Elongated Love

How do you get over your younger brother never acknowledging your kids’ birthdays? Especially, when one is born on New Year’s Day, and you know little bro is still up from the night before doing coke anyway, in some townie bar, only hearing last call from the bathroom stall, asking, “Where’s Hunter? And who buys blow painting supplies at Staples at 3 in the morning anyway?”

But seriously, how do I forgive my parents for not condemning my younger brother for refusing to acknowledge my kid’s birthdays for the past 5 years and counting without thinking they’re guilty of encouraging him to not give a shit? Since I came out as a former supporter of you know who since he let Democracy die without raging against the dying of the light under William’s Barr’s watch. Do I let the disrespectful slights subside overtime by not dwelling on what an a plus narcissist my younger brother is compared to my dad? Stop clinging to the idea that my younger brother will accept the good in my life revolving around my family? Or face reality and realize the only gift my younger brother ever got me on my birthday was a 12 pack of beer, so chances are Uncle John won’t be the most dependable, available, visible bud in my kid’s life either.

Most regrettable nickname given to my 10-year-old daughter after I complimented her new grownup looking haircut is Banger Pretty.

Why does Fauci still have a job? Endless lives have been taken prematurely because he prevented the access of life saving drugs over his precious clot shot vaccine. At this point, Dr. Gnocchi should’ve been fired more than a Palestinian Sling Shot.

Did you know Washington Irving, author of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, birthed the expression, “The Almighty Dollar?” Upon making this discovery Ted Nugent accused the entire hip hop community of cultural appropriation in a NY minute.

CDC says people should avoid cruise travel regardless of vaccination status. In other words, your just vaccinated sticker only matters for show off purposes only. And booster shots are a perpétual pain in the ass.”

Liberal guilt is a mental disease. Mom told me that all her valuable jewelry was stolen in their Arizona estate home. What’s my dad’s response who bought her the jewelry? Aztec gold reparations matter.

At the airport, I bought a book from the Harvard Business Review on how to improve my business writing, so I can come across as a less all over the place, wise ass Jew. I say to the cashier, “Yeah, I need to stop making all my business correspondences about me, which is easier said than done 62 comedy records later, especially when I plan on releasing a box set before I’m famous before my 46th birthday in April, called Totality Of Me.” Cashier laughs long time. Then, I give her my business card and ask for it back, after she got tense when I pitched one my comedy records Democrat Hack Attack. I said, “Give me my card back. I hate spineless Republicans who don’t utter a peep against online censorship of anything that’s not in fawning favor of the clot shots and mask mandates on our children. But anyone on the side of Democrat hacks who compare the selfie tour of the Capital building to 9/11 belongs in the Guiness Book World Records of most ghaulish, dithering, domestic terrorist deriding dick delusionist take ever.”

What does the Stop the Steal protest rally have to do with 9/11 again? Outside of Michael Moore getting a mini chubby idea over his next documentary to pitch on NPR with drabby blubbery precision.

New subject lines to get interviews for well-paid writer jobs.

Audition Greatness, Star Salary Rules Apply. And Interview Your Superior Already, Challah. Thank you very much.

Do gay Mormon Truck Drivers get exempt from drinking coffee on the job? Because they can’t get up for big love to the Housewives of Zion in the 1st place?

I play trumpet great Chet Baker on my Spotify at my parent’s place in Arizona and my dad says, “Why would you listen to sad music? I said, “Because Arizona draped in overcast clouds looks like pile of wet rocks.”

New York City plans to install vending machines to dispense free needles for drugs users who can’t afford Fentanyl anymore, which has killed more crackers in this country than Taylor Swift kicking it with Lena Dunham on Instagram.

Why not discourage drug use like the Aussies did when they had all the buses heading to Bondi beach blare Vivaldi because junkies lost their mind listening to it? NPR could even throw in a plug for the Fresh Air podcast.

“You’ve just ripped off your earlobes to Vivaldi’s 4 Seasons because of racist oppressive forces poisoning your mind with more angelic love letters to the abortion damning Euro God dead in your soul. But maybe, you’ll be tempted to shoot up again if you tune in tomorrow morning at 9 for a Fresh Air interview with Dave Grohl, to inject your day with more dreamy filler throughout your depressingly dreary lives but not if the luckiest drummer alive, has something to do with it, who obeyed his masters by demanding his fans get clot shots like the rest. And if that isn’t rock and roll nirvana on earth, I don’t know what is.”

Michael Kornbluth

American Made Prayer

Aaron Rodgers, Kyrie Irving and the gluten tennis guy enter the hotel bar at the Pierre just to make Michelle Obama uncomfortable while in town for the U.S Open.

Bartender says, “We don’t serve your kind.”

Gluten Tennis guy says, “I piss Beetroot brighter than you.”

Kyrie Irving says, “Still educating yourself on Hydroxychloroquine for Dummies, merchant of liquid death?”

Aaron Rodgers says, “Even my bud Joe Rogan thinks you smirk too much.”

Bartender says, “Deplorable douchebags, what will you do when Michelle Obama becomes our next President?”

After they’re all done laughing and coughing out lungs without any blood clots in them.

Kyrie Irving says, “Just what America needs, Obama’s, Five O’ Clock Shadow Part 2.”

Never forget the new terrorists that pushed Operation Death Speed on us, that’s ripped the heart out of our American Dream that’s barely hanging on to life support in front of our children’s undimmed eyes, if you’re lucky.

Bury these demonic shitbags and force Hunter to snort up their dusty remains and have LA famed street artist Babo spray paint the pic all over the Smithsonian in D.C. to hang for all eternity. God’s speed, Lord, God’s speed.

Michael Kornbluth

Democracy Declined

Favorite nicknames for you know who in the White House are Mr. Groper, Icky Shuffle and Sir Snort A Lot’s Father.

I share these gems with a political cartoonist because he asked his mailing list if we had any favorite nicknames to share. So, I’d indulge the hick, got the house to myself for a change. Hours later, still no reply. I know he just left to go Trout fishing but still. I email back the following hour.

These a plus nicknames deserve an emoji ball tickle in return Ben. Print a cartoon about Trumpy Poo saying dick about all the millions and millions due to drop dead from the clot shot considering the thousands that have died from it so far.  Americans don’t know about soccer players dropping dead because none of us watch soccer, but still. RFK Junior lives, Challah. Thank you very much.

At the same time, Trump’s safe in Mar A Lago was just raided by the FBI. MSNBC wanted to call it a “Panty Raid”, hoping Melania would hide her gun in her panties like Karen in Goodfella’s in a remake of Revenge The Nerds Meets Married to The Big Tech Mob called, Net Zero Bush. So as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles would say, “What difference does it make?”

Oh yeah, Hillary’s 30 thousand deleted emails detailed funeral arrangements if Chelsea’s fiancé increased his asking price at the last sec. Democracy declined, Challah. RFK Junior for President. He wrote The Real Dr. Gnocchi, after Cuomo wrote a book on Leadership called How To Kill Italian Grandma Without Throwing Her Off The Train. Remember when Cuomo was still considered a sex symbol by Ben Stiller? Despite the Italian Reptilian Inside still looking like the Thing and Mama Fratelli from the Goonies had a baby. On the other hand, the newly unelected Governor of New York is no looker either. She looks like Delta Burke’s insane sister sentenced to the electric chair for refusing to say grace at The Judd’s house over Christmas while insisting, “Over my dead body. Jesus only saves the perfect cheekbones and mounds of tits for my big sis. For the people or my alien kind, my ass.” Democracy declined, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

When Breathing Ends Talk

Do It All Dad, now 45 and still an unemployed stay at home comedian who just recorded his 45th comedy record to mark every year on this earth, for an eventual box set release on his 46th birthday on April 18th, Totality Of Me. Still Do It All Dad was getting perpetually downer weepy inside whenever his ebullient, radiantly fun, non-stop hilarious, rollicking son, Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo, would ask him in another innocuous inquisitive, I wanna know manner, “How old are you moron?” Do It All Dad would constantly get snipply, prickly about it, and snap back with heart punctuated disgust for not being a highly employable, in demand comedian writer star yet and bluster out, “45 kiddo, stop reminding me already. At least Marvin Gaye implanted his fair share of sexual healing, by the time his cross dressing father shot him with at 45 with a Colt 45.”

Do It All Dad is in the process of posting comedy record 45, Reclusive Rocker Shreds on to his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, Dad friendly entertainment for you and me, while his son finishes watching The Last Jedi, where the reclusive Luke comes back to fight Darth Vader’s mope maligned millennial mouseketeer grandson by not fighting at all like a less fancy, flat footed Obi One. When the far from centered in real life, easily Trump triggered Mark Hamill espouses another deadweight conversationalist TomTom shit line to Kylo, “Strike me down in anger and I’ll always be with you. Just like your father.” In other words, there’s actually a huge upside in letting you kill me without having to break a sweat. Because A) You don’t have to humiliate me like an out of shape Tyson against Buster Douglass. Who couldn’t be bothered to find a Kettlebell to work on my core to escape an encroaching Sarlacc on Tatooine as a throwback return to some hardcore revisionist Jedi training of yesteryear. Plus B) By letting you strike me down Kylo Ren, I’ll always be lurking inside your good side conscious, when the opportunity comes to save Rey and make peace with killing off the coolest Dad imaginable. Who made the Kesel run faster than my space Kliff bars went through Yoda’s stench swampy colon on your loner Dagobah system that made Charles Bukowski come off as less cagy earthy for a a change. Also what kind of name is Kylo Ren exactly? Kylo Ren sounds like an edgeless jerkoff who rebrands himself as a Creative Technologist on LinkedIn. Who’s 2 galaxies removed from the Crimson Guard Twins in GI Joe who are trust fund terrorist babies cloaked in white priveledge. Who burn their modeling money from Ralph Lauren at the track and on extra gummy horses like AOC’s future failed run for Senate of New York after Schumer dies of soul disintegration ruin for paying off the Pope to give his blessing to Pooping Biden’s sham schlock presidency. Only for his fake news holiness to later downplay Biden’s pant soiling incident prior to meeting him by poo pooing on reporters at Brietbart who remarked about the Commander In Chief losing all control off his bowel moments knowing he was bound to drop a number 2 like a confetti mess storm down on Broadway, because he’s full of enough shit already. Later, his Holiness tweets, “Cut out the crap, President Biden didn’t poop his pants before meeting me. Doesn’t President Biden have enough face nappies to wipe up with at his disposal without having to make an elaborate pant change in the 1st place? Plus, good old Joe isn’t Catholic in name only. Modern day Catholics are cool with abortion, hell hole damned, open borders encouraged, roughhouse sex and demonizing ICE agents rounding up divine sparks of rapist light because Homeland Security is so weapons of mass destruction pass already, America.”

So after Luke’s weathered yet recharged soul becomes released by the lightsaber sword, disappears among the cosmos in a galaxy far, far away, Do It All Dad’s son Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo says, “Daddy, I don’t want to die”, like a pubescent Steppenwolf whose been exposed to one too many Ingmar Bergman films already. Do It All Dad says, “Samuel, your nickname is Chosen Curls Was Bound to Woo, not Chosen Curls Was Bound To Fret and pull out his hair out from the bleak prospect of soul destroyer death for anyone responsible for hiring pool time entertainment at the Podesta’s house during upcoming donation season. Look kiddo, the best way to cope with the finality of death or a lifetime of suffering, regret or resentment stemming from alleged loving loyal ones in your life perpetually shitting on your dreams of attaining career fulfillment or financial gain from your imaginative produced artist works in this lifetime God forbid, is through feasting off laugh energy healing, which can help soothe over any fucked over feeling. Trust me, I know from personal experience. That’s why for my final 46th comedy record as a final killer addition to my comedy box set Totality of Me, we’re going to call it Do It All Dad Does Death, which gives me an excuse to bomb with fake news killer punchlines on occasion and cop-out over the mental exerted toil to get the record in fighting shape like Luke does against Kylo Ren. Who cares if any one of my breakup lines with life are laugh out loud funny or not, when breathing ends? Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo laughs and says, ” When Breathing Ends, is funny daddy. More jokes for you, is more jokes for me to put on your comedy records. Do It All Dad laughs, beaming and says, “Never forget Samuel, a joke a day, keeps insanity at bay, chosen one. For example, calling Dr. Fauci America’s doctor is like calling America’s Front Line Doctor’s China’s team, Challah. Thank you very much.”

Michael Kornbluth