Chapter 33 The Jewish Super Angel

 Chapter 33

 

The Jewish Super Angel

 

Growing up conservative Jewish in Edgemont, NY, Joshua was never entirely comfortable around Angel ornaments of any kind. For example, when his wife’s best friend got his daughter Matilda fairy wings for Christmas one year, insisting she try them on immediately, lead to Joshua freaking out instantaneously, stating, “Take the fairy wings off my daughter now. She looks like an overdose at the Limelight waiting to happen.”  The Limelight was an abandoned church turned into a clubby, rolling paradise throughout the late early 80’s, mid 90’s, making Macaulay Culkin look like a rapidly aging, embalmed, cadaver in fairy wings in the movie Party Animal, draining him of any old school, age of innocence charm left.

 

You would think Joshua’s mother from Louisville, Kentucky converting to Judaism would make him a tad less tense around angels on Christmas Trees, without feeling the need to deride some Christmas trees as, “too overtly churchy.” It didn’t help knowing his father would constantly shoot down his mom’s requests to get a Christmas tree every year during the holiday season, because they already had Christmas Stockings full of clementines and they put Christmas gifts from their relatives down south on the piano, nobody ever played.  Randy Newman piano playing, Jewish pride was devoid in this Kornbluth household on Glenwood Rd.  Every year, Joshua would push on his mom’s behalf, sticking up to his dad for a change back then saying, “Dad, get mom a tree already. She only abandoned her relationship with her lord and savior Jesus Christ to marry into your putzy DNA. It’s the least you can do, don’t you think? Dad says, “Joshua, Jews don’t buy Christmas Trees, unless they convert into a Tree House and flip it for a profit.”

Finally, Joshua’s dad relented one year, but only allowed the placement of a dwarfish scrubby bush within the cob webbed laden corner of the darkened, inside side porch. Still, Joshua marrying a gentile, did his best to get more comfortable in Church, even taken his 3 kids to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral during the holiday season, to ask God for a favorable review from the NY Post after he got the book editor there interested enough to give his debut book, Controlling My Kids With A Comedy, A Love Story, a read.  Joshua never heard back from the NY Post editor yet Hail Mary’s only work for Doug Flutie. Also, Joshua didn’t perceive a glowing review from a book editor at the NY Post, as an act of God in need of a miracle, because the all mighty was already channeled through the book, flush with A plus jokes and poetic prose, enough to give King David who first became famous as a big time singer songwriter musician, sustained stiffage long time.  But in Church, Joshua made it clear to his kids, “Just address prayers to God and not Jesus, and your still Kosher in the Old Testament’s book. Bill Maher could give a shit either way. “

 

Joshua had starting brushing up on angel literature, learning Joshua was Moses’s number one assistant, which is more daunting than the last one working for Harvey Weinstein trying to secure a meeting with a new hot actress on his old casting couch at the Four Seasons. Joshua decided to give the Hebrew name Jeremiah for his son Arthur Morrison Kornbluth, because he wrote the Book of Lamentations. And Joshua was always a huge Hair Metal power ballad guy, whose songs similar to the Book of Lamentations were always sorrowful but full out poetic longing and fleshed out feeling. Later, Joshua gave his son Samuel the Hebrew name Isaac, Yitzhak in Hebrew literally,  which Joshua loved because even the Koran gave Issac props, granting him immunity from ever being charged with intentional Islamophobia. And if Joshua were to rank the best prophets on Ranker, he’d put Isaac in the top 5 after Moses, and Abraham and King David, knowing he was no minor side character like the Tim Meadows of prophets, because he was the grandfather behind the 12 tribes of Israel. Nostradamus wouldn’t make Joshua’s list of top prophets on Ranker because he converted to Catholicism, so he wouldn’t be lumped together with all those dirty, crumb hoarding, Christian blood eating, ratty looking  Jews, for being the main culprits behind proliferating the fucking Plague, how convenient.

 

Now, Joshua was buzzing with heady anticipation knowing he destroyed during his audition for the family friendly Porsche SUV campaign, as he sipped his Macchiato at a swanky, modern, high tin ceiling covered coffee shop in the West Village; which could belong in Park Slope, Brooklyn if it ever attracted stylish, zero frump, 8 plus trim and above.  Joshua addresses the Barista who made the Macchiato at the coffee bar after he savors another sip, “Phenomenal Macchiato, it’s the most hydrating, non-burnt Macchiato I ever had in my life outside of Melbourne, Australia. I just feel like a moron for having to fly 5 million miles across the globe at 35 years to finally try a Macchiato for the 1st time in my life during my honeymoon in Australia. After dropping 2 Ambien and 2 mini servings of Jack before good night Irene on Quantas, farting up fumes of clam chowder from our layover in San Fran prior. The Macchiato is a circumcised Cappuccino, with half the foamage in my book. I wanted to marry my wife in Australia in Mother’s Beach in Victoria, where she grew up for a bit, yet my mom calls me on the phone one day and says, “Australia is a long flight from New York and your father doesn’t love you that much.” And I said, “Mom, just tell dad to drop another Ambien to sleep on the plane, which won’t be a radical departure from him doing the same at home after work on the couch for another 6 hours stretch at a time.   Finally, I reached a compromise with my wife, I said, “If we have a boy, instead of hiring a Rabbi for the circumcision, we’d hire Crocodile Dundee, just so we could hear a roomful of Jews, say, “Now that’s a knife. You can chop it all off with that thing.” The grey Canali draped Jewish Super Angel, sporting a black power CAA power tie, finishes laughing, “Shouldn’t you be performing at the Cellar or at Caroline’s on Broadway? Your delivery is even better than the A plus material itself.”

“Joshua perks up immediately, turns his body toward the Jewish Super Angel and says, “Thank you very much. I appreciate the praise long time. I’m actually banned from the Comedy Cellar for going over my allotted time by 5 hours after getting the one minute warning sign to wrap it up, only 2 minutes into my killer set showcasing killer Heather Mills material, only after I invited  my own well-paying private militia. Taunting management, with that actual militia line, didn’t make management there hate me any less either. I did audition for the New York Comedy Festival and for a reality show titled America’s Next Great Roaster at Caroline’s, after an older comic gave me the idea to audition; who used to attend an open mike I hosted in the downstairs of a belly dancing, Moroccan restaurant along bumble fuck, most derelict slab of real estate remaining in Manhattan, on the corner of 99 cent pizza store on 40th and 10th. My roast subject was Justin Timberlake. I said,”Justin Timberlake is like George Michael, he sings, dances and sucks.” I also sampled some Park Slope stroller mom material. I said, “Do kids in Park Slope make your mama so stupid jokes about Stroller moms in Park Slope like your mama’s so dumb she can’t complete the crossword puzzle in the Monday New York Times? That joke is so elitist, Hillary just got moist for the 1st time in years. “The Jewish Super Angel finishes laughing and says, “Yeah, I hate that evil wench also. Remember, when it took her 5 times to get her MetroCard to work? Joshua says, “I do. With the all camera crews hovering around her, Hillary says to herself before swipe number 5, super predators, I mean black people are watching. You can do it.  Nice Windsor not, add that to my never ending learn how to do list.”  The Jewish Super Angel says, “You mean Seinfeld hasn’t done an entire laugh free, Driving in Cars episode on the subject with George Lopez yet?”  Joshua says, “I just read about Jerry selling one of his porches at a charity function in the Hamptons. I just hope half those proceeds went to Larry’s kids.” The Jewish Super Angel says, “What brings you to the West Village? Joshua says, “I just finished an audition to become the new family spokesperson for the new line Porsche Cayenne SUV’s. I could use the startup money for my Kosher food truck business, selling the Do It All Dad Hero, the first ever Kosher Cheesesteak truck, made with Kosher smoked Brisket and a plant-based cheese wiz. I got a Kosher cheese wiz master working on the recipe for the wiz right now, who graduated John Hopkins before I could complete my untimed SAT. The Jewish Super Angel says, “Take my card, consider me your Jewish Super Angel. I invest in startups for a living. But what I really invest in is people. Ashton Kutcher stole that line from me for the record.” Joshua says, “I’ll be in touch in then. Played Ashton Kutcher in a game of pick up ball at Fairfax High School once. He looked way prettier than Demi Moore when I saw her in person outside the Century City movie theater. She had a droopy, elongated, stretchy neck and the figure of undeveloped, 12 year-old boy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 28 You Can’t Fake Chemistry

Chapter 28

You Can’t Fake Chemistry

Joshua never cared for Scientists too much. When he dozed 2 minutes into the Making Of The Dark Universe at the Museum of Natural History, his daughter Matilda whacked him in the rib with her forearm hard with menacing disgust, prompting her Do It All Dad to yell in his defense, “God only made Neil deGrasse Tyson interesting in 2 minute bursts at a time, all right.” Albert Einstein helped make the Atom bomb, which put an official end to World War 2. The “Big One” also resulted in make out moments galore along the Canyon of Heroes on Broadway, honoring America’s greatest generation and our last large scale, big deal military victory against a formidable foreign power, cranked up on Crystal Meth, pre-fake news and the era of HBO becoming must see TV for more resistor hued, Nazi revisionist, fictional TV series fare because she lost despite getting the debate questions in advance. So Joshua didn’t hate scientists all together.

Atheist know it all twats like Stephen Hawking, didn’t make Joshua warm up to bean breath British physicists either. But Obama gave Stephen Hawking the Presidential Medal Of Freedom despite the award being the highest American civilian honor possible. So Joshua must possess a very low opinion of star fuckers from Kenya, I guess. But what really turned off Joshua from scientists besides the computer ones who worked for IBM to develop technology, which made it easier for the Nazi’s to identity his European Jewish ancestors before they were shipped off to death camps, was the dweeb brewer of Six Point Brewery in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Who during the tour of his brewery, touted himself as the improv chemist genius of hoppy amalgam fermentation. But back to IBM for a second. Joshua lived in Croton Falls, NY with his wife Anna and 3 kids, who would’ve been thrown into the gas chambers in Auschwitz, so knowing IBM had a major R&D facility in nearby Somers, NY, he was quick to point out IBM’s Nazi profiteering past, at the local brew bar upstairs at Italian grocery store DeCicco’s, if he overheard some IT folk talk about programming or coding of any kind and impose his material on them, regardless if they were engaged in a dialogue prior or not. Joshua says, “Hey guys, this is my impression of a Computer Scientist at IBM testing the artificial intelligence of Watson the Super Computer, who won at Jeopardy. Hey Watson, are you aware of being named after the scientist Dr. Watson, who developed technology for the Nazis, who made it easier for the Kraut breaths to identify Jews being shipped off on trains to slaughter? Watson compute replies, “No shit Sherlock.” But if you didn’t know that, you probably didn’t know Hitler had a framed picture of Henry Ford on his desk, despite the Model T, being a poor man’s Mercedes Benz, Hitler’s preferred drive by car of choice.”

Climate Scientists alarmists trying to give his 3 children eco anxiety didn’t inspire Joshua to embrace the scientific community at large either. On Joshua’s debut comedy record, Resist This, he did a bit about imagining a debate on climate change between Trump and Greta Thunburg, which any NPR devotee believer would have a psychotic meltdown over, his wife included, in a NY Minute. In the bit Trump says, “Fracking reduces our carbon emissions Greta.” Greta says, “So Neil Young is full of shit now? Trump replies, “Neil Young doesn’t take showers to reduce his carbon footprint. So, that much you share in common babe.”

Again, Joshua was waiting to meet with the Rabbi’s highly touted, master brewer brother Schmendel but this time it was at the DBGB Kitchen & Bar, on the corner of Bowery and Houston, which is easily confused with the CBGB bar of yesteryear, when model turned singer songwriter, ambient rocker Debbie Harry pleaded on stage, to her latest hunk on a stick, “Call me”, pre-smart phones and Steve Jobs inventing nothing but casual Friday. One time, Joshua’s kids discovered a gift from Mama for Dada, including a pile of cue cards with typed written notes and heart and froggy stickers placed on them throughout, including loving homages in his honor such as, “I love the depth of your soul.” I love the way I can’t imagine a day without you in my life.” “I love how you kiss blondie.” After Joshua’s 9-year-old daughter discovered this card in particular, she asks her dear Dada, “Who’s Blondie Dada?” Dada replies, “Easier on the eyes than the Ramones, next question.”

Schmendel makes eye contact with Joshua at the bar, sporting the Hassidic beard, a Kippah and a rocking Faconnable bomber, black leather jacket. “Joshua get’s up from his bar seat, “Schmendel, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Schmendel says, “Thank God, another too tall Jew exists besides me.” Joshua says, “Growing up my Jewish father from the Bronx would always kvetch, “Joshua, why can’t you have taller friends?” And I’m thinking, because all of them Jewish or Japanese American. Plus, you didn’t ship me off for 3 whole months every summer to a big man basketball camp in Zaire.” Schmendel says, “What beer are you drinking? “Joshua says, “I like to try local beers, because I’m obsessed with freshness, so I went with some IPA from Queens. But can we stop calling Queens hot? Compared to Manhattan and Brooklyn, Queens is the sloppy 3rd Kardashian sister. You know the extra greasy one, whose actually OJ’s daughter. Who’s easy to pound at 3 in the morning like a lamb gyro in Astoria. And I don’t buy the fact Bruce Jenner when married to Kris Jenner was asexual. But I’m positive, Bruce stayed harder longer, after he convinced his wife Kris Jenner to cut her hair short, so she’d look more like a dolled-up Ralph Macchio. And if I see Transgender Father’s Day trend on Twitter one more time, I’m breaking my Chic-Fil-A strike for good. Either you’re involved father or you’re not Nipple Tits. Getting shafted shouldn’t be such a shock to your system anymore either.” Schmendel finishes laughing, “You don’t have many friends do you?”, Schmendel says. Joshua laughs, “The majority of my old ones are gone, that’s correct Schmendel. Apparently, certain fake news friends who only like you when they can feel smug superior, east coast elitist in comparison.” Schmendel says, “Join the club. You can’t be a self-loving, Trump supporting, funny many Jew in New York these days, without being looked down upon like some blissfully ignorant, uninformed degenerate, deplorable of Jew of the lowest order.” Joshua says, “So your parents hate you more than ever to? Join the club. So, I need a mock cheese wiz for my Do It All Dad Hero Kosher Cheesesteak Truck. Can you help me? I know you’re a master brewer, but I figured your background in organic chem, food sciences and microbiology at John Hopkins University, could figure out a killer recipe in no time. I’ve been stalking on you LinkedIn in case you’re wondering. It’s my old school IT recruitment agency background shining through.” I can still help you come up with a killer viral campaign for your great, American Jewish Pale Ale in exchange.” Schmendel says, “Joshua take it easy. You had me at mock cheese wiz for my Do It All Dad Hero kosher Cheesesteak Truck. I’m a father of 7 myself.” Joshua says, “And I thought I was stuck up shits creek without a paddle.” Joshua orders an IPA for his Jewish brother in arms and raises his glass for a toast, “To meant to be chemistry, L’Chaim.”

Chapter 27 Hungry For Successful Livin

Chapter 27

Hungry For Successful Livin

The best Cheesesteak Joshua had ever was at some random place in New Jersey on the border of Philly, during a road trip back from Washington University outside of Saint Louis, with his far smarter, more infinitely together friend Ari and some of his college buds, including a cuter, prettier, less pale freckled, smokier eyed, sultry looking version of Parker Posey, minus the Richard Linklater film credit. In high school, during lunch breaks in Scarsdale Village at the local Muller’s Deli on Garth Road, the cheese steak was your standard array of warmed up roast beef, with some American cheese melted on top, nestled between a respectable hoagie, with some occasional grilled onions on top, nothing to give Joshua and his buds sustained stiffage long time, but it did provide some much needed variety from their standard chicken cutlet on a roll with lettuce, tomato and mayo or Russian if the Edgemont crew was feeling more indulgent that day instead. But nothing had prepared Joshua for the Philly style cheese steak with shredded thin lettuce, edible, well sliced, non-Subway conjuring, Jersey tomatoes, on top cut of delectable pieces of rib eye steak, with semi-strong melted provolone on top with even layered, smothered mayo throughout the bomb warm, Jersey hoagie, which got more inhalable scrumptious per bite.

Later in life, when Joshua was working as a journey man IT agency recruiter/still wannabe sitcom writer scribe, on 39 Broadway all the way downtown in Manhattan, south of Wall Street, post 9/1l, when nothing but the haunting, swallowing hole of death lingered forever over Ground Zero, until the Freedom Tower was built many years later, his boss from Jersey took him to a cheese steak institution transplant from Philly. Insisting ordering a Cheesesteak with cheese wiz and fried onions was the only way to live. Joshua agreed, whole heartedly. When Joshua sucked down his 1st Philly style cheese steak in downtown Manhattan with nothing but cheese wiz and grilled onions, he thought of the time, the Security Guard at the Y in Park Slope told him he looked like Vince Vaughn. Joshua had heard this before, so he replies back with, “I get confused for Vince Vaughn pre-insomniac.” Understand, Swingers came out a decade ago and Vince had packed on some major poundage since then, promoting the security guard at the Y to shout out loud in the great, Vince Vaughn’s defense, “Good living, good living.” Although if Joshua had to choose, the more legendary line uttered at the same Y in Park Slope, Brooklyn, was the time Joshua was showing flashes of a scrappy, Larry Bird minus, the eyes behind his head and impeccable ball dishing skills but his relentless hustle on defense and tearing down of rebounds anyway he could, prompted the line of all lines from a brother on his team, who never played with Joshua before, declaring, “That boy’s hungry.”

Nothing has changed too much since that time in Park Slope Brooklyn 15 years ago. Joshua was hungrier than ever for sustainable big city success. Gene Simmons says, “Men crave 2 things woman and success.” And Joshua knew, he’d always be deemed another so called bitter, raving, crazy man lunatic, until he made his mark in this world and brought home more than veggie bacon to provide for his family. He recently read a book distilling the Book of Proverbs, which highlights the absolute necessity of joining forces with a business partner to achieve big deal, long lasting success. Forever, Joshua equated such a business partner as a literary agent or TV agent, to get Joshua in a room with studio heads to pitch his latest and greatest pilot like Horsing Around With Hinduism. But now, things have changed.

Joshua had hosted his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, Dad friendly entertainment for you and me, for 3 years straight since, his son Samuel Chosen Curls was bound to woo was born. He grew accustomed to being his own boss, marketer and star content creator by himself, without being overly reliant on anybody for his awe inspiring comedic output outside of giving thanks and praises to the all mighty above, for granting him with the continued ability to make others laugh, warm hearts and bring God’s children closer to him in the process. Now off the Adderall, Joshua wanted more than the high of laugh generation and the ego tickling stroking, which ensues. He wanted to build a family business, to grow closer with his 3 unplanned kids, which he equated with growing closer to God, which meant more than pulverizing all the myriad of highly poundable muffs on display in Paul Stanley’s bed in the Kiss Exposed video back in the day.

Now Joshua wanted to please God and his 3 glorious, beautifying, consistently, buoyant, hilarious children more than anything else in this world. Getting a hack Creative Director in Manhattan to take a peak at his writing portfolio, so he could slave away for some soulless, ad agency conglomerate, who puts fake news fro, cop hating fermenting, Collin Kaepernick on a fucking pedestal, after he got the NFL to cut him the largest unemployment check ever recorded in the name of fucking “collusion”, was so yesterday’s news. But being able to marry Joshua’s killer comedic instincts, promotional flair, imaginative thrust, idea machine power and shishy bitch leaning tastes toward the development of the most outrageous, hilarious, religiously sound, food truck business to sling his Do It All Dad hero, kosher style cheese steak was just what the doctor ordered.

But without a Kosher Cheese Wiz brother in arms, partner, he was up shits creek without a paddle. Joshua will also relish the 1st time he showed his 1st born daughter Matilda the Blues Brothers movie, only for her to quote the movie at the refreshed, modernized Pizza and Brew on Central Ave the day after, “Daddy, have you seen the light?” Do It All Dad Joshua had. What Joshua wanted more than anything in this world now was to please God, his children and grow closer to both in the process. Making the Do It All Dad Hero Truck become an undeniable success could please all his favorite beings in the universe and make them feel the most high. He just prayed, the Rabbi’s master brew maker Schmendel could put his degree in organic chemistry and microbiology to good use in helping him create the killer Kosher String Cheese in a can, to make the dreamy Kosher cheese steak truck a monster success and turn his dreams of at oneness with God and increased time with his blessed, pitch perfect children, on the food tuck front come true. So Joshua could make enough money from his family business, to forgo paying 75 grand a year for his kids to attend Cornell University to defend Israel’s right to exist more than making Dean’s List.

Chap.26 Fucking Hipster Canadian Jews

Chapter 26

Fucking Hipster Canadian Jews

The only time Joshua ever got into real trouble with his parents was during a family trip to Montreal, when he insisted on sending his younger brother back to the hotel in a cab, so he could pass out on top some bushy Canadian’s girls’ mountain of muff, unable to get it up for some boom, boom because of all the strip club day drinking prior, before those high octane Canadian Labatt Blues came back to knock him on his ass, after maintaining the same rock steady, pounding pace at the dance club soon after. Joshua had attended Ithaca College, in Upstate, NY, otherwise known as Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor, located only a 4 hour drive from the Canadian border. So, he spent many weekend getaways in Montreal with his college buds to wreck more brain cells and feel more retarded than usual, tearing through an eighth of outdoor Tompkins Country weed every other 3 days wasn’t helping. If Joshua could do it all over again, he’d bribe the DJ at the strip club in Montreal with a 50 spot, so he could play the 20 minute version of the Allman’s Brother’s Whipping Post from the their famed Filmore East show, so he could maximize his erect, arousal, one lap dance per song moment for all it was worth like any good, shrewd, predatory Jewish New Yorker, not bright enough to pass the Series 7 to become a Investment Banker would. Joshua was never obsessed with getting lap dances from strippers, but clear memories of blowing off his homework in the 9th grade to watch the Cherry Pie video on MTV, the VHS Kiss doc, Exposed with lead singer and songwriter Paul Stanley, philosophizing on the art of being playmate bedding rock star on a bed flush with nothing but perfect busty tens. In addition to endless repeat showings of the equally titillating, Motley Crue doc, Uncensored, including plenty of clips from the their slickest, most arousing, rock star affirming video, Girls, Girls, which takes place in the actual strip club on the Sunset Strip, where Joshua used to lived down the street among the more homoerotic, rent controlled land of boys town in West Hollywood, didn’t discourage Joshua to seek out the occasional lap dance of a glittery, stripper’s embrace, before he got married, if he had the money burn, one bit.

But Montreal wasn’t all about the icy, cracked out looking, vixen, strippers for Joshua. Because he loved his out of nowhere, fluffy, thick, succulent, locally sourced, in retrospect, Canadian ham loaded Omelette at some random greasy spoon diner, giving him more long lasting joy than any fleeting, blue balls destined, lap dance, assuming he was wearing jeans and not sweat pants. Joshua also learned during a trip to Montreal hungover the next morning again, how the French Canadian’s just don’t serve you a regular egg and cheese sandwich there. Instead, they’ll throw in some tasty baby spinach greens, on top a mayo slathered Croissant, if you weren’t eating pork again, which Joshua wasn’t because some psychic in LA prior told him his Chakras were more clogged than his freshman one hitter. The same psychic who Joshua paid in what felt like the entirety of his inherited Pfizer stock from his Jewish Grandmother on his dad’s side, insisted Joshua abstain from pork and beer for a 30 day purification period. Joshua wasn’t complaining about the final results, looking slim and trim doing something more constructive with his time than binge like DMX before he got into character at the recording studio that day, to rap, “ I’m slipping, falling and can’t get up.” At the same time, Joshua will never forget about how he relished his In and Out Burgers in LA, animal style, which is twice the cheese, twice the patties, on top of their specialty, never burnt, French onion, syrupy sweet, fried onions nestled between their buttered, specialty sauce slathered buns. Actually, Joshua had an old high school bud, another groomsmen at his wedding who visited him in LA during a work week, so he just drove Joshua to and from work, while smoking plenty of primo icky, sticky, California loving weed, from his contact in the valley, when he wasn’t revisiting In and Out, on back to back to back days, winning the tubby bitch, trifecta, New York style. Also, Joshua will never forget how delectable scrumptious, his behemoth of a triple cheesed burger was, which disintegrated into his mouth at such a man meant to eat meat, in what one felt like an extended, never tasted so wholesome bloody bite from the infamous dead cows hanging in the window entrance chain from Fuddruckers in Palo Alto with his ex, to celebrate the completion of his 1st purification feast.

When living in stroller mom central in Park Slope, with his girlfriend now wife, Anna, he couldn’t resist the idolized worship of thick cut, Applewood country, smoked crisp Bacon served at all the various, overpriced, never sexy enough for his standards, brunch spots sprinkled throughout the Brooklyn enclave, referred to famed novelist turned boxing Journalist Norman Mailer, “as the most secure place” for a Jew to live on our planet earth. Still, Joshua growing up in a Kosher household always felt a tad uncomfortable frying up any piggy in their apartment, which still didn’t stop him from throwing a12 inch Kielbasa on the grill in their garden outback, from the drab, bare bones, stuck in 1940, utterly colorless and humorless, Ukrainian meat shop on 4th avenue, only a 2 avenue stroll down hill one bit either. And when Joshua went on the Kornbluth family European vacation in college with his parents and younger brother to Italy, which included stops along the Amalfi Coast in Italy, right off the mighty Mediterranean coast, he wasn’t kvetching about breaking God’s commanded law to not eat pork, as he suckled down one more mound of svelte, Prosciutto di Parma with more fresh, crackling sesame loaded, Italian bread with bits of semi-hard, mind blowing fresh, put hair on your chest provolone either.

But now Joshua was 43 going on 44, eating kosher and getting closer to God every day, yeah, yeah. So giving 2 shits about projecting any cool man foodie, over the hill Park Slope hipster cred among other piggling sucking, bearded hobbits, to conceal their dropping neck fat, in their best Paul Bunion gear, held out less appeal for him than liking and encouraging more pics of Lena’s Dunham’s frumpy, let it all hang look on Instagram. These were type of thoughts swirling in Joshua’s head, as he took in the dinning scene at Mile End in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, waiting to meet with the Rabbi’s much touted brew master genius Schmendel any minute. Losing patience with Schmendel, Joshua decides to start ordering at the counter but has some questions first. “Hi, the smoked meat Montreal Pastrami sandwich on Jewish rye is Kosher, right? The lady behind the counter with decked out tattoos hanging on for dear life off her droopy, too cool for school flabby arms says with immediate repulsive, disgust, “No, we don’t serve Dr. Browns cream soda or offer complimentary Kosher spear dill pickles either.” Joshua barks back with menacing, pissed off, slightly disproportionate in return fury, “But you’re a Sunday Morning Bacon Jew, who believes only wolfing down more locally soured bacon on top of your fucking fries and poutine, makes you the more progressive, evolved, Jew. Who watched the Daily Show with religious devotion throughout your time at McGill, so you’re too sophisticated to ever identify yourself as a mere religious, old school, easily duped, observant, proud Jew, got it, flaps.” The cashier burns a death stare through Joshua’s swelling, noggin and screams, “Get the fuck out our store. You’re banned, permanently, no smoked Canadian meat for you.” Joshua begins to leave and fires back one last time with, “I was already leaving. Good luck finding a reformed Jewish cemetery plot big enough, to wheel barrel your fat ass into the ground, frumps. Fucking Canadian Hipster Jews are off the list.”

Chap. 25 Persian Puss Fever (New End)

 

Chapter 25

Persian Puss Fever

Joshua had a very successful friend from Edgemont High School, who now lived in SOHO on West Broadway, clearing almost 400K from doing ad sales for companies at the ideal time in their maturation such as FX, when they became the new air apparent to HBO with smash, genre bending hits such as the Shield and It’s Always Sunny, which he revered as the most dynamic comedy to advance the art form post Curb without having to be overtly Jewy one iota in the process. His friend, also a groomsmen at his wedding, was the superior basketball player in high school, who he’d battle hard in games of one on one basketball and in legendary games of HORSE made a splashy move to the city of angels and worked for Hulu, selling advertising to all the dream factories in Century City and Burbank, before Harvey Weinstein’s wife finally divorced him to focus on her lifetime battle with amnesia. 3 kids later, Joshua
didn’t get out much to see his old school high school bud, but if they did connect over the phone, making his wife jealous at how much rollicking, laugh producing fun he was having without her, he’d always end the conversation the same way every time with his old school basketball bud in arms, “Bang a Persian girl for me already, because I can’t.”

The 1st time Joshua got sexually charged around a mountainous chesty, pursed lipped, dark tan, olive smooth skinned, slightly broad shouldered, bootylicious Persian minx was during interoffice meetings with one his IT recruiter agency colleagues who worked in Westwood, California on Wilshire down a couple of blocks for the nearby Boylston Group. She had graduated Georgetown University and was the brightest, bustiest yet classiest, highest biller in her team who placed mostly Oracle DBA’s among various Internet startups through Southern California by far. Joshua learned not to place too much value on someone’s undergrad college education but he was a tad more east coast elitist back then, and knew Georgetown wasn’t accepting any dummies, so him being a tad of a college snob, touting the Bachelor pedigree degree of his past summer wind love Katy who graduated Duke in 3 years as a double major, so this Persian beauty in his eyes, who wasn’t petite by any stretch of the imagination, who was a brainy busty sweetheart rainmaker on top, turned him on longtime. If Joshua had any major balls back in the day, he would’ve made a move on her, but upper management told their naive, cultish minions getting jiggy with it with their fellow coworkers was a fireable offense, and Joshua was finally enjoying being off his parents nip of dependence, so he never did. It was only after he got fired, did Joshua learn the rule was fake news bullshit, and managers were banging co-workers at will left and right, but at least he developed a modicum of character building self-discipline in the process. The Bhagavad Gita lists the 3 portals to hell being lust, greed and anger and at the time Joshua wasn’t even aware of being fooled into passing on such a prime opportunity to pounce on his 1st Persian bombshell beauty, so he didn’t have too much to be enraged about in the process either. Still, Joshua had one month on the job at nearby Remington International, where he did deals with Coke O Cola, Zenith National Insurance and some obscure Internet startup Creative Planet, placing a gazillion Unix Administrators, earning his firm almost 100K in placement fees and a seat at the all-stars dinner at the Sunset Room. Which made Joshua feel like a hot shit for the 2nd time in his life after his 1st sales raise dinner at Morton’s on Beverly Hills, inhaling a porter house for 2 and shrimp wrapped in Bacon, thinking, life doesn’t get better than this on top of what the fuck what was my dad thinking, denying me exposure to what scrumptious heavenly sales promotion dinners awaited as a result of sheer hard work and self-possessed determination, despite at the time being the only schmuck in a headset to graduate from a top communication school in the country with a career crippling stutter. Which Joshua eventually overcame, through relentless, repetitious, around the clock cold calling heavy, exposure therapy.

Joshua’s escalating, all consuming, fixated desire to mount the scrumptious, highly inhalable, star Persian IT agency recruiter reached peak interest on their drive to work together the morning after their All Star Sales award dinner at the Sunset Room, that she attended of course. Because today, he wasn’t driving to work in his used yet cherished hunter green Honda Accord but in her BMW,l but she was still only 22 max, so this means she came from money also, schwing. Never before had any sexy gal Joshua fantasized about titty blasting had offered a leather interior BMV to drive, so he knew the sexually charged interest was mutual. But as Robert Dinero says in the movie Copland, starring the holy trinity of actors Harvey Keitel, Ray Liotta and Sly Stallone, “I gave you a chance and you blew it.”

It was impossible not think of hot to trot love, at the Polo Lounge Restaurant on 5th Ave, as Joshua was surrounded by a myriad of oil paintings of mo-money making star race horses like Man O War and other Arabian race horse beauties, as Joshua also took in the tall, slender, sculpted, high cheek bone pronounced, Persian beauty, Ester has he continued to scroll, through the menu, trying to decide what limited Kosher items to choose from on the menu during their 1st power lunch together. Joshua get’s his Kosher inspired rant underway, “Ralph Lauren, baby, I love your overpriced Polo shirts because they’re sturdy, classier alternatives to schmatta Tommy Hilfiger wigger polos, weird sized numbered, instantly shrinkable, Lacoste shirts and Vineyard Vine shirts because I’d rather dress for old school, scrappier, Bronx bred, pre-smart phone success. Still, what the fuck were you thinking, making your marquee sandwich, a corned beef sandwich with swiss on marbled rye, knowing pastrami rubbed brisket is ten times more soul tantalizing scrumptious 8 days a week? Also, marble rye, are you freaking kidding me? Was pure rye too overtly Jewy for your country club, Gentile loving tastes?” Esther, the star executive search owner of Silicon Alley replies, “You’re too funny Joshua. How are you not working?” Joshua replies, “Because God has a wicked, sense of humor. But I appreciate the invite here, to be surrounded in such a posh, clubby, wannabe be a rich gentile setting.” Esther says, “I feel like an unwanted outsider in here also, for what it’s worth. I don’t care that Giselle is sitting next to Tom Brady one table over.” Joshua says, “Eli Manning is a bigger pimp daddy than Tom Brady for ruining his shot at perfection. So, Tom Brady is married to Giselle, big deal, she’s 80 in model years. Also, why isn’t Terry Bradshaw even mentioned among the best quarterbacks ever? He won 4 rings and never lost in the Super Bowl once. Plus, he was also known for airing it out. Fine, that much he shares in common with Brady. I read some article recently about how Tom Brady did some comedy sketch on Netflix about Patriots owner Bob Kraft’s fondness for happy endings, denying the jokes were about him. Because his ex-owner could never be guilty of exploiting underage sex trafficking, because he only insists on using older happy enders who weren’t yanked off the boat yesterday.” Esther finishes spitting out more mouthfuls of laughter and says, “I’m an LA girl, born and raised, so I’m a Raiders fan myself, but I don’t care for Tom Brady’s personality all too much either. He also dumped his pregnant ex actress wife, the moment he fell in love with Giselle’s uppity, lispy snatch, just saying.” Joshua says, “I’m glad you found my contact info on LinkedIn like any Executive Recruiter with a brain would. I love the fact how you became a consummate rainmaker in the startup tech recruitment agency game, I was much more of a trickeler.” Esther says, “I envision mucho dinero money shots in your future Joshua.” Joshua says, “Well, I do have this idea for a food truck. Would you know of any super angel investors you can get me a meeting with? My vision is to create a food truck, which sells the Do It All Dad Hero, which is a Kosher rib eye, cheese steak, with a mock cheese wiz substitute. And I’d launch a viral bash campaign against the Hallall guys, about who would you rather submit your cheese steak urges to, all mighty God or all the blood thirsty, rape happy, throw gays off roof tops preaching Allah? I read on Chowhound.com, Hallall guys have to pray to Allah, before their ritual slaughtering, versus Kosher slaughtered cows, who don’t use the stun gun, who unlike the Hallall guys, aren’t required by law to give any praise worthy shout outs to a God who instructs his true believers to treat woman like disposable bee keeper punching bags.” Esther says, “I agree with everything you’re saying and would recommend softening your viral attack campaign against the Hallall guys just a bit. Still, I love your fierce, fiery, fighting style. You’re more Bronx bred scrappy than you think big boy.”

Joshua spots Spike Lee waiving his hand up in the air causing a scene in front of his white privilege waiter, clearing 400 a day before 2 easy and excuses himself from the table. “I’ll be right back Ester. I want to pay homage to the Knicks jilted mascot Spike Lee.”  Joshua hovers tall over Spike Lee’s table, only learn he’s dining with Chris Rock. “Hey, Spike, sorry to hear about the Garden not letting you into employee entrance way. I’m positive it had nothing to do with your Resist This shirt, or your portrayal of all Jews in your films not being such fine people in the face of your insistence of sucking off Jew demonizing Farrakhan for all his signed bow tie collection is worth.  How does it feel knowing, still your President, Donald Trump directed the construction of Wollman Rink under budget and ahead of schedule, knowing you couldn’t do the same for Malcolm X? Malcolm X was bisexual but why didn’t you portray that in your film Spike? I thought you were all about celebrating the beautiful, strong, totality of the black man inside and out? And thanks for giving your impressionable brothers the encouraged permission to riot and burn a second generation pizza joint to the ground because they didn’t care for fake news, underprivileged Chuck D from yenta breath country in Long Island, rapping about how Elvis was no role model of yours, but Chuck Berry installing a secret female bathroom cam in his Missouri restaurant was Kosher in your book because they were just stupid white bitches, who you should’ve know better, right Spike?” Chris Rock says, “You’re move Spike. I don’t know who this crazy ass cracker is but is shit talking game is tight.” Joshua adds, “Huge fan Chris, I stopped watching the Knicks after they traded KP for a box of Cotton Candy.” But the garden faithful like yourself know deep down Uni will fly high again. And tell your boy Stephen A his take on his why they traded KP was lame. KP’s brother agent made Dolan uncomfortable because he reminded him too much of the Russian gangsters in 25th hour? Now, that was a great film you directed Spike. Positive it had nothing to do with you not writing the screenplay, the book was based on. Last, Chris, you don’t believe KP raped a neighbor in his Manhattan apartment building, the day he tore his ACL, do you? Do you see Harvey Hair Clumps Weinstein trying to rape Wonder Woman played by Gal Gadot only one good leg?” Chris Rock replies, “Who are you again? And why have I never seen you the Cellar before ever?” Spike interjects, “Rock, I love your like a brother from another mother, but if you suck off his big headed Jew’s ego for one more second, our friendship is over, you dig?”  Joshua throws down his Do It All Dad Year Podcast business card for Rock on the table and says “Call me some time Chris. I’d love to write a movie or create a new TV show with you some time. Oh, and congrats on your 40 million stand up deal with Netflix because the white man, can no longer get away with paying the great Chris Rock with only one rib.” Joshua heads back to his table with Esther triumphant, after showcasing his Bronx bred scrappy, fighter instincts, back, back in a New York groove once more.

Chapter 25 Persian Puss Fever

Chapter 25

Persian Puss Fever

Joshua had a very successful friend from Edgemont High School, who now lived in SOHO on West Broadway, clearing almost 400K from doing ad sales for companies at the ideal time in their maturation such as FX, when they became the new air apparent to HBO with smash, genre bending hits such as the Shield and It’s Always Sunny, which he revered as the most dynamic comedy to advance the art form post Curb without having to be overtly Jewy one iota in the process. His friend, also a groomsmen at his wedding, was the superior basketball player in high school, who he’d battle hard in games of one on one basketball and in legendary games of HORSE made a splashy move to the city of angels and worked for Hulu, selling advertising to all the dream factories in Century City and Burbank, before Harvey Weinstein’s wife finally divorced him to focus on her lifetime battle with amnesia. 3 kids later, Joshua
didn’t get out much to see his old school high school bud, but if they did connect over the phone, making his wife jealous at how much rollicking, laugh producing fun he was having without her, he’d always end the conversation the same way every time with his old school basketball bud in arms, “Bang a Persian girl for me already, because I can’t.”

The 1st time Joshua got sexually charged around a mountainous chesty, pursed lipped, dark tan, olive smooth skinned, slightly broad shouldered, bootylicious Persian minx was during interoffice meetings with one his IT recruiter agency colleagues who worked in Westwood, California on Wilshire down a couple of blocks for the nearby Boylston Group. She had graduated Georgetown University and was the brightest, bustiest yet classiest, highest biller in her team who placed mostly Oracle DBA’s among various Internet startups through Southern California by far. Joshua learned not to place too much value on someone’s undergrad college education but he was a tad more east coast elitist back then, and knew Georgetown wasn’t accepting any dummies, so him being a tad of a college snob, touting the Bachelor pedigree degree of his past summer wind love Katy who graduated Duke in 3 years as a double major, so this Persian beauty in his eyes, who wasn’t petite by any stretch of the imagination, who was a brainy busty sweetheart rainmaker on top, turned him on longtime. If Joshua had any major balls back in the day, he would’ve made a move on her, but upper management told their naive, cultish minions getting jiggy with it with their fellow coworkers was a fireable offense, and Joshua was finally enjoying being off his parents nip of dependence, so he never did. It was only after he got fired, did Joshua learn the rule was fake news bullshit, and managers were banging co-workers at will left and right, but at least he developed a modicum of character building self-discipline in the process. The Bhagavad Gita lists the 3 portals to hell being lust, greed and anger and at the time Joshua wasn’t even aware of being fooled into passing on such a prime opportunity to pounce on his 1st Persian bombshell beauty, so he didn’t have too much to be enraged about in the process either. Still, Joshua had one month on the job at nearby Remington International, where he did deals with Coke O Cola, Zenith National Insurance and some obscure Internet startup Creative Planet, placing a gazillion Unix Administrators, earning his firm almost 100K in placement fees and a seat at the all-stars dinner at the Sunset Room. Which made Joshua feel like a hot shit for the 2nd time in his life after his 1st sales raise dinner at Morton’s on Beverly Hills, inhaling a porter house for 2 and shrimp wrapped in Bacon, thinking, life doesn’t get better than this on top of what the fuck what was my dad thinking, denying me exposure to what scrumptious heavenly sales promotion dinners awaited as a result of sheer hard work and self-possessed determination, despite at the time being the only schmuck in a headset to graduate from a top communication school in the country with a career crippling stutter. Which Joshua eventually overcame, through relentless, repetitious, around the clock cold calling heavy, exposure therapy.

Joshua’s escalating, all consuming, fixated desire to mount the scrumptious, highly inhalable, star Persian IT agency recruiter reached peak interest on their drive to work together the morning after their All Star Sales award dinner at the Sunset Room, that she attended of course. Because today, he wasn’t driving to work in his used yet cherished hunter green Honda Accord but in her BMW,l but she was still only 22 max, so this means she came from money also, schwing. Never before had any sexy gal Joshua fantasized about titty blasting had offered a leather interior BMV to drive, so he knew the sexually charged interest was mutual. But as Robert Dinero says in the movie Copland, starring the holy trinity of actors Harvey Keitel, Ray Liotta and Sly Stallone, “I gave you a chance and you blew it.”

It was impossible not think of hot to trot love, at the Polo Lounge Restaurant on 5th Ave, as Joshua was surrounded by a myriad of oil paintings of mo-money making star race horses like Man O War and other Arabian race horse beauties, as Joshua also took in the tall, slender, sculpted, high cheek bone pronounced, Persian beauty, Ester has he continued to scroll, through the menu, trying to decide what limited Kosher items to choose from on the menu during their 1st power lunch together. Joshua get’s his Kosher inspired rant underway, “Ralph Lauren, baby, I love your overpriced Polo shirts because they’re sturdy, classier alternatives to schmatta Tommy Hilfiger wigger polos, weird sized numbered, instantly shrinkable, Lacoste shirts and Vineyard Vine shirts because I’d rather dress for old school, scrappier, Bronx bred, pre-smart phone success. Still, what the fuck were you thinking, making your marquee sandwich, a corned beef sandwich with swiss on marbled rye, knowing pastrami rubbed brisket is ten times more soul tantalizing scrumptious 8 days a week? Also, marble rye, are you freaking kidding me? Was pure rye too overtly Jewy for your country club, Gentile loving tastes?” Esther, the star executive search owner of Silicon Alley replies, “You’re too funny Joshua. How are you not working?” Joshua replies, “Because God has a wicked, sense of humor. But I appreciate the invite here, to be surrounded in such a posh, clubby, wannabe be a rich gentile setting.” Esther says, “I feel like an unwanted outsider in here also, for what it’s worth. I don’t care that Giselle is sitting next to Tom Brady one table over.” Joshua says, “Eli Manning is a bigger pimp daddy than Tom Brady for ruining his shot at perfection. So, Tom Brady is married to Giselle, big deal, she’s 80 in model years. Also, why isn’t Terry Bradshaw even mentioned among the best quarterbacks ever? He won 4 rings and never lost in the Super Bowl once. Plus, he was also known for airing it out. Fine, that much he shares in common with Brady. I read some article recently about how Tom Brady did some comedy sketch on Netflix about Patriots owner Bob Kraft’s fondness for happy endings, denying the jokes were about him. Because his ex-owner could never be guilty of exploiting underage sex trafficking, because he only insists on using older happy enders who weren’t yanked off the boat yesterday.” Esther finishes spitting out more mouthfuls of laughter and says, “I’m an LA girl, born and raised, so I’m a Raiders fan myself, but I don’t care for Tom Brady’s personality all too much either. He also dumped his pregnant ex actress wife, the moment he fell in love with Giselle’s uppity, lispy snatch, just saying.” Joshua says, “I’m glad you found my contact info on LinkedIn like any Executive Recruiter with a brain would. I love the fact how you became a consummate rainmaker in the startup tech recruitment agency game, I was much more of a trickeler.” Esther says, “I envision mucho dinero money shots in your future Joshua.” Joshua says, “Well, I do have this idea for a food truck. Would you know of any super angel investors you can get me a meeting with? My vision is to create a food truck, which sells the Do It All Dad Hero, which is a Kosher rib eye, cheese steak, with a mock cheese wiz substitute. And I’d launch a viral bash campaign against the Hallall guys, about who would you rather submit your cheese steak urges to, all mighty God or all the blood thirsty, rape happy, throw gays off roof tops preaching Allah? I read on Chowhound.com, Hallall guys have to pray to Allah, before their ritual slaughtering, versus Kosher slaughtered cows, who don’t use the stun gun, who unlike the Hallall guys, aren’t required by law to give any praise worthy shout outs to a God who instructs his true believers to treat woman like disposable bee keeper punching bags.” Esther says, “I agree with everything you’re saying and would recommend softening your viral attack campaign against the Hallall guys just a bit. Still, I love your fierce, fiery, fighting style. You’re more Bronx bred scrappy than you think big boy.”

Joshua spots Spike Lee waiving his hand up in the air causing a scene in front of his white privilege waiter, clearing 400 a day before 2 easy and excuses himself from the table. “I’ll be right back Ester. I want to pay homage to the Knicks jilted mascot Spike Lee.”  Joshua hovers tall over Spike Lee’s table, only learn he’s dining with Chris Rock. “Hey, Spike, sorry to hear about the Garden not letting you into employee entrance way. I’m positive it had nothing to do with your Resist This shirt, or your portrayal of all Jews in your films not being such fine people in the face of your insistence of sucking off Jew demonizing Farrakhan for all his signed bow tie collection is worth.  How does it feel knowing, still your President, Donald Trump directed the construction of Wollman Rink under budget and ahead of schedule, knowing you couldn’t do the same for Malcolm X? Malcolm X was bisexual but why didn’t you portray that in your film Spike? I thought you were all about celebrating the beautiful, strong, totality of the black man inside and out? And thanks for giving your impressionable brothers the encouraged permission to riot and burn a second generation pizza joint to the ground because they didn’t care for fake news, underprivileged Chuck D from yenta breath country in Long Island, rapping about how Elvis was no role model of yours, but Chuck Berry installing a secret female bathroom cam in his Missouri restaurant was Kosher in your book because they were just stupid white bitches, who you should’ve know better, right Spike?” Chris Rock says, “You’re move Spike. I don’t know who this crazy ass cracker is but is shit talking game is tight.” Joshua adds, “Huge fan Chris, I stopped watching the Knicks after they traded KP for a box of Cotton Candy.” But the garden faithful like yourself know deep down Uni will fly high again. And tell your boy Stephen A his take on his why they traded KP was lame. KP’s brother agent made Dolan uncomfortable because he reminded him too much of the Russian gangsters in 25th hour? Now, that was a great film you directed Spike. Positive it had nothing to do with you not writing the screenplay, the book was based on. Last, Chris, you don’t believe KP raped a neighbor in his Manhattan apartment building, the day he tore his ACL, do you? Do you see Harvey Hair Clumps Weinstein trying to rape Wonder Woman played by Gal Gadot only one good leg?” Chris Rock replies, “Who are you again? And why have I never seen you the Cellar before ever?” Spike interjects, “Rock, I love your like a brother from another mother, but if you suck off his big headed Jew’s ego for one more second, our friendship is over, you dig?”  Joshua throws down his Do It All Dad Year Podcast business card for Rock on the table and says “Call me some time Chris. I’d love to write a movie or create a new TV show with you some time. Oh, and congrats on your 40 million stand up deal with Netflix because the white man, can no longer get away with paying the great Chris Rock with only one rib.” Joshua heads back to his table with Esther triumphant, after showcasing his Bronx bred scrappy, fighter instincts, back, back in a New York groove once more.