Your favorite satirical newspaper, The Onion, is running a pretty hilarious advice column called “Ask An Elderly Black Woman As Depicted By A Sophomore Creative Writing Major,” written by one Mrs. D’Lulah Jessups.

The column is probably stirring up some animosity from, well, elderly black women, or insecure writing majors who see too much of their own panache in the prose, or those who still believe race is not a topic that’s open to satire, or even those who genuinely turn to advice columns to help solve their problems — in short, a large and disparate audience may very well find the joke offensive.

But this being The Onion, and we being openminded, let’s revel for a moment in the simple and pointed beauty of the prank: The questions all have a kind of panicked, flustered earnestness to them, very similar to what one finds in a legitimate advice column.

To wit:

What kind of comfortable but stylish clothing would you recommend for a crisp autumn day? Something that just screams, “It’s fall!”

—Fashionable In Fall

and

I’ve been a runner all my life, but after just a few months at a new gym, I’ve developed plantar fasciitis. Does this have anything to do with my new trainer, my shoes, my age, or all of the above?

—One Jostled Jogger

and

Yesterday I received a Facebook friend request from my gossipy aunt, which I don’t want to accept for obvious reasons. I could always say yes and then hide parts of my profile from her, but she would definitely figure it out. Is there any good way to resolve this?

—Stuck In Cincinnati

Typically I get my daily dose of The Onion via their Twitter feed, which, you probably already know, dashes off wonderfully obtuse, sometimes painfully funny one-liners. Twitter seems a perfect medium (I guess Twitter is a medium?) for The Onion’s satire, as a really strong headline/joke is often more powerful than an entire article that draws inspiration from an initial gag. But what I like about this article is that a single comic approach employs multiple jokes. That and the gnarled prose, of course.

Dear Fashionable,

“Lawdy, girl, if you not in ya church dress in 15 minutes I’ll be gettin’ the switch on yeh. Ag’nes! Ag’nes! You bring the lil’ miss her bonnet now. Lawd in heav’n, if this my chile I slap her upside the head!”

My sister was only four, but she knew better than to cross Mrs. Jessups or she’d get a real Southern scare like she used to give her son Rhemus. Far as we knew, Rhemus was still over in county jail for Lord knows what. She didn’t talk about him much.

“Good lawd in heav’n chile, you march yer toot right up that stair n’ fetch me my Bible gloves. Mercy, mercy, mercy! Sweet Jesus, Mary, ’n’ Joseph, this chile gon’ be the death ah me!”

and

Dear Jostled,

Once a day she’d walk on down the hallway, look at pictures from the past. The late Mr. Jessups, Rhemus, Grandma Toots; their smiles permeated the room, erased the suffering for a few treasured moments. A hot, proud tear rolled down the old woman’s wrinkled cheeks. “The Devil’s dust gon’ git ’n mah eyes,” she’d say. “Les’ go back to the kitch’n, sweet things.”

and

Dear Stuck,

After church was when we got to eat the leftover buckwheat cakes. She called it stickin’ food, “’cause it stick to yer ribs.” Our Mama knew she spoiled us, but she didn’t mind. After all, Mrs. Jessups had brought five of us Calhoun kids into this world and Lord knows she’d probably bring five more. “Lawd have mercy, you never heard babies so loud as those Calhoun chillen!” she said as she cooked up sweet potatoes on the stove. “Minute ma’ girl Cecile op’n her mouth, house shakin’ like thund’r storm. I swear that girl gon’ be tall as green beans.” And at that she gave me a wink.

Read more from Mrs. D’Lulah Jessups’ advice column here.