Hardcore Beauty Queens

Fuck China. Chinese made Fentanyl has killed more crackers in this county than Taylor Swift kicking with Lena Dunham on Instagram. Lena Dunham was Hillary’s Social Media Campaign Manager when she ran against Trumpy Poo. Only Lena Dunham could make Hillary less likeable and relatable in one blubbery swoop.

Older woman with grey hair give me old school erections like I’m 21 again. I’m hot for old school maids sucking out my white priveledge like a battery drained Dust Buster on its last legs in 1999. Plus, you know they’ve been married for long stretches of time at some point resulting in them being open to try anything new like facial cream specials by a formidable meaty mallet, before washing up for a Zoom call at noon.

I still can’t get turned on by older woman talk at the pool about five month waiting periods for private school. Mainly because I doubt those schools resemble the Girl School video by Briteny Fox. Plus, talk of private school waiting list, just reminds me how long my wife has been waiting for me make it as comedian already because I’m still so broke, my Hebrew name is under Judicial review. I still can’t stare down an actress on Melrose without being fined for insufficient funds.

Tom Petty died from Fentanyl. They say he used Fentanyl for his back problems. Why couldn’t Tom Petty sit his ass on a piano bench which was more than sufficient whenever Jerry Lee would pound the keys with his cock with resounding, reverberating authority instead. How else do you think he came up the lyrics, Great Balls of Fire?”

I think more shrinks should prescribe edibles over anti-depressants. One, gives you a mentally tingly lift. The other turns you into a school shooter on the FBI’s Most Neglected List.

I still can’t believe recreational weed shops actually exist in our country. It makes me proud to be an American again, in a place where I know I’m free to take edibles behind my kid’s backs before they unmask my pot head eyes.

Weed edibles don’t make me feel like a total moron around my daughter whenever she asks me a super hard question on them like, “Daddy, if God created the universe, then who created God?” I say, “God went back in time in a time machine made by Elon Musk. ” Daughter says, “That’s a really convincing theory Dad. Thanks for turning me to an atheist at 4.” David Cross lives, holla, thank you very much.

Moms who obsess over suntan protection are the same ones who insist on their kids wearing masks inside like Michael Jackson’s kids on holiday in Bahrain. Wearing a mask in your car is like the God of War Aries wearing a tunic dress into a Greek Spa to conceal what a raging homo he is underneath.

Suntan protection shaming today is another shining example virtue signaling. Look at me, I’m willing to blind my own kid before that bitchy old sun get’s gives my kid some extra soul glow 1st.

I’m reaching out to Christian Lit agents, pitching my book, The Koshertarian Comedian, stating, “You’re my only option left because I’m the last God fearing, self-loving Jewish New Yorker left. Who doesn’t shy away from pro Trump material either like Trump’s the anti-Christ? But doesn’t Jesus’ return from Heaven to defeat the Anti-Christ in the Bible part 2? So have some faith in the Jesus comeback story, won’t you people? I actually had to Google Anti-Christ to figure out what it meant. That’s what Pig Vomit calls Howard Stern in Private Parts before he came out as weird, weak, woke Howard. So at the time, I thought how bad could the Anti-Christ be? Then again, I don’t think Howard lost any sleep over Artie turning his nose into a piece of fucking folded Capicola. After he got remarried to Beth, who’s a 6.9 by ghoulish tranny standards, who has zero feel for measured makeup application whatsoever. Weird, Weak Howard also insists all Trump supporters drop dead. Whatever it takes Howard, to ensure you still get invited over to Jimmy Kimmel’s house for more 2 bite chicken parm dinners. It’s not Trump’s fault, you’re no longer the King of All Media or Social Media ever. If you haven’t been kicked off Twitter, you’re no longer hardcore hilarious enough sorry Perm Head. Can I get a holla, for mo money mint weird weak Howard blast for the ages, Challah? Thank you very much.

Daughter sports a new tang top this morning that says, “Grateful” on it. Wife says, “Doesn’t she look like hardcore hippie in it?” I say, “I prefer to call her a hardcore beauty queen in the making babe. She doesn’t care for the Fleet Foxes, Bjork or that other band you like the Mask Miserable Seals.

The other day, my son says, “I jammed this lime up my butt.” I said, “Don’t jam limes up your butt.” He says, “Why not? I rubbed it against my penis to and it felt good.” I reply, “I better keep you away from dad’s Key Lime pie for dessert.”

Perfect father son, bonding moment. Son says, “Are you picking us up from camp today?” I said, “Yes.” He says, “That’s good, because I get to see more of you then. And we get to listen to bad ass music on the car ride home. And my wife thinks Hair Metal is rock and roll pollution. But Bjork having a band member pouring cups of water into a koi pond for a watered down drum of solo doesn’t stink.

The other night I’m tucking my daughter in and say “Hardcore Hilarious Rocks” is one of my strongest comedy records yet. My act outs of Joy Behar in Muslim virgin heaven and as Kay announcing to Michael about being pregnant with a hermaphrodite son in my bit the Gender Fluid Godfather are some of my strongest act out bits yet. Daughter says, “So you’re better at playing at girls daddy?” I say, “I don’t call myself a stay-at home shemale comedian for nothing.”

Wife pulls a dildo out of her panty drawer and says, “Do you want it?” I say, “Save for it for Samuel. He’s already jamming limes up his butt. So, at this point, what difference does it make.” Hillary Hammer Time Cankles lives, holla, thank you very much.

Weed dealer bud calls and says he’s going to Mexico for vacation this summer. I say, “Last time I went to Tijuana, a hooker called me faggot after I declined to fuck her which was an uplifting moment at the time. Later, a woman who I thought was a regular customer gave me a 2 second lap dance and I exploded in my sweats 2 seconds later. So, I no longer felt like a full-fledged faggot, which was a pleasant change of my pace. Once, I went to a strip club in Montreal and tipped the DJ fifty bucks to play the 22- minute Whipping Post version from the Allman Brothers record, live at The Filmore East. I’m a craftier, greedier Jew than I give myself credit for actually.   

Wife can’t get enough of the new soft core porn series on Netflix Sex/Life. She showed me the picture of this Aussie hunk naked who could’ve gone jump roping with it flaccid. All this time at home has given has given stuck at home, remote learning monitoring suburban moms never-ending schlocky schlong fever.

Told my weed dealer bud about getting up on stage again recently and how I started bombing once I went after Hillary Hammer Time Cankles. On stage I say, “Hillary says she lost because of Russian collusion. I thought she lost because she’s an unhuggable cunt, my bad. She must have deleted that memo to. My wife had a Hillary spotting for lunch during restaurant week in this garden patio spot in Westchester. Wife says, “Hillary was nice. She smiled at baby. I said, “Of course she smiled at baby. Hillary was getting warmed for up for dessert.”

Michael Kornbluth

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