My Love Affairs With Strangers on Twitter

Was my grand total of 35,629 tweets worth it before I unplugged myself today from Twitter forever? Combining all the 24 new accounts I needed to create on Twitter. So, my hashtag lovers at #plumber, #fintech, #edtech #privateequity, #WordPress, #Istandwithisrael and #femaleentrepreneurs would be able to search and read my new, extra pointed, money shot, joke blasts, splattered throughout the Twitter cybersphere? Knowing, they couldn’t get enough of my truthful, gobbles of joke firing spraying fun. Knowing I’d get shadowbanned by Twitter every time I got on another carpet truth bomb hot streak. And had to start new Twitter accounts, 24 separate times in order to get my pointed  jokes stabs seen while losing all my past followers after deactivating  all of my past accounts in order to start anew. Boy was it ever worth it and then some.

Without my love affairs with strangers on Twitter over the past 2 years since becoming a full time stay at home comedian, do it all dad podcast host and now featured writer, on the Good Men Project, my comedic instincts for what works would never been as sharp as it is now.

Without the enrapturing, inspired embrace of my steady, non-stop barrage of new material fed into the Twitter abyss from my stranger lovers on Twitter, I never would’ve  banged out my monster parenting education humor book, Stay at Home Comedian, “How 3 kids Got My Act Together” feeding their appetite for more, more, more.

Comedy is a pure art form. The goal of a joke is to always score a laugh. There’s no room for artistic, merit measuring interpretation. Either, the joke made you laugh or not. So, by this definition, strangers on Twitter have made me feel like a perpetual winner as of late and stay at home dads need to all the wins they can get. Now, sometimes, the joke can generate a mere smile, a pleasant chuckle or a major league laugh yanker out of your esophagus. I constantly for go for the laugh yanker out of your esophagus. Jeff Foxworthy says you should always use a funny sounding word at the very end of a punchline, esophagus being used a second ago is a primo example, obviously. My old stand-up comedy professor Jim Mendrinos at the Gotham Comedy club told our class, you should only have 2 passable tests when constructing a joke, intended to perform on stage or on the page. And that’s A) Is the joke well-written and B) Did the joke make you, the creator laugh. That’s its folks.  At the same time, I also learned from my 1st year of doing open mike stand-up comedy in LA is how sometimes a joke which makes you laugh one morning, generates zero smile improvement generation the following evening on stage. Also, some jokes sound better written, then performed because some words are just hard to wrap your mouth around. For example, I still struggle stating my own name clearly, Michael Kornbluth and I’ve had at least 4 decades of practice already.  And I’m not even using comedic exaggeration to make my point in this instance. Michael Kornbluth is a total mouthful to say. Even Kim Kardashian can’t wrap her mouth around it. Ok, in this instance, I used comedic exaggeration to nail my point home. For the record, I’m a huge fan of Kim Kardashian since she used her social media influence for the greater good. And pushed for President Trump to pardon a reformed woman who was in jail for being a mule for a Drug cartel in California. Since then, President Trump also signed off on a prison reform bill, which accelerates the liberation of 1st time drug offenders in jail. Giving them a chance to renter society, take care of their families and make something of their lives again. So good for you Kim Kardashian and for being more than the top of the Persian porcupine puss chain, yummy.

So back to my love affair with strangers on Twitter. They’re the best grown up comedy buds I never had. Sure, I’ve had old school friends from High School, from college and beyond who read and emoted about my blogs, Yelp reviews, spec scripts and pilots in the past.  But since President Trump became president and since I became a father of the 3, the majority have been nowhere to be seen. Nor have they been able to keep up with my fast and furious rate via new joke text transfer either. I used to post jokes on Facebook in spite of these fake news friends because to illuminate their spiteful jealousy. Knowing they were giving 0.0 love to reposted  proven winners on Facebook. Despite the retweets on Twitter or votes from a site called ComedyWire, which is Twitter for comedy writers. Who are by the far, the most critical laugh judges of the bunch.

 

I stopped using ComedyWire 2 years ago, after posting more up 6999 voted on funny lines. John Lennon wishes he was this productive during his stay at home dad years. I stopped using ComedyWire because it gives you a constant feed of news stories to write one-liners on, yet the best comedy comes from hard core felt emotion. And when you’re being spoon fed topics, the jokes you generate aren’t going to deliver such a hardcore punch, if you’re meh about the curated topics you’re commenting on to get laughs from just for the sake of joke writing practice in the 1st place. Also, I felt it was time to tackle Twitter again after experiencing much success with Comedywire. But the major turnoff for me about Comedywire was some new guy who wrote for the Onion and some stupid book on Trump, commenting on my jokes.  I don’t need to hear your confusion at a dense, fully loaded joke of mine, hick from Wisconsin. Either you laughed at my joke stab or not. Don’t need the forced, hackneyed, fake news friend constructive commentary, thank you very much. Get stand-up comedy great, Nick DiPaolo to read and emote about your Louie spec through Twitter about his dear departed friend, always the scariest elephant in the room, the late great Patrice O’Neal. And I’ll start giving a shit about what your cliché brained mug has to espouse on what constitutes actual funny my friend. Get the Rev Bob Levy, stand-up joke marksmen and star writer and roaster from the Howard Stern show to laugh at your A plus jokes about Lena Dunham and claims of Trump being the anti-Christ through direct messages on Twitter and I’ll reconsider my position on your new evolved role as my new comedic ghost guru teacher whisper CNN contributor blogger you. Get stand-up comedy great Margaret Cho to read your pilot Mike Mates, which you bang out looking after your 2 kids and get her to give your script the “so funny” nod and I’ll look up to your enviable comedic stature for a change, Seth Meyers sucker. If you’re not afraid of Trump, then I’m not into my mother as much as Seth Myers. Oh, I can’t take no more.

So yeah, Twitter has not paid the bills for my family or put food on the table for my family at all whatsoever.  Still, Twitter is a world-wide open mike and I’ve been killing on it for 2 years straight now. And prior to that, I was able to connect and impress with the heavy weight comedic luminaries I mentioned prior, which gave me tremendous added confidence to keep on plowing forward with reckless abandon, with no guaranteed payday in sight. But every great major league hitter, Pete Rose, Derek Jeter, Wade Boggs, Edgar Martinez, Paul Molitor, Tony Gwyn, all needed batting practice. And that’s what Twitter has been for me.  And I’ve been batting above 400 for some time now. Being a stay at home comedian, it’s been a wonderful batting cage to tee off on targets such as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles, king of the persecution complex Lebron James, Trump resistors, Baby Boomer bust grandparents, Denture Breath Pelosi, Debbie Wolface Wasserman Schultz, Dinero Duntz, Baldwin, my writing sucks without Tiny Fey programming me, etc.  At one point, I was up to almost 3000 followers on Twitter, Richard Lewis being one of them from Curb. Who I exchanged compliments with back and forth through direct messages on Twitter. Once, my dad was gracing us with his presence from Arizona back east and I shared a recent message exchange from Richard Lewis with my dad. He shrunk into the couch as I read on as all the blood drained from his once cock sure face. All of a sudden, I blurt out. What’s wrong dad? Dad says. I’m tired. I’m thinking, of what being an asshole?

The thing is being a stay at home comedian, you don’t interact with the grown-up world too frequently because adult interaction is overrated. So, Twitter, has been my comedic sanctuary, my shrink’s office, my cooler talk repository, my open mike at the Eastville comedy club in Manhattan all wrapped up into one.  It’s allowed me the freedom to process my bruised feelings and enact comedic revenge in the form of exacting, get in the last word, reimagined narrative more to my liking. Whether my enragement or extreme annoyance stemmed from my wife, in-laws, ex fake news friends, or my parents blatantly disrespecting, devaluing and depreciating this stay at home comedian whose written for TV twice already, again and again. When, I’ve been the rock of my family, with 0.0 outside assistance to look after my kids in the form of Facebook grandparents, useless uncles or involved, uncle type, high character friends in sight.  Not complaining about it, it’s brought me closer to my 3 kids and we make a stellar home team. God gives kids to only the lonely. Plus, I’ve got God in my heart now. So, everything is peachy compared to my degenerate, druggy years of yesteryear. Also, during this stretch in the wilderness as a stay at home comedian in exile, off the main social grid of life, I’ve been able to dig deep, truly develop my voice and not give a fuck about what social ramifications it’s engendered, which is an empowering, liberating place to be. I don’t exist to win over your approval resistor, hipster hack critic. I don’t exist to make you feel superior smug, when you couldn’t score a retweet if your life depended on it. Obviously, you are so controlled by PC safe group think, the fascist, morality thought police, truth guardian proctors of justice for all at Twitter. Have never found your edgeless musings, on you thinking you’re smarter than a President to shadowban and hide your thoughts because they do nothing to shatter the fake news, played out propaganda concerning how every Trump supporter is a xenophobe racist. Actually, the true definition of a racist is the palpable, forced in your face, purported feelings of extreme moral and intellectual superiority. And if this doesn’t summarize every anti-American sleaze who’s done nothing but shit on an American President who works for free to make the grand old USA safer and more prosperous again for all Americans, I don’t know what is.

The other day, I told my wife I’m going to self-publish my parenting education book, Stay at Home Comedian, because no east coast publisher will have the balls to publish it. She says. “But I thought your book wasn’t political.” I say, “That’s right, you haven’t heard the totality of one podcast out of 57 yet, my bad.” The thing is, I didn’t set out to write a political book in nature. The heart of my book Stay at Home Comedian, “How 3 Kids Got My Act Together”, is about getting off my dependence of Adderall, weed and IPA’s for a good time and instead choosing to get high off my writing and education of my kids. Coaching them into being the independent, bad ass creatively jacked humanists they were destined to be, under my hardcore comedic tutelage of course. It’s a story about a stay at home comedian whose raised 3 amazing, loving, sweet kids who are the most behaved, giving, pleasure to be around kids in the universe. Funnier dad, happier baby. Children are better than you. My kids truly are superior company than most. I’m going to miss them terribly once I get a job doing recruitment again except this time it will be for the XFL in Stamford, CT. I refuse to accept no for an answer. Vince McMahon oversees the XFL and WWE start Chris Jericho loves me. I wrote all his music video intro one lines for America’s Hard 100 on VH1 Classic. We hugged it out once we wrapped the shoot together. Any company that represents, the anti-fake news fro Kaepernick alternative to American flag degradation is the place for me. It’s a sports startup and I want in. Time to unleash the beast.

I do miss people. I do miss making the phone calls rip and connecting with strangers.  I’m still an old school recruiter at heart. Hated working as IT Recruiter as a whole but there were good times also and my co-worker always loved me because we worked in open spaces before Google made them mainstream. And within those open spaces, glimmers of my personality and strength of voice emerged from cold calling my brains out 12 hours a day eight days a week. My old boss Larry at Adam Jacobs Associates, a boutique IT staffing firm in One Penn Plaza in Manhattan on top of MSG used to let me practice new jokes in front my old school IT recruiter brethren to break up our afternoons on occasion. I was so on edge back then because I still had plenty to prove and hadn’t written for TV yet. This professional goal materialized 4 years later after my 1st of 3 children Singing Rose was born.

Who knew President Trump would get his 42-year old stay at home comedian excited about cold calling within the field of executive recruitment again. The reason why is because I’ve said my piece in my book Stay at Home Comedian, my book on fatherhood bonding in the modern era about taking charge of my kids’ education while I was around to do so. It will be officially released this Father’s Day 2019 through a big-time book publisher or not. Again, I don’t write this book without the love from strangers on Twitter. Most of the material, I’ve published here on WordPress has been recycled from Twitter. That means the material has been filtered and vetted for proven funny already lit agents at large. Still, I don’t need your comedic validation seal of approval Mr. Brooklyn lit agent because the audience reveals all without you. That’s why the Good Men Project site has embraced and republished 90% of the material I’ve shared with them so far because it’s already been embraced and loved wholly by all of you, strangers on Twitters and WordPress alike.

 

My strangers on Twitter and WordPress provide this stay at home comedian with an incredible fix of comedic approval feedback, which has proven priceless. I don’t finish my book Stay at Home Comedian without it. I don’t bang out 100,000 plus words of consistently funny, emotive verse for Stay at Home Comedian, without your steady doses of encouragement and loving embrace of me and who I’ve strived to become along the way.

By declaring on Twitter and WordPress my intention of writing the funniest book of parenting, from a fatherhood perspective, your sustained interest and increased attention in what I’d bang out next has been nothing short of miraculous. Strangers on Twitter and now WordPress, you’ve truly been the gift that keeps on giving. I love all of you for helping me become the funny man author, I was destined to be. I’ll always cherish our time together during my stretch on the stay at home dad wilderness front. But stay at home dads can’t survive as welfare mothers forever. So, I must go out and become a Headhunter again, this time for the XFL. But my book stay at home comedian will be out for huge worldwide consumption soon enough and I’ll be working on my follow up book through WordPress, Crazy, Good Dada, to follow.  Which will document my family meal review show, the Pescatarian Comedians, “Family Meals Deconstructed, 1 Bit at a Time.” When that sells huge, I’ll have earned the right to hang up my cold calling past for good. Proving to myself and to the world at large, I’m no longer a mere Schmuck in a headset.

The End,

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

Instead Of Drugs Say Yes To Fatherhood

All drug abuse stems from low self-esteem, scarcity of real friends and too much free time on your hands.  So clean your up your act like Motely Crue did on Dr. Feelgood and what Amy Winehouse did on Back To Black and give birth to a new and improved you. Devoid of any lingering, Freshman year one hitter clogged up Chakra residue of rageful, fucking up regret of yesteryear already.

I started smoking weed in high school after my lost year of socialized development in 9th grade playing GJ-Joes all by myself in semi-splendid isolation.  I recall getting a puberty book in the 8th grade for Chanukah. Thinking, great gift mom. Can’t wait to recall how behind schedule I already am. Later I blurt, “Mom, getting this gift in front of my younger brother is humiliating. He’s already hit puberty. So he can play with himself whenever he wants.” Moms replies. “But you do that all the time with your GI Joe figures.”

Writing these straight forward, book proposal sheets for my parenting humor debut book Stay At Home Comedian are more enlivening, written in punchy prose, despite me recycling material older than Yiddish at this stage of my life.

But the more I think about it Random House, Penguin Books, Bukowski’s editor who fed him an advance in the form of Mars Bars before completing his debut novel Post Office. Documenting his mail route, pre-smart phone, involving intricate weave of routes throughout East Los Angeles to make my own brain feel fried from smoking too much Angel Dust homes.  So a listing of what main arguments my debut parenting humor book are as follows.

Stay At Home Dads get no respect from fake feminists.

Fake Feminists try to make stay at home dads feel like sheltered bums.

Controlling your kids through comedy works.

The Rod didn’t work out too well for Michael.

Helicopter Parents created mumble-core, twerps and fucked their kids up good.

White privilege reverse racism exists, no he didn’t. Yes, I did.

This is do it all dad it all dad possess superior calming skills than mama because controlling your kid through comedy works. Plus, funnier dad, happier baby.

Kids behave in public when your hold them to higher social standards than ANTIFA.

Old school shoulder rides rule.

Favorites never change.

Husbands today have to work remote or they’ll be charged with sexual harassment. Assuming all meetings over Skye start with. Husbands only, raise your hands high, where I can see them.

Bonding over fatherhood isn’t always recommended because those men could’ve have estranged kid relations of their own.

Kids need dad around more.

Book Authors are fire proof.

Books on Fatherhood blow.

Pride is on my side.

Comedy control rules.

Kids are better than best friends because they make you feel better than loved.

My 3 son, Samuel Teddy was bound to woo.

Shadow Banning is real.

Fatherhood grants you the chance to re-raise yourself in the form of classically trained baby, evolving from Hendrix to Mahler.

Falling for fatherhood means loving the opportunity to love your kids better than your parents did.

Befriending a black lit agent and black editor is in my best interests.

Facebook has rendered baby boomers bare minimum grandparent providers.

My gap years were the best of times and worst of times.

I’m a strong contender for Politically Incorrect Prisoner of the Year.

Hillary Hammer Time Cankles isn’t my daughter’s role model.

A Vasectomy screams I’m pulling out because I no longer feel like I’m winning.

4 Halloween jokes is all your need.

There’s really funny people and Judd Apatow.

My daughter is the best bud Sarah Silverman never had.

Oversharing with your kids about your problems with weed addiction will make sure they don’t buy into the it’s just an herb pitch.

Coming to terms with your ex-social life pre 3 kids is easier when you realize how you only want to celebrate your most important wins with them now above all else.

Husbands today are expected to do more than knock up their wives every 2 years.

Husbands today prop up Columbus to their kids because they refuse to be slaves to political correctness in their own homes. But Matilda without Columbus, Bernie Sanders has no white devil American to cash in on and his gravy train goes sailing.

Fatherhood doesn’t guarantee you won’t sexualize your kids toys again in the PG-13 joke riffing sense.

Grandparents love their grandchildren more but not really.

God gives kids to only the lonely.

Stranger anxiety is fake news, either my kids are into you or their not.

3 kids isn’t brave.

Stay At Home Dads can’t survive as Welfare Moms forever.

Kids birth new daydreams to will into reality.

I’ll take my snuggling forties over my snuggling twenties any day of the week.

Baby Boomer arrogance never dies.

Celebs playing dad aren’t around enough to be featured star players.

The science of fatherhood doesn’t work well in my dad’s favor.

Bed sharing with my baby, otherwise known as attachment parenting is like planting seeds of self-esteem on steroids.

It feels good when your kids fight for sole ownership rights of you. No, he’s my daddy, my son declares. It feels good to be fought over sowing so much despair.

A son’s love urges you to become a famous author but funnier than Weird Al by Christmas or I’ll give kill you with our sharpest knife for real.

Grandparent bad manners is adopting a rescue dog without consulting their 3 grandchildren 1st. Knowing, they’ll no longer be the center of their attention when they’re around.

Baby Boomer resistors hate pictures of their grandchildren hugging Old Glory.

Excessive weed use in my life has done more harm than good.

Only agency IT recruiters get less respect than Stay At Home dads on the job so I can’t complain being a former Schmuck in a headset for hire.

Kids love back because when you play with them come rain or shine. Thinking to yourself I can’t believe they’re real or mine.

Males today must masturbate, it’s our only safety rail left.

It’s impossible for stay at home dads to feel like their own man as a financial dependent.  Especially, when your wife’s smart phone sends her an alert every time you make another questionable purchase at home. Wife calls: Hey Hubby, so how was bride of Chucky?

10,000 plus retweets were worth it because stay at home dad comedians needs all the wins they can muster.

Funnier dad happier baby. You want a photo off old man?

Favorites never change.

God didn’t give me 3 kids to have panic attack over it.

American Dad is educational.

Stay At Home Dads hate each other.

Getting love from skin cancer isn’t a guaranteed done deal.

Working remote can make our kids great again.

God gives kids to only the lonely.

LavarBall as my sub dad growing up would ensure my younger brother never lost his virginity before I did. He’d offer Rihana future profit participation points to pop my cherry in Junior High. So, I’d automatically feel like a bigger ball inside. And no longer run the down the court on my tippy toes looking I was in running high heels instead of high tops. As LaVar Ball my sub dad barks out in disgust from the sideline “We’re trying to sell Baller Wear son, not Jimmy Choo’s.”

Kayne West knows friendship best.

Facebook has made Baby Boomers the laziest grandparent generation ever.

Better than loved is your daughter looking up to you with her adoring blaster eyes.

Bare Minimum Grandparent providers make you a tighter home team.

Children are better than you.

Part Animal DNA doesn’t die in you once you have children.

Failing to be a provider bites.

1 kid only means you’re not ready to quit your lifestyle anytime soon either.

Hate is good because it highlights what to avoid from ruining your happiness bubble at home for future reference.

Book Authors are fire proof.

God made Neil Degrasse Interesting for 3 minute spurts.

Success in Rape Wood alone is overrated.

My wife sucks at life or death reminders.

Singing Rose my daughter and 1st born of 3 is the last person on earth deserving my scorn.

There’s really funny people and Judd Apatow.

4 Halloween Jokes is all you need.

Kids need dad around more.

Media is good, Trump is bad has stripped old world media capacity for objective thought. Reducing them into mere jealous frothing, twitter twats who can’t understand why Trump get’s so many more retweets than their Trump is going downtown hit pieces at nauseum.

Fatherhood is a do over life improver. Assuming, you’ve learned how if you can’t high off your own kids divine powered presence. Then, your sanity has gone sailing like those baby boomer resistor. Who’ve resigned to remaining glued to CNN versus rational, independent, thought.

 

Besides all those arguments I advance in my parenting humor book Stay At Home Comedian, controlling my kids through comedy. I’m now thinking NYC editor, obsessed with new writer platforms because killer A list material is always promoted, endorsed and made SEO friendly from the tech overlords of Silicon Valley at Google, Facebook and Twitter. Especially, when you share your fondness for a president who works for free and Toby Keith playlists.  Now, I’m thinking the title of my book which also catapults into the humor, parenting and holiest of holies, self-help section at Barnes Noble for drug fried readers who are all fucked up in the head. Who find Tony Robbins at a tad too alpha male for their taste. Who haven’t worked in enough bullpen sales offices like myself to handle such an tsunami of chest barreled f bombs for emphasis. Could pick up my debut self-help book, “Instead Of Drugs Say Yes To Fatherhood.” How 3 kids got my act together, one bit at a time. “Flying High Daddy”, from slug to stud. How 3 kids got my act off the ground already isn’t chopped liver either. Just give me advance money to wrap up this monster best seller already because Twitter can’t shadowban my A list American Dad loving material at Barnes and Noble just yet.

 

Fatherhood was the best kickstart to my heart to get sober and serious about making it as a successful author already, to complete my rise from slug to slug as the new face of the remote working revolution. Plus, I don’t rock a beard to cover 6 layers of neck fat which no longer exist hipster hobbits. I really did my best to be a functional pot head. I really tried my best to raise my kids on speed, Adderall specifically. But my history of drug dependence is over now because I’m no better than my mere schmuck in a headset during IT recruiter years throughout my entire twenties. For failing to recognize how booze maximizes my nasty mean gene vibe to the max. Weed, no matter how good the batch, dulls the impact, of my Aries punchy might. And Adderall renders me into a bitchy diva with a persecution complex no better than Princess Diaries Lebron James. No need for rehab Amy, when you got fatherhood. I only wish you could’ve become a mother and got to experience the same for yourself my Jewish soul sister from another mother.

 

In Chaim Potok’s Chosen, he talks about all of us being born with a “tiny spark of goodness.” And how it’s our job to nurture it. Well, bang out a kid fellas and you’re half way to the end zone. Now, all you go to do is say no to more drugs and start inhaling your kids feet instead. Before going in for a harmonica rib nosh for your new cherished night cap. Releasing shrieks of joy. Which cascade into one endless rhapsody of peek delight. Oh yeah, last argument I’m advancing in my book Mr. Editor/Lit Agent who isn’t a born again resistor. Who didn’t even know what the midterms were 2 months ago. Neither did I but I’m not you thank God. Oh yeah this is it, final argument, adult interaction is so overrated. Especially when your 3 fuss free, love supreme sweet kids are superior company than most.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Party Animal DNA

This is Ziggy Marely being interviewed by a reporter for High Times for their 420 issue.  “Ziggy, your dad had 12 kids. But the Crazy Baldheads taught us Ganja destroyed our life shooter’s fire power for good.” Ziggy Marley replies, “Fake News man.”

Joakim Noah just admitted on a radio show the reason he sucked up the joint as a Knick was because he was constantly lit. His exact words were “Athletics and partying don’t go hand and hand.”  3 kids later, I know for a fact hangovers and kids don’t mix. But can middle age usher in a gentler, less destructive form of partying for working parents? Similar to what Bukowski pulled off during his late in life, married, prostitute free San Pedro years.

Is addiction to partying nature based or more an offshoot of normalized enabler nurturing ? Or does addiction to partying really come down to disposable income, free time and making the choice to live it up like Lizard King? Distorting all windows of perception like any shot still fitting into your leather pants again after exchanging your acid only Atkins diet for cases of beer and whiskey shakes, rattling  bones.

Legendary Stand Up Comedian Doug Stanhope says AA is great for the stories. Plus, he refers to all addiction as a “controlled decision.” So according to Doug Stanhope my younger brother choses to be a sketchy speed freak, regardless of what collateral damage it’s caused to his ex fiancé’s bank account and my parents in the past.

Once, an old fake news friend asks me. “What’s the difference between 1 kid versus 3?” I say. “Drinking alone is no longer an issue. Plus, having 3 kids versus 1 is a headier rush of coolness empowerment because each kid of  mine has become an automatic, unabashed fan of me. The rub is making sure they continue to admire and look up to me past their 1st love, gaga phase.” How will I ensure this love connection lasts post puberty? By raising my kids drug free by becoming drug free to. And stop doing all drugs. At least around them or never be on them in their presence ever period.

 

The best teacher is doing, not preaching. I’m almost there. Pothead daddy is dead. So is bourbon in the house ever dad because if I have it, I drink it at night in generous, you’d  think I’m on an eight ball of blow pours. Plus, my cherished Kentucky Bourbons and spicy Rye Whiskies aged me 1000 years in a day when I thought I could pull off the William Faulkner, writer sophisticate lifestyle on it. “Knowledge is power” kids.

 

Doug Stanhope can say addiction boils down to choice, not genetics. But this argument still doesn’t disguise the fact that some of us hailing from a long line of party animals lack self-regulated cut off point capabilities, especially those who have crazy hick, party animal DNA embedded in their liver spotted family tree.  I have a high tolerance for booze and beer in general. My younger brother not so much, yet he’s a lifelong enthusiast of the nose candy. So he’ll end up drinking way more than his normal brain can compute off it. Which is a recipe for disaster, especially when you add dad’s Ambian into the mix.  Never got that move. Could my younger brother be anymore of a degenerate, crazy hick, indecisive Jew? Do you want to be up or go to sleep? Make your mind up already, my chest.  Like I said, some posses greater control over their party animal DNA than others.

I still take Adderall, but I only take 1 time release a pill a day and nothing else these days. I know the Bible says sometimes we judge what we’re most guilty of.  But I never stole money from my parents’ ATM machine for cocaine runs to Washington Heights either. My own cousin who turned his life around, as a tax accountant, used to be a homeless crackhead. He’s a smart kid also. Will always love my cousin with all my heart. He truly turned his life around. Couldn’t be happier for him. Still, at one point, his pangs of addiction were so deep, he took my grandmother to the ATM when she had Alzheimer’s. I don’t know what’s lower, him doing this or me sharing the story to the Internet at large. Obviously, it’s not me bringing up the story again because in order to raise a drug free family, my 3 kids need to know that A) It’s never to late for redemption and to turn your life around and B) Party Animal DNA, especially, from Mimi’s crazy hick southern side, has a killer appetite for destruction lurking from within.

My kids already know about drinking and driving, heroin, pills, cocaine overdoses and how they’re all illegal. Plus, they fully know real jail is hell on earth and they’ll all be eaten up alive in there. I didn’t watch every single episode of OZ for nothing. So when it comes down to taking it or leaving it, they must leave it. It’s also easier said than done. They say evil happens in the place of idleness. That’s why I’m pushing my 3 kids into sports, theatre, art, creation, all forms of competition, both creative and physical. So, they don’t have the free time available to indulge in being a blah brained, empty souled consumerist like I was growing up.

 

I don’t want my kids to be playing catch up in life like me at 42. The rich get richer, and the poorer pothead, feels poorer the more he puffs one hitters into his early forties because ripping hits from an expensive glass bubbler is deemed too wasteful for his weed, spendthrift addiction.  I tell my kids, nothing will get them higher than winning and creating something new. For me it’s writing new jokes and writing new pieces, or performing on stage to kill but life is so much more than that. My view is limited to show business, but life is your stage like Shakespeare says, so either you want to shine like Denzel as Othello on Broadway or fade into the sunset like a has been, never great in the 1st place Andy Dick.  Plus, partying doesn’t solve your financial problems. It only creates more. Just ask Jimmy Leyritz on the New York Yankees how his life materialized. After his legend cementing homerun against Atlanta in 96. When we were down 6 runs to win Game 6 away from home. Before winning the World Series in the boogie down Bronx against the dominant, unhittable Maddox in game 7 for it all.

Reality is, I don’t even remember one funny line I uttered from all my Christmas Breaks I drank away with my buds from high school. I do remember one local townie, telling me.  “You should run for politics office one day.” Have no idea where that came from. Still, I always viewed his kind reach out of him as meaning, you got a brain, save some  brain cells for the greater good. Plus, you’re destroying your looks with this stuff kid.

In the end, we’re judged by what fruit we bear in the form of our kids. And I refuse to raise victim card playing drug addicts, fuck that. Party animal friends fade kid.  Miserable pricks, love to feel better about themselves around other struggling pricks. Partying can motivate kids, but partying doesn’t have to involve drugs and alcohol. You want to celebrate your wins. Go out dancing, Ice Skating, Duck Pinning. Sushi Dinners conquest feasts await. Knick games at MSG and seeing Ziggy Marley live in Central Park. Getting high on the music and on the company of those you love. Inhaling nothing but positive vibrations, blowing through the air.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

Twitter, Google, It’s All Chinese To Me

Old Bud
I dreamed of you owning a vacation home in New Mexico.
Me
Georgia O’Keefe did good work there. Personally, I prefer her labia looking flower paintings because they burst with more eye fucking sensuality.

If the CEO of Google called me at Robert Half, I’d assume he was an H1-B, claim our connection was bad and hang up on him next. Thinking, I’d have an easier time penning a Bollywood musical than making a fee off this guy.

My son tires from over-exposure to my wife like me. He wines. “Why does mommy always have to drop me off at Pre-K?” She does this twice a week max. NPR & Indy Rock drive him nuts strapped into his car seat minus my father figure veto powers in times of war.

Christine Blasey Ford was a runner up for Time Person of the Year. Michelle Obama didn’t even make honorable mention. I think its time for a new publicist.

Why wasn’t Anthony Bourdain Time Person of the Year? He was a writer journalist who died for what he believed in. That’s right, he trolled Hillary on Twitter for taking campaign donations from known rapists like Harvey Hair Clumps Weinstein, duh.

And where’s my nomination for Time Person of the Year? Corporate America has insisted on keeping me imprisoned under house arrest as a Stay At Home Comedian/Father of 3 because I’m a pro Trump truther prisoner of political correctness.

Why do my people, elitist Jews hate Trump so much? Either A) They’re hack writers who can’t stand his far greater Twitter following or B) They’re no names Sales Directors. Who might make enough to live in a building Trump owns.

INT. HOME

Wife

You’re hanging out with Dave on Christmas Eve?

Me
I never see him. Plus, he’s listened to 1 more podcast than you have out of 57 so far. Last, I can play socket puppets with the kids with your mom’s gift when I get back. Plus, babe, I’m Jewish. So Mass isn’t a Holiday Event to be checked off in my Outlook Calendar, no offense.

Divorcing my parents was a good deal for them. They pay child support in the form of Pre-K for only 1 out of their 3 grandchildren. Which is cheaper than minimum child support payments in Texas. Plus, they save money on gas because they almost never visit.

Daddy laying his foot down. Get away from my 40 of Grapefruit Seltzer. I’m not drinking IPA’s, wine or bourbon till your birthday kid. It’s all Daddy’s got left. Daddy, what’s a 40? Snoop Dog’s ho sprayer of choice.

All the talking heads on Fox sound the same when defending their belief in God. I’m better off believing. Who else who could’ve created all this majesty? My answer is simple. I believe in God because my 3 kids worship me like the All Mighty himself. Plus, they love to caress my holy, wise beard. And deep down I know God didn’t give me 3 kids to have a panic attack over it. Last I’m a true believer because my mother sulks as my 3 kids blanket with me love in her presence and my son hugged me after my dad sulked from me reading my DM from Richard Lewis.

Me

Too bad the Macaroon has peppermint. Peppermint is a total boner killer for me. Although, if I was still single without 3 kids. I’d slam some shots of Black Haus for old school times sake.

A Vasectomy is like playing God or a Bartender who refuses to serve you after you’ve had too many.

A Vasectomy screams I’ve got enough knots in my back already. One more in my groin won’t make much of a difference.

A Vasectomy screams after this, I’m done tying knots with either sex period.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

Not My Daughter’s Role Model

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
2 time loser, alcoholic deplorable. Who stole China from the White House on her way out the door. Am I close yet?

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
Do you know who Tony Podesta is?
He has enough painting with kids in bondage to make Marilyn Manson blush.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
Rapist enabler, Russian Dossier Financier, best selling Voodoo Doll in Haiti year after year.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
Do you know what spirit cooking is? Hillary’s campaign adviser John Podesta does. What, blame WikiLeaks, not me.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
The real bully who stole the Democratic nomination from fake news socialist Bernie Sanders. I know who Seth Rich was. Do you?

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
I know you can’t name one good thing she accomplished.
And stealing the DNC nomination from Bernie Sanders doesn’t count.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
I don’t look up to cheaters. Ever heard of Jeffrey Epstein? He’s like the Jewish Sandusky. Well, Epstein is tight will Bill alright.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
A slacker Presidential candidate. Who got out hustled, outclassed and out-messaged by Donald J. Trump. Am I close yet?

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
She’d said we’d all hang if Trump wins. But don’t stop believing in impeachment miracles on my behalf.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
The Anti-Christ. Don’t worry, Jesus defeats the Anti-Christ. So, keep the faith in the Jesus comeback story resistor.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
You mean the wicked witch of the east? Who cheated at the debate with Trump by getting the questions in advance.

INT. HOME
Daughter stares at her Chanukah book gift titled Rebel Girls.
Fiance
Do you know who Hillary is?
Daughter
You mean Hillary Hammer Time Cankles?
The treacherous bitch who sold our uranium to Russia.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

Comedy Control Rules

A light, zero windup smack on the bum only goes so far. After your son bites his big sister. Afterwards, I say. “Arthur, fart in your sister’s face, burp into her armpit, headbutt her Cerebellum but no more biting.” My son’s post traumatic teary whimpers subside.  But this Stay At Home Comedian was just getting warmed up.

Minutes later, my 4 year old son draws inspiration from Jewish pride incarnate, the Hebrew Hammer and draws a Star of David on our bathroom wall upstairs. Mama’s at work at the hospital in case you’re wondering. 1st I scream. “Arthur, are you kidding me?” But then I use comedy to subdue my rage and guard the remainder of our evening from complete disorder in the house. I say “You just wanted to draw Arthur? I thought you were competing for the Maccabi Tagging Olympics.” Of course my 3 kids had no idea what the hell “tagging” meant. But through my use of comedy, I was able to lighten the mood and regain a semblance of control over my red hot, Aries pissed off emotion.

I park outside my son’s school for Pre-K this morning. One of his teachers, Mrs. Russo helps him out of the car. Before she does, Arthur flashes his bouncing, Gimel Robot Dreidel. Mrs. Russo stares at Gimel Robot Dreidel with total bewilderment like she just spotted a Guido in Cancun without a tan-line. Then, Mrs. Russo says. “What’s that? Whatever it is, you can put it in your cubby.” Meanwhile, I’m thinking, would she say the same thing, if Arthur brought Jesus Apostle Trading Cards to share? But I didn’t say anything although to calm my anger at Mrs. Russo’s grossed out, perplexment at what Gimel Robot Dreidel represented. I wrote these jokes below.  Making fun of my obvious Jewish paranoia about A) Jewish kids being accused of being greedy Hebrews for expecting too many gifts and B) Jewish parents like me being accused of being too cheap for only getting 8 ho hum gifts. Which combined together, never amount to the majestic might of a BB Gun or Denise Richards in nothing but Polar Bear Fur for Christmas.  In case you’re wondering, we got each of our 3 kids a  big Kahuna deal gifts each. Plus, the other seven gifts for each 3 kids weren’t chopped liver either.

These are a couple of new Hanukah joke lighter uppers, fresh off the press. Aren’t you blessed?

Me instructing my son on how to avoid any anti-Semitic triggered aftermath at school.

When you bring your Gimel Robot Dreidel to Pre-K Arthur. Make sure, when your gentile classmates ask what Gimel means. You don’t say. “Give me all your money because we control all the world banks, even the one in the North Pole.”

For Christmas, I’m not banking on getting more black Champion socks from my mother-in-law. My wife works Christmas Eve. So we won’t spend a white Christmas in Delaware this year. Postage is more expensive than the socks themselves.

As you can see, comedy control rules because it allows anyone the opportunity to rewrite the narrative to their own liking. Comedy control rules because you’re able to capture the cheapness of your mother-in-law and get in the last laugh. If you’re lucky enough to have children, you must always serve lady laugh with your all sarcastic, silly minded, over the top might. Screw other people’s kids. Your own children’s laughs will light up your heart up like no other. When your children laugh. You beam with happiness like when the Stripper in Montreal didn’t charge you for 2 lap dances after you bribed the DJ to play the Allman’s 22 minute Whipping Post from the Fillmore East.

Comedian Victor Borge, said “Laughter is the shortest distance between 2 people.” So if you’re not born naturally hilarious, nobody is, unless you’re Rodney. Force yourself to take an IMPROV class at Second City and get out of your head already. Who cares if you say something stupid or weird? You’re going to tell me bloggers for Buzz Feed reporting on imaginary golden shower parties, still chasing down Russian collusion tales with less legs than Lieutenant Dan, are smarter and more grounded morally than you are? I didn’t think so. That’s like asking if Kevin Hart is funnier than Chris Rock. Did you hear? Kevin Hart withdrew from the Oscars because Obama called Jay Z to tell him Michelle prefers Ellen. I wonder if Chris Rock is pissed at Kevin Hart for never seeking out his hosting advice. Still, Kevin Hart is no Chris Rock. Lady Laugh is love supreme, reign on me.

Jim Morrison said “the media controls the mind.” The beauty of fatherhood fellas is you get to control the mike. You’re the biggest megaphone in the house. So don’t play it safe or defer to your children like know it all hipster hacks from Portland, Maine. Own the room or they’ll own you. Assert your manhood. You’re the star creator and this makes you superior to the mere Hipster cynic critic in us all.  That’s why Adam Sandler needs the host Oscars this year. No other successful comedian has engendered as much bile laced critic jealousy than show me your cock and balls Sandler. Sandler as host equals Oscar gold.  He’s a song and joke guy.  Plus, his 100 million dollars films keep the lights on in Hollywood. So can the Golden Jew add this Oscar hosting feather to his cap already? Adam Sandler can even joke in his Oscars monologue about him hosting the Oscars is his stop looking at me Swan Song. Comedy control rules.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

Hate Is Good

Life – the way it really is – is a battle not between Bad and Good but between bad and worse. Joseph Brodsky
CEO Apple Tim Cook says “hate and division” have no place on his platform. Because I’m sure if Apple owned LinkedIn, they’d ban all IT recruiter hate speech in a nano- second. Because IOS developers who work for Apple love being hit on by dumb jocks recruiters at work, who played Lacrosse at Penn State. Knowing no noise cancellation headphone phones could ever tune out the muffled, maudlin cry of their scar tissue shrouded teenage hearts.
Hate and division have no place on I-Tune’s Platform. Then, why is Bill Hicks entire stand-up comedy library still available on it? Bill Hicks, the greatest standup of his generation oozed hate because the majority of America didn’t recognize his awesome hilariousness. Only after getting sober and moving to England did Bill Hicks get the extreme praise he deserved. But hatred for being a single, unknown, paid road comic clown who could out funny think George Carlin any day of the week wasn’t bothered by his lack of mainstream success one bit. Bill Hicks was just peachy about David Brenner doing Carson 5 million times from free riff, non-establishment airplane humor compared to his bit on abortion protestors on Letterman. Which never made it past CBS advertisers. Who killed any shot of the bit making Bill Hick’s career come to life on Letterman after all.
Hate is what made Bill Hick’s material great. George Bernard Shaw, Nobel Prize winner for Literature last time I checked, said, “Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.” Just to be clear, I don’t toss around the word hate lightly. I explain to my 7-year-old daughter Matilda what hatred means to daddy over breakfast this morning. Because I overshare too much and hold my daughter to a higher social standard than ANTIFA.
I talk to my daughter Matilda and down to her. And do everything in my power to develop Matilda’s own expressive confidence in her own ideas. So, she doesn’t flee for LA at 17 and regress into a Fallen Angel content with finding somebody to just love her body alone because I made her feel her brain was never enough to keep dada’s attention in the 1st place.
As my daughter takes a bite of Stew Leonard’s Chocolate Chip toaster made waffle. I test out my new premise on her.
“Don’t let anyone tell you different Matilda. Hate is good. How else would you know how much you hate Agave Syrup if you never tasted pure Maple Syrup from Vermont?”
She replies. “I agree daddy. Hate is good. Because without hate, I’d never realize how much I love my teachers reading voice over yours. Especially, after you read me direct quotes from boring Nobel Prize winners like Joseph Brodsky. Mrs. Donofrio’s reading is way more interesting because she assumes the personalities of the different characters, she reads to us about. Can you please just read me some of your jokes instead? But spare me more jokes. Where you have to explain what Private Equity, Firms do and who the Illuminati is in order to understand the joke, thanks. But how is hate good again dada? Untangle my brain for me please.

I reply. “Hate is anger, filled annoyance or outright sheer, heart enraging disgust. For example, Daddy learning from mama about Baba picking out only pillows from Pottery Barn for Arthur’s birthday gift registry because they’re the cheapest items on it. And daddy hates it when your younger brother continues to receive second rate gifts on his birthday from Baba. Especially knowing how Arthur was born on New Year’s Day. So, Baba unloads her cheapness into one combined Christmas Birthday Pillow gift for him without losing any sleep over it.
Is hate and division the reason my Do It All Dad Year Podcast never made it on I-Tune’s new and notable Tim? Was I being divisive when I kidded on my podcast about how I took offense to my wife calling me sexist for making fun of Chelsea Clinton? Because she’s not even ugly anymore. Or was I hater for insisting Chelsea Handler is a way bigger Twitter twat than Alyssa Milano. Who became a full-time social justice warrior to deflect attention away from her tits sagging popularity. Joan lives.
Peter Fonda stated fantasies of Baron Trump being raped in a cell on Twitter, yet he never got his account suspended, paging fake news moralist Twitter CEO, Jack Dorsey. So, is it really hate speech to call Peter Fonda a burnout has been? Whose been in permanent meltdown mode since America as a whole decided Baby Boomer Mom, Hillary doesn’t know best. Is it hateful to point out how Hillary Hammer Time Cankles lost touch with the working man by taking 5 times to get her Metro Subway card to work? By the 5th swipe, Hillary gives herself a pep talk. “No more coughing fits of nervousness. Black people are watching. You can do it.”
I know I’m not the only one who hates the moral grandstanding, hypocritical nature of the big three, Apple, Twitter and Facebook in relation to being so called protectors of hate speech. Farrakhan has an app on the I-Tunes store Tim. You know the class act who calls all Jews termites and hailed Hitler as a “great man.” But my dad friendly, Do It All Dad Year podcast is considered hate speech because I claim the Swastika looks like 2 gay Nazi stick figures in a 69 on crystal meth?
I worked as an IT headhunter for the majority of my young adult life. But without hating my parasite existence. Feasting off the bankable brain talent of others. I never would’ve latched on to writing scripts, blogs and jokes as a means to achieve independence from such a thankless, time wasting, non-builder existence.

Hate is good because if I didn’t have the experience of trying to launch my own creative tech staffing agency from home after getting fired from Robert Half. I never would’ve realized I hated relinquishing so much control over my destiny to unproven, douchebag tech founders. Who on LinkedIn are only searchable under the name Diesel. Which is more tailor made for standalone placement of a license plate on a tricked-out Honda in Daytona Beach.

Hate is good because it reveals the root of your misery. 9 out of 10 Stay at Home Dads want out of the house if someone looks past their gaps of wrath. Because they’ve grown to hate being a dependent, talked down to, house maid bitchy boy. Because no matter how progressive minded, or evolved workings moms proclaim to be. There reaches a resentment point in the relationship. Where the working moms dismiss their stay at home shemale hubs as mere dead weight. Because working moms tire of having to lean in and do all the money making themselves. Plus, the working mom is less risk averse in the bedroom when stay at home dad is choking her too hard financially already.

Hate is good because it forces the stay at home dad to become best friends with self-awareness. Which helps stay at home dad determine a course of action to ensure less of the same old shit. In my case, I’ve decided to write a best-selling parenting book about how Stay at Home Dads get no respect because Rodney Dangerfield would’ve insisted on it. Plus, Rodney didn’t relaunch his standup comedy career and become committed to making a career off his standup till he was 43. At 42, I’ve chosen to innovate or die as big deal 1st time author through my fatherhood book debut, Stay at Home Comedian, Controlling My Kids with Comedy, How 3 Kids Got My Act Together.
Prior, to going all in on his stand-up comedy career, Rodney sold aluminum siding to feed and care for his family. I used to peddle and sell the brain power of IT nerds for a living. Rodney stockpiled jokes in duffle bags during his aluminum siding sales years. Whereas, I stashed my material onto my do it all dad year podcast and now blog. But Rodney needed a home base to test new material after being offered a residency in Vegas. Because Rodney wanted to be an involved, around do it all dad for his daughter in Manhattan.
Rodney didn’t have a real affectionate relationship with his dad. So, he pursed the love from strangers for a living. My dad hasn’t called me on my birthday for 2 years straight. Plus, the last time I celebrated by birthday in Arizona with my parents. My dad’s shoulders collapsed in unison as I went in for a birthday hug. So, I can identify with the caring compulsion to connect, move and entertain strangers with my comedy and writing similar to Rodney. But without hate introducing me to my new pal Mr. Self-Awareness. Resulting from learning how much I hated having an identify defined by making a living off the talent of others as an IT recruiter. I never would’ve been propelled down this path of independence from the man and gone into business for myself as book author on rise, in charge of my own destiny, self-published or not.

Hate is good because it instructs you on what people to avoid, especially your past degenerate, druggy, reckless self. Who paid the price by contracting foot fungus from stepping foot into the showers of LA Fitness in West Hollywood barefoot one too many times.

Hate is good because becoming comfortably numb doesn’t look like an attractive alternative when Pink overdoses from Heroin induced indifference during the rendition of Hey You in Pink Floyd the Wall.

Hate is good because it’s a killer motivator for exacting, follow through, all encompassing revenge in Kill Bill 1 and 2.

Hate is good because it pushes your imagination to produce misery eliminating alternatives such as resisting the desire to ever express a pro Trump sentiment in your household again. Especially when your wife’s remaining friends are over.

Hate is good because it forces you to work harder at being more impressive than your edgeless competition. Who uses his wife to punch up his jokes about his proud defense of McDonald’s for him.

Hate is good because it emancipates you from bad habits such as clogging up your brain with too much dull braining resin fumes from your cherished ex one hitter. Because now you care more about being getting high off your kids’ company as a best-selling author instead. Officially, closing the chapter off your IT recruiter past for good. Proving to yourself, you’re no longer a mere schmuck in a headset. Which isn’t as bad as unemployed stay at home comedian.

The End,
By,
Michael Kornbluth

What’s My Blog About Rapewood?

It’s about an ex pot head lost boy who found his mojo as a stay at home dad comedian.

It’s about falling for fatherhood hard and rising from slug to stud as a paid remote American writer on the rise.

It’s about proving I can deliver the funny and heart on both the universal and topical better than most.

It’s about showcasing my Neil Young productivity and Metallica brooding intensity.

It’s about not sounding too rehearsed or sounding too formulaic like every other jerkoff on the Twitter-Verse.

It’s about mining for comedy gold and exercising my freedom of speech, so my wife no longer treats me like such a treacherous leach.

It’s about getting laughs from strangers which is what comedians live to do but I have 3 kids now. So chasing down open mikes in the city aren’t as easy to do.

It’s about promoting the benefits of attachment parenting. Which is turning your bed into a 24/7 open milk bar. But my kids complexions glow as opposed to other kids who look like they took a load to the face with Elmer’s Glue gun so far.

It’s about calling out fake news racist charges against President Trump. Unlike Obama, he never drank, smoked or did bumps.

It’s about becoming a voice for the remote work revolution and stay at home dads who get less respect than IT recruiters.

It’s about doing my own version of Charles Bukowski’s zero bullshit poetic prose, Thomas Paine’s freedom of speech loving verse and Walt Whitman’s making love to the world through words.

It’s about becoming an unplanned parent of 3 and how it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

It’s about writing the funniest parenting book ever about working remote, falling for fatherhood and controlling my kids through comedy.

It’s about recycling my jokes on Twitter which shadow bans my material every time I get on another hot streak which has been 2 years straight.

It’s more than just a creative outlet babe. It’s the greatest do it all dad show on earth.  But I’m glad you’re making tomato soup grill cheese sandwiches with your boyfriend now to reduce your combined girth.

It’s not about bashing whitey because that’s more played than dedicating the song, We Won’t Get Fooled Again to the Clinton Foundation at the only local Karaoke bar in Hatti.

It’s not about getting noticed by a Creative Director in Manhattan for a Copywriter job anymore.

It’s not about just complaining about my parents abandoning me for Scottsdale, Arizona 350 days a year with 3 grandchildren back east with me.

It’s not about just entertaining myself or my own ego enlargement purposes although more likes than usual helps.

It’s about figuring out what writer I want to be.

It’s about writing my way into your heart, not whether I come across as a notch above learning disabled smart.

It’s about minimizing my intense, aggressive, NY asshole aura by emoting about how wonderful my children are and how much they adore me instead.

It’s about taking my writing career more seriously than ever. And revealing more about myself than my predominant tendency to bludgeon your ears to death with clever.

It’s about becoming an important voice for Gen X Dads. Who in the age of Meto, care about preserving their nads.

It’s about becoming a voice for do it all dad’s who don’t get enough props, who need me time entertainment to enjoy with their IPA hops.

It’s about I how I have to become a parenting author because capturing voices is my forte and getting inside my children’s is the most fulfilling form of child’s play.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

Jay Z and My Wife Ruining Everything

INT. KIDS BEDROOM
Wife reveals our new smart bulb lamp.
Me
Alexa turn me on with Bordello Red.
Wife
You ruin everything.
Me
Now we can turn our bedroom into the red light district in Amsterdam to spice things up.

Yesterday my wife says, you can’t disparage stay at home moms.
I say. But I’m not married to your mother.
She was a hairdresser for a day before becoming an insufferable, stay at home blob.
Who makes potato dumplings for Church, whoopty doo.

Blog Title Ideas for a post about stay at home moms being sacred cows.
Stay At Home Dad vs. Homemaker Cow Moms
Comedians Live To Take Down Scared Cows
Milking Sacred Cows For Funny To Feed My Family
INT. STOP AND SHOP
Baby boy points at an onion and says eye.
Me
We must shoot our father and son cooking show pilot today Chef Samuels.
Who else is saying I got something in my eye ? Except Hillary’s Campaign Advisers on election night.

I love Journey but listening to Steve Perry’s new album on Spotify this morning made me feel like a gimpy, eunuch sentimentalist from Game of Thrones, minus the ability to get over my age of innocence already.

Expected Holiday Confrontation
I say to my dad. Funnier dad, happier baby. He says, not funny. I say my childhood photos were nothing to laugh about. Apparently, my smile had no muscle memory whatsoever.

Today is the 30th Anniversary of World Aids Day. In related news, it also marks my 30th anniversary of being sacred to death of bare backing with strangers since I sprouted pubes under my Fruit of the Looms.

Blog title idea for what my blog’s about for Hollywood.
What’s My Blog About Rapewood?
Resist This
Upstaging Your Wife Is Good
My Kids Loving Me the Most
Kids Need Dad Around More
Dads Are Stronger Cheerleaders

INT. STOP AND SHOP
I kill for 3 minutes straight with my baby boy with me.
Customer
Are you a Comedian?
Me
You think I’m grabbing gold like this out of thin air?
You think I’m a medium for dead dad comedians like George Carlin?

Customer 1 laughs long time. Got an impromptu round of applause from the cashier, customer 1 and 2 which was a 1st.

My 4 year old son taking no shit from big sis.
Dada, I’ll show my picture to Matilda. It will make her so jealous.
Big Sis says meh. I can do better. Son barks back. Do it then. I’m still waiting. I could’ve drawn a cheetah surfing with Bob Marley and the Wailers on top of a great white already.

Kayne West addressing Jay Z in a response rap.

I don’t worship fake idols like your boy Obama.
He nuke gifted the 1 sponsor of terror like a modern day Osama.
I don’t worship fake idols like your boy Obama.
He let ISIS slaughter Christians and disgraced his mama.
Trump pardoned Alice Johnson after Kim’s plea. I’m free from your label now, you Suge Knight wannabe.
Trump pledges to turn around our inner cities.
You peddle more trash about being 2nd best to Biggie.
You’re with fake news fro Kaepernick, I’m with Jim Brown. 1 ruined the NFL, the other reforms gang banger browns.
Give it up Jay. Your time has passed.
The world no longer cares about your New Jack Hustler past.
Give it up Jigga, your time has passed.
History will remember you as the rapper who campaigned for Hillary’s satanic past.
You salute to black power on SNL.
Yet give no money to crack babies you pushed into premature hell.

Seinfeld Segway Lightner
Sending myself emails gives me a buzzy sense of self-importance.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

The Productive Stoner

I always wanted to be a functional pothead. But I had to stop trying 3 kids later.  I gave it my best shot. Don’t think I’m quitter.

7 years ago, my wife barges into our 1 bedroom apartment bathroom on a Friday night in a whirlwind of presumptive disgust because I was enjoying myself a tad too much as our 3 year old splashed in the bubble. And sang with me as we crooned with soul stirring,  shimmering glee to Bob Marley’s evil spirit conquering Duppy Conqueror. Understand, I puffed a one hitter in the bathroom with the window open before I got my daughter situated in there which got me feeling extra loose. Now, my wife barges through the bathroom door unannounced. Shoots off a final judgement hate stare in my direction and says with frothy, damnation dispiritedness. “You’re such a stoner.” Before slamming the bathroom door coming off the hinges.  Next my 4 year old daughter, Matilda, Singing Rose Kornbluth says. “Daddy, you’re not a stoner. You’re a rock star.” I say. “You’re right, Matilda. Because stoners aren’t doers and daddy is a doer. Granted, I haven’t done mommy since her birthday last year but that’s besides the point.”

So do I still smoke some weed? Squeeze in a puff of Florida Crippy’s for old times sake to celebrate writing the 1st draft of a new TV pilot like I did for my past creations including Don’t Laugh I Live Newark, Mr. Right and Mike Mates? I’m strong at banging out headline hookers I know. But no, I haven’t smoked the scrumptious, crystal specked green supreme goodness in 4 months now I think. Could be longer. So much for my short-term memory bouncing back with palpable, reverberating vengeance since my past podcast goodbye to my pothead plagued past in Episode 43 My Weed Exit Interview, on my Do It All Dad Year Podcast. I had my daughter do the intro for it. “Funnier, dad, happier baby, and I’m living proof of it. Can I get a Challah for some Challah?”

Ok, so back to the million dollar question, what drove me to take a permanent vacation from what I perceived as my best bud till my daughter Matilda was born? For starters, 3 kids later, I could no longer afford to feel like a bigger moron than I already feel around my comedic genius daughter. She’s a math nerd also which is a tad annoying. It got to the point, where I was disgusted at my belabored, ad lib replies to her super deep, out of nowhere questions about God.  My daughter asks. “So Daddy, if God created the Universe, then who created God?” I say. “God, went back in time in a Time Machine made by Elon Musk.” Daughter says. “Real convincing Dada. Thanks for making me an Atheist at 4.” The joke doesn’t work as good if she says 6.

When you stop smoking weed after you’ve been a Stoner for 2 decades in a row, you start remembering your dreams because they’re so vivid crazy homes. You think you’ve been blackout drunk your entire waking life prior. What I’ve noticed in these dreams is old buds resurface. Who I’d either get stoned with or drunk with. But any semblance of a sturdier, brotherly bond past getting fucked up together, disintegrates under the unflinching, murky, glare of my dream undertow. Where old buds appear emotionless within the shadowy corners of my subconscious, REM catching up mind man.

I also compared my joke retweet stats on Twitter when I took an extended break on weed prior to my podcast Weed Exit Interview episode and was disgusted at the sobering statistical illumination revelation. I banged out almost ten times as many jokes off the weed than on it. Plus, my jokes on weed in comparison sounded like the dull minded, dim witted, dead brained drippings of a mentally strained douche-bag.

 

Trump has produced around 38,000 tweets compared to my 40,000 plus from my past. Proving native New Yorker’s hailing from Queens don’t have a hard time expressing themselves or ever run out of colorful things to say. At the same time, this doesn’t mean I’ve had burnout induced moments in my 20’s and 30’s when I was an awful communicative stoner, which haunt me till this day.

Once, I was cold calling a VP of Engineering as an IT Recruiter, doing new business development in Manhattan for a staffing company in One Penn Plaza right above MSG. And I could barely state my own full name clearly and at this point I only had 36 years of practice. “Hi, my name is Michael Kornbababluth, from Adam Jacobs & Associates. “Struggling with your own name I see” the VP of Engineering said with relished glee.

My own father stopped smoking weed after he met my mom in college. It was a deal breaker for her. Once, I recall watching the Knicks my Senior Year in High School when I started smoking plenty of weed after school from the Bronx, the cheap, sprayed kind that tastes like Windex. So I’m watching the game with my dad and out of nowhere my dad says with all knowing, dour disdain, “You’re not speaking well.” Translation, you’re smoking too much weed and you’re a learning disabled kid who didn’t crack a 1000 on his SAT’s. You’re not Bob Dylan, moron.

I always wanted to be a functional pothead. Getting my TV writing gig at VH1 Classic for Americas Hard 100, which was 12 years in the making felt great. Especially after I rose to the occasion and proved to myself I could get a high stakes writing job done well with all eyez on me pressure. I got stoned solo to celebrate in Manhattan off my prized one hitter and took a soulful, money, money, cocksure stroll from Times Square to my favorite craft brew bar in Manhattan on 10th Avenue to extend my feel good party in my honor. But then, I’m at the bar, being non-predatory flirty, feeling like a married slut in a straight jacket. Acting nervous around woman at the bar because I feel guilty about being free of my 3 year old girl for once and that was before my other 2 kids were born.

I continued to get high off the extra good green after becoming a dad because it still brought me pleasure and it helped my brain chill at night when I’d squeeze in a hit away from kids after dinner around 7. I’d love listening to the Grateful Dead, Europe 72 on it or Hair Metal ballads by Warrant, especially while reading new jokes of mine which come alive off the page a bit more on it. Plus, my evening reading performances for my kids in bed were more spontaneous fun for both the kids and me. Reality is though, weed is a poor man’s substitute for the American Hustler search and destroy, kill um all mentality  I needed to embody to become a major comedy success in this universe and continued weed use burns out my full throttle flame of creativity before I can take it even higher. I justified my weed use for long because I’d use the weed as a reward for getting a new script or blog done, but that’s a limited way of thinking, especially knowing, how I’m scheduling myself to be less productive the day after I get blazed.

My wife’s worse nightmare was me being stoned at night once she was in labor with our 3 child Samuel Teddy.  The birth of Samuel pushed me past my obsession with fulfilling all my self-serving needs. 14 months later I became determined to love myself better and be the healthier, wiser, friskier, funnier Dad provider my family of 5 needed me to be. Now, I’m pushing myself to maximize my time on this earth to make it as a writer on the rise after all. One my 3 kids can be proud of past their adoration of dad because they’re not teenagers in love with anyone else but me yet.

My book Stay At Home Comedian is a love letter about how my 3 kids finally got my act together. It’s a self-improvement story about how my 3 kids inspired me to replace bad habits with good habits. It’s a humor book about parenting, modern fatherhood and controlling my kids through comedy as a stay at home comedian podcast host blogger who works from home  It’s a memoir about my unusual artist family and how my kids have made me a better friend, husband, patriot, writer, leader and comedian.  Last night, my daughter asks. “Are you getting close to finishing your humor book on fatherhood, Stay At Home Comedian yet daddy? When you start selling copies of it through Amazon Kindle and at Barnes and Noble, I can call you a real artist because real art sells, right Dada?” I say. “I liked it better when you called me a rock star instead. Richard Belzer called all comedians frustrated rock stars at heart.”

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth