in which we recover from a slow January, we try some candy, and Calico Shrine “wins” the Ruin-A-Life Drawing. Do Evil Better.
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Intro: What you are about to hear is just a comparison of different plate reverbs using blood curdling screams as source material.
Hello, and welcome to the Kakos Industries Corporate Shareholder Announcements. At Kakos Industries, we help our clients to Do Evil Better. I am CEO Corin Deeth III at your service. So, um, anyone else just have a fuck-it January? Just a month where seriously fuck all of it? I wouldn’t describe the feeling as depression as such, but maybe a feeling like the world doesn’t deserve your magnificence and there’s just no point in doing anything? Like, what is this month doing here? Who asked for it? Who told it it could just happen like this? But there it was, full of days with little to no promise. The entire month was late, and far too early at the same time. Each day went by so quickly, yet the month itself seemed to drag on and on. And then the end was so sudden it was hard to prepare for it. I’ve made no secret about being generally not a fan of Januaries. It’s the Monday of the year. Obviously, October is Friday, November is Saturday, December is Sunday, and the remaining months will remain undesignated until my request for a twelve day week is answered by the global week authorities. But January is so Monday that it hurts. Add to that… everything else going on, and you have a recipe for a month that just shouldn’t have the fucking audacity to expect you to acknowledge it. You have a month so unwelcome, so uninspiring, so deflated that you can’t even look at it with any serious hope to make it into something. A month so lackluster and limp that you just feel sorry for it and everyone that has to deal with it. I should say that if you had a relatively painless January, or even a nice January, then this isn’t meant to attack you personally or to diminish your achievements. If you did well in January, then I have it here in my notes that you are a rare and special kind of Evil. You should know that coming from me, this is unparalleled praise. Well, at any rate, it seems like there was a lot of you on the South East Anxiety flight from Fuck it to Malaise, both in the company and in the world. Our Evil production dropped. Our productivity dropped. Our morale took a steep dive. And I didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to whip anyone into shape. Nor did I have the tenacity to shape it up. I did not want to move forward, but still we all found a way to go ahead, and now here we are. At least we got out of the month. I am glad that all of you are here with me. I hope that if you were having any similar feelings of difficulty this last month that you are seeing yourself on the upswing. And if you are not, then know that you have the entirety of Evil rooting for you. Unless you’re in Australia, in which case you have the entirety of Evil cheering you on. It’s possible that Evil is also rooting for you, but not required. You know what I mean. I think I’ve gone on long enough without saying anything at all. Let’s move things forward, shall we?
Right now, you are hearing me. This is for certain. Unless you are reading a prepared transcript, or having the gist of my meaning incepted into your frontal lobe directly. Regardless of the way you are experiencing my words, you are getting those words from one specific place. While we sometimes send you very tangible things, like radios for you to hear me, et cetera, in this case, I might seem a bit muffled, or a bit distant. Moments ago you detected the sound of a neighbor, or perhaps just someone in your vicinity, or metaphorically nearby, practicing their turntablism. Then, slowly and subtly, and dare I say surreptitiously, the sounds of juggled vinyl turned into the words you are hearing from me now. You might be wondering, how did this happen, and perhaps more importantly, why is this happening? Certainly there are easier ways we can bring you your all important announcements. The short answer is I don’t know how it works, and neither does the Division of Radio Transmission. To answer the second question, I wandered into a lab where a few of them were working from a safe distance. They were scratching their heads and looking at each other with confusion. I approached. They explained to me that they weren’t sure what they had done exactly, but with certain settings on certain machines they were able to create this phenomenon that sounded abstractly like someone mixing records together. Or at least, that’s how I thought it sounded. Of course, you might have disagreed, but I sounded so confident when I said it a moment ago that you probably believed me a little bit at least. It might even be hard for you to remember it a different way. What was the thought you had when the sound first started? Was it about a DJ in the distance, or was it about something else? That raw sense memory is fleeting now, replaced by the conceptualization and compartmentalization I primed you to experience. We discovered that this phenomenon could carry sound, clear, intelligible sound on it, and it could be sent nearly anywhere. Where it can’t be sent, there are no shareholders, I can assure you, so that was not a concern. They told me that there were some exciting possibilities here and they could play with this or that and try these other things to manipulate the sensation of sound, but then I asked simply, “Do you want to do any of that?” I knew the answer before I asked of course. It was done enough. It would do the job. And I was satisfied. That is how it would remain. Some might call this approach unfinished, or chaotic, or lazy, but I call it judicious, clever, and enough. And so it is, and thus you are hearing it, and by extension, me. I would warn anyone hearing this that they had better be a shareholder, but it turns out that I don’t have to. If you’re not Evil enough to be a shareholder, then this broadcast filled your visual field with bright, beautiful lights, and knocked you the fuck out. No threat of death this time, unless you were in the middle of something dangerous, I suppose. Taking a fall like that isn’t healthy either. Oh well.
Kimmie has been in a similar funk to the rest of us, but she’s been powering through somehow with her hobbies. I know that feeling, where you just have to keep doing something, anything that feels like progress or accomplishment. This isn’t to say that she hasn’t been doing great things, by any means. She’s gotten pretty good at welding. While the metal sculptures aren’t quite as alive as the woodworks, they are just as impressive, and when combined, they can create something more than the sum of the parts. The work in progress at the moment is this enormous chandelier for the lobby here at Kakos Industries. It’s something like an octopus, but with many more legs, and they all stretch so far away, and each leg has numerous lightbulbs. The metal is this kind of blackened iron, like a cast iron pan, and the features of the octopus’s head are made from wood, with mosaic patterns in the wood grain of the geometrically cut pieces. It is imposing and awesome in the original sense of the word, and honestly goth as fuck. I love it.
I can’t help but visit my old office and apartment. They’re just across the way, and I have no explanation for why they are now filled with fish tanks of various sizes and fish of all kinds. I know where I work. I know what happens here. It’s entirely possible that someone had it in their head that something needed to happen, but they were so high that they got the year and the unit number wrong, and whoever needed to approve it was partying with them and just assumed it would all be fine, and fast forward twenty, thirty, forty years and I have to move into the unit across the way. Maybe some automated system managed to catch the overlap and had the decency to actually move me somewhere instead of just superimposing fish tanks all over my living space. I like fish, you know. Mostly to eat, but they’re fun to look at also. I don’t think they can get to know me or really like me, so they’re basically living furniture right? They’re a television channel that’s always showing everyone’s favorite program “Hey, there’s something over there. Wait, now I need to go back!” I’ve been trying to divine some sort of truth from these animals. I’ve been asking them silently why they are where I was, and what this means. They don’t seem to know. Or they’re playing dumb. I’ve started to bribe some of them with what I have been assured are fish treats. This might be an ultimately futile experiment, but it beats doing what I’m supposed to be doing, right?
The Festival of Darkness at home was… fine. We had you all get into a dark place. Cover up the windows as best as you can, turn out the lights. We had some stuff planned, but this was right around the time the wave of fuck-it hit us all. So only one of you definitely did not have an actual monster in your room. I’m not authorized to disclose who it was, but boy was that thing definitely not right next to you and freaky as hell about it.
The at home festival of genes was a fun experiment to be sure. We did our best to make sure that there were zero hot genes available to any of you. We didn’t want a repeat of last year. No modifications to physical proportions, no modifications to muscle mass or lipid concentrations. The most popular gene mod was apparently to become ever so slightly blue. We’re pretty sure that’s not a hot thing to be, but who knows. There was also a syringe marked “secret strength” that a lot of you took. What that one actually does will be revealed at a later date if ever. It’s probably best for you that you never end up in the specific circumstance where that strength is revealed, but it might be nice to have if you do end up in that situation. The black vial did nothing at all. It was sugar water that you injected into yourself. It could have been worse, I suppose. It was labeled “bottomless pit” so we’re not sure exactly what you were expecting.
So, there is an awkward but necessary bit of business to go over. I know that this is a moment that we all have dreaded, but most of you will be unable to join us for the Shareholders’ Ball this year. I know, I’m just as disappointed as all of you. It’s truly the best event we have each year, and it is always better every year. Except for maybe this year, the eighth ball under my supervision. Certainly, we could all agree to make it one to remember in our minds, and to enjoy it to the fullest even if we are at home staring at our friends and colleagues through a piece of glass. But I will know in my heart, Evil as it is, that this celebration will not be the best yet. All the same, we want to make sure that it is a great one, and we’re working on ways of sending meals home with you, and providing you with entertainment in other ways. There will be live streams and virtual reality experiences, as well as a drug that will send you to one hell of a party right there in your own head. Sure, your experiences might not be shared with others, though we are working on that, but they will be incredible all the same. Prepare yourselves. You are not yet ready for this.
Can you believe that a year ago we had that big ransom thing? Most of that stuff is still out there on the lawn. Every time the board discusses whether to move it or not, the vote always goes to just leaving it for another week or two to see what will happen.
After the last announcements having some interesting recordings from my grandfather, I’ve taken a little hiatus from listening to any. I just needed a break, I guess.
We needed an easy win after having such a slump in January, so I tasked all of the Divisions with coming up with new valentine’s day candies that are just as disappointing and mediocre as the holiday favorites. They’ve been sending me prototypes. I don’t love candy. Sweets can be too much sometimes. But I have been doing my duty as CEO and eating these things. I’ve got a few here that have been delivered since I started broadcasting. The Division of Halloween Festivities has sent me what is certainly candy corn shaped into hearts. Tastes like… gord. The Division of Noise has sent me a powder with a dipstick here. Let’s see… oh weird. It’s like static on my tongue. Not seeing the Valentine’s day thing. The Division of Whaling and Wailing… That’s just blubber. I’m not going to eat it. The Division of Mycology… that’s going to need to wait until later, I am certain. The Division of Performance art has apparently sent me a bag of red glitter. There’s a note. “Don’t eat me, daddy.” Then I won’t. The Division of Pitter Patter has a heart shaped vial with a tube on the bottom. The liquid inside is red. Let’s see. My tongue has gone slightly numb. Not good candy. The Division of Making Things Scary has made candy hearts here. “I want a commitment,” it says. The Division of Phoning It In has sent me what appears to be a bag of cane sugar. Well, these all hit the mark in different ways.
Hell has been manufacturing valentine’s day cards. It’s really obvious that some of them were written by monsters that don’t have a great grasp of what human romance is like. I’ve got a few here. “I Want All of You in My Butt, Valentine.” I don’t know if that means all of you like multiple people, or all of you like every part of that one person. I guess Valentine is singular. Here’s another winner. “I like you better than your sister, though she could likely bear me more children.” One more. “Keep touching my hands!” There’s quite a few more. You’ll find them in the usual place, if you catch my drift.
The Division of Figuring Out What All of These Keys Go To has been weighing for weeks whether or not they should open a particular lock. You see, they have the key, and they know where the lock is, which usually makes this a done deal, but the lock in question is alive. His name is Cedric and the key hole is in his chest. Opening the lock will likely kill him. I suggested that the Division put Cedric through an X-Ray to see if there is anything inside of him worth getting out, or just like normal human parts or whatever. They gave me the same look they always do. I simply do not understand what they do or what motivates them apparently. The key has a lock. This is what they do. For whatever reason, Cedric seems to be pretty curious what will happen if they open the lock he has had in his chest for as long as he can remember. Perhaps they will come to some conclusion soon.
The Division of Kaiju Battle Reenactment has been focusing on some simpler giant humanoid battles recently, which are great if you’re a big fan and love the detail that they bring to their matches, but they’re not quite as exciting, you know?
They say that Evil once sat on a whoopie cushion so large it contained a full third of the Earth’s atmosphere and that we are all breathing that rude expulsion to this day. This is Things We’re Taking Credit for Now. Today, we’re taking credit for Drugs, Alcohol, and Needing an Escape in General. Also Sex. I have to take credit for sex every once in a while to maintain our sovereignty. If you don’t think that we actually are responsible for these rather broad categories, then enjoy the pretty lights and try to lean your body toward something soft.
Calico Shrine has won today’s Ruin-A-Life Drawing. As a result, the life of Calico’s nemesis will be ruined completely. That nemesis is Beezz Kneezz. We spun the wheel of misery with a little bit of effort and it arrived at the space for Physical. From this day forward, Beezz Kneezz will be 89% more physical. This means brawling, this means aggression, this means sexuality, this means headbutting in all likelihood. It’s inappropriate. For Evil measure, Calico Shrine will be 13% less physical, which might lead to some difficulties down the road.
The Damnation and Ruination Squad are wearing only Orange Turtlenecks and Denim vests right now. It’s quite the look. Some pants might tie the look together, but that is not how they are dressed. Just completely bottomless.
This brings us to the end of today’s broadcast. The abstract sound you were hearing before might linger for a few hours. This is normal, and nothing to worry about. Unless the DJ starts playing albums you don’t like. There is no way to destroy this radio. You must wait it out. The numbers are next.
Kakos Industries is written and produced by Conrad Miszuk, who is also the voice of Corin Deeth, and the composer of the music. The introductions are read by Kitty McCauley, and the credits are read by Briauna Kittle, a drum wielding battle rapper. Please visit KakosIndustries.com for news, extras, and more episodes. There are also transcriptions on the website if you’d like to read along with the Kakos Industries announcements. That’s K-A-K-O-S-I-N-D-U-S-T-R-I-E-S dot com. Please visit store.KakosIndustries.com for merchandise and special offers and get wonderful benefits by becoming a subscription donor at kakosindustries.com/patreon. You can submit one time donations at paypal.me/kakosindustries. You can also purchase gear and other items for the production at kakosindustries.com/wishlist. Join our community at kakosindustries/discord. Questions, comments, or a strong desire to collaborate? Drop us a line at firstname.lastname@example.org. If you like Kakos Industries, be sure to rate and review us on your favorite podcasting service, and connect with us on YouTube (YouTube.com/KakosIndustries), Facebook (facebook.com/kakosindustries), Tumblr (kakosindustries.tumblr.com), Instagram (@kakosindustries), and Twitter (@KakosIndustries). We encourage fan art and listener participation on all our social media platforms.
Special thanks to our esteemed shareholders, William Brandon, Jack Attack, Valerie Koop, Dwight Spencer, Courtney C, Damien Scott-Viker, and A. Rupert. Also thanks to honored employees Kristina Kirkland, who had an idea, Calico, who shot it down, and Fairy Squad Mother, who poured the drinks instead. And thanks also to our division heads. The Division of Beanies, Booties, and Construction Projects That Are Probably Too Large for Yarn, directed by Bellamy Cornet, has knitted such a dark and terrifying eldritch zoo that the whole thing is now seeming to form itself into a single, unknowable lifeform. The Division of Obscure Vintage Technology, directed by Craig Czyz, has dusted off the old cast iron pan. It has been seasoned by only the finest misery, and it is certain to burn all who use it. The Division of Subtle Efficiency Increases, directed by Danniel R Smith, has created a competition for least air breathed. The prize is a vacation, and somehow it has been saving actual oxygen. The Division of Saying It the Long Way, directed by Dino Schroeder, has been workshopping “WHat if we say we did, thought about doing it, made a plan for how we would do it, told everyone we were going to do it, got really close to doing it, and then didn’t?” The Division of Kakos Kafeteria Reviews, directed by Seth and Josh, has reviewed the Everything Cucumber Kiosk. “It is what it says it is and still somehow so much more. It is everything cucumber. 4.5/7”. The Division of Improbable Cookbooks, directed by Hayden Neff has been working on Eating Bark. This is going to be a tough one to chew on. The Division of Lesser Known Napping Locations, directed by Sass Master J, has found a monster known to be roaming basement 88-4. The monster is evidently hollow, and its walking creates a nice lulling rhythm. The Division of Applied Retro-Pungineering, directed by Pepijn Poolman, has developed the musack. It is a prosthesis that can be implanted into the scrotum to play uninteresting music at any time. The Division of High Concept Sexual Hijinks, directed by Wraith Fenix, has set sex on fire. We’re not sure what that means as of yet, or how safe it is, but that shit is on fire now. The Division of Hallway Wandering, directed by Michael K, has been strolling down Hallway 11-11-1A. The architecture apparently makes this particular hallway into a kazoo. The Division of Animal Stacking, directed by The One True Dave, stacked a whole bunch of puppies. We really should have counted but we were just overwhelmed by the cute. The Division of Suspiciously Specific Charitable Donations, directed by Hemlock Yew, has made a donation to a healthcare foundation to the tune of three dollars and fifty cents. It probably counts. The Division of More Monday Mondays, directed by Odie, has discovered a way to make Mondays that much more Monday. It is a 6:55 AM meeting that definitely could have been an email. Our esteemed shareholders, honored employees, division heads, and other Patreon patrons are the best. If you want a thank you in the credits, your own division, or other great rewards that help to keep this show running, please head to Kakosindustries.com/patreon. That’s Patreon: p-a-t-r-e-o-n.
Kakos Industries can be dark.Try learning to solder for a fun new hobby.