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About GonzoTown…

Get ready for the new epoch in digital literary media. This new site sits on the crumbling edge of 21st century cultural and political discourse.  For those readers who have grown tired of the oversupply of predictable hacks and overpaid mainstream media charlatans, the reams of hollow satire online- and who are looking for the antidote… welcome to GonzoTown.

We are catering to a growing niche of readers who are trolling the web for something original and politically incorrect. This growing constituency wants real commentary and(we hope) secretly enjoy it when our staff deliver rabbit punches to the establishment.

So, let’s hit the issues then (and there’s no reason why we can’t have a little fun).

>> MEET OUR INTERNATIONAL EDITORIAL & WRITING SQUAD…



One Comment leave one →
  1. Mat permalink
    March 8, 2011 9:38 am

    Hey….question…
    How does one submit to your wonderous site?

    In case it’s wanted,
    here’s a writing sample…..

    The night Bigfoot took Hillary…. Strange vibrations in
    Sasquatch Country….
    Run from the red eyes…

    By Mat Hunt.
    It seemed like I was watching and listening to a fixed
    dart tournament being played with seashells instead of
    darts…and coma patients playing instead of fit and
    mostly drunk rednecks…crowded around four people with a
    thirst for beer and free money. To get off the subject
    for a second… Dart throwers are a rare breed whose
    numbers are thinning by the day in the sight of game
    systems that you have to warm up with before playing.
    The bar games of my youth..darts, billiards, getting
    blind drunk and betting on games made up in the heat of
    the moment… These things are of the past now, or are on
    their way out and are being replaced by Fantasy Football
    and unnatural golf games that don’t require shoes.
    But, as I drove my rental Buick to the campaign
    headquarters, I strove to get my thinking back on
    track..I would need it there to pen this weird tale of
    stupidity and bestial worries that revolved around a
    little girl named Hillary…who was trying to make her way
    to a hootenanny in the big city of Florida. And when she
    got to the party, she was OOOOOOH so happy to see that
    all of the mean people who hated her were kept at arms
    length or the city limits, which ever came first….
    Mostly due to the fact that despite all their moaning,
    Florida screwed themselves royal when they moved their
    primary up to January. But they knew what was going to
    happen…And how could they not know the winner of a
    primary with only one entry? Oh well… At least there was
    no screaming for a re-count….this time.
    Anyway…back in the harsh mountains of Florida, things
    went swimmingly for young Hillary…As she took the
    primary by a landslide. There were finger foods by the
    hand full and the Elder Lady Rodham even let Hillary sip
    on a glass of champagne when the final points came in on
    Angus, her prized screech vulture. “Look it, mommy! Look
    it!” She exclaimed. ” They said I would win and I did,
    Mommy! I really did it!”
    The evening was at a heated pace…with Bill feeling up on
    the staff with Mr. Rodham and Mother dearest and Hillary
    sitting around the kitchen table at campaign
    headquarters waiting for another batch of sugar cookies
    to come out of the oven. As the night wore on, Hillary
    left the side of the Elder Mrs. Rodham and jumped…as if
    she were a spider monkey…to the side of Bill, where he
    held her head and rocked her slowly while gently lulling
    her to sleep with a non-sequiter version of nine inch
    nails “Closer”.
    Around Twelve or so, Bill put Hillary to bed. Which was
    sad as I had just made my presence known and was hoping
    for a word with the winning candidate before she
    strapped on the gloves for the fight with O’Bammah in
    California. I was sipping on a tom Collins and enjoying
    the floral arrangements when, right after I noticed the
    apple blossoms, I saw a small group of very nervous
    looking attendee’s and delegates walking back and forth
    and whispering in a manner that made me anxious to say
    the least. I made my way past the all you can use
    condiment bar and into the hallway where I had seen the
    people talking. I thought I might be asked to leave if I
    asked outright what the commotion was about so I felt it
    prudent to stay on the fringe of the situation and let
    it unfold as fate would have it. I had just began to
    speak to a kind soul with no eyebrow’s when there were
    three loud knocks, like if a three year old got a hold
    of a gantline gun. Then there was total silence…like the
    silence of the grave. Just then, the door at the end of
    the hallway erupted with the shattering of the frame
    into toothpicks and the stampede of the contents of the
    hall running at me told me that I needed to jump from my
    skin or get out of the way. I jumped on to a high table,
    barely missing the hand of a gentleman wearing a blue
    suit streaked with what looked like blood but smelled
    like musk ox. I stayed as close to the wall as was
    humanly possible; shielding myself with what was left of
    the floral arrangement I was looking at not twenty
    minuets ago. I searched for some semblance of reason.
    Shards of wood…the distant rumble of the secret
    services’ feet…all to a soundtrack of grunts and yelps
    that came from the dark room where chaos just sprang
    from.
    I heard a series of “nonononononon”s and, thinking
    something unnatural might be happening, I dismounted
    from my table in order to lend aid if I could..when the
    first foot of this thing came into view. Then there was
    a cascade of screams as a bundle of something went
    flying from one side of the room to the other. The
    aforementioned foot pulled back…then a walking chunk of
    wild rug charged towards the lump and after a few more
    thumps of an ominous nature, a pair of insane eyes with
    snarling teeth and drooling jowls came rushing at me
    with the bundle in one hand and the other hand
    outstretched,
    Ready to grab anything in it’s way in lieu of food. I
    dodged the putrid smelling claws and tumbled out of the
    way to see the bundle from the back of the leviathan,
    tugging and jerking, with only a tuft of blonde hair
    sticking out to give a hint at who was in it. After
    about thirty shot’s that I counted, someone screamed
    “Cease fire!”….someone had found that the candidate was
    no longer in the room. I turned to see that it was Bill
    screaming for them to stop as he was now on all fours
    spitting up blood. Almost in the same second as when
    they stopped firing, Whatever it was tore through the
    bay window and in doing so, took half of the wall with
    it. Then I was taken into another room and
    strip-searched as per secret service edict while every
    man and woman, Clinton and Rodham, ran out into the
    night guided only by the lights of their blackberries
    and P.D.A’s.
    After pulling my pants up and asking if both agents
    still respected me as a journalist, They grabbed me by
    my wrist, locked both of my thumbs in back of me and
    asked me nicely to leave. “Sure, I’d be happy to go. I
    just need my bag. It’s in the other room.” With that,
    they let me walk free. They had other things to deal
    with at that second as as soon as they undid my arms,
    they were gone like a dream…running towards the
    screaming outside and that damn huge hole in the wall. I
    grabbed my bag and made my way back to the leftovers of
    the room where the running shag had come from. I had
    heard many stories about the yeti and whatnot. But never
    in Florida…And I had no idea that it was a republican.
    I looked into the room at first with a small piece of
    glass, at first…swat style. No one in the room but the
    stench of whatever was there burned my nostrils so bad I
    may never be able to eat scampi again. I had seen enough
    of this destruction to know it was time to leave. As I
    was walking down the hallway to the remnants of the
    doorway, I got into a showdown/stair-off with more
    Secret Service people that almost ended with me also
    going missing that night. After that craziness, I got
    back into my rental and let it roll slowly onto the
    highway, where I turned on the lights and floored it
    till I was out of the county.
    Cut to the night after the primary in Cali…. I couldn’t
    watch it. It would have been far too painful and I
    didn’t want to risk a psychotic break if I flashed back
    to Florida. I listened to it over four AM radio stations
    with a T.V. on in the background to make sure that there
    was something on in the room that made sense. I figured
    it would be kind of visceral anyway….like watching a
    horror flick you’ve seen a thousand times..but now
    someone has randomly inserted slaughterhouse
    surveillance video at random intervals. About 6 a.m., I
    began to pick up E-mails from some parties hinting that
    someone had heard of a stand in theory and several high
    end pay-off’s so that those who might notice wouldn’t
    ask any questions. But then again..These things were
    only hinted at…so who knows.
    But I can’t help, as I stair out into the night, just
    how the party will end for little Hillary.
    If she ever reads this, all I can say is…”Hillary, come
    home! Your mamma’s worried and Bill’s into the scotch
    again.”
    Amen.

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