Satirical Musings, Reviews and Short Fiction

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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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 Florence Pugh

Dear Divine Advice, I’m in the best movie of the year, but for some reason, all anyone is talking about is my relationship with Zach Braff. I get it. He’s 21 years older than I am, and looks like the offspring of John Stewart and Butt-Head, but he’s got a good heart, six-pack abs, and lots of Hollywood connections. Oh, and he has a huuuuuuuuuuuge cock. I’m talking 13 inches soft, nine inches hard. I’m not sure why it gets smaller—I think he may have circulation issues—but nine inches is more than enough for me. And did I mention that his cum tastes like blood sausage? Because it does. And it’s delicious. I swear, I’m guzzling so much of his blood sausage cum that they’ll have to surgically apply that tight Black Widow costume for the next movie. It’s worth it. Anyway, my question is what can I do to…
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Divine Advice For Vladimir Putin 2

Dear Icons of Christian Mythology, As the superior man on Earth, I don’t need advice from 2,000-year-old fictional characters but am curious what you think of threats made by American President Joe Biden. He blame Mother Russia for something called “ransomware,” which hurt American economy and cause high beef price. I tell you what I tell him: Mother Russia is not hacking American computers, so it must be the gays from American cities causing the problems. Is always the gays. America always brag because it beat Mother Russia in one little hockey game at 1980 Olympics and one measly cold war in 1989, but Mother Russia still have billions of nuclear missiles which we will gladly trade to Taliban for fancy afghan rugs and maybe some oil. American gays cry because I help Donald Trump become president, but that was five years ago. Controlling American politics is boring now. Now…
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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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