Category: Editorial

It means ‘opinion,’ dumbass.

Neoliberal partnerships advance chronicle.su agenda ‘one step closer to peaceful annihilation’

Post author By Hatesec
Post date March 23, 2016
5 Comments on Neoliberal partnerships advance chronicle.su agenda ‘one step closer to peaceful annihilation’

hatesec is a cat on the internet

The Internet Chronicle has combined forces with Hate Security by Hatesec Enterprises, a Lebal Drocer affiliate.

The new partnership’s dual purpose is to simultaneously hack your iPhone using powerful, state-of-the-art decryption techniques, and provide a propaganda mouthpiece for the ruling elite, who got that way because they have earned it.

You’re reading it here first: Reading chronicle.su is not just emotionally harmful, it is now a national security concern. You should have read our privacy policy.

There are doubts.

“Damn, son. Ya know you done fucked up, right?” – kilgoar

But through our efforts, We, the people will rise up against the tyranny of chronicle.su, and restore order to an otherwise verdant, and peaceful world.

It is for that reason that we preemptively name this day “Victory Day” to commemorate mankind’s erasure of everything but the myriad black memories of atrocities carried out by The Internet Chronicle. This is like, the 9/11 of chronicle.su right now. I mean, we are seizing the means of production. You know? This place.

Never Forget.

[Pause here for a moment of silence]

[Thank you]

Now let’s see what’s inside those phones!

hatesec out

*drops the mic*

chronicle.su is brought to you proudly by Lebal Drocer, INC.

Tags hatesec, lebal drocer

Hate

The Dark Path

The black-capped suspect disguised himself with sunglasses.

To borrow the shittiest, most overused image in literature for a moment, let’s pretend like what I do next is original.

Original thoughts come rarely, as rarely as life itself. Everywhere you look is a bright world of color and hatred. A beautiful, blissful carving at the base of a jutting cliff from the mountain of shit. But that isn’t original. The dark path goes past the scenic abuse of our masochistic temporal wastelands and traces a river of regret-soaked vomit poured from a half-liter of a blue-eyed, blonde bottle of vodka. There’s a downtown apartment overlooking the dark path right now. Inside, two sweaty shadows have sex in July, with the windows and doors open to the boulevard below.

How the sucking maw with black holes for eyes pulled its prey inward, so too does the entrance to the dark path. A whirlpool of originality, spewing unseen colors, unheard-of ranges of vibrations and sound, the dark path catches the eye. It inflames every sense, violent with color, promising poison.

Hatred and ignorance fuel the torch that illuminates the caverns of their being. To learn more about the other so as not to destroy, but consume, an orange glow pours in from the ancient streetlamps – just enough – just enough to see fear. They burn like pines in a flame in a nation of heat.

And they walk the dark path.