Don’t Read This When I’m Gone

Don’t Read This When I’m Gone

As I’m getting older,

chip up on my shoulder

Rolling through life

to roll over and die 

-Salad Days, Mac Demarco


Parkland Pussy

From Washington Post:

The former student who killed 17 people at a South Florida high school in 2018 pleaded guilty Wednesday to 17 counts each of murder and attempted murder, paving the way for a jury to decide whether to sentence him to death or life without parole.

Appearing in Broward County court in a mask and dark-colored shirt, Nikolas Cruz listened as Circuit Judge Elizabeth Scherer guided him through the charges and potential punishment for the massacre that killed 14 students and three faculty members.

“These are capital felonies, and they’re punishable one of two ways, either life in prison or the death penalty,” Scherer said. “Do you understand that you are facing a minimum, best-case scenario of life in prison?”

“Yes ma’am,” he responded.

Before accepting the plea, Scherer emphasized that Cruz’s decision would be irreversible, even if he ended up on death row. “You will not be able to change your mind,” she told him.

The judge then read the 34 charges and asked how he wished to plead. “Guilty,” Cruz said after each.

Free Cruz! Nah not really, he was a troubled kid that had should’ve gotten help. It was known by authorities that he would do something like this. Most of his life he had run ins with the law. They ignored this on purpose. Then when the shooting started, police intentionally were told to stay back. Cruz had a bad life. He probably has low intelligence too. He didn’t even leave a manifesto. There was plenty of time for the feds to stop this shooting. They intentionally let it happen to push the gun control narrative. Cruz was a dumb kid that thought he would go down in history if he pulled off a mass shooting. There is no reason why he shouldn’t have thought that, just looking at the media. He’s parents weren’t around. He’s mixed. No friends, no family, and no future. Man had drip and should’ve just gotten mandatory Parkland Pussy, gone into manual labor, and work to make the family he never had. On some level he felt he had no chance in this society to have a worthwhile life.

Nicholas Cruz is a bad example of a mass shooter. I think he was just a literal retard that wanted to kill people for infamy. There’s no evidence of any sort of philosophy backing his actions. He didn’t kill himself after like most. We can speculate on what if something different happened but that doesn’t change things. In this instance it is made clear that this shooting was designed to happen by the elites or whatever. David Hogg is older than me so it’s ok to call him a faggot CIA puppet. Cruz wore a MAGA hat and got rejected by girls, David Hogg cowered in closets and played reporter with a bias for the globalist agenda. I’m not defending Cruz, He’s the least relatable of infamous figures. I am saying that he has been used as a figure to subliminally get across the message conservative incels are dangerous and their guns must be taken away. The shadow of Parkland has been used to dehumanize you specifically. That’s not Cruz’s fault, that’s the fed’s. They knew he was a threat and let it happen.

If You Read, You’ll Judge

She’s hanging off my left arm, my right the world. Her movements are influenced totally by mine. I forget about her and think what’s really keeping gravity from acting upon my body is the joint that’s between my middle and index finger or my right hand. I am amazed at the strength of this joint somehow carrying my body weight. I feel indebted to it. Giving it a kiss, a deep breathe lets the smoke fully inside me. I must be floating. My body is tingling, as I walk I feel it a blessed thing that the world meets my feet at the time I choose to step. Wondering if the ground could be some sort of treadmill contraption, I look down and halt. My theory was possibly false I think, before I am interrupted by a yanking on my left arm. My eyes follow down my arm to see a hand with black painted nails. My eyes the tread up the arm that hand is attached to, to the shoulder, the neck until my eyes meet hers. She’s mouthing something. No, she’s saying something. These seconds feel like weeks. I notice the right side of her is lit up. My eyes dart toward where I assume the light could be coming from. A car was inches away from us. A noise engulfed the area we were in, just now noticing it. I am not sure how long that noise has been with us, time seemed to advance for me to understand. I feel I have regained control and follow where her hand wants me to go. We reach concrete sanctuary and the sea of asphalt is too far away to car. My legs feel controlled by her, as I can’t help but move where she directs me. I remember how to listen and decipher quickly and I feel my chest tighten when I my ears meet her harsh speech. A weight on my shoulders as I think she’s angry with me. I force out words that my mind says will heal the damage I’ve done. “I’m sorry”. She stops and tilts her head toward me.