Mr. Overboard

Listening to Steve Perry’s new album on Spotify this morning made feel like the eunuch sentimentalist in Game of Thrones. But why am I so hurried desperate to relink with my age of innocence again?  Granted, anyone who remains a stay-at-home dad on purpose wants to remain a eunuch for the time being. At the same time, why do cocksure heterosexual men or gender fluid shemale comedians like me feel compelled to deride some sappy sad downer power ballad songs as eunuch sentimentalist music at all? I think it’s because as we get older and get a tad more jaded around the edges of a broken heart, we don’t buy into the irrefutable, absolute truisms behind certain famous sing along lyrics by Chicago such as, “How can I go on?” How can I go on? Find a fresher, tighter snatch to fall in love with for starters, who doesn’t deride the workshopped over, comedic genius behind iconic, FX shows such as Rescue Me as being merely sexist. Just because a bunch of hot chicks throw themselves at Dennis Leary’s fireman character, which isn’t a radical departure from reality considering the post 9/11 times it was made in. Understand, before 9/11, Firemen as a whole in New York were derided by the NYPD as mere cat tree snatchers, burnt out line cooks or Magic Mike wannabes. 9/11 changed all that. That’s why DeBlasio shooting down the Freedom Tower tribute ceremony this past year over alleged COVID concerns was ridiculously stupid. Because out of the blue, I don’t think 9/11 1st responders were sweating the prospect of catching an itchy esophagus. Now, regardless of the NYPD being defunded or not, they’ve lost the moral high ground over New York City Fireman, since every day now for the cops is standing down day. Cops in NY have so much free time on their hands now, they’re the ones taking how to make ravioli from scratch classes at the 92 St. Y. Cops who insist on taking a knee today proves how undercover cops who haven’t retired yet prematurely from the force are still down with wearing Nike sweats no matter what.

But momentous, hair standing on the back of your neck tingly songs like the Flame by Cheap Trick still sway my heart toward more promise filled tomorrows than any shitty, melodic free rap song by Nipsey Hussle ever could, which is a testament to the timeless appeal behind emotive, heartfelt, male articulated lyrics man. Versus most radio friendly rap songs both old and new, which deride woman interested in riding a rapper’s joystick out of its socket as mere money grubbing, stupid ass, over the hill hos. Sebastian Bach, original lead singer of Skid Row claims only teenage girls bought their debut record because of their monster rock ballad hit, I Remember you. So, you’re a twinkle toe bitch boy for pretending you bought the debut record Skid Row to hear Big Guns and Rattle Snake Shake again and again, otherwise. Reality is though, the soaring guitar solo in I Remember You, is exalted high end heartfelt rock at its finest.  That sounds even more kick ass melodic special over time, because it’s my eunuch sentimentalist music, that came out in my time, when I didn’t even hit puberty yet, let alone have a clue on how to exert my manhood if it finally bloomed under my Fruit of the Looms after feeling like the last kid to enter the puberty party in school.  But that’s ok, because I grew a sack eventually, and some hair on it to or else I never would’ve dared to make it through my never ending pain period as a cold calling IT agency headhunter at 22 in LA, a long, long, way from home nor would’ve I ever contemplated trying open mike standup at the Rainbow Lounge on Sunset, where Hair Metal sleaze incarnate Ratt once reigned supreme, getting endless perfect tens to let their bodies do their talking for them. I also wouldn’t have hit on my future wife and mother of my 3 pitch perfect sounding kids after hitting on 3 other girls prior with relentless, horn dog crazed, wheel and deal zeal without the power ballad soundtrack of my youth pulsating through my on with the show heart.

 

So why are underlying hopeful power ballads that prove men are capable of being deeper than the eighteenth hole considered soft core girly again? Men in long hair and makeup back in the seventies and eighties singing songs starting with Barry Manilow didn’t counterbalance that perception one bit. Meanwhile, Ronnie Van Zandt sang Free Bird, which was considered an original power ballad of its day and he’d make Neil Young his Canadian cunt in the can without breaking a sweat while yelling, “More shriekish wailing Young. I’m not buying you being whipped on a southern man being all free and up in your jail bird ass just yet.”

Power Ballads are considered soft girly because most men are too chicken shit to spill their innards out to a woman in person let alone on wax after a record company fronts them 200,000 thousand dollars to make it for millions to hear. Power Ballads will always woo because they burst with romantic longing for more hopeful filled tomorrows, which hold out the promise of soothing the tissue torn teen hearts in us all, especially among us gun shy dudes plagued by our frozen with fear pasts. But I don’t buy for minute the horseshit premise which insists that the era of Internet porn on demand, flush with tatted out white girls on Crystal meth has completely stripped our need for the comforting lift, that great power ballads provide us all.  Hair Metal Nation on Sirus Radio doesn’t exist without the power ballad hits, that never lost the pull they have on Gen X guys and gals because it’s Eunuch sentimentalist music that hit big in our hearts in our time, it belongs to us, and nobody can ever take that away from WE. Also, when we all fell in love with the soft, soothing sounds of 9pm clock radio music by REO Speedwagon, we weren’t fixated on the singer or image from the video but on our aching, incomplete hearts, longing for a willing recipient of our love bursts already. Big tits are great, but they don’t overcompensate for an ok face or an even worse bitch laden, one note heart that fluctuates from softcore bitch to full-fledged, scowly cunt in a NY Minute.

What makes power ballads so powerful? Featherly light finger tapping by CC on Every Rose Has Its Thorn is great, no doubt. For me though, what makes power ballads so powerful, is the rousing, never say die attitude for giving love another shot with all you got like the late great Jani Lane from Warrant sings with such soul stirring feeling on Sometimes She Cries. Holding out the hope of more pregnant filled tomorrows is what makes power ballads pack some extra exalted, it’s not over yet asshole, oomph for me. Is it time to move past 14 yet? Not even close, because like the serially underrated Britney Foxx screeched back in the day with ultra throaty, soul metal verve, “It’s a long way to love.” So don’t give up on your storybook romance life just yet. You dream the fuck on, until you make your new dreams to remember come true, or else love really does bite if you allow it to get into last lacerating lick and stop believing in your right to live a fulfilling life, flush with your own fair share of Heavy Metal highs to cherish forever.  Save the week like Britney Foxx did. Hound down your innermost love. And never allow anyone the power to damper your special spark shine inside, that gives you more than a feeling. Boston lives. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

The Eunuch Sentimentalist

Listening to Steve Perry’s new album on Spotify this morning made feel like the eunuch sentimentalist in Game of Thrones. But why am I so hurried desperate to relink with my age of innocence again?  Granted, anyone who remains a stay-at-home dad on purpose wants to remain a eunuch for the time being. At the same time, why do cocksure heterosexual men or gender fluid shemale comedians like me feel compelled to deride some sappy sad downer power ballad songs as eunuch sentimentalist music at all? I think it’s because as we get older and get a tad more jaded around the edges of a broken heart, we don’t buy into the irrefutable, absolute truisms behind certain famous sing along lyrics by Chicago such as, “How can I go on?” How can I go on? Find a fresher, tighter snatch to fall in love with for starters, who doesn’t deride the workshopped over, comedic genius behind iconic, FX shows such as Rescue Me as being merely sexist. Just because a bunch of hot chicks throw themselves at Dennis Leary’s fireman character, which isn’t a radical departure from reality considering the post 9/11 times it was made in. Understand, before 9/11, Firemen as a whole in New York were derided by the NYPD as mere cat tree snatchers, burnt out line cooks or Magic Mike wannabes. 9/11 changed all that. That’s why DeBlasio shooting down the Freedom Tower tribute ceremony this past year over alleged COVID concerns was ridiculously stupid. Because out of the blue, I don’t think 9/11 1st responders were sweating the prospect of catching an itchy esophagus. Now, regardless of the NYPD being defunded or not, they’ve lost the moral high ground over New York City Fireman, since every day now for the cops is standing down day. Cops in NY have so much free time on their hands now, they’re the ones taking how to make ravioli from scratch classes at the 92 St. Y. Cops who insist on taking a knee today proves how undercover cops who haven’t retired yet prematurely from the force are still down with wearing Nike sweats no matter what.

But momentous, hair standing on the back of your neck tingly songs like the Flame by Cheap Trick still sway my heart toward more promise filled tomorrows than any shitty, melodic free rap song by Nipsey Hussle ever could, which is a testament to the timeless appeal behind emotive, heartfelt, male articulated lyrics man. Versus most radio friendly rap songs both old and new, which deride woman interested in riding a rapper’s joystick out of its socket as mere money grubbing, stupid ass, over the hill hos. Sebastian Bach, original lead singer of Skid Row claims only teenage girls bought their debut record because of their monster rock ballad hit, I Remember you. So, you’re a twinkle toe bitch boy for pretending you bought the debut record Skid Row to hear Big Guns and Rattle Snake Shake again and again, otherwise. Reality is though, the soaring guitar solo in I Remember You, is exalted high end heartfelt rock at its finest.  That sounds even more kick ass melodic special over time, because it’s my eunuch sentimentalist music, that came out in my time, when I didn’t even hit puberty yet, let alone have a clue on how to exert my manhood if it finally bloomed under my Fruit of the Looms after feeling like the last kid to enter the puberty party in school.  But that’s ok, because I grew a sack eventually, and some hair on it to or else I never would’ve dared to make it through my never ending pain period as a cold calling IT agency headhunter at 22 in LA, a long, long, way from home nor would’ve I ever contemplated trying open mike standup at the Rainbow Lounge on Sunset, where Hair Metal sleaze incarnate Ratt once reigned supreme, getting endless perfect tens to let their bodies do their talking for them. I also wouldn’t have hit on my future wife and mother of my 3 pitch perfect sounding kids after hitting on 3 other girls prior with relentless, horn dog crazed, wheel and deal zeal without the power ballad soundtrack of my youth pulsating through my on with the show heart.

 

So why are underlying hopeful power ballads that prove men are capable of being deeper than the eighteenth hole considered soft core girly again? Men in long hair and makeup back in the seventies and eighties singing songs starting with Barry Manilow didn’t counterbalance that perception one bit. Meanwhile, Ronnie Van Zandt sang Free Bird, which was considered an original power ballad of its day and he’d make Neil Young his Canadian cunt in the can without breaking a sweat while yelling, “More shriekish wailing Young. I’m not buying you being whipped on a southern man being all free and up in your jail bird ass just yet.”

Power Ballads are considered soft girly because most men are too chicken shit to spill their innards out to a woman in person let alone on wax after a record company fronts them 200,000 thousand dollars to make it for millions to hear. Power Ballads will always woo because they burst with romantic longing for more hopeful filled tomorrows, which hold out the promise of soothing the tissue torn teen hearts in us all, especially among us gun shy dudes plagued by our frozen with fear pasts. But I don’t buy for minute the horseshit premise which insists that the era of Internet porn on demand, flush with tatted out white girls on Crystal meth has completely stripped our need for the comforting lift, that great power ballads provide us all.  Hair Metal Nation on Sirus Radio doesn’t exist without the power ballad hits, that never lost the pull they have on Gen X guys and gals because it’s Eunuch sentimentalist music that hit big in our hearts in our time, it belongs to us, and nobody can ever take that away from WE. Also, when we all fell in love with the soft, soothing sounds of 9pm clock radio music by REO Speedwagon, we weren’t fixated on the singer or image from the video but on our aching, incomplete hearts, longing for a willing recipient of our love bursts already. Big tits are great, but they don’t overcompensate for an ok face or an even worse bitch laden, one note heart that fluctuates from softcore bitch to full-fledged, scowly cunt in a NY Minute.

What makes power ballads so powerful? Featherly light finger tapping by CC on Every Rose Has Its Thorn is great, no doubt. For me though, what makes power ballads so powerful, is the rousing, never say die attitude for giving love another shot with all you got like the late great Jani Lane from Warrant sings with such soul stirring feeling on Sometimes She Cries. Holding out the hope of more pregnant filled tomorrows is what makes power ballads pack some extra exalted, it’s not over yet asshole, oomph for me. Is it time to move past 14 yet? Not even close, because like the serially underrated Britney Foxx screeched back in the day with extra throaty, soul metal verve, “It’s a long way to love.” So don’t give up on your storybook romance life just yet. You dream the fuck on, until you make your new dreams to remember come true, or else love really does bite if you allow it to get into last lacerating lick and stop believing in your right to live a fulfilling life, flush with your own fair share of Heavy Metal highs to cherish forever.  Save the week like Britney Foxx did. Hound down your innermost love. And never allow anyone the power to damper your special spark shine inside, that gives you more than a feeling. Boston lives. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Disinterested Love Destroys

Getting vaccinated is the most patriotic thing to do. I thought it was filing defamation lawsuits on the behalf of Dominion the day Democracy died. The FBI could lock up all the ring leaders behind ANTIFA and BLM and our Supreme Court still won’t touch an election fraud case with Elizbeth Warren’s nightmare catcher Totem Pole.

Bursting with patriotic pride for July 4th since Mr. Groper got sworn via Zoom was harder than Rick Fox staying hard after ex wife Vanessa Williams took up plus size modeling bras for Victoria Secret.

Megan Rapinoe is a model for Victoria Secret now. Can’t wait to sample those edible shin guards that taste like hairy fish sticks.

Watched the firework display from Mount Rushmore on YouTube last night with my kids. Once they started the country music section of the firework broadcast, Melania looked less disinterested than Jill Biden after Vouge asked if she’s interested in her hair being airbrushed with an actual brush for a change before using an actual digital one for much needed touch up work.

Younger brother says, “Can’t stay late. Jane has tutoring to do. I said, “But she teaches ESL sporadically. So, how brain draining can the work be, knowing most Chinese kids bow in nodding submission most of the time anyway? Last, if Jane is tutoring the next Obama from Kenya, his college records will become sealed eventually. So what difference does it make?”

Dad failing to show his son interested love again. Dad, tell me I should I get a smartphone replacement instead of a flip phone because you’d die without me sending you new pics of your 3 grandkids. No nod, no change in demeanor. All I heard was crickets, like when I asked my dad in my mind, “So, with your favorite son adding Heroin use to his demon battling list of notable accomplishments, do you still think he makes Hunter look a slacker, underachiever in comparison?”

Michael Kornbluth







Disinterested Love Destroys

Getting vaccinated is the most patriotic thing to do. I thought it was filing defamation lawsuits on the behalf of Dominion the day Democracy died. The FBI could lock up all the ring leaders behind ANTIFA and BLM and our Supreme Court still won’t touch an election fraud case with Elizbeth Warren’s nightmare catcher Totem Pole.

Bursting with patriotic pride for July 4th since Mr. Groper got sworn via Zoom was harder than Rick Fox staying hard after ex wife Vanessa Williams took up plus size modeling bras for Victoria Secret.

Megan Rapinoe is a model for Victoria Secret now. Can’t wait to sample those edible shin guards that taste like hairy fish sticks.

Watched the firework display from Mount Rushmore on YouTube last night with my kids. Once they started the country music section of the firework broadcast, Melania looked less disinterested than Jill Biden after Vouge asked if she’s interested in her hair being airbrushed with an actual brush for a change before using an actual digital one for much needed touch up work.

Younger brother says, “Can’t stay late. Jane has tutoring to do. I said, “But she teaches ESL sporadically. So, how brain draining can the work be, knowing most Chinese kids bow in nodding submission most of the time anyway? Last, if Jane is tutoring the next Obama from Kenya, his college records will become sealed eventually. So what difference does it make?”

Dad failing to show his son interested love again. Dad, tell me I should I get a smartphone replacement instead of a flip phone because you’d die without me sending you new pics of your 3 grandkids. No nod, no change in demeanor. All I heard was crickets, like when I asked my dad in my mind, “So, with your favorite son adding Heroin use to his demon battling list of notable accomplishments, do you still think he makes Hunter look a slacker, underachiever in comparison?”

Michael Kornbluth







Daddy Issues Daddy

Doing laps in the pool, gasping for air after lap 2, away from my 3 kids for the 1st time in a long, long time. I say to the couple lounging nearby as I come up gasping for air again, “I don’t even suck down weed from a metal bat anymore yet I’m huffing and puffing like Miley Cyrus trying to mouth Metallica lyrics on extra strength weed edibles. Still can’t believe my dad didn’t force me into regular swimming ever like Rocky in Rocky 3. So, I’d have some semblance of muscle memory to plug into today. Afterwards, as the lounging, smile ready couple proceeds to leave the pool I say, “Thanks for letting me go long and never giving me the light to wrap up my set already. Now, whenever I interrupt my kids precious train of thought again, they’ll point their arm out at me and say, “Pause Daddy.” Works like a charm every time.” Older poolside couple on their way laughs long time.



At the car dealership getting a new key after jumping into the pool prior with the electronic key on me prior. White privilege issues, represent, represent. And that’s not because the black man isn’t dominant in swimming to, which makes zero sense like NBA players today being more brittle than Kamala Harris under border control questioning.

Two genius ideas I share with my daughter over the phone to keep secret. First, I record my next comedy record in JFK country in Cape Cod but take our cat left behind like an intentional anchor my wife, only to call that podcast episode, Miss Kitty Does Cape Cod. 2nd genius idea, is writing my next book of fiction based on these mental health testing, blatantly avoidable COVID controlled times where my kids have have actually used the S word, to describe how depressingly dark it got for them during their 2 year blended learning experiment, which went down worse than mixing, malt liquor, southern comfort shots and gravity bong hits in that order without the temporary heady buzz relief in between either. And this career launching book is called 3 Year Wave Runner Plan. Because that’s when my daughter will be old to old enough to get a Bat Mitzvah gift like no other. More importantly, it gives me a concrete deadline to make my funny man career fertilize funny man loads of money already because Wave Runners make you immune to depressive turns to the suicide side. Danish Tosh lives. And I thought I was a hilarious shishy bitch. Thank you very much.



At the pool club, riffing or sampling as usual, and I ask a nice looking couple. Do you live in CT? They say, “Yes.” I say, “Glad I asked. Was going to make a CT joke but I actually love CT. I call CT the New, New York. I’m a native New Yorker myself and live in the northern suburbs of New York currently, yet the current state of Manhattan doesn’t give my New York bred ego much to brag about anymore these days either. All I ask is that Manhattan smells like a higher grade of weed sometime this century. So New York City can feel posh, exclusive again. Aren’t there enough unemployed undergraduate burnout students from Kenyon college to make the smell of green sparking magic more common place at least by Washington Square Park to counterbalance the smell of freshly roasted crack rock for a change?

New game plan in life: Find a hot actress to write a career relaunching script for like Winona Ryder and call it Gen X Forever.

Message to daughter after mommy aggravated me again by texting me, “Aw, after I made a sweet based comment about our cat Miss Kitty’s interaction with me in their absence, which wasn’t nearly over the top mushy emotive on my part either. I say to my daughter over the phone, “Matilda, when you get older, if you’re lucky enough to find a grown man whose capable of expressing a sweet based side, never ever, reply with “aw”, via text or in person ever. Aw isn’t for somebody done with their baby years already.”

Biggest buzz kill today by the lake. Some dude mixed 4th of July firework talk and soccer talk together in semi-seamless seamed fashion. To make matters worse, I bring this up to my wife over the phone currently in Delaware with our 3 kids, with her English dad who plays the European sport of choice and watches it religiously on the Teli away from his beamish, fuss free, Jew blood tainted, 3 grandchildren as usual on the regular for the past decade and counting with zero confessional driven church regret whatsoever. Wife says, ” We watched soccer with my dad today. I enjoyed watching it. I say, “Oh, so it must be the World Cup then.” Wife says, “No, it’s the European Cup.” I say, “I give a shit even less now, USA, USA, USA.”

Michael Kornbluth




Abundant Goodness

Our state of the union is like Stephen Colbert’s handle on funny these days, shaky. It’s too bad Bill O’Reilly is no longer important enough to impersonate. At least Bill O’Reilly gave Colbert gave gravitas. Only 1 million out of 350 million Americans even watch Colbert on a nightly basis. So, if I offended half a million people with that joke while making fun of 2 activist mouthpiece idols on both sides of the American evangelist divide, then you can go woke yourselves to. I created the material in United We Laugh for you and the millions, and millions, who think The Rock is guilty of cultural appropriation for exploiting the Rocky franchise name for its worth. Has the Rocky statue been taken down yet because it promotes white supremacy? Jokes like this is what make me a Shadowbanned Comedian. What’s a Shadowed Comedian? A comedian social media can’t stand because they dare to take a stand against bullshit narratives like Thug Lives Matter Most, that sort of thing. Then, you get banned from Twitter for claiming the Chinse have resisted Wuhan lab leak investigations more than AquaFresh. Or you cancel your Facebook account all together, because you’re sick of Good Will Hoodie shutting down accounts of scientists and doctors who promote Hydroxychloroquine, who don’t ascribe to the absolute dictum, In Fuck Face Fauci We Trust, no matter what. Or you cancel your Facebook account because you’re no longer thrilled with the idea of your retired parents spying on your life from afar knowing the site has turned baby boomers into the laziest, most hands-off grandparent generation of all time. Lifting a finger is liking a pic of their grandkids, assuming they’re not hugging flags on Main Street or without their stay-at-home comedian father in it, wiping up with the Sunday New York Times after Taco Tuesday night. More specifically, a Shadowbanned Comedian might as well be a Chinese comedian because his freedom of speech isn’t protected by Zit Face Zuck, or from Twitter Twat CEO Jark Doresy or from Cling On cheesy incarnate Jeff Bezos, who’s guilty of sending dick picks to. And I thought Alexa farting on demand for my kids was the death of small talk. Actually, I hear Bezos packs a formidable bulge. At the same time, his new lover used to be married to ultra-yoked out, Hall of Famer Tight End Tony Gonzalez. So happy denting AJAX man. And there’s no way Jeff Bezos tastes good, Ben Shapiro included. Amazon bans certain books for so called hate speech violations yet has no problem selling Mein Kamph. Who narrates the audio version of Mein Kamph, Edward Norton? His participation can remain anonymous. The NY Times only unmasks ICE Agent home addresses to ANTIFA because homeland security was so, Weapons of Mass Destruction Years. Write a book critical of critical race theory and you’re banned from making a living selling books on Amazon forever. Write a spirit cooking book for gender fluid pedophiles and the editorial gatekeepers at Amazon will lick it up, oh, oh, oh. Kiss lives. Can I get a holla for some Challah? For more jokes Gen X Dads understand and beyond, thank you very much.  Amazon says their online bookstore has no room for hate, but Mein Kampf is 720 pages of hate speech in a row, in spastic spitting German on Crystal Meth no less, which sounds twice as mass murderish, compared to Dr. Fauci, AKA, Dr. Gnochi, complaining about the right-wing media attacks on him for lying to congress about financing Gain of Function research in Wuhan, which only increases the transmissibility of the virus, no big deal. The politicization of the virus, that killed off our kids age of innocence faster than Sam Kinson giving Drew Barrymore his coke dealer’s number at Comedy Store on a slow Tuesday is.

Some real deep, smart guy once said, “Laughter is sound of comprehension.” Because for the joke to get laugh, you typically agree with the funny point or humorous phrased outcome in it. I’m putting this book out there to prove that we can still find more common ground to agree on the more laughs we make, regardless of how controversial certain topics appear to be, that have ruined dinner parties for all parties for the foreseeable future. United We Laugh is my olive branch to help our country recover from our endlessly divisive, grandstanding ways by focusing on real evil targets like Hamas who doesn’t do nuance, last time I checked. Again, the word controversy means to cause a disagreement. My intention is to prove how we can unite through laughter through jokes about aspects of controversial topics, most can agree upon. For those frowny faces who oppose, let the triggered twat tweets of rage begin, USA, USA.

Gun Control

They don’t have school shootings in Israel because the teachers are all ex-military who know how to handle firearms responsibly like real life Hebrew Hammers. Also, guns don’t kill people if the FBI actually had a school shooting quota to fulfill, as if their pensions, book deals or shooting the shit time with Jack Tapper on CNN were riding on it.  The FBI should be banned from Starbucks if they don’t follow up on the next school shooter lead. Coffee should be for closers, not for fake news do good posers in FBI windbreakers.  David Mamet lives. Can I get a holla for some Challah? Thank you very much.

Global Warming

I don’t sweat Global Warming because Al Gore’s film career has cooled considerably.

Abortion

Planned Parenthood is an oxymoron, don’t you think? Nobody plans to cut off their connection to God or shrug off maternal waves, if Karen’s romantic prospects and job options don’t feel pregnant with life improving topping possibility after graduating from Kenyon college with a degree in Frumpy Feminism either.

White Supremacy

I don’t see Ernie on TNT claiming he’s got bigger ups than Barkley after housing a Tomahawk Chop for 2.   

Charter Schools

The kids will be taught to hate Israel’s right to defend itself in college eventually anyway. So, like Hillary Hammer Time Cankles says, “What difference does it make?” I also love school uniforms that Charter Schools require. Because you feel like you’re getting dressed up for a more important job to do than getting stoned 1st thing in the AM to even shitter rap music to boot. Plus, it’s hard to feel like a slacker stoner in Khakis devoid of any dreamy ambition in life either.

Universal Healthcare

If it guarantees my kids won’t have to wait in line behind 500,000 dreamers in the ER, Then, it’s all Bueno Holmes.

Marijuana Legalization

I know New York City wants nothing to do with celebrating white privilege these days. But the Big Apple isn’t Detroit yet either. So, can the city maintain the allure of Manhattan remaining a high-end tourist destination that doesn’t reek of shit weed everywhere you go? Have the new mayor sign an exclusive distribution agreement with Mike Tyson’s Knockout Weed Ranch in Northern California, something.

Universal Income

Like Boston singer songwriter guitar wiz, Tom Schultz sings in Peace of Mind, “People living in competition, all I want is to have my piece of pie.”  And a lit agent that can locate their ball sack for me sometime this century. So, they can put their inner Ari Gold to work, sell the film rights to my books The Great American Jew Novel and Waste of Height, Really Short Stories. When they’re not scoring me a comedy record holding deal from Atlantic Records, after they hear my Burning Mask Party comedy record demo to kick off their 4th of July party in the Cape, draped in Vineyard Vines, dressed for new success, assuming their balls are bigger than Mike Love’s Beach Balls for thinking Brian Wilson is more non-essential than he is.



I love my Land Of Land O’ Lakes, which gave birth to the likes of Brian Wilson, Anthony Bourdain, Miles Davis and The Allman Brothers. All of these American made success stories that stretch from the Sunshine state to New York Island, with soul shine sparkly light, made you proud to be an American, in a place where you no longer feel so free. Unless you’re a feckless, Canadian cunt like Samantha Bee. Dr. Seuss lives. Can I get a holla for some Challah? Thank you very much

Michael Kornbluth



Land Of Land O’ Lakes

Our state of the union is like Stephen Colbert’s handle on funny these days, shaky. It’s too bad Bill O’Reilly is no longer important enough to impersonate. At least Bill O’Reilly gave Colbert gave gravitas. Only 1 million out of 350 million Americans even watch Colbert on a nightly basis. So, if I offended half a million people with that joke while making fun of 2 activist mouthpiece idols on both sides of the American evangelist divide, then you can go woke yourselves to. I created the material in United We Laugh for you and the millions, and millions, who think The Rock is guilty of cultural appropriation for exploiting the Rocky franchise name for its worth. Has the Rocky statue been taken down yet because it promotes white supremacy? Jokes like this is what make me a Shadowbanned Comedian. What’s a Shadowed Comedian? A comedian social media can’t stand because they dare to take a stand against bullshit narratives like Thug Lives Matter Most, that sort of thing. Then, you get banned from Twitter for claiming the Chinse have resisted Wuhan lab leak investigations more than AquaFresh. Or you cancel your Facebook account all together, because you’re sick of Good Will Hoodie shutting down accounts of scientists and doctors who promote Hydroxychloroquine, who don’t ascribe to the absolute dictum, In Fuck Face Fauci We Trust, no matter what. Or you cancel your Facebook account because you’re no longer thrilled with the idea of your retired parents spying on your life from afar knowing the site has turned baby boomers into the laziest, most hands-off grandparent generation of all time. Lifting a finger is liking a pic of their grandkids, assuming they’re not hugging flags on Main Street or without their stay-at-home comedian father in it, wiping up with the Sunday New York Times after Taco Tuesday night. More specifically, a Shadowbanned Comedian might as well be a Chinese comedian because his freedom of speech isn’t protected by Zit Face Zuck, or from Twitter Twat CEO Jark Doresy or from Cling On cheesy incarnate Jeff Bezos, who’s guilty of sending dick picks to. And I thought Alexa farting on demand for my kids was the death of small talk. Actually, I hear Bezos packs a formidable bulge. At the same time, his new lover used to be married to ultra-yoked out, Hall of Famer Tight End Tony Gonzalez. So happy denting AJAX man. And there’s no way Jeff Bezos tastes good, Ben Shapiro included. Amazon bans certain books for so called hate speech violations yet has no problem selling Mein Kamph. Who narrates the audio version of Mein Kamph, Edward Norton? His participation can remain anonymous. The NY Times only unmasks ICE Agent home addresses to ANTIFA because homeland security was so, Weapons of Mass Destruction Years. Write a book critical of critical race theory and you’re banned from making a living selling books on Amazon forever. Write a spirit cooking book for gender fluid pedophiles and the editorial gatekeepers at Amazon will lick it up, oh, oh, oh. Kiss lives. Can I get a holla for some Challah? For more jokes Gen X Dads understand and beyond, thank you very much.  Amazon says their online bookstore has no room for hate, but Mein Kampf is 720 pages of hate speech in a row, in spastic spitting German on Crystal Meth no less, which sounds twice as mass murderish, compared to Dr. Fauci, AKA, Dr. Gnochi, complaining about the right-wing media attacks on him for lying to congress about financing Gain of Function research in Wuhan, which only increases the transmissibility of the virus, no big deal. The politicization of the virus, that killed off our kids age of innocence faster than Sam Kinson giving Drew Barrymore his coke dealer’s number at Comedy Store on a slow Tuesday is.

Some real deep, smart guy once said, “Laughter is sound of comprehension.” Because for the joke to get laugh, you typically agree with the funny point or humorous phrased outcome in it. I’m putting this book out there to prove that we can still find more common ground to agree on the more laughs we make, regardless of how controversial certain topics appear to be, that have ruined dinner parties for all parties for the foreseeable future. United We Laugh is my olive branch to help our country recover from our endlessly divisive, grandstanding ways by focusing on real evil targets like Hamas who doesn’t do nuance, last time I checked. Again, the word controversy means to cause a disagreement. My intention is to prove how we can unite through laughter through jokes about aspects of controversial topics, most can agree upon. For those frowny faces who oppose, let the triggered twat tweets of rage begin, USA, USA.

Gun Control

They don’t have school shootings in Israel because the teachers are all ex-military who know how to handle firearms responsibly like real life Hebrew Hammers. Also, guns don’t kill people if the FBI actually had a school shooting quota to fulfill, as if their pensions, book deals or shooting the shit time with Jack Tapper on CNN were riding on it.  The FBI should be banned from Starbucks if they don’t follow up on the next school shooter lead. Coffee should be for closers, not for fake news do good posers in FBI windbreakers.  David Mamet lives. Can I get a holla for some Challah? Thank you very much.

Global Warming

I don’t sweat Global Warming because Al Gore’s film career has cooled considerably.

Abortion

Planned Parenthood is an oxymoron, don’t you think? Nobody plans to cut off their connection to God or shrug off maternal waves, if Karen’s romantic prospects and job options don’t feel pregnant with life improving topping possibility after graduating from Kenyon college with a degree in Frumpy Feminism either.

White Supremacy

I don’t see Ernie on TNT claiming he’s got bigger ups than Barkley after housing a Tomahawk Chop for 2.   

Charter Schools

The kids will be taught to hate Israel’s right to defend itself in college eventually anyway. So, like Hillary Hammer Time Cankles says, “What difference does it make?” I also love school uniforms that Charter Schools require. Because you feel like you’re getting dressed up for a more important job to do than getting stoned 1st thing in the AM to even shitter rap music to boot. Plus, it’s hard to feel like a slacker stoner in Khakis devoid of any dreamy ambition in life either.

Universal Healthcare

If it guarantees my kids won’t have to wait in line behind 500,000 dreamers in the ER, Then, it’s all Bueno Holmes.

Marijuana Legalization

I know New York City wants nothing to do with celebrating white privilege these days. But the Big Apple isn’t Detroit yet either. So, can the city maintain the allure of Manhattan remaining a high-end tourist destination that doesn’t reek of shit weed everywhere you go? Have the new mayor sign an exclusive distribution agreement with Mike Tyson’s Knockout Weed Ranch in Northern California, something.

Universal Income

Like Boston singer songwriter guitar wiz, Tom Schultz sings in Peace of Mind, “People living in competition, all I want is to have my piece of pie.”  And a lit agent that can locate their ball sack for me sometime this century. So, they can put their inner Ari Gold to work, sell the film rights to my books The Great American Jew Novel and Waste of Height, Really Short Stories. When they’re not scoring me a comedy record holding deal from Atlantic Records, after they hear my Burning Mask Party comedy record demo to kick off their 4th of July party in the Cape, draped in Vineyard Vines, dressed for new success, assuming their balls are bigger than Mike Love’s Beach Balls for thinking Brian Wilson is more non-essential than he is.



I love my Land Of Land O’ Lakes, which gave birth to the likes of Brian Wilson, Anthony Bourdain, Miles Davis and The Allman Brothers. All of these American made success stories that stretch from the Sunshine state to New York Island, with soul shine sparkly light, made you proud to be an American, in a place where you no longer feel so free. Unless you’re a feckless, Canadian cunt like Samantha Bee. Dr. Seuss lives. Can I get a holla for some Challah? Thank you very much

Michael Kornbluth