Banned, controversial diet, could lose you 20 lbs per week with no dieting. Too good to be true? At least read what it’s about.
WHO AM I?
I’m Jonny Ripkin, creator of the most controversial diet in the world: the Shred and Fed Diet®. Shred and Fed is the only diet in the world that requires zero exercise, zero dieting, and guarantees massive weight loss of at least (that’s right, I said, “at least”) 20 pounds per week.*
WHAT’S THIS DIET ABOUT?
A lot of people are pissed right now, because I promised them I’d never reveal the secrets of my “shred and fed” diet program that lost them weight without them ever having to diet—not even for one day. What pisses them off most is that they want to be the only ones (besides me) to know the secret of how to not only lose weight, but get totally shredded and ripped within one month or less, all without any effort whatsoever. Let me give you an example.
SUCCESS STORY ONE:
A friend of mine was 49 years old, overweight (253 lbs), and totally non-athletic. I used to bully him and call him “fat ass,” if that gives you an idea of how fat and stupid he was. After doing my plan for three weeks, he weighed 157 pounds and had about 7% body fat. Even more amazing? He is now only 46 years old. How the fuck is that possible? I’ll tell you in a minute. Just read the next success story first.
SUCCESS STORY TWO:
Another friend, a woman I’d had sex with a few times but who I always felt was a little “chunky,” asked me what she should do to shed some pounds—mostly because I was always teasing her about how fat she was compared to other girls I boned. So she tried my program, and guess what? She’s smoking hot today. She lost 4 dress sizes and is now a fitness model and sometimes even does porn! She’s that hot. How long did it take her? Would you believe 14 days? That’s right. Two weeks on my program and she was so hot that other guys wanted to have sex with her and film it!
SUCCESS STORY THREE:
O.K. O.K. You want me to get to the details. But just read about one last success story first. This one’s my favorite, because it has to do with my own mom. Old mom was so fat and nasty looking that I was afraid to be seen with her in public. I know that’s a harsh thing to say about your own mother, but if you saw her you’d be like, “Woah… You don’t take her out in public do you?” Answer: No. Not until I got her on my program and she lost two hundred and thirty-seven pounds in four weeks. She looks so good today that she could be one of those lesbians in a porno film! Maybe she’ll make one with my other friend (see above)!
HOW “SHRED AND FED” WORKS:
People never believe me when I tell them how simple the Shred and Fed program is. Basically, you don’t do anything. “Wait,” you’re saying right now. “Did you just say you don’t do anything?” Yes, that’s right. You do nothing. You just sit there and lose the weight and get shredded.
HOW’S THAT POSSIBLE, JONNY?
Now you’re saying, “That’s impossible, man. No one can achieve those results without working out all the time and eating whatever you’re supposed to eat according to some dietician.” To that I ask you a simple question: Have you ever actually talked to a dietician? Or a personal trainer? They’re dumb. Seriously. Try to have a conversation with them about anything other than food or working out. What’s that like? I rest my case.
SEVEN MYTHS ABOUT WEIGHT LOSS:
Those personal trainers and dieticians will try to feed you (ha ha) a load of shit (nasty!) about what it takes to lose weight and how your body works. But I’m going to let you in on seven myths about weight loss you’ve probably never heard. Why have you never heard them? Because I haven’t told you yet. Duh.
Myth one: Weighing less depends on losing weight. FALSE.
Myth two: Building muscle depends on foods you eat and exercise you do. FALSE.
Myth three: Jonny Ripkin has a small penis. FALSE. TOTALLY FALSE.
Myth four: Eating carnival food makes you fat. FALSE.
Myth five: I need to work out to be “in shape.” FALSE.
Myth six: I can’t lose two hundred pounds in six days. FALSE.
Myth seven: Poop is human waste. FALSE.
SEVEN (BANNED) TRICKS ABOUT LOSING WEIGHT:
You haven’t bought anything (yet!) so I’m going to tease you a little with seven weight-loss tricks that I know you’ve never heard of. Don’t worry, the details are all in my book.
Trick one: Chewing burlap can make your teeth grow.
Trick two: Watching Rocky movies can mentally develop muscles.
Trick three: Beer has an enzyme in it.
Trick four: Fruit can be used for throwing at people. Not just eating. It has other purposes.
Trick five: You can have sex with fruit too (see above).
Trick six: Hormones.
Trick seven: I wear a mask that makes me invisible and allows me to enter your dreams.
SO, HOW DO I BUY THE SHRED AND FED PLAN?
I know. You want to buy my plan so you can lose up to four hundred percent of your body fat and look amazing this summer. Just remember, my plan is BANNED, because people found it too CONTROVERSIAL. Basically, that means that I’m not allowed to share it with anybody, I guess. I don’t understand laws. Let me put it this way, if I can find a way to, I’m going to write all this shit down and make it into a book or something. I guess I’ll let you know if I do that.
*Unless you weigh only twenty pounds. I can’t make you disappear from the universe. But I will try.
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 firstname.lastname@example.org
Yesterday, I published an article that was very close to my heart. In it, I wrote a letter to my younger self—a seventeen-year-old Ed Mountaineer, who was getting ready to face the world and take on the challenges I knew lay ahead for him.
Surprisingly, I received a letter back. I know. Crazy. But I did. I’ve reprinted it below.
Please stop contacting me. I don’t know who you are, but I am definitely not your “younger self.” I am just a guy who works at Starbucks and I’m not even seventeen. I’m twenty-six years old.
I’m not sure if you don’t understand the concept of time or if you’re a mental patient, or both. At my work, I’ve had a lot of weird experiences. I’ve been hit on, asked to pose nude, and even proposed to. I’ve never had a creepy as fuck older dude like you keep passing me letters about how I’m him, only seventeen years old, and living in the past, whenever he was seventeen years old. I should say, I’ve never had that happen until you showed up.
My dad is a lawyer and he said he’d deal with you, but I told him I’m old enough to take care of this on my own. So this is an honest request for you to just seriously fuck off and stop coming in to my Starbucks.
I get that you’re probably lonely and maybe not dangerous, but you do have that insane look in your eyes all the time and you never say anything to me and just hand me the letters. I think that’s pretty fucked up.
Again, leave me alone or there will be consequences.
(Not giving you my real name)
Have you ever wished you could tell seventeen-year-old you not to worry so much about the future? Not to bother with the things that aren’t important? And to know that everything’s going to get better?
Lately, a lot of athletes have sent letters to themselves, in the past, and I thought I’d do the same. I think it’s a cathartic exercise, and it made me appreciate better who I am and how I’ve grown over the years. Maybe you should try it to.
Dear 17-year-old Ed,
This is Ed from the future, writing you a letter. What’s up, player? You good? I know you can’t answer… Anyway… How’s it going? It’s going good for me. But I do have some serious advice for you that I hope you’ll take to heart. Here it is:
Number one: don’t smoke crack. I can’t emphasize this enough. Number two: stop acting so fucking stupid. And number three: make me some fucking money. Jesus Christ. I’m waiting and I still don’t see money. Or a car or that I’m living in a mansion. This is like time travel, right? What the fuck are you doing?
O.K. Here’s some more advice. Don’t shoot that porn with Nasty Rick. Seriously. Don’t. And don’t order that Russian bride. She’s a dude and she’ll steal all your shit. Don’t have sex with fruit. It ends up ruining your penis and you start to only want to have sex with fruit and that fucks up all your relationships.
Still no money. What the fuck. I’m going back in time and I’m telling you to make me money and it’s not here. I guess buy stock in Apple? Or Microsoft? Is that how it works? Still waiting…
I guess in closing I want to say this to you, seventeen-year-old Ed. You fucking suck. Go ahead and do the crack and all that other stuff because my advice obviously isn’t helping. You just end up doing all the stupid shit I did anyway.
I’ll write soon,
Ed from the future
Super baby soccer player Travis McHunter is the first “Under One” player to be accepted by the U.S. Soccer Development Academy.
Travis’s road to the top began when a viral video posted by his father blew up the internet with almost 14 views and multiple comments from his dad about Travis’s gifts as a player. In the video, Travis, in his crib, skillfully kicks a cushiony soccer ball fourteen inches. To prove it, his father is shown with a measuring tape, tracking the distance.
Travis’s father, Michael McHunter, knows talent when he sees it. As a youth soccer coach and former player, he has the ability to recognize greatness almost instantly.
“I see a lot of babies play soccer,” Michael says, “And I was astounded to see that my own son had an ability that went way beyond his peers.”
Despite his enormous potential, Michael is leery of bringing Travis into the competitive world of soccer too fast.
“I’m not going to push him,” he says. “I think that’s the key. To just let all this happen naturally. Right now, all Travis wants is to be a pro soccer player, but I keep telling him to just slow down a little and enjoy being a baby.”
Through his coaching contacts, Michael was able to get Travis a tryout for a nearby USSDA club, which told him there was no such thing as a U1 level team. Michael then asked if Travis could “play up” several years, maybe for the U14 team.
The academy coach agreed to the idea, saying, “Michael made me a fifty-thousand dollar no interest, pay-it-back-or-don’t-pay-it-back loan to help me with some personal issues I’m having. Not a lot of guys would do that. So, I trust him. And when he tells me he’s never seen a baby with as much untapped potential as Travis, I believe him.”
An early collegiate, full-ride offer from UCLA came next, but Travis is still considering his options.
“Gahhh!” he seemed to say.
“It’s too early to make a decision like that,” his father adds. “Maybe he’ll go pro instead. Who knows? I think this needs to be organic.”
Even with Travis’s obvious gifts, there are many obstacles ahead on his quest to be the “American Messi.” Not being able to walk is a huge setback, for instance.
“He can do it all,” Michael tells us. “Except for walking. That’s part of his game he knows he needs to work on and develop.”
U.S. soccer scouts aren’t worried though. Under condition of anonymity, one told us, “Listen. Travis checks all the boxes to make it in the USSDA. His dad is a coach. His dad is rich. And I’m pretty sure his dad is calling me right now. I need to take this.”
What does the future hold for Travis? Another insider at U.S. Soccer explains:
“The whole concept of not knowing what’s going to happen in the future is something we’re really getting rid of. It’s just too much pressure. We’re shifting to a new model where we’ll know exactly what’s going to happen to players from an early age. We want to start an under five-year-old national team eventually, so that we can identify the best talent in the country as early as possible. In Travis’s case, he’s set for life. It’s kind of predetermined. I’m sorry. Not kind of. It’s totally predetermined.”
Travis will make his national team debut in 2032, making him the youngest player to ever start for the U.S. soccer national team.
We talked to one of America’s leading ass-wiping experts* and asked him what the most common ass-wiping errors are. Next time you’re done with your dump, be sure not you’re not doing any of these:
1. You use invisible toilet paper that only exists in your mind.
2. You wipe just your butt cheeks and not your butthole.
3. You scoot across your floor, hoping to clean yourself.
4. You lie face down in your front yard with your pants off, waiting for a rainstorm to give you a natural bidet.
5. You just stand there and scream for your butler to come wipe your ass, but he never comes, because you don’t have a butler.
6. You think your ass is self-cleaning and you just say, “Clean ass… Sanitary mode.”
7. You confuse your ass with your face and blow your nose.
*Some guy at a bar.
A recent article, “The Case For The Just Us Holiday,” by someone on the child horror website, “Scary Mommy,” recently suggested it may be less stressful to stop seeing your extended family this holiday and instead, just skip those gatherings.
The Intergalactic Business Report takes that line of thinking a step further and gives you the ultimate guide to how you should spend your Christmas (and every other holiday for that matter). The secret? Just say fuck you to everyone in your family and walk alone through life, leaving all that stress behind.
Below we outline a seven-step plan for total happiness. Follow, and don’t spit—swallow.
STEP ONE: Identify your extended family so that you can shun them all.
Write down a list of everyone you’re related to outside your immediate family. This includes aunts, uncles, cousins, and even friends you say are “like family” or your “brother” or “sister” when you’re drunk. If you have a family tree or genealogical charts of any kind, just whip those out too. Add in postcards, Christmas cards, and wedding invitations you’ve received throughout the years.
STEP TWO: Stare with dead eyes at the list and charts in front of you. We suggest you put all the information about your extended family on a table in front of you. Gaze at it. Then silently mouth the words, “Fuck you all.” Say it again and again, till you are screaming it. Take all the paper, put it in a bathtub and burn it with a cool lighter, if available.
STEP THREE: Practice pretending you don’t know people you’ve known all your life. This is one of the harder feats because you may run into your extended family, receive texts or phone calls, or even have them stop by your home. Our advice here is to pretend they are all college magazine salespeople bothering you during dinner or a massively satisfying masturbation session you’re having while listening to the Scorpions.
STEP FOUR: Create a new backstory for yourself in which you had the power to give birth to yourself, suckled on your own teat, and learned to read, write, and do math by just thinking a lot.
STEP FIVE: Now that you’ve excommunicated your extended family, start on your immediate one. Let’s face it, most of the stress you have in your life doesn’t come from spending Thanksgiving with your drunk uncle and worthless cousins. Your children and spouse are the ones who really grind you down. Babies crying, your wife asking for shit all the time… And the fucking dog? Do you really need any of this?
STEP SIX: Prepare yourself for a totally stress-free holiday.
Just leave your home, and find a hotel room or a lonely apartment, preferably in another state. Now you can do what you’re supposed to do on Christmas—just sit there and consider how nobody on the planet means anything except for you.
STEP SEVEN: Die without all the encumbrances of human relationships.
When you reach the time where you are so old that you have maybe a minute left on Earth before you pass away into death’s eternal grip, you can smile and think back to all the times you spent stress-free, without having stressful human connections with other human beings. You can think for a moment about the afterlife and who you may see there, and then just laugh when you realize you won’t see anyone, not even your stupid dog! Now you can get ready for a stress-free, with a capital S, eternity!
“The first step that leads to our identity in life is usually not ‘I know who I am,’ but rather “I know who I am not’ process of elimination. Defining ourselves by what we are NOT is the first step that leads us to really KNOWING WHO WE ARE.” – Matthew McConaughey.
As someone who’s always trying to improve himself, I turned to Matthew McConaughey for advice. Although he didn’t personally talk to me, I feel like he would totally be my friend if I could find his house and wait for him in the driveway to say hello.
Anyway… I started out by taking Mac’s coolest piece of advice—that in order to find my true identity I need to first define who I’m not. I found out that there are a lot of things I’m not. I’m still writing, but I thought I’d share 1-36.
Who I’m not:
Do you wish you had a closer relationship with your mother? Maybe I can help. My name is Flexrico Talon. The following are things you may not know about her that might help strengthen your bond. Read on.
1. She told me that she’s super disappointed in you and that she sees me as her “real son.” Then she caught herself and said, “I mean, you’re like my real son if I had sex with my son all the time.”
2. She can fit four Taco Bell hard shell tacos in her mouth and one of my penis all at the same time.
3. When I stop by for a secret rendezvous at her house in the middle of the night, I park my car in her vagina, so that no one sees it on the street.
4. Your mom’s favorite color is “Just do me in the ass and stop asking dumb questions.” At least that’s what she told me when I asked her what her favorite color is.
It’s Thanksgiving. You’ve been drinking all day because it’s the only way to numb your soul as your relatives blather on about politics, sports, and their useless, boring jobs. Once in a while, they look over at you for approval or to just check if you’re still awake. And then one of them asks you a question… Something stupid like, “What do you think about that, Steve?” And now you’re in that fatal position where you either must answer with a generic, non-confrontational response like, “Oh, I don’t know. I can see where both of you are coming from.” Or you can start screaming, because that’s what you really want to do.
Lucky for you, the Intergalactic Business Report gives you nine responses that will shut down any conversation immediately. When you hear the question, simply say one of these (preferably in a super super loud voice):
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: Think the Lions are gonna win today?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: I don’t know… I guess we’ll see…
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: You fucked the turkey? Why would you do that? Did you pull out? Tell me you didn’t do it inside the turkey! Come on man! Hey, mom! Uncle Randy fucked the turkey!
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: How you been?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: Oh, pretty good. Can’t complain.
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: That’s such good advice on how to suck a dick. Thank you.
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: So… Who did you vote for President?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: Oh, we probably shouldn’t talk about politics. Let’s change the subject.
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: I voted for your wife to stop finger banging herself all the time but I guess I lost, huh?
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: You get any Christmas shopping done yet?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: I haven’t even started.
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: I tried to buy you a dildo but they didn’t have any big enough to fit in your ass. I called the zoo to see if they had any hippo dildoes, but they said that’s not a thing. Sorry.
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: Come on… Seriously. Who’d you vote for?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: I never vote for a party. Just for the person. Let’s just leave it at that.
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: I always vote for whoever’s face most resembles a penis. So I voted for you.
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: You want another beer?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: Sure. Thank you.
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: No I won’t suck your dick for a dollar!
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: Do you think this country is moving in the right direction?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: I try to be optimistic about the future.
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: I think they should build a wall around your ass to keep all the foreigners out. But I have a feeling you’d keep letting them in anyway, right?
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: Do you want a drumstick?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: Sure! Thanks!
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: I made a poopy.
THEIR DUMB QUESTION: Do you prefer white or dark meat?
WHAT YOU’D USUALLY SAY: A little of both please.
WHAT YOU SAY THIS THANKSGIVING: In my ass or in my mouth?
As we’ve done in the past, the Intergalactic Business Report sent writers into the afterlife to tell us what’s actually happening there. The results were astounding and some cherished myths busted. Here’s what we found:
MYTH ONE: In the end, what you’ll really be judged on is how you treated other people.
THE TRUTH: One of our writers, who is super nice to everyone, received a “biggest pussy in the universe” badge when he entered the afterlife.
MYTH TWO: You can’t take your money and possessions with you.
THE TRUTH: Turns out all the cultures who buried stuff with dead people were right. Those guys are rich now. If you were wearing a nice suit in your coffin or had a pocket watch or something, you can probably sell them for something. But otherwise, you’re pretty fucked. Since most cultures nowadays won’t allow you to bury servants and boats in your grave with you, our advice is to just stuff hundred dollar bills in your dead pockets and wear a lot of expensive jewelry.
MYTH THREE: You can eat whatever you want and not get fat.
THE TRUTH: Don’t fall for this one. As soon as you arrive, some dude with a mustache comes by with a taco cart and tells you that you can have a million of them. And you can. But then you look kind of like Jabba the Hutt and can’t move. Forever.
MYTH FOUR: You’ll be able to look down at people on Earth and help them in mysterious ways.
THE TRUTH: They only let you look when people are masturbating. And you can’t help them, even if you want to. We tried. Believe us.
MYTH FIVE: Everything makes sense and you understand what you were doing on Earth.
THE TRUTH: Nope. When you arrive you need to take a test kind of like the SAT, only a lot harder. They have math problems no one’s ever heard of because they’re in some language you’ve never seen. Then they tell you where you placed on the exam and make a lot of under their breath comments about how fucking stupid you are and when you ask, “What did you just say?” they say, “Nothing…” and then they just start giggling to each other.
MYTH SIX: You’ll meet family and loved ones who’ve passed on.
THE TRUTH: Maybe. They’ve been watching you masturbate for a long long time and they’re a little weirded out by seeing you, so give them a while.
MYTH SEVEN: Your penis gets as large as you want it to be.
THE TRUTH: Maybe this isn’t a myth you’ve heard. But we thought we could wish for it since we were in heaven or whatever. Nope. It made our penises even smaller. Fuck this.
Insights are given to you as a gift from our team of insight insiders.