Shaggy Sheep Test

Facebook wants to root out bad actors on its site. Fine, then, Good Will Hoodie at Facebook/AKA Zit Face Zuck should start with forcing Deadheads to take lie detector tests to figure out whether their fake news hippies or not.

Bernie Sanders, good senator or bad? Good. Wrong, Vermont’s state motto should be changed from the Green State to CBD Oil Only. Bernie Sanders couldn’t even make Vermont great for Potheads on vacation.

Ithaca College, good school or bad? Good. Wrong, Ithaca is Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor, who’s got 10,000 burnouts stuck in its head.

Grateful Dead masks, good or bad? Good. Wrong, suicide rates among kids post COVID strip your Dancing Bear mask of all campy appeal, far from centered Yogi.

Baby Boomer grandparent who went to Woodstock but never bothered to visit the Grand Canyon, after retiring to Scottsdale, Arizona 10 years ago, good hippie or bad hippie? Good. Wrong, Boomer in this instance is a fake news hippie. I don’t care if your Bob Dylan radio station on Pandora suggests otherwise.

Forced vax mandates, good or bad? Good. Wrong, then again you had no problem with the Merry Prankers spiking people’s drinks with acid without their consent, so as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles would say, “What difference does it make?” Challah, thank you very much.

We should abolish security pat downs at Grateful Dead cover band shows. Because frisking lost in time Deadheads for drugs is culturally biased against Bernie Bros who graduated from the University of Vermont bro.

Capital Police guy at the Capital Theatre pats me down before a show and takes out my zip lock bag with my weed edible in it. He says, “What’s this?” I said, “Melatonin gummies in case I want to sleep off a bad trip post COVID damage done man.” Security Guy says, “It’s not Melatonin. Besides, you don’t have to worry about that in New York state anymore.” I fire back with, “Then, why are you giving me a fake news panic attack about it? As if the weed edible I dropped prior didn’t already unmask my pot head eyes.” Challah, thank you very much.

I hate Deadheads who act like they’re on a 1st name basis with the band. Jerry shouldn’t have kept touring after his coma. Bobby won his battle against his dyslexia through visions of becoming Tom Cruise of the steel guitar during the acid tests in Palo Alto. Giving up drinking has done wonders for Phil’s complexion. Phil no longer looks like he’s been dropped in a vat of acid like the Toxic Avenger. Phil is modeling skin products for Korean Vogue now called Sunshine Booming. Or is the campaign on Instagram called, Face Off With Bukowski, during his drying out years in San Pedro, I forget man.

Deadhead girls are humorless bores to. A girl taps me on my shoulder from behind, yet it was more of a friendly grope and says, “You’re tall.” 2 seconds later she’s shaking her ass in my general direction, bumps up next to me and says, “You’re 6 feet 4, right?” I said, “Correct, it’s too bad ANTIFA doesn’t burn bras or else I’d have a birds eye view of your Flying Saucer tits.” She spun off to a safe space where the Deadhead name droppers never stop. So anywhere outside of my standing on the moon plane of existence really, as I thought 2 seconds later, I’d rather be at home with my record player and Alexa than with you.

1st set was more uneven than Chief Happiness Officers for CNN these days. During intermission, I strike up a conversation with a Deadhead from Long Island, who did so much name dropping, I’m surprised he didn’t cite John Mayer’s hair stylist. I still can’t get enough of social distancing, especially among name dropping Deadheads who never stop, from yenta breath country in Long Island no less, who act is if their concert adventures are the greatest stories ever told despite them being punch free musings from an unfunny sounding Paul Reiser. What a buzzkill laden trip this has been.

Michael Kornbluth

The Crypto Kid

Dear Laura Cohen,

The Crypto Kid is a running news column that brings the crypto mythology to life for jaded Gen X Parents who don’t want to miss out on the next best thing.  With talk of the Fed issuing their own version of  bitcoin called Fedcoin, I can’t think of a better time to demystify the world of Crypto through conversations about its new world vernacular with experts and my 3 kids soon after to ensure they don’t remain financially illiterate like their daddy into his mid-forties who has to Google how many zeros are in a trillion for Christ’s sake.

Not every member of the tribe has a head for numbers. So, I see your readers embracing the good-hearted nature behind The Crypto Kid, who will breakdown the Crypto vernacular that’s flush with ultra-colorful terms begging to be extrapolated for some comedy gold such as Depth Chart, Low Ranked Traders, Buy Wall, Oracles and Digital Wallets consisting of digital coins like a Toca Boca game come to life.  

The Crypto Kid is an overgrown man child who uses conversations with experts in crypto such as Cathie Wood, Chief Investment Officer at Ark Invest who says, “Bitcoin, is a bigger idea than Apple”, to make the world of crypto investing less sketchy scary fringe than it’s portrayed to be.  

I’ve amassed 6000 plus connections on LinkedIn from my time working as an agency IT headhunter in LA and Manhattan, especially within the world of open-sourced based software engineering, fintech and blockchain. So, I’ll have no problem generating meaningful yet fun conversations among all the star actors within the world of crypto who give it a good name.  Because we’re all not greedy, soulless, predatory parasites like Bernie Madoff either.

Who can defeat the rise of Anti-Semitism today, among those today who are still educating themselves on Hitler, who claim the Jews control the Federal Reserve and all the banks in the North Pole to? The Crypto Kid will, shooting down negative stereotypes about the new age digital gold rush, which can usher in more means of personal empowerment, financial liberation and social good than bashing David Mamet’s followers on Twitter ever could.  

The knock against Crypto is that’s its investors are anonymous, and you can’t dox them or freeze their bank accounts for donating money to an unemployed comedian trying to fundraise his standup comedy tour by selling bumper stickers through his Go Fund Me page such as COVID Damage Done.

So let’s prove how forward thinking the Jewish Forward is by letting The Crypto Kid fire away at all the bitcoin and crypto detracting critics in his opening column, Show Me The Dark Money, which takes on persistent claims of Crypto investing struggling to reach mainstream respectability because it’s still considered too alt-right leaning for their taste, despite Larry David having no problem shilling for those terrorist funding insurrectionists during Super Bowl Weekend.

Last, The Crypto Kid is a member of Generation X who’s endured the era of Aids, COVID, 9/11 and multiple recessions, now going on 3. As a result, The Crypto Kid prefers his comedy like his coffee, dark and bitter. So, who’s better qualified to examine the 2 trillion-dollar crypto market cap today with such skeptical, leering eyes who also recognizes how the technology employed and embraced now on a worldwide basis was invented as a hedge against another one world bank-controlled implosion that happened in 2008?  Some experts say Crypto is a safer investment than gold and bonds while others consider it a safe haven against inflation, which peaks semi-sustained stiffage on my behalf. What about you?

Ultimately, The Crypto Kid will make the world of crypto investing appear less fringe scary as it continues to veer closer to the mainstream. Whatever Reese Witherspoon can do to make Americans less gun shy about investing in Crypto, I can do better.   Like the late great Joan Rivers used to say, “Can we talk?”  I’m looking forward to your reply.

Best Regards,

Michael Kornbluth

Dear Michael Kornbluth,

Fuck off, no mask MAGA head.

The End

Michael Kornbluth

Funny Zone Day

Would Peloton instructor Jess King blame the clot shot if one of her tits froze during one of her summertime rides to get jiggy with it? After talking to her left tit, during a live ride of course.

“Why aren’t you moving Cabbage Patch Splat? Shit, this ride is live, I totally forgot. Yeah, so what Peloton, I call my left tit Cabbage Patch Splat. When you get paid 300 grand to pretend your comments about my bedazzled bicycle pants matter, I’ll give a shit about your designated Indian name pronouns used to address my lesbian rocker online like Strapped With Vape Cartridges, Dead Fish Flopping After 3 Hour Workdays or Doxes With Twitter Twat Wolves. Shit, Eric Clapton wasn’t really bullshitting us when he went on Instagram and claimed how his 2nd booster shot made his playing hands strung by the all mighty temporarily paralyzed almost immediately after. What, I used to bang an A&R rep for Island Records when I used to study Trance Gender Dance Studies at Borough Community College. My thesis was, “Libra Lesbians who adhere to a Pescatarian puss diet are finger licking good. Wait a minute, I can feel Cabbage Patch Splat get jiggy with it again. Thank God, I fake news believe in you again Lord. And FYI Peloton nation, my power couple lesbo baby is due in October. So, don’t expect me to me care about your upcoming training for the New York City Marathon while I’m too busy planning our 1st kid’s name together during my 2-week paid maternity time off, which is more than you make you in a year MAGA mom selling DeSantis Bobble Head Dolls on Etsy. And it’s don’t say gay, it’s happiest place on earth day, Deplorable Mom Bombing. The name Moderna is very modern, sheik sounding and full of social good, don’t you think? My Indy rock wife wants to go all in on high-end hipster cheek and name our foreign imported seed Polly Fume Blanc, she’s Frech Polynesian, in case you’re not following my killer clutch smoker flow. We’re going on a second honeymoon in Bora, Bora after I pump out this asinine Alabatros already. It was my wife’s idea, not mine. She doesn’t live in Austin Texas anymore because of the no abortion thing. Before it was Kosher living there, because the city of Austin still covers the cost health insurance for working musicians still living there like Gary Clark Junior who takes on the era of Trump Era Racism in the song, “This Land”, because prison reform for gang bangers and no bail laws, post-George Floyed riots, regardless of them resisting arrest or not or Lebron ever getting called for traveling is so oppressive. What, I was raised in a red state like Oklahoma, why else do you think I’m trying to piss off my Oil Rigger Manager Dad on purpose, now turned Solar Pannel Salesman/Caterer for Horse De Vores and Bugs on Bill Gate’s placenta Smoothie farm retreat next to a nearby military base that just housed a wrap up party for Tulsa King starring Sylvester Stallone this Fall, which reminds me. That A& R boyfriend for Island Records who turned me on to Jamaican Beef Patties for bit because he told me that all the pineapple smoothies he drank, would offset his greasy baster tip, also told me that 4/20, the national pot smoking holiday, because it grew wild around King Solomon’s grave man, is also on Hitler’s birthday. Tuff Gong Junior said, “Now, puffing to Bob on Tuff Gong, never felt so wrong. I was bummed to. I mean, the last time I felt this violently hosed was when I learned how Sly Stallone snuck Mel Gibson in Expendables 3. What, I’m half Jewish to. I thought my squeaky annoying voice, borderline okay-ness with working in New York and balloon size breast implants made in Miami were dead giveaways, you Jess Land hater hicks who call me a raver pig who stepped in glittered shit. I’ll dox your ass in a NY Minute if you make fun of my IVF kid like that, try me, homo hater nation. I’m a raver pig who stepped in glitter laced shit you say. I wouldn’t have been let near any aerobics instructor acceleration class in the eighties because it looks like my ass swallowed up Jane Fonda’s extended family down south on Ted Turner’s side. But Peloton is a judge free zone you, glitter hating motherfuckers. And I’m not married to giving a shit about your PowerPoint presentations any more than your hipster hobbit homo, Long Island hack breath husband is. Will you still love me tomorrow, Peloton? A red state reared Jewish Lesbo sooner from Oklahoma who identifies more with going down on premium, fast lane puss on Pelton Mats on top of Tapestries made in Paris, than housing those snooze feast fur balls in my rent-controlled apartment on the Upper West Side next door to Carole King. Because I’m a killer clutch smoker and you’re not.”

Who knew that off the list Jess had so much to get off her chest.

Killer Clutch Smoker lives, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Big City Baby

Heard this, Alexa?

I tell the pirate jokes Alexa.

What letters to Pirates favor?

Z’s, after passing out from drinking too many Captain and Coke’s again.

Little kid at my son’s pre-K said, “That’s too funny.”

I said, “Thanks for my next comedy record title kid, although I prefer Big City Baby.”

Challah, Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth