All the dank memes are gone, moved overseas. What’s left is the pepes. Worthless, rare pepes.
A desert man burns his worthless savings – once rare pepes – now good only for warmth.
After pepes appeared on the popular reddit-backed website imgflip – and were subsequently mass-produced by college students – rare pepes took a catastrophic plunge in lulz value. Rare pepes were at one time so rare, people thought they’d never lose value. In fact, prices even sustained over time as imgflip got stale. But somehow, the influx of pepes continued.
Through the popular underground imageboard 8ch.net, pepes continuously emanated without explanation from the /b/ subforum.
Like every meme consumed by 8chan, rare pepes were first validated through the shitposting website “reddit” before adoption by 8chan. As a result, rare pepes are now worthless and the Internet once again shifts its focus to outmoded but ironic Tweetie and Sylvester jokes most commonly spread via Facebook: a forced irony that will soon become canon.
We collectively have sunk to new lows. We’re still searching for the new floor.
I promised myself that if I ever got to this point – that if I ever sank so low – I would record it, because the world deserves to know, lest we should forget: Walmart is a hellish nightmare unfolding right in your own backyard.
This is hatesec, reporting live from the bottomless pit of despair, far back at the deep end of American retail hell, situated in a small southern town in the Appalachian mountains. First things first: Forget everything you ever thought about the rural souls lost 20 years ago to fast food, diabetes and drug addiction. The new Walmart is like nothing you’ve ever seen before; it has become an ideological disease sucking out the overripe, ooey-gooey insides of the already sad and lifeless Generation X, and they’re pulling it out through their fucking eyeballs!
Forget everything you ever saw about People of Walmart. If you found that piece of shit book in a Barnes & Noble outside the mall one mile from home, then you didn’t see Walmart. The people are deformed, sickly and fat. Which people? The best compliment I can muster for my peers is, “Hey, your eyes don’t look dead yet. What gives?” And they tell me, “Well, I guess I just hope that I’ll get out of here.” And this is normally where we would share a big, hearty gut laugh, if laughter sounded like a repressed sigh, followed by uproarious silence.
It’s pretty funny, though. I get to watch real, live human beings turn into animals. This is the kind of shit we watch documentaries for. There is a bovine quality to not only the customers about, but my coworkers, too. The younger, spry crowd, fueled either by youth or amphetamines, zip around around the obesity like pocked bees circling a hive, pretending to work. Customers and fat, aging managers migrate slowly across the store, fanning out across their territories like the Zerg Overlord of Starcraft. The managers wade smartly, while the customers follow the computer-generated maze designed to maximize profits by running them through a psychological gauntlet of shit they think they might need. There are no windows, no skylights, no clocks. Like a casino, Walmart is mazelike, timeless and the fluorescence maintains an overall vibe of perpetual night.
Of course, I sympathize with all these people here. I am not making fun of the despair; however, if despair is funny to you, then you and I are reading the same article right now. There’s a certain absurdity to the level of despair I see at Walmart that literally fascinates me in new ways, every single day I go into work. For example, sometimes a wild eyed look overcomes my immediate supervisor’s face. He lumbers around, eyes sharply focused on something, like a powerful lioness zeroing in on her kill! [trillions of lions]
“Matthew, pull some of them 32-inch TVs and let’s get ’em out on the floor.”
Matthew, proud to receive orders (to be on a mission!), gets up from the dirty floor where he has been straightening a wall of cellphone cases, and heads to the back with purpose in his step, shoulders back. He wraps everything in spiderwrap, preventing theft, and fielding questions from consumers who are universally too lazy to read, and are unable to follow simple instructions. We all received a public education, I thought. Where do they all come from?
I can only assume the absence of social programs is to blame for their destitution. Paradoxically, what little social programs they seem to access have enabled a massive prescription drug addiction that profoundly hits rural communities across the US in a way I don’t commonly see in the cities. Or, I don’t know, maybe they’re just fucking trash. HA! Imagine that: People, as trash. Human garbage. Because I don’t have to imagine it, I see it. I live in it. I am just blowing around with the human waste right now.
We operate right now on a skeleton crew of about four people in electronics. When a small crowd forms around me as I wait on hold with Indian tech support, I address my customers as a single audience.
“Okay, everybody, make note of who came first, second, and so on, and I’ll get you in the order you arrived, because as you can see, I am the only person here.” I often announce. And I figured out a funny line that usually wins over even the maddest adult babies in line, and it goes like this: “And so the next time you see Walmart in the New York Times posting record profits, everyone remember this moment. Now, if you just have a question, line up to the left.”
I do this every day.
The customers say I should be store manager. My coworkers ask how I am so good with people. I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t care. I don’t want to manage Walmart. I want to save every dime that shithole gives me and leave when my time is up. I eat ramen because I don’t want to work there. I am nice to people because Walmart sucks and it’s the only way to make it suck less.
I have to be nice to people because the retarded joy my customers get from buying electronics is sometimes the only happiness I might see in a day. At least I don’t share my coworkers’ irrational fears of management. I stand up for myself and my people. I have two really, really bad managers who tried to start shit with me and failed. One guy, I gave him three chances but I don’t think he knew he used up two of them when he interrupted a conversation I was having with a man about printer cartridges. I did whatever it was he asked, and then found him again. I told him not to interrupt me while I am working, and to use his manners. He tried to race me to the manager’s office, like a child, where I registered a formal complaint against him. Another manager attacked me for being laid back, and for seeming unapproachable. She complained that I don’t smile. I said, “I do, but I won’t smile at you.” And I smiled at her, because it was such a funny thing to say to the bitch. I couldn’t help myself.
Previously that day, I gave two customers my personal cellphone number and I’m playing the blues with one of them tomorrow. An aging fellow who asked me to put minutes on his phone for him, and we started talking about music. I was so unapproachable he asked me to join him to play the blues together. It’s a horrible place. It’s such a really, horrible place and I guess he felt it, too. Fuck me.
I feel like I’ve said pretty much all I can say about Walmart except for one thing. Remember last year’s strike? It looked like workers just wanted a little socialized fairness; at least, that’s how it looked from the outside, didn’t it? You remember that. Well, here’s what they really wanted.
Because Obamacare had just kicked in last summer. Walmart, instead of complying with the intention of the Affordable Care Act to persuade the second-largest employer in the USA (behind only the military) to offer affordable healthcare, doubled down on labor exploitation and shortened the work week to just 32 hours per person, or a paltry $1,100 per month after taxes. And, of course, no healthcare. So what were those workers in such an uproar over? Seems like they’d want their healthcare and full-time jobs, right? Well…they wanted their full-time jobs pretty bad, it seems, because that whole strike was not about getting healthcare and a living wage Walmart was intentionally denying them, but the big bargain was, “Just let us work 40 hours again, and keep the healthcare.” They needed the money that bad, and there is almost no place to work in areas where Walmart is big. Walmart is literally at the hub of my small town, as it is many others. Could Walmart, as a corporation, possibly have its worker base any better right where they want them? The socialist feartrip ripping through the country even had me convinced Walmart workers were fighting hard for healthcare, when in actuality they wanted Walmart to use its power to resist federal law and deny them their own healthcare, just for a chance to work more at Walmart, selling even more shit for them.
If this sounds stupid or unlikely so far, I’ve noticed something about Walmart’s computers. They’re not very old, and came out after Obamacare was a thing. On the scheduling software, I can see (I already work 32 hours, by the way) a link to “Take open shifts.” These are currently denied by management right now, but all the elements are in place for the Walmart strikers to eventually have their way and pick up any open slot that might open up based on computational analysis of shopping patterns and trends by the Walmart ordering and scheduling algorithm, which automatically suggests a certain logistical deployment for the store, in three-week chunks, or cycles; theoretically, in the absence of a store manager, the store could go into auto-pilot, guided only by a proprietary formula designed to maximize profits at the expense of whatever, human sanity. A peripheral cost.
Working at Walmart feels like being at the center of a shitty wagon wheel, and it only drives through shit, and it’s just throwing shit all over the spokes, and everyone is in a shitty mood about it, but no one gives a shit enough to do anything about it, and now we’re all eating shit and we have shit for brains and a shit culture with shit people who shit all over everything so even the nice stuff that could have been nice is also shitty. Walmart makes everything shitty. It hardens people. It turns compassionate people into dead-eyed zombies in a short matter of months. Many of my coworkers are dead inside. 18 years. 14 years. 20 years as a retail drone without so much as an offer for promotion because they are too weird, too nice, too dumb, too smart, or too soft for the hardfaced leadership role as a deckhand to the helm of the hate ship. But hey, she’s a-sinkin’, boys. Let’s watch her go down not with sadness, but celebration. Just too bad about the innocents. So don’t feel bad for me. I’m not innocent. I’m worse than any good-natured, hard-working Walmart employee. I’m a lazy piece of shit who hates his body and hates himself, and his ideas and his thoughts, and if I die early, it’ll make fucking sense and maybe even some people will be happy. So don’t feel bad for me. The next time you walk into Walmart – and I know you will, but deny it all you like – be kind to the sad, desperate souls all around you and realize someone definitely treated that person like less of a human being, just because they have to wear that huge, ugly gay blue vest with the words “Proud Walmart Associate” on the tit. Which is really a bit presumptuous for a shirt, don’t you think?
What dreams once lay behind those dead eyes? What hopes were dashed, so early on, that this is all there is. I’m fine. Walmart is fine if you get out, even if that is generally unlike how retail was originally conceptualized. You’re stuck here forever? Fuck. They didn’t deserve to die. No one deserves this previously unwritten layer of retail hell. But it’s difficult to look at them and think like that. You wouldn’t look directly at the sun, would you? Am I the crazy one for staring at it? Maybe I’m wrong here, but working at Walmart fucking SUCKS out loud.
Stay tuned for a Walmart-themed hatestory by the Internet’s favorite kilgoar, who has watched me work at Walmart, and heard – and laughed at – all my complaints. This exposé is brought to you proudly by chronicle.su, your number one source for all things, fulfilling, and true.
An all-new flight simulator game from award-winning studio Naughty Dog puts gamers in the blood-stained cockpit of a freshly hijacked Boeing 747, and teaches them how to efficiently pilot the passenger plane into symbols of Western imperialism like the Twin Towers.
The game reportedly simulates the same terrorist act, again and again. According to testers, players will try for the highest death count by selecting their own date and time of attack, and strategically target the weakest points in the towers’ structures to maximize terror.
“Unbelievable,” raves The New York Times.
“Unthinkable … recklessly irresponsible.” — LA Times.
“You can literally keep doing 9/11.” — Internet Chronicle.
Developers at Naughty Dog have high hopes the game’s controversy could boost sales. An emailed early-access invitation advertises a few of the game’s key features: “Raise the alert level to ‘Threat level Orange’ to unlock the game-changing Inside Job power-up and impress your friends by permanently shifting world politics in … somebody’s favor!”
Another line from the email states players gain score multipliers by issuing high profile threats leading up to the attack: “You’re nobody’s fool! The decadent West who gave you so much money before has turned its back on you! Show them you mean Busine$$ by issuing pre-taped taunts and threats on VHS.”
Reaction to the negative press is only in its earliest infancy, as not even Tipper Gore is prepared to manufacture the amount of outrage it is going to take to demonstrate the undoubtedly negative reaction the game is expected to face from teachers, soccer moms, concerned citizens and the CIA.
Suck our hammer and sickle, baby, we’re on the right side of history.
HAMBURG, Germany — While the world watched in amazement at the “Hell-in-a-cell” twitter-war between bitter rivals The Tor Project and Pando Daily, a humble researcher named Jacob Appelbalm gave a presentation at the Chaos Computer Clubs’ 31st Congressional hearing, in which the following years Internet agenda was drafted. Appelbalm, most known for his truly original and extraordinary MD5 hash-collision research and his Tor outreach, gave a rousing speech to a crowd of hackers being sslstripped. While Appelbalm and his colleagues work closely with Der Spielgel newspaper in Germany, which is world famous for dropping doxx on the NSA, he pivoted from his usual pandering and pointed to a new enemy within: the Glorious and Infallible Internet Chronicle.
Furious that he didn’t get exclusive Snowden deetz that the Internet Chronicle got, Jacob derided the news outlets ethics saying “The Internet Chronicle pretty much lets anything pass as journalism these days, it’s like they just type shit, don’t redact, don’t hold back documents for 3 years and just don’t give a damn if an article shits the closet.” The crowd cheered as the charismatic man on stage urinated in their ears, “These are the kind of people that I would ass-fuck with a chainsaw.”
Relenting for a moment as the crowds’ tears of joyous manipulation diminished into simpering sobs, he continued “However, from documents that have been gleaned over with a fine tooth comb by everyone here in Germany, it is unfortunate to note that the Internet Chronicleis a real site.” After a few minutes of diddling with his Mac, a slide appeared with a screenshot of http://www.scamadviser.com/is-chronicle.su-a-fake-site.html revealing our trustworthiness.
In closing, Appelbalm rabbled the crowd once again with images of revolution, stating: “These are just the times we live in, we’re going to have to accept the fact that our block-lists will be long and sycophants wide. That’s just the way the Berlin Wall crumbles, y’all.”
Hillary Clinton steps down from her taxpayer-funded Learjet during campaign of Hate.
WASHINGTON, D.C. — Hillary Clinton has been a busy woman since exiting public office. She can be found, these days, shuttling around the country in limousines and Learjets on a promotional tour for her new magnum opus, Hard Choices. The book chronicles her time served as Secretary of State under Ayatollah B. Hussein Obama’s glorious administration.
Released to rave reviews, the book has been called “a modern-day woman’s meditation on Freedom, reminiscent of Rand, Woolf, and Morrison,” by the Wall Street Journal.
Noted feminist Judith Miller, the woman whose broad shoulders bear the brunt of the blame for the liberation of Iraq, wrote in an Op-Ed for the New York Times, “Mrs. Clinton weaves a narrative so imagined, so inspired, you would think she is making it up!”
However, the book is not without its detractors.
Dr. Angstrom H. Treub’adore, the Internet Chronicle’s resident Cisgender Theorist, said in an interview today from his Paris apartment, “The only Hard Choice the former secretary faced while serving was whether to shoot, shock, hang or bang, preferably with an exceptionally dirty hypodermic needle, the ‘whistle-blower’, more like ‘wiener-blower’, Chelsea Manning for his crimes against the Gov, aided by the conard, the file de pute, the noted surprise sex enthusiast, Yulian Mossad,” referring to the Wikileaks scandal that erupted during Clinton’s tenure as secretary. Just one of the multitude of Hard Choices described in the book.
But Mrs. Clinton has found favor within the artistic community, which has embraced her latest collection of stories.
Katy Perry, the eleven-time Grammy nominee songstress responsible for such national anthems as: “Waking Up in Vegas”, “Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)”, “Ur So Gay”, and “By The Grace of God”, tweeted at the potential 2016 Democratic nominee that she is ready to shed the last trace of whatever artistic integrity may still reside within her. The pop singer suggested that “she would write [Clinton’s] theme song.”
Cum Swapping (#HardChoices)
The two were seen exiting a Brooklyn recording studio late Monday night with producer Puff Daddy and former Attorney General Janet Reno, who is rumored to have a featured verse on the song, tentatively titled “Hard Choicez (Ode to Elian)”.
Clinton’s ascension to the Presidency seems all but uncertain. She is treading an unprecedented path, paved with the ignored plea’s of the poor and lined with the Hard Choices of which lobbying agencies to publicly allow into her pocket book, and which to keep private.
With her book tour, an arousing success, and the media’s resistance to meaningful questions about her past, the only choice left for Mrs. Clinton to make—perhaps the Hardest Choice of all the Hard Choices she has had to make—is when to actually announce her intention to run for president of our permanent dynasty. God bless this neoliberal paradise, the greatest God damn nation on Earth, The United States of America.
INTERNET —Old Brutus from chronicle.su Lebal Drocer, Inc. Hate Radio® brings you the sharpest, most scathing review to date of the “vanilla cream” variant of Soda Shaq™. Old Brutus® describes Soda Shaq™ as “a nutritious, all natural health soda offered exclusively by white-owned 7-Eleven® stores.”
Old Brutus said he would like to remind his viewers that he is in no way affiliated with the Internet at large, and added that he thinks the Web is little more than an instrument of terror used by the United States™ Government to instill fear into the hearts of dissident authors.
“The Internet, and that whole thing, I don’t know, man,” Old Brutus® explained. “Once you really think about it, it’s all the same, real life and the Internet, except in real life dissent has far fewer consequences.”
In his third and possibly final review of Soda Shaq, Old Brutus again invoked the spirit of – and infringed upon the copyright to – Joey’s World Tour™ to bring the sale home to the gang®.
This review is wholeheartedly endorsed by Lebal Drocer, Inc.
We own everything that matters.
HOLLYWOOD — Joey’s World Tour is BYAAAAAACK! — To be featured in a Disney Channel Mockumentary entitled Joey Outside the Car. However, the famous Youtube fast food reviewer has been met with stark criticism as his star has risen to new heights, triggering a savage cascade of imitators who are now suffering acute medical conditions stemming from multiple daily fast food reviews.
Joey’s strongest allies, including pundits with the Internet Chronicle, contend that Joey’s genius can not be duplicated.
“There’s just nobody like him,” said columnist Frank Mason. “Nobody can describe a sub-par breakfast burrito quite like Joey can. He’s a genius.”
Angered citizens outraged at the rash of casualties lobbied congress for laws to ban overly sugary drinks. In response to the vocal minority, Rhode Island Del. Tom Sutherland challenged Joey’s allegiance to this great nation (America), and even wrote a bill making sugary drinks completely illegal.
“We’re banning all soft drinks – delicious, swinging, or otherwise – immediately as a matter of public safety and to combat the Socialist homosexual agenda,” Sutherland said. “Joey is a mutant with unnatural eating powers who has been able to heavily influence millions of eaters. Anyway, Joey’s been cheating on his diet. Why’s he always talking about a diet when he’s in a car scarfing down fast food novelty items?”
The corporatist agenda of Joey’s World Tour International is as beneficial to public health as it is overt, according to leading fast food industry experts, most of whom have no official monetary connections to the “food” reviewer, although many – among them, Ted Nugent, Jacob Applebaum and Colonel Sanders – outwardly defend Joey’s patriotism, praising his work.
Dietary-supplement expert Dr. Angstrom H. Troubador dismissed Sutherland’s claims in the strongest of terms, saying, “There is no unpatriotic genius. Joey is a force of nature, a phenomenon. Joey is a Real American, a God damn genius and a patriot,” Troubador said. “I’ve never witnessed anything like it. But I also never questioned Joey’s Patriotism. Now Shoenice, he wants to love everybody and feed the starving children in every corner of the planet. That’s Marxism. The continued exponential growth of Joey’s World Tour is nothing to be concerned about, although it is true that we see hearts are stopping left and right. But who would blame Joey? Who could? Come on, people. Get your fucking stories straight.”
Mason added, “I give that a solid 10/10 advice from Dr. Troubadaeur. Joey’s World Tour has it all, humor, satire, self-deprecation; it just swings, gang. Go out and watch him on Youtube right now.”
INTERNET – The Associated Press is in a buzz over a controversial new review of Soda Shaq, the popular beverage that took the sugary drink market by storm over the summer. CNN called the video “reprehensible” while FOX News ran various clips from the 17 minute video on their morning show Fox And Friends, who praised the closing five minute reading of Glenn Beck’s bestselling classic The Overton Window.
Joey’s World Tour has yet to come forward with their promised shout out, but the undeniable fame of the second installment of The Internet Chronicle drink review of Vanilla Cream Soda Shaq is widely expected by critics to produce unique and satisfying results, including the possibility of a shout-out and Type II diabetes.
Dr. Angstrom H. Troubadour recommends a tall can of Soda Shaq to assist in extended play throughs of the popular new murder simulator Grand Theft Auto V. “I’d even say that if you’re going to stay up all night checking in-game stocks, that you just have yourself a mini-fridge full of the shit,” Troubadour said. “It’s all natural, which, that’s just everything nowadays.”
SODA SHAQ VANILLA CREAM SODA REVIEWED
“I’m Dr. Troubadour, and I approve this website.”
Dr. Angstrom Troubadour
Dr. Troubadour is a real doctor committed to improving well-being and sense of self. Dr. Troubadour, who has your best interests in mind, does not want you to worry about the small stuff. He does not want your money. He just wants you to drink Soda Shaq and chill out, dude.
Dr. Troubadour has helped out on a lot of abortions and is usually pretty cool about it. He does not look his customers in the eye during the process, but sometimes it can’t be helped. He won’t tell your friends or family what you did, and he tries to keep it to himself.