Jesse Anderson
June 5, 2019
By NZB3
Jesse, I hear you died last Saturday on the first of the month by suicide. You will remember me from last July when I visited your Right Minds gathering at Point Chevalier.
You gave a talk pathologising the Left, full of white board diagrams and ideas streaming out your notes in an exercise book. It was a trial in absentee of Feminists, Communists, Muslims, LGBT,…all things Left. Debating someone who wasn’t there, building straw men and knocking them down. It was a crowd-pleaser.
You admitted it all when I pointed this out. You were smarter than that but the audience, you think, was not competent to process better information. I said I thought they were and that you could give it. Tell them the truth about their enemy rather than this rabble rousing and Low IQ stuff. You got mad, told me I was not welcome in your “Red Pilled” group and to not come back.
After the March Mosque Massacre I did come back to Right Minds but it was online. I didn’t even know it was the same group of people and I had forgotten your name. You had become a vilified leader of protests and I listened to your podcast in April, saying…
[” just stop watching this garbage it’s making your brain rot…exposure to this much sarcasm…”]
Me: “That would be my criticism of the new Right Minds podcast too. But it did have Dieuwe to balance it out. That other guy is very bitter and going through some Black Pill Sarcastics atm…”
About a month ago I realised this was you. The same guy I’d met. Hearing that depressed voice and bitter comments alone I could tell independently of anything else you were in a dark and bleak place. Deep hurt, lashing out.
I assume that was clear to the people close to you as well but they dared to believe you would come out the other side of it. I wish you had and that we could have been mates. I appreciated your ambition to present a general model of how ‘The Left’ operate. We had similar feelings but I think your were in a bit too much of a hurry. You cut corners. You played to the rabble for their attention and affection.
You told me when we met you were a Dad. What they’re saying about you now is that Family Court drove you to death. I didn’t start the online memorials and conversations that were underway last night but I joined in with my own eulogy. I’ve got something to grieve too but a different opinion on who is responsible for your death: You were. The State is no excuse for leaving a son behind and all your potential. When your family and your life depends on the government behaving well you’re already up to your neck in it. You needed to repair your family and pair bond with your wife.
Blaming the judicial system of the country you lived in is a cop out, an injustice to you. Mens Groups are full of people projecting their personal failings on The System and women’s nature and bonding with each other in this Group Think. Rather than grieve your loss, these people are throwing your memory like a log on the fire to warm their own resentment club house. Rather than question the bitter Black Pill pain leading up to your death they normalised it, ensure it will go on, fail to reach out to people in your situation.
It’s easier for them to just blame the Family Court and Child Youth and Family that admit they ignored the signs. Their brother’s light was dimming for months then went dark. I, for one, will not be doing you nor your son that injustice. I will not be an accessory to manslaughter before or after the fact.
It would have been enough for me to put my eulogy up with the rest on social media and leave it at that. Let the guilty spin their narrative and find ways to not process their grief and let me be marked down as refusing to. Since my little comment was deleted from the social media (even the observation from 7 weeks ago) I’m expressing myself here on NZB3. This post will last even longer online, be more widely read, and has about 10x more content. Censorship bites back.
Ghost Jesse, haunt this message and get it to the eyes of those who refuse to connect and listen to each other. Spook those who ice their dissociation cake by pretending pain, broken relationships, and actual fatalities were out of their hands. If you let the ghouls memorialise you as a passive victim who did not own your own life then you have died for no lesson but only to promote more unbroken chains of Kiwi suicides.
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