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.
Vanderpump Rules star Tom Sandoval has been named one of the greatest human beings on Earth by the Intergalactic Business Report.
This coveted honor places Sandoval in a pantheon of others selected in past years, including Harry Reams, Bonafacia El Trudio-Holgate Destaria, and Adrian Zmed.
After months of kind of watching Sandoval’s show, IBR judges were struck by an episode in which Sandoval gives his thankless friend, Jax Taylor, a Randy Jackson signed samurai sword. This gesture, wasted on Taylor, was immediately considered the greatest act of human ingenuity and awesomeness in the history of mankind.
HOW THE CONTEST WORKS:
The Intergalactic Business Report’s judges secretly scour the planet in search of people they believe may qualify. Most years, no one reaches the magnitude of greatness needed to win, and the prize goes unawarded.
UNLIKE ANY OTHER YEAR IN THE CONTEST’S HISTORY:
Thirty-four of the thirty-six judges nominated Tom Sandoval. The remaining two judges were split between British acting great Phil Collins and Phillipino pornstar Chongo Alvarez. Says one judge, “I don’t even know who Jax Taylor is, but he was given a gift on par with the holy grail and treated it like someone handed him an Outback Steakhouse coupon.”
WHAT DOES SANDOVAL WIN?
Most important, Sandoval wins a seat on the Intergalactic Council of Greatest Human Beings Ever. That’s pretty much it. There is no monetary prize because money is considered tacky by our panel of judges. If Sandoval declines the award, it goes directly to Chongo Alvarez, who’s been lobbying for this for years.
JOIN 436 TRILLION READERS TODAY.
When the news first arrived, I thought it had to be a joke. A deadly virus that no one could see was causing the entire world to shut down.
Then came the stay at home orders.
Let me back up just a little before I tell the rest of this story. For most of my adult life, I’ve had a simple dream—namely that I could sit in my apartment, eat whatever I liked, and drink till I was so ripped I could shit my pants and not realize it or care.
Back to the story. The stay at home orders. This fulfilled part one of my prophecy—the part about me sitting in my apartment and not having to leave. Nice, I thought.
Then I saw stuff on the news about “essential businesses,” that were staying open. Grocery Stores. Check. That’s where a lot of my food was going to come from. Then I saw Taco Bell listed. Check again, only better.
Finally, they said that liquor stores were also essential. No shit, I thought. Checkmate.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t possibly get any better, they announced that I’d get a government check, just for sitting on my ass at home. What?
Within no time, Uber Eats was bringing me Taco Bell and I was screaming at the dude from behind my plexiglass storm door. He tried to understand me but gave up. It didn’t matter because I was just yelling, “I’m drunk.”
Fast forward a little and now people start talking about “re-opening.” What the fuck is that? I wondered. Apparently, it meant the worst. That fat alcoholism was only a temporary thing and that soon I’d be expected to go back to work and talk to people without being drunk.
Side note: talking to people sober is like a disability for me. I have trouble doing it because I tend to lie a lot in that I won’t tell them to fuck off and that I hate them. When I’m drunk, I have no problem doing that. Also, I shit myself at work one time and human resources said it was “inappropriate,” and “demeaning” to the people I wiped it on. Also that I was “fired.”
Another issue I have with going back to work is the clothing crisis. Nobody likes talking about this, but many people like me don’t fit into our regular clothes anymore. Now that we’re so fat, we’ve opted for stretch pants and sweats and sometimes even wearing nothing. The last option is probably the most comfortable except when I burn my nuts with cooking oil when I’m trying to deep fry cheesecake (which doesn’t work, by the way).
I think the country might be better off if they used fat drunks to fuel our country. I assume there’s a scientific process by which we could hook up people like me to some kind of energy source and we could provide electricity to others, maybe for free. I imagine this would also fight climate change somehow.
In conclusion, I think the only way to put this is that I’ve had my dream ruined by people who would rather stop me from drinking and eating than helping America. So, in a way, I’m just fighting against Hitler, which is good, right? And anyone disagreeing with me is Hitler’s buddy, like the guy who carries his shit around for him and says stuff like, “Oh, Mr. Hitler, can I please hold your nut sack for you while you pee?”
So good job, evil nazis. You’re winning. And yeah, I’m drunk. Super drunk. And I’m about to eat a cake by myself.
UPDATE: I am currently looking for work and would be interested in anything that involves house sitting. Also, I can do long haul trucking and debt collection. Thank you.
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.
If you’ve ever watched zombie movies or television shows, you’ve probably asked yourself a simple question: Why is this in any way appealing to me or anyone else for any reason whatsoever? But once you got past that, you reveled in the frightening depictions of a decaying world in which only the strong, ruthless, or lucky survive.
The Intergalactic Business Report studied actual zombie apocalypses in order to give our readers a more realistic view of how humans survive or die. We determined that the reason so few people live through such events comes down to six stages, which we have outlined below:
During most zombie apocalypses, there’s an initial period where people freak out and hide from the zombies. This usually lasts about three months.
In stage two, most of the people get tired of hiding and decide they should maybe leave their houses. One of them usually says something like, “Listen, it’s been long enough. It’s time to get out there and re-open stuff.”
Stage three begins shortly thereafter when people start to think the zombie apocalypse was a trick by the government to keep people locked up and compliant.
A lot of questions are also asked about what the government is going to do to end the zombie problem because it’s taking forever and there doesn’t seem to be a solution.
At some point a guy from the government is on t.v. and says they’re working on it and they think they could have a cure to the zombies if they can just have more time.
Some guy in his living room yells at the t.v.: “It’s been three fucking months!”
A bunch of people say the zombies aren’t dangerous and that you could go outside and hang out with them and nothing would happen.
Others believe that even if you do get bitten by a zombie it’s not that bad.
Stage five starts a couple hours after stage four, when everyone leaves their houses and go to bars, which just got re-opened. At the bars they do stuff like try to shake hands with the zombies who wander in and take pictures with them.
Pretty much all those people get killed by the zombies and turn into zombies themselves.
The rest of the people hide indoors and say stuff like: “What a bunch of assholes. Look at them getting eaten by zombies.” The indoor people feel vindicated when they see their formerly cocky neighbor wandering around as an undead creature. The pleasure lasts about four minutes. Then they realize that might be better than hiding in their houses forever. Then they try to order Uber Eats.
ED WRITES NOVELS NOW. THESE EXCERPTS ARE TAKEN FROM RANDOM PAGES OF HIS LATEST EPIC, “FACEBLASTER.”
“Stop trying to make me into a clone!” screamed Clone134xH.
The doctor continued, as if he didn’t hear the plea.
“At least make my balls huge?” reasoned Clone134xH.
“Then you wouldn’t be an exact clone of Captain Starbuckle. You’d be him only with giant nuts.”
Captain Starbuckle unleashed his penis, which had been hidden beneath his raincoat for what seemed like hours.
Space penises like his could detach from their user and go on spy missions.
“Goodbye, penis,” he whispered soulfully. “Come back with the information I need.”
In the Blorodorian Galaxy only Flatutions were allowed to grope at the pulsating statue nipples. But Jeff did it anyway.
“Bleepz! Bleepz!” The nipples sounded the alarm, bringing the temple centurions out of their guard’s nests.
“You have violated space law 334!” one of them shouted.
Jeff squeezed his nuts violently, transporting him to the year 1983 on Earth.
“Well hello, Michael Jackson,” he said.
“Hello, Jeff,” Michael replied.
AND ANOTHER EXCERPT:
Four trillion years was a long time to grow a penis, thought Captain Starbuckle as he gazed upon his massive tool.
“Can we use it like a bridge? And walk back to Earth?” questioned Chorgo.
“Hop on and let’s find out,” Starbuckle cheered.
Look for Ed’s book at bookstores everywhere soon? -The Editors.
The Intergalactic Business Report’s singer/songwriter duo, Jeff Massengill and Summer Eve, release a blockbuster new song about how they plan to open their sex parts to coincide with America’s re-opening amidst the Coronavirus pandemic. While we can’t provide sound or melody, we are releasing the lyrics, below:
“So many weeks… So much time… I look down at my crotch… Is it still mine?”
“So many nights… I wondered when… My skanky friend… Hey how you been?”
“Need a little while to reacquaint…. With everything down there, even my taint…”
“It’s time to re-open… Time to unlock the latch… America’s open, and so is my snatch…”
“I thought I stopped baking cookies, but here’s a new batch. America’s open, and so is my snatch…”
“Lost my job drilling oil, down at the dock… Now I’m starting new drilling, this time with my cock…”
“The bank is foreclosing, I can’t get a loan… But they’ll never stop me from using my bone…”
“It’s time to re-open… Time to sing a new song… America’s open and so is my Schlong…”
“Time to shout at the sky, all the way up to Venus. America’s open and so is my penis.”
*Artist notes: REPEAT LIKE FORTY TIMES.
Ever wonder how you got your last name? Wonder how others got theirs? Today, the Intergalactic Business Report delves deep into what your name actually means, based on history and language.
LAST NAME: Dickinson.
MEANING: Son of a dick.
ORIGIN: If you were a total dick and had a son, this is what his last name would be.
LAST NAME: Dildotester.
MEANING: One who tests dildoes.
ORIGIN: Someone (your relatives?) had to test them to make sure they worked, right?
LAST NAME: Hookersassistant.
MEANING: Not a hooker, but the one who helps the hooker out.
ORIGIN: Long ago, prostitutes needed a “squire” who would carry their stuff for them and do their makeup. That was your ancestor.
LAST NAME: Fruitfucker.
MEANING: Someone who has sex with fruit.
ORIGIN: In ancient times, criminals used fruit to get off. They were banished for ruining all the produce and then went out and had babies when they used real genitalia for sex. You are the result of that.
LAST NAME: Shitstealer.
MEANING: If you take a dump and don’t clean it up, a shitstealer might take it.
ORIGIN: Feces must have been valuable at some point, because this surname suggests a whole group of people stole it and did it so often they were given this last name.
LAST NAME: Assmuncher.
MEANING: We can’t figure this one out.
LAST NAME: Penisface.
MEANING: Your face looks like a penis.
ORIGIN: Look at your face. Does it look like a penis? Probably does because why would you have that last name if it didn’t?
LAST NAME: Shitforbrains.
MEANING: Instead of a brain, there’s just a pile of shit inside your head.
ORIGIN: Someone in your family died along time ago and they opened up his skull as part of an autopsy. Shit poured out. They said, “Wow, this guy has shit for brains.” That guy was your great great great great great grandfather.
I’m Rhoda Bloom and I decided to not even try for a good introductory sentence. No one’s going to read this anyway and even if someone does, it’s not like it’s going to matter whether anything about this is good or not.
Coronavirus sucks. But it sucks most because I’m pretty sure there will never be a cure. I even spoke with a psychic about it and she left midway through our session because she said the world was ending and she needed to get some of her shit together and try to drive down to some town in Mexico where she thinks she’ll be able to survive for another year before society completely collapses. I asked if I could join her and she was kind of like, “fuck you.” I even offered to do lesbian stuff, but she wasn’t interested, I guess.
I think people get weird when the world is ending. And then there are all these other people who think it’s not and they’re wrong. One of them on tv said that this will all be over by next year. I just laughed at the fucking tv and turned it off. The tv probably has so much coronavirus on it that it’s infecting my apartment anyway and I’m starting to think that the news report where they said things would be over next year was just a hallucination because when you’re about to die your brain does shit like that.
There was this show on once where it was just about good things people did and how life was great. Do you remember that show? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
This one friend of mine asked me, “Rhoda? How can you be so negative all the time?” And then I noticed a malignant mole on her face.
Anyway, since I haven’t been able to leave my apartment during the pandemic, I decided to read some books. I started with one about how America is dying and will just kind of blow up any day now and everyone will be like, “Hey, where’s America?” and the author of the book will be like, “Yeah, I told you so. You’re so stupid. Now I’m going to move to China, I guess.”
After that book, I read about how the sun is going to stop providing heat and an asteroid is coming to destroy the planet but it probably won’t make it before a black hole eats us first. That’s pretty much what I read.
I did some art, too. I drew a picture of myself in ten years. It’s a skeleton.
But it’s not all bad…
No. I take that back. It is.
I’m pretty sure I have the Coronavirus even though I haven’t been out in public for two months and haven’t come in contact with any human beings because I’m just eating old jello and toaster strudel I bought at Costco in 2018. I think I have the virus anyway and that they’re going to find out that we all have it and no matter what you do you’re going to get it or maybe that we were all born with it because our parents used Head and Shoulders dandruff shampoo and that had bad shit in it and it got in their sperm or something.
That’s all I have for now. I need to go make jello and watch the news.
See you in Mexico or in the afterlife. Even though that’s not a real thing.
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.
As the Coronavirus spreads over the country like a soft, cozy blanket with a disease in it, Americans are responding with some inventive new fads that were previously reserved for only the most normal, average people.
In the coming days, you may hear about friends amusing themselves with these 8 coronavirusy dalliances.
This luxurious new trend is where you are able to buy something you need.
2. “Having a job.”
This old school curiosity takes place when you are paid money to do work for somebody else.
3. “Eating food.”
Practitioners of this craze find food and put it in their mouths. Then they chew and swallow it.
4. “Leaving your house.”
This involves leaving your home and going somewhere that’s not your home.
5. “Paying for stuff.”
Like “affording” above, this has to do with what you use when you afford. Some people “pay” with cash (paper money) and others use “credit,” which is like a promise to pay for stuff later. People have “credit cards,” which work for a couple months and then stop working so you have to use a different one after that.
6. “Breathing fresh air.”
This is where you suck in oxygen that isn’t the oxygen in your house or apartment. It’s totally different because when you breathe it you don’t feel like someone farted dog hair in your mouth.
7. “Not thinking you’re going to die.”
Instead of how you usually feel, you think for a few moments that you’re not going to somehow die of Coronavirus. It’s a cool feeling. Then it goes away. Kind of like smoking crack.
8. “Wiping your ass with imaginary toilet paper.”
Imaginary toilet paper never runs out. You just pretend you’re using it and you can use as much as you want. “Hey! Stop wasting all that toilet paper! Oh… It’s imaginary! Keep wiping!”
Like yoghurt, we keep it cultured actively.