 Columnist Ed Mountaineer has been looking for love in all the wrong places. Below, we list his very worst (or best?) efforts, in his own words:
-I try to impress a girl by dressing up like her dad, whose looks I model after extensive research and following him around a lot. When I show up on our second date, I surprise her with my new “look.” -Instead of going for ice cream after our date, I take “Trisha” to a place where small people beat you with churros and then you eat their food weapons afterwards. -As an unofficial, unhired school janitor, I enter a teachers’ lounge and ask Ms. Hadley on a date. She says something like, “fuck no” and I report her to the principal for using foul language. When the principal asks who I am, I ask him on a date. That actually goes pretty well. -I enter a platonic relationship with all the animals of nature. This means I am committed to them and them to me but with no penetration. This is what my lawyer makes me state, anyway. -Four years before my college graduation I take a pill that gives me the knowledge equivalent to an accounting degree. I decide not to go to college and am discriminated against for many years by accounting firms. Finally, I “date” the car owned by one of the accounting firm partners after he refuses to hire me. It is a secret relationship in which we have to sneak around and have sex with each other. Or, more accurately, it is the kind of relationship where I have to “sneak” into the accountant partner’s garage at night and have sex with his Subaru. The car doesn’t give a lot back. I do all the work, and this is one of many reasons the relationship ends. -I imagine that somewhere in the universe there is a “space girl” who is my soul match and is waiting for me. I pray for an alien invasion in which she shows up and is like, “come on, let’s get out of here before my friends murder you.” And I’m like, “It looks like you nuked the whole block.” And she’s like, “I’ll explain all the technology later.” And I’m like, “O.K.” -Instead of going through the trouble of establishing a “relationship” based on knowing someone else, I decide I will simply “date” everyone and in this way, you are my girlfriend. And boyfriend. -I have sex with a fortune teller. It costs me sixty dollars, but I feel like the part where she tells your future was free and the sex was what upped the price. -Penis. That’s the name I decided to have to help me date people. In this way, if you accept a date with me, you accept my penis. Unfortunately, no one would accept a date with me. -The perfect space girl (see above) turns out to be a dude. And he is from some kind of lizard race. Ed Mountaineer is an opinion columnist for the Intergalactic Business Report. He was hired after we encountered him at a Taco Bell. He can be reached at [email protected]. If you would like to hire Ed, please see his résumé here.  One thing most of us have learned in the past decade is that psychology, and things like it, are hard. People have problems, and so do we, and sometimes in order to have relationships, we need to say things and words that have meanings we may not even understand. So, what do you do when someone says he’s depressed? We don’t know. But we can tell you what NOT to say. We tell you the very worst of that.
What NOT to say to someone who’s depressed. 1. “At least you’re financially secure, right? Right? Don’t tell me you’re having money problems too.” 2. “What’s that thing on your face? Cancer?” 3. “Hold up. I’m gonna ask AI what to say to you.” 4. “You need to get DRUNK, bro. We are gettin’ DRUNK. Let’s go, bro. Let’s get DRUNK.” 5. “Watch this gun. Imma be right back.” 6. “Maybe you need to take your butt plug out. You’re way too uptight. You don’t have a butt plug in? Then what the fuck is wrong with you?” 7. “Know what’s depressing? You.” 8. “You’re way past your life expectancy so you should savor every moment you have left.” 9. “Think you’re depressed now? Just wait till life really hits you with some shit. You need to toughen up or you’re not gonna make it, bro.” 10. “Want me to tickle you or something?” 11. “Here I go again on my own! Come on motherfucker. Sing it with me!”  Manifestation works. Here’s the proof. By Ed Mountaineer.
A few years ago, I heard the term “manifestation” and thought it was about termites getting in your house. Fuck that, I thought. Then I started seeing people on social media claim they could control the universe by doing it. I tried letting bugs inside my house but that’s harder than you’d think. It’s not like you can just invite them in. They aren’t good at communication. In case you don’t know me, I’ve always had a deep desire to control everything in the universe, including (let’s be honest, especially) people. I feel like I would be a better at making them do stuff than whatever controls them currently. I don’t know. It’s always just been a feeling. So whatever manifestation was, I was going to learn it, lock in, and use it to take over human bodies and lives and also do good I guess? Smartly, I stared into my phone and decided to spend hours watching videos and memes about how manifestation can give you anything you want—including sex? That’s a question to the universe that’s not really a part of this article. Anyway, what I discovered was that the universe always says “yes.” Oh, and the universe is like everything in the... universe?. It’s super complicated. But whatever it is, you just ask it for things, and it gives them to you no matter what. Pretty cool. At first, I was like, “give me money.” Or make that guy over there fall down and lose his pants in a really funny way so I can film it and post it and maybe get like a million likes and have people think I have the best content and ask, “how does he get this stuff?” And then I’d be saying to myself, super quietly, “because the universe does whatever I tell it.” But none of that worked. Money never appeared. The guy didn’t fall. His pants stayed on. I have like three followers. Then I went further. I watched even more videos, and spent even more hours watching super happy people talk about how they could control the universe with their thoughts. I started hearing that it was HOW you asked the universe for things that mattered most. Apparently, the universe has trouble understanding your desires if you don’t say things right. I was saying, “I wish for this” or “gimme that.” Apparently, that doesn’t work. The universe grants you wishes if you pretend whatever you want is happening already. So, instead of saying, “I wish I had money,” you say, “I have money.” And then you just keep saying it again and again in the present tense and it appears? I don’t know if it works with money yet, because I’ve been concentrating on other things first. And awesome news. It works. And it can work for you too. Start by doing what I did (and say every day) below. I’m telling you, I did this and it became reality. You don’t have to take my word for it. Just say the phrases below and be rewarded by the universe.
Ed Mountaineer is an opinion columnist for the Intergalactic Business Report. He was hired after we encountered him at a Taco Bell. He can be reached at [email protected]. If you would like to hire Ed, please see his résumé here.  As Hallmark and Netflix flood your t.v. with Christmas movies, it may be time to slow down, relax, and enjoy the holiday that comes just before the month of Yuletide cheer. The Intergalactic Business Report gives you what we consider the very best Thanksgiving movies you’ve never heard of. Discover the joy of these uplifting Turkey Day movies. We list them all below:
Turkey! In this psychological thriller, one-legged Theodore “Turkey” Allison believes he is an actual turkey and attributes his limb loss to having once been served at a Thanksgiving dinner. “Dey took mah drumstick,” he tells random people as he hobbles after them in New York City. Redonia Stenningsworth, an uptight former model turned psychologist, lives in a building near Theodore’s group home and notices him one day. She convinces him to move to New Guinea, in search of cannibals who will truly believe his story and eat the rest of him. Fake friends Thanksgiving. Haughty Lisa Templeton can’t stand her fake friend, Brittney Stales. When both their Thanksgiving plans fall through Brittney suggests they spend it together. Lisa, against her better judgment, accepts. Will she be able to “fake it” through an entire meal or will she reveal her true feelings about shitty, fake Brittney? Tensions rise as the two sit, eat, and try to have conversations. Will it be time to get real? Or will this just be another fake-ass meal? Trapped on Thanksgiving. On their annual Thanksgiving spelunking expedition, a group of twenty-somethings get trapped in a cave when one of them accidentally speaks too loudly and causes an interior avalanche. When “innerdwellers” a tribe of cannibalistic mutants who are descended from inbred West Virginia miners begin to attack them, a horrifying secret is learned—that the “innerdwellers” are actually just regular people from West Virginia. Two Bites. “Two bite” Chuck got his nickname from being able to eat anything in two bites. When he’s challenged by a local radio station to eat a Turkey that way, he immediately accepts. If he wins, he gets a new truck. If he loses, the radio crew gets to desecrate his body for charity. Chuck’s zany buddy (and non-rent-paying roommate) Fred points out to Chuck that he may be in trouble because his entire diet consists of smallish brownies, some of which Chuck can eat in one bite. Unfortunately, Chuck signed the contract with WKLN and now the challenge is on. A tender look at friendship and how one bite can sometimes be enough, “Two Bites” is a meditation on whether stepping up to a challenge can also get you killed. An Eskimo Thanksgiving. Unushi Caring Eagle is an innuit eskimo who falls in love with rough and tumble Jack Berghoff when she has a drunken weekend in Anchorage. When Jack wakes up in an igloo near the arctic circle with no arms and legs, she has to care for him for the rest of his life or he will freeze to death. It's also Thanksgiving. A touching love story about devotion and redemption, An Eskimo Thanksgiving explores themes of loving someone so much, you’re willing to drug them and put them on a sled and drive them with a snow machine to the arctic circle. And then dismember them so that they can never escape, but why would they want to? Big Faloozoo’s Thanksgiving. A cartoon adventure for the children, fuzzy loveable Turkey Faloozoo is pretty upset with some of the neighborhood adults who want to eat him. So he enlists their kids to turn the tables and hunt all the grownups in the area with the exception of “Hippie” Steve, who’s vegan. As the hunt progresses and the hours and weeks pass, the original intent of the hunt becomes blurred and Steve is executed for reasons none of them can even remember. A somber look at adult/child relationships, Big Faloozoo’s Thanksgiving is one part Lord of the Flies and one part Polar Express, only without the train or Christmas or a message or snow or Tom Hanks. Also, Big Faloozoo turns out to be a vulture who just looked like a Turkey, so the children murder him too, teaching them and you that nobody’s safe from judgment so maybe don’t judge.  Jimmy "I ate too much arugula" Fenneman. If your nickname isn’t in “quotes” then it isn’t really a nickname, is it? This week, the Intergalactic Business Report scours the world for the very worst quotation nicknames. Because this is a global project, some of the nicknames may be culturally hard to understand, but only if you’re racist or whatever.
Worst quotation nicknames (not in order of shittiness): Bango “I stuff mittens in mouth to stop the rain” Bahongro. Jeff “My belly button launches a fart” Martens. Felix “Nipple Face” Orangestead. Chip “I believe this penis belongs to you” Farenstein. Semarit “Son of Banana Soup” Hakarastaki. Fenerian “PFFFFFFFT” Francis. Jimmy “Little bit involved with the Mafia, like I know some guys, but I’m not ‘made’ or nothing” Lutelli. Big “Dick in relative terms, depending on what you consider big” Herman. Larry “I got stuck inside my mom’s car again, can someone let me out” Turlen. Cynthia “Whoops I’m your sister,” Bergano. Brendan “can I get your mom’s number” Jamison.  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]. |
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