Peter King To Rescue Fear-Gripped Midwest From Shariah Law

Peter King
Peter King, Terrorist

WASHINGTON — Congressional defenders of the terrorist organization, People’s Mujahedin of Iran, continue to ensure a Middle East bereft of peace. After years and years of butthurt regarding the fundamentalist Islamic threat to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kansas and Oklahoma New York Representative Peter King has finally harnessed the hate in such a way that he will one day be elected President of the World. In so-called “flyover country,” paranoia has reached a fever pitch with regards to the immediate and overwhelming threat that shariah law surely poses to America’s heartland. While Christianity remains the predominant opiate of the massive masses, each burkha seen in public raises rational fears of Taliban oppression in America’s heartland.

Phone hackers revealed negotiations between the People’s Mujahedin of Iran and Peter King, in which the exchange of child sex-slaves for weaponry was discussed. King has responded with alarmist accusations that phone hackers targeted the families of 9/11 victims in order to deflect personal scandal and protect his position of power.

We here at the Chronicle support fundamental biblical literalism when it comes from the mouth of a male-only Christian black-metal band. Unless delivered in that context, we don’t grasp that whole religion thing. The bipartisan congressional coalition is walking a dangerous wire over what is really quite reasonable State Department policy categorizing the MEK as a murderous terrorist organization. The congressional allies are desperately trying to ratchet up Iran’s internal violence, validating groups like the Basij, the Iranian religious police, famous for firing live ammunition into angry mobs during the recent Green Revolution of the educated, elite Tehranian youth.

MEK’s allies in congress are known supporters of terrorism. Peter King has been instrumental in official US support for terrorist groups, not only with respect to the MEK, but also the Irish Republican Army, whose victims he is too cowardly to directly confront.

If we here at the Chronicle could have our druthers, maybe we would ask that women spend the whole of their public lives inside tightly-sealed cloth bags. We really don’t know the solution to dealing with moral time travelers (seriously, like the 13th century or something) like the Taliban. But we’re pretty sure that offering comfort and encouragement to those who indiscriminately target civilians with violence is a surefire way to undermine message control with the Westboro Baptist Church’s southwest-Asian franchise.

The way to get the theocrats to simply chill is no, not to bomb them further back into the Stone Age – but to get them watching David Letterman – learning that maybe a few Jews weren’t sent a text message warning them to leave Tower 2. They must discover for themselves the joys of celebrity gossip and the evils of orange people with bleach blonde hair. And if you look quite closely at Iranian society, you’ll see that the proverbial sticks in the mud are aware of this. “Occidentalosis,” the multilingual call it there, like it was a highly-resistant bacterial infection. And it is!

Secretary of State Clinton has been very adamant in her denial of United States interference in the contested Iranian elections and the resulting turmoil. But other State Department officials have confirmed the use of spies during the protests, equipped with illegal satellite phone technology which fueled the propagation of dissident-associated media. We here at the Chronicle utterly loathe the Internet-censoring agenda of Iran and any state that attacks this fundamental human right. The diplomatic arm of our government has been talking out of both sides of its mouth, and one side of the mouth is drawn up as a result of a massive stroke known as WikiLeaks. Americans are coming to terms with the fact their government acts as the leather straps on the rape table, holding them down so mega-corporations can fuck them easier. And they can’t blame it on anyone but themselves anymore. Now they must simply admit, “I don’t care about the news ‘n all that stuff’s goin’ on.” Don’t expect that to get “Late Show” top-10 lists on TV anytime soon.

It never fails to amaze that fundies of different stripes are each other’s worst enemies, when really they seem to want the same basic underlying goals for society: Women out of the workplace and homosexuals closeted or dead – from Gay Related Immune Deficiency, of course, not dead because they fought in the Army. The only “serious” differences in fundie types are alterations in the underlying cartoon narrative of anthropology, familial histories, flying men and talking donkeys.

Seriously, I’m utterly bewildered that I get into serious conversations with moderately-educated adults that round out with their insistence that bread can be transformed into the flesh of Christ, which they desperately want to consume. Cocksuckers. How did such complete dishonesty become perversely confused with piety? How many licks does it take to get to the center of that Tootsie Pop? How many sips of wine before I get GRID from the blood of Jesus?

Anyone outside fundamentalist ideology is rendered completely unable to reason with the actual, practical consequences of these dogmatic narratives, and moreover the people with the most in common, the fundies, are left without the obligation of any pragmatic purpose behind their regressive policies. The truth is the fundies of all stripes deserve to be killed by one another, and maybe they would have joined forces if not for the utterly ridiculous excuse they have concocted for the most ethnically-segregated day of the week. In America, we all know which one it is.

Organized religion is probably the slickest, most effective ad campaign for racial separatism. Ever. Earlier this year, Public Policy Polling unveiled a disturbing 400-person survey of Mississippi Republican primary voters, and it turns out that a fantasically-nauseating 46 percent of the participants were willing to tell a complete stranger on the phone that they believe that interracial marriage should be illegal. And we’re not particularly convinced that polling the buckle of the Bible belt’s Democrats would end up much better. The point remains the same: Religiosity and racial separatism, a match made in hell.

Support for the MEK is just another brash fury that will prove exactly counterproductive to the stated goals of the ongoing U.S. excursions into the Middle East. It will further fan the flames through its insidious, tacit insistence that Islam, not terrorism, is the source of evil on Earth and the equivalent of Satanism. And if Islam is the problem, we’re pretty sure terrorism, per se, is the far, far bigger one. Surely, if MEK’s congressional allies understood the degree to which even these Iranian secularists desire the legacy of Islam to at least play a cultural role in their government — they’re called the “mujahedin,” for crying out loud — they would have nothing to do with them. It would be the wrong reason for disassociation but it at least would be a reason.

Check Back for in-depth interviews with top Lebal Drocer executives who will explain why it is not only better, but completely necessary to die by the millions in never-ending war than live for one day in boring, agonizing peace.

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

Elderly woman dies 'on hold' with Verizon

The black heart of Capitalism struck again today when a seventy-five year old woman died after being put on hold four hours Friday afternoon.

“I think she was just trying to have her text messaging feature turned off,” said her grandson Jeremy, 14, who is an ‘avid texter’ himself.

Joanne, the woman’s daughter, requested that her mother not be named, because ultimately, her “untimely” death is rooted in on-going sexual abuse driven by unwelcome sexting received on a nightly basis by the elderly grandmother of seven.

Verizon appreciates your patience

On-scene paramedics claim the woman’s arthritis was “acting up,” which made holding the phone unbearable, causing her to “fall and then she couldn’t get up.” Without a LifeCall medical alarm system installed, she could only lay there waiting to die, listening to post-Manson Beach Boys, the sounds “possibly horrifically distorted by the effects of brain hemorrhage,” as one EMT described.

Found in her cold, dead hands
Found in her cold, dead hands

“We found a notepad,” said one detective. “It has basic addition and a little division scribbled down…it looks like [she] was calculating how much she is worth, and then divided that number by how many children there are.” He alleged her surviving kids might come and pillage her home.

Meanwhile, Joanne and two of her brothers could be seen carrying out a vacuum cleaner and several sets of fine china through the front door behind him.

Verizon refuses to pay reparations to the family, and are in fact billing them for the thousands of dollars’ worth of outstanding overages the woman collected by furiously accepting texts.

Still no files are being charged against the college-age chan users who triggered her death as they have reportedly made Verizon “loads of money,” a move which CEOs suggest could prove to be a lucrative, if not unpredictable, business model for the future.

Killing people and then charging them a bill? It’s gonna make us assloads of money.”
-Verizon guy

This one's on me, Roajoke.

Now, I don’t normally do this. Hell, I never do this. But if anyone’s got the right make fun of Roanoke, it’s either a current or former citizen. NOT some wackjob from Tucson, Arizona! They can’t even spell Tooson right.
Lost? You should be. Here’s the deal. Dolla Billz came across this lovely article, describing the journalistic abilities (or lack thereof) of one Jennifer Waddell, a former reporter in Roanoke. Oh, did I mention that she’s smokin hot on TV and even hotter in person? Hell, in journalism that’s like 85% of the job. Now, this article, posted by some crazed, no-life at a gay people community in Arizona, bashes Ms. Waddell for being biased and prejudice because of blah blah blah. What struck my rage vein was this quote:

“Perhaps that kind of biased and prejudicial reporting worked in Ms. Waddell’s native Roanoke, Virginia, but I hope she has learned that in Tucson it is not acceptable.”

Nah dude, I think not. Not while there is a Ronald W. Nitro on this planet will this shit fly. No one from Arizona is going to bash Roanoke nor (more importantly) Roanoke goddess, Jennifer Waddell like that. He should be thanking Heaven that she even moved out there. But that’s not my point. Point is good ol’ Kent Burbank, for mentioned douche, got a nice ragemail from me. “Will ya post it?” Pleeeeeeease. Who do you think I am? Dick Cheney?

This is in response to your lovely, childish post, “Wingspan Responds to Jennifer Waddell’s Sensationalistic Journalism.”
First of all, you need a hobby or something if a simple news story causes this type of child-like behavior, I.E. you calling for everyone to email, call, and bother her at any expense to complain. Get a life, dude.
Secondly, I’m not one hundred percent in love with the tone of this statement:
“Perhaps that kind of biased and prejudicial reporting worked in Ms. Waddell’s native Roanoke, Virginia, but I hope she has learned that in Tucson it is not acceptable. We hold our journalists to higher ethical and journalist standards.” – Yourself.
What’re you implying sir? What did Roanoke do to you? Did I miss something or is Roanoke the biased and prejudice capital of America? Do you recognize your contradiction here? You post a full article criticizing Ms. Waddell’s “prejudice” and then you lower yourself to the same level by assuming that Roanoke is a Mecca to prejudice values simply because Jennifer Waddell used to be a reporter there. Shame on you, Kent. If there was “Wingspan” type community for the citizens of Roanoke, you’d be on their list, pal! Why don’t you give me YOUR personal cell phone number so I can call and harass you for being prejudice? How’s that sound?
Two wrongs don’t make a right, you hypocrite. Just because there’s no cacti in VA doesn’t mean you have to jump to conclusions. And by the way, just for your information, I’ve met Jennifer Waddell in person when I was living in Roanoke, and she’s so beautiful that she could turn any gay guy straight. Maybe next time, open your eyes, close your ears, and please, for the internet’s sake, turn off your computer. For good. That’s all… for now.

You’re welcome.
Ronny Nitro
More on this story as it develops. Hopefully.