my circumcised world

geomaxer

Well-known Member
Dec 31, 2022
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If you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead, and hopefully a lot of other people are too. As the text above states, my name is Mario Quintanilla, but you probably heard my name long before first laying your eyes on this document. I imagine by the point in time somebody other than myself is reading this, my name will strike fear into people’s hearts and will be synonymous with Harris, Klebold, and Cho. This supposition warms my lonely heart, for to be compared to these boys, some of my greatest idols, would be an honor. I plan to follow in their footsteps and execute a school shooting for the record books. My current plan is to begin my rampage tomorrow morning at eleven a.m., the first day back from spring break. Because writing this manifesto was a last minute decision, you’ll have to forgive me for the crudity and potential rambling of the writing, for I won’t have much time to write my entire story and proofread it before beginning my last minute preparations for tomorrow. I decided to write this for several reasons. First of all, people are going to want answers as to why their children are now deceased, and I intend on providing those answers in as detailed a way as possible. However, they likely won’t discover the answers they’re expecting due to my second reason. Secondly, I want to strike fear into the hearts of people worldwide. Throughout my unfair, excruciating life, I’ve come to conclusions about the world and existence itself that I want the masses to comprehend. While I could write about these contentions without committing a massacre, people would have no reason to care about my message or to take it seriously. Once this document is attached to the name of an infamous killer, then people will be curious and driven to read this work and absorb the words within it. I will use this manifesto to explain the philosophies I’ve developed due to my unjustifiable existence on this earth, and hopefully these teachings when juxtaposed with my deadly actions will terrify people into changing their ways for the better. Thirdly, I want this document to be an inspiration for other people like myself. I want people worldwide to understand that they are not alone in their suffering. In my darkest hours, I felt as though nobody in the world could comprehend my pain, and it would have been comforting to know that there were other people who felt the same way I did. When other sufferers like me read this story, they will understand that their suffering isn’t in isolation, and it doesn’t have to be in vain. They can see me as a shining example, a catalyst, who decided to stand up against the system oppressing them and causing them such terrible feelings. They, too, will know that a course of violent action is a viable solution to their problems. I hope to inspire dozens, if not hundreds, of murder sprees similar to my own. This way society will shake in its boots and be forced to conform to the ideals that we hold. If it doesn’t, then people like us will simply continue to murder them until they adapt. We will pay back our pain and suffering for their pain and suffering, and eventually we will create a society void of loneliness, depression, and anguish. People will learn that they need to include us, respect us, and love us. For those of you reading this document looking for insight into the psychotic mind so that you can find a way to prevent future tragedies from happening, you can read no further. Tragedies like this will continue to happen indefinitely, and no amount of gun restrictions or increases in mental health services will prevent them from occurring. We will always find ways to kill people in mass quantities. If you take away guns, then we’ll just kill people with knives. If you try to take away our knives, then not only will you be unable to open boxes or make sandwiches, but you’ll be getting blown to hungry pieces by our bombs. And how do you plan on taking away our bombs? By banning pipes? So now you have no running water, no sandwich, no package from grandma, and your insides are burning up from the anthrax we sent you in the mail. As for trying to “treat” our mental illnesses with your normie diagnoses and treatments, pharmaceutical science can only numb the pain of isolation and depression. Your drugs may impair our perceptions of the world, but at some point the drugs’ effects will subside or we’ll decide to stop using them altogether. You shouldn’t be trying to “treat” our perceptions; you should be “treating” the society that is causing us our misery. While depression is often the cause of a chemical imbalance in the brain, artificial stabilizers in the pills you force down our throats don’t permanently fix the problem. A person’s brain has natural ways of resolving these chemical issues through other means. For example, if a person is suffering from depression that was triggered by their isolation from society, then pills that temporarily stabilize their emotional state will lack severely in comparison to that person feeling accepted and loved by the people around them. Once the issue that triggered their depression is resolved, the depression will be no more. But instead “professional” mental health physicians prescribe a plethora of pills that are said to treat depression, anxiety, and all of that other shit. We aren’t the ones that are broken, and we don’t need to be fixed. Society is the problem here. Society ignores and mistreats outcasts like us, and these behaviors cause our pain and anguish. Society must learn that it needs to treat everybody equally in order to prevent feelings of depression and loneliness to fester within people. And this is a lesson that I intend to help teach.
 
Target #1: My Mother This should come as a surprise to absolutely nobody who has been paying even the slightest bit of attention. This entire manifesto has been a testament to how much I hate that fucking bitch. My mom is the sole reason for my suffering on this world, and I very much look forward to ending her life. Nearly every single thing wrong with my life is due to her. Her disgusting sluttiness led to my birth, race, and lack of a father figure, her pathetic existence led to our poverty, her terrible mothering led to my weight and inability to socialize—the list could go on for centuries, but unfortunately I’m running out of time.

Target #2: Bryce Sheller Bryce Sheller represents everything I could never be. He’s white, he’s popular, he’s athletic, and according to him (and many others) he’s very sexually active. Bryce is the embodiment of the cocky, egotistic, douchebag alpha male, and my murder of him will symbolize my war on alpha males. It was his boasts of sexual activity during middle school gym class that first prompted me to consider suicide, and as revenge I seek to end his life. Bryce has probably spent his entire life looking down on guys like me while smugly thinking that he is superior in every way. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when the person he thought so little of is the one ending his putrid existence.

Target #3: Robby Wilkinson I consider Hannah Wilkinson 32 to be the primary reason why I was unable to socialize after moving to Illinois in fourth grade. Hannah’s racist comments towards me sparked two things within me: (1) An extreme sense of self 32 1 just realized that Hannah shares her name with the girl from Thirteen Reasons Why. I'm glad they're both dead. consciousness that utterly destroyed any confidence I had and (2) A new sense of self-loathing due to my race. Hannah’s cackling laugh after claiming that I was “illegal” still haunts me to this day. If it weren’t for her, I could have been somebody. I could have made friends way back in fourth grade and none of the depression or loneliness ever would have occurred for me. As I reflect on Hannah’s untimely death, I feel very bittersweet about the matter. While I am very happy that Hannah died, I now wish I could have been the one who ended her life. This is why I am choosing to target Robby— Hannah’s younger brother. Racism isn’t inherent in people—it is something that is learned. And Hannah’s racism was taught to her by her parents. They’ve already lost their first child, and now I want to drastically hurt them again by taking away their second. If it were possible, I would be killing the Wilkinson parents tomorrow rather than Robby, but I don’t have that option available to me. I suspect that killing Robby will hurt them far more than bullets ever could though, and I find great solace in this suspicion. Robby is in middle school, but I know that he is advanced in math and therefore attends the high school first period geometry class and is then bused over to the middle school. This will give me the perfect opportunity to kill him along with the other students on this list.


Target #4: Nina Cook During middle school, I was acquaintances with Nina Cook. We weren’t exactly friends, but we spoke from time to time. Most of our interactions took place during English class. We were in a creative writing unit at the time, and Nina and I enjoyed reading each other’s work. We would give each other pointers and compliments about the things we had written, and our relationship actually made me feel as though I had a bit of a purpose. Nina seemed like a shy girl, and she wasn’t willing to let anybody read her work other than me, so I felt special as though I was the one person who could help her break out of her shell. Nina wasn’t a very popular girl. She had a small group of female friends, but that was it. As far as I could tell, she didn’t speak to any guys other than me. She was very plain Jane and wore thick-rimmed glasses that made her eyes look huge. This isn’t to say she was ugly, but guys weren’t exactly waiting in line to speak to her. It was because of this that I made the stupid assumption that Nina and I might have some sort of future together. I seemingly had no competition from other guys, and she appeared willing to open up with me rather than with other people. I felt that these were clear signs that I should pursue a more serious relationship with her. Valentine’s Day rolled around, and I decided to get Nina a gift. I had very little money at the time, so I begged and begged my mom to purchase a gift for me. After persistent begging, my mom agreed to buy a twenty-dollar necklace on my behalf. The necklace was a pretty nice one for only being twenty dollars, and it came in one of those fuzzy jewelry boxes. I spent a great deal of time wrapping it up in giftwrap and sticking a bow on it and everything—it looked really great. Valentine’s Day landed on a Sunday that year, so our school officially celebrated it on the Friday before. I was very anxious that day. I’d never given a girl a gift like that before, and I was very worried that she wouldn’t like it (or, even worse, that she wouldn’t like me). I mustered up the courage to walk up to her locker and hand her the gift. She looked surprised to see me, and was even more surprised when she unwrapped the box and found the necklace inside. Astonishingly, she claimed to love the gift and thanked me for it. I went about the next few periods feeling pretty good about myself. I’d given a girl a gift and she’d actually liked it, and now there was a good chance that we were going to take things to the next level and I would have my first ever real life girlfriend. Alas, I’m sitting in my room at 4am writing a manifesto, so you can safely assume this wasn’t the outcome. During English class, Nina surprised me by handing me a paper sack that had been stapled shut. “Don’t open this until you get home,” she said to me. The bag obviously had something in it, and I assumed it was a gift. Surely Nina wanted to give me a gift in return, and in order to do so in a timely manner had been forced to place it in a brown paper bag. No biggie. After class I put the bag in my locker. I spent the next period torturing myself over the contents of the bag. I was so insanely curious about what she had given me, and waiting until I arrived home was going to drive me nuts. My curiosity got the better of me, and I excused myself to the restroom. Instead of going to the restroom, however, I went to my locker and pulled out the paper bag. I opened it and was shocked to find the necklace I had given her along with a handwritten note. I still have the note to this day, and I will transcribe it below: Mario, Thank you so much for getting me this necklace. It’s really nice and I like it a lot, but I can’t accept it. My parents are very strict about boys. There is no way they would let me date yet, and at this point they don’t even like me talking to boys. If I took this necklace home, they would want to know where it came from, and that would only lead to trouble. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep this. Needless to say, I was terribly disappointed by this, but I understood. We were only thirteen years old, it was to be expected that some parents wouldn’t let their children date yet. I didn’t agree with their mindset, but I wasn’t going to try to fight against it either. I just accepted this news and hoped that it wouldn’t affect me and Nina’s current relationship. Exactly one week later on February 19 th , Nina started dating a boy named Landon Hughes.

Target #5: Landon Hughes Need I say more?

Target #6, #7, #8, #9: Ashley Morrison, Chelsea Fanning, Julia Rinehart, Lila De Veer The next four targets get to share a story on my list because they’re all guilty of the same crime against me. During the summer between middle school and high school, I was at my lowest low. My every thought was either of selfridicule or suicide. Day by day I inched closer to the decision to end my life. One day in August, I decided to go for broke. If I was going to kill myself soon anyway, then why not actually try to put myself out there and find companionship? Rejection was surely imminent, but at least the pain of rejection wouldn’t have to last long. I decided I would Facebook message all of the girls on my friend list who were currently single. Surely they all would laugh at my pathetic attempt to communicate with them, but I decided to attempt it regardless on the off chance that one of them was willing to speak to me. I wanted to give the impression that my message was offthe-cuff and uncalculated so that I would appear as friendly and genuine as possible, so I sent two separate messages back to back. The first: “Hey, how’s it going?” Immediately followed by: “I’ve been pretty bored all summer. We should hang out sometime.” As soon as I hit Enter on the second message I came to realize the unfortunate reality of what I’d just hadn’t sent those messages to the fifteen girls separately—I’d created a group chat with all sixteen of us immediately began to panic. A few of the girls were online, and my intentions/mistake were painfully obvious to them. Most ignored message and a few asked if it was a joke, but four of the girls—Ashley Morrison, Chelsea Fanning, Julia hart, and Lila De Veer, used the group message as an opportunity to ridicule me. They posted message message mocking me, laughing at me for my stupidity, saying things like, “as if he had a chance with any hahaha” and “god what a freak I can’t believe he did this.” I was utterly humiliated beyond belief. couldn’t come soon enough after that. That’s why the four of them are on this list—for the way they treated me in that chat. They made my uation even worse. They could have just ignored the message like many of the other girls did, but they They set out to make me feel as bad as possible. And now they’re going to pay.
 
Target #10: Principal Norton My desire to kill Principal Norton tomorrow has less to do with a personal vendetta and more to do with his hypocrisy in general. Norton is known for having two major mottos that he expects all students to abide by. (1) If you try, you will not fail. (2) School is a safe place where everyone should feel as though they belong. It is this second motto that angers me. Once again, we are faced with slacktivism. Principal Norton talks the talk in regards to making all students feel as though they belong, but then he doesn’t do a single fucking thing to implement it. If he truly believed in what he proclaimed, then how could a student like me exist in his school? How could there be a student who feels ostracized and isolated and depressed in a school that he claims is welcoming to everybody? Norton makes these grand statements about belonging that shroud the student population with a security blanket so that they feel as though no issues of ostracism exist. Because Norton claims that everybody belongs, everybody assumes that this is the case, and nobody makes an effort to fix the problem. This is great for normies—they get to feel as though they belong and don’t have to feel sorry for the students who don’t. The people left behind, the people like me, are the victims of Norton’s bullshit ideologies. Such a man is not fit to run an entire school, and the only way I can get him replaced is by ending his life.

Mr. Kirby is the teacher I had for sociology during the first semester of the current school year, and I intend on killing him because of an incident that happened at the beginning of the year. About two weeks into the semester, Mr. Kirby announced he would be hosting a student teacher in his classroom. She would monitor him teaching for the first month and would then take over as teacher for the rest of the semester. I’ve always thought of the concept of student teaching as completely retarded. Yes, I agree that teachers need to have practice before getting their license or whatever, but to practice on real students like guinea pigs? As high school students, our education is completely dependent on the knowledge of our teacher, and they’re putting us in the incapable hands of a 22-year-old college student who probably spends her weekends riding the cock carousel? It’s fucking stupid and ridiculous. But, as Dawn would say, I digress. We were then introduced to the student teacher—a woman named Ms. Lloyd. During her introduction she felt inclined to share only two pieces of information about herself. (1) She is a history major. (2) She loves cats and has four of them at home. I immediately could tell that I was going to hate this person. On the contrary, as that first month went on I grew to like Ms. Lloyd. Since she was only monitoring, she hardly ever interacted with the class, but when she did she seemed to have some special fascination with me. 33 Before class started each day, she would strike up conversations with me. Just simple stuff like how my day was going and what 33 Maybe she thought I was a cat. movies I liked. I started to think that the two of us had formed a little bond for whatever reason, and I was now excited for her to be our teacher for the semester. For whatever reason, she liked me, and that would make my time in her class much easier. The first day she led class was fine. She was obviously nervous and was a little unclear about a few key concepts, but all in all she was just fine. It was on her second day teaching when problems arose. I assumed that because we had our little connection going on that it would be funny and playful if I made a little joke at her expense. At the beginning of class when she stood up to start teaching, I loudly muttered, “Oh God, not her again! She’s terrible at teaching!” Again, and I can’t stress this enough, I thought for sure she would know I was being sarcastic and would laugh at this joke. She did not. She instead began to cry and excused herself from the room. I was then met with angry, confused stares from all of my classmates. Mr. Kirby ordered me into the hallway and quickly followed me out. “What the hell is the matter with you, Mario?” he asked. Usually Mr. Kirby was a chill guy, but he was visibly pissed. “It was just a joke,” I tried to explain. “I thought she would know that it was just a joke.” “That’s what you consider to be a joke, huh?” Mr. Kirby asked me. “You and those hilarious jokes of yours must make you the life of the party. Ha, ha, ha. Where did you learn to be so funny, Mario?” His harshness hurt. I wanted nothing more than to take back the last two minutes of my life. But I couldn’t. The damage had already been done. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kirby.” “Don’t apologize to me,” he said. “You’re going to apologize to Ms. Lloyd. I want you to write her a full apology. Grab your stuff and go to the office for the rest of the period.” I obliged, feeling as terrible about myself as ever. I never spoke to, or even shared eye contact with, Ms. Lloyd ever again. In retrospect, I no longer feel bad about my actions on that day. I was in the right, and everybody else was in the wrong. All I had done was try to make a joke at the expense of somebody who I assumed, based on our prior relationship, would think I was being funny. Instead everybody else’s emotions got the best of them, and they completely overreacted to my innocent attempt at comedy. I would kill Ms. Lloyd if given the chance, but since she’s gone now I’ll have to settle for Mr. Kirby.


Target #12: Dawn Bracken Unlike my previous targets, my desire to kill Dawn doesn’t emerge from hatred or vengeance. It stems from love—the purest kind of love there is. Together Dawn and I will change the world forever. Side by side, we will murder the people on this list as well as anybody who attempts to get in our way. The two of us (as well as this manifesto) will spark the beta uprising that will take the world by storm and force all normies to treat people like us with love and respect! Obviously the police will arrive Mario Quintanilla to the school to try and apprehend us, and it is absolutely paramount that neither Dawn nor I are captured by police. As of March 9, 2011, the death penalty is illegal in the state of Illinois which means if arrested, the two of us would be facing a lifetime in the harshest prison available. I will not allow myself nor Dawn to be forced into such a fate. This is why I will kill Dawn tomorrow moments before killing myself. Once I feel as though we have gone as far into our rampage as we can possibly go, I will tell her goodbye before ending both of our lives. Dawn is too good for this world anyway.


Target #13: Me After saving Dawn from the police, I will stick my gun in my mouth and fulfill my lifelong goal of committing suicide. For years I’ve wanted to end my life, and I can’t fathom going out any other way. I will die a glorious death. I will achieve the ultimate vengeance against those who have wronged me throughout my miserable, cursed existence standing side by side with my best friend, and I will then end my own life to prevent the world’s normies from celebrating my trial conviction. My entire life will have led to this moment, and I know the taste of victory will be sweet as I say goodbye to this twisted world. It’s insane to think that in five hours I will be dead. These thirteen targets aren’t the only people I wish I could kill tomorrow. There is a plethora of people I could Extermination Justification or: The Rants and Ravings of That Chubby Spic Who Probably Killed Your Kid name who deserve death. I already stated my desire to kill the Wilkinsons and Ms. Lloyd, but that’s only scratching the surface. I’d also love to murder Aubrey and Marissa and my long lost father and that bitch who told the bus driver about my GameBoy and the bus driver and so many people, but alas I cannot. The only reason I’ll be able to kill all of my intended targets is because they’ll all be at the same place at the same time. It would be nice to end the lives of everybody who has ever wronged me, but I’m just not capable of being a serial killer. I would be caught long before I executed even a fourth of my targets. What’s nice about a school shooting is that you know all of your intended targets are within the same building—it makes killing everyone super convenient. With that, I think I’ve come to the end of my 13 Reasons Die. I’m really going to have to start picking up the pace if I want to finish my final section in time. For those of you playing along at home, look up the names of all the victims in my shooting and compare them to this list here. Obviously I’m hoping for 100% accuracy with numerous extra fatalities in between just from people running around or trying to apprehend me, but problems may arise. Jay Asher, you’re a talentless hack. Go fuck yourself and die you piece of shit.
 
I’ve wanted to die for a huge portion of my life, and in a few short hours my time will come. I have more or less attempted suicide twice now, and I’m hoping the third time will be the charm. I’ve often pondered what my last words would be. Would I go out with a joke? Perhaps something heroic? Give them something to quote in the history books? But now I realize that this entire manifesto will be my final words. These 30,000 words will be the final mark I leave on the world even after death. I, like the countless writers before me, will be granted eternal life after death because our words and messages and stories will live on through the lives of our readers. Thus, I decided that the last words I will utter before ending my life will be, “I always knew I’d die a virgin.” That should give anybody nearby a good laugh. I imagine every news station in the country will be covering the story on the news this evening. It will first be reported that there has been yet another school shooting in the United States. A fifteen-year-old freshman named Mario Quintanilla stabbed his mother to death and then went to York Community High School and met up with his partner in crime Dawn Bracken. The two of them entered the school and killed X number of people. The news anchor will then claim to be praying for the families of the deceased or whatever and will question why such tragedies occur. Tomorrow every major news network will be discussing why tragedies occur. News pundits will invite top psychologists onto their programs to discuss every aspect of my life. Sections of this manifesto will be displayed on screen, some in context and some not. Some liberal retards will claim it was too easy for me to get my hands on weapons even though I STOLE THEM while others will claim that the system failed to recognize my mental health issues. 37 Psychologists will try their bests to diagnose me with narcissism or sociopathy or whatever other brain defects, and they will use passages from this document to support their cases. What nobody will do is relay the true message of this piece of writing. The media will attempt to hide my desire to inspire my fellow betas to take a stand for themselves and to mold the world into a perfect place. They 37 This one is actually true. will instead focus on dehumanizing me and calling me evil. But this is no matter. This is exactly what I want to happen. The more the media demonizes me and displays the most brutal passages of this manifesto on television, the more people will become interested in learning my story and reading the full thing. The media will send a huge amount of traffic to this document, and in doing so will ensure that as many people read it as possible. Normies and alphas will begin to fear for their lives and will surely attempt to change their ways upon reading this, and the betas will become empowered and shall perpetuate the beta uprising that I have begun. I suspect at least six more shootings similar to my own will occur within the next month. Whether that number continues to grow or decline is completely dependent on if the normies change their ways and start treating us with the love and respect that we deserve. The world around us is rapidly changing, and it will continue to change whether what I’ve set out to do is successful or not. The path of the beta uprising is only one of the potential directions I see our society taking. While mine is a path that eventually leads to equality and happiness among all people, the other paths aren’t quite as cheery or hopeful. For the betas still reading who aren’t sure whether or not they should shoot up their school tomorrow for our noble cause, allow this look into a very possible future to persuade you. The biggest problem facing the future of society is women. I have already expressed within this document that women are living their lives on Easy Mode. All they have to do is be a 3/10 or higher on the scale of attraction and they will be set for life. A decently attractive woman can marry the richest and most successful of men based entirely on her looks alone. A woman’s value in the world is based entirely on her physical attractiveness rather than her personality or intelligence. This is why the divorce rate in the United States is so high. Attractive women trick men into marrying them and then when the men discover that their new wife has a shitty personality or is dumb as a rock he typically divorces her. But in the end the women win because divorce in this country is stacked in favor of women. Women automatically receive half of the man’s assets, they get custody of their children virtually every time, and then the man is forced to continue paying the woman for the kids that she took away from him. Divorce obviously isn’t the only way society is stacked in women’s favor though. A decently attractive woman can and will always use her physical appearance to her advantage in manipulating the world around her. Men will go out of their way to impress and please a woman just because she isn’t fat or ugly because of their desire to have sex with her. The urge for sex is a huge problem in society, and I’ll definitely get to that point in a moment. Men are expected to do things like purchase food for women while on dates, pick women up and drive them around, order drinks for them at the bar. Women complain about pay inequality 38 but never mention all the free shit that men are forced to buy them. And here’s another thing: A woman doesn’t have to even be beautiful. Those sluts can just cake on a pound of 38 Which is a myth, by the way. hideous makeup and stupid men will be unable to see through the illusion. Guys can’t hide their ugly appearance with makeup like women can. We’re forced to do something that women would never do in a million years—be ourselves. Surely the thought of being oneself is mortifying to the average American woman. Why else would they cake on all the makeup? Why else would they be so fake? The issue of women gets particularly troublesome when you consider human sexuality. Unfortunately, the biggest carryover in our evolution from the rest of the animal kingdom was our insatiable desire for sex. This desire exists in the animal kingdom purely for the sake of reproduction. Although reproduction isn’t an issue AT ALL for humanity, we are still plagued by this animalistic desire. The problem arises when we consider which gender gets to decide who gets sex and who doesn’t—Women. Unfortunately for society, women are the gatekeepers of sex. They, and they alone, decide which men get sex and which ones don’t. And in case I haven’t made myself clear, women are too stupid and irresponsible to be making decisions that impact the future of the human race. Consider the women you know. Which men are they attracted to—the intelligent betas like me or the brainless, caveman-like alpha males? No need to answer, I already know which one it is. 39 Women are unable to think rationally. Instead they consider two things: their emotions and their social status. These two mindsets lead women to mating only with the most powerful and stupid of men. This breeding pattern will 39 And also I can't hear you because I'm dead. continue throughout the generations until intelligent males are bred out of society altogether. Our country will be full of nothing but mindless jocks and cheerleaders. Unless we do something to stop it, there will be a genocide of beta-kind. The United States didn’t always face this issue. Back in the good ol’ days, women knew their place. Women couldn’t vote, they couldn’t make decisions for themselves, they really couldn’t do anything unless their father and/or husband told them to. They had no power over sex—men were in charge of deciding who they wanted to marry. And guess what—shit got done. While men were in charge, humanity flourished. Our technological advances have been incredible because intelligent people have been around to create them. With women in power, there will be no next Albert Einstein or Stephen Hawking. Instead everybody will have the mental capacity of the cast on that Jersey Shore show that the normies fucking love. There’s a reason why we live in a patriarchy, ladies. Because it works. Because it gets shit done. Because when we give women the control in society, it inevitably falls apart. It’s up to us to prevent this future from happening. We need to take the world by storm and let all women, alphas, and normies know that we won’t let them destroy the fabric of society. We will rule through fear and intimidation. They will be forced to accept us and treat us like anybody else. Our path won’t breed out intelligence like the other. Rather, our path shall breed out discrimination, depression, loneliness, and despair. The path of the beta uprising is the path towards a bright and shining future for all of mankind. The normies will already be on edge after hearing about my Extermination Justification or: The Rants and Ravings of That Chubby Spic Who Probably Killed Your Kid massacre and my story, and now it’s up to you to keep them there. If you’re in a position similar to my own, then arm yourself with deadly weapons and take out everybody who has wronged you. I guarantee you society will change direction in an instant. Concepts like feminism will be considered thought-crime and will land people in prison. Betas across the land will have their pick at whichever women they want to sleep with. Nobody will ever feel the need to commit suicide ever again. This is the future I offer you—this is the world I promise you—but the power to make these dreams come true is in your hands now! I’ve done my part to change the world, I’ve sacrificed my life for the cause of my people, and now it is your turn! Daylight is starting to break, so I have very little time before my mom gets up for work.
 
I beg of you—Do not let my sacrifice be in vain! You are the beta uprising! You are the future of mankind! Go out and force our dreams into reality! I had more I wanted to say, but alas I have run out of time. This has been an exhausting endeavor. If you ever intend on writing something extremely long, be sure to pace yourself over the course of several days. This night has been hell. I leave you all with these final words: “Only I could do it! I was well aware that killing people is crime in itself! Yet at that point it was the only way to make things right! I thought to myself that someday people will come to realize this as much and regard it as an act of Mario Quintanilla justice! I had no choice but to act as Kira... It was the destiny given to me. I was chosen to renew this rotten world, to bring about true peace—a utopia.” -Light Yagami (Death Note)
 
This period of my life wasn’t all bad, though. It was around seventh grade that I came across something I’ve cherished to this day. On the internet I stumbled across an anime called Death Note and I was intrigued enough to check it out. I would highly recommend watching this show to absolutely anybody—it’s brilliant. Death Note is the story of a genius teenager named Light who finds a supernatural notebook that grants him the power to kill anybody in the world simply by writing their name within it. Light uses this notebook to become a god. He kills criminals worldwide in order to make the world a better place, and out of fear of being killed, many people stop committing crimes. I strongly identified with Light’s character and was glued to my screen for the entire 37 episode run. I began to daydream about having my own Death Note and all of the people I would kill with it. The majority of the kids at school would have been exterminated within an hour. I would finally be able to get revenge on every single person who had ever wronged me. Everybody who had ostracized me or teased me or ignored my affections or disregarded my worth would get what they had coming. I would be able to mold the world into one that I wanted to live in. I knew for a fact that if I were to acquire a Death Note, my depression would be cured. Within an hour, I would go from a depressed loner to the god of a new world. Unfortunately, the Death Note isn’t real. But now that I’m older I understand it doesn’t need to be. I don’t need to rely on magic in order to achieve my goals. As Gandhi once said, “You must be the change you want to see in the world.” Instead of killing those who deserve to die with a magical anime notebook, I should instead kill them with my guns and knives. And much like Light, I will use my powers of death to teach the world a lesson. Once normies learn of what I’ve done and they read this story, they’ll know they need to treat everybody with kindness in order to prevent future Mario’s from rampaging their schools. I might not become a god, but I will certainly be the martyr of a new world.
 
In the five hours since I began writing this document I’ve had a major change of heart. At the beginning I stated I was writing this with the intention of sharing it with the world, but now I think I want to change my mind. This manifesto is meant to be a book of support and encouragement for people in similar situations to my own. It is also meant as a warning to normies that the beta uprising is coming, and in order to avoid untimely deaths it is crucial for them to love and accept everybody equally despite their physical or social inabilities. I feel that by now this secondary purpose has been served. Normies, I command you to stop reading this document henceforth. If the first three sections were not enough to convince you to change your ways, then nothing will. Get the fuck out, normies. And in case you still aren’t sure whether or not you qualify as a normie, please consider this simple Normie Test that I’ve established. The test is very simple and constitutes only one question: Do you believe the phrase “Just be yourself” is quality advice? If your answer to that question is yes, then you are a filthy fucking normie and I command you to stop reading this document. Only a normie would believe that “just being themselves” would be enough to win friends, affection, and happiness. Everybody in my position knows that being oneself is a fruitless endeavor. Now that the normies are hopefully gone, I feel more comfortable in detailing the events of my once-planned suicide. Life had become an unbearable repetition of despair, isolation, monotony, and boredom. I hated everyone and everything—myself included. I no longer felt passion for anything. The videogames I’d once cherished, the television shows I’d once loved, the music I’d once obsessed over—I felt nothing in regards to any of them. I guess that’s really the best way to put it. I felt nothing. It was as if the deadly combination of depression and loneliness had hollowed me out as a person. My passions, desires, goals, hobbies—all had evaporated. My only focus now was on the sweet embrace of death. Upon death, my suffering would be no more. I would never feel depressed or lonely ever again. I already had become the embodiment of nothingness, and all I needed was to pull the plug so that my consciousness could join the rest of me. I became obsessed with death and suicide in particular. I spent entire nights doing extensive research on the subject—reading stories of those who were considering it, those who had tried and failed at it, and those who were left behind by fallen loved ones. The stories of people who knew victims of suicide were the most influential in my decision to follow through with the act. They told of their utter, unbelievable pain and suffering. It was as if in an instant a piece of their life had been viciously ripped from them. They felt immense guilt for not being able to prevent the tragedy. They spoke of the signs that now seemed ever so obvious. It seemed as though these people now understood intense suffering. And that’s exactly how I wanted to make everybody feel.
 
I wanted my suicide to make an entire city weep and suffocate in guilt and grief. Especially my mother. That cursed woman is the reason why my life is so completely shitty, and I wanted my death to impact her the most. I wanted it to break her heart, her soul, her mind. I wanted her to feel full responsibility for my suicide, and I wanted it to tear away at her until she felt she had no choice but to end her own life as well. And I intended on doing everything in my power to make my suicide impact her as deeply as possible. I also wanted to use my suicide as a means of revenge against everybody who had ever wronged me. The kids at school who had always disregarded me and had refused to give me a chance needed to feel as though a life had been lost due to their hostility. Much like at Hannah’s funeral, the student body would join together and take turns stating why I was such a great person and how they felt sorry that I was no longer around. My death would be a weight on the shoulders of each and every student who had known of my existence but refused to acknowledge it, and it would weigh down upon them for the rest of their lives. In case you can’t tell, I definitely condone suicide. You can’t listen to what the normies tell you—it’s pure bullshit. Normies will say things like, “Suicide is the most selfish act a person can commit.” Well allow me to be the first person to say that this sentiment is wrong. If a person is in such traumatic and severe physical, mental, or emotional pain that death would suit them better, then that person absolutely has the right to end their life. The normies think of this as selfish. Really? I have to endure another sixty years of intense suffering just so you don’t have to say you knew a guy who killed himself? And I’M the selfish one? That’s fucking bonkers logic! It’s as if normies have no idea what the word selfish means! It’s like these fuckers think that undergoing chemotherapy as a cancer treatment is selfish because everybody else loves seeing your flowing head of hair. How the fuck these normies can justify such hypocritical beliefs is beyond me. Another bullshit line normies will try to throw at you is, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” Wow, what sage advice! I forgot that my race, weight, social status, social inability, mental illness, and socio-economic background were all temporary problems! I should just wait a few days until all that shit goes away and I wake up in the body of a rich, fit, white guy! Holy shit normies, and to think I was going to kill myself before you gave me that ingenious piece of consultation! Heck, before you know it I’ll be a filthy normie too! While I’m debunking normie bullshit in regards to suicide, I might as well tackle the other big one that comes to mind. Normies have a twisted sense of morality that binds them to believe human beings are inherently valuable and therefore it is tragic when one of them dies. Simple examination of this claim can lead one to understand that it not only isn’t objectively true, but ultimately leads to the conclusion that suicide IS a proper solution. For starters, we’ve already established I am an avid atheist and have come to terms that there is no god. Everything in the universe was created by random. All life, animal, human, bacteria, etc. was the result of billions of years of evolution. Mutations, accidents, all that fun stuff.
 
Which means that human life has no objective, inherent value because it was created randomly. If you rolled a die and it landed on a three, you wouldn’t claim that three is an inherently important number. It just happened to be the number the die landed on. “But Mario!” the normies claim. “Human beings are selfaware! We are highly intelligent creatures and therefore intrinsically valuable!” The fact that we are self-aware does not mean we are valuable in any sort of way. Objectively value does not exist in the universe. Only when we lower the scale down to the level of humanity can any sort of value exist. It is therefore at this level we must evaluate ideas, if at all. At this level it is quite clear that a universal aspect of humanity is that it is good to experience happiness and bad to experience suffering. Now that we have a value system, we can determine whether or not suicide is the correct decision. If by killing yourself you will increase the happiness/decrease the suffering in the world in total, then it is morally the right thing to do. On the other hand, if by killing yourself you would be increasing the overall suffering/decreasing the overall happiness, then it is morally the wrong thing to do. This trail of logic is based entirely on using the normies’ own sense of morality against them. From my standpoint, I don’t give a shit whether any action is moral or immoral. Morality is a fucking joke to me. However, I felt the need to express a moral justification for suicide for those of you who desire one. At the end of the day, I firmly believe that if you want to kill yourself, then you definitely should. Don’t worry about how it will negatively impact your friends or family, just do it. You should not have to suffer in exchange for their happiness. Think about it this way—if their happiness truly deserved your consideration, then you wouldn’t be suffering in the first place. Why should you worry about the wellbeing of those who clearly aren’t preoccupied with your own? If those people really cared about you, then you wouldn’t be suffering in the first place. There is one footnote I should add to this philosophic discussion, however. The world is going to change tomorrow morning when I go on my rampage and this document is released to the public. The fate of the world will be put into the hands of people like us. Those who don’t feel as though we belong. Those of us who feel depressed, suicidal, and rejected. The normies are going to bend to our wills in order to prevent future slaughters. Thusly, you might want to reconsider your suicide with this in mind. The world around you will be changing very quickly. Your situation very well could improve to the point where you no longer feel like dying. That is why I feel as though my cause is a noble one. I am the ultimate martyr, the closest thing to a real life Jesus Christ. I am going to make a sacrifice that will improve the fate of mankind. And of course, if your situation doesn’t improve and you still want to die, then make sure you take out as many normies as possible on your way out the door. Then your death can help the cause.
 
As I stated earlier, I wanted my suicide to cause as much emotional and psychological damage as possible to my dear ol’ mother, so as soon as I knew I was going to end my life I began forming a plan. I needed to figure out three important details: A method, a place, and a time. The time was the first answer that came to me. The bitch’s birthday. It was perfect. The ultimate Fuck You from beyond the grave. Something that each person holds as a special day in their life would suddenly become her most tragic. Throughout the remainder of her miserable, pathetic existence she wouldn’t even be able to receive joy once a year from her birthday. In fact, I would be turning the one potentially happy thing in her life into the most soul-crushing one. It was going to be perfect. I read up on just about every suicide method imaginable. I found lists of methods, the pain intensity associated with them, and the success rate of each. Ideally I wanted to find the method with as low a pain intensity and as high a success rate as possible. The ultimate method I found was a shotgun blast to the head. It by far had the highest success rate and also the lowest pain intensity. Unfortunately, I had no shotgun, nor even any other type of firearm, so that idea was scrapped. Firearms aside, the next most viable option was being hit by a train. The idea didn’t seem terrible, but it would require me to die out in the open. I would have preferred my mother being the one to first discover my corpse. It has an extremely high success rate, though, so I kept this method in mind. Ultimately, I decided to go with a hanging. Hanging oneself has a very high success rate, especially for people of my weight. I couldn’t see a way in which my neck wouldn’t snap under the pressure of my tremendous body. Plus, my mom could find me hanging in my room. It didn’t seem to have any downsides. I now had the method, place, and time figured out. My next course of action was putting it into place. I definitely needed to be home alone during my death. The worst case scenario would be my mother or grandma walking in on me as I am about to do it. Surely they would rush me to a mental hospital and I would never be given the opportunity to try it again. I somehow had to find a way to get my mother and grandmother out of the house on my mom’s birthday. For the majority of my life I had saved up every dollar from birthdays, Christmas cards, and stealing change from the washer/dryer. I had a grand total of one hundred and thirty-five dollars. I told my grandma I wanted to use my money to purchase my mom a fabulous present—a gift certificate to one of the most expensive restaurants in Chicago—Alinea. The restaurant was about a forty-minute drive from our house. During the time it would take for them to drive there, eat, and return home, I would have been able to hang myself a dozen times. My grandma was extremely impressed with my generosity and drove me to the restaurant so that I could purchase the certificate . 22 I spent every dollar I had on the certificate, and when my mother’s birthday finally rolled around, I presented it to her as early in the day as possible. 22 1 suspect that her willingness to do this for me relied more on her desire to join my mother for dinner at the restaurant than anything else.
 
“Well it looks like I won’t be cooking tonight!” she happily exclaimed. “This is so kind of you, Mario. I never thought I would be able to eat at a place like this. Thank you.” “All I ask is that you take Grandma along for helping me buy the thing and that you bring me home some fast food for dinner,” I replied, giddy that my plan was going to work. With that out of the way, I had nothing left to do but enjoy my final day on Earth. I created a music playlist of all my favorite songs. Its length totaled nearly nine hours, and I wanted to listen through all of it before my demise, so I started it as soon as I returned to my room. For the first time in months I was in high spirits all day. I felt genuinely happy. I was finally going to do it. I was going to die and leave everybody else behind to grieve over me. The world had rejected me, and now I was going to reject the world. Around 5 p.m. my mom and grandma took off for Alinea. Once they were out of sight, I entered the garage in search of the rope I planned to use. At this point I felt as though I’d reached some sort of state of enlightenment. I was now mere minutes away from death. My family was gone, and it seemed as though nothing was left to stop me. My suffering would soon be over. I felt as light as a cloud. 23 The rope retrieved, I returned to my bedroom and pulled up a YouTube video detailing the best method in which to tie a noose. Up to this point I had practiced several times with pieces of string, but I didn’t dare practice with the actual rope in fear of being caught. I tied the perfect noose and my music playlist was nearly completed. Everything was in its 23 Which is strange considering I should have tried to feel heavy in order to better induce suspension hanging, but whatever. perfect place. In a few minutes Mario Quintanilla would be no more. But then I got a phone call. My phone was sitting on my desk across the room and it started to violently vibrate against the wooden surface. I very rarely received phone calls, so this surprised me. I figured it was Mom or Grandma calling to say they’d gotten a flat tire or some other asinine thing. I grabbed the phone and discovered that it wasn’t my mother calling, it was Dawn Bracken. “She’s probably just calling about our psychology project,” I thought to myself. “It’s not even worth answering at this point.” But here’s the thing—I decided to answer it. “Hello?” “Hi Mario. Dawn here. I hope I am not catching you at a bad time.” “Not at all, what’s up?” “This may seem a bit out of the blue, but I was wondering if you had any plans for after school this Wednesday.” “Well, to tell you the truth, I really don’t.” “Wonderful. In that case, I was wondering if you would like to join me and a group of friends in watching some grotesque videos.” This intrigued me. I never thought I would receive a phone call from a girl asking if I was available to hang out, and I definitely never predicted this sort of proposal. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Every Wednesday after school a group of us, mostly sophomores, come together to view an assortment of disgusting footage. Based on our interactions at school and
 
the time we have spent preparing our project, I figured you would be the type of person to get a kick out of our activities. The group is always looking for new members if you would like to join.” This was fascinating. I was moments away from death— a death prompted by my utter loneliness in the world—and now a girl was inviting me to join her group of friends. It was the most spectacular coincidence, one that you may find unbelievable, but trust me that it is undeniably true. Oftentimes truth can be stranger than fiction. I accepted Dawn’s offer and she told me she looked forward to seeing me in class on Monday. We then ended the conversation and I stood in my room with my phone in one hand and the noose in the other. I looked down at the two and wondered which path I should take. One was guaranteed to end my suffering; the other had potential for doing so. I thought long and hard about the decision I had been presented with. In the end, I decided to give Dawn’s friendship a shot. After all, even if it spectacularly failed and I was made more miserable than ever, I always had the noose as a last resort. The only downsides to all of this were that I was now out of my life savings and I’d made my mother happy. The following Wednesday I attended my first ever Triflers 24 meeting. It was there where I met the other five members for the first time. There was Mason, the cool, older 24 1 once inquired Dawn as to where the name had come from. I believe she said it was borrowed from a relentless band of outlaws that were infamous back in the Old West days. athletic one, Chao, the quiet, Asian one, Dorianne, the freak show, Truman, the tall, awkward one, and Tao, Chao’s uncle who ran the laptop. Of the student members, I had recalled seeing most of them at school from time to time 25 , but naturally none of them had ever spoken to me before. Not wanting to ruin a potential good thing, I tried my best to seem friendly. Once Tao started the first video, I knew immediately that this club would be the right fit for me. It was a video of some guy lighting his dick on fire. I’d never seen anything like it before in my life, but I thought it was fucking awesome. I looked over at Dawn, and she seemed as enthralled by it as I was. A bunch of the others looked uncomfortable, however. I found it funny that it was only my first day in the club and I already felt more comfortable than the rest of them. After the video was over, the lot of us sat around talking about it, telling jokes, stories, and generally having a pleasant time. Unlike at school, these people actually acknowledged my existence. They listened when I had something to say and made me feel as though my contributions mattered. They laughed at my jokes and I at theirs. And despite all of our differences, we did have one thing in common. For one reason or another, we all were interested in watching disturbing videos. It seemed clear that in regards to the videos the most passionate member of the group was Dawn. I was seeing her in an all new light. At school, and even during our group work sessions, she seemed like nothing more than a quiet, 25 1 even had a class with Mason. calculating girl. But now there was a fire in her eyes. Her attitude towards the uncomfortable and the grotesque made her glow. Where the others’ discussion contributions were elementary in nature, focused primarily on how the content made them feel, Dawn focused on the ramifications of the actions displayed. Others would avoid questioning how the pain likely felt, or in what ways the man’s life would be changed forever, or how he would explain his injuries to his doctor, because it forced them to consider his pain from their own point of view. Dawn felt no fear in this regard. She not only loved exploring these questions, but she flourished in them. I began to feel as though the Triflers, and Dawn in particular, were going to fill the emptiness within me. This was just the beginning of my newfound relationship with Dawn. She noticed that I, much like her, was far different from the rest of the Triflers. We shared an important connection—a love for the grotesque and a disregard for life. I think that’s what set Dawn and I apart from the other Triflers, and really everybody else in the world. We didn’t take life seriously. We knew that none of it mattered and that the end was inevitable. We could die any moment and we wouldn’t care. Life was nothing more than a game—a joke. We soon began to spend much of our time together. We discovered we had the same lunch period, so we began eating at the same table. We made plans to get together as often as possible to “work on our psychology project.” I continued attending the Triflers meetings every single Wednesday. Life was improving drastically. So fuck Aubrey, and fuck Marissa. It wasn’t until Dawn that I experienced true friendship. She and I had so much in
 
common, and we sought to discover each and every little commonality. From a physical standpoint we couldn’t have been more different, but on a cognitive level we were terrifically alike, and that is what mattered. We had similar tastes in music. 26 Neither of us cared much for our fellow classmates. In fact, before long we discovered a shared hatred for the majority of the student population. “I detest nearly every single one of them,” Dawn told me during lunch one day. “Look at them interact with one another as if they were chimps in the jungle. They try terribly hard to stand out as leader of the pack, but the sad truth is none of them are intellectually superior enough to lead a horse to water. Not only are they complete imbeciles, but they are incredibly narcissistic creatures. Narcissism is fine and dandy when the subject is deserving of respect, but I cannot find a single person worthy of my respect in this loathsome pack of concupiscent, idiotic beasts. 27 “People are nothing more than a game to me,” she continued. “I spend weeks, even months at a time, strategically planting ideas into their heads and playing mind games. It is one of the only ways in which I can amuse myself. I will often get bored of someone after a while and move on to my next victim, but that is fine considering there are hundreds of these dirty roaches for me to choose from. The ultimate strategy for being successful in life is to convince people that you actually care about them when the 26 1 introduced her to my favorite bands and she introduced me to hers. 27 1 highly suspect she spends her evenings reading a thesaurus for pleasure. truth is you only use them for your own personal advantage and entertainment. I am a puppet master with invisible strings. You, of course, can rest assured that I am not doing these things to you. If I were, then I would not have dared to tell you any of these things about me.” I thought Dawn to be my perfect complement. Over time love began to grow for her. The purest kind of love. Not one tainted by bodily desires such as sex or kissing, but a love of her heart, her soul, her brain, her being. Every moment spent conversing with Dawn felt like my life was being lived to its fullest potential. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t tell her, and she me. We became best friends, and I was thoroughly glad I didn’t hang myself. As our relationship went on, our conversations became increasingly dark and honest. We fantasized about murdering all of our classmates in the most brutal ways possible. Those stupid, slutty, preppy girls who probably went on and on about how disgusting I look or how bad I smell would be suspended upside-down by their ankles. I would have a large collection of swords, and I would take my sweet time using them to slice their naked bodies over and over again. They wouldn’t die from the cuts. I would give them as many shallow yet painful cuts as possible, and they would bleed to death from their wounds. We shared these fantasies with one another and elaborated on them. She would tweak mine in one way, I would change hers in another. Pain, suffering, and death were in our blood. We were obsessed with it. It was our destiny. It is for these reasons that I know Dawn will join me tomorrow morning in my massacre. I will bring a gun for each of us, and together will we exterminate the people we so dearly hate. Dawn saved my life, and now I will die fighting by her side.
 
read every word
my retribution will be insane. im in the process of converting to islam right now so after it i can have eternal sex with 10/10 stacys and noodles. fuck normies and their useless religions. islam is the only rewarding religion out there.
 
my retribution will be insane. im in the process of converting to islam right now so after it i can have eternal sex with 10/10 stacys and noodles. fuck normies and their useless religions. islam is the only rewarding religion out there.
Jesus is king
 

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