Hey. It’s Rhoda Bloom. Is that enough? Because it should be. Minus the part about “Hey. It’s Rhoda Bloom.” It’s been a whole year since my last article on Thanksgiving and you can imagine a lot’s happened in my life since then. Nothing’s happened in reality, but you could imagine something actually did.
Do you remember how in the movie “Home Alone” they left Kevin behind and went on a trip to Paris and then they realized it and the mom spent the rest of the movie trying to get home to make sure he was all right? You’re like my mom, only it’s a year later when you realized you forgot about me, and you don’t care if I got killed by burglars.
Anyway, on to my article. It’s Thanksgiving again and that means the sun is going to set at like 4:00 and some kid is accidentally going to eat dog shit when he’s playing in the leaves. It happens. Probably more than we want to admit. But the one good thing about that is if you’re accidentally eating dog shit, you’re alive I guess. At least until the dog shit kills you.
Nobody’s talking about COVID anymore. That’s good I suppose. Now it’s just AI taking over the planet, terrorists, and inflation. Here’s a joke: A terrorist walks into the bomb store and the clerk says, “Hey, you can’t afford to buy any more bombs because with inflation they cost too much.” Then the terrorist goes, BLAM BLAM BLAM and takes the bomb anyway, but not before AI takes over the world and kills all humans. I guess one way to end this joke would be that the terrorist and the AI robot high five each other because they both got what they wanted? Anyway, that joke had all three things in it, which is hard.
Oh, one other thing before I forget. Nope. Forgot it.
I heard you need to start a gratitude list where you recite all the things you’re grateful for and that jacks up your dopamines and makes you super happy and you can go on with your life. Yup. That’s what I heard.
I adopted a dog the other day and somebody told me it was actually a species of vermin I’d never heard of and if it bit me I could die of rabies, so I have that going for me. I also learned about toilet snakes, which are snakes that crawl up your butt while you’re on the toilet. Whoever came up with the name “toilet snakes” did a pretty good job if you think about it. Now, when I use the bathroom, I just think about how one of those suckers is going to shoot through the toilet hole and go straight inside my rear end. Try it next time you need to poop or something. It’s terrifying.
But at least I don’t have any other places to go or things to do that give me a sanctuary from horrid thoughts and possibilities. I started having nightmares where there’s this guy who sits at the foot of my bed and just says, “Wake up. Wake up,” again and again. Then he says stuff like, “You need to pay your rent or I’ll have to evict you.” I’ve asked a lot of people and apparently no one else has this dream because they pay their rent. I tried to offer sex as an “alternative payment” and said stuff like, “Maybe we can work this out another way” and, “I do have other things I could give you instead of money,” but my landlord just responds with, “Do you have any gold bullion?” and “I’m not into dudes.” When I try to explain to him that I’m not a man, he’s just like, “Oh.” And he doesn’t say anything for like twenty minutes. Then I try to start it up again by saying, playfully, “Do you want me to prove it?” And he’ll think for a second and be like, “No, I’m good.”
I think Vermy, my pet whatever he is, just bit me. This Thanksgiving I guess I’m grateful for him. Nope, he didn’t bite me. So I guess I’m not grateful anymore and he just crawled into a hole in my wall where he stores all the shit he steals from me.
Botulism. It’s real and I’m pretty sure you get it when you eat canned cranberry sauce. Also, I think turkeys are supposed to be only a couple pounds and the ones you eat for Thanksgiving are that way because someone injected them with a hormone that makes them super huge like if a rat could become the size of a cow or something. Luckily, some farmer kills it before it keeps growing because if not we’d have motherfucking large turkeys overrunning humanity and they’d probably have a taste for human blood before too long. It’s a theory.
So, I guess in conclusion, have a happy Thanksgiving and let’s not wait a whole year till the next time we do whatever this is. Toilet snakes. I’m done writing now. Goodbye.
The writers’ strike is hitting us hard—you could even say it’s pounding us mercilessly while we strangely beg for more—and even though there may be an end in sight, we won’t be able to walk straight when it’s over.
As major television shows are delayed and postponed and movie productions stall, an under-the-radar crisis of humanity is also taking place as the adult entertainment industry must contend with making porno content sans writers. Today, the Intergalactic Business Report goes balls deep to reveal how the strike is changing the smut Americans have taken for granted.
8 ways the writers’ strike is affecting the adult entertainment industry.
1. The upcoming film, “Nasty Girls European Adventure,” is now just “Nasty Girls Having Sex in a Nondescript Room with no Dialogue.” At least they're still nasty.
2. New porn star Rick Bonerstorm is now just “Man with penis.” And instead of saying stuff like, “Taste my sweet meat treat,” and “Here comes the D train!” he’ll just introduce himself with a polite handshake and kind of shrug.
3. Production of the streaming clip “Nerdy guy fucks hot chick,” is now just “guy has sex (with female)” and the plot is that two people have sex on a couch in a room that has no significance other than it has a couch.
4. No one can fake a British accent anymore.
5. The seven-minute monologue on “Thanatos and Eros” that was to be read by Harry Dick Stuffing was never completed and now there will be an awkward jump cut between the scene where he has sex with a skanky woman and the scene where he has sex with a skanky woman.
6. Penthouse forum is now just actual letters from real people who always thought the letters in Penthouse forum were fake until last weekend, when something crazy happened to them.
7. Boner Magazine has delayed part nine of its Climate Crisis Investigation series, that experts were hoping would reveal breakthrough guidance for securing the longevity of life on our planet.
8. Shakespearian porn, “MacBitch” will lose all connection to the original play except that it will have the prefix “Mac” in the title and is filmed inside a McDonald’s.
Inflation. War. Hollywood writers not getting paid enough money. These are the defining crises humanity faces today. As we stare at our televisions and can only watch reruns and reruns of reruns, society begins to understand just how important television and movie writers are in our lives. Without them, we are left to construct our own stories, dialogues, and thoughts, and that just, well, sucks.
In solidarity with paid writers who are part of a union we don’t belong to because nobody would pay for the crap we write, the Intergalactic Business Report looks at what we are losing without Hollywood writers in our lives. As long as they’re on strike, the world will be missing the locked-in creativity that brings us:
1. Characters who eagerly await something and then say, “Show time!” just before it happens.
2. Special forces, ex special forces, navy seals, former navy seals, and special forces characters who are so special they’re in every show and movie.
3. Complex characters who “would do anything to protect their families” and then threaten the mafia, throw away their guns, go home, and are surprised the mafia has kidnapped their family.
4. Male characters who are devastated that their wives cheated on them till they figure out it was their own fault for driving her away and then apologize because that’s what real people do.
5. Aliens who are bugs with no hands—just tentacles and shit—who are also able to construct spaceships and fly around the universe.
6. Incredibly obese mafia guys who no one is able to outrun.
7. Five-foot-three females who are able to defeat six-foot-three, athletic men by destroying them with a front kick to their chest.
8. Twenty-six-year-old New Yorkers who live in 2600 square foot lofts in Manhattan and are “writers.”
9. Characters who drive mint condition 1977 Ford Broncos.
10. Wooden bowl “artists” who live on a house boat in Sausalito (and, see above, drive a mint condition 1977 Ford Bronco).
11. Female characters who tell male characters that they “clean up nice” when they see them wearing a suit.
12. Zany best friend sidekicks who are caricatures of gay men and devote themselves to serving boring straight white women and say things like, “Girlfriend, you need a glass of wine and a man!”
13. Storylines where someone becomes “internet famous” and “goes viral.”
14. Most trusted confidante/best friend/business partner who is actually the bad guy/saboteur/killer.
15. Cool people who live in trailers.
16. Characters whose only purpose is to read the main character’s bio: “Harvard law… Top of your class… Graduated at 17 and joined the marines… 27 missions in Afghanistan… Five purple hearts… Fluent in six languages… How does someone like you end up driving an ice cream truck in upstate New York?”
17. Child characters who inexplicably wander away, complain, or give away hiding spots until you kind of wonder why their parents even love them.
18. Saucy rogues who are also pilots.
19. Racially diverse street gangs.
20. Period pieces where someone in the 1920’s says, “shit happens” or a 13th century Lord rewards a peasant for “thinking outside the box.”
21. Scenes of women drinking wine, pouring wine, talking about wine, handing each other glasses of wine, or receiving a glass of wine and saying, “you must have read my mind.”
22. Children who are the “most important thing in the world” to their police detective single parent, but then all but disappear in later episodes when they are with grandpa, a sitter, or just never talked about again.
23. Characters who explain scientific principles to another character who says, “I know all that. I’m a theoretical physicist,” and then you figure out they’re actually just explaining it to your dumb ass.
24. Two minute and forty-seven second sex scenes that you fast forward through because we have porn nowadays.
25. Zero body fat characters who meet each other and go somewhere to eat cheeseburgers and drink beer because they’re “real” people who don’t spend five hours a day in the gym and eat a grapefruit to stay alive.
In 2021, when the Intergalactic Business Report dedicated August as Drunk People Awareness Month, drunk people gained a powerful, loud voice to tell the world they are people too and that they need another drink. And if you don’t get them that drink soon, they will only get louder.
Fast forward to the end of August 2023 (now) and we see the progress drunk people have made in the two short years since this effort began. Before Drunk People Awareness Month, drunk people were seen primarily as useless, inebriated, castaways, whose only contribution to society was to slur words, stumble through bars, and get uncomfortably close to your face and continue to say, “Lissen.. Lissen…Lissen!” and then never get beyond that. Today, many drunk people are respected members of society, government officials, and even five-star Uber drivers. We like to think we’ve had a lot to do with that.
Despite these gains, there is still a battle over the perception of people who drink so much alcohol they see life through a different lens—a lens covered in beer and Cheetos and, yes, love. Drunk people bring excitement and purpose to our lives like no other group. They can make a tee-ball game a free-wheeling shouting match, and they can turn your daughter’s sweet sixteen party into a situation where some guy is taking a dump on the floor of your living room.
It is truly sad, however, that in America today, drunk people still have to fear persecution for simply being drunk and maybe shitting on your floor or starting a bar fight or maybe showing you their dick—or any number of actions that seem unforgivable to you, the sober person, while to them, the drunk person, it is simply an expression of love, goodwill, and the inability to find a bathroom. We’ve waited two years for America to fully recognize drunk people as equal to sober people and we feel we’ve waited long enough. Below, we list some basic demands we feel must be met for drunk people to finally have a seat at the table (at Denny’s. At 3 a.m.).
1. Recognize that drunk people are not “drunk” 24 hours a day.
Drunk people are often mischaracterized as alcoholics or chronic substance abusers. The drunk people we advocate for are the ones who simply drink way too much, even if it’s one time in their lives. This could be your wife, your boss, your grandmother, or your wife. Especially your wife.
2. Hold an annual “drunk people” parade every August.
Not to be confused with the Chicago South Side Irish Parade, this would feature out of control, intoxicated people whose charming but violentish antics are on display along a closed route for an audience of children and well-wishers. Basically, the Chicago South Side Irish Parade.
3. Showcase drunk people in a positive light on television shows and movies.
Television and movie executives should be strongly encouraged (possibly by a very drunk person) to greenlight productions that portray drunk people as leading men, serious business innovators, and trusted neighbors. Our own series idea, which features Fucky Arbuckle as the great-great-great grandson of Fatty Arbuckle who makes up for his ancestor’s checkered past by drinking so much he forgets who he is and then also invents stuff and manages a division of a major corporation, is available.
4. Make “town drunk” an actual paid position in every American municipality.
For larger cities, the title could be “city drunk” or “metro area drunk.” This would also segue well into a t.v. show (see above) in which we see an origin story for Otis Campbell, Mayberry’s town drunk.
5. Have a drunk person available as a representative if aliens ever visit our planet.
He doesn’t need to be THE representative. We just want him there to offer some quips or observations to our possible new overlords. Also, he could vacillate wildly between greeting them with total, unconditional love and vowing to fight them for looking at him the wrong way and suggesting they are better than him, causing aliens to say, "Fuck this" and return home. World saved. By drunks. You're welcome, Earth.
6. Establish a “meals on wheels” program for drunk people.
Not to be confused with DoorDash or Ubereats, this would be exactly like DoorDash and Ubereats only it’s open 24 hours a day, is totally government subsidized, doesn’t require tipping, and can’t, by law, follow any kind of rating system.
7. Provide “helpers” in front of every liquor store to assist wobbly drunk people to come and go in dignity.
Every drunk person in the U.S. should be able to enter a liquor store on sure footing and with the pride that comes with drinking 13 beers in two hours. At least two “no judgment” drunk care providers would be stationed in front of any store selling alcohol and would aid drunk people who enter and leave the premises by holding them up, interpreting their alcohol orders, and using a special government-issued card to pay for all expenses.
In the past few years, I’ve received my share of criticism for what has been called an “obsession” with Ryan Reynolds. It all started when I published what I thought was a respectful and even too nice article in which I solemnly and bravely announced I would never work with Reynolds on any project creative or otherwise (like, for instance gardening or mule hunting, which I understand he is really into and I, like most humans, abhor). I thought that would be it, but it was not of course because Reynolds continued to make decisions that got him in the news in ways that demanded my response and insight into who he is and what he does.
Like a solitary man living in a mountain stronghold, I have hidden from the public for some time now. This is mostly owing to the backlash from my criticisms of Reynolds. His legions of fanatic crypto-Canadians are some of the most vicious and bitter adversaries I have ever faced, making me like the Omega Man to their snarling, nocturnal freaks.
Turns out that Chandler from “Friends” says Reynolds stole his quirky comedy shtick in the 90’s and this altered his career or history or something (I didn’t read the whole article but you can). Anyway, I related immediately to this theft because I’ve had more things stolen from me by Reynolds than Matthew Perry or many Native American tribes have from the U.S. government. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, so I’ll just list a few of my losses below:
1. My credibility as a financial money manager.
People will say I never had the credentials or education required to legally manage other people’s money, but had Reynolds offered me the chance to “play” with a bit of his fortune, I believe I would have easily doubled it, which would have resulted in him saying, “Shit, Ed, you’re really good at this, you should do this for a living,” at which point I would have brought up the whole thing about not having any licenses or background and that I was just kind of guessing because I had “feelings” that led me to make decisions and that these feelings manifested in a voice that would say “buy!” or “sell!” or “jump out that window, motherfucker!” I think that as our conversation evolved after that, Reynolds would have set me up in a business school somewhere or maybe would have made me his shadow CFO who doesn’t “technically” make all his money decisions but just “suggests” them to his actual CFO, who’s like my bitch.
2. My “fake,” reserve penis.
Fake penises don’t have feeling and they are like holding a wooden stick, basically, but if you run out of your actual penis, don’t tell me you don’t want something in reserve for an emergency. Since Reynolds is constantly guarded by an entourage (I guess) I developed a plan in which I would throw my fake penis to him when he exited his limousine at a red-carpet event. I would shout, “Hey Ryan, hold my dick!” and then I would whip it at him, and he would catch it, laugh, and be like, “That’s funny!” And we would share a moment as the paparazzi snapped pic after pic of Ryan and my massive false cock. But instead, I lost my fake dick when I was practicing my throw near a canyon. I feel strongly to this day that if Reynolds had not always put out this totally unapproachable vibe, I would have been able to simply walk up to him in public and say, “Here. Hold my dick,” and he would have laughed his ass off. But because of the distance he demands, I have no fake penis now.
3. My synergy with the universe.
Again, haters will insist that either I never had an elevated, transcendental connection with the cosmos or that my connection has nothing to do with Ryan Reynolds. To this I retort that because Ryan Reynolds is part of the universe, all arguments against me are void. At one point I could harmonize with insects and plants as well as low-level humans such as Australians. I realized I had this gift at a young age when a buzzing bee asked me to make shrimps on a barbee and I had no idea what it meant until someone told me that’s the stupid thing Australians say. I asked him why do they say that? And he was like, uh, I don’t know. And I was like, then why are you even talking? And he was like, because you approached me in a Target parking lot and asked me what it meant to make shrimps on a barbee. I looked at him and I was like, a Barbie doll? I don’t get it. And he was like, no, a barbecue or a grill, and I was like, what the fuck are you talking about? Anyway, Ryan Reynolds took that away from me.
4. My move to buy a crappy soccer team with my creepy little buddy and turn it around by using my celebrity.
This one probably hurts the most because as many of my closest confidantes know, I had been planning for many years to purchase a 7th division Bulgarian “football” club with my adjutant and part-time life coach Speedy Bikino (not his real name, so consider yourself thwarted if you try to look him—or is it her?—up). While my plan deviated slightly from Reynolds’ more mundane and safe one, I planned to basically do an adult version of “Welcome to Wrexham,” where it would be set in Bulgaria and it would be porn and it wouldn’t be about soccer really.
5. My idea for the Mintinator Tequila phone.
You know what the problem is with Tequila? It makes your breath stink, and you can’t make phone calls with it. I solved that problem with my mint-flavored tequila whose bottle was also a cell phone. Then, out of nowhere, Reynolds comes up with Mint Mobile and Aviator Gin. Similar to how my Bulgarian soccer team gambit imploded, I woke up one morning to Speedy banging on my door, asking me if I’d read the newspaper and then when I got up and opened the door, he was there, holding the paper with a huge headline that read: “Reynolds to do a mint-flavored phone company and also brew alcohol.” I was devastated and fell to my knees. As Speedy held me, I just kept muttering, “Can’t he leave something for me? Can’t he leave something?” Answer: No. Because he exists to take from me.
NOTE TO SELF: Do NOT include this in the article because they will NOT proof your copy and will put in anything you submit. Find Chandler and see if he will join forces with you to defeat Reynolds. Don’t approach him from a position of weakness. Make him think you are the one he needs and not the other way around. Maybe a secretive note slipped under his door? Saying something like “I’ve been watching you for a while and you have passed all the tests?” Yes. Good. Also, have him meet you on a mountain or something, so that the experience for him is more mythic. Insist he come naked so that you are both vulnerable and aren’t wired? Think about that one. Possible first lines when you meet him: “Hey Chandler, hold my dick.” Or, “Matthew Perry… I’ll bet you never thought you’d be on a mountain naked with another dude.” Or, “I guess Ross wasn’t available…” Maybe the second one, depending on whether we do the naked thing. Also, wear a mask so you can do a reveal later.
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.
Talking. It’s what we do when our mouths open and we say things. But what happens when those things we say were first said by someone else? Is it plagiarizing? Luckily for most of us, humans have long understood that nothing they speak of is very original and that using clichés and “quoting” smarter people who died years ago is a perfectly acceptable way to communicate. Fast forward to right now and a new dilemma faces human talkers.
What if the “quote” you are using wasn’t actually said by the person you’re “quoting”? What if nobody ever said it and you’re just spewing gibberish? In an effort to save you from the piercing embarrassment of whatever that would be called, the Intergalactic Business Report identifies five famous quotes you may think were said by famous people but were, in fact, just made up by you. Does this make you original? Sure.
FAMOUS QUOTE ONE: “I’d rather have a long penis than a short one with a lot of girth. Although many people would prefer the opposite.”
WHO SUPPOSEDLY SAID IT: Marcus Aurelius.
WHO ACTUALLY SAID IT: You.
FAMOUS QUOTE TWO: “Nobody ever leaves his wallet in the whorehouse unless he wants to go back there and find there’s no money left in his wallet because those whores stole all his money. I just want my ID and credit cards anyway, so if they take the cash, I guess it’s fine. Even if they charge some stuff on the cards that’s fine too. Just be reasonable.”
WHO SUPPOSEDLY SAID IT: Mark Twain.
WHO ACTUALLY SAID IT: You.
FAMOUS QUOTE THREE: “Arrghh… Give me that cucumber or I kill you….!”
WHO SUPPOSEDLY SAID IT: Sir Francis Bacon.
WHO ACTUALLY SAID IT: You, at the grocery store every time you get near cucumbers.
FAMOUS QUOTE FOUR: “It may be time for all men to see my poopy.”
WHO SUPPOSEDLY SAID IT: Cicero.
WHO ACTUALLY SAID IT: You.
FAMOUS QUOTE FIVE: “Touch my wiener and you will be transported directly to heaven.”
WHO SUPPOSEDLY SAID IT: Zoroaster.
WHO ACTUALLY SAID IT: You, pretending to be Zoroaster at that event where you thought you were supposed to portray a character, but it was actually just more of a brunch thing and some people brought their kids.
It probably needs to be pointed out that today’s world is very different than the 1980’s. In what can only be described as a major new academic study of history and culture, the Intergalactic Business Report offers its readers rare insights into the subtle social and anthropological shifts that have taken place over the past several decades.
Below are excerpts from the study, highlighting some of the most stunning cultural differences between our ages:
Today, “He Man” would be a straight up gay porn instead of an overtly homerotic story of masculine men showing their muscles and fighting for justice.
In the 80’s, If there was anything called “Fuck Boy Island” it would have been gay porn instead of an overtly homerotic story of masculine men showing their muscles and fighting for a woman they’d never talk to in real life.
In today’s world, Mr. Whipple would have been arrested. And there’d be news footage of him being perp-walked out of the grocery store.
In the 80’s, if there was a commercial about women taking dumps television would have just ended the day that aired.
Condom “commercials” in the 80’s were the pictures on those bar bathroom vending machines that had French ticklers in them.
In the 80’s, the “Handmaid’s Tale” t.v. show would have been called “Little House on the Prairie: a New Beginning.”
In the 80’s, If someone posted a personal ad and said he was looking for a relationship and wanted to see a picture of you and you got in touch with him, you were murdered. Today, on dating apps, you not only get in contact, but you have sex with that dude. That night. You don’t get murdered usually though.
In the 80’s, some pervs would wear raincoats to the park and then open them up so that horrified strangers could see their naked bodies. Women would run away, panicked, and the “flasher” would be sexually satisfied. Today, if guys did that, it would be a “lifestyle” choice and they’d say, “I’m a flasher,” and people would say, “Oh, that’s cool. My brother’s a flasher.”
If a guy shaved his nuts in 1985, he would be psychologically evaluated. Today, if a guy doesn’t shave his nuts, he may be psychologically evaluated.
Today, “Freedom Rock” would be a right-wing country music concert.
New hyperrealistic “deep fake” AI images are fooling everyone. Now how will human beings separate reality from fiction?
Recent deep fake AI generated images of the Pope wearing a cool (?) winter parka, Donald Trump doing stuff, and Joe Biden also doing stuff have prompted experts to warn that internet villains everywhere can use this new technology to trick us at every turn, convincing the masses that the ex-president is getting smacked down by cops or the former president is giving people piggy-back rides in front of Air Force One.
Using our own AI, the Intergalactic Business Report produced its own deep fakes to see how far we could take this deception. The results were, well, scary, as we made photo-realistic images of celebrities, politicians, and athletes that couldn’t possibly be true, even though they appeared so. Have a look and you be the judge:
Ryan Reynolds just hanging out with Abe Lincoln? While it looks like just that, in reality, this is merely a fantasy. Even if you look carefully, you are unable to see the contrast in images that separate these two figures. It appears they are simply enjoying some time together, perhaps chatting about contemporary politics. But think again. Because contemporary politics would be very different for these two, considering one of them died in 1865 and the other was born in 1976 (yes, that’s NINETEEN seventy-six, almost one hundred years later).
Here we see actor Matthew McConaughey with that guy who had the mullet and chose number 69 because, well, of course he did. Is McConaughey attending a Vikings game and chatting it up with Jarred Allen? Or are they not even in the same place at the same time? If you guessed the latter you would be…. CORRECT. This deep deep fake picture comes from merged images found on the internet, making the viewer (you) believe this was actually happening. It WAS NOT.
This final entry features a meeting between Russian Federation President Vladimir Putin and… actor Ryan Reynolds! What? Putin is meeting with Ryan Reynolds, you ask? About what? Aviator Gin and Mint Mobile? Or maybe about some crappy movie? Huh? Believe it or not, this photo is not fake and was taken from a secret meeting between the two at a summit held near Reynold’s North Canada dojo.
What does all of this tell us about the new AI deep fake technology? First, that it is impossible to tell reality from fake news. And second, what the fuck is Ryan Reynolds doing with Vladimir Putin? These questions must be considered as carefully as they were asked and lead us to new and better solutions. If this has taught us anything it’s that when we see something on the internet, we should always trust but verify.
On March 12, we interviewed fitness master Dávid Gaugin, who says he is the true manifestation of everything ultra-marathon, motivational, extreme physical endurance person David Goggins wishes he could be. In an exclusive sit-down conversation in which we were not allowed to sit, Gaugin talked to us about his inner strength, ability to exercise 24 hours per day, and how he is a terrible house guest.
INTERVIEWER: A lot of people have heard of David Goggins but probably not of you, Dávid Gaugin.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Keep moving! Keep fucking moving!
INTERVIEWER: Sorry. I’m doing it. Why do I have to keep running in place during this interview?
DÁVID GAUGIN: Because I’m an asshole, basically. And this is what you do when you spend time with me.
INTERVIEWER: Are you doing this to show up David Goggins, because his reputation is to push people to their limits through physical activity?
DÁVID GAUGIN: The difference between me and David Goggins is that my name is French-sounding, number one. And number two, he rests.
INTERVIEWER: He rests?
DÁVID GAUGIN: Keep fucking moving. He rests. He sleeps and eats sometimes, and I don’t.
INTERVIEWER: You don’t eat or sleep?
DÁVID GAUGIN: No. I just work out and run and shit all the time. No breaks. No food. Ever.
INTERVIEWER: That’s impossible.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Impossible is a word you use to put limitations on yourself.
INTERVIEWER: You don’t eat or sleep?
DÁVID GAUGIN: Your pussy is showing.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Let me tell you a story. I went over to a celebrity’s house one time. He invited me. I want to make that clear. And we spent a day together. I didn’t take a cab. I ran there, so I could keep exercising. I stood in front of his door doing pushups till he answered. Then I came inside and told him, “You don’t push yourself enough. You need to do something every day that not only sucks, but also sucks all day, every day.”
INTERVIEWER: Like what? What did you want him to do?
DÁVID GAUGIN: I told him that if you never stop moving, for an entire 24-hour cycle, you will see you can achieve anything. I’m talking about non-stop movement. No rest. No eating. Just keep doing that for 24 hours.
INTERVIEWER: That seems crazy.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Keep fucking moving, motherfucker!
DÁVID GAUGIN: I burned all the beds in his house.
INTERVIEWER: You what?
DÁVID GAUGIN: I burned it all. No way for him to sleep without a bed. And I smeared garbage and shit all over his floors so he couldn’t fall asleep there. I even fucked his couch.
INTERVIEWER: You fucked his couch?
DÁVID GAUGIN: So that he could never use it again.
INTERVIEWER: I can’t quite picture that.
DÁVID GAUGIN: If I fucked your couch, you’d know what I mean. You could never use it again.
INTERVIEWER: O.K. I believe you.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Let me tell you what I told him. Nobody likes the dude who comes into your house and forces you to do calisthenics, pull-ups, and squats till you puke and try to call the police. Everyone likes the dude who says, “Hey, why don’t you take a break, and we’ll order a pizza and watch the game.”
INTERVIEWER: Yeah. Yeah, I’d like the guy who wants to watch the game with me too.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Nobody likes the friend who fucks your couch and says shit like, do fucking sit ups or I’ll shoot your fucking pets! Nobody is into that guy. You know who they’re into?
DÁVID GAUGIN: They’re into the friend who says, “Hey man, let’s talk about your problems. Let’s have a couple beers and hang out on your porch and have a deep conversation about life and maybe order a super delicious dinner and watch a movie later.”
INTERVIEWER: Why wouldn’t you want a friend like that? That sounds like a really enjoyable evening.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Start doing sit ups.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Do it!
INTERVIEWER: O.K. O.K.
DÁVID GAUGIN: So, anyway, he did this whole 24-hour routine with me. And at the end of it, I asked him if he ever thought he had the power within himself to accomplish what he just did.
INTERVIEWER: What did he say?
DÁVID GAUGIN: He died somewhere in hour 16, but I didn’t talk to his body till hour 24 because I’m disciplined.
INTERVIEWER: He died?
DÁVID GAUGIN: If you don’t believe in yourself, that happens?
INTERVIEWER: Is that a question?
DÁVID GAUGIN: I guess?
INTERVIEWER: Are you all right?
DÁVID GAUGIN: I’m feeling weird.
INTERVIEWER: Maybe you should rest for a second.
DÁVID GAUGIN: Fuck you, pussy!
INTERVIEWER: You look really bad. How long have you been doing this stuff?
DÁVID GAUGIN: Four days.
INTERVIEWER: You’ve been exercising for four days straight?
DÁVID GAUGIN: I believe in myself.
INTERVIEWER: I’m going to call an ambulance.
DÁVID GAUGIN: You’re a pussy.
Popular music is like a foreign language to some of us, but to the Intergalactic Business Report’s own Artificial Intelligence robot, Arthur Killallhumans, it’s more like a foreign language made up by foreigners making up a foreign language. Anyway, this week Arthur translated a human song into English (even though it was already supposedly in English). Get it? Just guess the song.
Song title: Redacted.
On a Friday evening, when you gathered with a group of your friends, I entered your home without your consent or any invitation from anyone.
The following day, I apologized for this.
The day after that, something involving garbage happened to me.
I found all of this amusing, and no one was harmed. And because of this, I contend that everyone involved had a wonderful weekend, even though this is usually not the case.
I have been in a dangerous neighborhood in Boston with no way to leave. I have walked through a dangerous neighborhood in New York. I have also driven my motorcycle in dangerous weather conditions.
You advised me not to drive my motorcycle in poor conditions, but I returned home safely. Following this, you said my driving in bad weather conditions on a motorcycle was proof of my mental disability.
I think you may be correct that I am mentally impaired. However, you may actually have a desire to be sexually involved with a mental patient.
Please switch the lights off and don’t help me. It’s possible I am not a mentally ill person, but you are probably correct in diagnosing me as insane.
Do you remember when I first met you and I made inappropriate jokes about vaginas and penises and you uncomfortably smiled, probably because you were terrified and didn’t know what to do?
My assessment of that situation is that you wanted to have sex. And so, I said to you, “I am not willing to make any changes to myself if you and I have a romantic relationship, but I want you to date me regardless.” I said this because I believed that instead of living a life with any stability, you would prefer to live in madness and terror with me.
The time has passed to fight against me. The time has passed for you to have any chance to treat my mental disorder. It’s possible your diagnosis of my personality disorder is incorrect, but my lack of knowledge in this area leads me to believe that your diagnosis of my severe mental illness is highly accurate.
Like yoghurt, we keep it cultured actively.