Divine Advice For Jason Momoa

Dear Lilith,

I’m a big, dumb, handsome slab of beef, and people love me for it. Everybody loves big dumb Jason Momoa. I was in Game of Thrones, and I humped the Mother of Dragons. High five! Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. That was sweet.

Things are going great for Jason Momoa. I have great tattoos, I work out a lot, and my bowel movements have been like regular like forever.

So anyway, there’s this girl I kind of like. Basically, every male on earth would like her. Dogs, monkeys, baboons, dolphins. I saw a dolphin on set go for it, and you know what I did? I high fived him.

We have this little game going. Whenever she’s around me, she’s always “reading.” Like anything in some dumb book could be better than looking at Jason Momoa. So I play the game back and tear out the pages while she’s off taking a dump or whatever. Now the ball’s back in her court, right? So she gets this big old lady purse and starts carrying her books around with her so I can’t tear into them. (By the way, to all you teachers out there–when a kid says that a dog ate his homework, that kid is lying. It wasn’t a dog, it was me, Jason Momoa.)

Anyway, so now the ball’s back in my court. What I’m going to do next–this is so awesome–I’m going to burn her house down. And get this, I’m going to do it while she’s still inside of it. There’s no way she can carry her entire house around in some purse.

The way I see it, you only have so many lives, like a cat, so you might as well go for it. And a girl like this, the gesture has to be grand, dude. You know Johnny Depp? Big ladies man, breaking all those hearts for decades? She snapped him in two, bro. That’s how hot she is. The guy is a fucking wreck.

I’m writing to you because you’re a chick too and maybe you could give me some pointers. I mean I know what I’m doing, obviously, but I think she could be the one for Jason Momoa. The big L. So I can’t afford to shit the bed on this one.

Yours truly,
Jason Momoa.

Dearest Mr. Mimosa,

You give new meaning to bubbleheads. Methinks those steroids have gravitated to both of your brains and any common sense you once had leaked out.

It’s time for a reality check. You aren’t as funny as you think you are. You aren’t as studly as you think you are. We have hairy red basilisks down here I’d fuck three-ways to Sunday before I’d give you a chance. Aquaman? I don’t think so. More like Poseidon after someone stuck his trident up his ass.

I love me some reading. The Kama Sutra, The Satanic Bible, The Book of Lilith. (That last one is a work of fiction, but it’s funny as hell!) If you had torn some pages out of my book before I’d finished it, Satan’s Apocalypse would look like a ride at Disneyworld compared to what I’d rain down on earth. And setting fire to Ms. Amber’s house? Now that’s just mean.

Listen, you already have your ho and if I were you I’d be running scared. Look at what your wife did to Lenny K. He built his career off their breakup. Or is that what you’re going for here? Do you think if you piss off enough other people your wife will dump you? Get real. You had a better chance fighting those dragons. She’s nobody to give your career a leg up and you’d still come out looking like a loser. Big “L” my ass.

I recommend you take it down a level. You’ll be a has-been within a year or two, a jackass Steve-O could dominate with one arm tied behind his back. Stick with your American Woman and leave the A list alone. You may attract some of the girls, but this one knows your future and I can guarantee that it isn’t what you think it will be. We’re at 14:57 and counting.

And if you ever call me a chick again, I’ll put your name in the last pages of every history book and then rip them out.

Love,
Lilith

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.