Lucien’s Unpopular Opinion: Suicide By Truck

This isn’t gonna be too long.  I have an actual Thanksgiving post to write, but before I get to that, I wanted to talk a bit about a story that I read in the news recently.  It goes well with another story that I covered some time ago.  This is a story about unbelievably terrible people that our society seems to think are victims, when they do stuff like this.  And that’s insulting, to me.

See, there are people in this world who want to kill themselves.  Okay.  I am sorry that they have gotten to that point, but it is what it is.  That’s not what gets to me.  What gets to me is how they decide to do it.  These people can’t be bothered to get a gun or drink poison or whatever else doesn’t involve another person.  Instead, they choose to run out in front of a truck and get smashed all over the hood of the vehicle.

Look, if you want to kill yourself, that’s one thing.  But when you choose to get someone else involved this way, you are a complete piece of shit.  Why?  Well, let’s talk about this.  First, what if it didn’t work?  What if they swerved to miss you and then smashed into someone else?  What if, in trying to get yourself killed, you ended up killing innocent people?  What’s more, you got innocent people killed, and now that truck driver has their blood on his hands.  What if he gets in trouble?  What if he is blamed?  It wasn’t his fault that he was swerving to miss you and your selfish ass.  He was trying to do the right thing and not kill someone.  But that’s not enough for you, is it?  Not to mention, is this a neighborhood that you’re doing this in?  What if the guy totally loses control and smashes into someone’s house?  God knows how many innocent people could be killed with this.

Next, why does no one acknowledge the fact that, even if you succeed and nothing goes wrong, do you not understand that it is still your blood on this person’s hands?  You think that you can just walk that off?  You think that this person will just wake up tomorrow and be like, “well, I killed someone.  I guess I’ll move on with my life.”  No!  Wrong!  That’s not how life works!  People don’t just act that way.  Do you assume that because it’s some truck driver, the won’t care?  That they just hate you because you’re trans or gay or whatever?  I guarantee you, that’s wrong.  They have empathy and compassion and don’t want to kill anyone, just like anyone else.  Well, most likely, anyway.  Crazy people can be in any profession, but the odds are very much in favor of them not wanting to have your blood on their hands.

These people’s lives have been ruined, because of you.  It’s YOUR fault.  If you want to die, fine.  It sucks, but you made your choice.  But do NOT drag another person into your need to exit this world.  It’s unfair.  It’s disgusting.  It ruins another person’s life forever.  And if you do go that route, then you are a selfish piece of shit!

And that’s today’s unpopular opinion.

Until next time, a quote,

“In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction.”  – David Mitchell

Peace out,



Seeking the Next Story

Something that most people don’t know about me is that I suffer from unending, soul-crushing, spirit-breaking depression.  It stems from a head injury, and the subsequent brain damage that accompanied it.  I am brain damaged.  It’s something I don’t talk about too much, because I don’t like people to think less of me because of it.  The moment someone hears brain damage, they think of something like some guy who becomes a drooling vegetable.  To be fair, that could have been me.  There was a girl in high school who was made a vegetable by a head injury.  Every time I saw her, my stomach knotted.  Like looking into the mirror of what could have been.  It was harrowing, to say the least.

Part of what came with my depression is some thoughts of suicide.  I don’t deny, I wrestle with this all the time.  It is better now, with it being summer.  Granted, the sauna that is my office during the day doesn’t help, but one thing at a time, right?  It’s money, and that’s what I need.  Especially since, I seem underqualified for this job, but I am working to learn it, because it’s a great opportunity.  Of course, the moment a better one comes along, I’m on that like stink on cheese.  It’s nothing personal.  I was born and raised lower-middle class.  I learned to do what’s best to move my position in life along as best I can.  It’s just how things work.  Nice?  Not really.  But that’s what it is.  In winter, however, or when it is late and I am at my lonely apartment, there are times when the thoughts creep into my head.  Thoughts about how a skin condition makes me look worse each day, and that my socialization is on life support and my love life has been given a time of death.

What keeps me going?  After all, I’ve been dealing with this since I was 14.  I have muscled through periods in my life when the urge was so strong that I had written an actual note.  Something I keep with me, to remind me where I’ve been.  How do I keep doing this?  Any time someone accuses me of personal weakness, I know that that isn’t the case.  That isn’t to say that I think that suicide is easy.  It’s not.  People who say that it’s “taking the easy way out” have obviously never been in a place where they have genuinely wanted to end it.  But, it is in no way easy to press on and try and make the most of one’s time.

The worst part of being me is that I’m not the best looking guy.  I am freakishly tall.  6′ 10-1/2″, to be exact.  I tower over everyone.  My face generally looks annoyed, even when I am not.  I just keep it blank, because I don’t feel the need to plaster a fake-ass smile on my face to make people think that I’m so super-happy and joyful.  No joke, the guidelines at my job said that I had conduct myself, “serious, yet joyfully.”  How does that work?  Do I sprinkle pixie dust around my office as I do paperwork?  I don’t now.  Still, I’m not a good-looking guy, and I am constantly-aware that I don’t fit into that category.  It makes my hopes for any future romance look bleak.

In any case, it’s not easy.  I press on.  Why?  What keeps me going?  After some serious examination, I have figured out what it is that keeps me going.  It’s the search for a good story.  I love stories.  Great fiction is a wonderful thing.  I look for it in all forms.  Books, movies, TV shows (well, some.  Infinitely more critical of television than other forms of media.  A LOT of garbage in there), and lastly – video games.  That’s right, I’m a grown man, out of college, who likes video games.  The horror!  It tells great stories as well.  It’s a great medium for great stories.  Anyone who looks down on those who game because it is “childish” or what-have-you clearly has their own idea about what is the way to be, and it isn’t going to change.  People like things as they do, and those outside of them can get rather-cruelly examined in a negative light.  It seems to be a human thing.

My search for the next great story is why I am still here.  When I was in the worst parts of my life, fiction is the thing that saved me.  Video games especially.  Losing myself in a story that I could get immersed in was such a nice feeling.  A gentle escape from how unpleasant life could be.  After everything with Emily went down, I logged SO many hours into the Mass Effect games.  It got a little insane.  My break-up with the last relationship was much the same, only it was different games.  Then I got into Game of Thrones, and dear god has that sucked up a lot of my time.

I get where the character Eugene Sims is coming from.  For a socially-awkward giant like me, I have had to work on my skills for ages.  I am amicable and snarky (in a fun way) when people first meet me, but the longer they know me, the more they realize that I am a weird, sometimes-cold, often-negative guy who keeps my thoughts on stuff pretty close to the chest.  Since I work at a medical office where the majority of people working there are women, I get to hear a lot of idle gossip about whatever, and I am having to say nothing, or just nod, when people want my input.  I swear, part of me wonders if they think I’m gay, and that’s why they ask me what I think about so-and-so’s relationship issues.  It wouldn’t be the first time people have thought that way.

Still, my depression is an ugly animal.  I muscle through each winter, and the summers are not long enough.  That’s part of why I mean to move down south, into the Lower 48, at some point in my life.  My end goal is to live on the ocean, for at least two years.  That happens, along with two other things that I won’t mention, and I can die a happy man.  But, until then, I have my fiction to keep me company, along with the remnants of my social life.  A strange entity.  If you have depression issues, feel free to talk about how you get through it in the Comments section.  I am always open to us being able to help out anyone else who may have trouble dealing.

Until next time, a quote,

“For years, my best friends were fictional characters.”  -Eugene Sims, inFAMOUS: Second Son

Peace out,


God Wants the Terminally Ill to Suffer? (A response to Trent Horn)

For those who haven’t heard, there is a woman by the name of Brittany Maynard.  She is currently suffering from a brain tumor that is inoperable.  She has moved from California to Oregon, where there is a law that states that the terminally ill are able to take their own lives, when their disease gets into the late stages.  It’s a more humane way of dealing with this, as opposed to telling those who have no hope of getting better that they have to suffer and die in some horrifically painful way.  Maynard has gotten the medication to end her own life and has stated publicly that she is going to do so on November 1st.

First, I’ll give my own opinion on this.  I have absolutely no problem with physician-assisted suicide for terminal patients.  If they have no hope of getting better, what good does it do to force them to live in pain or worse?  It only makes the families feel better.  I am not against suicide in general.  What you do with your life is your business.  However, I can see where the ethical arguments come from people who are healthy ending their lives.  But, for the terminally ill, that is a whole other thing.  Brittany Maynard is never going to get well.  Even if there is a cure for brain tumors announced tomorrow, it will have to be tested, approved by the FDA and then reach the market.  By that time, since NOTHING goes through FDA approval quickly, Ms. Maynard will be dead.  It’s a sad and tragic story that we hear all too often.  One of my favorite episodes of FRONTLINE is about a man who is dying of ALS who goes to Zurich to commit suicide.  Here’s a link.  I recommend you check it out.

However, as is typical in these cases, the pro-life bleeding hypocrites had to come out and make themselves heard.  One person in-particular is who I am going to be responding to today.  His name is Trent Horn.  He is a Catholic and a writer for the publication Catholic Answers.  Oh, so he has the right answer to this?  Well, let’s see what he has to say.  I’m not going to respond to every part of this article, just the bits I think are most important, to save time.  Here’s a link, so you can read the rest on your own.  Now, let’s get started.

Everyone agrees we should have a choice in “how” we die. By that I mean we should be able to choose where we die (in hospice, in a hospital, at home), who we want to stand by us as we end our mortal existence, and whether we will use treatment to delay or even indirectly hasten death.

Um, no.  That’s not what everyone agrees on.  Not at all.  If we have a choice on how, by which I mean the method, we die then we should be allowed that choice.  This woman, and the man whose story is in the video I linked above, have no way to stop themselves from dying.  Both of them suffered immeasurably and there was almost no quality of life left.  How can you argue that this is something that they should not have had a choice over?

I think it’s clear we don’t have an unlimited right to kill ourselves. I live in San Diego where it’s not uncommon for people to try to commit suicide by jumping off the San Diego-Coronado Bay Bridge.

Whoa, dude!  False equivalence!  There is a HUGE difference between a person who jumps off a bridge and someone who is terminally ill.  You can’t start off your discussion about this with this kind of example, because it colors the entire issue.  That’s not cool.

If the right to die were truly unlimited, the state would no more investigate a person’s motive to die than it investigates a person’s motives for marrying someone or conceiving a child, actions that also have permanent consequences (though not as grave as the consequences of suicide). The state would let people end their lives without scrutiny, just as it lets people have children or marry.

Wait, what?  I can kind of see where you’re about to go, here, but I’m going to head you off at the pass.  Given the belief in our culture that a person’s life has intrinsic value, however, there are limits to that value.  What value does it serve for Brittany Maynard to suffer needlessly, if the outcome is the same?  She cannot get better.  There is no possible way for her to live.  If we are going to have legal physician-assisted suicide, then I guarantee you that there would be a stiff process of approval, much like there is in Zurich.  Your argument here is hinting in the same direction as Sarah Palin’s BS ‘death panels.’

But aside from the difficulty in predicting when someone will die, there are larger problems with this position. It forces us to classify the sick and disabled into two arbitrary groups: those who deserve suicide prevention and those who deserve suicide assistance.

Deserve?  Who’s saying that these people deserve this?  No, we are saying that they have a right to end their lives prematurely, if they are terminally ill.  It is THEIR right.  This isn’t being forced on them, Trent.  Nobody held a gun to Craig Ewert’s head and told him to go to Zurich and end his life.  He made that choice.  What are you talking about?

Basically, it’s dangerous when the people you count on to heal you also have the right to help kill you. This goes beyond doctors. In 2008 Oregon resident Barbara Wagner wanted to try an experimental chemotherapy drug, but her insurance company refused to pay $4,000 a month for the treatment.

It did, however, offer to pay for “physician aid-in-dying,” which at a cost of $100 for a one-time use of pills that would put her into cardiac arrest was a bargain for the insurance company. When death is offered as an alternative to treatment, insurance companies will promote it, since death always costs them less than the medicine needed to treat their clients’ severe health problems.

And I thought that I had a shitty outlook on humanity.  You take the cake, dude!  For one, this is the biggest stretch I have ever seen.  For another, insurance companies may be evil, but I refuse to believe that they are going to tell people – “kill yourselves!  It saves us money!”  That’s bad PR if I’ve ever seen it.

We don’t euthanize suffering human beings precisely because we show them more mercy than we do cats and dogs. An animal’s life is not worth the cost of expensive medical treatment, but a human’s life is much more valuable than an animal’s, so we have no problem spending large sums of money to treat them. We should give human beings effective pain management and respectful care as their bodily functions begin to cease. We shouldn’t just give them the “Old Yeller” treatment.

Oh yeah.  I bet that they are taking Ms. Maynard out back and shooting her.  That totally is how it is.  Why, I know the kind of gun they’re using.  She won’t know what hit her!  And ‘effective pain management’?  Yeah, cause I bet that they have NEVER thought of that before.  Right, terminal cancer patients?  Anyone?

Other people will say that the “dignity” in dying comes from the fact that the person is able to choose how they die, regardless of what choice they make. But dying in a dignified manner relates to how one confronts death, not the manner in which one dies or chooses to die.

Bullshit!  That’s bullshit and you know it!  What dignity does an alzheimer’s patient who is unable to think, shitting their adult diapers and pissing themselves have?  Please, elaborate to me how that is dignified?  Where is the dignity in crying yourself to sleep every night, for weeks, as you are slowly being eaten alive by cancer?  My grandad died of cancer, and you know what the last days of his life were like?  They were hell.  He couldn’t fact that with your BS definition of ‘dignity’ because he was in too much pain.  Ms. Maynard is facing her death with dignity.  She is choosing to end the pain and not have to go through worse, putting herself and her family through hell.

What people don’t have a right to do to be free from pain is directly kill themselves, whether the pain is physical, psychological, emotional, or even spiritual. Doctor’s especially should not participate in assisted suicide, because their job is to kill the pain, not the patient!

Funny thing.  In Zurich, it is a rule that the patient has to be the one to take the medication.  If the patient is unable to take the medication, then they can’t go through with the procedure.  That was part of the reason that Ewert knew he had to get in to do the procedure soon.  His ALS had almost totally crippled him.  He knew that it was then, or never.  And guess what, you ignorant religious zealot – the doctors did kill the pain.  Craig Ewert’s pain was over.  Brittany Maynard’s pain will also be over.

One of the comforts of being Catholic is knowing that our suffering isn’t meaningless, and death isn’t the end. Instead it’s the beginning of a new phase in life. Our loved ones aren’t extinguished at death but wait with us for the final judgment.

And there you have it.  After all his talk of saying that he wasn’t making any religious arguments, it all comes back to his faith.  He can’t even let his BS hold up.  It has to come back to the fact that he believes this way because of his faith, and his faith is his guiding principal.  Just like the anti-abortion Catholics, this is another one who wants people to do what he wants, because of his faith.  If there is a God that genuinely wants Ms. Maynard to suffer, he can go and fuck himself up the ass with a cactus.  He’s not worth praying to.

To Ms. Maynard, if you ever read this, I am sorry for your situation.  I watched my grandad deteriorate and I fully support your right to do what you are doing.  If there is something on the other side, after this, I’ll see you when I get there, however long that is.  Take peace from this one atheist and his kind wishes.

I’ll leave you with a quote that makes me happy,

This may not make much sense to you now, a young man at the beginning of his career, but one of the things you learn as you move up the ranks and get a little older is that you wish you had more time in your youth to really absorb the things that happened to you. It goes by so fast. It’s so easy to become jaded. To treat the extraordinary like just another day at the office. But sometimes, there are experiences that transcend all that.” -Capt. Katherine Janeway, Star Trek: Voyager

Peace out,


Living With Depression, and Getting Up Each Day

I’ve been thinking about the death of Robin Williams.  Where once he was an amazing actor, making me, my family and my friends laugh, he battled some very hard depression.  It got me to thinking about my own life.  I’m also able to crack a good joke or a smartass quip that puts a smile on people’s face.  And like Williams, I battle some pretty hardcore depression.  It’s something that I’ve been fighting since a head injury when I was 14.  I don’t know if I am ever going to get better.  There are better months, and there are worse months.

LakeI was in the middle of a series of good months.  I got an apartment with a girl I was going out with.  After a failed relationship and years of loneliness, I finally thought that this was going to be it.  The sun was shining, for the first time in a long time.  Alas, like every other thing in my life, the moment that I thought I had found happiness, it slips through my fingers and shatters on the floor.  Now I am sitting in the lonely apartment, so ready to move out and never look back at this place.  I can’t bear to wake up here anymore.  I think to myself – why bother?  I mean, all I am going to see is evidence of the failure of my romantic abilities.  So yeah, I had a few good months.  For those months, I was sure that I had found something amazing.

The first thing I tell people who are battling depression – don’t listen to anyone who says that you just need to be more positive.  They are fucking retards and they don’t have a fucking clue what it’s like to have this ghost following you around.  They don’t have a single fucking idea.  The next thing is – have someone to talk to.  Be it a therapist, a dear friend, anybody.  I don’t have anybody anymore.  All my friends have stopped being around my life anymore.  I guess you can only be so depressing before people decide that it’s time to up and go.  It sucks, but that’s how it is.  I am too poor for counseling.  Wanna know what keeps me going?  Me too.  I can’t tell you why I keep doing what I do..  I honestly don’t know.

I’ll tell you what I think it is – those good memories.  I remember when my former best friend Emily was crying in to the Periodicals Room at the library of my first college.  I remember putting my arms around her and how tight she gripped me.  That memory is so amazing.  It hurts now because of how our friendship ended, but it still is an amazing memory.  Then there is when I rescued my friend Maddie from a bar downtown when her friends ditched her.  When she ran into my arms and held me tight, I felt like fucking Galahad.  Then there is the night that I ate peach yogurt and sat with my cat, watching Moonlit Lakemoonlight reflected on the lake.  So peaceful, and I could feel life returning to my bones.  The night I got to see my favorite musician, Chris Botti, in concert.  The band’s chemistry and their performance.  It was so fucking awesome!  Getting to share a kiss with a girl as I dropped her off at the airport, never knowing if or when I would see her again.  It was such an amazing kiss.  Her color, red and beautiful.  The hug she gave me afterwards, not wanting to let go.  Not wanting to leave.  Chilling on top of the fuel tank at my grandma’s house with a girl I still love (my first love, as far as I can remember.  Long story, that you won’t know) and the guy that I held as the brother I never had.

Those memories still mean so much.  I remember listening to Michael Jackson in the summer, baking to jazz and old-timey music.  That stuff grows on you!  It’s those little moments, along with the fear that I’m right (a safe assumption) and there is nothing after all this.  Don’t want to hedge your bets, right?

The best part of my day is when I’m at my hiding spot at work, watching cars passing by outside.  I watch the wind on the trees, rustling through the grass by the window, and I feel like, if I just was able to get out there, I could spread my wings and fly away.  I could fly into freedom and never look back.  I could find a roost somewhere quiet where I could live out the rest of my life in peace and quiet.  That’s the best part of my day.

Here’s my shitty advice – find someone you trust, and be honest with them.  Don’t do what I do and keep it all bottled up, hoping that you will eventually feel better.  You don’t want to live like that.  Trust me, I am the first guy to know what it’s like to live with this pain inside.  Next – have something you love to do.  Don’t let anyone else judge you.  If you want to do it, then fuck everybody else and get that shit done!  Lastly – pets help.  For real, I can’t wait to see my kitty again.

I am going to have to live with this my entire life.  My brain is damaged and there is not any cure.  But you all can find something better.  If you ever need anyone to talk to, hit up my Facebook or Tumblr  –


Hit me up anytime on those pages, and I will listen.  Nobody should go through life alone.

Until next time, a quote,

“Sometimes I feel like I’ve felt everything that I’m going to feel.  That from here on everything is just going to be lesser versions of what I’ve already felt.”  -Theodore Twombly, Her

Peace out,


My Letter of Thanks, to Lady Luck and Life Itself

Dear Lady Luck, and Life too, while we’re at it,

How’s it going?  Doing well?  You’ve been going on or billions of years, so I guess so.  Oh, me?  Well, I’m actually doing pretty shitty, no thanks to you.  I finally got closure on a relationship that I lost.  It finally came to an official end.  I got the usual “I still love you” thing, as she closed the door and that was that.  Can we still be friends?  I mean to try.  After all, I have so few friends left that this is the best I can do.  I’m loved by few, liked by fewer.  But hey, that’s life, right?  That’s what you do.

I have been the most dedicated friend that one can possibly be.  I have gone out of my way to help people, knowing that I am not going to be getting a single thing back from it.  There were points where I didn’t even get internal satisfaction from it.  And what is my reward?  I’m kicked around like a sick dog, used and thrown away, forgotten or worse than that – pitied.  Is loyalty such a undesired trait in the modern world?  After all, it seems like after a couple of meetings, people are swearing eternal love to one-another.  I have said it to very few people.  It has almost never ended well, so I doubt that I will ever say the words again.  Love is becoming so foreign to me that my heart is freezing over with ice.  Thanks for that.  Thanks for giving me no chances to do the right thing.  Or when I do, thanks for putting people in my life who don’t give two fucks about that.

I also wish to thank you for making my body a lemon that is so unpleasant and so broken that I have am going to be looking into disability so I can get ahead in this cruel world that doesn’t give a fuck who you are or how hard you’ve tried.  Thank you for making my feet numb and my neck fused.  Thank you for making my brain fucked up and my body toxic to itself.  Thank you for turning my entire life into one giant medical fiasco after another, with no end in sight.

And it would be remiss if I didn’t give credit where credit is due for the fact that I am completely unappealing, romantically.  I don’t know what it is.  I am a nice guy who tries to do right by people, but I guess that that isn’t what people want anymore.  I wish I could be more of a jerk, but it just isn’t in me.  Thanks for that, Lady Luck and Life.  You two really did a number there.

I have no desire to keep going.  Life, you are so unpleasant and so awful that I wake up wishing that I didn’t have to.  I go to my job, come home and eat another pizza single that I have in the almost-empty fridge, another stark reminder of how little I have in this world.  Can’t afford the good shit.  That is a privilege afforded only to the best of people.  I don’t have the constitution to end the story early, because I still got my cat, and I don’t know what is after all this.  Logically, it should be nothing.  But as shitty as you are, Life, if it all just ends, then I can’t have any more fun.  So we keep going down the path, no thanks to you and Lady Luck tripping me every fucking time I am enjoying the journey.

I’ll end by saying this – I hate the two of you.  You are the most unfeeling and uncaring entities there is.  Since I don’t believe in any imaginary, all-powerful patriarch, you two are as close as it gets.  And if such a patriarch did exist, and I was getting judged by him, I’d tell him that my worst quality is that I’m brutally honest, and he can go fuck himself.

Similarly, the two of you can go and fuck yourselves, rather than fuck up everyone else.  You two are awful, I don’t like you, don’t want you in my life, but I’m stuck with you.  So fuck you, and that’s all I have to say.

To close out this letter, a quote,

“I think the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming.  Stop reproducing.  Walk hand-in-hand into extinction.  One last midnight.  Brothers and sister opting out of a raw deal.”  -Rust Cohle, True Detective

Sincerely yours,

Lucien Maverick


I saw a video by my favorite YouTube vlogger, The Amazing Atheist.  He talked about the Amanda Todd tragedy, and his take was actually rather poignant.  He got me to think, and I have some responses to questions he asked in the video.

He pointed out that while Amanda Todd’s death is tragic, she isn’t the only one.  Kids all over this country are killing themselves after being bullied, and they don’t get the national stage that she has.  And people die all over the world from hunger every day.  Where are their voices?  Well, before we get to that, let’s answer TJ’s questions.

1. What makes Amanda Todd more important than Joel, Kenneth, Rachel and all of the other kids who have been pressured into of taking their own lives because of being bullied?  And if she’s not more important — Then why are you focusing on her to the exclusion of all the other victims of bullying?

Well, to be honest, she isn’t more important.  I freely admit that Amanda Todd is just one of the many victims.  But to the second question, I am not focusing on her to the exclusion of all other victims.  I am with Mr. Repzion on this.  We need to use her as an example for how this can and is happening to all sorts of other kids right now.  I am definitely trying to figure out how to deal with this on a larger scale.  Amanda Todd, to me, isn’t so much a martyr, as much as a reminder.  She is a reminder that this kind of thing happens all the time, and it goes unchecked, until the shallow society does as many have done with Amanda, and raise her on a pedestal and ignore everything else.

2. Why do you only care about bullying victims after they’ve killed themselves?

Again, I don’t.  This happens all the time, and I hate that.  I have seen it all the time where I grew up.  Back in my hometown, a good 80% of the girls in my school were vicious snakes, and the rest were their victims.  I always stood against that.  Being a titan of a man, I was able to bring those who were outcast into my fold, and give them a place and a home.  But there are many more who I couldn’t help back then, and who I realistically can’t help now.  If we are going to use Amanda Todd’s death for anything, it should be to remind people of that.

3. Why isn’t anyone talking about what REALLY needs to be done about bullying?

That’s a good question.  TJ brings up a lot of good points.  The American education system is broken.  That can’t be argued against.  I have railed against the broken education system in this country time and time again.  TJ’s solutions were pretty simple.  1. We need smaller classroom sizes.  Kids are being crammed into these rooms because the government won’t put any real money in education, because clearly, going overseas and killing people is much more important.  2. We need more teachers, and better pay to incentivise teachers to stay.  The average turnover rate of teachers is five years.  After five years, most teachers give up on the profession because the pay is miniscule, and the work is mind-numbing.  No teacher works an 8 hour day.  They work a 10, 12, 14 hour day.  If they didn’t, there would be no homework graded, no tests corrected, no tutoring, no coaching, no extra-curricular activities of any kind.  A teacher has to work their ass off, and they are chipping away at their student loans with pay that is downright pathetic.  It is shameful that we pay trained gorilla millions of dollars to throw a football, but we can’t pay the people in charge of the future generations a decent wage.  3. Children shouldn’t be left unsupervised on social networking sites before they can handle what comes with that.  4. We need to teach kids about how to fight against bullying.

TJ makes an especially good point there.  You think bullying stops the moment you get out of school?  Fuck no!  There are a metric ton of adult bullies who use their power over other people to make their lives miserable.  Kids should be taught to rely on nobody.  Remember that video where these boys were picking on a fat kid, and the fat kid got up and beat the shit out of them?  I remember that went viral.  Good on the kid who beat them.  We should teach kids to be strong, and not to take shit from anybody.  It will serve them well in the real world, away from school.  5. Exploration into the root causes of bullying.  Yeah, that makes sense.  I am with TJ.  Anybody who is against bullying should be for that.

4. Hundreds of thousands of people die every day from causes far worse than bullying.  Where are their stories?

Yeah, that’s a good point.  It is worth pointing out that America love a victim.  An American victim who they can latch onto and make into a poster-boy/girl for their cause.  And the reality is far more ugly than any of us can hope to believe.  My retort, though, would be that one has to pick their battles.  If my time being informed and seeing the world go to shit has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t take on the world.  One can only charge at windmills for so long before they are broken against it.  Now, this issue itself might be too big, but for those like me, who actually do want to do some good, this is far less of a windmill to climb than some of the others.  At least, that’s what I  think.

TJ pointed out at the end that if the story of Amanda Todd turns things around, he will admit that he is wrong in having contempt for those who have made this girl into a martyr.  I would like it noted that I have contempt for them as well, despite how passionate my post about her was.  This girl is a victim, and a tragic reminder of how our system has, and is failing.  But, like TJ, I don’t think that that will happen.  The news cycle will move on.  Amanda Todd will be forgotten,  Or, as he pointed out, we will pass some pathetic law, probably in her name, that doesn’t even try and solve the root cause of bullying.  It merely looks at the symptoms, and thinks that if we patch it up, that’s enough.  Because that is how America does.  America does what they think is just enough, and won’t cost a lot of money, because non-existent God-forbid that we actually work and make things better.  No, that would be just too much of a pain in the ass.  Instead, we will do the bare minimum, and that’s it.  Because America is the land of the lazy, and the home of the cost-effective.

Accomplishing real progress just isn’t in the fiscal plan for the year.

Until next time, a quote,

“And if you don’t like what I had to say in this video, then I urge you to prove me wrong.  Not with words.  Not with name-calling.  It makes no sense to bully me in the name of anti-bullying.  Prove it to me with your actions.  Show me that I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about by showing me how really and truly dedicated you are to this issue.”  -TJ Kincaid, THE AMANDA TODD SQUAD

Peace out,


Amanda Todd’s Death Being Used by Pedophiles?

I normally don’t do follow-up posts, because I don’t like to dwell on things, but this had to be talked about.  You see, WordPress has a feature where you can see what search terms are finding your blog.  It can be a very fun thing to follow, because you can see just how well you are doing in getting your blog out there.  To date, I have been doing very well.  My hits have been skyrocketing.  But when I look in the search terms part, I am seeing a number of terms that are giving me pause, and making me feel very unpleasant.

Amanda Todd naked


Amanda Todd naked pictures


amanda todd boobs


Amanda todd naked boobs


Hot Amanda Todd

There aren’t many instances where I will complain about getting views on my blog.  I mean, views are a good thing.  They are getting my name out there.  That’s never a bad thing, right?  Well, as I have seen the last couple days, it is a majorly double-edged sword.  The simply reality is that a bunch of fucking pedophiles are finding my blog, looking for naked pictures of a girl who was in the 7th grade.

And it gets worse.  These disgusting degenerates are not only looking for the naked pictures of a 7th grade girl, but they are looking for these pictures, knowing that she was used by another disgusting pedophile.  And a second pedophile demanded that she give him a private show.  A private show.  The sickness in that is beyond understanding.  And after she didn’t give that deviant his sick fantasy of seeing a girl naked, he decided to use the pictures he had of her to harass her ceaselessly on Facebook and by giving them to everyone she knows.  And after her entire life fell apart, and she couldn’t find a way to fix it, she killed herself.  These pedophiles know this.  If they actually read my post, how could they not?

This is disgusting, because these people know this, and they still want to see pictures of Amanda Todd naked.  The memory of this girl, and what happened to her, this tragedy, is being ravaged still.  Her memory is still being attacked, and all because a bunch of sick fucks can’t help but jerk off to a little girl naked.  Do you enjoy this, you sick pieces of shit?  I’m not going to be nice, because this is disgusting!  I feel sick when I look at the search terms that find my blog, and I see what you people are looking for.

The internet has given us a free traffic of information.  This is something I value more than anything else.  The open market of ideas has value beyond measure.  But tied into that, there is also the blessing/curse of anonymity.  People are now protected because they are now able to hide behind a shield of people not knowing who they are.  For people like whistle-blowers, or the guy who wants to watch a movie that I frankly don’t care if he torrents or not, that is a very good thing.  But then you get people like this, who use their ability to not have to step in to the light as a way of getting whatever disgusting pleasure their sick mind is able to make.

And just by writing this post, I have this horrible suspicion that I’m going to get one of these disgusting bastards who will try and justify this.  Did you know that there are sites where pedophiles try to justify their loves of underage boys and girls?  I have heard all sorts of arguments.  There was one man who justified that the ancient Greeks used to make love to their male underlings all the time, and that in Medieval Europe, the average age for a girl to get married was around 12 to 14.  So, the attraction to children can be justified in the idea that because something was once a cultural norm, it still has relevance today.  Never mind that they ignore that social values and what is acceptable changes.  That would be far too much to consider, because they want to be able to justify what they do.

I wonder what, if any, of the pedophiles who are looking up this blog will say to justify themselves now?  They probably won’t say anything.  They shouldn’t say anything.  There is no good explanation here.  This is disgusting in every single way.  There is now way that this can be justified.

To Amanda, I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry that your memory and you yourself are still being haunted by this mistake.  You made a mistake, and the truly ugly thing about all of this as that the internet isn’t ever going to be able to let your memory be at peace with it.  Even now, one of those freaks I have been railing against has gotten a hold of the picture and is probably jerking off to it right now.  I’m so sorry this happened to you.  You didn’t deserve it.  I hope that someday, you can rest at peace.  I don’t even believe in an afterlife, but on the off-chance I am wrong, I just thought I would say this.

And to you pedophiles who are thinking that this blog will give you your fix, sorry, but I don’t make a habit of keeping naked pictures of girls in 7th grade.  I’m not disgusting, like you.

Until next time, a quote,

“All is disgust when a man leaves his own nature and does what is unfit.”  -Sophocles

Peace out,