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 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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My Darling Detis

Few parents will admit this, but we often forget the names of our children, especially if we have more than one.  I woke up reeling with another head-splitting hangover and little Joey tugging at me.  “Christ kid, what time is it?” “Papa, come on, you must get up.” Isn’t that just like a kid? Can’t even answer a simple question. There’s something wrong with this generation. With every generation. I shake Joey off and start rubbing my temples. I had no job and nowhere to be.  “Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell me here.” Joey shook his head.  “No, Papa. The Spectrum man is here to restore our internet, so we can resume our schooling!” Schooling my ass. The kid probably just missed playing Minecraft. And a hell of a lot of good school had done me, even if I did have the money to pay Spectrum.…
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Divine Advice for Matt Damon 11

Dear DA, Well, I’ve stepped in it again. A guy from Boston admits he says the “F” word, what a shocker! I admitted my daughter taught me it’s wrong (I still don’t quite buy her argument) and I’ve agreed not to say fa-the “F” word anymore. See? I’ve learned and grown, and people are still shitting on me. Thank God (or I guess You) I didn’t admit to all the other awful slurs I say on a daily basis. My main excuse is that I’m from Boston and I’m getting old. You say horrible shit for the better part of 50 years, it’s hard to change. Have you been to NY? I hear the n-word 10 times a day, people there say it casually, but none of them are Matt Damon, so they don’t get crucified online. There are other famous people out there who have literally killed people, where’s…
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Divine Advice For Batman

Dear DA, Lately, I’ve been having serious doubts about my decision-making skills. I have good intentions, but maybe they do pave the road to hell. I adopt street urchins and orphans, which is good, right? Then I train them to live a life 1000 times more dangerous than being a street urchin. And for some reason, I built a fucking Batcave on the moon. Do you have any idea of how much that cost, and not just in money, but in human lives? Maybe I should have given that money to the Gotham Police Department instead and founded Bat Soup Kitchens and Homeless Shelters. I could have provided everyone in America with free Bat Healthcare, but instead, I needed a Batcave on the moon, for “reasons.” And the Bat Space Shuttle, and the flying Batcave, and all this other ridiculous crap. I spent $5,000,000 last year on bat-shaped throwing stars.…
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Divine Advice For Bill Cosby

Dear DA, As you might well know, I’m a free man, completely exonerated! I did absolutely nothing wrong! In this day and age, it’s very difficult to say. They let me go, but they let OJ go, too, but in my case, what would be the point? I’m 84 years old. I’m too old and crazy to even remember what I might have done back in the day. I dream about Lisa Bonet sometimes and Jell-O Pudding Pops, but aside from a few vague memories, my life is a blur. Probably like all those women felt while I was raping them. My point is that context matters. Didn’t Morgan Freeman pull something like this? Once you get past 80, you should be considered legally dead and therefore allowed to do anything. They can’t punish you for something you did in the 80s, because you’re already dead! Even that young honky…
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Divine Advice For Lucifer

Hi Jesus, I know we didn’t always get along, but I do want to make the world a better place and hopefully, you’ll postpone The Apocalypse again. You have to stop sending every baseball player to hell, or expediting their weird “deals” with me.  One told me he’d give up the rest of his life if I gave him a 100mph fastball. I asked if he wanted anything else, like maybe to win the World Series, or also be able to hit, and he said “nah.” 70% of the people I see in hell are baseball players. It almost makes me miss the Old Testament times, but I don’t–really, I don’t.  I know I’m supposed to be “evil,” but ever since you relaxed your standards, especially the confession at the end and you go to heaven!” bullshit (even for me, that seems fucked up), my game has been off. Torturing…
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Divine Advice For Black Superman

Original drawing by R. Klemek

Dear DA, Being Black Superman isn’t easy. I’m only 33, and I’ve already gone through five alter-egos because the cops keep shooting me. Every time I drive through a white neighborhood and hear sirens, I think “oh shit, here we go again.” I’ve been a plumber, a doctor, a lawyer–I even joined the Merchant Marines and somehow, a cop shot me out in the ocean. I’m running out of names to think up for myself. Maybe next time I’ll be a basketball player or NFL star, someone with a name these cops will recognize, so instead of shooting me, we can just laugh about football. As long as I’m not one of the uppity ones who takes a knee. White Superman never mentions this, but it must have happened to him, too, so go easy on him. The first thing that popped out of my ship was a kryptonite paddle…
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