CHRONICLE.SU EXCLUSIVE Interview With Topiary – From Prison

Topiary
Topiary offered Chronicle.SU a chance to set the record straight on why he has turned himself in.

San Francisco — Topiary, who recently turned himself in, awaits trial inside Folsom Prison. The “face of LulzSec” continues to speak from behind his twitter account, but inside sources report anyone speaking on behalf of LulzSec is only a stand-in, as they have all been arrested.

Topiary is a longtime friend of the Chronicle.SU and requested that we interview him from prison to ensure clarity and fairness are upheld as the Sec-saga unfolds.

Here with us today is Topiary, manager of the LulzSec Twitter feed, as well as the individual who wrote on The Sun’s website without their permission and crashes Chronicle.SU pirate pads “for the lulz.”

Chronicle.SU: Topiary, why did you turn yourself in?

Topiary: As you know, Amy Winehouse was recently b& from life and that’s been weighing on me. Just got tired of trolling goatse sites and reviewing the same old Shawshank Redemption .avi over and over again. Time has a way of catching up with you, ya know? My time is now. So I’m here.

.SU: Yes, Amy Winehouse’s death was undoubtedly tragic to someone. So what’s next? Do you have legal representation?

Top: Well, forwarded me a pastebin of a list of lawyers compiled by Barrett Brown, but every phone number on that list is disconnected. No, I gotta take that back. Wait just a second. The second number on that list, did point to an attorney. It was the McDougal County Public Defender’s office. Without asking who I was, he tried to wager me into his betting pool. I had someone on the outside hack me some good odds on Curiosity’s Bubble in the dog races Friday, so we’ll see what’s up. Thanks, Barrett.

.SU: So, you’ve elected to defend yourself?

Top: Oh, no worries man. Just between you, me and your readers – lol nobody reads this shit anyway right? – Just between us, I’ve got my evidence together, don’t you worry. Exhibit A is the judge’s email account.

.SU: Sounds like a good strategy. What sort of plea bargain are you looking to extort from His Honor?

Top: Probation, a little community service.

.SU: Wait, what about the cross-dressing and the sodomy you requested? You were quoted by TFI as saying, “Ima make that Casey Anthony bitch look like a passing fad.” Where will your ass-traffic come from?

Top: They’ll probably ask me to dox th3j35t3r. So far the DoJ has informed me he’s become quite a pain in their asses – a real embarrassment. Well my ears perked up when I heard “pain in their asses.” I thought, ‘Why not me? I want pain there. In my ass!’ It’s all part of the plea deal I’m writing up. You’ll see it published on the prison website after I SQL-inject that shit. So refresh hourly. And yeah, he’s a try-hard so I guess I’ll gladly oblige. I already know him, actually. We invented him, so it shouldn’t be any big deal, we’ll just deactivate the Twitter account and call it a day. He’s not even a human being. Just some AI chatbot compiled from repurposed Cleverbot coding and Yahoo! spambots designed to lure you into their camsites.

.SU: Word the fuck up to that. Well I’m glad you’re done talking about it because I was having real trouble giving a shit.

Top: Mind if I smoke a j?

.SU: Bunny.

Top: ‘Scuse me?

.SU: Bunny Lebowski… She is the light of my life. Are you surprised at my tears, sir?

Top: Fuckin’ A.

.SU: When’s the trial?

Top: Tomorrow.

.SU: You goin’?

Top: Nah.

.SU: Will you autograph my t-shirt?

Top: We’re done here. Good luck kicking the habit, guys. Send my regards to Barrett Brown, and tell him I said the same.

And at that, Topiary’s personal guard arrived with a black vibrating strap-on, already switched on, flopping hilariously with his hip movements. Carrying Topiary away, cradled like a baby, the guard whispered sacred secrets into his right ear. Topiary looked back at Old Brutus and beamed furtively in his direction, then spit up on the guard’s shoulder just before disappearing into the annals of Folsom Prison.

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

This message brought to you by Lebal Drocer, Inc. Blenders

“Forgive me father, for I have blend!”

Will It Blend?
Bible Edition – By Adrian ForeSkin

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.

Sluthouse 5 by Jack Vonnegut

http://twitter.com/#!/Hatefiend/status/93729178310025216

http://i.imgur.com/fW7GC.png

https://twitter.com/#!/Slashleen