The Intergalactic Business Report viewed with great interest a recent commercial for NURX birth control in which someone claimed she “got a prescription” for NURX, “from her couch.”
This immediately set off warning signals to our editorial team as we questioned the legality of a couch writing prescriptions as well as the breakthrough discovery that a couch can speak, advise actors about sexual health, and actually write its name on a piece of paper to be taken to pharmacies.
In an exclusive first interview, we talk with the NURX couch and find out how it does what it does. Although our conversation was between seven and thirty-six hours, we have excerpted the highlights below:
INTERVIEWER: Let’s just get this out of the way. You can write prescriptions?
NURX COUCH: Well, I call them “scrips,” but yes.
INTERVIEWER: Why call them that?
NURX COUCH: Scrips?
NURX COUCH: I don’t know. I guess it’s just a thing.
INTERVIEWER: It’s just a thing?
NURX COUCH: Yeah.
NURX COUCH: Yeah, seriously.
INTERVIEWER: I think you say, “scrips” instead of “prescription” because you think it will make you sound cooler.
NURX COUCH: No that’s not it.
INTERVIEWER: Yes it is. You totally say that to sound cooler. It’s a sign of insecurity or something.
NURX COUCH: I thought we were going to talk about birth control.
INTERVIEWER: I never said that.
NURX COUCH: Then what are we talking about?
INTERVIEWER: I’m sorry… I just can’t get over the whole “scrips” thing. It’s just so fucking stupid.
NURX COUCH: It’s not that stupid.
INTERVIEWER: But you admit it’s a little stupid.
NURX COUCH: No.
INTERVIEWER: Oh, you think it’s cool then?
NURX COUCH: I think it’s whatever.
INTERVIEWER: Whatever doesn’t mean anything.
NURX COUCH: It means whatever.
INTERVIEWER: I know you’re a couch but are you fucking mentally slow or something? Is that why you can only say part of the word “prescription”?
NURX COUCH: I can say the whole word. I just don’t want to.
INTERVIEWER: Then say it.
NURX COUCH: Say what?
INTERVIEWER: Say “prescription.”
NURX COUCH: No.
INTERVIEWER: Cause you can’t.
NURX COUCH: Fuck you. I thought this was going to be a serious interview.
INTERVIEWER: You thought wrong I guess.
NURX COUCH: Fuck you.
(EDITORS NOTE: At this point in the interview the couch stopped talking. It was as if it was just a couch again. We’ve received some criticism for not asking it more questions while we had it talking, but it was really hard to get over the fact that the couch was so douchey about saying the word “scrip” the same way some people call champagne “champ.” But, considering the danger of couches being able to write prescriptions, we feel we’ve done a public service by silencing the NURX couch, at least for now.)
(EDITORS NOTE PART TWO: We were worried about the NURX couch coming back to life, so later that night we lit it on fire in an alley.)
Corporations have responded quickly to the Coronavirus epidemic and have changed their messaging to suit a planet of quarantined home-dwellers who can’t get their hair cut. But beneath their cheery, uplifting well wishes, what are they really saying? The Intergalactic Business Report lets you know.
Purell. Probably your only shot at not dying.
Southwest Airlines. When people got sucked out of our windows a few years ago, we felt bad. Now we feel worse.
Banker’s Club vodka. Isn’t it time you got drunk again?
Instacart. Not instant. Not a cart. But we will bring you a mystery bag of food you didn’t order. So shut up.
Wendy’s. Arby’s needs to shut its damn mouth.
Clorox wipes. Wipe the death away.
Home Depot. A lot of our stuff can be turned into weapons.
Hobby Lobby. NOT OPEN. Tee hee.
Uber Eats. Cab driver touched food is safe. Come on. Eat it.
Dasani water. Seriously? You guys are all assholes.
Before you can become a music super star, you need to have a cool name, and then you need to learn how to play a musical instrument. Or not. But you definitely need the cool name.
This week, the Intergalactic Business Report goes behind the scenes of the music industry and reveals the hidden meaning behind the names of some of the most popular acts of the past thirty years.
Ever wonder why Tony Tony Tony was named Tony Tony Tony? No? Do you even know who Tony Tony Tony is? We tell you anyway.
Imagine Dragons. Imagine not sucking. We couldn’t do that, so we imagined dragons.
Foreigner: We wanted a name that said: weird smelling, culturally backwards, and unintelligible. How’d we do?
Tony Tony Tony: Tony is mentally challenged. We asked him what we should name our group.
Maroon five: Almost named ourselves “Jazzberry Jam” but then chose the next color in the Crayola box.
Hootie and the Blowfish: Wanted a name that sounded like both a children’s show where the star is arrested for child molestation and an urban dictionary sex act. How’d we do?
Phish: Fish, but way worse smelling. Like how everyone at a Phish concert smells.
Florence and the machine: Named after a young adult novel where a teenage girl falls in love with a dreamy robot.
Rental cars. You get them when you’re tired of your own car or maybe just don’t want hookers to leave their scent on your upholstery. But which hooker smell preventing company should you choose? This week, the Intergalactic Business Report goes behind the major brands to tell you what they’re really saying…
Hertz: It hertz to smell so much vomit in our cars.
National: What the Nazis would name their rental car company if they decided to do that instead of trying to take over the world and kill people.
Alamo: Remember the Alamo? You know. Where a bunch of people went there thinking it was a good idea and then found out they were trapped? That’s us.
Avis: For those who want number two, in their back seat.
Sixt: Dis is dah sixt time someone asked us why we have dis stupid name.
Budget: Founded in 1958 by Morris Mirkin. A merkin is a pubic hair toupee. Look it up.
Thrifty: Hey Macklemore can we rent a car from Thrifty? What? What? What? Nope. End of song.
Enterprise: Trying hard to make you think we’re actually an escort service. We send you broke twenty-somethings who are just doing this to pay back student loans and you ask them to have sex with you, right?
Dollar: No I won’t suck your dick, I mean rent your car, for a dollar, Phil!
Athletic shoes have come a long way since Richie Cunningham took bucket shot free throws and wore whatever he wore. Today, multiple shoe companies compete for your attention and dollars as they beg you to be loyal to their brand.
As a special reader benefit, the Intergalactic Business Report gives you the power to make the right choice as it takes you behind the rubber, leather, and synthetic materials and tells you what the biggest shoe brands are really saying.
Nike: For the serious athlete who wants his shoes assembled by a 12-year-old kid with an AK-47 pointed at his head in an Asian sweatshop.
Adidas: What Hitler would wear if he played sports.
Puma: The shoes people in orgies wear, when they decide to wear shoes.
Reebok: We’re named after an Apartheid animal. Let’s go exercise or something.
New Balance: What you wear if you’re a dad and given up on looking cool, even a little bit.
Saucony: Kind of sounds like, “Suck on these.” That’s on purpose.
Brooks: If our shoes were all white, they’d look like those things old nurses and waitresses wear.
Asics: We’re (b) asic (s).
Under Armour: We make tight shirts to wear underneath your real shirt. Now we own a factory in China that makes shoes too. Wanna wear them?
Coffee. It’s what you drink because a long time ago a friend told you it would help you wake up in the morning even though it tastes like really bad, burnt, dark chocolate. Now you drink it every day and say stuff like, “Don’t talk to me till I’ve had my first cup of coffee,” and “I need my coffee!” That’s your life now. And your friend was a dick.
Anyway, the Intergalactic Business Report breaks down the hidden messages behind some of the world’s major coffee brands. Read this before you say something stupid like, “My blood type is coffee” and the three dorks in your office who laugh at cat memes lose their shit.
Lavazza. “Hey, I’m Tony Lavazza. Drink my friggin’ coffee,” was our first brand identity concept. Then we decided to go classy Italian.
Starbucks. Seattle used to be cool. In 1995. This is what’s left.
Dunkin’. So cheap we didn’t even add a “g” to the end of our name.
Peet’s. We were going for a name that sounded like a kid’s t.v. show star who is jailed for child molestation. How’d we do?
Caribou. Named after an animal that takes massive dumps in the woods. Get it?
Gevalia. Means, “Man who has sex with caribous” in Italian.
Folger’s. Good to the last drop. Like butt sweat. If you’re into that.
McCafe. Getting coffee at McDonald’s is the first sign you’ve given up on your Mclife.
You’re hungry. Or you need gas. Or you just want to pay seventeen dollars for really crappy beer and beef jerky. Convenience stores offer us quick and easy products that we always regret paying for and consuming. But you know you’re going to be back as soon as you crave a mystery sausage that’s been spinning on a spit in a fake heated glass box and you also need to take a dump in a toilet that doesn’t flush.
As your body attempts to figure out what you just ate and you realize you just spent thirty-seven dollars for a pack of cigarettes, you start to wonder why the store that just ripped you off has such a crazy-sounding name.
The Intergalactic Business Report goes behind the slurpy machines to give you the true meaning behind each of these brand leaders.
7 eleven. The estimated height of the guy who shits in our bathrooms based on the size of the turd still floating in the toilet.
Circle K. We wanted to go with “Circle Jerk” but circle jerkers were offended because they’re much more sanitary.
Bigfoot. We named it Bigfoot because seeing something in our store that won’t give you food poisoning is exactly the same likelihood as seeing a Sasquatch.
Kum and go. Celebrating our history as a masturbation stop for wayward truckers and just regular dudes who whack off at convenience stores.
Minuteman. Named after soldiers who could shoot and reload in one minute. Just like the guys who use our bathrooms.
Sheetz. What you get from eating anything from our store.
Apples. The fruit you eat after it falls off trees and some guy picks it up with his hands and puts it in a basket for you to eat after about a thousand other guys touch it too on the way to the grocery store.
You’ve probably asked yourself more times than there are guys touching your apples, “What do all their names mean?” The Intergalactic Business Report gives you the real meaning behind those heavily touched fruits that go in your mouth after countless people have palmed, fingered, and rubbed them all over themselves.
Honey Crisp. Honey isn’t crisp. It’s gooey. But we didn’t want to call the apple, “Gooey apple.” Oh, and it doesn’t taste like honey anyway. We just kind of threw that in because we also didn’t want to just name them, “Crisp apples,” because that sounded kind of dumb.
Jonathan. “Hi, my name is Jonathan. I’m an asshole. I invented an apple. Guess what I called it?”
Red Delicious. If you have to tell people something’s “delicious,” is it? Really?
Jonagold. “Hi, my name is Jonathan. I’m an asshole. I mixed my apple with a Golden
Delicious apple. Guess what I called it?”
Gala. What you’d eat if you went to a fancy ball where they only served apples, and also where you’d say, “This ball sucks.”
Granny Smith. Want to eat an apple that reminds of you of what an old woman would taste like? Here you go.
Golden Delicious. See Red Delicious, above.
Braeburn. Named after what you get if you have sex on a Berber rug.
Snack food. The stuff we eat that has no nutritional value but we eat anyway because we don’t care. This week, the Intergalactic Business Report gets chippy with the industry that gives us bite-sized fake-cheese flavored everything and tells you what their brands are really saying.
Doritos. Means, “little men that crawl out of my butt and hand me chips” in Spanish.
Cheetos. The official snack of people who try to touch you on public transportation.
Sun chips. We wanted a name that sounded like we support Apartheid.
Lays. What you don’t get if you eat our chips every day.
Pringles. A man with a nasty mustache is our symbol. Eat up.
Bugles. Cones aren’t bugles. We know that. But we’ll keep calling them bugles.
Chex mix. The snack equivalent of having some of your best friends and also all the people you fucking hate over for dinner.
Ruffles. Named after a clown who’s doing time for not wearing pants at kids’ parties.
Fritos. Spanish for, “sexually transmitted disease,” as in “Oh my god. I think I’ve got the Fritos.”
Funyuns. We were going to call them “onion vaginas” but that turned out to be a bar in Amsterdam.
Cereal. It’s that stuff we eat that we wouldn’t eat if we hadn’t eaten it first when we were kids because if we hadn’t someone would give us a bowl now and we’d say, “I’m not eating that shit.” Anyway, we give you the truth behind the biggest cereal brands in the world.
Honey Nut Cheerios. Having bee hallucinations is normal, right?
Captain Crunch. Used to be a “Colonel” till he was demoted for cat molestation.
Trix. Originally, the rabbit was a hooker and trix weren’t for kids. Then we changed it to how it is now.
Froot Loops. We’re dumb-friendly. Toucan Sam doesn’t rhyme. And we spelled “fruit” wrong. Bonus: Are you stoopid? Eat up.
Fruity Pebbles. Created so homophobic 8th grade boys had a punchline to the burn, “So what do YOU eat for breakfast?”
Honey Grahams. We wanted to sound like a gay British prostitution chain. How’d we do?
Count Chocula. We were going for vaguely racist and we think we got there.
Shredded Wheat. “Flabby” wheat didn’t test well, so…
King Vitamin. The “king’s” dentures are floating around in this bowl.
Lucky Charms. Originally, the leprechaun was an Indian chief who used peyote to escape interlopers on his vision quest. But test audiences didn’t understand: “I’ll make a spirit bridge and fade into oblivion with my out of sight peace beads.” Also, peace beads didn’t sound appetizing.