Brace for Extreme Faggotry: and other J35t3r-fications
Imagine my surprise when I am casually loafing in a little pad among a few like minded individuals when a certain someone ( far be it from me to call anyone out here) who’s name rhymes with Kilgore Fucking Trout announces to god, country and all of Twitter where we are and in a hot second we are flooded with bat shit crazy conspiracy theorists.
Cast of characters looks a bit like the waiting room at a methadone clinic.
We get one individual in there who retains his anonymity yet proceeds to inform me that he wishes to do unspeakable things to my mother, and force her to make him a sandwich once she has been thoroughly defiled. I encouraged this individual to chase his dreams, seek out that attention he craved and although I offered to hold the flashlight, I drew the line at digging her up, I do have SOME morals.
There is the ever present glory hole that is Mr Trout, who is dutifully purging his mind to text and stopping periodically to throw out something TRULY helpful like, no fer realz man, troll us, we encourage it. And identifying everyone that entered the chat as either Adrian Chen, Topiary, or Joseph K Black.
Old Brutus, took the high road and preferred instead to ask the gentleman to kindly remove themselves from our session and die in a fire, finally succumbing to the peer pressures and asking that they simply gently fondle his scrotum while the gentle musings of Ween flowed through his ears like the tearful pleadings of the girl scout he keeps duct taped in his basement.
A particular young lady was also there offering the class and balance that an overly charged room of testosterone occasionally needs, reminding us that grunting and scratching was perfectly acceptable, but misspelling diarrhea simply couldn’t be stood for.
Then we get the obligatory Sabu moniker that stands mute the whole time despite my pleadings like any good fanboi for him to RT how cool I am. When that didn’t work we all began to wax poetic on how while still in utero, Sabu hacked the fetal monitor to pierce the darkness and watch Netflix in the womb.
Enter the Kracken. Deceptively quiet for a moment reading over what we have produced, then goes on this rant about how he’s Anon and he believes in the cause an such but he is open minded about x and y and z. The 7 year old ramblings continue for a moment and then without warning he switched gears and the Clozapine induced diatribe begins. Tor is to protect you from the hackers, not the government, Tor is a project that is funded by the navy, Anonymous is selling out the disenfranchised youth of the world by using them as pawns in the LOIC blah blah blah, you will see soon, prepare to be mystified! Blah blah blah…within moments those who weren’t in a boredom induced coma had fled the room and all work ground to a halt.
Thanks a lot j35t3rfag.