by Bob Pappas
Hello, my name is Berry Hussey; I live in Connecticut with my Mom and play and live for video games day and night. The games I play are mostly games of violence and involve a whole bunch of scenarios. Some are very expensive and most of which can be downloaded from the internet, so I don't have to leave the house. When I feel like it I download games for free because in addition to being really hip on video games, I love porn and am an expert hacker...I can hack just about anything. Some people think I am weird, in fact my Mom has expressed concern about my mental health to my face and although I haven't told her, it makes me furious. I just sulk away to my dungeon in the basement and play my games; that gives me some relief because I can blow away my enemies. She recently told me that unless I begin to get my act together she was contemplating having me committed to some sort of mental health institution for evaluation. Well, I've got news for her...that will never happen; and I told her as much.
My Mom and Dad split up a number of years ago and I elected to stay with Mom because she is a lot easier to get along with than my hated Dad. She feeds and otherwise cares for my needs and pretty much stays out of my way which is fine with me because I can go downstairs, turn off the lights and immerse myself for hours in video games that have taught me how to fight using a wide variety of martial arts weapons and an entire array of firearms. Someday I'll use them if I get a chance. It would be hard for me to tell you which game I like most because I enjoy blowing up and shooting anything and anyone. When the game is over, I just "reset" and play another scenario; my games' scenarios never repeat. Those who play video games know how absorbing they can be and what a feeling of power one feels when unleashing the fury of an all out attack. With headphones on and the volume turned up it is awesome! The good part is, when it's over, I just "reset" and the program delivers another scenario.
I've been doing this for as long as I can remember and don't have any outside interests...Mom would be apoplectic if she knew about my porn and masturbation marathons, but she never comes down...just yells when supper is ready; and that's usually something she bought on the way home from one of her many meetings. I've never seen her play a video game and suppose she doesn't need to because she has a closet full of weapons and plenty of ammo to go with each one; and she knows how to use them. We've been shooting together a number of times. She thinks that Obama is going to destroy the country and wants to be able to defend us and our home...I think she's nuts, but as long as she leaves me alone I really don't care.
What does bug me is her constant picking at me about getting my life together, and that "those video games" are having an adverse effect on my disposition. I've told her to butt out, but she says she loves me and is advising me for my own good. Bullshit! I know what's good for me. When she does it I explode at her and she backs off, but in recent weeks I've had to really explode because she has become so insistent on my doing something for my mental health. In fact the last time she said that she was planning to have me evaluated, I screamed at her that if she brought it up again I would blow her away...and I was surprised to sense that I meant it. I'd rather die than be put in some mental institution...maybe dying is the solution to the addiction that has completely absorbed my life. I fall asleep while playing then I wake up and continue the same game I was playing when I went to sleep. Then, I might play half a dozen more scenarios before going up to make myself a breakfast of toast or cereal. By then Mom is gone to her daily events, some of which include volunteering at a local grade school.
I've played so many of these games that a sense of boredom and worthlessness has set in because even in my crazed and addicted state I realize it's all so empty, so meaningless. But I can't break the cycle...nor do I really want to. Recently I've begun to wonder what it would be like to blow away real people and whether that would give me any sense of worth. I know there would be consequences but don't care. I think I'd like to find out but have to give some thought about who, how and when. If I'm going to kill a bunch of people I could head to the Mall, a ballgame, church, or a movie theatre like the one in Aurora, Colorado. But my chances to kill a bunch of people would be improved if I went somewhere that I know has no defenses at all, where I know there would be no police and where firearms are prohibited. And I have such a place exactly in mind.
I could make and use a suicide belt, that would be easy enough. Finding the "how to" on the internet and buying required ingredients that are not common household items to mix the explosive shouldn't prove to be much of a challenge. Making a detonator is no sweat...I've done that a dozen times in various games. But...if I were to use a suicide belt it would all be over the moment I actuate the detonator, not nearly as satisfying as feeling the recoil of a high powered weapon as I take out each target. So....
Mom asked me this morning what I was doing when she saw me with her AR-15 and clips of ammo stuck in my belt. I told her I was going "hunting" and she blew up, yelling at me that I must be out of my mind, that I had no business with her gun and to put it back where I found it, immediately! But I had my mind made up and there was nothing she could do to stop me, and screamed at her as much. She reminded me that she was my mother to which I screamed back that I could care f___ing less! I turned and started to walk down the wide foyer toward the front door and I could hear her run toward me from behind...it sounded just like any number of scenarios in the video games I had played...and just as I had done hundreds of times in those games, I spun around aimed from the hip and without even thinking pulled the trigger; mother fell flat and lay motionless five feet away. It was just like the games but this wasn't an ordinary game and I knew I had done something that would not "reset." I bolted from the house and raced toward the car filled with determination to kill as many people as I could before "they" could stop me.
On the way to my target I had a firm idea about what was going to happen and was a practiced expert at blowing my way through doors and shooting anyone who got in the way of my mission. And that "mission" was exactly what I was going to carry out. I did a quick mental rehearsal and once in the target area it came easy. I blew my way through the locked entrance door, and once inside targets fell exactly as I had practiced hundreds of times in my games, but before I finished I noted that I had done far less damage than I had hoped. Maybe I should have used a suicide belt after all. Suddenly, even with all the noise I could hear sirens close by and one thing was certain...they were not going to put me in a straight jacket and take me to a psycho ward...and with the weapon aimed at my head and a single trigger-pull, I made sure of it.
Little did I know that my actions that day would stir a national fire-storm about firearms. Now, as I watch events from the other side, flames dancing on all around, which incidentally is also like some video games, it angers me and is missing in all the clamor, that there is no real interest in why I did it. Those SOBs still don't care about me, but at least I got a measure of vengeance. Even I know that in a sane world there would be vigorous pursuit of why I did it, but seemingly intelligent people are interested only in demonizing some pieces of inanimate metal and plastic assembled to form a rifle that without me pulling the trigger would have remained nothing more than an inanimate object. Actually, it is an insult for anyone to suggest that the weapon was responsible. Hell no! I was responsible, without me nothing would have happened that day...but have you listened to the media? You are all but forced to conclude that I was nothing more than the chauffeur for the AR-15 to barge in and perform its deadly work...that I had little or nothing to do with it.
If the place had been guarded, if anyone had a weapon I probably would have been stopped at the first door as I blew my way through. As crazy as it is, there is a huge outcry against the kinds of weapon I chose to use without regard to the fact that I could have done even worse damage with a suicide belt. It raises the underlying question about why their society is having so much trouble, and not only with violence. Maybe, just maybe, in my selfish rage I will have contributed toward finding a real solution, one, now that I am here, I know is rooted in their pervasive and unsatisfactory relationship with God...and yes, there is God.
Like I said, maybe I should have used a suicide belt; the explosion would have killed and maimed a lot more people, damaged a lot more property and made me really famous. But if I did it that way I would not have had the satisfaction of witnessing the mayhem before my own demise; and watching, while exacting vengeance against a world that hardly knew or cared that I existed was what it was all about. No matter what they say, everything else is rubbish.
Semper Fidelis and Peace
Copyright © January 17th, 2013 by Robert L. Pappas. With proper attribution, this essay may be quoted and redistributed, except it may not be used in conjunction with any advertisement without the author’s expressed written permission.
Hello, my name is Berry Hussey; I live in Connecticut with my Mom and play and live for video games day and night. The games I play are mostly games of violence and involve a whole bunch of scenarios. Some are very expensive and most of which can be downloaded from the internet, so I don't have to leave the house. When I feel like it I download games for free because in addition to being really hip on video games, I love porn and am an expert hacker...I can hack just about anything. Some people think I am weird, in fact my Mom has expressed concern about my mental health to my face and although I haven't told her, it makes me furious. I just sulk away to my dungeon in the basement and play my games; that gives me some relief because I can blow away my enemies. She recently told me that unless I begin to get my act together she was contemplating having me committed to some sort of mental health institution for evaluation. Well, I've got news for her...that will never happen; and I told her as much.
My Mom and Dad split up a number of years ago and I elected to stay with Mom because she is a lot easier to get along with than my hated Dad. She feeds and otherwise cares for my needs and pretty much stays out of my way which is fine with me because I can go downstairs, turn off the lights and immerse myself for hours in video games that have taught me how to fight using a wide variety of martial arts weapons and an entire array of firearms. Someday I'll use them if I get a chance. It would be hard for me to tell you which game I like most because I enjoy blowing up and shooting anything and anyone. When the game is over, I just "reset" and play another scenario; my games' scenarios never repeat. Those who play video games know how absorbing they can be and what a feeling of power one feels when unleashing the fury of an all out attack. With headphones on and the volume turned up it is awesome! The good part is, when it's over, I just "reset" and the program delivers another scenario.
I've been doing this for as long as I can remember and don't have any outside interests...Mom would be apoplectic if she knew about my porn and masturbation marathons, but she never comes down...just yells when supper is ready; and that's usually something she bought on the way home from one of her many meetings. I've never seen her play a video game and suppose she doesn't need to because she has a closet full of weapons and plenty of ammo to go with each one; and she knows how to use them. We've been shooting together a number of times. She thinks that Obama is going to destroy the country and wants to be able to defend us and our home...I think she's nuts, but as long as she leaves me alone I really don't care.
What does bug me is her constant picking at me about getting my life together, and that "those video games" are having an adverse effect on my disposition. I've told her to butt out, but she says she loves me and is advising me for my own good. Bullshit! I know what's good for me. When she does it I explode at her and she backs off, but in recent weeks I've had to really explode because she has become so insistent on my doing something for my mental health. In fact the last time she said that she was planning to have me evaluated, I screamed at her that if she brought it up again I would blow her away...and I was surprised to sense that I meant it. I'd rather die than be put in some mental institution...maybe dying is the solution to the addiction that has completely absorbed my life. I fall asleep while playing then I wake up and continue the same game I was playing when I went to sleep. Then, I might play half a dozen more scenarios before going up to make myself a breakfast of toast or cereal. By then Mom is gone to her daily events, some of which include volunteering at a local grade school.
I've played so many of these games that a sense of boredom and worthlessness has set in because even in my crazed and addicted state I realize it's all so empty, so meaningless. But I can't break the cycle...nor do I really want to. Recently I've begun to wonder what it would be like to blow away real people and whether that would give me any sense of worth. I know there would be consequences but don't care. I think I'd like to find out but have to give some thought about who, how and when. If I'm going to kill a bunch of people I could head to the Mall, a ballgame, church, or a movie theatre like the one in Aurora, Colorado. But my chances to kill a bunch of people would be improved if I went somewhere that I know has no defenses at all, where I know there would be no police and where firearms are prohibited. And I have such a place exactly in mind.
I could make and use a suicide belt, that would be easy enough. Finding the "how to" on the internet and buying required ingredients that are not common household items to mix the explosive shouldn't prove to be much of a challenge. Making a detonator is no sweat...I've done that a dozen times in various games. But...if I were to use a suicide belt it would all be over the moment I actuate the detonator, not nearly as satisfying as feeling the recoil of a high powered weapon as I take out each target. So....
Mom asked me this morning what I was doing when she saw me with her AR-15 and clips of ammo stuck in my belt. I told her I was going "hunting" and she blew up, yelling at me that I must be out of my mind, that I had no business with her gun and to put it back where I found it, immediately! But I had my mind made up and there was nothing she could do to stop me, and screamed at her as much. She reminded me that she was my mother to which I screamed back that I could care f___ing less! I turned and started to walk down the wide foyer toward the front door and I could hear her run toward me from behind...it sounded just like any number of scenarios in the video games I had played...and just as I had done hundreds of times in those games, I spun around aimed from the hip and without even thinking pulled the trigger; mother fell flat and lay motionless five feet away. It was just like the games but this wasn't an ordinary game and I knew I had done something that would not "reset." I bolted from the house and raced toward the car filled with determination to kill as many people as I could before "they" could stop me.
On the way to my target I had a firm idea about what was going to happen and was a practiced expert at blowing my way through doors and shooting anyone who got in the way of my mission. And that "mission" was exactly what I was going to carry out. I did a quick mental rehearsal and once in the target area it came easy. I blew my way through the locked entrance door, and once inside targets fell exactly as I had practiced hundreds of times in my games, but before I finished I noted that I had done far less damage than I had hoped. Maybe I should have used a suicide belt after all. Suddenly, even with all the noise I could hear sirens close by and one thing was certain...they were not going to put me in a straight jacket and take me to a psycho ward...and with the weapon aimed at my head and a single trigger-pull, I made sure of it.
Little did I know that my actions that day would stir a national fire-storm about firearms. Now, as I watch events from the other side, flames dancing on all around, which incidentally is also like some video games, it angers me and is missing in all the clamor, that there is no real interest in why I did it. Those SOBs still don't care about me, but at least I got a measure of vengeance. Even I know that in a sane world there would be vigorous pursuit of why I did it, but seemingly intelligent people are interested only in demonizing some pieces of inanimate metal and plastic assembled to form a rifle that without me pulling the trigger would have remained nothing more than an inanimate object. Actually, it is an insult for anyone to suggest that the weapon was responsible. Hell no! I was responsible, without me nothing would have happened that day...but have you listened to the media? You are all but forced to conclude that I was nothing more than the chauffeur for the AR-15 to barge in and perform its deadly work...that I had little or nothing to do with it.
If the place had been guarded, if anyone had a weapon I probably would have been stopped at the first door as I blew my way through. As crazy as it is, there is a huge outcry against the kinds of weapon I chose to use without regard to the fact that I could have done even worse damage with a suicide belt. It raises the underlying question about why their society is having so much trouble, and not only with violence. Maybe, just maybe, in my selfish rage I will have contributed toward finding a real solution, one, now that I am here, I know is rooted in their pervasive and unsatisfactory relationship with God...and yes, there is God.
Like I said, maybe I should have used a suicide belt; the explosion would have killed and maimed a lot more people, damaged a lot more property and made me really famous. But if I did it that way I would not have had the satisfaction of witnessing the mayhem before my own demise; and watching, while exacting vengeance against a world that hardly knew or cared that I existed was what it was all about. No matter what they say, everything else is rubbish.
Semper Fidelis and Peace
Copyright © January 17th, 2013 by Robert L. Pappas. With proper attribution, this essay may be quoted and redistributed, except it may not be used in conjunction with any advertisement without the author’s expressed written permission.
