Dear elfwax, I am a fans of Chronicle.su. I live in 3rd wolrd country namely Indonesia. I have no social security numbers which is great!
The governemnt is suck lately, they force us to have tax number lately instead of social security number.
We are new with this kind of thing. it feels like we are haunted. the tax number attached till I die, reporting tax every year. penalty if we dont/late report. everything is taxed. we pay 10% additional tax for food, drink at restaurant. 21% for more expensive restaurant.
it is called income tax, i dont know how to call this double/triple multiple tax. we pay for the income, and pay another tax again when buying things.
that is what people do at 1st world country. everybody has to report tax, but we are still a 3rd world country!
our tax is used for paying the parliament member, paying their abroad trip, paying their office car. toyota crown! they want to build a new office for the parliament member with spa and gym and pool inside.
Falls Church, Va.–Miley Cyrus bares all in her latest music video “I’m Becoming Brittany Spears” known for its catchy chorus, “You’ll see it even after you close eyes.”
I can’t find shit on Google Trends. What people Google is so uninteresting to me. It’s football scores – oh, and Miley Cyrus CAUGHT ON CAMERA DIGGING DISNEY PANTIES FROM ITCHY, DIRTY BUTTHOLE.
It demonstrates there isn’t much on people’s minds, at least not all at the same time. Regardless, the internet has the potential to both undo and multiply the advances of mankind, but for now, people are still using it to masturbate with. What a weird event it would be if all at once, Google was spammed with massive amounts of messages from humanity’s own collective unconscious!
HOT TRENDS INCLUDE:
jailbait videos of my inner child
1
0
“did you feel that?”
yes this is really happening
HOT TOPICS:
all time irrelevant, miley cyrus pronounced “child forever”
nothing is real, except this message
mainstream media not so mainstream once contrasted with galactic plane
america finally satisfies its problems with war
carl sagan auto tuned
Glorified beastly disaster upstairs, in the kitchen. I think it was a pot of chili but flames engulfed the stove and eventually the curtains. Nobody cares.
Pollution crept in through the floorboards this morning and we celebrated its hallucinogenic properties over a game of chess, followed by extensive blackouts.
All this, over Roseanne playing in the other room. The show was better during the original time, when the Brauny paper towel commercials ran, and at a normal volume too. We agreed that we are officially insane and conceded to lunacy, only to realize we were still in control enough to shoot guns, so we went outside. What happened next is anybody’s guess, and we lost the clip.
Later I ran outside and threw apples at a cow. It stood lazily, apples bouncing off its hollow-sounding noggin, its fat ass so content to eat them. At this, I laughed so hard I could barely stand to throw apples, which incited yet more laughter. I thought, “This must be how Hindus feel.”
And science shows that is in fact how they feel, thanks to a newly patended device by the Russian government that alters the weather patterns over Siberia as well as picking up the quantum vibrations of subtle human intent. Emotion-monitors are set to be installed on all new Segways to prevent their owner and designer from riding one over a cliff, however sources indicate there may be no way to tell if the devices will actually work, given that the Segway owner has already driven off a cliff and died on his Segway.
Tomorrow, the dawn of the nuclear apocalypse is rising and Americans have not even begun to dig any 1950s throwback bomb shelter graves, according to satellite surveillance photographs of their yards; while others appear to pray for death on an hourly basis.
Lebal Drocer Executive Jim Gray, PhD[izzle] converted his truck to a bio-diesel economy car, and later into a carbomb, inviting employees to a company picnic to have their own vehicles turned into bombs. He said the picnic bomb derby provides an opportunity for parents to engage their children.
He noted father-son activity research centers would likely see a healthy spike before sharply declining following a staunch lack of fathers and sons.
“Son, now I know your mother doesn’t want you playing with suicide devices until you’re older, but…be a man.”
Terrorism is to America what Miley Cyrus is to the adult world. A fading threat, and more of a reason to pull out than stay in at this point. One month and eleven days from now, Miley Cyrus turns 18. Until then, combat troops are still stationed in Afghanistan, South Korea, operating in Pakistan, and in some cases Sub-Saharan Africa, and the former Soviet Union.
Oh shit, I’m tripping hard. Read over this again, and take notes on why you’re wrong.
“You better watch out. She’ll lay that pussy on you.”
Drinking beers, sharing fears. Drunk and eager women splay themselves across me while the fire burns our legs. And I look into her eyes to find lust and distrust, and an attitude of despondency coupled with belligerence, if it feels good.
It’s open season on the American way of life. The FBI can safely and legally plant tracking devices on your car now. Until it goes to the Supreme Court, which it might never, it’s legal – even if “outlawed” it will go on. Who enforces the law? The criminal dogs that oversee us.
Fraudulence infects every facet of human behavior, life, and lies are the ethical way, so as not to hurt or dismiss another’s potential to suck you off.
Fuck this fake-ass charade, puppeteer conglomerate meltdown frenzy. Millions of Americans ready to work and can’t get shit off the ground. Credit bubble human enslavement crisis not only on the horizon but in our faces. In our blood, in our bank accounts, the freedom virus lives, breeds, counter intuitively thrives on your ignorance, and pattern of submission.
The government knows what you do, where you sleep. Get your cars checked out. If you’re trouble, then you’re watched. Of course, you’re not trouble. You just write stupid shit. Bomb shit.
If you write anything at all, which you don’t.
Empty notebooks stare back at you in a jealous fit, so eager to be full as you, and yet so blank and pathetic. Like you.