Featuring Kristen DiMercurio.

in which the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire, or will be shortly, Corin learns to appreciate the simpler things, you have your genes mixed up, the lights go out, preparations are made for The Shareholders’ Ball and some sort of chili cook off,Hell gets back to normal, and A. Confused Shark “wins” the Ruin-A-Life Drawing. Do Evil Better.

Transcription:

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Intro: What you are about to hear is a bunch of people clapping in time. And one guy not clapping in time.

Hello, and welcome to the Kakos Industries corporate shareholder announcements. Here at Kakos Industries we help our clients to Do Evil Better. Everyone is already doing Evil. You, me, your youth pastor, the hedge fund manager, even the disaster relief worker. The question is how do you Do Evil Better? That’s where we come in. My name is Corin Deeth III, and I am CEO here at Kakos Industries. Welcome to your announcements, shareholders.

It’s the four year anniversary of me taking over this job and these announcements specifically this month, and to show their appreciation, my employees saw fit to set the fucking building on fire. Yes, I’m bringing you these announcements from the cabin on the rural lawn here at Kakos Industries. It’s a little further away than the other lawns, but don’t worry, I can still see the raging blaze that is the main branch in the distance. Do not be alarmed. This happens every so often. My guess is it was the yearly file purge. In the files room, we keep a lot of paper copies of things. After the end of the year, they get purged. We’ve made digital copies of everything. They’re probably encrypted, but we tend not to get rid of things at Kakos Industries. Even if we don’t know where they are, we still have them somewhere. It can be difficult sometimes for our employees to know where to stop when purging things. One minute, a paper document showing how we helped such and such client Do Evil Better might be going in the blaze, the next moment the very walls of the record room might seem strangely incriminating, so they have to go. Then we have to evacuate everyone. And we did. We got everyone out. This may surprise you, but losing any of our employees is actually a net good for the world, so saving them is more Evil than letting them die. We caught people falling from the windows, we escorted people out, we wrapped people in flame proof blankets and told them to run real fast. And they survived. There are some people unaccounted for, but that is true literally always at Kakos Industries. We don’t put trackers in our people. Not that I’m going to tell you about right now, anyway. Sometimes, if they’re not at their desk or in the bathroom, or even on the right floor, or even within a few floors of where they’re supposed to be, then there’s not much we can do for them. They might be lost in the cave system below. They might be in one of the new sub sub sub basements that no one has actually visited yet. They might be in a secret clubhouse. Those are forbidden, but people sometimes set them up anyway. There are a lot of corners to hide in here at Kakos Industries.

The cabin here is nice. It has a full recording studio, thanks to Soundman. It also has an outstanding view. If I look away from the four alarm fire that is my place of work, I can see the stars in the sky. All of them. Except… those don’t look right. Are those the right stars, Soundman? He’s shrugging. I guess he’s not an astronomer.

Soundman noted on our way over here after the fire alarms initially went off that the trees around here are the ones that are used to make every banjo. Then he suggested some banjo music to accompany my announcements. I opted not to do that.

Today’s announcements are coming to you from Wood Acoustics new Boom Wood Box. It’s a working title. They’re not actually on the market yet. I’m not sure if the Division of Radio Transmission knew the building would be on fire when they scheduled this insensitive radio, or not, but it is pretty insensitive. Just wait until we get to the end and you have to destroy it, shareholders. Just anticipate right now how you’re going to have to destroy it. It’s made out of wood. Did you guess yet? Did you guess how you’re going to destroy this radio? It’s not by chopping with an axe. I’ll tell you that. Anyway, the sound quality is written down here as warm. Also, kind of insensitive. If you are not a shareholder and you are hearing these announcements, then that splinter is pretty serious, isn’t it? Ouch.

The structure of the building should be fine at the end of this. As you know lighter fuel can’t melt DarkMega steel beams. It’s really a good thing we didn’t go with Rearden Steel beams. I mean the woman trying to sell them to us spent so much time talking up how wonderful the new amalgam was, and how intrepid its inventor was, and how moral and objective their manufacturing process was, and how they had to overcome all of the leeches in their lives to achieve this and that, and we were like this conversation is already 800 pages too long. At least, that’s how my grandfather told the story.

Recently we had the Festival of Genetics Mark II. We did empirically figure out why humans don’t have trunks, why humans don’t have tails that can detach in dangerous situations, and why humans don’t hunt at night with their amazing claws. The jury was out on physical proportions that simultaneously scare and arouse us. A few people went home that way, which made us a little uncomfortable. When we do gene modification here at Kakos Industries, it is complete. Even the gametes in someone’s body start to show new genes. So we might have just created a species, that from afar, just looks like an enormous ass floating above the ground supporting the weight of two disembodied breasts that are threatening to crush the buttocks with mass alone, or just a ball of enormous muscles. This is what media has taught us to expect from sexual dimorphism, and we took it to the extreme here. It made us a little uneasy. Fortunately no Jimmy runs deep enough to even reach the sex organs on those people, let alone put that butt to sleep, so maybe there won’t be another generation. A lot of people wanted to be fun colors this year. We helped out with that. Though I will say that there is still no blue pigment in any mammal. It’s merely light refraction. And one person got to be everything. Like, literally everything. Every gene we know of, we put it in that person. It got pretty ugly pretty fast. One of you shareholders brought a duffle bag, walked right up to the lab techs, and asked to look like “this guy”, and then proceeded to bring a severed head out of a bag. That’s creepy as fuck. Also, wish granted? But no one is going to want to be your friend. Or that guy’s. A woman began a story with the phrase “when life give you lemons” so we turned her into a lemon. That was fun to watch, at least. And once again. I changed nothing, because why change perfection?

I ran into Dr. Dunkelwissen at the Festival of Genes Mark II and asked him if he had any involvement with the experiments in the Division of Erotic Experiences. My curiosity is getting the best of me. At this point, he flung off his lab coat to reveal lacy lingerie, and then danced up to me seductively. A piece of paper he held in his teeth and insisted I take from him using my teeth simply said “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then he danced off. So I sent Jasmine an email. Her response was a series of images with text handwritten on her tastefully framed naked body. The text said, “Everything is okay. Don’t worry.” And the words “Hip Tang Banana”. That might be a tattoo, now that I think of it. That’s the band we made up, right? Or one of the ones that took the name after. It’s probably the ska one. Is it inappropriate to buy someone a tattoo removal gift certificate?

The Festival of Darkness came with no instructions this year. We turned out all of the lights. Those in the basement ballroom. Those on the way to the basement ballroom. Those that lit the path to the building. The rest of the building. Just total darkness, and that lasted for about five days. Come to think of it, the fire might have come from an employee just trying to get their work done using a lighter or candle or something. Speaking of the fire, it is just climbing the floors of the building at this point. The anti-fire mechanisms should kick in some time. I mean, this thing’s been burning for days. Perhaps it is time to start fresh.

Coming up we have The Shareholder’s Ball! The theme this year is Sucked into a Video Game. Everything will be neon and black lights. The menu will include brightly colored cocktails, neon meats from illegal GMO bison, crabs, and cuy. Vegetable dishes will include the staple greens from populations that are teetering on the brink of collapse, making their winter that much harder. This includes the rare blue quinoa, all of the potatoes from DarkMegaLatvia, and at least one crate that is meant for humanitarian aid. Once we have gorged ourselves on the most irresponsible foods available, the music will begin. Loud, electronic dance music. Music that will put you into a trance. Soon you will be moving without knowing why as DJ Hypnosis Rex begins playing truly hypnotic tunes. I don’t want to spoil too much of the entertainment, but I will say that a troop of very desperate actors will be playing improv games for us to watch. We didn’t schedule this activity because their collective wit will impress us. On the contrary, we will each be watching their desperate cries for attention as the entertainment. And the flavor of the blood for the blood orgy this year is pimento lion glowstick.

There’s also supposed to be a pie festival in there somewhere. I think we’re going to replace that with a chili cook off this year.

I feel as though I should tell you, shareholders, that we did clean up our anti-celebration problem. It mostly consisted of me getting the discipline stick down off the shelf and shouting a whole lot at everyone involved. Things aren’t fun when you take them so fucking seriously. Relax. It’s okay that not everyone believes the same way about celebration.

I got a letter from my grandfather earlier today. No one actually delivered it. The flag on the mailbox outside the cabin just slowly worked its way into the up position, and then there was mail inside of it. I bet there’s a tube in the support post. We like to get those style points here at Kakos Industries. What good is a product if it doesn’t also make you question the fabric of reality for a moment. I’ll read it to you now. “Corin, it’s your grandfather, Corin. I’ve written this letter in case the Kakos Industries building is ever destroyed. It includes all of the contractors necessary to get things back up and running as quickly as possible. It also includes some medicine I whipped up for just such a situation. It’ll keep you from getting too bummed out about anything. Unless of course it’s a little old. In that case it will make you more bummed out. Let’s see, what is today. Probably a Tuesday. But what year is it? This is a good question. One I will have to return to later. It’s an Anything But Hair party tonight in the ballroom, and I’ve got to go get really friendly with a razor in the shower. I’ve written another letter about manscaping should an occasion ever arise where you need some advice in that realm. I love you kiddo. Corin Deeth I.” There are no drugs in the envelope. He must have taken them and forgotten to replace them. That could have been weirder I guess.

If I look out of the window to my right, there’s a big tree, probably one of those banjo trees. Under that tree are the two Tabithas. They’re dressed like country girls, I guess, but like country girls in a blockbuster action film, or maybe the beginning of a porno. The cutoffs are very short. The tops are gingham and tied at the waist. There are cowboy boots and cowboy hats. They spent the last hour or so setting up a fire under the tree and dragging some wood over as makeshift benches. Tabitha is now holding up a bag of marshmallows, while Tabitha has some chocolate and graham crackers. They are dialing in ever so slowly on ways to actually get to me. It does look like fun out there. Brosephus is supposed to be coming by later with whatever board games he could salvage from the blaze. Maybe I’ll even let the Tabithas come in to play. Probably not, but maybe. That’s closer to a warm feeling than I’ve ever had for them.

Speaking of bizarre costumes, I got a visit from Jasmine Aashna earlier. I stopped by her lab just before the blaze, and I heard a ton of animal noises. Painful sounds. Fear. I couldn’t get in there, but I did send her another email asking questions. Well, it seems she has taken up trapping animals for their fur. Or at least that’s the way it looked when she walked out here to my cabin dressed as a fur trapper. Or, again, what a fur trapper might look like in a porno. I seriously don’t know what has gotten into Jasmine. I don’t know if someone told her this is how I like to receive all of my news, but it’s going a little far. I mean, I like to let my employees express themselves. If they’re not meeting with a client, then they can usually wear whatever they want. But having hot Daniel Boone drop off a few vague updates is not how I like to become informed. It’s far too distracting. I get that this is the rural lawn, but that’s too much. Don’t worry about her lab, by the way. Kakos Industries is actually built to suffer as little damage as possible while burning. Her lab will be fine. And whatever research is inside will be there when we get the blaze under control.

Last I spoke to you shareholders, Hell had some small news. You know, an army of hooded figures at their doors just standing in wait, and a mini black hole. Nothing noteworthy. Please keep in mind that the gates to hell can be sealed at any time. This was a precaution put in place when we thought we might find real Hell down there. Like fire and sulfur Hell. Well, apparently someone tripped over the black hole, somehow destabilizing it. And then the hooded figures backed off. I have so many questions, but it honestly might be safer to just drop some of our nuclear waste down there and kill off everything. We could start fresh in another hole. But I guess we’ll just wait and see. For now, I’ve given Gorgoro the go ahead to keep working on her projects.

Kimzzzzzzzzzz has made my day to day life a little more complicated. As the head of the Cult of Ohh Ahh, she has started making decrees. Recently, she decreed that yellow was the least sexy color, causing many of our scientists from the yellow lab to quit their jobs. We make them wear yellow in the yellow lab because that’s where the gross stuff happens, and we like to know that they work there so we don’t touch any of them by accident. Now we have to fill a lot of open positions that are frankly not that appealing on paper. I suppose we could also change the color of the lab.

I’ve had terrible cell phone reception out here in the cabin. It looks like I just got a bunch of voicemail messages. And they’re all from Dorothea from the last couple of days. Well, I guess we’ve got time.



(beep)

Dorothea: Greetings, Corin. It’s Dorothea. King of Evilon. Corin, I’ve made a giant pyramid of men. I could really use a lovely Evil CEO to cap off the pyramid as keystone. Call me back. They’ll wait for you.

(beep)

Dorothea: The pyramid fell, Corin. Most of the men survived, which is too bad. Now I’ve got all of the men holding hands around the border of our country. Except we seem to be one person short of lining the whole border. Corin, come be my Queen and fill the gap. It’s important. We have to secure our borders.

(beep)

Dorothea: CasEvilvania drove a single tank through the perimeter of men holding hands and the whole project went to shit. It’s because you men are so weak you’re not even willing to hold hands with each other in the face of a tank. Anyway, I’ve now instructed all of the men to form a line so I can crowd surf everywhere I need to be. I seem to be getting dropped about one person short of where I want to be, though. Come be my Queen!

(beep)

Dorothea: Corin, I’ve rounded up all of the raping bastards in my kingdom and I had them executed. Just found out that was a thing I could do. The abusers are probably next. It’s funny how they can only feel anger about anything at all in life right up until you tell them they’re going to be executed. Then the tears start. I’d like to think there was some catharsis in there for them before they died. That doesn’t actually have anything to do with you, Corin, I just wanted to share because it felt so good. Ta!

(beep)

Dorothea: So crowdsurfing everywhere was the best idea I ever had, but then the men started to get weak and they kept dropping me. I’ve decided to feed them again. You like to eat, don’t you Corin? Come. Have a snack. Be my Queen!

(beep)

Dorothea: Corin…. Be my queen and you get this fantastic key chain! Be my Queen!

(beep)

Dorothea: Corin, you’ve left another one of your games here in Evilon. Come be my queen and I’ll give it back.

(beep)

Dorothea: Corin, I’ve arranged a team of my most talented concubines for you. If you become my queen, they will make sure that that your masculine urges will be responded to in what I am told is the best way imaginable. Something about kegels. You just have to come be my Queen. I won’t even watch you and laugh. Okay, maybe I’ll laugh a little. Be my queen!



I’m… I’m not going to call her back. I think we have that kind of relationship. It’s not ghosting. I’m just too busy.

Being out here isolated has me thinking a lot about doing this job for four years. What I expected. How things turned out. How much I’ve improved. I want to be better, shareholders. I want to get better at helping others to Do Evil Better. I want to get better at leading. They always say that you are meant to be where you are. That you can’t be anywhere else. Amor Fati and all that. But I still find myself uneasy. What can I do better? What will take Kakos Industries to the next level? It’s unknown. I can tell you, if there’s a time I would like to hear from my grandfather, it’s when I’m having thoughts and feelings like that. Yet, no envelope. He had total faith in me. This I know. Perhaps I should take his silence as an indication that he has faith in my choices and does not believe that I need help.

They say that Evil wears a coat made out of every human hope and dream skinned for its warm pelt. This is Things We’re Taking Credit for Now. Today, we’re taking credit for cold, colder than that, and living someplace where it doesn’t really get cold, but feeling cold anyway. As always, we can’t know for sure that we are responsible for these things, but we’re pretty sure, and hey, fuck you. You don’t know any better. So just shut up.

A. Confused Shark has won today’s Ruin-A-Life Drawing. As a result, the life of A. Confused Shark’s nemesis will be ruined. They have selected an image macro meme about sharks as their nemesis. While we normally have very strict rules about what we consider sentience, we recently found that a sufficiently popular Internet meme can be an organism of sorts. So we will do our best to ruin the life of this shark meme that so offended A. Confused Shark. We spun the Wheel of Misery and it landed on the space for Infested with Reactionaries. That is very specific to this case. As a result, this shark image will now be infested with reactionaries, those most vulnerable of egos, overreacting to every perceived attack on their power. We have already started posting this meme to the wrong sort of image boards, and soon enough, this meme will be so closely identified with these angry Internet denizens that it won’t be used by anyone else. For Evil measure, A. Confused Shark will now be ten percent more infested by reactionaries. Whether that is their personal attention span, their personal space, or whatever else. Congratulations on the win, and best of luck.

This brings us to the end of our broadcast, shareholders. Thank you for staying with me these four years. I mean, you couldn’t leave, but I still appreciate you not trying to do so. Set your radios on fire somewhere safe or risk watching your building slowly burn. The numbers are next.

18

11

29

40

11

51

18

69

69

69

Kakos Industries is written and produced by Conrad Miszuk, who is also the voice of Corin Deeth, and the composer of the music. The introduction is read by Kim Aiello, and the credits are read by Kelsey Kemmer, the company record holder for most ping pong games lost. Special guest appearance in this episode by Kristen DiMercurio. You can follow her on twitter @kdimerc thats k d i m e r c or check out her website kristendimercurio.com where you can also hear snippets of all of other the podcasts she has weaseled her way into. Please visit KakosIndustries.com for news, extras, and more episodes. There’s 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. 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 YouTube (YouTube.com/KakosIndustries), Facebook (facebook.com/kakosindustries), Tumblr (kakosindustries.tumblr.com), and Twitter (@KakosIndustries). We encourage fan art and listener participation on all our social media platforms. We’ve recently expanded our social media team, so please visit the website to view their credits and current projects.

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 found the missing contact lens for the telescope at the observatory, and Valerie Koop who threw herself in the way of a runaway mail cart, stopping it and saving mail. 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, Lynne Herman, director of the Division of Increasingly Improbable Slash Fiction, and Euan Goodfield, director of The Division of Ever More Bizarre Injuries. The Division of Beanies, Booties, and Construction Projects That Are Probably Too Large for Yarn has started making a web to keep the larger insects at bay. Who knew we had such large insects. The Division of Oceanic Micro-Cryptozoology has moved its attention to the Loch Ness cryptoplankton. It supposedly floats to the surface in the Loch when that other rare beast pops its head up. The Division of Increasingly Improbable Slash Fiction has recently started shipping that one royal guy and a really, really old corpse. We’re not looking forward to the wedding. The Division of Ever More Bizarre Injuries has broken a human baculum. That’s the peepee bone. We don’t have one of those. 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 heavy sometimes. Try ripping up pieces of cardboard to relieve stress.