Author Archive: H. Seitz

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

Divine Advice for Matt Damon 12

Dear DA, I stepped on a newspaper some slob left on the sidewalk, whatever it was, it smelled like dogshit, and it made my dog Carlos bolt. I tried to chase him, but I slipped on the newspaper and ended up covered in dogshit. As I’m cleaning myself off, I see my ex with J-Lo and they both see me and I just want to die. I know I’m no J-Lo, but I try to keep it high and tight. Why do you think I did all those Bourne movies? Anyway, as any normal guy would do, I started hanging around the park. I wanted to catch that irresponsible asshole who let his dog dump all over the sidewalk. So I’m standing by the playground, and it’s like a pedophile in reverse. This kid starts staggering up to me, she looks just like me, same potato head and dead eyes,…
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Divine Advice for Superman 3

Dear DA, I don’t like being sucked into politics, but lately, I’ve been getting heat from both sides. Some liberals hate me for my toxic masculinity, which I admit is a problem. I can’t just punch all of my problems into outer space. I mean I can, but I shouldn’t. On the other side, conservatives can’t stand that I’m bulletproof, but have somehow twisted my invulnerability into a reason they need even more guns. As a person of bulletproofness(?), and an increasingly jaded one, I couldn’t give two shits one way or the other. I’ve pretty much stopped saving people unless they’re extremely attractive, and even then, being Superman isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. One window washer I caught claimed that I touched him “inappropriately,” and somehow Disney is trying to sue me, too? When posing as a human, I work as a stringer for a newspaper (Pa…
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Divine Advice for Shaq

Dear DA, I may not be the greatest basketball player of all time or even the best center, but when it comes to eating pancakes, I stand alone. Even when colleges were recruiting me, the one thing that impressed coaches more than my size and natural athleticism was my Shaqernatural ability to eat pancakes. You can google it. All of them agreed I was destined for greatness, and every single coach I ever ate breakfast with still talks about the insane amount of pancakes I can put away.(I mean amount, not number, because when I eat, food is measured by cubic kilo). I was feared on the court, but I was even more feared at the Homestyle Buffet. Near the end, when I was pushing 500 pounds, they could hear me coming from across the parking lot and knew it was over. Check it: every city with an NBA team,…
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Divine Advice for Kyrie Irving

Dear DA, You know that show Bridezillas? Think of me as the bride. Sure I got the fancy wedding and everyone put up with my crazy bullshit, but was it perfect? Was it? These moments don’t come around often, so when they do, it’s got to be all about me. With me, KD, and James Harden, the Nets got a real shot at a chip. The only problem is that NY requires people to be vaccinated if they want to eat in strip clubs or go to enormous sports arenas, even superstar athletes like me. Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m not getting that fucking vaccine for anyone. Assuming the Nets keep me, I stand to lose $17 million, a shot at a championship, and the chance to infect players, strippers, coaches, physical trainers, medical staff, reporters, vendors, more strippers, janitors, and fans from all over the country,…
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Divine Advice for Buzz Aldrin

Dear DA, I’m writing this letter on behalf of David Scott (Apollo 15), Charles Duke (Apollo 16), and Harrison Schmitt (Apollo 17). All of us have been on the moon and we’re all still alive thanks to moon radiation, but Dave, Charlie, and Harry are well aware that the young people today are more concerned with their Miley Cyrus and Pokemon–whatever the hell those words mean–than men who have actually set foot on the fucking moon. Before we go, we wanted to set a few things straight for that weaselly Elon Musk fellow. The guy sounds like he was squirted out of a moose pimple and some idiot named it. Maybe he would have made it as an astronaut if not for his caved-in chest and his rickets, but I doubt it. Back in my day, people had the sense to know that just because a feller was rich didn’t…
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Divine Advice for Amanda Knox

Dear DA, There’s still a lot of controversy between who’s hotter, me or Casey Anthony? Without makeup, I win hands-down, and Casey Anthony has a strange giant forehead and lives in Florida, so that should automatically disqualify her from hotness, voting, or playing chess by default. The sun down there is murder on your skin, so she probably looks even worse than she used to. Like everyone else in their right mind, I think Casey did it. She looks nuts, with her wandering eyes and bulging cranium. I look colder and more calculating, but I’m also the kind of girl you’d take home to your parents. I speak properly, don’t dress like a tramp (cough-Casey Anthony-cough), and I’ve kept it high and tight, which is why I got a Netflix special. Meanwhile, Casey is out pretending to be a PI and probably searching for the “real killer” OJ style. How…
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Divine Advice for Ben Shapiro 2

Dear DA, I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you! It’s recently come out that I’m only five feet tall. You’d probably think I was kidding, but you made me. Being a man this short is worse than the Holocaust. The last time I went out jogging alone, a cop stuck me on a school bus and the kids beat me up. Whenever I try to buy beer, the shopkeepers just laugh at me. I am 37 years old! A grown man, a big boy! Even with lifts, I top out at 5’3”. Maybe I went too far claiming I was 5’9”, but people lie about their height all the time, and if you’re going to tell a lie, go big or go home. My wife was carrying me home from Sabbath last weekend (my little legs get tired) and told me not to worry about…
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Divine Advice for Peter Cetera

Dear DA, In the summer of 86, The Karate Kid 2 was tearing up theaters, thanks in large part to my hit single The Glory of Love.  Now that those guys are making money again on Netflix, do you think they called up good old Peter Cetera? “Hey Pete, how’s it been going the last 30 plus years?” Of course they didn’t. They brought back just about everyone else who’s still alive, but for Peter Cetera, crickets. They told me my songs were too linked with the 80s–that modern audiences just wouldn’t relate to them other than ironically. That’s when I punched Ralph Macchio in the face and told him–to quote one of his Karate Kid villains-—”Your karate is a joke!” If you watch the first one, you’ll notice they skip over his fight with Dutch in the tournament as quickly as possible because no one would believe it. The other…
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Divine Advice For AOC 4

Dear DA, Remember Marjorie Taylor Greene yelling at me as she followed me down the hallway? I had tried to bond with her as a woman by talking about The Handmaid’s Tale. Surprise, surprise, she had never read it. She even chastised me for reading anything other than the holy scriptures. I asked her if she read the bills presented before congress and she looked at me like she was baffled. But she had seen the show, and she thought it was real–like it was actually happening in America. At this point, who knows? Maybe she’s right. Still, she shook her head, and I thought we had finally found some common ground. In case you don’t know, the book and the show are about a government of religious zealots who oppress women through constant abuse, defilement, and rape. Marjorie told me she liked the show, but that the government of…
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No Shit Sherlock

My mom loved detective novels, all of them, but especially Sherlock Holmes. As our last name was already Holmes, she named me Sherlock when I was born. Maybe it was always in my nature, or in part because I wanted to please her, but becoming a detective became an obsession to me. Harriet the Spy, The Hardy Boys, Encyclopedia Brown, I read them all, and I entered the academy right after community college. I learned at college and at the academy that the fictional Sherlock Holmes’ way of thinking or deducting was horribly flawed. He leapt to conclusions and spoke fast. In retrospect, he seems more like a carnival huckster than a real detective. You can’t just look at a corpse and tell its life story based on some calluses or old shoes — you actually have to work extremely hard to avoid whatever inherent biases you have. At thirty-seven years old, I’m…
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