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Hate

FUXNET DOXED by Raging White Supremacist

DETROIT– In a stunning blow to his manhood, the adorable baby biscuit of FuxNet himself, Drew Basko was arrested after a no-knock raid on his thrillion dollar home in the Detroit suburbs.

Fuxnet trash rat Drew Basko (left) and his pibble (also left) were featured in a tweet by Dox Holliday…and then something terrible happened.

Police say they were responding to reports from a trusted source – a real good old boy, they said, trusted reports – of an underground slavery network, but not the good, Harriet Tubman kind of underground, also associated with slavery. This one, police said, was very, very bad, and they were surprised no one self-investigated it yet.

“As is protocol, we did not understand the nature of the dispatch,” said Chief Steven Branton. “I only half heard the call. You know how women just like to talk. I hung up and hadn’t caught a word of it. So I figured, ‘fuck it.’ We just knew we were going in hot.”

With guns drawn, federal agents threw Basko to the ground, demanding access to his basement dungeon, where children were reportedly kept as property.

“Help! I’ve been swatted!” Basko cried out, pointing at a dark navy clad figure standing in the front door. “I was doxed! There’s the white supremacist who doxed me!”

Cyle sports a rare pepe familiar in a breathtaking desert photo. When he’s not making dank memes, Cyle Cannarsa enjoys punishing the sub-human migrant kids who come through his concentration camps.

Standing tall over Basko was Special Officer Big Dickington, a.k.a. Cyle Cannarsa, a real good ol’ boy with a three-headed hard-on for liberty, women, and white people.

FILE PHOTO: Cyle Cannarsa entered “blind rage mode” after a fellow patriot was doxed.

“He hurt one of ours, and I just seen red,” Cannarsa recounted. “I ain’t been that mad…in a long time. Not since this six year old illegal boy Alejandro looked up at me from the floor of a Freedom Camp, and complained his steak-umms were too frozen. The ingrate!”

Following the arrest, Cannarsa took a knee like his celebrity crush, Colin Kaepernick, used to do. He whispered to Basko, who lay crumpled on the ground under an officer’s tender knee. As he hissed, Cannarsa diddled Basko’s ear with his tongue.

“You’re damn right I doxed you. You know better, boy, than to give cops all that credit. I’ll see you in the refugee camps.”

Basko admits he was doxed in retaliation to attacking True Patriots nocankickn and good ol’ boy Cyle Cannarsa.

Back to the dark, roach!

“I guess I’m just like those kids in a lot of ways. Yes, I’m going to the camps now, and yes I had it coming to me. Cyle Cannarsa was right. I’m just like them. We are all the same.”

Now Basko is threatening to sue the Detroit police officers who entered his home, selfishly draining what little bit is left of the last remaining tax dollars from his own community, and potentially depriving even more children of food.

Truly Undoxable?

Despite mountains of research and articles, no one knows how to pronounce Cyle. Some say “Hero.”

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Editorial

We’re up here on our high horses

At the Internet Chronicle, we’re better than you. You probably think you’re pretty good, and maybe you are, but we are better.

You are nothing!

Fancy yourself a good cook? We got you topped. Wild Bill Kilgoar can whip up a souffle that’ll lop your tits off. Got no tits? You might grow some.

Oh? You’re good at driving? I flipped a van down into a bank one time, while trying to prove to my friends that roads don’t matter. We got out. Police came to the house. Nothing happened. I’m better than you.

Can you read lips? Well, I read minds, bitch, and I know that you know I’m better than you.

Eat my ass. This is the Internet Chronicle.

This message was brought to you proudly by Lebal Drocer, Inc.
We own everything that matters, which is better than you can say.

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Editorial

Steel Lion Morning visionary blues

I’m Frank Mason. I work around the clock on a decommissioned research facility, protecting the untouched remnants of a bygone dark age of government testing. I’ll do this until I die. For now–rather, I should say for the duration of this story–I was lounging on the davenport at home, smoking a joint.

Last night, I had a vision

side 1

My entire furniture future was all polyester, stuffed with treated cotton. It felt good, I guess.

Ripping a fart, I stood up from the couch where I’ve spent the last six hours sitting, watching television. My stained teeth itch. Some tobacco smoke could kill that right off. And it should. I have little tolerance for bacteria, or more despicably, a fungus. I feel that I’d rather eat HIV-infected mosquitoes. Do those exist? Do I?

When I was in the war, we used to have this saying, “Don’t look at the flash.” When I was just green, I would wonder what that meant. After serving nine years of active duty in the nuclear deserts, I had it figured out pretty quick, when a nuclear blast was detected a few miles Southwest of our position. All at once, I was overcome by a mad rush to the iodine tincture buried deep within our packs, under the sleeping bag, and soup kettle, and lastly the cigarettes and ammunition, at the bottom among the suicide pellet and a letter from Mom, stained with tea. Regulation shit!

The roaring of engines could be heard overhead.

side 2

Hey son. We love and miss you. When you get home, we have a big surprise for you. We can’t tell you what it is now, but you are going to LOVE it! When you get home, you will find your old room like you left it, and a nice TV with your computer all set up and ready. Your brother says hello, and your little sister has started dating a boy…she is growing up so fast.

The rest is in there.

For now, the acid trip has taken a new direction. Since the recent explosion of chemical testing on refugees and involuntary Section Eight retards, the whole corps has become a creepy, hollow place. Our commanding officers no longer look us in the eyes. The dogs seem to act as if we are inconsequential to their well-beings. Even the birds stopped flying overhead. A well-greased rifle is your best friend. The trees are melting. Nature is beautiful.

The roaring of engines is heard overhead.