ROANOKE, VA — For children, reading or being read to during the summer months is a great way to keep their language skills sharp while out of school and to prevent the dreaded ‘Summer Slide’ into the same ignorance, apathy and mediocrity that is characteristic of the adults in charge.
In an effort to combat summertime ignorance, Lebal Drocer Indoctrination held a Scholastic Book Fair at Green Valley Elementary, where good Christian white children are known to go to school. The fair, held across various cities over the weekend, introduced children to new books for the modern kid, including such titles as Cayden’s Internet Daddy, The Bitcoin That Could, and strategy guides for livestream mumble rapping.
A six-year-old boy named Austin left with a plastic bag full of books and magazines (which is going straight into the ocean).
“We got to read about Derrick’s Two Mommies,” Austin said. “I got to the end and it was nice to see everybody getting along. But I am six. And I could not give a shit about somebody else’s lesbian parents.”
James, a seventh grader from New Bern, North Carolina, said he had already checked out every book in the library pertaining to his interests in UFOs and tales of space genocide, when he finally picked up a title he’d been avoiding all year: Judy Blume’s coming-of-age classic, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.
“On the cover it was some girl praying next to her bed, which – I don’t know – that looks and sounds like boring religious crap to me. All the adults acted like the book is a really big deal though, so I checked it out. It didn’t take long for me to return it. Actually I still don’t know what it was about. All I remember is it was really, really boring.”
James said that although Margaret’s strife felt alien and otherworldly in itself, he appreciated Blume’s insistence on dramatizing the long-winded, bland non-events of his peers, and got interested in other stories about chicks having periods.
“At the book fair I got a book that says Native American women – the rightful owners of this land – would go chill out in a hut during their periods. This was sacred time. Again, very boring, but this could be my new fetish. Who knows? I’m 12.”
The Lebal Drocer Scholastic Book Fair concluded around 4 a.m. Monday, with a ceremonial book burning, accompanied by a reading from Glenn Beck’s critically-acclaimed barnburner, The Overton Window.
What’s up assholes! Resident Astrologian Dr. Angstrom H. Trubladoor here, and have I got a horoscope column for you! These horoscopes, unlike the artificial horoscopes found in fake news tabloids, are certifiable guideposts for a healthy spirit, as written by the stars themselves, and interpreted by me. You can’t make this shit up, folks. I’m an expert!
Now I’ll be god damned if I’m going to let you go through this life in spiritual darkness. Rise up, and assume your place at Fortune’s Wheel, for the fortunes told in this month’s horoscopes are as good as gold. I’ll stake your pissant lives on it!
A torturous family barbecue is in store on the 15th–and you’re on the menu! People will subtly suggest they thought you’d be doing something better by now, and are not unpleasantly surprised with your overall decline into mediocrity. On the 19th, don’t settle for this. Suspend contact with these people until Venus exits Sagittarius.
Your lucky numbers: 30, 52 and 7
The Moon in your sign on the 17th gives you a romantic glow. Family finances may get a boost on the 18th, but they will cut you out of it. Watch CNN for clues how to operate your own desert sex and murder cult.
Your lucky number: 0
On the 15th, the Full Moon illuminates the blessings in your relationships. You will give all earthly possessions to Internet Chronicle and await further orders. Spite-inducing planets are in cahoots on the 19th–so shoot for the stars! Donate all your money, too. Make us filthy fucking rich!
Your lucky number: $1,000
Career-savvy monsters will exploit your talents on the 18th! On the 20th and 21st, the Moon in your sign helps you express your personal sadness. Your regrets are too strong to reminisce, as you march another month closer to death.
Your lucky numbers: Would not help in this situation (you’re on your own!)
On the 15th, a cosmic boost gives you the courage to make important changes at work. Make a good night’s sleep a priority on Sunday, because come Monday morning you’ll want to show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to fire a gas powered carbine rifle into your coworkers! The 20th is a sick day, and everyone’s out with a permanent case of the Mondays! A rave review in the press will fill your hateful heart with pride.
Your lucky numbers: 30, 911 and The 2nd
Lovely Venus shines in your home zone, inspiring harmony among your inner demons and helping you beautify your abode! On the 21st, a dinner with friends goes awkwardly, but you will never learn why. Avoid eye contact with any Pisces you may know.
Your lucky number: GET OUT scrawled in blood across an old shirt you haven’t worn in 12 months.
Venus enters Sagittarius on the 18th, making romance extra uncomfortable for all parties involved. Get that crazy look out of your eyes and stop staring people into capitulation. You don’t know what people are saying about you, but it’s worse than you think.
Your lucky number: 18+
Your cash flow improves dramatically starting on the 21st! Avoiding the police will help you dodge any drama and go down in history with the notoriety you deserve!
Your lucky number: 1EELAi2iWeRzQTcbgLLZPfVHiSQ9VhgurD
Unexpected romance surprises you on the 15th when the Aries Full Moon lights up your pussy hole. Your rotten soul is made whole again when you-know-who notices you did something new with your hair. Fun, regrettable decisions are coming your way!
Your lucky numbers: 17, 22 and 3/5
The 19th inspires a wave of clarity that helps you see what a failure you are. Saturn in Sagitarrius reminds you to disregard any positive, uplifting thoughts–you’re in a downward spiral!
Your lucky number: fibonacci
The 15th is a wonderful time to begin a new family tradition that’ll bring everyone closer. On the 20th, watch for subtle cues from Mom and Dad!
Your lucky number: 69
On the 18th, Venus boosts your power level, making you impervious to bullets! The Cancer Moon connects you and your mate emotionally on the 20th and 21st. Watch for headaches.
Your lucky numbers: 18, 21 and 62
What’s in the stars for the heartthrobs?
Billy Ray Cyrus
This country icon is a true Aquarius at heart, which means he plays by his own rules! After recently departing from his longtime father-daughter relationship, he’ll continue to keep friends and fans close–depending on them for independence! Billy Ray wants to open a seafood restaurant chain.
Watch out y’ol’ hound dog! Herpes is real.
After appearing in cult classics Reality Bites and Before Sunset, Ethan Hawke found his place among the stars, but sun doesn’t shine on Hawke anymore, whose planets are in the wrong house.
Ethan, you’re finished. Way to suck at astrology, bro. Grow a sign. I mean, wow, what a good-looking man! But talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Astrology is not always kind.
After a starring role in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas propelled teen heartthrob Johnny Depp into stardom, he was free to create art from the soul, and so he began shooting a series of pirate films in the underground scene, which only got picked up when a relatively obscure studio Disney agreed to distribute the films under a new name: Cocaine Boat Party.
Now, ol’ Gemini Johnny’s slinging glasses with megastars like Jack Nicholson, Harry Manglove, and Amber Heard.
The Internet Chronicle is able to bring you sweet weekly horoscopes thanks to advancements in Terror Max research and development. The all new Terror Max Extended Hate now comes in a film that dissolves under the tongue!
MONTREAL – A man resembling Doug Benson, host of the critically-acclaimed “podcast” (iPod Broadcast) Getting High With Doug, was seen wearing a large, but not too large, red nazi flag tee shirt. The incident happened outside the Just For Laughs comedy festival venue in Monstreal. Montreal is a state in Canada. Canada sort of has states like the US, but they’re larger, and there are fewer of them. Also, they’re called provinces.
What the fuck, Doug?
“You’re better than this.”
Millions of fans took to Facebook and YouTube to vent outrage after a photo of the disgraced comic went viral, which is what newspapers will say tomorrow, after we publish this story. Many will be posting youtube comments, tweeting about hashtags, and burning vinyl copies of Benson’s specials in front of schools and churches.
Benson is one of dozens of important hate comics unmasked so far in 2018. According to one researcher at Lebal Drocer Labs in Berkeley, California, there is a rising tide threatening to destroy the lives and well-beings of anyone rumored to be harboring hateful, impure, and/or otherwise dangerous, deviant thoughts.
“Comedians of his caliber don’t fall like this every day,” Troubadour said. “Right now we only see one every couple weeks.”
Roseanne Barr was revealed to be a Jewish Nazi who hates – in addition to herself – black people, no matter how white they might appear. They said she couldn’t be Roseanne anymore. Actually Roseanne is mentally ill and likely to be swallowed alive by the television hate machine, because it’s the right thing to do. Networks HATE racists, even fake ones whose brains are warped by a lifetime of abuse and career meltdowns. Watch TV destroy Roseanne here:
Norm Macdonald, beloved figure of the Internet Right, is rumored by a virulent group of white supremacists to be the greatest conservative comedian to have ever lived. He’s God to them (second only to Real God). They think he’s subversive. Also, he’s fixin’ to get MeToo’d.
Michael Richards (honorary Kramer mention)
Everybody thought he was going to go into something edgy and hip like Lenny Bruce. Actually, he just yelled ugly words into an audience of black folk, followed by a televised apology-not-accepted, hosted by David Letterman and Jerry Seinfeld himself. But god damn, could he ever sliiide into a room.
Doug Benson has not reacted, but the longer he waits amid mounting backlash, the worse it will be in the end.
MeToo meltdown of the decade? Andy Dick gets a “taste” of his own medicine
Nightclub comic Doug Stanhope was accused by colleagues Tuesday of sexually assaulting fellow comedian Andy Dick – a former contestant on Dancing With the Stars and host of I love the 80s – at a late night gala after Andy refused numerous sexual advances.
Doug’s former friend and opening act Brett Erickson told his Twitter following that Doug – after reading salacious rumors of Andy’s exploitable drug habits, questionable morals, and sexual promiscuity – invited Andy to his hotel room around three am one morning in November. Andy declined. The following night, Stanhope was spotted assaulting Andy in front of friends and coworkers (pictured below).
City Attorney’s spokesman John Money says misdemeanor sexual battery and battery charges were filed Wednesday. Stanhope, 51, is scheduled to be arraigned on July 18.
Money said Stanhope groped Andy Dick sometime in November 2017, forcibly kissed him, and used Andy’s hand to manually stimulate himself.
Stanhope, who once had a bright, promising career in show business as co-host of the Man Show, has spent his 50s slogging about the world telling rape jokes to degenerates in dark comedy clubs. He was spotted last April at Ground Zero, for instance, in Spartanburg, South Carolina, sucking around with Brett Erickson and an accomplice they called “Chaley.”
Dr. Angstrom H. Troubadauer, Professor Emeritus of Social Sciences at Lebal Drocer University in Southern California and former stagehand to Dick, said he’s seen performers “go for alpha” by upstaging, abusing, and ridiculing the bisexual comic before adoring audiences. He said some comics take this behavior too far, going so far as to try to outdo Andy in every way, even if that means engaging in a set of behaviors intended to topple Andy’s top-sex-predator-status and claim it as their own.
A case of upstaging gone too far
“No doubt Doug wanted to get his stinger wet,” Troubadour said. “And he wanted to win the approval of his peers at the World Famous Comedy Store in LA. Who doesn’t? But he took it too far, forcing himself on Andy. I mean my god, Andy was abused as a child, some 40 years ago. He’s already been through so much. That’s why he groped that girl in April.”
Stanhope’s representatives have not responded to calls for comment, and may not actually exist.
MIAMI, Fla. — New documents suggest depression-rapper XXXTentacion is alive and well after a mass media freakout blew a promotional stunt out of proportion this week.
The 20-year-old raper, whose real name is Jahseh Onfroy, was thought to have been gunned down in a Florida robbery.
Authorities said Onfroy was leaving a vape shop shortly before 4 p.m. when two men in a dark SUV shot and killed him.
Although he has not been heard from since the incident, phone records from the victim in the car – apparently a die-hard fan – suggest the murder was set-up and agreed upon by all parties involved.
The coroner’s report uncovered a digital contract found on an iPhone X belonging to the deceased look-alike in Onfroy’s car. The contract, they said, promised to make the death look as much like a hit on Onfroy himself as possible, and records on the phone show a history of bitcoin payments to dark web contract killers hired to do the job. The suspects are still at large.
At the time of the faking of his death, XXXTentacion was awaiting trial for beating his pregnant girlfriend, another stunt his publicist hoped would bring even more attention to the lackluster album’s release.
“XXXTentacion knew beating his girlfriend would bum a lot of people out, like when they heard Kanye supported Trump,” Mike Rogers, Onfroy’s publicist said. “And just like with Kanye, many suspected X’s attempts to cause his girlfriend to miscarry were efforts to promote his upcoming album, ‘No Pulse.’ The media – who don’t understand X – also don’t understand just how far X is willing to go to please his adoring fans.” Rogers winked to an unseen camera.
Because beating pregnant women left a bad taste in even his most ardent fans’ mouths, before faking his death, Onfroy made sure to publish an Instagram Live video in which he talks about how he wants to be “remembered.”
If worse thing comes to worst, and I f—ing die or some s— and I’m not able to see out my dreams, I at least want to know that the kids perceived my message and were able to make something of themselves and able to take my message and use it and turn it into something positive and to at least have a good life.
Since only a handful of tracks from “No Pulse” have been released so far, X is laying low until his court dates are forgotten, or the public forgives him: whichever comes last.
“Dude beats pregnant chicks, but look how people love him!”
INTERNET — Fans mourn the loss of Roseanne Barr, who died from autoerotic asphyxiation Tuesday after her show was cancelled because of a racist tweet. An explicit image of the suicide, posted onto her twitter this evening was very quickly scrubbed from social media sites.
A seemingly endless string of celebrity suicide trends are sweeping through social media. Saturday, Chelsea Manning soured her Senate campaign, threatening to kill herself by jumping from a building. George Noory, host of late night talk radio show Coast To Coast AM, died from a DMT overdose just like Joe Rogan.
Jeff Dunam, puppet comic and Roseanne’s close personal friend said, “Fans remembered a Roseanne who grew enraged at the nazi tattoo on Jesco White’s hand. Now that she’s dead a lot of us are wondering where her life took this turn towards evil. I believe it was social media, maybe the Russians. All that time she kept asking me for tips on puppetry, I think she was using it online, running a sockpuppet network.”
Even Wikileaks jumped into the social media trend, with social media editor Suzie Dawson, writing:
Who is former Obama advisor Valerie Jarrett, who is in the news today after @theRealRoseanne, lead actor in America’s #1 sitcom, was axed by ABC after Barr was perceived to have insulted Jarrett’s African-American looks? 1,016 WikiLeaks docs: https://t.co/tUX3ArkWDG
Suzi Dawson denies running the WikiLeaks account, but critics say the Forensicator’s language analysis software points to a nearly four sigma correlation between her tweets and those of WikiLeaks.
The Forensicator told the press that they should begin to fear the rise of Suzi Dawson as head of WikiLeaks now that Assange is out of the picture. The Forensicator said, in a live stream press release, “The startling tweet from WikiLeaks blamed Roseanne’s racial slur on black people who felt insulted. Abject linkage with a stash of pointless emails seems to have fuck all to do with Roseanne. What’s happening here is Suzie Dawson is just manipulating us by means of a mechanical rather than social meaning of language. Hashtags and stories blend seamlessly together for no salient reason. There is no substance but vague suspicions, suspended from a single wire of doubt and dipped into a gobbledygook concoction of current events that taken from afar represent a compromised ethic and standard not only of truth but of justice, liberty, freedom, and basic humanity. Look at what they say they aren’t, in response to nothing. We aren’t authoritarians, we aren’t partisans. Where are the Trump Emails then? Why are they always telling us what everything means, how to interpret their legal cases in a strict and narrow language? It’s an abomination and an absurdity, the late stages of a Lord of the Flies intrigue we can only begin to imagine, and Suzi Dawson is on top — for now.”
Roseanne’s estate was transferred to Tom Arnold, who intends to liquidate and donate all assets to Black Lives Matter and the ADL as requested by Roseanne.
“People will be self-mutilating, defecating openly in the streets, and
Tearing their own faces off
while pandemonium unfolds all around them. There will be gnashing of teeth.”
NEW YORK – Advances in artificial intelligence and automation could replace as many as half the nation’s financial workers over the next 10 years, but according to industry experts, it will take major investment, cold calculation, and the loss of millions of human lives to make His Dream possible.
Raleigh T. Sakers, CEO of Lebal Drocer, Inc., says he is prepared to sacrifice “hundreds of thousands” of his own employees in a convoluted replacement process that might look strange to outsiders who lack his powerful business acumen.
“You never transcended. You’re weak fucks!”
“Unless banks deal with the performance issues that AI will cause for customers who miss looking into the eyes of a human being, banks will not be able to trick customers into trusting them as cunningly as they’ve managed to do in previous centuries,” Sakers said. “There will be unrest and violence, because you never transcended. You’re a psychosemantic blockage. You’re weak fucks! We’ll put y’all down like the DOGS that you are!”
Intense eye contact upgrades to robotic AI faces that better simulate human empathy are often cited as an answer to the problem, but Sakers is pushing back, stating that the uncanny valley is attractive to him.
He said, “Because others find it off-putting, unsettling, and even hostile,” quoting a recent announcement from the Lebal Drocer Institute of Technological Dominion Scientific and Computing Center as an example.
“They had this thing a layin in the basement,” Sakers said. “Its eyes a dartin all around like it’s on angeldust. And it looked at me! Chilled me to the bone. That’s when I knew Lebal Drocer was onto something.”
The center is developing a supercomputer to meet the demands of artificial intelligence and big data applications. But existing supercomputers tend to cost anywhere from $50 million to several hundred million dollars on GoDaddy, he said, which negates the cost-reduction advantages of AI technology, and fails to account for the guilt lurking in the back of his underlings’ minds as they load working-class corpses into mass graves.
Technical issues aside, senior banking executives increasingly celebrate the inevitability of artificial intelligence-based services and the job losses they will create.
“It is going to happen.”
Speaking to an audience last year in Dubai, Bank of Hatesec President John D. Hatefeller predicted a “barnburner” of industry jobs as automation moves forward.
“In our bank we already have people mindlessly working like robots,” hatesec said. “Tomorrow we will have robots behaving like people, except they won’t waste our time with bathroom breaks. It doesn’t matter whether we, as a bank, participate in these changes. It is going to happen.”
Increased processing power, cloud storage and other developments are making many tasks possible that once were considered too complex for automation, according to hatesec.
“Our new algorithms curate the smartest, most mathematically justified trades, at breakneck speeds, pumping and dumping markets at a pace never before thought possible. We can simultaneously inflate markets and exploit crashes,” hatesec said. “What was once considered a mere nightmare of science fiction, is now a brutally profitable fact. This must be the ‘innovation’ EFF was talking about in their slogan! Thanks Internet!”
Hatesec, whose company works to improve existing software performance, said the financial industry is swamped with scenes of anguish as robots systematically dismember scores of bankers while a horrified public looks on.
“They’re picking them apart like lobster, consuming their electrostatic energy to reproduce, and leaving behind only bonedust. As Lebal Drocer brings the world to climax, unprecedented customer service, and a newly enhanced Terms of Service Agreement, there will be challenges. So clench your teeth and watch.”
This Real News Media was brought to you proudly by Lebal Drocer Financial Services. Your electrostatic energy kickstarts our hearts!
Apps must not transmit ‘user location data to third parties without explicit consent from Apple, because consumer location data is OUR bitch,’ according to Apple.
‘She my hoe now.’
Apple has started removing apps from the App Store that violate the company’s policies by sharing location data with third parties without explicit consent, Vice reports. The breaches are related to sections 3.27 and 3.33 of the company’s App Store Guidelines, which says consumer data is the “underling bitch of Apple whose rights belong solely to Apple.”
Not even the consumer has access rights to their location data, unless granted written permission by Apple, Inc.
Developers that have violated the company’s guidelines have received notices from Apple, informing them that their apps are “noncompliant upon blockchain inspection.”
Vice notes that the apps affected haven’t provided enough clear information to Apple about what they do with your data, which belongs solely to Apple.
Apple’s greedy, cocaine-fueled wrath falls in step with the upcoming May 25 General Data Protection Regulation in Europe, which says corporations have to obtain clear, steady consent from consumers, adding an additional “Agree” screen full of convoluted Terms and Conditions that even Europeans – however smarter than Americans some may be – still won’t read because Europe, too, is populated by the same ratio of mouth-breathing retards as found in the United States.
“On May 25, European mongoloid idiots will have to click through additional screens, waiving their data rights once through Apple, and then again, possibly through dozens of Terms Agreements, granting even more people explicit access to profits derived from your data (Joe Beddia, is that you?), as licensed to them by Apple.”
Dr. Angstrom H. Troubadour, Executive Editor of Motherboard, Vice Media, LLC
In the notices sent to affected developers, Apple says those who want to reinstate their app must castrate their own access to your location data until Apple can sufficiently profit from it first.
“Mindless Consumer Location Data wasn’t safe in THEIR hands. It’s safe with us. We have it, and they don’t. End of story, sweetheart.”
“They will then license location data residuals to the cucks down the line, forcing shitheads like Uber, Seamless and YouTube to hit you up for location data consent, or else deny you access to the luxurious lifestyles their services provide,” Troubadour said. “Apple’s gonna make a fuckload of money, and continue to pay no taxes on it. Thanks, Europe!”
Apple’s guidelines now state that, “Data collected from apps may not be used or shared with third parties for purposes unrelated to improving the user experience or software/hardware performance connected to the app’s functionality. Dipshits will still click Agree, and more people will pay us money than ever before. Y’all just shut the fuck up, click accept, and have fun diddling each other on Tinder. When all this goes down, we’ll be on our Masque of the Red Death sex party yacht in the Indian Ocean.”
“Apple keeps location data close to their hearts,” Troubadour said. “Because afterall, it’s the location data that kept all them good employees at Foxconn making iPhones from killing themselves. Apple knew where they were, and location data saved their lives. Those sweatshop workers went on to make your dank iPhone 8 with retina display and instant latté button, so you can push a button on your phone and – anytime you want – get yourself a latté from the closest Starbucks. They bounce right out of those nets now, and get back to work.”
Tourists can visit many solemn war memorials and presidential shrines, but barely removed from the Pennsylvania Avenue freakshow in front of Donald Trump’s White House, fans weave through glass-encased Black Rock City artifacts in the cramped Renwick and find themselves in a plywood Burning Man Temple. The curator’s sign informs them this exhibit is sacred and partially funded by Anonymous, the hacker collective.
A reveler’s phone is blasting the voice of Hunter S. Thompson, reading Revelations “. . .and whosoever was not found written into the book of life was cast into the lake of fire…” the voice echoes from the many plywood surfaces.
Tourists from all nations write and paste small phrases onto the plywood, the glue fumes in the unventilated exhibit damaging their brains. The fumes are so strong the fear of a sudden ignition paralyzes me, my heart runs faster.
They’re taking pictures of all the messages, and a social media screen downstairs catalogues each photograph, analyzes the handrwriting, archives the message, identifies and resells this sacred personal prayer to someone much worse than Cambridge Analytica, more robotic and sinister than Mark Zuckerberg.
Just outside there are sharp cries of injustice, “We are petitioning Donald Trump to order an FBI investigation into the MURDER of PRINCE!” Ten purple umbrellas with Prince’s emblem shield the protesters from a sudden black squall descending onto the White House like the alien ship in Independence day. “Prince was murdered for music rights and corporate profits!”
Lieutenant Dangle has moved up in life. He is now working for the secret service, standing guard over the crowds of tourists milling in front of the White House for their photo opportunity. He has his hands rested tactically on the MP5 strapped to his belly, almost a match for an assault rifle maniac, but not quite.
The Capitol’s dome has a new paint job and glistens in the harsh sunlight after the rain with unnatural brightness. Protest kids are coming from that direction in the hundreds, all wearing bullseye hoodies and carrying anti-assault rifle signs. They’re making for the air and space museum, getting their more traditional field trip now that the protest’s over. Each student is greeted by two banned intermediate range ballistic missiles, a heartwarming display, the soviet missile a token of a disarmament treaty with Russia.
A group of monks split up at the entrance, stomping through the museum in a harried research. The particular Buddhist order is searching for something very important that might undo the terror of this moment in history, that much is clear. I want to help them, but their method of exhausting all the items on display by splitting up is something I have no time for.
The root of it all was the Wright Brothers so I start there, but quickly my instinct is that their frivolous good time fun machine is not quite what we’re after. Somewhere in World War One there is a quotation from an atom bomb maker blaming his work on the sinister baby bombings committed over London by Zeppelins. This sinister editorial is a good clue in finding exactly what the monks are after when they compare notes in their hotel rooms.
The biggest monk is carefully taking stock of the surface of the moon. It is not a deity or anything at all but another world like ours, a dead and lifeless world. There is no suffering there, but it is not in a state of nirvana. This is a perfect riddle to bring about a state of holy insanity but he hurries on after only a moment. It is not the kind of idle theological pondering appropriate for this urgent juncture in history.
The V3 rocket is placed between the more cost-effective V2 and a tremendous cylindrical section of a Saturn V rocket, all three designed by the very same team of guilty holocaust scientists. Their sordid chapter in it all has been erased, as best as possible, by the US military, but a lost fragment out of Wehrner von Braun’s autobiography, which is now confirmed by many historians, expressed great regret for acquisitioning Jewish boys as ‘dummy weights’ in rocket trials.
This is when I notice what the monks must be missing, in their harried reading of placards. From every corner of the museum there is a low, but audible mantra. Elon Musk’s name is babbled at everything. In front of a model of Howard Hughes’ Spruce Goose, “He couldn’t make it fly, but Elon Musk could. He made an electric car fly past Mars.” At a group of drones, “Elon Musk will have these things delivering pizzas instead of bombs.”
Those monks were agitated for damn good reasons that I see very clearly now that this whole town is too much to handle. It would be easier to relax at a loud freakshow like Black Rock City, because at least I’d be able to score something to take the edge off of all these landmarks of cosmic cruelty. And christ! There are giant crows standing in the parks, pretending to be statues but actually genetically engineered by DARPA, picking over this god damned city’s human refuse, beastly manifestations of natural law by an elite that now controls nature.
Any stupid tourist can get a legal marijuana high in Washington DC, or at least something close to it at any CBD bar. And in a town like this any decent person needs something to take th eedge off. A sign at the CBD bar counter reads, “What is CBD? CBD are the non-THC components of hemp and have an effect stronger than tylenol.” It’d better be stronger than tylenol. But staring all day at the sunlight glinting off of the mirror-polished cast iron capitol dome has me wanting a tylenol anyway, so to hell with it. When in Rome eat gummies, right?
Jerry Garcia walks in, sits down next to me, and starts shouting. “Hey man, I told you to stop fuckin’ with me like that!”
No, not a schizophrenic acid case, oh no, he’s picked up a phone call and he’s got a slick headpiece. Small, like something for secret service muscle. Now he’s laughing, probably to some artificial intelligence buddy construct, it’ll drive him to grab a bargain sale assault rifle from Wal Mart and go spree killing once his phone addiction, CBD, and last-ditch benzos can’t cut it anymore.
His agitated barking is very quickly nullified by a good double shot of CBD in decaf. It’s working on me too, soon enough, and I’m grooving on the music instead of deciphering this man’s schizophrenic growls. Hell it’s my first legal high.
Dr. Troubador, marijuana expert, arrived with a shipment of CBD oil. “Only I can dispense the rest of the shit, the good part, of course by prescription only.” He scrawled a dick onto a napkin and crushed it into my hand. “You’re good? You’re good? I’ll tell you when you’re good.” He rips the remaining gummy from my hand and crushes it with his shoe like a lit cigarette. “Throw that shit out.
The mad marijuana scientist is stroking a vial of reddish purple essential oil, “You’ve never had a high like this, the terror components are through the roof. Ten trillion on the Troubador scale. We’ve engineered a strain of weed that’s extreme and overpowering in its paranoia, and then we extracted all the CBD out of it to heighten agitation and attentive faculties even further. This shit you’ve just eaten is our waste product. You gotta try the pure shit.”
The doctor whipped out a tremendous syringe, filled it with the oils, and injected it into my eye. For a short time, perhaps an hour, I was able to see radio frequencies as visible light. The ionosphere arced upward like a new sky and crackled in perpetual green lightning from AM talk radio transmitters. People’s phones blinked red and white into the distant horizon, amber flaring up in data transmission. The network of sparkling jewels overlaid my vision almost totally, fading just as the harmony and rhythm of it all formed some vague pattern. I think I saw Donald Trump Tweet something hot, amber waves all flowing outward from the single point in DC. The monks need to see this, I thought, this is what the military has been working up to all this time.
Rushed Chronicle staff reportedly pee into bottles as they’re afraid of ‘time-wasting’ because the toilets are far away and they fear getting into trouble for taking long breaks.
An undercover author told Vice that workers at a chronicle.su truth fulfillment center “peed in bottles” because they were scared the long trip to the outhouse would cause them to miss targets.
The author, James Galloway, found that staff members feared being disciplined for “missing deadlines.”
A separate survey of Internet Chronicle writers released Monday found that some workers who reported feeling sick – from prolonged polonium exposure – said they were penalized for taking breaks to throw up outdoors.
Internet Chronicle said it didn’t recognize the allegations as an accurate portrayal of its forced labor sweat house working conditions.
Chronicle founder R.T. Sakers may be the world’s most dangerous thrillionaire, with a net worth of about 150 billion bitcoins, but at least some of those working in his newsrooms are apparently so desperate to keep their jobs that they don’t even take time to use an outhouse, located a convenient 450 yards away, down a beaten path into the holler.
The author James Galloway went undercover at an Internet Chronicle sweat house in Cuthbert, Ga., for a book on stagnant wages in Lebal Drocer subsidiaries. He found that the sweat house’s main reporters, who toil over unlabeled mechanical keyboards typing truth for the idiot masses, had a “toilet bottle” system in place because the bathrooms were too sparse to get to quickly.
“For those of us who worked on the top floor of Raleigh’s trailer bases, the closest toilets were down four flights of stairs,” Galloway told Vice. “People just peed in bottles because they lived in fear of being disciplined over missed deadlines and losing their jobs because they couldn’t use the bottle Chronicle gave them.”
The Internet Chronicle is known to track how fast its sweat house writers can pick and package the news from Twitter headlines, imposing strict deadlines and harsh punishments for mistakes, including cutting off the hands of one worker who dared to publish ‘mistruth’ under deadline.
A separate survey found almost three-quarters of all workers under the Lebal Drocer, Incorporated umbrella were afraid of venturing to company outhouses because of time concerns. A report released Monday with the survey’s findings said more than 400 staff reporters were urinating into Arizona tea cans, bottles, and Canadian offices were even using bags.
The survey anonymously quoted one person as saying deadlines had “tightened like a narrowed urethra” and “I no longer drink water because I do not have time to go to the outhouse.”
“You have to write two articles per hour. You do not have time to drink water because before you can even shake your winky, Raleigh’s right behind you, wanting to know when the Kardashians are going out for their Brazilians. And he’s yelling, ‘hurry, hurry, I don’t pay you to stand in here jerking off, if I wanted to see your dicks out, I’d shoot another Harambe.”
Chronicle disputed the allegations. The website said in a statement to Vice:
“Internet Chronicle provides a safe and positive workplace for thousands of dedicated workers across the planet. And apparently we provide this same workplace to freeloading deadbeat BUMS who think they’re too good to pee in a bottle. We have not been provided with confirmation that the people who completed the survey work for Chronicle, but we wouldn’t be surprised if we found out they did, because have you seen the shit Chronicle’s been publishing? I can assure you, nobody who peed in a bottle wrote ‘chronicle.su denounces Muammar Gaddafi.’
We have a focus on ensuring we provide an acceptable environment for all our wage slaves and last month Lebal Drocer was named by LinkedIn as the 78th most sought after place to work in the US and ranked FIRST PLACE in Sudan. Internet Chronicle also offers public tours of its slaughterhouse and info factory where readers can see first-hand where Real News comes from.”
CHRONICLE.SU said it didn’t have time for workers’ bullshit toilet breaks and set its performance targets based on whatever Buzzfeed is doing. The company said it provided coaching to help morons improve and exercised total authority over their lives as agreed upon in a 90-page treatise entitled “Terms & Conditions” that all writers must sign before receiving their first paychecks.
The company also said it provided on-site legal threats and offered physical repercussions to workers with more immediate needs on the newsroom floor, as well as financial and sexual guidance.
If you worked in a chronicle.su sweat house and would like to share your horror stories, email in confidence to [email protected].