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Cho Seung-Hui: Difference between revisions
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When the first shots rang out, students thought it would be a swell idea to stay seated in class - never mind that a shooter was on the loose - so they could get "good grades" but, alas, they didn't notice that a Jew was their teacher who would part with a penny before giving a passing grade to an [[White people|Aryan]]. It would be folly to find this unusual, as they are all from [[Virginia]] and therefore all have the combined IQ of a [[reymon14]] and bodies like that of a [[Dog264]]. | When the first shots rang out, students thought it would be a swell idea to stay seated in class - never mind that a shooter was on the loose - so they could get "good grades" but, alas, they didn't notice that a Jew was their teacher who would part with a penny before giving a passing grade to an [[White people|Aryan]]. It would be folly to find this unusual, as they are all from [[Virginia]] and therefore all have the combined IQ of a [[reymon14]] and bodies like that of a [[Dog264]]. | ||
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Revision as of 12:03, 5 May 2011
You may be looking for the article on the Virginia Tech Massacre
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| Born | January 18, 1984 Seoul, South Gook Island |
| Died | April 16, 2007 (aged 23) Blacksburg, Virginia, United States |
| Cause | Glock Mouthwash |
| Status | An Hero |
| Highscore | Killed 32, Injured 25 |
| Rank | 3rd Place 1st: Woo Bum-kon 2nd: Andrew Kehoe |
Failing at everything he did, looking like a bald midget, having a deep pedophile voice but only a 1-inch penis, Golden iPod winner Cho Seung-Hui, realized from early on that God put him in this world to be a spreader of epic lulz by giving him the task of beating the all-time highscore, set in 1999 by fellow comedians Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. However, God apparently neglected to inform Cho, that Eric and Dylan's highscore of 15/24 - an impressive task indeed - was rather flaccid in comparison to fellow zipperhead, Woo Bum-kon, who two years before Cho was born had set the score at 57/35. Nonetheless, our hero went on to perform an impressive feet of epic lulz and proportions, when he on April 16, 2007 participated in creating hours of quality TV entertainment, realeasing 33 souls to their home planet of Xenu, bankrupting 25 families with medical bills and instantly becoming An Hero.
Biography
As with fellow gook hero Woo Bum-kon, Cho grew up in South Korea, where he was held captured in his parent's basement until the age of 8, at which time the whole family emigrated to the US to open an "All-American Dry-Cleaning Business". During Cho's childhood, his family had concerns about his mental health. In an ABC News Nightline interview, Cho's grandfather said the following: "We were concerned about him from early on. He was very well behaved and obedient, but he would never make eye contact and was extremely shy. He also didn't like to be hugged. The only activity he seemed to enjoy and respond to, were the Friday night ass-rapings".
As is the case with all zipperheads, Cho was very good at math in School. According to fellow students, Cho was well-liked among his classmates, and in particular the girls - at least until the 8th grade, according to a classmate at the time: "His voice had started to change as he began to go through puberty, and it became really deep and Darth Vader-like. But so did everyone else in class. I think what upset Cho the most was the fact that while us other boys started growing pubic hair and our penises became larger, Cho still had a 1-inch wiener."
To help the young Cho cope with his shortcomings, his parents took him to the local baptist church, where it is believed that he either transformed into Jesus H. Christ himself, or at least believed in his mind that he was the Lord and savior, as documented later in the Lulz-tapes sent to NBC.
He sounds like Napolean Dynamite. Lulz:
A sensitive playwright
In his Creative Writing class he wrote some lulzy plays about killing his stepfather, and lamented being a technical virgin.
Hours Before the Massacre ("Cho's Last Thoughts During his Final Fap")
Cho Seung-Hui like your typical perverted white kid in his semi-autobiographical account fapped guiltily under the covers of his little room, clouded in darkness. He hadn’t showered yesterday, so the mild, musky stink from his oily penis wafted up from his crotch and reached his nose. He sighed.
“What am I doing?” he thought. “What the FUCK am I doing? It smells like death…that is what man really fears.” He fapped harder. The demon idea filtered through his mind again, the same awful, but beauteous notion that popped up during his idle moments. The final solution.
“Heh. Like Hitler.” Cho smiled. His balls boiled fiercely, sweating more grease into his palm. It hit his nose again, demolishing his grin. It was too much. Too much like the stench of dead things and the sea that filled his mother’s cunt during his development. He never articulated it, no, but the rancid odor was embedded deep in his psyche and burst out again whenever he encountered sex. At least, his own sex scent, the only one he’d ever known.
“That fucking cunt!” he snarled. “I’ll kill her! I swear that I will!” He thought again about the woman in tight leather pants, dressed like a harlot in his eyes, who came trouncing into Creative Writing 3348 everyday and plopped down in front of him. His eyes bulged a little each time as he took fleeting glimpses at her silky, neon-green thong. He yanked his rod harder. It had finally arisen all the way, and pre-cum dribbled onto his forefinger, moistening his entire length with foamy stickiness.
“All of them…she is just one of the many. No woman will ever want this in them.” He stopped fapping, holding his manhood gently for a moment. “And why should they? I’m a goddamn failure. A fucking ‘question mark’ kid and a washed up writer.” His bloodshot eyes rolled aimlessly, enraged. “Not even as successful as my parents. At least they’ve got their own business. But fuck ‘em! They never should have brought me to this country in the first place. They knew what kind of child I was…” He resumed fapping, harder this time.
“And what kind of people we were. Immigrants. Gooks. Just as they couldn’t integrate into American society, I can never integrate into THEIR society. Nor do I want to.” Another fiery coil of rage crept up his spine. “Those sons of bitches! Fucking tree-trunked assholes! I nearly lost it today in the history seminar when I heard that fucking cocksucker in the flip-flops crying to his little fuckbuddy bitch again.” Cho panted, partially from effort and the rest from ire. The veins on his penis bulged, echoing his outrage.
“That motherfucker, I’ve seen him driving around in a Mercedes! And it isn’t enough! He’s spoiled. Spoilt fucking rotten. Several prime pieces of pussy, nice car, full ride on tuition thanks to his cunty rich parents…” He grunted.
The demon thought flashed through his brain again. Rich bastard, dead from a gunshot right through his chest, one of his flip-flops sprawled on the floor under his twisted leg. Cho himself, lifting up the skirt of Richie-Rich’s slutty girlfriend, to see her piss-stained panties, fresh from the shock of the pistol shot that rocketed through her throat.
“But if only there would be one—just ONE sign of change—I wouldn’t have to do any of this. But there won’t be. No, there won’t be, there never is. They have never known true, soul-searing pain. But they will. They must. They came to this school to learn, and if that is the last lesson they get, it will be the most valuable.” He slowed the strokes of his fist, he was close. “Ismail Ax,” he whispered. He addressed himself with that haunting alter-ego, taken from the story of uncompromising anger and devotion to righteousness from the Koran. He’d read it a couple years ago, when he briefly toyed with radical Islam as a conduit for vengeance. “It is time, you must do this. No more pussying out like the other times, no more bullshitting, tomorrow is the day.” His mind cleared as it suddenly dawned on him. Ismail Ax IS his identity. Cho Seung Hui, that anonymous, castrated little shit is the alter ego.
His fist pulled down—hard. The dead Professor. A bloodied Christfag from the campus crusaders, sent to his maker. Exploring the warm pussy of that brunette harlot, still in pristine condition, despite her grotesquely broken skull. Bullets flying expertly toward strangers, toward faceless enemies worthy of death, like in Counter-Strike. The stink of his mother’s cunt. Cho grunted and raised his hips as he came.
Thick, hot jets of milky sperm rushed from his shaft, landing on his brown stomach. He opened his eyes again and reached for the Kleenex, as his penis suffered its last strained spasms. A moment later he looked at the yellowing tissues in disgust. “Life is sick. It can’t go on like this anymore.” He zipped up.
The clock said 2:00 AM. April 16th. His last day. He smiled again, knowing he’d just had his last fap and his last sleep. Today would be a great day for Cho Seung Hui. No, for Ismail Ax. First he would go on 4chan.org, section /b/, one last time. They were the only ones who understood the terminal illness of existence. Usually a lurker, he might even post announcing his big plans, though no one would believe him, until it happened. Then the site would be filled with dark laughs for days, oh yes. First 4chan, then on to finish that package for the media he’d started last week, and then… my mom got scared, and said, "You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air." I whistled for a cab and when it came near The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought, "Nah, forget it. Yo, holmes to Bel-Air!" I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8 and I yelled to the cabbie, "Yo holmes smell ya later!" Looked at my kingdom I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.
Some fucked up faggot wrote the above story.
DONT READ IT
Oh, you already read it?
Faggot.
Preparing for the shootout
His loneliness soon ended when he found eBay. He found his haven there since, being an Asian, he knows how to crunch numbers. So he assumed the identity, "Blazn Azn". At last! He found a sense of true belonging! But oh noes! Jack Thompson was right! After being sucked into murder simulators like Tetris and sudoku (he hated all other video games, which is ironic), he was driven to kill.
Before waving buh-bye to his friends on eBay, LJ and IRC, he left this message: "Imma chargin mah laz0rz and gettin ready to pwn VTech, I'm quitting IRL 4eva...
Blazn Azn, unsuspiciously adorned with a Glock 19 and Walther P22 and whistling a jaunty tune, then strolled down the street to a local post office, where he mailed a tape of his lulzy threats and legendary video logs to NBC. This tape might have warned authorities in time to save countless lives, but since his mouth was always full of rice and he had an impenetrable accent anyway, no one understood a fucking word. After countless post office customers and employees called him a chingchong chink, he got pissed off and bitterly swore to them that he would kill them all, right after he went and got Chinese food - which no one believed since Virginia diets consist solely of Wottaburgers and Pixie Sticks; to these simple folk, the concept of a Chinese restaurant was practically science fiction.
When the first shots rang out, students thought it would be a swell idea to stay seated in class - never mind that a shooter was on the loose - so they could get "good grades" but, alas, they didn't notice that a Jew was their teacher who would part with a penny before giving a passing grade to an Aryan. It would be folly to find this unusual, as they are all from Virginia and therefore all have the combined IQ of a reymon14 and bodies like that of a Dog264.
Occult significance
Why has none of the media pointed out the shiny "magic triangle" that is clearly visible on the murderer's forehead in his student photo? This triangle has occult significance and may indicate a connection to South Korean militant extremists like Seoul Freemasonry.
- --Wikipedia
No one gives a sloppy fuck about a Zelda fag. That's fucking why.
Cho Attacks from Beyond the Grave!
On August 19th, 2007, the day the memorial to V-tech was supposed to be dedicated, Cho used a Mighty Kung-Fu Chop to burst his way out of the gunshot clouds of Heaven, and strike once more. On this peaceful Sunday morning, no one was prepared for the the nail-biting fear... the mind-numbing terror... THE SHEER PANTS-SHITTING TERROR... OF...
...a simple carbon monoxide leak, which broke out in a random, off-site apartment complex. But it musta been, um, Asian Ghost Majicks, which might have easily raped over 30+ students if quick-thinking rentacops hadn't opened some fucking windows. Sadly, so far, no one has been killed in this second wave, and the most that may potentially die are two people, most likely no good, filthy smokers.
It's now being heavily debated whether or not Cho's return was epic failure, or a dire warning of things to come. Since Cho is Asian, it's most likely the latter, since Asians rarely fail at anything. Except penis size.
Cho as a writer
While Cho became an hero, he also was a very talented writer who rivaled Shakespeare's wit and Dostoyevsky's skills. Internet moviemakers quickly made full blockbuster feature films of Richard McBeef, Cho's most famed work. It was so well received that the goons at Something Awful wrote a Cliff's Notes of McBeef.
Previous Video | Next Video
However Mr. Brownstone, the other eloquent work by Cho, was not as popular:
Previous Video | Next Video
Spotting people like Cho
The students of Vtech could clearly have prevented Cho's orgyfest if they had opened their eyes more. They should have noted the following:
- Cho suffered from lonerism
- He was frequently bullied by his fellow students
- He was obsessed with violence
- He frequently made threats, similar to the kind issued by e-lawyers
- He was a fucking azn
DO THE FUCKING MATH
See Also
- Jiverly Wong Another AZN who use similar tactics.
- Lucas Caparelli
- VTech
- VTEC!
- Attention Whore
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Cho Seung-Hui is related to a series on AZNS. | [Herrow] |
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Cho Seung-Hui |
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