Kosher Klaus Sushi

Once upon a time there was a Kosher sushi chef prodigy Art Show USA who opened Kosher Klaus Sushi on Christmas Eve in 1994 before the Internet became mainstream and Asian elite Yelpers went hog wild.  Kosher Klaus Sushi was located in the heart of Scarsdale Village, which earned immediate rave reviews in the Scarsdale Inquirer from local food critic Debbie Wasserman, who described Art Show’s mind blowing specialty roll creations as “Orgasmic before they reach the back of your throat good.”  What made Art Show unique outside of his unmatched imaginative heft and juggling sushi knife work at the bar were his God given star powered looks, which commanded legions of groupie Yentas to schlep from the far reaches of Long Island to wait on line in the dead of winter to just catch a glance of the new age pretty boy bad ass Sushi Chef through the window, cranking out one swoon worthy, inhalatory Sushi specialty roll after the next, like his signature one, Living On The Edgemont Edge, which had smoked salmon, Cream Cheese, capers and caramelized shallots throughout to inject an extra special loaded lift.   

Every day, Art Show USA would sharpen his Sushi Knives together made from Israeli steel used in bullet proof vests made for their special force’s unit Mossad, which would woo, with sparkly, dazzling delight as patrons at the Kosher Klaus Sushi Bar gave impromptu standing ovations throughout.  Art Show USA was a 6 foot 4, spikey blond haired, blue eyed, lean, mean, Sushi slicing machine, who made Tom Cruise from the movie Cocktail look like a stumpy, homely hobbit hipster hack, in comparison, regardless if he kept his rolled up sleave button shirt, tucked in or not.   But one day, a bunch of rowdy Irish wiggers, entered Kosher Klaus Sushi to track down a hot yenta breath from Syosset, Long Island Rachel Weinstein, who rocked swinging, booby beauties, 36 D’s to be exact, who was also a solid 5 foot 9, making her mountable from behind standing up, assuming you weren’t a stumpy Irishman, unlucky in the height department.   Rachel was a full lipped, Sephardic Persian tan busty beauty, even Roger Waters from Pink Floyd would pulverize her fetching snatch until he was comfortably numb.  The leader of the wigger Irish pack was Liam O’Reilly who sported a Newport cigarette tattoo on his esophagus, which scared off most, but not Art Show USA. Art Show USA was a black belt in Judo by the time he was 13 for his Bar Mitzvah. For Art Show’s Bar Mitzvah Party, he played Siamese Dream by the Smashing Pumpkins on the guitar with his feet and teeth.  So Art Show USA was never sweating the prospect of losing a fight or a girl to an Irish wigger moron from Long Island, who thought stamping a permanent Newport cigarette tattoo on his esophagus was a bright idea, regardless if it ensured him a truck driver job for Killan’s Red or not.

Liam and his crew of Irish wiggers came down from Long Island to start a fight with Art Show USA because they attended the same high school as Rachel Weinstein and only had eyes for inhaling her whole. Plus, they weren’t enthralled with the Rachel wearing an underground, circulated hoodie with a picture of Art Show USA on it, sporting an American flag bandana and star of David gold necklace around his neck, showcasing well earned, non-banking job related bling.  

Liam cuts the line with his Irish wigger posse and bursts into Kosher Klaus Sushi like Mark Wahlberg on the set of SNL after Andy Samberg did a sketch about Marky Mark talking to farm animals. Liam bum-rushes the sushi bar and says, “Hey, faggot. I’ll kick your ass right now, to show all your groupies what a pretty boy faggot, gay pussy bitch you are in real life.” Art Show ignores Liam’s Alpha Dog attack. Liam jumps over the sushi bar to strike. Art Show does a look away kick to middle of his forehead, which sends Liam flying into the ceiling fan, which knocks him out senseless. Art Show USA says, “Alexa, play Jump Around by House of Pain.” Kosher Klaus Sushi erupts into instantaneous jubilee, Jewish pride pounces the air, inspiring Rachel Weinstein to flash her tits at Art Show USA as the entire restaurant throws their gold necklaces with Stars of David’s on it in her general direction, in honor of all those sweet, harmless Jewish boys who were never taught to defend themselves like the Hebrew Hammer, Bugsy Siegal or Art Show USA.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Hot For Hummus

Hummus is Chickpeas are great in Arabic. It’s the most popular dish in the Middle East among Egyptians, Jordanians, and Israeli offshoots of the Zohan tribe, 7 degrees separated from the golden Jew Adam Sandler. Actual unity is getting your Hummus resistor Jewish father from the Bronx to follow your 3 Koshertarian diet embracing children by joining the party to try your homemade Hummus made in his Arizona estate home for a pre-nosh nibble snack on top of toasted pita triangles with some diced up cherry tomatoes, fresh scattered parsley and vibrant looking, just grated carrots on top. I’m not betting the farm on my father to try my workshopped, perfected homemade Hummus over Thanksgiving break but as my father likes to rightfully point out, I don’t own a farm let alone a John Deer lawnmower or the personal property big enough to justify the expense because I’m still so broke, my Hebrew name is under judicial review.   Everyone can unify behind the depressingly dreary premise of a degenerate Jew like myself not being financially secure in life yet, who uses his fingers for basic arithmetic like a retarded version Dustin Hoffman at the Blackjack table at Talking Stick Casino.

Growing up in elementary school, all my Loan Officer mother ever made me was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, which didn’t help my blobby physique one bit at the time. Still, I never complained or requested anything different, urging my mother to make me Bento box lunches with Power Rangers stickers on the outside, with Cucumber and cream cheese Koshertarian rolls wrapped in seaweed and sticky rice within. Also, as a kid, I always preferred sesame bagels, for my egg and cheeses at the local Greek dinner, inhaling 2 in one sitting, after a night of drinking, with my old school high school buds, which is why my father called me the” human shovel” for a reason. So, I don’t need to be a math savant like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man to realize my love of nut based spreads like peanut butter would eventually lead to my developed steamy love for Tahani flavor in Hummus, which is where the oily, creamy, pulverized sesame seed spewing essence derives from. Hummus is basically, the more versatile, infinitely less tubby version of peanut butter, which also packs leaner blasts of less sticky mouth protein. So of course, I’m hot for hummus but only after I stared making my homemade versions to spice up my kid’s lunches, so I didn’t burn them out on peanut butter, ruining their capacity to ever savor a Reese Pieces Butter Cup, made at all the specialty chocolate chops like in Ridgefield CT again, which is an American shishy bitch rite as it gets.

If you never tried hummus, the famed sesame paste can be a turnoff, if you never sampled the primo goods before. On the surface, some store-bought hummus or homemade hummus can look like a sad plop mound of dried out earwax. That’s why you must add color and a dash of sophistication to your presentation. Pine nuts, who needs them. Chopped hardboiled eggs, gross, too overtly Israeli for my taste sorry. Pesto on top of hummus, is a blatantly unnecessary, awful idea, knowing Hummus when made right, requires no parm cheese garlic infusion to make it more swoon worthy than it already is. For me, I dress up my Hummus triangle creations with a menage a trois of radiant, lick it up color such as hot to trot, Little Red Corvette, cherry tomatoes and Arizona wild, desert bloom orange specked shredded carrots or some Polo Lounge conjuring green in the form of thick strands of Jalapeno on top to keep it extra steamy in the process.  

Just like it any relationship, you have to spice things up, incorporating needed color and variety to keep things interesting or you’ll lose sustained stiffage, which is the perpetual state of arousal necessary for any relationship to get excited for toppable tomorrows. The same rule applies to homemade loving infused creations versus the mass produced, manufactured kind, which lacks the length and depth of personalized pop compared to the real thing.  So invest in a Cuisinart to blend your Goya Chickpeas, add some store bought Tahini from your local Kosher butcher, add a garlic bulb or 2, throw in a generous heaping of sea, Himalayan, or Kosher salt, I don’t give a shit, before pouring in a steady steam of medium grade Olive oil, as the hummus magic swirls into scrumptious loving perfection before constructing your pita triangle pizzas with the steamy garnishes I mentioned prior and call it a day.  At the very least, your kids will love you more putting in the extra effort to tantalize and awaken their tastebuds to newer, fresher, yummier possibilities than ever before. Plus, your kids won’t become instantly tubby and resent your existence for it later. Last, your wife tasting like hummus won’t lure you into sucking face with her on the spot, but you’ll take whatever justified outs a 10-year marriage can give you.

Michael Kornbluth

Chicken Cutlet Hunters

The Chicken Cutlet from the Edgemont Deli on Central Avenue next to Danny’s Cycle in southern Westchester County, 30 minutes north of Manhattan was always the best.  My old school dear friend Ari, now a Kidney doctor who part owns his own practice in CT, a graduate of Washington University, no dummy, would agree with me, we became fixated on hunting down the perfect chicken cutlet sandwich ever since. I remember inhaling down this chicken cutlet thinking, I was in the presence of greatness, just based on the crispy enough, herbed spice breading on it alone. Back then, I didn’t know the difference between sage or rosemary. I wasn’t aware of how cilantro was used as an herb in salsa. Shit, an underclassman fooled me into buying oregano for weed senior year in high school, so I wasn’t obsessing over the herb installation componentry embedded in my bomb chicken cutlet from the Edgemont Deli at the time, that wasn’t Calista Flockhart skinny but more Jo plump like from Facts of Life, which gave you something more excitable to chomp into again and again. The perfectly shredded lettuce, semi-thin, actual fleshy red tomato on top,  nestled between the banging Kaiser roll, which was never drowning for dear life in an amorphous plop of mayo goo didn’t hurt the chicken cutlet sandwich’s overall appeal one bit either. Ah, those were the days, pre-Yelp, where you actually had to rely on your own intuition and New York bred sense of adventure to try and consume it all, like a less hyper articulate, perpetually suave, mini Anthony Bourdain in the making, minus the French royal rocker look working in your favor either.

Now, that I’m getting my 3 kids more courageous about trying different Kosher meat creations because they know I’m writing a book about it and unlike others, they still believe me in pounding my dreams of comedic superstardom into freaking reality already, especially when I involve them in the act of pulverizing the homemade Kosher chicken cutlets I made tonight with real deal Hebrew Hammer fury.  I told my son Arthur to choke up on the mighty mallet before pounding the chicken cutlets for round 2 with the intention of smooshing those cutlets into barely recognizable form like when Mitch Blood Green came up with the bright idea to start a street fight with Iron Mike in Harlem during his prime time domination years, where he knocked out legendary heavy weights by the time you banged another one out to Taste Of Amber again.  

My wife had to Nazify my dream chicken cutlet recreation tonight, using a combination of panko breadcrumbs and homemade ones while also using a mishmash of chopped parsley, sage and rosemary, by insisting on calling it the meal “Schnitzel”, saying, “I haven’t had Schnitzel since Oktoberfest in Germany.” Meanwhile, I’m thinking, “Chances are you had pork schnitzel for starters, which is fine, but don’t lump my dish into your non-eating Kosher past in Germany before the open borders invite to invade and resist assimilation lead to no-go zones, proving too much for Angela Merkel’s hunched shoulders to bear alone. Where is W to give Angela Lansbury’s, more homely, less talented, dour dumpy clone to give an unsolicited back rub, when you need him?  Also, I didn’t  know what the hell Schnitzel was in high school, I just knew how to order a chicken cutlet at the deli, with shredded lettuce, tomato, mayo, Russian dressing or getting some melted provolone on it if I was feeling particularly eccentric for lunch, that day, that’s it. Granted, tonight, I did fry up gargantuan flatted breasts which looked like Pauly from Rocky passed out on Bridget Nielson’s tits. But I wouldn’t call a schnitzel dish using Panko breadcrumbs and Kosher certified chicken as a sterling example of keeping it real Arian like either.  Actually, for those food nerd historians at home, schnitzel was actually invented in Austria before famed Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal helped track down Adolf Eichman’s Nazi footsteps in Buenos Aries pleasuring himself to more Malbec and Nazi trading cards bound for the ashbins of truly deplorable history. Before shiny shoes got hanged in Israel for being Farrakhan’s dreamboat exterminator against you know who Gervais, and it wasn’t your mole infested British commoners working as Bank Tellers for Barclay’s Bank either.

I’m most impressed with my how kids continue to embrace and try any new meat creation I make for them, because they know it’s made with love and kids always love you back twice as much, when you make them like feel like the center of your universe instead of the reverse. Last, your kids can’t help but look up to daddy a little bit in the kitchen knowing he’s doing his best to please God  and obey his dietary laws in exchange for blessing him with the greatest home team imaginable, which grows closer every day, yeah, yeah.

I’m about to put my 3-year old son Samuel in the car today on our way to pick up a couple of last minute, improvised inspired ingredients and he says with a wink and brightened smile, “I hate your jokes and your books to.” I laughed long time. The fact my 3-year-old son already understands the full spectrum of silly minded, sarcastic fueled ball busting while also comprehending what work I’ve been pounding away at since he was born is a sign that God really is looking after my back through this miracle wonderkid. Samuel Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo really is the pubescent, Total Package, Lex Luger after all.

Michael Kornbluth

Resisting Synagogue Distancing

I don’t need to see Chelsea Handler topless to expose her disdain for an administration who champions the reopening of all houses of worship in another desperate attempt to downplay her tits sagging popularity again and again. And you can talk about the incessant, mandatory need for social distancing all you want, but it’s not as if the more wokeified reformed Jewish Rabbis in the US pre-Corona were playing to packed houses either.

But overt hostility directed at the Trump administration, his freedom loving supporters or toward Torah obeying Hasidic Jews isn’t New Testament new either. This morning, I tell my wife, “I identify with Chabad Hasidism because their members aren’t Holocaust trivializing, Nazi name calling supremacists, who love all Jews as much as NPR’s inflated sense of self-importance.” She says, “Well someone whose been in contact with plenty of Hasidic woman as a nurse in labor and delivery, I can tell you, Hasidic woman have less freedom than Orthodox Jewish woman do, who only exist to bang out more babies really.” I snap back with, “Just because you watched Unorthodox on Netflix, you’re a Social Worker now to? Plus, Hasidic woman can also use the Instant Pot today to, which reduces Brisket cooking cutting time in half. So, slaving away in the kitchen is no longer such a time sucking existence anymore either. But I’m supposed to demonize the entire Hasidic sect of Judaism because the NY Times post fake news claims working moms today spend more time today with their kids than stay at home moms did in the 1970’s? So, stay at home mom’s in the 1970’s slept on the job on too many Quaaludes, haunted by memories of Bill Cosby’s family friendly dentist drilling material of yesteryear? I don’t get it.

Last, what’s so wrong about Hasidic woman raising future generations of doctors and rabbi’s turned comedians like Jackie Mason, who help perfect the world through medicinal healing or comedic song?”

Giving lockdown orders on Synagogues throughout neighborhoods such as Borough Park and Midwood in New York because Mayor DeBlasio and Governor Cuomo are worried about fending off this new wave of Corona infections less than a month before election day, during the most festive, infectiously joyous weeklong holiday of Sukkot, felt forced magnanimous to me. Especially after our so called morally exalted leaders of New York allowed rioters and looters to shatter Macy’s windows on 34 Street unimpeded. The same feckless leaders who defunded the NYPD in the face of nonstop lawlessness in the form of looting, shooting and sucker punching of beloved actor Rick Moranis since this Thug Lives Matter Most horror show began, whether your black or white cloaked in black hoodies representing Pacific Northwest ANTIFA. Killing off the once endlessly vibrant life force of my beloved concrete jungle of yesteryear, one boarded up storefront at a time as the once unthinkable exodus from New York City began. Because looting Gucci ain’t a thing but a reparations thing knowing Beyonce didn’t stand for the National Anthem during the Super Bowl because Demi Lovato sounds like the white privileged version of Alabama Shakes.  

But at least liquor stores are still considered houses of worship in New York State in addition to 3rd trimester pushing abortion clinics. Because Planned Parenthood is an essential place of business to abort a fully formed fetus on demand, which is kosher in Cuomo’s eyes and in Bill Maher’s book. President Trump should nickname Governor Cuomo The Italian Reptilian inside, especially after he caused the death of 6000 plus elderly patients, by forcing elderly homes throughout NY to accept new COVID patients to fill out all the extra body bags they were ordered to take in with them to. Still, this thug in Armani who looks like the Thing and Mama Fratelli from the Goonies had a baby, has the chutzpah to write a book on leadership lessons based on his alleged stellar handling the of the Coronavirus pandemic, despite him blaming all those unnecessary nursing home deaths on Trump, the GOP and Fox News. Because the Italian Reptilian Inside Cuomo was just following the Department of Health’s marching orders like a good Soros, one world order licking solider, despite him writing the order in March demanding all elderly homes in NY accept COVID patients while the revamped Javits Center remained empty in addition to President Trump’s shipped in Hospital Ship, which got less touches than a Bible on board a Booze Cruise on its way to Provincetown.

Cuomo and DeBlasio aren’t concerned about minimizing the spread of Covid. All they care about is preserving their power through the very fear mongering they accuse President Trump of, through constantly pinning the entirety of this Chinese made virus aftermath on his administration despite POTUS canceling all incoming travel from China in March while DeBlasio fumbled with chopsticks during a photo op in Chinatown at the same time, urging naturally neurotic New Yorkers to get a grip.

I also don’t recall mosques in NYC being on the receiving end of such prayer distancing restrictions, despite Muslims praying more frequently in their houses of worship compared to Jews and Christians, which the loudspeaker call to prayer in Astoria, NY will remind you of, 5 times a day if you ever forgot prior because you used to have an office in Manhattan, that wasn’t at home, before the boss distancing remote work world began.  Yesterday, I asked my voice activated assistant Alexa speaker, “How many more days till Hannukah?” Alexa says, “I don’t know.” I reply with, “I bet you know the countdown till Ramadan because you wouldn’t want to be branded Islamophobic like President Trump if you dare question the staying power of Obama’s timeout nuke building deal with Iran, knowing Iran is only the biggest sponsor of worldwide terror since the construction of the last Death Star.”

Cuomo and DeBlasio derive sick, soulless pleasure from keeping true believing Christians out of Churches like Amy Barrett and strict rule following Jewish men of faith out of Synagogues because they also represent a significant size of Trump supporters who defend his stance against late term abortion especially in addition to his foreign policy stance responsible for creating peace through strength in the Middle East by normalizing relations between Israel and it’s Arab neighbors, who recognize Iran as being the true face of evil, which no amount of Shadowbanning by Big Tech can conceal.

America was founded on the basis of granting religious liberty without the fear of prosecution like being fined for breaking social distancing rules during Easter or the most recent Jewish holiday of Sukkot. All houses of worship in the US, mosques to, offer the most holy God loving bind around us that unites us all. And anyone who thinks Democrats in charge of NY care about pleasing God through polite prayer or punishing the real face of evil, responsible for rampant, enabled acts of widespread violence throughout the streets of NY, 8 million New Yorkers call home, my native home also, can go woke themselves to.

My most spine tingly memories of Synagogue revolve around my childhood congregation standing up in unison to sing the always rousing, unifying prayer, “She-ma yisrael, adonai, eloheinu, adonai, echad. Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, The Lord is one.” Hear that DeBlasio, the Lord is our God, not you or the Italian Reptilian Cuomo inside. All the fines, religious school shutdowns and mask shaming imposed hysteria, won’t keep God’s cosmic perfectionists from performing mitzvot such as teaching our children Torah at home and through prayer which doesn’t require walls to suppress the glorification of the almighty, while praising all that’s good in our hearts and souls forevermore. Even Kid Rock would gave that soul sermon serenade an Amen.  I say Amen.

And anyone who calls me a racist fringe conspiracist for hating how my 3 kids are forced to dress in masks now every day now like its Sharia Law Appreciation Day, can go woke themselves to.  While DeBlasio and Cuomo use our kids as pawns to wreck our economy, ruin their age of innocence and demolish patriots means to provide the American dream for our children because we have nobody to look after our kids from home for remote learning since Facebook has made baby boomers the laziest, most hands off grandparent generation of all time. Lifting a finger is liking a new picture on Facebook, assuming my kids aren’t posing in a fighter plane during a Blue Angels air show at Stewart Airport in a pro patriot Trumpian lead America, God forbid.   

Michael Kornbluth

Do It All Coach Dads Podcast Pitch

LaVar Ball’s son Lonzo Ball got him a Bentley for his birthday. Do you think a son would hook up his dad with a Bentley for his birthday, if he wasn’t the driving force responsible for him signing an NBA contract with the Lakers, so he could become everything he dreamed to be and that much more?

Barry Bonds had Bobby, Ken Griffey had Senior and Brandon had Bruce Lee, Grant Hill had Thomas Hill, Luke Walton had Bill. Are you touched yet? Do you have any interest in learning how these Do It All Coach Dads bonded through coaching with their new and improved seed, especially knowing their genetically blessed offspring, were also prime beneficiaries of such remarkable, war won wisdom to derive from the start?

Regardless, if you’re dad or not, it’s impossible to not derive some vicarious form of do it all dad pride from mere pictures of father son athletes done good like the one of Rick and Hall of Fame father Brent Barry after he won an NBA Championship for the Spurs.

What drove these Do It All Coach Dads to assume ownership of their kids life education? Because aren’t all coaches, at least the good ones, life coaches who instruct us how to become leaders of men on and off the court, if they push those to the limit, who inspire others through their sheer hard work, passion, grit, imaginative play, commanding flair and developed communicative touch?

When I think of my favorite movies, which fill my soul with infinite do good, empowered, fighting back possibility, I think of the relationships between Rocky and Mick, Mr. Miyagi and Danielsan, even Drago and his son in Creed 2. The one scene, where Drago’s son storms out of their dinner meeting with his mom and the Russian dignitary she left Drago for after losing to Stallone in Rocky 4 was brutal to watch for me, especially, when Drago’s son says to his Dad soon after on their way out the door, “She abandoned us.” I cried on the spot when watching this scene. Drago had done some hardcore bonding with his son through coaching to say the least. Dragon’s son in Creed 2 also represents all of his unfulfilled dreams, which is a common theme most Dad star athletes of yesteryear can identify with and I’ll take Glory Days by Bruce Springsteen for 500 Alex.

Do It All Coach Dads Podcast will give coach dads their long overdue praise and the much needed star studded spotlight they deserve because it’s their opinions about the enduring importance of faith, the power of positive thinking, visualization, preparation, goal setting, will power, practice, hard work, motivation and grit who I care about learning from the most. It’s those Do It All Dad Coach Dads who disperse experience informed tips on what ultimate success looks, feels and acts like as teammates, co-workers, husbands, fathers who I care about learning from the most on a sports educational podcast, not from some random 19 year old rookie in the NBA on Twitter who still educating himself on Hitler, sorry.

Who taught Do It All Coach Dads about how to bounce back from defeat? Who taught these Do It All Dad Coach Dads that the only way to feel like a winner is to win again? How were these Do It All Dad Coach Dads raised to hate losing more than I-Tunes jamming more unasked for singles from U2 down your throat?

Do It All Coach Dads Podcast sells Do It All Dad Pride in raising strong kids, who live to compete because the act of competition and pressure packed adrenaline from performing live in front others, is responsible for bringing out their best fighter selves, while team sports offers the more emotionally expansive opportunity to achieve a greater sense of wholesome purpose and blood on blood unity, which is hard to replicate in the boardroom or in the office kitchen for inclusive, Taco Tuesdays, with plenty of vegan options, after their college playing days are long gone.

Do It All Coach Dads sells do it all dad pride in raising inspirational leaders instead of sheepish followers, doers instead of talkers, creators instead of consumers, builder uppers, instead of belittling, put’um downers.

Bonding through coaching can make our kids great again. Do It All Coach Dads will tell sports related stories of triumph and comeback success, through interviews with Do It All Coach Dads and their kids sometimes together, to focus on the holy, unique bond formed among father coaches and their cherished student athlete children, who receive the greatest gift a father could give their child, like the late great Jim Valvano once said, “My Dad believed in me.”

Michael Kornbluth

Arousing A Lit Agent Into Action

Dear Terrie Wolf,

Resist This is a pre-election comedy special book, flush with clean, smart, edgy jokes you’ll never hear on Bill Maher, about the resistance insanity and endless excuse tour that’s consumed Big Tech, Hollywood and the media online and off, since the big, bad, blond wolf beat Hillary Hammer Time Cankles fair and square, proving baby boomer arrogance, and millennial mouseketeer petulance never dies. Chapter 11 What Gen X Dads Understand , contains all family related material in the book, which closes out this killer set for the ages with hardcore, punchy pop. It will take a brave Literary Agent with keen bullshit detection lens to embrace my material from start to finish. I hope you’re one of them. 

Tech censorship is a major problem in this country. Hate Speech is a term used to silence those who praise President Trump or those who dare to criticize the continuous divisiveness generated by Obama Be Good or from any of his media enabled minions in pop culture or in Congress who wants to cancel Israel. Do I need to name names? How much time do you have exactly?  Last, I think the sales potential for the audio version of Resist This is huge, 64 million branded racists and growing, to be exact. I also envision enormous international sales in Canada, Australia, India and Israel. Tell me I’m not funnier than Russell Peters and I’ll make my not my President mother happy and become a garbage man for a living like a good deplorable provider for my family of 5 already. Below, is a link for Chapter 1, Hate Speech Dragon On Fire. 

My Very Best,

Michael Kornbluth

https://doitalldadyearpodcast.libsyn.com/chapter-1-hate-speech-dragon-on-fire