Divine Advice For Jennifer Lopez

Original photo by DVSROSS

Dear DA,

First of all, I have to thank Satan for giving me eternal hotness in return for my soul. I mean look at me. I’m 49 fucking years old. 49! If you want to use me in your ads or testimonials, count me in. Other people are just scammers, man. Gwyneth Paltrow’s vagina rocks did absolutely nothing for me, although I did manage to turn a profit selling my used ones on e-Bay. Apparently there’s a market for rocks covered in my vagina juice, and get this: it was mainly women buying them. What a strange fucking world. You can buy rocks for your vagina, but when they grow naturally in your kidneys, you have to pay people to take them out. I guess the grass is always greener.

Anyway, I really need some advice. For the last few months, I’ve been experiencing anhedonia. I no longer take pleasure in the daily activities that used to make me happy, like dancing along to my songs on the radio, or knitting sweaters for my grandchildren, or shooting heroin. I used to love shooting heroin, but now, it’s just kind of like meh. I feel like I do it because I have to, instead of because I really want to, you know what I mean?

It’s the same with fucking Alex Rodriguez. It used to be so fucking amazing. He has paintings of himself as a centaur everywhere, and he even has a statue of himself as a centaur made out of elephant tusks in his panic room. Fucking him was fucking weird, man, but lately, it’s just like it is with the heroin. And all he ever talks about is Derek Jeter. Derek Jeter this and Derek Jeter that, how no one will ever be as beautiful as Derek Jeter. I mean I get it, man. He’s Derek fucking Jeter. But you don’t have to rub a girl’s nose in it.

What can I do to start enjoying life again? I tried mixing the heroin with cocaine and whew, the coke makes you fly and the dope gives it legs. I was crazy fucking high. All those stories you hear about Richard Pryor setting himself on fire and Rick James slapping people, I believe it, man. I got so fucked up, I ordered those vagina rocks from Gwyneth Paltrow. I spent like $14,000.00 on rocks you’re supposed to cram up your vagina.

Thanks again, Satan, for keeping me sexy, and I don’t want to sound whiny, but I really need help fixing this anhedonia. Maybe I should make another Jungle Book movie with a female tiger as the lead? And why are there all of these Jungle Book movies all of a sudden? I may look young on the outside, but on the inside, I’m still just a little old lady. I just don’t get all of these crazy new fads today. All of these Jungle Book movies and rocks for your vagina, it’s all just so fucking strange.

Sincerely,
Jennifer Lopez


Dear J-Lo,

You’ve given me an idea: If you ever have some Redd Foxx scenario happen where you get swindled out of all your money, I’ll just give you kidney stones. That way, when you pass them, you can sell them on eBay and get your fortune back. Actually, I think I’ll give you kidney stones right now, just in case. And…

Bam! Kidney stones! How do they feel? I’ve been told passing them hurts worse than giving birth. That was a mistake on my part, actually. Nothing was meant to be worse than giving birth, on account of the whole “apple in the Garden of Eden” thing, which I, at the time, considered to be 100% Eve’s fault. But now that I’m more woke, I understand it’s fair for men to suffer, too, sometimes. Anyway, good luck.

Actually, now that I think about it, the kidney stones will probably help with the anhedonia, too. Nothing snaps a person out of a malaise better than extreme pain. Afterwards, I’m sure your appreciation for drugs will return.

—Dr. Jesus Christ, M.D.


Dear Jello,

I’m glad you’re happy with our arrangement because I ran the numbers and there’s a 70% chance you’ll die of sepsis before you can pass those kidney stones. I, for one, am excited about this development. Don’t get me wrong—sneaking up to your bedroom and possessing A Rod when he fucks you has been great. But I’ve been itching to throttle you with my own 12” barbed erection since you first broke onto the scene. Some people, wish you had big knockers to go with that glorious ass of yours, but not me. I’ve always thought your body was perfect as-is, which is why I didn’t bother upgrading your tits as part of our deal.

Don’t worry—Hell will be nothing compared to passing kidney stones. In fact, I think you’ll actually enjoy some of the kinky shit I’ve got in store for you. A lot of it will be the same as what I do to you when I’m in A-Rod’s body, only the dick will be much bigger. Hey, if you want, I can even morph into Derek Jeter while I pummel your pussy.

—Satan

Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to ryan@skullislandtimes.com, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan.

H. Seitz

H. Seitz is the author of the Sci-fi novella "Iron Manimal" and a contributing writer at The Skull Island Times.
H. Seitz

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