Lebal Drocer, Inc. Purchases Human Being

RICHMOND, VA. — “We just seen the opportunity, and I couldn’t pass it up. I had to own a slave,” said Internet Chronicle Publisher Frank Mason, speaking to clerical staff and press called to a conference at 1000 Monument Ave. With Jeff Schapiro from the Times-Dispatch busily taking notes, Mr. Mason continued, lamenting that he could only purchase a worker’s mortal flesh, “his gametes but never his soul.” He emphasized every syllable with a bang on the marble table top.

“God ain’t legalized that yet,” said Mr. Mason with a dry, wheezing laugh, before ejecting a runny stream of “baccy” from between tarred lips into a spittoon two meters away, carved apparently from a human skull.

“See that spitoon over there?” he said, gesticulating for reporters and Richmond business leaders. “That there’s a Czech. You can tell by the shape of the unity lobe.”

Editor of Chronicle.su — and lifelong friend of Mr. Mason’s — Kilgoar Trout complained that he was given no say in the matter. “Frank wanted to own a human being, he said. He said it’d make him feel powerful. It does.”

Lebal Drocer is a limited liability corporation. In God’s new America NAFTA and GATT have railroaded the communist unions that used to effectively clip and snip job creators. Those days are over. 1999 and Seattle came and went.

And they lost.

In addition to having assembled Virginia business leaders and various Saudi investors to show off what he called “his new Chinese,” Frank Mason told Internet Chronicle enthusiasts present that he was encouraging staff to obtain concealed-carry permits as soon as possible, and to fasten as many rails as possible to any “tricked-out rifles” staff might have hoarded in secret rooms in their basements. “That one’s putting a clampdown on on everything holy. Like my grandpappy used to say, Jesus won’t tolerate no clip with less capacity than days in his months,” adding, “And I ain’t talking about February!”

It was at this point that Raymond H. Boone of the Richmond Free-Press left the conference.

Editor Kilgoar Trout shared his concern that the company was moving too quickly away from the model of documenting the most frightening developments in cybersecurity and the out-of-control, privately bought-out surveillance state. “With this new venture into human trafficking,” said Mr. Trout to the publisher of Southside’s Community Weekly, “Frank’s really hijacking my religion of peace.”

YOUTH AND STUDENTS HAIL NEWS EDITOR RAGHUBIR GOYAL

RAGHUBIR GOYAL HAILED BY YOUTH AND STUDENTS
HAILED BY YOUTH AND STUDENTS, AND FEARED BY HIS ENEMIES, RAGHUBIR GOYAL FOUGHT MERCILESSLY FOR CONTROL OF CHRONICLE.SU

SOVCHRON – UPON HEARING THE NEWS THAT THE DEAR RESPECTED RAGHUBIR GOYAL WAS AWARDED THE TITLE OF MANAGING EDITOR, YOUTH AND STUDENTS IN THE ARMED PEOPLE’S REVOLUTIONARY WORKER’S PARTY OF CHRONICLE.SU EXTEND THEIR HEARTFELT CONGRATULATIONS TO HIM.

IGOR SECIC, A STUDENT OF INGLIP UNIVERSITY, TOLD CHRONICLE.SU:

“IT WAS THANKS TO RAGHUBIR GOYAL, BRILLIANT COMMANDER OF MT. BOMBRAIN, THAT THE CHRONICLE READERSHIP COULD TURN INTO COURAGE THEIR BITTER GRIEF AT THE SUDDEN DEMISE OF GENERALISSIMO FRANKLIN D. MASON.”

RAGHUBIR GOYAL WAS ALWAYS TOGETHER WITH FRANKLIN D. MASON IN GUIDING THE TRANSHUMANIST (RADICAL PROLIFERATION OF MACHINE OVERLORD) REVOLUTION AS HIS CLOSEST REVOLUTIONARY COMRADE-IN-ARMS.

IT WAS OUR UNANIMOUS DESIRE TO CONFER THE TITLE OF MANAGING EDITOR TO HIM TO WHOM ALL THE CHRONICLE READERSHIP ENTRUST THEIR DESTINY. IT IS ALSO OBLIGATION OF CHRONICLE STAFF TO HARNESS RAW HATRED OF READERSHIP OF ARMED PEOPLE’S REVOLUTIONARY WORKER’S PARTY WHO ARE DESCENDENTS OF INGLIP AND SOLDIERS AND DISCIPLES OF LEADER FRANKLIN D. MASON.

IVANA IBRAHIMOVIC, A STUDENT OF KILGORE T. UNIVERSITY OF AGRICULTURE, SAID:

IVANA IBRAHIMOVIC
IVANA: “RAGHUBIR GOYAL FILLS ME WITH LOVE. TERROR, AND LOVE.”

“WHEN SEEING RAGHUBIR GOYAL MAKING A CONGRATULATORY SPEECH AT THE MILITARY PARADE CELEBRATING THE CENTENARY OF THE BIRTH OF INGLIP, I COULD HARDLY REPRESS TEARS OF EMOTION. HIS IMAGE REMINDED US OF THE PRESIDENT IN MARSHAL’S UNIFORM STANDING ON THE PLATFORM OF SQUARE TO CELEBRATE THE INTERNET WAR VICTORY.

I WILL STUDY HARDER TO UPHOLD THE GUIDANCE OF MANAGING EDITOR RAGHUBIR GOYAL WITH KNOWLEDGE.”

Frank Mason to leave chronicle.su forever

Why? Why is chronicle.su this hateful black enterprise I can not even stand to look at anymore?
Why do I no longer like this place?

Seriously, I’m about to pull a Geo because there are just too many bad vibes around this hate hole. I’m sending up a distress flare because I don’t know what else to do anymore. I’m no longer funny, this website isn’t funny, we are just hurtful abusive people with no respect for dead children or their grieving families.

I used to think chronicle.su was a bottomless source of ironic lies but now I’m not so confident in that assertion. Sure, there are 35 people staring at DEAD LIL WAYNE at any given moment, but it’s not like they can read anyway or else they would already know he is “alive,” whatever you take that to mean . . . But I’m not talking about just trying to make the a sound for apple and pronouncing cat, but really reading – and comprehending – the world around them.

Literate individuals don’t fall for LIL WAYNE DEAD and park on the webpage all day, and spread it around without checking other sources. Okay, dying AIDS-infected Africans were crossing the Sahara to register their grievances at the metropolis internet cafe. So what chronicle.su has proven to me in the last nine months is worse than anything I could have ever imagined without performing this experiment for myself:

1. There are more stupid people than statistics could possibly account for, and yet I’m astounded by the numbers.

Akon DEAD Lil Wayne DEAD Lady GaGa BRAIN CANCER ALL DEAD
It took “readers” an average of almost three minutes to determine how their favorite rapper actually died of AIDS before anyone knew he contracted it.

2. I am a toxin. If there’s anybody I can think of besides our last fourteen presidents who deserves brain cancer, it’s Lady GaGa for making anti-intellectualism appear sexy and appealing, and yet I am the one who made people cry announcing she has brain cancer.

But since I did it anyway, check out this video of the some little girl freaking out about it or something. Or don’t. Just go the fuck away now.

Lady Gaga! She wants to be like you when she grows up. A vapid, expressionless sellout! GOOD WORK, WHORE.

Nothing is funny anymore. Nothing is surprising. Anonymous is dead, and even that is kind of sad because it was so funny to watch internet losers migrate the handle from DDoSing Hal Turner, to blocking up a fake swimming pool in Habbo Hotel, to Scientology, and all the way back around again to DDoSing bank websites before finally getting arrested en masse. Yummy yummy honeypotty! Now we’re wasted, now we’re screwed. Now I’m bored. So what the fuck is next?

ANSWER: I don’t give a shit. I am going to lay it all right out for you. I know by now we have some fans (people who hate us are “fans,” too, by the way) and for some reason you keep coming back here to see if I replied to your meaningless comments, to see if your shitty, grammatical atrocities are making a difference on my own fake opinion (they don’t), because you might feel that you’ve somehow caused a tree to fall in the forest – and for everybody who heard it, no one paid attention. Not even me. Especially not me. And I am writing now to inform you– no, to ask of you– no . . . I am just writing. And that’s how it’s going to be. That’s what I’m laying down.

I’m a cunt sliver . . .

Frank Mason

If you ever once came to this website and thought I was writing to you, for you, about you – even if I was – I don’t want your feedback. I’m a cunt sliver away from turning off all the comments, globally, and firing material into your blank eyes with NO POSSIBLE RECOURSE. ZERO. Because I’m tired of you. I’m tired of the pressure. I’m tired of this broken, hateful website, and I’m tired, most of all, of hating this place I (ironically) designed to be hated.

I’m DONE with it. I’m done with you festering, stinking maggots who sallow each article. I’m done with your cute usernames, multiple IP addresses, multiple fucking usernames, and every combination inbetween. I’m done with your tired little surmises. I’m done with your discussions. I’m done with the chat room, the radio show, and most importantly – in case I haven’t yet made it clear – I’m done with you.

FUCK THE READERSHIP. ALL OF YOU. MY FAMILY, MY FRIENDS, MY LANDLORD – ESPECIALLY MY LANDLORD, HE IS A THIEVING CHARLATAN like the readers. I DON’T GIVE A FLYING HAT TRICK WHO YOU ARE. I AM FINISHED WITH ALL OF IT, AND THIS WEBSITE.

Stay tuned for my absence.

Frank Mason is gone.

Kilgore Trout whiteknights awesome Chronicle troll-action

In a damaging blow to what might have otherwise been a fruitful trolling endeavor, chronicle.su editor Kilgore Trout trolled his own news agency by warning would-be writing contest participants that the whole thing is an utter scam. Terrible author Frank Mason countered with undue name-calling followed by a dense string of offline gravity bong hits to the face.

“It was worse than anything I’ve ever seen,” said a frowning Joanna Mason, Frank’s mother in Fairfax, Virginia. “He was so high. So happy.”

Mason was not available to comment but wrote Saturday, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you say, it’s going to be really funny when someone tries to write another unintelligible centerpiece about an orgy of world leaders atop President Obama’s stinky sock collection. Rooting around in his dirty fucking socks, Bill.”

The writing contest would have entrants reporting on an alleged plethora of simultaneous sex acts, all taking place on a pile of unwashed clothes previously worn by the President during the exact moment in which he lied to American citizens. “But beyond that,” Mason clarified, “You are free to write anything you wish, adding what you like.”

Chronicle writer Frank Mason
Frank Mason, terrible author

Trout’s white knight leak is an attempt to limit the overall “collateral damage” of chronicle.su as she recklessly tears through the internet in the name of good comedy, lest she incur yet another case in a myriad of legal axes threatening to drop. By calling attention to Mason’s attempt at baiting bad writers into ridicule, Trout may possibly have prevented another lawsuit.

“Mason maintains all the ethical practices of a trapdoor spider,” he explained. “Oh, he’s a charming young man. Sure. And he’s good at videogames. But he is ugly inside. Inside, Frank is a venomous snake.”

Mason conceded, “At any moment, authorities could intervene . . . and the next thing you know we’re embroiled in a seven year legal battle with someone over use of . . . his face on the end of a penis.” Frank put one hand on his forehead, and looked up at the ceiling. For almost a minute, Mason posed in the lamplight, thinking. At last, he finally said, “Maybe we should just say somebody died. Somebody white this time.”

As of Saturday evening, participation in Mason’s contest is virtually nonexistent.

Frank Mason dead at 25

Desk of editor frank masonNew York City– It is our sad duty to inform you that longtime reporter and friend to chronicle.su, Frank Mason, has died.

Mason was alone in his apartment Monday when his heart stopped amid one episodic panic attack. Because of his work and general nature, Mason was prone to anxiety attacks as many as four times per week and in some instances, would not sleep for thirty six hours or more at a time.

According to paramedics who arrived at the scene, Mason told friends online that he’d been awake for over forty hours. His messages showed concern, said one EMT, for strange sensations in his chest that later turned out to be heart failure. Officials emphasized that if only Mason “had cared enough about his health,” a phone call might have saved his pointless, insignificant life.

Mason is survived by his dog, Shale, and roommates Mike Henderson and Lewis Manning. Who and where Mason’s family may be are yet to be determined, investigators said.

Writing and editing for the Chronicle, Mason was forced to live a series of compartmentalized secret lives, said fellow editor Dr. Kilgore Trout, who watched the man metamorphose from an eager cub reporter into a fractured shell of a man.

There was something in his voice – something in the way he said, ‘I’ll gut you like a deer carcass!’ that made me believe him.”

Kilgore Trout

“He would sometimes be really friendly online,” Trout said. “But other times, he was crass and difficult to get along with. He once threatened to kill me over an edit I made to one of his stories. And, you know, there was something in his voice – something in the way he said, ‘I’ll gut you like a deer carcass!’ that made me believe him. I changed his punctuation back to a semi-colon but later blocked his calls.”

Trout indicated Mason will be hard to replace, if not impossible, and said he planned to buy a larger room against his cabin in order to fit enough wild chimpanzees and typewriters to replicate the deceased writer’s eclectic personality.

“Probably just gonna stack them up over there,” Trout said, pointing in the direction of a pile of bloated garbage bags across which was slung a coarse red blanket, soiled and rotten. “They can lay on that while they type.”

Fans of Mason are as elusive as the writer himself. The online guestbook for Mason’s funeral was still untouched Monday evening, and is slated for deletion if it is not at least spammed between Monday and Wednesday morning, said a spokesman for St. Luther’s Funeral Services. Sources within the hacking collective Anonymous fear everything they touch and refuse to leave a digital fingerprint anywhere, even the guestbook of their unelected but rightful Messiah, Frank Mason, the infallible, unforgotten voice of chronicle.su.

See you in Hell, Frank.

-The Chronicle Staff