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Editorial Religion Uncontrollable Patriotism

Peter King To Rescue Fear-Gripped Midwest From Shariah Law

Peter King
Peter King, Terrorist

WASHINGTON — Congressional defenders of the terrorist organization, People’s Mujahedin of Iran, continue to ensure a Middle East bereft of peace. After years and years of butthurt regarding the fundamentalist Islamic threat to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kansas and Oklahoma New York Representative Peter King has finally harnessed the hate in such a way that he will one day be elected President of the World. In so-called “flyover country,” paranoia has reached a fever pitch with regards to the immediate and overwhelming threat that shariah law surely poses to America’s heartland. While Christianity remains the predominant opiate of the massive masses, each burkha seen in public raises rational fears of Taliban oppression in America’s heartland.

Phone hackers revealed negotiations between the People’s Mujahedin of Iran and Peter King, in which the exchange of child sex-slaves for weaponry was discussed. King has responded with alarmist accusations that phone hackers targeted the families of 9/11 victims in order to deflect personal scandal and protect his position of power.

We here at the Chronicle support fundamental biblical literalism when it comes from the mouth of a male-only Christian black-metal band. Unless delivered in that context, we don’t grasp that whole religion thing. The bipartisan congressional coalition is walking a dangerous wire over what is really quite reasonable State Department policy categorizing the MEK as a murderous terrorist organization. The congressional allies are desperately trying to ratchet up Iran’s internal violence, validating groups like the Basij, the Iranian religious police, famous for firing live ammunition into angry mobs during the recent Green Revolution of the educated, elite Tehranian youth.

MEK’s allies in congress are known supporters of terrorism. Peter King has been instrumental in official US support for terrorist groups, not only with respect to the MEK, but also the Irish Republican Army, whose victims he is too cowardly to directly confront.

If we here at the Chronicle could have our druthers, maybe we would ask that women spend the whole of their public lives inside tightly-sealed cloth bags. We really don’t know the solution to dealing with moral time travelers (seriously, like the 13th century or something) like the Taliban. But we’re pretty sure that offering comfort and encouragement to those who indiscriminately target civilians with violence is a surefire way to undermine message control with the Westboro Baptist Church’s southwest-Asian franchise.

The way to get the theocrats to simply chill is no, not to bomb them further back into the Stone Age – but to get them watching David Letterman – learning that maybe a few Jews weren’t sent a text message warning them to leave Tower 2. They must discover for themselves the joys of celebrity gossip and the evils of orange people with bleach blonde hair. And if you look quite closely at Iranian society, you’ll see that the proverbial sticks in the mud are aware of this. “Occidentalosis,” the multilingual call it there, like it was a highly-resistant bacterial infection. And it is!

Secretary of State Clinton has been very adamant in her denial of United States interference in the contested Iranian elections and the resulting turmoil. But other State Department officials have confirmed the use of spies during the protests, equipped with illegal satellite phone technology which fueled the propagation of dissident-associated media. We here at the Chronicle utterly loathe the Internet-censoring agenda of Iran and any state that attacks this fundamental human right. The diplomatic arm of our government has been talking out of both sides of its mouth, and one side of the mouth is drawn up as a result of a massive stroke known as WikiLeaks. Americans are coming to terms with the fact their government acts as the leather straps on the rape table, holding them down so mega-corporations can fuck them easier. And they can’t blame it on anyone but themselves anymore. Now they must simply admit, “I don’t care about the news ‘n all that stuff’s goin’ on.” Don’t expect that to get “Late Show” top-10 lists on TV anytime soon.

It never fails to amaze that fundies of different stripes are each other’s worst enemies, when really they seem to want the same basic underlying goals for society: Women out of the workplace and homosexuals closeted or dead – from Gay Related Immune Deficiency, of course, not dead because they fought in the Army. The only “serious” differences in fundie types are alterations in the underlying cartoon narrative of anthropology, familial histories, flying men and talking donkeys.

Seriously, I’m utterly bewildered that I get into serious conversations with moderately-educated adults that round out with their insistence that bread can be transformed into the flesh of Christ, which they desperately want to consume. Cocksuckers. How did such complete dishonesty become perversely confused with piety? How many licks does it take to get to the center of that Tootsie Pop? How many sips of wine before I get GRID from the blood of Jesus?

Anyone outside fundamentalist ideology is rendered completely unable to reason with the actual, practical consequences of these dogmatic narratives, and moreover the people with the most in common, the fundies, are left without the obligation of any pragmatic purpose behind their regressive policies. The truth is the fundies of all stripes deserve to be killed by one another, and maybe they would have joined forces if not for the utterly ridiculous excuse they have concocted for the most ethnically-segregated day of the week. In America, we all know which one it is.

Organized religion is probably the slickest, most effective ad campaign for racial separatism. Ever. Earlier this year, Public Policy Polling unveiled a disturbing 400-person survey of Mississippi Republican primary voters, and it turns out that a fantasically-nauseating 46 percent of the participants were willing to tell a complete stranger on the phone that they believe that interracial marriage should be illegal. And we’re not particularly convinced that polling the buckle of the Bible belt’s Democrats would end up much better. The point remains the same: Religiosity and racial separatism, a match made in hell.

Support for the MEK is just another brash fury that will prove exactly counterproductive to the stated goals of the ongoing U.S. excursions into the Middle East. It will further fan the flames through its insidious, tacit insistence that Islam, not terrorism, is the source of evil on Earth and the equivalent of Satanism. And if Islam is the problem, we’re pretty sure terrorism, per se, is the far, far bigger one. Surely, if MEK’s congressional allies understood the degree to which even these Iranian secularists desire the legacy of Islam to at least play a cultural role in their government — they’re called the “mujahedin,” for crying out loud — they would have nothing to do with them. It would be the wrong reason for disassociation but it at least would be a reason.

Check Back for in-depth interviews with top Lebal Drocer executives who will explain why it is not only better, but completely necessary to die by the millions in never-ending war than live for one day in boring, agonizing peace.

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News Society

Chronicle.SU special sexy female criminals ruin America edition featuring EXCLUSIVE CASEY ANTHONY HARDCORE NUDES

Murder murder murder, murder murder murder. Guilty murder little Caylee, murder murder murder.
This picture was taken the day after Casey Anthony killed her daughter. Can you see the guilt on her guilty face?
"Authorities say that whey they arrived she was screamed profanities and proceeded to remove her right breast from her dress and spray the deputies with her breast milk." The real news is that nobody's corrected Fox News on this terrible sentence yet. (Image links to abjectly written article on Fox News)
This is Casey Anthony's sexy guilty ass.
Casey Anthony drank all the beer and then sang the national anthem while burying her baby in the back yard.
This is Deborah Blount. Her boyfriend murdered her because of this photograph. Now it's newsworthy enough to put all over the internet.
Here's Casey Anthony again, aborting her last few beers after she already committed to them.
Look at me, I'm Nancy Grace and I don't kill my babies! Ooooh I'm soooooo special, and better than that Casey Anthony murderer murder murder murder murder murder murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer murderer

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Society Special Interest новости

Shaemarie Skaggs

Revival

By James K. Galloway

Shaemarie Skaggs
Tennessee artist Shaemarie Skaggs, cancer survivor, bites the filter off a Marlboro cigarette during a photo shoot at an industrial park in Clarksville.

Hoses dropped from a chemotherapy bag stretch around a rosary and into the blood-soaked needle-fed arm of Shaemarie Skaggs, whose hand clutches the withering flower of life.

It is just after sunset when I pull into the front yard of the budding Clarksville artist’s home. Clarksville, Tennessee is the worst town I’ve ever been to. The chance to interview an artist is a relief from the brown solitude that comes with living in a dry, burned-out military town. I wonder how creativity can flourish in a place like this. How can she?

As instructed, I call to inform Shaemarie that I have arrived and I approach her front door. It’s a beautiful McMansion nestled within a sloping subdivision. If I hadn’t seen the other homes driving in, I’d be inclined to believe it’s a real original piece of modern architecture. It is the same as the others if not slightly different. It is a floor plan. From up high, I can see the lights from Wal-Mart, Kroger and whatever else every town keeps along Commercial Avenue.

She says we can’t do the interview here – this is where she lives and takes care of her mother who recently suffered a stroke.

We drive around the neighborhood as I look for an exit out of Skaggs’ labyrinthine subdivision. Right away, she unfolds a picture of her arm with a rosary and chemotherapy supplies, and jumps right into explaining it to me.

“The bitch nurse fuckin' put a needle in my hand for painkillers – for morphine,” Shaemarie says, “And she didn't put it in my vein, so the morphine soaked in my hand and it would sting every time it pumped through. So I didn't have painkillers or I didn't feel right at all, and it hurt like a bitch.”

Pointing to her artwork, Skaggs tells the story as she’s told it countless times before. She says flatly during her chemotherapy treatments, this picture hung on her wall as an expression of her own humanity – but that she took joy from others’ reactions to it.

“The doctors would come in and freak out, and I thought it was really funny when they’d freak out and shit,” she says. “I like how I wrapped it around the cross because I just hate religion.”

Skaggs was diagnosed December 2009 with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a cancer originating from white blood cells. Shortly thereafter she drew a relatively simplistic self-portrait featuring peeled-back skin and decay of a long-haired vixen – a living corpse aware of her own mortality.

Shaemarie Skaggs
The lips, rotted away into a grimace of a smile, represent Skaggs' morbid imagination of herself as chemotherapy took hold.

“It was really bothersome, but that was the point,” she says, looking out the window of my truck as we sit at a stop light. Then came a long silence.

We are headed toward a spot with free wi-fi where Shaemarie says we’ll access more of her artwork. She changes the subject to me and my work. I oblige but keep it ground-level, explaining that I’m a writer and editor. While booming down Clarksville’s main drag to the finer cuts of Led Zeppelin II, the sexy young artist asks more specifically what else I do besides interviewing her.

I explain how I write politics and local government articles for the newspaper, which gets her onto the subject of President Barack Obama and the superficial similarities between his efforts and those of Franklin D. Roosevelt. FDR’s New Deal may have gotten us out of the Great Depression, but Skaggs believes Obama is an actor.

[pullquote]“He’s trying to make it look good and doing this whole cover on it, like, ‘Oh, everything’s going to be fine,’ but really it’s starting to suck. It’s a fake aspect that he’s making everything look good but it’s not.

-Skaggs, on President Barack Obama[/pullquote]

“He’s trying to make it look good and doing this whole cover on it, like, ‘Oh, everything’s going to be fine,’ but really it’s starting to suck. It’s a fake aspect that he’s making everything look good but it’s not.”

She says her grandfather was a lawyer for a Philippine president while his daughter spied against him, causing controversy within her family and within the nation. She says her pursuit of liberal arts made her a black sheep when everyone else went into politics or has an “amazing job” as educators and government employees.

“It’s because we [Skaggs and her sister] are liberal and – ‘Fuck the government’,” says Skaggs, “And because we grew up in a stern family and we’re just like anti-everything.”

By now, we’ve reached our Internet source where Shaemarie discovers she can find specific Tumblr compositions through a simple Google search. She exclaims, “Google is a fucking creeper!”

Skaggs is exceptionally proud of one of her pieces of writing, which was reblogged by a website called The Whiskey Monologues and subsequently reviewed by its followers. The piece is about a drunken night of indiscriminate sex with an unnamed lover, notable for its sensual, emotive language and highly-revealing self-analysis midway through the exposé on passion itself.

Shaemarie Skaggs enjoys a cigarette
While shooting at an abandoned industrial site, Skaggs informs me that she is in remission and healthy, in spite of a nasty cough acquired as a result of her smoking habit.

Shaemarie is forever affected by cancer, emotionally if not physically. Skaggs’ friend, Cara Roman, who she called “a fiesty little thing,” died July 2010 after a four-year battle with leukemia.

“She was my friend before I got cancer, I used to visit her all the time. And then one day I showed up to her hospital room and told her I have cancer. We both cried. I was the only one who spoke at her funeral. She was the closest person I had. She was so alive.”

Shaemarie says she will seek a liberal arts degree from Austin Peay State University but for the time being cares for her ailing mother at their shared home in suburban Clarksville.

Like a flash in a pan, the blinking of an eye, a star’s lifespan and all the time in the sky – Shaemarie Skaggs taught me that expression is only as beautiful as the time we have to appreciate it. That memories last as long as we can remember them, lest we mark them down.

On a long enough timeline, all things are finite, no matter what efforts we as human beings make to archive, categorize and chisel them into stone. On a short-enough timeline, all things last forever.

So do we.