A Grad Student Who Knew Too Much

Berkey, at the start of our daylong interview.

On a brisk October morning in Brookline, a graduate student announced that he was an expert at something, to the total  indifference of his friends, peers and vague associates.

The student was reported to Chronicle.SU by a local informant and subsequently identified by spiteful classmates as first year Benjamin Berkey. Berkey, an enthusiast of the dark witch house music scene, tacitly agreed to make a phone statement to me by making dozens of unsolicited calls to the office of The Soviet Chronicle.

“I’ve read many thick tomes so, like Prodicus, I’ve become adept at choosing words. Often I finish sentences for other people in more exact ways than they ever could have expressed themselves. So, I’ve decided to go on a mission for total exactitude in language. Any time anyone strays from the Oxford Dictionary definition of a word, I will correct them in public in an elitist fashion. This will have innumerable social benefits.”

Berkey then invited me to watch him do his work across town to his sparsely furnished Allston apartment. I spent the next eight hours watching him gruel over a footnote, intermittently taking breaks to masturbate and troll the Internet with obscure semantic and grammatical criticisms.

“Work is hard, but I spend every second of every day knowing that I’m making a difference and growing intellectually. I’ve got a bright future and will surely finish my program with a good job. Not many people can say that these days.”

He then agreed to show me his favorite local coffee shop, where he ordered us espressos only to reject them several times due to “the quality of the crema.”

The barista eventually gave up and told us to fuck ourselves. We took a seat in the back of the checker-floored bar, next to a group of bicycle messengers playing bones.

One of the messengers from the group next to us.

As we sat down, one of the dudes among them, a pierced courier wearing a Brooklyn cycling cap, put the finishing touches on a lengthy monologue.

“…and that just begs the question, ‘Is McInnes libertard or not?'”

“Excuse me, sir,” interjected Berkey, “but I believe that you’ve made a mistake. The expression ‘begs the question’ does not in fact designate something that raises questions, but instead refers to an instance of circular reasoning. Be warned.”

The messenger looked over at him and his septum piercing flicked a little spark of a glint in the light. A pug-faced drunken crusty messenger appeared from among the group.

“Why you gotta be a bitch, man? Nobody asked you, faggot. Nobody spoke to you.”

The altercation deeply shocked Berkey, who became horribly insulted. He began to shake and then suddenly walked out of the coffee bar and refused to answer subsequent calls to his cellphone.

I never heard from him again.

RIP, Benjamin Berkey

Update: Several weeks after our encounter, The Boston Globe reported that Berkey had disappeared without a trace. Even more strangely, authorities declined to open an investigation into his disappearance. His family’s attempts to sue the Boston Police Department were bizarrely dismissed in a similar fashion. And in a final twist, my dumbfounded reading of the report to The Chronicle office occasioned a smile in our editor, Kilgore Trout.

“Yeah, the sergeant at Boston PD actually clued me in weeks ago. Benjamin Berkey was administratively arrested as part of a law enforcement operation targeting known gang members and associates.”

Man trades .129034 Bitcoin to become Afghan Warlord

“Who needs friends when you can have Bitcoins?” ~ Danny MacLeod

This is the story of a keen young man by the name of Danny MacLeod who traded his way up in life and is now the most successful warlord in the Helmand Valley of Afghanistan. He started with only an inane argument about the value of gold, and he now owns 100,000 acres of poppy-rich land, a harem of  15 underage girls, a highly trained and loyal militant group, and a small fleet of dependable 4wd Toyota Tacomas equipped with 35mm machine guns.

It all started in December of 2010 when the strapping young Danny MacLeod argued his closest friend out of .129034 Bitcoin. MacLeod recounts, “All I had to do was explain to my friend how all forms of money are in fact worthless unless backed by gold. He gave me this fraction of a Bitcoin on a floppy disk and told me to fuck right off. Who needs friends when you can have Bitcoins?”

Danny MacLeod then traded this floppy disk to his local drug dealer for a single ecstasy pill. The dealer commented, “Oh fuck, I think I remember that. I would’ve given him a whole bag of pills just to shut the fuck up. I fucking hate Danny sometimes. I threw that gay internet money floppy disk away.”

Trina lived the last days of her life in fear of Danny MacLeod

The enterprising young MacLeod then took his single ecstasy pill downtown and traded it to a desperate crack-whore, Trina, famous for entirely toothless blowjobs. However, MacLeod was intelligent enough not to squander this valuable blowjob. Instead, MacLeod hung it over her head and treated Trina as if she owed him her life. Knowing his way around the business, MacLeod contacted Trina’s pimp to start some shit. “I told that sonofabitch his whore had taken my pill and never gave me a blowjob. I told him I’d kill him if he didn’t set this straight, and I told him he should know Danny MacLeod doesn’t fuck around.” The pimp apologized profusely and traded MacLeod ownership of the deadbeat hooker in return for peace. MacLeod had worked his way up to ownership of a toothless crack-whore named Trina.

Trina provided MacLeod with as much as fifty bucks a day, providing he remembered to threaten her life. In the course of a month, MacLeod made nearly a grand from Trina. Sadly, MacLeod overworked Trina, and she died from her tragic crack addiction. This was MacLeod’s first setback in his rise to glory. Always a cunning businessman, MacLeod sold the body to a necrophilia ring and doubled up his money. MacLeod now had two grand, and he invested it all in bitcoins. By April, the price of bitcoins quadrupled, and MacLeod figured it was a good time to liquify his holdings.

Using his blotter acid creatively, MacLeod created a cult of personality.

MacLeod spent every last bitcoin on 100 sheets of LSD blotter. Using contacts he’d made in the child trafficking world, Danny traded 96 and a half sheets of acid for 15 sexy young female slaves. With the remaining acid, MacLeod convinced a few friends of his who worked for Blackwater to take him to Afghanistan and begin a Fourth Reich in the Helmand Valley and trigger Helter Skelter. By carefully dosing out the final sheets, MacLeod kept his team of assassins and killers just deluded enough to serve him, and only fucked up enough to hone their hateful bloodlust with a hyper-sensitive edge.

Danny has grown comfortable in his new digs and enjoys owning the majority of the world’s opium-producing Real Estate. The local farmers fear him, as do competing warlords. And to think, anyone can rise to such glorious heights just by starting with an inane argument about the value of gold. Danny MacLeod’s ingenuity should serve as an example to us all, representing perfectly the benefits of free market capitalism and the ideals that underpin America’s success.

Danny MacLeod and his team of Blackwater acidheads pose for the cameras.


Chronicle.SU writer paranoid, unhinged, and insane

Here’s a few things I’ve learned from making up jokes about the internet. Nick MacCombs, my good friend, is the spy amongst our midst. Once, he asked me to do a hit piece on his site. I did it, at his request! Those bastards pirates got TotallyFalse.info, but they forgot the famed quote by the great leader Topiary, “you cannot arrest an idea.”

All the while, Andrew Breitbart’s retweeting my dick off because he loves the hate. Shit, he even mentioned me. Ian Murphy is a bitch and so is th3j35t3r. At least th3j35t3r doesn’t feed trolls. Adrian Chen makes up his stories just like I do, and I’m a paranoid schizophrenic for thinking this is all funny. Barrett Brown runs the internet.

I’m so paranoid I quit my job! You know that’s all it took for me to to withdraw from society – a little bit of internet paranoia. Of course, I love to spend all day on the internet because I’ve crossed the line into another reality and there’s no coming back. I am a cyborg. A paranoid cyborg. I’m so paranoid from the internet and I use it non-stop.

You see, the paranoid schtick is something I don’t really apply to the internet. I’m just holding a mirror to the internet at large, you are the ones who are paranoid. I’m not paranoid! You’re paranoid!

No, I’ve never thought the internet’s been out to get me. The internet is my friend, and would never conspire against me. Sometimes I get on AnonOps IRC just to look at all the paranoia. The joke is always “u a fed?” “LOL YES.” But this is the joke of a paranoid. These people are paranoid. D0x are flying! Ryan Cleary’s snitchin’.

Paranoid, paranoid?

Yeh you paranoid?

This conspiracy goes to the highest level of Lebal Drocer.




President Obama Trolls The Press: Opens Speech With Minute Of Unexplained Silence

President Obama took to the podium today to talk to Americans about the White House’s initiatives to help veterans get back into the work force and what the government is doing to encourage a healthy economy. But before he dove into the details, the President stood at his podium for a good minute or so in silence, interrupting only to let the audience know that he was “just waiting, here.”

After the speech the President told reporters “Gotcha! Hahahaha… U MAD?” Obama explained that it was a prank that was improvised on his own and no staffers had prior knowledge. “It’s been three years now that I’ve been doing these boring prepackaged speeches. I thought I’d mix it up a little bit. For the lulz, of course!”

After a minute of awkward silence and the audience waiting expectantly for the President to say something, a man in the audience took matters into his own hands and shouted “shapeshifter!” at the President.

A few seconds later, President Obama began his speech without incident, boring the balls off everyone in the room as per usual.


Ian Murphy is a fail

Last week, Ian Murphy of the Buffalo Beast announced his publication has been banned from Facebook, so I decided to see how difficult it was to share a link to this important article with my friends on Facebook.

Yeah that's my real name and my real face, congratulations on d0xing me.

This moronic piece from Ian Murphy attempted to display all kinds of articulate and savvy points about rage comics, lolcats, and white supremacy memes, but instead illustrated how clueless Murphy really is. All it took for me to post a link to this “banned” article on Facebook was a simple URL shortener. Instead of an unfunny mixture of internet memes and pitiful moaning on the terrible social problem of Holocaust denial, Murphy could have just mentioned URL shorteners and made a supreme mockery of Facebook. Also, cocks.

If Murphy wanted to take it a step further, the Beast could have purchased another domain. Perhaps he could have used 4chan.com or elfwax.com. Censoring a web site run by a truly savvy team of engineers is completely impossible. However, the issue of censorship was employed only for the sake of an underhanded advertisement campaign. Murphy didn’t care about Facebook censorship. In fact, our sources within Anonymous have confirmed Murphy reported The Beast to Facebook for offensive content, as part of a larger conspiracy to drive his fans to Google+.

Not an advertisement?

In May, The Beast sided with Google when unearthing a scheme by Facebook to pay off journalists. Google has a long history of raining gold all over Ian Murphy’s publication. Records obtained from hacked bitcoin nodes indicate Murphy received nearly 1,000 bitcoins on Monday afternoon, adding to the pile of evidence that he’s been payrolled by Google.

tl;dr: Buffalo Beast is a fail. Ian “Herp Derp” Murphy is a fail. Lolcats are dead, rage comics are dead. Old person is old and Buffalo Beast deserves b&.

UPDATE: Ian Murphy/Billy Walshe correspondence leaked to Pastebin!

Fuck you @ShadowMindGear

Hello, I’m Andrew Breitbart and my mother abandoned me.

I was adopted by a liberal family of Jews and still have a chip on my shoulder. However, I have seen the light of homophobia and Tea Party Christianity.

I have more websites than Alex Jones. Like him, I know how to run this internet stuff. I own BigHollywood.com, BigGovernment.com, BigJournalism.com, and BigPeace.com. I hate things that are big. That’s why I destroyed Anthony Weiner and Shirley Sherrod.

By publishing Anthony Weiner’s big cock all over the internet, I forced him to resign. Us Tea Party patriots hate big cocks, and it’s really Weiner’s fault for not keeping that shit secret. My next web site will be BigCocks.com, which I will dedicate to pictures of liberals with big cocks.

I took down Shirley Sherrod because she had such a big mouth. You see, I understand that Shirley Sherrod isn’t a bad person, and she only meant to teach and not offend. She presented an example of her own racism as regrettable behavior. She’s got such a big mouth, and that’s worse than actually being racist.

Now this guy on Twitter, @ShadowMindGear, keeps trolling me. I don’t know how he does it, but every single time he mentions me I am literally forced to retweet what he says. It’s like he’s got some kind of magical power over my Twitter account and I don’t like it. It looks like he’s a part of Anonymous or something, I don’t know. Maybe I should start a web site called BigInternet.com to get rid of these trolls from Anonymous.


That gray-haired fellow is absolutely right.

While I don’t agree with his decision to name people specifically (note: I don’t care who he actually named), I find it difficult to disagree with this man on all but one issue. The notion that politically-minded Americans willing to give campaign contributions to honest politicians will somehow outweigh the collective corporate dollar is, like Paul Jay suggested, Utopian. It’s just so far from realistic that we could give enough money to enough candidates to turn the tides against the forces that be (and cheat to exist).

It was so funny (creepy) to me when campaign people came by my house seeking campaign contributions on behalf of Obama, after it was already so clear that he had the best media team in the Presidential history. How is that? Lotsa fucken money, folks. More than all of us put together could ever have come up with in order to stop him.

And it’s a well-known fact of politics, as well as the main reason people hate and distrust Washington, that corporations have a lot of money they’re willing to spend on people they know will protect their interests – and there are sleazy assholes willing to betray their countrymen by accepting it (and still can somehow sleep at night). Well, it’s nice to see someone stating it so poignantly and my only hope is this kind of articulation becomes mainstream. How that will happen without “big media” – or without big media hijacking the movement is beyond the scope of my imagination.

Please, Gods of Reason. Rescue us all from this sea of shit, and get me off the boat of feces. Or, stand up and think for yourselves, America. But don’t look to me; for even as a man of peace, I see no peaceful resolution.

Failed Social Engineer attempts to troll Chronicle.SU

Wednesday, trolls from “The Plan” spammed links on AnonNews as part of a false-flag attack meant to implicate Chronicle.SU in an act of hatred. This comes as a reaction to an editorial on Tuesday accusing “The Plan” of hijacking the Anonymous movement for secretive purposes. Before they were “The Plan”, this sect of Anons was known as Operation Empire State Rebellion and followed roughly the same revolutionary agenda. OpESR, as it is known, once attempted to “Social Engineer” me.

We at the Chronicle can put a second notch in the failed Social Engineering attempt bedpost. Early this morning, we announced we were under investigation, but we did not specify from whom. The not-so shocking answer is that “The Plan” has attempted to orchestrate an extremely melodramatic story in order to gain access to a Chronicle.SU account. The writer we are supposed to bring on board has had his web site “hacked” by Anonymous, and we’re supposed to feel sorry for him and his loss. Someone went through special trouble, producing the image below. My, how it tugs at my non-existent heart strings.

Hmmm, what sophisticated hacker with the ability to crowdsource extremely specific graphics would spend this trouble on totallyfalse.info? Oh, dear, "The Plan" is more mentally deficient than I ever thought.

But why has “The Plan” gone batshit crazy, spamming AnonNews with old Chronicle articles? Apparently they don’t respect the art of deception, because we barely ever engage in that kind of spam-happy behavior and we never post old articles. The simplest explanation for this behavior is that their plan has reached it’s ultimate failure, and they are only more desperate than ever to take us down with any means necessary.

“The Plan” intended to draw the sympathy of Chronicle.SU, so they created the fake news web site totallyfalse.info. Its writer, “Nick MacCombs”, has tried his best to win the trust of our staff, but has failed miserably. His exaggerated lack of basic prosaic ability and fawning desire for our attention were only modes created to elevate our massive ego. We’re already two notches above Charlie Fucking Sheen, bitch. Good try.

During the rise of totallyfalse.info, Chronicle.SU received a notable spike in traffic, but so did totallyfalse.info. In fact, totallyfalse.info got more traffic than Chronicle.SU.  “The Plan” must have been quite proud of their work. However, they have realized “The Plan” has not worked out, this time. We have been offering writer’s positions left and right, but not to Nick MacCombs. We do not mean to discourage any creative Social Engineers from contributing to our site via ChroniclePad, but know this: You will never be given an account.

“Nick MacCombs”, you are a fail. Next time, you may want to make the defacement a tiny bit more genuine. Telling me that your database and your backups are corrupted were the final tactical error, because I don’t give a fuck if you’re too stupid to backup your own web site. I don’t give a fuck if you’re too stupid to call your sysadmin and get him to give you back control of your web site. I mentioned that your web site was all on Google cache and you ignored it. Cry about it a little more.

A very special interview with Perez Hilton and his boyfriend, Marcus Bachmann

While America is distracted by the proverbial debt ceiling, the gay children of Michele Bachmann’s constituents are killing themselves. The neverending “queer hunt”, as the Bachmann family calls it, rages on. We tried to reach Michele for comment, but only got her voicemail, nagging us for personal details and an outline of our agenda. We decided the next best thing was to try calling her openly gay husband, Marcus. His phone rang for 11 long minutes, but at long last, we heard the breathless panting of Perez Hilton echoing through his speakerphone. We were ecstatic, but confused. Why was Perez Hilton answering Marcus Bachmann’s office phone? Our investigative instincts took over, and out came the perfectly articulated stream of questions we so often practice.

The following is an actual conversation between Lebal Drocer investigators, Marcus Bachmann, and Perez Hilton.

LD: “Perez Hilton?”

PH: OooOOoooohhh, your voice is so gruff and manly!

LD: Is Marcus there?

PH: [In the background] sweetie it’s for you.

MB: Who is this?

LD: We are an elite team of therapists, specializing in breaking our nation’s youth of the homosexual curse.

MB: Well good gosh, there is a God! How would you boys like to come to my cabin in Spring Lake Park? We can discuss our work in my new jacuzzi, it has an extremely invigorating massage setting. [Groans from Perez in the background]

LD: Well mister Bachmann, we’re actually calling about the gay suicides in your wife’s district. We like how you were able to make them look like genuine suicides, and we would like your help getting these suicides rolling.

MB: Oh honey, it was easy. We had their friend’s facebook accounts hacked and cyberbullied them for about a week or two. We then hacked the queer’s account and posted suicidal thoughts.  Just before everyone gets genuinely worried, we sneak into their rooms and stuff their mouths with Viagra. I don’t have to tell you what happens next! We force feed them a handful of their parent’s pills, wait for them to expire, and let all the evidence fall into place.

LD: I like your style Bachmann, we could use a man of your integrity and biblical love of Jesus on our team at Lebal Drocer Inc.

MB: Sweetie, you’re gonna have to work HARD to get me on your team.

LD: [The sound of suppressed vomit]

PH: BABY come back to bed, Fudgy is lonely.

LD: [More vomiting]

MB: I’m sorry boys, DADDY CALLS!

Chronicle.SU synonymous with Lulzsec, Anonymous hackers

Browsing through today’s headlines, I was shocked to find that a “press release” I wrote in support of my trollfriend Topiary turned me into a hacker from LulzSec. Damn. Maybe I am. I get drunk and do things I forget sometimes. I was also accused of wrongly quoting Medgar Evers in the name of Topiary, but not a single fuck was given. One cannot misquote an idea, and quotefags can fuck off.

After finding out how the International Business Times artificially elevated my personal status to that of a LulzSec hacker, I quickly logged onto AnonOps to claim my rightful place as channel moderator. However, #AntiSec was deeply involved in a discussion about who was the best hacker, so I stayed out of it. Generally, it’s best to stay out of #AntiSec. The only problem is that all the other channels are consistently dead.

Bereaved, I’ve spent all day trying to figure out what to do with my new status as LulzSec hacker and spokesperson. I don’t even have access to the LulzSec Twitter account, but if I did, a million billion bitches would be reading my badass tribute to Topiary. Also, Justin Bieber would be up to his ass in accusations that he tried to force Selena Gomez into an abortion. I spent all morning obsessing over every detail of the fake SwagSec swag, the fake e-mails, and the fake story. And not one single little girl posted a comment crying about her loss of innocence! God damn, I’m a failure.