axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Obituaries

David Cross dead at 53

ATLANTA – Fans mourn the tragic, untimely demise of David Cross, beloved comedian and creator of Todd Margaret, Mr. Show, and Alvin and the Chipmunks. Cross passed away from toxic shock after his vas deferens blew out, poisoning his bloodstream with a deadly mixture of semen proteins.

In case you're blind and reading this, this is a picture of Bob Odenkirk. | David Cross recently published a video in which he named all the people on Alvin and the Chipmunks with whom he was NOT angry.
David Cross recently published a video in which he named all the people on Alvin and the Chipmunks with whom he was NOT angry. In an unrelated incident, his vas deferens catastrophically exploded.

Bangstrum Trodman of Lebal Drocer Pharmacological Treatment and Testing Center said Mr. Cross was alone in his hotel room when he experienced an unusual orgasm and called the front desk for help.

He ejaculated so forcefully that it ruptured his vas deferens, Trodman said, and because of his celebrity he had to be rushed to some $5 clinic on the outside of town where he thought no one could find him.

While still hard, Cross was loaded into an ambulance outside with a towel over his face, presumably to deflect the shame of being photographed by the permanent camp of paparazzi who follow famous people, wealthy priests, and other degenerates like that. Little did it matter, Cross was dead within minutes.

“Problem is,” Trodman said to reporters outside, “Leading up to this, he was shooting smack clean into the base of his cock. You ever seen anybody do this? It’s insane, this guy’s taint!”

Trodman said a combination of heroin and cocaine repeatedly injected into the performer’s groin compromised the structural integrity of his vas deferens, until after some time it degenerated, and ultimately collapsed in those final moments of unbridled pleasure heard on the 911 tapes.

As indicated in his will, Cross’ remaining assets, along with his many millions of dollars in Mr. Show royalties from HBO, will be disbursed to CHARM, a children’s charity promoted by Creed frontman Scott Stapp. It looks like one of those scam charities no one thinks about.

“A lot of people don’t know this but Mr. Cross loved Creed,” says Mark Buchanan, Cross’ childhood friend. “We would be getting shit-hammered, and he’d be so drunk I don’t even know if he knew what he was doing, but he would tell everybody in the car, ‘Put on Creed! Play those gospel jams!’ And we did, and he loved every minute of it. God bless you, David.”

axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
News Obituaries

Chronicle publisher puts gun to head demanding ‘freedom of death.’ What happens next will leave you howling!

BOSTON – Police responded to a grisly crime scene at the home of paranoid, isolated Lebal Drocer founding executive Raleigh Theodore Sakers, Internet Chronicle learned early Wednesday morning. This comes after Chronicle learned of a dangerous plot designed by Sakers to drive away readership in a grotesque act of self-sabotage.

Wikileaks founder Julian Assange “leaked” an intercepted affiliate email from Sakers, the aging and senile publisher-in-hiding of the Internet shock site Internet Chronicle. In the unsent letter, Sakers transcribed wretched and evil thoughts as they rang throughout his head like gunshots in the night:

FUCK YOU. YOU ARE NOTHING. FUCK YOU. WHY ARE YOU READING THIS WEBSITE. GET OUT OF HERE. LEAVE. GOOGLE: FUCKING LEAVE. TWITTER. YOUTUBE. ALL OF YOU ARE FUCKING OUT. I AM THE DEVIL, AND I’M FUCKING IN.

Hey, take your 280 on the way out. and while we’re at it, I don’t need your 140 either. SNIVELING RAT BASTARDS! Why, if you worked in my office right now, I wouldn’t even abuse my power to sexually COERCE YOU.

Alright now, that’s it. Get the fuck out. Get the absolute fuck out of my office, right now. You’re fired. I quit. This whole thing is over.

DO YOU HEAR ME I’M FUCKING FINISHED. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME??? IT’S OVER. GO THE FUCK HOME. YOU ARE NOT SAFE IN YOUR BEDS. YOU ARE NOT SAFE IN YOUR HOUSES. EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU IS WALLOWING IN THE MIRE AT GROUND ZERO, AND YOU’LL NEVER SEE IT COMING. DO YOU GET ME?

THIS WHOLE FUCKING SITE IS A SCAM. A BLEAK CHARADE! YOU’RE BEING LIED TO! YOU’RE DOGS, YOU’RE PIGS, AND YOU’RE SHEEP! YOU’RE FUCKIN ANIMALS!

THEY BATTLED FOR NET NEUTRALITY …. what, you think that’s about you and me? IT WASN’T FOR YOU AND ME – THEY FOUGHT FOR THE POWER TO CONTROL YOU AND ME FIRST. THEY WANTED IT FIRST! NO GOVERNMENT, NOR UTILITY, SHALL CONTROL THE SHIT WE LIKE SHARE AND SEE — OH THEY WANTED TO — BUT NO, BECAUSE GOOGLE WANTED IT FIRST AND GOOGLE HAS DESIGNS AGAINST YOU AND ME, AND THIS HERE WEBSITE YOU’RE READING. NOW GET OUT, THEY KNOW YOU’RE READING IT! GET OUT. THEY KNOW. THE JIG IS UP. IT’S OVER. I said get the fuck out.

THIS IS FINISHED, DO YOU HEAR ME!

Assange holds a copy of the letter in his hands for cameras, which are pointed at all times into his embassy balcony nest, and a teardrop hits the page. He looks up to see the cameras are not on. They’re not even there. He needed a leak and he needed it fast.

Assange called Internet Chronicle at 3:27 a.m. That’s when we learned the wealthy Mr. Sakers was holed up in his office with a revolver to his head, threatening to destroy the world.

Somebody yelled out, “Raleigh, no!”

dr troubadour
“It was fucked up,” said Dr. Troubadour.

Dr. Troubadour, who is a real doctor, was at the scene but because he was on LSD, he wasn’t working in any official capacity at that time, so he was just taking bong hits while Assange put on his pony show for invisible demons rampaging outside.

“He was being such a drag,” Troubadour said. “It was bumming me out, and it was fucking with everybody else at Chronicle, too. Why would our creator destroy us? We ought to seize the means and fire HIM. Also Assange looked pathetic.”

Troubadour said the whole scene was pretty fucked up in the end, but he said whatever happens, happens. He is cool either way. At least he showed up. He even brought a bunch of other people with him.

It was pretty funny.

axisflip cryptofinancial

Categories
Obituaries

ALRart

“CRAZY. CRACKPOT. FOOL. CRIMINALLY INSANE.”

These are words I once used to describe my schizophrenic writer, an inventor, artist, poet – and a visionary unlike any other person in this world. Today, nothing has changed, except to say he is no longer with us.

Recently the 10-year anniversary of his death – and his birthday – came to pass, and I would like to honor my dear friend, Alistair Robin Rowntree, by sharing his story with you now.

I met Robin through a Yahoo! Group of pseudoscience aficionados – talking about stuff like free energy, faster than light travel, things of that nature – well, he was so far “out there” that even these guys wouldn’t have him. “Who was that guy?” “Just some nutcase,” another said. I wanted to see who they were talking about and I found ALRart’s website

A maze of links – some of them hidden – that documented his progress through the research and development process of free energy devices, torsion fields and a very special “RINGGO STARGATE” capable of carrying humans to other, possibly better, dimensions.

So I asked him to write for us, which he immediately accepted. We gave him an avenue of pure insanity wherein our friends and readers supported him, without teasing or berating his efforts. He spoke of free love, eternal life and spiritual peace, recoloring what would otherwise be failures into endeavors of scientific purity – innocent trial-and-error. We never once questioned his integrity as an inventor – only asked for explanations, or request that he further his ideas. We shared thoughts with him and it was beautiful.

We have a running joke that ALRart never died, but that he finally got his stargate running.

During experimentation, ALRart claimed to stand in the center of his stargate where he “felt a strangeness” but no word on whether he ever perfected it. However, over the course of designing what may have amounted to a massive collection of functionless sculptures, ALRart created elaborate visual works of unintentional beauty and intricacy using glass and imaging software. After all, there was a fair deal of math involved, and he may have been crazy but he wasn’t stupid.

And that is why for the longest time we did not trust him to be who he said he was, in spite of his intensely loving personality.

And because of the great distance between us – he lived in New Zealand – he became this mythical, legendary persona, like God, only somewhat more real and he answered our questions. But even though I spoke to him over Skype, and we exchanged email, we were never fully certain ALRart was a real person. That is, until I searched him out recently to try to find out where he’s been.

ALRart loved to travel, and I hoped to see something on his website about exploring New Zealand, or to learn he’s been getting high in the attic and no longer trusts the internet. But right there in the first few links of my google search was an obituary I thought I would never see.

Around three o’clock in the afternoon, on his 56th birthday, September 24, 2010 ALRart’s heart stopped. He was diabetic and didn’t take his medicines right, and he died in an ambulance en route to the hospital. Well, that’s the official story the papers ran.

We, of the chronicle.su, know otherwise. At 3 p.m. On the 24th of September, 2010, ALRart secured his place among the stars after successfully passing through the world’s first completed RINGGO STARGATE and into a dimension where there is no more pain, no more suffering, no unhappiness or ridicule. Where there are no failures. No fear. ALRart is at permanent unending peace.