Eulogy For John McAfee

John McAfee was a larger than life character. If you wrote a book with a character like him and his exploits in it you would have to categorize it as fantasy. Just reading about his life leaves an impact on your psyche that you can’t shake easily.

He was a true adventurer. He had the spirit of manifest destiny inside of him. A true patriot. Think of a world where John McAfee’s were in every home on every street. You have a glimpse in your mind of a place we may have had once but has been purposefully misplaced. I believe he did care about the fate of America.

The good and the bad in him are the same in you. We should all look at him and be inspired. Working for NASA at twenty-two. Creating a free antivirus software at thirty eight. Running for President in twenty sixteen and twenty twenty. Supposedly having fourth seven genetic children.

Having been badly hurt (his fortune had shrunk from $100 million to as little as $4 million.) by the 2008 economic collapse, he set his sites to the exotic land of Belize. There he met microbiologist Allison Adonizio and decided to go into the pharmaceutical industry.
He sort of took control of the poor town he was in. Making it into somewhat of a police state. Feeling he was the only thing keeping the city of Carmelita safe from crime.
In 2012 he was a suspect in the murder of his neighbor. He has been in the run numerous times. Post-2012 he mostly spoke on crypto, freedom, and cyber security.

Dead Man Tells No Tale

On June 23, 2021, John McAfee is found dead due to an apparent suicide by hanging in his prison cell in Barcelona. This was only shorty after his extradition to the US was authorized by Spain.

John McAfee didn’t kill himself. He had mentioned multiple times the people were out to kill him. He even got a tattoo that says “$whacked” saying that he would not kill himself and if found dead it was at the hands of the government. This is another Epstein moment it seems. It also looks like John had a kill switch. Leaks of undisclosed information look like they should be rolling out.

“He keeps his eyes fixed on me and pulls the trigger a fifth time. Still nothing. With the gun still to his head, he starts pulling the trigger incessantly. “I can do this all day long,” he says to the sound of the hammer clicking. “I can do this 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.”

“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.””

I want you to remember his name.