Chapter 35 The Big Brother Butcher

                                                             Chapter 35

The Big Brother Butcher

 

It’s not easy to eat Kosher. If not for the whopping 2 kosher meat stores in all of Westchester County, NY, or the Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods in Danbury, CT, Joshua would be screwed. But in all seriousness, Joshua was going weeks without Kosher meet a time, even months sometimes, because he felt like a total selfish, fat slob for eating almost the entire mound of Kosher fried chicken all by himself because everyone else in the house at pescatarian. The main reason he refrained from making another overpriced, 40 dollar slab of scrumptious, well marbled brisket, in a homemade barbeque sauce in the Instant Pot, instead waiting to be reincarnated 5 times over into Vince Vaughn with a less obnoxious sounding cackling laugh in the older than Yiddish, slower cooker, was because Joshua wanted to everything within his power to avoid hearing his wife utter with jealous laced disgust, “Did you wash the cutting board with disinfectant?” Joshua claims she was jealous of his devour heavy Kosher meat feasts because she had nothing to do with giving him such wow, worthy pleasure. Joshua was taken a page out writer Ayn Rand’s book, by no longer living to please others has much. Joshua realized, relying on others, even loved ones, to give you sustainable pleasure, was bound to lead down the path of crushing, let down disappointment again and again. Granted, his 3 kids were perfect, who were only guilty of being too much in Daddy, insisting on stroking his scratchy beard and smell his armpit one last time before he tucked them in a bed to determine if Daddy was wearing deodorant or not. Obviously, Joshua had zero problem with his children manhandling him any chance they could get, especially in front of his wife, knowing how much it proved Do It All Dads matter.  His 3-year-old son Samuel loved to be hoisted up to ceiling with his bum touching the ceiling so daddy can say, “You want to be Spidey baby?” After a double bath bomb special, 3 year old Samuel would ask daddy to wrap him up like a baby to the bedroom before giving back to back to back, elevator drops, where he’d pick him with the towel wrapped around his back and drop him down to bed to repeated, shrieks of joy and endless request, “One more daddy.” Before Baby Samuel would instruct his Daddy, “Now tell Alexa to play, No More, No More by Aerosmith Dada. No more elevator drops, the last one almost shattered my teeth.”     But if Joshua had to endure his wife guilting his daughter into giving forced, emotive praise in honor of her brown poopy liquid looking black bean soup, he’d start sneaking in cut off pieces of Hebrew national franks into kids Heinz baked beans in a NY minute.

Growing up, shopping at the Kosher meat store with his Dad was weird. The Hebrew lettering on the meat exuded a mystical, holy component to it more in retrospect, since Joshua got closer to God and started to acknowledge his existence on a daily morning and evening basis. But back sometime in the 1980’s, the Hebrew lettering imprint, on the sticker price tags, designating it’s Kosher meat status was just perceived as another unwelcome reminder of another boring slog through Hebrew School.  Again, Joshua had a hard time getting excited about trips to the Kosher butcher back then because he wasn’t into cooking for himself, or embracing making a Kosher fried chicken in 30 bucks worth of Peanut oil from the Corona Virus laden, now closed down Chinese grocery store, within the derelict, strip mall stretch one floor below the DMW in White Plains, NY.  Joshua got a tad chummy with a butcher at the Farmer’s Market by the Grove in West Hollywood, when he started making homemade meatballs based on the recipe from the Soprano’s Cookbook, a NY Times Best Seller pre-fakes news, when he actually read the paper of record on a religious basis, to make him feel smarter and more informed in the process, after learning Walt Clyde Frazier read it religiously since he got drafted by the Knicks to expand his stupendous, ever expansive vocabulary with such nimble, “feline quickness.” Joshua loved these meatballs, because they combined ground veal, ground sirloin beef and ground, pinkish pork, back when eating some occasional pork didn’t bother Joshua one bit, despite his rapidly developing fondness for thick, double stacked, Turkey burgers from Astro Burger on Santa Monica Blvd, slathered with mayo, shredded lettuce and gooey slices of American cheese draping the mouthwatering bomb burger throughout. Joshua even introduced the same butcher to his mother during one her visits to the city of angels, which were always nice. What’s there not to like about LA, except the brutal bumper to bumper traffic and Hollywood producers, studio heads and directors giving the green light to rape kid actors at will?  Corey Haim Gen X’s dear lost boy, included.

Now, Joshua was in Crown Heights Brooklyn for the 1st time to meet Schmendel at Kosher butcher shop, which makes brisket heroes to go, which he was going to squirt his latest and greatest planted based cheese wiz on for a taste test.   Schmendel hugs it with the Kosher Butcher Jeremiah from across the butcher counter.  Jeremiah says, “Good to see you brother. I got your 2 Brisket Bomb heroes to go, the best in Brooklyn, including Williamsburg and I don’t to rely on melted, hard provolone, which tastes better by itself cold, on top to do it. Are you the Do It All Dad Hero guy, my younger brother has been yapping about it?  Joshua says, “In the flesh, you 2 are brothers?” Jeremiah says, “We pledged Zeta Beta, can’t you tell? We figured our natural good looks and superior wit wasn’t enough to guarantee us access to all the high-end puss John Hopkins University had to offer. I’m just playing, John Hopkins didn’t have much scrumptious trim to inhale in the 1st place. Joshua says, “Do you mind we squeeze some of your big brother’s plant-based cheese wiz on top your Bomb Brisket hero? I don’t want to trigger any hardcore orthodox Jews in the process. Would you mind making an announcement to your customers, we’re not using actual cheese wiz?” Jeremiah says, “Big brother, that’s a good one. If he was the big brother and real next in line man of the family, he would’ve taken over dad’s Kosher butcher business, not me. Do you have any idea how long it takes to scrub the smell of Kosher flank steak out of your hair? But don’t worry it Joshua, stop being such worrisome, neurotic Jew. Let’s try this plant based, cheese wiz already.” Joshua grabs the can of wiz from Schmendel and sprays on his Do It All Dad Hero and takes a bite. His eyes light up and says, “Fuck stand up comedy and writing more books, I can’t even get paid fucking reviews for because I violated so called rules of hate speech. This Do It All Dad Hero is fucking delicious, even Bill Maher would suck it down if given the option of going down on 2 black trannies first.” Jeremiah says, “Brother, Joshua is growing on me already.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 30 Second City Envy

                                                               Chapter 30

Second City Envy

 

A native New Yorker like Joshua, who only grew up only 30 minutes north of Manhattan in the suburb of Edgemont, NY, should never have been jealous of the Second City in Chicago but he was.  The Second City in his eyes, was a tougher city, given birth to Isiah Thomas, a huge theater town staging David Mamet plays up the wazoo, the Improv training ground for Belushi, Farley, John Candy and the Midwest muse for screenwriter director great John Hughes in addition being the breeding ground for electric blues, slide guitar greats who all inspired Jimi Hendrix to jack his guitar like there’s no tomorrow such as Muddy Waters, Albert King and the Buddy, I made a guitar down south growing up as a share cropper’s son out of fucking, busted porch door wife.  Also, let’s not forget Joshua was a hardcore Knicks fan, so every winter growing up, he was left with no choice but to look up to MJ and Scottie Pippen in enraged awe as they lit up the Garden like the tree at Rockefeller Center every year, despite New York bred thoughts from Jamaica Queens such as Anthony, deltoids strong Mason, manhandling them in post whenever they took the ball to the hoop strong with all his, I can wrestle 20 NYPD cops to the ground, without breaking a sweat while resisting arrest might.

The late great Bernie Mac hailed from sweet home Chicago, who Joshua admired for his hardcore suck up your ego jobs like driving a Wonder Bread Truck throughout the south side of Chicago when he was an aspirational stand up comic, who hadn’t won the Miller High Lite Amateur Comic competition just yet.  In particular, Joshua loved how Bernie Mac didn’t limit his joke slinging to just the mere open mike stage, turning the bus or subway in Chicago into his own performance space the way Dice would launch into his act before movies started playing in Westwood by UCLA, proving the “world is your stage” like Shakespeare said back in the day.  Joshua adopted a similar approach since becoming an unplanned stay at home comedian, using his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, as a platform to perform his topical jokes on how Michelle Obama claims it was racist to flee the South Side of Chicago, acting as if the South Side of Chicago, always the city’s most violent part, was only 1 crepe food truck from Gentrification. Joshua would add, “Gentrification, you know liberal talk for less black people. The other day, I’m driving on the Deegan past the new Yankee Stadium and I point to my daughter, “Look Matilda, the new Yankee stadium, the house that gentrification built.” Joshua would also never shy away from sampling jokes at the local post office, where Joshua picked up his mail, aiming his comedic blasts on the Mayor of New York City, Mayor De-Blasio saying, “Did you know Mayor De-Blasio’s wife used to be a hard Park Slope Lesbo yet were supposed to believe Garlic Breath converted her? Also, the Mayor eats pizza with a fork and knife. So, you can really see Big Bird burying his beak into wife’s slippery snatch with such sloppy abandon. It sounds like a plausible theory to digest.  Now, thanks to Mayor Putz Face, you can be fined 250 thousand dollars for using dehumanizing language on an illegal alien such as, “No speak English.” Whose translating these insults for Juan exactly? Now, an illegal alien in New York City gets a NY license to vote and a hate speech translator to bankrupt Apu at a Bodega in Flushing. And enough with banning ICE. Because homeland security was so weapons of mass destruction years.  Last, on the anniversary of Amy Winehouse’s death, has Minnesota congressional rep Baby Face Omar referred to the even has something happened to beehive, horn hiding, Benjamin Lover who exploited the great Palestinian song book for all it was worth. Can I a holla for a big time raising the roof, because I’m just getting started and you can only hope to contain him Challah?

Joshua also took Improv acting courses at Second City when he lived in LA, and got to inhale Harrison Ford’s assistant practically whole at a bar dark lit, bar in Korea town before David Chang got to drop f bombs for a living on the Food Network, coming off as super deep, enlightened cool in the process.  Easily, Joshua’s most sexually arousing Karaoke bar performance was at local Karaoke joint down the street in Korea town, was when he performed the song Soul Man by Sam and Dave, getting the random girls in the audience quite sticky steamy in process, to the point where they were gyrating and shaking to his best Wilson Picket Man and a Half “it’s the other half, that knocks woman out. That’s why I’m a man and a half”, impression.  Prior Joshua was used to sticking with his developing Baba O’Reiley rendition, including various jump heavy but still barely leaving the ground windmill guitar strumming kicks. But the Who’s most kick ass, recognizable, teenage wasteland homage song, didn’t rouse any of the ladies at the townie valley bar the Barrell, to get their sexual dance freak on, in attempt to win over his attention before either. In retrospect, Joshua realized he had what they call in show business, “stage presence.” But back then, Joshua was just doing Karaoke to get more comfortable performing in front of strangers to make bombing in front of various open mike audiences throughout Studio City, Santa Monica, West Hollywood and Venice Beach a tad worrisome laced daunting. In short, Joshua was forcing himself to become a less cerebral, worrisome, Jewy, neurotic bitch, really. At the same time, Joshua getting into Karaoke, performing songs, he loved like Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi or Roadhouse Blues by the Doors was a reflection of his inner rock star, in a desperate dash to break on through to other side because like Richard Belzer, known more his poke faced, dry as cotton mouth witticisms, on Law and Order Special Victims Unit, when he said, “All comedians, “Are frustrated rock stars.”

Joshua also attended Lake Forrest College for 2 years on the north shore of Illinois because he just wanted to get out of New York and trying something new, but it really came down to him hooking up with some upper classman during his trip to the college, which made him feel like a bigger baller on the rise.   Joshua had an older, platonic friend, Shannon who a place in downtown, Chicago, and enjoy getting his puff on with his other hippie buds there, yet what he really longed for the city life in bars and clubs such as Walter Payton’s, which closed at 1:30, which sucks out loud for any native New Yorker. For all the talk about how progressive LA is, the last call is even earlier at a hard 1.  Plus, all the girls in Chicago, look like prettiest faces from Indiana, which is fine, but failed to give Joshua sustained stiffage during his time his Midwest either. The energy of Chicago wasn’t on par with his dear Manhattan, not even close. It was impossible to not feel like an outside when Joshua when to college for 2 years in the Midwest, knowing it was the 1st time it developed a heightened awareness, to Jews being a miniscule minority in this country at large while most preferred to keep it that way. And boy good those Midwest girls drink. He used to party with these girls who would haul a case a Bush light on each shoulder before hitting the bottle of Beam in honor of Kid Rock as the clock truck midnight and Joshua was no lightweight, accustomed to closing down bars at 4 in the morning back in Manhattan with his old school high school crew, never running out of breath as they maintained a steady, rat a tat steam of busting balls throughout.  Still, did Joshua love Kayne West? Yes, but did he envy his soulful, cinematic powered, lyricism on par with Notorious Big, not even close.  Did Joshua love Harold Ramis films like Ghost Busters and Ground Hog’s Day? Yes, but he’d watch most Woody Allen films before he learned he kept polaroids of Sun Yee in his top sock drawer, because the Time life photo of her wasn’t enough, in a New York Minute. Did Joshua revere bands from who hailed from Chicago like Smashing Pumpkins.  Pearl Jam? Yes, but he revered bands such Kiss, from Queens and the boogie Bronx even more.  Bernie Mac was great in Joshua’s eyes, but he was no Chris Rock, Eddie, Dice, or Kennan Ivory Wayans for that matter. Overall, Joshua loved his New York heroes more because they exuded superior style, gravitas and larger than life charisma, only the Island of Manhattan engenders the most. The prettiest, sexist, most diverse collection of ladies, populated the streets of SOHO, the West Village and parts of the Lowe East Side in NOHO in his eyes. The only city he ever wanted to live in was Manhattan, not Chicago. Still, Manhattan could feel like a very lonely place at the bottom and Joshua wasn’t a big shot macher just yet. Still, Chicago represented the American heartland, which was important to Joshua, especially knowing that those working artists who strived and thrived in the Second City, compared to their more uppity, elitist New Yorker yenta breaths were tougher than the rest.

 

 

 

Chapter 23 Fucking Australia

 

Chapter 23

Fucking Australia

Growing up, Joshua got the most sexually charged from the sandy covered navel of Elle The Body MacPherson on the cover of Sports Illustrated, before the magazine started sporting Muslim models in Burkini’s, screaming, “Stayed focused on my Kathy Ireland eyes Infidel.” For a native New Yorker, Australian accents never sounded too intrusive in public like some stuffy, mole faced Brit was sticking their tongue down your throat without granting them permission. Still, Joshua would always bust his brother-in-law’s balls, he grew up in Australia for a bit, for his tendency to revert back to his Aussie heavy accent whenever he hit on girls before getting married, because without revitalizing the accent of old, he had zero pick up game around woman whatsoever. Citing your time in San Diego, working as a video game tester, didn’t inspire fetching beauties in the gas light district, to mount his uncircumcised flap of mound on the spot. But Joshua would give credit where credit is earned, especially, when his now official brother in law, made a comment at his wedding, stating, “I never knew anyone who could love my sister as much as Joshua does.” Now, you can also interpret that statement as a backhanded compliment, implying, I never found the bitch too lovable to begin with. Instead, Joshua interpreted the warm-hearted homage, as a moving testament, to the power of love. Also, when Joshua had announced to his future in-laws, at a restaurant in Park Slope, Brooklyn about being engaged to their Aussie reared daughter, before the family was uprooted to Greenville, Delaware, known for it’s state slogan, “Your Nazi Gold is safe with us”, you could hear the empty bottle of poison drop after Hitler and Eva Braun croaked on a serving of self-defeat, no longer feeling so masterful against the dying of the light. Still, in spite of the prolonged period of never ending, infuriating building silence, Anna’s younger brother, showcased his inner mensch, raising his wine glass, to toast the announcement. Later, he took a friendly bonding stroll with Joshua through the bucolic, Brownstone dominated streets of Park Slope north of 6th Avenue toward Prospect Park, Frederick Olmsted’s favorite park creation even more so than Central Park for all those Ken Burns suck him off wannabes at home. Anna’s younger brother even commented on the relief their union brought him saying, “Falling in love with his sister was great for her because of her being deep into the raver scene prior.” Again, Joshua thought this was a very classy touch, knowing the love of his life, had a younger brother, who cared about her well being and overall happiness, more than he normally would make you believe.

Joshua loved the tour group he met during his trip to the Great Barrier Reef on his honeymoon, after they erupted in laughter from his old bit about them wanting to get married in Australia but making a compromise, stating, “Babe, assuming we have a boy together one day, instead of hiring a Moyle for the circumcision, will hire Crocodile Dundee, just so we can hear a room full of Jews, say, now that’s a knife. You can chop it all off with that thing.”

Before Joshua, took a recent trip to London for the 1st time, with Anna he reached out to Jim Jefferies manager, accessing his email address on good old IMDB Pro and emoted about the incredible body of masterful comedic work, they’ve amassed together, inspiring Joshua to exploit his own catchphrase, “unhuggable cunt”, for all it was worth, considering the Aussie funny man’s fondness for his serially unapologetic, consistently hilarious use of the word himself for profitable gain. If a wannabe, funny man, resistor Twitter twat, couldn’t handle sticking to being a poor man’s, woke Bill Simmons, at Deadspin like Drew Magary and actually exuded more impactful, jealous inducing, ha, ha inducing prose or palpable, likeable gravitas of any kind, Joshua would feel compelled to call him an unhuggable cunt also. Jim Jefferie’s manager gave Joshua a very warm response, offering to send his demo stand up reel to the gate keeper in charge of the Edinburgh comedy festival, where Dennis Leary launched his famed comedy career back in the day, before he started fashioning himself as a political comic, you should give 2 shits about like a lesser, Nick Di Paolo minus the millennial fan base catering slobbering placation.

When Joshua went to Australia on his honeymoon with his pregnant wife Anna, he swears by hearing the hum of the universe as he floated on his back in a brook among the great, Daintree Rainforest near, Port Douglas, tapping into a deep, holy, lost in time when the Dinosaurs roamed there back in the day vibrations. Joshua struggled with summoning enough faithful courage to stop fighting against the unnatural act of breathing out of a fucking snorkeling breathing device, to prevent you from drowning to death, as he showed a spec of manhood and took a mini plunge into the pristine, clear blue waters of the Great Barrier Reef, taking in a Kaleidoscope of God’s most colorful fishes and finest finger painting handy work down under. Similar to when Joshua drove cross country to California his senior year of college for his last semester of school, he didn’t want his time immersed in such awe inspiring, God decorated, mind blowing, soul soothing beauty to end.

Joshua will never forget an encounter he had with an older than dirt car driver on his Honeymoon in Victoria, during their stay at a gorgeous, Victorian Chalet as Joshua relished reading books in their study from the highly readable, English writer, DH Lawrence, who wrote with actual flowy, accessible, expressive felt feeling. Joshua and Anna were off to some vineyard for lunch and the writer driver got a tad huffy, confrontational with him during their short drive, saying in so many words, you’ll never make it as a successful writer, I wrote a couple of novels and I’m driving you around fucking Victoria in a monkey suit to pay my alimony payments as I fight the temptation to drive straight into Mother’s Beach right now, and take the 2 of you love birds with me. But Joshua was a New Yorker, born and raised, and wasn’t going to let any fucking hack Australian dictate what he’d achieve in this world because most Americans don’t even know who Jim Jefferies is, case closed, let alone Jon Safran, the erudite, never been accused of raping his daughter Aussie, alternative, Yeshiva schooled, version of Woody Allen, who Joshua was more impressed with funny man, thought wise, if he had to choose.