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| Breaking news!|
Cho just got BTFO by Omar Mateen! No longer the American High Score!
|Born||Jan 18, 1984|
|Highscore||Killed 32, Injured 25|
|Style||FPS, Single Player|
|An Hero||Glock Mouthwash, April 16, 2007|
Failing at everything he did, looking like a bald midget, having a deep pedophile voice but only a one-inch penis, 2007 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 high-score, 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 13/24/2 - an admirable feat 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 brave hero went on to perform an impressive feat of epic lulz - of epic proportions, when over a decade ago, on April 16, 2007, he participated in creating several hours of quality TV entertainment, releasing 33 souls to their home planet of Xenu, bankrupting 25 families with medical bills, reaching the American high score, and instantly becoming an hero by perpetrating a highly calculated an masterfully executed school shooting at the Virginia Tech Institute, a notable university that he attended. Unfortunately for Cho, he lost his crown and all his glory in the middle of 2016, when Omar Mateen dethroned him, and secured the new American high score. Nevertheless, Cho remains, , one of the most memorized mass shooters in America- an impressive feat when you understand the fact that Dumbfuckistan housed literally over 9000 other deranged freaks who went postal. Rumor has it that upon death, Cho was recruited by Satan to return to our world as a demonic entity which has brainwashed and brought several other paid actors into staging false flags so that guns could get banned or some shit.
- 1 Biography
- 2 A sensitive playwright
- 3 Hours before the massacre ("Cho's Last Thoughts During his Final Fap")
- 4 Preparing for the shootout
- 5 Occult significance
- 6 Graded Score
- 7 Cho attacks from beyond the grave!
- 8 Cho as a writer
- 9 Permavirgin
- 10 Leaked Manifesto
- 11 Gallery
- 12 Spotting people like Cho
- 13 See also
- 14 External links
As with fellow gook hero Woo Bum-kon, Cho grew up in South Korea, where he was held captive in his parent's basement until the age of 8, at which time the whole family emigrated to the US to open an "Arr-American Dry-Creaning 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 fuck stick."
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, much 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. Spoiled and fucking rotten. Several prime pieces of pussy, nice car, full ride on tuition thanks to his cuntbag 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.
DONT READ IT
Oh, you already read it?
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" (firstname.lastname@example.org / blazers5505). 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.
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 Juggalo and undeniable good looks of a Chin-chan.
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.
No one gives a sloppy fuck about a Zelda fag. That's fucking why.
|Kill count:||32/20 (17 injured)|
|Style:||17/20 bonus points for locking people in|
|Total score: 107/100 (A+)|
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 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.
However Mr. Brownstone, the other eloquent work by Cho, was not as popular:
Cho could never get laid- even after hiring an escort:
Seung-Hui Cho hired her to dance for him in a motel room one month before the massacre at Virginia Tech's campus, dancer Chastity Frye said in an on camera interview with a TV station in Roanoke, Va.
"He was so quiet. I really couldn't get much from him. He was so distant. He really didn't like to talk a lot," Frye said in the interview. "It seemed like he wasn't all there."
Frye said that a "creepy" Cho, 23, called the escort service she works for and hired her to meet him for one hour at a Roanoke motel, about a 30-minute drive from Virginia Tech's Blacksburg campus.
About 15 minutes into the performance for Cho, Frye said, it appeared that her client had no interest.
"I danced for a little while and I thought we were done because he got up and went to the restroom and began washing," said Frye, a white woman with blond hair.
Frye told WSLS that she told Cho she was going to leave, to which he responded that he had paid for a full hour and she had only performed 15 minutes.
When she resumed dancing, Frye said that Cho touched her and tried "to get on" her before she pushed him away. Cho then apparently respected her wishes.
Frye said she thought Cho looked familiar when she saw his face in the coverage of the Virginia Tech killings. Cho fatally shot 32 people and then himself on April 16.
She got a call from the FBI, which she said tracked her down through Cho's credit card receipts. Frye said that during a weekend interview, investigators asked her to describe Cho using three words. She chose "dorky," "timid" and a "little pushy."
An FBI spokeswoman from the Richmond, Va., field office, which is overseeing the Virginia Tech case, said the FBI would not comment on possible witnesses.
"I'm not able to comment on who we are and are not talking to," spokeswoman Dee Rybiski told ABC News. "I will confirm that I have had agents there since Monday of last week -- conducting all sorts of interviews."
Cho wrote an extensive manifesto that he only gave out to old media. They refused to make it public due to the sheer evil concealed within, similar to how the columbine killers tapes never got leaked, to prevent copycats. We all know how well that worked out. However, a news reporter showcased unreleased materials and we were able to decipher the following text from the pic to the right:
...(fuck)ing you, you want to get on your hands and genuinely ...your acts of self-hedonism? You want to see what a ...pushed to the edge? And now that I have sough vengeance you want ...(peopl)e did to Eric and Dylan to keep all your crimes buried. You want to call ...ed to keep all your sins hidden? And you wonder why massacres happen. You ....power and money to omit all your wrongdoing and characterize us as evil to the world? ...(d) us and drove us to the edge and pretend that you didn't. You make us seek vengeance and pretend you didn't. You want to lie to the world, shed those tears of treachery, and leave out all your heinous crimes against humanity so that you can suck in all the millions in donation money like slimey leeches, you heinous hedonists? You want to use the power that you have and the power of your friends to manipulate the truth so that you'll come out with a profit in any situation, suck some money out from strangers using our blood! Only if you could be the victims of your depraved crimes, you would never have committed them in the first place. All the blood that you have spilt today is on your hands. Every single ounce of blame lies in you, you lovers of terrorism. You have no clue of what revolution I have started. The number of you descendants of Satan that I have killed is nothing compared to what my people- my Brothers, Sisters, "Others" that you fucked will do. They will be influenced by my framework and see that they will no longer (need) be terrorized by you Democratic terrorists. They will be inspired to carry out vendetta like me except ...bigger and more lethal with each generation. Because of your actions that destroyed millions of innocent lives all these years and millions more will destory, massive volcanoes of blood will be spilt. Because of your actions, the ground that you stand on and you that harbor its principles will forver be known as the Holy Ground of Terrorism, lovers of Terrorism and Sadism, Rapists of Souls, (fuckers). Christian Nazis, Apostles of Sin, Crucifiers of the Innocent, Kin Jong-Il's of the the West, American (Devils), and Osamas of America. Because of your hedonistically heinous actions, the Weak and the Defenseless that you have fucked will rise and carry out our bloody vengeance. Generation after generation, will squash your heads beneath our foots until your brains squirt out, we will shatter every bone in your bodies with hammers, we will claw your jaws out and ram them up your rectal cavities, we will leave a ... cuts. on every inch of your bodies, we will slice your throats ear to ear with the sharpest blade and .... arteries and veins to squirt out blood like firehoses, we will disentegrate your bodies into a... ...roes with razor-whips, we will main you with our bare knuckles, or coldly shoot every single one ...n like targets and turn the Pacific and Atlantic ocean into the darkest hue of red to avenge the ...tion demolitions that you executed in us Weak, Defenseless, and Innocent Children. There is .... one way out. Kill yourselves or you will never know how the dorky kid you humiliated and spat on will come behind you and slash your throats and rip your spines out. Kill ...you will never know the day the oucast you crucified in school will hammer you on your head, cut you up with a razor forcing you to feel every cut of your skin, every motion of the blade, dripping with your blood, and every single millimeter of your precious life slowly fading away. Kill yourselves or you will never know the hour the little kid will come with hundreds of rounds of ammunition ...to shoot you down for shoving his face in shit and beating him every week with your drunk and ...ds. Kill yourselves you sadistic teachers who filter out the Weak and Defenseless to launch ...or you will never know which calm night the kid that you fucked will come and cut you, ...and all your children open. Kill yourselves or you will never know the year, the month, the day, the hour, the second you will die. Kill yourselves or you will never know how we will kill you, or the b ...as you die. It will be a thousand times slow and agonzing than the w ...you will never be able to go to school or work or rest and sleep. You will ...walking behind you, who's sitting in front of you, who's driving ...non-stop. You sin-ridden soul will hound you restless days and nights ...Kill yourselves now or you will never know whether you will die ...or in class, or on a sunny day. You may buy ten bodyguards ...you may flee, but we will be watching your every ...will spend every ounce of our energy in our bodies to fuck you ...fucking, agonizing pain that you fuck us with. There ...terrorism. There is nowhere in the world you can hide..."
Spotting people like Cho
- 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!
- Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold - Cho references the fag duo as "martyrs".
- Sonic The Hedgehog - Cho was directly influenced to commit mass murder after playing the Sonic classics for several hundreds of hours.
- Adam Lanza
- Elliot Rodger
- Trey Eric Sesler - Planned to brake CHO's high score but got arrested first.
- Attention Whore
- Charles Whitman
- James Holmes
- Jiverly Wong - Another AZN who used similar tactics.
- Lucas Caparelli
- Mark Essex
- Pulse Nightclub Massacre
- Sandy Hook
- V-tech Rampage - The game.
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