Milo Yiannopolous Will Be Dead Soon

What goes around …

“Milo tells me accusations of drug abuse are nonsense, emphatically denying any drug use — except for those pill bottles, which he says are legally prescribed. Recently, Milo posted (and then promptly took down) a photo on Instagram depicting an iced bottle of Dom Perignon next to a row of prescription pill bottles, including Vicodin and diazepam, a.k.a. Valium. A former Breitbart reporter, Lee Stranahan, who followed the “Dangerous Faggot” tour closely, tells me he’s concerned. ‘I’m praying for Milo,” he says. “A lot of people are worried about him.’” — From The Mouth of Madness: The Dangerous Brand Of Milo Yiannopoulis,” Art Tavana, Playboy, September 2017

The Playboy profile piece, much like its legendary interview, was a standard metric of having achieved celebrity prior to the dominance of the internet. In light of his recent statement about how he would enjoy vigilantes gunning down journalists, the preceding excerpt from a since removed article on Playboy’s website is as portentous as it is piquant:

Two serious concerns of benzodiazepine therapy are the potential for abuse and the development of physical dependence. Although intentional abuse of prescription benzodiazepines is relatively uncommon in the general population, it should be used more cautiously in individuals with a history of drug abuse as they are at the greatest risk for seeking benzodiazepines to experience a “high.” Benzodiazepines are rarely the sole drug of abuse, and abusers usually combine benzodiazepines with other drugs to increase the effect. For example, benzodiazepines are combined with certain opioids, a class of strong prescription pain relievers, to enhance the euphoric effects. Among abusers, diazepam (Valium) and alprazolam (Xanax) are most popular due to their rapid onset. - www.rxlist.com

Whereas the combination of any gay man over the age of 30 (the presumptive milestone by which one’s attractiveness, value, or ability to be “fun” diminishes significantly) with a constant need for attention and an entrenched benzodiazepene habit would be cause for concern, in Milo’s case, these factors are certainly more apt to dispose of him than an attempted assassination.

While it may seem pedestrian to have Milo die from choking on his own vomit, cardiac arrest, etc., after a night of capsules and cocktails, (after all, in his own words, “Darlings, it’s Milo we’re talking about.”), the margin for error has been reduced significantly.

Clearly, the onset of dementia associated with long-term benzo abuse seems to have caught up to Milo. Why else would he call for journalists to be murdered when he himself is a relatively high-profile celebrity who regularly posts his current whereabouts and activities on instagram and Facebook?

Given recent photos, one can readily determine that Milo prefers the tony sections of whatever town he’s in. He’s largely a posh tourist attracted to trendy, “hip” places where he can use his social mien to acquire whatever drugs he needs wherever he needs them.

Nowhere else can this be more easily demonstrated than the instance where he walked into Washington D.C coffee shop Emissary, located in the historic DuPont Circle area.

He then discovered the establishment had the nerve to use Norton Anti-Virus on its wi-fi, thereby denying him access to his website. He then loosed his inestimable ire and lumpy-headed, mouth-breathing horde on the establishment’s Facebook’s page to leave patently phony “reviews” and lower the star rating.

A competent assassin could very easily work his/her way into those circles and simply offer him a “hot shot” of whatever pharmaceutical suited his fancy or merely poison his drink.

As his current whereabouts is Miami, Florida, and apparently staying at the Trump National Doral, Milo is likely to be found in the South Beach area. A weapon isn’t inherently necessary. An appropriately sized brown-skinned individual could chase him for 100–500 yards and cardiac arrest will do the rest.

There are certainly far more entertaining means to Milo’s demise:

Milo jaywalks in front of a Prius being driven by a transgender, immigrant Lyft chauffeur who has Leslie Jones, the actress his mouth-breathing, slack-jawed cretins harassed on twitter, as a passenger. He doesn’t see the car until he hears the impeding whine and crunch of gravel under asphalt, Ms. Jones screams at the driver, “Look out!” Milo goes over the hood and lands badly on his fruit-scented, pomade up-do.

A variant has Milo falling from an early morning Washington DC Metro platform onto the third rail in a panic after identifying and attempting to avoid the owner of a multiple gear bicycle clicking toward him, none other than Leslie Jones.

Humorously ironic, spectacular, perhaps fitting. Ms. Jones might strain her rib muscles from laughing and insurance will exonerate the driver. Yet, it lacks tragedy, such as being beaten to death by a horde of homophobic inbred Florida 45 supporters who mistake for him for another “faggot,” who is decidedly not as dangerous.

Nonetheless, presuming no actual attempt on his life (that incidentally, the author strongly discourages), the actual tipping point will be when the Mueller investigation findings are released. The stress of seeing his beloved “Daddy” 45 put through the federal wringer will be too much for Milo’s molly-addled brain and he’ll have to up his dosage(s) to compensate.

This brings us to the author’s preferred scenario, wherein Milo’s head cracks on the concrete after falling from the balcony of some chintzy hotel and an outburst rivaled only by Andy Griffith’s tantrum at the end of “A Face In The Crowd,” realizing that both Daddy and Unca’ Stevie will be doing a stints in Leavenworth once he sees the FBI perp walk 45 out of the Oval Office.

There will be the inevitable conspiraloon speculation that Milo was 45’s “Masonic sacrifice,” Bill Maher will prove himself further irrelevant by offering condolences, perhaps we’ll actually see his presumably non-extant African-American husband, there will be the inevitable and extremely slight bump in the sales of “Dangerous,” a smattering of tears, but mostly derisive laughter in light of death being the best move of Milo’s career.

As this was being revised from an earlier draft, a newsroom in Maryland was attacked by a gunman mere days after Milo made his initial sentiments known. Milo has since issued a statement saying that he was merely “trolling” when he made his sentiments known to two different journalists and that it’s their fault for making what was supposed to be his private thoughts public.

Phrased simply, this is unadulterated horseshit. Milo knew he was texting to journalists who were working on a story, he knew he was on the record, and he had more than enough opportunity to set the record straight when the story first broke.

As recent instagram posts indicate he’s been booted from both PayPal and Venmo as a direct result of those statements, one can safely presume to start the death watch as Milo has managed to completely fuck off his income. The Mercers and their deep pockets abandoned him months ago and his last backer, crypto-billionaire Matthew Mellon, died of an apparent drug overdose.

However can he pay for his suites at Daddy’s crappy hotels and Dr. Feelgood’s scripts? There’s only so many replacement shifts he can do for the Alex Jones show and it’s doubtful the residual checks for shilling lead-tainted “nutritional supplements” will suffice.

Whatever will a benzo-popping, hate-filled, over 30 gay man with a chronic need for attention do now that he will have to purchase his fruit-scented pomades and moisturizers at — shudder! — the drug store like the rest of the plebes?

Certainly the x hundred thousand pea-brained mouth-breathers who follow him slavishly will be more than willing to pass the hat and be fleeced as a result, much like Milo’s mysterious “scholarship” fund.

They will bemoan the lack of respect afforded their idol upon his demise, (“Speak no ill of the dead, wahhhh!”) and their complaints will fall on deaf ears, drowned out in taunts. The die has been cast and Milo’s manicured fingers threw it. All one really has to do now — is wait.