Internet Chronicle

In a white leather, white-haired space alien suit the Guy Fawkes clad leader peppers us with a biblical and constitutional mix of propaganda in support of his presidential campaign. While claiming to be the only authentic “Voice of Anonymous,” sources show the Humanity Party domain was registered by Chrisopher Nemelka, a conman who admitted to writing his own additions to the Book of Mormon and crafted a cult of “Nemelkite” polygamist Mormons in imitation of Joseph Smith. Despite his prolific admissions of fraudulence and a reputation for criminality, Nemelka maintains a small following.

A blog posting written by a former Nemelkite roughly outlined Nemelka’s plans to launch the Humanity Party and use Anonymous imagery in January of 2015. A concerned insider wrote,

The Messenger [Nemelka] is the man behind the mask as he speaks to the inhabitants of the earth. All those who vote for Anonymous will be seeking a change to the current affairs in the Game of Life. The Messenger declares that Advanced Humans will return to the earth, and the Game of Life will be shortened if we vote for this new government.

Former Anons, both heroes and villains, are shown in the video and derided as counterproductive terrorists.

Few have “stuck their dicks in the beehive” in such an epic way, and this would-be L Ron Hubbard ought to make for a pretty good indicator of how active Anons still are.

INTERNET — Another suicidal man with assault weaponry went out in a blaze of infamy. Headlines stoked his epic kill streak and offered a vanishing thin narrative of the events as officials in law enforcement offered bare facts in ten second bursts throughout the day.

The next afternoon, survivors speak at length of the more grim truths. The blood sacrifice of innocents, their escape from the spontaneous perennial ritual. Slaughter as performance art with a mass audience and a mass appeal. No one is stunned anymore excepting the victims who are now, this time, unexpectedly in the arena.

Each mouth in the stands shouts solutions. They pass before whichever icon of the shooter is least appealing to them personally, disrespecting and dehumanizing it for refreshment. The show is now only a single journalist, perpetually stalling for the next expert’s opinion, yet the seats will be packed for another month at least.

The heckling and shouting intensifies. But I have a hopeful thought. Perhaps I am not imagining the shouts carry a little less conviction. They are as bored as I am of it all. Detached, seeing the bare mechanisms of the story and no longer at all committed to bringing it to an end.  Is the tide going out? Probably not. But it has to, one day, doesn’t it? How many men must commit suicide in this now everyday fashion before the carnival of excess fails to generate a sensation?