Is John McAfee completely insane?

Status
Not open for further replies.
lol, why is Hollywood determined on making a Steve Jobs biopic? I couldn't care less about that hack. A John McAfee film? Day one for me. Hell, day zero.

I agree. This guy's crazy enough to warrant a movie on his life. Would make for some pretty entertaining stuff.
 
Jesus christ, this is one of the best pieces I have read in a long time. Breaking Bad collides with Hunter S. Thompson, something so wild it feels like it should be a part of Far Cry 3 more than reality. I could not stop reading from the start, this really needs to be a film.

Totally agree with Herzog. Let's get the man on the phone pronto.
 
ff_mcafee2_large-660x552.jpg


Living the life.
Someone add "Far Cry 4" in that and you're set.

Goddamn at the OP though, he's a complete film villain.
 
That's some crazy shit. Amy sounds like a crazy drug lord's girlfriend that you'd see in a movie. Kinky, highly unstable, but would do everything for you.

#yolo
 
Definitely crazy, but fun crazy, at least up until the murdering. Too bad about the murdering and all, kind of takes the fun out of it.
 
I'm from Belize. Dude is completely nuts. The Police here wants him for questioning in regards to a murder, and he gets to chill free as a bird in Florida.
 
I've heard about McAfee's craziness, but holy shit this guy has lived one hell of a life.

EDIT: If Herzog directs this, it might as well be Rescue Dawn 2 ;)
Eh, Dieter's story is quite different from McAfee's. This is more akin to Fitzcarraldo than Rescue Dawn.

Cage could work. This kind of role fits his filmography so far—though Dennis Hopper would have been great. Maybe John Heard?
 
He was on the Joe Rogan experience podcast not too long ago and he did not sound crazy. However his story about the police coming to his house and claiming they were going to open fire if he moved sounded a lot like drug talk.

You listened to that interview and didn't think he came off as a crazy dude who has totally lost touch with reality? I think we listened to different interviews.
 
What a bodyguard fem fetal / lover? I bet she's a cyborg whose tits open up to reveal machine guns and rockets
:(

In 20 years, she has a Cyborg arm, and a laser eye, and leads a bunch of South American guerrilla fighters. And is still hot and crazy.

There's this scene where she seems like she's attacking you with her blade, but she's really saving you from a scorpion. Then she rips your shirt open and you both start necking.
 
In 20 years, she has a Cyborg arm, and a laser eye, and leads a bunch of South American guerrilla fighters. And is still hot and crazy.

There's this scene where she seems like she's attacking you with her blade, but she's really saving you from a scorpion. Then she rips your shirt open and you both start necking.

One night you're camped in a decrepit hut in the jungle. You wake up and the rest of the fighters are sleeping peacefully after a long day of marching through the forest. Just outside the hut, she's sitting atop a small fence, smoking and looking wistfully at the sky. It's full moon.

"What was he like?" you ask. She turns to you, rattled, her laser eye glistening in the humid air.
 
That's some crazy shit. Amy sounds like a crazy drug lord's girlfriend that you'd see in a movie. Kinky, highly unstable, but would do everything for you.

#yolo
Haha this.

What a crazy and fascinating read.

The dude is completely fucked up. What a shame. Such a sad state for a human.
 
Holy motherfuckin fucken shit.

The last 1/4th of the article is a paranoia epic of biblical proportions.

my phone rings at 4:30 in the morning. I’m back in the US and groggily pick up. “I’m sorry to wake you up at this hour, sir, but the GSU[Garrison Support Unit] had me surrounded all night,” McAfee says in a breathless rush. He explains that he’s staying at Captain Morgan’s Retreat, a resort on Ambergris Caye, and he decided to go for a walk at dusk. As he strolled along the beach, he heard the sound of approaching gas-powered golf carts. “You can tell the GSU vehicles because they have this low roar,” he says, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. “I think they put special mufflers on them to scare people.”

He dashed onto the porch of a nearby hotel room and hid behind the bushes. Then he heard someone cough on the balcony above him. “As soon as I heard that, my heart sank,” he says. “They were fucking everywhere.”

McAfee spends the next 25 minutes describing to me how the GSU silently surrounded him in the darkness. “Two of them were less than 3 feet away,” he says “They stood unmoving. No one said a word all night long. They just surround you and stand still. Think about it. It’s freaky shit, sir.”

He sat there all night, he tells me, terrified that the shadowy figures he was seeing would kill him if he moved. Around 4 o’clock in the morning, he says, they retreated quietly and disappeared.

I suggest he get some rest. He sounds frantic and scared.

“They’re coming back,” he says suddenly. “This is too fucking much. I’m hanging up. I’m going.”

The line goes dead.

A week later, McAfee calls me from the Belizean-Mexican border. He tells me he’s had enough of Belize. A day ago, he was walking down the beach on Ambergris Caye when several GSU “frogmen” walked out of the water. Later, he says, a troop of GSU officers crowded into his room but didn’t say or do anything. “I have just escaped from hell,” he says.

Six days pass, and McAfee calls again. “Good morning, John,” I say.

“Good evening, I think it is,” McAfee says.

I explain that it’s 9:41 am.

“You’re kidding me,” he says. “I haven’t slept for a couple nights. It felt like evening to me.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I am back from Mexico, thank God,” he says, explaining that he was robbed and beaten outside of Cancun. Now he’s on Ambergris Caye. “Here it’s clear that they’re not going to harm me, they’re just trying to scare me,” he says. “They have to up the ante if they’re going to continue scaring me.”

On Friday, November 9, 2012, I receive an email from McAfee telling me that “a contingent of black-suited thugs” disembarked on the dock next to his property at 10:30 pm. The men dispersed on the beach. “A half hour later all of my dogs had been poisoned,” he writes. “Mellow, Lucky, Dipsy, and Guerrero have already died. I had to call Amy and tell her about Mellow. She is hysterical.”



Even when the police come for him is nutty:
McAfee sees them coming and is sure the authorities are intent on tormenting him again. He quickly digs a shallow trench in the sand and buries himself, pulling a cardboard box over his head. He stays there for hours.

“It was extraordinarily uncomfortable,” he says.
Over the next 48 hours, McAfee bounces from place to place around Belize, aided by a network of “people who can’t be followed,” he tells me. “It’s complicated, and there are a lot of risks, and people could turn south at any minute.” Samantha Vanegas, one of his girlfriends, is with him, and he says that they’ve been subsisting on Oreo Cakester cookies and cigarettes. On Tuesday morning, he says, the police raided the house next door, but they evaded capture, eventually landing in a house with no hot water and a broken toilet. There is, however, a working TV.

“We watched Swiss Family Robinson
 
McAfee sees them coming and is sure the authorities are intent on tormenting him again. He quickly digs a shallow trench in the sand and buries himself, pulling a cardboard box over his head. He stays there for hours.


images



Treat your cardboard box with care. Take care of the box and it'll take care of you. Don't think of it as just another box. Treat it with love...don't be rough.
 
Fuck Vaas, McAfee is the definition of insanity.

"Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity? Maybe what happens doesn't actually happen, I can do the same thing a thousand times. Ten thousand times. Nothing will ever happen. Why? Because you have missed something. You are operating on an assumption about reality that is wrong."
 
McAfee spends the next 25 minutes describing to me how the GSU silently surrounded him in the darkness. “Two of them were less than 3 feet away,” he says “They stood unmoving. No one said a word all night long. They just surround you and stand still. Think about it. It’s freaky shit, sir.”

He sat there all night, he tells me, terrified that the shadowy figures he was seeing would kill him if he moved. Around 4 o’clock in the morning, he says, they retreated quietly and disappeared.

Sounds schizophrenic. Hopefully he gets help.
 
“Let’s do this one more time,” he says, and puts it to his head. Another round of Russian roulette. Just as before, he pulls the trigger repeatedly, the cylinder rotates, the hammer comes down, and nothing happens. “It is a real gun. It has a real bullet in one chamber,” he says. And yet, he points out, my assumptions have somehow proven faulty. I’m missing something.

The same is true, he argues, with Carmelita. I’m not seeing the world as he sees it. He opens the door to the bungalow, aims the gun at the sand outside, and pulls the trigger. This time, a gunshot punctures the sound of the wind and waves. “You thought you were creating your reality,” he says. “You were not. I was.”

He pulls the spent cartridge out of the chamber and hands it to me. It’s still warm.
How...the hell? Seriously. Even if you admit he's insane (clearly he's paranoid delusional as fuck) how the hell did he pull this off? In the earlier account, he pulled the trigger dozens of times. He's not spinning the cylinder after each attempt based on the earlier account. Is there some trick to this that the writer is overlooking?
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom