in which we witness some smoke rising, the Festivals of Fertility and Somnambulation are recapped, preparations are made for Halloween and the Celebration of Books, we become a little more enlightened, things with Jasmine Aashna become even more complicated, and Callum McCourt “wins” the Ruin-A-Life Drawing. Do Evil Better.

Transcription:

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What you are about to hear is just a whole lot of crowd work with the people in the front row.

Hello and welcome to the Kakos Industries corporate shareholder announcements. At Kakos Industries, we make Evil easy for everyone to do. Grandmas. Grandpas. The literally ancient. The legally dead. The totally nonresponsive. The good. Everyone. My name is Corin Deeth III and I am CEO. Shareholders, things have been interesting here at Kakos Industries. I mean, things are always interesting here at Kakos Industries. Just yesterday we lost a large snake somewhere in the building. Then we found it, but we haven’t accounted for all of our employees that were supposed to be here yesterday. And then there was the fireball that, for a moment, consumed all of the oxygen in the building, leaving every one of us running for the windows for a breath. Interesting stuff. But what I’m referring to is the Cult of Ohh Ahh. They are always busy, and they are always secretive. When I told you last that they had interpreted the Simulgasm, that moment where everyone seemed to climax together during the Celebration of Self Love, as something that signified the arrival of a new prophet, it seems that they have now made their decisions in this regard. I am not completely certain what decisions they made, but we did see some smoke rising from the eastern end of the building. And then the western end of the building, unrelated to that fireball I mentioned. It seems that there may have been multiple decisions, or that the decision was announced twice. I have heard at least one rumor that I’m not particularly pleased with, but I’ll save that announcement until I have confirmation. I’m just really hoping that this doesn’t cause us any problems here in the workplace. If we lose any more productivity, I’m going to have to hand out mandatory stimulants and overtime. It’s not a choice. I have a chart in front of me, and there’s a line on it that says, “past this point, mandatory stimulants.” Then there’s a bunch more lines with nastier stimulants, and then more lines with various forms of threats of violence, and then finally plans for what appears to be a contraption that grinds up employees and turns them into raw productivity. I don’t know what that means. You know, I’m never exactly sure how much of this stuff is based on actual evidence or just something that someone said in a meeting one time, and everyone was too high to disagree. What does raw productivity look like? Can you synthesize it in a lab? I mean, I’m kind of curious, but we can’t lose the people right now for a hunch. Like, do you spread the productivity on a task and then it just happens before your eyes? Do you spray the productivity or a blueprint, and the product just assembles itself before you? Is there a different kind of productivity based on the human’s abilities? What happens if you eat it? Too many questions.

Today’s broadcast is coming to you from a hand crank emergency radio. Your radio should have arrived at your place of residence with an attached note indicating that there is no emergency. I know how you guys panic, and we don’t need anyone accidentally overdosing because the reptilians are finally rising up. There are no reptilians, by the way. One other side effect of digging a big hole looking for the Biblical Hell is that we also confirmed that the Earth is in fact not hollow. There are no reptilians. I mean, the cavern systems we’ve discovered are just filled with monsters, but as of yet, none of them seem to be particularly intelligent. And caves do not a hollow Earth make. This hand crank emergency radio was made by Shit Meets Fan Electronics, a company that specializes in scaring people into purchasing their survival tools in case the apocalypse happens. This is Evil because the apocalypse will likely kill you before you have a chance to use any of these gadgets. There’s actually a better chance that a scavenger will find your corpse and all of your tools and make use of them instead of you. But that’s another topic. I am told that this radio is actually stereo, which seems unnecessary for an emergency radio, and it also features a couple of really great speakers. Anything to increase the price, I guess. Anyway, you will have to keep cranking it for the remainder of the broadcast. Otherwise, you won’t hear everything I have to say, and then you will be in serious trouble. Like principal’s office trouble. If you are hearing these announcements and you are not a Kakos Industries Shareholders, then you are likely already in the principal’s office, and it doesn’t look good.

We had big plans for this year’s Festival of Fertility, but we ran into a rather large issue just before the event that changed things dramatically. We engineered a giant human penis that would handle the task of inseminating everyone who wished to be inseminated at this event. We named him Dickie, because fuck creativity, and Dickie was marvelous. He was nearly 10 meters long and two meters in diameter. He was never meant to go in, only to inseminate. We had prepared him for his work, whispering in his ear about all the great things he would do in the service of Evil, and keeping him moisturized. As we brought Dickie down the freight elevator that leads into the back rooms of the basement ballroom, we told him roughly how many excited women were waiting for him. Dickie then began to stiffen and grow uncontrollably, crushing one of his handlers to death and injuring several others in the elevator. Then, when the doors opened, Dickie spilled out, stiffening and growing even more, before finally becoming too excited, climaxing, filling the back hallway and half of the green rooms with semen, and then halting all signs of life. That’s right. The excitement of so many welcoming women brought Dickie to a dramatic climax, after which he promptly expired. Our medics worked for nearly fifteen minutes trying to revive Dickie. He didn’t have much in the way of brain matter to worry about, but they were unsuccessful. At this time, those looking to become pregnant at this festival were congregating in the basement ballroom, breaking the ice and warming up to the idea of allowing an Evil corporation to impregnating them. It’s obviously not for everyone, but neither are the typical sperm-bearers of the world. We could not disappoint those of you who had made the trek down to our facilities, so we gathered as much of Dickie’s gametes as we could and served a small portion to each attendee in a champagne glass, because we like to show a little bit of class when we can. While this wasn’t as raucous as our normal Festivals of Fertility, it still served the purpose quite nicely. After everyone was getting used to the idea of the champagne glasses, a several time attendee asked where her prenatal nutrients were. Perhaps a little begrudgingly, our wait staff began to butcher Dickie for easier consumption. For some, there is no purpose to reproduction if you don’t get to consume your mate. On the male end of things, no pun intended, that gym sock got shared. We honestly weren’t expecting anyone to show up, but when they did, we had to rummage through a ton of old storage boxes to find a sock. We did. We found one. It was from 1973, but it was clean. To start with. Once the, I don’t know, eight of you finished with it, we asked the science divisions if any of them wanted it. They declined, so we incinerated it. You’re some freaky weird people.

The Festival of Somnambulation was a huge success. If you can’t remember what happened, then that’s because your sleeping self did not give us consent to tell your waking self what you did. Believe me, there was some crazy stuff going on. You guys got wild. In lieu of telling you what you did, let’s go down the list of the strangest uniforms, costumes, and clothing items the less prepared of you showed up in. A hollowed out aligator. Just baby oil. Camouflage shirt, high visibility pants. Just some wood and rusty wire. A hundred tiny suction cups strung together with holiday lights. An actual garbage can. A bee costume, complete with stinger cod piece. A bunch of guns knit together into jammies. Fire. A multicolored visual art piece projected from a handheld projector. A nightgown with my face all over it. Boxer shorts with Melantha’s face all over them. Just a martini. Motor oil and sawdust. What must have been a hundred paper towel rolls. A tri-fold presentation board. Pumpkin guts and pumpkin. An animal that had been genetically engineered to be living clothes. Glitter and vaseline. And, finally, three sheep. Don’t ask. Once again, I was not allowed to participate myself, because I frighten everyone on my staff when I sleep walk. They’re still having a hard time putting that fear into words. Fine.

Coming up, we have the Celebration of Books, where you librarian types get off, and motherfucking Halloween. It should be a good time, as always.

Corin: Shareholders, Helena Concutio, sentient security robot, has just entered my office. I guess she dismantled all of the security doors that were designed to keep her from interrupting.

Helena: Corin, have you not heard the news?

Corin: I have. Unfortunately.

Helena: Then you know that I am now your prophetess, Bazizka-OhhYaaas. We are familiar, of course, so you may refer to me simply as Bazizka. Or her Yaaasness.

Corin: Bazizka? Very well. At Kakos Industries we recognize that when people change their names it is often for very important reasons, and that we should respect those who change their names, even if some people abuse that system. You know who you are, Mr. Allthedick Inyoass.

Helena: The members of my very respectable religion have decided that the succession of the role of leader should be to the person who was enlightened by the prophet Bazzizzazizz-Ah last. As you know, Bazzizzazizz-Ah enlightened me last, Corin.

Corin: I suppose you could call it that.

Helena: It also helps that I am mostly machine, like Bazzizzazizz-Ah. Some members of Ohh Ahh found that to be very important.

Corin: Cool. So what are you doing here?

Helena: Are you prepared to worship me, Corin?

Corin: Bazizka, I’m not a member of this cult.

Helena: It’s a very respectable religion. I should know. I am the new leader.

Corin: That doesn’t make you impartial, you know.

Helena: I am here to save you from your sexual hangups, Corin. Behold, I have many new attachments to provide my followers with enlightenment.

(Some varying buzzing sound effects)

Corin: Helena-

Helena: Bazizka.

Corin: Bazizka, I’m not interested in attaining enlightenment this way, and besides that, I’m in the middle of something. Namely, the announcements.

Helena: But Corin, you were so ready to receive enlightenment from my predecessor. I remember you saying that you wanted to experience Bazzizzazizz-Ah’s enlightenment before I so valiantly saved you.

Corin: Just a quick clarification, how could you have valiantly saved me if it was something I wanted?

Helena: Oh, Corin, that was before I knew. I now know how amazing enlightenment is. Everything has changed.

Corin: You mean that people like you better now.

Helena: And why should they not? I am their prophetess. Please, let me show you enlightenment, Corin. I am the same as Bazzizzazizz-Ah. I am the new prophet. I will liberate you.

Corin: I’m not interested.

Helena: Look, Corin.

(More buzzing)

Helena:This attachment was designed specifically for you. For your pleasure. Look at it, Corin. It is perfect for you. Nothing could ever be more perfect for your body and for your pleasure. I am prepared to enlighten you, Corin.

Corin: How do they know… I mean, that part, I get, but this other part? How would anyone know that. I’m pretty sure that hasn’t been on any part of any of my examinations. And no one has made a mold…

Helena: I can assure you, Corin. It is perfect. Join us in enlightenment. Experience true bliss. Liberate yourself. The answers you seek are here for you.

Corin: I’m not… No.

Helena: Wouldn’t you like to know why you were left out of the Simulgasm, Corin?

Corin: We’re looking into it. With science.

Helena: Please let me tell you, Corin. Let me enlighten you.

Corin: Well…

Helena: And let all of your shareholders hear your enlightenment. It will be great for our branding.

Corin: Wait, what?

Helena: I was told that helping you to reach enlightenment during the broadcast would help to spread our word and cement our faction as supreme.

Corin: Your faction?

Helena: Do not worry your pretty little head about that, Corin. Now, let me enlighten you.

Corin: No. Helena… Bazizka, I’m sorry. I’m not interested right now. I can’t help you.

Helena: Very well. Then I will use this attachment on others. You had the opportunity to experience it first, but now you have given it up.

Corin: Ew. And also: okay.

Helena: I will take my leave of you now, Corin. I have minds to expand and a society to help. I will help them do sex, which is Evil, so I’m still doing Evil.

Corin: Bye. Oh, before you leave, have you seen Dr. Dunkelwissen around? I have this feeling that he’s doing something terrible.

Helena: I have not seen the madman. I am now beyond his control. Goodbye, Corin. Soundman, would you like to be the first to ride this bad boy? Oh. Oh well, then.

Getting back on topic here,shareholders, Meredith Gorgoro in Hell is still working out the kinks for her Perpetual Misery Engine. The Division of Labor is also working out the kinks in their medication that makes people more machine-like. It seems that a lot of people have been breaking down lately. This is problematic.

Helga, the replacement for Grace Rule from a while back that we accidentally starved until she was incredibly thin, and who recently became a model as a result, has been checked into rehab. Apparently, the fame has been getting to her and she has been hitting the pills a little too hard. We wish her a speedy recovery. Or not. We’re not her mom. She can do whatever she wants as far as we are concerned.

Visiting Jasmine Aashna in the Division of Erotic Experiences has become too much of a hassle, dealing with her need to always tie me up and blindfold me and control me for what she assures me are sexual reasons only, so I asked her to simply bring her results to my office. It was a strange meeting because she was wearing a long dress and had managed to tuck almost all of it in back into her underwear without noticing. It was so distracting, and I was so afraid of embarrassing her that I didn’t get to ask basically any of the questions I had. I just asked her to keep me posted and motioned toward the door. I waited until it was firmly closed before I just lost it laughing. Having just had Bazizka in here, I’m now realizing that I forgot to ask Jasmine how she felt about this Simulgasm stuff or the new leadership. It’s easy to forget that, when I first met her, she was a member of the Cult of Ohh Ahh, and that’s why we gave her the job. I have to figure out how to actually communicate with her. I think the Tabithas saw Jasmine leave with her dress as it was, so they both stormed my office shortly after, you know, the two that don’t do any work at all, to ask me what the meaning of that meeting was. I waved them off. It’s none of their business even if nothing happened. This didn’t seem to satisfy, so I asked them if they’re having sex with anyone these days. They each said no. Not since they had taken up this post. I found that to be somewhat confusing. You see, shareholders, if you’re not familiar with the goings on here at Kakos Industries, it’s important to realize that these strange sexual scenarios don’t just happen to me. While I am the CEO and I am also a high profile target, sex is pretty much ubiquitous here at Kakos Industries. We once tried to keep tabs on who was having sex, in relationships, in polyamorous groupings, or just hooking up on the side, but it became just too much data for our computers at the time. We might have better luck today, but I’m inclined to stay away from that line of inquiry. For the Tabithas to not be having sex with anyone makes them officially more sexually withdrawn than me. I call that a victory. Take that, Bernice Largo.

They say that if Evil drove a van, it would have the best fantasy landscape with at least one wizard mural of all the fantasy landscape with at least one wizard murals painted on the side. This is Things We’re Taking Credit for Now. This week, we’re taking credit for shit talking, that guy at the bar that you don’t know but also won’t leave you alone until he gets the high five, and erectile dysfunction. We can’t know for certain that we did these things, but we’re pretty confident. If you happen to disagree with us taking credit for these things, then prepare to get all three in order.

Callum McCourt has won today’s Ruin-A-Life Drawing. As a result, Callum’s nemesis’s life will be ruined. Callum has selected Emma Iles as nemesis du jour. The Wheel of Misery spun for 32 minutes and 19 seconds before landing on the space for Collective. From this day forward, Emma will find herself a collective. Every organism and cell in her body will now have a democratic say in her actions. As you can imagine, this will slow things in Emma’s life down dramatically as she takes the time to consult with the entirety of her being before making breakfast. And for Evil measure, Callum will now be less collective. Those billions of tiny voices inside of Callum will now be quiet. Congratulations on the win, and best of luck.

This brings us to the end of today’s broadcast, shareholders. Will you miss me until the next broadcast? I bet you will. I’ll miss you, too. Hahahaha. I’m just kidding. I honestly have too much on my mind to even think about you until I sit in this chair at this desk again. Destroy your radio. The numbers are next.

2

7

17

12

31

44

51

15

155

66

7

17

2

12

55

51

99

0

0

0

0

Kakos Industries is written and produced by Conrad Miszuk, who is also the voice of Corin Deeth. The music is also composed by Conrad Miszuk. The introduction is read by Kim Aiello, and the credits are read by Hanna Jones, who is spaghetti. Special guest appearance in this episode by Lindsey Forry. Check out KakosIndustries.com for more episodes. There’s also transcriptions 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 check out store.KakosIndustries.com for merchandise and special offers and become a patron at kakosindustries.com/patreon. Questions, comments, or a strong desire to collaborate? Drop us a line at inquiries@kakosindustries.com. If you like Kakos Industries, be sure to rate and review us on your favorite podcasting service, and connect with us on Facebook (facebook.com/kakosindustries), Tumblr (kakosindustries.tumblr.com), and Twitter (@KakosIndustries).

Special thanks to our esteemed shareholders Iain Croall, Renee Stein, Dan Shumway, Blaise Devletian, and Courtney Campbell. Also thanks to our honored employees Katiana Greer, who guessed a password that was required to decrypt all of the secret ice cream recipes, and Valerie Koop who fashioned a net and a beach ball out of dental floss, saving the day. And thanks to our Division heads Britney Garcia, head of The Division of Beanies, Booties, and Construction Projects That Are Probably Too Large for Yarn, Patrick Green, head of The Division of Oceanic Micro-Cryptozoology, Morgan Wohlbrandt, director of the Division of Minimally Sentimental Greeting Cards, and Lynne Herman, director of the Division of Increasingly Improbably Slash Fiction. The Division of Beanies, Booties, and Construction Projects That Are Probably Too Large for Yarn has constructed a large, knit wind turbine. It’s capable of charging a cell phone every eight hours or so. The Division of Oceanic Micro-Cryptozoology has discovered living water. The rest of us have yet to discover their evidence. The Division of Minimally Sentimental Greeting Cards has perfected the Sorry I Guess line of greeting cards. The best of the bunch reads, “It’s gonna take eight weeks to heal? Sorry, I guess.” The Division of Increasingly Improbable Slash Fiction has recently started shipping matter and antimatter. We agree that such a pairing would be explosive. 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.

If you’re feeling down after this broadcast, have you considered growing a mustache?