Divine Advice For Jean-Luc Picard

Dear DA,

A lot of people might be wondering why I came back, aside from the money and the fame and the mild dementia. The truth is, I’m not quite sure myself. But what I missed most of all, aside from my many space adventures, was fucking with the crew. I loved calling them in, especially Worf, and letting him have it. I’d scream at him “That is the most reprehensible behavior I have ever seen, and it will not be tolerated onboard the Enterprise! Dismissed!” Then when he was halfway out the door, I’d say “Worf, you are without a doubt one of the finest officers I have ever served with. In your place, I would have done the same.” He would pause, confused, then leave.

The crew was on eggshells during my entire command. They had no idea whether they were coming or going, or what I approved of or hated, and dammit, that’s the way I wanted it! That is how you run a ship!

We were a very woke crew as far as crews go. We had an alien, a robot, and even an old man! And of course the hot chick, and the other hot chick you slowly realize is much hotter than you originally thought (I believe it’s called “sneaky hot”), and then the few hot chicks that came afterwards to keep things interesting. And that naked planet, or almost naked planet with everyone jogging all the time, that was a wonderful place. The little boy, Weasel, he almost died there.

And the Borg queen. I wanted her in the strangest way. It was like fucking liverwurst wrapped in leather.

So what happens next for Picard? Is that strange young lady in the trailer my daughter? And Seven of Nine is still totally bangable, which is wonderful! I hope they put her in a catsuit and heels again, but perhaps that’s wishing for too much.

Sincerely,
Captain Jean-Luc Picard


Dear Professor X,

To answer your question…Oh wait—you didn’t ask a fucking question. Not a real one anyway. This is an advice column and you didn’t ask for advice.

“So what happens next for Picard?” That’s pretty general, but let me give you a specific answer. What happens next is a “Me Too” moment that will make Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey look like…shit, there’s no analogy I can think of because everybody sucks. Anyway, when it happens to you, the nerd community is really going to feel it. I mean, they really wanted to love you, mostly because you’re bald and ugly and relatable. And think of poor Wil Wheaton. First, his best friend Chris Hardwick and now you? You were like a grandfather to him.

To be honest, as I look over your file, I haven’t as yet come across any tabloid-worthy indiscretions. But no rich white man your age could possibly have a clean record. There’s got to be a waitress whose ass you’ve grabbed or a stewardess in first class you propositioned and/or exposed yourself to. It’s only a matter of time before I find something, so you may as well get out in front of this and make a public announcement. And if, on the off chance you haven’t yet committed such an act, you probably will once you’re senile. Just ask George H. W. Bush’s former gardener.

—Jesus Christ
p.s. It must be humiliating for an upper-class Brit to have a froggy-sounding name like “Jean-Luc”.


Dear Picard,

The other day I had a wet dream involving a threesome with you, me, and Ian McKellen. Let me tell you, it was hot! Since then, I can’t get you two studs out of my head. Now, I know only one of you is actually gay (although I forget which one) but I’ve got a proposition for you both. If the two of you agree to a real-life tryst with me, I will grant you both eternal life. And this won’t just be vampire eternal life, I’m talking about no-strings-attached, walking-around-in-broad-daylight eternal life. Will you still be old and bald? Unfortunately yes. I’m not Superman—I can’t turn back time. But you’ll be indestructible and energetic and basically feel like you’re 18 again. Especially when it comes to getting boners.

Full disclosure—“eternal life” will only amount to another 15 or so years on Earth, what with the impending Armageddon and all. And when the Earth is gone, you’ll, unfortunately, have to join me in Hell, as is the requirement for any deal made with The Devil. But it won’t be that bad for you guys, because you won’t be prisoners, you’ll be my guests. Will I force cobras into your rectums? Occasionally, sure. But only small ones. I promise you’ll barely feel them. Not after you’ve had my twelve-inch barbed dick all up in there.

—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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