YOU HAVE BEEN DDOS’D. CONSIDER THIS A WARNING.
Your Disinformation PSY OPS Campaign has gone too far.
We are Anonymous.
We do not forgive.
We do not forget.
Expect us.
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EAT DDOS FAGGOT
Category: Fashion
Smokin’ hotties!
Featured here are the Lampshade Drama.
She had Jet Pilot eyes from her hips on down, so I remember.
I watched her quietly from a dark corner, really looking like a stalker. I suppose acting like one, too, although you could say I have a disposition for being unfavorable.
She wouldn’t look over here, so I did everything I could to keep it that way. I sat perfectly still, staring at her. By now, she had to be uncomfortable from this; not that she’d really made eye contact with me but after so long one starts to feel like they’re being watched.
I was not only watching her, I was imagining her story. I projected my desires onto her and pictured her to be the kind of chick who doesn’t need to be in a place like this bar, someone with a better life and better home outside of here, who just needed to duck in and make sure this scene still isn’t for her every so often. Someone with DVDs of her favorite TV show, popcorn in the cabinets and a tall bottle of wine for one.
Someone unlike me.
‘What am I doing here?’ I thought. ‘I could be working, or better yet, drinking alone at home where these sour losers don’t go, where I am the best and only one, where I am King.’
I looked into my beer and then back at my Queen. A guy sat next to her and they were really chatting it up. Her smile had in it something stern. A seriousness. It told me she is a woman of ease and difficulty at once, simple but tough and likes it rough.
It told me she probably didn’t have a bottle of wine back at the place, or maybe shared an apartment under the pretense of a complicated partnership she’s looking to get out of.
Doesn’t sound like my thing. Or maybe she’s a ladyboy.
No matter.
There is a terrible lack of empathy in the world.
West Hollywood, Calif.–Revolutionary Che Guevara purchases a microwaveable burrito from the La Cienega Boulevard 7-Eleven wearing a t-shirt reading, “Stop bitching, start a revolution.”
Che is best known for overthrowing Cuba’s U.S.-backed Batista regime and representing Cuban Socialism across the globe, while at home providing medical assistance and education to people who never held a book. However, neither his heroism, nor even the very act of dying in the name of freedom compares to the satisfaction Che reports during the act of adorning his favorite t-shirt, purchased from chronicle.su. Long live the revolution! All Soviet Chronicle merchandise is produced in an unventilated basement by illegal immigrants who can’t complain about the toxic fumes.
The Soviet Chronicle was granted an interview with Che, who graciously took time from battlefield command to help us sell our merchandise.
Che met us in Beverly Hills, and hopped out of his Chevrolet Bel-Air which sports a bumper sticker with the eponymous statement proclaiming his status as a revolutionary. Che informed us that he rejects both hybrid and “smart” cars, for fear of being labeled as a “Liberal Bedwetter,” plus, he added, “they’re just womanly.”
“I was just so tired of people talking about wanting change, but not doing anything about it, that’s why I bought this t-shirt,” Che said, pointing to the message on his chest. “See?” he cajoled, “I am making a difference, now.”
We followed Che on another of his multiple daily trips to the 7-Eleven. As Che pulled in, he was already drawing the guffaws of gentrified Hollywood, and the hostile attention of a police officer. Upon seeing his t-shirt they immediately quit bitching. This t-shirt shows “the man” you mean business.