The Being of Inconceivable Horror

The Being of Inconceivable Horror announces itself exactly as advertised: a vast, cosmic entity whose very name is meant to induce dread. It looms, it intones, it promises doom in a voice built for apocalypse. Yet this is Futurama, so its grandeur arrives already primed for the joke waiting underneath it.

The gag is baked into the title, and Maurice LaMarche sells it with total commitment — that resonant, movie-trailer boom deployed on a creature whose menace the show is clearly about to deflate. It works because he never winks at the audience; the horror plays straight until the universe around it doesn't.