Lebal Drocer, Inc. is proud to introduce the brand new Bit Train, which carries the Anonymous spokesperson long distances in a reformative practice called diesel chamber therapy. Adoring crowds welcome the train’s arrival with a warm chant of the enterprise:
What, did they get ya Barry?
Years in the slammer, for sharing a link!
What did you think?
Oh won’t you car-ry my Bit-coins a-way
Barrett “Good Guy” Brown is slated for new rounds of essential diesel therapy in the coming weeks. For good measure, he is not allowed to go near books, pens or paper. He gets leaflets of Fountainhead by carrier pigeon, a mysterious one-way line of communication from a sender unknown… Maybe just somebody watching out for him.
Check Ticketmaster for tour dates to see Barrett live in a town near you. That’s right, for one time only Barrett Brown will go on display LIVE (a spectacle of the mind and eye!) before adoring fans starting as early as next week. It is reported Rachel Haywire will attend a not-yet-released stop, as long as her okcupid date does not mind waiting outside with the engine running.
The Bit Train, powered by Brown’s denial, carries data – or “shares links” – in the form of national security cables, serving a dual purpose of imprisoning Brown and furthering surveillance.
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.
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.
We were cruising down the Blue Ridge Parkway, drinking cheap beer. We talked about politics like we knew what was happening, jabbering wildly, using big gestures. While Jim Morrison sang out his sexual frustrations at top volume on the stereo, we carried on joking about the idea of left versus right. National politics bloated like a carcass, threatening to bust in an explosion of maggots and fanfare. The very notion of decency was rotten, naive.
Each taste of the alcohol felt like another step toward victory over something. The unseen forces holding us back – the very hate we were pecking at all day – seemed to wash away in a calm bath of fresh knowledge. We were just kids.
I would have done anything to “be” a good person, anything but goodness. I always looked for the shortcuts, the easy way out. If I couldn’t find it, I bullshitted it. The gears of my existence were lubricated with bullshit. I was a misery factory and I even capitalized on the byproduct. The sludge. I knew a way to both poison and satisfy. I was heroin, but not so pleasant. None of you are even worth the guilt I would feel after the harm. None of you are worth the kill. I hate you. I know you.
Looking back, I wouldn’t have been so happy. I think contentedness holds people back in general, and it’s definitely not for everyone. There’s no more passion in me for that stuff. No romance. At just the sound of it, I’m immediately bored with the familiar conversations of television ideology. It’s not a talk worth having. Almost nothing is. Generalizations and platitudes are what this paragraph is about. I hope you’ve enjoyed them.
I canvassed for Net Neutrality in 2005, before I even knew how to explain it. I could sense it was important, and something compelled me to tell anyone about it who would listen. It’s the only political cause I ever truly got behind. The built-in obviousness of its necessity should be apparent to anyone who’s ever tried to yell the loudest in a room full of screaming people but it’s a question, because policymakers don’t just listen to people with money, they let them think and write for them, too. It makes the already easy job of voter representation even easier. So it’s up for grabs. Whatever. That battle’s lost even though all signs advise cautious optimism. It is also falling out of fashion with the mercurious evolution of Web 3.0. I’ll be happy when Net Neutrality dies. It’s time already.
Kill it all or let it die. I don’t give a fuck and there’s nothing left to give a fuck about. Those were warm nights, with the windows down, talking about Utopia. It wasn’t a crime. It never happened. No one was watching. No one remembers.
Scientists at Lebal Drocer Laboratories declined giving a fuck during an official press conference.
The American magazine Foreign Policy disclosed shortly ago that a Lebal Drocer soldier who mercilessly killed 16 innocent civilians in Roanoke, Virginia – including women and children – was prone to abusing the reality-altering designer drug TerrorBloc. TerrorBloc, or ‘TB’, is a cheap TerrorMax alternative synthesized by a dangerous offshoot of Lebal Drocer Pharmaceuticals, whose labs operate deep beneath the earth.
For some time, friends and family said, the Lebal Drocer Agent was addicted to alcohol and marijuana before graduating to TerrorBloc, a drug so maddening reports estimate it has caused some 45,000 deaths this year alone.
The new report, put out by the rebel group People’s Army of Lebal Drocer, sheds light on nefarious activities by the Real Lebal Drocer, a subsidiary of Lebal Drocer, Inc. The report shows Lebal Drocer “deliberately” hurled drugs and alcohol into the population without regard for human life or happiness, killing people just for profit.
i hope lebal drocer doesn't have to face all those consequences
A United Nations Human Rights spokesperson said 31 nations around the world are organized to take action against the multinational conglomerate and author of the Trans-Pacific Partnership, promising to “push Lebal Drocer out of this century.”
Lebal Drocer’s atrocities have created seven new entries in the Guinness Book of World Records, including setting new records for Most Number of Lives Lost During Single Construction Accident and Highest Stillborn Rate Along a Single Polluted River.
Needless to say, residents of Canada and Mexico are not happy with the current state of natural decline at the hands of Lebal Drocer, Inc.
The company is sending an assigned diplomat who will personally take punishment at the international human rights tribunal in Pyongyang.
INTERNET — Reddit is like church. It is a huge place everyone’s been to but nobody loves, which is why the Internet is in a giddy stir as reddit approaches this imposing critical mass situation. Redditors are in an uproar after the company fired one of the community’s favorite admins, Victoria, who modded the IAmA threads and made a lot of the bigger names appear at the top of the frontpage, like the president and stuff.
So to express how butthurt all of reddit feels, the moderators of major subreddits, including AskReddit, History, Art, Gaming, Science, Videos, and even the AdviceAnimals moderators have taken their subreddits private, which is supposed to send a message to reddit operators that the community liked Victoria, or something.
What you see now is only pre-game commentary for the big event, scheduled to happen sometime tonight or tomorrow, when they update the reddit blog. You want to see shit hit the fan, watch reddit for the next day or two.
Could Victoria’s firing end the world? Doubtful. But it could end reddit.
This is the shittiest website I have ever seen. What happened to the categories, did you get tired of having something people could actually relate to?
News, Sports, Weather and Reviews were just too much like something regular people were used to seeing so we got rid of that, because this is a terrible website you would never, ever want to read. EVER. Our advertisers have made this clear by reducing monthly funding to a paralyzing trickle.
Let me make this perfectly clear: The Internet Chronicle is a stain on the Internet: a cancerous, oily rag containing nothing but the kind of conspiratorial nonsense with which the sane would not dare pollute their pure, precious blood. Reading chronicle.su is like smoking cigarettes dipped in formaldehyde.
I know from kilgoar, because I witnessed it personally, he might appear to be a broken, melted down mutant of a person. Barely a man anymore, kilgoar is however what we might call a “transhuman” whose personality has been transferred to a row of helium-cooled supercomputers located at an abandoned signal station in Povarovo, Russia. Kilgoar’s healthier than ever, though, and this is really not cause for concern. He is, afterall, a pretty good old boy. Just a regular dude like you or me, or the president.
This website is a despicable abomination, an affront to everything the human race has achieved up till now. The Chronicle’s insistence on hatred as a form of appreciation, progress, love, and explanation for the Internet is downright contradictory and a damn lie. The Internet Chronicle is cancer. They built Anonymous. They are the government. CHRONICLE.SU IS RUN BY SPOOKS! GOVERNMENT-FOR-HIRE FALLBOYS. The Internet Chronicle is a rotten abscess on humanity. Delete it.
Turn away, there is nothing positive here. Go back to Facebook and say hello to your fucking families for me.
The Papa John’s Pizza portal site faces intermittent downtime as Anonymous attacks escalate.
INTERNET – When news leaked of a controversial nondisclosure agreement forbidding Papa John’s employees from discussing anything that isn’t work-related, the mainstream hacker collective calling itself Anonymous has stepped up to defend the free speech rights of all Papa John’s employees by orchestrating a series of DDoS attacks and SQL-injections against the Papa John’s website.
The site has gone offline and come back several times throughout the day, signaling a call-and-response between Papa John’s elite group of cyber warriors and the rebel group Anonymous.
An anonymous employee, who asked not to be named out of fear of losing his job, said the gag order prevents him from discussing his work conditions outside of work.
“You can’t talk about the nondisclosure agreement without violating the nondisclosure agreement,” the employee said, “so you will get fired if they found out you talked about it.”
He said the agreement signifies a larger band of paranoia running through the usually stoned and placid pizza industry: a fear of unionized labor.
“The rules were always in place but they didn’t start enforcing them until some of us started talking about a worker’s union like they were trying to do over at McDonald’s.”
IRC chatlogs show online pizza orders placed by members of Anonymous to one of “Papa’s” many houses. The act of ordering unsolicited pizzas, Chinese take-out and other delivery is known colloquially to the group as “pizza-bombing.” This militant act of gastronomical aggression, combined with a cybcerattack on “Papa’s” website is only just the beginning, says the mainstream hacker collective group.
Here is the site currently under attack:
Papa John did not respond to numerous, repeated requests for comment. His public relations department did, however, refer The Internet Chronicle to a section of the nondisclosure agreement that shows they are not permitted to talk about the nondisclosure agreement. That staff, we later learned, have been fired and are currently unemployed.
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.”