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Impossible to Ignore

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Because Kamala Harris is Michelle Obama if she shopped at Ann Taylor.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Better put the CEO of Pete’s Coffee on notice. He’s got greater brand name recognition than the CEO of the Coffee Bean, Tea and Leaf.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Because hack comedy writers on Colbert will take their vote to CEO of The Coffee Bean before a centrist Jewish candidate, not controlled by Mexican cartels yet.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Elizabeth Warren should seek a vision from a Shaman in her 1 percenter tribe. She can write off the Peyote trip expenditures as “opposition research.” If Buzzfeed starts asking questions and reverts to mind blowing, serious investigative journalism again.

Have you heard the new Trump voiced GPS system yet? Turn right for your exit for Mohegan Sun, Elizabeth’s Warren home away from home.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Shrink from the moment more Bloomberg. His aids are instructed to never bring him a tall latte from Starbucks because tall means small.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Because Gillibrand will write off past campaign donations by Harvey Hair Clumps Weinstein as hush money for not tattle tailing on the fat rat to his wife.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Because all the Trump haters are so intent on backing a 3 time loser, assuming Huma licker breath runs again.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Because hack comedy writers banging out angry white boy, Blackish spec scripts at Starbucks are so centrist in thought these days.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Isn’t that the DNC’s job Mr. Ironic? Face facts Bloomberg. Bernie got screwed, you backed a 2 time loser. So much for 2018 being the year for Atheist Jews.

Howard Schultz would “steal” votes away from the Democrat nominee Bloomberg? Seth Rich calls, now show us what you got Mr. Ironic. Boycott this, resist this, I don’t care.

At my daughter’s Elementary School in Northern Westchester Country,  NY,  they invited the parents there to witness our children play a game of Clue. Using locations from the local surrounding area. Stressing “community” as the theme being taught here. When explaining the directions of the game, my daughter’s 2nd grade teacher says. If make you an accusation and you’re wrong. You’re BuzzFeed, I blurt out without being able to control myself.  The entire class of mostly mothers roars in approval, including my daughters 1st Grade Teacher, Mrs. Castalano, only in New York baby. That’s the real pulse of America Bloomberg, hope you’re taking notes on a Latte cup Schultz.

 

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

4 Kids Would Really Piss My Parents Off

What’s it like being a father of 3? Endless bliss, each sweet child of mine becomes a new automatic of me. But where do we go now? After my wife of 8 years wants to cut me off from more because we’ve had one too many already. Insisting on me pulling the plug on my life shooter for good. Meaning do I get a Vasectomy next? Moving forward, do I become a sperm implant-her or sperm terminator? That is the question Andrew Dice Shakespeare.

This is me starting a fight with my wife at home. “Hey babe, if you do a Vasectomy search on Google. What website do you think shows up the top, Web MD or Planned Parenthood? Wife says: Planned Parenthood. I say. They don’t have enough monopolized power over your Fallopian Tubes already?

I can picture myself at the doctor’s office now: Hey doc, tell me if you’ve heard this one before. A Vasectomy screams I’ve got enough knots in my back already from 3 kids. So, one more in my groin won’t make a difference.

Hey, doc, I hear some doctors in NY state won’t give you a Vasectomy without your wife’s approval. Does this mean men’s productive rights is a fake news Oxymoron Doc? Also, off the record doc, does Planned Parenthood in New York State offer comped trips, including top shelf Don Julio Tequila open bars, for any insider trading referrals you pass to them as a form of a finder’s fee? Doc, don’t leave, I’m only joking. Be honest with me doc. Is a Vasectomy really permanent? Like Stephen Colbert’s twerpy persona when he doesn’t have a buffoonish Bill O’Reilly persona to hide behind along with funnier writers at Comedy Central at his disposal. In medical school for Vasectomy 101, do they teach you how to untie a triple knot with your teeth or is this considered mere Cub Scouts child’s play in your book Doc? I wouldn’t know because I’m a useless Jew who never joined the Cub Scouts or had a dad who taught me how to change a tire, let alone, hondle for some moving help at Home Depot on the cheap.

I’ve been a dad since I’ve been married more or less. On our honeymoon in Australia, my wife’s home country, originally. Is it a Continent Country? The Queen of England is still on their money, Australia used to be the largest prison, chain gang colony per square capita in the universe, I don’t get it. All I know, is we wanted to get married in Australia, yet my mom shot down the concept real fast. Mom calls. Australia is a very long flight from New York and your father doesn’t love you that much. So, I made my wife a compromise at the time. “Hey babe, assuming we have a boy one day, instead of hiring, a Rabbi for the circumcision, will hire Crocodile Dundee. Just so we can hear a roomful of Jews quote: Now that’s a knife, you can chop it all off with that thing.” So, on the 5th night of our honeymoon in Australia in our honeymoon suite, my wife squeezes a stream of milk from her nipple across the room. Which signified the end of our honeymoon phase on the spot. Ever since, our Queen size bed has turned into a 24/7 open milk bar for 3 kids eight years and counting. Finally, baby Samuel is starting to sleep in his brother and sisters’ room. I have my office till March when my daughter turns 8. So, am I really in such a rush to bang out a 4th kid? Which automatically kills any shot of reverting our Queens size bed into a bouncy castle for mommy and daddy for old times’ sake.

Having a 4th kid fills me with dread knowing it would generate another no-show visitor gathering in my kids hello world welcoming party in his honor, from family and fake friends on my side of the marriage equation. Not that this is a reason to negate having more kids, but do I really want to put myself through such forced I don’t give a shit, me against the world feeling angst again? Sure, some friends passed the friendship litmus test after the birth of my lucky number 3 Samuel, Head Banger’s Ball Kornbluth, by celebrating new manifestations of me through texts, phone calls and Facebook DM’s. But I wouldn’t call any of these buds Godfather in the making material either. On a tad deeper level, I suspect these old buds of mine think having a 3rd kid is my own pathetic excuse to play stay at home dad another year longer until I start choking my wife too hard financially.

I also worry about pushing my luck with having 4 kids in total, knowing only Arthur Morrison, was planned in the 1st place. He’s my f you dad baby. Who came to life in mommy after we did some boom boom. Only after my birthday lunch with my dad in town, proclaiming, in cavalier disgust. Don’t plan on having another kid because I can’t afford it. You mean the 1 batch of plane tickets a year to fly us out to your Arizona Estate Shrine to you and mom? One more kid coming right up, Arthur Morrison Kornbluth, to be exact. The name works beautifully because Art Show was born in the true spirit of f you parental rebellion.

Matilda our 1st wasn’t planned. My wife, the fiancé tears and says: I’m pregnant. 3 months before our wedding. At the time, I’m thinking now push for the abortion and don’t be a pussy about it. Thank God I didn’t. Because now my 7-year-old daughter Matilda can shove a lost and found copy of the Kama Sutra from my office in my face and say. Daddy, why haven’t you told me about this book before? And by the way, it’s very sexual. Also, what does the Kama Sutra mean anyway? I reply. It’s a guidebook to giving pleasure for those you love more than yourself. For 20 seconds spurts at a time. My daughter adds. Are you any good at it? I say. Sure, once daddy is pulled into the preferred port of entry. This conversation is over now Matilda. I hear Child Services lurking at our door as we speak. But seriously, would a 4th child produce inspired new material like this?

A 4th kid would illuminate Facebook Grandma’s inertia on both sides, but I don’t need a painful reminder of this. All I have to do is get another pair of bargain bin black socks on Christmas from my mother in law again to nail this point home. Nothing screams I don’t a shit about making you feel like a Godsent special, permanent addition to our boring Gentile family outside of our daughter, then a pair of bargain bin black socks year after year. You know the gift is cheap when the cost of postage is more than the gift itself. My best reply so far to receiving more bargain bin black socks for Christmas for eight years running is: Great gift, at least now, I can postpone laundry for another week.

I forget to mention our lucky number 3 baby Samuel was conceived in Buffalo at an old High School friend’s wedding for our 1st weekend getaway from our 2 kids prior in 7 years. Just when I was getting cocky, thinking, I got parenting 2 kids under control no problem. Then, God throws me a curve ball and gets my wife pregnant because pulling out on time, is obviously not my forte. Knowing, I wasn’t touched by girls much during my teen years. As a result, I tend to get more overexcited than most, which explains why I still can’t last much past 1 Mississippi.

We call our baby Samuel baby and I’d like to keep it that way. He’s our lucky number 3 for a reason. Also, as they say, the “rich get richer, and the poor get more children.” Well, I’d like to reverse that trend in its tracks already. At the same time, I can’t complain about a 4th automatic fan of me on the home front. Mama would be overruled by our own Supreme Court Bench in all issues pertaining to Men’s reproductive rights. Plus, 4 kids would really piss my parents off with more than Judge Jeanine Pirro on the View charging my parents ilk with Trump Derangement Syndrome.

The End,

By

Michael Kornbluth

Never Forget the Nazi Smears

What does Farrakhan do on Holocaust Remembrance Day? Troll Eli Wiesel fan pages on Twitter with #fakenews hashtags from sunrise to night?

Seriously, what does Farrakhan do on Holocaust Remembrance Day? Spray Benjamin Netanyahu’s Twitter feed with Termite Emoji’s & the hashtag. #ButNataliePortmanisalright.

INT. DINER
7-Year-Old Daughter
I’ll have the Long Island Iced Tea.
Me
Whatever you say Catholic High Schools Girls in Trouble. That drink better come with a complimentary HPV vaccination.

 
Wife
You’re always criticizing my cooking, telling me what to add, whatever you say sir.
Me
Whatever, whenever. Hey, Matilda, Shakira is growing on me already. I only wish mama’s hips didn’t tell the whole truth so much.
INT. Jacob Films Burns Theater
Older Woman
4 for On the Basis of Sex.
Ticket Guy
Sold out.
Me
Tough break.
Older Woman
Excuse me.
Me
You’re too old and undesirable for a 3rd Trimester abortion in New York State.

 
Daddy, a girl in my 2nd grade class knows what big balls means. Just think of Hillary Hammer Time Cankles uninspired pick as her running mate VP. His son is a burnout loser suffering from a nut-less allergy of some kind also.

 

3 weeks without pay. Try 3 years as a stay at home dad and I’ll give a shit. But how will you handle commuting again? A trip on Metro North will feel like a 5-week wave in Germany after 3 summers with no central AC.

 

 

LA Bud
Going to the Superbowl. Check that off my bucket list.
Me
I thought you were a Raiders fan. Oh yeah, you started rooting for the Clippers once they got Afro Archie who could jump over Kia’s.

 

Play Date Mom hosting a 1st ever, unplanned sleepover with my 7-year-old daughter, that I pushed for via text hour earlier. Call anytime to say goodnight to her. In other words, I have added work, you don’t slacker.

 

LA Bud
My daughter doesn’t see color anymore.
Me
Is that because you’re a predatory, bullshit artist. Who pushes bitcoin and loan modification loans for a living like a biracial mixed Vin Diesel in Boiler Room would.

 

Me
Are you on your period?
Daughter
What does on your period mean?
Me
It’s when a woman stops being an oasis of pleasantness between becoming blah brained miserable pregnant for 9 months at a time.

 

Mom texts. I just emailed you a great article from the NY Times about fun stuff to do in Scottsdale, Arizona. I don’t see firing off rounds at Ann Coulter Scarecrow replicas at the range being targeted as points of interest.

 
Me discouraging my son’s request for a Barbie movie. We can watch Solo, fast forward to the fights in Blood Sport. Or grab all your sisters Barbie dolls by the hair and drag them back into my man cave to clean up the place instead. I’ve dug a toxic hole of alpha male masculinity and I can’t get out.

 

 

Me
I’m going to apply for the Communication Manager role for that Yacht club in CT.
Daughter
What does apply mean? Me Emailing a resume & a cover letter nobody reads. Before I hound them on the phone for a response.

 

 

Me
Your parents are visiting next Saturday, right?
Wife
Yeah Me Did they book their hotel room? Wife Yes. Me Now, that’s why I call a smart wall. Your mother must have Howard Johnson bonus points to cash in.

 

 

Wife
You’re not going to give me hate stares if I wear my pajamas all morning, are you?
Me
My morning wood is used to a short shelf life by now. Which your frumpy pajamas played zero role in erecting.
Me
In 14 years, Rock becomes President, after 1 more term of Trump & 2 terms for Ivanka.
Wife
You don’t question his native ancestry?

 

Me
No, I don’t see the Rock as an agent of Iranian Sheiks ruling Iran, that’s correct.

7-year-old daughter discovers the Kama Sutra. Daddy, this book is very sexual. And the girl in it is prettier than mommy. Plus, her skin has no veins. Plus, there’s no way mama is this flexible. Stop rubbing it in already.

 

 

INT. DINER
Daughter
Shannon’s parents have problems like you and mommy.
Me
How so?
Daughter
They sleep in different beds.
Me
Actually, the fifties weren’t so bad all together.

 

 
I hate lawyers who reinvent themselves as working writers. Not because they made it as writers. Just because they bitched about being miserable clearing six figures year after year. Avoiding their boring wives & annoying kids 24/7.

 
5-year-old son finds the Kama Sutra book in my office and says. My pee pee popped out from opening it.

 
Me attacking my daughter for claiming she likes Shakira better than Bon Jovi. She’s a belly dancing lounge act for Saudi Royals since Madonna got into Kabbalah. Actually, she’s the most streamed artist of all time, those stats don’t lie.

 
Trump’s the new Hitler. In what Inglorious Bastards 2? Did you know he lifted the lifetime ban on Jewish membership at Mar a Lago slim on facts shady?

 
Every Holocaust survivor descendant in the news media who has constantly smeared President Trump as Hitler should have their foreskin grow back as punishment God. They’d sell out their brother to the SS for a wrap from the food truck Schnitzel and Things.

 
One last time Michael Rapaport, make Nazi Germany great again, wasn’t Trump’s campaign slogan dude. Too bad Louie can’t write you another annoying New York asshole to play in convincing fashion.

 
The End
By,
Michael Kornbluth

Build the Pool Fence

 

“No pool fence, it’s an eye sore?” My mom declares with philistine punctuated disgust. I reply. “But your grandchildren don’t know how to swim yet. Plus, eye sore sounds a tad dramatic there Pelosi breath. A back tat on Lena Dunham’s backfat in broad daylight is an eyesore. A pool fence drowning prevention device. So, I can throw back a couple without having Drone Coast Guard swooping technology at my disposal to react in real time to my kids sinking like a stone on the spot in your destination pool is an eye sore. You’d think I was pushing for my mother to get the barbed wire fence on an Eli Wiesel novel. Anthony Jeselnik lives, through me unfortunately.

7 years later, my parents finally hired a caravan of illegal immigrants to install a netted pool fence around their beautifully tiled, formerly salt-water pool outside of their Arizona estate home shrine to themselves, I’m assuming. Because they hire them to do everything else.

So, what took so long for my parents to buy into the concept that pool fences work? Preventing avoidable harm to their 3 grandchildren in the event they sneak into the pool undetected and drown to death as my dad plays Words with Friends with old work friends in Jersey from afar. Simple, I exerted my own figurative line in the sand with my mind by telling my mother over the phone between her Bridge meetup group I’m assuming: Before Maddow’s brow starts furrowing with existential worry again mom. Build the pool fence or will rescind your invitation to visit despite you paying for it against our will because you don’t respect me as a stay at home shemale dad. Who you insist on becoming a garbage man because you view all Trump supporters has dirty white trash no better than a job throwing out others scraps for a living. So, let’s meet in the middle in the service of good will hued negotiation and agree to call our annual visit to Arizona. Which we blew off last year for Spring Break in Norway because applying sun tan lotion on all 3 kids every time they step out of the pool isn’t our idea of a real vacation. On top of you magically pooping out after looking after the kids for no more than 2 hours, despite you being retired and having all year to get in shape and train for the arrival of your 3 grandchildren as your main event.

Yeah, so now, that we’re clear this trip isn’t a real vacation away from being loving, emotionally present, ultra-interested parents during all waking hours at home around our 3 kids in the absence of you never being here to “help out” besides your horseshit stint last summer. Hosting a couple of sleepovers, resulting in getting our 2 kids asleep, knowing you can’t handle 3 kids at one time, Godforbid, because baby Samuel suffers from stranger anxiety around you. Which he also suffers around Baba on mama’s side. At the same time, Baba’s dumb, dumb, super forced, foreign Ukrainian accent around baby Samuel doesn’t do her any favors either. Now, that we’ve established this visit down to Arizona isn’t a vacation but more of an arranged, strong armed, guilt trip equivalent to winning a free trip on the Price is Right. You can’t reject an arranged, pre-paid for trip, on a 6-hour flight to Southwest with 3 kids from Newark or else you’ll come across as a thankless child, like King Lear’s daughter. And I don’t want my parents to think I have less scruples than that classless, mole infested wench. For the record, I never read King Lear, just quotes on Goodreads.com.

 

 

For all I know, King Lear’s daughter has a good reason to hate her father outside of him never raping and beating her, you know the standard high bar of unacceptable, bad to the bone, justifiable residual resentful behavior for mom choosing dads side forevermore.

After the birth of my 1st born, natural mystic Matilda, my parents visited us in our apartment in Astoria, Queens. Queens is so hot right now, no it’s not. Compared to Manhattan and Brooklyn, Queens is the sloppy 3rd Kardashian sister. You know the extra greasy one, that looks like OJ’s daughter. Who’s easy to pound at 3 in the morning like a Lamb Gyro in Astoria.

Once my parents are done with their 2 hours visit max, they drive back to Westchester Home before retiring to Scottsdale, Arizona permanently with 0.0 buyer’s remorse, knowing 3 kids later, they are willing to abandon 3 healthy, beautiful, grandchildren 320 days of the year for Coyote alarm clocks, cheaper property taxes and more indoor detention camp summers in AC splendor within their own gated community sanctuary in Scottsdale, Arizona. Dreaming their life away on Russian collusion-based impeachment proceedings with legs than Lieutenant Dan. Immune from any substantial accusations of suffering from separation anxiety involving my family obviously.

Yeah, so after my parents visit to our apartment in Queens, I smell my April fresh, daughter, natural Mystic, sweet, sweet Matilda and she reeks of these shitty now, discontinued, Arabic cigarettes my dad got addicted to during his summer on a Kibbutz in Israel because they were more attractive filler than the clumpy balls of burnt breadcrumbs being passed off as edible Falafel I guess. I call my dad on the phone later and get resistor hysterical on his ass. I say: How dare you taint my newborn daughter, my 1st pure bundle of good encapsulating joy, literally 2 weeks into the God’s bountiful green earth with the smell of your shitty Tareyton 100 Cigarettes.  No newborn dad should have to kiss his barley 1 week old daughter and have her smell like she was reincarnated as Don Draper on a 1st class flight to Australia to accept some international advertising award, when smoking was allowed in such comfy, confined quarters for 23 hours in a row, from a  Qantas flight, departing from Newark with no layover in Singapore for a much needed breather in between.

 

After my inspired rant of damnation directed at my dad for the 1st time in my life ever. My mom calls me and says: I can’t believe the way you talked to your father. He smokes, he’s addicted. I’ve tried to make him stop but if I have to choose. I choose Dad over you. Can you imagine your mother making it abundantly clear how her co-dependent relationship with your arrogant, asshole dad on occasion, is infinitely more important than conceding my more than legitimate grip as a 1st time dad, defining my own boundaries and sovereignty as father now free from his controlling, bullying, I know better than you always past? “I chose dad over you.” So, in essence mom, you’re siding with the party of zero compromise, which explains why dad hasn’t quit smoking during his visits around my kids 7 years later either. And leaving rolled up pieces of Trident gum on the dinning table afterward because he had enough common courtesy to smoke inside our home doesn’t count.

 

But I can’t complain. My parents got the pool fence and showcased a willingness to compromise after all. If only Nancy Pelosi cared about the safety and protection of other American made children. She’d be induced to make an amendable solution, involving, forking over the cash for a no brainer child safety wall to.

 

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

What Gen X Parents Understand Part 3

Facebook has rendered Baby Boomers the laziest grandparent generation of all time. Turning them into the real-life slackers after all. Limiting face time with their grandkids to smartphones.

 

Zit Face Zuck is a puppet of the NSA because he’s granted Baby Boomers the means to spy on their grandchildren from afar without having to adjust their spacious self-lifestyle away from CNN & MSNBC.

 
Christian Slater was our generations unheralded, Marlon Brando and Montgomery Clift and Nick Nolte all wrapped into one.

 
Our Baby Boomer Dads will still ask if your vegetarian wife who eats fish can still eat chicken after 8 years of marriage, 3 kids later. Despite being retired for 8, having plenty of time to brush up on the subject.

 

Nas is a lyrical wordsmith slayer genius, the hip hop George Carlin, whose lyrics are tougher than Dice.

 
Like Dr. Seuss, Paul Thomas Anderson peaked early.

 
Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld were the real axis of evil before Adam McKay decided to make a subpar, movie about it a decade after Oliver Stone’s W.

 

 

Eddie Vedder turned out be a more reliable, consistently great, front man rock crooner than Axl ever was. Without turning in his face into melted Candle wax from the November Rain video.

 
Yelp was fun until Crazy Rich Asian gals took hold of it, rendering it Hello Kitty, expressionless, humorless with it and went wild.

 
Critics hate the golden Jew Adam Sandler because he’s a beloved cash cow. Whose done dramatic work with James L. Brooks, so he’s above real-life bitchy reproach Peter Travers at Rolling Stone.

 
Robert Dinero needs Marty to start writing him scripts again in a miserable way. Because he’s an unfunny, low IQ individual left to his own faculties and no longer scary tough either.

 
Dennis Miller is a more fearless, God loving, Bill Maher, not trying to hide any sexual proclivities.

 
Taking down all of the Louie CK’s, specials down from HBO is a tad hypocritical knowing Roman Polanski’s Pianist is till up for tapping on your smart phone remote.

 
There’s really funny and Judd Apatow. And no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be in the same league as Harold Ramis. David Cross agrees.

 
The NY Times hired editor Sarah Jeong because her millennial peers on Yelp produce writing quality a notch below Gremlin poo.

 
HPV Vaccinations for our boys is a no brainer like insisting they start attending junior high with lawyer written, pre-poundage consent forms for future signage.

 
Baby Boomer’s idea of diversity is paying a different set of undocumented illegals to keep their empty nest tidy without lifting a finger every 5 years.

 
Baby Boomer hippies were the 1st generation to shit on vets like they were ones responsible for starving hippies eating back alley cats to stay alive on the streets of San Francisco.

 
HPV vaccinations for our kids is a no brainer like turning our daughters into Lesbians to avoid contracting HIV. Name another type of sexual intercourse where they take a licking and keep on ticking?

 
Stay at Home Dads can be trophy wives on paper but not in reality. Especially, when the wife’s smart phone alerts her to another questionable purchase. Hey hubby, how was Bride of Chucky?

 
Kevin Smith totally punched up the script to Good Will Hunting, injecting it with far greater heart also. Because Damon and Affleck off the screen, are unfunny, blowhard douche bags in real life.

 
Seth Macfarlane, Danny McBride and the cast behind Always Sunny in Philadelphia have consistently been robbed of Emmy nods and various other comedy accolades for being consistently funnier and more imaginative than the edgeless rest.

 
311 is the most underrated band of our generation. Knowing, they’re a dreamy love child of Cypress Hill, Red Hot Chili Peppers and Faith No More. I’m not available Rolling Stone. Blow me.

 
Baby Boomer Arrogance never dies like Seth Myers attempt to out-funny his dentist with laughing gas on at full blast.

 
Starbucks is evil, gotten all of us addicted for even greater amounts of concentrated speed in the form of cranked up milligram dosages of Adderall or crushed snorted up Ritalin in college.

 
Stay at Home Dad egos can’t survive forever as dependent, welfare mothers. Knowing you can’t stare at a hard body MILF, hiking in Arizona without your wife blurting. You only exist because of me.

 
Raising the rod didn’t do any favors for Michael. And Helicopter parents screwed millennial mouseketeers up good.

 

Only Magic could make HIV disappear because he’s Magic Johnson for a reason. I’d like see King James pull off such a miraculous feat without a whole lot of Magic’s assistance.

 

Starbucks is evil. And intentionally cranks up the caffeine content in their espresso shots so we’re more on edge than Harold Schultz’s kids backpacking through Europe in Germany throughout deadspot no-go zones in the Summer of 2019.

 

Dazed and Confused is our Catcher in the Rye despite it taking place in the seventies during Aerosmith’s prime smack taking years.

 

Joan Rivers made sure the Obama’s weren’t invited to her funeral in advance for a reason.

 

Sophia Coppola gave Bill Murray the permission to not even bother being laugh out loud funny anymore.

 
Jack Black would be a star after High Fidelity, loaded with ten times more charisma than Booger which is nothing to sneeze at, Master.

 
Giving billions to Pakistan to keep Bin Laden comfy and warm made less sense than ABC thinking the Roseanne spin off would work without her. After she tweeted about Valerie Jarrett being Obama’s Arabian Horse whisperer.

 

Non-stop promotion of Black Panther being nominated as an Oscars Contender rings shallow and false like when Hillary stole the nomination from Bernie Sanders. Joan lives.

 
President Trump righted the wrongs committed by the VA Hospital, not some fake news hippie Bill Clinton. Unlike Bubba, Obama & Bush Junior, Trump can claim he’s never inhaled anything but A plus, runway ready trim.

 

Rickey Gervais should the host the Oscars every year, but Hollywood can’t take whatever they dish out. Clint Eastwood would agree.

 
Baby Boomers are keeping the NY Times in business since they’ve become the fake newspaper of record. For being too invested in a Russian collusion story with less legs than Lieutenant Dan to backtrack now.

 

We must not make our daughters feel taken for granted or they’ll seek love from coked out vampires in LA like the girl from the Fallen Angel video.

 

Smashing Pumpkin’s song Bullet with Butterfly Wings is our generation’s answer to Billy Wilder’s the Apartment, predating Office Space which doesn’t sound as momentous, sorry Butt-Head.

 
Either Billy Corgan from Smashing Pumpkins comes from a divorced, broken home or he’s watched Ang Lee’s Ice Storm on Showtime after coming down off too much Acid, one too many times.

 

Despite claims of being enlightened, less hateful feminists of yesteryear, our Gen Y Wives still hate how much fun we have with our louder, more cheerful, toxic avenger brothers in arms.

 
Twitter has given an overrated quarterback the veneer of being a deep, original thinker. Who thinks posing with Linda Sarsour is in the best interests of promoting racial harmony?

 

 

Baby Boomers equate beating their wife in Jeopardy as real world, transferable intelligence despite ignoring their 1st born’s pleas to buy up every share of Google they could afford because their IT recruiter son knew about it since Y2K.

 

Gen X Parents understand that over-scheduling kids’ schedules is an offshoot, defensive result, to fill their kids free time with more than Different Strokes and Facts of Life. Which got us nowhere fast.

 

Gen X Parents understand Patton Oswalt’s voice is no Daniel Stern’s from Wonder Years. Which always sounded way more like Richard Dreyfus.

 

Gen X Parents understand hair power ballads are still cherished because they’re beautiful, kick-ass songs about romantic longing. Which never got played out in our hearts.

 

Gen X Parents understand our generation invented the internet garbage heap it’s become.

 

Gen X Parents understand Social Security, Pensions and company loyalty are less secure these days Kathy Griffin since a Skinned Clifford and Trans Chucky had a baby.

 

Gen X Parents understand Social Security, Pensions and company loyalty are less secure these days than Chelsea Handler since she became a full-time social justice warrior. To downplay her boobs sinking popularity.

 

Gen X Parents understand Social Security, Pensions and company loyalty are less secure the Cheney’s soul renewal lease agreement with the Devil if Christian Bale wins best actor in the Oscars for 2019.

 

 

Gen X Parents understand hip hop back in the day was the most badass, hilarious, accessible, social change activist-minded, slamming poetry ever produced. KRS 1 is like an old school version of Neil DeGrasse Tyson, they’re both interesting for 3-minute spurts at a time.

 

 

Last, Gen X parents understand President Trump isn’t a real-life Nazi. Knowing he lifted the lifetime ban on Jewish membership at Mara a Lago after he purchased it, Slim on Facts Shady.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

What Gen X Parents Understand Part 2

The only reason we don’t pull the plug on our Facebook accounts is because Zuckerberg made us too lazy to produce a photo album for our kids, let alone 1 from our wedding 8 anniversaries later.
Starbucks is evil. Between Aids, the .dot com crash and 911 soon after. We had enough to be on edge about already.

 

Again, Starbucks is evil. We were conditioned to equate Nirvana with Starbucks. As a result, we like our comedy like our coffee, dark and bitter.

 

Starbucks is evil because it makes us resent bare minimum baby boomer grandma. Who can’t even dress up for a Skype call with her grandchildren? Fogging up the computer screen with her shitty Dunkin Donuts coffee breath as we speak.

 

Did I forget to mention Starbucks is evil? Because they never advertised the calorie count for Cafe Mocha’s with whip cream in college when we got addicted to them in the 1st place.

 

Last, Starbucks is evil because Spacious Starbucks lounge areas throughout SOHO in Manhattan, made us wish for the Loft in Big occupied by a 14-year-old Tom Hanks. But we can’t afford the luxury to dream big when we can’t afford to take our kids to Rye Playland to visit the original site of the Zoltar machine after paying property taxes in Westchester Country alone.

 

More of What Gen X Parents Understand
We’re able to call our son Chef Samuels whenever we get him into smoked salmon and eating anchovies pre-Puttanesca. Plus, we can help ensure our children don’t have gun shy palates by force feeding them sushi and fried up bean curd in red hot chili peppers to Under the Bridge. So, they’ll remember how much their taste buds were blown away that day.
Children sponge up your habits, so beer cleanses are good so your 7 year daughter doesn’t feel compelled to fat shame you anymore.” Daddy, I’ve got a 6 pack, you got a zero pack. ”
Documenting your kids’ lives on social media is good when through the art of comedy creation, your children can learn from the error of your ways by having to explain the intro your 7 year daughter does for your Do It All Dad Year Podcast episode, My Weed Exit Interview. I always wanted to a be a functional pothead. 3 kids later, I gave it my best shot. But sometimes, we have to write off our losses to excessive stubbornness, our degenerate southern hick gene and delusions of chosen people, all knowing grandeur kid.
Documenting your kids lives on Social Media can magnify their well earned boost of self-esteem whenever Daddy injects one of their hilarious ad libs into another piece republished by the Good Men Project. Soon after, declaring with all of his Do It All Dad declarative might: Your material is on the Internet forever now kids. Resist this. Joan lives.
What Gen X Parents Understand Continued 
Unstructured playtime for your daughter throughout her teens is good if: It doesn’t include recreational drug abuse, exposure to online porn or labia wearing hat marches prematurely because cock block parties aren’t her thing yet. Knowing for now, playing with her super girly Polynesian Barbie is her preferred cup of tea.

 

What Gen X Parents Understand
The selective yelling voice works if you don’t overuse it. If you overuse your so-called selective yelling voice, it turns into a cloned, outrage enshrouded echo chamber ala Twitter since Trump got elected. And from there, your children, won’t be able to tell whether you’re an over the hill actor, overrated comedian or another hysterical banshee puppet head analyst at CNN running with unverified lies again. Because they’re the true friend of the American people.
What Gen X Parents Understand
The selective yelling voice is an effective controlling tool to get your children to behave if you don’t minimize its impact by overuse of it like fake news charges of Don Lemon yelling at all tax paying, law abiding, Americans for being racists for supporting a President. Who works for free to keep our country safer to live, full of more money making opportunity to provide for our families and to make ball busting great again Nancy Denture Breath Pelosi.
What Gen X Parents Understand
We spend more time hanging out with our children than our parents did. Because we know our kids are superior company than most. Plus, we, don’t dare to treat our children like stupid, inferior deplorables beneath our intellect and extended attention spans past Jeopardy and boring rehashes of work either.
What Gen X Parents Understand
Nike is run by fake news hippies who exploit cheap foreign labor for all the safety jump suicide nets its worth, to keep sales production forecasts numbers on target.
What Gen X Parents Understand
When you can’t conjure one favorite dish from your baby boomer mother. It means her anemic Kosher steak doesn’t make the cut for future recreations or consist of any template for future Pinterest board clipping rehashes either.
What Gen X Parents Understand
Your children won’t behave like spoiled, out of control, ramification free anarchists if you hold them to a higher social standard than ANTIFA.
What Gen X Parents Understand
Spring Break in Norway rules because it beats putting sun tan lotion on your Albino conjuring kids in Arizona every time they hop out of the pool. During your forced annual visit to Mimi and Papa over Winter Break.
What Gen X Parents Understand
Breastfeeding turns your bed into a 24/7 open milk bar. And your wife’s boobs into milk dispensing, regrettable tasting, non-fat latte because you spit out the milk 1 second later. After you blank on your wife’s nips morphing into a temporary milk sweetener fountains of baby filler again.

 

What Gen X Parents Understand
Nintendo was a poor man’s babysitter, which did more time sucking harm than permanent good for our powers of creation. Postponing manhood post Bar Mitzvah years, regardless if you knocked out Iron Mike in Punchout on multiple occasions.

 

What Gen X Parents Understand
Bedsharing with your kids otherwise known as Attachment Parenting, is like planting seeds of self-esteem on Steroids. Ensuring our children will never suffer from lifelong abandonment issues. Enshrouding the vacant emptiness in our hollowed-out hearts with pot, speed, E, coke, Oxy or whatever else Gen X Parents, forced to cry it out in the crib, can get our hyperactive hands on to keep the next Tony Soprano conjuring panic attack without real life muscle at your disposal at bay.
What Gen X Parents Understand
We better befriend a member of the Deep State to scrub our MATH scores from our permanent record, if we want our kids to respect our command of high finance. “Daddy, how many zeros are in a Trillion? Daddy, do you really have to Google that? Are you financially illiterate or something?
What Gen X Parents Understand
Kids aren’t sold on the Adam & Eve story after binge watching endless Futurama. “Dada, if God created the Universe. Who created God? God went back in time in a time machine made by Elon Musk? Real convincing dad. Thanks for making me an atheist at 4.”

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

My Love Affairs With Strangers on Twitter

Was my grand total of 35,629 tweets worth it before I unplugged myself today from Twitter forever? Combining all the 24 new accounts I needed to create on Twitter. So, my hashtag lovers at #plumber, #fintech, #edtech #privateequity, #WordPress, #Istandwithisrael and #femaleentrepreneurs would be able to search and read my new, extra pointed, money shot, joke blasts, splattered throughout the Twitter cybersphere? Knowing, they couldn’t get enough of my truthful, gobbles of joke firing spraying fun. Knowing I’d get shadowbanned by Twitter every time I got on another carpet truth bomb hot streak. And had to start new Twitter accounts, 24 separate times in order to get my pointed  jokes stabs seen while losing all my past followers after deactivating  all of my past accounts in order to start anew. Boy was it ever worth it and then some.

Without my love affairs with strangers on Twitter over the past 2 years since becoming a full time stay at home comedian, do it all dad podcast host and now featured writer, on the Good Men Project, my comedic instincts for what works would never been as sharp as it is now.

Without the enrapturing, inspired embrace of my steady, non-stop barrage of new material fed into the Twitter abyss from my stranger lovers on Twitter, I never would’ve  banged out my monster parenting education humor book, Stay at Home Comedian, “How 3 kids Got My Act Together” feeding their appetite for more, more, more.

Comedy is a pure art form. The goal of a joke is to always score a laugh. There’s no room for artistic, merit measuring interpretation. Either, the joke made you laugh or not. So, by this definition, strangers on Twitter have made me feel like a perpetual winner as of late and stay at home dads need to all the wins they can get. Now, sometimes, the joke can generate a mere smile, a pleasant chuckle or a major league laugh yanker out of your esophagus. I constantly for go for the laugh yanker out of your esophagus. Jeff Foxworthy says you should always use a funny sounding word at the very end of a punchline, esophagus being used a second ago is a primo example, obviously. My old stand-up comedy professor Jim Mendrinos at the Gotham Comedy club told our class, you should only have 2 passable tests when constructing a joke, intended to perform on stage or on the page. And that’s A) Is the joke well-written and B) Did the joke make you, the creator laugh. That’s its folks.  At the same time, I also learned from my 1st year of doing open mike stand-up comedy in LA is how sometimes a joke which makes you laugh one morning, generates zero smile improvement generation the following evening on stage. Also, some jokes sound better written, then performed because some words are just hard to wrap your mouth around. For example, I still struggle stating my own name clearly, Michael Kornbluth and I’ve had at least 4 decades of practice already.  And I’m not even using comedic exaggeration to make my point in this instance. Michael Kornbluth is a total mouthful to say. Even Kim Kardashian can’t wrap her mouth around it. Ok, in this instance, I used comedic exaggeration to nail my point home. For the record, I’m a huge fan of Kim Kardashian since she used her social media influence for the greater good. And pushed for President Trump to pardon a reformed woman who was in jail for being a mule for a Drug cartel in California. Since then, President Trump also signed off on a prison reform bill, which accelerates the liberation of 1st time drug offenders in jail. Giving them a chance to renter society, take care of their families and make something of their lives again. So good for you Kim Kardashian and for being more than the top of the Persian porcupine puss chain, yummy.

So back to my love affair with strangers on Twitter. They’re the best grown up comedy buds I never had. Sure, I’ve had old school friends from High School, from college and beyond who read and emoted about my blogs, Yelp reviews, spec scripts and pilots in the past.  But since President Trump became president and since I became a father of the 3, the majority have been nowhere to be seen. Nor have they been able to keep up with my fast and furious rate via new joke text transfer either. I used to post jokes on Facebook in spite of these fake news friends because to illuminate their spiteful jealousy. Knowing they were giving 0.0 love to reposted  proven winners on Facebook. Despite the retweets on Twitter or votes from a site called ComedyWire, which is Twitter for comedy writers. Who are by the far, the most critical laugh judges of the bunch.

 

I stopped using ComedyWire 2 years ago, after posting more up 6999 voted on funny lines. John Lennon wishes he was this productive during his stay at home dad years. I stopped using ComedyWire because it gives you a constant feed of news stories to write one-liners on, yet the best comedy comes from hard core felt emotion. And when you’re being spoon fed topics, the jokes you generate aren’t going to deliver such a hardcore punch, if you’re meh about the curated topics you’re commenting on to get laughs from just for the sake of joke writing practice in the 1st place. Also, I felt it was time to tackle Twitter again after experiencing much success with Comedywire. But the major turnoff for me about Comedywire was some new guy who wrote for the Onion and some stupid book on Trump, commenting on my jokes.  I don’t need to hear your confusion at a dense, fully loaded joke of mine, hick from Wisconsin. Either you laughed at my joke stab or not. Don’t need the forced, hackneyed, fake news friend constructive commentary, thank you very much. Get stand-up comedy great, Nick DiPaolo to read and emote about your Louie spec through Twitter about his dear departed friend, always the scariest elephant in the room, the late great Patrice O’Neal. And I’ll start giving a shit about what your cliché brained mug has to espouse on what constitutes actual funny my friend. Get the Rev Bob Levy, stand-up joke marksmen and star writer and roaster from the Howard Stern show to laugh at your A plus jokes about Lena Dunham and claims of Trump being the anti-Christ through direct messages on Twitter and I’ll reconsider my position on your new evolved role as my new comedic ghost guru teacher whisper CNN contributor blogger you. Get stand-up comedy great Margaret Cho to read your pilot Mike Mates, which you bang out looking after your 2 kids and get her to give your script the “so funny” nod and I’ll look up to your enviable comedic stature for a change, Seth Meyers sucker. If you’re not afraid of Trump, then I’m not into my mother as much as Seth Myers. Oh, I can’t take no more.

So yeah, Twitter has not paid the bills for my family or put food on the table for my family at all whatsoever.  Still, Twitter is a world-wide open mike and I’ve been killing on it for 2 years straight now. And prior to that, I was able to connect and impress with the heavy weight comedic luminaries I mentioned prior, which gave me tremendous added confidence to keep on plowing forward with reckless abandon, with no guaranteed payday in sight. But every great major league hitter, Pete Rose, Derek Jeter, Wade Boggs, Edgar Martinez, Paul Molitor, Tony Gwyn, all needed batting practice. And that’s what Twitter has been for me.  And I’ve been batting above 400 for some time now. Being a stay at home comedian, it’s been a wonderful batting cage to tee off on targets such as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles, king of the persecution complex Lebron James, Trump resistors, Baby Boomer bust grandparents, Denture Breath Pelosi, Debbie Wolface Wasserman Schultz, Dinero Duntz, Baldwin, my writing sucks without Tiny Fey programming me, etc.  At one point, I was up to almost 3000 followers on Twitter, Richard Lewis being one of them from Curb. Who I exchanged compliments with back and forth through direct messages on Twitter. Once, my dad was gracing us with his presence from Arizona back east and I shared a recent message exchange from Richard Lewis with my dad. He shrunk into the couch as I read on as all the blood drained from his once cock sure face. All of a sudden, I blurt out. What’s wrong dad? Dad says. I’m tired. I’m thinking, of what being an asshole?

The thing is being a stay at home comedian, you don’t interact with the grown-up world too frequently because adult interaction is overrated. So, Twitter, has been my comedic sanctuary, my shrink’s office, my cooler talk repository, my open mike at the Eastville comedy club in Manhattan all wrapped up into one.  It’s allowed me the freedom to process my bruised feelings and enact comedic revenge in the form of exacting, get in the last word, reimagined narrative more to my liking. Whether my enragement or extreme annoyance stemmed from my wife, in-laws, ex fake news friends, or my parents blatantly disrespecting, devaluing and depreciating this stay at home comedian whose written for TV twice already, again and again. When, I’ve been the rock of my family, with 0.0 outside assistance to look after my kids in the form of Facebook grandparents, useless uncles or involved, uncle type, high character friends in sight.  Not complaining about it, it’s brought me closer to my 3 kids and we make a stellar home team. God gives kids to only the lonely. Plus, I’ve got God in my heart now. So, everything is peachy compared to my degenerate, druggy years of yesteryear. Also, during this stretch in the wilderness as a stay at home comedian in exile, off the main social grid of life, I’ve been able to dig deep, truly develop my voice and not give a fuck about what social ramifications it’s engendered, which is an empowering, liberating place to be. I don’t exist to win over your approval resistor, hipster hack critic. I don’t exist to make you feel superior smug, when you couldn’t score a retweet if your life depended on it. Obviously, you are so controlled by PC safe group think, the fascist, morality thought police, truth guardian proctors of justice for all at Twitter. Have never found your edgeless musings, on you thinking you’re smarter than a President to shadowban and hide your thoughts because they do nothing to shatter the fake news, played out propaganda concerning how every Trump supporter is a xenophobe racist. Actually, the true definition of a racist is the palpable, forced in your face, purported feelings of extreme moral and intellectual superiority. And if this doesn’t summarize every anti-American sleaze who’s done nothing but shit on an American President who works for free to make the grand old USA safer and more prosperous again for all Americans, I don’t know what is.

The other day, I told my wife I’m going to self-publish my parenting education book, Stay at Home Comedian, because no east coast publisher will have the balls to publish it. She says. “But I thought your book wasn’t political.” I say, “That’s right, you haven’t heard the totality of one podcast out of 57 yet, my bad.” The thing is, I didn’t set out to write a political book in nature. The heart of my book Stay at Home Comedian, “How 3 Kids Got My Act Together”, is about getting off my dependence of Adderall, weed and IPA’s for a good time and instead choosing to get high off my writing and education of my kids. Coaching them into being the independent, bad ass creatively jacked humanists they were destined to be, under my hardcore comedic tutelage of course. It’s a story about a stay at home comedian whose raised 3 amazing, loving, sweet kids who are the most behaved, giving, pleasure to be around kids in the universe. Funnier dad, happier baby. Children are better than you. My kids truly are superior company than most. I’m going to miss them terribly once I get a job doing recruitment again except this time it will be for the XFL in Stamford, CT. I refuse to accept no for an answer. Vince McMahon oversees the XFL and WWE start Chris Jericho loves me. I wrote all his music video intro one lines for America’s Hard 100 on VH1 Classic. We hugged it out once we wrapped the shoot together. Any company that represents, the anti-fake news fro Kaepernick alternative to American flag degradation is the place for me. It’s a sports startup and I want in. Time to unleash the beast.

I do miss people. I do miss making the phone calls rip and connecting with strangers.  I’m still an old school recruiter at heart. Hated working as IT Recruiter as a whole but there were good times also and my co-worker always loved me because we worked in open spaces before Google made them mainstream. And within those open spaces, glimmers of my personality and strength of voice emerged from cold calling my brains out 12 hours a day eight days a week. My old boss Larry at Adam Jacobs Associates, a boutique IT staffing firm in One Penn Plaza in Manhattan on top of MSG used to let me practice new jokes in front my old school IT recruiter brethren to break up our afternoons on occasion. I was so on edge back then because I still had plenty to prove and hadn’t written for TV yet. This professional goal materialized 4 years later after my 1st of 3 children Singing Rose was born.

Who knew President Trump would get his 42-year old stay at home comedian excited about cold calling within the field of executive recruitment again. The reason why is because I’ve said my piece in my book Stay at Home Comedian, my book on fatherhood bonding in the modern era about taking charge of my kids’ education while I was around to do so. It will be officially released this Father’s Day 2019 through a big-time book publisher or not. Again, I don’t write this book without the love from strangers on Twitter. Most of the material, I’ve published here on WordPress has been recycled from Twitter. That means the material has been filtered and vetted for proven funny already lit agents at large. Still, I don’t need your comedic validation seal of approval Mr. Brooklyn lit agent because the audience reveals all without you. That’s why the Good Men Project site has embraced and republished 90% of the material I’ve shared with them so far because it’s already been embraced and loved wholly by all of you, strangers on Twitters and WordPress alike.

 

My strangers on Twitter and WordPress provide this stay at home comedian with an incredible fix of comedic approval feedback, which has proven priceless. I don’t finish my book Stay at Home Comedian without it. I don’t bang out 100,000 plus words of consistently funny, emotive verse for Stay at Home Comedian, without your steady doses of encouragement and loving embrace of me and who I’ve strived to become along the way.

By declaring on Twitter and WordPress my intention of writing the funniest book of parenting, from a fatherhood perspective, your sustained interest and increased attention in what I’d bang out next has been nothing short of miraculous. Strangers on Twitter and now WordPress, you’ve truly been the gift that keeps on giving. I love all of you for helping me become the funny man author, I was destined to be. I’ll always cherish our time together during my stretch on the stay at home dad wilderness front. But stay at home dads can’t survive as welfare mothers forever. So, I must go out and become a Headhunter again, this time for the XFL. But my book stay at home comedian will be out for huge worldwide consumption soon enough and I’ll be working on my follow up book through WordPress, Crazy, Good Dada, to follow.  Which will document my family meal review show, the Pescatarian Comedians, “Family Meals Deconstructed, 1 Bit at a Time.” When that sells huge, I’ll have earned the right to hang up my cold calling past for good. Proving to myself and to the world at large, I’m no longer a mere Schmuck in a headset.

The End,

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

My Boyish Boys

15 years later, I finally saw the Blind Side. Sandra Bullock’s legs in it are yummy. She makes Dr. Melfi from the Sopranos feel guilty for spending too much on her ass and not enough on the Stairmaster in comparison.

I toughen myself up now by letting my son punch me in the face without flinching. He’s only 2 but his shots to my ear cause it to ring soon after. I need to write a part where he plays a bouncer at his sister’s juice bar, Lavender.

There was an all Muslim girl prom held at a Detroit High School this year. So, the prom was like mine, pork free. Followed, my crying under my sheets from dusk till dawn.

HR
Why have you been out of work for so long?
Stay At Home Dad
I’m launching an exploratory committee to find out. Although, my gut tells me Corporate America keeps her distance from bearded lady freaks, despite claims of diverse inclusiveness.

HR
I read in Better Homes and Gardens, stay at home dads suffer from lower levels of testosterone.
Stay At Home Dad
Buy we haven’t even discussed hard numbers yet.

Explaining the Gillette ad to my 2 boyish boys.
Gillette is telling you to never bum rush a pretty girl in the street. That’s why I’m insisting you 2 leave the house in high school with pre-poundage consent forms in case the girls bum rush you.

Stay At Home dads like myself don’t mind the Gillette ad because we work remote. And claims of sexual harassment are avoidable when your meeting on Skype starts with. Fellas, raise your hands up high where I can see them.

At least the Gillette ad didn’t showcase Trump aggressively tweeting. Because standing up to bullying, lying, TV puppet heads and so called CNN journalists isn’t how we should treat divisive, criminal siding, normalizing, ANTIFA enablers.

Explaining the Gillette ad to my 2 boyish boys.
If I shave my beard and tone down my toxic pro Trump stance postings on Twitter. I’ll become less overtly threatening to the Talent Acquisition Managers at #Wework in Manhattan.

If I have to read one more time about TSA shortages. Last time I checked, all we need is one designated pat down person and a metal detector. Also, the terrorists behind 911 went to flight school in Florida unimpeded, my chest.

INT. WHOLE FOODS-CHAPPAQUA
Worker
Bags cost ten cents each.
Me
Is that the bag lady tax for Hillary Hammer Time Cankles?
Since the donations for the Clinton Foundation dried up faster than Huma after Hillary slipped off her spanx.

The End,

Michael Kornbluth

Amazon After Dark

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Is there a company wide directive to refrain from making fun of the sexting skills of Jeff Bezos today? “And was the dic pic necessary? And I thought yelling demands at Alexa was the death of small talk.

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
I don’t care how big it is. Was the Jeff Bezos dic pic really necessary? Knowing Tony Gonzalez already broke her in the 1st place? Before popping out 3 kids. Happy denting though AJAX nerd.

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Is there a company wide directive to refrain from making fun of the sexting skills of Jeff Bezos today? “I love your energy. I hate everything about my wife of 25 years from the neck down.

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Is there a company wide directive to refrain from making fun of the sexting skills of Jeff Bezos today? “I want to smell you.” Alright, so we all can’t be
Poet Laureates.

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Is there a company wide directive to refrain from making fun of the sexting skills of Jeff Bezos today? “I want to breath you in.” I prefer the expression inhale you whole. But I’m not a billionaire nerd either.

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Is there a company wide directive to refrain from making fun of the sexting skills of Jeff Bezos today? “I don’t not like being with you.” Sound more like an artificial jerkoff & less clingy transparent Jeff.

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Is there a company wide directive to refrain from making fun of the sexting skills of Jeff Bezos today? “I love you. I will you show with my lips. Grabby enough for you yet? There’s no way Jeff Bezos tastes good.

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Is there a company wide directive to refrain from making fun of the sexting skills of Jeff Bezos today? “I want to breath you in. I want to wake up next you and read my propaganda dirt rag with you.”

INT. WHOLE FOODS
Me
Jeff Bezos has 4 kids. He couldn’t have told his novelist wife, that her books weren’t as enthralling as he lead her to believe? Or pointed out how he had trolls juice up books reviews on Kindle in her honor?

New Yorkers are no longer procreating fast enough to replace the dying population. Hogging up all last remaining rent controlled Manhattan apartments. Which families of 4 could take over. Instead of having to overpay for a shitty 2 bedroom in Queens.

Serena Williams told her daughter being strong is never easy. Could’ve fooled me Serena. From from where I stand you can rip Federer apart as easy as a Tampon.

Film titles ideas of a stay at home dad who get’s a job as a domestic servant for another family.
Domesticated House Bitch Already.
I Still Can’t Afford a Housekeeper
Zero Remains of White Privilege
Moving Laterally

Art of the Nail Polish Deal
Dad
Once you learn how to play Talk Dirty To Me on the guitar, Arthur, you can wear all the nail polish you want. Until then, let your sister use it for herself.
Sister
But Arthur puts it on way better than I do.

Discussing Aids with my kids prematurely.
Trump used the profits from the Wollman Rink for men’s gay groups during the Aids crisis. What’s Aids daddy? A reason to become a Lesbian. You can take a licking and keep on ticking.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

Far From Edgeless

Saw a garbage truck rider almost get side swiped today off the side of the road. He relinquished his rage by throwing the garbage in the truck with real fury. This is the life my mom was pushing for me, road kill in a red specked orange vest.

Int. Kids Bedroom
Stay At Home Comedian
Kids, in life, learn to trust your instincts on people.
If your gut ever screamed to you, they’re beneath you.
They are. Meaning, life is too short to waste on arrogant blowhards who remain the same.

Me
This is my impersonation of Russell Simmons. Read my lisp.
LA Bud
Yeah
Me
That was just the guaranteed laugh set up.
In barbecue every day, Dr. Dre land, are you banned from laughing at hip mogul’s speech impediments now?

I appreciate the sentiment but the mantra behind persistence pays off eventually from my vantage point is obvious. Plus, it underscores your unique brand of artistic machismo if you will. Which doesn’t rain down from Avocado trees either.

I really do appreciate the sentiment but the mantra behind persistence pays off eventually from my vantage point is obvious. Plus, it makes you feel like a more dedicated Jack Lemon without stealing the Glen Gary leads.

Memo to Peggy Noonan:
It’s Trump’s world now babe. Your puff pieces sucking the glory of Reagan’s yesteryear are over. Meanwhile, your life suck op-eds have been relegated to the NY Post. Salesmanship isn’t your forte. Know your lane.

Where does has been, running on Reagan year fart fumes, Peggy Noonan get off calling President Trump unserious, compared to denture breath Pelosi? One’s making sure MS-13 doesn’t get in again, the other is funding a welcoming mat with Golden Globe gift bags.

Melania is real classy. She posed in blah, blah, blah. Sorry Michelle isn’t as pose worthy. And Nancy Reagan was no Betty White back in the day either. But feel free to snicker at will. Hillary looks great in spanx as a 2 time loser though.

UX Designer Pal
Feminists will skin you for a book about falling for fatherhood.
Me
Fake feminists aren’t my target audience, especially childless, egg rotting, Flabia, hat girls into cock block parties dumpy enough to work in HR.

Good old fashioned title for new blog about my 2 sons,
“My Boyish Boys.” My son Samuel, AKA Headbangers Ball rocking his head up and down to Boston’s More than I’m Feeling on vinyl at 2 is a momentous place to start.

INT. CAR
Son
No music, can’t we talk?
Me
Whatever you say mama.

Me
Daughter asks. What do you always ask brown people about the Knicks?
I say. Because I care more about their basketball opinions.
LA Bud
My daughter doesn’t even see color anymore.
Me
Because you peddle bitcoin & remind her of Vin Diesel in Boiler Room?

When I heard C-3PO say” My programming prohibits me from acting like a Diety” in Jedi last night. I thought, too bad every bitch bot at CNN is programmed the same. Van Jones excluded. He’s a later stage Lando in my book, making amends.

LA Bud
My 1/2 Latino daughter doesn’t even see color anymore.
Me
Lucky for you, college admissions standards are different. American Chinese test scores carry zero sway. Even Brendan Fraser in School Ties would be screwed today.

Tofu the Terrible problem narrative redefined.
Matilda was scarred from her 1st date with Tofu the Terrible because he came across as too mushy. Always talking about his bland, dead weight conversationalist mother.

Tofu the Terrible narrative problem solution.
Tofu the Terrible proves to Matilda he’s a bad boy soy boy by taking her to a tanning salon for his 2nd state. Because tan soy boys look far less terrible.

Tofu the Terrible problem solution.
Tofu Terrible proves to Matilda he’s a bad boy soy boy after he has Chef Samuels light the tofu on top of his head with a blowtorch at a new vegan hot spot. Bad Boy Soy Boy tears off a piece and says try it.

Old Bud
Never lose your edge JK.
Me
I just got chills down my spine.
Feel like my Rocky training sequence after Adrian snaps out of the coma has just begun.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth