Suicide is feckless

While watching the hours dribble away in between some cynical hit-and-runs on Stars and my daily doses of Grand Theft Auto, I've been busily re-reading various reports and threads on the suicide of Andy Glazer. It never ceases to amaze me that people can commit such a selfish and pointless act just because they're depressed. For fuck's sake, GET OVER YOURSELVES. Have a nice cup of tea and a wank, life really isn't that bad. I know, depression is not just about being unhappy, it's a medical condition, blah blah blah. When I left university I suffered depression for a few weeks for no apparent reason, and yes, it wasn't nice, but at least I was still alive. Why the hell would anyone want to eradicate themselves from existence? Bollocks to that.

I mean, there's so much more you can do with yourself. If you've given up on life, at least try to have some fun before you die. Go and do all the mad stuff you've wondered about but never been able to do because of moral or legal constrictions. Rob a bank. Take some heroin. Beat the shit out of someone you really hate. Fuck it, why not? If it's a choice between that or death, I know which road I'd travel. And if you've got any religious qualms, then a) you shouldn't be thinking about suicide anyway, and b) you're a twat.

But hey, this is one of the problems with being a so-called higher form of life - everyone thinks they're so goddamn special. All people can do is think about their problems and their desires and their successes. Do animals ever get depressed? Perhaps, but they sure as hell don't kill themselves, because it's unnatural. No, not even lemmings - the lemming mass-suicide myth was started by the Disney movie Wild Wilderness in 1958. But people are wankers, and people who kill themselves really must be the most unpleasant, lazy, self-absorbed, worthless form of wanker. So at least they deserve it.