Categories
Local Special Interest

Internet "Not Anonymous Enough" for CHRONICLE Writer Old Brutus

Ol’ B

In a trend that appears to be sweeping the Chronicle.SU, resident columnist and editor Old Brutus has reportedly snubbed fame and left the Internet, saying true anonymity can not be achieved online. “Fuck that NSA Octopus,” he said.

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Fuck that NSA Octopus!

-Old Brutus

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But anonymity is not the mysterious writer’s only motivation for leaving the Web in exchange for newspapers.

Old Brutus, who recently discovered the Deepnet, or Dark Net, shut down his laptop Tuesday, saying, “That’s it. I’ve seen the entire Internet. I’m done.”

When asked what he plans to do in the absence of 4chan and its bottomless supply of jailbait, Old Brutus told the Chronicle this:

There ain’t shit out there for me that I ain’t already seen. Child porn? Hell, I was havin’ sex before I knew what sex was. My best friend had to tell me what me and his sister had just done together. Bomb-manufacturing? Shit, the Anarchist Handbook is just copied and pasted from the annals of Chronicle.SU! DRUGS AND BITCOINS? NIGGA, I HELPED APPERSON ‘N PICKARD MAKE THE WORLD’S SUPPLY OF LYSERGIC ACID DIETHYLAMIDE OUT OF AN ABANDONED MISSILE SOLO TILL TWINNY OT FO’!”

Indeed, Old Brutus is a man of many worlds whose “dick don’t never go down.” Sources indicate he has regressed to the use of a 1972 IBM Selectric typewriter and pleasures himself via phone sex while looking through a window into his neighbor’s yard.

Old Brutus can be found busking on the streets of Asheville, North Carolina, like a bum, for marijuana and dollar bills – or whatever you will give him. Toenail clippings and old receipts have uses, he said, but refused to go into detail about what those uses may be.

The Chronicle remains staffed largely by psy-operatives and cyber-intelligence officials who hate your freedom. Our CIA-enhanced pseudo-intellectual framework of satirical propagandist innuendo promises to continue subverting your ideology and feeding upon the very fears which we nurture inside each and every one of you. Now read. It’s okay. Read.

Loving endorsements from the omnipotent Lebal Drocer, Inc. ensure that the Chronicle will never die, but in fact absorb all weaker publications, such as pravda.ru, anonnews.org and Roanoke Revolution.

In related news, Lebal Drocer, Inc. is proud to announce its acquisition of roanoke revolution dot com. We hope you will enjoy the bland mediocrity of a culture where depth is only a measurement of the polluted river upon which it was founded.

Categories
Hate Reviews

chronicle.su SUCKS and is gay

CHRONICLE.SU HATER
Local teen Lee Dominic has hated chronicle.SU since the very beginning

The Chronicle website is stupid and wrong about everything. Why do people read this shit? It is the lamest ever.

Here, the “satire” around anonymous has grown increasingly satirical in nature, which is not funny.

And the ads are just pointless, they don’t even make any money! An advertisement for Grady Warren? That guy will never win! And what’s with all the joking? These are serious topics, people.

I am NOT butthurt, because I was one of the FIRST to hate the website. Chronicle.SU is fail and AIDS. anons who just showed up out of nowhere and started hating the chornicel are a bunch of summerfags

I don’t think abortion is funny anymore and I especially don’t think Pseudonymus’ article about God was factually accurate. It might even be illegal. Low blow assholes, God is dead and He can’t be here to defend himself anymore from slander.

I hope this site gets DDoS by Ryan Queery and Assoc.

Categories
Special Interest новости

The Chronicle Manifesto

Terror Rally ends in glorious victory

In the heart of a black sun morning, my chest was pouring my love adoringly over you, but
In the overcast overmind soul decay, the tooth aloof amassed fast to say what’s real is only phony.

All’s baloney, Jim Mahoney!

Come what may, the preachers pray Karl Malone, he shoots a three and earns him lots of money ’cause my bet is on the pony.

Sick dilution soul’s pollution come come come on restitution
’cause this destitution’s tripping me
Out on the fields of sea lions and seals
I’m looking for the Walrus, man the bridge, is out and Paul, Ringo, and Saul of the Molemen, please, come in.

The Chronicle speaks and leaks truth and disease, mal-ease and pleases the masses
to hear what they fear on deaf ears and dead eyes,
paralyzed by marketing, advertised lies, loan sharking and bastardized
the size of a scene in a dream that seems brighter, beautiful, more green
than previously perceived, deceived by the president, relieved by the precedent,
set crescent moon in the view of the smog, over pogs, peace frogs and hippies with the drip,
acid tripping, time perception clipping, nation-overstepping
conglomeration double-pacing human devolution
loss of the thumb, get dumb, watch crack, listen to choosic, it’s a revolution.

And lose it, drink beer, this bud’s for you, the blue’s clues, it’s
Bred to bleed these thoughts, get taught that your brain rots
swallow, chug, belch and absorb salt, Heart’s shot, here’s a shot
And prescription, no description of what it is or what it’s not.

Don’t sell yourself short, get bought, Stamped and dated,
register yourself online and get rated,
And in just in case it wasn’t plainly stated,
Your ass belongs to Lebal Drocer Incorporated.

Editor’s note: asdfjkl;