Politically Incorrect Prisoner of The Year

Daddy, why do Goldfish die young? Because they’re not holding their breath at the shot of skinny dipping with Christie Brinkley.

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

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.

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 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.
The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

The Meaning of the Hebrew Hammer

Dad texts 9:45 EST. Michael, have the kids call us tomorrow tonight at 6:30 so we can wish them a happy #Chanukah. And I’m thinking, chopped liver gets more respect from gentiles than this.

Call my nurse wife at work at night.

Wife
Is everything OK?
Me
You should defriend whoever gave you this wine for your birthday.
It tastes like Manischewitz and your mom’s cheap shit Prosecco had a baby.

Wife
Why are you drinking my wine?
Me
I just learned the Good Men Project is republishing 19 of pieces before sundown on the 1st night of #Chanukah .
Wife
Guess you deserve it.
Me
Why didn’t you say spoiler alert 1st?

Thanks and Praises Prayer
Lord, thanks for making my daughter Matilda so me oriented sweet. Her hair band holder #Chanukah gift to clip my felt tip pen around my wrist because I had stained my beige Levi jean pockets made me feel I’ve done good.

Thanks and Praises Prayer Part 2
Lord, thanks for the 25 dollar telescope steal of the century at Goodwill. It made the best big kahuna group #Chanukah gift ever. I think my wife wanted to overdose on the vitamins she gave the kids prior.

INT. NORDSTROM
Me
I’d like this Ugg Slipper because the grey one will encourage my wife to wear her black robe with floral print which I can’t stand. When my daughter wears it, I resent my wife for turning me off from my daughter.

INT. HOME
Me
Pete Davidson trending on Twitter again is really testing my commitment to comedy. I never contemplated cheating on comedy until now Matilda. That kid exudes less personable charm than a wax replica of Paul O’Neil.

What’s the meaning of the Hebrew Hammer Dada? Part 1
Andy Dick orders his pet reindeer’s Jew Hater Horn 1 and 2 to impale his Jew Lover dad Santa to death because he worshiped the golden Jew Adam Sandler more because he’s more child friendly than Dick.

What’s the meaning of the Hebrew Hammer Dada? Part 2
Andy Dick, Santa’s Jew hating son, has Santa’s Reindeer kill Santa because he refused to back Mitt Romney’s bid to gut Dreidel World and turn it into an Illuminati looking Nutcracker factory.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

LAST PERSON ON EARTH DESERVING MY SCORN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Birthing My Babies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By,
Michael Kornbluth

More Jokes Coming Out of Me

Me feeding into my kids white privilege.
The goat cheese, broccoli omelet was too tangy. I agree.
What does too tangy mean Dada? Too sour puss glum like the oppressed Heidi Cruz.

Lebron held a dunk contest at Staples last night? Does this make Lebron the King of Paper Dunk Champions now?

According to Stephen Hawking, there are forms of intelligent life out there. Take Kayne West for example.

Before Stephen Hawking died. He also said, “God never existed.” Hawking added. Watching Bill Maher’s doc Religulous is more anti-climatic for me than the Special Olympics. I prefer Ingmar Bergman films instead.

Married podcast couples exist now. As a form of Couples Therapy. These men aren’t forced to talk and hang out with their wives against their wills enough already, again and again?

Podcasting with my Daughter
What do you think of married couples podcasting together Dada?
I think mommy and Dad talk enough as it is.

I want to retire from podcasting now. Knowing married podcasting couples are getting thousands of more downloads than my Do It All Dad Year Podcast already. Why don’t you kiss me anymore? You couldn’t get into it on E too much either babe.

I really want to retire from podcasting. Knowing married podcasting couples are getting thousands of more downloads than my Do It All Dad Year Podcast. They discuss neighborhood gossip? So they get out of the house on date nights? I hate them all already.

Does a corporate mandate from Robison Oil exist? Insisting each Oil Technician claim every Boiler “is different?” Most companies in corporate America keep HR managers hidden in Boiler Rooms. Still chained to Baby Ruth machines, correct?

Me on the phone with Robison Oil. My report says a “burner coupling broke?” Like when Chris Martin from Coldplay turned cold on Gwyneth Paltrow’s Kama Sutra moves after too many Kimchi taco Tuesdays became a family tradition.

INT. Garage
Robison Oil Technician
Your Gauge Glass on your Boiler is rotted from too much leakage.
You see?
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
It looks like Freddie Krueger got the runs on it. Didn’t Jason end Freddie’s fist fucking reign of tear already?  I feel like Tom Green after Freddie Got Fingered fist fucked over his career.

Robison Oil Tech laughs long time.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

Jokes You Won’t Hear on Kimmel

Int. Bar
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
I’ll have another Oktoberfest.
Because I’m an elitist seasonal beer drinker.

Nurse wife comes home in the morning after working all night. She’s done giving baby boob and asks. Can I go to bed now?

I reply.  Are we living under Sharia Law now?  Yes, you’re allowed to sleep now. But only after I titty fuck you with this bomb strapped to your chest.

Int. Pre-K
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
Arthur won’t be in school tomorrow. I convinced his mother to take all 3 kids to Delaware for a long weekend. So I can get my book proposal out already. And not be a bitchy, dependent, underling the rest of my life.

Pre-K teacher laughs long time.

Resist this Eric Holder.
Jim Brown has been working at reforming LA gang members before Easy E kind of hit puberty.

Michelle Obama is class personified no doubt. As the ex 1st lady has she ever gone on record stating her 2 girls are composed, bright, celestial beams of light because she held them to higher social standards than ANTIFA? Just curious.

Int. Tavern
Older Woman
Your son is gorgeous. Your wife must be fetching in her own right.
Stay At Home Comedian Dad
But her arm fat. Which my other 5 year old son points out at the dinner table. Weighs heavily on her overall bangability index score these days. If you really need to know.

Brutal day for resistors.
Kid Rock and Kayne have more talent, courage, humor, style and originality than all the Seth lame Meyer critic clones combined. If you’re still not afraid of Trump. You’re not into your mother as much as Seth Myers.

Brutal day for Jay Z fans for thinking he’s the well meaning good one.
Kayne at the White House today is discussing gang violence prevention and prison reform, not big J. Kayne’s got 99 mental problems, huh? But genuine independent thought from SNL isn’t 1.

Int. White House
Trump
Give my love to Kim.
Kayne
Lorne Michaels is still kvetching to Paul Simon over wheat grass shots as we speak.

Int. Oval Office
Trump
Give my love to Hank Williams Jr. Kid.
Kid Rock
You know Sarah Palin let me grab her for an autograph on my record Rock and Roll Jesus. But I gave Mike Pence 1st dibs.

The End

By,.

Michael Kornbluth