How would you off yourself?

[Crack_dOff]

Here’s my newest favorite. Sure to make headlines if done properly.

Go to zoo. Lube head. Stick it up an elephant’s ass. Suffocate.

That would make an awesome front-page photo, eh?

[dal_timgar]

i would blame external causes for wanting to die so i would go on a murder spree across the country and see how long it took the cops to track me down and have a shoot out on the nightly news.

who would i blame for my problems?

corporate executives and marketing people.

dummys in 3 piece suits.

commuter train full of dummys in 3 piece suits blown up on the way into long island. ROFL!

sorry guys i’m really not into killing people but hey, i didn’t start the thread. he asked!

the blood thirsty, Dal Timgar

[Pyrrhonist]

Not that I’m thinking of shuffling off my mortal coil, but the peaceful and clean suicides seem too tame, almost sanitary for my tastes. If I were off my rocker and wanted to kill myself, I’d go out with an awful gory mess and make a few juicy headlines.

Perhaps the goriest death imaginable would involve matches, a stick of dynamite, a hollowed-out dildo, and a tube of K-Y Jelly. :eek: Now that would be one very disgusting way to die.

Jumping off a bridge with a noose around my neck has some appeal, but instead of rope I would use metal wire or steel cord. Can you say “decapitation” boy and girls?

Find an open all night truck stop, chain my arms to the back fender of a truck and chain my legs to a fixed object. When a mess when the driver pull away. Of course, this method is more risky then the others, the driver could spot you before driving away, and death is not as certain, you survive minus some limbs, or it may be a very painful way to die, so I doubt it would be my first suicide choice, but it does have an elemental beauty to it.

[jmullaney]

From Mike Hodel’s Radio Interview of Philip Dick

                                             Phil: ... A Scanner Darkly is
                                             from Paul's sees through a glass darkly.

                                             Mike: Ah.

                                             Phil: It's the story about a guy who becomes a narcotics agent and then begins to narc on himself. He rigs up a
                                             scanner, an infra-red scanner, in his own home. And while he's in the home he feels he's being watched. And then
                                             when he goes to the safe house he watches reels and reels of tape, video hologram tape - it's set in the future - of
                                             what he was doing in the house and he's so spaced out by the dope he's been taking as an undercover agent that
                                             he doesn't know he's narcing on himself. He thinks he's two different guys. And when his superiors point out to
                                             him that he's really the same guy that he's been reporting on, he just slides into a terrible rage and they fire him.
                                             And then he's got to come off the dope because he can't afford to buy it anymore because he didn't have any
                                             more money. And his brain is all burned out. And Judy-Lyn del Rey helped me put this book back together so that
                                             it made more sense. **And one of the things that I wrote was this funny suicide scene.** I really think there should be
                                             more funny suicide things. I think that it's a topic of great humor. And this is it. It's very short and it's in the book
                                             and it's self explanatory, I hope. I hope the whole book makes sense. Judy says it makes sense now. So we'll
                                             have the first Phil Dick novel that makes sense. **The scene goes as follows:** 

Charles Freck, becoming
progressively more and more depressed by what was happening to everybody he knew, decided finally to off
himself. There was no problem, in the circles where he hung out, in putting an end to yourself: you just bought into
a large quantity of reds and took them with some cheap wine, late at night, with the phone off the hook so no one
would interrupt you. The planning part had to do with the artifacts you wanted found on you by later archeologists.
So they’d know from which stratum you came. And also could piece together where your head had been at at the
time you did it. He spent several days deciding on the artifacts. Much longer than he had spent deciding to kill
himself, and approximately the same time required to get that many reds. He would be found lying on his back, on
his bed, with a copy of Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead (which would prove he had been a misunderstood superman
rejected by the masses and so, in a sense, murdered by their scorn) and an unfinished letter to Exxon protesting
the cancellation of his gas credit card. That way he would indict the system and achieve something by his death,
over and above what the death itself achieved. Actually, he was not as sure in his mind what the death achieved
as what the two artifacts achieved; but anyhow it all added up, and he began to make ready, like an animal
sensing its time has come and acting out its instinctive programming, laid down by nature, when its inevitable end
was near. At the last moment (as end-time closed in on him) he changed his mind on a decisive Issue and decided
to drink the reds down with a connoisseur wine instead of Ripple or Thunderbird, so he set off on one last drive,
over to Trader Joe’s, which specialized in fine wines, and bought a bottle of 1971 Modavi Cabernet Sauvignon,
which set him back almost thirty dollars – all he had. Back home again, he uncorked the wine, let it breathe, drank
a few glasses of it, spent a few minutes contemplating his favorite page of The Illustrated Picture Book of Sex,
which showed the girl on top, then placed the plastic bag of reds beside his bed, lay down with the Any Rand book
and unfinished protest letter to Exxon, tried to think of something meaningful but could not, although he kept
remembering the girl being on top, and then, with a glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, gulped down all the reds at
once. After that, the deed being one, he lay back, the Ayn Rand book And the letter on his chest, and waited.
However, he had been burned. The capsules were not barbiturates, as represented. They were some kind of kinky
psychedelics, of a type he had never dropped before, probably a mixture, and new on the market. Instead of
quietly suffocating, Charles Freck began to hallucinate. Well, he thought philosophically, this is the story of my
life. Always ripped off. He had to face the fact - considering how many of the capsules he had swallowed - that he
was in for some trip. The next thing he knew, a creature from between dimensions was standing beside his bed
looking down at him disapprovingly. The creature had many eyes, all over it, ultra-modern expensive-looking
clothing, and rose up eight feet high. Also, it carried an enormous scroll. “You’re going to read me my sins,”
Charles Freck said. The creature nodded and unsealed the scroll. Freck said, lying helpless on his bed, “and it’s
going to take a hundred thousand hours.” Fixing its many compound eyes on him, the creature from between
dimensions said, “We are no longer in the mundane universe. Lower-plane categories of material existence such as
‘space’ and ‘time’ no longer apply to you. You have been elevated to the transcendent realm. Your sins will be
read to you ceaselessly, in shifts, throughout eternity. The list will never end.” Know your dealer, Charles Freck
thought, and wished he could take back the last half-hour of his life. A thousand years later he was still lying there
on his bed with the Ayn Rand book and the letter to Exxon on his chest, listening to them read his sins to him.
They had gotten up to the first grade, when he was six years old. Ten thousand years later they had reached the
sixth grade. The year he had discovered masturbation. He shut his eyes, but he could still see the multi-eyed,
eight-foot-high being with its endless scroll reading on and on. “And next --” it was saying. Charles Freck thought,
at least I got a good wine.

[Sapphire_Bullet]

I’ve always thought the most comforting way to go would be to take several sleeping pills and painkillers and snuggle up in bed and just go to sleep. Of course you would have to be alone with your thoughts for awhile and there is the risk of changing your mind.

[G.Nome]

My God is Morpheus, the God of Sleep and I would willing die on his altar. Hypnos and Somnus are also right for me. But aren’t easily obtainable sleeping pills also a scriptwriter’s fantasy? Or are sleeping pills as easy to obtain as guns in the U.S.A.?

The fact that guns are easy to obtain in the U.S. makes me look at this thread in a different way to most of the other contributors. I often wonder what percentage of the human race, if given the chance, would choose an easy, quick and immediate death. You could guess that a lot of prisoners with real life sentences would. A lot of terminally ill and handicapped and disabled people as well. Depressed people and people in permanent pain. The terminally bored, etc etc. But here are 300 million Americans all with gun access (unknown in a most countries) and most of you are still alive. That’s amazing. That must say something about the American character.

[Sapphire_Bullet]

there are sleep aids readily available in U.S. grocery stores - they aren’t as strong as the prescription variety, but I imagine in the right quantity they would do the trick

[G.Nome]

I don’t really believe they do. I think I remember reading somewhere that the lethal dosage for Temazepam, for instance, is something like 600 - 800mg.* I can’t see how that sort of strength can be duplicated in non-prescription remedies.

*I could be wrong

[Badtz_Maru]

Marijuana overdose. 8^)

[Sapphire_Bullet]

after some research I have found that the only thing over the counter sleeping aids will give you is an unpleasant visit to the emergency room and a lovely charcoal cocktail

some people end up in a coma, but according to http://medlineplus.adam.com/ency/article/002549trt.htm, death from antihistamine (which is what over the counter sleep aids are) is very rare

back to the drawing board?

[zen101]

I’m surprised this isn’t in IMHO allready but heres my .02:

Pills/Drugs: After doing some research on this seemingly attractive category of self termination aids I have found that a) the drugs that are painless are really hard to OD on because you tend to puke them up and b) they are actually pretty hard to get ahold of and c) the ones that are good at killing you are not too comfortable (aspirin can and will kill you but it is suppoed to be horribly painful and takes quite a while. yuk.)

Guns: This one looks pretty good as it would seem to be fairly fool proof and quick. On the gripping hand though if you ever saw that fellow on Jeraldo who “almost” killed himself with a shotgun blast to the head you begin to think that all it takes is one twitch at the last moment to go from dead to making people lose lunch at the sight of you. Plus this is really messy, and unless you leave a note (which according to some people at A.S.H. is a bad because if you back out at the last minute someone can use the note to have you put away which is no good at all) it is going to take a while for you to be discovered and thats a pretty crappy thing to dump on someone, all the smell and maggots and gore and such.

Velocity: This one seems pretty sure fire but has a lot of the same drawbacks as Guns does unless you get some really terrific height. I just think it would be scary as hell and I keep thinking about how my soul has to be weighed against a feather and I don’t want to burden it with all that fear and stuff.

Asphyxiation: You can end up a rutebega with this one too, plus it sounds pretty horrible and you might chicken out just late enough so that you end up drooling in your tapioca in some institution for the rest of your days.

Conclusion: Best bet is to not kill yourself, the karma is a heavy deal if you cause someone else to suffer because you can’t carry your own burden. But if you absolutely must I say a combination is the best route.

Take a bunch of heavy drugs, stand at the top of a waterfall some 500 or more feet up over rocks and a pool, shoot yourself in the face so that the blast knocks you back over the fall and if possible make sure the waterfall is in the midst of a Brazillian soccer riot, thats bound to deliver the desired end-result.

[SPOOFE]

jmullaney…

A good way to commit suicide is to find a huge, unbroken block of text and try to read it… your eyes explode and your brain hemorrhages.

[Tubbz]

Asprin/ratpoison (both work the same way) are not good ways to kill yourself they work by thinning the blood, so it leaks out of all your blood vessles, you drown on it in your lungs, it poors out of your noze, mouth, eyes and in fact every other orafice in your body,so if you take enough it is pretty certain to kill you, but takes a while, is increadibly painfull, and if you are discovered you are left with liver/kidney faliure certainly, and depending how long it took to find you you may have to have fingers/limbs amputated as the lack of blood can kill the tissue in them.

I myself wouldn’t want to go quietly, make a big mess, take a few others with me, and generally do somthing horrific, not that i ever would

the safest most painless way of dying would be a hanging, if done properly

you have to make a noose, with a largeish knot, so that when around your neck if you lift up the rope the knot is next to your ear. it is importand that the rope is also at the side of your head, not at the back as is the way most ppl do it…

then jump off somthing fairly high, so your going fairly quickly when the rope becomes taut

this way, you brake your neck cleanly and die instantly, rather than just hanging there till you suffocate.

[elucidator]

Like that rich oil guy in Texas: extreme old age and Anna Nicole Smith. Go out the same way you came in.