Internet Chronicle Ignites Race War: HELTER SKELETOR!!!!!

This man is our IDOL!!!!

Finally, we have ignited Helter Skelter. Our inflammatory and hateful divisive attacks on black celebrities have brought about a race war of trolling never seen even on 4chan. Welcome to a NEW LOW, Internet! And each day, hundreds of thousands of you fools swarm upon the simulated death of your beloved AKON, LIL WAYNE, or WHITNEY HOUSTON, but NEVER Kanye West. We MAKE SO MUCH DAMN MONEY DOING THIS! Thems Chronicle boys’ a’paid by the government, I tells ya!'”

Yes, we knew it would come to this from the very first day the Internet Chronicle was founded. HELTER SKELTER! FINALLY!!!!

Charles Masnon was just another LULZ extremist just like us. Lulz! LUzl1! WE gonna hack your brains n’ control you litle fuxors ta DDoS teh Government!!!!

I wrote a letter to Charles Manson and asked him the best way to control people, and he said “It’s the Internet, dummy,” so I fed the internet a continuous dose of LSD. And lies.

Now the entire Internet is eating out of my hands, scrambling desperately for my sweet nectar of explanation. None of this makes sense, Anonymous is just destroying human rights. The 9/11 truthers are killing my GOD DAMN anti-war movement with their POISONOUS double false flag conspiracy.

God Damn America!

Rest in Pain, Andrew Breitbart!

Have an eternally dry cock, Rush Limbaugh!

GO TO HELL, ANONYMOUS!

TAKE YOUR “PEACE” AND SHOVE IT, OCCUPY!!!!!

WE GOT A FULL ON RACE WAR A BREWIN’

WE ARE THE INCITERS

WE STARTED IT

IT WILL NEVER END!!!!!!!!!11111!!1

 

WE’ve GOT PURE RACISM!

UNLIMITED SEXISM!!!!!

DEATH RAPE GORE PORN HELL MMORPG!!!!!

+100xp Rape

+33hp Heart Eat Regeneration Spell

-222mp Ejaculation

Fanfiction: Righteous Indignation – Excuse Me While I Rape The World!

An Andrew Breitbart fanfiction

“No, Mr. Breitbart. Please!”Victim of Andrew Breitbart

Andrew Breitbart’s stringy gray hair was greased back with sweat as he loomed over a child, heaving and groaning. In his shadow, the small boy covered his naked shame with both hands and fixed his eyes on the wall, where a picture of Jesus was hung. He was supposed to meet a star.

Through blurry tears, the fresh boy pleaded silently into a haze of pastel colors, bargaining with the figure in a helpless bid to take away the blinding pain he knew was coming again, and again. The picture, slightly a shift, just stared back.

“Please,” he mewed. “Don’t.”

Breitbart reached under his well-fed and sagging One Percent gut where he fished around in an area of fat – barely distinguishable as a human crotch – to release his flaccid member from an outcropping of silvery pubic hair, and he peed on the child. Neither said a word.

Breitbart wiped coke from his mustache, then lost his balance, collapsing into sturdy hotel furniture, driving a chair into the wall with a thud and a smoker’s cough. He quickly regained his composure, squinting to combat double vision toward the bed where a guest with backstage passes cowered palely in the fetal position. Across the floral pattern of a posh Hilton comforter, the child seemed a rare delicacy served up on a platter of foliage among which he was the flower.

“Spread ‘em,” commanded Breitbart through the darkness. “Roll over, and spread.”

The boy looked about seven, or maybe nine. His dad was a staunch supporter of the Second Amendment and admired Breitbart’s throbbing tirades against the Fourth Estate, who just lie to propagate the Jewish agenda. “Nothing but the best for my boy! Let him spend an afternoon with a real American hero, and see what a modern businessman does.” This was nothing new. The man was secretly afraid his son might be “turning into a faggot,” so he once bought him passes to the New York Giants locker room after their 2012 victory against the Patriots.

The boy rolled over and, with uncomfortable familiarity, did as he was told.

“Mm, good,” burped Breitbart, pumping his limp genitalia. “Now what does Daddy say about Reagan? You know the presidents, boy?”

“Reagan was a good president!” he recited tremulously.

“He was the best!” roared the conservative orator. “He won the fucking Cold War. He beat the Commies!” Breitbart was now sporting a self-supporting second stage erection, which he aimed at the child. But the young boy had not proven his loyalty to Reagan well enough to satisfy Breitbart.

“You like Star Wars?” Breitbart cajoled the child who still lay submissively on the bed. “Like the movies?”

“I like Jar Jar,” he said in a lighter tone. His muscles relaxed as the TV star and author appealed to his love for science fiction.

“Yeah, Ronald Reagan knew Star Wars. And with it, he scared those rubes into submission!” Breitbart pulsated, allowing a single drop of conviction to seep out, forming a clear bead. “Thanks to Ronald Reagan, we didn’t have to fire a shot.”

“Reagan liked Star Wars?” The boy was confused.

Breitbart dropped to his knees on the bed and positioned himself directly over the quivering mass of dry, supple flesh, which assumed innocent passivity. And reeking of fermentation, Andrew breathed hotly into his left ear, “Yeah. Reagan liked Star Wars.”