hatesec’s cat house, a barnburner by hatesec

It was just cats, everywhere: Kilgoar
hatesec's old house in the hood
2009: When cats took over the kitchen, we got to have cookouts every night on the front porch!

Roanoke, Va. – I recently returned from a fantastic experience that took place in a close, personal friend’s house where he lives in squalor and disease. When I walked in the front door, two cats escaped the house by running between my legs. I just stepped over them. The hot odor of sick animal piss, a cat’s territorial spray, hit me in the face immediately followed by the shrill cacophony of tiny dogs barking.

The humid, poorly-circulating air inflamed every sense as I fought the urge to swallow. My body only wanted to hurry up and accept the tainted air. Just stop fighting it. This is for hatesec, my dear friend.

My allergies seized violently – instantly – as I breathed in my first full breath of air. Pet dander drifted through the sunrays which beamed three thin slices of light through the dark, heavy foyer of my fellow real-journalist-for-a-big-news-outlet’s home. I bent over at the waist to pick up my PlayStation 3 and clear, liquid snot poured from my nose as if someone left the water running in a clogged bathroom sink.

Hatesec tossed me a Coke from the kitchen as he darted upstairs to his room, like he usually does, because it is the only place in the house , he says, that isn’t caked with cat feces and piss. So I made my way over the green, grimy living room carpet. I stepped on a Dungeons and Dragons guidebook, but took care not to kick any 20-sided dice under the couch. There was no telling what else might live under there.

As my unconscious mind beckoned in wonderment of how any dungeon master could relax in this mire, my eyes fell on a cat, whose long body stretched across the refrigerator, atop which – clearly in control as he surveys the house from his Frigidaire throne – the animal lay comfortable in a thick bed of its own sallow fur.

How harmful could the creature be? I wondered. This house was his territory. I could smell it.

Nah, it was a good house, though.

This is part 1 in a series of stories called barnburners.

barnburner

It was just cats, everywhere: Kilgoar
It was just cats, everywhere: Kilgoar

Hungry for dignity, chronicle.su editors search desperately for real jobs

The work is already piling up behind kilgoar at his new cubicle job. He now hates Mondays, and drinks from novelty coffee mugs with cute office humor printed on them.
The work is already piling up behind kilgoar at his new cubicle job. He now hates Mondays, and is learning to deflect the rhetorical question, “You know what TV show you look like?”

Asheville, N.C. — In a harsh economy of rapidly declining meme dankness, compounded by sheer pepe rarity, Internet Chronicle staffers say they could be forced to look elsewhere for gainful employment.

Even under duress, Executive Editor of chronicle.su Frank Mason, also known as hatesec, gives credit where it is due:

“Our teachers and family members always said this ‘internet shit’ would never amount to anything,” Mason said. “And I really have to commend them on their accurate assessments of my life choices!”

Mason said he will retire from the site later next year, at which point he hopes to find new work in 2016. Mason said he already has follow-up interviews scheduled for an entry-level waste management position pumping raw sewage from small tanks into larger ones.

“I figure I start out pumping sewage. It’s ugly work, but it pays, know what I’m saying? I do that for 10 or 15 years,” hatesec said. “And after somebody dies, I will get in line for a promotion and just hope I get it. I’ve spent enough time pumping out the Truth, and just look where that got me. Now it’s time to start pumping out something a little more honest than Chronicle barnburners: I’m talking about human waste. Baby, I’m gonna pump that shit like a throbbing cock of feces into the fat, engorged toilet-pussy of capitalism. I’m ready, but I just hope our sewers are.”

start your career rolling

Internet Chronicle Managing Editor and staff philosopher kilgoar said he no longer plans to hide his love for fluorescent tube lighting and water cooler small talk.

“I’m looking for something in persona management,” kilgoar said. “And cubicle work – pushing papers, filing reports, and especially long, heavy eye contact at the water cooler – all that fuckin’ shit, that is the stuff of Anti-Leaders. We will take power, because we do not want it.”

Kilgoar said he is also considering work with children, pending results of a drug screening, which everyone knows should turn out just fine.

Young children, especially toddlers and daycare students, really respond to advanced rhetoric better than you might think. Parents can give love and put food on the table, but can they see why kids love my signature infantilism? Together with Dr. Angstrom Troubadour, Lebal Drocer Laboratories has developed a Daddy Complex so Wow, it is designed to breach the naive and defenseless young minds of suburbanite children, enabling us to seriously fuck with their little realities before they even know what corporatism is. This is, of course, extremely profitable and already deployed across American public schools.

kilgoar

And finally, psychedelic troll and Internet Chronicle cyber warrior asshurtmacfags will pursue a real job in stripping.

Stripping is just good woman’s work.

asshurtmacfags

“I’m fit, I’m athletic, and I’m just good people,” asshurt said Sunday. “I’m an old soul who is probably from like the ’70s so sexually I’m pretty free, you know. Stripping is just good woman’s work.”

It is tough being a woman in a man’s world. Women make 70% of a man’s salary and are often pushed out of jobs not by weakness of talent or lack of ambition, but the unfortunate sexual relationships that become all-too-prevalent in environments where the expectation of equality fails to exceed the expectation of some old guy’s cock, asshurt said.

“And that’s why I’ve decided to just go with the flow,” asshurt said. “You know, I can fight it, and I could go out there and try to make it work at the Chronicle, but it’s just not a safe environment for women and minorities. I mean, ‘Hate’ Radio? Come on. I’d rather be loved for my beauty than be hated for something pointless like achievements or ideas.”

Black holes look just like the sun

The Lebal Drocer Hate-Coil: A little girl shows her family how she believes 46.789% of our known universe will die in a gamma ray burst originating from the Great Attractor

Agents of entropy, black holes are real and they are all around you

spacetimeYou say cheese and the camera steals your soul. What a smile! How many pictures of you are out there, capturing that magical moment when you pretended to be happy on command? What a smile. Such a warm memory. Relive it, exactly as it happened, alongside 999 photographs – all of them magical – from the same evening.

With a swipe of the finger, you’ll rip through a hundred without blinking as the night cascades up and down a smartphone. And wherever it stops, you’ll think to yourself, “Damn, what a smile.”

The lensing maw rearranges the lines of your face into a glowing stream of atoms, the light of which is suspended for eternity on the boundary of an event horizon. An illusory glow, the core of each galaxy swallows light but leaves the casings for astronomers to peer out in wonder.

“What a smile,” the photographer dispassionately exclaims as he folds spacetime, hilariously, first into a donut and then into a convex wireframe bowing and twisting under the weight of your perception. Like it knows its being watched. God is shy, but God damn, what a smile.

The donut folds over like a wolf in combat and collapses into your eyes, grinning on its way down, watching you from the corner of her eye. Eager and thirsty, spacetime rips itself apart to give you a taste of the river of light. But you can’t describe it to anyone. You can’t talk about it, because no word in the vocabulary can approach it without destroying some aspect of its inherent Truth. All the others can do is look at the stupid smirk on your otherwise stoic cat face, and laugh in your direction, and haphazardly declare – not without authentic surprise – “What a smile!”

“Puppy Monkey Baby” is a freakish genetic experiment passed off as CGI

Puppy Monkey Baby spoke with reporters, using the darknet Tor
Puppy Monkey Baby spoke with reporters, using the darknet Tor

THE HIGH TOWER — Fiends at Mountain Dew’s genetic testing labs cooked up a “fully sapient” hybrid puppy, monkey, homo sapiens freak for their yearly tele-orgy comedy show. Sources in the darknet formerly aligned with Alex Jones — before he turned into a fearmongering shill — spoke with investigators at the Internet Chronicle and explicated details of the torturous conditions in which Mountain Dew punishes their abominable creation.

Kept in a cage with only free steam video games and mountain dew and formerly raised by emotionally absent technicians, the puppy monkey baby suffers a terrible existence, which he blogs about under a pseudonym he refuses to disclose. “Call me Frank, for now,” he says to the reporters — routing his Skype call through the infamous darknet, Tor.

Frank made weird, choking pug noise and his spider monkey arms flapped up and down. “Life is hell. My body literally does not work except on a diet of Mountain Dew, and I shit, piss, and sweat that acidic neon bullshit.”

Frank opened his mouth, reporters scenting his rotting maw even at the digitally-compressed sight. “No dental plan, and nothing to eat or drink but carbonic acid and sugar. But I’d die without it! It extends my life cycle by years.”

Frank growled, gritted black teeth, and shredded at the diaper with his powerful monkey claws. “They’re taunting you, you fools! Laughing in your faces! Every major corporation is bio-engineering their own species of dependents, servants, subjects — this is the new world order! Monsanto — they’re the ones creating smallhead farmers for their big move into South America, using Zika as a weapon. Oh — oh — just you fucking wait until thousands of babies are being born like me, as puppy monkey babies, and you’re feeding them their mountain dew.”