Valentine's Day (and Other Human Degeneracy)

"Refuse to be passive!" A Poem "School Shooter Chic; violence is the aesthetic"
You know, it's an incredible and unlikely story that brings the molecules inside each and every one of us to the point where they are now. Ten billion years ago, superhot, superhuge, and very short-lived stars exploded into supernovas, and where once there were only the two basic elements of helium and hydrogen, every element in the universe, fused from smaller nuclei during the life of the star, was hurled outwards in clouds of dust. And eventually those bits of matter got caught up in larger clouds of matter, and then things like our solar system were formed.

And I'll skip the last five billion years. They're less romantic than you might think.

Which brings us to now. All over the earth, people are deciding that they love one another. These feelings are caused by the reactions of various chemicals and ions in our brains, and the hormones we secrete in an ancient biological search for a mate, and the current amount of warmth and swelling in our genitals. And every bit of it is only possible because heavy elements traveled hundreds of thousands of light years in an expanding universe to where we are today. The pieces of my brain that tell me how much I care about you, were once in the dazzlingly hot core of a giant star as they emerged from the fusion of smaller elements, and might even have been in the same star as the atoms that eventually formed your brain. And every seven years, we shed every atom that was inside us at any given moment. We are stardust.

I don't frequently check the suicide forums of today (such as SanctionedSuicide) to see how often holidays are talked about, but on the websites run by depressed people in the 2000's, spotting a page dedicated to resentment towards Valentine's Day and Christmas wasn't the most uncommon thing. This is 44caliber.net's obligatory holiday page:




Valentines Day... ah, the powerful emotions it doth evoke. Images of young lovers holding hands, the exchange of flowers and heart shaped boxes of chocloate candy, laughter, joy, love, love, love; all this coupled with the promise of the impending spring thaw.

It's enough to make a free thinking individual want to gouge his own eyeballs out with an old rusty pair of scissors.

You hate Valentine's Day. Every year you screw up your face in disgust when your eyes fall on the center of your February calendar. Every year you glare in contempt and hatred at these ignorant fools who buy into this money-making scheme of unabashed transparent nothingess thinkly disguised as a day to show that special loved one just how much you care, while leaving those of us who are not in the throes of love to feel rejected, unloved, and downright inadequate.


You've finally had enough, and you want to take action, but you are at a loss as of what kind of action to take. In a stroke of rare generosity, I have compiled a list of things you can do to make February 14 a tolerable, and even perhaps enjoyable, day for those of who refuse to be enslaved by commercialism.

1. Firebomb all the Hallmark card shops you can find. The greeting card industry created this "holiday" and the most effective way of ridding ourselves of it is to destroy it at the source. Greeting card shops sell primarily paper goods, and will burn quite efficiently.

2. Gather a large amount of sympathetic malcontents together and declare February 14 as a Day of Hate. Ridicule those who are less fortunate than you, refuel old ethnic hatred while encouraging the hate that already exists, explode an advertising binge of misanthropy. Be sure to be extremely vocal so as to get the attention of the media. Break lots of things with reckless abandon. Carry placards with catchy hateful slogans, such as "Hate Is Great", "Have You Exploited Someone Today?" and "Fuck Love". Hit the malls and be sure to torch all the greeting card shops (see (1)). This will have the positive side effect of destroying the malls where today's vacuous youth, extremely vulnerable to advertising, run rampant like a bad case of hives.

3. Upon coming in contact with aforementioned amourous starry-eyed couples, proceed to exclaim loudly to either one, "Why didn't you call me! You told me our passionate night together was only the beginning?! Who the hell is *this* cretin? Don't you know that s/he could never love you like I can?! You're coming with *me*!" Etc., ad nauseum. Be very animated, and feel free to physically get in between these two clueless sots. To be especially effective, do your research ahead of time and seek out certian couples. Learn their names, their habits and lifestyles, and capitalize on this. By ruining their holiday of love together, you will be adding them to the ranks of bitter V.D. malcontents.

You get the picture. Refuse to be passive! Join the ranks of the angry, the bitter, the angstful, and smash this day into oblivion.


to hold you
in my arms
in my mind
in my dreams
to see you
with my eyes
with my soul
with my hands
to taste you
on my lips
in my blood
in my fantasies
to have you
close by
from far
at all
to remember you
when I'm alone
when things are bad
filled with sadness
to remember you
Written by an a.s.h. member in August 1995


Click here for a slightly more shocking valentine that I didn't want to insert directly! p.s. medical gore warning



"School Shooter Chic; violence is the aesthetic" (a.k.a the story of the Halifax mass shooting plot)

In concept, Lindsay Souvannarath is everything that some of the women of true crime Tumblr envy. Mass shooter chic and a romantic Valentine's Day date that consists of shooting up a mall with your lover before finally giving up and ending it all by turning a .308 Savage 99 Lever action rifle on yourself.

In reality, said lover, James Gamble, snitched to the Canadian police and shot himself before Lindsay even arrived in the country. And the date becomes a lot less romantic when you have a third wheel, Randall Shepherd, who's appearance could best be described as pathetic.

[Redacted because I need to rewrite this. Also, if Lindsay wasn't a woman then tcc retards wouldn't hate her so much.]


It might just be obligatory for every shooter (or almost-shooter in this case) to have a slightly-intriguing quote thrown in between the ramblings that end up being used as evidence.

Lindsay says that violence should be used to sell products instead of sex.

Der Untergang

"Perhaps you have already heard the news of a mass shooting in Halifax. This is where you’d expect me to post my reaction to it, but unfortunately I have no reaction, for I am now dead. My head has been broken apart with a single shotgun shell. This is a queued post.

It has always been my greatest dream to die in battle. But I do so not as a soldier, but as a murderer. I fight no man’s war but my own. I fight for principles, not politicians. Yet the modern world, with its wars fought for greed instead of glory, has forced me to bury these heroic longings deep beneath my surfaces where they have since festered at my core and metamorphosed into hate.

Hate. It’s a strong word, but I’d rather let a strong word define me than a weak one. “Love,” for example, is a weak word, for one who loves is not nearly as strong as one who hates. Love is merely the attempt to nullify one’s own weaknesses with the weaknesses of another. Hate is the drive to exterminate all weakness. In all of my twenty-three years of life, I have never learned to love another person. I receive love, but it passes through me like water through a sieve, having neither the substance nor density of the hate that crystallizes in my heart. Love softens the spirit and makes it malleable to the society around it. Hate sharpens the mind to where it becomes a weapon against all others. I pity the lover, who will never experience the wonder of isolation. Severing bonds with the rest of humanity is the first step to rising above it. Free from empathy, free from manipulation, the isolated man sees the world for what it truly is. The result, of course, is hatred.

My hate is beyond good and evil. What morality is depends on which end of the gun you are looking at. With a gun in my hand, I am God, for no one can argue against me when I am armed and not afraid to die. I do not consider myself evil, not even for committing murder. Murder makes no difference. All living creatures die. There is no such thing as dying “before one’s time.” The earth can only support so many humans at a time due to finite resources, and continuing one’s existence means consuming resources that might have otherwise gone to another. We are constantly making decisions that shorten the lifespans of others without even knowing it."