Cults. Are They a Necessary Evil In Our Culture?

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God, is this… hello? Studio, are you getting this? It’s me, Gorge! Jesus… I don’t know how long I’ve been out here. I just… thank god this stupid redneck had a video phone! I’ve sent you a file for the last report I did before I woke up out here. This needs to be seen. Please. I’ve been living on squirrels for the past few weeks and… Hey! What do you mean “Who are you calling a stupid redneck?” Give me back the goddamn ph-

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Good evening Los Santos, I’m Gorge Strictly, and this… is Weazel Action News.

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After the carnage of last week’s report and subsequent public inquiry into the role of media in violence, my producers have given me a simple brief - take to the streets. Talk to the people. Most importantly of all - and my boss could not stress this strongly enough - don’t start trouble, and DO NOT take a gun with you.

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Our first stop was the scenic Rockford Hills area of Los Santos, where on a street corner every day, the friendly voice of Pat Millford can be heard inviting citizens to attend seminars at the prestigious Epsilon Centre. But is there a darker side to this so called cult? Weazel News - and by Weazel News I mean me - decided to investigate.

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We visited the Epsilon centre itself, a sprawling estate in south Richman where Los Santos’ privileged attend self actualisation seminars and get fleeced by profiteers in the name of enlightenment. After carefully parking the Weazel News intern van, I began to sweep the area for signs of anything untoward.

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First of all, this graffiti bearing the stylised Epsilon logo seemed to throw the accusation of cult-like behaviour at the group. Could this be true? Could Los Santos have a cult operating under it’s very nose? Well, another one anyway.

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"That’s ridiculous," Snorted spokesperson Korgar, "The Epsilon Program is a registered charity and tax haven which is fully compliant with all state and city ordinances, where applicable to galactic law. Besides, it’s not a cult. Those mountain guys are all in a cult, and they don’t wear pants. We wear pants. Mostly. So we’re not a cult."

A compelling argument, but how would Korgar deal with rumours of fraud and missing persons?

She sighed, and motioned toward the terrace at the back of the building. “You look like you could use a coffee, brother brother. Do you want to come this way?”

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The coffee was good, much like I like my women: Colombian, finely ground and freeze dried. It had a strange bitter aftertaste to it though, and the morning sun was starting to get to me. Korgar motioned for me to sit under the shade of a canopy and take another sip of the coffee.

“It’s good coffee, isn’t it?” She nodded, staring at me with those baby blue eyes. “Look, we get a bad reputation in the media for all sorts of sinister stuff. We’re not like that at all. Drink your coffee. We’re just a bunch of people trying to get by in Los Santos and spread the word of Kraff so as to awaken his children for the time of his coming. Keep drinking your coffee.”

I had to admit, it all seemed to be making sense. Maybe it was Korgar’s stunning yet simple eloquence, or the glowing aura forming around her head, or something awakening inside me; but yes, I could see it. The Epsilon program isn’t evil. It isn’t a cult at all. It’s beautiful, and so is this coffee, and so are you, dear viewers. I love every single one of you.

Korgar smiled at me, and told me if I wanted to hear the testimonies of how Kraff’s beneficence had affected the area, I should go out onto the street and ask people. It seemed to trigger a memory from a long time ago of a man shouting at me from behind a desk to do just that, so I took a walk out into the world.

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Oh my god this man is caring for mother nature! I tried to let him know that I thought his actions were so beautiful, but he just put his head down and kept digging, muttering to himself about ‘goddamn crazies.’ He kept digging, and I can dig it. Is this still recording? I can’t really hear my voice or feel my face anymore.

I asked him about the Epsilon Program. “I got nothing to say except they pay me to do the lawns.” It didn’t seem like much of an answer, so I asked him again, in a different accent. He frowned. “They pay me to do the lawns. I need this job mister. I seen nothing.”

He was being mean, so I found somebody else.

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"Oh, you had the coffee huh?" Asked a new recruit, who assured me his name - his real name - consisted of a high pitched whine (even though a quick iFruit face search revealed his name to be Jorje Ruffalo - no relation).

“Yeah, that’s good coffee. I love the coffee here. Everything seems to taste so much better under the eye of Kraff. Like these cigarettes they gave me for my anger management. Here; try one brother, brother.”

I was overwhelmed by his generosity, and took a second to stare at the embers in the tip of the cigarette. They were so orange. So very, very orange.

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Outside, an angry yet incredibly bored looking young man sat watching me. “Another recruit come to steal from me again? Whatever man. One day I’m going to meet a lawyer out here and you guys will be sorry!”

I sat next to him and asked what was wrong. “Fucking thieves man. ‘The Epsilon Program.’ That was was my goddamn band name for two years! Then all of a sudden Cris Formage pops up with his fucking castle, and Myspace and Tumblr start sending me copyright take downs and shit. I don’t need that! I’m an entrepreneur! I make my own artisanal [SIC] bread!”

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It was at this point that Greblach found me and introduced himself. “Sup bro bro, I’m Greblach.” It strikes me that this quotation makes the preceding sentence redundant, which is bad reporting and I’ll probably get in trouble for it.

Greblach continued.

“So I just heard from Korgar, and she’s managed to get you fast-tracked into the media pathway of the program. We’ve got you an appointment in ten minutes with a Finance Actualisation coach, but it’s a limited time offer, so make sure you don’t miss out dude.”

I nodded and wandered into the road.

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"You."

I recognised the piercing glare behind the glass as none other than local hypnotist and all-round scary motherfucker Danforth Graves. I was hit by a momentary sense of confusion, but he held his hand up.

“You already appear to be in a powerful hypnogogic [sic] fugue, so I won’t bother with the usual preamble.”

I nodded.

“I assume this is the work of the Epsilon Program. A terrible shame, but I will not have them interfering with my work. Time is closing in, and my hour is at… Oh but what am I saying? Spoiling the surprise when things are falling into place so nicely. Perhaps you should leave me to my destination. Perhaps you should return to the Epsilon program, and destroy them from the inside. Be my instrument of vengeance. Destroy them. But above all, bother me no further! Now Rosalita, drive! Drive! My dry cleaning awaits!”

He was right. Joining the Epsilon program is a fantastic idea.

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Back on the terrace, Korgar awaited me with my Finance Actualisation coach. As I arrived, they seemed to be finishing a conversation.

“… absolute deadbeat. Seriously, I have no idea how this guy isn’t in jail the amount of debt he’s in.”

Korgar nodded, and turned to me sadly. “I’m sorry brother brother, but the transcendence of Kraff has spoken to us through your credit check, and you are what we here at the Epsilon Program call an ‘unsaveable [sic].”

I didn’t understand. Did this mean I would be unable to join them? Was I not a descendent of Kraff?

“No, no you’re really not. In fact, you’re lessening our collective enlightenment just by being here. Please go.”

I was crestfallen. And then I remembered the words of my friend Randall Graves…

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And through the miracle of self actualisation, I was born again as a member of the Epsilon Program!

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My new brothers were not so supportive of my path. Korgar ran away screaming when she saw me, as did my potential Finance Actualisation coach. This brother brother took one look at me and tried to quietly slip away without me noticing. But I knew that his lack of speed was a sign that I should follow. Yes, I would follow this man and become one with the brotherhood! Kifflom!

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And following him I am! Up the hill away from the Epsilon Center, into Richman, and beyond; to enlightenment! Nothing can stand in my way! My divine right is nigh, even if I have to devour my brother brother and consume his essences to discover his secrets! Kraff be praised!

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None shall stop me! Not even the heavy footfalls behind me and the sound of a taser being cha-

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Next time on Weazel Action News: Intern vans - great vans, or the best vans?

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Visitor Incites Panic at Eclipse Tower!

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Good evening, Los Santos. I’m Buffy Wang.


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The following BREAKING NEWS REPORT contains images that may be disturbing to some viewers.


HOLY


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FUCKING 


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SHIT!

I don’t even know what the fuck. The creature, pictured here with an as-yet-unidentified local woman, appeared on the streets outside an uptown apartment building and caused a panic by chilling out atop a car.

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The unidentified woman began a dialogue with the creature, but their efforts at communication were quickly disrupted by everyone flipping right the fuck out.

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The creature was slain by police despite the vigorous protestation of its’ advocate. More as the situation develops. Until then, I’m Buffy Wang saying TOP DAT, Seraphine.

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Mountain Crew: The Strange and Terrible Saga of Outlaw Sultan Gangs

Gwen Valentine reporting with a breaking Weazel Action News bulletin!

Several days ago, the notorious outfit known only as the Mountain Crew engaged in a state-wide campaign of crime. In an ennui-fueled marathon of cop murdering, they pledged to rob every single convenience in the state of San Andreas.

Though they are wanted felons, the Mountain Crew are seen as folk heroes by some. The sensationalist news crew at CNT called them the “Dillinger gang of the millennial generation.”

This reporter risked life and limb to follow their trek across San Andreas. Armed to the teeth with stolen military hardware, the LSPD were no match for the Mountain Crew.

After hijacking a city bus and taking its passengers hostage, special police units were called in and the bus was stranded in a road-side ambush just outside of the city limits.

Following a protracted stand-off, the stalemate was broken when an unattended riot van became the Mountain Crew’s new getaway vehicle.

The killing spree lasted over 24 hours, until finally the National Guard were alerted. A tank was airlifted from Fort Zancudo to the suspected crew hideout: an abandoned sawmill that is a hotspot for gang activity.

The tank, along with over a dozen squad cars, took part in a raid on the sawmill at the crack of dawn. In the biggest embarrassment since Waco, the raid ended in a catastrophic failure, and the Mountain Crew remains at large.

Absolutely not making any of this up out of boredom, this is Gwen Valentine for Weazel News.

Next time on Weazel Action News: Self-immolation, the hot new fad that’s sweeping the city!

Drug Dealing and Photography Class at Legion Square

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Good Morning Los Santos, I’m Gorge Strictly, and this… is Weazel News.

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For those of you who were concerned after my last report, please rest assured; both myself and Weazel News senior management have been in conference with the Los Santos Police Department over the misunderstanding that transpired during our last report.

The LSPD have issued a clarification, which stated that the LSPD “Have neither been in the company of the Foccacia brothers, nor have they been doing sick donuts on the golf course at night because let’s face it Davis is fucked so we’re just hiding the patrols elsewhere to save bullets.”

After a generous donation to the LSPD Retirement and Secret Ball (also Bribes) fund, Weazel management were able to clear any pending charges on it’s interns; with a small amount of my pay left over to get this new suit, and replace the news van lost in the chaos of that evening’s events with a special ‘intern’ van.

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I… Seriously? Buffy writes off her coke parties on expenses and I get this?

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Fine. Today we’re investigating the hotbed of liberal activity that is Legion Square. Several concerned viewers have contacted us with reports of men openly smoking the devil weed ‘Marijuana’ or ‘Mary Jane’ or ‘Bunty Herb.’ More concerning however are the reports of gunfire and explosions in the early hours of the morning which have led the fine, upstanding officers of the LSPD to put the entire area on high alert.

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At the moment though, early afternoon, the scene could not look more idyllic. Fine arts majors take photography classes in the bright, Los Santos sun, and the area’s clean, graffiti-free image gives the place a wholesome, if liberal air.

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"I haven’t seen anything, no." Commented LSU Photography Major Missy Gunterwicz. "Mostly we’ve just been out here checking light levels, seeing what camera setting are best to capture the delicate glow of natural light on human skin."

Asked if this was for an assignment, she became evasive. “Look man, it’s arty stuff only, OK? No hardcore. I’m just trying to pay the bills.”

Her fat friend Sally was unavailable for comment despite trying to talk to me a couple times before I pushed her through a hedge.

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"Oh, I Heard it alright!" Exploded Tanisha Banks of the Pillbox Hill area of Los Santos. "It’s crazy, some mornings they seem to pop up out of nowhere, start running round; shooting the hell out of each other, picking up guns lying on the goddamn ground, all sorts. Who even leaves a gun on the ground? You tell me, WHO DOES THAT?"

Her friend declined to comment, staring into the distance with the thousand-yard stare of a grizzled war veteran, hope lost in the twin vortices of her eyes as her friend droned on and on and on.

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"Well, we live just over the street, by the jewel exchange," Amy Geghampton explained, "And it is a little disturbing. I live with my sister Verity and we’ve both commented on the inconvenience of stray bullets hitting the windows while we’re dressing for work."

“I don’t agree actually. I think it’s very exciting, and what’s life without a little danger?”

“Verity, let’s not get into this now, please.”

“I’m just saying Amy. We have the equipment. And it’s just on the other side of the wall.

“I’m not risking my freedom, you hear me? Not for you, not for anyone. I’m too pretty to survive on the inside!”

Baffled by the escalating argument (and the ‘pretty’ remark), I moved on.

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"I haven’t heard anything." Glowered local Hypnotist Danforth Graves, "And neither have you."

I couldn’t recall having heard anything either.

“Now you’re going to forget about this business and have a nice afternoon, aren’t you?”

I was going to forget about this and have a nice afternoon, now that he mentioned it.

“And you’re going to give me your watch.”

I gave him my watch.

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Confused and watchless, I moved over to a pair of hipsters reading magazines before realising they were not in fact hipsters.

“Since you ask, it’s 1:40pm.” They responded, “And now that you have the time, do you have a moment of it to spare for our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?”

This, viewers, is the new face of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. No more for them knocking on doors and handing out dusty old pamphlets.

“We’re updating our look to match the new, 18-24 demographic.” Explained Zachariah Sneep, acting head of the Los Santos branch of the Church. “We’ve been looking into a move into the cheaper streets of Mirror Park, and want to prepare to spread the mission to our new neighbours.”

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"I’d join, yeah," Sighed Mirror Park resident Chelsea Fedorica, out taking her iDog for a walk. Ironically.

“I mean it’s great, because in a kind of post-post-ironic-non-individualist kind of way, being in a church and going through the motions of extreme conformity is actually the most non-conformist, individualistic you can be, you know?”

I didn’t know, but I took down the address of her blog and resigned myself to a semi-ironic hookup at some point in the future. Or at least a semi.

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Confused, I agreed to let the photography class take some shots of me. It was going well, and my naturally photogenic nature was beginning to shine. I was having a lovely afternoon, and I didn’t care where my watch was.

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"Oh my god gurl, we on Bleeter! Someone just mention that guy over there!"

I quickly grabbed the tablet to see the effects amateur reportage can have, even in the shadow of the professional Weazel News team present.

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We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news!

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Gorge Strictly reporting, and there is carnage down here at Legion Square, with one dead and several injured as a mysterious gunman with one arm and a thick, red beard has fled the scene.

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Oh no, LSPD! The natural predator of Weazel News crews! Run, fat guy! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!

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WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME

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*whispering* This is Gorge Strictly, reporting for Weazel News, live from the scene of the Legion Park Massacre. If you or your loved ones would like to investigate the gunshots heard around Legion Square of late, try bookmarking the following job for a taste of the action:

Legion Square Dance
2-8 Players (Xbox 360)
http://rsg.ms/1gA5uGP

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Next Time on Weazel Interns Investigate:

Sexy pool parties, and the reporters who have to go undercover just to sneak in.

Follow Weazel Action News on twitter https://twitter.com/weazelnewsteam

The First Annual Sandking and Bobcat Talent Show

This is Gwen Valentine with a breaking Weazel Action News report.

The first annual Sandking and Bobcat Talent Show ended up a nightmarish hell of murder and mayhem yesterday evening.

Contestants gathered peacefully for the first round of performances when they lost control of their Sandkings.

Though they are normally docile creatures, their strength and short fuse make them susceptible to outbursts of extreme violence.

The Sandking in its natural habitat, consuming its prey.

The ensuing massacre was so brutal that we had to censor almost all of it for the air. It was not pretty.


I spoke with local alcoholic and Sandking expert Travis Wilson about last night.

"You city folks think it’s right to tame such a beautiful animal in your steel cages and this is what happens."

In spite of promises of sexual favours, city officials were not available for comment.

Gwen Valentine for WEZL news, signing off.

Coming up next: an undercover sexposé on the city’s most underground subculture. What you don’t know may shock you to your very core!

Weazel Intern’s Search for the Little Green Men

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UFOs. Are they real? This is Wee Bairns, unpaid intern for WEAZEL ACTION NEWS with an exclusive investigation.

In the back country of Sandy Shores exists a shrine to the Extra-Terrestrial, the Alien, the Little Green Man.
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But not all aliens are as friendly as Alf, E.T.,Mr Spock or the Predator. This Alien shrine holds a sinister secret.
Armed with a warm cocoa and with the help of my trusty cameraman Claude, I’ve set out to find out if the rumors of night visitors were true, or were they the result of hillbilly wine and overactive imaginations.
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Our investigation was quiet for the most part, so Claude suggested we interview the locals. Not a bad idea, Claude.

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Meet Lulu Bottoms, local “entrepreneur”, who we first met when she offered us top-notch crystal meth at an outrageously inflated price from what this reporter is used to paying. After some negotiation, she came down on her price and offered the statemement "We see aliens all the time here, ya. Like, all the time. Their flashing red and blue lights wake me up at least once a week, when I finally fall asleep".

But something happened. Something sinister.

After trying some of Lulus mid-grade meth, we returned for more and found her, a smoldering husk of a woman, reeking of meth and cheap perfume.
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But it appears our friendly drug dealer wasn’t the only victim of what can only be a sinister alien with a taste for human blood. Look, Claude, get a shot over there, it looks like anoth…
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M..Mom? MOM???

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Mysteries Abound at LS Golf Course

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Good evening Los Santos, I’m Gorge Strictly and this is Weazel Action News.

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A recent spate of suspicious activity at the Los Santos Golf Club in Richman has left both members and staff alike baffled by bizarre markings and damage discovered early this morning.

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Course spokesperson and token female Julia Hernandez sent us pictures of herself standing next to the bizarre markings, as well as a few of her in a bikini, and one that Don Sprinkles took and won’t let any of us look at.

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Veteran reporter Buffy Wang was dispatched, but after a brief and heated discussion with her producer and several broken windows, this intern was given a dossier consisting of a dead frog and a post-it note with ‘get me a bagel’ written in crayon.

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Also, spotted this possible illegal, working undocumented on the flower beds. I’m not really sure. Worth looking into later anyway.

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It was another beautiful, sunny day on the otherwise pristine green, and the usual crowd of members had gathered by the pavillion. I spotted several of Los Santos’ elite citizens; by which I mean they are better than all of you.

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"You’ve got the wrong man." Local business owner Paulie ‘Sledge’ Foccacia commented. "This is unconnected to any illegal activities I may, or may not have been connected to, or unconnected from, in the past or present." Which is strange, because I didn’t even accuse him of anything this time.

Further questioning resulted in the kind of stare from his brother Enrico ‘the crazy one’ Foccacia that can make you so flustered, you trip and fall into fresh cement on an abandoned construction site outside of town after hitting the back of your head on the way down. Several times. With a sledgehammer.

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"Well, I would say it’s my useless goddamn husband here," Millionaire Heiress Jane Frunk slurred, "Only I doubt he’d even get that right.

“Jesus Jane, don’t be such a bitch, you’re embarrassing me in front of everyone!”

“Embarrassing you? Oh you’re such a big man in the boardroom aren’t you Billy, but when it comes to the bedroom…”

“Well maybe if my wife hit the makeup stand as hard as she hit the bottle…”

“YOU DON’T TALK TO ME THAT WAY! I MADE YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

The couple were clearly getting agitated by my line of questioning, so I moved on.

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This man, identifying himself after several attempts as Mr John Smith of Liberty City seemed cagey about answering even my stock questions.

“Ah em not Nico Bellic! Am tourist from Leeberty Ceety!” He insisted. From somewhere near the ninth hole, a voice could be heard calling to him, adressing him as ‘cousin,’ and asking if he ‘wanted to go golfing.’

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Finally, we started making headway. As we approached this employee to ask for directions to the ladies change-rooms, he simply glared at us.

“Don’t go near the golf course at night.” He rasped, his voice a harsh grating mockery, ill-suited to his young face. I asked him to clarify why I might not want to do that, but he simply looked off into the distance. “Things happen here at night, little reporter man. Things nobody understands. Things sometimes nobody can even remember.”

He sighed, and stubbed out his cigarette. “My break’s over. I gotta go clean hair out of the coffee machine again. But stay away at night. I mean it. Stay. Away.

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We immediately approached spokesperson Julia Hernandez to ask if it would be acceptable for the news crew to remain here overnight to investigate the strange events.

Sidenote - I can’t believe I have to film this on my shitty iFruit phone because Seraphine Tadokoro blew the camera budget on cargobobs and shoes.

At the proposal of our stakeout, she seemed to get excited. “Will it be Don? Is Don coming tonight?” She asked, nervously adjusting her hair. After we responded that he would not be attending, she became despondent and shuffled off towards a hedge, swearing.

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Later that night, we returned to an eerie, dark scene. The sinister gloam of Los Santos’ nocturnal ichor hung like silk shrouds over… Sorry, my producer says I’m not allowed to do that anymore, it’ll scare the viewers in the wrong way. It was night, anyway. A particularly dark one. And we were at the golf course to find out the source of these mysterious markings.

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Security Officer Steve Delgardo joined us to patrol the grounds, as he has every night for the last five years.

“Things just get dark here, man. Strange shit. But these markings, it’s like something dragged itself across the lawns, ripped up the carefully manicured turf. I mean carefully manicured as in we got mexicans out there from 3am with scissors trimming that shit to the right length, but the last week or so, they been comin’ back in here screaming about ‘Luces del Diablo.’”

We asked Steve if he’d seen anything. “I ain’t seen nothin’, but… I hear things. Screeching. A great roaring from the other end, near midnight. Sometimes this wailing sound, and voices laughing. I get down there and there’s just these markings. Creeps me out. I won’t go out there alone anymore. I’m glad you’re here friend.”

He hugged me, firmly. I don’t know which I was more embarrassed about; the semi I could feel pressing against my thigh, or the double-negative he opened with.

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A brief sweep of the course showed no signs of any unusual activity, aside from some damage done to these gates at the rear of the main building, with absolutely no sign whatsoever of what might have caused such damage.

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We located Steve Delgardo, and pointed out the mysterious damage, when we heard the first of the screeches from the other end of the course. Steve appeared visibly shaken, and asked us to hold him.

This reporter refused; politely, but insistently.

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Oh goddamnit… Once again, LSPD’s finest have been blowing off steam driving around the golf course, and the security guard’s a lonely idiot. No wonder Buffy never comes out to these things.

Our team tried to get a statement from the police, but they took one look at us and drove straight at the camera, which - might I remind you - I was holding.

Goddamn cops!

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I ran back to Steve, leaving the rest of the team to explain our presence. I got back to the main building only to find him the victim of a stray bullet.

He was the only one who could have corroborated my story with the cops, and now he was dead. Our only company on this lonely vigil. Ironic that he spent all of these years alive, and then on the night we turned up, he was tragically and in a way that can in no way be blamed on us, shot and killed. Is that irony? I’m never sure.

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The cops bore down on me on foot, no sign of the rest of my team remaining except for the roar of engines and gunshots in the distance. I tried to explain, but they just ran at me, firing wildly and yelling “No witnesses!”

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This is Gorge Strictly for Weazel Action News, hiding in a hedge.

Also, I think we’re going to need another van.

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Police Commissioner Raises the Ire of Los Santos Residents

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Police Commissioner Raises the Ire of Los Santos Residents

This is Wynter Summers bringing you and in-depth look at Los Santos’ police commissioner for Weazel Action News.

The new Los Santos police commissioner, Kelly Ray, continues to keep his access to the media elusive after instituting a number of questionable policies and standing orders for Los Santos PD. Mr. Ray’s appointment as police commissioner has long been seen as a source of violence and police brutality as well as corruption. The commissioner also continues to live a life of opulence which is seen as a slap in the face to many residents in Los Santos after the recent financial collapse.

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Mr. Ray keeps a personal Police Speed Boat in his Vinewood Hills pool.

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Weazel Action News’ Don Sprinkles’ response to Commissioner Kelly Ray’s spokeswoman on being denied an interview.

Marcus Thompson and Curtis Wind, who work for Los Santos International Airport Traffic Control, are on strike. Mr. Wind laments Commissioner Ray’s new “Stop-and-Frisk” policy.

“Stop-and-Frisk? More like ‘Stop-and-Shoot’. I don’t know why they’re targeting Marcus and me. We just in charge of the skies, ya dig? We can’t help it if some crazy white people want to show up, steal our helicopters and turn the runways in to a proving ground. I want to say, these are the breaks, ya dig? But no, white people brought these problems here and we’re the ones getting shot. That’s why we on strike.”

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Mr. Thompson added, “It don’t make do when some white bread cop brings his mom along for a ride-a-long and she’s given permission to open fire. That ain’t proper and I’m sick of seeing my coworkers shot while walking from their cars to the control tower. We don’t want to strike, but it’s what Air Traffic 1020 needs to do!” Mr. Thompson directs this reporter’s attention to the window.

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"Just look at the mess they’re causing."

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"And you know who the scabs are? White people."

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Inexperienced scab workers have lead to confusion on the runways of Los Santos International Airport

At Vespucci Beach, Weazel Action News caught up with Richard James who further explained the rampant racism and white privilege the commissioner has let run freely.

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"I have friends on the LSPD, won’t say who, but here’s what I’ve heard."

James continues, “The other day, you remember that massive police chase involving a black Patriot and yellow Cheetah? Two white guys running from the cops. Some old dude and some crazy-eyed balding guy. Well, you know what happened to them? Nothing. They had a city-wide, police sanctioned game of cat and mouse throughout the city to blow off steam after a haircut. And get this.. they were on their way to the old dude’s daughter’s house for dinner.” Weazel Action News could confirm that such a chase took place, but received no comment from police on Mr. James’ next accusation, “The two white guys, they was working with the cops, can you believe that? Actually, I’d be surprised to hear that they weren’t working with the cops. Heard the old dude died in an explosion of some sort.”

Mr. Ray is rumored to be a regular at a West Vinywood Night Club…

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While he wouldn’t talk that night, he surprisingly agreed to meet and answer a few questions from this reporter outside a coffee shot on Alta St. on the condition that this reporter tell “that asshole, Sprinkles, to stay off my boat!” With terms set, Mr. Ray appeared relaxed in a gray sweater vest, dark brown khakis and sneakers and, to this reporter’s surprise, without his spokeswoman and also look much younger than his 28 years on the force would lead you to believe.

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Mr. Ray thought pensively before answering each question.

On the commissioner’s wealth and opulence:

“I come from money. Does that mean I can’t be interested in bringing about justice?”

On the increased Police Aggressiveness:

“Well, I look at it this way. It’s proactive police work. We’re putting down this city’s criminal element. Most of the city’s crimes committed now are criminal against criminal. If the Vagos and Ballas want to light up Grove St. let them. We’ll sweep in and clear out the rest.

“But let me ask you When was the last time you heard of a bank getting robbed? What about a jewelry store? Has not happened! And it will not happened under my watch! The LSPD is proud of our Zero-Heist policy!”

When contradicted about the rash of convenience store robberies and murders:

“What about them? Those people are probably here illegally. And they work 24/7… probably continuously high on that Blaine County Import. Whoever is taking them out, they’re doing me a favor by freeing up my men to do better police work.”

On family ride alongs and allowing them to discharge their firearm at suspects:

“That was one guy. To be clear, Sgt. Bomowski did order the suspect to stop and the consequences that should follow for failure to comply. However, Bomowski did not show professional judgment in allowing his mother to shoot a suspect dead. Bomowski has since been placed on administrative leave pending an internal investigation.”

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This wasn’t an isolated incident for Bomowski. Sgt. Bomowski was recently identified as the police officer who shot down a Titan on Vinewood Blvd earlier this month.

On his Stop-and-Frisk program and its infringement on civil rights:

“If they’re not doing anything wrong, they have nothing to worry about.”

And with that the interview was ended.

Several hours later, the last communication from Mr. Ray was received. A photo along with the message, "Tell Sprinkles that I will shoot him on sight!"

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Next time on Weazel Action News: there are those who lives in the mountains who participate in The Most Dangerous Game. Their story a Weazel Exclusive!
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And Los Santos makes its bid for next year’s X-Games and plans to introduce several new sports to the line up!
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Embedded with the Notorious Mountain Crew

This is Gwen Valentine with more hard-hitting celebrity news that only WEZL can bring!

Amidst the worst financial crisis since last year’s financial crisis, shares in Truffade Motorsports have plummeted significantly as brokers sell their cars to recoup their stock market losses and Ammu-Nation sales sky-rocket along with crime.

However, it’s not all doom and gloom as this reporter was invited by a group of eccentric ex-billionaires for what they called a “mountain cruise.”

This reporter had no idea what was in store besides copious amounts of drugs.

Some of us partied just…

…a…

…little…

…too hard…

With a killer head-ache and surrounded by the police, this is Gwen Valentine signing off!

Up next is a special WEZL report: “Killer Tractors, the new threat in the War on Terror.”

Financial Crisis - The Los Santos Counterfeit Scheme

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This is Wynter Summers for Weazel Action News with part 2 of Los Santos’ Financial Crisis.

Our lead story today - Horace Walker sued!

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You might remember Mr. Walker from part one of our coverage of the financial crisis. Mr. Walker admitted to informing Jeffrey Patterson of Blaine County that Mr. Patterson had been suckered into buying “Adder Bonds”. Investing in Adder Bonds was the practice amongst the newly minted rich of hiding expensive assets in a younger family member’s name. In some cases the younger family member was as young as 5 years old.

Today, the local economy of Los Santos is in ruins after trillions of dollars were found to be the work of counterfeiters. Hundreds of thousands of residents who, for a brief time, were able to experience the thrills of being in the 1% have been suddenly (but expectedly) knocked back down to their  proletariat lives.  The lives of these working class residents are filled with mundane, repeated labor for minimal pay.

The worst that was expected to happen to the residents of Los Santos had happened and it turns out that Mr. Walker was indeed misinformed. Those who invested in the Adder Bonds were indeed on the winning side, that list included the late Mr. Patterson. While the bonds are valid, they are only worth as much as 60% of the initial value. Despite that deprecated value, it turns out to be quite a nest egg for those who smartly prepared for this outcome.

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Photo: An anonymous “nouveau riche” relished in the torching of his enemy’s Adder before they could cash in on the resale.

Mr. Patterson, blind and disabled, took his own life in a panic due to Mr. Walker’s blatant, unsubstantiated fear-mongering which was based on wild suspicion and paranoia about sharks.  Mr. Patterson’s family has file suit against Mr. Walker in a wrongful death action.  Mr. Walker also faces criminal charges for inciting the riot that followed Mr. Patterson’s unfortunate suicide.  Mr. Patterson leaves behind a wife and 5 year old daughter.

Those who did and did not invest in Adder Bonds are not the only winners and losers

Massive cargo jets arrived to transport the export of luxury vehicles to places like Moscow, Tokyo, Dubai and Abu Dhabi with the help of a notorious Los Santos’ auto fencer.image

It is rumored that Simeon Yetarian is buying these extravagant vehicles for 60% of their value and has the ability to sell them under the regular MSRP while still returning a healthy profit for his investors.

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Photo: While interviewing residents who were facing loss of their assets, a repo helicopter looms ominously outside Eclipse Tower.

Former Maze Bank repoman, Horatio Rodriguez, was one of those left with nothing in the wake of the new depression. “I realized I had to go back to work”, explains Rodriguez. “I could have joined the bounty network. I picked up a good size arsenal. Also some fast cars, some with storage space like a van that I found is very useful for my needs. Anyway, the life expectancy is short, so I decided to take a job with Maze repossessing cars.”

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“But I was fired after a few days on the job. Can you imagine that? They fired me for incompetence, but they offered no formal flight training.” Rodriguez shared with this reporter photographs of how Maze Bank is going about repossessions.
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“That last one is why I was let go. $600,000 for that car in good condition, but some Ballas showed up trying steal the helicopter from me. I didn’t really know where to take it, either. So I took it to the Maze Bank building. A member of the Ballas hid on board. He tried to take over the chopper and the car ended up there. The gang fucker? Well, let’s just say he had a long fall to think about things.”

We were interrupted by an excited Annette Cousins, “Excuse me? Are you the reporter who did the expose on the dead prostitute?” This reporter affirmed it was she. “I know where you can get those ‘fuck me boots’!” SQUUEEEEEEEEEE!

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Ms. Cousins directed this reporter to the Vanilla Unicorn where the boots are specially tailored to each dancer. Upon entering the erotic dance club, this reporter was immediately greeted by associates of the pimp, Small Tank Slimness. It was not a greeting of welcome.

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The situation became instantly hostile. “Yo, bitch! You know you crushed Small Tank’s throat and paralyzed him? Now he has to eat through a feeding tube!”

Another added, “What’s worse is that his dick can’t get hard no more. We even brought his bottom bitch to fluff him. That didn’t work now we need a new bottom bitch!”

Outnumbered, this reporter quickly made her escape…

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…but not before she left a message for them.

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Next time on Weazel Action News - an object from space is hovering over Los Santos International Airport, causing massive air traffic delays across the country. It is also sparking an intense debate among cosmologists on if this is a Meteor or Meteorite as it has yet to impact Earth’s surface, but is clearly stationary. And the mysterious Epsilon Group has commented that they will comment on what this phenomenon means for Los Santos soon!
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