Divine Advice for Derek Jeter

Hi guys,

I’m technically a Catholic, but not a practicing one. I’ve committed the sin of using birth control thousands of times, including premarital sex, and I’m also superstitious. I’ve invoked the ghost of Babe Ruth several times, which is technically worshiping a false idol, and that alone is enough to get me crucified, but am I really such a bad guy?

No disrespect intended, but I’m a mere mortal, and I came through in the clutch when it mattered the most, and you guys–well, to put it politely, haven’t.

I’m more of an old-school player, but stats can be useful, and based on the stats, I wouldn’t trust either of you in a high-pressure situation. For supposedly all-powerful phantoms, you guys are kind of lousy and indifferent. I just don’t think you have the competitive drive to win a World Series, let alone save the world, and the numbers don’t lie. You need someone to bat in a close game, and 99% of baseball players and fans would choose me over Jesus or Satan every time.

We all go through slumps, but to me, it looks like it’s time to retire. Maybe you had a few good moments 2,000 years ago, but even that’s debatable, and I love baseball–I would play forever if I could, but time catches up to all of us. You’ve got to give the kids a chance, teach them what you can, and hope they do better than you. That’s what all good teachers want.

Being Derek Jeter, none of the kids I teach will ever be as good as I was. I want to help them, but I’m not going to lie. I’m Derek fucking Jeter, I led the Yankees to five World Series Championships, and for most of my career, I was the most feared hitter on earth. I could go back to the Yankees right now and demand to play shortstop, and they’d let me because I’m Derek fucking Jeter.

Supposedly you guys have some sort of plan, but I think you’re afraid. You want to end humanity, do it. You want to save us, do it. Spend too much time looking at a good 4-seamer (which I loved to hit), and it’ll slide right past you.

I’m rooting for you guys, but seriously, get your shit together.

Derek fucking Jeter

Dear Derek Jeter,

It’s true that ever since I converted to Buddhism, I haven’t been all that enthusiastic about running the world. Meditation makes me kind of lethargic and apathetic. But don’t worry; I’ll get back to work just as soon as I finish watching season five of Cobra Kai. No spoilers, please. I know I could have finished it all in one sitting, but I like to savor my viewing experience.

Actually, after Cobra Kai, I want to check out season two of Only Murders in the Building. I love me some Selena Gomez. She’s not as hot as AOC, but she’s definitely in my top five.

Oh, and then after that, I promised Norm MacDonald that I’d finally check out The Orville. He only has a bit part as the voice of one of the aliens, but he’s very proud of his work.

Saget told me I could skip The Fuller House, which I had no interest in anyway. I can’t stand the Camerons. They’re such religious fanatics.

As I’m thinking about it, I’ve got quite a long queue of shows I have to watch. It may be a while before I return to the office. The fact is I was planning on bringing about the End Days, and it looks like you humans got it covered without me. Maybe I’ll just stay on vacation and let you handle it.

—Jesus Christ
P.S. I loved you in The Other Guys, by the way. That might be one of my favorite movies of all time. And Babe Ruth just told me that you’re also a baseball player. Acting and sports—is there anything you can’t do?

Dear Derek Jeter,

Does anyone still give a shit about baseball? Fuck the World Series—As Tom Brady, I won a gazillion Super Bowls. Brady is my favorite human to possess, and it’s not just because his wife has hooves.

He’s an empty vessel. He’s like the Iron Man suit without Tony Stark inside. Tommy sold me his soul, and it turned out to be a laundry bag full of smelly jock straps and socks he wore during games. To get my money’s worth, I had to take over his body, too, and it was the best deal I ever made.

I’m thinking about running for President as Brady, and if I do, I’ll win. I’m going to wait until after Trump’s fourth term, of course, because then I’ll get his blessing. The MAGA crowd will forget all about Deflategate, and come out in droves to put Touchdown Tommy in the White House. Once I’m there, all Hell will break loose. Literally.

You think New York has problems now? When I get done with it, they’re going to have to convert their subways into submarines. California will be a smoldering pile of ash. The people of Florida will have to become mermaids and mermen because their state will be at the bottom of the ocean.

So yeah, don’t worry your pretty little head. It may seem like we’re checked-out, but we’re biding our time, waiting for the conditions to be just right. Enjoy your millions of dollars and privileged life while you can, because someday you’re going to be wandering the burning streets, begging for scraps like everyone else. In a post-apocalyptic wasteland, the ability to hit a baseball will be even more of a useless skill than it is now.


H. Seitz
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