GYSO Reviews Part 71 - The Melon Musk Podcast

Published: 2025-07-27

The following is a direct transcription of real life. ;)

Melon Musk: Aaaaand a juicy, bouncing welcome to Thim–the guy who writes that one blog, you know the one. We can’t say its name on air. Currently, he’s exploring business ventures within the GYSO Mansion Playboy Mansion, let’s talk about that, Thim.

Thim: You mean Get Your Skills On?

Somewhere, a pidgeon combusts while shitting on a statue.

Melon Musk: Yes. That. Thank you, Thim. For that. For our listeners, this is episode 71 of the The Melon Musk Podcast, a sweaty and juicy welcome to you. Thim, tell us a little about how you finance your blog.

Thim: I don’t. It’s powered by sheer willpower and a thousand moles of mole kind running on rat wheels. You tricked me to this dumb room, you said I could have quicksilver to drink, and now now it’s “because I agreed to be on your podcast”? Fuck you, this is my podcast now. Look at me. I’m the captain host now.

Melon Musk: But Thim–

Thim: First question: What the fuck?

An assistant takes off their headphones (plural), pants (plural), and shirts (plural) in the monitoring booth and leaves (plural) the planet through astral projection. Goodbye, ass-istant.

Melon Musk: Wha– What the fu….?

Thim: I’m the one asking questions here, Mister Musk, if that’s even your real name. Is it?

Mister Musk: Yes. But–

Thim: Why do you beat your wife, Mister Musk?

Mister Musk: I guess- Uh, I don’t–

Thim: What is your favorite color?

Somehow, ominous music has started playing. It wafts out of the walls like a really spooky ghost, guys.

Mister Musk: Melon green.

Thim: Melon green? Are you colorblind? Don’t you know melons are blue?

Mister Musk: No. Can we–

Thim: How do you justify yourself morally, Mister Moosk? If that’s even your real name.

Mister Moosk: Do I need to?

Thim: Yes. This is my podcast and you are my guest; that expectation and this gun I found demands an answer.

Mister Moosk: Whenever I feel down, I roll around in my pool of money, I guess. Unfortunately, it’s all digital now, it just ends up with me rolling on my old Thinkpad and spare RAM sticks from 2013.

Thim: Classic Musky. If that’s even your real name.

Musky: Can we please talk about something else? Like, how’s your business going, I heard it’s booming?

Thim: I would say that’s none of your business, but knowing that you’d ask, I printed all the publicly available tax records of my enterprise.

Thim opens a binder and takes out a ripe apple in the shape of an A4 page, and a single page of A4 in the shape of an apple. He eats the A4 and presents the apple.

Musky What even is this. Which one did you give me?

Thim: Do the ghosts of the past haunt you too?

Musky: ENOUHG!–

Thim: It’s spelled bologna. Or are you catching a cold, Mister Musky? If that even is your real name?

Mister Musky: I just want to know what you and Santa F. Clause are cooking.

Thim: Fried shit. My turn: Would you like some fried shit?

The neck of Thim almost dislodges from the scary pose it… uh… Hold on.

Thim’s neck almost dislodges from the horrifying pose it poses in in its pose to pose into the direction of a certain aloe vera plant. English.

Henry: That does explain the smell…

Thim: HENRY! When did you get in here?! What are you, some sort of plant? And when did you get a nose to smell this fried shit?

Henry: That’s right, yup! Still doing my job, and it’s going splendidly. You didn’t even notice me until now.

Thim: What’s the point of this? Why are you in this story about a podcast?

Henry: Hi Musk Daddy! If that even is your real name :O

Musk Daddy: Not now Henry, you’re undercover.

Henry is, indeed, under a bed sheet.

Musk Daddy: Let’s cut the fried shit, Thim. I prepared for this eventuality. Give me my podcast back.

Thim: No way, Joseph. If that even is your real name.

Joseph: It’s not. I’m letting you knouwu that I have a missile strike ready to launch on our location if you don’t surrender the podcast immediately.

Thim: Or what? You’ll try to blow me? Good luck, brother. Really. Good luck. If that even is your real name.

Good luck, brother. Really. Good luck: I know that I can’t kill you, Thim, but I have! A hostage! Your pet plant with PSYCHOTIC ABILITIES, Henry!

Henry: Ahhh! Save me, Thim! Plz!

Thim: I’m not the most flammable explosive in the military base, but even I know that you’ll die in the explosion too, Fuckface. If that’s even your real name.

Fuckface: Oh, I have my ways. You could say I’m like… a cockraoch. A melon cockroach.

Fuckface whispers in his mic.

Henry: Hiya, boys. Would you, uh, consider my opinion on the matter? :’(

Thim and Fuckface at the same time ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°): NO!

Generic military movie music starts, then stops after a few seconds for copyright reasons. Luckily, Kevin MacLeod is to the rescue, and provides royalty free music for this podcastic climax!

Thim: Thanks, Kevin. Love the graph paper, by the by.

Fuckface: We were having hostage negotiations, question mark?

Thim: Yeah. Here’s my ultimatum: you give me my plant back, or I dedicate my entire eternal existance to ruining everything you know and love. If that’s even your real name.

Yeah: …Okay you can have him back. Jeez. But I’m keeping the missiles on standby!

Yeah stands up, pouts, and puts his arms in a cross, then uncrosses them, then shakes his ass: eyyyyyyyy macarena!

Thim: Y’all are gonna go back to the podcast, right? You can cut this in post?

XxMelonmysk6969xX: Yeah, no worries. How about hobbies, got any of ’em?

Thim: I try to spend at least an hour a day on my wood. If that’s even your real name.

Wood dies.

Wood end.