Categories
Health Sports

Silence your opponent with a life-stopping kick to the heart

A TALE OF INTRIGUE THAT COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE

An Historically Accurate Picture of Life on the American Frontier

The year is 1850. The nation is young, as Lady Liberty battles the Indian menace, and Americans tame the land.

The Internet Chronicle is awake to the struggle, therefore this history is not written by the so-called victors.

While defending from foreign invaders, Comanche leader Shot Hutcheson and his team of savages had been tracking a ragtag group of explorers, led by snake oil salesman Angstrom H. Troubadour, Sr.

Do not let his job title fool you. Selling snake oil was – at that time – an honorable, and lucrative profession.

“We were mastering a form of tantric masturbation that is so good, the body would never need or want to jerk off again,” Troubadour said. “That’s just how good it was.”

The legend goes that Hutcheson wanted that formula not only for himself, but for his nation, too. The white man’s swagger, he noted, was undeniable.

“I thought to myself, let’s see if they still have that swagger without their horses,” Hutcheson said, “in the desert heat, with no food to eat, no water to drink. With nothing else but their precious, essential oils.”

Unfortunately, Troubadour and his team of honkies would lose their horses early on, after Comanche scouts crept into their encampments, cut the reigns, and scared the beasts of burden away with war-like yipping and howling, as well as by firing the rifles they’d wrenched away from the dead hands of European frontiersman. Many killed themselves with those very guns, because they knew that to die by their own hands was better than being captured alive by Comanche scouts.

Hutcheson and his unit tracked the marooned team of imperialist merchants, mercenaries and explorers from the hills.

“We followed them for nearly 200 miles until the first of the frontiersmen collapsed in the desert. Soon, more followed,” Hutcheson said. “We had them fucked up good.”

For several more weeks that remained true, until the night of the final attack.

Beauregarde Troubadour Senior, ancient war technique: “Silence your opponent with a life-stopping kick to the heart!”

Dr. Beauregard “Angstrom” H. Troubadour, Esq. first became enamored with the idea of stopping the heart by kicking someone in the chest, after learning the location of the human heart in Apothecary School. “That’s where it is?” he asked. “I bet one swift kick in the spurs would take care of that.”

Troubadour narrowly escaped defeat as he began to administer controlled, medical kicks to the heart.

“I was battling my Indian opponents when I realized I could jeopardize their savage enterprise to paralyze and end my life if only I localized one life-stopping kick to the heart,” Troubadour said. “I just started kicking.”

“I just started kicking.” During a single incident Troubadour kicked more than 75 people to death. Engraving by the late Louise Troubadour.

Over the ensuing battle, while sick and dehydrated, overheating, and failing from exhaustion, historians estimate that Troubadour kicked to death more than 75 enemy combatants.

Many, found with sternums caved in, appeared to have died from a single blow to the heart.

Military historians have brought word of the technique to the attention of high-ranking generals in the American armed forces.

General Gh. Kennedy of the US Army said modern strategy is built on the wars of the past.

“Science is bullshit hocus pocus anyway, so we’re looking to history to inform and enhance the global atrocities we want to commit today,” he said. “A single kick to the heart, huh? Just think of what those fucked up, kicking dogs from Boston Dynamics could do with that data. We in the Army–and I know folks in the State Department–are enthusiastic about this new mode of killing.”

Detractors have expressed concerns that women and minorities have fallen pray to the Troubadour lineage, arguing that the family should not be lionized. One academic said Troubadour, Sr. should have been hanged for his role in multiple American genocides.

Crane Course, 59, is Professor Emeritus of Women’s Studies at Lebal Drocer University. He gives lectures that place him squarely at the focus of the material, making everything about himself, and his office hours extend well into the night. Course says the manner in which Troubadour, Sr. treated the Native population was “barbaric beyond words,” and he added that they also did not treat their women very well.

“I would have been much nicer to everyone,” Course said. “Especially the women. I am often reminded of the John Lennon quote. What women are, to the world. Me? I do not see women like that. I would have been good to them.”

Course said his appearance in this story, much like his overall existence, feels a little pinned on at the end, but he said he is grateful for the work, and loves any exposure.

“Women need to understand I’m more than a tail,” he said. “I’m the whole donkey.”

Editor’s Note: Dr. Troubadour does not accept HMO, medicare, medicaid or Humana insurance. He is a cruel, calculating businessman who only cares about YOUR health.

“I disavow everything my great grandfather did.”

— Dr. Angstrom H. Troubadour

Categories
Law Science

New legislation could silence all animal and wildlife sounds

 

Are you sick of the birds?

Are you tired of hearing those damn stupid crickets?

You did not just tell a bad joke.
It is the crickets who should die.

Your voices have been heard, President Biden said during a Labor Day speech on Monday.

“Who among us has not been affected by this?” he asked a room of confused reporters in the West Wing. “Do you not hear the cicadas right now? Listen, folks.”

Biden is readying the US for an unprecedented confrontation with Nature itself.

State and county leaders are asking constituents to “catch up with progress.”

Some municipalities have done nothing to prepare, while others have put sonic offensive weapons on order, that will drive critters out using frequencies undetectable by the human ear.

The country is responding to a bill moving through congress that would instate a blanket, midnight curfew for all wildlife across the continental United States, ordering the creatures to be quiet, and stay home.

An amendment could extend the legislation to Alaska and Hawaii, where there are fucking loud, continuous ocean noises.

Hawaii state attorney Stan K. Ridgedon said he would be satisfied if he never heard a wave crashing upon the beach again.

“It is powerful legislation, with full bipartisan support,” Ridgedon said. “From the heights of the Rockies to the valleys of ancient Appalachia, they’ve heard enough, and they’re putting a stop to it. We deserve the same rights. Now I’m going to have to call you back, I’m sorry, I can’t hear anything over these fucking seagulls.”

According to the bill, any bugs or animals heard chirping, squeaking, or singing, or is found out after midnight, is to be killed on site, by anyone, by any means necessary.

“We’re going to quieten everything down,” Biden said. “It’s gotten very loud.”

Jeane Paddy, 54, owns a soybean farm and recently bought a fully automatic assault rifle from Walmart. Ralph, a helpful employee, assisted her in fitting a customized holographic scope to the weapon, efficient for killing varmints.

“I’m getting fitted for my bandolier next Tuesday,” Paddy said. “If this is what it’s going to take so I don’t have to hear those songbirds chirping every day then, sweetheart, you can call me Patriot Paddy. We got a war to win.”

The owls over Paddy’s barn, she said, will hoot no more.

The Internet Chronicle was invited out to Paddy’s ranch in Vermont to hear what a difference this bill could make. Sitting across from the staff were Paddy’s children Biff, 12, and Judy, 7. Their faces lit up with hope when the newsmen came to see.

Paddy had them demonstrate lines from Hamlet, in which Biff is starring for a fall production.

After a late dinner, the kids ran around laughing and playing in the yard. Paddy squinted into the sunset, concentrating hard not to hear the birds.

The sun started down, and the mourning doves sang their final tune.

The kids were sent inside to have a snack before bedtime. Paddy, standing by the front door, loaded an extended magazine into her rifle, slung across one shoulder and decorated with Hello Kitty stickers.

With no formality, Paddy quickly went outside. Over the next few minutes, the children finished their cookies and milk in the dining room, and were talking about school, when the conversation was suddenly interrupted by gunfire.

With hands folded on the large oak table in front of them, the light left their eyes for a moment, as the first shot rang out. Judy flinched. Biff stared forward.

Another shot.

The gaze on the children’s faces fell to the table.

Over the next half hour, more than 40 shots were fired as they got themselves ready for bed. Not a word was spoken in the household, as day turned to night.

Another 30 minutes later, and Paddy returned, the hair dancing on her red cheeks in the entrance. She was shaking leaves out of a hat as she closed the door behind her.

“Hear that?” she said with a grin. “All quiet!”

A mass burn event is scheduled for Friday, September 9 at county fairgrounds in various states.

Locals are invited to haul out your kills and chuck ’em on a pile of what is sure to be a lot of dead animal carcasses. Drive on through, or stay and enjoy the burn.

Check your local courthouse for details. Bring the family, but be quiet.

Categories
News

Kilgoar missing from site after Elon Musk purchases Internet Chronicle

Known genius “kilgoar” has been missing for a short time, and is assumed dead.

INTERNET—After more than three days, authorities have called off the manhunt for kilgoar, as he is assumed dead.

#ForgetKilgoar is trending on Twitter by adherents to Musk brand of nihilism as militia group Muskrats calls for his head on a stake.

Friends and family insist the Internet Chronicle journalist “kilgoar” is still alive, and authorities have hope his remains can be

Kilgoar is gone. Elon Musk bought Chronicle. He is bouncing me on his knee.

Who is kilgoar, anyway?