Extend the writers' strike and give the scabs at IBR a last chance. We re-write shows stuck in production.
After gifting a scab-written opening monologue masterpiece for people who call themselves “late night hosts” (as if they’re holding an after-hours dinner party where they’d actually invite someone like you), the Intergalactic Business Report was saddened by our response rate of zero.
As the Writers Guild of America votes to approve an agreement, we make a final plea to movie studios to end negotiations and extend the strike so that our group of barely and non-paid writers have a shot at not being paid by them too. To achieve this, we are pitching a number of show trajectories we would gladly write for some of our favorite programs that were being held hostage. Instead of playing catch up, just take our ideas that are steady and ready. It’s not too late. So, here you go. They’re free.
We re-write popular shows stuck in production. Suck on this, paid writers.
We flip the show and now it’s about how the writers are severed from writing the show. Similar to Adam Scott’s character, they get super drunk and forget what the fuck they’re doing or why they cared.
The silo is actually a huge toilet. Most of season two is it flushing.
Too Hot to Handle.
Since the only written material is the robot and the female comic commenting on contestants’ horniness, we just have someone go, “Dammmn” every few minutes.
Obviously, you can’t have any guest hosts because those motherfuckers are going to “stand with the writers” as if they’re all at the Alamo but it’s air-conditioned and the only Mexicans are doing yard work and not attacking them. Anyway… We do a Colin Jost fashion show (no words, just outfits) and then some really unfunny (and non-scripted) in-absentia public trials of republican politicians done entirely by lawyers.
Country music star Jason Aldean silently hunts Jenny Hoyt and Beau Arlen. The script is just: FADE IN: Ext. Woods-day. Jason Aldean silently hunts Jenny Hoyt and Beau Arlen.
Just to make it all work, they’ve had they’re vocal cords removed, but we don’t know why. They just look like they’re about to say something, then grab their throats in pain, and shake their head, no. Then Aldean shoots at them, and they run.
The Drew Barrymore Show.
Poor Drew. Who knew she needed writers to have conversations with celebrities about how hard it is to be a celebrity? We help her out by turning her show into an hour-long apology where she just cries and does stream of consciousness sorry saying to the audience.
This is a personal message to Devine, who, because he’s in every single Netflix movie produced, directed, and, of course, written by someone’s cousin or dude who “wants to be a writer and they bought my screenplay!” (we’re just guessing), is suffering most. Hang in there, dude. Remember that a writer can write the line, “What?” But only you can deliver it as “Whhhaaaaaaat?” That’s you taking a word out of the English language and making it your own. Our advice is, during the strike, work on other words, like “Buuuuuuuttttt….” and, “turnip.” Not sure how you’d do that last one but you’re the master.
Never would go on strike. Holding strong and just stuttering like a motherfucker. No re-writes for you, noble swine.
Non-union writers, like the ones at the Intergalactic Business Report, reacted to the news of the Writers’ Strike, with a simple question—“There are people who get paid to write?” They followed this with, “Wait a second. They’re complaining about not making how much?” and, also, “the people who write Adam Devine movies aren’t AI?”
As an almost human sacrifice to the entertainment industry, we offer our services, for free, to late-night talk show hosts who no longer can come up with monologues. Below, we give them a show opener that will put them back on top of their games. Take it now before another host breaks the strike with this scabtastic comedy gold.
TOTALLY FREE LATE-NIGHT MONOLOGUE (BY THE INTERGALACTIC BUSINESS REPORT):
What a great audience here tonight. Give yourselves a round of applause.
I haven’t seen that much clapping since my men’s swim team had an orgy and we all contracted syphilis.
How about Hurricane Idalia? Are they naming hurricanes after people nobody’s ever heard of? Anyone here ever met an Idalia? You sir? Yeah. O.K. That’s one.
So, have you heard about Justice Clarence Thomas taking trips with this Texas billionaire? That’s right, Thomas went on luxury vacations and flew on private jets with Harlan Crow… Who, I’m just guessing, is Jim Crow’s great great grandson. Yeah, that’s right. One of them prevented black people from voting and the other one is getting black supreme court justices to go on luxury vacations with him in his private plane! I guess that’s progress?
And, speaking of progress, I like Progresso soup.
What else? What else? Oh! GOP leader Mitch McConnell appeared to “freeze” during a press conference. He just stopped talking for maybe twenty seconds, causing onlookers to wonder if he was suffering from a neurological disease. Turns out, McConnell was just fantasizing about porn and got lost in the moment. Yeah, that’s right. Nasty porn where you’re just like (DO THE THING WHERE YOU TAKE YOUR INDEX FINGER AND PLACE IT ON YOUR LIPS AND GO UP AND DOWN AND MAKE A NOISE LIKE YOU’RE UNDER WATER). Wait a second… Where am I?
How about the news about the U.S. Space Force? Turns out they put their suppliers on something called a “hot standby,” which I guess is like setting a booty call for when you get back from the bars at 3 a.m., only it’s in space. You three ladies in the front row. I’m putting you on hot standby. Look for me on Uranus after the show.
In other news, Proud Boy leader Joe Biggs was sentence to 17 years in prison for seditious conspiracy. After receiving the sentence, Biggs said, “I can’t wait to get raped in prison for whatever that is.”
(MAKE HUMPING MOTIONS WITH YOUR BODY).
Martha Stewart is in the news again. This time for drinking a cocktail with ice from an actual iceberg. Environmental activists criticized Stewart for being “tone deaf,” to which the 82-year-old Stewart said, “What? I can’t hear you.” Because she’s not only tone deaf, but she has really bad hearing, because she’s like 82 years old.
Speaking of celebrities, Selena Gomez recently told Elle Magazine what she looks for in a romantic partner. She said, and I quote, “I mean, you gotta be cool, man…” Gomez is now dating Martha Stewart’s ice cube. Unfortunately, it melted in her vagina on their second date, but, I mean, it made it all the way to the second date, so it had to be pretty damn cool, am I right? Get busy, y’all!
(POINT TO THE BAND LEADER AS IF HE KNOWS WHAT YOU MEAN BY THAT)
We have a great show for you tonight. Luiz Guzman is here!
Whether it’s cavemen, a mentally slow man with an ostrich, or group home roomies Flo, Jamie, and Mara, one thing is for sure—insurance companies think customers want to buy their products from intellectually challenged misfits, pervy porn-stachioed nitwits, and pre-civilization poo-flingers. We couldn’t agree more.
For some time, editors at the Intergalactic Business Report have felt that nothing makes more sense than to trust the security of your home, auto, and life with people who look like they may struggle with the concept of eating a sandwich. Although we commend insurance companies on creating lovable cretins who also sell bundled policies, we feel there is much more room to grow.
As a gift to the industry, we now present exclusive creative for any company pondering a new ad campaign. Like nazis opening the lost ark, don’t turn away from these totally free insurance mascot concepts. Grab them now before someone else makes a claim.
There are two things Homeless John lives for—highly addictive drugs and selling insurance. When you sign up with his company you have to wonder whether your money is going to protect your family or if it will just go up John’s nose or in his arm but John is super pushy and you kind of feel like you just need to give him what he wants, especially when he shows up on the subway and announces that he doesn’t need to ask but he’s just being polite.
Autistic, OCD In-sur-rain man can give you an instant quote on anything. As potential customers approach him with insurance questions, he won’t make eye contact, but he will say, “Yeah… That’ll save you $437 a month if you bundle your home and auto. Definitely $437 dollars. Big savings. Big savings…” Then it’s time for Wapner.
Booger Eater the troll.
Booger eater is just a simple troll who also loves to sell insurance. He’ll crawl out from under his bridge, eat a couple boogers, and then talk about how he can comparison shop insurance rates for you.
Can’t read or write Silvia.
This lovable illiterate can hand you insurance papers to sign but has no idea what’s on them. Why can’t she? Because she loved selling insurance so much she left school after Kindergarten. Her tagline? “You don’t need to know how to read or write to save on your home, life, and auto.”
Brandon the chimp.
What do you wish you had just as you realize a chimpanzee is about to rip your face off? Probably some kind of “face armor” that could prevent a monkey attack. But besides that, you probably wish you had life insurance.
Henry portrait of an insurance salesman.
Michael Rooker reprises his role of 1980’s psychopath Henry, but this time, he sells insurance. If you thought “mayhem” was bad, wait till you find out what Henry will do if you don’t buy from him. As Rooker breaks into a home and watches people sleeping, he explains life insurance policies. Then, he moves to the garage to talk about auto. As he drags tied up bodies into the yard, he makes a super funny joke about “bundling” your coverage.
This hilarious misfit escaped a leper colony so he can sell you insurance. Be careful not to touch him! After consumers hear Larry’s pitch, are ready to sign, and reach in for the handshake, Larry whips his hand back and a few fingers fly off. Then he says, “And when you switch to (YOUR INSURANCE COMPANY) you’ll get rates so good it’ll feel like you narrowly avoided getting leprosy.”
John Wayne Gacy.
Sure he’s dead, and we can no longer get the actual John Wayne Gacy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t reprise his serial killer clown character to sell your insurance. Mixing the fear of death and doom with comedy is where insurance ads thrive. And check out his funny as hell tagline: “Don’t clown around with insurance companies. You could get buried under unnecessary premiums and my deck.”
Too much? We don’t think so, because we all know the guy from Liberty Mutual would murder you the second you were alone with him. And his Emu would help bury your body.
Just when you thought “Dry January” was the most miserable thing society could do to people starting another year of disappointment, pain, and lowered expectations, humans have come up with Veganuary, which adds a new restriction to your life—not eating meat.
As this grueling, meatless, hoochless month comes to a dismal close, the Intergalactic Business Report offers misery traffickers new ways to completely fuck up January 2024. Pay attention self-flagellates, next year’s hairshirts are up for grabs below:
1. No shit January. Hold it in for a month to build appreciation for bowel movements.
2. Vaginuary. Women are not allowed to “use” their vaginas for the entire month.
3. Janiceuary. Difficult, bitchy, and totally unreasonable, Janice Drankowski makes all the rules in a month dedicated to fulfilling her slightest wishes and whims—mostly tasks like sending her money and listening to her screaming about your bad service. Also, because she can’t use her vagina (see above) she’s especially angry.
4. Live under a bridge January. To participate, you need to live under a bridge for a month and battle homeless gangs for a spot near the fire and the first hit on the crack pipe.
5. Tattoomyfaceuary. Show respect and love for people with face tattoos by getting an unalterable face tattoo. Then try to hold a job in February.
6. Shutyourmouthuary. Take a vow of silence as you pile on even more challenges in what is now the most horrible month of the year. As you freeze under a bridge (see above), indenture yourself to a sadist (see above), scare children with your face (see above), and nearly shit your pants (see above), you can’t talk about it.
This October, horror fans are enjoying a new Winnie the Pooh movie in which Pooh Bear and Piglet are nasty killers. Even though we always suspected those two motherfuckers were evil, it was impossible to tell the truth about these grisly creatures until copyright laws ran out. Now, without those silly rules protecting creative content, some fictional characters can be reassessed, reimagined, and re-diculous.
Blood and Honey’s tagline, “this ain’t no bedtime story,” portends the film’s harrowing plot: When Christopher Robin went off to college he left his animal friends Pooh and Piglet to fend for themselves. When he returns home, his former mates have transformed into killer beasts who thirst for blood and revenge.
Pay attention, Hollywood. You too can jump on the terror train and create scary versions of some of society’s most beloved storybook figures. To get you started, the Intergalactic Business Report has compiled five formerly copyright protected franchises you can exploit today. You’re welcome.
Tagline: “All the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn’t stop Humpty from killing again.”
Synopsis: Humpty Dumpty has a weight problem. And a murder problem. The subject of ridicule in his small medieval village, Humpty finally has enough when he is placed upon a wall where townspeople hurl garbage and insults at him. When Humpty falls from his perch, he injures his head, making him a homicidal, remorseless, killer.
Anne of Green Gables.
Tagline: “Little Orphan Annie she ain’t…”
Synopsis: Anne of Green Gables is a six-foot-three red-headed killer, who is accidentally released from a cage on a ship carrying her to a penal colony. She murders several passengers, including an orphan boy being adopted by a middle-aged brother and sister who need help running their farm at Green Gables. Anne arrives and pretends to be the orphan she executed earlier.
Her adopters, Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, had expected a boy and want to send her back. But when they see she can pull a plow and literally do the work of an ox, they decide to keep her. Then the killings begin.
Goofus and Gallant.
Tagline: “Goofus kills people for pleasure. Gallant begs for his life.”
Synopsis: Goofus and Gallant are two brothers with very different views on humanity. Goofus was born evil and is dismissed by his parents and teachers as a bad seed. Gallant is a leader and lauded by the community for his good nature and integrity. Goofus tries to prove his value to society by killing his teachers, neighbors, and parents. Then he captures Gallant and holds him in his basement.
Tagline: “When you wish upon a star… Pray Jiminy Cricket doesn’t hear you.”
Synopsis: Instead of a loveable cartoon cricket, Jiminy is a satanic bug manifested when someone makes a wish on a star. Then he shows up and bores into your brain and eats you from the inside out. He also sings a lot.
Tagline: “Four sisters. 40 funerals.”
Synopsis: Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy have a mother who expects a lot of them. With their father away, they try to support the family through the rough times of the Civil War and find the only profession that pays enough to keep them fed and happy—killing for money. Working as their murder-pimp, Mrs. March tells the girls what to do, think, and who to dismember.
Whether you see them on license plates or in a tourism ad, U.S. states like their own taglines. The Intergalactic Business Report addresses you, the states, directly, and empathizes about how hard it must be to refresh and renew these precious emblems of your identity year after year. To aid you in this never-ending task, we’ve given you totally new and original taglines, free of charge. You’re welcome. If you’re not on the list, be patient. We’ll get to you soon.
For now, please bask in the relevance of these perfectly appointed representations of everything you are.
Florida: We’re Retireded
Ohio: Where the shit you saw on the internet happened.
Illinois: One big cornfield and a Crime zone.
Michigan: Not Canada, but we’d probably join those guys if they asked.
Wisconsin: Drunk snowmobiling capital of the world. Bonus: Hot turdz ‘n cheese curdz
Iowa: You don’t want to be from here.
Kentucky: Our cousins are hot.
Indiana: Not Ohio. Not Illinois. Just meh. Bonus: Where average is Einstein.
Tennessee: Playin' our fiddles and fiddlin' with our dicks.
New Jersey: Looking pretty normal till one of us opens our mouth. Bonus: No one does a circle jerk like we do.
North Carolina: Trying not to act like rednecks, but lookit my truck.
South Carolina: Get lost here, we’ll buttfuck you.
Mississippi: Not as racist as Alabama.
Alabama: Not as racist as Mississippi.
West Virginia: The punchline to all jokes about illiteracy and incest. Bonus: county after beautiful county of cousin fuckers.
Arkansas: We try but arkant.
Oklahoma: Trying to figure out why anyone lives here.
Kansas: Famous for tornadoes and…
California: Beautiful like a crazy girl on fire.
Nevada: Can someone please give us some water?
Vermont: Freezing our tits off and pouring maple syrup on them.
Arizona: Temps so high we don’t have dicks anymore.
Texas: Living here made Mike Judge write Idiocracy.
Colorado: Ask me if I’m high.
Bravo’s Real Housewives franchise is the biggest platform for middle-aged women getting drunk and screaming at each other since the View, and gifts each one of its stars a personal tagline that exemplifies their very being.
As the show expands to new cities and spinoffs, the Intergalactic Business Report gives cast members original, totally free taglines they can use immediately. Hurry, before a new housewife claims one of these, below:
“Not only do I do cocaine, I’m addicted to it.”
“The only time you’ll shut me up is when I deepthroat this whole show.”
“Give me a solid gold dildo, and I’ll do anal.”
“Looks, money, fame… It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have money.”
“Call me shallow but my vagina is deeper than Deepak Chopra.”
“FBI stands for Fabulous Beyond Infinity. And I’m under 24-hour surveillance.”
“You can tap my phone for free, but you’ll need money if you want to tap this ass.”
“I’m so drunk…”
“That stanky scent you’re smelling is my success.”
Squid Game is an international phenomenon exporting Korean culture and entertainment to the world while making an uncanny critique of capitalism. But already there have been questions about whether the program leans too heavily on Korean customs and traditions that translate poorly to other countries. For example, what the fuck are they eating? And why is everyone except the Indian guy Korean?
As the entertainment industry scrambles to do domestic versions of the show, we help them along by giving them concepts that will fit their culture. You’re welcome.
SQUID GAME VERSION: Germany.
NEW TITLE: Tintenfischzusammenspiel
PLOT: The game takes place in a factory where players must engineer and mass produce waffle machines, which are then sold to everyone in the United States, who say stuff like, “Wow this waffle machine is from Germany. It must be amazing.”
SQUID GAME VERSION: UNITED STATES.
NEW TITLE: Waffle Machine panic.
PLOT: The day after Thanksgiving, contestants must kill one another for German waffle machines, so they can tell their friends they got one and then tell the story of how they did it. “I fucking killed a guy.”
SQUID GAME VERSION: FRANCE.
NEW TITLE: Don’t shoot.
PLOT: Game participants talk all kinds of shit about how they’re going to win but when the first contest is presented, they immediately surrender.
SQUID GAME VERSION: ICELAND.
NEW TITLE: Lazy Town.
PLOT: Participants play with actual squids. And there’s no violence. Even to the squids, which are quickly released back into the ocean.
SQUID GAME VERSION: ENGLAND.
NEW TITLE: Poppycock.
PLOT: It’s a death-murder contest between the polite British people who apologize to you and talk with their mouths closed like a ventriloquist, and the other ones who sound like Michael Caine and want to kill you.
SQUID GAME VERSION: SAUDI ARABIA.
NEW TITLE: Tuesday.
PLOT: Basically, just a regular Tuesday in Saudi Arabia, where people hide their faces with masks, get their hands cut off for stealing, and are stoned to death for sexual preference. The twist is that this time it’s a “game.”
Sick of Hallmark movies? Four Christmas reality shows that will light the holidays on fire next year.
By now, most Americans are sick of Christmas television programming featuring romantic storylines and tales of holiday wishes coming true. After holding back for several years, hoping networks would come up with it on their own, the Intergalactic Business Report finally gives up and tells the entertainment industry, for free, what they really should be doing. What is that, you ask meekly? We’ll tell you. Hardcore Xmas reality shows. We list some of our best concepts below. Oh. You’re welcome.
The hunt for the real Santa Claus.
In this limited series, hosted by Luiz Guzman, teams of Santa hunters scour the globe for the location of the actual Santa Claus. Following leads by unintelligible old villagers, rune stones, and shit they find on the internet, each episode pumps up viewers to expect that there will be an imminent capture of a crusty, ancient man, who may or may not be St. Nick. In the end, it doesn’t matter if they find him, because the chases and takedowns of innocent Santa suspects is worth the ride.
Stripper elves: Atlanta.
This Xmas (get it?) Santa’s elves are for hire and this time they’re adult performers. Get in on the action as NBA players and music artists crowd pop-up holiday-themed strip clubs and spend like 250K on lap dances. We follow elves Delmira, Fuscia, and Success as they navigate the crazy world of manufactured situations involving them stripping for money.
4,000 pound Christmas.
Starring 10 random overweight people, 4k lb Xmas is not a weight loss show but a weight gain show. Two teams compete to see if they can overindulge enough on the holidays to break the scales at four thousand pounds. Will the team from Wisconsin be able to engulf enough cheese, jerky, and beer to attain victory, or will those fat asses from the Bronx do it again with all those calzones and cannoli? It’s anyone’s game (if you’re super fat and would actually do this, which, you’d be surprised, a lot of people will).
Bugs ate my brain (on Christmas)
This horrifying reality series focuses on people with deadly diseases where invasive species eat them from the inside out. And it takes place at Christmas.
Up for grabs: stereotypical lottery prizes and incentives to get vaccinated by state. Illinois through Mississippi.
After offering several states awesome ideas for stereotypical vaccine lottery prizes, the Intergalactic Business Report continues its list of totally free concepts for the states of Illinois through Mississippi.
State governments, feel free to use these. You’re welcome.
Illinois: You get fucked by a Kielbasa. Not for everyone.
Indiana: A “Flowers for Algernon” themed prize features a special brain hormone injection that transforms you into just above legally mentally incapable of caring for yourself, making you the “Einstein of Indiana.”
Iowa: Your meat gets packed.
Kansas: Free hypnosis to make you think for a few minutes that you’re not living in the middle of nowhere in a place nobody ever thinks about and that your life is the equivalent of a single white butt cheek, alone and half-assed.
Kentucky: A racehorse carries you to your cousin’s house to see your estranged children who think you’re their crazy drunk uncle.
Louisiana: Four week courses in elocution and enunciation so that humans outside Louisiana can decipher what the fuck you just said.
Maine: Three minutes alone with a Lobster, no questions asked, no judgments made, no charges pressed.
Maryland: Weekend “the Wire” experience where you get a burner phone but are disillusioned by the system that created the vaccine lottery because it’s ineffective and corrupt.
Massachusetts: Free speech therapy to help you pronounce words.
Michigan: An overweight militia man kills you because you got vaccinated.
Minnesota: Hey der! Super! You betcha! (That’s all you get.)
Mississippi: Same as Maine (above) only with a muskrat.
We name it. You grab it. Stop thinking so much.