Tag: bigtech

Kosher Klaus Sushi

by doitalldadyear, posted in books, culture, fiction

Once upon a time, there was a Kosher sushi chef prodigy, Art Show USA, who opened Kosher Klaus Sushi on Christmas Eve in 1994 before the Internet became mainstream and Asian elite Yelpers went hog wild.  Kosher Klaus Sushi was located in the heart of Scarsdale Village, and earned immediate rave reviews in the Scarsdale Inquirer from local food critic Debbie Wasserman, who described Art Show’s mind-blowing specialty roll creations as, “Orgasmic before they reach the back of your throat good.”  

            What made Art Show unique, outside of his unmatched imaginative heft and juggling sushi knifework at the bar, were his God-given star-powered looks, which commanded legions of groupie Yentas to schlep from the far reaches of Long Island to wait in line in the dead of winter just to catch a glance of the new age pretty boy/badass sushi chef through the window, cranking out one swoon-worthy, inhalatory sushi specialty roll after the next like his signature one, Living On The Edgemont Edge, which had smoked salmon, cream cheese, capers, and caramelized shallots throughout, to inject an extra special loaded lift.   

            Every day, Art Show USA would sharpen his sushi knives together (made from Israeli steel, used in bulletproof vests made for their special force’s unit, Mossad), which would woo with sparkly, dazzling delight as patrons at the Kosher Klaus Sushi Bar gave impromptu standing ovations throughout.  

            Art Show USA was a 6 foot 4, spikey blond-haired, blue-eyed, lean, mean, sushi-slicing machine who made Tom Cruise (from the movie Cocktail) look like a stumpy, homely hobbit hipster hack, in comparison, regardless of whether he kept his rolled-up-sleeve button shirt tucked in or not.   

            But, one day, a bunch of rowdy Irish wiggers entered Kosher Klaus Sushi to track down a hot yenta breath from Syosset, Long Island’s Rachel Weinstein, who rocked swinging booby beauties (36 Ds, to be exact), who was also a solid 5 foot 9, making her mountable from behind, standing up (assuming you weren’t a stumpy Irishman, unlucky in the height department).   

            Rachel was a full-lipped, Sephardic Persian, tan, busty beauty. Even Roger Waters from Pink Floyd would pulverize her fetching snatch until he was comfortably numb.  The leader of the wigger Irish pack was Liam O’Reilly, who sported a Newport cigarette tattoo on his esophagus (which scared off most, but not Art Show USA).

            Art Show USA got a black belt in judo by the time he was 13, for his Bar Mitzvah. For Art Show’s Bar Mitzvah Party, he played ‘Siamese Dream’ by the Smashing Pumpkins on the guitar with his feet and teeth.  So, Art Show USA never sweated the prospect of losing a fight or a girl to an Irish wigger moron from Long Island, who thought that stamping a permanent Newport cigarette tattoo on his esophagus was a bright idea, regardless of whether it ensured him a truck driver job for Killan’s Red or not.

            Liam and his crew of Irish wiggers came down from Long Island to start a fight with Art Show USA because they attended the same high school as Rachel Weinstein, and only had eyes for inhaling her whole. Plus, they weren’t enthralled with Rachel wearing an underground-circulated hoodie with a picture of Art Show USA on it, who was sporting an American flag bandana and a Star of David gold necklace around his neck, showcasing well earned, non-banking-job-related bling.  

            Liam cuts the line with his Irish wigger posse and bursts into Kosher Klaus Sushi like Mark Wahlberg on the set of SNL after Andy Samberg did a sketch about Marky Mark talking to farm animals. He bum-rushes the sushi bar and says, “Hey, faggot. I’ll kick your ass right now, to show all your groupies what a pretty boy faggot, gay pussy bitch you are in real life.”

            Art Show ignores Liam’s Alpha Dog attack. Liam jumps over the sushi bar to strike. Art Show does a lookaway kick to the middle of his forehead, which sends Liam flying into the ceiling fan, which knocks him out senseless.

            Art Show USA says, “Alexa, play ‘Jump Around’ by House of Pain.” Kosher Klaus Sushi erupts into an instantaneous jubilee and Jewish pride pounces the air, inspiring Rachel Weinstein to flash her tits at Art Show USA as the entire restaurant throws their gold necklaces (with Stars of David’s on them) in her general direction, in honor of all those sweet, harmless Jewish boys who were never taught to defend themselves like the Hebrew Hammer, Bugsy Siegal, or Art Show USA.

Michael Kornbluth

Greatest One

by doitalldadyear, posted in fiction, health, writing

When mommy says, “I miss you guys”, you can tell if its half-hearted bullshit or not. Did you really miss Samuel asking you to finish wiping his bum while you’re cleaning up for your date with Sarah? Did you really miss badgering the kids about whether Daddy reapplied sunscreen on them or not after their picnic after I picked them up from camp? Did you really miss rushing out of the house in 98-degree weather to get some snacks for a picnic that turned out to be one for just Matilda and her friends? One of them being the kid who lives next door to Bill Gate’s daughter. Who for a wedding gift was bequeathed a 22-acre farm under the condition that she turn it into a placenta smoothie retreat for Hollywood Actresses to practice equestrian therapy with. You haven’t lived until you threw back a placenta Smoothie with January Jones on the set of Mad Men. It provides nutrients for an anorexic baby in the making. So, let’s kick this spirit cooking party into full gear and invite Hillary Hammer Time Cankles to feast off magnums of Baby Jane from 62. But no “unusual” placentas Planned Parenthood or else they can’t demand top dollar by Bill Gates and friends. I know Marina what’s her name isn’t satanic, she’s a “performance artist”, because her interview with James Franco got published in the Wall Street Journal under the money and investing section for Spirit Cooking Schools for the rich and famous not advertised on LinkedIn. Recipes for liquid dinners are painted on the wall in blood. The first one is a mix fresh breast milk and fresh semen, none of this frozen shit from Walt Diseny and friends. Added directions include to only drink on earthquake nights although attending a live podcast by Megan Mccain, otherwise known as the Plop of Nothing gets the job done. You don’t think the DNC is controlled by demonic beasts in relation to Hillary Hammer Time Cankles, Snopes Salon? Have you seen Tony Podesta’s kiddie porn art collection draped on his fundraising walls? There’s enough pedo bondage pics on those walls to make Marilyn Manson blush. You don’t think the Wiki Leaks emails from the Podesta’s about pool time entertainment, with ages specified along with talk of kids being sent Ubers on top of various mentions of various pizza topping such as yum, yum sauce are enough reasons to give you hypertension for giving babysitting with the Podesta brothers a chance?

So were about to leave the “Picnic”, and the girl who lives next door to Bill Gate’s kid’s Placenta Smoothie Farm Retreat says, “Richard Gere is my neighbor to.” And in front of 2 parents there I say, “Those prayer beads didn’t come in red Gere.”

Michael Kornbluth

Big Stinger Day

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, storytelling, writing

When mommy says, “I miss you guys”, you can tell if its half-hearted bullshit or not. Did you really miss Samuel asking you to finish wiping his bum while you’re cleaning up for your date with Sarah? Did you really miss badgering the kids about whether Daddy reapplied sunscreen on them or not after their picnic after I picked them up from camp? Did you really miss rushing out of the house in 98-degree weather to get some snacks for a picnic that turned out to be one for just Matilda and her friends? One of them being the kid who lives next door to Bill Gate’s daughter. Who for a wedding gift was bequeathed a 22-acre farm under the condition that she turn it into a placenta smoothie retreat for Hollywood Actresses to practice equestrian therapy with. You haven’t lived until you threw back a placenta Smoothie with January Jones on the set of Mad Men. It provides nutrients for an anorexic baby in the making. So, let’s kick this spirit cooking party into full gear and invite Hillary Hammer Time Cankles to feast off magnums of Baby Jane from 62. But no “unusual” placentas Planned Parenthood or else they can’t demand top dollar by Bill Gates and friends. I know Marina what’s her name isn’t satanic, she’s a “performance artist”, because her interview with James Franco got published in the Wall Street Journal under the money and investing section for Spirit Cooking Schools for the rich and famous not advertised on LinkedIn. Recipes for liquid dinners are painted on the wall in blood. The first one is a mix fresh breast milk and fresh semen, none of this frozen shit from Walt Diseny and friends. Added directions include to only drink on earthquake nights although attending a live podcast by Megan Mccain, otherwise known as the Plop of Nothing gets the job done. You don’t think the DNC is controlled by demonic beasts in relation to Hillary Hammer Time Cankles, Snopes Salon? Have you seen Tony Podesta’s kiddie porn art collection draped on his fundraising walls? There’s enough pedo bondage pics on those walls to make Marilyn Manson blush. You don’t think the Wiki Leaks emails from the Podesta’s about pool time entertainment, with ages specified along with talk of kids being sent Ubers on top of various mentions of various pizza topping such as yum, yum sauce are enough reasons to give you hypertension for giving babysitting with the Podesta brothers a chance?

So were about to leave the “Picnic”, and the girl who lives next door to Bill Gate’s kid’s Placenta Smoothie Farm Retreat says, “Richard Gere is my neighbor to.” And in front of 2 parents there I say, “Those beads didn’t come in red Gere.”

Big Stinger Day, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Moonshots Galore

by doitalldadyear, posted in poetry, storytelling, writing

Saddest bumper sticker ever: My Cat Votes Democrat. Yeah, I don’t see the FBI doing a panty raid on her behalf either. But just to reminisce a little. This is Trump and Melania handing out candy outside the White House, versus Obama hanging up ISIS flags to scare away trick or treaters. You want to know what Melania tastes like? Try some rocky candy kid. All Obama did was rebrand ISIS, ISIL, so they’d sound more startup friendly in the NY Times. Start spreading the news kid. Elon Musk in high school equals net zero bush. Without government subsidies, he’d be designing an organ harvesting app for China, called Fuck Mickey Mantle’s Liver, I’ve got a Uyghur one, total deplorable in the CCP’s eyes for half off. It’s in mint condition, because Turkish Muslims in China only drink tea anyway. Does Musk get his ball gags made in China to? If Musk stands up to Chinese censors, then I’m allergic to high end trim, the Clinton Foundation is a charitable foundation for others and Booger Nose Behar is the new Chief Happiness for Breitbart. Moonshots Galore, Mickey Mantle lives, Challah. Thank you very much. 

Michael Kornbluth

Democracy Declined

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, health, writing

Favorite nicknames for you know who in the White House are Mr. Groper, Icky Shuffle and Sir Snort A Lot’s Father.

I share these gems with a political cartoonist because he asked his mailing list if we had any favorite nicknames to share. So, I’d indulge the hick, got the house to myself for a change. Hours later, still no reply. I know he just left to go Trout fishing but still. I email back the following hour.

These a plus nicknames deserve an emoji ball tickle in return Ben. Print a cartoon about Trumpy Poo saying dick about all the millions and millions due to drop dead from the clot shot considering the thousands that have died from it so far.  Americans don’t know about soccer players dropping dead because none of us watch soccer, but still. RFK Junior lives, Challah. Thank you very much.

At the same time, Trump’s safe in Mar A Lago was just raided by the FBI. MSNBC wanted to call it a “Panty Raid”, hoping Melania would hide her gun in her panties like Karen in Goodfella’s in a remake of Revenge The Nerds Meets Married to The Big Tech Mob called, Net Zero Bush. So as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles would say, “What difference does it make?”

Oh yeah, Hillary’s 30 thousand deleted emails detailed funeral arrangements if Chelsea’s fiancé increased his asking price at the last sec. Democracy declined, Challah. RFK Junior for President. He wrote The Real Dr. Gnocchi, after Cuomo wrote a book on Leadership called How To Kill Italian Grandma Without Throwing Her Off The Train. Remember when Cuomo was still considered a sex symbol by Ben Stiller? Despite the Italian Reptilian Inside still looking like the Thing and Mama Fratelli from the Goonies had a baby. On the other hand, the newly unelected Governor of New York is no looker either. She looks like Delta Burke’s insane sister sentenced to the electric chair for refusing to say grace at The Judd’s house over Christmas while insisting, “Over my dead body. Jesus only saves the perfect cheekbones and mounds of tits for my big sis. For the people or my alien kind, my ass.” Democracy declined, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Pitchwoman Of The Year

by doitalldadyear, posted in career, comedy, culture

Aliens are capable of formulating and defending their own critical race theory to. Although a bunch of Think Tank Alien Eggheads from Planet Scrambled Over Easy declared the American Dream dead and it’s entire race plain stupid for thinking otherwise, on both sides of the political divide during it’s annual Brunch Expo address at their annual Northern Lights retreat on Planet Verde, known for its enormous Avocados trees, tricked out converted farmhouse party palaces, enveloped by Hop Farms galore and beautifully manicured baseball diamonds and fields of highly stimulating, brain tickling weed. Even Think Tank Alien Eggheads need to cool off their hyperactive brains with some baseball, buds and brews from time to time.

The Think Tank Alien Eggheads observed how unhinged and excessively biased the US media and Big Tech had become since the New Yorker from Queens exposed them for the feckless, misleading, self-serving, fear mongering, deliberately divisive, commie sell out bastards they’d become.  Close Encounters Of The 3rd Kind”, was voted the number one ranked Sci Fi film for 44 years in a row and counting, according to Egghead Alien Film Review Magazine, which still boasts an incredible print ad sales revenue, because on Planet Scrambled Easy, print is king and considered the most prestigious medium, attracting the universe’s most talented writers knowing they’re willing to pay up to 3 US Dollars per word. Plus, there’s no TV shows made on Planet Scrambled Over Easy except a hugely popular father son alien cooking show, called, Better Than Boobie. On this show, we learn the alien baby is a result of a mixed marriage between an alien and a busty, full lipped, tan Sicilian blooded Italian Barbera Bustiasti, originally hailing from Rochester, NY. On the show, our Stay-At-Home Alien Dad Host, Fried Brains Bourdain, a self-anointed in-house gourmand for the entire Planet Scrambled Over Easy, will ask his part human part alien baby, Chef Samuels what he thinks of his latest and greatest LEO scramble supreme, including, smoked salmon lox, scrambled eggs and sweet, not too bitter caramelized red onions. Normally, Chef Samuels will take a taste and pronounce the dish creation a double fister instead of a yuck yucker. But if baby Chef Samuels is totally enthralled with the dish, he’ll ask his cherished Dada Fried Brains Bourdain, to make the dish for him every day before he whizzes around the rings of Planet Scrambled Over Easy faster than Flash, in a high calorie burning blaze of glory.  

So, the reason Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy was smitten with the movie Close Encounters Of The Third Kind stemmed from the aliens portrayed in it, being musical savant mutes of sorts like Holly Hunter in The Piano. The problem on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, is how their recent open borders policy resulted in a gazillion different languages spoken at once on any given Farmer’s Market enough to make C3po’s language transmitter chip to melt down from an intergalactic mere auditory sensory processing overload. So, the clamor in the streets had reached a fevered pitch, with no universal language in place, capable of instilling a more melodic cadence. And none of the star magazine writers on Planet Scrambled Over Easy were capable of banging out musical showtunes such as West Side Think Tank Alien Stories, because Broadway tunesmith legend Stephen Sondheim declined the invitation to procreate with the alien civilization because he was gayer about the prospect of lunging at Othello backstage in tights, whenever asked to do his best Kevin Spacy impersonation by his cast and crew at Sardis for wrap up show celebrations after hours. Stephen Sondheim gave the anal probe a shot after the Alien Think Tank Leader Gershwin Goo, convinced him they were doing it the name of stool DNA sampling science, in their long, hard, in depth exploration of pinpointing the exact genetic makeup roots responsible for sprouting such mature musical genius out the womb. At 6 Mozart was touring Europe, entertaining French nobles with the nimble quickness of a French Prostitute, who got 2 customers to spew with joy in 1 minute flat each, so she could squeeze in her favorite customer, famed American Jewish writer Henry Miller in one more before closing hours for the road.  

So not only was the roaring decibel of noise on the streets of Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, consisting of every guttural, gross Alien language imaginable, that collectively heard together sounded like the antithesis of French pillow talk in Eric Rohmer films such as Busted Burgundy Girls and Paris Dicks Are Burning. Thereby, making their home planet a highly grating, excessively annoying place to be, but there was also not a singe lone, beautifying voice to even sing their new planet anthem, in an attempt to promote, celebrate and unify the country behind a star beautiful voice in their own native tongue, Hebrew. What, you think the Pyramids and the 1st great temple were built by the Israelites alone? I’ve known Jews who are allergic to Home Depot, who suffer from immediate panic attacks upon entry.

On retreat, The Think Tank Aliens, sucking down endless IPA’s and puffing non-stop high grade green over a killer double header of baseball surrounding the Field Of Dreams Funhouse, a young, rising star egghead about to pitch his famous speedball splinter known to make most fellow Aliens whiff more than Charlie Sheen at an AVN after hours party these days, an idea emerged, “Hey, fellas, instead of blowing up the Planet Earth for our annual 4 of the July Celebration to celebrate our freedom banning the Internet in 2000, because we knew Y2K would serve as a slow acting bomb to blow up earth’s any last remaining capacity for critically thinking, mass produced independent thought ever again, we convince Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth to become our permanent-in-house Planetary Anthem singer. Granted, we have incredible leverage knowing if she refuses, will go head and blow-up Earth for the best fireworks show, we’ve ever seen. Bulldozing a casino is child’s play compared to Planet blasting. Plus, I think the universe is ready for a new earth to emerge again, assuming God’s in the mood o give the human race another shot at redemption or not.”

The Think Tank Aliens of Scrambled Over Easy Planet actually thought of Singing Rose Kornbluth immediately, the moment they coined the idea of establishing a Planetary Anthem in Hebrew, from eavesdropping from space whenever she’d recite the Shabbat prayers over the candles, Challah and wine. To them, Singing Rose Kornbluth was blessed with the most angelic laced, beautifying, spiritually rich, jade free voice of all time, which sounded ten times more soul tantalizing pretty sung in Hebrew, which she’d do in Synagogue, shining through most, whenever the Torah was taken out of the arc for the infamous Shema prayer, “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” Think Tank Aliens from Scrambled Over Easy Planet are able to eavesdrop into different galaxy systems due to their alien race, being crossbred with Alien Hybrid Elephants reared by Alexander The Great. Alexander The Great would use those elephants to eavesdrop on his enemies or on Cleopatra next time she plotted to roofie him, tie him up and jam some precious gemstone beads up his ass for shits and giggles to see if they came out looser since the last gender neutral interkingdom orgy at her Luxor party palace.

Now, Singing Rose Kornbluth is at home in her bedroom within the hamlet of Croton Falls, NY, 50 minutes north of Manhattan, brushing the mane on her new American Girl horse doll Lavender Love, singing her own made-up tune “Lavender Love has beautiful hair, my brother Arthur better not threaten to turn him into fake news dog chow, if baby Samuel double dares.” Then, the Palomino American Girl Doll horse Lavender Love comes to life and speaks to her from the baseball diamond on the Field Of Dreams Funhouse and says, “Singing Rose Kornbluth, don’t be alarmed. For starters, my voice can’t be any freakier than when you confuse your American Girl Doll Horse for an actual little person on occasion.” Singing Rose Kornbluth say, “Keep talking.”  Think Tank Alien says, “We think your singing voice, especially in Hebrew is the most beautiful, God loving, effortlessly sweet signing voice, we’ve ever heard, without any deep vibrato rumblings which ruin Adele and Demi Lovato’s chances as potential picks for us if you really need to know.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “And who is we exactly.” Think Tank Alien says, “Were Think Tank Aliens from Planet Scrambled Over Easy. Our natural tongue is Hebrew, and we just came up with our 1st ever Planetary Anthem and it needs work, because our alien civilization isn’t musically inclined whatsoever.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “Do all aliens talk through American Girl Horses? I know Aliens were real. Think Tank Alien says, “Singing Rose, we love your voice. God made your supernatural voice for a reason. Still, will be left with no choice but to blow up your planet, if you don’t let us use your gift of creation and singing love songs which touch the inner most sanctum part of the Divine.” Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “I’ll only help you out if you agree to take over control of our Internet, unleash virus worms to corrode all the software code for Twitter, Facebook and Google and fill in that gaping voice of Internet bandwidth with my father’s Do It All Dad Year Podcast every Friday for another Meandering Shabbat Shalom Special. My daddy is hilarious. He said, Beyonce sat out the national anthem because Demi Lovato sounds like white priveledge version of Alabama Shakes.” Think Tank Alien laughs long time and replies, “We don’t have the Internet on our planet.” Matilda says, “I’ll be your new best friend. And you’ll get one sleepover invite a year, deal? Think Taken Alien says, “Deal.”

1 year later, Singing Rose Kornbluth graced the cover of Time Magazine. On the top, the headline read, Pitchwoman Of The Year, who saved her country’s planet from being wiped off the Solar System for selling the Think Tank Aliens on making her Do It All Dad the most popular, downloadable, highly quotable Podcaster in the universe. So, he could afford the opportunity to shine like the brightest, rising comedy star in the galaxy and drive his family back from the hospital in his new Comedy Gold Porsche SUV with a new baby sister addition in the back, Lavender Love Kornbluth to make his Do It All Dad year mission complete. Now Singing Rose Kornbluth could sing duets with her new baby sister Lavender Love Kornbluth for a double dose of beautiful wonderfulness on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, so she’d never have to feel homesick again.

Michael Kornbluth