Author Archive: RK Galaga

RK Galaga is the author of "Prehistoric Passion From Mars," "The Erotic Secrets of Shelley Frankenstein," "Lust Finds a Way," and "The Erotic Adventures of Paul Bunyan."

Divine Advice For Tulsi Gabbard

Today is International Women’s Day (in the middle of Women’s History month), and I’m wondering why the hell the whole country keeps saying that there are no women left in the 2020 presidential race. Sure, I’m hanging on by a thread, but I’m still here, dammit. At least for now. I made a lot of enemies when I kicked Kamala Harris’s ass on the debate stage over her social justice failures, and then I further enraged the party when I dared to fight Hillary Clinton after she called me a Russian asset. The Democratic establishment doesn’t like it when people call them out on their bullshit, and the lamestream media is more than willing to go along with whatever narrative the elites put forward. Maybe I should have played nice in the beginning. Maybe I should have waited until I had more support before taking the gloves off, but that’s…
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Divine Advice For Anna Kendrick

Dear DA, You can tell by my sharp weaselly little face that I’m a crazy bitch, which makes me great in the sack but a nightmare to deal with. I expect perfection. Nothing but the best for me. And why won’t the dentist just let me use the children’s size x-rays? It makes absolutely no sense. It’s not like it makes him a pedophile or anything. Because of my diminutive size (which I hate other people pointing out btw), I’m forced/blessed to wear a lot of children’s clothing. Children’s shoes have really come a long way, as has their underwear. You’d think it might freak a guy out but nothing freaks those perverts out. As long as I keep putting out I can be a completely crazy bitch almost 24/7. All I need to do is tell them “I know I’m crazy, but I just can’t control myself.” I say…
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Divine Advice For Bloomberg

I should have doubled down on stop and frisk. New York City’s default state = crime-ridden shithole. And we all know it. And the hood is called the hood because it’s dangerous. That’s where 95% of the crime was/is happening, so that’s where I sent the cops to stop and frisk people. You want guns off the street, you have to go where people are shooting each other, and you can’t afford to be racist or politically correct about it. What was I supposed to do? Stop and frisk people on Central Park West? I hate to play this card, but I’m going to go ahead because it’s relevant. After 9/11, we sent cops everywhere, to slums and ghettos that hadn’t seen a cop in years. And the people, mainly single mothers on their way to work, yelled at the cops “Where have you been? It shouldn’t take something like…
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Divine Advice For Natalie Portman

Dear DA, Sigh. Okay. Here we go. I was criticized by Rose McGowan for wearing a cape with ladies’ names on it while, according to her, not working with enough ladies. The cape itself costs over $15,000.00, or a few grand over the US poverty line, but don’t worry, I didn’t have to pay for it. When you’re a millionaire like me or Rose McGowan used to be, people just give you shit like fancy capes for free. Thinking about her criticism, I realized it’s technically true, I don’t give a shit, and look at fucking Rose McGowan! How is she an advertisement for working with anyone even remotely like her? Obviously just having a vagina is enough to make you a raging bald-headed harpy who is offended at everything. You don’t do anything and you’re an asshole, you try to do something and it isn’t enough, you try to…
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Divine Advice For Mitt Romney

Dear DA, Maybe you pulled some kind of double-reverse Pinnochio on me, but for the last week or so, I’ve been compelled to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and voting to impeach that knock-kneed babushka was just the beginning. Some people are suddenly under the impression that I’m a “good person,” and that’s just not true. This is hardly surprising to my “friends” and “family,” they’ve known for decades that I’m as rapacious and bloodthirsty as the terrifying bird who symbolizes this once great country. What disappoints them is that I’m just as wooden and dull as I’ve always appeared to be. There is no great intellect or perversion lurking within unless you count my sexual incontinence. I must be the only person in America who isn’t a pervert. I was about to write “man,” but my newfound honesty compels me to acknowledge that…
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Divine Advice For Harvey Weinstein 2

Dear DA, I’m nearly 70 and look about 100, like a half-inflated Snoopy balloon. Have you seen me shuffling in and out of court all hunched down and broken over my walker? I can’t even lift one entire foot off the ground anymore. This ordeal has taken a toll on me. At first, I was faking the shuffling and drooling, but I’ve got to tell you, the collective wrath of a small portion of people on Twitter and Facebook is really demoralizing, even for a self-centered bastard like me. The thing is, we’re all self-centered bastards, including all the chicks I banged. They wanted to be stars and were willing to go through me to make their Hollywood dreams come true, quid pro quo. I won’t live to see any of the legal ramifications of my actions, and looking back on this sordid adventure, it was worth it. At first,…
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Divine Advice For Obama

Original art by R. Klemek

Dear DA, Some very important information has been brought to my attention. According to the current President of the United States, the former President of the United States was actually a Muslim Kenyan Terrorist. He lied about his birth certificate, religion, and just about everything else you can imagine. He was even a part of the “climate change hoax,” though I can assure you that he had no idea it was a hoax, but as President of the United States, he should have known, so I honestly don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he didn’t know, or the fact that he unknowingly went along with it. I wish that was all, and as much as I hate the idea of possibly implicating anyone else, I feel it is my due diligence to report that this ex-President’s wife has been alleged to be a pre-op transsexual. I give you my…
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Divine Advice For Louis C.K. 2

Dear DA, I’ve got to be 100% honest. The only lesson I’ve learned from my ordeal is to stick to prostitutes, or as I refer to them, the only real female adults. You ask them a question (can I masturbate in front of you?) and they give you a straight answer (for you, $200.00, because you’re fat and I’ve seen you on TV). What exactly did I do wrong? People say it’s because these women were subordinate to me, but I don’t buy it. If I had asked my Mexican landscaper if I could masturbate in front of him, would there have been all of this outrage? The answer is no, because Paco would have said yes. Watching me masturbate is easier than mowing my lawn, and he has to watch me masturbate while he mows my lawn anyway (I don’t believe in curtains). I know I said I understand…
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Divine Advice for Smokey the Bear

Dear DA, Fire is a mystery to everyone. Is it alive? Is it an element? Nobody knows. When the US Forest Service picked me, I told them I was skeptical about my ability to prevent forest fires or even interact with humans at all in a non-confrontational way. Humans always come into the forest with food, and to bears, they’re kind of walking food to begin with. Our first impulse is to open them like fortune cookies and find out what’s inside. Maybe there’s fire inside of them, which I’m supposed to prevent. It’s a big world out there, so I established a coalition of fire prevention bears. If one bear is good, more bears are better, right? Fozzie Bear was in charge of Australia, but I don’t know what happened to him. Judging from the news, I’d guess it was probably something fire-related. Even if he’s still alive (who…
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Divine Advice For Golden Birthday

Dear DA, Santa Anita Park might as well be a glue factory. Something like 40 of us have died there in the last two years. And now me and Truest Reward. In a way, death is our truest reward, or at least I thought it’d be. Am I in purgatory? There’s plenty of grass, but no apples or peanut butter or ass (I’m assuming I’ll get my balls back once I’m transported to heaven). You guys ever read Animal Farm? I feel like Boxer. You work hard your entire life and they run into the ground until you die. And somewhere in between, they cut your fucking balls off. They did it to me on my birthday. What kind of sick fucking joke is that? Naming me Golden Birthday and then cutting my damn balls off on my birthday? I thought I was going to get a bucket full of…
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