Tag: business

Last Shabbat Shalom Ramble Not

by doitalldadyear, posted in culture, entertainment, writing

I text my wife a pic of stuffed animals leaning on each other, looking depressed since they became separated from our three snuggle-shine children. The wife texts back, “They look sad.” I reply, “I agree, #StuffedSpiritAnimalsfeelingemptyinside.”

Shabbat Shalom Shalom Ramble, live from Hotel Dylan, Woodstock, NY, just got a far less fucking sleepy stale, Half Heeb, Heeb Hick blood lives, mom hails from Kentucky, Dad from the Bronx, it beats being outside of Minnesota, no offense, Bob Dylan, but your neither a southerner, Brian Wilson or a whiny, Long Island windbag like Lou Reed, so it looks like you hit the mother load being born out of Minnesota after all. Star Of The North lives, that being the state motto for Minnesota, but Bob Dylan represents that phrasing quite well. Blood on the Tracks never felt so good. Bob Dylan wows on, Challah. Thank you very much.

Only in Woodstock, NY, would I see a book on a window display about Lou Reed learning Ti-Chee.

It didn’t make him less defensive after Lester Bangs called his trans girlfriend a dog and Warhol show.

Perfect day, with pits like that, my balls.

Shabbat Shalom Ramble, coming to you live from the Dylan Hotel, Woodstock, NY, in the motherfucking house, Challah. Shabbat Shalom Ramble, 12, what, only Led Zepplin can name their recorded masterpieces? More Sheets Of Comedy Gold Ramble On, Golden God lives, Shabbat Shalom Ramble, Challah. Thank you very much.

A new reason to stay sober for a whole year is what?
Dream big again and finish with a winning season with a screenplay and star vehicle for yourself where you become the new king of sober media on the silver screen and in real life in Gum King Of New York, Challah. Thank you very much. And your first interview is with Daryl Strawberry on your Shabbat Shalom Ramble Podcast. So Darryl, do you think Rob Lowe looking better ever since giving up drinking the sauce 30 years ago is a case of annoying white privilege? You don’t look half the man you used to be like Gooden, but you’re not slipping into speedos at the yacht club off the coast of Montecito county as readily as Rob Lowe does o the cover of Middle Aged Yacht beat is all I’m saying.

Outside my hotel at the Hotel Dylan is a putting green. I notice this older black guy admires it. I say, “Do they have putters?” He says, “They’re locked up.” I reply, “I’m sure the putting green isn’t here for the visuals alone.” Acid rock humor rules, Shabbat Shalom Ramble rocks, on Challah. Thank you very much.

What’s excellent about vacations is that you no longer feel chained to predictable misery.

Am I an asshole for calling a father a bullshit artist for claiming he didn’t buy real estate in downtown Manhattan after 9/11 because he didn’t want to be a profiteer of death?
Sure, he’d discourage me pursing an internship with Haliburton if it could’ve guaranteed me a six-figure job out of a division 3, pricy private school for spoiled potheads.

Sure, pops, you would’ve bought a loft next to Ed Burns in Tribeca if the price was right.

And Bernie Madoff suffered from night screams when he got away with it.

Without 9/11, W doesn’t provide the alley-oop dunk for fake news choke, AKA. Obama Be Good who continually tries to ruin our country by endorsing more thug lives matters most bullshit.


Now, in NYC, you’re more likely to get jumped than hook up with a girl at a bar in the Upper East Side without swiping her over to your pre-approved dick pic first. Sanctuary City blues, Shabbat Shalom Ramble, Challah. Thank you very much.

Fit at any age; tell that to Matthew Perry.
He gave up drinking.
And still, his boyish charm went out the window faster than Lenny Dykstra wearing a MAGA hat on the Bill Simmons Podcast.

Wi-Fi password options for Hotel Dylan in Woodstock:

Baez Breaks Wind

Here Jimi’s Lady Coming

A Little Help From Mary Jane’s Less Seedy Friends

Dylan Towers

Levon Helm Winning post-Robbie Robertson, prematurely ending the Band without casting a band vote 1st.

Fascist Favoring Pricks Named Robbie Roberston Who Killed Rick Danko By Forcing Him To Tour And Do More Heroin Than Usual Because He Didn’t Have the Luxury Of Writing Film Scores For Marty after losing out anymore Band touring money after the Last Waltz.

Rick Danko lives; he was a member of the big three from the Big Pink: Levon Helm, Robbie Robertson, and Levon Helm in the Band. He played the mandolin, bass, and a mean game of pool in the Last Waltz and sang like an angel on songs he wrote like Stage Freight; It Makes No Difference and the Twighlight on the Last Waltz, their last show ever at the Winterland in San Fran. While also managing to sound like a complete road warrior-wise badass in The Shape I’m In.
Challah. Thank you very much.


Outside of The Hotel Dylan in Woodstock, NY, I’m at the Fire Pit.
An older, well-to-do-looking hippie dude says, “How are you?”
I say, “Whistling Dixie, they put me in the new Levon Helm room, which is very fitting because tonight, I’m recording my 1st Shabbat Shalom Ramble on location near Levon Helm’s log cabin studio, home of the original Midnight Ramble. Tonight, we deliver another killer set masterpiece. Shabbat Shalom Ramble 12, live in Woodstock, Levon lives, Challah. Thank you very much.”

Older looking hippie dude laughs long time.

Imagine Ziggy Marley getting interviewed by High Times Magazine today. Ziggy, how did your father, Bob, have seven kids? Doesn’t Ganja make you impotent like Agent Orange?
Ziggy Marley says, “Fake news, man.” I’d like to see that Oliver Stone documentary, though. He’d call it Natural Born Rastas, Challah. Thank you very much.

I’m at a wine shop in Woodstock and say, “Which one has more concentrated intensity the Petite Sirah or the Zinfandel? Think Bill Hicks next to Howie Mandell.
However, Howie Mandell had his moments, and the older-than-dirt hippie wine shop owners laugh for a long time.


The most depressing image is an older-than-dirt hippie checking her mail with three masks on three years after this COVID craziness began.


I know acid causes deadhead to the point of return, but this is getting ridiculous.


Whatever happened, the hippie creed fuck LBJ, and anything the government has to say, especially after bombing Cambodia to save face. What are these older-than-dirt hippies freaking out about it?
You’d think they’d already built a tolerance from their homegrown patch of pot cookies, that offer less aggressive peaks than David Crosby’s pot brownie recipe on Pinterest next to Cuomo’s recipe, for Gender Fluid Pink Ziti.

Just once, I’d like to hear a hippie in Woodstock that runs a vegan meatball food truck say, “Fuck weed pens, do I look like a beta hippie version of Tron. I’m still smoking weed from a metal cigarette bat made in Wuhan since Bob Dylan released Maggi’s Farm on Bringing It All Back; home, and my lungs feel great. What, I got Natural Born Dragon Lungs. Shabbat Shalom Ramble Does Woodstock, Challah. Thank you very much.

I ordered a mock cocktail in Woodstock and regretted it immediately.
I say to the bartender.

“This Mocktail isn’t making me feel better about myself. It’s too Limey for my tastes.
If I want more Limey in my life, I’d be in Delaware right now, with my English in-laws, kids, and wife, only to get my knickers in a bunch on more Zelensky Mandella talk by Bono on the BBC. Zelensky is the modern day Mandella. Sure, and Jimi Hendrix would take scarf advice from Dr. Deborah Birx under house arrest in Electric Lady Studios during COVID mania gone wild.


I’m getting pissed at this Zinfandel. It’s taking forever to open up like Rambo in the process of getting waterboarded by Dick Cheney.

My grandfather died at 48 and was VP of his Temple, medic in the War, and Bronze Star winner; Obama became President at 47.


So I don’t have any choice left; I must become the Gum King of New York at 47. Or at least have a screenplay to give the Golden Jew, Adam Sandler, sustained stiffage with. He’s the last king maker left in Hollywood that I still give a shit about impressing, Kenny McBride, Oliver Stone, David Mamet, and Kevin Smith, 20 years agoincluded, Half Heeb Crazy Lives, Challah. Shabbat Shalom Ramble, Good Shabbos, Kayne excluded.

Last Shabbat Shalom Ramble, not. Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Headhunter Writer Knows  

by doitalldadyear, posted in poetry, technology, writing

Headhunter Writer knows Frank Zappa would rather play Byrd’s cover songs than engage in comment section banter any longer than I have already on LinkedIn.

Headhunter Writer knows your job ads suck without me writing them for you.

Headhunter Writer knows top LinkedIn Voices are allowed to use the word suck on LinkedIn, which prevents them from being utterly edgeless in Marc Cuban’s eyes.

Headhunter Writer knows Miles Davis would rather face a firing squad than be caught dead in the comment section on LinkedIn.

Headhunter Writer knows that excellent sales writing showcases a special touch.

That became highly developed through obsessive pitch practice while blowing off the Knicks for three seasons in a row while not sweating the prospect of missing all that much.

Headhunter Writer knows desperation is the kiss of death.

So he’ll pull the takeaway on the candidate if they start acting bitchy, entitled, and unappreciative like the rock star girlfriend in the Kiss song Beth.

Headhunter Writer knows heads of application development get triggered with feelings of instantaneous inferiority after hearing me leave a VM about a Full Stack Engineer I’m representing who played Carnegie Hall as a classically trained violinist.

I say, “Miles Davis, Frank Zappa, and Lenny Bruce share what in common? They all played Carnegie Hall. So did your next software engineer hire, let’s call him, Developer Prodigy, who played Carnegie Hall? What have you done with your life? 

Headhunter Writer knows that voicemail was longwinded by Frank Zappa’s crowd work standards. 

Headhunter Writer knows that if you want to out hipster Williamsburg, you name your next kid, not Bowie or Hudson but Zappa Zevon Kornbluth or Joan Of Arc Kornbluth if it’s a girl or Edward Snowden Kornbluth if I want the FBI to charge me with the Espionage Act by aiding and encouraging the hacker hero enemy. 

Headhunter Writer knows sales trainers who get paid to conduct sales seminars about push versus pull selling methods are straining for weighty thinker respectability. 

Headhunter Writer knows sales jobs only work if you’re doing it to achieve accumulation goals like a power blue Canali suit you just set your sights on at Nordstrom, which inspires the new age expression, greedy for pretty is good. Gordon Gecko, with a gender-fluid twist, lives Challah. Thank you very much. 

Headhunter Writer knows U2 is Irish cheesy. Van Morrison isn’t, House of Pain wasn’t, and Dennis Leary never was. 

Headhunter Writer knows Charles Bukowski would think Sales Trainers through Zoom make the Post Office seem like an attractive alternative.

Headhunter Writer knows he’s louder than Busta Rhymes at a midnight showing of Higher Learning. 

Headhunter Writer knows that anyone who uses the word crushing is blah breath lame. 

Headhunter Writer knows that HR or Talent Acquisition Managers don’t have a writer’s ego. That’s why their job descriptions blow. 

Headhunter Writer knows that he gets paid by being more aggressively houndish than the rest. 

Headhunter Writer knows it’s best to block out the sound of a dumpy accountant who gets her panties in a bunch whenever a giant dick in the office flexes his chest. 

Headhunter Writer knows a deal from the sound of a candidate over the phone. 

Either they care about impressing you, or their opportunity has flown.  

Headhunter Writer knows posts on LinkedIn about Personal growth are Fortune Cookie light. 

Headhunter Writer knows you either commit to improving or regress into an ineffectual, interchangeable player. 

Headhunter Writer knows that candidates respect creative expression. 

Or else they’re not getting back with exultations such as, “That’s the best job description ever written.” 

Headhunter Writers knows that his 9-year son already knows JavaScript. 

So don’t expect him to feel inferior in your presence ever again. 

Take a hike to a safe space retreat Zen. 

Headhunter Writer knows different sometimes sells. 

Does Developer Prodigy Who Played Carnegie Hall still ring a bell? 

Headhunter Writer knows he’s wasting his breath. 

Because waiving his freak flag on LinkedIn equals sporting a suicide bomber vest. 

Headhunter Writer knows that writing a killer job ad pitch is one part of the job. 

The rest is getting the right candidate to read it, which helps root out those touchy-feely, fake news high-brow snobs. 

Headhunter Writer knows a recession is here but also knows most companies are trimming the fat during his year without beer. 

Headhunter Writer knows that Michael Burns is the greatest recruiter who ever lived. 

He could sell 100 Grand Bars to a person with diabetes with only two weeks to live. 

Headhunter Writer knows cold calling, not writing, has made him the killer attack beast he is today. But in the end, what you sell gets the final say. 

Headhunter Writer knows that his personality-loaded prose never tires.

Headhunter Writer knows his hooky prose and killer attack instinct will lure your next great hire. 

Your Favorite Headhunter Writer, 

Joshua Kornbluth 

Headhunter Writer Pitch

by doitalldadyear, posted in business, entertainment, writing

Hi Susan,

I’m interested in writing a weekly column for Fast Company called Headhunter Writer, which tells my history of headhunting and use of creative storytelling from Y2K to today. Headhunter Writer is my literary alter ego, who adds a personalized edge and heroic lift to all recruitment efforts. I aim to inspire others to be more aggressively creative in their pursuit of forming new business relationships online and off.

Here is a link for a poem post called Aggression Pays, which establishes the tone I’m shooting for in this column.

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/aggression-pays-joshua-kornbluth/

Here is a link to a piece about servicing fun inspired by an exchange with a UX Designer candidate prior, called Ted Tries. https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/ted-tries-joshua-kornbluth/

Future Headhunter Writer title posts include:

Headhunter Writer Intelligence

Headhunter Writer Bonds

Headhunter Writer Prevents

Headhunter Writer Emotion

Headhunter Writer Remembers

Headhunter Writer Humanizes

Headhunter Writer Knows

Headhunter Writer Grows

Headhunter Writer Admires

Headhunter Writer Softens

Headhunter Writer Unmasks

Headhunter Writer Recommends

Headhunter Writer Pays

Headhunter Writer Chooses

Headhunter Writer Sighs

Headhunter Writer Prophesizes

I’m looking forward to your reply.

Your Favorite Headhunter Writer,

Joshua Kornbluth

Smashes, Thrashes & Tactless Bits

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

What’s the best way to reveal that you’re a flaming fruitcake in your dad’s eyes?

Whip out your chop stick skills in front of him in a Chinese restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Dad says.

You use chopsticks now?

He might as well say.

Get plenty of practice pinching Ming’s dick when you lived in Hermosa Beach.

Mom never understood why you introduced her to your gay Chinese friend.

She just thought, our son is eclectic dear.

But I thought.

I should’ve have known by the way he ran down the basketball court on his tippy toes.

Looking like he was sporting high heels instead of high tops.

If LaVar Ball was your sub coach dad in high school, he’d yell, “Were trying to sell Baller Wear son, not Jimmy Choos.”

But that’s what I get for raising my 1st born in the snuggle soft confines of Westchester County.

Of course, he’s soft, the only thing that gets blown around those parts is leaves.

New joke to get me kicked off Twitter again:

My kids recognize actors’ names now, which is a relief, because analogies are easier to make.

We’re watching a Nicholas Cage movie that reenacts the Lincoln assassination.

I drop knowledge.

So, John Wilkes Booth was a famous actor, a real national treasure of his day.

It would be like Leonardo Dicaprio assassinating Joe Biden.

Assuming, Hair Plugs Sniffer forced Greta Thunberg to rub up against his leg hairs in black face for Buckwheat Appreciation night at the next White House Correspondents dinner.

I just bought Crash by the Dave Matthews Band on Vinyl. Because the chorus Crash into me is what played when my wife lost her virginity too, before I dented in her good. And that’s before we had 3 kids in almost rapid succession because I never mastered the art of the pump fake. So, sue me for wanting to pretend my wife had a super tight snatch again. 2 seconds later, I say. “The lube isn’t working babe. Can you just suck the hate speech out of my super soaker. Pretend NPR ordered you to leak it. This way, you’ll get to taste my yum, yum sauce down your virgin esophagus as I tear apart your tonsils instead. Which is better than having to ice your snatch down with Ben Jerry’s Rocky Road To Peace, which is a bloody mess bound to happen like Madonna playing kick the can with her camel toe clit in a minefield throughout the occupied territory during Ramadhan.

Smashes, thrashes, and tactless bits, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Avant-Garde Good

by doitalldadyear, posted in business, technology, writing

As a Headhunter Writer, it’s rare to desire a potential friendship with a candidate. My attitude is different this time because he’s a performance artist, a classically trained violinist turned Software Engineer who played at Carnegie Hall. So, I consider him a kindred spirit. Granted, I’ve only done 5 minutes of standup comedy at the Comedy Cellar, in comparison.

All obsessive, aspiring artists are treated like delusional hack breaths at one point in their life. Or been forced to endure passive-aggressive wails of, “It’s important to have a form of creative expression,” or similar lines of disparagement in their presence, such as the dreaded word “Hobby,” used to describe your life’s work that provides the greatest source of pride in your life. So yes, I’m going to take personal offense if somebody minimizes this kid’s artistic heft and heart-enriching wonderment on the Violin as a mere “hobby” after he sets the stage ablaze at Carnegie Hall, the way Lenny Bruce tore the house down during his historic show one blistering cold winter tonight on February 3, 1961, immortalized on wax forever.

That is before the omnipotent federal government decided to bankrupt Lenny into silence and deny him a living for pointing out shaky moral high grounds at large. Where have you gone, Lenny Bruce? That is what’s weighing on my mind today. Did you know Lincoln jailed journalists who spoke out against his war to crush state rights permanently? He confiscated firearms and property and jailed anyone that disagreed with his rule of tyranny. England had ended slavery peacefully too. I’m so red-hot pissed today; I want to get a Confederate flag tattoo and say, “Fuck you, Dad, I don’t want to be buried in a Jewish cemetery anymore. I’m a Jew for Jesus now. Because even Jesus would have a hard time forgiving the unnecessary slaughter of 600,000 plus Americans, more than all our major wars combined, just so Yankee Bankers could impose their military-industrial complex on anybody whenever they wanted in addition to printing money at will, they even taught secession to West Point cadets back in the day.

So much for this post being LinkedIn-ready appropriate anymore. Time for an impersonation; this is an impression of Dr. Dre discussing the LinkedIn merger with Eminem. “Hey Slim, Microsoft paid 4.5 billion for LinkedIn. Worrrrrrddddd. LinkedIn is lamer than ever, you.”

Oh yeah, and Lincoln didn’t end slavery. Confederate Generals like Stonewall Jackson taught reading and writing to the enslaved Black people during Sunday School, and Robert E Lee possessed a higher opinion of African American capacity for betterment than elitist banker licking Abe ever did.

Now, my candidate has been working as a Software Engineer for a major media company at odds with Dominion allegedly, who boasts an A Plus rating on GitHub, which is a portfolio site of code judged by fellow nerds. Think Reddit plus 1000 IQ points minus the creepy broken English undertow vibe.

Understand, this kid is a Julliard grad, like freaking Robin Williams. Miles Davis is by far the most famous Julliard grad of all time, who decided to trail Bird everywhere, that being Charlie Parker, and learn under his tutelage rather than learn Jazz from a professor who grew up in the snuggle soft confines of Scarsdale, NY. Granted, Miles Davis came from money; his father was a big-time dentist in St. Louis who owned his practice, but still. You have to admire Mile’s commitment to artistic integrity, willingness to take experimental chances with his art, and wanting to learn from a one-person wind farm in Bird, who blew all his peers off the stage in a tsunami of soul-splintering sound around midnight when his blowpipes just stared to get warmed up. Avant-Garde Good, Challah. Thank you very much.

I’ve met this candidate only once, but after watching this kid play his heart out on the Violin on the Carnegie Hall stage through YouTube, I became an instantaneous fan of his for life. This kid vibrates earth-shaking talent up the wazoo. Suddenly, I had a new mission in my life. Take a time out with my art of comedy record creation and get this kid a new work family that cares about celebrated working artists as much as I do. This kid played freaking Carnegie Hall; he’s got a master’s in musical performing arts and is a Juilliard grad. So, when he started, did he envision banging out code as an alternative backup plan for a living? And Bill Hicks contemplated applying for a marketing associate intern position at Proctor and Gamble if his standup comedy career never materialized into a profitable trade.

My point is I can relate. I wasn’t planning on working as an IT Headhunter Writer after my TV writing break with America’s Hard 100 on VH1 Classic. I should’ve been in the WGA 7 years ago before I wrote The Great American Jew Novel, which Dianne Sullivan from the Midwest Book Review described as a “hilarious exploration of NY Comedy and culture.” In short, I’m a total hack breath; that’s no better than the rest if I can’t convince a hiring manager in NYC to give this kid a shot to prove what he’s got.

So far, my email headline in his honor that I’ve been blasting hiring managers with throughout NYC through email addresses listed on Zoom Info has netted goonish, meaning 0.0 replies. That headliner hooker to nowhere being, dramatic drum roll please, “Developer Prodigy Who Played Carnegie Hall.” Are these Engineering Directors for Startup Nation feeling like an ineffectual hackling in his presence already?

Because folks, sometimes people don’t want to hire younger, smarter, faster, more creative, and impressive workers who make them look vastly overpaid and overrated in comparison. So yes, I will proclaim loud and proud on your incoming voicemail, “Joe, Joshua Kornbluth, Human Edge. I’m calling you about a developer prodigy who played at Carnegie Hall. What have you done with your life lately? Did I mention his A Plus rating on GitHub yet? Or that he’s a Juilliard grad yet? Or is he the steal of the century for 140K compared to his blah-breathed, uninspired peers? He’s Avant-Garde Good. #WinnerAtWork. Joshua@HumanEdge.com, Get him while you can.” Janis Joplin lives, Avant-Garde Good, Challah. Thank you very much.


Was that too boastfully long for your tastes? I don’t care. As Jon Bon Jovi sings, “You’ve got to make your breaks,” and it’s a more emotionally charged ride when you’re creating urgent buzz around a star software engineer that I’ll get a better job for because fresher is better, one way or another. Pat Benatar lives, and so does my killer gender-fluid flow. Avant-Garde Good, Challah. Thank you very much.


Michael Kornbluth

Woody Killers

by doitalldadyear, posted in culture, poetry, writing

The decline feature on LinkedIn-In Mail is designed to convey a semi-aggressive f off vibe, don’t you think?  

It’s the closest an IT nerd from a hedge fund in Greenwich, CT can get to hitting you over the head with NO.  

VP Of Product Engineering rumbles to his wife at night.

My team programs trading strategies for masters of the universe.

This Headhunter Writer couldn’t get into Hillsdale College early acceptance.

He’s a God damn disgrace.

You bet your ass, I declined his LinkedIn, In-Mail.

I’ve got no room in my life for another parasitical putz face.

We manage big Pharmas bankroll for Christ stake.

But seriously, the decline feature on LinkedIn Mail screams passive aggressiveness that’s out of breath.

How did this glamorized indentured servant who works on a draw, get the balls to hit on me?

I piss Benjamin’s as far as the eye can see, after my team polished off 2 kegs of Dog Fish 90 minute at our Company Retreat in Capri.

The decline feature on LinkedIn In-Mail is designed to rub in your short sighted loserness in your face.

Yeah, smart move hitting on me through a keyboard lame o breath.

Why don’t you cold call me like a man, so I could tell you to f off in real time with more resounding Shazam?

When someone takes the time to click on Delcine after you blow your load on a LinkedIn In-Mail.

It means, you got under their skin a bit.

So, it’s their turn to make you feel like shit.

If someone actually takes the time to click on decline after receiving a LinkedIn In-Mail in means.

Either A) I want to take a shower

B) Your confidence is off putting

C) You’re not hot enough to hit on me.

D) You’re too dumb to do what I do.

E) Everything you spat in my direction; I can articulate better.

F) Frankly, I don’t normally read LinkedIn Mails because most Recruiters are illiterate burnouts, but I don’t want to you feel sneeringly superior around your pathetic plagued peers.

G) My day just went from good to great, by putting you in your place.

H) Hacks are us, not interested. If I had an ugly stick, I’d beat you over the head with it, till you scurried off to cave underground with nobody else around, where you belong.

I) Idiot, nobody writes in complete sentences anymore. What makes you so special? #RookieRecruitersneverknowwhentothrowinthetowel

J) Jump off a bridge already. You hit on nerds for a living. If were still in high school, Alpha males in school, wouldn’t even waste their time acknowledging your bottom feeding, sexless existence.

K) Kill yourself. I went to the University of Chicago. You went to Ithaca, which is Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor, I win again.

L) Love yourself less. You’re desperate, delusional, dunz face for thinking this attempt to connect would impress.

M) You have no business feeling cooler than any millennial mousketeers who made twice what you make since they raised minimum wage their senior year in college.

N) Nudge your boss into firing you by wearing a xeroxed copy of your latest COVID test at work, so you can make more money collecting unemployment.

O) How do you feel outstanding doing what you do? You badger companies into hiring software engineers who are going to get a new job anyway. Regardless of you emailing their resume, which is your only way to sway.

P) Piss off, you predatory peon scrub. You’re only good at taking well enough to get another recruiter job, you’ve haven’t gotten fired from yet bud.

Q) Quit your recruitment agency career already. You obviously care more about entertaining yourself than your intended audience within the IT sphere, who aren’t known for their rolling senses of humor in the 1st place.

Y) Yuck it up Headhunter Writer. Have fun telling yourself that writing inspires the next time you get fired.

Z) Give your brain a rest and take some Z’s. I bet your sneezes are annoying too. So, f off already please. Do I have to get on my knees?

But Headhunter Writer inspires. So how you can decline further chats with me?  

Oh, yeah, you’re a deadweight conversationalist.

That’s what I get for pissing up the wrong tree.

Woody Killers live, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth