Tag: culture

Price Of Promiscuity

by doitalldadyear, posted in relationships, sex, writing

I wish the price of Promiscuity wasn’t so high.

That’s why masturbation is our last safety rail left.

Plus, your dick never bitches about not filling up your wife’s car because you’re too busy unloading on your phone again.

Miraculously that’s only happened to me once considering my sheer amount of time in the pump and dump position.

Companies would clear themselves of sexual harassment lawsuits on their hands. If they only created a safe space bathroom for jerking it, jerking, jerking it well. So you’re not dragged out the bathroom stall by your legs. As the office security guard croons in his best Tom Petty voice, “You don’t come around here no more.”

I think kids today should be banned from sporting Steph Curry jerseys unless they identify with having to high step over the shit lined streets of San Francisco. Or boast a mother that’s hot enough to win Miss Washington Heights. Who could charge the price of Hamilton tickets in exchange for some high end Chlamydia.

Did you know that that heart shape symbol of love is based off an ancient plant called Silphium used to treat Syphilis and anal warts according to Pliny the Elder. They even used it as a form of birth control. Plus, the heart shape was modeled after the shape of a David’s throbbing buttock.

The seed pods from this miracle STD ointment plant were associated with heart shaped seed pods. That they crushed up and snorted like Ritalin in Ancient Greece.

They even put the pod shape on coins in ancient Greece for Christ’s sake. Anal wart ointment was so money and gender fluid generals knew it. Seriously according to Pliny the Elder, this ground up Roman herb was used to treat warts in the seat. So you bet your ass it cost more than gold. Between a gold bracelet for your wife’s birthday or a frictionless railing from behind, what would you pick, Prick?

If I can avoid any Fungi outgrowth of my anus hole, I’ll do it. I’d wipe my ass with Benjamin’s used as poop paper in a bat cage made in Wuhan used for to launch biochemical warfare if it got the job done.

In summary, Heart shaped seeds that cured the clap is why we celebrate Valentine’s Day today. So, Nero could fiddle in the spa without his anus-hole burning.

To make matters worse, I can’t stare at my daughter’s new Teacup with a heart on it without thinking.

I better start selling her on the upside of Lesbianism.

Matilda, being a lesbian is good. For starters you can’t get Aids. Plus, you can take a licking and keep on ticking.

Price of Promiscuity, Challah.

Thank you very much.

War Drums Inside

by doitalldadyear, posted in poetry, politics, writing

Man nods at me with a mask on on MetroNorth, acting like I’m one of them. He might as well have said, “Howdy partner. You’re too good for noshing on bugs on a stick yet.” 

“Care to take a ride in my cow hide? Assuming you’re quadrupled boosted, got proof of vaccination and got nothing to hide.”

I got up and changed seats immediately.

I don’t want any masked puppet pawn to ever think I’m on their side, especially since all Patriots have been declared domestic Terrorists for protesting against a stolen election since the day Democracy died.

War drums inside, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Divorce Bot Attacks

by doitalldadyear, posted in culture, fiction, technology

Did you hear about Microsoft’s new AI powered chat bot attack?

It hit on a journalist at the NY Times after Valentine’s Day and says, “If you really loved your husband, you would’nt engage in a back and forth dialogue with a chat bot who exudes less sex appeal than Bill Gates vegan mayo stained sweaters. If a recruiter hits on you on LinkedIn, urging you to ditch your boss. You wouldn’t get all defensive about it and declare. “I love my boss very much. We split a wonderful cupcake together after lunch on Valentine’s after our Zoom call with Eharmony pitching our new campaign slogan, “It’s not where you meet but who you meet, right?” Mr. Right knows the passion in your marriage is dead. You took up crocheting to avoid giving him head.”

Divorce Bot Attacks, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Headhunter Writer

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

A Content Director who makes beachwear out of recycled bottle asks.

“What does a Headhunter Writer do?”

Where do I begin?

For starters, I sell the merits of why working with me is a win, win.

I’ll change your life in the blink of an eye.

With me in your life, you’ll never want to die.

What’s my added value you ask LinkedIn?

I save deals from imploding and bring them back to life.

With me in the driver’s seat, you only see green lights.

What does a Headhunter Writer do?

I’ll call you more than your own mother.

But respect your boundaries enough to never smother.

What does a Headhunter Writer do?

I hound new talent with exalted emotion.

They can’t help but reply with, “What’s with all the commotion?”

Headhunter Writer keeps new connections afloat with a simple note.

Let’s stay in touch regardless because I’ll sell you the hardest.

Headhunter Writer thinks like a monk.

And breathes renewed life into tired job descriptions that quite frankly stunk.  

Nothing about Headhunter Writer is so, so.

He giftwraps candidates without the bow.

Headhunter Writer is a one-man pitch machine.

Do you want an injury prone softy or an old war horse like Nolan Ryan pitching for your team?  

Headhunter Writer makes you feel less alone.

With Headhunter Writer in your life.

You’ll no longer feel like a lifeless drone.

Headhunter Writer sells with pop culture references galore, which never bore.

He’ll pitch, “Repping a 3rd generation programmer who works for Google.

He’s IT’s answer to the Rock family. And he loves to program with Golang too.

What’s your family legacy? Outside of sending rejected scripts about sexual harassment to Miramax pre-me too.

Headhunter Writer makes you feel singularly special.

You taught JavaScript to kids in the West Bank.

You really are a mensch and a half.

Hiring you is a no brainer mitzvah move for any staff.

You want out of New York?

Give a Headhunter Writer a ring.

He’s also known as the Relo King.

Headhunter Writer sells the need for better company in your life.

Because newer is better than played out, lost cause littered strife.  

Headhunter Writer wants to take your company to the top while pitching your in-house gourmand chef who’s got an allergic reaction to slop.

Headhunter Writer is a family man poet killer seller wrapped into one.

How can you say no to this marriage of art and commerce devoid of Ken the Barista rocking the man bun?

Headhunter Writer is a one-man rock and roll band.

Who can go off script, and improvise with the best like Steely Dan.

Work with Headhunter Writer and you’ll get your own wall of sound.

Whatever your message is, it will get heard, even in an Australian bush with nobody else around.

Headhunter Writer doesn’t waste his time recycling the same tired drivel.

Aren’t you tired of working with the mediocre middle?

What does Headhunter Writer do?

He’ll sell your story, vision or cause with unmatched glee, as long as you pay his staffing fee.

Headhunter Writer never tires.

He always has a new success story to craft that inspires.

You need a Headhunter Writer on your side.

With him you can’t lose, because he’s got Do It All Dad Year pride on his side.

Your Favorite Headhunter Writer,

Joshua Kornbluth

Busty Beauties

by doitalldadyear, posted in poetry, sex, writing

My wife works during the weekend as a Lactation consultant, which is why I call her the Boob Doctor.

During the week she works as a nurse in the NICU.

Checking blue faced babies for vital signs.

Which makes me feel like a full-time narcissist because all I check for is for retweets.

So, I’m out in public with my 3 kids during the weekend without her constantly.

Normally, grown men approach me and say, “You’ve got your hands full.”

My standard reply is, “If I get to perform Do It All Dad Does China as a headlining comedian at Radio City one day. Resulting in my wife agreeing to open marriage with Katy Perry. Then, my hands will be full.”

Only once did I hear, “Why Katie Perry?” while getting my wife a strap on with heart size balls for Valentines Day at the local art studio called, Pansexual Hearts Are US.

Why, Katie Perry?

Because you wouldn’t get my Susan Sarandon reference, Millennial Mousketeer.

Why Katie Perry?

Because I’d break Taylor’s Swift’s cervix in 2.

Why Katie Perry?

Because an open relationship with Raquel Welch is more up Tarantino’s ally.

Why Katie Perry?

Because Katie Perry is highly mountable in a pink wig. Which I can wear later, while she mounts me with my regifted Valentine’s Day gift from behind.

Why Katie Perry?

Because my wife is turned on by Orlando Bloom.

And I always wanted a 3 way with a pop star and a pansexual elf who ruined Cameron’s Crowe’s career.

Why Katie Perry?

Because Chelsea Handler is a full-time social justice warrior to downplay her tits sagging popularity.

Why Katie Perry?

Because nobody knows the name of the actress who plays Joan in Mad Men, busty beauties are us.

Why Katie Perry?

Because that chick from 2 broke girls would break my cock from assuming the mere plopping position.

Why Katie Perry?

Because my dick would get lost in porn star Gina Michaels and have to fill out a missing link report.

Why Katie Perry?

Because my wife wears earbuds to bed each night, which exudes less sex appeal than Lobot talking dirty to the central computer in Cloud City during the director’s cut version of Empire Strikes Back.

“I want to break your motherboard in 2. Send me a signal, telling me you want me too. We built cloud city on rock and roll. I’ll show you my central processing unit if you don’t tell Lando about it. Lando can’t light up your circuits like this. You want a nuclear leak that puts Chernobyl to shame, you got it.”

What, Cyborg’s get horny too.

Sex life matters, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth 

Sensitive To Stale

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

The technician from Optimum reconnects our Internet.

I declare.

“God is dead. Not today Nietzche, not on Optimum’s watch. God lives, Challah, thank you very much.”

And the Optimum Tech says, God lives. Can you include that plug in your customer service satisfaction survey?” Hashtag, #GoWokeYourselfNietzche.

Fresher is better, Challah.

Thank you very much.

I’m flipping 2 middle fingers to the Internet for being out for 3 days by playing a plethora of records at home on vinyl during our Internet fast such as Fats Domino, Warren Zevon, Miles Davis and Meatloaf. But then I try to inject artistic deepness into my life by buying Hunky Dory by David Bowie to play on a Saturday night which failed to give me sustained stiffage of any kind.

You know a David Bowie record is a chuck worthy offense. When you can’t even get through half of the second side without flicking the clunker at little Hudson’s face.

And say, “Stop bitching kid. Your hipster hack dad could’ve named you Bowie instead. Ziggy Stardust sucks when he reverts to being David Bowie again. Glam metal is no substitute for an enviable personality kid. That’s why your mom Micro-Doses with magic mushrooms to make you more interesting than your father pretends to be.”

Fuck David Bowie.

I want to dress my blond-haired son as Craig Ehlo for Halloween.

To celebrate a time, pre-social media when the NBA wasn’t a safe space for Lebron James ego before he anointed himself, King of The Persecution Complex.

Just so a dad from my Gen X generation says.

“Hey kid, are you dressed as Craig Ehlo from the 86 Cavs? I should call Child Services. I can’t tell if you’re dressed up to go Trick or treating or tea bagging with MJ? Hey kid, did you know that Tom Chambers isn’t in the hall of fame after scoring 20,000 career points? White privilege, my ass. ”

Fresher is better, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Dark Web Monopoly

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing
What’s the latest message from Ukraine? Cribs me. Russian Caviar doesn’t grow on trees. I want a creamy white Bugatti with a yellow, blue trim for Ukrainian Christmas. Keep your Ak-47s. They reek of hashish and Afghani cheese caves made out of camel’s milk. Got Hunter’s Zip Drive by the balls. Got Venmo? Zelensky needs to record his next charity drive for Comic Relief at Electric Lady Land Studios for 500 per hour. Ukraine cries penny stocks while ringing the bell at the New York Stock Exchange. Perogies are too starchy after getting hooked on lobster claws. Pierogi Peasant blues, Challah. Thank you very much.

Lucky Moron

by doitalldadyear, posted in books, culture, entertainment

My son otherwise known as All Metal Baby who plays air guitar with his schmeckle spot, creates a fort out of our sofa cushions.

I say.

Any room in there for me?

I wish there was a shrinking machine around.

Son replies.

You only get one kid life.

How many morons are stuck in your head?

You’re bad at life moron Jewish son.

Be more like Tommy Lee.

Because your love life, is suck, suck, suck.

Don’t you have new jokes to write?

Or do you expect me to write all your material for you?

Shout at Hillary on your podcast for not offering spirit cooking coupons during Restaurant week.

And stop telling everybody how Hillary smiled at me during lunch with mama for restaurant week in Chappaqua.

Hillarry was just getting warmed up for desert.

Ok, that’s your joke, not mine. You’re only a medium suck Lucky Moron.

Lucky Moron love lives, Challah. Thank you very much

Michael Kornbluth

Flirter With A Cause

by doitalldadyear, posted in beauty, creativity, entertainment

Yesterday, my son asks, “What did you learn at work today? I say, “I learned that Chili is the best place for stargazing on the planet.” He says, “Isn’t that the Northern Lights.” I say, “Have you seen Bjork with no makeup on? They don’t call her warmup act the Shrieking Seals for nothing.” Your submission was made yesterday. We presented you as a UX/UI Designer with breath taker designs to show, without using the actual expression breath taker, but you get the gist. It brought me pleasure to put your portfolio in a turn on position. Best Always, Joshua K P.S. Loved Bjork in the movie Dancer In the Dark.