The movie leaving Netflix this month that you need to watch before it leaves and it’s gone (after this month) in a few days (this week) so watch it now.
Oh. My. God. There’s a movie on Netflix that’s ending soon. And. You. Didn’t. See. It. Don’t worry though. The Intergalactic Business Report will tell you about it so you can tune in immediately and not miss out on something that could change the way your brain works while you shift your butt cheeks on your couch.
But instead of just telling you what this movie is, we want to explain why it’s so great.
Why it’s so great.
This film is so great because it’s the kind of movie where you watch it and it brings you feelings about it and then you’re like, “Wow, I’m glad I watched that before Netflix took it away from me.”
Why you NEED to watch it NOW.
You need to watch it right now because Netflix is going to pull it off their service in a matter of days. Even though watching this movie is one of the greatest things you could do in your fucking life, Netflix is going to take it the fuck away from you.
Why would Netflix fucking do that?
Why indeed? Why the fuck would Netflix want you to suffer when it clearly has the most awesome movie ever just sitting there for you to see? Is it because Netflix is evil or something? Are they trying to punish us?
So, Netflix is punishing us?
Yes. They decided that if they offered a movie this great and your dumb ass didn’t watch it, then they were going to take it away, probably forever, just to make you feel like shit for not spending your time watching it.
What happens if you don’t watch it?
Then Netflix wins? And you suck? Those should have been statements and not questions.
Why are you sitting there when you could watch this movie?
Because we didn’t tell you what it is? Read below.
You don’t get to know what it is because…
Because you should be more responsible for your Netflix que. Why the fuck don’t you already know what movie it is? You should. You totally should. Because it’s the best fucking movie ever. And it’s leaving. Soon. Like in a couple days. Figure it out. Jesus.
An otherwise normal day turned to terror for several IBR readers who took the time to read an article we put on the internet. Ed Mountaineer’s essay about Ryan Reynolds inspired several Facebook intellectuals to consider what they had subjected themselves to and then to take the time to post comments expressing their rage about having read something so shitty and weird and garbagy.
Below are some of their horrified reactions:
“That was a shit read…”
“What a fucking empty garbage article…”
“Ed Mountaineer is now on the list of authors I will never read again.”
“So dumb. Not funny.”
As the shock of reading an online article by something called the Intergalactic Business Report which features a cartoon drawing of Ryan Reynolds set in, some readers tried to make sense of the catastrophe they were experiencing.
“I think it’s satire… Weird…” was one theory.
“Who the fuck is Ed Mountaineer?” someone else questioned.
Soon, a more compelling explanation arose—that Ed Mountaineer’s article was not, in fact, just a fucking empty garbage article, but a last gasp, strategic effort to find purpose and meaning in his life through an overtly sexual acrobatic act involving Reynolds’ testicles. This theory stated, eloquently, that Ed’s writing was: “A desperate attempt at trying to be relevant swinging from Ryan’s* balls…”
Finally, a bond among the exasperated men of letters began to form as one of them wrote: “I’m glad not to be the only one that thought this…”
Our editors are thankful he was not alone in thinking this because he may have gone mad believing he was the only one anywhere who thought Ed’s writing sucks. If Ed’s work went on to win major literary prizes, this man would have to wonder if anyone else in the universe could see what he does—that an internet article about a guy who hates Ryan Reynolds mainly because Ryan Reynolds won’t give him access to his location so he can stalk him, is just a pretty bad stupid garbage weird idea without a lot of intellectual or artistic merit.
We can only hope there is some closure for the brave souls who have the courage to post their thoughtful critiques and defend the honor of celebrities who are wronged or misrepresented by dumb shit garbage on the internet.
*You only call Ryan Reynolds “Ryan” if you are a personal friend, which this reader obviously is, making his anger even deeper at Ed’s flagrant attempt to attach himself to Reynolds’ celebrity nuts.
This week, the Intergalactic Business Report focuses on home design and finds the hottest new developments. Below, check out what celebrities, fashionistas, and that dude who licks his lips when he sees you taking out the garbage, are doing in their houses.
DESIGN TREND: Shower chicken.
THE CONCEPT: Rotisserie chicken is one of the best-selling items in your grocery store, but what if you could do it yourself, while taking a shower? That’s the idea behind shower chicken rotisserie grills, which allow users to soap up and rinse while a nearby chicken spins on a spit grill.
DRAWBACKS: The chicken takes four hours to cook and if you shower the entire time your dick will be shriveled. Also, the chicken spews hot juice often and an Iowa man died of salmonella poisoning when he couldn’t wait to eat his bird.
DESIGN TREND: Hobo chic furniture.
THE CONCEPT: Any furniture instantly becomes “Hobo chic” if a live hobo sits upon it.
DRAWBACKS: Getting the hobo to leave your house.
DESIGN TREND: Refrigerator magnets of more successful families.
THE CONCEPT: Your family might be all right (although who are you kidding?), but why not aspire to be better?
DRAWBACKS: Lawsuits and charges pressed by the families you stole the magnets from.
DESIGN TREND: “Suicide”doors.
THE CONCEPT: Built into the upper levels of some homes are doors that lead nowhere, except to a fairly certain death. Use these when you want to say fuck it and walk away from everything… forever.
DRAWBACKS: Most people don’t use the doors, but just constantly threaten they will. As in: “I’m done! I’m walking out the suicide door. You don’t think I’ll do it? Really? Maybe that’s because you never believed in me! No! Don’t tell me you’ve always believed in me! You’re lying… You’re lying… wahhhh… wahhhh….” (that’s crying).
DESIGN TREND: Distressed wood that leaves splinters in your ass and tetanus.
THE CONCEPT: Old, crappy looking, weathered furniture is taken to a new level when instead of just looking awful, it’s also dangerous. Rusty nails protrude, and you get the authentic experience of sitting in a cabin that belonged to a prospector in the 1850’s and was buried in an avalanche but then thawed a hundred and seventy years later and you walked in.
DRAWBACKS: You need a human skeleton to complete the look.
DESIGN TREND: Vegan taxidermy.
THE CONCEPT: You want to have dead, stuffed animals all over your home, but you’re against killing animals. This design trend features non-realistic looking creatures that don’t resemble actual human prey, because someone might get the wrong idea.
DRAWBACKS: Guests often wonder why you have all those disturbing, crappy looking plastic toys all over your house. The one mounted over your fireplace looks exactly like a human, which is fine with you, as long as it doesn’t look like a fish or a deer head.
Ed Mountaineer’s relationship with celebrities is something he rarely discusses unless we ask him to. Today he breaks his silence by revealing the heartbreaking reasons he will never work with actor Ryan Reynolds.
(From Ed Mountaineer):
Ever since my column about Mark Wahlberg, people have asked me if there are any other celebrities I refuse to work with. I usually laugh and pretend I can’t hear the question or put food in my mouth so quickly that each word I spew back to them is accompanied by a piece of hot dog hitting their face, but I am tired of evading the question any longer. Yes, there is one person other than Mark who I will NEVER work with and you may be surprised to learn that he is Ryan Reynolds.
I think the reason I’ve kept this so quiet is because as soon as I mention that name (Ryan Reynolds) everybody starts gasping and freaking out and saying stuff like, “Ryan Reynolds!!!! No way! No Way! No fucking way! He’s so nice! He’s so funny! He’s so fucking perfect!”
It’s kind of like when people would say those things about Hitler. They knew they were going to get killed or something if they didn’t profess love for him and in a way they were warning people to never say a bad thing about Hitler or he’d try to take over the world and murder everyone, and if you don’t understand that then you haven’t ever read a history book or known Ryan Reynolds.
Anyway… Instead of going into a long story about Ryan Reynolds, I think I’ll just list the reasons I can’t and won’t ever work with him. Here they are:
1. Ryan Reynolds and I have no relationship whatsoever. This hampers any effort I could make to work with him even if I wanted to, which I don’t.
2. I am a person who doesn’t “make a living” being an actor or being involved with the “movie industry.” Guess who’s the opposite of that? Sucky Ryan Reynolds.
3. If our paths crossed, I believe a curse would be activated on an innocent person neither of us knew. I won’t do that to anyone, so I will never go near Ryan Reynolds.
4. Never going near someone makes it almost impossible to work with them. Besides the curse, there is also the issue of the proximity I have to Ryan Reynolds, which is nowhere near him. How can I work with someone I can’t see, smell, or touch? Ryan Reynolds is what I call the “invisible enemy.”
5. I don’t know Ryan Reynolds’ location. He changes it all the time too, I’m sure. A simple solution would be for him to allow me to track him through Find My Friends or Life 360, but guess who won’t do that? Yes, of course. Ryan Reynolds won’t do that.
6. Ryan Reynolds looks like a person who drinks “fitness shakes,” whatever those would be. Just a comment.
7. Like most Canadians, Ryan Reynolds has a non-biological identical American twin who he must kill like in Highlander. Someone’s life is in danger and if Ryan Reynolds eliminates him, then Ryan Reynolds will become twice as powerful. We can’t let that happen.
8. Ryan Reynolds sells gin and mobile phones. How do those things go together in any coherent way? Booty calls?
9. Ryan Reynolds seems like the kind of guy who if he did give you a booty call, he’d try to pretend it wasn’t really a booty call and he’d say something like, “Hey, Ed… What up, man? Are you awake? I’m just calling ‘cause I was thinking we could make gourmet pizzas together or something. I know it’s late… Yeah… I know… Sure… I’ll give you permission to access my location…”
10. There’s no way Ryan Reynolds doesn’t do that thing where when you talk to him he acts like he’s listening but he’s actually thinking, “I need to get away from this person immediately. How did he get inside my car?”
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 firstname.lastname@example.org. If you would like to hire Ed, please see his résumé here.
Inspired by 2020’s political conventions, Cedric Bigglestone holds his own rally, full of talking points, debates, and the nomination of a candidate. Is this the future of politics in America? Answer: Yeah.
PART ONE: I TUNE IN.
Every so often, I become engaged in U.S. politics and take a sincere interest in the course of our country’s economy, foreign policy, and domestic affairs. This makes it difficult for me to masturbate for some reason and I usually quit thinking about that stuff so I can free up my mind or whatever. This year, I decide I will stop playing with myself until the election is over so I can focus entirely on our nation and its future. I begin to watch news shows and political commentators so I can be up to date on what’s happening ahead of the big vote.
PART TWO: I FIGURE OUT THE ELECTION IS IN NOVEMBER.
That’s a long fucking time away for someone who’s trying not to masturbate.
PART THREE: I “STREAMLINE” THE PROCESS.
A few hours into my vow to stop whacking it, I realize I have a glorious way out of my situation. What if the election were held early? Like today or something? And I could get back to beating my meat by tonight?
PART FOUR: I ENCOUNTER RED TAPE. AND THEN BURN IT.
I am told by some guy outside my apartment that holding the election early is impossible. I think the man is someone important who would know that because he has facial hair that looks like it’s supposed to be there and not just grown on because he stopped giving a shit. I am enraged by the gridlock I am facing and look for a workaround. I watch a news show and see that before the elections there are “conventions” where people are “nominated” to be “candidates” who then run for “president.” A little research teaches me that almost 100% of the time, one of these “candidates” becomes the actual President of the United States. It occurs to me that if I had my own convention, I could nominate a candidate way before November and he would probably 100% be the president, so I would technically not have to wait till the election to start masturbating.
PART FIVE: I PLAN MY CONVENTION.
This part is a lot harder than I anticipated. Apparently, political conventions involve thousands of people and are on t.v. My convention, by comparison, involves me and my cell phone. Another difference is that the normal conventions have a bunch of speeches and talk about stuff. I hate that. I consider just giving up and jacking it, but then I make a bold decision.
PART SIX: MY CONVENTION TAKES PLACE.
I determine that my political convention can be whatever I want it to be and does not have to worry about what other conventions think of it, just like Gary Vaynerchuk says. I decide to look internally for candidates and find a qualified pool or contenders who include my balls (left and right), my nut sack (or scrotum), and my penis. I feel this group provides a lot of diversity and difference of opinion and will launch some fascinating debates for who should rule America.
PART SEVEN: THINGS GET CONTENTIOUS.
Because they’re all from the same party (my dick area), I assumed my balls, scrotum, and penis would at least get along to some extent. But I find they are bitter and viciously insult and attack one another. At one point, my ball sweat complains that it was not given the opportunity to run. I’m like, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of you when I made that decision,” and my ball sweat is like, “What??? What??? You didn’t think of me?????” And then my penis goes off on this whole thing about how he’s the fucking leader of the dick area group and how everyone should fall in line with what he’s saying and just vote for him.
PART EIGHT: MY DICK IS DISQUALIFIED.
I don’t understand how regular convention politics work, but I assume that if a candidate becomes too loud or annoying, you can arrest him for embezzlement or something. That’s what I do with my penis. Now that he is out of the running, my nut sack and my nuts are the only three left in the race.
PART NINE: WE VOTE.
It’s weird but my scrotum ends up winning even though when I vote in my mind, I make all the votes go to my left nut, because I feel he’s the most reasonable of the three. But it’s not like I’m going to question the ballots and claim the election is rigged so I kind of half smile and announce that my scrotum won. Not everyone’s happy about that, but for the scrotum it’s a big deal.
PART TEN: MY SCROTUM IS NOW THE PRESIDENT?
This is the part I don’t quite understand. Now that I nominated my nut sack for President of the United States, I guess there’s a 100% chance that he’s the president? That can’t be right. But somehow I know it is. I guess that’s why everyone says politics is so crazy.
CONCLUSION: I AM FREE TO MASTURBATE.
I guess I also should become a political consultant because I just ran the most brilliant and unorthodox campaign in the history of my pants and America. I’m done writing now. Goodbye.
Cedric Bigglestone is a self-taught journalist who exposes things through exposés. Contact him at email@example.com.
Ed Mountaineer pens an extraordinary letter to the entire country of Germany. Will his honesty, integrity, and vulnerability get them to listen?
I am writing this letter to your whole country because I thought it would be dumb to just address it to a couple people. Also, I don’t know anyone personally in Germany, so that would have been even dumber. O.K. Got that out of the way.
What I really want to say to everyone over there is what a lot of Americans have been thinking for a long long long time. It’s kind of a question we have for you. Here it is:
Do you think you’re better than us?
That felt good. I’ve been wanting to say that forever, like I said before. If you’re a German, you might be sitting there like, “What the fuck is this guy talking about?” But more likely, you’re saying something like, “Strudel Füdel! Of course vee are better zan you! Vee are Germans…”
In case you don’t have television yet or have never seen a movie or have an inability to realize anything, I want to tell you a little about why you’re NOT better. Here goes:
1. You made most of the dog breeds, true. But we took all those and turned them into American dogs that have tiny heads and huge bodies or huge heads and tiny bodies. And they’re all different colors and they bite people and sleep in our beds and when Germans see them they ask, “What kind of dog is that?” and we say, “Fuck if I know” because we don’t.
2. Your beer is good, but we drink ours through beer bongs that hot chicks hold for us. You drink yours while contemplating how you’re going to make a black and white movie about a librarian who meets the human representation of anxiety and they read a book together for three hours.
3. You have food like “schnitzel.” We have “dirty water” hot dogs, seven-layer dip, and Jello with shit floating inside it. I guess you might win that one.
4. I’m pretty sure we started porn. I’m pretty sure you didn’t.
5. You have people who say stuff like, “Fürsen schmürzen.” We have people who say stuff like, “Please give me my check for one million American dollars because I’m an American and I’m rich so give me more money, please.”
6. Speaking of, you have the “Euro.” In America, a “Euro” is someone who wears tight pants, is a DJ, and says shit we can’t understand.
7. You have the Coronavirus “under control” using “contact tracing” and “science.” We have awesome pool parties where everyone’s invited because we don’t hate people.
8. You don’t have an Independence Day because you’re so dependent on each other. Americans have July 4th, where we have pool parties and talk about how independent we are—right up close to other people’s faces.
9. Germany doesn’t have Mexican food unless you count “Pepé von Hindenburg’s South of the Border Tequila Bar” in the town of Nowherebecauseitdoesn’texistenstein.
10. “Awesome” is a word everyone in America says because we are.
11. You build stuff that people want to buy. We just buy stuff. That’s got to be better.
12. You make cars like Porsche. We take your cars and make posters of hot chicks lying on them and we hang them in college dorm rooms like it’s no big deal.
I think I’m done for now. I really hope you’ll consider what I’m saying and take it to heart. The next time you think you’re better than us, just read this and maybe stop thinking that. That’s how the healing begins.
Respectfully to myself,
Ed Mountaineer operates on his own, like a rogue agent (whatever that means). We do not endorse his views or support his lifestyle choices. We do print whatever he writes, but that’s not on us. Reach him at firstname.lastname@example.org
An old saying goes, “You should never meet your heroes” We assume this is because of a restraining order where if you do meet them, you go to jail. But it could also mean that you might be disappointed when you actually come in contact with them.
Maybe they’re not as handsome or not as nice. Maybe they’re really short or have super bad breath. Or, again, maybe a judge has specifically ordered you not to come within one hundred yards of them because you keep sending them life-sized dolls of yourself with a note saying: “Get ready for the real thing… Cumming soon…”
But what if the reason you should never meet your hero was because the person you admire, idolize, and obsess over is actually dangerous, sadistic, and a threat to your existence? We found out the hard way that celebrity James Charles Austin is one hero you should never meet. Here’s why:
1. James Charles Austin claims “he isn’t a celebrity” when you meet him. This immediately throws you off because you are asking for a selfie with him and he’s like, “Please leave me alone,” and you’re like, “But you’re James Charles Austin,” and he’s like, “Who?”
2. James Charles Austin punches people.
That’s right. If you try to reach into his pockets for identification to prove that he’s James Charles Austin, James Charles Austin will hit you in the face. That’s assault.
3. James Charles Austin says incredibly mean things to his fans.
If you find James Charles Austin in a Target parking lot and say, “Hey, James Charles Austin! I’m a huge fan!” he will act like he doesn’t know you and keep walking. When you try to keep him still so he doesn’t walk away anymore he starts shouting things like, “Let go of me you fucking pscyho!” and, “I’m gonna call the fucking cops, you piece of shit.” Very hurtful.
4. When his fans approach him, James Charles Austin pretends he’s someone else.
In 17 encounters with James Charles Austin, he claimed to be someone named “Jeff Newman.” We have to give him an “A” for consistency because he kept giving us the same fake name. We also award him a big fat “D” for creativity for not switching up his false identity even once during our spontaneous meetings.
5. James Charles Austin will press charges for even the mildest breaches of his privacy.
As a major publication, you would think a celebrity would accept a simple request for an interview, but James Charles Austin not only refused, but also called the police and threatened to sue us when we arrived at his home for a sit down chat to see what projects he was working on and if he wanted to promote a movie or whatever. (That’s the kind of stuff that celebrities NEED, by the way). Also, he got extremely pissed when one of us hid in his cupboard so we could look at how he was when the cameras weren’t rolling.
6. He will threaten to kill you if you sleep under his bed without his knowledge.
Apparently, he fucking hates that.
June 7, 2018. “Research for love.”
Dear Intergalactic Business Report Forum:
I read your publication all the time and always thought the articles were fake. Then something happened that totally changed my mind.
Before I go any further, let me tell you a little about myself. I’m about six feet tall. I go to a small Midwestern college. Girls say I’m “cute” and I have a pretty good body. I work out. Whatever.
Anyway, one day I was at the college library, just doing some research for a term paper, when out comes this librarian who begins to “shush” me. Since I was making no noise, I was a little surprised.
Let me describe this librarian for a second. She was about five foot nine, brunette, and had lipstick all over her face, like she had tried to put it on but missed… A lot.
I asked if something was wrong with her. She looked like maybe she’d fallen off a bus or something. She said, sweetly, “Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m shushing you because I want to have sex with you!”
I slowly unzipped my pants, as seductively as I could. A crowd of students gathered around so I zipped them back up and pretended to be reading again. This really pissed off the librarian, who, as she got closer to me, I could see was a man. A man who had lip stick all over his face and had fallen off a bus or something. He was limping and snorted every time he stepped.
Suddenly I felt like my super cool sex encounter was now something else. I moved a few feet back and tried to reason with the librarian. I said, “Hey, this is a library. This isn’t a place for sex.”
But the librarian really hated that. He stormed towards me and the crowd of students cheered. In the end, I made a deal with the librarian that I would have sex with him if he helped me with my research paper.
The sex was pretty bad. Like the kind you regret before you even do it. And it turned out the librarian didn’t work there and was really bad at doing research. So I guess that was a bad move on my part. Oh well, that’s why you go to college, I suppose. To learn things.
February 1, 2019. “Like plumber, like son.”
Dear Intergalactic Business Report Forum:
I’ve always loved reading your sexy stories about men and women having sex, so I thought I’d tell you about my own experience, which I hope will fit right in.
I’m a female. Guys always say I’m “hot” and that I have a “dick sucker” face, whatever that means. I weigh practically nothing and I work out all the time. Kind of like what those girls who weigh nothing do.
Anyway, I was doing some Instagram modeling by my mirror when I suddenly noticed that someone was watching me. My roomates weren’t home, so I was like, “What the fuck?” and I turned to see it was the plumber.
“Anna said to fix the toilet,” he told me. “Oh,” I answered.
He was about fortyish, not much hair, and he kind of smelled like he worked on toilets all day. But something about him was sexy as hell. What was it, I thought? Then it hit me. He looked exactly like this fat old guy I had a thing for in high school—Mr. Davorak, the janitor.
I watched as the plumber worked. He really got his whole arm into the toilet. Some of the water splashed on his face and the light caught it just right, so that it almost looked like a teardrop under his eye. “He’s sensitive,” I thought.
“Do you need something?” he asked, when he noticed me standing there. Yeah, I need something, I thought. But I just said, “Sorry, you just look familiar.”
Then he turned and I saw his badge. It said, “Danny Davorak.” I was like, What????? This wasn’t the Mr. Davorak I had sex with in the boiler room of my high school. Was this one of his relatives?
Turns out he was Mr. Davorak’s dad. Yeah. His dad. And he was more like sixtyish and not fortyish. I remembered that my Mr. Davorak had said something really strange to me after having sex way back when. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but suddenly it had a lot of meaning.
He had said, “Anonymous, if you ever meet another dude in my family, I want you to have sex with him too.”
“Even if it’s your nasty dad or something?” I asked him.
“Especially if it’s my nasty dad,” he said.
I guess some things come full circle. Needless to say, Mr. Davorak’s dad and I had sex. And he didn’t even fix the toilet. But he said he’d come back next week. I’ll be ready!
Germans… They’re those people who make shit that doesn’t break. Now they say they have the Coronavirus under control. My response to both: Whatever.
Before I go any further, I want to explain a couple things so that the rest of this article makes sense. First, I make my own rules. And second, because of that I spend a lot of time being “expelled” from group chats, "detained” by police, “divorced” from women I didn’t technically “marry” because I’d just seen pictures of them on the internet, and also “been court ordered not to come within 200 feet” of many of my ex-wives.
That’s kind of my bio. Now for what I think. Get ready.
The Germans started a long time ago, just like a lot of cultures. But along the way, something weird happened with them. At some point they started looking down on everyone and acting like they were better than me. Let me give you an example: World War Two.
O.K. next example. The other night, I was watching t.v. and there was a commercial for the Shamwow, a cloth that, I guess, you use to masturbate or something? Anyway, near the end of the ad, the salesman says something about how the product is made in Germany and that because it is, you know that it’s “good stuff.” Whatever, I thought.
Fast forward to now, when the Coronavirus pandemic is taking over and the Germans are like, “Oh, we have this under control. We have a system where we can track the numbers and blah blah blah.”
Let’s get this straight. I live in America. That means we don’t bow down to invisible diseases. We fight them out in the open and drink beers and make out with each other at pools. That’s my country. In Germany, they start a “system” to “combat” the disease. Sounds like World War Two all over again. Just saying…
If I went out and talked to the average anybody in any place anywhere in the world and I gave him two options (one: you use a system of contact tracing and numbers and shit like that to control a virus, or two: you make out with people at pool parties while getting shitty drunk), most humans would choose number two.
Which is what America does. Number two. We do number two all over everyone in the world. (If you aren’t American, you probably don’t get that joke, Ha Ha).
So, let’s recap. America: pool parties, sex with gross people but you don’t care, and hard alcohol. Germany: numbers and tracking, like a robot or something. America wins again. (Just like in World War Two.)
Also, the Shamwow sucks. I tried to use one and it shredded my dick. What the fuck?
I’m done writing now. Good bye.
You probably haven’t heard a lot lately about George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and their super cool, super funny relationship. We hadn’t either. Are they still friends? Do they continue to play whacky pranks on each other? Do they ride motorcycles around Italy and… we forget what else they were supposed to do all the time.
Anyway… An editor from the Intergalactic Business Report accidentally overheard the pair having a private conversation. Although he didn’t have a recording device with him, he was able to memorize the minute details of everything said. Here is a transcript of that:
GEORGE: Did you figure out the Fast Pass?
BRAD: The what?
GEORGE: The Fast Pass… The thing we use to get on the rides.
BRAD: Like the ticket?
GEORGE: Yeah. The ticket. It’s timed or whatever.
BRAD: Like a clock or something?
GEORGE: Jesus. You’re so fucking stupid.
BRAD: What ride do you wanna go on anyway?
GEORGE: Well, let me see… If you had figured out the fucking Fast Pass I could answer that. Now it’s gotta be whatever has the shortest line.
BRAD: Why don’t we just get outta here? This place sucks anyway.
GEORGE: I fucking knew it. You didn’t wanna come to Disney. You fucking didn’t.
BRAD: I told you I’d go. Shit. Calm down.
GEORGE: Yeah, but then you didn’t figure out the Fast Pass. So we can’t go on any rides.
BRAD: You’re such a girl.
GEORGE: What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
GEORGE: You’re the girl.
BRAD: That’s what your mom said.
GEORGE: That you’re a girl?
BRAD: Yeah. She likes it when I act like a girl and then have sex with her.
GEORGE: That makes no fucking sense.
BRAD: Yeah, I know. She’s a total freak.
GEORGE: Fuck you.
BRAD: Fuck you too.
GEORGE: Let me see the fucking Fast Pass.
BRAD: I think I dropped it or something.
GEORGE: Oh, you dropped it? That’s such bullshit!
BRAD: I’m gonna leave.
GEORGE: Yeah. Fuck off. Leave. I’m gonna wait in line for a ride.
BRAD: See you in like sixteen hours.
GEORGE: Fuck you.
Like yoghurt, we keep it cultured actively.