An Open Letter To The Next Elliot Rodger


White-male-of-upper-middle-class-background-in-the-most privileged-nation-the-world-has-ever-known (W.M.U.M.C.B.I.T.M.P.N.T.W.H.E.K).

To save you from writing into the Guns and Ammo’s agony aunt (or as it’s called in Guns and Ammo ‘Dying in a pool of your own blood and urine while you die in agony… aunt’), I thought I’d take the time to write you this letter to see how the plotting and demands are coming – do you know what you want yet?

Wait before you go back into your journal and read me the tiny, tiny writing let me guess.

You want revenge you want to leave a legacy and you want it to happen now.

Revenge is generally left for ninjas and caped crusaders. Not many of us in the real world have cause for revenge and definitely not many W.M.U.M.C.B.I.T.M.P.N.T.W.H.E.K’s like you. Revenge is a misguided pursuit usually linked to some sort of justice – to theme music.

An eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. But in your case it’s all made up. Nothing happened to you. It’s an eye for no eye contact, it’s a tooth for no smile.

If you want a true legacy in these times you have to do something good for society at large. I’m trying to think of an example you’ll understand… Like Drake – he came up with the word YOLO and his legacy lives on in the truest honor we as a society can bestow – a t-shirt.

But you aren’t even a t-shirt. You serve no one and nothing. All you are is someone who spends too much time looking in the mirror – squinting and practicing his lines. But… unfortunately and foolishly we will give you a legacy of sorts. You’ll have a looping stage and an audience because we’ve already caught up with the Kardashians today, we are addicted to procedural dramas and your brand of violence still sells soap powder. But yours is a disposable legacy – a 15 minute one and I thought you’d like to know that.

Safe to assume, W.M.U.M.C.B.I.T.M.P.N.T.W.H.E.K , that guns are central to your plot and that your revenge won’t involve the slower murder methods of bludgeoning or drowning? So the baseball bat and portable paddling pool lobbyists can take another weekend off. However the NRA boys better dust of the black amex ‘cos it be time for some boozy lunches with congressmen. That amex is warm to the touch. Guns don’t kill people, whiteys kill people – 14 mass shooting already this year and with 88.9 guns per 100 people, it’s getting to the point that if I see an Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt walking towards me, I’m crossing the road.

Always guns. Big ones. Powerful ones. Of course because you’re powerless but also because guns are instant and you’re impatient. You don’t know how to wait for anything – lest of all love, respect or friendship. Guns make want you want to happen – happen fast. Guns are game controllers that work in the real world. Guns are the remote control that turns the things that don’t please you… off.

It’s tough being white and male in a world so clearly geared for minorities and women. Especially when the all women are sluts… that don’t want to have sex. Frigid sluts? I thought that was weird so I looked it up.

According to the ‘Pick Up Artists’s Big Book Of Date Rape’ handbook (I found one left behind in the changing rooms at Fitness First next to a bottle of fake tan and some hair removal creme) on page 45, after the coloring in section about masculinity, and after that one sentence that deals with foreplay it clearly states ‘All women are sluts… except our Moms.’

So I stand corrected.

I personally don’t think the men’s movement (BTW men’s movement sounds like something one does in the men’s toilet) are really the best guys for you. Sure they’re solid wing men when you’re wearing Ray Rice jerseys, chanting Chief Keef lyrics, drinking shots of Jack and trolling the uppity women who are using the #YesAllWomen hashtag by threatening to rape them BBH! (bros before humanity), but I don’t think those guys are there to help.

But I’m not sure help is what you want. People who ask for help generally get help. And your cries for help come too late and sound like the cries of the families you destroy. I won’t ask you to think of the people you hurt because I fear that’s all you do. You spend all your time thinking of the people you hurt and how much they hurt and will hurt for how long.

You are hard to spot and harder to fix. You are a born-broken version of the rest of us made more defective by being left in the care of the Mc violence, empathy removing screens, and other ‘bros’ like you. There will be more of you. I fear, a shit load more of you so all we can do as a society is choose to not make you famous. We need to make you legacy proof.

How does that sound W.M.U.M.C.B.I.T.M.P.N.T.W.H.E.K? You needlessly live your impatient, angry, and terrified life alone – even though the world is filled with amazing people with giant hearts that want to know you and want you to heal – and we’ll ignore you in death too.

When a stone is thrown into a pond it starts a ripple and that a ripple spreads out and touches the whole pond.

Just understand. You aren’t the stone. You aren’t the ripple. You aren’t the splash and you definitely aren’t the pond. You? You’re just some cunt throwing rocks.

Your pal,

A man with no gun