Greetings mortals!

For the last few nights I have sat in wait. Hoping in vain for you to all realize the mighty, throbbing wisdom of my columns here. Hoping that my many worshippers would ascend to the glory of the Big Party, in accordance with the prophecy!

I have weathered the virginal whimperings of your many letters, finding in them only more reason to intoxicate myself (not that I am complaining, mind you)!

And yet! Here I find myself having found more worshippers, in thanks to the missions my loyal followers have decided to partake upon! Set, God of the Underworld, praises your dedication to the Big Party! The new, virginal members to my faith must now have their advice-needing cherries popped!

I was driven lucid recently by a missive sent by none other than one of my official fan club members! BEHOLD!

Dear Set;
i repent that i havent written soon.. but i'm dying.. my faith in you has failed me for the last time... please help by sending a big party.
;SetMember #488593 (since 1977)

...

As I said, I was driven lucid by the missive... and lo! It was horrible! Please make note, followers, that I shall be asking questions through my club to determine just WHO allowed such a crisis of faith that it had to be dealt with by the Dark Lord himself! Make note that head will have to be given in payment!

But I digress. Onward to the letter!

So, Member #488593.... or, for the sake of ease... SM. First, in order to achieve repentance for not having written earlier, I will demand you mail me THREE young nubile virgins. One to seduce, one to sacrifice... and the other, well for me to do whatever the hell I WANT! Please postmail the virgins to:

Set, God of Darkness
P.O. Box 462
Ombos, Egypt

Now, did I not say that this was an ADVICE column? Yet, you dare to make a request of me?! Nevermind, we'll get to the 'advice' which I see you to be in such desperate need of. I shall always ensure that my followers make their way on my road of orgasmic bliss.

You ask me for a Big Party? Poor boy, you should know by now that I cannot SEND you a big party! You must WILL it into being! Surely, such a veteran member of my followers would be aware of this! It is the only way for you to ascend on my Path!

Furthermore, exactly what position in my organization DO you hold, young mortal? I would have made the queries myself, but there are far to many virginal members of my followers to penetrate on a nightly basis for me to bother with the menial, un-arousing details. ANYWAY.

I leave you with this pulsating column for now, followers. Remember that the Dark Lord's hunger is constant, and I am in need of even MORE young nubile worshippers! Spread the word of my Engorged glory and advice! Prove to me the skill and greatness of my many members! Send me more questions! Go forth and do as I say!


Send Your Questions To Set!
dearset@gmail.com

Greetings mortals!
After a lengthy, highly medicated absence, I have returned!
Kneel and worship at my serpent!

For many moons I have heard your calling - your pleading for guidance, your begging for advice, and your skull-numbingly insulting questions that are clearly intended only to waste my time!

I'm a god of darkness! I have important things to do! Important things to drink! Important things to snort! Important people to molest!
But enough! I thought you were ready to be left on your own, to seek my strength within yourselves but I see I was mistaken!

YOUR DARK FATHER HAS RETURNED!

Appease me with gifts of gold and fellatio, and in turn I will answer your many queries!

Such as this one: (Sweet, merciless ME! This query is almost as ancient as the sands of Ombos!)

Majesty,

Hyopthetically, if one were to own a deli, and wish to name a sandwich after you, what would you desire to be on said sandwich?

Your servant,
Ed Staples

...I came all the way back to a lucid state...FOR THIS?

Do you know how long it takes to metabolize 69 pounds of pure Columbian...NEVER MIND!

First of all...Ed...if that is your real name...the Dark Father is a strong proponent of proper spelling. In the future, you will spell check all of your missives with the utmost of care. Or else I will put the wild hyenas on you and command them - COMMAND THEM - to gnaw your genitals into scraps of deli-owner JERKY.

HYPOTHETICALLY, if there were a HYPOTHETICAL sandwich named after me, it would be loaded with lettuce and that special sauce that Horus always puts on my lunch. I don't know. I think it's mayonnaise. And jackal. A nice roast jackal makes a damn fine sandwich worthy of Set's name.

That's right Anubis! I went there, you bastard!

And so, Ed Staples, this wondrous sauce-and-lettuce laden delectable would be best known as "THE TYPHON" - and it would carry a warning to all who would dare seek out it's delicious secrets.

And that warning would be "MAY CAUSE THE MEAT SWEATS".

As a hypothetical deli owner, dear Ed, I am certain that you are intimately familiar with the meat sweats, and your Dark Father, I, Set, God of Darkness, extend to you my sympathies. For even I, in my god-like largeness, have known the abdominal horrors that only meat overdoses can bring.

There! As promised, so has it come to pass! Your Dark Father is back, and the rest of your questions will be answered swiftly. So send more!


Send Your Questions To Set!
dearset@gmail.com