Murdoch Family Enslaves Cheetahs To Edit Truth Faster

News of the Chat of the News World

Chronicle.SU–NewsCorp’s premiere chat service, News of the Chat of the News World, functions by way of a high-speed underground network of rare Emperor Cheetahs, which are blocked for their usefulness by anti-cheetah hospital security systems everywhere.

Cheetah
Cheetahs fly through the network at the speed of sound, jaws agape, devouring packets you didn't even request, and ready to suck blood.

Expert analysis:

Years of warmongering, bloodthirstiness, Kahane-level Zionism and utter hatred of Arabs had not entirely divested Mr. Murdoch of his dealings with the Arab Cheetahs. Saudi money had acquired quite a bit of his Neocon twistiness, and finally the Arab Cheetahs were allowed over that tricky border between Egypt and Gaza — where nearby, on the Egyptian side, only, like, six people in a group are allowed to walk at a time — and into the D.C.-sized deathaplex they ruptured. Their lightweight tails smacked against the backs of their noble legs as they poured into the world’s largest prison camp, trails of saliva, like shoelaces, lapping against their forelegs.

-Tyler Bass

“It’s a lolfest if you don’t know what to expect before going down there,” reported freelance cheetah dealer Joe Bradley, 45. “Innocent people getting d0x3d left and right, cheetahs prancing around at high volume with hateful messages pinned to their shock collars, and they’re like, ‘What the fuck, I  should be in the savannah pouncing on the fucking river, drinking caribou and throttling gazelle, not running copyedits to and  fro. Fuck that wrinkled old prick!'”

Murdoch’s viewers have been internationally recognized to possess the lowest, basest possible understanding of the dynamics that created the Fox News — oops, I mean, the second Iraq War, the one following the harrowing, “courageous” embargo of the southwest Asian country that killed billions of innocent cheetahs. That country is known to us as North Korea.

Wearing Gacy-like clown makeup at time of press, Mr. Murdoch announced that it made complete sense that his average viewer possesses the cognitive/reality coherence that they would call “Osama bin Laden” “Saddam Hussein.” This is a result of mass-consumption of furry pornography.

I thought I could make an edifice as large as those structures in Bioshock III take off.”

Rupert Murdoch
NewsCorp

“I would never have imagined that people would have bought so much of my flag-fellating bullshit. Ever since Bush I was able to make that incubator-baby crap fly, I thought I could make an edifice as large as those structures in Bioshock III take off.”

“Good doggies do tricks,” added Mr. Murdoch, red food-coloring dye, as used by goth kids, running down opposite sides of his mouth along with saliva, red ink trailing into the white.

In spite of their rebellious demeanors, the cheetahs remain polite because should they resist, they will be put to death, skinned and crafted into spectacularly jewel-encrusted thongs for Murdoch to prance around in.

“They’re not outspoken about their plight but they should be,” said cheetah specialist Speedy McFeely of the Bristol Motor Speedway, Virginia and fucken redneck.

Adrian “Cheetah” Chen approached the Virginia physics expert and without asking permission bent him over and snorted a line of cocaine off the small of his back. With lips pursed, Adrian softly sucked his dick, which instead of semen, leaked the phone records of celebrities and d0x of LulzSec hackers.

One cheetah busted out the cocaine in front of reporters as Murdoch – who audibly gasped at the faux pas – pondered it a moment and opted instead to cup his genitals crying, “Not here, man. The cameras. Shit’s tainted with skin-rotting levamisole. You know what that does to my ballsack.”

Murdoch hatefully orders the reporters out of his hospital suite and defecates in his bed. The hateful troll-cheetah delivers Murdoch his percocets, and Murdoch takes out a small tray, a credit card and a rolled up tin-bob note.

“Who’s the pussy now, bitch?” roars Murdoch. “We’ve got to get these children off of Google+. It’s like a disease, man a fucking KID [emphasis added] disease. Delete the little fucker’s emails to his grandma, if that’s what it takes. They’re worthless, because they were written by a  CHILD [emphasis added].” Rupert Murdoch buries his face into the fur of a cocaine-dusted cheetah and insufflates a full breath of cocaine as it wanders idly by. His eyes then glaze over and turn a fiery red.

Come here son, I’ll tuck your shirt in for you.”

Rupert Murdoch

“Show me your MySpace before you go!” calls out Murdoch, half-erect and blind from cocaine. “Come here son, I’ll tuck your shirt in for you.”

To Mr. Murdoch, the cheetahs look like small children, ready for molestation. Murdoch passes out, drool glazing his wrinkled face.

 Media Mogul dreams of Yao Ming and his network of cheetahs. In his dreams, he snorts a line of crushed  percocets to kill the pain.

“Thank God it’s not that levamisole-tainted bullshit,” he remarks to the pool-boy, “and thank God it’s lab-produced morphine.

Krokodil gets the Cheetahs high, makes their dicks grow and nurtures their latent homosexual tendencies as a means of population control. They cook up various drugs in Murdoch’s Russian  apartment, and come out stinking of iodine. Murdoch reeks of Cheetah anus, the latent evidence of a recent shitler hitler still slightly noticable. It is grim, but oddly arousing to this reporter.

Cheetah Mogul, following his addiction to rare cheetahs

“I’m assembling a panel of premade emoticons to tell a story because I am  autistic,” Murdoch tells the press. “Ctrl+v for autism. Look only at mouths while communicating.”A new trend in communication is sweeping the Internet, churches and wi-fi cafés. “Create a rage comic if you want to propose to your husband or call out a  troll,” said Murdoch. “Create a rage comic while high on Krokodil, before taking a line of levamisol-tainted cocaine. My flesh is rotting away and all I can do  is read the next rage comic. Twitter has become my only outlet for  communication, after rage comics.”

Murdoch is visibly upset by this point and releases an odor resembling that of decomposing flesh. It is decomposing flesh. The cheetahs pull the plug on his life-support and he dies a slow painful death emitting a gurgling puddle of feces, writhing in a nightmarish hell, and being mercilessly ripped apart and taunted by his once loyal army of cheetahs.

 @ktrout word up to that #rotting

 @mogul yo dawg you got any #krokodil, I’m trying to get down

“Just looked at the first reddit post in a long while,” Murdoch mumbles to himself before documentary filmmakers overlapping with the Chronicle.SU doing coverage of the long-term effects of cheetah-addiction. He gently rolls the click-wheel of his mouse down a cat-lover furryboard gleefully tapping his foot and singing “im a little man, also evil, also in to cats”

“To avoid  downvotes, everyone prefaces their statements with an apology and an explanation of what their comment is not.” #fagreddit

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Works Cited
By Barrett Brown

http://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/iub5k/the_official_death_of_the_rage_comic/

http://marymicrogram.blogspot.com/2011/07/skin-rotting-substance-found-in-us.html

http://sunpig.com/martin/archives/2011/07/03/google-made-my-son-cry.html

The story of Bullshit-Ass COPPA. Your kids aren’t that special, fucking rubes.

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The Skeptical Redneck Wedding

The death of a man’s soul begins at his ease of laughter. I think that is why Tom Arnold could not stay with Roseanne. And I believe this is also why he is no longer funny. That walking, smirking pile of shit will continue to make bad movies from now until the end of all times.

5.8/10 out of 260 votes. Make that 261. That movie was such a piece of shit and I can say with fair certainty that there was probably at least one person in this world who paid not to see it; however, he still lives very comfortably. Too comfortably for comfort. So comfortably, in fact, that he can ignore every day the fact that in spite of his success, he is still the biggest goober to ever walk into the path of a video camera since the animated-to-exaggerated Stuart from Beavis and Butthead.

I have not seen this movie.

But I’ve recently gotten cable and what I have seen is that something is markedly wrong with Tom Arnold. He seems to have had a stroke or something. The Elf Wax Times likes to joke around and espouse lies, because most of the time they’re true in some other way. But seriously. Tom Arnold seems to have suffered a stroke, possibly as a direct result of drug overdose. I recommend you use the internet or your cable box to find CMT’s Redneck Wedding, or whatever it’s called, and look at him. He’s fucked up. Something’s wrong.

If you want to help Tom Arnold, and I mean really make a difference in his life, get on your knees and pray to God. Pray for Tom’s safety and well-being. He will be most grateful.

Internet Reaches Pandemic Status

The uncontrolled flow of information in the form of music, video, text, and images has crossed the threshold of our leadership’s tolerance. Government officials have declared an end to the Internet, and computers altogether. President Crystal Palin made a statement this evening at a hostile press conference in the White House. “The Internet has devalued all informational property and left the entertainment industry in ruins. We will be bailing out all the major film and video game companies with a 4 billion dollar stimulus package. This action is necessary to recuperate damages incurred by informational theft en masse. From today forward, computer networks of more than two computers will be illegal.”

Our watchdog organization, the Waxtronetic Foundation, has used its faculties to obtain proof that Crystal Palin has been downloading gay porn over bit torrents. The White House has not responded to our request for a statement on the matter.

Next week Metallica is holding a victory parade through New York City which will be headed by a giant inflatable bust of Lars Ulrich. A one-mile vicinity will be cleared on each side of the parade, effectively forcing up to two million people to either pay for $200 tickets or evacuate the area from 9am to midnight next Friday. Metallica will not be present, however several cover bands will make up the musical attraction of the parade.

Software and video game designers have issued a collective sigh of relief, now that they do not have to worry about programming more and more absurdly complex serial number systems to prevent piracy.

The music industry is bathing in seas of riches as the new iTunes mail-order system has begun to see profits. iTunes customers will now have to mail-order iPods pre-loaded with music sold at previous rates in addition to a nominal $20 loading fee.

Not all groups are so happy with the downfall of the internet. Online gamers have especially been outraged at the president’s oppressive totalitarian decree. These gamers are highly trained killing machines who have no other hobbies but playing out virtual wars against harder and harder opponents. These players’ murmurs of revolution are already being picked up on Waxtronetic Foundation wire taps-to the horror of the government. Troops have been ordered to the highest alert in Washington, but no reinforcements have been ordered. While a coup is more likely than not, it is clear that the gamers are not being taken seriously.

Players of the popular mmorpg World of Starcraft 2 have committed suicide on a massive scale, although this news has been somewhat ignored because of the death of the internet. Those people are just bandwidth hogs who deserved to die to begin with, and national media has left their story for the back page of the few newspapers left alive. As nothing can now be reported without profits in mind, journalism has finally struck the balance it once finessed.

Capitalism has triumphed over the evils of free information, thanks to President Palin.