I, Joe Six Pack, pledge allegiance to the United States of America. In doing so, I equate the value of the dollar with my own salvation. Until the dollar is as strong – or weak – as my corporate masters deem suitable, I will not rest. O International Monetary Fund! Hath we never done no ill will toward you, yea, we seek austerity measures in your honor. We hath sacrificed health care in your honor. We hath compromised human rights, dignity and overall health in your name. Lo, how better can we serve you than to carpet your fine mahogany offices with the very skin of your most devout followers, so that each day you may trample upon our faces and we may taste with our own tongues your unending contempt for the consumers that built you. In Strauss-Kahn’s name, amen.
Leave comments below confessing your own Christlike love for Capitalism.
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New York–NYPD officer Anthony Bologna, seen here macing individuals, has reportedly picked up major sponsorship from industry leading pepper spray manufacturer Lebal Drocer, Incorporated.
Some condemn the action as grievous, saying Lebal Drocer’s sponsorship of state terrorism is a predictable move toward a police culture that is protective of the rich and oppresses an American majority. However some hail the endorsement as a bold move into uncharted new marketable territories. It is a market Wall Street analysts said went untapped “for good reasons,” but has since shown promise of fresh capital brokers can’t wait to sink their teeth into.
Lebal Drocer spokesman Raleigh Sakers said Bologna has been on their radar since 2004 when he arrested anti-war protesters and made them sit in pee. Sakers said Bologna’s mistreatment of “faggy leftists” sat well with him but until recently was unsure of the officer’s ability to violate a larger number of civil rights in a shorter period of time using their product.
“We’re glad he’s willing to mace groups of people without hesitation or discrimination as to what they may or may not be doing at any given moment,” Sakers told reporters.
Since picking up a lucrative sponsorship deal from Lebal Drocer, Officer Bologna now has quotas to meet, which he said is difficult as competitors scramble for his endorsement of other crowd control related paraphernalia such as riot shields, stun guns, police tasers and rape sticks.
To meet the daily objectives Lebal Drocer has set out for him, Bologna routinely employs the help of fellow officers by asking them to encircle peaceful protesters with orange netting, wherein he is able to mace upwards of dozens at a time in one effortless sweep of the arm.
Hardest of all, said Bologna, is all the work yet to be done. With social upheaval on his doorstep, and protesters rattling the very foundations of the old American Corporatocracy, Bologna said he is but one man, among so many.
Internet–Jamie Jo Corne, real life journalist and publicist for presstorm.com, tragically resorted to posting nude photographs of herself via flickr after church Sunday following a bout with bulimia and self-hatred.
Mr. Corne, the editor of cesstorm who goes by @vincubusdante, came up with the idea while collaborating with outside experts on the matter of manipulating search results to save face and suppress dissent. [LEAKED AUDIO BELOW]
Inside sources close to presstorm suggest editorial duties have fallen upon the ancient @vincubusdante because his babymachine is too busy providing milk to the sucklings to defend herself.
Using Murdoch-approved hacked phone records and coercion techniques, Chronicle.SU recovered the actual phone call taking place between Mr. Corne and the Internet Police:
Below is a piece of brief prose that I wrote to commemorate the ways upon which “jews,” affects humanity – even those whose job it is to further humanity. Read it once – and read it again. Jews, Cheetahs, violence, and hate affects us all. It affects our thinking, it affects our character, and it affects us in ways that we don’t even understand. We are not immune to sociopathic behavior, if pushed towards the violence by the majority and if it war becomes a necessity to survive rather than an act of defense. And now I give you: Cheetah Surrender.
Jerusalem has become a department store for the everlasting dreams of Cheetahs. The snow pays its last respects, landing gently upon the realistic, big-eyed anime dolls with whom I’m going steady, as they await my sexual demands. I gaze hatefully through a rifle scope and scan the maze of death traps that I once ran through as a child and urinate myself. Cheetahs everywhere. Their dicks contain actual bones. Pokey ones.
The desolate phallic structures have been demolished by the sexually ravaging Sixth Army like a flesh eating fuck disease. The frozen stillness of the morning air pervades my usual incontinence, also Cheetahs. The array of traumatic childhood memories tinge the edges of my concentration and the pungent aroma of gasoline and hydrogen cyanide keep an erection at bay. Matzos.. so shitty.. The almond taste on my tongue reminds me of the hard realities I must face. How many of you can stand before a pile of corpses and remain a decent man? Some dude next to me doing card tricks breaks the silence after a series of motions with his hands to ask, “Is this your card?”
Again, I shake my head no. I am also glad that I do not wear a kippah.
Today, I am the piss-soaked damned. Who do you think controls the media?! The power I hold at the tip of my index finger will change the fate of even the noblest of men, the bullet becoming a silent angel of death – if it had been a gun I held. But instead it was a computer mouse. An old Macintosh type with one giant square button. The software moved the cursor 1-dimensionally up and down. The concept of left and right would not be invented until around two years later.
A movement catches my eye. TV is now watched with our backs to the screen. Zionist puppets! MASONS! ILLUMINATI! To kill or be killed? That is today’s episode of Seinfeld. We must secure the existence of our people. Hands reach out from the screens and around our faces to communicate like small children crying for attention and playing guess who at the same time. TVs are so damn annoying. Crouching amid the garden of carnage below, one lone German soldier has made a mortal move. Walker, Texas Ranger approaches.
The Protocols of the Elders of Zion! With vigilance, our crypto-Nazi propagandist examines this document, desperately searching for the retarded enemies like a lost child looking for his mother. He has come to the valley of the shadow of death. Fucking schmuck! I lurk here sometimes, only a short distance above, ready to avenge my people’s despair. ”Let my people go!” their prophet said. Was it worth it little Cheetah Jew man? Was it worth your mother’s virginity? Today is history. Today is the Presstorm.
Here comes a series of trite, introspective thoughts. Try to ignore them.
“Do you ever wonder what could have been? Have you ever farted in your hand and then smelled it? How must it feel to be so pitiful and nefarious? Nicht wahr? Why do I suspiciously fetishize the German language? Your life means so little? Fucky? Sucky fucky? It was the Jews… I knew it!”
Now, you are all alone. You have your dick in one hand and you are surfing the World Wide Web with the other. You jerk it to chubby porn. Is your cause worth the numbness in your fingers and toes, or do you regret touching that colorful froggie now? General Frost is merciless. He is quite cold but not unexpectedly so. Was the hunger in your stomach as you stood before Hitler and vowed loyalty to him? I stood before him after eating a shit ton of pommes and drinking Club Mate. Anyway, has he come to save you now? He sent me a buttload of amphetamines. The tiny little heads of your children must be tucked into their cozy beds right now, each one bearing the face of Adolf Hitler, while I get to tweak all fucken night. Is bedtime worth the tears your children will shed as they visit your grave in years to come and remember what an old shit you were? Is this worth just four easy payments of $9.95? Easily.
A child woke up and realized this was only a dream. He dreamed that he buttfucked Lynxx and Lamb Gaede with the dick of a cheetah. It was mega hot. He continued tucking little heads into bed even though he had no little beds available. His Mother once told me that to kill another means you own their soul. They will linger upon the essence of our being and when we die, they are there to drag us to hell - which really is a small price to pay considering all we do for them. For now, I am still condemned and this is still my duty.
Many years have drifted past, collecting multitudes of disdain and relentless tragedy. My eyes have seen the demons of history come rapping upon the day, time after time and again. Will cheetahs ever manifest the lessons learned? Round and round the world turns, the cycles of life only come to begin again. Then one moment in time is separated from the grief and sustenance of suffering. The echo of death whispers through the mind of a lonely forlorn soldier. The silent messenger of promise desire encroaches.
Do not fear death little cheetah. Look into my eyes and we shall both know the peace of surrender. There is no shame in connecting with the enemy. I am no longer the enemy. I am only here to take away your pain.
He looks left then right. In one final movement, he is looking directly through my eyes and into my soul. Time suspends itself and there is nothing but complete forgiveness. I find myself completely consumed with a love that cannot be compared. The coldness of my stoned heart becomes the warmth radiated by the first ray of sun on a cold morning. I feel his pain, but it is love. I feel his hate, but it is calm. There is a certain acceptance, and I know that it is time. I will serve the Jewish cheetah no pain.
The bullet penetrates the Jew’s skull. The life of one has ceased, as the life of another is only just beginning. I lift myself off the ground and the tiny flutters in my abdomen remind me of my motherly duties.
Through the eyes, love attains the death of suffering – and we all find our Cheetah surrender.
***This was a Piece that I published several years ago in a now-closed Cheetah’s History Magazine***
Jamie Jo Cornhole is executive editor of Presstorm, a news site serving 10 million visitors per month. She holds the equivalent of 17 PHDs and is an expert in the Protocols of the Elders of Zion.
Big new websites are springing up to say the same old shit, big old bad guys now look like mute Bill O’Reillys, and there are still serious problems so large in the political system, human injustices so glaring yet so daunting, no anonymous Twitter feed dare mention them.
Brace yourselves, kids, because I’m about to let you have it. Playtime is over and it’s high time you pulled your heads out of your asses now.
You kids are too stupid to acknowledge the host lest it legitimize the parasite. I’m talking about congressional vote selling, telcoms stealing your internet, campaign finance reform. Attack this shit, you pussies! God damn it, help the real world fucking change something! You can’t DDoS cash incentives. Of course, you won’t be DDoSing SHIT when Cox Communications caps your bandwidth but what do you know about that?
You like to pretend like you’re doing something so controversial your pathetic lives are actually in some sort of danger but you can’t stop anything meaningful, nothing truly sinister, from taking place – or else you really would have a gun stuck in your face at 4 a.m. but you won’t. Because the real world doesn’t fuck around, but you wouldn’t know anything about that either. So you prance around like a faggot in his mother’s underwear behind Twitter accounts, IRC networks, Gay Fawkes masks, and talk about how badass you think you are to 1,000 people doing the same thing.
That’s just your behavior, though. And I don’t care about any of your ideals because I can see plainly that you don’t either. You’re just not passionate about anything except #opBART only because you’ve made that “operation” more about your faggy “anonymous” movement than a boy being shot – than freedom of speech itself. Remember when protests were called protests and didn’t need gung-ho internet terminology attached to them to motivate the youth? Yeah, me either, because my generation’s never had a spine.
The only useful effort I’ve seen put forth by people calling themselves anonymous – that doesn’t appear to be some anarchistic impulse of provocation, that doesn’t appear to be juvenile nor embarrass me on your behalf, is the effort of @AnonMedics. Damn, that’s awesome. You better be glad somebody’s following you around, ready to pull you out of whatever trouble your juvenile delinquency gets you into. Because I sure as hell wouldn’t wipe your ass if you shat yourself at my protest.
Whether you’re #antisec or #prosec – nobody gives a fuck because to onlookers you are full of redfaced angry nerdrage that embarrasses anyone who ever thought there might be this mysterious behind the scenes hacker group making big things happen. Grayhats, whitehats, blackhats – all subjective terminology like ‘terrorist’ and ‘freedom fighter’ except the only people who give a fuck is you and your hapless victims.
Also, I thought you were anarchists? So then why is this pussy crying about an attack on the state? You kids are inconsistent, shameful failures.
Your sweeping general statements about politics and law are laughably reproducible. Your arguments sound like Monday’s Tea Party advertisement debate. Your “news sources” are masturbatory rantholes. Your process of d0xing the non-believers is reprehensible. Your work ethic is slovenly. Your web design skills make me frown and uhh, an Anonymous networking site? *snickers* Your writing skills don’t exist. Like Milhouse, your “movement” is a forced meme that gets you banned from 4chan, only faster.
Your movement is fake.
This article is part of Anonifeld – a series about nothing (Anonymous).
There are a myriad of solid reasons NOT to enjoy sexual pleasure on 9/11, such as safety, respect and religious zeal. Even more importantly, everyone knows that those who engage in sexual activity on 9/11 do not care about all the innocent people who died on 9/11. It was the day that everything changed. When those towers came down, American flags came out. Even so, one must completely refrain from masturbation, intercourse, and all forms of sexual stimulation on 9/11 in order to observe the holiday righteously.
First of all, it’s 9/11. Terror alerts will be raised and threats will be made. 9/11 is not a day on which it is wise to let one’s guard down. By masturbating or having sex on 9/11, citizens will put themselves in danger. Don’t take the risk of being caught unprepared. In the likely event of a terror attack, masturbation or sex is a deadly mistake. Stay safe on 9/11.
Secondly, how could anyone even masturbate with the endless inescapable thoughts of the innocent dead? Only a twisted and disturbed individual would be able to achieve orgasm on 9/11. It is despicable for anyone to forget about 9/11. Everyone knows the first rule of 9/11 is never forget, and breaking that rule is just as bad as having sex on 9/11. The guilt and shame should be so pervasive as to completely eliminate any Patriotic American’s sex drive.
Thirdly, we must remember always that Jesus is watching. Jesus might let a little masturbation slip by every now and then, but know that masturbation on 9/11 will earn you his hatred and a ticket straight to hell. Should a child be conceived on 9/11, the implications could be dangerous, if not deadly. At the very least, the child would likely grow up to become a converted Muslim. Worst case scenario, the evil of a couple knowingly enjoying sex on 9/11 would create a demonic portal through which the devil could plant the seed of the Antichrist. Fucking on 9/11 could mean the end of the world.
If someone enjoys sexual pleasure on 9/11, it is immediately apparent to those of us who are appropriately guilt-ridden and fear-stricken. The person who defiles 9/11 appears smarmy and cock-sure as if he or she has forgotten about 9/11. The devil turns bodies into empty casks and fills them with demons. Don’t even think of masturbating on 9/11.
Hold onto your rights, because War just went global!
Respawn Entertainment, founded by top developers from Infinity Ward, maker of the bestselling Call of Duty: Modern Warfare series have announced plans to release a new game they say will allow players to enjoy the gut wrenching realism of indefinite military occupations.
Brought to you patriotically by Lebal Drocer, Inc.
Co-creator and sadomasochist Frank West said all people deserve to witness, and even partake in, the atrocities of war.
“We thought, why should brown people be the only ones lucky to experience the horrors of modern warfare? With Modern Occupation 2, we want to bring the nightmarish reality of war into every American’s living room.”
Vincent Zampella, co-founder of Respawn Entertainment said, “We want to move gameplay away from the kill or be killed mindset. I am fucking sick of it, you’re sick of it and we all want the emails to stop. In Modern Occupation 2, every advancement presents a gray area in which gamers are forced to make split second decisions that may affect them for the rest of their lives – in some cases, more horrifically than war itself; for instance, your character may come down with PTSD if you shoot an unarmed child. Conversely, this is likely to occur even if the child is armed.”
In a live demo, very small children carrying toys and presents walked up to the player to give him gifts of baked goods – but as it happened, Sonjay’s teddy bear actuated a thermite bomb in the bread basket, killing everyone on screen. Leading up to random events such as these, the decision to shoot on sight is in the hands of the player.
The decision to execute this man may fall on your shoulders.
Civilian kills are penalized, but if the gamer can turn a murder into an accidental suicide, or frame the bodies to look like insurgents – either by planting guns around their homes or, during online play, calling on other players to support an alibi before his commanding officer – then he will no longer face court marshal and play continues.
However unlike previous iterations of the Call of Duty franchise, which pitted gamers against the Taliban in Afghanistan and challenged them to defend Northern Virginia from Russian invaders, Zampella said Modern Occupation 2 is variably paced.
“For example, in Realistic Mode, a player may find himself standing watch for ten, twelve hours at a time – changing only to adjust for his or her declining opinion of the military industrial complex.”
Additionally, as with any occupation, the political landscape plays an important role. Players may suddenly “disappear” or find that they’ve been targeted for political assassination if, during online play for example, gamers of the same faction invaded Pakistan’s airspace to the chagrin of a terrorist-sympathizing Presidential body, dozens of Seal Team Six may be deliberately targeted for assassination by groups allied forces never expect.
West said, “War games have become so realistic by now, that if children aren’t balled up in front of their televisions in the fetal position, in fresh puddles of their own urine, then we aren’t doing our jobs right.”
A press release posted Saturday on Respawn Entertainment’s website said the company hopes to get Call of Duty: Modern Occupation 2 out while images of ground-based occupations are still revolting to American audiences. Videogame industry insiders fear many gamers are becoming more rapidly desensitized with each new release, which market analysts believe could cut into profits.
American audiences were enamored by the non-stop carnage of Capcom’s mid-summer release of African Vengeance: Genocidal Rapestorm, in which gamers are challenged to saw a Somalian woman’s arms off while simultaneously gang-fucking her in a flaming blood-spattered hut, or be shot for insubordination.
“I loved circumcising young girls in the bush, but after a while it was just a button-masher,” said eleven year old Kevin Jones of Boston, Mass. When asked what changes Kevin thinks would improve upon his favorite war game, he said, “More mini games like where I get to shove hot phosphorous in my enemy’s eyes using the Wii mote. That was so fun!”
Facing stiff competition from all sides, West said they are comfortable pushing back the release of Modern Occupation 2 to give developers a chance to add features he hopes will keep bloodthirsty fans coming back for more. Some new features include torture chambers, mini-games in which the player herds civilians into cages, and various rage meters West said will gauge a character’s contempt for the people he is enlisted to protect, adding a whole new tier of depth through multipliers and hate crimes.
If pushed back, gamers can expect to unleash their xenophobia on the digital world just in time for the holiday season.
RENTON, Wash. — Cartoons depicting corrupt behavior of the Renton City Police Department have sparked a criminal investigation and scandal among locals. However, Chief of Police Kevin Milosevich has called off all official investigations, opting instead for guidance from McCarthy-era Secret Police.
Snitches close to Milosevich indicate the Chief altered his strategy because of a surge in public sympathy for the anonymous cartoonist, known only as Mr. FiddleSticks.
Milosevich’s close friend and spiritual adviser Lorraine McWorth told sources the Police Chief was desperately attempting to underplay the negative image of wildly corrupt law enforcement while simultaneously embracing its proven effectiveness.
“He’s taking a Gestapo-like approach to the investigation, now. Threatening phone calls, letter-bombs and kidnappings are sure to get his point across where traditional methods were failing. When he gets his guy, no one will ever know. Mr. Fiddlesticks will just disappear.”
On a brisk October morning in Brookline, a graduate student announced that he was an expert at something, to the total indifference of his friends, peers and vague associates.
The student was reported to Chronicle.SU by a local informant and subsequently identified by spiteful classmates as first year Benjamin Berkey. Berkey, an enthusiast of the dark witch house music scene, tacitly agreed to make a phone statement to me by making dozens of unsolicited calls to the office of The Soviet Chronicle.
“I’ve read many thick tomes so, like Prodicus, I’ve become adept at choosing words. Often I finish sentences for other people in more exact ways than they ever could have expressed themselves. So, I’ve decided to go on a mission for total exactitude in language. Any time anyone strays from the Oxford Dictionary definition of a word, I will correct them in public in an elitist fashion. This will have innumerable social benefits.”
Berkey then invited me to watch him do his work across town to his sparsely furnished Allston apartment. I spent the next eight hours watching him gruel over a footnote, intermittently taking breaks to masturbate and troll the Internet with obscure semantic and grammatical criticisms.
“Work is hard, but I spend every second of every day knowing that I’m making a difference and growing intellectually. I’ve got a bright future and will surely finish my program with a good job. Not many people can say that these days.”
He then agreed to show me his favorite local coffee shop, where he ordered us espressos only to reject them several times due to “the quality of the crema.”
The barista eventually gave up and told us to fuck ourselves. We took a seat in the back of the checker-floored bar, next to a group of bicycle messengers playing bones.
One of the messengers from the group next to us.
As we sat down, one of the dudes among them, a pierced courier wearing a Brooklyn cycling cap, put the finishing touches on a lengthy monologue.
“…and that just begs the question, ‘Is McInnes libertard or not?’”
“Excuse me, sir,” interjected Berkey, “but I believe that you’ve made a mistake. The expression ‘begs the question’ does not in fact designate something that raises questions, but instead refers to an instance of circular reasoning. Be warned.”
The messenger looked over at him and his septum piercing flicked a little spark of a glint in the light. A pug-faced drunken crusty messenger appeared from among the group.
“Why you gotta be a bitch, man? Nobody asked you, faggot. Nobody spoke to you.”
The altercation deeply shocked Berkey, who became horribly insulted. He began to shake and then suddenly walked out of the coffee bar and refused to answer subsequent calls to his cellphone.
I never heard from him again.
RIP, Benjamin Berkey
Update: Several weeks after our encounter, The Boston Globe reported that Berkey had disappeared without a trace. Even more strangely, authorities declined to open an investigation into his disappearance. His family’s attempts to sue the Boston Police Department were bizarrely dismissed in a similar fashion. And in a final twist, my dumbfounded reading of the report to The Chronicle office occasioned a smile in our editor, Kilgore Trout.
“Yeah, the sergeant at Boston PD actually clued me in weeks ago. Benjamin Berkey was administratively arrested as part of a law enforcement operation targeting known gang members and associates.”
While I don’t agree with his decision to name people specifically (note: I don’t care who he actually named), I find it difficult to disagree with this man on all but one issue. The notion that politically-minded Americans willing to give campaign contributions to honest politicians will somehow outweigh the collective corporate dollar is, like Paul Jay suggested, Utopian. It’s just so far from realistic that we could give enough money to enough candidates to turn the tides against the forces that be (and cheat to exist).
It was so funny (creepy) to me when campaign people came by my house seeking campaign contributions on behalf of Obama, after it was already so clear that he had the best media team in the Presidential history. How is that? Lotsa fucken money, folks. More than all of us put together could ever have come up with in order to stop him.
And it’s a well-known fact of politics, as well as the main reason people hate and distrust Washington, that corporations have a lot of money they’re willing to spend on people they know will protect their interests – and there are sleazy assholes willing to betray their countrymen by accepting it (and still can somehow sleep at night). Well, it’s nice to see someone stating it so poignantly and my only hope is this kind of articulation becomes mainstream. How that will happen without “big media” – or without big media hijacking the movement is beyond the scope of my imagination.
Please, Gods of Reason. Rescue us all from this sea of shit, and get me off the boat of feces. Or, stand up and think for yourselves, America. But don’t look to me; for even as a man of peace, I see no peaceful resolution.