Early Hanukkah Gifts Galore

Watching my mother-in-law reluctantly spin a Dreidel at our dinner table because her granddaughter gave her one to spin was like watching Moby being pressured into spinning Animal by Def Leppard by Kid Rock at gunpoint.

7 Year Old Daughter hands me Make Your Dreams Come True book I got for her. And says. Read this. It will get you a job. So you can start bringing home the bacon. And I’m not talking about the veggie kind either.

Do It All Dad’s plan to make my make gentile in-laws tense today. We place the Oy Vey headband we got yesterday at Party City on my daughter’s stuffed animal Pineapple Pretty because she pulls of the jappy girl persona the best.

Trump’s a White Nationalist retort for Thanksgiving.
Obama had Jay Z call Meek Mill to talk him out of meeting with Trump to discuss educating changing prison reform. Sorry, African American brothers got 99 problems but Trump isn’t one son.

INT. CAR-Outside of Target
Daddy, do people ever shoot arrows at Target?

Explaining consent to my 7 year old daughter.
So Jerry Lee Lewis married his cousin when she was only 14. Yuck. I know.
Plus, when she went moved in with him at 14. All she had to pack her cloths in was her Fisher Price Farmhouse.

White Nationalists run the White House reply for Thanksgiving. Obama’s the enemy of black people. He did nothing about gun violence in Chicago. He imported inner city jobs to illegals and his best celeb bud is the ex-crack king of NY.

White Nationalists run the White House reply for Thanksgiving follow up. Obama’s the enemy of black people. He did nothing about gun violence in Chicago. He imported inner city jobs to illegals and his best celeb bud is the ex-crack king of NY.

White Nationalists run the White House reply for Thanksgiving part 3. Are you telling me you know more about face to face racism than Jim Brown? Who Richard Pryor picked to help run the 1st black owned film production company back in the day.

Trump’s a White Nationalist retort for Thanksgiving part 4.
Then, why didn’t denture mouth Pelosi stand during his state of the union after he mentions record low black unemployment numbers? I prefer a President who stands for Americans 1st and delivers.

White Nationalists run the White House reply for Thanksgiving for the remaining kill shot. But your wife isn’t a hippie nurse from Australia. So your chances of scoring a Work Visa in the land down under is on par with those from the Spanish Caravan. Fake news hippie, man.

 

INT.
Mother-In-Law
Manchester was named best Christmas Market in Europe.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
I prefer Mariah Carey Christmas songs over Adele.
You could’ve had it all. You mean all 800 pounds of you, Mary Ploppins?

Stay At Home Comedian Dad
You don’t mind me wearing my Knicks shirt for your parents?
Wife
No, they love that we live in New York.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Don’t move to Delaware on our behalf gave me that impression also.

Wife
You made this Alfredo sauce yourself?
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Act more surprised like Huma licker breath on election night.

Daughter
Jida, I learned Pisces like me can read emotions.
Jida
What’s daddy feeling?
Daughter
Annoyed he can’t submit book proposals to agents including chapters such as Grandparent Bad Manners because you’re here now. If I had to guess.

Stay At Home Comedian Dad
What if you flew us all out to Manchester next year for Christmas?
Mother In Law
We’d have to quarantine the dog for 6 months.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Why, did you rescue it from Hondrus?

My Buzz Kill Wife
Hey babe, the kids and I are making Low Rider Fredo Homes. We’re using lime zest & cilantro instead of parsley and lemon used in the traditional Fettuccine Alfredo. She says. Cilantro is strong. Angel Dust is strong bitch.

 

Do It All Dad’s plan to make my make gentile in-laws tense today. We put a Menorah Hat on Matilda’s new big sized Hello Kitty stuffed animal. English Mother-In-Law stares at Kitty quizzically. Daughter says. It converted.

Johnny Cash is the Frank Sinatra of country. The man in black is peerless in terms of charisma loaded phrasing, sardonic baritone based, killed around the world man bravado, tingly clear annunciation & cover topping grace.

 

My Non-Committal In-Laws
I say. We should celebrate Christmas in Manchester as a family 1 year.
Crickets ensue. I’m thinking. You would think I’d suggested us crashing the Royal Halloween party as the Hasidic Diamond stick up men in Snatch.

 

INT. CAR
Daughter
Daddy, are any banks evil? You know like the one Obama uses.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
I think he uses UBS in Kenya.

Father-In-Law
Hanukkah starts early this year.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
I know. Your people are used to dominating the entire month from December from start to finish. Your own red wave really. I can’t tell if I nailed that analogy or not.

 

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Wife Sucks At Life or Death Reminders

This Is Us
3 kids in our bed on top of mama. I knock them off with a gentle forearm nudge. I start dry humping mama and say. Who wants a baby sister? Watch and learn. The pill makes me nauseous. Waite a minute, are you on the pill again? The End.

INT. ANTIQUE STORE
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Samantha Fox on the cover of Penthouse , 10 bucks, sold. And this headline. AIDS: And now for the good news. What, the monkey from Cannon Ball is clean as a whistle according to Burt Reynolds?

Friend generation advice for my 4 year old son.
Every girl will want a piece of you. But you only have 1 tripod. So spread the love and send some ricocheted lovin in their direction And you’ll have blood fisted brothers for life boy!

John Cryer as Lex Luthor is gayer than Kevin Spacey lunging at Othello in tights.

Podcast Refresh Idea:
I interview dead do it all dad comedians and funny man writers on the Do It All Dead Year Podcast. And claim to possess supernatural medium powers to do so. Declare myself the The King of Dead Clown Interviews.

My parents defense against not calling about the winter storm.
He hasn’t asked us about how we feel about the Arizona recount in our favor. Despite whatever sketchy, nefarious means were taken to enact the swing vote into reality.

Brokering a 2 state solution in Israel is complex. No it isn’t. Try electing a Palestinian Minister of Education. Whose idea of a “united curriculum” isn’t poems glorifying killing more Jews in the name of you know who. As an act of good faith for starters.

INT. ANTIQUE STORE
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Jessica Hahn on the cover of Penthouse, sold.
You can look up a porn star’s credits on IMDB. My ex-roommate did after we met 1 in N. Hollywood. Only a Jew from the valley would know this feature exists.

Brokering a 2 state solution in Israel is complex. Sure, if you claim full ownership of land recaptured & won by Israel since 1967 and sent your children to die as so called Martyrs killing innocent Jews because they’re the real demons in this equation.

Do It All Dad Tip:
Never let your 4 year old son crack eggs for you. Despite stressing how it’s all in the wrist like Kareem’s infamous sky hook. Or you’ll ruin eggs forever by tasting bits of chipped tooth conjuring shells.

INT. PIZZERIA
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Kids, Penne is like Anorexic Rigatoni.
An Anorexic is someone who starves themselves to look skinny.
Bulimics puke up what they eat. They’re basically greedier Anorexics.

INT. HOME
Wife
We have our toothbrushes numbered.
Arthur
I’m number 4.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
And I’m number 1 because all 3 of you stem from daddy’s tree truck.

Wife’s nurse friend laughs long time.

 

If I had a do over. I’d have 3 kids. Then, move to Hollywood without them for pilot season. Because sleeping in my own car like Andy Dick would be a walk in the park after your bed turns into a 24/7 Milk Bar for 7 years and counting.

INT. HOME
Wife
You got a fantasy decoration for our tree?
Stay At Home Comedian
Yeah, I got a Unicorn Strap-On to hang on it Nardia.

Wife’s friend laughs long time.

INT. ANTIQUE STORE-COLD SPRING
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
My friend Dave will love this old Penthouse with Samantha Fox.
Before girls with tattoos on crystal meth ruined the sensual allure of porn movies forever.

The Princess Bride is hilarious. Still, in the Andre Giant doc on HBO, Rob Reiner tarnishes it, saying all his lines were incomprehensible because he was a drunk. No, letting Corey Haim get gang raped by your buds in rape wood is incomprehensible.

Last year, my kids had more Snow Days than Germans have paid time off.

Plopping a Coconut Air Freshener in our garbage pale to defunkify it in the middle of winter feels a tad more matured minded than spraying myself with Obsession cologne after clam-backing in my parents Mazda 929 in high school but not by much.

INT. ANTIQUE SHOP-COLD SPRING
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Nice BLM pin. If I’m feeling frisky. Next year during the holiday season. I’ll ask you if you got any Millennial Lives Matter t-shirts .

Owner laughs long time.

I’d rather live in resistor Long Island City than have my wife interrupt my spinach and feta Omelet breakfast with our 3 kids through our Alexa app powered speakers playing Norah Jones prior. My mood inside went from serene to enraged violated in a NY minute.

My parents defense for not calling about the storm before, after or during.
We just assumed a stay at home dad would stay in as usual.

My wife sucks at being a life or death reminder meteorologist. Our SUV is stuck on a hill, All Wheel Drive is off, I got 3 kids in back. And I’m thinking. Not once, do I recall my wife uttering. Don’t leave the house today under any condition, even if it’s for a job interview, God forbid.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

My Move From Hermosa Hell

7:30 PM WST and my parents haven’t called yet to wish me a happy 28th birthday. I play a voicemail. My mom sings me happy birthday. And I cry out every ounce of beaten down in life sadness, my always ate alone in Junior High at Burger King clogged heart could bear. Apparently, my new diet of double cheese Turkey Burgers from Astro Burgers didn’t do much to unclog the heavy heartedness of ineffectual loser-dom in my heart. Knowing at 28, I was an unemployed wannabe standup comedian in the Valley, porn capital of the world next to Warner Brother Studios, otherwise known as the land of dirty, money shot powered dreams.

 

My wife now and mother of my 3 kids hates me bringing up my lost year in Sherman Oaks. Where the crystal meth was still working its way out of my system. The unemployment checks were coming to an end. And at 28, I still didn’t have a best friend to call to emote to, ask for advice or pick me up when times were blue. Which depressed me more than having little to no money then. I was so broke, my Hebrew was under Judicial Review at 28 years old.  Back then, I couldn’t even stare at an extra Actress with a SAG card on Melrose without being fined for insufficient funds.  Ok, so I had some decent material my 1st year of stand-up during my “lost year” in Sherman Oaks.  But I almost never made it to Sherman Oaks alive at all.

I lived in Hermosa Beach, for 9 months prior. It was my favorite beach in Southern California by far. The sand is pebble free and the waves for body surfing were consistently the best. My apartment was on Monteray Ave, overlooking the Pier and Brian Wilson’s favorite, money making muse, the misty, always majestic, mighty Pacific. Screw you Mark Twain it’s my story time now. Female hardbody volleyball players abounded. Specs of sand scattered within my shower always put me at Summer loving having a blast ease.

 

I stared to run by the water after working as an IT recruiter in Manhattan Beach nearby. I was no longer in a suffocating, sexless relationship with my ex. The only rich Irish girl of private Catholic school upbringing in Westwood, John Wooden country. Who couldn’t hold her liquor. But her father had a keg of Sierra Nevada Pale on tap always. So I wasn’t complaining. It’s the pale that never gets stale. Recycling lines from my advertising portfolio and 1st year of stand up has to materialize for me eventually.  I even had buds to hang out with down for happy hour at the Poop Deck before I hit on everything that moved. Had my recruiter bud Jay take some inspired trips to Tijuana with me. Growing up during Regan, before Magic had made HIV disappear. I had enough good sense so I thought not to bang any hookers there. Was called a faggot for it which was nice. Walked out of a brothel when they were all lined up also. I couldn’t have been a more indecisive Jew unless I had the munchies at the Bellagio buffet in Vegas for my last meal on earth but was only allotted 1 plate to fill.

I was paying rent on my own. Had to ask mom and dad for deposit, 1st month rent. It was my only way out my relationship with my ex. In retrospect, I should’ve kicked her out of our apartment in West Hollywood. Which I was living in prior. It was ten times cheaper and walking distance to the Improv on Melrose and the Comedy Store on Sunset. So much for thinking that move through.

Across the street from where I lived in Hermosa was a wine shop that sold beer. The owner there was young like me who used to live in NYC, so he was pretty cool in my book, so I thought. We start hanging out late night at this wine shop. He lures me with free wine samples and bottles of beer when I don’t have a bottle to piss in literally. Pretty soon, this leads to us doing bumps of what I thought were cocaine which were actually bumps of Crystal Meth. It looked the same, dripped at the back of my throat the same and snorted up my nostril the same. The only discernable difference after my 1st tiny snort, lasting what seemed like all summer.  Was me kissing this delicious blond gal at a dark, scarlet red hued lounge bar by the Strand moments later. Feeling like a coked out Tony the Tiger.  Thinking, this is shit is great. It wasn’t.

The crash was in fact the opposite of great. Especially 24 hours later, when I found myself peeing on myself. Walking outside my apartment. Feeling my eyes roll toward the back of head. Never feeling more empty or devoid of hope in such a depressed, bleaked out state in my life. Staring at the Pacific Ocean from my 2nd story walk up apartment in Hermosa Beach, not seeing pure beauty or universal connectivity or boundless potential inside me. Not seeing me prancing on the sand with my ex girlfriend Summer Lam to summer loving having a blast after drinking Pyramid Peach Apricot beers on the beach or making Veal Marsala from Bristol Farms after watching a Sopranos together in our apartment, based on a recipe from the Sopranos cook book no less.

 

No, all I felt was imminent death coming to claim me if God didn’t throw me a lifeline of any kind. As I walked out of my apartment in a Crystal Meth mind, spirit meltdown stupor, no longer doing wine sales on commission only after I got fired from my IT recruiter job for not billing enough and looking for other jobs on the job. Forward thinking has never been my forte.

Already, using what money I had left on my new apartment deposit in Sherman Oaks in the Valley. From my stocks and 401K, nice to meet you Capital Gains. I had no security blanket left. But thank God my old recruiter bud Jay called me out of the blue to see if I wanted to be roommates. I consider it divine intervention. Because if Jay didn’t call me I would’ve stayed in southern California long enough to try writing another Curb spec again but on my own this time without my ex, Erica’s assistance. I wrote it in 3 days flat. I was clean now. Was attending bartending school in North Hollywood. Spent a fortune on a psychic in West Hollywood to clear my Chakras. Apparently, my Chakras were more clogged than my freshman college one hitter.

 

In Sherman Oaks, I was trying to write standalone jokes and get laughs from doing stand-up. Till this day, I don’t know what demon drove me to do it. Outside of my roommate Jay, Cedric, another old recruiter bud and Shakes, an IT security analyst who I placed with Raytheon in El Segundo, California, I had no Mikey pep talks from T in Swingers to rely on.

So I’m staring down the cold, unforgiving, gaze of the Pacific Ocean from the balcony of my apartment with pee drenched pants. Having no accomplishment of distinction under my belt yet. Which I can truly claim as my own. Billing almost 100K as an IT Recruiter in Westwood prior doesn’t really count because my Recruiting Manger would spoon feed me lines to negotiate fee and close candidates on salary with.  I can’t get over the vacant chill inside me starring out daybreak over Hermosa Beach with scattered, greyish overcast for a change. Thinking, my younger brother who went to boarding school for his cocaine troubles. He’s the one with hard drug issues, not me.

I worked my ass off from 22-28 years old cold calling my brains out as an IT recruiter in Westwood, Century City and now Manhattan Beach. From 7-7 I was at work. And I’d work on TV spec scripts with my ex at night when we lived in West Hollywood together for Curb, Malcolm, even did a Six Feet Under, got really strong encouragement from lit agents and professional readers to.

But since getting fired from my IT Recruiter job and making no money from wine sales and no longer having my ex-girlfriend help anchor me to bang out spec scripts after cold calling off  all index cards pre-LinkedIn, I was truly lost at sea. Now, I was no longer a mere Shmuck in a headset. Or even an aspiring TV scribe on the rise, just a spoiled, degenerate, mush brained, borderline friendless, borderline disowned 1st born with a useless Communication degree about to drop dead at 28 years old, 1 year after Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin. But my magic 27 didn’t consist of banging out Bobby McGee on Pearl or shredding the Filmore East’s amps to pieces with Machine Gun on Band of Gypsies either. Shit, I wasn’t even a bloated Jim Morrison, who still squeezed out the majestic Indian Summer before my impending, not important enough to be tragic, dying of my light.

I make it across the street to Ming Dynasty’s wine shop. Which he needs to open so I can get some Alka Seltzer and water. Then, when I thought my dark thoughts couldn’t get any trying to sleep off Acid to Beethoven freshman year in college scarier worse. Ming Dynasty cryptically states in the most chillingly, been around a lot of overdoes man, says. Don’t OD in front of my store. I end up shaking it off at his parents place. And all I have to keep me going is forced sunny images of my summer in love with Katie in the Cape, holding hands, walking to town, no images of my pothead friends from high school, no images of dad bonding with me, nothing.

The worst part is me having to move out of my apartment in Hermosa to Sherman Oaks the day after I saw my non-glorious life fade out in front me. My move from Hermosa Hell to the valley is the move that almost killed me, literally.  I was so winded, the next day, I had to take 20 minute naps on the coach from merely, carrying boxed books down a single flight of stairs.  I had no medical insurance. How I made it to Sherman Oaks without dying from Dark angel’s crystal meth attack on what spark of divinity remained in my sad shrouded soul and borderline brain dead head is purely a direct result of God’s grace, nothing more, nothing less. God must have known ahead of time, what great kids I’d bang out once I got my act together.

Again, I didn’t even know I was doing Crystal Meth.  I only learned it was Crystal Meth months later, when Ming Dynasty rang. I said dude, I don’t know what was in that coke but I thought I was doing die in my own arms that night. Ming Dynasty replies. It wasn’t coke, it was Crystal Meth. I thought you knew the difference. But powdered coke looks like powdered Meth. So much for passing the Pepsi fucking challenge.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BE FUNNIER THAN WEIRD AL BY CHRISTMAS

Daddy, what’s confidence? Telling doubt, see ya, wouldn’t want to be yah. Or as Axl Rose sings in Mr. Brownstone, Worryin’s a waste of my time. And I’m not Heavy Metal’s answer to Richard Lewis.

Nationalist is a loaded word. The N bomb is a load word. ANTFA lives matter is an oxymoron.
Starting shit with my mother in law part 1
Enough with grace in our home Rosa.
None of my children including myself believe Jesus was the real Messiah.
If so God would’ve started a Kickstarter campaign to pay for our moving costs to Israel already.

Starting shit with my mother in law part 2
Don’t force my kids to say Grace unless black Jesus Haile Selassie is included. He’s God incarnate, direct of descent of David. His body disappeared to, just saying. You better recognize.

Starting shit with my mother in law part 3
Don’t force my kids to say Grace.
I love me some Jesus but don’t believe he’s the Messiah.
Fake news Nazi smears, ANTIFA & CNN suing the White House doesn’t feel like the age of messianic peace within me.

Motley Crue ranks as the best brawling band ever because of the long reach of Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx alone. The Allman Brothers had black bassist Berry Oakley but Dwayne Allman is getting his ass whipped easy and looked like he was dying to begin with.

Yelling at my daughter is like yelling at the Grateful Dead for opening up with St. Stephen because Jon Mayer looks prettier than Trey playing it obviously.

How do you hate the movie Rudy? Dare I quote Ike on Veterans Day? “It’s not size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.” F the underdog Rudy. Spoken like the last Jeb Bush fan on earth.

But really how do you hate the movie Rudy? That’s like hating Eric Stoltz for hooking up with Laura Dern in Mask or hating Lupus for snagging a grab in Bad News Bears.
Or hating Daniel Day’s Lewis’ club left foot.

Louie CK is right. Most kids can be annoying assholes. Mine are fuss free. But hipster husband talk of white nationalists turning America into an Aryan nation despite no Edward Norton, American History X knockoffs gracing the Oval Office is so tolerable.

Met Stan Lee in Beverly Hills. Told him, I loved him in Mallrats. Jagger and me, we had a running contest, last time I looked I was way ahead. What an inspired writer life he lived. Goodbye sweet prince of boyhood wonder and creatively jacked good guy delight.

Int. Home
Wife
You went to the new Stop & Shop in Mahopac?
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
I’ve seen more sure footed tourists in Times Square.
I hear. Can you direct me to the canned goods and frozen food sections please? Yikes!

Racist Case Against Trump
He called the White Nationalist Protesters in Charlottesville, nice people. Did Trump name names & give shouts out to Schillinger from OZ and his kids Screaming Nazi and Hail Jager Goldschlager?

#FacebookDown was down on Monday but Farrakhan’s page was still up. Zit Face Zuck must label his anti-Jew tirades as fake news hate speech or inspired filler for Spike Lee’s new joint.

Michelle Obama says Melania never reached out to ask her advice on being 1st lady. Like Melania planned on rocking the Kwanza themed decorations for Christmas. Or had to rely on Michelle for Fashion tips once Fashion Police got terminated.

Michelle Obama says Melania never reached out to ask her advice on being 1st lady. I’m sure her perpetual, bitchy scowl during Trump’s inauguration had nothing to do with it. Or how Michelle didn’t bother doing her hair according to my barber.

Michelle Obama says Melania never reached out to ask her advice on being 1st lady. Or inquire about Beyonce’s secret Lemonade recipe. Produce a documentary on yourself for Netflix already called “Ungracious 1st Lady.”

Michelle Obama says Melania never reached out to ask her advice on being 1st lady. Last time I checked, Barron isn’t the one passing out at Lollapalooza on more than just Fun Dip. Nor is he interning for Miramax either.

Michelle Obama says Melania never reached out to ask her advice on being 1st lady. On what, how to strip the Oval Office of all high class prestige but letting it all hang out on Ellen? In white slacks after Labor Day to top it off.

Bud
How about Melo?
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Contrary to popular belief, I think he’s a poor excuse for a leader.
Who failed to live up to hype like Obama on Cheeseburgers.

 

Long Island City is so hot now because Amazon’s coming to town. No, it’s not. It’s still Queens. Compared to Manhattan and Brooklyn, Queens is still the sloppy 3rd Kardashian sister. Whose easy to pound at 3 in the morning like a lamb gyro in Astoria.

 

With Amazon moving to town, the 7 line will be tighter than Nas Ilmatic, represent, represent, represent.

 

INT. Car
Son
Be funnier than Weird AL by Christmas Dada. Or I’m killing you with our sharpest knife for real.
Stay At Home Dad
I better get sharper by writing funnier jokes then.

 

INT. Car
Son
Be funnier than Weird AL by Christmas Dada. Or I’m killing you with our sharpest knife for real.
Stay At Home Dad
How did you get so tough?
Son
My daddy’s a killer comedian.

INT. Car
Son
Be funnier than Weird AL by Christmas Dada. Or I’m killing you with our sharpest knife for real.
Stay At Home Dad
I’ll go for the jugular kid.
Forward force all the way.

INT. Car
Son
Be funnier than Weird AL by Christmas Dada. Or I’m killing you with our sharpest knife for real.
Daughter
Kill or be killed by political correctness Dada.
Don’t make Obama’s legacy the death of comedy to.

 

THE END

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LAST PERSON ON EARTH DESERVING MY SCORN

I hate to admit it but I’m too liberal with my screaming voice, especially around my 3 children, especially around Matilda, my 1st born. My best friend in the universe. I recall getting jealous of her wish at the mall once. I give her a quarter to throw in the fountain. I ask what she wished for. She wished, her old school Pre-K friend Cecilia never dies. And I say. “Did you ever considering wishing that your borderline hilarious dad never bombs on stage with an untested opener again sunshine? Because once the hole is dug, you’re like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill flailing with all of your might, in a coffin buried six feet under. And I never took Kung Fu like yourself to learn the 5-point palm exploding heart technique to use in case I’m confronted with another life or death emergency of my own doing, again and again.”
Last night, I’m downstairs with my wife watching the season finale for Always Sunny, “Mac Finds His Pride”, all 3 kids are asleep, so I think around nine. Then, I hear some slight feet poundage upstairs. I freak out prematurely. What’s new? And yell “go to bed” like Charlie from Always Sunny because he yells all his lines 99% of the time. And my pith perfect daughter replies in an ultra-upset perplexed state, “I was just going to the bathroom.” Talk about feeling like a total rageful, hateful, Twitter Twat resistor on the spot. Within less than 2 seconds, I became what I detest most. The yelling, hysterical, bile bully cliché incarnate.

I always stress to my kids the importance of trusting their gut to determine right from wrong. So, wanting to keep my a-hole enshrouded hypocritical streak from sapping it of all parental pride left all together. I dart upstairs to kiss my best friend on the cheek and stroke her forehead before telling her I’m sorry. “Daddy overreacted, and you don’t deserve to be yelled at ever. I’m so sorry. It’s ok Daddy. I just had to go to the bathroom. Stop rubbing it in, I feel crappy enough already.”

But is yelling at your kids really so bad? It didn’t work out too well for me as a kid. My dad yelled at me most when he coached me in basketball in elementary school. “Go up strong, stop jamming your fingers already, you knock-kneed freak. I don’t know how were related. Stop playing so soft. Who runs down the court on their tippy toes? I blew one hundred twenty dollars on David Robinson High Tops, not Jimmy Choo’s.” Or during Thanksgiving 1 year I recall my dad requesting with begrudging this is all my son has to offer bile. “Say something funny”, because that’s all your good for obviously. Would have I turned out to be less of an indecisive nervous wreck in high school on the court or off, especially around girls until I finally got to 2nd base summer after my Junior year in High School on a Kibbutz in Israel, if my dad was more of an emotive empowerer than a Screaming Nazi? I think so. Here I go again, using loaded Nazi language from the too liberal screamers on the left, using, reprehensible Nazi smears to silence any differing opinion against open borders for anyone who wants to crash our boomtime post Trumpian economy. No bouncers, metal detectors or dress code required.
Then again, I didn’t give my father much to emote about outside of killing it during my Bar Mitzvah during my Haftorah portion reading, which we worked on together. My dad reflects today. “Now your younger brother sucked up the joint at his Bar Mitzvah big time.” But my younger brother was always the favorite because he played football and that’s all that matters for my American Dad. You want not 1 but 2 girlfriends invited to your Bar Mitzvah party who you mounted during your mountain climbs during Wilderness Ventures, no problem, more the merrier son. Hold the party at a fancy country club in Lake Isle vs the shabby interior of the Reform Temple, normally used for seminars on “REFORMED WAYS TO NOT TOTALLY DISMISS JESUS AS FAKE NEWS PROPHET OF ANY KIND” Or other reform minded seminars including “HOW REFORMED JEWS CAN BE LESS ANTI-CHRIST.” But let’s be honest here folks. Comparing the wrathful tone of Leviticus to the PG friendly book of Matthew is like comparing Samantha Bee these days to Mr. Rogers.
The thing is my 3 kids, especially Matilda, never give me any real reason to yell at them. She looks up to me, respects me, cheers me, launches into yummy dances in honor of my veggie casserole supreme. Whizzing around the house with her 2 brothers behind, chanting, “best daddy ever, best daddy ever.” Just yesterday, my 7-year old daughter Matilda, Miss Musicality, draws me a complimentary Pinterest like Pinboard drawing on my computer paper of me teaching her about our 3 past General US presidents yesterday for Veterans Day. Drawing a guitar with lipstick on it, signifying her dad’s love for Poison’s C.C Deville’s guitar shafts in the video Nothing but Good Time. Who could resist? After I’m done playing teacher, which my daughter draws in crayon on her picture of me, “Dad playing teacher.” I say to my daughter. “Matilda if anyone at school ever says George Washington was a racist, you tell them he was the only slave holding US president ever to release all 120 of them. Plus, on top of that he hooked up all his ex-slaves with trust funds for their labors out of white privilege, I’m assuming. Which I can buy into 400 years ago as a living, breathing, oppressive, dehumanizing, non-Kosher reality, obviously.” My daughter replies. “But daddy, what’s a trust fund? It’s a paycheck you get every month from your rich parents when you get older. But it’s spread out over time to ensure you don’t become a coked-out, tormented degenerate. Who only hears last call from the bathroom stall for starters. Nobody earns the nickname Sir Snort A Lot for nothing.”
Sweet, Singing Rose Matilda. She always slept when I went for runs in her stroller along the Bronx River as I prepared for my 1st half marathon in Maine. Which I completed, hobbled with what felt like Daniels Day’s Lewis wart infested, callous hardened, stress attack of a sprained, club left foot for my final 6-mile stretch. Pure adrenaline and me telling myself, prove to your dad you’re not soft, pushed me past the finish line with super charged, kick start my heart, sober revived Motley Crew gusto. Then, I went to my kiss my 2-year-old son, Art Show USA after blazing past the finish line. Come to think of it, finishing strong has always been my forte assuming I commit to finishing before new goals grip my inner drive whole. I’m an all over the place, exhausting Aries through and through I know.

Anyway, back to my stupendous, high stepping, poor man’s prime time dart across the half marathon finish line. I dart right over to my beautiful, 1-year old son, Arthur Morison, most fuss free birth ever.

Been a radiant light of good vibrations and a hilarious undertow of sweet powered undertow ever since. So, there he is my beautiful boy. Who I want to love better and be a dream emotive empowerer the way I’ve continued to strive to be for his big sister and baby brother Samuel now. I lean in to hug my boy and my stiff, bore of a mother-in-law extends her stubby forearm and stiff arms me, trying to prevent me from embracing my beautiful, victorious moment with my baby boy because he was “sleeping.” I mouthed off. “You see the kids how many times each year? And now your playing concerned, all knowing, in tune with my kids sleep rhythms Grandma. I don’t think so Crumpet breath. Jewish Doubtfire over here don’t play that. I’ve raised my 3 kids no thanks to you or my mother for that matter. If anything, your granddaughter Matilda, is the best, present, involved Grandma figure her younger brother Arthur and now baby Samuel have. Whose wise beyond her years. She reads to them, puts on Hula Hoop Hip Hop shows with them, leads exercise routines with them, grabs nappies and a beer for daddy from the fridge on demand, no resistance, no I’m tired, no I’m not your wet nurse, ever.”

My daughter Matilda has been with me for all of the greatest moments of my life, outside of me killing at the New York Comedy Club for 1 of my 1st bringer shows where my old high school buds showed up. Best compliment I got that night was from a kid who hijacked my best friend in high school. The hijacker friend after the show says. “Loved your set and I don’t even like you.”
I never forgave my fake news, supposed best friend in high school for never acknowledging my John Candy biography book I got for his birthday one year. I wrote an inscription inside the book and everything. Come to think of it, I haven’t found the sub best friend to give such a personal, expressive gift to since. Until, my daughter Matilda was born. We saw Billy Joel for her 3rd birthday in Madison Square Garden. My mom warns. Make sure my granddaughter wears ear plugs. And I’m thinking. Whatever mom, we’re seeing Billy Joel, not Metallica front row. As a whole, Bill Joel’s music, especially these days sounds like lullaby music for eighties Republicans but thanks for your all insightful, buzz kill input as always.
I never want to be without my daughter. She’s pure, pollutant free sunshine come rain or shine. Yelling at sweet Matilda ever is like yelling at the Great Barrier Reef if you were a stubborn minded Atheist till snorkeling down under. Now face to face with pristine maritime, Genesis creation in real life, not on the page wonder. Incapable of refuting God’s handywork all around you.

You don’t know what love is until you father a girl and have your 7-year-old daughter profess how much she prefers your company over mama. Not that I needed any verbal confirmation of those deep rooted, feelings because I felt them within the depths of my core already. By the way sweet Matilda jumps into my arms after school. By the way, she strokes my beard but not for too long or I cut her off before I tuck her in at night. Or from the way, she snuggles up close to me at night in bed to do more Mad Libs and insist I use Unibrow for body parts again and again, if Buffalo Balls wasn’t used already in our new Thanksgiving Mad Libs edition. I felt the depths of my daughters love when we made boatloads of commercials on YouTube for my creative tech design staffing agency that went nowhere. But the commercials were smart, creative and very funny. And my 6-year-old daughter back then, required minimal takes to nail her lines every time. We called it Comedy Camp. We even got the Rev Bob Levy from the Howard Stern show and Richard Lewis to throw nice warm words of praise in this do it all dad’s direction. Rev sends me a direct message on Twitter. “You got it kid, funny, very relaxed.” What a compliment, thanks Rev. I didn’t score 1 group laugh from stand-up comedy in LA for a whole year almost 12 years ago. Hard work really does pay off. But you most always work the muscle. Either you use or lose it.

The thing is I let myself be bullied and pushed around in high school because I didn’t know how to defend myself with my brain or fists. As a result, I’ve become determined to ensure my 3 children, starting with 1st born Matilda doesn’t suffer from the same fixable fate. My 7-Year Old Daughter is already Kettle bell dense strong. Thanks to me pushing Kettle Bells swing exercise starting at 4 upward. This is my daughter fat shaming to ensure I give up beer forever this time. “Daddy, I’ve got a 4 pack. You’ve got a zero pack.” Plus, Female Flash’s one-liners are far funnier fierce than mine will ever be, thanks to her absorption of my funny leanings and teachings of course, naturally.
“Always save the punchline for the last word Matilda, say it with relish, deliver it with forward force style, zero hesitation, keep punching, never relent, “think good and will be good.” It’s not the size of the dog, but the fight in it, but chill out on getting competitive with Jesus Christ for the time being.” If I want to trigger my daughter, I’ll say. “According to the Mormon’s, Jesus Christ was the closest thing to a perfect human being. My daughter replies. Why daddy, because he became a Jew for Jesus? Isn’t that big no, no, in our Old Testament Book?” One night, I made my 1st homemade pizza using cornmeal for the base, with burrata. Think cream filled mozzarella. I topped the pie with roasted cherry tomatoes from our garden, sliced and drizzled in olive oil, ample sea salt and fresh cut basil. Daughter takes 1 bite and says. “Daddy, I know you really want to be a stand-up comedian because you tell jokes all the time when we’re out of the house and always make strangers laugh at the deli and coffee shop, but can’t you be a pizza maker in heaven instead?” How can anyone in their right mind, feel compelled to ever be or act annoyed angry at that?
I used to think using a selective screaming voice was essential to signify when I was really pissed off at my kid’s behavior because I’ve always held them to higher social standards than ANITFA for starters. But if I’m brutally honest with myself, I haven’t been too selective with my screaming voice as of late. And in fact, become guilty of liberal overkill use of it.
Alternative solutions to my selective screaming voice to express extreme A+ annoyance? Mimicking my 20-month-old Samuel’s manufactured shrikes of discomfort with mere mimicry works like charm every time. I literally mimic his wincing wails with exaggerated, you’d think an Alien was eating my intestines about now look and my baby boy laughs hysterically at my mimicry. Because I’m killing the pseudo tense, projected mood by making my 20-month-old son laugh. Mirroring how ridiculous his fake news freak-out attacks appear in actual reality. And the essence of laughter is a cathartic release of pent up overblown, pouty prissiness. Controlling your kids with comedy really works folks.
But the same managing approach applies to your employers also. If you mimic how ridiculous your Software Engineer sounds if they start bitching about shared Taco Tuesdays knowing, they’re free and the Al Pastor ones are a slow cooker braised, succulent delight unavailable to you at home because your working wife doesn’t cook. It will give the employee a needed dose of diva highlighting perspective in a NY minute. Our children mirror our behavior and so do employees. If a boss always talks down to you like a stupid kid. They’re going to act petulant, feel sorry for themselves, retreat into a little shell under their nightie and blame their boss for keeping them down instead of accepting responsibility for themselves. Isn’t it better, to occasionally use humor to reflect how childish employees or our children sound? Assuming under normal circumstances we treat our kids and employees with respect and hold them to higher social standards than petulant, heartless, serially selfish, disrespectful Twitter twats.
All I ever hear when I’m out in public is how good, sweet and well behaved my 3 children are. Well, I also don’t sugar coat it when they’re acting demonstrative like when my 4-year-old son, little Arthur starts ordering his big sister to play what he wants to play. In these moments, I’ll say. “Chill out Little Hitler. Nobody’s interested in your shitty landscape drawings of the Rhine River.” Nobody likes being called “Little Hitler.” So, nickname shaming your kids into changing their behavior instead of unleashing the selective yelling voice works also. At the same time, if I called my son Little Hitler every time, he couldn’t sit still for story time and insisted on pushing the blankets off the bed instead. The sting of nickname shaming him would lose the implied, sarcastic aside intended meaning behind it. You know like when no name putz breath guests on CNN call President Trump Hitler. Really, Trump is the new Hitler? In what Inglorious Bastards 2? And no offense Eminem but make Nazi Germany great wasn’t his campaign slogan. Trump also lifted the lifetime ban on Jewish membership at Mar-A-Lago Slim on Facts Shady.
A Famous old school comic, Victor Borge said “The shortest distance between 2 people is laughter.” So, is it any wonder how close I am to my daughter? Knowing how our laugh count among ourselves for 7 years straight is through the roof. As the most beautiful laughs emanate from my pitch perfect daughter onward and upward to Comedy Clown Heaven and above. Lighting up heavy hearted clowns of yesteryear like the late great Joan Rivers, riffing on Michelle Obama’s new book with Lenny Bruce, Bill Hicks, Rodney, Redd Fox, Patrice O’Neal, Greg Geraldo and Don Rickles at the famed Mount Olympus Diner. Joan Rivers says. “No offense Patrice, but if you were Melania, would you seek out advice on how to be a 1st lady from Michelle Obama? Like, Melania planned on rocking the Kwanza themed decorations for Christmas. Or had to rely on Michelle for fashion tips once Fashion Police got terminated. No thanks to that backstabbing bitch Kathy Griffin. Can we talk? She campaigned for my job when I was in a coma. God showed me the footage from above. And boy has Kathy Griffin gone bat shit crazy over Trump. What was she thinking with that hair? Now, Kathy looks like Clifford in Chemo and Trans Chucky had a baby. Joan lives.
The End,
By,
Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wife’s Birthday Party Gone South

Nationalist is a loaded word. The N bomb is a load word. ANTIFA lives matter is an oxymoron.

If I have to hear 1 more time. But the Israelis retaliate against the Palestinians with extreme force. What’s an acceptable response then? Poetry slams in a East Jerusalem coffee shop and dropping truth bombs about Hamas killing any shot of a 2 state solution instead?

You have Hypersexual Disorder. If a lower back massage leads to you ramming your pelvis into mama over the couch. I ask my daughter. You want to know how babies are made? Daughter says. Daddy, enough with “hump-backing” mama. Spare me the play, by play already.

 

My impersonation of Mike Birbiglia on Broadway
I felt so useless & sidelined after my wife gave birth to our daughter. So, I scribbled some jokes in my diary about how I get why Stallone left his wife in Over the Top. I’m feeling so vanilla vulnerable right now.

 

Michelle Obama says she stopped trying to smile at Trump’s Inauguration. Is like ANTIFA’s head of recruitment saying he stopped cashing checks from George Soros in his hidden Swiss bank account under Heidi Franz Krautpurgent.

Trump’s a white nationalist? But he moved our embassy to Jerusalem. So technically speaking, he’s a Hebrew Nationalist. Hebrew Hammer strikes his point home through his all mighty shtick again.

INT.  Home

Hub Guest

Louie CK is right. Most kids can be annoying assholes.

Stay At Home Comedian Dad

Mine are fuss free. But hipster husband talk of white nationalists turning America into an Aryan nation despite no Edward Norton, American History X knockoffs gracing the Oval Office feels like mainlining MDMA?

Stay At Home Comedian Dad
I enjoy mom’s friends over.
But do you know what I missed most yesterday kids?

Daughter
What daddy?
Dad
Focused attention away from you 3 kids. My greatest gifts of all.
Daughter
So everyday with us feels like Hanukkah, 8 days a week?

Stay At Home Comedian Dad
There’s funny & hilarious. Besides you being hyper-articulate Matilda.
You deliver naturalistic punchline words with extra personable pop and hilarious minded, expressive relish.

Daughter
I never want this compliment to end.

Who could resist this?

 

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

Still Off IPA’s but back on Jokes Again

My 7 year old’s daughter’s developed sense of bullshit detection on full display.

Daddy, mommy said she could hang on a Trapeze Bar upside down with 1 leg when she was my age to. I wanted to say fake news mama. Bungee Jumping in Australia doesn’t require any upper hamstring strength either, raver hippie.

Obama and Michelle in Marriage Therapy
Trump won. I can’t be proud of our country anymore.
Despite a 7 figure advance on my memoir and my multi million dollar Netflix deal. Including free Uber and directors final cut.

Why would anyone name their kid Casper? Unless you’re Mel Brooks spoofing a Stephen King ghost story called Gentrification of Malcolm X Blvd.

 

Bakery Lady
Your sons are so handsome.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
I already met with a lawyer to start drafting pre-poundage consent forms in their honor.

Bakery lady laughs long time.

1 Morning Prayer to Squeeze Into a Tweet
Lord, thank you making my son tougher than a black kid from Brooklyn. According to the ER Doctor after he got his stitches with no anesthesia because the line there was longer than the caravan, AMEN.

 

Morning Prayer In a Tweet Part 2
Lord, thank you for a daughter whose 10 times more impressive than mama and 10 times more athletic and 10 times more NY Jew smart ass smarter already at 7. Gentile Grandpa’s head hurts around her in a NY minute.

 

PR Hack for NBC
Will make Pete apologize on air live.
It will play well for #VeteransDay.
Then, Pete Davidson will no longer be perceived as Barney’s punk kid from the Simpsons. What, I used to do PR for Fox. Cut me some slack Lorne.

 

Macron is a jealous, little twat. Your country is ruined. And gripped in fear by you know who. Nationalism is a betrayal of patriotism. Of course he wants Uncle Sam to pick up their defense tab and bail their ass out of hell again.

What is Merkel giggling about? Her entire country has morphed into a no-go-rape zone. Her entire aura is 1 tied up back knot. And Macron is a fake news wannabe deep Balzac. Have fun with your Euro though, Frog Legs breath.

Nationalism is a betrayal of patriotism Macron? It’s the direct opposite jerk-off. Doesn’t baguette mouth realize Trump became President so America doesn’t descend into the lawless, freedom of speech paralyzed hellhole, Paris has become?

The hashtag campaign #ThankYouForYourService comes off as more forced than Larry David saying it to Hillary Hammer Time Cankles at a clambake fundraiser in Martha’s Vineyard in 2020.

1 hour before my wife’s birthday brunch celebration for her friends.
Babe, are we really blowing all of our Nespresso Pods on your friends? Isn’t sparkling wine from New Mexico enough? It’s a French wine making family. Macron insists their anti-nationalists.

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

Birthing My Babies

Georgia O’ Keefe, famous landscape muralist, said if you can’t give up something you love for 2 months in a row, you posses no strength of character or something like that. I tried Google the quote and came up with goonish. So much for my  keyword, Boolean search recruiter background paying dividends for my writing career at all whatsoever.

So what must I give up that’s so important for me to birth my planned 2 babies in me this time around?  In order to prove to my 3 kids, only 1 being intentional how dad isn’t a spoiled, irresponsible, self-indulgent, crazed, alcholic, drug addict flake? Well, 1st I was thinking I only had to give up my cherished IPA’s, even my low calorie alternative Pap’s Blue Ribbon Tall Boys from the Deli. Which make me feel a tady hickish twentyish whenever I find myself buying them 2 at a time and drinking them for multiple days in a row straight. Despite, the famed Milkwakee brewer of such a slamable, crisp, pilsner, becoming rebranded in Willamsburg, Bushwick and beyond as the unofficiall hipster brew of choice.

But now I’m reached the conclusion outside of giving up on going to bars to watch my 1st love the Knicks this winter or with a friend like I see them anymore as a Stay At Comedian/Father of 3, knowing we’re on the cloud here at home. Outside of giving up my bombtastic, supple, hoppy forward, outrageously, lushytistic American made IPA’s, and my Knicks on TV this coming winter, my 3rd grandiose sacrifice in pursuit of securing what upstanding character I have left. And for the preservation of the focused, pure, loving  spirit of the incoming birth of my back to back inspired baby books, Birth of a Pescatarian Comedian. That documents my journey from boyhood to manhood through accepting responsibility for my degenerate lushy weekend, pot head littered ways in the past in exchange for getting high off the pure goodness of my 3 pitch perfect kids, baby Samuel’s inhalable feet and off my most impressive role yet, as our in house gourmand Pescatarian chef and host of our family meal review show starting tonight, Crazy Good Dada. Where I promote the mighty strength glory of the Pescatarian diet. Which is mostly, fish, veggies and cheese. By showcasing the wonderous raw power of my 7 year old daughter, Matilda, Singing Rose, AKA, Deltoids Dawn, doing one armed push ups on our family meal review show. Where we break the down the elements of what we ate, how many yummy dances it generated and what justified critiques, heckles or funny meal time storytelling it sparked in the process. Thereby, helping other do it all dads out there get inspired to make some heathy, delicious, Pescatarian meals for their kids during their ordained days of rest on the weekend. So their kids can make their working wives feel like slackers in comparison for a change.

How dare I imply any women of being  slackers in any capacity outside of bringing home the bacon. Kind of like how men today should believe all woman, regardless of logic or proof who charge a man of sexual harassment when he work remote from home. Knowing all company Skype meetings start with the same old virtual office procedure as your boss states. Before we get this meeting started, folks, all the guys raise your hands up high where I can see them. Self-imposed butt plugs aren’t considered a form of toxic masculinity are they? But I digress.

So back to the more PG13 friendly leanings of our family meal cooking review show Crazy Good Dada. Where you’ll see my hulking, 7 year old daughter complete her 10 one armed pushed ups. Before barking at the camera with friendly fierce, fired up glee. Not enough protein? Followed by punching her left open palm hand with her close fisted one in a very, slow, deliberate, all knowing smirk. Which screams I’m the most proud, non-annoying feminist to the core. Who takes the utmost offense to anyone implying, I’m a weaker, energy deprived, subservient, flabby underling just because I don’t have any meat in my diet or ham and cheese on wonder bread for lunch either.

Ham and Cheese is a such a boring lunch, my 7 year daughter fumes on camera. She adds. And it’s not like your mom even uses good ham like prosciutto, topped with creamy, funky subdued cheese like Piave, just regular ham and white bread, boringgg. My daddy says the good old fashioned ham and cheese never went out of style. Meanwhile, I’m thinking, I never knew the ham and cheese sandwich had a style.

So do it all dad being me, I also host the Do It All Dad Podcast, dad friendly entertainment for you and me. I’ve produced 54 episodes so far, resulting in 27 hours of stand-up funny material in less than a year off the weed for the most part. John Lennon wishes he was this productive during his stay at home dad years.

Still, the big sacrifice which I must give up for birth of my coming of age baby book Birth of a Pescatarian Comedian and Stay at Comedian, Controlling My Kids through comedy is my non stop worship and relentless pursuit of the most glorious, most high, except you the Lord, the body, spewing, spitastic, yanker laugh.

I’ve gotten quite proficient at being an A list laugh generator for the past 3 years as a Stay At Comedian but I can’t have that be the bane of my existence anymore nor let my obsession with proving my funny man chops. Knowing I no longer have the luxury of living in Queens and Brooklyn without kids to hop on stages whenever I want anytime old time.

My constant precoccupation with rewarding my good natured cheer generation to the world with beer or wine in addition to my addiction to carrying on my incessant love affairs with all my comedy bud strangers on Twitter must end until I birth these author career babies out of me.

My coming of age baby inspired parenting books are a result of beoming an unplanned stay at home comedian dad. And my 3 kids are a wonderful by product of my teaching, hustling and loving. And I’ve been given a taste of paradise and never want to slip away. I want more of it, a 4th kid even to give my 1st born the sister she never had. Doing stand up as a headliner doesn’t mesh with this dreamy lifestyle I want to perpetuate more than I still want to mount Elle the Body Mcpherson standing tall from behind. I have to bang out my next 2 coming of age baby books with aplomb and make them the literary equivalent to Slippery When Wet and New Jersey to give. myself the freedom to create more and be known in my kids school as a best selling, funny man published book author.

Plus, the success of Stay At Home Comedian book will allow me to control my kids even more so through comedy by getting them involved in the magic creation of our family meal review cooking Show Crazy Good Dada on the stay at home comedian work front. Also, more importantly, the success of these books, will allow me to extend my time at home with baby Samuel some more. Who I’m growing closer to every day, yeah, yeah.

Everything about daddy, he’s interested in, especially the Knicks basketballs on my shirts, ball, ball, ball. His 1st word by the way because he’s used to spending plenty of time watching do it all dad over here drain so many balls at the local playground court from way down town.

All of my codes on my phone and computer now are Samuel Wins. And that’s how I truly feel about my decision to launch this blog, do my podcast, write my baby books, get some sample chapters published in national magazines and launch this family meal review show with my kids because kids today need dad around more. And my kids growing love for each other, where they all can’t seem to get enough of each other or me yet, is living of proof it. And quite flattering to contemplate, emote it and feel on a daily basis through and through, come rain or shine.

If Amy Shumer is going to have a kid now, I can suck up not drinking for nine months also. For the record, I’m not making this up, Amy Schumer’s really having a Garbage Pale Kid, Snot Nosed Sammy. And Sarah Silverman is crying herself to sleep tonight into her favorite bed wetting averting, nightie hoodie. Lena Dunham is losing.

But in order to put more pressure on myself to make sure I don’t fuck up my last show at proving to my kids dad possess the strength of upstanding character and isn’t a slacker wimp at his very core. I told my 7 year old daughter to withdraw all forms of hugs for me if she sees me drink any beer or wine till I finish birthing my 1st baby book, Stay At Home Comedian, Controlling My Kids through comedy. Because those hugs unlike more empty filler from Paps, I can’t live without.

Yes, Stay At Home Comedian will be my smash book debut. Where I document my rise from slug to stud. Where I become a paid, published author on the stay at home comedian dad front becoming the new face of the remote work revolution. Who at 43 years old finally gets his act together, conducts his weed exit interview on his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, removes the foggy, deadened past, nervous energy weight to his writing and ends up dunking a basketball at the end of the book. With a picture of me doing it, yelling from hanging on the rim. Waste of height no more pops, that being my dad. In your face, I proclaim with all mighty, divine powered gleam in my eyes, in your face, in your face.

By,
Michael Kornbluth

My Daughter Upstaging Me Again

I read a lot of Airport Reviews. So my career as a stay at home comedian dad feels on the up and up. Gotta dream about future book signings baby.

Alexa, play You Lost that Loving Feeling. Wife says. Are you trying to say something? Talk to your thighs, not me babe.

Do It All Dad sanity preservation tip:
Never ever, ever, buy Goldfish for your kids.
They get everywhere like Cheerios and you’ll resent your kids existence for picking up after such eighties has been, never great to begin with snacks.

I’ll say it for President Trump. Joni Mitchell is overrated. She sounds like a folk singer parody in a Christopher Guest film. Who teaches Californian yodeling at Santa Monica Community College.

Joni Mitchell’s crackling, high pitched falsetto voice doesn’t age well on the nerves. Sounds more like California screeching.

Good Morning Alexa. How did that blue wave materialize? You’re not smart enough to play Wipe Out are you? You know because Mike Love of the Beach Boys actually praised President Trump for trying to help save the greatest voice of all.

Bill Deblasio let 900 NYC prisoners vote in the #Midterms2018. But President Trump is in favor of prison reform and lowering jail sentences for 1st time drug offenses. So I’m not as offended as I should be in this instance Big Bird.

Acosta should sue the president. No, he’s a pip squeak load that should’ve been swallowed.

If Jim Acosta was a comedian, he’d be banned from the Comedy Cellar also.
Due to his resistance to relinquish the microphone after getting the cue to wrap up his set on having to wear sunglasses in airports because he’s always on there.

Amy Schumer’s pregnant. Sarah Silverman is crying herself to sleep into her hoodie. Lena Dunham’s losing.

Jon Stewart getting heckled at vet benefit.
So glad you made it. I thought you’d be at the border.
ISIS vent viral under Obama. And now he’s a crack head.
You really know how to pick um Hebrew National.

Tucker Carlson’s racist rhetoric has created a frenzy against migrants. Whatever Blondie. Call me when you return to reality. Where Maxine Waters calls for violence against real loving Americans. Are ANTIFA groupies even a thing? Gross.

San Francisco didn’t wait for a DACA ruling of any kind since they declared themselves a sanctuary city once the term went viral, correct? But protecting rapists & murders, US citizens or not is mentally sound urban planning at its finest.

You can’t call march of the illegals, demanding entry into America after being offered asylum & jobs in Mexico an invasion if they’re only a 100 miles away. Sure, if they start backpedaling to Honduras like Apollo on the beach in Rocky 3.

I’m going to make a poster of acting AG Matthew Whittaker for my kids room. He looks like King Kong Bundy’s abandoned son with a colossal chip on his shoulder.

My 7 year old daughter’s brain on fire.
Daddy, when I get older, I’m opening up an obstacle school for grownups. With Monkey Bars, an acre high, floods, flips off cliffs, you name it.
My 7 Year old daughter preparing games for mama’s birthday.
Daddy, I made Tic Tac Toe with bigger squares, pin the tail on the unicorn. You can do some jokes about how annoying wives are Daddy. Without singling out mama specifically.

Int. Bedroom
Daughter
I read this book already daddy
It bored me to death, murderer.
Lock her up. Lock her up.

Daddy laughs long time.

By,

Michael Kornbluth

Headbangers Ball VJ Ricky Rocket on Fox News Today

These Midterms are a vote for either Nancy Pelosi save me or the children cry. Or for money talks and ball breaker.

These Midterms are a vote for past its prime Europe or a clean and sober, revitalized, 90’s Aerosmith on the up and up again.

These Midterms are a vote for sober reasoning or CNN insisting Trump canceled Motley Crue’s appearance at the White House. Because Tommy Lee was too alt right for his taste.

These Midterms are a vote for law and order or else nothing else matters.

These Midterms are a vote for we’re not going to take it or the same old pyromania situation because oh, oh, Berkeley’s on fire.

These Midterms are a vote for nothing but a good time how can I resist. Which is a far cry from Dick Cheney’s Iron Maiden years.

These Midterms are a vote for revival of our paradise cities or stopping the youth gone wild from breaking the law, breaking the law.

These Midterms are a vote for something to believe in or more big talking.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth