Hey, it’s me. Rhoda. No, I don’t care that this is a terrible way to start a column. And I’m pretty sure you don’t either. Since my last article, a lot has happened. We got a vaccine. In fact, we got a bunch of them. And we started vaccinating people. And then we started vaccinating so many of them that it was like one or two million a day. It’s totally turned my mood around except that it totally hasn’t. Here’s why:
First, my dick hurts. And I don’t even have a dick. That’s got to be bad, right? Every day it’s like I have a different ailment even though I’ve lived the past year like someone who’s hiding from the nazis and kind of hoping they just fucking find me and I’ll be like, “Hey, what the fuck took you so long?” I know that doesn’t even make sense and that my sentences are written like I gave up caring about anything I write or do or think and that’s accurate. So take a trophy from my trophy case and give yourself an award for figuring that out. Oh, and people who have given up on life often give away things of great value to them, like their trophies.
When the vaccines started rolling out, I immediately signed up for an appointment that didn’t exist because you couldn’t get one unless you were like eighty-five, which is an age there’s no way I’ll live to, even if we didn’t have a future of new diseases coming every month until we all just quit trying and let the animals take over again like in those shows I watch about what Earth will look like when the animals take over again. (But not smart animals, like monkeys or whatever. The really dumb ones and insects that have no chance of evolving into anything but super predators with tiny brains but are super good at hunting the last humans who have banded together in a tunnel somewhere and think they’ll come outside once things settle down and are instantly zapped by eight-foot bugs who cocoon them and hang them in their food storage lairs.)
Sorry. I guess that’s pretty negative. Maybe the monkeys will survive instead and just rip our faces off.
Anyway, now vaccines are becoming available to everyone, so I may be able to get one. If I can get to a clinic before a mutation finds its way into the nasal cavity of the kid who’s chin-strapping his mask while he bags my groceries and breathes in my direction. I read an article about how the new variants can travel through masks and walls and make you think you have a dick even if you don’t. Fuck. It got me.
I also watched a news thing where this woman stayed inside for a whole year and then got vaccinated, but then on the day before it would give her any protection her neighbor came back from Spring Break and popped up behind her and said, “Hey, Margaret! Thanks for watching my dog while I was gone. He has Covid but I’m pretty sure he got it from me.” Then she died.
Some recent reports made me feel better. One says that new strains of the virus might kill us faster. Another article said that Netflix just announced a shitload of new movies and shows. If I die sooner, I won’t have to worry about watching them and then saying, “Why the fuck did all those articles say to watch these? They fucking suck. Why did I ever believe I should watch this ‘underrated sci-fi thriller that’s dominating Netflix’ before it leaves next week?” If I’m dead from Coronavirus, all that goes away.
By the way, if you’re reading this, I’m already dead. I asked that the Intergalactic Business Report publish this upon my passing. It’s freaky, right? Reading a dead person’s thoughts after they’re dead? I guess I’m finally at peace, if at peace is existing in a void of time and space and having no memory of anything and just floating there endlessly as a non-sentient thread of nothingness. When you get here and join me, I’ll be like, “……..” because I can’t speak or think or comprehend anything.
Anyway, they just told me that unless I’m dead today, they need me to write another article for this week. So, I just said publish this. Whatever. Like it matters if I’m alive or dead. I’m going to end with some good news. Snakes figured out a way to climb up poles. That’s good for their species, right? We can’t figure out Covid, but at least those slithery motherfuckers figured out how to go after telephone pole workers and strippers. I’m done writing now. Goodbye.
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 firstname.lastname@example.org.
In a pre-emptive move, Intergalactic Business Report columnist Cedric Bigglestone cancels himself before the cancel culture does it for him. Below is his story.
Dear IBR readers:
It recently came to my attention that people’s words, actions, and stuff they say is now being scrutinized to the point at which those things are now being held against them. I feel this directly threatens me based on things I have said and done and I believe it is time for me to do something about it.
Rather than wait for the public to find out about my indiscretions and sins, I have made the decision to not only admit to them but also to completely “cancel” myself before they can do it to me. This is the verbal equivalent of shooting myself in the face before a sniper takes me out by shooting me in the face. When I’m done, the sniper will be like, “What the fuck? He ruined my shot.” And I will be like, “I have no face anymore.”
Let me begin my self-inflicted trial in which I am already guilty before it starts by listing the stuff I have done.
I guess I got it all out and now I am cancelled, which means, I think, that I can do whatever I want as long as I don’t expect to get paid for it or have anyone like me, which is like it was before I was cancelled.
Cedric Bigglestone is a self-taught journalist who is now cancelled. Don’t contact him at email@example.com.
Former Intergalactic Business Report writer Ed Mountaineer comes back home after a harrowing experience at McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. Read his story below:
Hi there. It’s Ed Mountaineer. A little while ago I announced I was taking a job with McSweeney’s because it seemed like the kind of place I should be given my intellectualness and cultural growth. It was not. If you want to know the whole ugly story, then read on.
PART ONE: I show up to work?
This is probably one of the most challenging things you can ever do in your life. First, you decide you’re going to totally dedicate yourself to a job and then you need to find where that job is. Add into that the fact that you have no formal job offer and have never had any mutual correspondence with your employer.
PART TWO: So, where is my office?
Like part one of this article, part two focuses on not just where McSweeney’s is located but where my office is once I get there. I never got there because I don’t know where they are. But I do know that wherever they are there is an office there that’s mine. Or was mine, because read below.
PART THREE: I decide to work remotely.
The job that makes most sense for someone like me is management, so I make the decision to make that what I do at McSweeney’s. They need a lot of help. They need to totally switch things around and look for synergies and opportunities in a global economy and they need to be nimble and agile and look for synergies. I can do this stuff from my computer.
PART FOUR: I fucking quit.
After submitting probably thousands of ideas, I can tell none of them are being implemented. Not one synergy located. Not one global opportunity. They are fat and bloated. Not nimble like I told them to be. So I hand in my resignation.
PART FIVE: I have nowhere to hand in my resignation but I still fucking quit.
I pretty much explained everything in the headline above. There’s not much more to say.
PART SIX: I’m done writing now. Good bye.
Again, see above.
We gave Ed his email account back. You can reach him at firstname.lastname@example.org
In the new golden age of television, there seem to be more shows than anyone can watch, binge, or even keep track of. Programs come and go and some are missed more than others. This week, the Intergalactic Business Report focuses on several series that were unceremoniously cancelled, leaving fans wondering the real reasons for their plugs being pulled.
As usual, we do what other publications can’t, and give you the deep, complicated reasons behind the decisions of high-level executives and creatives. See your favorite show below? We’ll tell you why it was really cancelled.
SHOW: Tommy’s Secret School Life.
PLOT: A children’s show about Tommy, an adult man, who dresses up like a 10-year-old to attend elementary school. He builds a club house in his backyard, which he says belongs to his parents, who actually died 27 years ago. Then he invites kids there to drink his “parent’s” beer and watch porn.
REAL REASON IT WAS CANCELLED: Tommy often goes on rants about Fidel Castro, and how awesome he was, which angered many viewers in the Miami market, prompting the network to pull the plug on this nascent series.
SHOW: The Fake Boyfriend Chronicles.
PLOT: Sassy teen Bedelia Wonder sells herself into prostitution for a chance to finally have a boyfriend, even if it’s only for a few minutes at a time and with different people.
REAL REASON IT WAS CANCELLED: Bedelia smokes cigarettes, which offended many viewers.
SHOW: Der Hund Whisperer.
PLOT: Told from the perspective of Hitler’s dog, Blondi, this cartoon series focuses on the good times and the deep bond the canine experienced with the Fuhrer.
REAL REASON IT WAS CANCELLED: Some of the German jokes didn’t translate well in the English version.
SHOW: Big Nasty’s Showcase of Terrors.
PLOT: Real life reformed serial killer “Big Nasty” Durovich stalks would-be victims and tells the viewers in graphic detail how he would kill them if he were still doing that stuff.
REAL REASON IT WAS CANCELLED: The show’s major sponsor, a home improvement store where Big Nasty purchased much of his murder equipment, required him to wear a tee shirt with their name on it. Big Nasty felt this was “selling out” and quit the program to “go back to doing what he does best,” whatever that meant.
SHOW: Human Penis Slaps You.
PLOT: A man dressed as a human penis hunts people down in cities and then slaps them with his enormous body, before shouting his catch phrase: “You just got penis-slapped, bee-atch!”
REAL REASON IT WAS CANCELLED: Actor Philip Ratuliak, who plays the penis, was dissatisfied with his per-episode salary and quit, thus immediately ending production because he could not be replaced.
If you like situational justice drama with a twist of otherworldly non-comic relief with a Sci Fi backstory, then TVHump’s new series may be your next must-see show.
Based on the graphic novels of Gopher Ferst, “Bonermaker” follows the exploits of Sheriff J.T. Bonermaker as he battles for justice in a fictional West Texas town, whose residents harbor dark secrets about conspiracies you’ve never heard of. This series is so wild that some critics have stopped watching for fear it may cause a psychic break in their brain chemistry and turn them into the very creatures Bonermaker contends with each episode.
The reviews are in.
“I watched Bonermaker and now I can’t unwatch it. Literally. I think it did something to my brain where it plays on a loop and won’t turn off. Please kill me.”
“Bonermaker is the rare drama where fiction and reality don’t matter anymore and instead are both…”
“I saw a show like this once. It was when I legally died on an operating table and Jesus forced me to watch it before doctors brought me back to life. I thought Jesus was supposed to be cool. I guess he’s the opposite.”
“I have a boner for Bonermaker. I’m sure no one else will say that ever.”
A show like no other.
What makes Bonermaker different than other shows? It could be because no two shows are exactly alike in every way. That would be impossible. Another reason is because every episode of Bonermaker is a completely different plot that doesn’t seem to correspond at all with previous episodes mostly because it was written by groups of elementary school students, mental patients, and a computer that makes nonsense scripts out of words and pictures it finds on the internet. The result, is, well, magic, if by “magic” you mean a totally unintelligible story about a guy who looks like a cowboy and says stuff like, “Murder me? Ima carpagoogoo.” Then it cuts to a literally twenty-minute fart where it’s a closeup of a butthole.
Changing how we watch t.v.
Will Bonermaker change the way we watch television? Yes, if the way you watched television before was without Bonermaker. Now, it’s with Bonermaker, which is a change.
Season two in the works?
TVHump has ordered 75,468 episodes that will play out over the next 42 and a half years. The final season corresponds with a Mayan prediction that the world will reach a new golden era, mostly because Bonermaker will finally be off the air.
Who is the mysterious woman who keeps appearing at the end of Bonermaker episodes?
That’s the 4th grade teacher telling her class to turn off the Bonermaker script writing app and start on their math.
Like yoghurt, we keep it cultured actively.