New Lover Hunter

Wife tells me that our daughter is the last girl in her class to get breast buds. I say, “Then, why haven’t yours sprouted yet?

What’s wrong about telling jokes about my daughter being the last girl in class to get breast buds?

She isn’t competing on America’s next Teen Tranny Prom Date for Bill Maher.

If my daughter barley fills out a clam shell bra like Ariel in the Little Mermaid, then similar to mama, she won’t have to worry about throwing out her vertebrae by lunging for lost royalty change from Spotify at a Fish Monger’s market in downtown Oslo like Lars Ulrich in town for the Monster Penny Pincher of Metal Tour.

The benefit of zero tits is my daughter never getting hooked on pain pills like Fentanyl from her back being weighed down by busty beauties like Jennifer Tilly.

Because Fentanyl has killed more crackers in this country than Taylor Swift kicking it with Lena Dunham on Instagram.

Did you know Lena Dunham was Hillary Hammer Time Cankles Social Media Community manager on her campaign? Only Lena Dunham could make Huma Licker Breath less likeable and relatable in one blubbery swoop.

Feme Fatales don’t have small tits either. So, I don’t have to worry about my daughter seducing an insurance agent to knock off her wealthy husband for the insurance money. Detective asks, “Where were you last night during the scene of the crime?” Feme Fatale says, “Betting on video game horse racing in Atlantic City. Actually, I was feeling myself up in the dressing room at Neiman Marcus, if you really need to know. I’m still sporting the squeeze marks if you’d like to take more than a bird’s eye peak detective. Did you just sneak a Bazooka in your pants Commando Joe? Or do you always get this stiff before raiding pantie drawers for a smoking gun to pin on a damsel in distress under the suspicion of blowing her husband away for the money because I’m cunty to the core like the rest, Prince Harry included. You don’t think scruffy Archie actually tried to kill himself, do you detective? Prince Harry hasn’t shaved in years.” Challah, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

The Hunt for Remote Remorse

It’s hard to feel bad for Alec Baldwin when his only deeply felt take away from killing a cinematographer on a film he was producing is victimized aggravation for costing him work. Alec Baldwin calls his agent at CAA, “What do you mean Tarantino doesn’t want me to play a young Victor Vega in Reservoir Dogs Without Remorse? Isn’t there a statue of Woody Allen in Spain still standing? Can’t Woody write me a star vehicle where I play Javier Bardem’s chef Dad who butchers the Spanish language after becoming reunited with my pig son in The Mighty Punta Bitch Dad? Isn’t Marty sick of working with Leo yet? Can’t he jam me into a script with Dinero despite that dumb mook on the View these days looking like Betsy Ross falling apart at the seams? Would Seth Rogan be willing to work with me? I can play a recovering alcoholic who becomes a famed pitch person on the QVC for a new brand of gum to wane your addiction off highly boozy IPA’s, called, Hop-O-Rama Chew. But he gets fired from that job because he shoots off at the mouth too much on air about how craft beer enthusiasts in Brooklyn look like special needs hobbits who should be eligible for 3rd term abortions in New York State. I’ll even do voiceover for Kevin Smith in his woke reimagination of She-He Man. I could play the alt right Skeletor with a MAGA hat on top of my purple hoody like the Grand Dragon of disinformation regarding the downside of pubescent genital mutilation despite Billy regretting his decision after mounting a fat assed Latino girl at the China Club on his 18th birthday, after realizing his missing link to banging old school hip-hop beats of yesteryear when Rum Shaker broke big, is gone baby gone.” Challah, thank you very much.

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

Pissy Life Hack Tips

Do It All Dad, a self-described Stay at Home She-Male Comedian performs another killerset in his bedroom office on his Do It All Dad Time Podcast, titled, Pissy Life Hack Tips.

“My quest is to make my son a shallow sleeper, so he won’t piss his bed anymore from being such a deep-thinking sleeper. I’ll stop talking to him like he’s a Talmudic scholar for hire. “Rabbi Samuel, is it better to be loved by your kids or by strangers on stage every night at the Comedy Cellar, getting your funny man freak on for a living?” Son says, “Get a life ancient moron and figure it out yourself already. I’m still only 5 years old remember.”

But seriously, is deprogramming deepness considered a legitimate pissy life hack tip that’s a shortcut to improved parental happiness if forcing your kid to wear a nappy to bed is no longer a drawn-out tug of free will anymore?  Reality is my son only pisses his bed at night. So, my pissy life problems have to a be a result of my son being too much of a deep sleeper.  You might think I’m being a tad melodramatic for yuck, yucks sake, but having to duck under your kids bunk bed to make his bed again after washing his soaked Star Wars sheets and bedcovers is enough to push any man to the dark side. So if I want to avoid stripping my son’s wet sheets off his bed again like he’s a young Corey Feldman who’s been the hitting bottle too hard with Sam Kinson backstage at the Comedy Store again, why don’t I shame bribe him, by insisting we can’t watch Spaceballs ever again unless he comes out as a Farm Boy from Princess Bride for Halloween, except whenever a homeowner giving candy asks, “What are you dressed as for Halloween?” Samuel must say, “Piss Bucket Boy from History of The World”, before flashing his plastic pumpkin candy holder that’s packed with PJ Mask nappies to the rim.

At first, I thought banning my wife from giving our son Melatonin gummies would prevent him from falling into deeper states of extended sleep while contemplating, who would win in a street fight, Rudy or Rocky, if Bruce Lee trained Rudy first. My son’s still wetting himself like I did after waterboarding myself as a 12-year-old kid from trying to jerkoff but only succeeding in hosing myself down with a golden shower after Emanuel After Dark on Showtime because I hadn’t gotten into the puberty pool party yet.  So to avoid  becoming my son’s permanent wet nurse like Jill Biden on demand, I’m going to groom a shallow beauty, so he won’t get lost in deep enough focused thought on ways to bitch slap the future 5th grader who dares to spoil his sister with Starbucks gift cards on Valentines Day without taking the time for a midnight bathroom break who identifies with Fatal Attraction Astronauts from NASA.

Instead of watching documentaries on Andre the Giant, which focus on Andre’s excessive drinking problem to drown out the pain of being treated like a regrettable freak of nature in airports like the man who dresses like Meghan McCain in drag for Teacher Appreciation Month to read, “Divine Gives Bi-Curious Geroge a Banana in His Tail Pipe.” Will binge on Keeping Up with The Sloppy Third Kardashian Sister, since Kim backed out to focus full time on studying for her bar exam because Social Justice Lawyers are so hot right now.  

I’ll insist my son doesn’t flip on his hoodie to hide his chosen curls at the grocery store anymore to avoid more grown Italian MILFS hitting on him with lines like, “When you get older, you’ll have 3 girlfriends to juggle.” Only for me to say, “No offense lady, but if James Woods had this kid’s face, your estimates wouldn’t be so conservative.”

I can buy my son a waterbed for his birthday to avoid more weighty deep thoughts. So instead of meditating on the rapidly encroachment of irreversible death like Hemingway does in Old Man and The Sea, my son can dream about the glory days of Boogie Nights Porn pre-VHS tape, before tatted up white girls cranked up on Crystal meth ruined the golden age of muff diving forever. Back when the mountain muff on the MILF from Scandal in the Mansion on the big screen looked like stacks of Brillo pads resting on top of a busted Slinky.

I could also deprogram deepness from son my forcing him to sleep every night in a Tanning Bed. And instead of reading him poetry at night from Charles Bukowski about the serial bitterness and predictably dronish, small soul producing dullness swallowing up our empty, consumerist controlled lives, while sloppy drunk hookers come knocking down on his door in broken high heels at 2 o clock in the morning, will start rehearsing his Trump impersonation for Halloween. But not just any old impression of Trump, but an impression of Trumpy Poo after he tests HIV positive, after the Deep State pricked him with the same dirty needle used to take out Easy E to prevent him from running again. “Who are you for Halloween?” Son says, “Little Man Trump who just tested HIV positive because Melania slept with Magic to get me back for the Stormy Daniels fiasco. Do I have HIV?  Yes, but my t-cell count numbers, have neve been stronger.”

But I like talking to my 5-year-old son like he’s my Talmudic joke whisper manager. Son says, “Daddy, stop being an ancient moron. When are going you going to record comedy record 96 already? After that, you’ll only have 4 more to reach 100. Rodney Dangerfield never did that. Even Papa would have to respect that. Johnny Cash told his daughter Roseanne Cash she had to learn to play 100 selected songs before she could set out to become a master working solo artist remember moron son? I still like the title Genius on Tap for your next comedy record. Think good and will be good like Rebbe Schmendel Schneerson said. You’re always a genius just Jack Kerouac told himself remember mega dumb son. Besides I own you and you ain’t poop without me. So, finish strong like Stallone does in Over-the-Top Daddy, none of this meet halfway crap, go for it all the way. Fight the good fight, achieve perfect laughter with the Gods, loneliness is a gift, to test your will to prove how much you really want it. What, you’ve been reading me quotes from Bukowski on Goodreads since I was 2. So, get a lit agent to read your entire manuscript for Waste of Height, Really Short Stories already.  Then, we can afford that comedy gold mobile and go on a book signing tour together, but never forget, more jokes for me, are more jokes for your comedy records, got it.  I can wear my Muscle Beach shirt when you do a book signing in Venice, despite you naming Arthur, Arthur Morrison Kornbluth. I’m still really pissed at you for that by the way. But I get all the Black Sabbath records and get to watch Fist of the North Star with you, do Mad Libs with you, play blackjack with my Freddy Kruger cards and watch Japanese death matches on YouTube with Terry Funk with at you home whenever we hang out, before I start Kindergarten next year, which evens out the suck. Hey Daddy, ever think I may pee in my bed because playing with Freddy Kruger cards would scare the piss out of any little dreamer at night whenever those images of a burnt serial killer come to life?” And I say, “Thank God somebody in this relationship is playing with a full deck.”

Challah, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

All Metal Baby

Dear Billy Corgan,

I’m Ric Flair literally, woo. I’m writing a thank you letter like Curious George taught me to do. I want to thank you for bringing NWA wrestling back from the dead. My daddy bought me the NWA All Access Pass for my birthday and I’ve never been happier. I love watching new wrestling matches with daddy. But I want to return the favor and give my daddy some love on his birthday to. I’m his best friend and best friends get each other gifts, right? And he didn’t even get a card from Mimi and Papa this year, so I want to make it up to him in a humongous way. Daddy is a really funny comedian, who’s due to record comedy record 94 this Sunday Less Garbage Lines, yet he’s beginning to feel like an imposter for having no paydays to show for it. He also looks after my older sister Matilda and older brother Arthur. We make a great home team and want nothing more than for daddy’s comedy career to achieve blast off time already. Would you be willing to let my Daddy do five minutes of Nirvana material at Lollapalooza this summer as your opening act? You won’t be disappointed. I’m sending you a demo record he recorded last summer called Burning Mask Party Record. United we laugh, my daddy, proves it every day, yeah, yeah. Daddy is a fan of old school jamming out Chicago to.  I’m guaranteed you’ll be impressed and you better play Rocket if you say yes, or I’ll be pissed Billy. Last, my father is feeling like a mega dumb moron for passing on spending 40 bucks on your debut album Gish, in favor of Deep Purple’s Last Concert in Japan for only 22 bucks on Vinyl instead, which he thought was the deal the century, until he realized soon after that Deep Purple’s Last Concert wasn’t Deep Purple Made in Japan. Don’t get me wrong, Daddy and I are huge David Coverdale fans and adore his live album In Heart of The City that he did with White Snake after he left Deep Purple. Still, I know deep down this mix up brought Daddy down because he loves your band and didn’t buy your album Gish because he was trying to be a frugal pragmatist on his birthday for a change. I hate to end on a down note, but nothing would make daddy happier than get blown away by a sea of laughs this summer in Chicago at Lollapalooza after being stuck like a rat in cage as a Stay-at-Home Shemale Comedian for the past 5 years and counting since I was born, with no grandparents in sight. At the same time, being under house arrest post COVID hasn’t been that much of a radical departure for daddy. Regardless, it’s his time to shine this summer and nothing would make me happier than to see my daddy flying high again.

Your Biggest 5-Year-Old Fan,

Samuel Teddy Kornbluth

P.S. My big sister helped me write this letter. But I can still do more one armed pushed than her. Plus, my big brother did the artwork for Daddy’s record cover Burning Mask Party Record, which is beyond overdue at this point already. Let’s launch a burning mask party on stage together Billy. I know you can do it. Billy Madison lives, Challah, thank you very much. That’s my daddy’s catchphrase by the way.

Dear Samuel Teddy Kornbluth,

I heard your dad’s record Burning Mask Party Record. And you’re correct, it rocks. It would be an honor to help break your father big at Lollapalooza this summer. I can offer him one thousand dollars for five minutes, which should be enough to pay for travel expenses. Although, I see him scoring a recording holding deal after this. Tell your dad that will have a booth set up for him to sell any of his, comedy records and books at the show soon after although I have an idea for a grand entrance that will drive the audience wild for the overall presentation. I’m a big-time wrestling promoter who knows a thing about putting on kick ass show for reason. Stay cool All Metal Baby.

Best Always,

Billy

All Metal Baby descends from a helicopter on a zipline down to the Lollapalooza stage, dressed like Van Halen angel baby from their album 1984 with a cigarette behind his ear. The 500,000 plus crowd goes wild as The Smashing Pumpkins play the intro to Rocket in the background as Billy croons, “Love.” All Metal Baby makes a perfect landing on to the stage from the helicopter. First, he faces the audience and flashes the bird with both middle fingers behind his ears, as if he’s sporting Devil horn middle fingers. Billy Corgan howls, “All Metal Baby in the house, Ronnie James Dio, lives, Challah, thank you very much. Crowd screams with holy shit Joe C lives to, as the crowd roars, “We like to party, rock the party.” Next, All Metal Baby launches into a series of one-armed push-ups while flipping the bird with his remaining free hand. Next, All Metal Baby grabs the cigarette behind his ear, which isn’t a real one but flammable nonetheless, and lights it up before throwing it on top of a pile of masks, which takes this Burning Mask Party that much higher. Then, All Metal Baby hops into a drum set behind his cherished daddy, who always wanted his son to dress up like the Van Halen angel baby for Hanukkah Halloween, so wishes do come true. Then, Do It All Dad launches into his act that was made for these times, starting with, “Nirvana, didn’t kill Hair Metal Aids did, before Magic made HIV disappear.”

The 500,000 plus crowd laughs in one love unison, which screams a Refrigerator Perry touchdown of yesteryear, which is drawn out even longer, after All Metal Baby does a one-handed headstand rim shot on the drums after his daddy’s opening punchline, while sucking on a Scorpion lollipop to boot.

All Metal’s Baby daddy completes his short-lived Nirvana set, made for these times.

I dislike any rock journalist or cultural critic who still lives in Portland, Oregon or in Seattle, Washington, ANTIFA apartheid represent. Especially those intent on selling us why Kurt Cobain was destined to become another rock casualty cliche due to a stomach irritation aggravated from too much soy. But at the height of his popularity, with all the f-you money in the world to avoid touring if he wanted to, after becoming a proud, doting father no less, Kurt Cobain wanted to pull an Ernest Hemingway after his shotgun marriage to Sloppy Seconds Hole? Because Kurt Cobain couldn’t bear the burden of being branded as the voice of Generation X by Tabitha Soren, when Sonic Youth had less brand name recognition on MTV than the Fine Young Cannibals or Midnight Oil throughout the early nineties for that matter?

Kurt Cobain admitted that their records sounded closer to Motley Crue records than punk rock ones, which doesn’t make him sound like the overgrown kid in the Jermey video on the verge off blowing his brains out over his Trapper Keeper in AP Bio either.

And Kurt Cobain killing himself at 27 no less, which is when Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison died from accidental overdoses is too cliche ridden planned for a rock star who raided his dead grandma’s closet for her most unflattering, wool sweater to sport on MTV Unplugged.

In the song In Bloom, Kurt Cobain sneered at meathead jocks with hardcore sardonic disdain, more likely to be first in line to see the Foo Fighters play the first MSG show post pandemic for the privilege of seeing big pharma sell out shill Dave Grohl perform in front of a vaccinated only crowd, to mark another monotone milestone through their edgeless, ever long lives. Yet were supposed to believe Kurt Cobain would give those same homophobe faggots in University of Maryland hats, who like to sing along to his “pretty songs”, the satisfaction of killing off his legacy as being the most kick ass, wildly popular non-conformist artist of his generation by proving to be another unoriginal, poser artist burnout tale of premature, blatantly avoidable ruin on VH1 Behind the Music like the rest. Yeah, and Eddie Vedder met his banger pretty wife at a lesbo coffee shop in Seattle for slam toxic masculinity night.

All I’m saying is that Kurt Cobain was not one to do cliche, outside of doing his best Sid and Nancy impersonation with Courtney Love for a bit. And in the end, his overhyped stomach pains cited as the main driving force behind blowing his brains out after framing his vision of becoming a middle-aged junkie artist like a modern-day William Boroughs to Courtney Love as an easily attainable goal to shoot for, has been blown way out of proportion, like the working effectiveness of COVID 19 vaccination shot, which works less than an Alice and Chains cover band today at BYU, with Mitt Romney in town.

Personally, I love the Courtney Love Hole album, Live Through This, even more than Nevermind, even if ex-boyfriend Billy Corgan penned the lion share of her monster lyrics on it like, “I shit my bed from doing too much H. So, I might as well die in it.” Plus, I can’t hate someone who called Linda Sarsour a fake news feminist who had no business attending the Woman’s March on Washington because of the Palestinian freedom fighter’s support of clitoral mutilation to ensure Muslim housewives receive zero pleasure on earth before being stoned to death for the crime of being spotted in their full-length Burkas in Sex and The City 2. So, if siding with Courtney Love for calling Linda Sarsour a fake feminist, makes me alt-right, then I’m alright with it. Challah, thank you very much.

Truth is, Kurt Cobain wouldn’t be caught dead in Starbucks if his Sonic Youth record collection was riding on it. So, I don’t buy Kurt Cobain feeding into the packaged brand of brooding depressive consumerism by killing himself at the height of his popularity who caused a bigger eruption in Courtney’s Love pants than Eddie Van Halen ever did. Nor do I buy into the forced fed, media manipulated assertion that Kurt Cobain was too much of a gun-shy pussy to persist rocking in a hyper focused Internet world of do or die capitalism Man. A victimized Twitter Twat, he wasn’t it, “Here we are now, entertain us, I feel stupid and contagious because I shared a needle with Magic Johnson’s number one groupie in Seattle. You want a remake of Sleepless in Seattle post Kids you got it.

Last, did you know Kurt Cobain predicted that an outsider who never worked in politics could become President of the United States like Trump one day? Ok, so maybe Kurt Cobain killed himself for a reason, knowing that the eventual advent of social media would unearth the A Plus narcissist in us all. Neither Republicans nor Democrats have a monopoly on messianic right, God does. The sooner were all able to unite around that absolute truth of one love, under one God, who knows above all else, when you’re being an insufferable, know it all twat, on the alleged right side of ethical moralism, the better.

Shit, at least I’m self-aware enough to proclaim Jesus doesn’t want me for a sunbeam yet. But thank God, I still have time to seek absolution for being the biggest prick in the east, since Alec Baldwin admits no fault for acting like an all-over the place Jew since he quit self-medicating by getting loaded. Short lived Nirvana lives, Challah. Thank you very much.

The following day, Rolling Stone Magazine called All Metal Baby the ultimate smash hit at Lollapalooza during the summer of 2022. At the same time, his daddy now nicknamed by Billy Corgan as Killerset Kornbluth wasn’t chopped liver either. And for those about to rock, All Metal Baby salutes you, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

New Rule Asshole

New Rule: Stop acting you’re on my side. If you think my kids should wear masks in schools like Michael Jackson’s adopted kids on holiday in Bahrain.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you act like kids with COVID are a scarier health risk than backend entry into The Dallas Buyer’s Club.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you voted for Mr. Groper to make hair sniffing great again.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you think Thug Lives Matter most.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you still listen to weird, weak, woke Howard Stern, who didn’t dare criticize Governor Cuomo when he was in power after writing a book on How to Kill Italian Grandma Without Throwing Off Her Off The Train, because Perm Head didn’t want to be banned from Jimmy Kimmel’s house for more 2 bite chicken parm dinners.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you’re not grossly offended when demonic, Democrat hacks like Denture Breath Pelosi compare January 7 to 9/11 but are totally cool with Ellen DeGeneres professed friendship with W because she’s a fake news humanitarian who’s pro bush all the way.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you blame the burning of food vendor trucks at Woodstock 99 on white rage but refuse to condemn ANTIFA for being fake news Punisher vigilantes in hoodies from Target who never outgrew their pyromania phase.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you still watch the NBA, which makes ball gags made in China to ensure the Houston Rocket’s owner never tweets in favor of the Hong Protests again, which makes every day Yuhan paper trumps all day, especially since COVID made in Wuhan, was used to steal an election through mail-in voting, wreck our economy, gut our cities and destroy our children’s age of innocence more than any Dick Cheney move by Oliver Stone ever could.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you don’t condemn Biden for being a lying piece of shit for lying about visiting the Tree of Life in Synagogue during the Jewish New Year in Pittsburgh. Despite the Rabbi who was there, claiming, “I’ve never met Joe Biden in my life. And I’m not going out of my way to hang out much at Ben & Jerry’s much these days either.”

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you don’t think Israel has a right to defend itself, after 5000 rockets are launched in its backyard, while only expecting to receive an Edible Gift Basket in Return with a thank you note written in Farsi.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you’re still a degenerate, lying, beyond petulant, perpetually druggy scumbag who makes Hunter Biden come off as a serial slacker underachiever in comparison.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you support sanctuary cities, which is legalized lawlessness on crack or have no problem with every day for the cops being standing down day since BLM made it kosher to shoot cops in Dallas without any image depreciation blowback.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you wanted Kyle Rittenhouse to get anal AIDS in prison before getting beaten to death because the jury in Kenosha refused to let mob justice rule.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you insult my intelligence like you’ve done for 5 years in a row and tell me with a straight face that you think Biden got more votes than Obama or Trump despite Mr. Groper’s campaign rallies not being big enough to fill out Ariel’s little clam shell bra’s.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you believe our elderly deserved to die alone despite COVID having a 99 percent survival rate, when you’re a degenerate Jewish gambler who has no problem betting 5 large on the Jets against Tampa on a slow Thursday.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you still watch Bill Maher after he wished for a recession to get Trump out of office but got COVID instead. The same Bill Maher, another self-serving, Obama licker protector like the rest. Who had no problem with Obama posting Israel’s classified nuclear program on Medium or nuke gifting Iran 150 billion to create overseas manufacturing jobs for Build a Bear to make their economy less reliant on the sale of chest hair removal cream for the Kardashians.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you think you’re not blatantly pathetic for only now criticizing the news media for perpetuating the overblown COVID death counts because you’re feeling more courageous in admitting to your buyer’s remorse after SNL makes fun of Biden’s pedophile whisperer speech impediment after all these years.

Stop acting you’re on my side, if you think John Goodman is a good guy because he came out on Jimmy Kimmel to declare Rosanne isn’t a racist, after agreeing to the spin off the Conner’s based on a show and career she created for him in the 1st place because a brief part in Raising Arizona wasn’t the career launcher he imagined either.

Stop acting you’re on my side if you side with arrogant baby boomers who want Joe Rogan canceled for the crime of interviewing an infectious disease expert that knows Fuck Face Fauci personally, who fluffed the monkey with the banana driller used to create Aids with, in addition to Magic’s Johnson’s secret HIV suppressor stash.

Stop acting you’re on my side if you’re going to insist the entire world has gone mad all around, when it’s the crazed, just vaccinated Karen’s that have ruined dinner parties for the foreseeable future let alone a stroll to Target with your kids only to hear, “Wear the damn mask.” “Yeah, not until you suck the misinformation and hate speech out of my chosen schlong first Karen. Pretend Obama ordered you to leak it.”

Stop acting you’re on my side if you’re sick of COVID when you’re not a nurse forced to mask up for 2 years in a row who’s had to lose her job because she refused to get an experimental clot shot that’s weakening more immune systems than backend entry into the Dallas Buyer’s Club.

Stop acting you’re on my side. If you think you’re a man of the people, who’s not a guilty of endorsing mass murder, done dick to condemn evil and more than tolerated the lockdowns, and forced terminations of jobs for 2 years that’s lead to thousands of businesses destroyed, countless drug overdoses, numerous suicides and fucked up kids for life with future fertility issues and heart problems on the way for using our kids as fucking political pawns by pushing a clot shot drug on them to keep evil enshrouded scumbags like Gavin Newsome in power that has single handily destroyed my beautiful southern California of yesteryear in one slimy, sociopath ridden swoop.

Stop acting you’re on my side. You’re narrative about you being a good guy truth spreader after claiming anyone who offered alternative treatments to combat early bouts of COVID as conspiracy theorists like every blah breath hack deluded into thinking that intended silence shaming aside will shut us the fuck up knowing you’ve been the easily duped, rube hick who’s been breathlessly citing the Washington Post for the past 6 years in a row mongoloid moron.

Stop acting you’re on my side, when you have no problem with 2 million illegal immigrants infiltrating our border with COVID and more fentanyl made in China that’s killed more cracker in this country than Taylor Swift kicking with Lena Dunham on Instagram.

Stop acting you’re on my side, when you don’t have kids or give a shit about protecting the kids. All you care about is preserving your urban legends about George Floyd being the patron saint of resisting arrest, Obama Be Good doing more than rebranding ISIS, ISIL so they’d sound more start up friendly in the NY Times while claiming to be a good Jew when you don’t eat Kosher, perform Shabbat or demonize the UN for funding death tunnels to kidnap and kill Jewish children in the name of terrorist inclusivity.

Stop acting you’re on my side, when you don’t even shrug at the thought of kids being discriminated, segregated against and psychologically tortured because their parents don’t worship the cult of Obama Be Good or the Democratic lead rape enablement party nor are they dumb to subject their kids to experimental gene therapy for desired social acceptance among the enemies on the fake news elite left that ushered and continue to push the utter destruction of our kid’s youth, safety our inner cities and facade of the US government and our doctors as a whole caring about anything else besides self-enrichment and job preservation since the day democracy died.

You’re the enemy asshole, if you remain a stranger to self-awareness and all the evil you endorse, even if Bill Maher gave you permission to open your mouth otherwise from time to time because it’s socially convenient now to do so, you sell out hack.

Get banned from Twitter for insisting the Chinese have resisted Wuhan lab investigations more than AquaFresh 70 comedy records later and get back to me on what a crazy, hardcore thought leader you on are LinkedIn, asshole.

Michael Kornbluth

When Breathing Ends Talk

Do It All Dad, now 45 and still an unemployed stay at home comedian who just recorded his 45th comedy record to mark every year on this earth, for an eventual box set release on his 46th birthday on April 18th, Totality Of Me. Still Do It All Dad was getting perpetually downer weepy inside whenever his ebullient, radiantly fun, non-stop hilarious, rollicking son, Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo, would ask him in another innocuous inquisitive, I wanna know manner, “How old are you moron?” Do It All Dad would constantly get snipply, prickly about it, and snap back with heart punctuated disgust for not being a highly employable, in demand comedian writer star yet and bluster out, “45 kiddo, stop reminding me already. At least Marvin Gaye implanted his fair share of sexual healing, by the time his cross dressing father shot him with at 45 with a Colt 45.”

Do It All Dad is in the process of posting comedy record 45, Reclusive Rocker Shreds on to his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, Dad friendly entertainment for you and me, while his son finishes watching The Last Jedi, where the reclusive Luke comes back to fight Darth Vader’s mope maligned millennial mouseketeer grandson by not fighting at all like a less fancy, flat footed Obi One. When the far from centered in real life, easily Trump triggered Mark Hamill espouses another deadweight conversationalist TomTom shit line to Kylo, “Strike me down in anger and I’ll always be with you. Just like your father.” In other words, there’s actually a huge upside in letting you kill me without having to break a sweat. Because A) You don’t have to humiliate me like an out of shape Tyson against Buster Douglass. Who couldn’t be bothered to find a Kettlebell to work on my core to escape an encroaching Sarlacc on Tatooine as a throwback return to some hardcore revisionist Jedi training of yesteryear. Plus B) By letting you strike me down Kylo Ren, I’ll always be lurking inside your good side conscious, when the opportunity comes to save Rey and make peace with killing off the coolest Dad imaginable. Who made the Kesel run faster than my space Kliff bars went through Yoda’s stench swampy colon on your loner Dagobah system that made Charles Bukowski come off as less cagy earthy for a a change. Also what kind of name is Kylo Ren exactly? Kylo Ren sounds like an edgeless jerkoff who rebrands himself as a Creative Technologist on LinkedIn. Who’s 2 galaxies removed from the Crimson Guard Twins in GI Joe who are trust fund terrorist babies cloaked in white priveledge. Who burn their modeling money from Ralph Lauren at the track and on extra gummy horses like AOC’s future failed run for Senate of New York after Schumer dies of soul disintegration ruin for paying off the Pope to give his blessing to Pooping Biden’s sham schlock presidency. Only for his fake news holiness to later downplay Biden’s pant soiling incident prior to meeting him by poo pooing on reporters at Brietbart who remarked about the Commander In Chief losing all control off his bowel moments knowing he was bound to drop a number 2 like a confetti mess storm down on Broadway, because he’s full of enough shit already. Later, his Holiness tweets, “Cut out the crap, President Biden didn’t poop his pants before meeting me. Doesn’t President Biden have enough face nappies to wipe up with at his disposal without having to make an elaborate pant change in the 1st place? Plus, good old Joe isn’t Catholic in name only. Modern day Catholics are cool with abortion, hell hole damned, open borders encouraged, roughhouse sex and demonizing ICE agents rounding up divine sparks of rapist light because Homeland Security is so weapons of mass destruction pass already, America.”

So after Luke’s weathered yet recharged soul becomes released by the lightsaber sword, disappears among the cosmos in a galaxy far, far away, Do It All Dad’s son Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo says, “Daddy, I don’t want to die”, like a pubescent Steppenwolf whose been exposed to one too many Ingmar Bergman films already. Do It All Dad says, “Samuel, your nickname is Chosen Curls Was Bound to Woo, not Chosen Curls Was Bound To Fret and pull out his hair out from the bleak prospect of soul destroyer death for anyone responsible for hiring pool time entertainment at the Podesta’s house during upcoming donation season. Look kiddo, the best way to cope with the finality of death or a lifetime of suffering, regret or resentment stemming from alleged loving loyal ones in your life perpetually shitting on your dreams of attaining career fulfillment or financial gain from your imaginative produced artist works in this lifetime God forbid, is through feasting off laugh energy healing, which can help soothe over any fucked over feeling. Trust me, I know from personal experience. That’s why for my final 46th comedy record as a final killer addition to my comedy box set Totality of Me, we’re going to call it Do It All Dad Does Death, which gives me an excuse to bomb with fake news killer punchlines on occasion and cop-out over the mental exerted toil to get the record in fighting shape like Luke does against Kylo Ren. Who cares if any one of my breakup lines with life are laugh out loud funny or not, when breathing ends? Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo laughs and says, ” When Breathing Ends, is funny daddy. More jokes for you, is more jokes for me to put on your comedy records. Do It All Dad laughs, beaming and says, “Never forget Samuel, a joke a day, keeps insanity at bay, chosen one. For example, calling Dr. Fauci America’s doctor is like calling America’s Front Line Doctor’s China’s team, Challah. Thank you very much.”

Michael Kornbluth