Hate Speech Therapist Hater

I hate spending any money on my hate speech therapist. Every time I spend 20 dollars there, I expect rolling papers to calm myself down soon afterwards. It’s not as if I got complimentary rolling papers when I used to take weed runs to the South Bronx in high school with my high school buds to score sprayed Nickle bags of weed that tasted like Windex. God’s proving the limitations of humor by pairing me with a Hate Speech Therapist who dabbled in stand-up comedy in the past. Hate Speech Therapist says, “You’ve told me about warm words of encouragement from certain Lit Agents, but have you actually received any extensive feedback on what you can do to not suck so much in their all-knowing, morally superior eyes? Don’t you think the problem is you not being a funny enough fagala, and that’s why they’re not interested in acknowledging your existence, more so than being turned off by your polarizing political stances because they’d lose all their clients for representing a practicing Koshterian Comedian, who dares to defend Israel’s right to defend itself against Terrorists who launch thousands of rockets into their backyard while expecting nothing but an edible arrangement gift basket in return with a thank you note written in Farsi?”

I bring up just seeing Jerry Lewis’s film Patsy and being in perpetual awe of his all-encompassing hilarity inside and out. I add, “Jim Carrey is a leering, desperate, highly grating, weirdo hack in comparison, whose aged worse than the back of Joe Biden’s decrepit bald spot and droopy shoulders of American dissing disgust.” Hate Speech Therapist gets his panties in a bunch and says, “But Jim Carrey is funny.” I say, “He wasn’t funny enough to keep the girlfriend he gave herpes to keep hanging on. But you love Jim Carey so much, then why haven’t you bought any of his artwork after he decided to brand all Trump supporters Klansman since all those rejected extras from the Sears Catalog in 86 showed up in Charlottesville in their faded Lacoste polos and tiki torches in hand because Madonna made burning crosses so eighties passe’ already? “

To make matters worse, Hate Speech Therapist brings up Mort Saul, who was a topical comedian from the fifties that was considered the more overtly Jewy Bill Maher of his day. I reply, “I actually sampled some jokes on Mort Saul at Starbucks off Laurel Canyon once before an open mike in Santa Monica later that night. I said, “Mort, don’t you think a 2-state solution in impossible to achieve if Hamas keeps fucking? And why would a non-practicing Jewish mom proudly admit to not having her kid circumcised, whether it be from a doctor in the hospital or from rabbi soon after played by Crocodile Dundee? Just so a roomful of Jews can say, “Now, that’s a knife. You can chop it all off with that thing? Doesn’t this mom know by forsaking the circumcision, she isn’t doing her son’s inch worm look any favors? Good luck arousing interest in getting head from a man or gal with decrepit foreskin flapping in the wind, which looks less appetizing than an Anteater’s schnoz poking around Chelsea Clinton’s moldy snatch. But it’s sexist to make fun of Chelsea Clinton. But she’s not even ugly anymore. Plus, I think Sarah Silverman is a divisive twat on Twitter to Mort while playing the role of social justice warrior to downplay her tits sagging popularity, challah, thank you very much.”

Personally, I like how Mort Saul became obsessed with the Kennedy assassination to the point where it sucked the wind of out his career, which shows real character in my book. I can relate to the experience of being persecuted for being a shadowbanned, canceled truther comedian by Twitter and the Times Of Israel for insisting China has resisted Wuhan lab investigations more than AquaFresh or for pointing out how Governor Cuomo, the Italian Reptilian inside forced the Golden Girls to die alone, after forcing elderly homes to accept COVID patients, because he couldn’t let all those extra ordered body bags and freeze truck photo ops go to waste. I’m not the one who supports open border sex trafficking and gangbanger safe space sanctuary cities which have transformed the Democratic brand into the Rape Enablement Party today. But Mort Saul wrote jokes for JFK. Hey, it’s good work if you can get it. Still, that doesn’t remove the soul stain left on the Democratic party for using biological warfare on America and beyond to push for mail in voting to steal an election since the day Democracy died in their collective effort to starve out the working man into oblivion because they don’t want their kids in masks for Sharia Law Appreciation century or care to have blood clot shots give them premature strokes before John Durham is done squinting seriously at the TV news reporters from Newsmax. The same modern day Elliot Ness, not, who wouldn’t know a RICO case if the power point presentation was stored on Hunter’s Biden’s desktop. Some special counsel, just having one FBI higher up have his pension stripped for failing to hit his school shooter quota for once would be special. Coffee is for closers, not fake news do gooder’s in FBI windbreakers.

The worst part of my talk with my hate speech therapist is his perplexed look, when I talked about giving my 10 year old daughter my weed edibles to hide till Hanukah. He says, “Aren’t you giving her to much awkward responsibility to shoulder? I say, “Doc, I have my wife hide my Adderall to get my anger fueled, hate speech issues under control. And I don’t want to take weed edibles and blank on what a hate speech monger I’ve become since I came out as a former Trump supporter before he let Democracy die on his watch without doing jack shit about it besides grumble on Rumble. So as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles would say, “What difference does it make?” Mort Saul lives, Challah, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth