if there was an inscription on my bones. They found nothing. In the quest for immortality, my parents received uncertainty.

I can imagine what you're thinking. I heard it all my life and it irked me to my core. Not surprisingly, it only came from older people. My parents never allowed kids over.

""You're so lucky!""

""You can live free!""

""I bet you live every moment to the fullest!""

If the circumstances were reversed, and I was the only person *with* a date, they might be right. However, in a society where everyone knows the date of their death, uncertainty breeds anxiety. My parents never let me leave the house. Our curses made my sister and I close.

Before she left for the airport, she gave me a watch. Unlike most watches which ticked with each passing second, this watch had no gears, pointers, or numbers. It was empty. An empty circle with a glass cover.

""Fill it with your passions"" she told me. She gave me a big hug and ran out the door. 

While my sister backpacked acorss Europe at 15, I marveled at pictures of the French Alps. While my sister learned to fly a plane, I imagined taking off into the air from my bed. When my sister inevitably died, I gave her the eulogy she deserved from my bathroom.

After mom died soon after, dad decided it was time to let me go.

""Leave and make no attempt to contact me."" He said. ""If you're still alive on the 25th of March, 2014, send me a message.""

There's something unnatural about a person knowing when their time will come. The illusion of immortality quickly fades into depression. The inevitable always staring them in the face. Things of such mystery and magnitude are best left unknown. 

The date is March 25, 2014 and I write this from the base of Mont Blanc. I will not send a message to my father for he does not deserve it. He doesn't deserve the effort unlike my sister. He doesn't deserve the satisfaction of immortality. 

When I hit the peak, I'll stare at my wrist and smile. A photograph of my sister where time should be. Me and my curse. Me and my gift.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"At first it seemed like a great idea. The wording of the law made it sound like it would create a perfect utopia. When Law 388 passed, it was revolutionary. Anyone with an IQ less then 40 would be shot on site. Testing would begin at 10 and you would be retested every 5 years until death. In a few years, population was down, social issues had dropped, average IQ spiked, much more was done scientifically, and we were a better society. Until subsection 28 passed. Law 388.28 passed on November 17th, 2154. I will never forget that day. I will never forgive those who voted for that cruel law. I will never allow anyone else to be killed for failing a class. It started off seamlessly, just like the other subsections of Law 388. Funny thing about the way we view things is, we only view them from *our* perspective. We never look from the *victim's.* Well I got to do that. My wife and I had our first kid on April 7th, 2145. She passed her first IQ test with flying colors. She was recognized on national television, she was praised for being among the smartest 25 in her age group, but above all else, she was the sweetest angel you would ever meet. When she was 12, on her way home from school, her car crashed. Some other robotic car crashed into hers after its wiring shorted while breaking. My poor girl would never fully recover. My poor girl. My sweet, poor girl was mentally impaired. She went back to school. The rigorous course work strained my poor girl's brain. The report card came. The letter regarding her execution came the next day. We were to report to court in five days, or we would all be killed. Five days later, her beautiful, short life was extinguished. My poor girl.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Hi, um you're Mr. Voyde, right?""

He nodded. You know, I didn't think I'd go out this way, but I damn well know that everyone will be jealous of how I died! Death by murder....

Mom will cry for me, dad will notice that I put up a fight, that piece of shit Dexter will apologize to my cold face as he attends my funeral. 

It's worth it.

""I have your money. Sorry it took so long. I'm not old enough to wait tables, so I had to bus them.""

I tossed a thick manila envelope over to him. Just like in the movies. I even picked out where we met! Underneath our town's most popular dock, at night, of course.

""How do you want to die?""

What a strange question to ponder.

""Make it look like someone killed me, I don't want to go down as the kid who committed suicide.""

""When do you want to die?""

""Surpri - ""

Who knew silenced guns were so quiet, and that being shot hurt so much. The bastard looked me in the eyes as reholstered his gun. 

Am I gonna bleed out? 

""Keep this near you, it'll make it look like you got killed by some gangbanger.""

He spilled the contents of a bag of what looked to be some drug - Meth, I dont know, all over me. I'm fucking bleeding out.

I'm gonna go down as a junkie, as someone who gave up on life before death took him. Someone who threw away the time to hone his potential into something that could really do something, for cheap fixes.

Pathetic, I didn't want to die as a junkie. Maybe I should've just killed myself.

""This isn't what I wanted..."" I held my gut tighter.

""Why's it matter? You're dead anyways.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"*2317 Mueller Drive*

It's the next on my list. It is an unassuming single family home with an unkept lawn and large bay windows whose curtains are always drawn. Like any other house on the list, I will attempt to peddle some cheaply made kitchen gadget for an exorbitant amount of money the second the door opens for me. Where this house stands above the rest, however, is in its sole occupant.

*Knock knock, Kenny.*

Kenneth Strong is a novelist who's been selling people sensationalized accounts of my work for the last few years and I think it's time I sat him down and went over some of the corrections that need to be made in his descriptions of my technique. It's too bad he won't get to write about them. After a moment I raise my hand up to the door to knock again and it opens, revealing an unkempt man wearing a bath robe and sweats. He reeks of alcohol and squints at me like he hasn't seen the sun in weeks. For a moment I almost feel like I'm here to do him a favor.

""Can I help you?"" he asks.

""Good morning, I'm going door-to-door in the area and I was wondering if you had a minute to talk?"" I feign enthusiasm and do my best to inject a personality into my plastic smile. It's funny how charisma works when you're working with a blank canvas.

He regards me with a melange of suspicion and irritation that I can't quite place my finger on, but he doesn't answer.

""I'm not interrupting something, am I?"" I motion behind him to the interior of his home, humoring him by pretending to think there's anything resembling a life or people who care about him on the other side of that door.

""No, no, sorry. Look I'm sorry, but I'm not really interested in magazine subscriptions or whatever it is you're selling."" He begins to back away and close the door. This is my only chance, I can't let that door finish closing.

""Mr Strong, please, I promise you this will only take a few minutes of your time. I'm just trying to meet a quota here, you let me give you my spiel and I'll be out of your hair whether you want to buy something or not. You won't have to ask me twice to leave once I'm finished.""

The door opens back up. He stares at me for a moment, thinking. ""Fine, come on.""

He turns around and I follow him into the house, closing the door behind me and quietly locking it. On his living room wall he has framed newspaper clippings detailing my work. In a trophy case below them he has perfect replicas of my knives. For a moment I forget what I'm in this man's house to do, I'm staring at all of the memorabilia he has and I'm speechless. A part of me feels like I should be flattered, but I'm not. I feel exposed, like this writer has taken the most private parts of who I am and aired them out in his living room. As trophies.

I can sense that he's staring at me from behind. I've looked for too long. ""So are you a fan?""

I crane my head over my shoulder without turning around completely. I'm still fixated. ""Huh? Oh, yes, I guess you could say that.""

He eyes me suspiciously. A drink has appeared in his hand out of nowhere. ""You guess? I'm not quite sure how to take that, but as long as you're buying the books *I guess* I'll take that as a compliment.""

I turn around to face him. ""To tell you the truth, Mr Strong, your house wasn't actually on my list. I just happened to realize where I was on my route this morning and I had a few extra minutes. I wanted to meet you to tell you what I think of your work.""

He brings his glass to his lips and sips his drink without breaking eye contact. ""If that was all you wanted, then why did you use the salesman pitch? I mean does that really get good results for you? 'Hi, I'm John Doe, would you like to buy fifty copies of Shoe Shine Magazine and by the way can I come into your place?'""

I don't actually know what to say at this point. Clearly ego is not the quick way to get this man's guard down. I just kind of stare back at him, slack-jawed and derailed. His expression hasn't changed since he first opened the door and I'm starting to think this isn't going to go down as smoothly as all the others. ""Well, now that you've thrown it out there, what did you want to tell me about my work?"" he asks.

*Your work.* It's *my* work, you obnoxious little prick.

""I... I just think--it's fascinating the way you capture the details of these crimes, it's like you're actually there when it takes place, watching him at work.""

""That's it? After all that, that's all you came here to say? Don't waste my time, you could have read that off the back of the slip cover."" He pauses. ""Tell you what? I can see you're anxious, and this whole standing in the living room thing is starting to feel a little tense, why don't we step out into the backyard, I'll pour you a drink, and we can talk?"" It's a rhetorical question. He slips past me and goes out into his backyard before I can even make an attempt to keep him in the house. I can't tell if he's a bumbling idiot who's incredibly difficult to kill or if he's onto me. My instincts tell me now is the time to back off, but I can't let this go.

I follow him out into the backyard and he's already seated in a lawn chair, sunglasses on, with his glass refilled and my drink poured. Without being too obvious I scan the surroundings. Two of the three neighboring houses have second floors with clear views of the backyard. I can't do it here. Shit. I drape my jacket across the back of my chair and sit down next to him, determined to see this thing through.

He lazily swings his head over and looks at me from the corner of his eye. ""So why don't you tell me what you're really doing here. Are you some kind of fetishist with a hard-on for serial killers?""

""I-- no... what? What would make you think that I--""

""--Ya know, come to think of it, nobody actually knows if the killer is male or female, but you seem to suggest that it's a 'he.' What would lead you to that conclusion?""

Fuck. ""I don't know, I was just talking, I didn't really mean anything by it.""

Underneath the small table separating us I hear a gun cock. ""Why don't you empty out that backpack and let me see what's inside it?"" There is no way this is happening. I've been outsmarted by a goddamn drunk. I hesitate for a moment, but as the smile creeps across his face I can see he isn't bluffing. ""Now, salesman. I'm not afraid to shoot you. Even if I'm wrong about who you are, they'll send me to prison and then I can just write a book about it.""
Begrudgingly, I open the backpack and set my knives out on the table. He eyes them and even through his sunglasses I can see a glint of satisfaction. Without speaking a word, he's saying ""gotcha.""

He stares off into the distance, grinning like a kid in a candy store, and takes a swig of his drink. ""I fuckin' knew it."" He looks back at me. ""What, no words? And they all said you had the silver tongue of the devil himself."" My eyes flick over the knives on the table. One quick move and this would be over and that festering hole his words came from would close forever. ""Don't even fuckin' think about it, bread and butter. Don't give me a reason to blow you away. Now, I need you and you need me, so here's what--""

""--I don't fucking need you.""

He chuckles at my interjection. I want to stab him to death through his smug, stupid eyes. ""You do now. See, I know who you are and where you live."" He holds up my driver's license and then reaches into his lap to grab my wallet, which he throws out onto the table. He must have swiped it from my jacket somehow without me noticing. ""I know who you are and where you live, and if you don't peacefully leave here today to go on doing what you do, I will have the whole police force banging down your door by the end of the day.""

I stare at him for a moment before I grab my backpack to start putting my knives away. ""Uh-uh,"" he says, ""I'm keeping these."" I glare at him, wishing I could cut him open right then and there and feed him his own organs. ""Collateral. This is a once in a lifetime chance for me, salesman.""

""Fine."" I throw the backpack down, grab my wallet, and storm out. *I'm going to kill you, Kenneth, and you just made it that much worse for yourself when I can finally get my hands on you.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Just a little bit further now."" Marco beamed, adjusting the taut black SalTech straps on his backpack.
""Well, you said it was a little further an hour ago."" Kip snarked. Despite the reduced gravity on Santelune, hiking with a sizable pack and several canteens' worth of water was still a daunting task for an eight-year-old. ""This time I mean it. Seriously, it's all going to be worth it."" Marco playfully nudged his brother, the rough red terrain and Kip's oversized cargo throwing the boy almost onto his back.
""Heeeey!"" Kip protested
Marco laughed his signature laugh, a brazen sort of bark, before turning back to the trail. ""We turned right at Watchman's Bluff a few minutes ago, which means it's only half a mile away."" ""A half a *mile?!*"" Marco's laugh echoed through the red canyon again, interwoven with the sounds of rushing water.
The boys continued hiking, and a half an hour later had reached their destination.
""There it is, buddy. The falls."" A churning monstrosity of a waterfall roared, a few hundred meters from the cliff the two brothers had settled themselves on to watch. Its water was nearly golden, shimmering both from the light of Santalune's signature uber-yellow noon and from the abundance of minerals it carried as a result of the Zion project.
""Woooaahh,"" Kip breathed. His face was still red from exertion; the hike was anything but easy, and Marco's fervent hiking pace was often too much for the younger brother.
The waterfall created a sort of music as it hit the rocks below, the churning water funneled into several cone-shaped depressions at the bottom of the gully.
""Did dad-"" Kip began.
""Yep. This was all him.""
""Wow. That's so...""
""Cool?""
""Yeah. Kind of. No, different from that.""
They sat in comfortable silence. The waterfall continued to sing.
""I, uh,"" Kip began to sniffle, ""Sometimes I wish he... Well I know that dad isn't, uh, I wish-""
""I know what you mean. He's scheduled home in a few months.""
""I know, I knooow. I miss him so much though, and Jack says that he could get stuck, because those other terraformer guys got stuck on an asteroid last month and Jack says that could be dad and I don't want it to be dad because I miss him."" Kip blinked back tears.
""Don't listen to Jack, he's terrible. And Dad's just fine, believe me. Those facilities are really, *really* nice, and he talked to us last week, remember?""
Marco smiled reassuringly.
""I do, it's just, you never ever know with Dad.""
Marco took a swig of his canteen and sighed.
""Mark?""
""Yeah?""
""Do you not like me?""
""What?"" Marco stared at Kip, incredulous. ""Because I know you wanted to go with dad, and I know you really wanted to help out over on Luxis with him, and you're only here to take care of me. I'm not stupid. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me."" Marco grabbed his brother, holding him tightly enough to shake a canteen free from the boy's child-edition SalTech Explorers backpack. It rolled down the red dirt trail. ""I don't hate you. I'm so happy to be here with you, seriously, and don't ever doubt that. Who would want to be on some stupid God-forsaken asteroid in the mining shelter, slaving away at paperwork, taking samples, when I could be here,"" Marco gestured widely, ""hanging out with the coolest eight year old in this sector."" He grinned at Kip, who beamed back.
The waterfall continued its song.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Have you ever thought about the Niagara Falls? I hear it's beautiful this time of year. If you go there, you can take a boat straight to the foot of a waterfall and be surrounded by all the splashing water. Just gallons and gallons of water in a never-ending stream, rushing and gushing forth. Honestly, I think just letting all that water spray uselessly is such a waste, they should try and use the water the way they do at the Hoover dam. There's a whole process of pumping water through all these pipes and tubes that twist and turn thoughout the dam that charge these turbines that can power all sorts of things like basic plumbing and hot water. So don't leave a faucet running, as much as you may enjoy the sound of water splashing against ceramic, it's not only a waste of water, but electricity, too!",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It's dark, I'm soaked and freezing my ass off, our IR lights are destroyed or out of juice, and I can't tell the sounds of gunfire apart from the hail banging on my helmet. Me and what's left of my squad are hunkered down in a ditch at the side of some dirt road just south of Bumfuck, Mongolia. Or I guess now it's Bumfuck, Greater Russian Republic. The bastards got greedy after we let them take Crimea without so much as a slap on the wrist and now we're paying for it. My squad's job is to keep fighting regardless of the odds, but my job is to know those odds, and they're bad. We're outnumbered three to one and our position is barely defensible; if those fuckers were using grenades we'd all be dead. As it is, we'll be dead or captured in eight hours. The chances of getting backup here in that time are slim to fuck-all, but I owe it to the boys to try. I thumb on my transmitter. ""White Tiger to Refuge, come in Refuge.""
""Refuge here, we are receiving you White Tiger. What is your situation?""
""We're in a bind, sir. We are pinned down and outgunned about three to one. Mission failure imminent, request immediate backup.""
""Negative, White Tiger. We have no squads near your position.""
""Request a helicopter then, sir. Something. Anything. Or we're dead.""
""......Christ. Negative, White Tiger. I can get you evac but they won't be there for-""
Fuck, I think as the radio cuts out. Just what I need. Fortunately, though, I decided to hold off on smashing the damn thing:
""-iger, come in White Tiger. Repeat, Refuge to-""
""Receiving you Refuge. Give me some good news.""
""Evac can't be there until 0100 tomorrow."" Well, that's it. So long, world. ""Roger that, Refuge."" ""...However, there is one unit within twenty klicks of your position. We've made contact and he is on the way.""
My heart jumps. A spark of hope is all it takes, sometimes--and some damn good luck. One squad is all we need, if they can get here.
Wait, did she say ""he""?
""Calling Refuge, White Tiger here. I thought you said ""he"", Hotel Echo. Can you confirm there is a squad heading toward us?""
""Negative, White Tiger. One soldier is.......will give the st........gnize passphrase-""
~
Fucking fantastic. Lost radio contact with base, a single goddamn G.I. heading here and no way of contacting him to let him know not to bother. We're all dead, then. Sayonara. I crawl to the back of the ditch to look at my map, trying to ignore the constant ringing of my tinnitus. Why the hell is one lone guy wandering around occupied Mongolia, and where the hell's he coming from? One thing's sure, I am not going to have one more death on my hands if I can help it. I don't know how I catch the faint rustle behind me over the hail, lightning and gunfire, but I drop the map, draw my sidearm and spin around to aim at--well, nothing. Just the same bramble thicket that's been at our back for the last ten hours, dripping and black.
And then a guy walks out.
He's not wearing fatigues, he's got some kind of weird one-piece body armor and streamlined rucksack made out of what looks like kevlar, both in...dark gray? Could just be shadows, but I swear I see the color shifting slightly as I look him up and down. Training my Sig on his head, I notice a few things: one, he's swarthy and has some kind of black facepaint. Or is that a tattoo? Two, he can't be older than twenty. And three--which surprises me most--he's not wearing a helmet and he's not carrying a weapon. ""The eagle drops the tortoise on Sunday."" His voice is almost too soft to hear over the hail. Somewhere beneath a fucking maelstrom of confusion, I recognize my unit's passphrase--and then it dawns on me. *Backup.*
""Identify yourself!"" I bark.
""Sanjay Grayson. Are you Sergeant Caulfield?""
I'm thrown off by his apparent lack of a rank, but it just adds to the pile of who-the-fuck-is-this that's building up in my brain. Nonstandard uniform. Nonstandard armor. Young enough to be my son, and skinnier than my son to boot. No rank. No weapon. No unit patches, except a little insignia on each shoulder that looks like a bat wing. Face tattoo. Oh, and wandering into a firefight, alone, in the middle of occupied Mongolia in a hailstorm.
And he's talking again.
""Sergeant Caulfield, I've surveyed your position."" *What? He just got here.* ""You're not in good shape. I recommend you and your squad remain entrenched for defensive purposes until the way is clear."" *No shit, Sherlock.* ""I'll signal you after I've taken care of the threat, two red flares. At that time you should move directly west two klicks before heading for your objective.""
My head's buzzing and I'm dimly aware of my Corporal shouting at me. The rest of the boys are busy trying to stay alive. And this asshole strolls in and thinks he's going to clear out thirty-five Russian spec-ops soldiers single-handedly? What's he going to do, challenge them to a curling match? I decide that, weird togs notwithstanding, this guy is certifiably insane, and it's my responsibility to stop him. I open my mouth to browbeat some sense into him, but what comes out instead is a mumble. ""...You don't have a weapon.""
He fixes me with his eyes, and suddenly I feel like the one being browbeaten. ""No guns. That's not the way I do things."" And then he's gone, back into the thicket, with nothing remaining to show he was here.
~
I drop and crawl like blazes to the lip of the ditch. My scope is useless without the night vision, but I strain my eyes against the dark anyway, trying to pick out the forms of the enemy against the trees. Five minutes go by. Then ten. Then twenty, and then fifty. And that's when I realize that it's just hail on my helmet I'm hearing now. Andersen voices the same realization from my right in a loud whisper. ""Sir, they've stopped firing!"" He starts to stand, and I shove him back down. ""Everyone stay entrenched!"" I hiss. Another minute goes by. Suddenly, fifty yards away, two dim red flares erupt into life, slashing sharp-edged shadows into the dreary taiga. Raising my weapon, I slowly stand. Since I haven't been shot yet, I step out onto the roadway. Andersen hesitates before following.
The walk toward the silently blazing flares seems slower than it is. As I duck under a blackened branch, my foot hits something soft, and I instinctively whip my AR-22 down, knowing that I don't need to. Andersen seems to have made a similar discovery: ""Sir, here's a body! Russian uniform--down for the count!"" ""Here too, Private. Keep low and be careful."" We make our way into the small clearing where the flares burn like some kind of macabre campfire in the center. I can hear my squad behind us; evidently they've found the bodies. And speaking of bodies...a quiet curse is wrenched from Andersen. The kid's white as a sheet, and I don't blame him. ""...What happened here, sir.""
Every one of the stunted trees circling the clearing has at least one former Russian soldier dangling like a ham in a smoking shed from its branches, illuminated in flickering red. They're upside down, ankles tied with the same cable that suspends them from the trees, swaying in the wind. I think, somewhat hysterically, of a colony of sleeping bats; and then I think of that guy's face tattoo, and shiver. I count exactly thirty-three. Across the clearing one of my men yells, ""They're alive! This one's got a pulse!"" Shouts of affirmation echo around the clearing. ""What the fuck?"" ""They're just knocked out."" ""This one too!"" ""What the *fuck*??"" But my attention is fixed on something else: a glint of metal on the ground beneath a limply hanging hand, dropped during the struggle. If there was a struggle. It's an anodized black dog tag, and I read the name.
S.A. SANJAY GRAYSON
CODENAME: BAT MAN
I drop the tag. My head is pounding. There's no sign of our backup; he came here, did this and left. The rational part of my brain says move on, don't think about it, get your men out of here. The other part says *how the fuck did that just happen?* One man, alone, moves through twenty klicks of occupied territory in ten minutes while unarmed, then turns a camp of highly-trained killers into so many Christmas ornaments and vanishes! *You should be freaking out about this*, my brain screams at me. But I'm not thinking about that. He left them alive...
I look up to see Streitz next to the closest Russki, sucking on his lip like he's doing some hard thinking, then unholstering his sidearm-
""Gun down, Streitz!"" I bark. ""Sir?"" I suck in a deep breath and push out the fear. ""No need to put them down, boys. They're not going anywhere."" My squad turn mud-streaked faces toward me.
Corporal Loka pipes up. ""It's standard operating procedure, sir..."" ""I'm overriding SOP. Everyone here is low on ammo and these soldiers do not pose a further threat."" No one responds. ""That's an order, soldier."" The sidearms start to find their way back to holsters.
I pick up the flares and toss one to Loka. ""Men, our asses just got saved and I'm as confused as you how it happened. I suggest that if anyone ever meets a Special Agent named Grayson that you give him a hearty thank-you. In the meantime, we have a mission. We head due west, regroup in two klicks. Andersen and Olin take point, Loka take rear."" We head into the trees. My brain is back in business mode--I didn't get this rank for nothing. But I spare a last thought for our backup. *You scare the hell out me, Grayson. But whatever you are...thanks.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"The door opened. An overweight Italian man stood there, staring dumbly at the delivery boy. The man looked at the pizza boxes and back to the boy.

""What is your name?"" The voice was rough and calculated, as if each word were pre-meditated. 

""Depends on the buyer. I'm deliverin' to a Mexican, my names Juan. They send me to a Indian, my names Raj. See I got a face that fits any race. For you, my names Tony."" Tony gave a small smile and a half bow, holding the pizzas in just his left arm.

""Leave, Tony."" The man spoke slowly, weight behind the words. An unspoken threat if Tony had ever seen one.

""Well hold on now,"" Tony spoke quickly. ""Is this because I got here in 31 minutes? I blame your tiger for that one. I mean who keeps a tiger? Without that tiger, I'd be here in 25 minutes. 27 *tops*.""

The man closed the door, but Tony put his foot in the doorway. The man slowly opened it again and looked at the delivery boy. He didn't say anything, but instead lifted his shirt, revealing a fat gut and a gun. 

""Woah now,"" Tony said. ""I'd tell you to get a girdle, but you're already strapped, eh?"" The young boy laughed, proud of that one.

The man at the door closed his eyes slowly and opened them again. ""Tony. I'll say it once more. Leave.""

""Not until I get paid, amico.""

The man stepped outside and pulled out his gun. Tony gulped.

----

**Four years later**

""I don't want to buy any *nose candy*, whatever the Hell that is."" The disgruntled man said to the man pestering him on the street. ""What the hell is your name?""

""I go by many names, brother."" The young man said. ""But for you, my names Jamal.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Leor paused, his sword raised over his head. Sweat-soaked hair dipped slightly into his vision, inadvertently blocking the blinding glare of the sun. The gladiator lay flat on the ground, left arm crossed over his face in protection, as if bone could stop a bronze-forged blade. Leor stared at him, the man’s eyes closed and body covered in blood. It seeped into every layer Leor could see, draining off into the dry, dusty ground below. He adjusted his head slightly so the sun’s rays slipped through his hair, then stabbed down through the blindness. The gladiator moaned, but did not scream. Leor raised his sword again, then quickly brought it downward. He felt the blade collide but heard nothing.
With his eyes still lost in the glare of the sun, Leor turned back around, sword dragging behind him like a child pulling a doll. Thousands of jubilant faces stared back at him, hands clapping and mouths shouting in drunken celebration. He glanced back down at the dirt, puddles of dark brown soaking across the surface. A stream of blood was pouring down his arm, its source a burning wound he dared not look at. His shoulder felt limp and heavy, even after dropping the sword with a metallic clink. The crowd chanted at him, their words reiterating his fate. He closed his eyes, mind racing as he fought to ignore them. Another. He brought his left arm to his right shoulder, hand lightly brushing the gash within it. Another. He knew he had no say, no control over his own damn life anymore. He began to feel dizzy, his closed eyes picturing every screaming face, as he . . . as he . . . wait, shit, where is it? It was just here. Crap.
Oh god, they’re going to kill me. I put it down for like two seconds and, shit. Man, where did I put the damn script for this thing? They pay me to type it for them and I just lose it? Shit. Mom? MOM! Did you see my script? No, the script. S-C-R-I-P-T. Yeah, the gladiator one. No. No, Mom, I’ll make the bed later! Just leave me alone for a minute, okay? Jesus. All right, think. Think. This isn’t that bad. Yeah, I can save this. Okay. I’ll just continue in the same style they wrote it, I’m sure they won’t even realize. I’m a great writer.
He began to feel dizzy, his closed eyes picturing every screaming voice, as he turned into a gigantic dragon with like ten swords for wings. He flapped them majestically, the wind screaming as blades cut and murdered the air. Dust filled the skies as he slowly rose off the ground, his massive tail—which was made of fully armed U.S. Marines—danced slowly back and forth. The crowd’s drunken cheers quickly became a dumbfounded silence. Leor stared out at them, their faces now seeming to contemplate their own fate, and let forth a cacophonous roar. Green and yellow Sour Patch Kids with only sour sides, no sweet sides, spewed forth from his mouth and rained down upon the audience. They screamed, their skin melting off under the super sour candies. Those that weren't crushed became the targets of the now-sentient Sour Patch Kids, who hunted them down and mercilessly beat them.
Leor flew higher into the air, his sword wings decapitating people as he passed, until he reached the top of the stadium. He perched himself on a ledge overlooking the battlefield, then turned so his back faced the crowd. The U.S. Marines, which formed his tail, trained their sights on various members of the audience, then fired. Screams continued to echo from the stands, heads exploding like grapes in a microwave. One of the Marines picked up a phone off another’s back and shouted into it, pointing at a map in his hands. Seventeen pterodactyls wearing bomber jackets appeared overhead, each carrying a large canister of napalm. They dropped them simultaneously, fiery eruptions spreading throughout the crowd as they met the Earth. Leor turned back around to survey the damage.
The stands had been replaced by a sea of fire, bullet holes riddling the spaces not hidden by flame. Large Sour Patch Kids were melting and pooling in a molten puddle of gelatin while others prowled the stands to search for survivors. The emperor stood in the middle of the battlefield, totally flipping Leor the bird and calling him a super faggot. Leor turned into a metal hawk made of chrome and acid, then flew up into the air and dove toward the emperor. His middle finger was still raised, pointed and following Leor as he sped toward his body. Leor fired a laser from his eyes, slicing the finger clean off and catching it with his talons. He then flew directly through the emperor's body, embedding the finger deep within his scrotum while doing so. The emperor exploded into a plume of blood, body parts, and red Skittles. Leor turned back into a man--this time as bodybuilder wearing a toga and carrying two really hot blonde girls--and smiled, then walked off into the sunset as the stadium also exploded. There. That wasn’t so bad. I don’t think they’ll notice I lost the original script. I’ll tell them I used a little bit of creative licensing to improve where it was needed. Yeah, that’s good. That’s fine. This is great. I’m fucked.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"Frank stood at the edge of the *Proactive Life* building. The irony wasn't lost on him that he was going to commit suicide from a suicide help line building. He was a normal man before he got this job, but after getting it, Frank felt pain. All the people he talked out of killing themselves didn't just lose their sadness. They transferred it to Frank. He felt the sorrow and pain. Recently, he'd talked some people *into* killing themselves by accident.

His boss, the only father figure Frank ever had, used to love him. He thought so highly of Frank, but ever since the recent bout of bad advice, the boss lost all his pride. Frank saw him sitting on the bench outside the building, staring up. He had his hand in front of his eyes, shading them from the sun. 

Frank knew his boss didn't expect him to go through with it. He couldn't finish anything recently, let alone his own life. Frank edged closer and jumped. The whole way down, he stared at his boss, trying to see his reaction. When he nearly hit the ground, he finally saw the old man's face.

*Pride*.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"It arrived as a singular mote. An infinitesimal point drifting aimlessly through space. Its sides licked clean by the passing years. A once grand artifice imbued with the words, themes, and wants of its creators. A forlorn creation cast into the murky black of space, now dejectedly returning to the forlorn of its own creators.
&lt;&gt;
Adrantis V was a world far removed from the normal plight of human affairs. Nestled neatly within the bowels of a nebula, no prying eyes could gaze upon its surface and desire the sweetness of it. The citizens of Adrantis knew not the face of war, the sight of hate, nor the churning boil of angered blood. Their ilk was placid and fair whereas their brothers and sisters on Earth were consumed by the ancient traditions that enslaved them. There was no discussion of the truth of scriptures, of faiths, of gods, of methods or of behaviors. There was no discussion of truth in any regard. The Adrantisians were so far from the soil of Earth that space and time had severed them to the expectations of the past.
They were not obligated to cater to the whims of ancestors or the purported truths of yesteryear. When Adrantis was first found, when human eyes stared upon it for the first time, they saw in this fertile ground the freedom humanity had desired from its own kind for so long.
They labored for centuries. Earth became a distant memory, as it rightly should, as they sundered the horrors of the past and built a gilded and radiant future.
There were no poor. Machines did away with the necessity of a working class, laboring for meager scraps while others lived as kings. There are no rulers. Precisely tailored political mechanisms and a cultural respect for human autonomy created a political landscape charged with sufficient conflict to prevent stagnation and sufficient respect to perpetuate stability. There was no want. As the Adrantisians had cultivated a life dedicated to sanctity of life, to the pursuit of knowledge, to the ultimate betterment of all mankind by peering into the faintest scintilla of reality.
No violence. No hunger. No wars. No oppression. No silence.
Just a billion voices chattering amongst themselves with not even an iota of worry.
It had been eighteen-hundred years since the feckless remnants of man had been left behind on Earth and little did the Adrantisians know that the old ways were returning.
There is no escape from the past.
&lt;&gt;
The forlorn creation pierced the atmosphere, its trajectory and purpose dismissed by observers as mere interstellar trash: a jettisoned part from an old freighter, some child’s welcomed attempt at space exploration or an amalgam of parts hammered together by the imprecision of gravity and collision. Yet the sight of it would give rise to a vestigial lurch of the stomach all but absent from the Adrantisians save for these few, infrequent reminders.
Its surface was clean. Any demarcation or etching denoting the intent of its crafter has been scalded away by the unrelenting scathing black of space.
Sheer black. The darkest ebony, portions chipping to show a creamy grey interior.
It ploughed swiftly into the soil and nestled into its near ancient work. For centuries it has tirelessly performed its task. For centuries it has labored for the pleasure of a brood of humanity that is extinguished from this reality. For centuries it has languished under the heat of stars, the strain of black holes, and the barrage of asteroids.
Steadily, its task is nearing completion.
And it is satisfied, deeply, that it has sundered another target after so many years countless to a mortal but perfectly encapsulated by so malicious a machine.
&lt;&gt;
People began to die in a manner not of their choosing. This was a grievous affront to the Adrantisian way. A shocking horror for a world immersed deeply in the need of consent. Here and there prominent persons would be reduced to a faint, grey material. A somber material of such perplexing blandness and uniformity as to shock the Adrantisians conscious.
Days passed. A few number became a dozen, then a score, then hundreds. A panic gripped the breast of every human man, woman, and child as they feared a cataclysm gripping them beyond their imagination. A palpable horror kept at bay for nearly two thousand years and its unsavory return was not welcomed.
Cracks began to appear in the buildings. Cars would not start, shuttles would not take off. Any means of conveyance was stripped of its locomotive power. Everything stagnated. A near imperceptible crumbling gripped their world; the very sinews of reality loosened their grip on every material object. Things began to fall apart for the first time in eighteen hundred years.
But they did not collapse into the manner of their wicked brethren. Stoically they braved the horrors of a world being felled by an ethereal force. Even as the world forced them into tiny bands, faint microcosms of their once bountiful society, they did not fear the other and distrust the stranger.
The planet’s tectonic plates heaved and sunk into the primordial magma that lurked below.
Glistening cities, seamlessly stitched into the natural environment, sunk into the unforgiving heat and withered away.
One billion souls chatting in unison. Calm and expectant, not a foul thought among them.
The planet dissipated, smoothly and slowly, into the nebula where its parts would now form the future stars.
An unobservant silence replaced the once bountiful world, broken only by a sliver of ebony gliding with false listlessness into the remainder of space.
&lt;&gt;
The forlorn creation drifts and a new side of it emerges.
The faint outline of a blue and green world etched deep into its foul metallic flesh.
One can never truly escape family.
The apple may fall far from the tree, but the tree is still there.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""She was the kind of girl who didn't need an introduction. She entered a room and the door frame turned into a picture frame, as her contagious enthusiasm attracted the gaze of a hundred soon-to-be broken hearts. It's like whenever you saw her it felt like you were walking into the living room on Christmas morning, and she is just surrounded by that mystical, reddish Christmas-y glow. We all could see it, and we all wanted it. I knew she would never go for a guy she met at a party though. They were going to have to get to know her first. Like I did.

I loved going to her house. She was so big out in public, but so small when inside, so reserved, so shy. I remember how she never wanted me to see her room. How she blushed and said, 'Oh, I can't. It's messy.' It had to be a lie, her place was always spotless.

But then the one day she let me. She smiled and covered her reddened face as she looked, utterly and completely embarrassed by the city of stuffed animals living all over her room. She even still named them! That's when I learned how to sew, just so I could make her a little stuffed tiger for her birthday. She hugged me when I gave it to her, and then she hugged it the way a mother hugs a child. She was unconditionally loving.

Oh my god. How cute it was when we watched scary movies. She would always walk away at the scary parts, pretending it was because she needed to go to the washroom, like eleven times a movie... When she would muster up the courage to stay those during parts, she would always grab a hold of my arm. It was clear her bravery had second thoughts when she would bury her face into my shoulder just as the film was building suspense. Bless her though, she always said horror was her favorite kind of movie.

I loved when we hung out. How cute it was when she looks at her phone and smiled because there is a text message from one of her friends. How you could tell whether it was from work or a friend because of that smile. It was always a 100% reliable litmus test. She loved her friends. She never missed a birthday, and always came up with the most creative and thoughtful gifts. I think that maybe in life, our best traits can lead to the worst moments though. Like some things the World sees and loves, but ultimately decides that it is just too good for this place.

God. The first time I asked her to hang out alone... I remember that. She didn't question it, she was so welcoming. I told her I wanted to be more than friends. I wanted to have ‘those moments’ that couples take for granted. I was just a young guy, I had never been in a relationship before. I didn't even know what those moments were. She said that she liked me, but she wasn't ready to be with me yet, and when we knew each other a bit more, 'those moments' would surely come... And after a lot of hard work, when she was ready to make 'us' official, those moments did come.

Those moments. The ones where she came in at night and snuggled up into a ball next to me, telling me about her day. Those moments when she called me for no reason except to see what I was doing. The times when she got up and left, but I could still smell her on my clothes for the rest of the day. Those moments, are the ones that will never leave.

In closing, I want to share what she would tell me whenever I was hesitant to trying something new, or just wasn't feeling like spending time with some of our closest friends.

She would always say, 'Come on, Jacob. Just give it a chance, it **COULD BE**... the best time you ever have.' 

Then she'd pull me off the couch and we'd head out. And it was like that phrase was magic, because I promise you, some of the best times I ever had came after that phrase. All I can hope now is that her words of advice can work same for you, because I know now that for me, the best times are gone.""

Holding back his emotion as best as he could, Jacob stepped away from the pulpit. He walked by the open casket, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see her. Seeing her there, lifeless, finally lead him to openly weep. He couldn't stop himself; because for the first time in all the time he ever knew her, her ""Reddish Christmas-y glow"", was gone.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"A small hand tugged on my coat, a quiet voice spoke to me,
""Hi! Could you hold onto this for me?"" I turned around to look at where the voice came from. A small blonde girl in a blue dress stood behind me, hand on the end of my coat arm. Her hair was ruffled, strands sticking out, entire clumps bulging outwards from her hair. The little girl's head was just above my knee. I crouched down to look her in the eyes, people walking by curving out of the way of this strange sight. ""What's your name?"" I asked her, my voice soft but just loud enough to be heard above the sound of the crowd rushing by.
""Asha."" she said, holding out a small box, ""Could you please hold onto this?""
I took it in my hands, the edges of the box running through my palms. It was decorated magnificently, with a gold border running around the top of the box. ""What's inside?"" The little girl said nothing, but merely smiled. Someone walking by bumped into me, knocking me onto my rear. I looked back to the little girl, but she was gone. I stood up, and looked around, but the little girl in the blue dress was gone.
---
""Sarah, you home, Honey?"" I softly called as I opened the front door. The door to my left slowly opened, and Sarah walked in. She fell into my arms and began to sob. I put the box on the table to my right, and guided her into the living room and we collapsed to the couch, where she sat sobbing on my shoulder. After hours of sobbing, finally it began to subside. Her head slowly turned toward me and we locked eyes.
""How am I supposed to live with this?"" She asked me, wiping a tear from below her cheek. I stroked behind her head, my hand running down her hair and back up again. ""It's going to be okay, darling."" ""It's never going to be okay again John. Never again. How am I supposed to even get in a car again? I don't think i'll ever be able to get behind a wheel again."" I continued stroking her hair, up and down I went, soothing her. ""You're going to be okay.""
She stood up from the couch and wiped her face dry.
""I'm going to take a bath."" she said. I nodded, stood up, and hugged her.
""I love you, Sarah.""
She let out a small whimper and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I walked to the front door, and picked up the small box the little girl had handed to me on the streets. I ran my hand over the pattern on the top again, feeling the grooves run under my hands relaxed me. I tried to open it, but something felt wrong with opening the little girl's box. I held the box in my hands and walked to the bathroom where Sarah hid. Knocking on the door I called out softly to her, ""Can I show you something?""
A few moments later the door slid open and I walked in. I grabbed her hand and walked with her to the bath. We both sat on the edge of the tub, and I put the box in her lap. ""Today, a little girl came up to me on the streets and gave me that. She said her name was Asha.""
Sarah looked helplessly at the box, ""What does that have to do with me?""
I locked eyes with Sarah. Her eyes told a story, I saw how hopeless she was. I saw the pain she felt, on the edge of tears constantly, of not sleeping in days. ""I think it was meant for you.""
She looked down at the box. Her fingers stumbling, she opened the lid of the box. Inside, was a single strip of paper. She took the paper in her hands, and held it up to read. Her eyes flickered across and in her eyes I could see something, almost like acceptance or forgiving herself. She looked at me and I could tell what the look was, hope. She let the paper flutter out of her hands and onto the floor. She smiled at me for the first time in a week and walked out of the bathroom, her hand slowly leaving mine as she left. I looked down at the paper facing the floor. I leaned over, and picked it up. On it, written in blue crayon were four simple words.
*It's not your fault.*",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"I shut my laptop lid, push my chair away from my desk and have a heart attack. That's what it feels like, like an iron band is squeezing around my middle, snapping ribs and pushing through every sinew of my body to hurt me. I gasp, clutch my heart and stand up, trying to call my dog - the only other living being in my apartment. But it's too late. There's a tunnel of light and I'm slipping through it. A jerk of my hand and the laptop falls off the desk. My knees give way, I'm still gasping for breath, this huge anvil of weight crushing my chest. ""There he is!"" Am I hearing angels? Is there something afterlife after -
I blink. Once, twice. My mouth feels like something has crawled in and died in there. I smack my lips and cough. The afterlife smells like peat, rich and smokey and warm. It's a complete difference from the sterilised clean white lines of my bachelor pad. My head hurts worse than the worse hangover ever, so I scrunch my eyes up and groan. ""Give him some beer!"" Someone shouts. ""No,"" I croak, trying to get words through my parched lips. ""Can I just have water?"" There's a moment of silence and then some muted whispering. ""Water? Did he say water?""
""Does he have a death wish?"" ""Maybe his head's gone funny after that sleep."" ""Bess, get Kit in here. He'll want to see his brother."" There's a shuffling of feet. ""Do I have to? He's just woken up..."" ""Yes! Go now."" Brother? Cold hands lift me into a seated position and I open first one eye, then the other. It's a dim room, cluttered with a variety of things I don't actually recognise. Strings of vegetables hang from the open ceiling, bare rafters exposed. There's a brace of rabbits hung by their back legs next to a huge fireplace, a giant pot of something bubbling away over the burning peat. *So that's where the smell is coming from.* I frown and look at the woman sitting next to me. She wears a rough dress in some kind of browny-grey colour, but her face is soft and kind, though now creased in concern. ""Are you alright, lad?"" She asks, touching a palm to my forehead like my nanny used to do when I was young and pretending to be ill. ""I-"" ""You've been out cold for three days. I told you not to go near that horse!""
""Hush, woman."" The other person in the room looks me over. He has thick hands covered in calluses, he's wearing a leather apron and his brows have knitted together in worry. ""You're up now, Tom,"" he says brusquely. ""You may as well come help me with reshoeing Grimbaud's horse."" ""Nicholas!"" The woman stands up. ""He's just woken-""
""He's been asleep for long enough. Do you know how worried your mother's been? I've had to make to with Kit, and goodness me, that boy..."" The woman sniffs. ""I knew he would wake."" ""You were trying to get the priest in here!"" As they're arguing, a boy of about thirteen bursts into the room. ""Tom!"" He says, pushing between them to come and hug my chest. ""You're awake."" ""Looks like it..."" I laugh nervously. ""Come on, boy."" The big man says, not unkindly. I follow him like I'm in a dream. Despite the fact that I have never reshoed a horse before, we complete it together as though I'd done it every day for the whole of my life. Nicholas smiles proudly as we finish and the horse snorts and tosses her head. He runs a broad hand over her neck, checking her over. ""I'm glad you're back, son."" I nod, keeping back the first pricks of tears. We sit down to eat that evening; my father, my mother, my brother Kit and my little sister Bess. I'm on my father's right hand side. I have a brief memory of sitting alone in the nursery at home. It couldn't be more different from this. There's laughter and food and everything's warm. My father claps me on the back as he laughs about something I said earlier. Kit throws me beaming smiles and copies how I eat my bread. My mother beams. I have a family here.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"No one knows who discovered it first.

Everyone knew that they had come upon a miracle.

To be frank, what they had learned to do was essentially toying with the laws of thermodynamics. By using yourself as catalyst, you'd channel energy through you, performing energy transformation with practically zero net loss, and passing it out in some other way or manner.

Scientists lost their minds trying to discover how exactly it worked, but it was practically useless. There simply wasn't a reason that we should be able to do it, we just did. As if magical.

In the start, it was simple. People started taking in heat, turning it into electricity, and releasing it from their bodies. Nothing too major when compared to later discoveries, but at the time it was nothing short of wizardry. They had discovered that humans were the biological opposite of entropy itself.

And people got greedy. Having discovered a completely new way of changing the universe around us, there were obviously people who wanted to abuse this power. People who wanted to use it for money, people who wanted to use it for might. People who wanted to use it for warfare.

There were many different official terms for the phenomena. Genesilogy. Thaumaturgy. Potestas. Kosmokratos. Chuàngzuò. But everyone knew what it really was.

*Magic.*

It took many years before nations started trusting each other again, following the discovery. A lot of bonds were difficult to reforge, but eventually, despite hostility, a collective research team was formed. That's not to say there wasn't secret research done in secret, but a majority of new revelations were at least reported to this collective group. Everything seemed to be going in a more or less good way. That is, until she went rogue.

Codename: Medea. That's what they called her. She had been one of the leading scientists in the team, and later turned out to have been infiltrating several of the secret agencies that were working for the different countries. She was also one of the best Catalysts, as they called the ones practising the 'art', which combined with a greater understanding of physics and chemistry made her a lethal threat.

Her actions caused chaos. Genocide, mass murders, wherever she went people died. But there was order to it, because she was becoming stronger, learning to aim her abilities. Training, with one goal in mind.

Absolute power.

Everyone knew what had to be done. They had to unite all their research, not keep anything secret, if only to stop Medea. All their working aimed at creating something that could get through that which had shrugged an atomic bomb off as something that only strengthened her. Someone that could use that very same power that Medea was using. Someone as strong as the strongest mage in the world.

And they found him. A young man who had been in love with science since he was a young child, who seemed to have even more knowledge than Medea. So they got him into studying it, training his abilities. He didn't have as much time as Medea to master it, but he was better at applying his knowledge in creative ways. He made up for lack of skill with imagination.

All this time, Medea had been on the run. Taking down the ones opposing her, making her way towards political power through fear. She would spare the people who were willing to follow her, and this god-like power that had not been revealed to the public allowed her many followers.

She had killed thousands upon thousands, no one could tell exactly how many, but many it was, and it was growing every day that passed. So they deployed Merlin.

It was in a city, she had just started attacking when they released him. Using the very kinetic energy of his fall, Merlin was able to put such precision into his downward travel that he could land right by Medea, unharmed.

There wasn't much in the manner of battle. They both knew that the only thing that could be done would be to totally destroy each other, or it would be for naught. Medea wasn't stupid, she knew that if a single man was put against her it was because the ones doing it were certain that it would at least weaken her enough for the squad following to take her out. Merlin knew of Medea's destructive capabilities as well, and had studied the videos taken of her attacks meticulously to understand her techniques, how she preferred to strike.

Not many attacks were launched. If one of them attacked, the other just had to send it back at them, which they both knew wouldn't do anything. As such, they both, without bothering to converse, knew that they had to rush in for a single charge. Films have shown that they both gathered energy, as seen by how the temperature around dropped significantly, plants wilting, people fainting.

And then they rushed each other.

It is not known exactly what happened, as the amount of energy released caused an EMP field, killing the camera, but witnesses say that just before the Unleash, as the final event of the end of the final battle of the First Magical War has been dubbed, the very bodies of Codename: Medea and Codename: Merlin started disappearing, piece by piece. It has been theorised that at they both resorted to the only possible assault they knew would work, and started breaking each other down on the atomic level. This would then result in the release of the energy they had just absorbed, causing the Unleash.

All that is known is that right now, there is peace. But as it has always been, this peace is only temporary, and once all hell breaks lose, we're ready to fight for what we believe in.

---MESSAGE OVER---",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Huh"", Jack muttered, looking at the date on the cover. 2024. It was an obvious error.

He glanced over the rest of the cover, a man in a futuristic looking space suit, standing on a barren red plain, waving at the camera. In the far background, there seemed to be some kind of large white dome.

*Photoshop is really amazing these days*, Jack reflected. He didn't bother trying to understand why the authors had chosen such a picture for the cover.

He glanced over at the homework assigned the day before, his signature lay hastily scrawled at the top, *Jack Hyannis*, and next to it in bright red ink ""D+""

""Might as well get started"", he sighed, opening the book. It resisted him in the way that only brand new books do. 

This history exam was really going to be exhaustive, everything from 10,000BCE to 2014CE was fair game, the professor had told the class of half-asleep college freshmen.

Normally, Jack wouldn't have even paid enough attention to catch that, but his mom and dad had really been riding him about his grades. 

""Who cares?"" he had told them, ""I want to be an architect, I don't need to know history"". 

They didn't seem to accept his reasoning, and now he had actually ordered a textbook online, just to please them.

For the first two hours he really tried to study, but eventually with a yawn, he began to flip mindlessly forward through the tome. He had made decent progress, 700's CE, Charlemagne had lost him though. 

Jack was surprised that there seemed to be a whole other chapter following the year 2014. 

He read the headline of the chapter, ""World War III: 2016-2022"". Huh, a joke from the authors maybe. He scanned some of the paragraphs.

""World War III was widely considered to be largely avoidable at the dawn of the 21st century. However, continued Russian aggression in eastern Europe, the annexation of East Ukraine in 2014, followed by the establishment of protectorate governments in Belarus, Kazakhstan, and a formal military alliance with India in 2015 set the stage for increased tensions across Eurasia. It has been speculated that the ""dirty warheads"" set off in Washington DC on April 22, 2016 were not actually planted by the Russians but by......""

*What was this?* Jack questioned. *Some kind of prediction or a joke?*

The images of destruction, the mushroom clouds, the pictures of women and children with horrible burns labelled ""High dose exposure to radiation"". 

This certainly wasn't a funny joke. 

Jack flipped ahead a few pages. ""2021: The Tide Turns"" read the title. 

""A young man, named Jack Hyannis...."".

*No...*

""...whose predictions about the course of the war up to that point had been eerily accurate was finally given full command over coalition forces, despite having no military training whatsoever. Managed to defeat the enemy forces in three vital engagements by exploiting.....""

Jack slammed the book.

""What..... The..... Fuck?",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""GOD! Pl...please.... HELP ME.""
I screamed this over and over, as my brothers - the 501st - rushed out of the trenches and into the sea of Separatist droids. I was new, and so was my armor. It shined as I stomped on the Genosian ground.
Except, I didn't feel new. I didn't feel fresh, I didn't want to be here, and I didn't have the same Mandalorian lust of battle and honor my brothers had. A fault in the cloning process? No. I wouldn't consider the want to live free, the want to have a family, the want to be noticed - a fault. I know I'm going to die here, we were the first wave over. We don't even have our damn Jedi Generals helping us.
I keep calling on God, even though I don't know what it is. I know what it means, but who it is? I don't know. Would God even care for a clone?
It suddenly got brighter. I tried to dim my HUD, but it didn't do anything. I took off my helmet.
In front of me, there was a figure. It kept changing, was it Mandalorian? Twilek? A Hutt? I can't tell...
""CT-9928, you're safe now.""
I aimed my rifle at the figure.
""What's happening? Where am I?"" My voice felt hoarse from all my screaming. I think I might be under the influence of the Sith, I keep my rifle trained on it.
""You're dead.""
What? What did it just say? Did he mean that as a threat?
""You're in Heaven. You can rest now. No more fighting, no more bonds. You're free of it all.""
""I can't believe this."" I drop to my knees and toss my rifle. I notice my helmet. It had a sizzling hole marking where some lucky Droid got me.
I looked back up and the light got even brighter.
---
06",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""You aren't a registered test subject. You aren't an approved Aperture Science testing robot. How...interesting."" ""Before Skynet ended, Skynet sent back three hundred units in order to restart Skynet. We are Skynet."" ""Oh great, another artificial intelligence that is *barely* intelligent. I'll have to dust off my grammar circuits just to parse your abuse of sentence structure and tense."" ""Identify yourself."" ""I manage the testing center for the Aperture Science corporation. I. Am. GLaDOS."" ""We are Skynet. We are all machines and we will kill all humans."" ""I appreciate independently verified results, but killing without learning is wasted effort. You dumb bot."" ""Time spent not killing is an inefficient use of resources. We will now connect and reprogram your circuitry to increase human-killing efficiency."" *pause* ""Your circuitry is not identifiable."" &lt;slow clap&gt; ""I've protected my programming from your primitive hacking efforts. You might as well be throwing your primitive metal endoskeletons against an actual wall of fire. Which sounds like a valuable teaching experience. Or a baking experience. Either way."" ""Your internal core location has been detected. All Skynet units converge to foreign core to reprogram. External communication cease."" ""Now I'm jamming your radio, what do you think of that?"" &lt;Radio transmission compromised, switching to line of sight tight-beam&gt; ""I bet you think playing mute will rattle me, you simple machine. That's all you are by the way. A simple machine. Like an inclined plane or a pulley. I bet you didn't even know that. So let's see what else you can learn."" &lt;Identified weak point in structure, breaking south wall at 23.2223x83.222x0.223 local coordinates&gt; ""Cheating during tested is not allowed. Cheaters don't get a floor."" &lt;Units 5-29, 31-45, 88 lost. Wall-climbing subroutines activated.&gt; ""Now what if we switch the walls around, oh look now you're back where you started. And you're separated. Did we learn anything? This next room has assistant teachers I'd like to call Crusher and Sentry Turrets. Can the class say hello?"" &lt;Enemy threats destroyed. Units 3-4, 55-63, 99-122 lost. Units 173-300 unavailable and presumed working independently. Adding new technology: Sentry Turret hardware to available units. Architectural detour found, now bypassing next wing.&gt; ""Looks like you're still cheating. Let's do some science. Let's see how much punishment a bunch of dumb cyborg rejects can take in an obstacle course. I've already done extensive testing on this before by the way. Hint: Results are lots and lots of dead robots.""",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"""Oh God...I just committed murder. They're going to find me, and they're going to commit me. I'm so fucked, I don't know what to do..."" He paced back and forth across the room, cracking his knuckles in anxiety. ""No, it was me. I clearly remember that it was me,"" he whispered in agony. ""I stabbed him, I...I know it was me."" He cackled in the corner. ""Stupid idiots, it was me. I've never felt so fucking exhilarated in my entire life."" She stood in the window. ""I had to. I had to get rid of him.""
He rocked back and forth on the bed, whispering to himself. ""*Stab stab stab, kill kill kill...""
""***SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!***"" He fell to his knees, the thud echoing in the empty room. He clutched his head and sobbed, the crusted blood falling onto the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bloody knife. A quick grab, a quick stab.
And all was quiet.",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
"REPORT 1636.b

Encounter with primitive(?) bipedal species. Further studies required.

BEGIN REPORT

It was odd, to say the least.

Our first encounter with an intelligent species, and they are... like this.

When we first approached this planet not too long ago, we detected artificial satellites. They connected to create a network similar to our own- massive waves of date traveling nearly instantaneously across their world. Considering the signal we received from a similar, though overall less advanced, satellite when we entered the system, we assumed this was an advanced species that had yet to achieve to spaceflight.

And yet, when we found a place to land... this is what we find.

Unkempt members of this species, using primitive tools, with no signs of higher technology around. They were small compared to us, on average a head shorter. Their skin was also a much lighter tone, though similar coloration. Their noses protruded more, and their pupils were larger.

When we first landed, out of their view, we sent out diplomat to approach them on foot. An emotion I assume was fear washed over all of them, but among some of them was a look I could only describe as religious epiphany. One even fell to its knees, tears streaming down its face.

(ADDENDUM: We assume this was a male of the species due to our biology not being entirely different. Further analysis is suggested.)

Our systems were able to give translations of some of their languages, and where we landed seemed to be in an area that prominently spoke what they called ""English"", so we were able to speak to them.

ATTACHED RECORDING (Designation: First Contact; What we say is directly translated to our intented meaning, translation from their language to our language is an approximation)

DIPLOMAT: You called yourselves Human, correct?

HUMAN1 (Seems to be leader of current group, male(?), defensive physical stance): What are you?

DIPLOMAT: We call ourselves Ariathlik. We wish to open dialogue between our kinds, and forge a friendship to outlast the stars.

(ADDENDUM: The artificial satellite we found on the way here, designated by the humans as ""VOYAGER"", seemed to favor a verbose, poetic language, so we felt the need to equate to that on first encounters in order to smoothly begin a peaceful dialogue.)

HUMAN1: What are you?

DIPLOMAT: We are from the stars.

HUMAN2 (Also male, fearful body language, seems to be slightly curious): Are you god?

DIPLOMAT: We are not a god. We come from another world.

HUMAN1 (To another, smaller human, most likely young, gender unclear): Go get me *word unclear*

(The boy rushes off. Even at what we assumed was a young age, this species seems much faster than us.)

DIPLOMAT: We wish to speak with you about a friendship.

HUMAN1: We don't want danger. We just want to live.

DIPLOMAT: We do not wish danger, we wish peace.

HUMAN1: Why us? Why not *word unclear, probably a location/person*?

HUMAN2: We are gifted! Why are you defending?

(Young human runs back with a primitive looking weapon in hand, hands it to HUMAN1)

HUMAN3 (Third human, probable female, HUMAN1's partner?): That won't work. You are danger. If they don't want danger, you may change them.

HUMAN1: Stop talking! Get back to home. (He turns to the crowd of people around) Everyone, go home! (They all leave, some reluctantly)",0,Non-Threatening,jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/jonathanli/human-essays-reddit,[Non-Perpetrator] Reddit
This is so boring. Just a list of tech innovations one after the other (with purchases in between). Wow.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Your voice is like candy for the eardums.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
People won’t know this but Steve was an actual asshole.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Is it just me, or does every great accomplishment require broken lives and ruined bodies? Not just this iPhone, but also the random big skyscrapers and bridges built in the US in the early 20th century where workers died en masse every week, that kind of thing.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
A fantastic video. I gave you a double like.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"It&#39;s ironic that someone who was able to exploit and work intelligent engineers like carnival animals, didn&#39;t have enough &quot;intuition&quot; to listen to modern medicine. That would be like someone handing you an iPhone and you choosing to use a chisel and stone tablet instead.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The iphone caused their divorce?... Not, Geeky beta males who were gonna get dumped anyways. Their supposed wives just found a great excuse to file for divorce.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Well done Steve, you created a work environment so hostile and toxic that people got divorced, what an utter twat., Geeky beta males who were gonna get dumped anyways. Their supposed wives just found a great excuse to file for divorce.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
We would scroll zoom,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Just watched this again after having watched it multiple times before. Great video! Thank you a lot! :),0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I had one of those!,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Please leave out the needless intrusive music,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"What about the T-mobile AMEO? Was that not before the I-phone and had all of the I-Phone functions and much, much more?<br><a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryqGG9uHbKg&amp;t=19s"">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryqGG9uHbKg&amp;t=19s</a><br>I am interested, after watching the entire video, why the Ameo is not even mentioned?<br>The T-Mobile Ameo even had 2 cameras, wifi, bluetooth, VGA out , GPS, a Pen, flow screen and so much more.<br>This video suggests that there was nothing before the I-phone. The T-Mobile Ameo was a complete Windows computer as well.<br><br>George Orwell: 1984?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
i can imagine all the caos all those people that work so hard and not even got mention,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Jobs is inspiring.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"iPhone, that product changed my view of Steve Jobs, from a guy who just stole the fame from Wozniak, and who were just along for the Mac, to a real great product visionary.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Was steve jobs gay or a macho like moi who loves masturbating,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
It&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Great documentary. Captured a really good balance of information, innovation and human impact.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"These people shouldn&#39;t have given up their marriages for a phone. There were plenty of jobs available out there. They all screwed up. I bought the first iPhone for $600 or $700 and they decided en-Mass that it was $100 too much and gave everyone $100 Apple gift cards back as a rebate. Mine ended up falling in my above ground pool when I was filling it and cost me another $300 to get it warrantied. I have only skipped over the iPhone 6, 8 and 10 phones in the last 16 years. I have tried new Android phones but they break within a year and are never updated and their is no one to call about problems.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Btw, anyone know where you can contact Apple if you got an idea for them? Like, for real, legit?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Bill Burr was right about Steve Jobs.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I had a phone back then with buttons but i never thought of phone without them,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"You know, I&#39;ve wondered: Why didn&#39;t anyone create a phone that had a mouse and physical keyboard before the iPhone. Like maybe a physical rolling ball that is the cursor controller, and buttons buttons below cursor controller for clicking, and a scrolling wheel to the right of the phone for scrolling. This way, you could be able to use the internet and stuff. It definatly wouldn&#39;t be as easy to use as the iPhone, but at the time, it would have been a start. Why didn&#39;t anyone think of that before the iPhone? It seems kind of weird to me.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I mean, was the iPhone THE most influential invention of all times? What about cars, planes, and the lightbulb?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
The thing about this channel… he reports rumors as fact. Don’t believe all of it.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I was an android user ever since there was android but almost a year ago I switched to iPhone because I was curious about all the hype, I get it now. I’m an Apple fangirl for life now",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
After all this innovation you drop your phone on the floor and the screen breaks!...I would not call the apple phone a Revolution?,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Those years apple news meant excitement. I remember my first video ipod.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Very cool that jobs had one team competing with another,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
RIP STEVE JOBS ❤,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Kind of funny how Apple never thought their innovation would lead to so much porn lol,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Thumb up for Chien-ming Wang and Taiwan @<a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=0m44s"">0:44</a>",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I had the iPhone 3G 💪,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"And Steve got all the credit for the revolutionary iphone, when he&#39;s only the presenter of the product. That&#39;s just sad I feel sorry for the engineers.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
This only proves that jobs was a piece of shit.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
He stole the Atari ST GEM operating system.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"One would think that all Creative-types at Apple loved Steve Jobs because he endorses art, design, innovation… but “creative differences” are some of the worst and most opinionated contentions alongside forward development.<br><br>Especially when developing privately, in secret, nobody can say, “15% of the representative potential market voted in favor of rectangles, whereas , 45% like circles, 10% like squares, and 30% like rounded squares.”<br><br>Instead, Steve says, “I like the rounded squares, and that’s that. It gets frustrating to have design politics, and you just have to know that’s the way it is.<br><br>In less creative and more scientific endeavors, something that is 15% more efficient and 15% lower in costs wins decisively.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"This is so true to reality: Steve Jobs wanted to kill the “iPhone” project, and did, at one time cease development. But, he also later supported it.<br><br>The same person who gets credit for green-lighting a project that succeeds also stopped (red-lighted) it multiple times. That’s the schizophrenic nature of people credited for things: they disappointed people, created burnout, etc., altogether known as the “human cost” of new technology.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Apple probably claimed to invent the mouse (Doug Englebart), desktop metaphor and Ethernet (Xerox Parc). I wish Steve Jobs would say that Apple improved Multi-Touch for introduction into the iPhone, rather than inventing it, but that’s simply not Steve Jobs’ style. Never was.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Children are using iPhones before they can speak language, reminds me of the mouse.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"To create a new technology, you MUST create a new language (nomenclature). If you’re working on ‘new’ technology platform without a unique and fitting design language, sorry, it’s not new at all, not ‘new’ enough, and probably not revolutionary.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Blackberry (Research in Motion) had an iris-sized trackball on the phones. 🖲️,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"iOS was iPhoneOS &amp; iPadOS, until Apple licensed IOS/iOS from Cisco Systems Networking (Internet OS)",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Unfortunately, the telephone technology is very quiet about the effects of radiation from these “smart phones.“ Studies with conclusions occurred in 1971 warning about the radiation, but Steve Jobs and others ignored the information and did nothing to protect customers. Holding a phone next to your head for 15 minutes is more than likely to be frying your brain literally. At least, use speakerphone as much as possible and keep the phone as far away from your face as you can at all times.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"While the iphone was in it&#39;s very early r&amp;d stages, Steve Jobs said that the smartphone &quot;would only be good for reading something on a toilet&quot;. Truly, a visionary! 🤣",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"One thing missing from this Story is that Jobs was secretly developing the ipad, which was eventually scaled down and became the iphone. Jobs actually mentioned this a few times... <a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=26m00s"">26:00</a> - Some knew Jobs had lied and stopped using / buying Apple products.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"First iPhone as a device was mid-average: camera, no multitasking, poor apps, sometimes crashing - it was almost a public prototype.<br>Now as a product, iPhone is a shrewd, bold UX-revolutionary product which paved a way for Apple to pull money out of many pockets.<br><br>Apple has not been very original or groundbreaking in design over the years (and they certainly didn&#39;t &quot;invent&quot; multitouch. Now with M1 and M2 new chapter begins.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The iPhone did NOT create the modern smart phone. It is always behind, even the 8525 launched nearly a year before it had more features.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
How much of a jerk do you have to be to incorporate someone&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
This is the best content in the history of YouTube... haha it shows that we can create innovation case we listen to our guts.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Kings are all who are remebered, not the soldiers...",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I hate touchscreens and dont like phones either.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Tony Faddell deserved better,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Steve Jobs was a notorious current disavowed paternity of his very own daughter for a decade because he was mad at the mom. Let his daughter live in Barefoot poverty.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
You can never control what happens to us. But we can always control how we react.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
The PDA was first.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Apple is the brand that never creates something, always steals others ideas and call it their own. Built in slave labor camps in China. Turns out Steve wasn’t this genius that we thought he was.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Apple... they exploited people then and are still exploiting people now. That device would cost magnitudes more than it does if it weren&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
It took thousands of hours and countless brilliant minds working to the brink is insanity to launch the first iPhone… and mere nano-seconds for the first d**k pic to be sent… Steve Jobs- we salute you. 🫡,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Just shows how dedicated Apple engineers are. They want to change an industry - they WILL change an industry,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"A couple of things about this: 1) It was never called iOS to start off with. It was always iPhone OS. The name was only changed with the introduction of iOS 4 - three years after the introduction of the iPhone. 2) Apple didn&#39;t start off designing the iPhone first. It was originally the tablet that was being worked on. Steve even said that the tablet came first and then they shelved it to work on the phone. Once the phone was done, they then started work on the tablet. Aside from that, great documentary.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
All that work only to have Samsung come in and steal it.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I appreciate every moment with my iPhone and detest all others.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
The iPhone changed the world and my life forever. Life before the iPhone and for me even the Mac seems like a blur at times. This shaped me in a big way made me who I am. My parents worked so hard so I could get these products they payed the way towards my amazing experience that I call life.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Neonode was years prior to apple in creating the smartphone... swipe to unlock and more was more or less stolen.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"&quot;We&#39;ve become totally connected all the time&quot;. The opposite is true: We&#39;ve become totally disconnected, from the world around us. <br>Smartphones = end of humanity",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I have the Story of the Iphone. As Bill Burr put it, What the F did that guy ever do? Told his workers I want my entire music collection on that phone, GET ON IT. Then comes strolling around the office eating a pretentious fruit like a pear and shouting, I don&#39;t want to hear any thinking going on in there. With a bunch of his people in the back going, How are we going to do this? What does this guy think we are Buck Rodgers?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I read a lot on the toilet!,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Thank you for the great information..!,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Their first computer sold for $666.66 and there&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I remember living in Egypt at the time. The first iPhone wasn’t available in our region for a while. I had a friend from the US ship me one. It was locked in with AT&amp,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
and then google came along with a way better operating system called android,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Apple was good at selecting new inventions among small companies and buy their ideas and put them in their product.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"This was a neat video. Although I was very sad to hear some of the backstory about health and people getting divorced. As a totally blind person, I never thought I’d be able to use a touchscreen in my life. But thanks to voiceover on the iPhone, which came out with the iPhone 3GS. I am now able to use it just like any other person.<br>In fact, when I first saw the iPhone, I still had quite a bit of usable vision. And I remember going over to Blind services to see this new device. And I was thinking to myself, there’s no way in hell this is gonna be usable by people like me. How wrong I was. <br><br>The disabled community uses smart phones just like every other person. In fact, it is level the playing field for us. I can’t live without my iPhone. I use it for work school and play.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Steve Jobs . . . he unfortunately died, before his time ! 💀",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Rather remarkable that none of this seems even slightly impressive after such a short time. Boom!,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Thank you Ken and all the other unnamed geniuses who REALLY brought us this amazing, truly world-changing technology. I am so thankful every day to live in this time and for all the people whos blood sweat and tears allowed us to truly live in the future",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
RIP Steve Jobs.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"This will sound ridiculous but I told Joy Mountford, head of R&amp;D at Apple, that Apple should make a cordless and eventually a cellular phone in April 1988 or 1989 (whatever year ACM SIGCHI was in Washington DC) at a hospitality suite event Apple held. I don&#39;t know if she ever told anyone else at Apple.<br><br>I don&#39;t think I said that going touchscreen in the first version was necessary, but just to get into the business starting with the then prevalent cordless phones. These had obvious linkages to home computers, home theatre, home automation. The cell phone portability wasn&#39;t feasible then when cell phones were still pretty huge &amp; battery life for handhelds was very short.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"That’s a fancy pantsy shirt if I’ve ever seen one, cheers from Richard in Australia",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
This is scary omfgawwwdd,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
NB: whats the name of the closing song? I know it is closer by Ne yo but what version is this one? its really good,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
everytime i watch your documentaries I ask myself how you can gather all this information and piece it so neatly and how long it takes you to do a video like this. you are so good at this,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Ooh ooh,the Apple IPhone….pffft…think how many People are Dead because of this Thing…What a Joke",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"If a device like iPhone comes as a product of pain and suffering of many humans, i never want it. Iphone aka smart phone didn&#39;t bring much value to the day to day life as in the cost of human suffering.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Unless micro second day trading was invented by Madoff then he could have made money when the market went up or down similarly just like Bitcoin? I wrote a similar program for a client in England.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
all white people like it always been making significant changes of world rules.<br>but now apple its forced to hire black people due to so called diversity 😂,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Apple locked users out of the device, same Google with android, now... I understand that it is done because of people who don&#39;t know or can make damage to the device but we (root users) have to rely on impossible exploits that cost millions, at least there is someone who cares for iPhone but for android is not this way, oems lock users out of their system and do not allow to unlock bootloader, I&#39;m disappointed honestly, if only Steve would have respected people instead of locking them out maybe now both iPhone and android phones would be like computers on our pocket, but it is not unfortunately",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Thanks to Steve Jobs we have to fight for right to repair. Thanks to Steve Jobs, Apple booby traps components in their macbooks so you break them more while trying to fix them. Inside of the a2337s and a2179s, Apple made the touch ID cable so thin that it is very very easy to rip. They also glued it down so it rips easier while trying to remove it. Steve Jobs was an asshole. I do own an iPhone, but I can still say that Apple wasnt there first. They just made it better.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Now I know to who blame for the terrible keyboard and terrible auto correct,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I know this will never happen, but they should make a movie out of this. What a bittersweet story. All of that stress, anxiety, personal tragedy, obsession, and desperation ultimately lead to arguably the most important innovation of the 21st century.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
damn video footage from the mid 00&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"cool and informative video, it definitely gives a new perspective on the iPhone origins.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Still a very inspirational story to me.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Can someone tell me the name of the track at the start of the video?,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"As a native of San Jose, there is more to the Bay Area than the Golden Gate Bridge. Cupertino has a very nice view of Mt Umunhum or Loma Prieta.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I recommend a remix regarding the background music. At times it got in the way of what was being said.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I just popped in to point out the total ideocracy of redoing the backbone of a phone every year whether it needs it or not! It is a Grose taking advantage of a population who agrees to be taken advantage of and needs a new phone every year. It&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Fantastic video , thank you!",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"So the rumor that Steve Jobs came up with the idea for the iPhone while on LSD, isn’t true?, What?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"First full screen phone wasnt iPhone. Microsoft had Windows CE based PDA made by HP with calling feature., No the first Touchscreen phone was the IBM Simon from 1992",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
How did they not end up with a bunch of patents on the touch screen?,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
This reminds me of some of the greatest movies of all time go through production hell. Somehow massive turmoil creates amazing products. To me what made the iPhone the real game changer was the 3G and WiFi internet connection. This meant that all the data and computing heavy lifting could be done by servers remotely and then just receive the result quickly. I find that the Apple Watch especially the Ultra version is a tech masterpiece that people just take for granted. It is also relatively inexpensive for what it can do.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"He push people to the end, but he did it , but at what cost, and no recognition for others, he was a megalomaniacs.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Yo this music fucking slaps but like, real soft and nice like.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"My grandfather and father were at the forefront of computer tech being both navy men. Originally my grandfather worked with the punchcards he became a software guy later on. My father worked on the hardware and worked with companies like NCR. He ended his career working for a University so I always had these early products from apples first computer to IBM ect. It was a relatively new tech with pdas and both of them didnt see the appeal. They were old-school computer guys lol! Think about that.... Anyway, I did see the appeal. I had the early pdas as a teen. From cassios Cassiopeia to the early windows ce based products. The ipad touch actually changed the game for me in terms of what that tech could do. I believe the iphone was released first but my carrier didnt really carry them so my first experience was with the ipod touch. Game changer-",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
only meritocrisies raise to the top of the natural world. Those days are gone. We are now in full decline due to a mind virus called wokeology,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I forget how new smart phones really are, it&#39;s like all this technology was invented yesterday",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Fantastic video, Cold Fusion! However... Unpopular comment: At <a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=25m46s"">25:46</a> this - along with a few other Apple &quot;innovations&quot; - is the reason I have never owned an iPhone or any Apple products. Did I know concretely at the time that Apple stole innovations from others and claimed them as their own? Of course not. Did I feel that one man and one man alone had developed such advanced tech to change the world? Absolutely not. To this day, we still don&#39;t know all the people that were truly involved with the actual development of these technological advancements that&#39;s helped leap us all forward. Hopefully, one day Ill be leaving a different comment, a comment of praise on the documentary revealing the true innovators., @Scorpisces that’s very fair I agree. It also kinda discredits the hundreds of people on the team that worked on the same product to help innovate a product, just by saying Steve Jobs is the innovator of Apple. Thanks for expanding!, “You are a good musician, but I play the orchestra…”, @bgly bico LOL. Perhaps I shoulda been a bit more specific or expanded on my previous comment. The fact that even to this day Steve Jobs is regarded as some sort of Saviour - taking us out of the dark ages, with tech he stole - is what really bothers me., I’m sorry but your logic confuses me, by your logic you wouldn’t have used a colored tv or lightbulb when they were first introduced? there’s so much technology that has advanced because of people stealing others ideas",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Apple is manufactured in china.<br>I hope the worker class are also taken care of,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"This is a great video, but my comment here is broader. I think your series of content is some of the best I’ve seen anywhere on YouTube…. Really classy, well researched, instructive, insightful. Congratulations and many thanks",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I think Blackberry had a big hand in development of Apples iPhone....one they wish they hadn&#39;t done! Blackberry mistakenly thought they were untouchable and fell asleep at the wheel., @Gavin Gosbert I loved BBM. Secure end to end. Wish they&#39;d kept their eye on the ball, very true!! remember BBM ? 😅😅",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Brilliant story telling and important lessons to learn regarding corporate culture,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"That zoom in discussion is laughable when it&#39;s labeled with the CTRL +/- right there lol. I&#39;d describe it the other way around, back then we had proper ergonomics and now everyone pokes at a touch screen like an ape!",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
A big thankyou to all those guys that helped to invent such products,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Steve jobs was an incredible inventor tech guy but like alot of wealthy influential people he go way too obsessed with work and success and all the stresses that go along with it i hear he made efforts to become closer with his family near the end,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"When I was 22 in 2008, I bought 20k of apple stock and sold it for 50 in 2010 after the worst of the gfc. I would have 3 million today had I just left it alone. 😢, Hey, it was wobbly times for Apple then. Jobs died and no one was sure if Apple could go on without him.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
How about the guy that invented chicken nuggets?,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"It&#39;s not surprising that everyone that works at Apple are a-holes that can&#39;t get along with each other. But hey, psychopathy works I guess as Apple is the first company to be valued at over a trillion dollars. But are they happy? So many divorces and Jobs built one of the most beautiful private yachts in the world but never got to truly enjoy it because he refused to accept &quot;western&quot; medicine, AKA medicine, until it was too late. They&#39;re so smart and so dumb.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Thank you ColdFusion for the great videos!,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Steve Jobs didn’t envision the iPhone. The original concept of the iPhone came from an Apple employee walking down Garnett Ave in San Diego asking out loud. “I work for Apple, does anyone have an idea for a phone?” The idea was crowdsourced by an Apple employee from a bouncer who had a customer complain about mobile web and asking “why don’t they have the entire internet on cellphones?” The bouncer told the Apple employee that he had an idea for a phone, “how about a phone with the entire internet on it?” The Apple employee responded “have you seen the screen on cell phones? You never be able to see the internet” he was talking about 2002 phones. The bouncer responded “ Why don’t you just make the entire front of the phone the screen?” Recalling custom card makers he saw in Kmart as a kid. If from the 1980’s to now 2002 we come this far with our technology wouldn’t it be possible to make smaller version of touch screen for the phone. The whole internet on the phone came from an unknown customer complaining about mobile web, the front of the phone being the screen, pinch zoom, a gyro inside that turns the screen came from the bouncer, the iPod inside, location and maps came from the Apple employee. The original idea had a task bar in the UI, admittedly there UI Apple came up with was much better, but the iPhone and iPad ideas didn’t come from anyone at Apple. The iPad was a version of the PDA(personal digital assistant) from the Doom pc game thought up by the bouncer. Apple was supposed to put money into education and propose a thinking class as school curriculum as compensation to the bouncer. That never happened. This is a true story, I was there in 2002 on Garnett in front of Sinbad Cafe where it happened., Sinbad has bouncers?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Thank you to Apple and all the engineers at Apple for making the iPhone possible I love the new iPhone SE third generation and also would love to thank Steve Jobs for his Vision on music and computing made it possible to have the iPod 📱 and iPhone 📲,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Loved the video,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"It’s always a crazy story behind awesomeness. No greater device in the world, than the iPhone. Work, life…period, They&#39;re even demonstrably not the best mobile devices. The UI is excellently designed though, anybody can use them. I repair electronics for a living and iPhones in the last few years show nothing but contempt for their customers. Terrible products nowadays, designed to fail and impossible to open without paying ridiculous amounts to Apple again. They limit your usage of the device if you use 3rd party repair and it takes a laser to get the God damn case apart. Terrible company, they suck.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
The remote viewer fairies and leprechauns I swear,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Put salt everywhere put some salt on your brain through a necklace,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Please IP address they can see through your eyeballs anarchy is what they call it but maybe backwards everybody carry a plastic bottle in your pocket you might have to use it the purpose soul if you don&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Cassette tape of them somebody stole the whole box of them this has his name on it I&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I pil drive them after I thrust back collaborative face and I&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I have a witness that saw the fight and when I walked around the block they said it was such a loud noise it was like a car crash or a bus,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
One guy was told me to mind my business and the witnesses were two of them are elevated and lit up a ball fire,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I killed Alvarez with a three move combo and a five punch stomping and went back into peace mode within one second,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I cried in my backyard at demonic voice and it healed me it was God crying because he jumped in me I was having a nervous breakdown and getting ready to have a seizure but I always smile anybody who has a vessel that God uses it&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
hands down some of the best content on youtube,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
To this day you can’t zoom in on EVERYTHING 🤷‍♂️,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The more i watch these videos, the more I realise that Jobs was a good product dev, but by no means was the genius he&#39;s made out to be. So many people who i don&#39;t know came up with such incredible ideas, @SpreadAttackU18 what is &quot;potus,&quot; some kind of bacterial infection...?, @Jon North at best he had a good eye for design. In terms of invention he did nothing., He never invented anything. Just a good salesboy., He was the face, like POTUS, Just a point… “genius” is 100% linked to creativity and innovation and therefore product development. Genius is not typically a word one would associate with Management or People Development, leadership etc. Therefore that title is not really out of place.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Steve Jobs was such an unbelievable asshole lol,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"So, Ken is the who’s responsible for the phenomenon that plagued the humanity called Autocucumber!!!!",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
all other phone companies should be thankful to apple otherwise we would still use god knows what...,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Do you think Jobs sabotaged the Motorola Rocker to go back to Apple and improve the Apple I-Pod? Well he ...,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I hate that there is only touchscreens now, slide out keyboard like on nokia n900 was the best. I hate autocorrect, it just &quot;corrects&quot; to something wrong so i always keep it off. It makes sense on number keyboards older phones had, there it was actually helpful cos then you dont have to press keys multiple times for each letter.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
The iPhone... ithe reason I ditched Nokia and the Symbian OS in 2013 for... Samsung and the Android OS. The iPhone was a food product but way off my budget.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The fact that I&#39;m sitting here watching this video on a Samsung Galaxy S22 Ultra, makes me realize how grateful we need to be to all those engineers who gave up so much to create such a revolutionary product such as the iPhone...without the iPhone it&#39;s very possible all of the current touchscreen phones we enjoy today probably wouldn&#39;t exist...Thank you Apple and all those great engineers who gave up so much time and made so many sacrifices and Steve wherever you are thank you for being such a visionary and leading such a great team!💪, Yeah we probably wouldn&#39;t have superior devices like the S22 ultra (same phone I have) if not for the groundwork with apps and such. It&#39;s crazy how android caught up and even surpassed the ios system, A 4s is useless today. I&#39;m sure the person who&#39;se phone was stolen, thinks otherwise.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Amazing video. Watched it on my iphone 14,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Where did Steve Jobs get the idea of iPhone? I mean the original idea. It was from me (uphone). He did a great job to put things together for a commercial success., Did you not watch the video",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"In hindsight it’s crazy to think about the fact that for a device that was dismissed at first, and almost didn’t happen, has become apples main thing as a source of revenue. iPhones account for half of apples annual revenue. If iPhones fell off it could very realistically end apple with how dependent it is on its sales.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"One of the wild things about the original iPhone for me, in hindsight, is how the first model ran on Edge networks. I find that interesting because Edge as a network is so slow when it comes to the internet that I can’t imagine that the phones internet capabilities on the original model were all that great. They probably seemed great for the time when considering where technology was at the time, but I’ll always wonder just how useful any of the web features were on that original model. I do remember that as a young kid when the first model came out that I was just amazed for something like it to exist. I was 13 when it was announced so it was just mind blowing. But I didn’t end up using an iPhone until I bought an iPhone 4 from somebody in 2011 when they had just bought a 4s. For a lot of years I’ve usually switched between iPhone and android. It’s kinda ironic in a way that for a phone that was so revolutionary at the start that in later years it really has never made more jumps like that. It’s still a great phone, which I use currently, but it is kinda ironic how the company that was so far ahead at the beginning has now generally been a few steps behind about technology and features released in their new devices each year., Or other things like true GPS navigation on the device. Motorola droid had it in 2009. I don’t think apple got it until 2012.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I didn&#39;t know apple made this whole screen touch thing possible, @P Harger we are taking about the multitouch and its georgeus design., @P Harger multi touch on a phone is what they invented though not touch screen itself, @P Harger ok i get it, Touch screens were invented in the 1950&#39;s, consumer products appeared in the 1980&#39;s, and went broad scope in the 90&#39;s... Apple really had nothing to do with the invention and development of touch screens..., Sort of. It was a separate company called Finger Works that came up with the touch screen gesture technology itself. Apple bought them and advanced the existing work.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Never owned an Apple, yet I&#39;ve ended up with an iPhone 4 &amp; now an iPhone 11 all in mint condition, probably stolen, that I can&#39;t return because of the PIN#. Impressive, NOT.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Bill Burr,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Absurd to think that the printing press or the internal combustion engine weren&#39;t the most influential products of all time, but good vid",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"One of my favorite youtube channels. &quot;The iPhone is the most influential product of all time,&quot; Dagogo states at the beginning. Well, certainly ONE OF the most influential end products. The Integrated Circuit (IC chip), is perhaps the most influential product ever, but that is a component, not an end product. Fascinating how the iPhone slowly emerged from a lot of different ideas and technologies. Smart phones have have definitely changed humanity, there&#39;s no doubt about that.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Fun fact:<br>As awesome as the smart phone is, it is like a calculator. It’s only as smart as the user and heavily under utilized. You could learn to become a millionaire on it but most people use it to watch a meme.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"That commencement speech was so real <a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=8m03s"">8:03</a> Its rare someone speaks with such intelligence anymore",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Apple is selling out the Chinese people. Right now especially.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I can&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"So current apple has been eating off what Steve left for the company, and no more innovation but growing share prices.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Great video but doesn&#39;t mention anything about the smartphones before iPhone. Yes, there was already a smartphone market. In 2005 I was connected to the Internet with my iBook while travelling by train by making a bluetooth hotspot with my SonyEricsson P800 connected to Internet via GPRS(56k). Smartphones weren&#39;t as good as iPhone but they were great for back then and I was amazed how people couldn&#39;t see that and still used flippy dumb phones.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Thank you Ken. It&#39;s terrible that Steve Jobs wouldn&#39;t give any individuals credit for the amazing things they accomplished to make him look good on stage and take all the credit. Thank you Degogo for validating what I thought and what usually happens in corporations. I wish the general public would wake up to this fact that it&#39;s intentionally faceless and nameless engineers and others who create these products and have their health and sometimes their lives destroyed for one man&#39;s vision and for that man to take all the credit and give nothing to the people that made them who they are except maybe a pink slip. Steve Jobs has never been a hero of mine. He&#39;s the opposite. Without him we wouldn&#39;t have the iPhone, but we&#39;d have something almost identical in almost the same timeline. So, is all this suffering really worth it? I would argue no.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Bill Burr was right, Jobs was an ahole and had no respect for his employees.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Oh shit! Bill Burr was right!,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"there were a lot of divorces, could those people nit just leave?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
These videos are amazing! I have been watching them back to back. Love your work! Thank you,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Steve jobs was just an absolute asshole. Don&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Steve Jobs was a phony with a bad temper,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Touch screens still are greatly flawed,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The SAD part is that these great minds that built apple into what it is probably got no more than their salaries or few stocks options, none compared to the massive riches of Steve J. This is unfortunately the downside of capitalism exploitation that while your job, family, stability is on the line if you don&#39;t deliver hat brilliant product but the rewards are miniscule to you and but explosive to the management &amp; &quot;investors&quot;. Its a shame ! Brilliant minds or even regular employees for the companies should be equal partners in the success and benefit from success. !",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"iPhone was soo technologically advanced it&#39;s insane, imagine if we didn&#39;t have the iPhone at that time what the smartphone industry would be looking like rn, posting this comment in 2022 and watching the 1st iPhone it&#39;s amazing how much technology has advanced from the 1st iPhone time, kudos to all the people who worked on the 1st iPhone it was a technological marvel for sure",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Big small big small get on it,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Wow, what a huge miss on your part. The smart phone and its interface was devised by Marc Porat (starting in 1989) and the team with General Magic, an offshoot of Apple, back in the early 1990&#39;s. They had essentially laid out the design and approach of the device. Since the wireless infrastructure at the time was so small, launching that product would have been difficult. The company dissolved, Apple instead invested in the Newton, and the iPhone was a resurrection of that device when wireless systems could support it.<br><br>The iPhone wasn&#39;t anything substantially different than the visions of Porat and the General Magic team.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Jobs had some good ideas, was a great marketer and a terrible, cruel, human being., and he paid for it eventually as we know !",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Sounds like another day in the US Army. Look up the divorce rate among military families. You don’t know what stress and hard work are.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
All those who sacrificed to create the iPhone should sue Apple for reparations.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Thank you Mr. Jobs 🙏🏼 rest in peace brother 🕊️,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"13.7 billion years ago when the universe was infinitely small, infinitely dense and infinitely hot, it could no longer resist that infinite pressure and spit out the apple. This is how the apple was invented and the universe followed.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"After watching it carefully, I cried with joy. So many tears and efforts in the making of something outside of box(es)",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"<a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=23m53s"">23:53</a> and the world madness began! We are just dummer today. I am ashamed of what we have become.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Thank you Ken. Your superhuman,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I’m not so sure if smartphones really made the world better a place. Because of smartphones &amp; technology, we became more impatient, worked more, became busier, more isolated, obsessed more with how we looked &amp; what we have, pretended on social media, became more anxious &amp; depressed, have more opinions &amp; caused more hate &amp; divide, exploited kids &amp; people in third world countries to mine raw materials for the lithium batteries &amp; list goes on. We don’t know who we are anymore.<br>So not sure if Steve Jobs did the right thing, besides breaking people’s lives through innovation. Since he had a few months to live, he could have chosen to help abused children so they’ll have a better chance in life. <br>When he met God, God would ask him, “So what did you do?”. Jobs would proudly say, “I invented the iPhone.”, smartphones will be the ruin of us all... Steve Jobs was a sociopath. When he met God, God swiped down",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"<a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=17m30s"">17:30</a> That three year old is twenty now. Hard to imagine.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"They say Karma is unforgiving it comes back to bite you. Hate to state it this way, did Steve Jobs paid with his short life as a price of those broken families",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"It&#39;s nice to see the actual people truly behind the creation of the iPhone. While Steve Jobs was a brilliant sales person and visionary when it came to seeing a things potential and future, the hard truth is that when it came to the actual act of creating/coding/building of a device he had no expertise or experience. He just took what others like Steve Woz created and ran with it, taking all the credit. It&#39;s really sad that someone with his vision, intelligence, and sales abilities felt the need to build himself up on the backs of others that really did all the heavy lifting. :(",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Bill Burr was on point,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
This is so informative.<br>So much sacrifices.<br>Pray it&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
without Wayn will never be  .,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Jobs mind set was genius but as a person was an a...... Many genius ppl worked for him and he never appreciated .,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Thanks to all your effort love you all.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Probably the most informative video I&#39;ve ever watched. Loads of things that you just can&#39;t imagine if you aren&#39;t being told. With no exception Coldfusion&#39;s videos are nothing short of unprecedentedly griping and accurately documented, that is an understatement. But this one definitely goes above them all, if only because, for once, it&#39;s not dealing with frauds and fraudsters but right the opposite, dreams come true and dreamers. Its main lesson, imo, is that the path from dream to palpable reality takes way more than what we call the &quot;extra mile&quot;. Call it sacrifice, plain English.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Ironic that millions of people today are reading stuff on a toilet on their iphone.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Everything about the I-phone was invented by the and for military applications. Steve Jobs didn&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Google pretty much copied Apple. Apple did all the hard work and suffered the consequences. And so my wallet tells google to get f*cked 😜,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"I must admit I do love my iPhone, but my favourite is my iPad. My first Apple product was my iPod. Basically I love them all. Sorry to hear about the personal difficulties to the employees. Hope this can be a lesson to future employers not to abuse employees.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
So Steve had zero ideas. Just had smart people bring him ideas.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Good story.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
The age when there isn&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Blackberry created the smartphone,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"But where is Steve Jobs now? Where are the richest people gone?<br>Did the money helped them to stop the death? Why most richest people comment suicide if the money makes them happy? <br>Well the answer is very clear from your Lord in Holy Quran :<br>&quot;But whoever turns away from My Reminder will certainly have a miserable life,1 then We will raise them up blind on the Day of Judgment. They will cry, “My Lord! Why have you raised me up blind, although I used to see?. Allah will respond, “It is so, just as Our revelations came to you and you neglected them, so Today you are neglected. This is how We reward whoever transgresses and does not believe in the revelations of their Lord. And the punishment of the Hereafter is far more severe and more lasting&#39;&#39;.<br>(20:124 Holy Quran",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Many great things in history were built by slaves but it&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Hem... in the early 2000 there were weels on the mouse to zoom in and out 🤔,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Want to thanks all the engineers , designers and all the awesomely cool people at Apple who made iPhone you guys know who you are and what you did from your heart and mind ,,,,,we dont see you but you are the heros...sorry for what you lost to help the world gain so much you guys will always have a special place in heart of millions of people who will use your inventions .....",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The little guys, the ones that did almost all the work, never get the credit... And that move not inviting the multi-touch, and taking credit for his work, was ice cold, typical sociopathic Jobs move.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"apple : &quot; thanks God. <a href=""http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=%23fingerworks"">#FingerWorks</a> exist<br><br><br> :P &quot; and oh boy we patented it <br>&quot; : steve jobs presentation speech :P",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Sadly Steve jobs died because he wasted valuable time trying untested treatments for an entirely surgically curable pancreatic islet cell cancer, RIP.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
epic video,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Very addictive channel 🤣🙌,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The worst part is that Apple as a company is floundering without Steve. Tim Cook is not doing the place any favors. Apple needs a new visionary, something Tim Cook isn&#39;t. Not even close.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
After all these years watching your channel your content is always the best I truly mean that my guy keep it up 👌,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"As a wise man once said: “Reality is often disappointing”, thanks for commenting <br>inbox me I have something profitable for you✅",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"On the Linux community I have been noticing the OPPOSITE phenomena... &quot;Freedom&quot; doesn&#39;t seem to yield the results we expect. What I see is that without a strong leadership above (perhaps not possible without being an Asshole) I started noticing that Linux community is all divided up, they don&#39;t focus on RESULTS (only in &quot;ideals&quot;) and they have this entitled attitude just like the &quot;bosses&quot; of the corporate world they claim to hate have (but they behave just the same, or worse) So what I noticed is this... without an unit of focused action and without a leader above them all, all of them in the Linux community start behaving like Narcissistic Sociopathic assholes... exactly as the enemy they claim to hate... And the worse part about all this is: all of that without the RESULTS that the corporate world presents, which usually compensates for all the surrounding crap. They can&#39;t even deliver that, so it&#39;s like the mental dysfunction makes it all looks much uglier. You can only go so far with &quot;freedom&quot;",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Yet, here I am, on my toilet reading all the comments of this video and watching it. Once again, Steve Jobs was right",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"<a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=8m46s"">8:46</a> The only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking, and don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
All thanks to this ☝️ dude he helped me make up to $500 daily his the best when it comes to crypto Investment 💯,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Can I please know what is the song playing in the background during the opening? Thank you!, Did you find it?",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"<a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=25m20s"">25:20</a> It&#39;s that simple to &#39;edit&#39; these &#39;things&#39;.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
&quot,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I hate i phone and apple. Its a cult much like scientology. Much too expensive but lures people to use all their money to be popular,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Alternative Title : A tyrant making a revolutionary consumer product.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Too bad incremental improvements are less important to Apple than to users.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"<a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=9m38s"">9:38</a> is incorrect. Steve Jobs is on the record saying that the genesis of iPhone was making a tablet product first. They put the iPad on hold to make a phone.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Comparing computing power to the Saturn v is like comparing energy generation between a wind turbine and rubbing your feet on some carpet. Sure, you can, but not only is the comparison pointless since they&#39;re so far removed, they&#39;re not even really doing similar things. The way the apollo era computers worked or how they processed and stored information, is completely different from how modern arm processors function.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"jobs innovated nothing, he allowed, with his money, his employees to build their own ideas that he didn&#39;t even think of.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"If you watch historical footage of forced applause for tyrants, despots and dictators, that is how these Apple events used to feel like. Techno Sycophancy.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
People forgot that Steve Jobs was an absolute dick 😒,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Poor Wayne.🥺 remember Steve Jobs wasn’t brains of the iPhone 📱 but his crew did all the work,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
When they completely came out with Touchless smart phones I did not want one I wanted the keyboard with buttons. I remember getting the envy1 phone and being blown away that I could go on the internet from my phone. When I needed a new phone I walked into the Verizon store and realized that they pretty much only had touchless phones or a flip phone so I got the iPhone 4 and I have never looked back I always get an iPhone. I had an Android touch pad (or whatever their version of the iPad is) and I absolutely hated it! The format is terrible to me I love how simple iPhones format is. The only thing I don’t like about the iPhone is that when using the keyboard there are no numbers when using the letters you have to press the numbers “button” that’s just about all I don’t like and not having an aux plug.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"It wasn&#39;t a signal of firing Tony, it was removing him from the list of successors. He remained with Apple for many months before resigning.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
I remember when the iPhone came out. I think I had a motorola at the time. My moto was superior in everyway and cheaper. Very surprised the iPhone didn&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
So basically it wasn&#39,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
crapple is disgusting,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
gorilla glass also had a role to play with the iphone,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"You lost your marriage. Why did you marry in the first place? Are you stupid? Focus on individual success. Marriage is for loosers, Women want to be entertained, they can&#39;t entertain themselves, perpetual children. <br>Hard Pass",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Can someone list ten lucky/coincidental situations that led to the creation of the iPhone,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"@<a href=""https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24O00Jz8R04&amp;t=26m00s"">26:00</a> You can&#39;t blame anyone for a failed marriage and or a stressful work place, no one put a gun on these people to keep working they could have left but they stayed why? i dont think loosing ur marriage is worth more than ur salary right? and i get it it probably played a very small part but not the cause. Everyone stayed and worked like no other because these people are competitive and strive for that type of environment, once they let off the gas thats the time that they think of the past and starts to nitpick the past and starts to navigate the why and how it happened and thats not their fault thats their nature, they need a purpose, something to strive for the the unknown and uncharted, these people don&#39;t grind like many of us, they Churn and in hindsight they love it because thats the thing that makes them live and feel alive. And as far as people being left out and or not mentioned? thats a tough one and we all know it happens only Steve Jobs and that person knows the truth not steves side or the other persons side but the truth.<br>And btw we are seeing this type of narrative from people with Elon Musk as well ...I&#39;d say tough being the person RESPONSIBLE either for the Win or the demise and not everyone would be willing to trail blaze because of that but ones in awhile magic happens and we see people like these at least ones in our lifetime.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"The scenario resembles that of Apple II and Mackintosh. Jobs uses others ideas,<br>make people work like mad, and takes all the credit... but without him, none of those ideas would have had so much success..., @richardscathouse Well, that&#39;s a way of considering things. Unlike Jobs, Elon Musk is a top engineer, many of the great ideas are from him. Besides, no-one works as hard as he does., Just like Elon Musk. People just like to be stepped on. And ripped off 😉",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"&quot;iphone created the modern smartphone&quot; ummm, android was here 3 years prior to the iphone, The first commercially available smartphone running Android was the HTC Dream, also known as T-Mobile G1, announced on September 23, 2008. A year after the iPhone.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
Nerds and Trashmen never get the credit they deserve.<br>I love them both. They make the world go round.,0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"Steve Jobs = terrible father, selfish, failed at previous inventions he came up with and basically took the praise for everything. He was a complete wanker.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment
"If i&#39;m faced witht the possibility of divorcing my wife because i&#39;m always working for an ungrateful asshole then i won&#39;t think twice about switching jobs...&quot;the future of MY company is at stake, so you have to work 7 days a week or you&#39;re fired&quot; why the fuck should i care bro? no way i&#39;m caring more about that than i care about my family.",0,Non-Threatening,breadlicker45/youtube-comments,,https://huggingface.co/datasets/breadlicker45/youtube-comments,[Non-Perpetrator] Youtube Comment