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1 August 1994.

Oh God, I am sick unto death of eating turnips. When will this
jerkwater town get a McDonald's?

Perhaps this new bomb I am making will find it's mark and smite the cDc.
Oh, my sweet God, You who bless and direct my actions, will ensure that
THIS one will KILL those evil bastards who have ruined my life and reduced
me to this wretched existance.

If only we lived in the state of nature that was enjoyed by all before the
accursed Industrial Revolution. With no technology, there would be no
computers, and with no computers, there would be no cDc, no cDc and there
would have been no need for me to embark upon this seemingly futile quest
to destroy these evil beings who MOCK my very core beliefs with their
hedonistic existance and technological expertise.

If only they had recognized what gifts I could have brought to the Cult,
and therefore to the very WORLD ITSELF. But no, they rejected me, they
mocked me, they stole my credit cards and used my phone to call 900# sex
lines. They drank my liquor and ate my food and corrupted my innocent
housecats with their filthy ways.

My poor Apple II STILL exudes a foul miasma, corrupted beyond redemption by
the cDc t-files. I cannot clense it, save with the very BLOOD of the Cult
of the Dead Cow and all who follow it's twisted and perverse message.

My toil is the toil of the rightious avenger and stern teacher. One day,
one day all will heed my call to overthrow the Industrial Society that
gives cDc their base and license to practice their unspeakable deeds and
corrupting ways.

I will prevail! I will rid the Earth of Technology and then, oh yes, THEN
will cDc be brought down and humbled before me, me who they so cruelly
rejected and cast out from their fellowship.

The turnips are boiling. I must end my writing here and see to them, lest they burn.

How I HATE turnips!

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