With the 2016 primaries fast approaching, a lot of Americans are asking themselves which white collar criminal they should vote for. It’s a Hard Choice.
There is no reason not to trust an oligarchical institute of competing parties.
When I drive my family to the polls November after the November after next, I’ll make sure that we’re all ready to vote for Hil͏̟̳̱̤̘l̜̞̫̝͈̝̫a͇̼͓̘͠ͅr̯̹̩͝y̠̹ ͔͔͈̖̰͖ͅR̴͓̲̥̠̜od͈̳ͅh̼͇̯̗ͅa͚͚͘m͈ ͎̪̦̯̤̜C̢̱̲͈͇̯̦l̶͎̺̯͎in͉̘̩̭̖̬ton, of the 45th estate of Dark Lord Inglip, Home of the Titans.
I am so confident in the Democratic Party to represent my interests, I’d even trust a Republican to vote for them. Besides, i̴̱̲͓t̤̦͖͚̲ ̼͈̦̖̺̫̳̤̀d̬̗́o͏̥͖̙̻̗̦̣ẹ̛̼͕̠̪̹͢s̤̼̜͈͔̀͟͝n͏̜̻̟̮̣͈̘̼̕’̙̦̣̳̟͝t̵̩̮͕̳̩ ͟͏̳̤̮̟͘m̪͖͓͎͟a̢̨͔̦t̵̡̞̲͝t͏̶̺̜ḙ͍͝ŕ̬̗̳͕͓̺̬̺ ̨̖̤̲͚̦̘̭̙̻͜á̵̵̰̯̭̳̝n̶̟͇̭͓͓y̨̠̪̤̗͈͇̰̙ͅw̷̢̱̯͉̜̝̺͢a̷̘̙y̧̡̝͚̪̟̦̬̤̩͟.͕̣̫̤̺͞ We’re all gonna die!
I am the night. I am the crystalline hatred of His Glory! I am the cold void of space, dark matter itself. And I’m always shopping for bargains. That’s why I cut coupons. I even have a coupon for open democracy I plan to inject next Tuesday, assuming the F̤̹̼̣̠̿ͫ̊ͦiͩ̚͏f̗̺̬͇t̹̹̥̱͍ͫ͑h̠̆̄̈́ͥͬ̀ ͙̻͉̲̕Dimensional Pa̧̤̱̰̰̘͗̏́̒̋̅ȓ̵͇̼̱͍̗̼̞̜͉̿͗̂ͫͬ̿̚a͍͇̼͈̎͌ͣ́͑̍̿digm Shift doesn’t invert the 98th God’s isosceles invective (like last time!).
So come on out and try the all-new 2015 Ford Focus with rear-facing artillery cannons. For a limited time sign up for a new subscription on timespace-distorting plasma charges and receive your first cybernetic counter-enslavement upgrade ABSOLUTELY F̙̫̩͇̰͍̠̦̯̀͜R͕̰̬̹̼̦̙̕͟͡ͅE̷̻͙͉̝̟Ȩ͚͇̯̝͈̦. I am the darkness which flows through the hearts of men. Act now and SAVE on inner-oblivion anti-trust coating. D̪̟o̩̙̻͉͟ͅn̗̫̩͔̝̖’͘t́ ̀w̢̩̬a̞̙͙s̩̥̲̯̞̰ͅt̺͡ę͚̣̗ ̝̣̲̲̳̀ḁ͚̟̤͕̬ͅw̰̳̣̥a͉̼̼̰͜y͙̬͎̩ ͈̺̜̠͕̣l҉̘̫͖̲͕̟ḁ̰̮̱ț̦e҉r̰͙͈̼͕̥ ̣̣b̶̦̦̺̘e̢̗͚͎̫c̛̼a̲͍͎̣u̲̲̹̳͓̖ͅs̼̗̰͚e ͍͍͓͎̭y̯o̤̩͔͍͖̳̳ṳ͞ ̵̠͎̲̹̤̝̱͖͍̰͙̘̯̜̰̗͡c̵̸̸̱̫̘̟̰̀͘o̸̶͙̮͎̪̠̫̗̤u͏̴҉̰̙̖͉̪̼̣͎̱̭̠͉͡͞ͅl͎̳̘̮̦͈͇̬̜͞d̸̷̡̯̘̠̤̖̩̮̻̥̯̞͍̣̮͘ǹ͔̜̯͚̝͎̗̱͖͙̘̰͖̰͙̣́͜͟ͅͅ’̸̨̢͡҉̤̬̪̙̮̫ţ̴̣̬̫͈̖̬̫̀ ̸̷̨̗̣̟̜͘͝i̴̢͖̠̯̖͖̱̕͘͘ͅn̢̛͢҉̞̘̩̱͙̪̲͙̺͓̠͍̳͇͖̙ͅs̸̢̛̙̞͔̫͈̺͈̥̪̰̜͖̻͙͚̯̞͎ư̶͎̩͉͔͚͍̹̻ͅͅr̗̘̝̞̫͘͜e̝̻̩͓͚̻͟͜͝ ̳̞̝̹͍̠̜̪͕̘͍̖͢á̲͎͕̮̥̟̥̀̕g̛͚̖̣̘͢͝á̸̻̬̯̩̯͍i̧̧̗̩̘̻̤̟̲̮̻͓̪̱͈͍͙̺͎̕͝n̴͚̞̝̞̕͞s̴̛̱̩̝̩͓̖̪̩͍͚̮͍̲͡ͅt͘͜҉̧̱̥͔̭ ͏̵͇͕̥̗̗̣̩̳̣̞͉͙̲̤̫͟͞ṭ̮̹̲͇͎̖̼̥̲̻͙͜͟͠ḩ̼̱̯͎̘͎̗͈̩̗̲͉͉̥͍̘̣̭̼̕e̴̡͖̹̱̳ ̟̰͓̩̥̪͕͕͝H̡̦̜͍̗̮͉̣͈͍̺͠ͅͅa̵̩̩̫͈̜̭͇͜t̸͖̤͚̘̮̩̪̝̙͚͉̲͝͞e͏͙͍̞͍̼̗̥͉̮̘͉͍͖̠̜̻͚̕͜ ̡̛҉̮̣̲̖̩R̟̗̠̫̞̜͕͜à͇͚͙̺͕͕̥͠i̡̤̤̮̣͎͓̮̯̱̪͓͙̤̦͙̩̼̕͜͢͠n̴̢҉̬͚͍͉̻͈̻̮̲͘ ̕҉̶͓͎̬̪̺̬̣̩̟̬̱̤̥̮̹̯̱͇t҉͏͏͙͕̥̙̞̘͚͉͍̼̗͙̦̤͠ó̸̡̹̺̼̼̱̝̱̖̝͖͕̠̯̼͜d҉̵̗̞͉̟̯̗̗̱͍̝̳̲̼a͏҉̗͔͚̦͕̜͕̻͚̞͙ͅͅy͡͞͏̰̲̠͕͈̩.
T̷̛̮͈̹͕̘̬̞̞̋͆ͨ̈́̋͑͆͂̽̓͆̀h̴̡̢̛̠̬͇͚̮̺̠̼̘͕͈̻̜ͪ̑ͦͭ̿ͫ͐̋͑̽͌̀ͧ̇ͮ̚ͅeͮ̅ͣ̀͡͏̯͍̱̬̻͓̗̗̻̠̥͔͈̞͞ ̗͖͍ͩ̏ͫͮ͆̉͛̌̈́͒ͤͦ̑͋ͫ́ͪͫ̕͟͟C̓͑̏̍̿ͮ͊͗̓̇ͪ͑̂͘͏̴̵̨̝̯͚̲̦̱̳̩ȍ̶͛̓̾ͯ͋̑͂̂ͬ̊ͭ͂͋ͭ҉̛̯̟̙̞̯̥̮̱̪̀ͅŗ̶̤̫͓͓͉̱̗̘̲̯̫͔̞̖͙͓ͤͨͦͦ̀́p̧͇͉͈̥̜̘̣̞̬̠͉̣͔̭̹̦̿ͦͮ̅͋̓ͨ̑̾̽̒̑̈́̅͆͑́͞ͅo̧̿͒̍̎ͧ͆ͭͭ̿ͣͧ͌̚҉͉͔̲̜̥̱͙͍͍͈͇r̛̳̠̦̗̩̭͖̲͇̠͍͊̅̈ͥͪ̓ͪ̓͑ͭ́͢͠ḁ̴̡̧̙͙̫̣̮͇̫̰͕͊̏͗ͧ̾ͯ͐t̨̢͈̠̗̻̻͙̞͙̱̜͓̫̟̝̺͕ͣ̀̂̆͜e̱̮̥͉̟̦̮̹͙̗ͥ̀͌ͯ̂̓̆ͪ͗ͨͣ̽̃̊̒ͭͭ̚͟͟ ̷̧̥͎̤̳͕̼̲̭͈͙͚̯͗̀͛̈́̀͠M̧̛͚̹͎͍̝ͤͦͫ͂ͩͨͧ͋̀̂ͩ͋͠a̷̢̤̥͖͖ͨ̓̇͂̽̉͐̅ͣͤ̿̕̕͠sͤ̎̋ͫ͏̧̥̗̗̜̳͇͚̙̺̦̞̯̱̰̗͓͖̼t̸̶̡̮̱̹͎͇͍̝̻̼̱͔͖͈̝̑̾͒̍̅ͬ̍ͬ̓́͢e̢̧̨̯̙͇̳̹͍̼̥͍̗̥̘̝̭̣̝͈̓̏̿̀̽̈́̈ͥͥ̇̚͢͞ͅͅr̡̗̹̥ͣ͆ͧ͂̍ͦ͒ͪ ̗̞̤̹̝ͧ̋͋̌̀͠Ä̴̸̴̲̹̳̪̩͍̱̙͇͇̗̙̎ͫͭ͂̾̓ͯ͂ͧ̃̿͌̎͜͢w̨͙̣̬͓͉̖͈̺̣͚̯͍̠͌ͬ͊̔̔͂̏ͮͥ̍̔̇̒̔ͮ͐̀̊̀́͢͜ͅą̧̛͎͉̣̦̭͎̫̯̻̯̯̘͉̪̣̻͔̺̔̏̆̽͋̑̂ͣͮ̎͐͠i̅͐͒͗͏̶̟̮̬̦͈̻͉͙͉̣̻͞t̸̢̡͉̜̦̠̲̮͛͗ͬ͐̐̑͆̿͂̈́̾̊̔ͧͣ̌ͨ̈́̚ş̴̥̬̦̼̮̖̻̃͆̑͐͐ͤ̀͊̎̏ͥͥ̀̚
Photo of DMX’s “poverty house”
INTERNET — Thursday evening, an arguably blazed fan of dad-rock band Phish, found and posted the drivers license of hardcore rapper DMX(Earl Simmons) to Internet forum Phantasy Tour, claiming his place as “OP” of an “epic thread.” In OP’s first post, he explains how DMX was always getting arrested up for driving without a license in the small town of Lyman, South Carolina. As it turns out, Simmons finally procured a drivers license, only to lose it whilst riding around town in his drop-down.
The now archived thread began with OP posting a photograph of the bankrupt rappers license, asking if he should go return it. After an overly caring second post, other forum posters took the information into their own hands and began ordering DMX pizzas, the hallmark of “epic threads.” Soon, an argument erupted over the fact that one pizza-bomber had done cash-on-delivery, prompting rabid Phish “phans” demanding others show “respect” to the destitute rapper(these posters were later dubbed “DMX white knights”). The pizza delivery man confirmed that the delivery had been made.
Among the wave of self-congratulatory and “thread of the year” posts, forum goers began cleverly combining DMX lyrics with that of pizza ingredients, bringing phans to many lols. Forum goer stipe1 even seized the opportunity to read the thread aloud to his son. One poster went as far as to looking up women on Craigslist to send to his house, for a nominal service charge. Much to the chagrin of posters, this plan never panned out. Someone ordered him Phishs’ new album off Amazon, which apparently, was hilarious.
As the thread moved closer to the 499 post limit(the staple of a Phantasy Tour “epic thread”) and the shoddily photoshopped memes kept flowing, phans began to wonder about OP’s whereabouts. Soon, OP appeared to his adoring fans, savoring his 499 posts of Internet fame, to say he was not murdered by a crack fueled Earl Simmons.
When all was said and done, phans concluded that OP had delivered.
UPDATE: In a new thread attempting to continue the “lulz,” the no-longer OP said in a typed statement: “All the sudden this isn’t as funny to me anymore. I’m sure you guys are loving it though. He might kill me for real.”
You stupid bunch of motherfuckers. You worthlesss piece of shit. You racist, consumerist, self-interested products of incest. I mean wow, who would have thought that if you lead a life of blindly half-assing everything, you would finally, eventually, get what you want? Well, your day has come. The world sucks now, just a little bit more than it already did before. And it is your fucking fault.
Everyone on the Internet is a horrible piece of trash. At The Internet Chronicle, We know and understand this. Leaving comments on videos, on news stories, on reddit, on The Internet Chronicle: You are all, ALL, of you, are ignorant, shitty people.
Nobody cares about your stupid, fucking uneducated opinions based on the one thing you just read or watched. You don’t know shit, and what’s worse is you don’t even try to reach for anything better. You are an ignorant fuck commenting on a website, and you don’t even want to learn more about whatever stupid thing it is you’re about to say. You are just going to say it, and let all the rest of the world worry about it, like an atom bomb of chain-reacting, brain-deadening stupidity.
“What did he mean? Well, did he honestly not know about the subject, or does he actually have unique access to information that nobody else has, and that’s why he says his politician cares and the other ones don’t?”
No, obviously, the reason you are talking is because you don’t know shit, because it’s supposed to work like this: If you keep your mouth shut and listen, and read, then you are learning. But when you’re talking, when you’re writing the BULLSHIT that comes out of your head, then not only are you not learning anything, but you are literally contributing to an ongoing, universal ignorance by delaying everybody else’s chances to read something interesting or learn something they didn’t know as well, because EVERY BODY STOP!! — YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. That is why they call it the great equalizer, because you can help drag everyfuckinbody down with you.
So you know what? Fuck you, and fuck your stupid comments. Fuck the whole god damn Internet. Just, fuck it. I’m out.
FUCK YOU WORDPRESS.
FUCK YOU WORDPRESS. YOU FUCKING OPEN SOURCE PILE OF MORMON SHIT.
FUCKING WORDPRESS IS A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. You know what else is open source? Religion.
WORDPRESS, I FUCKING HATE YOU.
WORDPRESS ATE MY FUCKING ARTICLE, I PUT UP AN IMAGE AND ALL IT FUICKING SAVED WAS THAT PIECE OF SHIT IMAGE.
“OH, YOU WANTED TO SAVE THAT PIECE OF SHIT DOCUMENT YOU WERE WORKING ON FOR 90 MINUTES? PFFFFUCK YOU, LOL, BUT I SAVED THE IMAGE YOU UPLOADED, IN FACT I OVERWROTE YOUR PIECE OF SHIT STORY WITH IT.”
I DON’T KNOW IF IT’S THIS FUCKING SERVER THAT CAN’T HOLD ITS OWN ASS IN ITS HANDS. I DON’T KNOW IF IT’S OPEN SOURCE WORDSHIT OR THE WHOLE GOD DAMN WHATEVER THE FUCK IS OUT THERE, I WANT TO NUKERAPE THE EASTERN SEABORD.
[Editor's note: Okay, alright now we are going to write this. I smoked a big old fat thing of weed and now we are going to write an article about]
The state of our world
…digital and otherwise – assuming there’s a difference (based on a paper forwarded to me by Kilgoar, I unconsciously pore over the definition of reality. The paper – originally published in a scientific journal, but now Aaron Swarz’d on this subversive website – stipulated that substantial evidence “exists” to suggest reality as we know it is a computer simulation.
The cat pictured above is exhibiting extra-binary political analysis.
Let’s just say for a second that we do live in a computer simulation designed to reproduce (or produce for the very first time) each facet of our existence – from the evolution of the single-celled organism to mankind, or from illiteracy to telekinesis. Let’s assume that every instance of reality exists not only in probability but in practicality. If we are part of “one” simulation then we may infer there possibly could be many others. Perhaps these alternate realities play out in widening variations – even to the extent we no longer recognize existence in its many otherworldly iterations.
Or let’s just say that’s all bullshit. Either way, does a two-party system actually reflect the needs of mankind?
Even fucking binary code “needs” more than 1′s and 0′s to function. Binary needs a processor.
Our false-binary political system does not allow us to recognize what goes on outside that vote – or that the government itself is a sort of processor, and not the result of voting itself. The processor is designed for certain purposes; all of them acted out, at its most basic level, in binary. And that is how America votes (and the results are menacingly consistent). Republican or Democrat, “left” or “right,” this one or that one, the lesser of two evils, and so on … it is by design that these are our choices.
It is of the utmost importance that we question, at every opportunity, what “reality” is, or is not.
To be, or not to be, that is the question—
This is a classic example of pre-computer false binary. I would have sailed out across God’s green ocean, and to hell with revenge and the idolization of one’s enemies.
But Prince Hamlet let himself get wrapped up in the binary when he should have been thinking about wrecking the processors. If you don’t like what your Pentium IV from 1999 is doing, then you don’t delete out a line of code. You replace that motherfucker. I’m talking about a processor revolution, and people don’t think like that. We are taught to think in binary. Yes and no.
So what if you KNEW “everything” was a computer simulation. Wouldn’t you want to play in it? Wouldn’t you be interested in seeing what it can do? Or does being a process relegate us to certain behaviors, certain parameters – certain “rules.” Maybe, right? But isn’t it worth a try?
You can be an inhuman monster just like this man — Read Healthy As Fuck! by Dr. Angstrom H. Troubador, and dehydrate yourself until your skin is nothing but a thin sheet over your muscles. It also decreases chances of ball itch!
CUTHBERT, GA. — Monday, Dr. Angstrom H. Troubador proposed a new Theory of Masculinism at the Camelot University Youtube Lecture Marathon. This field of theory, according to Dr. Troubador, is of course fallible and in many ways quotidian, but nonetheless remains in his jargon, “under-inter-theorized,” due to the inherent chauvanistic nature of Patriarchy and homo-repressed heterosexuality pointed out by Queer and Feminist theorists. Dr. Troubador told reporters, “They’d call us all faggots, misandrists, and privileged white people just for theorizing in this direction, but by God I’m a Heterosexual White Man and I’m tired of being represented by ‘Red Pill’ Monarchists from Date Rape Hell dressing their regurgitated internalized ideologies up as radical philosophy. Plus I’d be on the Queer, Colonialist, Feminist, etc teams if I wasn’t a damned white male. Best thing I can do is learn from ‘em and try to think of what their lessons mean to be me, a privileged white man.”
Dr. Troubador slammed his fist on the podium with tremendous hate, “By God there are some sick fucks in the world that I’d love to crush and who deserve the eternal hate of God in hell, but I’m only deranged. A man must look at the world as a war, and it is Hell. Competition is first a madness and second a sacred duty. But this is only the default setting not informed by advances in many fields of Theory. That’s why I’m writing a religious text, using these advances as technology. Our project incorporates a rich inter-theoretical syncretic landscape, fractal mathematics, and persona management propaganda techniques in order to design a religion which will sweep the world in at least one century, hopefully transmitting much of the lessons learned from Theory into the collective conscious and unconscious of the masses. The hate stream of reformation and the more efficient repression of lower animal urges which results will flow into every corner and every government on Earth, and then into the stars. This is the tool through which a civilization becomes a Type I on the Kardashev scale, and building a motherfucking Empire is the space for a White Man like me to set up shop. There’s no doubt they never thought this could happen, or they’d never have said a word!”
Critics of Dr. Troubador, including many he has cited in recent papers, gathered in an ad hoc militia and surrounded his walled compound just hours ago. Local police refused to intervene in the dramatic standoff, classifying the confrontation as a battleground in time of war. The nearby military base in Alansville responded, dispatching at least five Apache assault choppers which were spotted circling Dr. Troubador’s compound, ready to unleash hell on both protesters and Dr. Troubador at the drop of a dime. Let us pray for the eternal salvation of man and that these monsters are completely incinereated in the purified computer guided hate of hellfire missiles.
AMERICA – Faggots in Washington (D.C.) who don’t vote for the Bible are destined for an Eternity in Hell — courtesy of our Lord and Savior, the compassionate Jesus Christ of the United States of A-fuckin-merica.
I say, if you don’t like the Bible, then forget how to read ’cause that’s all reading’s good for. If you don’t believe that, then go to Hell. And if you don’t like this country, then get out.
Because if humans were meant to read, then why weren’t we born with it? Why did we have to “learn” how to do it? Learning is a tool of the Devil, since whatever wasn’t put in the Good Book simply ain’t worth knowing, and that’s all there is to it. Amen.
Praise the Lord.
There ain’t a dignified man on this earth who don’t praise the motherfuckin’ Lord. This country used to be good. This country was once worth something. Now, all it is, is overrun with blacks, Mexicans and the Chinese. No fuckin’ wonder the NSA is spying on us. We aren’t even White anymore.
Now, how the fuck I’m supposed to get a job, Obama, when all our shit’s made in that Communist wasteland Vietnam? Barack Hussein Obama must love them overseas coloreds because that’s where his Daddy’s from, so he gives them all the jobs. Now I don’t want to sound racist or anything, but even with all the chinks building up our railroads, and all the Mexicans digging out my ditches, this country was alright before the blacks.
How in the fuck is it I gotta sit in line at the drive-through and when I get up to that window, a big nigger’s lookin’ out at me, reaching for my debit card? Don’t they already steal enough? We gotta put them in charge of our beef and our tortillas now, too? I mean, if I go to Popeye’s Chicken, who’s gonna be there? You know who, and that’s why I’m not racist.
Give me a break.
We are ruled by a shadow government.
I was talking to this guy tonight who made a case for the NSA. It was no case at all, though – not because he was only 20 years old, an “international relations major” – but because his point was “how does that affect you?”
That’s not a point. That’s a hypothetical question to which my response was, “It doesn’t affect, her, her, him, this guy, or Jeremy [a loser sitting nearby] — but it affects people like me, who want to write without someone looking over his shoulder. And I’m not talking about newsroom-looking-over-the-shoulder but knowing what I read and write is vetted by a bureaucrat in Utah or Quantico who has no concept of what we do here; and shouldn’t.
If you think there is a “good side” to the NSA, then you just aren’t paying attention. You don’t open your eyes. You don’t fucking think. But the NSA is such a thing that if you do think, then you are the enemy. You’re being watched. This country don’t need thinkers, baby. We’re a nation of patriots. A nation of God.
We’re a nation of herd.
The concept of revolution is such that, if we talk about it, then we are complicit in our own demise. “Look how that worked out for the Black Panthers.” The FBI killed Fred Hampton in his sleep, unprovoked. And then they paraded the media through his apartment to show all the bullet holes like, “Check out the firefight. These niggers don’t give up.” Yeah, but all those bullet holes – every single fucking one of them – went one way: into Fred Hampton’s fuckin bedroom, where he and his pregnant wife slept.
The FBI put an informant in with Hampton and the Panthers, because we didn’t yet have something quite so spectacular as the NSA listening in on our cellphone microphones at will and watching us through our own private webcams. Revolution is non-violent. It’s the resistance that’s violent.
Pay attention: The Fourth Amendment ain’t your friend. It is there to trick you into believing that in a perfect world, you aren’t being watched. The Constitution, the agreement into which all Americans are born, was a pro-slavery, pro-capitalist document designed to indoctrinate school children into a belief structure, formulated by James Madison, author of the Federalist Papers which validates subservience to the ownership of the means of production… which were then codified by the economic elites of the late 1700s behind closed doors – where the Constitutional Convention took place.
5,000 US Marines vs 10 trillion lions
Marines can use anything that the US military but a max of 10 nuclear weapons. For the Marines to win, at least one of them has to survive. They can’t leave Earth. No unlimited ammo.
Nuke a cascading perimeter fanning out to the East using all ten bombs. Let the fallout eat away at what’s left. That should wipe out between 1/8 and 1/4 of most of the lions. Depending on how well that tactic works, this could wipe out up to 1/3 of all lions.
But you’re still fighting between 6 and 8 trillion lions, so what do you do? Napalm areas where many lions are known to live. Napalm the largest density areas first, and burn down as much as the forest as possible. Re-deploy agent orange if you need to, since it likely won’t kill everyone and we only need at least one guy. Once you’ve burned out most of the forested areas, then you go to the plains. Plains burn just as easily, if not better. With a focus on incendiary efforts, you can burn out most of a lion’s habitat in a matter of weeks extending into months.
So now we’ve nuked our lions, and we’ve burned out a great deal of their habitat. Lions don’t give up that easily. Lions adapt, or else evolution wouldn’t have carried them this far. They’re basically cats and we’re talking about an absurd number of them – more than this planet can reasonably sustain which is why they must be eradicated, certainly, with no doubt. But they’re living in our cities. They’re occupying.
Using the latest advancements in wartime technology, we’re stretching our men thin at just under 5,000 – assuming friendly fire statistics remain the same – but we’ve manned battleships capable of raining blankets of hot lead down from many miles away, beyond the coastal perimeters where lions don’t fare so well. We are stomping asses and violating a humanist Geneva convention which makes no protections for lions whatsoever. We have broken out the cluster-bombs.
With support from cluster-bombing air fighters, our ships are handed coordinates on which to fire, and we put as much hate on as many lions as necessary, for 25 years.
As our men approach retirement age, the Lion War rages on unimpeded. Those men who have now, in their 25th year of war, killed upwards of five million lions per year are held in high esteem, but more is needed to escape this godless melee. No one gives up. No one mourns the dead who have fallen to Agent Orange and the radioactive effects of nuclear fallout, because there’s simply not time.
Each remaining man must still kill in excess of 5 million lions this year, to make up for the slack of the dead, and to restore order to this oxygen-deprived, fur-choked nightmare, for the oceans are now toxic with disease from the corpses which displace the tides and raised sea level by many hundreds of feet – a thousand in some regions of the world.
With a halt on production, our men have run out of resources – oil, ammo and food. There is nothing on earth left untouched by the Lion War, and some of our men have taken to eating the irradiated lion carcases as a form of self-harm; a prayer for death. Others push on, and have made weapons from bones, but without ammunition, it’s simply not enough. It looks as if the lions might win this year.
Where we managed to kill some of the lions, more reproduced. Where their babies came out mutated and lame, others grew stronger. The lion army never needed ammo, they were better than bombs. They had numbers. It was never our war to fight, really. We were the abscess. We were the minority. There were so many lions, and so few marines, most of the lion population didn’t know we were at war. We lost to the lions.
The whole war, our men were asleep – suffocating from a lack of oxygen – imagining a grandiose solution to the impossible nightmare; of breathing in the final bittersweet hate smell of a preposterous number of lions spawning out of nowhere, consuming the earth which is less dirt, really, than lion.
This godless hypothesis contained way too much lion.
We are all so smart. Look at us, how fucking smart we are.
We all agree. We are ALL in agreement.
Look at us. How we do agree!
We are all so loud. Listen to us.
How loudly in agreement we can be!
How little we say. In so many words.
How few thoughts, between the many, are we!