The Internet Chronicle has combined forces with Hate Security by Hatesec Enterprises, a Lebal Drocer affiliate.
The new partnership’s dual purpose is to simultaneously hack your iPhone using powerful, state-of-the-art decryption techniques, and provide a propaganda mouthpiece for the ruling elite, who got that way because they have earned it.
There are doubts.
“Damn, son. Ya know you done fucked up, right?” – kilgoar
But through our efforts, We, the people will rise up against the tyranny of chronicle.su, and restore order to an otherwise verdant, and peaceful world.
It is for that reason that we preemptively name this day “Victory Day” to commemorate mankind’s erasure of everything but the myriad black memories of atrocities carried out by The Internet Chronicle. This is like, the 9/11 of chronicle.su right now. I mean, we are seizing the means of production. You know? This place.
[Pause here for a moment of silence]
Now let’s see what’s inside those phones!
*drops the mic*
chronicle.su is brought to you proudly by Lebal Drocer, INC.
To borrow the shittiest, most overused image in literature for a moment, let’s pretend like what I do next is original.
Original thoughts come rarely, as rarely as life itself. Everywhere you look is a bright world of color and hatred. A beautiful, blissful carving at the base of a jutting cliff from the mountain of shit. But that isn’t original. The dark path goes past the scenic abuse of our masochistic temporal wastelands and traces a river of regret-soaked vomit poured from a half-liter of a blue-eyed, blonde bottle of vodka. There’s a downtown apartment overlooking the dark path right now. Inside, two sweaty shadows have sex in July, with the windows and doors open to the boulevard below.
How the sucking maw with black holes for eyes pulled its prey inward, so too does the entrance to the dark path. A whirlpool of originality, spewing unseen colors, unheard-of ranges of vibrations and sound, the dark path catches the eye. It inflames every sense, violent with color, promising poison.
Hatred and ignorance fuel the torch that illuminates the caverns of their being. To learn more about the other so as not to destroy, but consume, an orange glow pours in from the ancient streetlamps – just enough – just enough to see fear. They burn like pines in a flame in a nation of heat.
My uncle told me to pad my resumé with dead businesses. “They can’t call ’em,” he said.
That’s not necessary, I told him. I got a job with a corporate spy agency. I got benefits. I got paid meals and travel. I get mileage. I get paid double what I was working before without overhead. They want ‘me for me,’ I said. I have an education. I’ve been published.
On the phone with my interviewer, Jeff handled a few final formalities.
“Okay, just some quick questions I have to ask.”
I told him to go ahead.
“You have a car?”
“You have a high school education, GED or equivalent?”
…Yes, again. I thought my degrees were listed on my CV. Nobody gives a fuck about you. That’s actually a good thing.
“You can pass a drug test?”
I was stoned when I said yes, of course. This is what employers want you to say. Now is not the time to argue individual liberty, not when Daddy is hanging a salary over your head and the promise of a means to reach your bullshit dreams.
I stayed awake that night drinking water and playing Counterstrike with Jihad. He carried our team through every match as I made trips to the bathroom, pissing clear, clean rain. By the time I took my drug test, I was nauseous and my urine looked like tap water as I handed it over for corporate approval and testing. The test proctor’s name is Roy. He was very fat, so I thought he might know where that sweet barbecue smell was coming from as I walked in through the rain.
“Oh, that’s Biscuithead’s!” he exclaimed. “You probably smelled their bacon.”
It was a sweet smell, I said. It was like nothing I’d ever smelled. I had to try it.
“Well, you know they don’t just do regular bacon, egg and cheese biscuits,” he explained. “They’ll give you a biscuit, sure, but they might put the eggs on top of it, and then the bacon or sausage and they’ll pour their signature gravy all over it.”
He called it ‘signature gravy.’ I said OK. I spaced out as he finished, and felt sick staring at blood samples sitting out on his desk. I knew it belonged to the sick-looking man who came in before me, and left with a cough. It had begun to separate into two colors, yellow and crimson.
“They got a jelly bar, too. Eight different kinds a-jelly. Anything you can think of.”
So I finished my piss-cup paperwork and, feeling really nasty, but in desperate need of replacement salts which gallons of water continued to wash out of my bloodstream.
I asked the cashier at Biscuithead’s about what Roy had described.
“He said you put a biscuit at the bottom, bacon and eggs on top of that, and you pour gravy all over it.”
The cashier made a disgusted face, as if the notion had never occurred to him. He looked healthy.
“Yeah, you can do that if you want. The biscuits come with a side of house gravy,” he said. “You could rearrange our biscuits however you like and use the gravy that way if you wanted to.”
So I bought my biscuit. I pissed in their bathroom sink while waiting for my food. I meant no harm by it, but staying awake all night drinking water so that some bureaucrat ape will say you didn’t smoke pot has a way of shifting a person’s values. I washed my hands, still thinking about Roy’s grid, filled with vials of diseased blood.
I ate my biscuit in the hospital garage, listening to Comedy Bang Bang, texting out as many drug test jokes as I could think of. I didn’t so much as drive up to the drug test as I blew in with the fog.
It was the bacon I smelled. I tasted it, remembering the wet air as I approached my drug test, full of water. THC metabolites desperately trying to infiltrate my piss and keep me from having a job. A future. Anxious to be running out. The bacon tasted good. It tasted like the misty mountain air surrounding Asheville, which people mistake for sweet clarity when in fact it is heavily polluted by what might otherwise be considered trade winds pulling in pollution from surprising places. A Carolina Wonderland, the percentage of people suffering from mysterious lung disease continues to rise, and the pulmonologists are turning people away.
I don’t know if I passed, yet, but I quit my old job anyway. I immediately feel like shit, but deep down I know I’m happy. It has to be this way. The bacon was sweet.
‘Anonymous’ is the lamest “movement” I’ve ever seen. First of all, they borrow their strongest image from a piece of shit Hollywood film thoughtlessly shoveled out in the general direction of teenagers who like big words. I know this because a lady I was banging when I was 19 showed it to me, and I liked it. But I specifically recall hating that faggy Guy Fawkes mask, and I especially hated the focus of the narrative on some narrow slice of history that, even today, is only cool in social circles in which the prominent leaders are still drawing encircled A’s on their composition books.
More to the point, though, Anonymous is totally impotent, made worse by the same kind of manufactured outrage as you see out of your average TV news piece, attempting to equate their fake struggle against all government, healthy and unhealthy, with the real struggle of the black working class against a small percentage of bullish cops enabled by a cabal of DAs whose favorite shows are Law & Order, and their spin-offs (Special Victims Unit is a favorite among closet rapists). Yo, the police didn’t kill that kid because he was “Anonymous,” they killed him because he wouldn’t put down a knife, so stop acting like the police want to kill you over their ideas. The police want to kill everybody because they’ve been doing whatever they want and nobody is stopping them; in fact, you could say they’re doing God’s work. The police could give a shit if your homeboy was wearing some Halloween mask. He might as well have been wearing a strap-on.
Your movement is weak, and you’re weak fucking people. Stop it with those stupid masks and stop acting like you stand up for something when you wouldn’t stand up to pee. May I suggest getting off the fucking Internet if you don’t like the government, and going to a few meetings? [I am laughing to myself as I write this, because the thought is absurd: just imagining these pasty, disgusting slobs dragging their fat guts, covered by black Game of Thrones t-shirts, into a municipal building to participate in local government is so funny to me.] What are you going to tweet when you get there, huh?
“These speed cameras are oppressing me. The red light cameras are oppressing me. This hard foldout chair is oppressing me.”
This young woman’s gender has been wiped away by the Guy Fawkes mask and turned totally androgynous.
And you don’t even fucking think of where those suggestions are coming from. You want to fight the power? Use the government, don’t act like it’s in your way, preventing some phony utopia from unfolding. Do you faggots even know what anarcho-capitalism is? Well, eliminate the government and find out. The central tenet of anarcho-capitalism is that without government interference, we can have something WAY MORE PROFITABLE AND HATEFUL than even the TPP‘s wildest aspirations. The government is supposed to be the people’s instrument for the prevention of corporate tyranny over the people, NOT an enabler of it. Which part of V For Vendetta covered that? Oh that’s right, none of it, because Hollywood, like a dumb animal, shit it out without even stopping in its tracks (the same company that produced V For Vendetta also created the turd-rific Speed Racer remake).
You fuckers should be looking up to the sky and praying for government tyranny: tyranny over Google; tyranny over Monsanto; tyranny over Nestle; tyranny over Lockheed-Martin; tyranny over the entire fucking globe against anyone who ever dared to mess with sanctity of the human condition.
You want revenge over Momma’s little baby who wouldn’t set down his pocket knife? Here’s your list. Get to work.
[Editor’s note: I knew you wouldn’t do it, spineless fucking losers. Go do something you’re good at, like DDoSing a gameserver.]
These people were not invited back for the 2014/2015 celebration.
Drunks participating in the ball drop at New York City were invited to join the 2015 attack on freedom 2015, promised of course to herald the new year with a promise of wonderful 2016 campaign promises. * (I am drunk)
I mean do you even realize the bullshit we are all about to hear after this shit eating ball drops? What a stupid ritual. What did people do before there was a ball to watch descending a mechanical pole in Times Square? In Richmond, Va. they cancelled the fucking thing because asshole didn’t have a permit. I mean, do you even know what that means? It means 20-something business didn’t want the drunk business. They were fine with regular old West Cary Street bourgeois clientele they’ve had all year. You guys are doing fine. Rich people: Keep being rich and spending all your money over here.
We’re doing fine in Carytown. But Brown’s Island will have you!
The guy who organizes the eyarly ball drop in Richmond, Va. did not respond to tweets askking him wahat the fuck happened tyhe last two years when there was supposed to be some awesome party in Carytown but this year there was dick. Just a bunch of lame white people meandering around and hitting up the New York Deli as if that’s the place to be. He was going to do the ball drop from the Deli, in fact, but the city said he didn’t have the right permits. He said that was “disgusting” but didn’t respond to questions about the profiteers who played a hand in prohibiting the Carytown celebrations. As if there’s anything to celebrate, but still. Carytown, I mean, fuck those people have enough money. Now bring it to the private interests who own Brown’s Island, right?
Everybody needs their money, Mr. Todd Schall-Vess, https://twitter.com/hatesec/status/550470689980178435 so get with the program and support the Virginia Way – Neoliberalism. And GET PAID MOTHERFUCKER you think this is a fucking game?
The Brown’s Island motherfuckers are stealing Schall-Vess’ thunder by stealing his fucking profits:
And look! Here’s how to get a cab in case you missed the last 100 years of being alive, let the local news tell you how to find one (the only thing that’s missing from this TV news story is the police perspective):
Former President George W. Bush is upset over the Sony hack, says “Americans shouldn’t be confused about how to respond to a Cyber 9/11”
TEXAS — Friday from his office in Texas, Former President Bush responded to President Obama, who held a press conference to criticize Sony for censoring The Interview. Bush praised Obama’s speech, but said that it didn’t go far enough, “North Korea’s attack on America is worse then Pearl Harbor, it’s an attack on citizen targets instead of military targets, a Cyber 9/11. Americans shouldn’t be confused about how to respond to a Cyber 9/11.”
Americans shouldn’t be confused about how to respond to a Cyber 9/11
Former Anonymous leader and celebrity hacker, Hector Monsegur, appeared on a Fox News discussion panel and said, “When I was with the #Antisec movement, I saw lots of incredible things that I can’t repeat, but trust me, this is only the first and least sophisticated of cyberweapons of mass destruction available for North Korea to deploy at any moment. What I can say is that many North Korean operatives were attempting to influence and work with Anonymous, maybe even Kim Jong-Un himself.”
ISIS mocked North Korean cyberwar tactics, touting their own powerful program’s invisible and effective operations
INTERNET — Friday, FBI spokespeople told Fox News that their investigators found final and conclusive proof attributing the landmark cyberattack on Sony to North Korean state-sponsored hackers. Like the Anonymous attacks that shuttered Sony’s video gaming network in 2010, many commenters have noted that Sony stands to make billions in the wake of the attack with an easy excuse for moving forward with a massive and disruptive overhaul of their infrastructure. Terrorists everywhere are frightened that their intent to punish enemies by disrupting their infrastructure may be, in fact, a boon for the powers they oppose.
Emir Ayman Al-Shaheer, press secretary for the Caliph of ISIS, told reporters, “Al-Qaida and the attacks of 9/11 only crystallized the militant resolve of the US and the West to suppress the glorious spread of Islam. We see very clearly that North Korea’s Sony hack is yet more self-destructive terrorism along this failed strain, giving Sony and the US the perfect moment to expand power. ISIS has adopted the effective tactics of the US and does its best to co-opt the energetic attacks of our enemies, using cold and effective strategy rather than childish flailing to turn that energy back on the infidels. Our hackers are more active and powerful than any in the world, and you will never, ever, hear a news story about their ongoing operations.”
Roanoke County Va. police officers cower behind one of only four humvees, and await public insurrection.
WASHINGTON – Raped by images of rioters menacing barely-armed peace officers, President Barack Obama received results from a comprehensive review of the Department of Defense program which hands down military-grade equipment to police departments in need.
What the study found was concerning: Obama said the shocking results of his study revealed police departments are not receiving enough decommissioned body armor, mine-resistant trucks, flashbang hand grenades and silencers, and forces nationwide are “desperately low” on illegal fully automatic rifles.
Executive of Freedom James Clapper said the findings deliver a staggering blow to police forces across the country operating in a culture of growing intimidation and fear.
“We’re taking their legs right out from under them,” Clapper said in a statement. “Without the advanced weaponry they need, our boys in blue are powerless to overcome ecstasy and pot dealers poisoning our youth from behind their videogames and Led Zeppelin regalia.”
Clapper said police forces are unable to escalate many situations beyond baseline paranoid hostility.
“Just the other day, one of our men went in without a gas mask and lost his bearings in a cloud of marijuana smoke. He couldn’t even shoot a dog that was asleep on the rug, threatening the safety of our fellow officers.”
Clapper concluded that “more guns, not less” is the only way to satisfy “a police officer’s natural bloodlust and desire to kill,” without the added responsibility of proper training and moral integrity.
Chief of Roanoke Police Department Rambo H. Atesic said his officers are dragging their knuckles around like apes, beating their chests in a savage display of impotent rage, setting up daytime checkpoints just to menace motorists in 5 o’clock traffic.
“Roanoke, Virginia just placed 1,000 package orders of midnight-black flak jackets, ski masks, rape sticks and explosive hollow-point rounds that spray awesome radioactive sand all over a crowd of demonstrators,” Atesic said. “So naturally, they’re itching to use it. Hell, I can’t fucking wait to shoot a dog, let alone some meaningless colored person.”
Atesic’s pupils dilated as wide as the iris, and a tiny flame flickered behind his hollow gaze.
“Our boys’ dicks are harder than Donkey Kong and there’s niggers that need oppressing,” Atesic surmounted. “Don’t take their guns away right when they need them the most. No sir, boys. We got a war to win. Now get out of my face with your camera, before I fucking kill you.”