The Biodeconfukulator

By Daniel Mallock (August 2019)

 

Solidity of Fog, Luigi Russolo, 1812

 

 

     I invented something. It will transform healthcare.

     The story is a good one, though, I think. You decide.

     I appeared on an American television show called FishTank several years ago. I know that the episode aired at least once because my mother told me so. Maybe you saw the episode?

     FishTank is a show where people who want to start businesses, or who have a business plan but no start up money go to try to get venture capital investments. If the guest is lucky, or they have a great pitch, then they can get funding. Sometimes, the guest has to give up a much higher percentage of company equity than they prefer. It’s this synergy and conflict between wealthy investors and hungry entrepreneurs that makes FishTank so interesting and sometimes dramatic.

     I was never interested in fame. I was reluctant to appear on FishTank. But after a walk in Greenwich Village and seeing a newspaper article on the wall of a bagel hole shop there, I knew I would have a better chance at getting big funding with the Fish than by approaching any banker.

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     Here are my impressions of each Fish:

Fish1—Hard-nosed Wall Street-type, calls himself “Mr. Superb” for some reason.

Fish2—Television infomercial queen, very pleasant and pretty.

Fish3—Lady real estate investor, by-the-book sort of person.

     (Fish1) Who are you, and why are you on FishTank?

     I am an inventor, Mr Superb. I need lots of money to build out my invention and market it to the world. I have a degree from Harvard in International Relations, a masters from Oxford in Applied Biology and Logic, and a PhD from Stanford in BioTechnologyEthics.

     (Fish3) Impressive. Why do you need us?

     Well, I need a lot of money. I found out about FishTank when I saw a newspaper article about the owner of the Bagel Hole shop in the Village. She came on the show, got funding from you people and is now successfully selling bagel holes. That was when I knew I had to come on FishTank. I thought that anybody who would invest in bagel holes were my sort of people.

     (Fish2) Uhhh, is that a dis?

     Not at all. I love bagel holes.

     No, I am not a bug, and this is not a joke. You have money and I need it.

     (Fish3) Ok, your credentials are impressive. We know you need funding and that’s why you’re here. Tell us about the invention. What is it and what does it do?

     My invention, the Biodeconfukulator . . .

     (Fish1) What? Biodecon—

     (Fish4) What the hell is that?

     (Fish2)(Fish3)(Fish4) Wow.

     (Fish1) What the hell are you talking about? This is hogwash, an insult! You are a bug! Get the hell out of here!

     (Fish2) Wait! Wait! Let the man finish. He has a Stanford PhD! Imagine this thing on QVC!

     Thank you. The Biodeconfukulator operates on a theory of human physiology similar to the way in which Wilhelm Reich characterized the Orgone. Good health is fukulated, bad health is disconfukulated. The Biodeconfukulator brings positive protonic elements to the human genome and deconfukulates any negative or harmful fukulates thus bringing good health to the patient.

     (Fish1) Ridiculous!

     (Fish3) I am very skeptical on all of this. But—I admit to experiencing disconfukulations from time to time and, if there was some cure, that would be fantastic! I mean, if—

     (Fish1) Are you nuts? Fukulations? This is ridiculous! You’re taking this guy seriously? This human bug!

     (Fish3) What is your business plan?

     I will leverage the finest minds on this planet in the field.

     (Fish1) There is no field! This is completely—

     (Fish2) Wait. Let him finish! This could be important!

     I will have remote engineering locations in Hyderabad, Bangalore, Tblisi, Kyiv, and Adamstown where the best engineers and scientists are currently working.

     (Fish1) Adamstown?

     Pitcairn Island.

     (Fish1) Pit . . . you can’t be serious.

     Oh yes, very.

     (Fish1) You really need to leave. Get the hell out!

     -Pause-

     (Fish2) How much do you want?

     I propose that you invest 50 million for a 40% stake in the company.

     (Fish4) 50 mil! Wow. You sure are ambitious!

     I need the money to build a company to create the Biodeconfukulator at scale, then market it to the world. This will require top end engineering, superb staffing, excellent scientific minds. I estimate that within 5 years the company valuation will be 30 billion dollars and the health crisis of this planet resolved.

     (Fish1) What? This bugman is the greatest huckster since PT Barnum! Are you daft?

     (Fish3) How big is the Biodeconfukulator? Did you bring a demo?

     No

     (Fish2) How about a photo of it?

     No

     (Fish3) Schematics?

     No. But I have this drawing of the unit, here.

     The box is black because we cannot show the mechanism of the unit. Thus, it is black. Additionally, for commercialization purposes it’s black and sleek—you know, like the first Macs.

     (Fish4) The first Macs were not black.

     They were sleek, though.

     (Fish4) They were sure sleek! Nothing else like them!

     You did not invest in the bagel holes, Mr. Superb. You described them as stupid and ridiculous. You lost money, probably several million, right?

     (Fish1) Bug man!! What sort of scam—

     So, I thought that anybody who invested in bagel holes was my kind of investor.

     (Fish3) I like the black box idea. People love a good mystery, especially in tech.

     I can explain the terminology. The Biodeconfukulator directly addresses the confuktions of the modern human body, managing and repairing the genome itself via proprietary technology that is delivered via the machine in its black box housing. My mission is to deconfukulate as many people as I can—using the Biodeconfukulator, of course. Several treatments will bring curatives and health unseen before, and the money will pour in, not unsimilar to all the trillions you folks got from the bagel holes.

     (Fish1) You told me to shut up? On national television? What the f**k is wrong with you people, can’t you see that this man is a—

     (Fish4) You say you want 50 mil for a 40% stake, is that right?

     Yes, that is true.

     Ok, what do you need?

     Ok.

     (Fish4) Yes!!!!!!

     (Fish1) See! Ridiculous!

     (Fish2) Wait. I want in, too. What do you say we go halfsies on this?

     (Fish4) How so?

     No, deconfukulate.

     (Fish2) Deal!

     Fantastic!

     Were you skeptical when you invested 30 million in bagel holes?

     (Fish3) What does that mean? Are you dissing me?

     And so, that is how my appearance on FishTank concluded. I got two serious investors, seed money for the deconfukulation enterprise, and national exposure on television.

     The purpose of the enterprise was just as I had told the Fishes, I want to end confukulation, and deconfukulate ill health in this country then around the world. The Biodeconfukulator was the way that this all would be done.

     I built out a corporate headquarters and manufacturing facility in Mountain View, California. With my Fish partners and all of their investment monies I hired the best engineers in India, Ukraine, Pakistan, Brazil, China, Taiwan, Estonia, and on Pitcairn Island. I travelled to all of these offshore offices making friends around the world.

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     FishTank never aired a follow-up episode about the success of the company, all the reattached limbs or all the resuscitated deceased people or all the bad wine dramatically improved by the Biodeconfukulator.

     One day, everyone at the company resigned, and all the offshore engineers stopped acknowledging my texts, emails, voicemails and then, finally, happy anniversary messages.

     In this place where I live now, waiting for the trial to start—everyone seems to have made up their minds already. I have an hour of supervised internet access a day. They watch me closely and talk amongst themselves. But I know that they are confukted and just one session with the Biodeconfukulator would solve all their problems.

     I just wanted to help. Honest.

 

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Daniel Mallock is a historian of the Founding generation and of the Civil War and is the author of The New York Times Bestseller, Agony and Eloquence: John Adams, Thomas Jefferson and a World of Revolution. He is a Contributing Editor at New English Review, and Assistant Editor at New English Review Press.

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