 According to Harvard researchers, asking people “how are you” is shallow, vacant, and meaningless. If you want to make a real connection during small talk, they suggest you say things like, “What’s your current state of mind?” or “You remind me of a celebrity, but I can’t remember which one—who’s someone you relate to?”
The idea is that people are eager to be accosted in elevators by other people who ask them deep, probing, and personal questions, or, even better, start telling them personal stories about their lives, hopes, and upcoming family events. Seriously. That’s what they want. The Intergalactic Business Report sees this study as a wakeup call for all of us to stop giving strangers an easy out where they can simply respond with, “Great. You?” and instead corner them into conversations about what celebrity they look like. We applaud Harvard and their uncomfortably friendly researchers and offer some additional questions for elevated small talk. Next time you see someone new, ask them: 1. “Wanna guess how many things I have hiding in my butt?” 2. “Can you help me put something in my butt? I’m having trouble reaching it.” 3. “Nice arms. They look like they’d be helpful in putting things up people’s butts. Am I right?” 4. “This elevator ride is just long enough for me to put one more item in my butt. Do you have anything that would fit?” 5. “You remind me of a celebrity who puts things in his butt, but I can’t remember which one—who’s someone you put things into butts with?” 6. “What’s your current capacity for stuff to put in your butt?” 7. “Your shirt reminds me of putting stuff in my butt. Where did you get it? From my butt? Just kidding? Where did you get it? Up My Butt World? Just kidding. May I please have your shirt?” 8. “In your opinion what’s more difficult? Putting things in your butt or taking them out?” 9. “Looks like I hit all the buttons on the elevator again. Would you like to see what’s in my butt?” 10. “What are you looking forward to fitting in your butt this week?”  NUMBER 1.
Your ability to read simple sentences becomes clouded by repetition as if your ability to read simple sentences is like reading them over and over by repetition as if your ability to read simple sentences becomes clouded by repetition. NUMBER 2. You see a clickbait article on the signs of early dementia, and you dementedly click on it because you want to find out why “number three” on the list of signs is so scary. NUMBER 4. You click on an article and then forget why you were reading it because you have zero interest in market research about pet fashion. NUMBER 5. Dog fashion is a six-billion-dollar industry and in the coming years is projected to be an even bigger part of pet owners’ lives. Brands like Doggy Curl and Whiskaways currently dominate the Dog and Cat categories but newcomers Big Earl and Duke have enjoyed market share growth each year since 2017. The outlook for 2023 remains strong as pet owners are forecasted to continue spending at similar rates to 2022. NUMBER 6. Put your pants on. NUMBER 7. Pants. Something about pants. And… Who was that one guy you went to high school with? He was best friends with your best friend and his name was something with a “C” like Curtis or Charles. Why the fuck can’t you remember? Also, who’s the guy on Family Ties who was friends with Alex? What the fuck was his name? Was his name Curtis? Jesus. NUMBER 8. After reading dumb article after dumb online article, you realize that losing your mind doesn’t really even matter anymore because if you didn’t you’d just be spending your time reading dumb articles like this and is that really even a life? Like, what is there to remember that’s even worth remembering? The fake signs of cancer that are also things everybody has all the time but you still click on the link because they have a picture of someone holding his back and you sometimes hold your back so maybe you have cancer? If you think about it, not having a mind anymore would be almost the same as having one only instead of your head being filled with useless shit, it would just be empty. Shit. It was Charles Lewis. Fucking Charles Lewis. Oh man. Skippy. Skippy Handelman. Jesus. Scientific study: using these 2 words in any order could get you a “yes” more than half the time.2/22/2023  Science. In a breaking new study uncovered by the Intergalactic Business Report, the use of a two-word combination can increase your chances of getting the answer “yes” dramatically.
The words, “Free” and “Blowjob,” can be used in negotiations, random encounters, and truck stop visits and are equally effective when said as “Free Blowjob” or “Blowjob free,” although researchers noted that if one uses the second iteration, it needs to be said with a somewhat foreign accent or should contain a pause between the words when spoken. As a comparison to other two-word combinations that are far less effective, the study cited the following: Give money. Penis strange. Odd smell. Share wallet. Poop pants. Researchers also noted that the combination of “Free Blowjob” was met by some study subjects as threatening, especially when researchers said the words and pointed angrily at other people’s mouths. Also, a researcher tried to blow himself and pulled a neck muscle. The study does have critics, who suggest that having four men offer free blowjobs in a Taco Bell parking lot is not scientific. Also, the number of “yes” responses has been questioned and calculated to be one out of 78 approached. And the one, according to them, was from another country and said “yes” to anything.  The Intergalactic Business Report’s own dating and relationship expert, Tessa Miggs, tells our readers how to make their Christmas turn out like a Hallmark movie. See her column below:
Around this very special time of year, I always get the same question from friends, colleagues, and clients. They ask me, “Tess, what qualifies you to be a dating expert?” They usually follow this up with nasty barbs about how it’s stupid to give advice about romantic relationships when you’re someone who seems unequipped to have even simple emotional interactions with other human beings, and a whole lot of other nonsense. I usually take a breath, calm myself a bit, and reply with the classic: “Jealous much?” My busy life as a dating expert certainly attracts a lot of haters who, in their personal misery, feel the need to criticize me just because I don’t have time for Christmas. Who does? I mean, I have dates to arrange, I’m working on a new app that lets you connect with your soul mate through an internet thing, and I have an assistant who isn’t as pretty as I am but who’s always saying shit like, “Tess, you need to find someone for yourself,” and “Can I please not work on Christmas again this year?” and also, “Is it even legal to make someone work 80 hours a week for gift cards to the Spaghetti Factory?” “No, bitch, it isn’t.” I’m saying that to you. Not her. Because that would probably be illegal too. Anyway, it isn’t my problem that dumb Becky took a “job” with me when she graduated from community college. Could’ve been a hooker. Could’ve been a drug mule. Could’ve been a hooker drug mule. So, what I offer is mid-level Italian food from a chain that has pretty safe locations. Enough about my assistant. Every Christmas, I’m overworked and stressed. I have kooky clients who want to find love, which makes this the best time of year… For business! Because all these saps fall for the allure of the holidays and mistletoe and sleigh rides in the snow. They want to fall in love. But I’m never falling for that. No, not me. Because I’m busy and I’m cold, but not in a good way like chestnuts roasting on an open fire. More like I’m just an ice-cold bitch who works too hard and is busy and then I meet this guy who looks like a male model and he’s super into Christmas because he’s a fool, but he’s so hot and he owns this hot chocolate company, and he hires me because he wants to find true love before Christmas. Does that sound like the plot of a Hallmark movie? I know. Weird. So, I tell the guy, “Hal…” (His name is Hal). I say, “Hal, why don’t we talk about your situation over a couple drinks so you can explain more to me.” He totally falls for it, and pretty soon we’re at the Spaghetti Factory spending Becky’s salary on crappy wine and I’m grabbing his crotch under the table. Some dumb bitch waitress keeps asking if we’re going to order anything and I keep telling her we’re just drinking and she keeps telling me you can’t do that, so it’s a perfect excuse to get Hal back to my cold and empty apartment where I tell him I’ll cook him some spaghetti. He's like, “We’re at the spaghetti factory. Why don’t we just get spaghetti here?” So, I have to spell it out for him and say, “By make you some spaghetti I mean have sex with you,” and then I’m so drunk that I grab his lips with my fingers and try to move them up and down while I pedantically say, “O.K. Tess, let’s go back to your apartment now.” It’s a weird move, I know. But I do it when I’m drunk so fuck off. Hal’s like, “I think I better go,” and I’m like, “But this gift card is for like a hundred dollars and I have Becky’s Christmas bonus cards too. Let’s order more wine.” He leaves, and it’s like one of those Hallmark movies where the guy hires a dating expert to help him find true love before Christmas because his wife died and he has a really adorable kid who asked for a new mom before December 25th and then he meets a sassy business lady (me) and they fuck all night at her apartment except they don’t because Hal is gay or something. That’s real life. Gay guys. People like Hal. Spaghetti Factory waitresses. Make a movie about that, motherfuckers. Anyway, it’s two days before Christmas and I guess I’m going to spend the evening just drinking wine by myself and thinking about the time my dead dad told me that Christmas was for suckers and that true love was a myth created by the ad industry. Wait a second. Someone’s knocking at the door. I think it’s Hal, here to apologize for leaving so abruptly. Nope. It’s my next-door neighbor Herman, who looks like an extra on a 70’s porn set. I guess tonight he’ll get a starring role. Nope. I just threw up. Probably because my brain just imagined what I was planning to do with Herman. Another Christmas passing me by. Another chance at love, wasted. I need to call Becky and get her over here to clean this shit up. Tessa Miggs is the relationship and dating expert for the Intergalactic Business Report. She can be reached at info@intergalacticbiz.com  Americans are moving out of Illinois in record numbers. Here’s one man’s account of his experience leaving the Land of Lincoln and why he’ll never make that move again.
Why I’ll never move from Illinois to Texas again, by Jeff Vandandy. About two years ago, I saw a job listing at a company that wasn’t in my state. “That’s a long way from here,” I thought as I applied online for the position. I said this because I was from Illinois and the job was in Texas (I won’t say which town, but I will tell you the state, as you can see). Anyway, it turned out I must have had a pretty good résumé, because the company in Texas contacted me a few days later and asked if I would do an interview. I greedily accepted the chance to present a version of myself to them over a Zoom call. During the call, everything was going great. There were two people interviewing me and when they asked questions, I answered. One time, I started answering while the guy was still asking the question and we both stopped and laughed before he said something like, “You must be reading my mind or something!” In reality, I wasn’t. What I did was just kind of predict what he was going to ask me based on the first part of his sentence, which was something about how people I worked with would describe me. The guy started with, “How would people who work with you des…” and I just jumped in. It was a pretty sweet moment, first because I nailed the answer and second because I was named as someone with psychic powers and abilities. I actually thought about following up my answer with something about how I might blow both of their fucking heads up using my mind if they didn’t hire me. I figured that would complete the “joke cycle” I had started with the one dude. I didn’t say that though and they offered me the job anyway. I guess I will save that for when I have my first performance review. At the end of this story, I move to Texas, so I’m just going to skip to that. Texas was weird. At first. I’d grown up in Illinois so everything seemed really different, at least in the way it was way hotter in the winter and also there were some restaurants I didn’t recognize. But, they had food and everything, so it wasn’t that bad. I could eat, and I wasn’t going to die or anything. Ultimately, though, I came to the conclusion that I will never, ever, make the move from Illinois to Texas again. Here’s why:
Anyway, these guys asked me to write this, so I did. I’m done now.  We’ve all heard of “van life” and how amazing it is to travel the country like turn-of-the-century circus performers without any of the circus talent and camaraderie, but with all of the living in a narrow shell that moves from town to town. Now, the Intergalactic Business Report explores a trend that provides would be nomads with an even smaller alternative—the pickup truck.
Feel like this lifestyle choice may be for you? We outline below some simple ways to start right now. 1. Obviously, get a pickup truck. The size of this will determine how much living space you have. For example, if you choose a small pickup truck, you will have less room than if you go with a large truck. 2. Once you have the pickup, it’s time to live in it. This requires putting yourself in a situation in which you now wake up and go to bed inside a truck instead of a house or apartment. 3. You’ll probably want some bedding for the truck. You can throw a mattress in the flatbed, because this is the largest area, and also can fit a mattress. One problem is that it can rain, and in that case, your bed will get soaked. If you have blankets and a pillow and other things you sleep with, those could also get extremely wet. If it doesn’t rain, you’re fine. 4. You will have to eat out a lot. This will make it a lot easier than storing food in your truck and preparing it as you either sit on your mattress or in the front seat. If you do choose to prepare food, it can get extremely messy and you may drop some of it on the floor of the truck. We recommend not eating that food. It may have things on it from the floor that could make you sick and if not, it might just have fuzz or something that will not get you sick, but make eating unpleasant. 5. Park your truck somewhere at night. You can’t drive all the time and you can’t sleep in the flatbed if you’re driving (obviously). So park. Find a place where no one will kill you or jump in the flatbed and try to have sex with you. Also, park somewhere you will not be asked by police to move. For instance, don't just pull over on the highway shoulder. 6. Always put gas in your truck. Gas fuels your vehicle, obviously. You need this to move the truck and drive it. Find a gas station and fill the gas tank. We recommend filling it up all the way, if that works for your budget. 7. Pickup Truck Life. Now you’re living it. Maybe say that when people ask you what you’re doing parked in their driveway. 8. Tires. Get those tires checked. Have a spare tire just in case. You can place one on your mattress in the flatbed. When you sleep, you can stand it up so you have room to be there. 9. Oh. When you fill up for gas, use the gas station water thing to clean the windshield. This will make it clearer for you when you drive your home. 10. Pickup Truck life. Call the fucking cops if you don’t want me parking on your fucking lawn, mom. Maybe say that when someone asks why you’re parked on their lawn.  The Intergalactic Business Report’s fitness expert, Jonny Ripkin, creator of the Shred and Fed Diet, gives you exclusive tips on how to not only get a beach body that turns heads, but also a beach body that makes people want to stick their dick in you after they turn their heads. And you can get it all by six a.m. tomorrow morning.
INTRO TO ME: My name is Jonny Ripkin and I have a perfect body. Do you? Then I suggest you shut up and listen. INTRO TO YOU: You have one of those bodies where people say, “Yeah… They’re kind of fat. Not totally fat. Maybe not morbidly obese, but… No, I take that back. They’re morbidly obese.” WHAT DO YOU AND I HAVE IN COMMON? That’s a tough one. How is it possible that a person like you and a person like me could have any, even miniscule, similarities? Well, I’m here to tell you that we have one giant thing in common. Want to guess what that is? It’s simple. We both look at my body and agree that it looks amazing and, if you’re into it, fuckable. (Full disclosure: I’m into it). O.K., JONNY, I GET IT. YOU LOOK UNBELIEVABLE AND I’M FAT. NOW WHAT? I love that question. And I get it all the time. Lucky for you, I have a perfect solution that gets you to lose fat, look amazing, and give you the confidence to walk onto a porn set and say, “Who needs some?” WHAT IF I’M NOT INTO DOING PORN, JONNY? Good one. That’s funny. Anyway, you trim down, you work out, and then you start having sex in front of other people. Oh, and I film it. DID YOU SAY THAT YOU, JONNY RIPKIN, FILM IT? Only if my guy, Chico, isn’t there. He doesn’t always show up. And in that case, yes, I will be filming you having sex. I THOUGHT THIS WAS A DIET PLAN, BUT NOW IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO RECRUIT PEOPLE TO BE IN PORNOS. It’s a diet plan that ALSO requires you to shoot porn with me. THIS IS WEIRD AND UNCOMFORTABLE. Good. You just passed the first test. Now you can really start losing weight. THE STUFF ABOUT THE PORN WAS A TEST? Yes, it makes your hormones disfunction in a way that accelerates calorie burning. You start to think that you’re going to be in a degrading porn shoot and then you lose weight as your body sheds pounds in a reaction to the stress. SO AM I LOSING WEIGHT RIGHT NOW? Yes. So much weight. But in order to keep that going, you need to be in a porn tomorrow at six a.m. at an address I’ll give you in a DM. HA HA. I GET IT. THIS IS PART OF THE TRICK TO MESS WITH MY HORMONES AND EVERYTHING? Yes and no. I seriously need someone to be in a porn tomorrow or I won’t be able to pay my rent and I’ll just have to do a solo masturbation scene again and nobody wants to buy that shit anymore because they say that I “don’t know what the fuck I’m doing” and that they "didn’t ask" me to send this to them and that they’ll "call the cops” if I “send this shit" to them again and that they "have kids” and “who are you anyway?” SIX A.M.? I’ll DM you with details. Jonny Ripkin is the fitness expert for the Intergalactic Business Report. His controversial methods for weight loss and muscle building are changing the way we see health, fitness, weight loss, and some other things. He can be reached at info@intergalacticbiz.com.  If you’re old enough to have lived through the seventies, eighties, or even the nineties, there are some things that time has forgotten. Try explaining to a twenty-year-old how a collect call worked or who Evel Knieval was. The look on their stupid faces is so fucking funny! Now, the Intergalactic Business Report gives you a hilarious list of totally normal stuff from the past that Generation Z will never understand.
Collect calls. Flashers. Peeing off overpasses onto traffic. Centerfolds. Hiring clowns so you can watch them have sex. Unleaded gasoline. Tree fucking. Hailing a cab. Calling up a circus to see if they have clowns who will fuck in front of you. Rotary phones. Asking a tree to marry you and then having sex with it, regardless of the answer. Phone cards. Organ grinders. Taking out your penis on a bus and saying “stick em up, muzzfuckers!” 1-900 numbers. Working as a clown who has sex with other clowns in front of people for money. Mapquest.  Not Ed Mountaineer If the past few years have proven anything, it’s that science is truer now than at any other time in human history. Skeptics will say it is impossible to measure this truth compared to times when the truth wasn’t measured, say, a million year ago, when our planet was but a blip of blue light in space, gasping for air and asking the universe to please, please, please make me whole.
But that’s history, both literally and figuratively, and thus begins my column for Earth Day 2022. Because of past articles I’ve written that have been described as obsessive, stalkerish, and mentally inept, I challenged the Intergalactic Business Report to allow me to write a scientific, intellectual treatise that would stand up against the very best magazine writing in the world. This is it. Remember, that unlike other “good” writers, I’m able to do this while holding my penis like a gun. Segue. We are all holding our penis like a gun and pointing it at Mother Nature and she’s like, put that down, we can talk about this, and we’re like, no, give me your purse. The question is, what’s in that purse? How much do we want before it’s enough? This is a brilliant analogy. Thank you. The one flaw is that it has to do with a penis and some people don’t have one. However, if you have a vagina, you are, scientifically, able to shoot ping pong balls at people with it. So, let me re-write that analogy a little and say that we are all holding our vagina like a ping pong shooter and pointing it at Mother Nature and whatever I said after that. I’ve been criticized for my obsession with Ryan Reynolds, but I did not mention him once, except to say I didn’t mention him. I also didn’t mention having sex with funnel cakes so hate on that, haters. I’m done writing now. Good bye. 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 ed@intergalacticbiz.com. If you would like to hire Ed, please see his résumé here.  If you’re traveling anywhere, locals and other tourists will play a game in which they guess where you’re from. That game becomes more complicated when they need to determine which one of you is American and which one is the uncanny valley version of us known as Canadians. The Intergalactic Business Report gives you the definitive way to tell who’s what, below:
You are broadcasting your “Americanness” if any of these pertain to you: 1. You carry a U.S. passport. 2. When people ask you where you’re from, you say, “America” or “the United States.” 3. On your driver’s license, it lists an address in the United States. 4. You have a driver’s license, and it’s from a state in the United States. 5. When you go home at night, and you’re not in a foreign country, the place you go is in America. 6. You’re not allowed to vote in any country other than the U.S.A. Seven dead giveaways you’re a Canadian citizen: 1. You carry with you an unwarranted and unearned smugness and superiority that stifles the air around you. 2. You act and sound like an American until you don’t and the air suddenly stinks of unearned smugness and superiority. 3. You’re a beloved American actor/comedian. 4. Like the devil, you confuse Americans by acting like you’re one of us, but actually you’re the devil. 5. You act like Ryan Reynolds. 6. Ryan Reynolds acts like you. 7. Despite your fragile features and porcelain doll arrogance, you are able to drink normal people into oblivion, as they fall off their bar stools and remember only the whiff of unearned smugness and superiority in the air before they black out. |
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