When you craft a résumé, you may want to include everything you’ve done in your career. But new insights reveal that may not be the smartest move to land your dream job.
The Intergalactic Business Report presents five common items that may separate you from other candidates, but possibly in a bad way. We recommend you remove these today.
1994-5 Assistant boner presenter (apprenticeship)
Assisted the master boner presenter, Jay Gielgude, as he traveled the country, showing himself to strangers in parks.
Main duties and responsibilities:
Holding Mr. Gielgude’s trench coat.
Performing “lookout” duties.
1996-7 “Butt cam” operator, Under the Bleachers Productions.
Operated the “Butt Cam” to retrieve images of people’s butts as they sat in bleachers at sporting events and concerts.
Awards and recognition:
Awarded myself “Best Butt Shot” trophy for my work at the Central High School football divisional playoff game, November 3, 1996.
2000-1 Freelance erotic fiction writer.
Self-published first novel, “A time for my boner,” was read by several friends.
Unpublished Graphic Novel, “My balls in winter,” sealed in a time capsule so that it may be published in the future when people are finally ready for it.
2003-5 Amateur cat wrestler.
1st place at “Backyard Championship” series, held in my back yard. Defeated tabby cat and former champion, “Snowflake.”
Runner-up in first annual “Cat Fight on Billings Avenue,” which took place between several local cats and me June 16, 2004.
2007-present Assistant “fluffer,” Adult film industry.
Main duties include:
Fluffing the fluffers, although I still have no idea why they need to be fluffed.
Jay Gielgude, Master Boner Presenter.
Tony Meathaven, adult film actor/producer/director
Snowflake the cat. Now deceased. No phone calls, please.
Job burnout has become a serious issue, separating people who love coming into an office every day and talking about how much they love it, and those who hate coming in every day and hate everyone and everything they see there.
If you’re somewhere in the middle, you may be drifting towards burnout. Be aware of these five sure signs.
1. When your boss comes to ask a question, you just lower your head and flip him off. When he continues to talk, you bring your hand back slightly and then thrust it forward, again and again, till he leaves or security arrives and removes you from your chair.
2. At office birthday celebrations, you ask to say a few words. Then you just stand there, confused, and say nothing. Sometimes other people will applaud and say, “Thanks, Steve,” and usher you out of the way, because you always do this and this is their way of dealing with it. Other times, people will just continue to eat cake and eventually leave the conference room and turn off the lights while you stand there, catatonic.
3. During “brainstorming” sessions, you say to everyone, “Wait. I’ve got a great idea!” When they all give you their total attention to hear this great idea, you say, “Why don’t you all suck my dick?”
4. When you meet someone new, you extend your hand for the handshake. Then you grasp it with all your strength and pull it towards your crotch. Then you scream, “This guy just touched my nuts!”
5. No one sits near your desk anymore, because when you arrive in the morning you pour a bottle of liquor on yourself and hold a lighter, which you wave around as you type nonsense into your computer.
How I finally realized what an absolute dick I am and how I will change. I hang out with rich people volume 39 (I think). By Darryl Smurten.
I’m going to be honest for once. When people would tell me I had severe anger issues, took too many drugs, and was dangerous to be around, I thought they were just envious of my amazing lifestyle and the fact that I was clearly better than them. But as I began to examine my life, I noticed that what they were saying was very true and I was, I guess, a bad person?
If you’ve read my columns, you know I spend my life traveling around the world and hanging out with my rich friends. Then, out of what can only be described as mercy or charity, I tell you about it so that you can catch a tiny glimpse of what I experience every day. With that, you’re supposed to feel good. Or something. The editors didn’t really explain it to me that well.
Anyway, I read some of my past writing for the Intergalactic Business Report, and I even watched some police video of myself, and after a few hours I began to notice a pattern about the man I was reading about and seeing. I had to look beyond the fact that I am the kind of person everyone wants to be and look like and really gaze deep within myself. I could only conclude that sometimes I act like a total dick.
It was one video in particular that caught my eye. It was taken by someone on his iphone, I’m assuming, and posted online. It showed me being chased by some security guards at an exclusive resort in an anonymous place I won’t name, called Ibiza. This was filmed years ago, but as I watched it, the events surrounding it became clear again in my sharp and active brain.
I had gone there with some female friends of mine, who were models. Usually I don’t hang out with models because of their average (I’m being generous) intelligence and they’re hesitancy about having sex with me, but these girls were cool in the sense that I barely knew them so I assumed they would do whatever I wanted and that they would buy me drugs, almost like they were my personal hooker stash that I could carry around with me and whip out whenever I needed them.
These women also knew Bolgo (a name I made up to hide the identity of a guy named Bodo, who lived on the island). “Bolgo” is rich. And rich enough to hang out with me, which, if you used a venh diagram would be like a chart where you saw me on one side overlap with him and then another part of a circle that showed money. I didn’t know Bolgo yet, but I assumed he would have heard of me. So I went ahead expecting to be set up royally for the weekend. And this is where I think all the problems started.
By the time we made it to Bolgo’s hotel suite, I was pretty drunk and felt ready to party even harder, but, after some pleasantries from him about how I was welcome and blah blah blah, he started trying to act super educated and asked the girls if they wanted to see some of his art collection, which he stored there in this penthouse.
I went along with them, but as you can imagine, I was almost instantly bored. Talking about art can be the opposite of a boner pill and I felt like he was never going to stop making noise out of his face hole. I was losing my buzz, so I left the “tour” and went to find a bottle to sustain me for a few more minutes.
I then ran into some bartender/bodyguard who had a serious attitude when I helped myself to some liquor and told him to step aside. He physically removed me from the bar and I, enraged, grabbed a stray bottle, poured it over the bar and some couches, and then lit everything on fire. O.K. let’s stop right here in the story.
As a reader, tell me if you think anything I did up till this sentence was rude, strange, impolite, etc. Good. Because what comes next was the bizarre part.
After standing my ground and not allowing myself to be pushed around by a servant, a bunch of security guards were called in. They began putting out the fire and asked me to come with them. I was a little astounded. I asked them calmly, but with a firepoker in my hand, if they would please get Bolgo in there right away so we could set things straight. They then lied and told me that Bolgo was the one who had called them.
I explained that the bartender had refused to serve me in the way I wanted and so I naturally burned a few couches and the bar, but I hadn’t done anything that should get everyone so huffy. But they still tried to grab me and I, with the motion of some kind of animal that is more graceful than a slithery cat, evaded them easily and ran from the suite and down the hall.
Their pursuit lasted a while and went throughout the hotel. This is when I believe some asshole decided to film us. I remember being so angry that I did something I was truly unproud of, and this is what haunts me to this day and is making me a better man, I hope.
Up till that point, I had conducted myself like a gentleman, meting out judgment and punishment only when it was well-deserved. But, cornered, I had to make a decision about my own survival. Instead of accepting an arrest by rent-a-cops and a humiliating perp walk under the scrutiny of hundreds of camera phones, I flung my own poop at my assailants. I bent down, and struggled to relax long enough to produce the feces necessary to repel my foes. But I did it just in time.
I will never forget their horrified glances. Their running away. One of them looked at me in terror, as if to say, “I’m a rent-a-cop. I don’t get paid enough to touch you.” With the remaining human crap, I covered myself as if in armor and walked out of the building with no one coming too near. I had won, clearly, but I couldn’t help but think I had lost something too?
As I watch the video now I see that, tactically, I am a genius. But, like Julius Caesar, that only gets you so far. In the future I can’t promise I won’t fling poo or even cover myself in it if that’s what it takes to escape or make my point. But what I will do is try to do it with more compassion and caring than I did that night on Ibiza. I guess this is why I have been entitled to all the things I’ve been entitled to. Because I am self-aware enough to be rewarded for understanding myself so well. And this makes me able to be a mentor and hero to teenagers, for instance.
With that, I’m off to go to my next party. And when I’m there, I’ll show my own wisdom to myself. Again.
Darryl Smurten reports on the mega- and ultra-rich. His up-close insights about how they live provide even common peasants the ability to glimpse, if for a moment, the light of the good life. If you are ultra-rich and don’t know Darryl yet, and would like to invite him to hang out with you, please contact him at email@example.com. Don’t expect him to get back to you right away.
An anonymous CEO’s open letter about his affair and “dick pics.” A lesson in emotional intelligence.
Last week a major CEO* was embarrassed when it was revealed he cheated on his wife. Instead of hiding behind lawyers and his PR agency, he decided to write an open letter about his discretions to his more than 87,000 employees. We feel this exemplifies emotional intelligence** and are reprinting it below, anonymously.
By now, you may have seen pictures of my penis circulating on the internet. These “dick pics” were indeed photos of my phallus, but they were not intended for a mass audience. Originally, I had sent these pictures to my mistress, with whom I was having sex outside my marriage.
When you have a picture of your penis out there for everyone to see, your world changes instantly. Believe me. There is shame. There is humiliation. There is regret. But then there is also the thousands of comments saying things like, “Hey, his dick is a lot larger than I thought,” and, even, “Man, his dick is way bigger than mine.” Turns out, I have a pretty large penis. Which is something I’d never have known, had I not had my dick pics stolen from me and had they not been posted on the Web.
When my wife saw these photos, as well as the crude news articles written about me and my affair, she simply said to me, “I knew it was you as soon as I saw that huge cock online.” This was her way of telling me, I guess, that I had one of the biggest members she had ever seen in her life and that it was recognizable, instantly.
Let me say one thing, before I continue. I’m one of the luckiest men alive. My wife, instead of immediately asking for a divorce, told me she would give me a second chance, mostly because my dick is so gigantic she’d never find anyone who could come close in size. So, I’m lucky to have such an understanding woman as my partner. I am also lucky to have such an enormous dong.
As I think back, my beefstick has served me well in my life and my career. It was always around as a conversation starter or even party trick (I played ping pong with it once and almost won!) And it gave me the confidence to feel like I was bigger and better than anyone in the conference room. I've come to the realization that, like prime USDA meat, I am a prime executive whose thick meat gives him an edge in both the boardroom and bedroom.
So what does the future hold for me, now that I’ve become the latest spectacle in our new world of online everything all the time? First, it’s given me many offers to star in straight up raunchy porn movies—the kind where they do sex things nobody even likes and you wonder, “Who’s watching this?” but then you realize you are. But it is also offering me time to reflect on my bad behavior and how I can grow and become a better man in the coming years.
Will I cheat on my wife again? Well, considering she was so cool about my last affair, I’ll have to think about it. Again, no one knows what the future will hold, except for one thing, and that is the gargantuan appendage that dangles between my legs. That will be there forever, pulsating, throbbing, and begging me to take it out and let it run wild.
I think in a way we all have a giant, throbbing dick that wants to roam free. And it is both a curse and a blessing. But mostly a blessing, because it’s so large and women seem to want it. I guess you could say this whole experience has made me a bit of a philosopher. A philosopher with a massive schlong.
In closing, I hope everyone can forgive me. There is an Italian saying that roughly translates as, “The man with the biggest dick gets to keep the organ grinder’s monkey.” I guess I’m ready to take care of the monkey and accept all the responsibilities it brings.
___________, President and CEO, ________.
*”Major” is a pretty broad term, as is “CEO.”
**Emotional intelligence is like normal intelligence, only you don’t need to be smart and can’t be tested on it.
Today, everything and everyone is a brand. So-called branding “experts” like to talk about brand personality, which is basically pretending that a soulless, money-making company is also like your cool best friend who lives next door to you and really cares about you—as long as you keep giving him money.
These same experts talk about five major dimensions of brand personality, which supposedly appeal to consumers and get them to fall in love with the stuff you’re selling and metaphorically felate you as you slowly drive your car around a school parking lot.
But as the greater culture shifts and changes, so does what appeals to consumers. Below, the Intergalactic Business Report discards the outdated dimensions of brand personality and presents you with what people really want in their new best friend/company.
OLD BRAND PERSONALITY DIMENSION: Sincerity (down-to-earth, honest, wholesome, cheerful).
NEW DIMENSION: Huge penis/breasts (who cares about sincerity if you have a gigantic dick or mammoth boobs?).
OLD BRAND PERSONALITY DIMENSION: Excitement (daring, spirited, imaginative, up-to-date).
NEW DIMENSION: Loose (always up for casual sex, probably has an STD but who cares, visible cold sores).
OLD BRAND PERSONALITY DIMENSION: Competence (reliable, intelligent, successful).
NEW DIMENSION: Controlling (knows what you want and makes you do it even if you’re really sure you don’t want it, watches you while you sleep).
OLD BRAND PERSONALITY DIMENSION: Sophistication (upper class, charming).
NEW DIMENSION: Name dropping (always talking about being somewhere or going somewhere better than wherever you’re from/going, has stories about celebrity friends they’ll never introduce you to).
OLD BRAND PERSONALITY DIMENSION: Ruggedness (outdoorsy, tough)
NEW DIMENSION: Criminal (gives “scared straight” speeches to you before asking to borrow money, which you better give them or else).
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