Little Hitler Noser

Florida and Antisemitism are so hot right now. Why else would my wife’s friend husband feel comfortable enough to ask me if I ever read Mein Kampf over our arranged, lunch date this past Saturday on my people’s ordained day of rest no less? Plus, did you know Mein Kampf has 200 plus 4-star reviews on Amazon? But ban any book critical of the COVID 19 vaccine or radical Islam despite Mein Kampf being 720 pages of hate speech in a row. 

Have I read Mein Kampf? No, I don’t identify with the Psychotherapist in Dexter who tries to understand psychotic pricks better after my brother tried to kill my surging ego senior year in high school when he described my ambition to write a screenplay called Sloppy Second Son as “Too Ambitious”, after our mom instructed him to do so.

 

But you read Mein Kampf because you were curious. Were you curious about why Germany hasn’t produced more spit ball pitchers than the Dominican Republic? Or were you curious about why Jackie Joyner- Kersee wasn’t hired as the on-screen consultant trainer on Run Lola Run.

 

You were curious. Curious about what, whether Hitler birthed the idea of killing off gays with Aids, whenever his old school herpes sores flared up his desire to annihilate?  

 

Did you buy Mein Kampf with a Barnes and Noble gift card in honor of the Jewish people because we jerkoff to the Penny Saver on any given Sunday?

 

Did you invite Price Harry over for a pajama reading party before he came out as scruffy, woke Archie?

 

Hitler wanted to abolish all wealth from Jews who made Aryans feel like fake news Beautiful Minds in comparison. Jews got Marc Chagal, Anne Frank, Houdini, Chaplin, Einstein, Chopin and the Gershwin Brothers soon after. Who’s on your team Hitler, German bank tellers small enough to squeeze into Volkswagen’s?  Brahms, Beethoven and Bach, were all German gentiles, congratulations. None of them today would be offered six figures to play Clive Davis’s son’s Bar Mitzvah like Lenny Kravitz or Diamond David Lee Roth would. That’s how you know their classical music is overrated love.

 

Were you curious why Mein Kampf didn’t receive more 5-star reviews on Amazon by book of the month reviewers on 4 Chan?

I know Jews are ideologically inferior for thinking Germans are bigger dicks than defenders of BLM terrorists on TNT.

 

Were you curious about why Jordan Peterson is considered an authority on personality when he doesn’t have one?

Did I ever read Mein Kamph? Did Henry Ford’s International Jew demand a killer sequel in your book?

 

Were you curious about why Hitler didn’t lose any sleep from handing out free toasters to SS Officers for hitting their weekly kill count quotas? Maybe, it was because he was a homicidal maniac perpetually cranked up on crystal meth for starters Little Hitler Noser.

I know. Hatred of Jews in Germany started with a Jewish Bible Salesman who called the New Testament, The Bible Part 2, The Hearsay Years.

Were you curious about what kid books Hitler’s mom read to little Hitler? It’s too bad Curious George wasn’t invented by a married Jewish couple fleeing Nazi Germany in a self-made bike that wasn’t an electric one that hits get away rape speed when driving through no-go zone areas in Germany these days. Grooming rape gang AI alerts rule.

 

Were you curious about why Hitler is considered an overrated monster compared to Radical Islam which turned out to be the main driving force behind Europe becoming a Jew Free Europe today? Tommy Robinson lives, Challah, Thank you very much.  

But seriously, what can you learn from Mein Kampf that you didn’t know already?

 

Hitler described Jews as calculating, cold-hearted and opportunistic liars. What do Mr. Groper’s handlers in the White House have to do with it?

 

Hitler viewed Jews as a threat to German identity as if the milkman in the Fiddler was itching to diversify his income by taking up Gnome making, knowing Gnomes look like Santa’s cut off Trust Fund Babies, living off resin hits, mints and social security.

 

Hitler viewed Jews as a threat to Nationalism. But didn’t Hitler launch the Nationalist Socialist Party to avoid paying war reparations in his effort to make penny pinching great again?

 

It’s hard to respect Hitler’s power of originality as an artist because the swastika is a culturally appropriated, photo shopped Hindu symbol that looks like 2 stick figures doing a 69 on a seesaw on crystal meth.

 

An Aryan is any person with blond hair and blues eyes despite Paul Newman’s more natural style of acting winning him more acting awards than Robert Redford ever received before he opened Sundance to shower less wooden actors instead.

 

Hitler’s mom worked as a housemaid for a wealthy Jewish industrialist engineer, who invented the Mercedes Emblem, only later to be used on Hitler’s drive by car of choice.

 

 

Germany is the source of all important technology, despite IBM Wasps being responsible for developing technology that made it easier for SS officers to identify European Jewry slipped off to slaughter. Or as Watson Computer would say, “No Shirt Sherlock.”

 

Germany is the source of all important culture. Tarantino would disagree despite my in-laws admitting to not caring for the movie Inglorious Bastards. Then again, they booked stadium seating to see Apocalypto on Fandango 6 million months in advance.

 

Germany is the source of all important art.  Because Nazis tweaked on crystal meth were known for their expressionistic range, which ranged from deadly serious to flickering rage if the speed started to wear off after finally running out.

 

Inferior races including Slavic peoples like those damn Polish Jews were so dumb, they tried to sell rags to a German seamstress during her time of the month.

 

Hitler’s father sent him to vocational school because he thought Hitler showed less promise for drawing nudes than Stevie Wonde’s seeing eye dog, used for closer beer goggles inspection during Octoberfest. Stevie Wonder’s Seeing Eye Dog offers a second opinion, “I know you can feel her face Stevie, but I can smell her snatch, Woof, Woof.”

 

 

Hitler was a gifted, full of shit orator like Obama in Chaplin face.

 

And Obama’s more likely to have read Mein Kampf over Trump. Obama wished he was that organized. Getting to exterminate any critic who dared to criticize his master plan to nuke gift Iran as he slithered out the White House door would’ve been a gas.

 

Hitler had a talent for drawing on ancient old blood libel like the Jews being responsible for controlling all the banks in Deutschland and in the North Pole to.

 

Hitler had no problem connecting dots and drawing connections between the Jews heckling the Romans into crucifying Jesus Christ to death because they were 6 degrees separated from the ancestry of Don Rickles.

 

Hitler wasn’t fond of the commie Jew bastards in particular, responsible for promoting equality among all races, despite Jessee Owens not running Hitler’s master race theory into the ground during the Olympics in Berlin just yet.

 

Hitler resented any school of political thought that didn’t recognize German’s innate superiority at creating golden shower symphonies of sound on your SS shower cap.

 

Mein Kampf Cliff Notes.

Chosen perfectionists, my ass.

Eat my Bavarian butt mustard, you schmaltzy bitch.  

 

My struggle is refraining from calling someone a Kraut Breath Noser when they come out as Nazi apologists who describe Nazi’s as “proud people.” Proud of what, just following orders like any good Nazi boy would? George Soros lives, Challah. Thank you very much.

 

My struggle is refraining from shitting in somebody’s mouth after someone tells me they read Mein Kampf to understand his history of hate better. He’s another blah breath Kraut who took himself too seriously like the rest. The only difference is that Germans were dumb enough to believe that exterminating all the Jews would help them maintain a near monopoly on the motion picture business, especially after the advent of technicolor, which made golden shower stag films lose their dramatic dark edge.

 

The Jewish problem according to Hitler was the unforgivable crime of charging interest. Despite the Germans line of credit for possessing a better head for numbers or engineering when Albert Einstein helped the US develop the Atom bomb before those Kraut breaths nosers did.

 

According to Hitler, the Jewish problem was expecting immediate recognized service at all German restaurants, especially at the shabbier Jewish Delis, who offered less sex appeal than Ethel the Waitress’s armpit stains after working back to double shifts on Purim.  

 

But the Germans were prideful people. Why, they killed off all the future Albert Einstein’s that could’ve been talked into making an atom bomb of their own?

 

Hitler could’ve made an offer a Jewish immigrant scientist couldn’t refuse like when he told George Soros. A gun to head or free Cold Play tickets for life? I’ll even let Chris Martin play your son’s Bar Mitzvah if you round up 200 more Jews by sundown, deal?  Potato skins or schnitzel the size of Bridget Neilson’s flattened tits after Paulie passes out on her from drinking too much Stolie in her trailer to get in character again.

 

It’s weird to hear somebody admit they read Mein Kampf, when you know they’re more into audiobooks. So, you read Mein Kampf to understand why Hitler hated Jews so much? Wouldn’t the Mein Kampf cliff notes have been sufficient?

 

You read Mein Kamph. But when I offered you a copy of my book The Great American Jew Novel, you said, “I only listen to Audiobooks recommended by the Joe Rogan Podcast like Hillary Hammer Cankles latest and greatest manifesto, “Eat, Drink, Wheeze” or was it Bernie Sander’s one called, “Karl Marx Is Overrated”, or was it the one by Pearl Necklace Harris, “Kick the Camel Toe.” Challah. Thank you very much.

 

Was Mein Kampf on Audible barely audible like Natasha Lyonne cranked up on Crystal Meth to keep up with her motor mouth mind on Russian Doll?

 

They say Hitler would cum in his own pants from the sound of his own voice. So, did Hedi Klum narrating his book on Audible fail to give you the same amount of sustained stiffage on your behalf? Was Hedi Klum not a believable narrator knowing her clipped, Resiling dry, cold as Eichmann monotone was never spit enough heavy for your preferred spaz attacks tastes?

 

You wanted to learn about why Hitler wanted to create a racially pure German state? Despite uncircumcised German men looking like albino white Ant Eaters between their legs, got it. 

 

You wanted to learn why none of your German ancestors were famous architects?  Or else why would you be forced to live in another drab, ranch house in wigger breath, Long Island hack country like the rest.

 

Did you really need to read Mein Kamph to learn how intermingling your blood line with Jewish ones would only result in you being stingier at giving credit when it’s deserved?  

 

Now you better understand the need for Nazi’s to create more living space because German Halls weren’t spacious enough?

 

 

You feel bad about the Weimer Republic giving away the farm after they lost World War 1, which they started, despite possessing 0.0 negotiating leverage? Losers don’t get to dictate shit Kraut Breath Noser. Challah, thank you very much. 

 

You really think I want to mingle with a wannabe hobbit hipster like yourself on my one ordained day of rest a week? I’d rather watch Concentration Camp paint dry on the last tour of Auschwitz before the peak season during Holocaust Remembrance Month.

The French invented the 69 and Germans invented the Golden Shower caps. But Third Reich officers in those golden shower SS caps looked like interchangeable rock star limo drivers for the Scorpions after the Berlin Wall went down faster than Obama did in a Chicago bathhouse during Arafat Appreciation Month. Lenny Bruce and Joan Rivers had a baby, Challah! Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

Dragon Lung’s Year

I think it was Socrates or Plato who said, “Happiness is fleeting pleasure.” Fleeting, disappearing pleasure for me is my kids losing interest in hang out time with daddy. This explains why my youngest son Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo was busy at work drawing pictures of us hanging out together once I started bonding with his big sister over her new favorite show, Never Have I Ever, been a bigger fan of Johny Mac, he’s the narrator than I am now. Fleeting pleasure for Do It All Dad over here, host of the Do It All Dad Year Podcast, recently renamed Pause Daddy Podcast, funny fast stories, for you and me, is me losing interest in earning respectful impressiveness from my 3 adoring Koshertarian Comedian friends.



Now the kids are in a Delaware for the next 3 weeks while I do everything in my power to stop a decade long streak of co-dependent bitchy dependence on my wife and parents since my Stay At Home Comedian Dad journey began. Sure, I got to write some cool host intros for a couple of music video countdown specials that aired on Vh1 and VH1 Classic. Only to make my producer a Bruce Springsteen mix while doing my best to assure him soon after, “This doesn’t mean, I have a crush on you, Boss.”

Jokes aside, I rely on the kindness of others to feed my family, those others being my parents and wife. By feed, I mean those with the means to finance grocery shopping for my 3 Koshertarian comedian friends, that being my 3-fuss free, endlessly glowing, holy light time shining children.

They say man can’t eat live on bread alone. Well Daddy can’t eat the shit sandwich of shame for failing to earn bread for his family of 5 for the past 5 years without wanting the chance to rectify.

But applying for jobs doesn’t guarantee job interviews. Nor do job interviews result in immediate job offers soon after. Despite the Marketing Director at the Chef’s Warehouse nodding with respectful impressment after you referenced your 41 thousand page views on your WordPress blog. Marketing Director adds, “I saw that on your Writer Got Game Resume.” And I’m thinking, “At least, somebody is fucking reading it.”

But how do you cope with your mother resenting you making a yummy pesto mozzarella sandwich on bomb sesame loaf on her dime during her visit back east? How do you black out your mother-in-law calling you “pathetic”? How do you cope with a nurse wife who feels taken advantage of because you’ve been choking her too hard financially?

You become committed to becoming the best Koshertarian worshiping Comedian, who’s ever lived. Granted, Jerry Lewis, ate crab’s benedict, Woody Allen should’ve stuck to just eating Tuna Tartare at Elaine’s. And who gives a shit about what David Steinberg eats or what Paul Reiser orders at Nate and Al’s besides, “How was Hollywood ever mad crazy into you ever, So-So Special Sandwich number 5000?” Fine, Paul Reiser was mildly amusing in Bevery Hills Cop, but Gilbert Gottfrid funny he wasn’t. On the set of Beverly Hills Cop Gilbert Gottfrid says, “Paul, what’s the difference between The Long Island Lolita Amy Fisher and your comedy career? They both blow. Is Helen Hunt cute enough to be reformed Jewish? I can’t tell. If Helen Hunt is as good as it gets, I’m Lenny Bruce’s tailor in comedy heaven. Lenny says, “Easy with the needle Gilbert. You’re shakier than Eugene after cumming to the sound of his cousin’s shitting out Kreplach. And based on Albert Brook’s ballooning girth and highly developed sense of dark humor resulting from his father dying form a heart attack after killing at a roast of Lucile Ball prior, I don’t see the west coast Woody rocking the Koshertarian diet any more than a MAGA hat prop on the set of Curb Your Enthusiasm for episode 7, “Seinfeld Auctions A Porsche For Charity, Hope Half the Proceeds Went To Larry’s Kids.”

Again, how do you cope with being dependent on your wife’s sweat labor on her feet at the NICU while she checks for vital signs on blue faced newborns? When all you do is check for retweets? You shoot for perfect laugh lines on your Do It All Year Blog to recycle on your last and greatest comedy album, Watching Hacks Cry.

“I don’t like Snoop Dog claiming he culturally appropriated Ric Flair, so freely, during his 30 for 30, titled, “You’re A Boy and I’m Not.” Iceberg Slim was Pimp Of The Year for 6 years in a row at least and we got Ric Flair, 16-time World Champion. Don’t get your pigments twisted Dog. If you want to beat the man, don’t get bent over by Suge Knight in the can. No offense Snoop, but you don’t hear Ric Flair yelling, “Dog Fighting, woooh! That’s a MAGA country thing. Don’t be culturally appropriating our shit.” Watching Hacks Cry, Challah, Thank you very much.”

You cope with being a dependent by perfecting perfection in the kitchen with your heavily workshopped pesto ribbon pasta with Kosher air fried chicken thighs and sliced cherry tomatoes on top. And you grow closer to God and your 3 Koshertarian Comedian loving kids through the more “Yummy Dances”, you make. “What the hell is a Yummy Dance?”, my father says. Stop acting like your anything more than sheltered bum, my father adds in my mind. Glad you asked. Yummy Dances are standing ovations, curtain calls and victory laps in your dishes honor all combined into one as your 3 biggest fans in the universe run around the living room through the kitchen yelling, “Best Daddy ever.” That’s a Yummy Dance. It puts you in touch with the divine because God gives kids to only the lonely and this funny man giant is lonely no more. Watching Hacks Cry, Challah. Thank you very much.

Yummy Dances are why holiness rocks. Yummy Dances get you addicted to achieving such holy powered highs. But how do you cope with your son wanting to meet your old friends when they can’t be bothered to comment via text or state emotive love online about your 123 comedy records posted on LinkedIn to shake up the corporate controlled thought in the straight world? The same so-called friends of yesteryear who left for you dead. You decide to befriend Sean Lennon by sharing your book Controlling My Kids With Comedy, A Love Story or nudge him to check out your comedy record Laugh Yanker Love on SoundCloud, where you showcase some A plus stay at home dad material in his honor. “This is John Lennon 2 days into being a Stay At Home Dad. Choke on a fucking cucumber scone Paul. Even Primal Scream Therapy has its limitations mate. But Kate Spade wins the award for writing the most passive aggressive suicide note for her only daughter to read ever. Note reads, “It’s not your fault, Dad will explain.” Dad explains, “Explain what, how I was the one who was impossible to live with? What a bag of shit Kate. The other day my son says, “I prefer vaginas with no hair. I’ve seen mamas before. I add, “Big boobs compliment better.” Soon after, Sean Lennon is financing my recording sessions at Electric Lady Studio’s to release my box set of comedy records before I’m famous that will be 124 in total, titled Totality Of Me or Watching Hacks Cry. Holiness kills hackery, Challah. Thank you very much.

But isn’t holiness being a monk? It’s my year without beer and I’m almost 5 months in. So go woke yourself. Holiness kills hackery, Challah. Thank you very much. Isn’t holiness perfecting perfection? If God represents otherness holiness and the children from Isarael and Forrest Hills Queens are molded in his likeness, then shouldn’t I want to dress up my son like nature boy Ric Flair for Halloween because he already whips out his schmekel spot whenever he likes while I yell in catchphrase bliss, “Not Kosher Baby.” Holiness killing hackery, Challah. Thank you very much.

Mind of a yummy dance works like this. Your goal is similar to getting laughs at the local farm to pick up some fresh eggs, whenever another MILF hits on your youngest son, Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo again, “Your son has such nice hair. When you get older, you’ll have 3 girlfriends to juggle.” And I’ll say, “If James Woods had this kid’s face, your estimates wouldn’t be so conservative.” Laughter fills the air. Daddy kills again. So, the goal of a yummy dance similar to scoring another laugh is simple, Respectful Impressiveness, that’s your reward for not making any bread off your creatively jacked dome, relentlessly innovative might and shishy bitch dad leanings just yet. I know this is my 2nd time using the expression respectful impressiveness, but only Shakespeare can invent words like “thoughtless”? While Dice coins expressions such as I’ve got a friend, one of these “Trans-Testicles.” Personally, I’m against Drag Queen reading hour because fluorescent library lights aren’t flattering on anybody, especially on a poor man’s Marilyn Manson impersonator, no offense. One time my daughter asks, “Daddy was Shakespeare Trans because he dressed like girls in all his plays.” I say, “I don’t know if Shakespeare was Trans. But I think Kevin Spacey is gay about lunging at Othello in tights.” I sampled that joke on the character Billy from Six Feet Under at the local Target in Mount Kisco. The joke got a big laugh from Billy. He even slapped my outstretched hand that I placed there to receive a high five of approval in return. That’s a Yummy Dance. That’s holiness killing hackery. Watching hacks cry, Challah. Thank you very much.

Holiness killing hackery is best whenever I receive some help from my Koshertarian Comedian loving friends. I use my 1st born, Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth, AKA, Effortless Magic, AKA, 10 Homer Daily as my creative sounding board for all of my comedy record titles if her 2 younger brothers Art Show USA and Hardcore Hunga Rocks aren’t in the room with her 1st. Matilda says, “I like Year Of Dragon Lungs a bit better than Half Heeb Crazy. Sloppy Second Stories is a good title for your debut collection of flash fiction short stories, but I still love the original title, Waste of Height, Really Short Stories the best.” Art Show USA enters the room and interjects,” Am I going to design your record cover for Greatest One, Daddy? But all your records are great, so isn’t Greatest One, a tad one note redundant for your tastes?” Youngest son, Hardcore Hunga Rocks points an imaginary remote control in my direction and says, “Pause Daddy. I write the jokes for your comedy records, got it, Moron Son.” Daughter adds, “You should do that Greta Thunberg bit on Greatest One daddy where the dad freaks out on “burry brow”, your words not mine, for keeping his twin daughters up with eco-anxiety despite popping melatonin gummies like Nerds at 10 o’clock on school night. Because a doorman can’t keep a typhoon out of their townhouse duplex on the Upper West Side.”

But how do you cope with your kid outgrowing their broken-down rusty bikes on a hot August day while taking them out for a spin? Knowing you can’t afford to replace those bikes anytime soon because you’re so broke, your Hebrew name is under judicial review. You include them in the making magic time in the kitchen by sticking your son on pistachio de-shelling detail before making their farewell pesto bow tie pasta supreme before leaving for Delaware, which was a bust last time, because you decided to get funky fresh and add excessively bitter sages leaves to the basil, pistachio nut mix which was bad idea like Hunter making a crack cocaine in his bungalow at the Chateau Marmont because it forced him to give up blow for blow painting, which is a bigger cock tease than a lap dance with a no touch policy on Kid Rock’s yacht, called Harpooning The Most. You cope with being a dependent dad by savoring the sheer joy in all 3 of your children inhale what’s being hailed as your “best batch yet daddy.” While your youngest one comments in ultra-focused manner, “Too yummy for yummy dance”, before resuming his role as Belushi 2.0 in Koshertarian House. Holiness killing hackery, Challah. Thank you very much.

But how do you cope with having to dip into your daughter’s Tooth Fairy droppings, that she haphazardly left on the kitchen table before camp that your parents paid for again? So, you could pay for your kid’s slushies at 7/11 without having charge more fun time on the credit card before mommy gets paid again when your cellphone is due to get deactivated the day your family leaves for Delaware? You throw the Rodney Dangerfield No Respect CD on in the car your parents lease to use when they visit only to hear your eldest son says, “Daddy, your comedy records are way better than this.” Daughter adds, “Yeah, Daddy, Rodney just sounds boring depressing here. And his 1st joke was about being on the Tonight Show prior, so Rodney shouldn’t be so unenthralling from the start.” Respectful Impressment lives, Challah. Thank you very much. I add, “Jimmy Fallon’s writers hate him now. Because when Jimmy Fallon tried to rub Trump’s hair off, a real-life skinhead never emerged. But if I’m still not scared of Trump. Then, I’ll never be into my mother as much as Seth Meyer’s. Then again, I’m the sloppy second son for a reason. If Jimmy Kimmel cares so much about the environment, then why is he so wasteful by only using Smart Water for some post show bong hits because his gal pal Jennifer Aniston hooks him up in bulk? At the same time Smart Water adds bounce to your step. All of a sudden, you feel like Jennifer Anniston on the rebound. Our state of the union is like Colbert’s handle on funny these days, shaky. It’s too bad Bill O Reilly is no longer important enough to impersonate. At least, O’Reilly gave Colbert gravitas before Comedy Central executives resigned Trever Noah for the foreseeable future. Hey Trever Noah, Conan Obrien wants his good luck maroon hoodie back from the Harvard Lampoon.” Holiness killing hackery, Challah. Thank you very much.

On the other hand, you might be thinking, “Shouldn’t you only focus on getting a decent paying job in Corporate America? Sure, but like Frank Zappa said, “Magic is what happens between the notes”, and nobody is stopping me from creating more magic time on my time between new job interviews on the horizon come rain or shine. Sinatra lives, Challah, thank you very much.



Well, more yummy dances and random hugs from my son behind can buy me some more holy time to shine.



When your son takes a bit out of your Koshertarian Wings with a homemade barbeque sauce that’s made with a pomegranate glaze and states with divine powered authority, “Always Kosher Daddy.” Holy time shines.

Getting fired up to please your favorite people in the universe is when holy time shines.

A man can’t live on bread alone, but he can by on laughs and yummy dances in between with a little help from his Koshertarian friends.

So, stop thinking children don’t appreciate extra effort.

Stop thinking aiming to please your children through cooking is antiquated fun.

Stop thinking your kids are a less worthy audience to impress.

Stop thinking that doing things for love alone don’t matter.

Stop thinking your life is fantastic without your kids adoring you in it.

Stop thinking kids are an impediment to middle aged fun.

Stop thinking kids don’t sense half-ass love from a mile away.

Stop thinking technology has zapped your kid’s ability to emote in your honor.

Stop thinking you can’t inspire your children to follow your lead, “Always Kosher Daddy.”

Holy shine time is holy bonding time.

And that’s as good as it gets.

Holy Shine Time shines on.

Watching Hacks Cry.

Lennon lives, Challah.

Thank you very much.



Michael Kornbluth

















No 9/11 Tribute For You

Millennials don’t even know what a stamp looks like. Using them is an outdated practice like rubbers or hitting on girls at bars without swiping them over to their spot at the cider bar in the east village 1st. By now most Boomers do online banking. Plus, I haven’t gotten a birthday card on time from my parents since 86. But I’m supposed to believe mail in votes will arrive on time and spread like wildfire like a viral vidéo of America’s frontline doctors claiming how their use of hydroxychlorquine on patients has saved more patients from Covid related deaths than any faulty mask made in China ever could?

 

You still don’t believe the Coronavirus isn’t being exploited for nefarious ployed purposes? Then, why else would the mayor of NY to cancel the annual 9/11 light tribute  this year, which he blew off last, over alleged Coronavirus concerns? Because I’m positive 1st responders who ran into the 2nd tower, are shaking in their boots at the prospect of catching an itchy esophagus from Covid. Can’t the Guardian Angels hang Deblasio from the Freedom Tower in the name of true social righting street justice already? It would be the only time the NYPD wouldn’t turn their back on hizzonner, because they’d be too busy talking pictures for their prématuré retirement parties from the force. 

Michael Kornbluth

The Millennial Mouseketeer Generation

AOC claims Millennial Mouseketeers are willing to puncture more taboos than previous generations. For example, she compared our border detention facilities with centralized AC, to Nazi death camps. But the showers in Auschwitz, which AOC couldn’t be bothered to visit, were used for more than mere lice removal babe.

Michael Kornbluth

 

True Lincoln Log Story, Google It,

True, Lincoln Log story, Google it. My great, great, great grandfather, Austin Gollaher, saved his boyhood bud Abraham Lincoln from drowning, yet nobody ever heard of him and he couldn’t rub 2 pennies together before he died a broke down, never was.  Because when Abe was drowning to death in the river because he slipped on a log while crossing Knob Creek to rush back in time for supper or miss out on more Raccoon soup, a 7 year old Abe, had a vision of  liberating the black man from slavery but had his friend Austin promise to never tell anyone about him almost drowning to death because Abe couldn’t let the black man know he was a worst swimmer than they. What a gyp?  Poor Austin never got to cash in on the greatest Presidential save after JFK kept Marilyn warm for Bobby.   My great, great, great grandfather, Austin Gollaher was a man of his word and never told anyone about saving Abe’s life until after his assassination, but he had to have been tempted from time to time, especially at the local moonshine shack on a Friday night, when the circus was in town and the famous circus Elephant Old Bet got all the peanuts he can eat. Meanwhile, my great, great, great Grandfather Austin Gollaher, stares down his last sip of 200 proof White Lightning, thinking, “ Hillbilly lives don’t matter much anymore.”

Michael Kornbluth