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 email@example.com. 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 firstname.lastname@example.org.
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 email@example.com
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.
Like yoghurt, we keep it cultured actively.