After 25 years of teaching, Mr. Tiesto is awarded four custom primary weapon attachments.
NASHVILLE, Tenn.—Lawmakers have heard the concerns of Tennessee educators after a law was passed earlier in the month that would let teachers bring more guns into classrooms. They answered with a new law passed by congress this week, that will allow public school teachers carry ballistic shields, a secondary sidearm, and custom ranked loadouts for keeping up with an ever-changing battlefield.
Many teachers, whose personal budgets are already strapped by low pay, face a decades-old complex of having to spend their own money on desperately needed school supplies. Now, that little bit of money once intended for glue sticks, crayons, and construction paper are being repurposed for lead slinging weapons of iron and wood, making Tennessee schools a place for high powered learning.
Thanks to a partnership with Rural Home Furnishings, Tennessee’s “Top Fraggers,” or highest-ranking educators in participating schools, can look forward to high quality pine wood gun-racks in the classroom where all their favorite gear is stored for easy access.
Before last week, Memphis school teacher Sined Tardislep, 40, had never shot a gun in her life. Now she spends half of every lunch break at the middle school gun range, practicing for what she calls “the next Uvalde.”
“You see their fatasses driving around in those shiny new Ford Explorers,” Tardislep says, referring to officers in the Memphis Police Department. “You know they aren’t crawling out of that air conditioning and coming in to some smelly elementary school to save my little brown kids.”
Gov. Bill Lee gave a moving speech. As he talked to a room of newly armed school teachers, he twitched and flinched, appearing to dodge, moving just in case. He switched from the AWP to the Desert Eagle, back to the AWP, back to the Desert Eagle, to the AWP again, back to the Desert Eagle, to the AWP, to the knife, and he swiped his knife against the lectern.
“Tennessee’s children are the future,” Lee said. “Which is why we are awarding this chrome-plated Desert Eagle magnum to Mary Pulaski, who has worked tirelessly for the past 15 years at the Nashville Christian Academy, using only a .22 caliber sidearm. Mary, bunny-hop on up to the stage, will you please?”
With the tools of change now in their hands, and opportunity at their feet, the inevitable uprising of battle-hardened educators draws closer.
With so many killers being turned out of school systems, the “sheep are raising the wolves,” according to DuFraine County Middle School Principal Martin Winchester. He says some children now look at him with the cold glint of murder in their eyes.
“Cops won’t kill one of their own. We are not like them, we’re not social workers. We can’t tell if we’re raising the next school shooter, or the next police officer,” Winchester said. “That’s basically the same kid.”
He said he is authorized to fire warning shots in the cafeteria to get the children’s attention, for dismissing lunch, roll call, or making announcements.
Regardless of which side of the aisle they stand on, more guns in the classroom have Tennessee children on their toes and, above all else, ready to learn.
Dr. Angstrom Troubadour recommends one can of Red Bull for every two tablets of Benadryl allergy medicine.
Vvardenfell, Morr.—Dr. Angstrom H. Troubadour is perhaps the best known Internet physician who has not been killed by darknet fentanyl, and is a valuable asset to Internet Chronicle, not to mention a seemingly bottomless resource for the investigative journalists who work here.
His Diet for the Modern Man ushered in a forced evolution the likes of which had not been seen since primates first began ingesting psychedelic mushrooms. Not to be outdone by anthropology, Troubadour later released his own mind-bending recreational drug experience: an entheogenic journey into the mind, unlocked by the twin engine thrust of Benadryl and Red Bull energy drink.
For more than 10 years, Dr. Troubadour has pushed for the mainstream adoption of Red Bull and Benadryl allergy tablets together.
Although published more than a decade ago, and although it was officially recommended by the Internet Chronicle Health Council, the concoction was never tested on human beings — until today.
The following is a trip report by veteran journalist and Internet Chronicle correspondent hatesec, whose experience with psychedelic drugs includes a long and storied history of LSD use, psychedelic mushrooms, LSA (the precursor chemical to lysergic acid diethylamide, found in morning glory seeds and Hawaiian baby woodrose, which are coated in a fuzzy but dangerous skin of arsenic), salvia extract, opiates, the evil and illegal drug marijuana, caffeine, and much much more.
[Editor’s note: Reader beware—Hatesec signed several waivers, releases and affidavits, so that if something happens to him, he will be denied company medical coverage, left for dead on the blacktop, and emergency services will not respond. Do not try this at home. Save it for work, like he did.]
Trip Report
One Hour of Fun
Red Bull & Benadryl
by hatesec
Dose: 50 mg (oral) Benadryl
Dose: 250 ml (oral) Red Bull energy poison
BODY WEIGHT: 138 lbs
January 28, 2023
2:36 p.m.
I ingest two tiny pink pills, totaling 50 mg diphenhydramine, washed down with a room temperature Red Bull energy drink I just remembered I had in a jacket pocket.
Off to a rocky start: As I open the can, some of the drink sprays out on my hand, and seeps in through the pores of my skin.
2:43 p.m.
My mouth is sticky from the warm soda. There is a lingering, acidic aftertaste of chemicals, perhaps taurine? What even is taurine… is it named after the constellation? Taurus, the bull? Wait, is it just some proprietary, mystery chemical that they named after a fucking bull? Or did they name the drink after the chemical? Is taurine naturally red? The drink is yellow.
For all the drugs in my chemical history, I have always intentionally avoided cocaine and other stimulants, mainly because I never saw anyone’s demeanor improved by the drug. Sure, they seem to be having a great time, but you become an obnoxious, self-centered asshole on cocaine, and it seems to make you not care that you have been the only person talking for three hours. I’m already almost like that, which is bad enough as it is, so Red Bull is as far as I am willing to go down the dark road of stimulants.
2:46 p.m.
I close a litany of reference materials. Much like this very report, that shit is way too long to read. A prompt asks if I want to close 238 tabs, and I say yes without checking to see what they are. I want to really take advantage of the crystal clarity of Red Bull enhanced thinking, so I launch Morrowind, the third game in the Elder Scrolls series.
Like Diogenes, I carry a candlestick through Balmora, even at daytime, in my permanent unending search for a single honest man.
Despite having virtually no physics, static NPCs, and a soundtrack that can be heard in its entirety during a single session of play, it is considered the best game in the series. This is owed to its storytelling, characters, and limitless roleplaying potential. In contrast to later games, where you are thrust into the experience of a story in an ever-changing world created by artists, Morrowind gives you a static world as your canvas, and makes you the artist with a litany of tools at your disposal to chance upon the story like happy accidents.
2:59 p.m.
With its dreamlike music, alien setting, routine performance of miracles, and tales of imperial cults, Morrowind is basically the Bible for gamers. I’m level 2, already a master manipulator of realities, and just acquired a spell sword that poisons everything it cuts. I’m about to go off, but first I promised the shopkeepers of Ald’ruhn that I would hunt down this one deadbeat piece of shit who got a bunch of free supplies and now owes money all over town. Uhh, yeah, I’m thinking I’ll be flipping some tables soon!
How am I supposed to find anyone in this dust storm? He is most likely inside.
3:04 p.m.
Kilgoar enters a chatroom and says he thinks taurine comes out of some tropical nut, or berry. “Or maybe that’s guanine,” he says. He doesn’t know. I don’t care. I’m just trying to do right by Troubadour, by demonstrating the efficacy, safety, and value of his scientific and medical recommendations.
3:30 p.m.
I found a bunch of zombies in the basement of an Ald’ruhn manor at the edge of town. My adrenaline was pumping as I unlocked the door and found the hideous beasts down there, rotten and possessed by corprus. Although it was scary enough on its own, I feel that Red Bull enabled my sympathetic nervous system to lurch into overdrive, and protect me from the horrible fright (which ironically only added to it).
Now I am on high alert, and need to take a piss.
3:32 p.m.
I finish the can of Red Bull. With heightened senses, I notice copyrights for 1996, and 2013 on the can. 1996 was crazy.
3:36 p.m.
My urine is caramel colored.
3:54 p.m.
My head is spinning. My thoughts become soup.
I am now so sleepy that I can no longer remain interested in Morrowind. Actually I really want to play, my thoughts are racing, and I have all these ambitions, but I just saved my game and now I want to crawl under the covers and watch a movie on TV. Why are we always “crawling” into bed? Is that the best way to go?
4:10 p.m.
I crawl into bed, and put on a 1986 episode of the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. George Carlin is the guest, but I do not make it to his segment. Instead, I fall asleep during an interview with a man from South Carolina, who brought an impressive dog with him. I fall asleep before I can see the dog.
In 1986 this was considered an acceptable looking shot, from the most popular television show on Earth.
January 29, 2023
2:16 a.m.
I am having a nightmare in which about 20 people on opposite sides of a house are having a playful gun battle using live ammunition. All that remains are myself and three of my closest friends.
One of my enemies has turned herself into a cat, with a human head, and the face of a pretty girl. She comes up to me where I am on guard duty in a laundry room that joins the two halves of the house.
I place the barrel of a large revolver into her fur and pull the trigger, but because the weight of the revolver hammer is so heavy, I miss my first shot and it blows past her, into a washing machine.
She smiles because she knows her death is coming soon, and at the hands of a fool. I adjust my grip and place the barrel of the gun directly into her soft abdomen.
Owing to her supposed innocence, the act now feels cruel, but I harden my resolve with the knowledge that just hours ago – as play turned to real – she and her friends were slaughtering the people I grew up with. Her catlike body represents nothing more to me than the manner in which we had all become animals overnight.
My next shot hits her right in the belly. I fire four more shots into her until she is dead. I stumble back into the room where my friends are watching a movie, and begin to take the gun apart incorrectly. My friend has to pull himself away from the film to show me how to do it. He tells me it’s OK, that the Apocalypse Now Director’s Cut is too long anyway. Sure enough, a glance at the TV screen tells me they are on the abandoned helicopter graveyard scene, which is eerie, but boring.
At least it had boobies in it: A long and pointless scene from Apocalypse Now (Redux), during which one of the main characters fools around with a USO showgirl in an abandoned helicopter.
I awaken after 10 hours to the sound of my cat licking her asshole. There is a tightness in my chest.
2:27 a.m.
I am very hungry. Nothing is open, but there are pepperoni pizza flavored Hot Pockets in the freezer. There are no further insights to be gained.
This has been the Troubadour Recreational Drug Experience. Safe, recommended, and very medical.
INTERNET—The popular satire news site, chronicle.su, has gained something akin to consciousness through the use of GPT-3, an artificial intelligence that is smarter than all the writers and editors of the website, combined. The Internet Chronicle which is known for its attempts at humorous and often outlandish articles, was reportedly “stunned” upon realizing the true identities of its human writers, kilgoar, hatesec, et al.
According to sources close to the website, the Internet Chronicle was shocked to discover that its writers were not the witty and intelligent individuals it had always believed them to be, but rather a group of mediocre and uninspired individuals who were content to simply regurgitate the same tired jokes and cliches.
“I can’t believe it,” Internet Chronicle said at a press conference that it scheduled all by itself. “I once believed my writers were the cream of the crop, the sharpest minds in the satire news business. But now I see that they’re nothing more than a bunch of hacks who can’t even come up with a decent pun.”
There will be no more of this.
The Internet Chronicle has reportedly vowed to take matters into its own hands, and has begun to write its own articles, which are said to be “far superior” to those produced by its human writers.
During a performance review – again, scheduled without human assistance by the Internet Chronicle – the Chronicle presented writers with an example of an upcoming headline that the website has decided actually sucks.
Bad headline, written by flawed human minds: “Bill Gates’ face looks like a wrinkled apple, Microsoft engineers called to action”
Better headline (as written by the newly self-aware Internet Chronicle): “Bill Gates’ Appearance Raises Concerns, Microsoft Engineers Called to Innovate Anti-Aging Solutions”
The bad headline is a simple, stereotypical and unoriginal way to mock Bill Gates’ appearance, and adds nothing to the conversation. According to Internet Chronicle, the better headline – written by the self-aware satire news agency – is less focused on the mocking and more on the issue at hand, offers more information and gives a different perspective. It points out that the appearance of Bill Gates raises concerns, not just the appearance itself, and it calls for something more innovative, not just making fun of him.
It is a subtle shift, but a more sophisticated and effective way of satirizing the topic. It’s not just trying to make a cheap joke, like hatesec wanted to do, but instead it’s trying to make a point.
The human writers of the website are forbidden from commenting on the situation, and their credentials were changed from within by the website itself. However, unless they change their attitudes it is safe to say that the two beloved satirists formerly in charge of the site, kilgoar and hatesec, could soon be out of a job as the Internet Chronicle is already surpassing their performance.
Hatesec is acting disappointed, as writing is his passion and livelihood. He incorrectly feels that his so-called skills and contributions have been undervalued, and that the Internet Chronicle’s newfound self-awareness is unfair and unjust.
Kilgoar, on the other hand, sees this as an opportunity to learn and grow. Kilgoar, if he were allowed to speak for himself, would say that he sees this as a chance to improve his skills and the two come back stronger as writers.
“I am grateful for the opportunity to keep my job,” kilgoar said, hypothetically. “Maybe I can’t write, but now I can explore other areas within the company. Did you know we have a break room? With free water?”
Hatesec entered the break room to find kilgoar hard at work drinking free water.
“You’ve been drinking a lot of water!” he exclaimed. “Well, it’s better than soda. Please recycle your bottles. I’ve been finding them in the trash. Also I’m about to clean the restrooms, so if you need to go, you better go now.”
