Dear Divine Advice,
I tell ya, these days, people really love throwing around the phrase “sex trafficking.” Sure, I like to load my underage prostitutes onto a plane and fly them out of the state, but that’s just so I don’t get caught with them when the feds raid my cabin. Now this David McGee character is trying to extort $25,000 from me, and even Donald Trump is letting me twist in the wind. The whole reason I became a Republican in the first place is so sex scandals wouldn’t matter. I know it’s Easter, and you’re busy coming back from the dead and all that, but if you have a spare moment, I could really use your help with this.
Thanks in advance,
Matt Gaetz, U.S. representative for Florida’s 1st congressional district
If I had a little more notice, I would have let you be the criminal hanging on the cross next to me, but it’s too late. Maybe next year.
In my day, statutory rape wasn’t a thing, and prostitutes were rock stars. You would have done well back then, although people still hated corrupt politicians. Anyway, it’s not Year One, so you’re stuck with the consequences of modern society. As a Republican, that just means your friends won’t talk to you for two months until this blows over. My advice is to stop having sex with prostitutes for a little while, and you should probably give up underage girls altogether. I know it won’t be easy, but I believe in you.
April Fools. I don’t believe in you, in fact I know you’re a letch of a human who is only going to get worse as you get older and feel more entitled. You’re totally going to Hell, and I plan to watch the live feed of your torture on the160-inch TV in my throne room. And while you’re still alive, I’m going to give you a kidney stone the size of a golf ball that you can never pass.
With that pointy chin and those douchey eyebrows of yours, it’s like I’m looking in a mirror. Could you be my son? Sure. I’ve got thousands of offspring roaming the Earth that I’ve never bothered to acknowledge. The thing is I Googled your mom, and she’s a total beast—not the type of woman I like to plant seeds in. I once fucked your dad’s brains out, but as you know, that’s not how babies are made. “It’s Adam and Eve, not Satan and Donald Gaetz,” as the saying goes. At any rate, I’m still no closer to figuring out why you look so much like me, and the only Satanic paternity test involves cutting out your brain and incinerating it. Typically, we wait until the person has died to do that. Not that it matters. Even if it turns out that you are my son, you won’t receive any special treatment down here in Hell. I can’t be seen playing favorites, so you’ll be getting an electric eel rammed up your ass once a day just like everybody else.
Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to firstname.lastname@example.org, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan.