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Content Creator Fills Void with Anything

Content Creator fills empty computer network with exciting new anything.

INTERNET–The gaping maw of Silicon Valley media platforms swallowed a faceless nameless man, Tuesday, as he attempted to join in on content creation.

“I thought I’d just do anything and put it online. Photos, streams, videos, memes, anything,” the nameless man said to his nonexistent audience, as he followed the tried and true advice of content creators who came before him.

No one anywhere heard him.

The faceless nameless man, now voiceless, said, “What is content anyway? It’s a nice word for filler, for anything at all. Something to drive up engagement. Engagement? It’s an eternal focus group, a mere surface, a veil under which, perhaps, some humanity still remains.”

Now to an audience of one, or perhaps it was only his blank reflection, the faceless nameless man found anything at all, and declared, “This is my brand, at long last. I have filled the void for one. I have become contained, engaged, and analyzed. This is success, at long last.”

If one heard this declaration, it was not understood, but that was not the point. He only need be heard, to fill the empty container, and engagement had begun.

Now to thousands, the nameless faceless voiceless and soul-vitiated man said, “It is thanks to you, my friends, that I can afford to do this, to be contained successfully and to engage with you each day. My popularity is proof of success, and my success is proof of my name. My face, my voice, and yes, my soul are now proven. They are established. You may no longer deny my humanity, for these things are not mine, but yours, and to deny them would be to deny yourselves.”

He was heard, and perhaps this time there was an understanding, but it did not matter. The container was now full, the audience engaged.

The audience pecked at their keyboard, swiped at their touch screen, clicked at their mouse. They beat away at the same inside jokes that never had a meaning to begin with and threw money around like it was going to hurt them, and sometimes because it would hurt them. They were feeling anything.

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News World

Peasants from around the world want to know: “Who protects the US from abusive cops?”

Because they are used to living in lawless expanse, peasants in developing nations around the world appear to look down on America’s cop crisis with dimwitted superiority.

[Editor’s Note: Sometimes people go online and make shit up]

In their own words, the peon masses submitted their remarks to the Internet Chronicle to pose a timely rhetorical question. We read them, and interpreted them for you here.

  • a peasant in vietnam once asked me if we had a People’s army in the US, I said no, and she was like “what do you have” and I said “you would literally die if i told you”
  • a peasant in newsbekiztan once asked if we had a People’s Army in the United States. I said no, and she was confused because she’s a fucking peasant and I answered her in English
  • a peasant in Myanmar once asked me if we had military coups in the US. I said no, and she was confused because we facilitate coups around the world
  • a piece of bark floating on the surface of an artificial lake asked if we had a People’s Army in the US. I said no, and it got confused and asked, “then who protects you from abusive cops?” bark has no concept of public policy
  • a simple, pissant, subhuman peon asked if we had a People’s Army in the US. I said no, and she was confused because I projected nobility onto her blank, ignorant expression
  • Little haji in the desert once asked if we have a People’s Army in the US. I said uhhh no? He looked confused as to why I would be so snide toward a starving child with a distended belly. He said “then who protects you from racist cops?”

Peasants might not be educated like us, but they’re so wise!

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News Technology

Gmail migrates ‘hangouts’ functions to Google Voice

INTERNET — The geniuses at Alphabet megacorp have really fucked up this time, destroying their own gmail web site by migrating some of its only functions into a provably inferior website no one would ever want to use, Google Voice. This piece of shit web site allows users to view only one text message conversation at a time, makes no sound at all when messages are received, cannot embed links or videos, and frequently freezes the browser for minutes at a time.

Why would Google purposefully mangle their own web site, setting users back fifteen years? How could anyone even conceive of such a shitty web site? A roadkilled raccoon smeared across ten miles of highway could write better software. The dried piss caked underneath the lip of my toilet is more useful and has more features than Google Voice.

After the first time I was forced to use Google Voice, I shattered my PC case, ripped out the RAM containing that vile code, and after grinding it to pieces with my garbage disposal I washed it down the drain. Then, smelling the stink of shitty software all through the neighborhood, I had my septic tank emptied.

Inside Google’s boardroom the executives are exploring their ears and noses with screwdrivers as a crayon lunch is served to them on a silver platter by a chimpanzee in a butler suit. “Our decision is final!” the chairman screams, smearing Elmer’s on his tie and pissing himself. “I am the computer KING,” he announces, shattering open his smartphone. He takes a deep breath of the toxic flourine battery vapors just moments before an ignition which bursts open his chest, sending viscera across the room. The executives clap and dance, their shouts and laughs muffled by mouthfuls of crayon. “Google! Google! Google!”