2022... I am forgotten

Kek. never change.

never forget how he hung himself and then unloaded 16 rounds into his own head and chest in that spanish cell after being extradited to the US like julian assange is about to.

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He was funny but didn't know what he was talking about.

that is a pretty complete business model

I think all the combination hardware+pet supply stores in the UK and Canada should also add coffee and pillow sections.

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Did you guys know that phenotype is shared by Lucifer, while in the form of a man?

I recalled him an hour ago in connection with the Bout case. Think they are somewhat similar.

He was a total larper so your dedication to remembering him is absolutely fucking retarded

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Gone but never forgotten
I hope he had a body double and is living on an island somewhere

made millions off of computer software. ran for president as a libertarian. had dirt on a bunch of rich people. got suicided

But he explains that the accusations are a fabrication. "Maybe what happened didn't actually happen," he says, staring hard at me. "Can I do a demonstration?"

He loads the bullet into the gleaming silver revolver, spins the cylinder.

"This scares you, right?" he says. Then he puts the gun to his head.

My heart rate kicks up; it takes me a second to respond. "Yeah, I'm scared," I admit. "We don't have to do this."

"I know we don't," he says, the muzzle pressed against his temple. And then he pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He pulls it three more times in rapid succession. There are only five chambers.

"Reholster the gun," I demand.

He keeps his eyes fixed on me and pulls the trigger a fifth time. Still nothing. With the gun still to his head, he starts pulling the trigger incessantly. "I can do this all day long," he says to the sound of the hammer clicking. "I can do this a thousand times. Ten thousand times. Nothing will ever happen. Why? Because you have missed something. You are operating on an assumption about reality that is wrong."

"Let's do this one more time," he says, and puts it to his head. Another round of Russian roulette. Just as before, he pulls the trigger repeatedly, the cylinder rotates, the hammer comes down, and nothing happens. "It is a real gun. It has a real bullet in one chamber," he says. And yet, he points out, my assumptions have somehow proven faulty. I'm missing something.

The same is true, he argues, with Carmelita. I'm not seeing the world as he sees it. He opens the door to the bungalow, aims the gun at the sand outside, and pulls the trigger. This time, a gunshot punctures the sound of the wind and waves. "You thought you were creating your reality," he says. "You were not. I was."

He pulls the spent cartridge out of the chamber and hands it to me. It's still warm.

wired.com/2012/12/ff-john-mcafees-last-stand/