Citizens of Las Vegas are shocked and frightened at the sight of beloved internet shock image "Goatse"
LAS VEGAS — Hackers from Anonymous gained access to the world’s largest display screen, the MSG Sphere in Las Vegas, shocking tens of thousands of gamblers, tourists, and citizens with the disgusting image only known as “goatse.”
In a statement to the press, spokesperson for Anonymous Barrett Brown told reporters, “We’re back and we’re meaner than ever. We don’t give a fuck about morals or ethics, and we’re going to gape open the government big time. Fuck Las Vegas!”
Brown explained the political implications of the cyber attack, “Promoting gambling to children has to end, so that’s why we put up adult imagery in public. Goatse is exactly same as any other gambling advertisement.”
Conservative groups have accused Anonymous of shilling for the so-called “Trans mafia” and using this hack to groom children. Sally Karensworth, chairwoman of Tennessee Mothers for Childhood Gambling stood up on her high horse and told members of the new Meta Threads app in an extremely viral post, “Grooming kids to gamble isn’t that bad, in fact it teaches them risk management and impulse control. What’s bad are these demon hackers showing off all this disgusting pornography in public and twisting our little sweet baby’s minds all around. End of story!”
Authorities have restricted access to the Internet Chronicle North American Headquarters in Cuthbert, Georgia.
West Point, Va.—Human rights lawyers are calling for independent investigations into the disappearances of esteemed journalists and satire writers kilgoar and hatesec, the scarred and dented minds behind Internet Chronicle.
After being arrested for inciting violence and leaving in the back of a police car, their attorney Cole H. Truth says the two were taken to a so-called Schrödinger’s black site.
Officer Den Hinkey knows where the writers are being held, but refuses to speak.
“Maybe they’re in there, maybe they’re not, we won’t know until we look,” Truth told a group of reporters at Middle Peninsula Regional Airport. “I am only allowed to meet with them in a trailer parked in the Sonora Desert, where they tell me they are being trafficked, unpaid, and forced to write political jokes about Ukraine and Russia.”
CEO Raleigh Sakers arrived on his private executive helicopter.
Arriving via helicopter, Lebal Drocer CEO Raleigh T. Sakers made a confusing announcement, after he began speaking before the engines shut off and before the PA system could be heard.
Raleigh T. Sakers, CEO, Lebal Drocer, Inc.
“Sometimes I meet people and we’re just on different wavelengths,” Sakers went on muttering at the podium without looking in the faces of a crowd of about 65 people. “I walked this girl out after a nice first date, she shrugged one shoulder, she smiled, and said, “Mm! I’ll give you a hug!” like we’re bein all cute and spontaneous. I looked her in the eyes and I said, ‘Bitch, I will urinate in your body right now.'”
The crowd of reporters gasped and fell silent.
“What did he say? I didn’t hear it,” a man’s voice called out.
Sakers continued.
“Be all fucking cutesy with me. Shrug that shoulder one more time and watch me really start fucking transcending.”
Sakers then pulled out a large revolver from inside his jacket, held it up proudly to the audience, and kissed it before twirling it around the index finger and holstering it again.
Just at that moment, a prestigious doctor and expert on everything arrived by car from the north pitch, driving through the active sprinkler system.
Dr. Angstrom H. Troubadour
Dr. Angstrom Troubadour hit a rock and got stuck in the wet grass in a 1992 Toyota Camry. Leaning out with one elbow from the driver’s seat, Troubadour watched forward through mud speckled glasses as his front tires spun helplessly, no matter how hard he floored the accelerator.
“I can’t feel my legs,” Troubadour shouted to a crowd of journalists forming around the situation. “I feel good, but, I’m OK. Just let me get out.”
He continued slamming on the gas pedal, the small engine roaring out in a belligerent rage. Without letting off the gas, Troubadour was next seen taking something from his jacket pocket and putting it in his mouth.
Sakers – now silent at the podium – was turned away from the microphones, and watching with everyone else as longtime business partner and protegé Angstrom H. Troubadour flopped out of the car, shrieking, and wallowing in the mud.
Sakers was reportedly overheard talking to himself, saying, “Show them how it’s done, old boy.”
Troubadour looked up from between the legs of a photographer, and caught eye contact with Sakers, who looked down upon him with renewed pride. The moment lingered, and they both smiled. Troubadour looked up, and from his reclined position on the turf, the doctor punched upward, catching the reporter on the inner thigh with a near vertical uppercut.
Sakers threw his head back and laughed, revealing a battery of golden molars.
Troubadour got up, picked the reporter up over his head, and turned to a row of live television cameras.
“It’s a good thing I took my TerrorMax,” he said, smiling.
Troubadour then turned back around and threw photographer James Durmond, 45, through the still turning tail rotor of Sakers’ private Exec 90 helicopter.
TerrorMax is approved by the world’s leading doctor.
Durmond was pronounced dead at the scene and his smithereens are being placed in an unmarked grave at the boundary of the airfield.
Authorities are now looking for Dr. Troubadour, who was last seen boarding the Exec 90, and flying dark across the Rappahannock River.
Anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of hatesec or kilgoar is encouraged to reach out to [email protected] with tips. These messages are strictly confidential, encrypted, and stored on hard drives located in a neutral nation.
ATLANTA — Paula Deen gestured rudely at cameras and barked at officials for the entire duration of an in-your-face professional wrestling weigh in, Monday morning. Deen is facing sanction from the WWE after securing an illegal chokehold on black celebrity chef Sunny Anderson in a confrontation at the event.
A loud crack was heard as Paula Deen snapped a bullwhip in the air and smiled for cameras at the weigh-in.
Sunny Anderson crossed her arms and refused to comment on Deen’s insensitive display, silently judging.
“Oh are you offended honey? Why don’t you call me a cracker?” Paula Deen laughed like a hyena and smiled like a lizard, “I just saw the new Indiana Jones, and this whip has nothing to do with you and your race baiting gimmicks.”
Sunny Anderson only shook her head in vast disapproval, stepping up onto the scales.
“You know what, I’m not sorry for what I’ve done, the words that I like to say.” Paula Deen bobbed her head back and forth aggressively, getting up in Anderson’s face. “And you know what else? We’re coming back for ya.”
“As if we didn’t know already, you racist bitch,” Anderson erupted, raising a folding chair above her head and rushing Paula Deen.
WWE handlers tore the two Food Network stars apart while Bobby Flay officiated, breaking kayfabe with hamhanded analysis. “Wow, you heard it folks. This is going to be a barn burner of a show, with Paula Deen as the obvious heel. Her racially charged comments will surely come back to haunt her. And wow, isn’t Sunny Anderson righteously pissed off. Back to you Alton.”
Alton Brown pressed a camcorder into Paula Deen’s face, needling her like Fukui-san from Iron Chef Japan, “So Paula, have you hosted any plantation-style slave-themed events lately?”
Paula Deen struggled to loosen herself from officials, “I’ma put her in her place!”
Breaking free, Paula Deen moved with unbelievable speed behind Anderson, clenching a tight chokehold around her throat. Both chef’s eyes bulged as their muscles strained in contest.
Guy Fieri nailed Paula Deen with an empty trashcan, breaking the pair apart and stepping into the foreground, sweating and shouting into the Food Network microphone, “Tune in Friday Night at 9pm to see Paula Deen get her ass whooped, folks! Maybe she’ll even drop a hard R, a real N-Bomb, live on air! What a show folks, don’t miss it.”
