Twitter, Google, It’s All Chinese To Me

Old Bud
I dreamed of you owning a vacation home in New Mexico.
Georgia O’Keefe did good work there. Personally, I prefer her labia looking flower paintings because they burst with more eye fucking sensuality.

If the CEO of Google called me at Robert Half, I’d assume he was an H1-B, claim our connection was bad and hang up on him next. Thinking, I’d have an easier time penning a Bollywood musical than making a fee off this guy.

My son tires from over-exposure to my wife like me. He wines. “Why does mommy always have to drop me off at Pre-K?” She does this twice a week max. NPR & Indy Rock drive him nuts strapped into his car seat minus my father figure veto powers in times of war.

Christine Blasey Ford was a runner up for Time Person of the Year. Michelle Obama didn’t even make honorable mention. I think its time for a new publicist.

Why wasn’t Anthony Bourdain Time Person of the Year? He was a writer journalist who died for what he believed in. That’s right, he trolled Hillary on Twitter for taking campaign donations from known rapists like Harvey Hair Clumps Weinstein, duh.

And where’s my nomination for Time Person of the Year? Corporate America has insisted on keeping me imprisoned under house arrest as a Stay At Home Comedian/Father of 3 because I’m a pro Trump truther prisoner of political correctness.

Why do my people, elitist Jews hate Trump so much? Either A) They’re hack writers who can’t stand his far greater Twitter following or B) They’re no names Sales Directors. Who might make enough to live in a building Trump owns.



You’re hanging out with Dave on Christmas Eve?

I never see him. Plus, he’s listened to 1 more podcast than you have out of 57 so far. Last, I can play socket puppets with the kids with your mom’s gift when I get back. Plus, babe, I’m Jewish. So Mass isn’t a Holiday Event to be checked off in my Outlook Calendar, no offense.

Divorcing my parents was a good deal for them. They pay child support in the form of Pre-K for only 1 out of their 3 grandchildren. Which is cheaper than minimum child support payments in Texas. Plus, they save money on gas because they almost never visit.

Daddy laying his foot down. Get away from my 40 of Grapefruit Seltzer. I’m not drinking IPA’s, wine or bourbon till your birthday kid. It’s all Daddy’s got left. Daddy, what’s a 40? Snoop Dog’s ho sprayer of choice.

All the talking heads on Fox sound the same when defending their belief in God. I’m better off believing. Who else who could’ve created all this majesty? My answer is simple. I believe in God because my 3 kids worship me like the All Mighty himself. Plus, they love to caress my holy, wise beard. And deep down I know God didn’t give me 3 kids to have a panic attack over it. Last I’m a true believer because my mother sulks as my 3 kids blanket with me love in her presence and my son hugged me after my dad sulked from me reading my DM from Richard Lewis.


Too bad the Macaroon has peppermint. Peppermint is a total boner killer for me. Although, if I was still single without 3 kids. I’d slam some shots of Black Haus for old school times sake.

A Vasectomy is like playing God or a Bartender who refuses to serve you after you’ve had too many.

A Vasectomy screams I’ve got enough knots in my back already. One more in my groin won’t make much of a difference.

A Vasectomy screams after this, I’m done tying knots with either sex period.

The End


Michael Kornbluth

Comedy Control Rules

A light, zero windup smack on the bum only goes so far. After your son bites his big sister. Afterwards, I say. “Arthur, fart in your sister’s face, burp into her armpit, headbutt her Cerebellum but no more biting.” My son’s post traumatic teary whimpers subside.  But this Stay At Home Comedian was just getting warmed up.

Minutes later, my 4 year old son draws inspiration from Jewish pride incarnate, the Hebrew Hammer and draws a Star of David on our bathroom wall upstairs. Mama’s at work at the hospital in case you’re wondering. 1st I scream. “Arthur, are you kidding me?” But then I use comedy to subdue my rage and guard the remainder of our evening from complete disorder in the house. I say “You just wanted to draw Arthur? I thought you were competing for the Maccabi Tagging Olympics.” Of course my 3 kids had no idea what the hell “tagging” meant. But through my use of comedy, I was able to lighten the mood and regain a semblance of control over my red hot, Aries pissed off emotion.

I park outside my son’s school for Pre-K this morning. One of his teachers, Mrs. Russo helps him out of the car. Before she does, Arthur flashes his bouncing, Gimel Robot Dreidel. Mrs. Russo stares at Gimel Robot Dreidel with total bewilderment like she just spotted a Guido in Cancun without a tan-line. Then, Mrs. Russo says. “What’s that? Whatever it is, you can put it in your cubby.” Meanwhile, I’m thinking, would she say the same thing, if Arthur brought Jesus Apostle Trading Cards to share? But I didn’t say anything although to calm my anger at Mrs. Russo’s grossed out, perplexment at what Gimel Robot Dreidel represented. I wrote these jokes below.  Making fun of my obvious Jewish paranoia about A) Jewish kids being accused of being greedy Hebrews for expecting too many gifts and B) Jewish parents like me being accused of being too cheap for only getting 8 ho hum gifts. Which combined together, never amount to the majestic might of a BB Gun or Denise Richards in nothing but Polar Bear Fur for Christmas.  In case you’re wondering, we got each of our 3 kids a  big Kahuna deal gifts each. Plus, the other seven gifts for each 3 kids weren’t chopped liver either.

These are a couple of new Hanukah joke lighter uppers, fresh off the press. Aren’t you blessed?

Me instructing my son on how to avoid any anti-Semitic triggered aftermath at school.

When you bring your Gimel Robot Dreidel to Pre-K Arthur. Make sure, when your gentile classmates ask what Gimel means. You don’t say. “Give me all your money because we control all the world banks, even the one in the North Pole.”

For Christmas, I’m not banking on getting more black Champion socks from my mother-in-law. My wife works Christmas Eve. So we won’t spend a white Christmas in Delaware this year. Postage is more expensive than the socks themselves.

As you can see, comedy control rules because it allows anyone the opportunity to rewrite the narrative to their own liking. Comedy control rules because you’re able to capture the cheapness of your mother-in-law and get in the last laugh. If you’re lucky enough to have children, you must always serve lady laugh with your all sarcastic, silly minded, over the top might. Screw other people’s kids. Your own children’s laughs will light up your heart up like no other. When your children laugh. You beam with happiness like when the Stripper in Montreal didn’t charge you for 2 lap dances after you bribed the DJ to play the Allman’s 22 minute Whipping Post from the Fillmore East.

Comedian Victor Borge, said “Laughter is the shortest distance between 2 people.” So if you’re not born naturally hilarious, nobody is, unless you’re Rodney. Force yourself to take an IMPROV class at Second City and get out of your head already. Who cares if you say something stupid or weird? You’re going to tell me bloggers for Buzz Feed reporting on imaginary golden shower parties, still chasing down Russian collusion tales with less legs than Lieutenant Dan, are smarter and more grounded morally than you are? I didn’t think so. That’s like asking if Kevin Hart is funnier than Chris Rock. Did you hear? Kevin Hart withdrew from the Oscars because Obama called Jay Z to tell him Michelle prefers Ellen. I wonder if Chris Rock is pissed at Kevin Hart for never seeking out his hosting advice. Still, Kevin Hart is no Chris Rock. Lady Laugh is love supreme, reign on me.

Jim Morrison said “the media controls the mind.” The beauty of fatherhood fellas is you get to control the mike. You’re the biggest megaphone in the house. So don’t play it safe or defer to your children like know it all hipster hacks from Portland, Maine. Own the room or they’ll own you. Assert your manhood. You’re the star creator and this makes you superior to the mere Hipster cynic critic in us all.  That’s why Adam Sandler needs the host Oscars this year. No other successful comedian has engendered as much bile laced critic jealousy than show me your cock and balls Sandler. Sandler as host equals Oscar gold.  He’s a song and joke guy.  Plus, his 100 million dollars films keep the lights on in Hollywood. So can the Golden Jew add this Oscar hosting feather to his cap already? Adam Sandler can even joke in his Oscars monologue about him hosting the Oscars is his stop looking at me Swan Song. Comedy control rules.

The End


Michael Kornbluth

Hate Is Good

Life – the way it really is – is a battle not between Bad and Good but between bad and worse. Joseph Brodsky
CEO Apple Tim Cook says “hate and division” have no place on his platform. Because I’m sure if Apple owned LinkedIn, they’d ban all IT recruiter hate speech in a nano- second. Because IOS developers who work for Apple love being hit on by dumb jocks recruiters at work, who played Lacrosse at Penn State. Knowing no noise cancellation headphone phones could ever tune out the muffled, maudlin cry of their scar tissue shrouded teenage hearts.
Hate and division have no place on I-Tune’s Platform. Then, why is Bill Hicks entire stand-up comedy library still available on it? Bill Hicks, the greatest standup of his generation oozed hate because the majority of America didn’t recognize his awesome hilariousness. Only after getting sober and moving to England did Bill Hicks get the extreme praise he deserved. But hatred for being a single, unknown, paid road comic clown who could out funny think George Carlin any day of the week wasn’t bothered by his lack of mainstream success one bit. Bill Hicks was just peachy about David Brenner doing Carson 5 million times from free riff, non-establishment airplane humor compared to his bit on abortion protestors on Letterman. Which never made it past CBS advertisers. Who killed any shot of the bit making Bill Hick’s career come to life on Letterman after all.
Hate is what made Bill Hick’s material great. George Bernard Shaw, Nobel Prize winner for Literature last time I checked, said, “Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.” Just to be clear, I don’t toss around the word hate lightly. I explain to my 7-year-old daughter Matilda what hatred means to daddy over breakfast this morning. Because I overshare too much and hold my daughter to a higher social standard than ANTIFA.
I talk to my daughter Matilda and down to her. And do everything in my power to develop Matilda’s own expressive confidence in her own ideas. So, she doesn’t flee for LA at 17 and regress into a Fallen Angel content with finding somebody to just love her body alone because I made her feel her brain was never enough to keep dada’s attention in the 1st place.
As my daughter takes a bite of Stew Leonard’s Chocolate Chip toaster made waffle. I test out my new premise on her.
“Don’t let anyone tell you different Matilda. Hate is good. How else would you know how much you hate Agave Syrup if you never tasted pure Maple Syrup from Vermont?”
She replies. “I agree daddy. Hate is good. Because without hate, I’d never realize how much I love my teachers reading voice over yours. Especially, after you read me direct quotes from boring Nobel Prize winners like Joseph Brodsky. Mrs. Donofrio’s reading is way more interesting because she assumes the personalities of the different characters, she reads to us about. Can you please just read me some of your jokes instead? But spare me more jokes. Where you have to explain what Private Equity, Firms do and who the Illuminati is in order to understand the joke, thanks. But how is hate good again dada? Untangle my brain for me please.

I reply. “Hate is anger, filled annoyance or outright sheer, heart enraging disgust. For example, Daddy learning from mama about Baba picking out only pillows from Pottery Barn for Arthur’s birthday gift registry because they’re the cheapest items on it. And daddy hates it when your younger brother continues to receive second rate gifts on his birthday from Baba. Especially knowing how Arthur was born on New Year’s Day. So, Baba unloads her cheapness into one combined Christmas Birthday Pillow gift for him without losing any sleep over it.
Is hate and division the reason my Do It All Dad Year Podcast never made it on I-Tune’s new and notable Tim? Was I being divisive when I kidded on my podcast about how I took offense to my wife calling me sexist for making fun of Chelsea Clinton? Because she’s not even ugly anymore. Or was I hater for insisting Chelsea Handler is a way bigger Twitter twat than Alyssa Milano. Who became a full-time social justice warrior to deflect attention away from her tits sagging popularity. Joan lives.
Peter Fonda stated fantasies of Baron Trump being raped in a cell on Twitter, yet he never got his account suspended, paging fake news moralist Twitter CEO, Jack Dorsey. So, is it really hate speech to call Peter Fonda a burnout has been? Whose been in permanent meltdown mode since America as a whole decided Baby Boomer Mom, Hillary doesn’t know best. Is it hateful to point out how Hillary Hammer Time Cankles lost touch with the working man by taking 5 times to get her Metro Subway card to work? By the 5th swipe, Hillary gives herself a pep talk. “No more coughing fits of nervousness. Black people are watching. You can do it.”
I know I’m not the only one who hates the moral grandstanding, hypocritical nature of the big three, Apple, Twitter and Facebook in relation to being so called protectors of hate speech. Farrakhan has an app on the I-Tunes store Tim. You know the class act who calls all Jews termites and hailed Hitler as a “great man.” But my dad friendly, Do It All Dad Year podcast is considered hate speech because I claim the Swastika looks like 2 gay Nazi stick figures in a 69 on crystal meth?
I worked as an IT headhunter for the majority of my young adult life. But without hating my parasite existence. Feasting off the bankable brain talent of others. I never would’ve latched on to writing scripts, blogs and jokes as a means to achieve independence from such a thankless, time wasting, non-builder existence.

Hate is good because if I didn’t have the experience of trying to launch my own creative tech staffing agency from home after getting fired from Robert Half. I never would’ve realized I hated relinquishing so much control over my destiny to unproven, douchebag tech founders. Who on LinkedIn are only searchable under the name Diesel. Which is more tailor made for standalone placement of a license plate on a tricked-out Honda in Daytona Beach.

Hate is good because it reveals the root of your misery. 9 out of 10 Stay at Home Dads want out of the house if someone looks past their gaps of wrath. Because they’ve grown to hate being a dependent, talked down to, house maid bitchy boy. Because no matter how progressive minded, or evolved workings moms proclaim to be. There reaches a resentment point in the relationship. Where the working moms dismiss their stay at home shemale hubs as mere dead weight. Because working moms tire of having to lean in and do all the money making themselves. Plus, the working mom is less risk averse in the bedroom when stay at home dad is choking her too hard financially already.

Hate is good because it forces the stay at home dad to become best friends with self-awareness. Which helps stay at home dad determine a course of action to ensure less of the same old shit. In my case, I’ve decided to write a best-selling parenting book about how Stay at Home Dads get no respect because Rodney Dangerfield would’ve insisted on it. Plus, Rodney didn’t relaunch his standup comedy career and become committed to making a career off his standup till he was 43. At 42, I’ve chosen to innovate or die as big deal 1st time author through my fatherhood book debut, Stay at Home Comedian, Controlling My Kids with Comedy, How 3 Kids Got My Act Together.
Prior, to going all in on his stand-up comedy career, Rodney sold aluminum siding to feed and care for his family. I used to peddle and sell the brain power of IT nerds for a living. Rodney stockpiled jokes in duffle bags during his aluminum siding sales years. Whereas, I stashed my material onto my do it all dad year podcast and now blog. But Rodney needed a home base to test new material after being offered a residency in Vegas. Because Rodney wanted to be an involved, around do it all dad for his daughter in Manhattan.
Rodney didn’t have a real affectionate relationship with his dad. So, he pursed the love from strangers for a living. My dad hasn’t called me on my birthday for 2 years straight. Plus, the last time I celebrated by birthday in Arizona with my parents. My dad’s shoulders collapsed in unison as I went in for a birthday hug. So, I can identify with the caring compulsion to connect, move and entertain strangers with my comedy and writing similar to Rodney. But without hate introducing me to my new pal Mr. Self-Awareness. Resulting from learning how much I hated having an identify defined by making a living off the talent of others as an IT recruiter. I never would’ve been propelled down this path of independence from the man and gone into business for myself as book author on rise, in charge of my own destiny, self-published or not.

Hate is good because it instructs you on what people to avoid, especially your past degenerate, druggy, reckless self. Who paid the price by contracting foot fungus from stepping foot into the showers of LA Fitness in West Hollywood barefoot one too many times.

Hate is good because becoming comfortably numb doesn’t look like an attractive alternative when Pink overdoses from Heroin induced indifference during the rendition of Hey You in Pink Floyd the Wall.

Hate is good because it’s a killer motivator for exacting, follow through, all encompassing revenge in Kill Bill 1 and 2.

Hate is good because it pushes your imagination to produce misery eliminating alternatives such as resisting the desire to ever express a pro Trump sentiment in your household again. Especially when your wife’s remaining friends are over.

Hate is good because it forces you to work harder at being more impressive than your edgeless competition. Who uses his wife to punch up his jokes about his proud defense of McDonald’s for him.

Hate is good because it emancipates you from bad habits such as clogging up your brain with too much dull braining resin fumes from your cherished ex one hitter. Because now you care more about being getting high off your kids’ company as a best-selling author instead. Officially, closing the chapter off your IT recruiter past for good. Proving to yourself, you’re no longer a mere schmuck in a headset. Which isn’t as bad as unemployed stay at home comedian.

The End,
Michael Kornbluth

Loved 9 Times 2 Babe

Daddy, what’s DNA? Not enough for a jury to declare OJ guilty beyond reasonable doubt.

I sacrificed my career to become a mother. So now, VP Pence has control over your Fallopian Tubes?

I only have this Menorah.
It looks like my starter weed bowl in high school, no offense.
Don’t worry, my daughter did the intro for my podcast episode, My Weed Exit Interview.

I love your va va voom Marilyn Monroe Doll. It’s almost life size.
Once, my son points at a picture of Marilyn in my old office while I’m changing him. He says Mama? I say, I wish.

Owner laughs longtime.

That Menorah isn’t for sale.
Really, did George Soros call dibs on it on already?

Your girl can’t stand on the chair.
Its’ a he. And he flings 5 pound free weights like Pistachio nuts. Would you tell a budding Bruce Jenner to sit on her ass?

Perfect gay husband qualifier.
Buy yourself a pink vibrator ladies. And if your husband only shows interest in manhandling it, after telling Alexa to turn your smart bulb on Lexington Steele black.

Me explaining the meaning of Chanukah to my kids.
A miracle is faith rewarded in believing and acknowledging the fact they don’t happen without God’s blessed, divine intervention powered assistance.

I sample a Lena Dunham joke at a book store. Worker says. I’m not amused. You should try that one at an open mike? I say. I bet you have Google alerts set for Marc Maron’s  stories about his cats.

Does the Obama doll talk?
Toy Store Worker
Only in Europe these days since the blue wave turned into a severe case of blue balls.

I don’t hate people. I hate unearned, bitch face arrogance, especially if you sport a beard. Never been #shadowbanned, kill on stage or closed a deal off an initial cold call in your life because you’re a gun shy, ineffectual pussy.

Self Awareness is rare.
Tell that to Baby Boomers who still spend more time with Don Lemon’s fluttering lisp over the warm butterflies in their belly feeling from playing with their 3 grandchildren.

At 42 with 3 kids,  a standard egg and cheese and regular slice are off the list. I feel like George McFly never graduating past his menial, bottom of the food chain, never living free of fear or poverty of spirit existence.

Girls on bikes in Finland.
New Bud
You have no idea. They’re totally hairless.
Chin Hair plucking wives are the worst, especially when their blond hair is blinded under the bar lights when you 1st met.

College Bud
Sad, George HW Bush passed.
I’m sure Obama’s pouring out a Bud Light in his honor to Boyz to Men as we speak. Crooning, it’s so hard to say goodbye to his default Bush blaming years of yesterday

Sad, George HW passed. Look, I got emotional when he got wheeled out for the Super Bowl. But this was before I learned his father was a Nazi profiteer. Forget, losing to Clinton which gave us Hillary and Russia our Uranium. And John Podesta a pool party pass.

Why won’t Michelle Obama run for President? I thought her husband called Michelle the closer. Oh, that’s right, Obama’s nicknames don’t mean anything or offer any real world substance in reality like calling ISIS JV monster killers.

That Menorah isn’t for sale.
What if told you I worked for the Clinton Foundation.
I’d say, you had less call in favor power now than papa Bush.

I sample a Lena Dunham joke at a book store. Worker says. I’m not amused. You should try that one at an open mike? I say. The world is my stage you sackless, no personality twerp. You still work in a book store Cold Spring correct? Just checking.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a wife who always drank good beer over overpriced wine? Because stated concerns of beer making her bloaty never touch thy lips because she’s religiously married to her rock solid core exercise regimen. I’m just a dreamer. Who dreams of better days, oh yeah!


I sacrificed my career to become a mother. I wouldn’t call wining and dining doctors as a pharma sales rep a career. You were a glamorized, white collar drug pusher with an expense account at best.

I sacrificed my social life to become a mom. Stop acting like your boring friends in marketing we’re such interesting company to begin with, past flashing their semi-attractive feet in flip flops on casual Friday.

Catch and release makes less sense than letting the Podesta brothers order in Pizza for your Super Bowl Party.

Sad, George HW passed. Then, you won’t get out of bed. When John Brennan is locked up in Gitmo for sedition. Fantasizing about the good old days. Sniffing Obama’s Birkenstock’s after Obama’s casual bike rides with Reggie Love in Martha’s Vineyard.

Obama’s statement on Bush.
Without his fuck up son, I never would’ve been groomed as a doable replacement. Or scored a Netflix deal for Ben Rhodes writing my say nothing, do nothing speeches discarding ISIS as JV Terror mongers.

That menorah isn’t for sale.
Is that where George Soros hides the key to his safety deposit box in Switzerland?

Hey Twitter, is this joke anti-Trump enough for you? Melania’s red Christmas Trees look like Paul Bunyan got corn holed by sitting on them all after standing on line all day to get into a Trump rally because it hurt so good.

I come back from a beard trim. My 3 kids bum rush me in the car, the second I arrive. Obviously, I’m beyond touched by the gesture. Still, I’m fuming knowing mama was boring them to death. What husband wouldn’t be empathetic?

You know you’re pissing off the right people at Twitter. When you start a new account for the 17th time to get out of #shadowbanned jail. And still have your account frozen before you’ve even fired off your 1st tweet.

Do It All Dad Advice
Kid Rock said son, I can give you a blank check, but that won’t do you any good. What he meant by this, is prolonged dependence hampers your ability to dream bigger than your controlled circumstance dictates.

College friend not sounding flattering. I’m envious of you having a wife and a family. Don’t get me wrong I think your wife is alright. But why haven’t I got married? Because you didn’t let your parents buy your girlfriend an engagement ring.

I deliver a Lena Dunham joke. Bookstore attendant says. I’m not amused. I say, no offense but out of my 5 million jokes, I wasn’t expecting a Lena Dunham one to get me on Kimmel.

I sacrificed my career for motherhood. Resent your kids more, despite them injecting your life with more meaning and divine connective tissue than your excel spreadsheets on data mining for Target ever did babe.

We’re going to give daddy alone to get some work done.
Because mommy only feels 2 hours is enough to write query letters, blogs & complete manuscripts during the days she’s around to entertain and teach her children well.

7 Year Old Daughter
Can we call Grandpa?
It’s a Saturday Night.
And he’ll feel weird during the call when he’s got no excuse to be home on a Saturday night beside Baba resting her bum knee from couch plopping, atrophy.

Daddy, what’s the Bible? A book of laws communicated from God to Moses. Whose Moses? A stuttering Jew who came through. But he wasn’t nearly as putzy as his assistant Joshua. He dropped God’s tablet commandments. That’s your DNA in a nutshell.

15 years later Hebrew Hammer is still funny. Understand, the shtick is a tad redundant but Adam Goldberg is still hilarious in it. Stay Jewish kid destroyed me. Daughter laughed at Jewish Justice League, priceless.

Why my wife sucks sometimes. Hey, babe, The Good Men Project is going to republish 18 of my blog pieces. What are they paying you for it? Less than your parents give us, so nothing.


Michael Kornbluth

What’s My Blog About Rapewood?

It’s about an ex pot head lost boy who found his mojo as a stay at home dad comedian.

It’s about falling for fatherhood hard and rising from slug to stud as a paid remote American writer on the rise.

It’s about proving I can deliver the funny and heart on both the universal and topical better than most.

It’s about showcasing my Neil Young productivity and Metallica brooding intensity.

It’s about not sounding too rehearsed or sounding too formulaic like every other jerkoff on the Twitter-Verse.

It’s about mining for comedy gold and exercising my freedom of speech, so my wife no longer treats me like such a treacherous leach.

It’s about getting laughs from strangers which is what comedians live to do but I have 3 kids now. So chasing down open mikes in the city aren’t as easy to do.

It’s about promoting the benefits of attachment parenting. Which is turning your bed into a 24/7 open milk bar. But my kids complexions glow as opposed to other kids who look like they took a load to the face with Elmer’s Glue gun so far.

It’s about calling out fake news racist charges against President Trump. Unlike Obama, he never drank, smoked or did bumps.

It’s about becoming a voice for the remote work revolution and stay at home dads who get less respect than IT recruiters.

It’s about doing my own version of Charles Bukowski’s zero bullshit poetic prose, Thomas Paine’s freedom of speech loving verse and Walt Whitman’s making love to the world through words.

It’s about becoming an unplanned parent of 3 and how it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

It’s about writing the funniest parenting book ever about working remote, falling for fatherhood and controlling my kids through comedy.

It’s about recycling my jokes on Twitter which shadow bans my material every time I get on another hot streak which has been 2 years straight.

It’s more than just a creative outlet babe. It’s the greatest do it all dad show on earth.  But I’m glad you’re making tomato soup grill cheese sandwiches with your boyfriend now to reduce your combined girth.

It’s not about bashing whitey because that’s more played than dedicating the song, We Won’t Get Fooled Again to the Clinton Foundation at the only local Karaoke bar in Hatti.

It’s not about getting noticed by a Creative Director in Manhattan for a Copywriter job anymore.

It’s not about just complaining about my parents abandoning me for Scottsdale, Arizona 350 days a year with 3 grandchildren back east with me.

It’s not about just entertaining myself or my own ego enlargement purposes although more likes than usual helps.

It’s about figuring out what writer I want to be.

It’s about writing my way into your heart, not whether I come across as a notch above learning disabled smart.

It’s about minimizing my intense, aggressive, NY asshole aura by emoting about how wonderful my children are and how much they adore me instead.

It’s about taking my writing career more seriously than ever. And revealing more about myself than my predominant tendency to bludgeon your ears to death with clever.

It’s about becoming an important voice for Gen X Dads. Who in the age of Meto, care about preserving their nads.

It’s about becoming a voice for do it all dad’s who don’t get enough props, who need me time entertainment to enjoy with their IPA hops.

It’s about I how I have to become a parenting author because capturing voices is my forte and getting inside my children’s is the most fulfilling form of child’s play.

The End


Michael Kornbluth


Jay Z and My Wife Ruining Everything

Wife reveals our new smart bulb lamp.
Alexa turn me on with Bordello Red.
You ruin everything.
Now we can turn our bedroom into the red light district in Amsterdam to spice things up.

Yesterday my wife says, you can’t disparage stay at home moms.
I say. But I’m not married to your mother.
She was a hairdresser for a day before becoming an insufferable, stay at home blob.
Who makes potato dumplings for Church, whoopty doo.

Blog Title Ideas for a post about stay at home moms being sacred cows.
Stay At Home Dad vs. Homemaker Cow Moms
Comedians Live To Take Down Scared Cows
Milking Sacred Cows For Funny To Feed My Family
Baby boy points at an onion and says eye.
We must shoot our father and son cooking show pilot today Chef Samuels.
Who else is saying I got something in my eye ? Except Hillary’s Campaign Advisers on election night.

I love Journey but listening to Steve Perry’s new album on Spotify this morning made me feel like a gimpy, eunuch sentimentalist from Game of Thrones, minus the ability to get over my age of innocence already.

Expected Holiday Confrontation
I say to my dad. Funnier dad, happier baby. He says, not funny. I say my childhood photos were nothing to laugh about. Apparently, my smile had no muscle memory whatsoever.

Today is the 30th Anniversary of World Aids Day. In related news, it also marks my 30th anniversary of being sacred to death of bare backing with strangers since I sprouted pubes under my Fruit of the Looms.

Blog title idea for what my blog’s about for Hollywood.
What’s My Blog About Rapewood?
Resist This
Upstaging Your Wife Is Good
My Kids Loving Me the Most
Kids Need Dad Around More
Dads Are Stronger Cheerleaders

I kill for 3 minutes straight with my baby boy with me.
Are you a Comedian?
You think I’m grabbing gold like this out of thin air?
You think I’m a medium for dead dad comedians like George Carlin?

Customer 1 laughs long time. Got an impromptu round of applause from the cashier, customer 1 and 2 which was a 1st.

My 4 year old son taking no shit from big sis.
Dada, I’ll show my picture to Matilda. It will make her so jealous.
Big Sis says meh. I can do better. Son barks back. Do it then. I’m still waiting. I could’ve drawn a cheetah surfing with Bob Marley and the Wailers on top of a great white already.

Kayne West addressing Jay Z in a response rap.

I don’t worship fake idols like your boy Obama.
He nuke gifted the 1 sponsor of terror like a modern day Osama.
I don’t worship fake idols like your boy Obama.
He let ISIS slaughter Christians and disgraced his mama.
Trump pardoned Alice Johnson after Kim’s plea. I’m free from your label now, you Suge Knight wannabe.
Trump pledges to turn around our inner cities.
You peddle more trash about being 2nd best to Biggie.
You’re with fake news fro Kaepernick, I’m with Jim Brown. 1 ruined the NFL, the other reforms gang banger browns.
Give it up Jay. Your time has passed.
The world no longer cares about your New Jack Hustler past.
Give it up Jigga, your time has passed.
History will remember you as the rapper who campaigned for Hillary’s satanic past.
You salute to black power on SNL.
Yet give no money to crack babies you pushed into premature hell.

Seinfeld Segway Lightner
Sending myself emails gives me a buzzy sense of self-importance.

The End


Michael Kornbluth





But Walt Whitman Self-Published


What’s Latin Daddy? And don’t tell me Bob Dylan was in the Latin Club again.

He’s the only songwriter to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.


I want to punch you in the face so bad right now. And for the record, Warren Zevon sounds like The Last Unicorn.
But seriously daddy, why do I have to take Latin again? My Colombian friend Shannon told me Latin is old school white privilege English. I say. You try seducing Cleopatra with limericks in Yiddish. And see how that materializes for you.

New Intro for Do It All Dad Year Podcast EP54 “My Cubicle Resistance”
I’m a Spiritual Medium Comedian for voiceless, dead man dads. Today, I’m visited by Lenny Bruce, doing my act, because I passed his hack free seal of approval.

Won’t self-publishing a book cost money?
Stay At Home Comedian
Hush, let me finish.
I’ve been patient for 10 years.
Stay At Home Comedian
Whistling like Axl Rose helps.

Rocky 3 proves flailing blocked hay-makers, compared to improved, balletic, ducking and weaving in ring ain’t nothing.

I was ready for our sex date after tucking in the kids. But you went to sleep on me on the couch before they did.
You seemed angry with me.
Your soggy sage pesto didn’t help. And I’m so horny. I’d French Kiss Julia Child.

Crazy Good Dada
School Lunches Deconstructed
Cafeteria ban is in full effect. Thank God. Don’t these moms have anything else better to do than hang out with their boring kids for lunch? I guess mommy blogger meetups have limited appeal after all.

Won’t self-publishing a book cost money?
Stay At Home Comedian
Walt Whitman self-published Leaves of Grass.
Your faith left in your husband making a star studded dent in this universe is less than blue ball season on Neptune.

Crazy Good Dada Lunch Continued
Today, I learned Brooke’s name is actually Brooklyn. She’s like a mini Lena Dunham. Brooke’s parents just signed her up for horse riding lessons. Now Brooke breath, identifies herself as a self-involved, know it all twat.

I’d rather hear the Muslim call to prayer in my own home than hear my stuck up English mother in law say Christmas on our Alexa speakers at full blast. Because at least the Muslim call to prayer never sounds gratingly generic.

Daddy, what does Zen mean? It’s a school of Buddhism that teaches you to use meditation for enlightenment. What’s enlightenment? The opposite of being an all over the place Jew. You’re not very good at meditation yet, are you Dada?


Michael Kornbluth


My Cubicle Resistance

My boy screams. Mom says. “If you won’t brush your teeth, I will.” I say. “Or you’ll turn get ready for bed into a wall of cacophony sound. Like when Lana Clarkson told Phil Spector the Ronettes were high maintenance whiny Jews in weaves.”

Opening line for my personal essay about my old school cubicle resistance.
I want to work from home as a stay at home comedian paid writer because I’m better at empowering and entertaining than my wife is. And my kids take pride in who I am.

What’s the secret to keeping my marriage together? Making fearless, non-negotiable demands like insisting my wife deal with lumpy, batter tits until she finds a replacement for her Handmaid’s Tale bra giveaways on Amazon Prime.

This is the 1st year your parents didn’t send me a birthday card.
My mom was busy planning Jonathan’s 2nd engagement in 2 years for his big year, big year.

Pedo Jeffrey Epstein invited Bill Clinton to visit his virgin Island 20 more times than my parents invited my family to visit them in Scottsdale, Arizona. When they pay for you to visit on demand once a year, it doesn’t quantify as an invite does it?

Drop off my son with his teacher.
I knew it was going to snow. So much for mama being a nature love child in tune with the Rainforest.

Son’s teacher laughs long time.

Me turning my daughter on to Ecstasy unintentionally.
Ecstasy is ingenious marketing actually because your friends will say. Are you an anti-joy Republican? Ecstasy feels like a fairy tingles your spine with a feather from Pocahontas’s Head Dress.

New Chapter Title Ideas about the birth of my 3 kids.
Birth of an another American Beauty
F You Dad Baby
Birth of a God Loving Humanist

Personal essay title options about re-raising myself as a classical baby schooled in classic American literature and white European composer music.

The Latin Club
Reincarnating Myself as a Classical Baby
From Hendrix to Mahler

What’s Shadow Banning?
Big Tech suppressing pro-American content by banning your words or blocking their visibility because the fake news moralist nerd overlords of Silicon Valley sold their souls to communist controlled China and the Kennedy Killers.

Enough with investigations into Facebook’s knowledge of Russian election interference. Get answers on why they haven’t banned ANTIFA, or hate speech incarnate Farrakhan from the site yet insist on Diamond and Silk being the real menace to society. Nino Brown from New Jack City was a menace to society. Diamond and Silk are De La Soul in comparison Zit Face Zuck.

Luck eludes me like hangtime, no matter how I hard I try to move on up, to the stars.  I meet a former CIO of Nokia. He wants to do an interview on my Podcast yet he doesn’t know if he has Skype. So much for pumping Dino for an open job to fill and putting my old school IT recruiter hat on to feed my family, unbelievable.

Don Draper genius on display at Stop and Shop with my son. I pick up foot fungus cream before taking in the condom section to feel like a total scumbag inside and out. Jealous rage swims within me when I see. Skyn Condom, “Feel Everything.” If this isn’t the Devil tempting you to cheat on your girlfriend or wife to ensure the least collateral damage, I don’t know what is.

Personal essay title about getting a reluctant Vascetomy.
Sperm Implanter or Sperm Terminator?
Pulling the Plug on My Life Shooter
But 4 Kids Would Really Piss My Parents Off

How do I control my kids with my comedy? I tell them if they don’t let daddy get work done, I’ll get a sales job in the city, do open mikes after work and they’ll never see me again. Works every time because they’re in love with my company naturally.

The End


Michael Kornbluth

The Productive Stoner

I always wanted to be a functional pothead. But I had to stop trying 3 kids later.  I gave it my best shot. Don’t think I’m quitter.

7 years ago, my wife barges into our 1 bedroom apartment bathroom on a Friday night in a whirlwind of presumptive disgust because I was enjoying myself a tad too much as our 3 year old splashed in the bubble. And sang with me as we crooned with soul stirring,  shimmering glee to Bob Marley’s evil spirit conquering Duppy Conqueror. Understand, I puffed a one hitter in the bathroom with the window open before I got my daughter situated in there which got me feeling extra loose. Now, my wife barges through the bathroom door unannounced. Shoots off a final judgement hate stare in my direction and says with frothy, damnation dispiritedness. “You’re such a stoner.” Before slamming the bathroom door coming off the hinges.  Next my 4 year old daughter, Matilda, Singing Rose Kornbluth says. “Daddy, you’re not a stoner. You’re a rock star.” I say. “You’re right, Matilda. Because stoners aren’t doers and daddy is a doer. Granted, I haven’t done mommy since her birthday last year but that’s besides the point.”

So do I still smoke some weed? Squeeze in a puff of Florida Crippy’s for old times sake to celebrate writing the 1st draft of a new TV pilot like I did for my past creations including Don’t Laugh I Live Newark, Mr. Right and Mike Mates? I’m strong at banging out headline hookers I know. But no, I haven’t smoked the scrumptious, crystal specked green supreme goodness in 4 months now I think. Could be longer. So much for my short-term memory bouncing back with palpable, reverberating vengeance since my past podcast goodbye to my pothead plagued past in Episode 43 My Weed Exit Interview, on my Do It All Dad Year Podcast. I had my daughter do the intro for it. “Funnier, dad, happier baby, and I’m living proof of it. Can I get a Challah for some Challah?”

Ok, so back to the million dollar question, what drove me to take a permanent vacation from what I perceived as my best bud till my daughter Matilda was born? For starters, 3 kids later, I could no longer afford to feel like a bigger moron than I already feel around my comedic genius daughter. She’s a math nerd also which is a tad annoying. It got to the point, where I was disgusted at my belabored, ad lib replies to her super deep, out of nowhere questions about God.  My daughter asks. “So Daddy, if God created the Universe, then who created God?” I say. “God, went back in time in a Time Machine made by Elon Musk.” Daughter says. “Real convincing Dada. Thanks for making me an Atheist at 4.” The joke doesn’t work as good if she says 6.

When you stop smoking weed after you’ve been a Stoner for 2 decades in a row, you start remembering your dreams because they’re so vivid crazy homes. You think you’ve been blackout drunk your entire waking life prior. What I’ve noticed in these dreams is old buds resurface. Who I’d either get stoned with or drunk with. But any semblance of a sturdier, brotherly bond past getting fucked up together, disintegrates under the unflinching, murky, glare of my dream undertow. Where old buds appear emotionless within the shadowy corners of my subconscious, REM catching up mind man.

I also compared my joke retweet stats on Twitter when I took an extended break on weed prior to my podcast Weed Exit Interview episode and was disgusted at the sobering statistical illumination revelation. I banged out almost ten times as many jokes off the weed than on it. Plus, my jokes on weed in comparison sounded like the dull minded, dim witted, dead brained drippings of a mentally strained douche-bag.


Trump has produced around 38,000 tweets compared to my 40,000 plus from my past. Proving native New Yorker’s hailing from Queens don’t have a hard time expressing themselves or ever run out of colorful things to say. At the same time, this doesn’t mean I’ve had burnout induced moments in my 20’s and 30’s when I was an awful communicative stoner, which haunt me till this day.

Once, I was cold calling a VP of Engineering as an IT Recruiter, doing new business development in Manhattan for a staffing company in One Penn Plaza right above MSG. And I could barely state my own full name clearly and at this point I only had 36 years of practice. “Hi, my name is Michael Kornbababluth, from Adam Jacobs & Associates. “Struggling with your own name I see” the VP of Engineering said with relished glee.

My own father stopped smoking weed after he met my mom in college. It was a deal breaker for her. Once, I recall watching the Knicks my Senior Year in High School when I started smoking plenty of weed after school from the Bronx, the cheap, sprayed kind that tastes like Windex. So I’m watching the game with my dad and out of nowhere my dad says with all knowing, dour disdain, “You’re not speaking well.” Translation, you’re smoking too much weed and you’re a learning disabled kid who didn’t crack a 1000 on his SAT’s. You’re not Bob Dylan, moron.

I always wanted to be a functional pothead. Getting my TV writing gig at VH1 Classic for Americas Hard 100, which was 12 years in the making felt great. Especially after I rose to the occasion and proved to myself I could get a high stakes writing job done well with all eyez on me pressure. I got stoned solo to celebrate in Manhattan off my prized one hitter and took a soulful, money, money, cocksure stroll from Times Square to my favorite craft brew bar in Manhattan on 10th Avenue to extend my feel good party in my honor. But then, I’m at the bar, being non-predatory flirty, feeling like a married slut in a straight jacket. Acting nervous around woman at the bar because I feel guilty about being free of my 3 year old girl for once and that was before my other 2 kids were born.

I continued to get high off the extra good green after becoming a dad because it still brought me pleasure and it helped my brain chill at night when I’d squeeze in a hit away from kids after dinner around 7. I’d love listening to the Grateful Dead, Europe 72 on it or Hair Metal ballads by Warrant, especially while reading new jokes of mine which come alive off the page a bit more on it. Plus, my evening reading performances for my kids in bed were more spontaneous fun for both the kids and me. Reality is though, weed is a poor man’s substitute for the American Hustler search and destroy, kill um all mentality  I needed to embody to become a major comedy success in this universe and continued weed use burns out my full throttle flame of creativity before I can take it even higher. I justified my weed use for long because I’d use the weed as a reward for getting a new script or blog done, but that’s a limited way of thinking, especially knowing, how I’m scheduling myself to be less productive the day after I get blazed.

My wife’s worse nightmare was me being stoned at night once she was in labor with our 3 child Samuel Teddy.  The birth of Samuel pushed me past my obsession with fulfilling all my self-serving needs. 14 months later I became determined to love myself better and be the healthier, wiser, friskier, funnier Dad provider my family of 5 needed me to be. Now, I’m pushing myself to maximize my time on this earth to make it as a writer on the rise after all. One my 3 kids can be proud of past their adoration of dad because they’re not teenagers in love with anyone else but me yet.

My book Stay At Home Comedian is a love letter about how my 3 kids finally got my act together. It’s a self-improvement story about how my 3 kids inspired me to replace bad habits with good habits. It’s a humor book about parenting, modern fatherhood and controlling my kids through comedy as a stay at home comedian podcast host blogger who works from home  It’s a memoir about my unusual artist family and how my kids have made me a better friend, husband, patriot, writer, leader and comedian.  Last night, my daughter asks. “Are you getting close to finishing your humor book on fatherhood, Stay At Home Comedian yet daddy? When you start selling copies of it through Amazon Kindle and at Barnes and Noble, I can call you a real artist because real art sells, right Dada?” I say. “I liked it better when you called me a rock star instead. Richard Belzer called all comedians frustrated rock stars at heart.”

The End


Michael Kornbluth





Best Bud Sarah Silverman Never Had

You know God loves you when your kids play with your fungus covered feet. Seeing past your impurities. My 2 boys know to wear new flip flops every time they step foot in the men’s showers at LA Fitness in West Hollywood.

My 1st dad moment was yelling at my wife for tramp stamping my 5 year old daughter with fake tattoos seconds before our 1st Winter Ball Dance together. I yell. Take them off. My daughters adds. Yeah, now I can’t be buried in a fake Jewish Cemetery.

My 2nd dad moment was saying no fairy wings on Matilda after my wife’s best friend gave them to her for Christmas. Matilda looks like an overdose at the Lime Light waiting to happen. Especially, at the rate she pounds seltzer at home these days.

Dads are stronger cheerleaders than moms. My wife says it’s because we live in a Patriarchal society. I say. I thought it was because our kids cared more about my opinions. Plus, growing up don’t act like you cared more about impressing your knife chucking mother babe.

I still struggle with saying patriarchal society without stuttering it out. I’m convinced Virginia Wolf willed the word into popular culture so men would sound dumber Jersey like than usual.

Sarah Silverman doesn’t think the President is mature yet still takes bong hits in a hoodie way past 40. Plus, I don’t recall Sarah Silverman outgrowing her truly tasteless, alternative jokes phase either.

Life Is Worth Losing is worth revisiting for hard core George Carlin fans. Carlin is sober and sharper than ever. Plus, darker is funnier and George Carlin achieves stand-up nirvana on this HBO special with The Suicide Guy. He really was the best. Plus, George Carlin’s rape jokes were vastly superior to Sarah and felt far less forced rapey.

Opening line for my new book chapter “Puff, Puff, Pass”, about passing on being a pothead, only 3 kids later. I always wanted to be a functional pothead.

Option 2 for an opening line for my new book chapter “Puff, Puff, Pass”, about passing on being a pothead, only 3 kids later. Weed was my best bud till I had Matilda.

My 7-Year-Old Daughter on Adam Levine. He sounds like he stole Michael Jackson’s voice. In case you’re wondering, we were listening to the song Gotten on Slash’s debut album, Slash. You’re welcome. Fergie, Chris Cornell, Kid Rock all shine on it.

George Soros calling Roger Waters.

George Soros
Can you supply the caravan with free I Phones with 1 song on it each?
Roger Waters
Tear down the wall, got it.
I’m only doing this because you know how awful Israelis are to Palestinians.

Day 5, free from beer Matilda. It will sound weird when I say day 28.


I know.  You’ve never even made it to double digits.


Michael Kornbluth