Horrorcow Lucas Werner - A man of Spokane, Washington who is obsessed with millennial and Gen Z chicks

one wonders how much of it is his own flawed personality and how much is his mental illness(es) manifesting.

This is one of the unanswerable topics of Wernology: what the fuck is wrong with Lucas? TLDR everything.

The more well supported theories include 1) Lucas has a disordered personality (cluster a, b and c have all been suggested at various times, 2) Lucas is not neurotypical (believed to be some variety of schizo, schizotypal or autist), 3) Lucas is delusional and mentally ill, 4) Lucas has a mood disorder, 5) Lucas is dumb as hell, 6) Lucas is a fag, and 7) ALL OF THE ABOVE.

Wernology seeks to understand how Lucas synchronizes these problems in to his legendarily awful behavior. I don't think it's possible to separate Lucas's many flaws from each other; but rather study how they interact in his quest to impregnate and anally torture a teen girl.
 
and that statement about his mother saying she doesn't get it while 'grinning' speaks volumes. I'd bet money on that 'grinning' being a nervous and concerned look and a forced 'heh heh....' that people do when someone says something really concerning that makes them sound mental, with lucas being completely oblivious and thinking it was a good thing.

I think this is exactly why he thinks that girls would turn and smile at him when he muttered the n word on the street. They'd probably nervously smile to appear non threatening to the 300+ lbs gorilla shuffling down the street in urine stained fleece pajamas and muttering racial slurs.
 
Speaking of rage...


So Lucas truly believes he is a deep “thinking mans comedian” ala Bill Hicks or Carlin and hence why he should be paid to just wander around and ponder the absurdities of life. His narcissism runs so deep he really believes he deserves a living to be handed to him for simply existing and thinking. He thinks he is that important.

It never occurs to him that claiming to be a comedian requires him to do things a comedian does, like work on a stand up routine, write bits, work on scripts or skits, work clubs and gigs and network... you know, demonstrate he is what he says he is. But that would take actual effort so we know it’s just not in the cards for our Lucas.

The idea that smoking weed, pressing record on a smartphone and saying whatever nonsense comes to mind is a “job” is a testement to the depth of his delusion and narcissism.
 
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His "comedy" is funny like getting an unexpected tax bill is funny. The best use for him would be to just render his fat corpus down for soap. Mind you, said soap would probably always smell of dogshit and burning feathers, no matter what fragrances were added to it, so maybe not, on reflection.
 
His "comedy" is funny like getting an unexpected tax bill is funny. The best use for him would be to just render his fat corpus down for soap. Mind you, said soap would probably always smell of dogshit and burning feathers, no matter what fragrances were added to it, so maybe not, on reflection.

Lucas would probably support that if he could guarantee that his fat would be used to make soap specifically for 14 year old zooner baes to shower with.

Its a horrifying thought, some unknowing teen girl covered in lucas lather
 
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At least he got 1/8 correct.

But, if the college saga taught us anything it's that Lucas is bad at math.
 
Speaking of asking Wern questions, every time I visit this thread there's one very simple question nagging me that I'd really like to hear Wern answer (even if realistically he'd just go silent for a bit then change the subject):
What if all these gen z chicks DID suddenly decide to bang you, Lucas? What if a (presumably extremely powerful, given the task) deity rewired reality so every woman between the ages of 18 and 24 became inexplicably overtaken with lust upon encountering your oh so arousing flabs and grease...what then?

I'd imagine he's the sort who probably isn't even aware foreplay as a concept exists, and I'm sure he'd just kind of shuffle his partner out the door after (well, if he had a door) since women obviously aren't people capable of thought or emotion and thus conversing with them is an impossibility; as such assuming he could get it up he'd be done and still have, eh, another 23h 59m 30s of the day remaining in which he's still going to be a monumentally unhealthy homeless guy with absolutely no hobbies or purpose or interpersonal relationships.

With incels in general, even Wern, I don't see how they could be stupid enough to not comprehend that the proportional amount of time they spend obsessing over sex is much, MUCH greater than the amount of time any person could ever physically spend having sex, thus I figure they probably deep down realize they have no purpose in life and just fixate on sex as a way to delude themselves into thinking happiness would be simple if only others would stop withholding it from them as part of a victim complex, but I'd still like to hear them try to grapple with the question of how they envision their life going forward if they achieved their petty, hedonistic goals.

This is one of those lessons that long term addicts tend to learn well: spending your life chasing cheap highs is pointless, because the next morning always rolls around. And lord knows that with Wern sex would be a shallower experience than a prostitute freebasing behind a dumpster in Camden between johns.
 
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Lucas goes after Guinness' illustrious "Least Copies Sold" Record.


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Based Spiderman witnesses Lucas's superpower: stretching the truth.


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Lucas mourns his inability to properly indulge in his life's one true passion: Dairy Fat.


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Lucas, consistently tormented by Chad Flatbill and his tendency to drag race up and down the strip outside the HOC with his bevy of Zoomer Poonaner piled into the passenger seat, cries himself to sleep.
 
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Lucas goes after Guinness' illustrious "Least Copies Sold" Record.


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Based Spiderman witnesses Lucas's superpower: stretching the truth.


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Lucas mourns his inability to properly indulge in his life's one true passion: Dairy Fat.


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Lucas, consistently tormented by Chad Flatbill and his tendency to drag race up and down the strip outside the HOC with his bevy of Zoomer Poonaner piled into the passenger seat, cries himself to sleep.
Women drive cars too, just saying
 
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Lucas, consistently tormented by Chad Flatbill and his tendency to drag race up and down the strip outside the HOC with his bevy of Zoomer Poonaner piled into the passenger seat, cries himself to sleep.

Confirmed that Lucas lays awake at night, weeping and gnashing his dentures in envy, in his homeless shelter cot.

A funny reminder that beneath all of his agitation and nonsense, there is a profound, cartoonish pain. Wound collecting, nursed grievances from a worthless fat shit who knows there's no place for him or his desires in the world.
 
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