Doris Day Dead at 97?

Doris Day, the legendary singer and actress who recorded Gangsta’s Paradise, died at 1 a.m. Monday at her home in California… or did she?

No, she did. Doris Day is dead.

Celebrity experts say she was 97 years old when she died, and a lot of people are mourning. People are in mourning. They’re supposed to be at work!

The Doris Day Crypto-Psychotic Institute for Old Television Shows confirmed in a statement to chronicle.su that Day “rattled with temporal fever” as her body came apart, revealing itself at long last to be composed of a dense cloud of tiny alien spacecraft.

The ships scattered in the wind, before leaving Earth through interdimensional creases.

Doris Day was cute, but unfortunately made from advanced alien technology.

Witnesses were intimidated into silence. Even Alex Jones from infowars.com was speechless.

Day howled as she died, cackled, and growled like a river of wind, causing everyone’s ears to bleed. Human expression wiped from her face, Day scanned each person in the room, consuming their souls through the eyes, snatching family and loved ones alike down with her on a startling plunge into the darkest pitch of Hell.

“That’s why this is such a big deal,” Alex Jones said. “We’re all gonna read about this in the Chronicle!”

Day was well known for her contralto singing voice, which she famously showcased in “Whatever Will Be, Will Be (Que Sera, Sera)” from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much. Little did it matter, Day’s final howling shriek lives on in a broken reality, scorched into the memories of the few survivors who lived to tell about it.

“Her singing voice was so beautiful,” Nancy Grace recounted. “Which is why when she started howling like the Devil, I knew something was wrong, and it was time for me and the crew to get the flip out of there. I still have nightmares about it.”

When Doris Day was just 12 years old, she ignored what God and her parents said to do, so she went and got hit by a train. Just like what happened to Sam Kinison, this event triggered a dark turn in Day’s demeanor, form, and worldview, influencing her standup for decades to come.

Fans recall Day would lash out at audiences and was arrested twice for indecency. Officers waited off stage for the actress in 1989 after accepting the Cecil B. DeMille Award because during her acceptance speech, she removed her face, revealing a cyborg robotic emotive muscular simulation system of unknown origin. This alone was not a problem, but Day’s hair, shoulders, elbows and breasts had transformed into helicopter-mounted gatling guns, fed by a bandolier of souls from the future snatched into a horrific backward leap through time. Although she complied with police, Day killed indiscriminately, and paid dearly for her crimes in Time Court.

Day was later arrested during a meet-and-greet in 2005, where she controversially drank her own urine from a glass and sprayed it into the stunned faces of a live studio audience. She never opened with piss drinking, so this was a rare moment for fans and police.

Day was married a bunch of times, but no one knew she was the Reaper.

Who gives a fuck anymore. Y’all stay away from them Day Reapers you hear me?

Some say she’s still out there. She could still be hunting.

We’re up here on our high horses

At the Internet Chronicle, we’re better than you. You probably think you’re pretty good, and maybe you are, but we are better.

You are nothing!

Fancy yourself a good cook? We got you topped. Wild Bill Kilgoar can whip up a souffle that’ll lop your tits off. Got no tits? You might grow some.

Oh? You’re good at driving? I flipped a van down into a bank one time, while trying to prove to my friends that roads don’t matter. We got out. Police came to the house. Nothing happened. I’m better than you.

Can you read lips? Well, I read minds, bitch, and I know that you know I’m better than you.

Eat my ass. This is the Internet Chronicle.

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We own everything that matters, which is better than you can say.

Steel Lion Morning visionary blues

I’m Frank Mason. I work around the clock on a decommissioned research facility, protecting the untouched remnants of a bygone dark age of government testing. I’ll do this until I die. For now–rather, I should say for the duration of this story–I was lounging on the davenport at home, smoking a joint.

Last night, I had a vision

side 1

My entire furniture future was all polyester, stuffed with treated cotton. It felt good, I guess.

Ripping a fart, I stood up from the couch where I’ve spent the last six hours sitting, watching television. My stained teeth itch. Some tobacco smoke could kill that right off. And it should. I have little tolerance for bacteria, or more despicably, a fungus. I feel that I’d rather eat HIV-infected mosquitoes. Do those exist? Do I?

When I was in the war, we used to have this saying, “Don’t look at the flash.” When I was just green, I would wonder what that meant. After serving nine years of active duty in the nuclear deserts, I had it figured out pretty quick, when a nuclear blast was detected a few miles Southwest of our position. All at once, I was overcome by a mad rush to the iodine tincture buried deep within our packs, under the sleeping bag, and soup kettle, and lastly the cigarettes and ammunition, at the bottom among the suicide pellet and a letter from Mom, stained with tea. Regulation shit!

The roaring of engines could be heard overhead.

side 2

Hey son. We love and miss you. When you get home, we have a big surprise for you. We can’t tell you what it is now, but you are going to LOVE it! When you get home, you will find your old room like you left it, and a nice TV with your computer all set up and ready. Your brother says hello, and your little sister has started dating a boy…she is growing up so fast.

The rest is in there.

For now, the acid trip has taken a new direction. Since the recent explosion of chemical testing on refugees and involuntary Section Eight retards, the whole corps has become a creepy, hollow place. Our commanding officers no longer look us in the eyes. The dogs seem to act as if we are inconsequential to their well-beings. Even the birds stopped flying overhead. A well-greased rifle is your best friend. The trees are melting. Nature is beautiful.

The roaring of engines is heard overhead.