Satirical Musings, Reviews and Short Fiction

Divine Advice for Nicki Minaj

Dear Divine Advice, As you know, my cousin’s friend’s uncle’s other nephew in Trinidad took the COVID-19 vaccine and got swollen testicles which made him impotent. I don’t currently have testicles, but I assume the vaccine will cause me to grow them, and that’s exactly the kind of side effect I’m worried about. Say what you will about ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine, but at least they don’t give you unwanted ballz that don’t even work. I’m afraid our country is becoming like China or Nazi Germany, where famous people aren’t allowed to go on Twitter and ask stupid, uninformed questions that lead to millions of their followers making equally stupid and uninformed decisions, which will exasperate the spread of an infectious disease and lead to hundreds of thousands of deaths. I never told anyone not to take the vaccine, I just told them to do their own research and to pray…
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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 Gavin Newsom

Dear Divine Advice, Apparently, there’s a law in California where the 20 or 30 dumbest assholes in the state can get together on a whim and decide to remove the Governor for, really, any ridiculous reason at all. In this case, it’s because they don’t feel like following public health guidelines that have been gently enforced to keep Californians safe during a deadly pandemic. Remember watching Arnold Schwarzenegger hang out in an opium den with Steve Coogan and Jackie Chan in that shitty Around the World in 80 Days movie and thinking “damn, that meathead is the Governor of California?” Well, that’s about to happen again, only it’s going to be a lot worse this time. At least Arnold wasn’t a QAnon nutjob. Larry Elder, the asshat leading in the poles to replace me, is basically Black Alex Jones. A Democrat as handsome and charming as I am shouldn’t be…
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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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Divine Advice for Andrew Cuomo 3

Dear Divine Advice, I’m sitting here in utter disbelief that the PC thugs actually won. I really thought I could Trump my way through this, but I guess not. Apparently, all politicians can get away with murdering geezers and bullying staffers to cover it up, but only Republicans can survive a #METOO moment. I still don’t know why that slide show of me groping all those people didn’t convince everyone that I wasn’t a creep. It shouldn’t count as sexual harassment if you also do it to men. And why wasn’t anyone satisfied with my “I’m just Italian” excuse? Everyone knows that all Italian men have magnets in their hands that are attracted to women’s asses. Also, we like to eat spaghetti and attack giant gorillas who are throwing barrels at us. Anyway, my question is, now that I won’t be Governor any more, how can I trick hot young…
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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 He-Man

Dear Divine Advice, I’m used to enjoying a certain level of respect. At restaurants, I get seated immediately even if I don’t have a reservation, I can park my Bashasaurus wherever I want and never get a ticket, and I don’t have to wait in line at Disneyland Eternia. I can vanquish Skeletor with my eyes closed, I can beat Lebron James at B-A-T-T-L-E-C-A-T with one hand tied behind my back, I can run a 45-minute marathon and a 6-second 100m, I have a 20-meter long jump, I can throw a 135 mph fastball, I have a 145 mph slap shot, and can kick a 101-yard field goal. In spite of all this, I’m incredibly depressed. In public, I like to project this image of a huge, super-confident bodybuilder who never wears a shirt, but deep down inside, I’m a slightly smaller bodybuilder who dresses like a 16th-century thespian. The fucked-up…
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