Breaking Fine China’s Balls

Nothing sucks more than Chinese porn. All the subtitles in the world can’t mask what lunging power crouching tiger lacks below is cigarette stained paws.

Ninja porn can’t be too arousing to watch either. I’d develop fists of fury from having to yank my inch worm with tweezers to get a grip to.

Also, how exciting can a Ninja porno remake of Menace To Society be? Despite the Chinese Shopkeeper barking, “Hurry up and cum now.” I’ve got black customers to make feel less welcome than a resurgent herpes sore at the Kissing booth in Revenge of the Nerds. What’s taking so long? I thought Ninja’s were known for their steal quickness, you dumb mutant, American Ninja freak like David Carradine. By the time you finished the MATH section of your SAT, my daughter finished her residency at John Hopkins. You’re a choke artist till the end, your parents must be so proud. The black dude dressed in a Power Ranger outfit take off his mask and says, “I can’t even squeeze in the tip Yo, Yo Ma!”

But seriously, how much would Chinese Ninja porn suck? Ninja’s show less emotion than Ivanka’s haftorah portion in Mandarin.

And who cares about how learned Ninja’s are in Chinese porn? Unless, Storm Shadow can call in a favor to a scientist who specializes in making synthetic boner pills at the Wuhan Lab Institute for sexual stretchy feeling, by injecting Stephon Marbury’s DNA with horse drippings from the show horse Kahn in Mulan, Joy Behar won’t be interested in taking a sneak peak of that steamy waterfall shrinkage screen unravel before her increasingly squinty eyes on a lazy Sunday afternoon either.

Ninja is a Chinese word that means one who endures martial arts training. So they can cover up their crooked gross teeth like Old Dirty Bastard for a purpose, work nights and disappear faster than a Wuhan Lab leaker truther on Tucker Carlson.

It’s hard to get exited about Chinese porno in general, especially if the woman in it are more spit heavy than JAPPY housewives who look like they’ve swallowed whole Amy Fisher’s in their worn out juicy sweats from Long Island.

Chinese porn sucks more than a casting couch session at the Ramada Inn for Debbie Get’s Fisted By North Hollywood.

Casting a plus size geisha model from Victoria Secret’s modeling in office in China would actually work for Victoria Secret Does The Black Power Ranger. Because he even black Power Rangers don’t discriminate against pussy.

Michael Kornbluth













10 Homer Daily

I promised my daughter we’d write a song together this morning. She sang it beautifully. I don’t call her Singing Rose for nothing, here we go.

10 Homer Daily

10 Homer Daily calls out home run blasts in her sleep while other mere mortals kill the time by counting sheep.

10 Homer Daily squeezes pitchers dry, of any juice left to even pick up a piece of pie.

10 Homer Daily is the bard of going yard. The thought of keeping up with her killer blast flow is so hard.

10 Homer Daily whacks endless balls into the clouds while the Baseball Gods look down below upon more thunderous crowds.

10 Homer Daily loves high fast balls the best, pitch her outside or in, she’ll win any homer contest.

10 Homer Daily can smash a ball out of it’s seams, so move over Robert Redford for the new El captain of your team.  

10 Homer Daily is quite a sight. Her is swing is prettier than Aphrodite’s reflection under the moonlight.

10 Homer Daily was born for these times, while others retire she’s thrives in a perpetual prime.

10 Homer Daily makes the ball disappear in the clouds, inspiring the millions of fans to chant take me out the ball game really, really loud.

10 Homer Daily hits moonshots with ease. She’ll do it again no problem despite the pitcher from the Dominican Republic pleading no mas please.

10 Homer Daily stats don’t require graphs, as her stock continues to rise, as she rounds home to use her bat to sign her signature home trot autograph.

Michael and Matilda Kornbluth

Stuck In Teenage Taste Land

Moms always ask me, “Why is your son so happy, all the time?” I say, “Funnier dad, happier baby. Plus, he’s got more muscle memory to flex from than a young Leo on the set of Growing Pains with Alan Thicke.”

I hate hearing, “My kids loved remote learning. They got so much more work done. Why should our kids get off so easy? Kids today should be exposed to time sucking meeting overkill the way office space life works in real life or else how else will they develop a much needed tolerance for perpetual, indentured suckitude. Also, the more remote learning becomes mainstream, the less likely our kids will ever rock the Karaoke stage to Teenage Wasteland by the Who with such jump happy, windmill rocking enthusiasm to celebrate those excessively, awkward bummer times becoming less scar tissue heavy downer times in your heart man. You dig? Not talking to you fake news Zionists in bed Mr. Groper no matter what. Your level of comprehension on anything means less to me than Jill Biden’s hair style tips during Scarecrow Appreciation Week, holla, thank you very much.

All guitar players professional or not, have grossly inflated views of themselves like bartenders who rock wool hats within centralized AC splendor, which is a far cry from reliving those Summer Time Blues. Yeah, you possess a more beautiful spirit than Randy Rhodes, got it. Randy Rhodes’s other worldly audition for Ozzy blew a bat out of the Prince of Darkness’s ass from one finger exercise twinkle tap alone. After the Prince of Darkness got kinky with Elvira in his underground wine and cheese cave in his Beverly Hills party pad palace prior.

I’m at the Guitar Store to sign up for guitar lessons and ask the manager there, whose a black dude, “Do black kids come into the Guitar Store today and tell you they want to learn how to play like Vern Reed from Living Color? He’s the black heavy metal version of Hendrix minus the rollicking mysterious personality and big pimping fly guy, feathered Fedora hats in his acid rock friendly wardrobe to enhance his overall pinup appeal. I add, “I remember requesting the song Cult of Personality at a Bar Mitzvah party the second that video broke big. And the DJ had no idea who I was talking about it. DJ says, “Living Color, like the show with Damon Wayans? Nah, DJ Hickey Quickie doesn’t play that.” I clarify, “No the band is called Living Color, not In Loving Color. And how have you not seen the video for Cult of Personality on MTV yet? The video is much less Muslim Brotherhood angry like every other Public Enemy prior, despite Chuck D growing up in an upper middle class suburb within Yenta breath country in Long Island.” Later, I point out to the black store manager how the lead singer of Living Color is actually Danny Glover’s son and add, “They should change the name of the song Cult of Personality to reflect our post woke oppressed times and rename it, Cult of Hollywood Royalty instead. Do you think Danny Glover had Mel Gibson give his son’s demo to the head of Warner Brother Records after doing Lethal Weapon together? Or did Mel resist the request because he avoided meeting Jewish music producers like Phil Spector more than Holocaust film retrospectives on AMC.” The black manger of the Guitar Store was shocked when I told him about Danny Glovers’ son being the lead singer and songwriter of Living Color. You’d think I told him that I thought Kevin Hart was hardcore hilarious all of a sudden, as opposed to being another mildly amused, short on laughs spectator like the rest.

How much social anxiety did Durant face when the press questioned his leadership prowess, after Team USA lost exhibition games against Nigeria and Australia? Right wing reporter from Brietbart Sports asks, “Kevin, you talk all this smack about being a big time leader. Who get’s the best out of others like Lebron or the way Chipmunk Chucker did with Golden State this year, with less reliable shooting options available after ANTIFA wildfires burned up every safe space shoot up, dose off playground bench left in Portlandia. What do you say to all your critics, who are more in the right to question your ability to inspire the will to win no matter what, among your tinier, less endowed, coddled teammates, Damian Lillard, excluded? Durant says, “Go woke yourself honky. I didn’t know Nigeria went to Hakeem the Dream, Dream Shake Camp free of charge. Plus, I didn’t know team Australia hired ex Bulls center Luc Longley to train their big men on the down low, down under. Luc had a more reliable jump hook than Draymond Green ever did. Am I coming down too hard on aw shucks Draymond now? Well, Draymond Green should be able to take what he dishes out, knowing how much punishment he delivers below the belt already.”

Who prices the art for Hunter’s blow paintings that blow exactly? The Tooth Fairy of Beijing who leaves 500 grand under his Chinese silk pillow every time he cuts his tooth into another masterpiece as a reward for giving up blow for blow painting like Tom Hank’s kid whose more into being the black sheep rapper wannabe in the family instead.

Friendship litmus test for borderline old school fair weather friends. Text the links to my past 4 comedy records in a row and give them one month to get around to hearing one. If they don’t, I’ll be forced to place an ad on Craig’s List for another ego jerkoff buddy, comfortable enough in his own skin, to tickle someone else’s balls without throwing their back out while trying to suck off their own inflated sense of tempered emotive resistance in the process. Although, I’m not a complete poverty case. My old sales boss, who used to let me do new material at work in our office in One Penn Plaza above MSG got back to me already and said, “Too funny. You’ll make it, just keep on doing you. I think I’ll name my next comedy record Hardcore Hilarious after all. Thanks again for the stage time Larry. You’re a shining example of how standup mensch’s matter to.

Michael Kornbluth

The Dream Team Days

I know Pippen needs money because during his playing days he got PAID less than BJ Armstrong’s nanny. But I can’t believe that a Dream Teamer dominator who boasts zero percent body fat, who hasn’t aged a day since Rodman refused to go down on Madonna on New Year’s Eve in 1999, is going to get into bourbon enough to launch his own line of the stuff called Digits no less out of the freaking blue. After, we get some digits, let’s order another found of Jager shots for old time’s sake. Digits, why doesn’t Scottie Pippen call the bourbon Beeper Keeper instead? Can I get holla for some Challah? More jokes Gen X Dads understand and beyond, thank you very much.

When I was a kid, my 1st lofty goal was to scrounge enough money from my dad’s loose change dish so I could buy all the NBA rookie cards for the original Dream Team, Scottie Pippen included. At the time, I was also a diehard Knicks fan, which was an arranged marriage my father pushed on me, that I’ll never a ring to show for it. Back in the day, the Ewing lead Knicks at least competed in the playoffs, which offered plenty of thrills before my pubescent life shooter finally popped out of it’s holster as I bloomed under my Fruit of The Looms. Now, I wouldn’t describe my early love affair with the Knicks as Hakeem unveiling Lisa happy back in Zamunda again.  But the majority of my time spent with my favorite team in the universe, always gave me sustainable pleasure back as a whole, which is more than I can say for the woman and mother of my 3 beamish kids these days. But the one constant as a kid, besides my dad trying shit on my surging self-esteem, nothing has changed really, was the stud hued play of Scottie Pippen, whether it was his sweltering defense, giving off the impression he had extra length tarantula arms growing out of his bony ass, leading the fast break like Magic on Atkins with dogged, breathless ease or filling the lane to rip off the rim like a sober minded, better postured, Shawn Kemp. Who ran down the court with a slight hunch from impregnating half of Seattle one drooled over stuff at a time.  Plus, the year Jordan played baseball, Pippen owned the Knicks at the Garden and should’ve advanced to the NBA Finals without that bullshit tap foul call. Hubert Davis got grazed from way downtown with no time left on the clock, who cocked a slower release than Hunter Biden on bad coke. So, knowing what a clutch co-MVP Pippen was on those 6 championship Bulls teams, it infuriated me to learn on The Last Dance how Jordan gave him grief for postponing surgery one year because he was getting paid less than BJ Armstrong’s nanny. Still, Pippen’s new natty dread hair due, and post woke talk about Phil Jackson being a racist because he a drew up a last second shot play for Tony Kukoc because God forbid Croatian baller ego’s matter to, is stripping any allure left to pump up Scottie’s ego for being the most grossly overlooked number 2 in my lifetime or the next.

Yeah, I’m sure Phil Jackson’s decision to give Tony Kukoc the final shot over Scottie Pippen was racially motivated, although he did shoot from a higher percentage from way downtown last time I checked. Why couldn’t Scottie just admit, Tony had a prettier, more reliable jumper? Let’s also not act like the black man in this instance was known as a superior set jump shooter off the pic and roll compared to Europe’s greatest imported jump shooter throughout the nineties outside of Drazen Petrovic. Although Tony Kukoc was nearly 6’11, so he had a much clearer view of the hoop than Scottie or Drazen, and Pippen wasn’t competing in any three-point contests back in the day either. But what really annoys me about this Pippen makeover is him pushing a bourbon called Digits with a hand on the bottle as a logo. Shouldn’t a bourbon called Digits have a Scottie Phone playing number on it instead or at least the cell phone for his smoking hot ex wife Laura Pippen just to piss her off for old time’s sake, although based on her Instragram feed, you know she’s begging for the extra attention to.

I’m just not feeling the extra-large Pelton high five hand logo on Scottie Pippen’s bottle of Bourdon one bit. Scottie Pippen was never known for his outlandish, towel twirling, ra, ra, rooting personality either. Last, Scottie Pippen never struck me as a guy who drinks bourbon because he still exudes 0.0 body fat and has nothing weighty to contemplate when his not 1 but 6 rings speak for themselves. Kid Rock wants to market a bourbon, I can get behind that concept a bit more, knowing he uses the booger sugar to stay slim after all these years.  Scottie Pippen endorsing bourbon is like John Stockton endorsing flavored vape pens or myself ordering Wild Turkey neat with no ice like a wannabe Nick Nolte in the making. Obama’s race obsessed bullshit has ruined everything, even the cocksure, quiet allure of the NBA’s greatest number 2 of all time, my chest times 6.

Michael Kornbluth

The Poor Sport From Dicks

Kids learn bad habits from dad but not according to an out of shape, late middle aged sales rep for Dick’s Sporting Goods in Danbury, CT. I’m about to buy a boxing bag for my kids and say, “Kids learn bad habits from Dad. That’s why I wasted my youth on smoking cigarettes and watching the Knicks stink up the joint year after year. The dick headed defiant sales rep from Dicks who was no younger than 70, whose body was no temple of fitness either replies, “That’s not true, because my dad smoked cigarettes and I was an athlete. My kids are athletes to.” I say, “So your sons forced you to work at Dicks for their employee store discount? Also, what sport did you letter in because being an all around dick doesn’t count? Because if you didn’t smoke, why should I give a shit about your kids being considéréd athletes either? Unless, your athlete sons earned sports scholarships to prove white man’s disease doesn’t matter because they can drain jumpers with their eyes closed. I’m not too interested in your motivational coach assessment abilities bud, sorry.”

Michael Kornbluth

The Poor Sport From Dicks

Kids learn bad habits from dad but not according to an out of shape, late middle aged sales rep for Dick’s Sporting Goods in Danbury, CT. I’m about to buy a boxing bag for my kids and say, “Kids learn bad habits from Dad. That’s why I wasted my youth on smoking cigarettes and watching the Knicks stink up the joint year after year. The dick headed defiant sales rep from Dicks who was no younger than 70, whose body was no temple of fitness either replies, “That’s not true, because my dad smoked cigarettes and I was an athlete. My kids are athletes to.” I say, “So your sons forced you to work at Dicks for their employee store discount? Also, what sport did you letter in because being an all around dick doesn’t count? Because if you didn’t smoke, why should I give a shit about your kids being considéréd athletes either? Unless, your athlete sons earned sports scholarships to prove white man’s disease doesn’t matter because they can drain jumpers with their eyes closed. I’m not too interested in your motivational coach assessment abilities bud, sorry.”

Michael Kornbluth

The COVID Jab Pinkie Swear

New York City is reopened again. Cuomo declares victory. He killed off the greatest
city the world has in only 15 months flat.

Steven A. Smith claims Durant is the best player to represent New York. Be a more
transparent kiss ass Smith. Millennial Mouseketeers would’ve gotten stomped to
death in the vastly more rough and tumble era of the eighties NBA. The
suffocative defensive play by the Bad Boys, X Man, The Pacers, Kevin Willis and
Charles hard as oak Oakley wouldv’e torn Durant’s pipe cleaner arms off like he
was the black Gumby. Durant isn’t an actual Playground legend from Brooklyn
like Bernard King either. Bernard King was the black Larry Bird on steroids
with Rocky’s eye of the tiger snarl in Rocky 2. Who ripped the rim off the
fucking basket while going coast to coast like Westbrook on Adderall with far
greater chest puffing huffing ease.

Refusing to vote is giving up on America. No, avoiding Voter ID to cheat again is. I
forgot. Calling out election fraud is the big lie like humanization being the
religion of peaceful Palestinian protestors for hire. Which reminds me, an all
Muslim girls prom was just held in Detroit. The prom was like mine, pork free.

I hope nobody votes in America ever again. So, politicians who let Democracy die
under their watch without making a peep will feel like emptier imposter do good
helpers at the Harvard Club than normal till their last, scotch stench filled
breaths.

Is Baby Face Omar the new face of Banana Republic yet? To model their new line of
casual antisemitism footwear that comes with a complimentary Israeli doormat to
boot.

Actually, the Supreme Court gave up on America when they refused to look into the case of
election fraud that was more blatant than Jill Biden’s varicose veins with no
panty hose on in front of the Queen. Who offers stiff competition in that
department with her panty hose on in person.

Eric Clapton’s famous music friends like Steve Winwood are avoiding him like the
plague now since he opened up about partial paralysis after his 2nd COVID jab.
Back on his high horse again with chompers like that. Dear Alexa, play me any
song by Cream, Clapton or Derek and Dominoes to make me happy. It’s too bad
Steve Winwood isn’t cracking anybody’s top 100 pleasure playlist either.

Nobody has died from the COVID jab. What about boxer legend The Marvelous Marvin
Hagler? Oh yeah, MSN debunked the conspiracy theory already despite Tommy
Hearns claiming the murderous jab put him out for the count more than his
combinations ever could.

I made a COVID jab pinkie swear when my parents asked me to get vaccinated for
their behalf. But my father’s shoulders collapse whenever I go in for a hug
for old time’s sake since I came out as a Trump supporter. Plus, my parents are
vaccinated, which grants them immunity from the virus allegedly. So, at this
point, what difference does it make? Hillary Hammer Time Cankles strikes again.
Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth