axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Reviews

TRIP REPORT: I tried the Troubadour recreational drug experience, and this is what happened to me

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.
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.

Lebal Drocer

axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Entertainment Reviews

Meet twitch streamer FeedJared, the world’s fattest man

INTERNET — They say the camera can add ten pounds, but Twitch Partner FeedJared has given new meaning to the old adage. The wide angle lens in FeedJared’s cam, necessary for capturing his ever-expanding body shrinks his hands and feet, lending the streamer a worm-like screen presence similar to Jabba the Hutt. He laughs often, smiling at a cascading chat flush with food emojis and eggplants of encouragement.
FeedJared accepts tips only in food deliveries, and consequently has arranged bookshelves to each side of his bed to contain it all within easy reach. These shelves are stocked with food by Amazon employees, who are seen constantly filing in and out of the room as the daily stream goes on, sometimes for up to 16 hours.
The unofficial FeedJared subreddit says Jared has reinvested his income into a cloud of surveillance drones, each equipped with powerful spotlights and cameras, to capture every crevice of his record-breaking growth in stunning 4K.
By 1,500 lbs, FeedJared became the heaviest man to have ever lived. Now at one ton, he has become a historical anomaly.
“I could not have done it alone,” FeedJared slurred, as a stagehand plugged a twinkie into his open mouth. Damage to his arteries and blood vessels in the brain have rendered him weak, and paralyzed on one side. “I could not have gothn here without my friendth in chat in their generothity.”
The novelty Twitter account TwitchFeedsJared, organizes fans to coordinate Jareds diet for maximum weight gain, and is largely responsible for the rapid gain of the latest 500 pounds through a strategic program of sweet cakes, beef ribeyes, and whole sticks of butter.
FeederJT, owner of TwitchFeedsJared, said, “We’re a community of people who are held together by our common love for feeding Jared. We just want him to be happy, and it is just a bonus for us when he thanks us by name as he eats the various food items that we select for him. We’re part of something really special, here.”
At a recent hospital visit, Jared broke the Guinness World Record for largest bowel movement for a human, and the picture of a nurse carrying the massive 38 lb fece went viral on social media, which brought him an equally huge influx of support, tipping his overall weight to over one ton.
During his glow-up announcement on TikTok, a nurse wearing tan scrubs is seen in the background, hurtling soiled towels into a laundry cart to the tune of Rod Stewart’s “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” She sees the camera, and quickly moves out of frame.
Jared beckons at her, his hand gripping a turkey thigh, grease flicking off of the deep fried bird.
“I would like to thank my nurth,” Jared blurted out, after swallowing a fistful of peanut butter. “She keepin’ my blood sugar low, my spirits high, oh — and she cleans my butt.”
“Darlita, pleathe come show yourthelf on thtream.”
To which Darlita is heard replying from the background, “No, senor, mi familia esta muy enferma de COVID-19.”
FeedJared turns back to the camera.
“Women!” he exclaims. “Can’t live with ’em. Can’t live without ’em.”
Doctors for FeedJared have given him weeks to live, but fans are confident he will continue to smash records.
“I think it’s just the beginning for Jared,” FeederJT writes, “With support like this he can hit two tons, maybe three tons. Nothing like this has ever happened before in all of history. We have the technology to do anything.”

axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Reviews

Ugly NFTs are the shame of Civilization

INTERNET — I’m fucking tired of the apes. The flat, pointless pixelpunks. Crypto fans tell us this is ‘non-fungible art’, yet employ all possible means to mass-produce maximally derivative icons and make sure they’re seen by everyone, at least fourteen times a day. To any mind not addled by the inherent futurology (astrology by means of scifi), these awful fucking icons are instantly recognizable not as the future, but as the dead end of the era’s overoptimistic, technology drained imagination.

The Maximally Fungible Ugliness of NFT art acts as mascot and pretext for a wide array of unregulated speculation markets. The icons bear a striking resemblance to Fred Flinstone, Tony the Tiger, and other cartoon characters used in marketing sugar-laden children’s cereal. Maximally Fungible Ugliness isn’t only unhealthy for children, the economy, the electric grid, or the environment. It’s the morbid sick at the heart of our civilization.

Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot stated that NFTs facilitate an ideal relationship between artists and patrons. This is built upon the futurological premise that traditional banking and currency will inevitably be replaced by crypto. Never mind the absurd computing expenses, slow transfers, and third-rate security that makes the premise laughable. Tolokonnikova’s art is the kind of minimum effort bespoke icons that viewers will pound to death while watching a Twitch stream because their thoughts are too repetitive and tiring to actually type out. Backgrounded in these icons are Tolokonnikova’s prison papers, an ugly detraction which serves only to underline the fact that this is an ideal relationship with patrons, for sure, but also, nothing has changed. Financial support of this kind is still only for the few artists who are sexy, fabulous, or lucky.

The smell of rot is unbearable, but Maximally Fungible Ugliness did not begin with NFTs. The Ugliness pervades public spaces, invades devices, imprints itself on labels, cycles through permutation after permutation, fills the few gaps left in economic suffering by berating everyone everywhere with a stream of ceaseless insults to their intelligence, dignity, and humanity. The Ugliness has been distilled and refined for decades and the NFT is the penultimate expression: Marketing has become self-sufficient, and no longer relies on meatspace goods or services. While we were distracted with the potential for some AI apocalypse, marketing has slowly eaten us up from the inside, some aesthetic singularity passing by unnoticed, and only Rip Van Winkle, awakening from his slumber, can see quite how ugly life has become. Ha-ha.

It is so often said that the simple appreciation of Beauty for its own sake is shallow or narrow minded. But if there were an essence to Beauty, it should be fantasy. The opening of all potential, the emptiness of a blank slate and its laughable projections, pathetic daydreams, the experience of eternity, of oceanic depth. This inspires ridiculous behavior, love, which is an intolerable thing, and can be dealt with easily. Just ignore it!

But if it doesn’t go away, it can be enclosed within a marital contract, secured in bland familiarity, withheld in casual usefulness. What is left of love may be allowed to linger for a time, before being choked out by the all-pervading Ugliness and the perfectly acceptable, low-risk, business-like behavior of partnership.

This madness for trading trashy marketing materials representing no services or goods is the most pure partnership possible, an ideal relationship like out of some childish romance anime, a perfect transaction in the Ugly mold, and the next technological improvement over the purchase of a box of Fruity Pebbles. Enjoy your Maximally Fungible Uglies while they last!