Monday, a Tea Party member distinguished himself as a true fanatic for America by opening fire on a crowd of the ‘99%’ protesters. In a crazed rant posted on youtube, the man referred to the massacre as his “Power Point presentation.” Police report 1 dead and 12 injured. Taresha Mcgavinsworth, a 67 year old survivor, claimed the gunman calmly invoked the second amendment before opening fire. The killer is in critical condition after he suffered 29 bullet wounds from the large group of police already on the scene. The police stated that the suspect was wearing full body armor and appeared to have military training.
Violent signs from Occupy DC
Critics of the 99% have complained that the Occupy Wall Street protests are becoming too violent. According to some, the 99% are all a part of Obama’s plan to institute Marxism. Anti-job groups, known as unions, joined forces with Occupy Wall Street last week, driving the numbers into the tens of thousands.
Daryn Moran, a disgruntled Air Force Staff sergeant, left the military so he could stand up against Barack Obama’s illegal presidency. He was “in the army before the gays were”, and has threatened to “arrest the president for his crime of a forgery, which is proven fact…What we need is a confrontation.”
Finally, Daryn Moran’s confrontation has arrived. Tea Party members have found a reason for all the guns. The ‘99%’ traitors are fair game for true patriots who know the dangers of the unchristian, anti-American, unconstitutional, and suicidal policy of Communism. The illegal president is leading the people into a violent Bolshevik revolution! His anti-Israel stance is solid proof that he is the Anti-Christ, arisen to destroy the world.
Roanoke is situated on the Roanoke River, which forms a valley in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Southwest Virginia. The Appalachian trail and the Blue Ridge parkway pass through, bringing in tourists. The Mill Mountain star, a giant neon light, acts as the centerpiece to the city. The historic architecture of the downtown area is quite charming, especially the Hotel Roanoke’s Tudorbethan styling and the Gothic spires of St. Andrew’s church. The newly built $66-million Taubman Museum of Art features modern design reminiscent of the Sydney Opera House and is home to over 2,000 works of art. Roanoke has also spent $32-million on a recreation center, convenient to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Nearly $8-million was spent renovating the City Market building, at which point most of the old food vendors were driven out by an increase in rent. Over $35-million will be spent to widen a stretch of road which is less than one mile in length.
In the past few years, Roanoke has seemingly had its hands on more money than it can spend. The building projects are a sign that Roanoke is doing well. Still, corners have been cut. Glaring problems have been ignored. Childhood memories have been destroyed. Roanoke’s Explore Park, a living museum and window into history, was closed in 2007. The Explore Park was a truly charming destination where visitors stepped back in time to a working blacksmith forge, a native village, and all the trappings of the colonial era.
Despite all the extravagant construction projects designed to attract tourists and line the pockets of building contractors, Roanoke has shown some small appreciation for natural beauty. Roanoke’s greenway has provided a bike trail along the beautiful Roanoke River which has become an instant hit with Roanokers. Development of the greenway has not, perhaps, drawn enough attention to the abysmal state of the Roanoke River. Although the river is filled with litter, industrial equipment and sewage, Roanoke does not seem interested in spending its dime on cleaning things up.
tl;dr
Roanoke spends a lot of money on cockamamy schemes to draw in tourists and preserving natural beauty is, at best, an afterthought.
On a brisk October morning in Brookline, a graduate student announced that he was an expert at something, to the total indifference of his friends, peers and vague associates.
The student was reported to Chronicle.SU by a local informant and subsequently identified by spiteful classmates as first year Benjamin Berkey. Berkey, an enthusiast of the dark witch house music scene, tacitly agreed to make a phone statement to me by making dozens of unsolicited calls to the office of The Soviet Chronicle.
“I’ve read many thick tomes so, like Prodicus, I’ve become adept at choosing words. Often I finish sentences for other people in more exact ways than they ever could have expressed themselves. So, I’ve decided to go on a mission for total exactitude in language. Any time anyone strays from the Oxford Dictionary definition of a word, I will correct them in public in an elitist fashion. This will have innumerable social benefits.”
Berkey then invited me to watch him do his work across town to his sparsely furnished Allston apartment. I spent the next eight hours watching him gruel over a footnote, intermittently taking breaks to masturbate and troll the Internet with obscure semantic and grammatical criticisms.
“Work is hard, but I spend every second of every day knowing that I’m making a difference and growing intellectually. I’ve got a bright future and will surely finish my program with a good job. Not many people can say that these days.”
He then agreed to show me his favorite local coffee shop, where he ordered us espressos only to reject them several times due to “the quality of the crema.”
The barista eventually gave up and told us to fuck ourselves. We took a seat in the back of the checker-floored bar, next to a group of bicycle messengers playing bones.
One of the messengers from the group next to us.
As we sat down, one of the dudes among them, a pierced courier wearing a Brooklyn cycling cap, put the finishing touches on a lengthy monologue.
“…and that just begs the question, ‘Is McInnes libertard or not?'”
“Excuse me, sir,” interjected Berkey, “but I believe that you’ve made a mistake. The expression ‘begs the question’ does not in fact designate something that raises questions, but instead refers to an instance of circular reasoning. Be warned.”
The messenger looked over at him and his septum piercing flicked a little spark of a glint in the light. A pug-faced drunken crusty messenger appeared from among the group.
“Why you gotta be a bitch, man? Nobody asked you, faggot. Nobody spoke to you.”
The altercation deeply shocked Berkey, who became horribly insulted. He began to shake and then suddenly walked out of the coffee bar and refused to answer subsequent calls to his cellphone.
I never heard from him again.
RIP, Benjamin Berkey
Update: Several weeks after our encounter, The Boston Globe reported that Berkey had disappeared without a trace. Even more strangely, authorities declined to open an investigation into his disappearance. His family’s attempts to sue the Boston Police Department were bizarrely dismissed in a similar fashion. And in a final twist, my dumbfounded reading of the report to The Chronicle office occasioned a smile in our editor, Kilgore Trout.
“Yeah, the sergeant at Boston PD actually clued me in weeks ago. Benjamin Berkey was administratively arrested as part of a law enforcement operation targeting known gang members and associates.”
