Kotaku is dead. Let’s Defile Its Corpse While Still Warm.

DISCLAIMER 1: What follows is a mixture of facts, speculation & satire therefore the adverb “allegedly” prefaces and applies to the whole article.

DISCLAIMER 2: I am a proud Neo-Troll & I DO NOT represent anybody but myself. Truth with zero protocol will be used; get offended. Feel free to disregard everything I say based on my Troll status.

For those who stayed, read on;

(EDITOR’S NOTE: Feel free to checkout Jack’s site)

Kotaku is dead. Let’s Defile Its Corpse While Still Warm.


Death brings us mourning or joy.

Kotaku’s death IS A REASON FOR JOY.


It is a warm summer night in the cemetery. The last 2-3 mourners have left, the dirt is still loose and the Kotaku corpse is still warm.

After all these months of seemingly endless wait, we Gamergaters can finally come from our basement shadows to consummate the last disgrace upon your corpse Kotaku.

We, the basement-dwelling, white, cis-genedered, gamers will at last satisfy our lowest carnal ambitions because tonight your impure dead flesh Kotaku is ours and ours only.

Yesss…the night is young and we have at least 6 lustful hours before full-rigor mortis sets in, but fear not, for we have brought an electric blanket and a pink chainsaw.

After we have amputated your head, right hand and lower torso for portability and convenience, let’s express two rites of delicate mockery upon your remains Kotaku: Let’s urinate then defecate into your now exposed windpipe. All of us will take turns, one by one, there will be no end as there is no bottom.

Now while we impatiently smear your portable body parts with vaseline and our indescribable gamer-animal lust, let’s remember your last and darkest hours dear infamous Kotaku. Let us whisper it into the ears of your now severed head to bring you those hurtful legal memories.

Remember how you struggled and suffered for months against Hogan’s giant throbbing and salty organ of defense powered by Thiel’s legal Viagra team?

So much uncertainty at at such an expensive price for so many months, at least for you, because Hogan’s legal viagra team was already paid upfront.

Oh Kotaku, you never stood a chance against Hogan, he was pure viagra salt and you? You were a mere journo slug pointlessly squirming before meeting its inescapable demise.

Oh Kotaku, the best part of your public disgrace is how all of your internal inhabitants, those parasites you called employees started having recurring nightmares where they had to go back to their barista jobs, or even worse, look for a real job.

You are dead Kotaku, Univision will only disassemble you and your little parasites. They will be slowly fired one by one and they will have to go back to their barista jobs, for them even if they close their eyes the nightmare will never end.

Oh, and all of those credit cards? They are about to get more overdrawn than ever before.

Oh Kotaku, you gave them that glimmer of imaginary hope then Hogan poured his manly liquids all over it, then you Kotaku, gave your parasite-journos that sense of false hope over and over only for Hogan to keep cum-boarding water-boarding their false hopes while still relentlessly thrusting and legally shushing them.

Univision is only the last insult in the form of false hope for your journo-parasites.

Hogan legally gagged you then covered your mouth while still thrusting, and there was nothing you could do to stop Hogan’s metaphorical persistent and massive legal penetration into you Kotaku.

Do you remember that last sound? It was the sound of your rectum bursting courtesy of Hogan’s 35th 14” sand paper condom.

But your rectal implosion is not what caused your demise dear Kotaku, it was your own greatest engorged king leech: Nick Denton.

Because, let’s call a spade a spade, who would in their right mind try to defend themselves in court by making light of pedophilia? Yes that was Denton. Denton offered your then still intact rectum to papa Hogan on a silver platter with a big side dish of sand as lube dear Kotaku.

You Kotaku were a mere sexual offering provided by your own parasite King Nick Denton. Even straight prostitution would have been more dignifying dear Kotaku but instead, Denton made your death not a simple insult but a public disgrace along with your sibling sites.

After all, you were just one of many casualties in the Gawker public disgrace, you Kotaku and your sibling sites were just one of the many casualties of Hogan’s legal Nanking-like grape fruit field.

But unlike Nanking, you deserved every single nonconsensual thrust dear Kotaku.

Now, it is clear why your corpse is a little too rectally loose but do not worry,  for we, the overweight, always sexually deprived, always high of redbull and doritos dead gamers  have brought plenty of sandpaper condoms and plenty of many other dead Pro Gamergate members to gang-bang your body parts.

See, the thing is, since we gamers are all dead, we all know the ride never ends.

But in your case dear Kotaku, us riding your dead ass is what will never end.


May you never rest in peace and forever be in disgrace you clusterfuck of SJW parasites AKA Gawker / Kotaku et all.


Fuck you Kotaku. 

Thank you for reading.

main defiler closer




Since you are garbage, and all this trusting we are giving to your sorry dead ass would cause too much friction or even fire, I brought a fire extinguisher, oh…wait you are still all wet in Hogan’s legal bukkake…never mind, we will sodomize you with the extinguisher, enjoy the metal rough edges in your dead ass Kotaku.


We may burn you when we are done with your carcass but that may never happen.



“Ow! Ow! It never ends!”


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