Seed Spiller Supreme

HBO taking down Louie CK’s comedy specials was some knee jerk reactionary bullshit. But it’s kosher to keep Woody Allen’s movies up on HBO Max, despite most of those films coming out pre-Soon Yi. Before Woody’s new favorite hobby after stashing baseball cards in shoe boxes became stuffing his top sock drawer with naked Polaroid pics of a 9-year-old naked Soon-Yi to tap for future script generation ideas about an older than dirt creep who bangs a girl with barley forming breast dots called, Crimes Misdemeanors, The Early Years. At the same time, the only pic pissing from Woody’s far from mint, stuck together collection of Polaroid pics of Soon-Yi was the one of her crying naked on the cover of Time Life Magazine.

Has BLM taken the Rocky statue down yet because it promotes White Supremacy?

What is Louie really guilty of besides failure of imagination?

5 women accused Louie of jerking off in their presence after bestowing them green light power like they packed real industry heat as if they became mini-Penny Marshall directors who got final cut on her film Awakenings after a League of Their Own, which had to have been a real heady rush for these wet behind the ears, aspiring comedians to experience at the time.

Louie selling shirts on his website that say “Sorry” on it, is smile inducing 1st idea funny. Other ideas more on brand would’ve been, “Sticky Life”, “Bathhouse Louie”, “Lazy Man Sex”, “Standing Ovations Aren’t Enough”, “Full Of Yucks,” “Get A Grip No-Name Bitch, ” “Got Wipes?” “Whack Attack”, “Dirtier, The Better”, “Visual Aids Lover”, “Hornier Around Hacks”, “Seed Spiller Supreme” or “Coming on a Green Room Near You Indianaoplis.”

Bet it was hard for the college tour guide to keep a straight face when he spotted Louie in the crowd with his daughter after binging on the Soprano’s the previous night with his hockey buds at Boston University whose cousins with Ted Nugent, who grew up idolizing Dennis Leary under a hardcore Republican household in Minnesota.

Holy Shit, it’s Louie CK everybody. Nice shades Louie. The only thing missing from your creep ensemble is a trench coat and Sarah Silverman’s hoodie to wipe up with.

In case you’re wondering, Boston University is contemplating the inclusion of a safe space jerk off wing called, Lonely Heart Louie Lane”, which should take off in Silcon Alley, so you’re not yanked out of the office bathroom stall by office security crooning, “You don’t come around here no more.”

Louie’s here’s with his daughter. Personally, I’d push her to become a Lesbian because you can’t get Aids from munching on middle of the road Sashimi. Louie feels me. The dark prince of humor knows you can’t die from Aids when you’re lesbian because the flip side of being a Lesbian lover licker receiver is you can take a licking and keep on ticking. Don Draper, I fucked him oh. I can’t take no more.

Remember when Louie compared Trump to Hitler after Eminem did. But when Trump bought Mar-a -Lago he lifted the lifetime ban on Jewish membership, Slim on Facts Shady.

My favorite Louie episode was when Louie went on a college tour with his daughter Meadow and choked one out to an episode of the Soprano’s when Janice drills Ralphie in his ass with a vibrator during his reloading down time from whacking strippers to death.

Hey Louie, shouldn’t your daughter pursue a BFA in comedic arts at nearby Emerson university. On Daddy Deplorable Dady you can perform this Shakespeare piece I’ve been developing with my daughter. That’s right Louie doesn’t possess a fucking monopoly on edgy father daughter conversational fueled comedy in relation to gender fluid comedy either. I keep it simple and tell my daughter, transgender is gay in woman’s clothing. Daughter asks, “Does that mean Shakespeare was gay because he dressed like a woman in all his plays.” I said, “That’s just because Shakespeare looked prettier than but-her-face English wenches with ugly moles on their face. But I do know for a fact that Kevin Spacy is gay about lunging at Othello backstage in tights. And I if see Transgender Father’s Day trend on Twitter one more time, I’m going to break my Chic-Filet strike for good. Either you’re an involved father or you’re not Nipple Tits. Plus, feeling shafted shouldn’t be a new shock to your system anymore either. This is Jefferey Tambour blasting his fellow Trans Co-star for pissing on the toilet seat in his trailer bathroom again. Real lady like, now get out of my trailer, you butchy bitch, hey now. Why are trans activists getting their panties in a bunch over the song Dude Looks Like a Lady Again?” In the song Steven Tyler takes more than a glancing stiffening peek, before proclaiming with surging mounting lust, “Oh what a funky lady. And I like it, like it, yeah.” So did Richard Pryor, get it over it already. Richard Pryor said it was the best piece of pussy, Bill Maher never had. Which reminds me, I just bumped into Michelle Obama’s Book Reach Higher at the Target dumper bargain bin and thought, “Reach Higher, Bill Maher, just got a stiffy. I can’t take no more, Dice lives, Challah. Thank you very much.

Or did you call Trump the Anti-Christ Louie? Regardless, you’re the lying sack of shit for pretending to feel sorry about jerking off in presence of lesser female comedians after receiving their permission to throw on Sarah Silverman’s crusty old hoodie to get you in the mood for old time’s sake. The only thing you’re sorry about is pretending to care that your vote for Joe Biden mattered because you know that Biden pretending to get more votes than your boy Obama is like pretending DMX gave up weed for Catnip for Lent. Trump Hitler rhetoric got you too pumped-up Louie. Sequels never live up to the original. Maybe, Biden’s the Anti-Christ instead Louie. At the same time Christian right nation, in the Bible part 2 Jesus returns from Heaven to defeat the Anti-Christ. So have some faith in the Jesus comeback story, won’t you people?

Louie doesn’t feel sorry about jerking off in front of no name female comics. I wouldn’t either personally after getting their permission. Just own it and admit to feeling bad about his money shots in the green room costing him so much green.

What was Louie’s opener used to get consent before getting his yank on around these adoring female comics again? I’m too cheap for a massage parlor. Plus, I’m a dad. So, I can only get into the older happy enders, knowing they weren’t yanked off the boat yesterday. Don’t stare at my red pubes too intensely or you’ll get blinded with rage for not taking your father’s advice, when he pushed you to become a dental hygienist instead. I won’t jerk you around. Jerking off in the bathroom cramps my style. If I did my laugh yanker sets sitting on my ass like Paul Mooney I might be acting differently. You think Obama’s drones blasted with such Lasik type precision. To put you more at ease, would it help if I told you that Mr. Wonderful, Obama, ordered me to leak it. They don’t call me Bathhouse Louie for nothing, Challah, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

When The Shredder Frets

Vinnie Boom Boom Burrata kissed his Fender Stratocaster more than his ex-wife. In his ex-wife’s defense, she was a self-conscious kisser on pure MDMA. Plus, nothing made Vinne Boom Boom Burrata smile more inside than making his Fender Stratocaster cry. Big tits get played out on the same wife compared to copping endless slides down your electrified shaft, which Vinnie could make come to life like no other. BB King had Lucille and Vinne Boom Boom Burrata had Amanda, named after his favorite power ballad by Boston who also wrote his 2nd favorite song ever, A Man I’ll Never Be, which reminded him of his dear pop who died in his arms from fucking Gum cancer, despite giving up dip for Big League Chew ages ago.

Vinnie’s Dad, Roberto, hailed from a fine line of guitar makers in San Marzano Italy known for its olive farms and its fertile breeding ground of Ferrari red glimmery tomatoes that were sweet enough to pop in your mouth off the vine as if they were mother earth’s answer to organic nerd dispensers. After getting his strumming finger cut off by a local mob boss Domnick De-Gutter Grasi, for refusing to pay the protection money for his acoustic guitar making store for European royalty with plenty of free time on their hands to strum away the midday nappy booze under the sun. Because of that, Vinnie was forced to leave Italy for America and move in with his older brother in Staten Island who was an Italian Butcher known for his 100 Year Prosciutto curing hall beneath his shop on Arthur Kill Road.

Roberto became known as the 9 fingered butcher of Staten Island, who’d flip off the spoiled mafia offspring 6 degrees separated from the Gotti family whenever they’d drop by the shop expecting non-stop access to his primo aged pork samplings below the store, which sold for thousands per pound on the open market. Still, Roberto never lost his love of guitar creation and swore to God he’d make a Barolo wine red one for his 1st and only son Vitto Boom Boom Burrata to ensure he didn’t let the Italian Mafia kill off his family line’s gift of heart strumming serenades that put our heart’s together with our maker in one seemingly beautiful harmony.

But now Roberto’s only son, Vinnie Boom Boom Burrata, who was his best friend till the end can’t play his cherished Fender Stratocaster without crying his eyes out for his dearly departed Papa. Vinnie quit his band Shredder after they signed a recording contract with a new upstart record label Wailing Wall of Metal Records, based on the operatic, heart tingly instrumental guitar solo song, Roberto’s Son Shreds. Vinnie’s finger tapping work on Roberto’s Son Shreds was described by Guitar World as, “Getting finger blasted by Eddie Van Halen on your wedding night great.”

Little did Vinnie know, his biggest fan was a kid known on YouTube as Hardcore Hunga Rocks, who was considered pound for pound the greatest little drummer pounder prodigy since Buddy Rich headlined his own Bat Mitzvah at 10, like a young Cameron Crowe on the sticks from Almost Famous.

Hardcore Hunga Rocks tracks down his favorite shredder of all time in hopes of joining forces to make the greatest pop rock metal record Boston never made in the home recording studio Vinnie’s father had built for him before he was born to become the shredding beast of the six string that he could never be since pops fell in love with Led Zepplin and Jimmy Page’s masterful slide guitar work on In My Time of Dying.

Hardcore Hunga Rocks knocks on Vinnie’s door with such force, he knocks the entire door off its hinges in the process. Vinnie, a silky, long haired black stallion emerges from his Electric Playland Studio with a cigarette in hand and says, “Who invited you the fuck in?” Hardcore Hunga Rocks springs up from the marble floor and says, “How the fuck can you afford all marble floors? Your record advance from could’ve been that big? Besides, didn’t you have to give that record advance back after you quit the band to take care of your dad?” Vinnie takes a quizzical puff from his Camel Extra wide and says, “Your Hardcore Hunga Rocks. I’ve seen your drum solos on YouTube. I’ve never heard anyone smash the drums with harder edge than you kid. You should call your band Aftershock for Christ’s sake. Hardcore Hunga Rock says, “I’m not in a band, but I would want to form a supergroup with you. If Jack White and his fake news sister can do it, we can to. Make out with your guitar all you want. In fact, I was thinking we can make a video spoof of the November Rain video and have you walk down the aisle with your cherished Fender Stratocaster while doing a remake of the serially underrated cult classic, Till Death To Us Part by White Lion. ” Vinnie says, “Shit that’s my favorite song after A Man I’ll Never Be.” So, you want to join forces to become a super White Lion cover group?” Hardcore Hunga Rocks says, “When the Shredder Frets has a beautiful tonal ring to it already. Weird Al, I fucked him, I can’t take no more. My Dad was a huge Dice fan to.” Vinnie laughs for the 1st time in years as an incredible warm crash of sea calm washes over him and says, “Fuck Boston and Pete Davidson, let’s make Staten Island stand for something stand out special more than Russian gangsters sipping on espresso drinks in 25th Hour. I sold plenty of blow in the eighties, which paid for my marble laden home despite never touching the stuff. Hunter Biden was the gift that kept on giving my freshman year at Georgetown University.

The End

Michael Kornbluth