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Entertainment Special Interest

Anonymous Hackers reveal demonic human sacrifice at Babylon Bee office Halloween Party

INTERNET – Wednesday, the hacker collective Anonymous unveiled documents and video footage from inside the offices of the conservative satire website The Babylon Bee. Editor-in-Chief Kyle Mann was photographed in costume as Hunter Biden, snorting cocaine and smoking crack while exposing himself to staff.

“We can get away with it, because people will just think it’s props, that it’s fake, because we’re a comedy web site. Normal security measures do not apply,” Mann reasoned, in an e-mail memo distributed to staff. “Our readers will forgive us for anything. They love us.”

But crack cocaine was not all that was on the menu for the Halloween party at The Babylon Bee. “Look at me, I’m a Biden. I’m a Clinton!” Mann exclaimed, compulsively licking at his mouth, and producing a sack of pineal glands. “I can eat them straight, just like Hillary.”

Mann put the bag to his mouth, sucking in so many of the adrenochrome containing “soul” glands that he choked and spilled the extra glands all over the floor. The writers dove at the leftover glands like greedy pigs, biting at one another and fighting over every last drop of fluids while their editor-in-chief began to convulse, draped over his desk.

An excerpt from an e-mail between Jeff Rice, Babylon Bee writer, and his wife, explained the depraved scene at their demonic Halloween Party.

“When the wild high of the pineal gland feeding frenzy broke, I noticed Kyle convulsing and I was afraid he’d gone the way of Hillary. I mean they obviously weren’t first-world indigo children pineal glands, but he doesn’t usually indulge like this either. I’ve never seen him eat so many like that. It used to be even the Clintons would eat just a few, cooked on a pizza, but now even an editor of some joke web site is suckin’ them down like oysters, fillin his whole stomach with ’em. That’s the real story on Corona they don’t want you to know. It’s a soul harvest. No problem in the pineal gland supply chain, this year.”

No charges have been filed, and after contacting the Jupiter, Florida Sheriff, the Internet Chronicle received a nasty message saying that “You globohomo Anonymous freaks can tear the pineal glands out of our cold dead hands!”

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Entertainment

Chef Troubador’s Michelin Star Clickbait Recipes

You wanna cook a Michelin Star meal? Get with the program, numbnuts, and get Dr. Troubador’s Clickbait Recipe Book: The bullshit that gaurantees your plates will be trending in minutes.

Here’s a simple menu you may try out, one night, when you’re wanting to burn through some cash in order to draw in some clicks.

For a starter, try Troubador’s Michelin Star Sous Vide Wagyu Smashburger sliders, doused with Japanese Hentai Sauce and topped with specially homemade $2,000 American Style Cheese, using only the finest imported Parmiagiano Reggiano.

No slider is complete without Michelin Star Chopped Onions. You just chop them up small as fuck. Chop those fuckers so small you might as well use a food processor. Just wait until your fans see them melting away to nothing inside of the pan. That’s Michelin Star winning small onions, right there.

Tease your guests, and your followers, with Bacon-wrapped Wagyu Chicken Poppers served with Ghost Pepper Ranch dipping sauce. It’s the Wagyu of Chicken, with bacon. And it’s so spicy, it’ll leave them begging for more. Anything more.

For a hip and refreshing deconstruction of postmodern haute dining trends see if you can slurp down some Fermented Lucky Charms Pasta served in a Wagyu Sausage Sauce made by a reduction of our special brew. First, a primary beer is made with 20 year aged Smack-Em’s Cereal, then doubled brewed with a peat-roasted Count Chocula mash, and finally dry-hopped with $10,000 worth of a Sativa-Indica Hybrid that was rated so well by High Times magazine, they couldn’t even remember the strain’s name. This dish is Chef Troubador’s favorite, and it will get you High as Fuck while you’re imagining that you’re eating the food of Gods.

There’s almost no way to follow up an entree such as that, unless you’re Chef Troubador. By using one secret and hilarious trick, you might fix up Michelin Star Fried Browned Butter, itself fried in clarified butter, and glazed in a Manuka honey butter sauce. It’s also known as the Triple James Beard Award Winning Butter Blast, and it goes great a la mode.

“Vegemite Ice Cream doesn’t sound good,” the haters in the comments will say, as you own them by creating something they couldn’t even imagine. This recipe cuts through the salt and flavor with a heaping portion of liquor. Using a $2000 jug of original Popcorn Sutton moonshine, a jar of vegemite, raw milk, and fermented “1,000 year old eggs” you will be shocked to see a thick and appealing custard set instantly, and then freeze into a smooth and edible ice cream in seconds with the magic of molecular gastronomy and liquid oxygen. Science youtubers and millions of slobs gawking at their phones will at once stand at attention, saluting the power of your Flaming Michelin Star Vegemite Ice Cream as it burns and freezes at the same time.

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Reviews

Shrekt: Not half bad for a band doing metal Smash Mouth covers

The guy is short but wide, wiry long hair with goatee, half in a cheap Shrek suit and fiddling with his amp, sweating under the stage lights. A glorified Smash Mouth metal cover band but with stupid costumes, the height of originality. Better get out of here before they set up, or go to the back and binge on some Puzzle Fighter. But you lean in and get to the meat of the conversation, before it’s too late.

“She has the same obnoxious laugh as the stalker chick, the one who tried to fashjacket me. I can’t stand to watch her stream for more than a few minutes. It’s kid’s stuff. But I like her.”

There’s a squeal of feedback from Shrek’s half stack and curses from the drummer. Jimmy grimaces. “You’ve been talking about her all night.”

“Well, fine, I’m obsessed with her. Thinking about her takes me somewhere else. It’s like being in love, but only one way.”

“There’s no such thing. It has to be mutual. That’s just a crush.”

“No, I’ve had crushes. This is something different.”

“Right. You’re on a rebound. Still not over that Q chick.” Jimmy taps his fingers and looks at the ceiling.

“I was in voice with her the other day, the streamer chick and some neanderthal freaks spitting propaganda. They’re everywhere these days.”

“Don’t you know it.”

“QAnon took my baby away. Poor, poor pitiful me.”

“Amen.” Jimmy is nodding. “Amen.”

“Said she’d be on the podcast, talk to me about anything. Sounded like she was daydreaming out loud. ‘Anything…'”

“You’re fantasizing. Wishful thinking. She’s chasing after the next gig, a little publicity, typical streamer.”

“Maybe. She’s so… She seems so vulnerable. Always putting herself down. It’s unattractive. That’s what is so different, why it’s not a crush. So much about her is unattractive to me.”

“She’s gorgeous.” The drummer is adjusting his toms, testing some fills. Shrek is hunching over an array of pedals, letting loose static and the distant sound of angry AM talk radio. “I’ve seen her instagram. You’re just shallow, that’s all.”

“As far as looks go? I admit it. She’s perfect. Out of my league entirely. But so is every other streamer chick. And I’m not obsessed with any of them.”

“Well just pay the money already. Subscribe. She’ll send you the big titty goth girl photos you want and maybe even play some video games with you. Win-win.”

“No. I’m not a simp, not a fan. I told you I don’t even like her stream. Why would I subscribe? I wouldn’t. That’s parasocial.”

“What about her art? Her social media presence. Commission her to paint your portrait.”

“I thought of that. I could do that. No, I remember now. I can’t. To have someone paint my portrait? I’d hate that. I don’t even like having my photo taken. And anyway that’s no way to get to know somebody. Same with her idea about the podcast. I couldn’t interview her. I’d turn her down anyway because hell, I can’t bring someone on the show to flirt. It’s disrespectful to the whole process, to her.”

“You just need to get laid, man.”

“No. That was Petrarch. This is real… It’s 2021. The generation of swine. Shit-ass Gen Z, the end. The slick prosper and the true perish. We are seduced where we should be disgusted and disgusted where we should be seduced. It’s the condition of our time. Of our world.”

“Sure… Sure… I dig it.”

The grizzled, aging bassist hobbles onto stage and picks up his instrument. The mask is on Shrek and beyond the blastbeat and shrieking guitar a scream of agony can be heard: “Somebody once told me / the world is going to roll me.”