As chronicle.su strikes up lucrative new advertising deals, rumors suggest Australian media mogul Rupert Murdoch is closing a deal of his own with Lebal Drocer, Inc.
Business analysts predict the transaction could transfer majority control of The Internet Chronicle to News Corp, Murdoch’s multi-national, benevolent corporation.
Longtime Chronicle editors Kilgoar Trout and Hatesec reportedly met with Murdoch on his yacht Monday morning off the coast of Tripoli. The editors are in Libya on an embed with the US Defense Department to document the extraordinary success of the 2011 NATO humanitarian bombing campaign.
After stepping off the yacht, Kilgoar and Hatesec apparently held an impromptu press conference for a bunch of fishermen and dock workers. Speaking in broken Arabic, Hatesec reportedly told the workers that they “would not be taking questions at this time” and to “call our lawyers, you fucking mutts.” The fishermen merely shrugged and sailed off into the Mediterranean.
Empires are vast. This move fits in with Murdoch’s recent consolidation of influential media outlets across the political spectrum. After acquiring VICE, Murdoch set his sights towards other alternative news outlets, in search of the next big thing to contaminate.
An aide to Murdoch, speaking on condition of anonymity, said he came across the Chronicle one night while searching for kiddie porn on the Deep Web. After perusing its contents, his hard-on became stiff as a cricket bat, especially after reading Kilgoar’s Pulitzer Prize winning report on Mel Gibson’s joining Rage Against the Machine.
“Rupert likes honest reporting. He is committed to integrity and truth telling in the newsroom,” the aide said. “So naturally he wants to acquire the Chronicle.”
While Murdoch’s influence is often subtle and benign on his media outlets, it is possible that he will censor the editorial duo at the Chronicle, both of whom are hardline Democrats.
Dr. Angstrum H. Trubidur, a professor of media studies on sabbatical in Benghazi, said of the move, “Hell, them boys Kilgoar and Hatesec? Yeah they don’t know who they’re dealing with. What, they think they are still gonna be able to print hard news? Le’me tell ye, they’ll be going the VICE route before long: glittery, vapid, meaningless reporting while the truth is left on the cutting room floor.”
In a company-wide e-mail sent by Kilgoar right before publication, he assured the staff that their wages and benefits would not be affected if any merger were to happen. Reporters at the Chronicle were relieved as, unlike VICE, the Chronicle is known for paying livable wages to its staff and showering benefits upon even the most meager of its contributors.
When asked to comment on the proposed merger, Hatesec replied via e-mail, “Go fuck yourself.”
RICHMOND, VA. — “We just seen the opportunity, and I couldn’t pass it up. I had to own a slave,” said Internet Chronicle Publisher Frank Mason, speaking to clerical staff and press called to a conference at 1000 Monument Ave. With Jeff Schapiro from the Times-Dispatch busily taking notes, Mr. Mason continued, lamenting that he could only purchase a worker’s mortal flesh, “his gametes but never his soul.” He emphasized every syllable with a bang on the marble table top.
“God ain’t legalized that yet,” said Mr. Mason with a dry, wheezing laugh, before ejecting a runny stream of “baccy” from between tarred lips into a spittoon two meters away, carved apparently from a human skull.
“See that spitoon over there?” he said, gesticulating for reporters and Richmond business leaders. “That there’s a Czech. You can tell by the shape of the unity lobe.”
Editor of Chronicle.su — and lifelong friend of Mr. Mason’s — Kilgoar Trout complained that he was given no say in the matter. “Frank wanted to own a human being, he said. He said it’d make him feel powerful. It does.”
Lebal Drocer is a limited liability corporation. In God’s new America NAFTA and GATT have railroaded the communist unions that used to effectively clip and snip job creators. Those days are over. 1999 and Seattle came and went.
And they lost.
In addition to having assembled Virginia business leaders and various Saudi investors to show off what he called “his new Chinese,” Frank Mason told Internet Chronicle enthusiasts present that he was encouraging staff to obtain concealed-carry permits as soon as possible, and to fasten as many rails as possible to any “tricked-out rifles” staff might have hoarded in secret rooms in their basements. “That one’s putting a clampdown on on everything holy. Like my grandpappy used to say, Jesus won’t tolerate no clip with less capacity than days in his months,” adding, “And I ain’t talking about February!”
It was at this point that Raymond H. Boone of the Richmond Free-Press left the conference.
Editor Kilgoar Trout shared his concern that the company was moving too quickly away from the model of documenting the most frightening developments in cybersecurity and the out-of-control, privately bought-out surveillance state. “With this new venture into human trafficking,” said Mr. Trout to the publisher of Southside’s Community Weekly, “Frank’s really hijacking my religion of peace.”
Chronicle.SU–NewsCorp’s premiere chat service, News of the Chat of the News World, functions by way of a high-speed underground network of rare Emperor Cheetahs, which are blocked for their usefulness by anti-cheetah hospital security systems everywhere.
Years of warmongering, bloodthirstiness, Kahane-level Zionism and utter hatred of Arabs had not entirely divested Mr. Murdoch of his dealings with the Arab Cheetahs. Saudi money had acquired quite a bit of his Neocon twistiness, and finally the Arab Cheetahs were allowed over that tricky border between Egypt and Gaza — where nearby, on the Egyptian side, only, like, six people in a group are allowed to walk at a time — and into the D.C.-sized deathaplex they ruptured. Their lightweight tails smacked against the backs of their noble legs as they poured into the world’s largest prison camp, trails of saliva, like shoelaces, lapping against their forelegs.
“It’s a lolfest if you don’t know what to expect before going down there,” reported freelance cheetah dealer Joe Bradley, 45. “Innocent people getting d0x3d left and right, cheetahs prancing around at high volume with hateful messages pinned to their shock collars, and they’re like, ‘What the fuck, I should be in the savannah pouncing on the fucking river, drinking caribou and throttling gazelle, not running copyedits to and fro. Fuck that wrinkled old prick!'”
Murdoch’s viewers have been internationally recognized to possess the lowest, basest possible understanding of the dynamics that created the Fox News — oops, I mean, the second Iraq War, the one following the harrowing, “courageous” embargo of the southwest Asian country that killed billions of innocent cheetahs. That country is known to us as North Korea.
Wearing Gacy-like clown makeup at time of press, Mr. Murdoch announced that it made complete sense that his average viewer possesses the cognitive/reality coherence that they would call “Osama bin Laden” “Saddam Hussein.” This is a result of mass-consumption of furry pornography.
“I thought I could make an edifice as large as those structures in Bioshock III take off.”
“I would never have imagined that people would have bought so much of my flag-fellating bullshit. Ever since Bush I was able to make that incubator-baby crap fly, I thought I could make an edifice as large as those structures in Bioshock III take off.”
“Good doggies do tricks,” added Mr. Murdoch, red food-coloring dye, as used by goth kids, running down opposite sides of his mouth along with saliva, red ink trailing into the white.
In spite of their rebellious demeanors, the cheetahs remain polite because should they resist, they will be put to death, skinned and crafted into spectacularly jewel-encrusted thongs for Murdoch to prance around in.
“They’re not outspoken about their plight but they should be,” said cheetah specialist Speedy McFeely of the Bristol Motor Speedway, Virginia and fucken redneck.
Adrian “Cheetah” Chen approached the Virginia physics expert and without asking permission bent him over and snorted a line of cocaine off the small of his back. With lips pursed, Adrian softly sucked his dick, which instead of semen, leaked the phone records of celebrities and d0x of LulzSec hackers.
One cheetah busted out the cocaine in front of reporters as Murdoch – who audibly gasped at the faux pas – pondered it a moment and opted instead to cup his genitals crying, “Not here, man. The cameras. Shit’s tainted with skin-rotting levamisole. You know what that does to my ballsack.”
Murdoch hatefully orders the reporters out of his hospital suite and defecates in his bed. The hateful troll-cheetah delivers Murdoch his percocets, and Murdoch takes out a small tray, a credit card and a rolled up tin-bob note.
“Who’s the pussy now, bitch?” roars Murdoch. “We’ve got to get these children off of Google+. It’s like a disease, man a fucking KID [emphasis added] disease. Delete the little fucker’s emails to his grandma, if that’s what it takes. They’re worthless, because they were written by a CHILD [emphasis added].” Rupert Murdoch buries his face into the fur of a cocaine-dusted cheetah and insufflates a full breath of cocaine as it wanders idly by. His eyes then glaze over and turn a fiery red.
“Come here son, I’ll tuck your shirt in for you.”
“Show me your MySpace before you go!” calls out Murdoch, half-erect and blind from cocaine. “Come here son, I’ll tuck your shirt in for you.”
To Mr. Murdoch, the cheetahs look like small children, ready for molestation. Murdoch passes out, drool glazing his wrinkled face.
Media Mogul dreams of Yao Ming and his network of cheetahs. In his dreams, he snorts a line of crushed percocets to kill the pain.
“Thank God it’s not that levamisole-tainted bullshit,” he remarks to the pool-boy, “and thank God it’s lab-produced morphine.
Krokodil gets the Cheetahs high, makes their dicks grow and nurtures their latent homosexual tendencies as a means of population control. They cook up various drugs in Murdoch’s Russian apartment, and come out stinking of iodine. Murdoch reeks of Cheetah anus, the latent evidence of a recent shitler hitler still slightly noticable. It is grim, but oddly arousing to this reporter.
“I’m assembling a panel of premade emoticons to tell a story because I am autistic,” Murdoch tells the press. “Ctrl+v for autism. Look only at mouths while communicating.”A new trend in communication is sweeping the Internet, churches and wi-fi cafés. “Create a rage comic if you want to propose to your husband or call out a troll,” said Murdoch. “Create a rage comic while high on Krokodil, before taking a line of levamisol-tainted cocaine. My flesh is rotting away and all I can do is read the next rage comic. Twitter has become my only outlet for communication, after rage comics.”
Murdoch is visibly upset by this point and releases an odor resembling that of decomposing flesh. It is decomposing flesh. The cheetahs pull the plug on his life-support and he dies a slow painful death emitting a gurgling puddle of feces, writhing in a nightmarish hell, and being mercilessly ripped apart and taunted by his once loyal army of cheetahs.
“Just looked at the first reddit post in a long while,” Murdoch mumbles to himself before documentary filmmakers overlapping with the Chronicle.SU doing coverage of the long-term effects of cheetah-addiction. He gently rolls the click-wheel of his mouse down a cat-lover furryboard gleefully tapping his foot and singing “im a little man, also evil, also in to cats”
“To avoid downvotes, everyone prefaces their statements with an apology and an explanation of what their comment is not.” #fagreddit
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