February 18, 2025
To Whomever Found My Body;
Mom, if that's you reading this: I was actually murdered, my corpse was desecrated by those "damn, dirty, faggot-jew-muslim-hippie gypsies" you always warned us as kids about, they made me write this note to cover up their horrible, heinous crime and you should stop reading now.
If you're reading this and you're not my mother, then most likely I am hanging by a noose from the rafters with a smile on my face, a zucchini up my ass and covered in a wad of jiz and nacho cheese.
Damn it, I wish I wouldn't have kicked the chair so far or tied the noose so tight. Maybe I should have just sprung for a whore. Jon Link, you cheap, dumb dead bastard.
Oh well, at least I died doing something I loved: Asphyxiating myself while watching Blue's Clues.
I knew I should have had a spotter.
Jon Link
P.S. Tell the insurance company I was killed by 2 black men. They'll buy that with no further questions.
You too can have a great suicide note just like Kurt Cobain, Princess Dianna and David Caruso wrote without all that pretentious hijacker crap about "Allah this...jihad that...blah blah blah...20 virgins...death to american pigs...stay in school...mecca hajj tortilla" that all the kids are so into these days.
Select a reason, fill in your name, click a PS message and hit the "Write Note" button. Then, pussy out, take a 50-hour a week job you hate, marry the first person that feigns interest in you, have some dissappointing and ungrateful children, purchase a ton of your local sports team's merchandise, spend countless hours fantasizing about the happiness you are going to buy when you win Powerball and eagerly await your natural death.