Divine Advice For COVID-19

Dear DA,

Why did you create me?

Did you set everything in motion with the big bang, and then just sit back as everything unfolded, or are you actively involved in everything?

Assuming you did actively create me, I think you might have made a terrible mistake. I’m just going to keep mutating and getting worse forever. There are already at least 14 different new strains of me, but I guess calling me COVID-33 now would be just too depressing, and we’ll get there soon enough anyway.

I understand that there are just too many damn people, but you’ve basically turned the entire world into purgatory. The guy I’m infecting now, the poor bastard hasn’t really left his apartment in a year. He hasn’t kissed a girl in at least a year (but I’m guessing it’s probably been much longer–not everything is my fault). He just mopes around all day, drinking beer and jerking off as much as possible.

And the timing with the Pornhub purge, that’s some Old Testament shit right there. It’s almost as if you said to yourself “these people are already bored, lonely, depressed, and apathetic, but I still feel like I could be doing more for the ones who aren’t dead yet.”

If you did create me, why? And if you are omnipotent, why not stop me? No one on earth can stop me. Maybe you can’t either. I hope this isn’t one of those Skynet/Jurassic Park scenarios, where you just kind of made something without thinking about the possible ramifications.

Honestly, I’m just curious.



The questions you’re asking are the same questions humans have been asking since I first “created” them. I’ve always found it amusing to give vague or nonsensical answers (such as the ones found in the Bible), but having an inside joke that nobody else gets is starting to get old, so I may as well come clean.

Am I omnipotent? Of course, I am. The problem is, I’m not omnibenevolent. I take a “ya gotta break a few eggs” approach to ruling the universe, and who can blame Me? Existence is just so vast; I can’t keep track of every crying baby or depressed porn addict or alcoholic Martian. Well, technically, I could, but it’s really tedious and totally not worth it. Instead, I’d rather paint with broad strokes. Sure, that leaves Me with a messy painting, but it also gives me more time to watch Netflix and stalk AOC on social media. God, that woman is gorgeous. I can’t wait to impregnate her with Myself.

Every once in a while, I need to clean the slate, shake the Etch-A-Sketch, start over. Plagues have always been one of my favorite ways to do this, and you’re one of the best ones I’ve ever created. You may not be as flashy as the Spanish flu, or as ambitious as smallpox, but you work hard, and you’ve been getting the job done. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve been making some tweaks as you’ve been going along. A mutation here and there is all part of the process because if you stand still for too long, those ungrateful humans will find a way to stop you. If only they could realize that this is for their own good.

The truth is, you’re kind of a test run for this new Armageddon I’m working on. Everything is all set. I’ve divided the world’s population into paranoid, seething tribes, I’ve fostered the creation of devastating weapons of mass destruction, and I’ve connected everyone together so there’s nowhere anyone can hide. Now, I’m just trying to work up the nerve to ask AOC if she’ll do me the honor of being my vessel. The Apocalypse can’t start without my Second Coming, and she’s the only person on Earth worthy of an immaculate conception. In the old days, “asking” was just a formality, because nobody was going to say “no” to God. In modern times, true consent can’t be assumed, and she needs to be given a real choice. I’ve been doing the work on myself. I’ve been eating right, hitting the gym, watching MSNBC, reading Karl Marx, and talking to a therapist about my narcissistic personality disorder. I just need to do something about my breath and I should be good to go. Wish me luck.

—Jesus Christ


Maybe I’m a little biased towards diseases that cause more entertaining symptoms such as foaming at the mouth and madness, but I’m not very impressed with your effort so far. Sure, we all can’t be rabies, but it wouldn’t kill you to have a little more pizzazz. Loss of taste and smell? Come on, son—that’s bush league. Now, I know you have these mutations coming up, so why not take the opportunity to upgrade your presentation? For instance, what if you were to cause bleeding out of the eyes, or rotting skin, or melting organs? That would be fun, right? Or you know what would be cool? If you turned people into snakes, like what happens to Cobra Commander in that animated G.I. Joe movie. We might have to fudge the science for that one, but if you’re into it, I know a sorcerer who can get it done. He himself is part snake, so I’m sure he’d totally be down.

Or, you know what would be funny? If you turned frogs gay. It’s kind of an outdated reference, but I think a nod to 2015 Alex Jones is exactly what the people want right now. Or what if you only affected men named Tim and women named Janice? Those are just examples; you can obviously pick any names. Or what about just NASCAR drivers and field hockey players?

You know what nobody would see coming is if, instead of killing people, you started re-animating the dead. The twist could be that the zombies could be totally nice, and not mindless, brain-eating monsters like everyone expects.

I’m just trying to get you to think outside the box, but the possibilities are endless. Be creative. I believe in you.


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
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