Frank Mason to leave chronicle.su forever

Why? Why is chronicle.su this hateful black enterprise I can not even stand to look at anymore?
Why do I no longer like this place?

Seriously, I’m about to pull a Geo because there are just too many bad vibes around this hate hole. I’m sending up a distress flare because I don’t know what else to do anymore. I’m no longer funny, this website isn’t funny, we are just hurtful abusive people with no respect for dead children or their grieving families.

I used to think chronicle.su was a bottomless source of ironicĀ lies but now I’m not so confident in that assertion. Sure, there are 35 people staring at DEAD LIL WAYNE at any given moment, but it’s not like they can read anyway or else they would already know he is “alive,” whatever you take that to mean . . . But I’m not talking about just trying to make the a sound for apple and pronouncing cat, but really reading – and comprehending – the world around them.

Literate individuals don’t fall for LIL WAYNE DEAD and park on the webpage all day, and spread it around without checking other sources. Okay, dying AIDS-infected Africans were crossing the Sahara to register their grievances at the metropolis internet cafe. So what chronicle.su has proven to me in the last nine months is worse than anything I could have ever imagined without performing this experiment for myself:

1. There are more stupid people than statistics could possibly account for, and yet I’m astounded by the numbers.

Akon DEAD Lil Wayne DEAD Lady GaGa BRAIN CANCER ALL DEAD

It took “readers” an average of almost three minutes to determine how their favorite rapper actually died of AIDS before anyone knew he contracted it.

2. I am a toxin. If there’s anybody I can think of besides our last fourteen presidents who deserves brain cancer, it’s Lady GaGa for making anti-intellectualism appear sexy and appealing, and yet I am the one who made people cry announcing she has brain cancer.

But since I did it anyway, check out this video of the some little girl freaking out about it or something. Or don’t. Just go the fuck away now.

Lady Gaga! She wants to be like you when she grows up. A vapid, expressionless sellout! GOOD WORK, WHORE.

Nothing is funny anymore. Nothing is surprising. Anonymous is dead, and even that is kind of sad because it was so funny to watch internet losers migrate the handle from DDoSing Hal Turner, to blocking up a fake swimming pool in Habbo Hotel, to Scientology, and all the way back around again to DDoSing bank websites before finally getting arrested en masse. Yummy yummy honeypotty! Now we’re wasted, now we’re screwed. Now I’m bored. So what the fuck is next?

ANSWER: I don’t give a shit. I am going to lay it all right out for you. I know by now we have some fans (people who hate us are “fans,” too, by the way) and for some reason you keep coming back here to see if I replied to your meaningless comments, to see if your shitty, grammatical atrocities are making a difference on my own fake opinion (they don’t), because you might feel that you’ve somehow caused a tree to fall in the forest – and for everybody who heard it, no one paid attention. Not even me. Especially not me. And I am writing now to inform you– no, to ask of you– no . . . I am just writing. And that’s how it’s going to be. That’s what I’m laying down.

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I’m a cunt sliver . . .

Frank Mason

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If you ever once came to this website and thought I was writing to you, for you, about you – even if I was – I don’t want your feedback. I’m a cunt sliver away from turning off all the comments, globally, and firing material into your blank eyes with NO POSSIBLE RECOURSE. ZERO. Because I’m tired of you. I’m tired of the pressure. I’m tired of this broken, hateful website, and I’m tired, most of all, of hating this place I (ironically) designed to be hated.

I’m DONE with it. I’m done with you festering, stinking maggots who sallow each article. I’m done with your cute usernames, multiple IP addresses, multiple fucking usernames, and every combination inbetween. I’m done with your tired little surmises. I’m done with your discussions. I’m done with the chat room, the radio show, and most importantly – in case I haven’t yet made it clear – I’m done with you.

FUCK THE READERSHIP. ALL OF YOU. MY FAMILY, MY FRIENDS, MY LANDLORD – ESPECIALLY MY LANDLORD, HE IS A THIEVING CHARLATAN like the readers. I DON’T GIVE A FLYING HAT TRICK WHO YOU ARE. I AM FINISHED WITH ALL OF IT, AND THIS WEBSITE.

Stay tuned for my absence.

Frank Mason is gone.

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