 In an age of information overload and clutter, perhaps the most important news we can receive is that a Netflix show is blowing up and we need to watch it or our peer groups will cast us out. When this divine offering comes our way, we can only pray that a score from Rotten Tomatoes is attached because Rotten Tomatoes is a thing that tells us if something is good or not. In the spirit of informing the public about critical entertainment options, the Intergalactic Business Report lets you in on five streaming programs you haven’t been watching and haven’t ever seen but should before this summer is over.
Science Fiction Thermometer 6. Thermometer 6 is an interstellar spacecraft that begins to malfunction as it cruises deeper into space. The crew panics when they find out their space vessel is actually a huge thermometer that is taking the temperature of something’s butt. When the readings come back as normal, will they be able to go home and tell space command that the space butt is fine? Or will their ship break off somewhere in the butt tunnel and spread mercury poisoning because there’s mercury in thermometers? Or is it that thermometers used to have mercury in them but don’t have it now? In any case, they need to get out of that butt. Rom Com Love and money. Austin and Mary are twenty-something best friends living it up in NYC until they simultaneously break up with their partners on the same night and drunkenly hook up with each other. When they find out that Japanese businessmen have found their way into their chic loft and have been watching them pork all night long, they learn that having sex in front of other people for money may be the best financial decision they’ve ever made. Also, Austin is a financial advisor, so he can confirm that. Documentary Fitting in and partying on: the Argony Cult. Cults are no fun, right? Wrong. At the wacky Argony Compound anything goes, including drinking, drugs, and all-night dance parties. The catch? You can’t have sex with the cult leader, even though he’s super desirable and has an engaging personality that makes you think you’ve known him your whole life and you want to connect. Maybe he’s just shy? One thing’s for sure, he definitely will NOT fuck you and that kind of sucks. Well, back to the party, I guess. Maybe they’ll try to take all your money at least. No? Is this even a cult? Watch and find out. Action Special forces special agent special assignment. What happens when you are in the special forces of the most special agency and on special assignment? You kill people. Because that’s what you’ve been trained to do. And all the dumb motherfuckers who challenge you don’t have your special training so they just get fucked by your special skills and you walk around after you killed their ass like it’s no big deal because you don’t have emotions when it comes to that shit because of your training. Drama Brett’s Secret. When big pharma salesman of the month Brett Luce discovers that his parents hid his IQ results from him and he is technically a special needs adult, he ups his game and becomes salesman of the year and enjoys multiple short term relationships with women who are willing to see the merits of his Porsche instead of his mind. A feel-good story for anyone who’s ever felt secretly mentally slow. Reality Ink Fucker Island. Eight tattooed people are matched by their ink sleeves and have sex with each other. Will they be satisfied, or will they choose to also have sex with other tattooed people on the island? Things get crazy when a new boat of inked galivanters arrive to try to seduce the undecided contestants. Will true love be found, or will they just all fuck each other?Get ready for an inky, stinky ride! (Spoiler: they all fuck each other).  Oh shit. It’s almost Thanksgiving. And if your life on turkey day is a sad cliché where you hate your stupid mother-in-law and fall asleep watching football games, then you better be prepared for dinner table meltdowns with your unyielding, drooling relatives. Before you get into screaming matches about politics or whether an English major turns people into lesbians, relax and use these specially curated responses to almost any altercation that will have you sitting pretty as the tryptophane kicks in.
The Intergalactic Business Report’s experts on intoxicated polemics and amateur social psychology give you the best responses to the most common Thanksgiving arguments: SITUATION ONE: After you explain that your college major was “general studies” an older male giggles and says something about how that explains a lot. YOUR COMEBACK: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. (Sigh). SITUATION TWO: Your mom suggests that you might take a shower the next time you’re having a meal with your family because the odor is really really bad and have you been living under a bridge or something? YOUR COMEBACK: So, what? Yeah. I’ve been living under a fucking bridge! That’s right. What the fuck else am I gonna do with a general studies degree? SITUATION THREE: Someone asks what you’re doing there because you weren’t invited and they don’t recognize you. YOUR COMEBACK: I thought this was Thanksgiving, motherfucker. I thought you were supposed to be THANKFUL. (Lift up your knife, but don’t lunge. Just hold it like you might). Pass the fucking turkey. The WHOLE fucking turkey. SITUATION FOUR: You think an older relative might be reaching for a knife at the table. YOUR COMEBACK: FUUUUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! I’LL FUCKING KIIIIILLLL YOU! (Grab your knife again and lunge but try to miss so it’s not like an actual murder or whatever). SITUATION FIVE: Some motherfucker is looking at you. Yup. He’s staring. YOUR COMEBACK: Same as in situation four. SITUATION SIX: Some children at the table slowly get up, watch you as they do it, and then run like hell away from you. YOUR COMEBACK: That’s right. Get up and run away. Run away from all your PROBLEMS. Great. You’re learning fast, aren’t you? SITUATION SEVEN: The police are all like, “What are you doing here? You just walked into someone’s Thanksgiving dinner and you’re scaring people,” and, “Do you have any ID?” Also, “Are you that guy who lives under the bridge?” YOUR COMEBACK: Did you wrap the turkey in bacon, mom? ‘Cause I smell bacon. (Make piggy noises and press on your nose so that it looks like a pig). SITUATION EIGHT: Somebody behind you screams, “Get the fuck out of here!” as you’re forcibly restrained and led to a cop car. YOUR COMEBACK: I jizzed all over your bathroom, motherfucker!* *That’s solid. Note to yourself to use that again in the future.  Remember when people thought it was funny to say they loved something and then they paused and said, “Not!” That’s what I picture happening with God when I die. Except there is no God and there’s no one there to say anything because there isn’t anything. Just blackness and a farty smell because you shit yourself when you die.
So that’s where I am right now as we push on through November and everyone is talking about the holidays and making plans and pretending like that’s normal because slowly dying on a spinning orb in the middle of a dark universe and having Thanksgiving dinner is normal. We had midterm elections this month. Did you know they had those fifty years ago too? And most of the people running for office are dead now. They were all like, “Get out and vote! I’m your man! We can change America together!” And now they’re all like: “…….” Because they’re dead and they have no voice. And if you voted for them, you’re probably dead now too. People love having me at Thanksgiving dinner. Not! They don’t say they hate me. Instead they say things like, “It’s so great to have you here, Rhoda” and “Isn’t this a wonderful time to celebrate family?” Makes you wonder what they say when they really really hate someone. I’ll probably find out this year when my status changes from wet blanket who takes up space in their house to untenable depressing element who absolutely ruins the holiday by constantly reminding everyone that they’re actively dying and that the fucking turkey isn’t helping anything. But I love Thanksgiving. Not! Is that funny? Didn’t think so. If I were funny people would say stuff like, “Isn’t she funny?” instead of “Are you off your meds?” Comedians are supposed to be so fucked up that the only way they can survive is to make jokes through all their enormous pain. I’m exactly like that. Minus the jokes. I read we’re in a climate catastrophe and we all only have 12 years to live. I read that eleven and a half years ago so… Remember how people in old movies would say something cool before they died like, “See you in hell”? I feel like just saying “I see you” because we’re already in hell and whoever I’m saying it to would be like, “What? I don’t understand.” And then I’d just die and she’d have no idea what I was talking about but she’d still be in hell. In some ways, though, I am looking forward to Thanksgiving. Not! Is it funny now? Didn’t think so. Maybe I’ll start saying “Schwiiiiing” and pretending I have a boner. Maybe that will be my cool thing to say before I die. “Schwiiiiiiing!” Nope. I’m still alive. I guess I’m done writing now, so goodbye and schwiiiing. Nope. Still didn’t work. Rhoda Bloom is just a person who wrote this. She does not work for the Intergalactic Business Report. But you can leave a message for her at [email protected].  I’m not going to lie. When I had the chance to room with Sir Stormbringer I was pretty jacked. He is an ancient lord whose strength is legendary and there are mythic scrolls written about his exploits and heroism. He is also a total piece of shit roommate.
Sir Stormbringer, a medieval Knight, is a shitty roommate. Here’s why:
 Intro. Middle part. Ending. That’s what I’m thinking of writing for this column because you don’t really care what it says, I don’t either, and if we both don’t care, then why even have any content? Yes, it’s Rhoda Bloom again and I’m supposed to get out of bed and write my column, but now I’m wondering why that’s even a requirement—getting out of bed. And writing, for that matter.
Anyway, Spring is here. I guess. Birds are chirping. The weather is warmer. I feel a breeze roll over my face as I walk outside and notice a homeless man screaming something about how I stole his space suit. And it makes me think that I probably did, at least metaphorically, whatever that means. There’s a war in Eastern Europe. Maybe you saw something about it on the news? Remember the part where the one guy said he might nuke everyone if he didn’t get what he wanted? I’m pretty sure I dated him. Don’t worry though, maybe he’ll die of Covid or something. Before all of us do. And we’ll get a couple weeks to celebrate that he’s dead and then when we’re doing shots and dancing and everything, this really tall dude who’s at the party will grab my hand and say, “It’s your time. Come with me.” And I’ll totally have sex with him because he’s my type. Then he’ll take me straight to Hades. And he won’t call me. “Fuck… What the fuck?” I’m assuming those will be my last words. “What the fuck? What the fuck?” I’m assuming that’s what someone will say when they find my body. I keep thinking I’m in a movie about a post-apocalyptic world where no one can afford gasoline and I have to offer sex to random men so they’ll drive me places. But they always turn me down and say stuff like, “Uh… I can drop you off at Target. I don’t need the sex.” And the ride there is super awkward. Yeah, I know, it’s real life and not a movie. Duh. Like anyone would ever put me in a movie. I mean, except for a documentary about depression or something. Or one about women who offer sex for rides to Target. I guess I was in a movie. I ordered an “impossible” burger the other day and the waitress told me it was an appropriate choice for me. She never came back with the sandwich. I read that everything we see is actually delayed up to ten seconds, so we’re just walking around looking at stuff that already happened. I’m assuming that’s why I run into walls and other people? I also assume that means when we die we have like ten seconds where we’re thinking, “Why the fuck is everyone looking at me like that?” The thing about Spring is that it’s supposed to be a time of renewal, and it is, just like when I get an email saying my subscription to Clinical Depression Magazine is going to be automatically renewed unless I tell them not to, and then I start trying to figure out how the fuck to stop them from charging me again but then the homeless guy outside my window starts screaming again about his space suit and I forget what the fuck I’m doing and wait another year. Magazines present a world you wished you lived in, full of vibrancy, life, and promise. Except if its Clinical Depression Magazine. That one’s just about psychiatrists telling you you’re fucked, I think, because once they start writing about how a “recent clinical study blah blah blah” I give up and tell myself I’m going to end my subscription, but not till the year is up and they tell me they’ll automatically renew it unless I tell them not to. Anyway, I’m just about done. With this column, but also most everything else. My new boyfriend is screaming at me and I need to go. He’s pissed off about his space suit. It’s ok. He’s who I deserve. I’m done writing now. Good bye. Rhoda Bloom is just a person who wrote this. She does not work for the Intergalactic Business Report. But you can leave a message for her at [email protected].  People are people, but when they get old, they become “old” people. All of us have at least one in our lives (for now), and at the holidays we must find ways to make them happy with food, attention, and gifts. Each year, however, this seems harder and harder as old people find it less and less possible to operate anything with buttons, technology, or a screw off top. To help you this year, the Intergalactic Business Report issues its first annual gift guide for your archaic humans.
1. A spoon. Everyone’s gotta eat, right? And this thing makes it easier and is also unassailably recognizable as a useful tool that our cavemen ancestors (and old people) respect and cherish. These also come in lots of colors and sizes. Not too much difference with the shapes, though. 2. Grandpa’s first computer. This device features a 76-inch screen and one button that calls the police. 3. Terrorist sensor. A wand that lights up if a terrorist is nearby. Also when someone delivers groceries to the house. 4. Soup. See number one, above. The two kind of go together and you can wrap then separately and the recipient will be like, “Oh, I wondered when you got me the spoon… I don’t have anything to eat with it. Why’s he giving me a spoon? Now it all makes sense.” 5. Un-numbered, faceless cards. These 52 cards all look the same, which takes the stress out of typical old people games like Pinochle and Bridge. Now your old person can just throw a bunch of cards on the table and choose to either bask in winning or complain about getting shitty cards. Both seem to make them happy. 6. Pre-shredded crackers. You can actually make these yourself by taking a bag of crackers and just pounding on it till it’s just dust. This goes well with numbers 1 and 4. 7. “He’s still alive?” by the makers of Squid Game. This interactive map shows images of famous people you’d think were dead but aren’t. Like Johnny Mathis and Wilford Brimley (whoops). When they perish, the map slowly (or quickly) goes blank.  FOURTH OF JANUARY:
If you could think of a day of the year more fucking meaningless than the fourth of January it would be a challenge. Christmas is over. The weather sucks. You suck because of it. Depression is setting in and now you’re giving up on the diet you promised yourself you’d do because cheesecake is more appealing than making the slightest effort to better yourself. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF FEBRUARY: The fourth of January was bad. It proved that despite your average efforts at self-improvement, you will never move forward in any way that could be considered even mildly positive. If you’ve made it to February 4th, you can say to yourself: “Hey, I’m a human being who’s alive but not one that matters at all. I’m going to look for a video game where I play someone who doesn’t suck and make a ton of in game purchases that leave me empty.” RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF MARCH: March. And not even the end of March. Now you’re thinking that winter may be over but it’s not even close and the only thing that can make you feel O.K. about yourself is that cheesecake and since you bought an entire cheesecake and not just a slice, it’s time to eat an entire cheesecake whose final bite brings you closer to understanding the universe’s plan for you—to be a fat fucker who eats cheesecake. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF APRIL: April showers bring May flowers! Also they seem to make you fatter and more drunk. Three days after being ridiculed with April Fool’s jokes, the rain droplets may as well be your tears flowing over a decrepit house (you) as you realize that you are living in a simulation where your alien controller checked out seven years ago to start a new character. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF MAY: Oh, look, the weather looks better. Nah. Fuck you. Here comes a tornado and you are confined to your basement while you hear a jacked-up weather forecaster try to earn a daytime Emmy for screaming at you to take shelter while you wonder if you left any cheesecake in the fridge upstairs. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF JUNE: Summer time! Now you can show off your awesome body that you worked on all year by eating fucking cheesecake and drinking beer. Your swimsuit is so tight you wonder if it’s the one you wore in junior high. Nope. It’s the one you got last summer because you were too fat to fit into the one from the year before that you had to get because you were too fat for that. Want to go to the beach? Nope? Just start eating cheesecake. That’s all you’re good at anyway. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF JULY: Oh hell yeah! Time to fucking drink beers and let off fireworks. Fat body? Who gives a shit? Give me another beer, motherfucker! This is the one day of the year where nothing fucking matters! I said give me another beer, motherfucker! Did you not fucking hear me? Give me your beer then! I’m drunk, daddy! Yeah, I called you daddy, motherfucker! Do you want some, motherfucker? Check out my bathing suit! It’s fucking ripping in the ass crack! Yeah, I’ll smoke some crack! Is that what you asked? RESULT: WINNER. FOURTH OF AUGUST: Man, the 4th of July rocked. This shit sucks. You have nothing to say. So shut up. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER: Fall…. Yeah. Football and leaves changing. This fucking sucks. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF OCTOBER: Do you remember the 4th of July when you were fucking partying and drinking and it was awesome? Now it’s the 4th of October. What does that even fucking mean? RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF NOVEMBER: Hey, the weather’s getting cold and that cheesecake of the month club you got for Christmas last year is on its last month. Maybe someone will get if for you again this Christmas. What’s the date today? Oh, the 4th of November. RESULT: Loser. FOURTH OF DECEMBER: Excuse me, fat ass… What’s the date today? Did you say the fourth of December? That sucks. Do you have any cheesecake? No? Why not? RESULT: Loser.  In part of its commitment to education and honesty, the Intergalactic Business Report looked at the absolute worst colleges and universities in the nation where we felt parents would be better off letting their children become hostesses at Japanese nightclubs or cruise ship Karaoke hustlers rather than allowing them to attend them.
We recommend you peruse this list carefully and make sure your offspring are not considering matriculating at any of these: COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY: Jeff Tanner’s College of Learning, His Van Campus. WHY NOT: We also don’t recommend the His Apartment Campus, which may be coming back soon if he can enroll enough students at the His Van Campus. COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY: Middle-west East Southwest State Tech of Southern Florida University in Jeff Tanner’s pants. WHY NOT: A post-graduate survey indicated that only 3% of students make it to their sophomore year, which just means sticking around after seeing what’s in his pants. Junior year numbers are even worse. COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY: Just the Tip College of Jeff Tanner’s Penis. WHY NOT: This college makes our “best value” list for colleges and universities not to send your kid. With a 100% acceptance rate, this higher ed institution over delivers on its promise to give students just the tip as they soon find they can receive the whole penis at no additional cost. COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY: The Jeffrey A. Tanner University of Get in My Van. WHY NOT: Also known as JTUGMV, it is not to be confused with Jeff Tanner’s College of Learning, His Van Campus (above). In this one, he includes his middle initial and it’s way more direct. COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY: Penis Brothers Institute of Technology. WHY NOT: Founded by the Penis brothers, Chad, Skip, and Jeff Tanner, the technology programs include “Turn on the radio” and “Switch that to some porn.” COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY: The University of Old Nasty Looking Balls. WHY NOT: Also known as UONLB, this school was started by Jeff Tanner’s late grandfather. The university’s motto: “Cum here if you’re into that.”  With America racing to vaccinate citizens in record numbers, news agencies and health officials have begun to warn us that we better hurry because a slew of “variants” could cause a new Covid surge.
You may have heard of the South African strain and the Brazilian variant. Now the Intergalactic Business Report gives you the other ones coming your way. Beware of: The Alabama variant: HOW YOU CATCH IT: Your cousin gives it to you. A lot. The Florida variant: SYMPTOMS: Your shirt dissolves and you get sucked into a sinkhole. The Mafia variant: SYMPTOMS: You wanna fugget about it but you can’t. The Canadian variant: SYMPTOMS: Your face develops a smug look and you can’t stop looking down on Americans. You also can’t stop talking about soaker tubs and your hockey equipment. The White Claw variant: SYMPTOMS: You feel like a total pussy but you keep exposing yourself to it anyway. The German variant: SYMPTOMS: You try to tell a joke, but nobody laughs because your joke is quoting an eighteenth-century philosopher and then staring at everyone till each of them turns away, uncomfortably. Your mom variant: SYMPTOMS: You gain a lot of weight and then have sex with random men. Tesla variant: HOW YOU CATCH IT: You make just enough money to finally let people know you’re a total douche but couldn’t buy anything to prove it before.  The recent Oprah Winfrey interview with Meghan Markle and Prince Harry has revealed inequities, unfairness, and financial cutoffs heaped upon the princely couple by the royal family.
While Meghan and Harry contend with life on their own ala “I’ve got you Babe,” if that song was about two lovers who had a zillion dollars but were still going to try to make it anyway, the Intergalactic Business Report focuses on another royal couple who left the throne but did not fare as well. Like Harry and Meghan, Jeff Tonastur the Fourth Duke of Valdostaria and his bride, Sarah Murtz of New Jersey, abandoned the destitute nation of Valdostaria last year and left behind all their royal duties. As one of the poorest countries in the world, however, Valdostaria did not have much to give the couple, and when they left, they took less than that with them. Below, we outline what the royal couple have as they begin their new life in America.
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