High Schooler Hoody Problems

“Hear my bus coming Daddy”, says Art Show USA. Do It All Dad says, “Pretty soon, Art Show USA is going to buy this town, and put it all in his shoes, that’s what he’s going to do.” Art Show USA says, “I know the town of Croton Falls is small Daddy but don’t be ridiculous. Plus, I’m going to build my own house in the woods next to another house I build for you one day, so we can be neighbors. Plus, if I put the whole town of Croton Falls in my shoe, everyone will bother me in the woods to pick up their mail since I’ve absorbed the post office in my shoe, which defeats the purpose of me living in the woods in the 1st place Daddy. Got to go now or I’ll miss the bus. Love you daddy but only if you keep on rocking the high schooler hoodie loo or I’ll stab you with our sharpest knife for real. Art Show USA whizzes across the street to catch his bus in time in one spark smooth motion, which his fills his Do It All Dad’s heart with tremendous nachas, which means vicarious joy derived from your kid in Yiddish, especially when your 7-year-old son otherwise known as Number One Capricorn, born on New Year’s Day, becomes more grownz up every day, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Do It All Dad though was having reservations about rocking the high schooler hoodie look anymore, which he should’ve retired in his thirties at least, when he used to be a semi-sporadic performing open miker at the New York Comedy Club in Manhattan, if he could rally enough friends in attendance again. Now, Do It All Dad was questioning the extent of his maturity, knowing he’d never outgrew his truly tasteless jokes phase, still puffed the green out of a one hitter at 44 in a hoody like Sarah Silverman minus the career. Now, Do It All Dad still got asked for ID at Target with his 3 kids, whenever he couldn’t resist snagging another 6 pack of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale for only $9.99, knowing it’s the pale ale that never get’s stale. Still, it was impossible for Do It All Dad to stare at his sudden grey specked beard in the mirror at 44 while still not showing any touches of grey on his chosen curls on top and think, “You look better than John Oliver these days but that isn’t saying much. Can’t wait to see his new segment on the Biden inauguration called, The Day Democracy Died. I wonder if bean breath tonight possesses the balls to make a joke about a 3rd political party called, The Burning Mask Party. Now, I have to worry about a podcast hosting opportunity slipping away, because I made a joke over our 2nd call about a donkey shaped pinata with Governor Cuomo’s ugly mug on it, except instead of candy spilling out when it breaks, piles of pink masks come out instead, that say, “Cuomo Blows”, which got a big, cathartic laugh out of my future potential benefactor at the time. I’m so tired of acting like some gun shy stiff, out of fear of never getting a job in a post woke corporate America again or snagging a comedy manager ever, because I dared to make fun of Obama for gifting Iran 150 billion for overseas manufacturing jobs for Build A Bear, to make their economy less reliant on the sale of hair removal products for the Kardashians. At the same time, why do I have to be dressed up in a Brooks Brother button down in jeans to feel more dressed to impress the Internet one love entertainment gatekeepers on my Do It All Dad Podcast, which is only audio anyway? I think my son Art Show likes to see me rock the high schooler hoodie look because it helps ensure I stay young at heart and don’t lose heart to, when I can’t even get the Jewish Book Council to review my book, The Great American Jew Novel after sharing stellar previous reviews, because I’m not an atheist has been like David Cross who hasn’t made a good W joke in 15 years or even an edge insult about Laura Bush for that matter, who just wrote a book which criticizes The Wicked Witch Of Chatham, NY in Northern Westchester County. At least Hillary had the balls to get rich or die trying bitch. Deep down, I think my son Art Show wants me to sport the high school hoodie look more than ever, to ensure I keep on rocking in our big tech ruining world, as a symbol of non-conformist resistance, knowing my comedy career can still take flight, if I never lose touch with what make me feel most kick ass and in control alive, which is getting laughs longtime all the time, with big deal talking, NY made, ball busting flourish, all the way.” Son, Art Show USA enters the the bathroom and notices his Do It All Dad, lost in thought, grazing the specs of grey on his beard with the tips of his fingers and says, “Don’t even think of shaving the beard Daddy. You look weird without one, like when you shaved it to dress up like Stan Smith from American Dad. Remember, dressing up our family like the Cleveland Show family one was no longer an option because Megyn Kelly already stole our thunder. Plus, Cleveland holding up the sign, “Build The Pool Fence”, for Mimi and Papa to see on Facebook in Arizona, would’ve lost his impactful oomph to. Also Daddy, I like you with the beard, because without it, you’ll look like a Pre-K schooler hoody. So, you won’t be able to boast on stage about the Jews being chosen by God to perfect the human race through your gorgeous sons, who stem from your Do It All Dad Year tree trunk.” Do It All Dad hugs his son, Art Show USA and says, “The beard stays kiddo. It’s just that the high schooler hoodie look rubs me the wrong way sometimes, because it reminds me too much of Sarah Silverman, which annoys me since she came out to Twitter as a social justice warrior, to detract from her once mouthwatering tits, sagging popularity.”

The End

Michael Kornbluth

The Talking Mozzarella Stick

“Pizza isn’t everybody’s favorite food because the universe loves melted Gouda. Nobody today, is waiting online to inhale entire pizza pies drenched in smoked cheeses like gouda, unless you’re a hardcore Dutch dude from Amsterdam in lower Manhattan on holiday, because working Europeans get 5 weeks of a paid vacation and have nothing better to do than try the new Gastro pub in town, Crackers and Brews, which offers state of the art mini pizza’s on in-house made crackers, to leave more room inside for perpetual IPA poundage soon after. Mozzarella will always be the most popular cheese in New York, because you’re not melting sharp Vermont cheddar cheese on a Veal Parm hero in NOHO either. Mozzarella is the king of NY cool dominance like Laurence Fishburne and Westley Snipes in New Jack all wrapped up into one. Am I being too talky, again boss?” Boss says, “There’s no practicing schtick in the dressed-up Mozzarella hawking game off St. Marks place, especially knowing you can practice your routine at a plethora of open mikes throughout the east village and Brooklyn, that ANTIFA hasn’t planned to take over yet in your own spare, non-billable time, where you can continue to make jack shit, spewing semi-coherent streams of thought, that never amount to as much hilarity mountaintops as you think.” Talking Mozzarella Stick says, “Alright boss, I’ll stick to the script and only ask girls who pass me by, “Have you ever been sticked by Big Buster before? Because you know I have but his name was Dave from Long Island, not Big Buster, which reminds me of a fat white rapper who had no role models to emulate really. Beastie Boys always rocked skinny, jeans dragging off their ankles and shit. Vanilla Ice always opted for the flaptastic, fly guy silk sweats. Anthrax was the backup thrash metal band for Public Enemy on Bring The Noise and they’re scrappy skinny yet muscular metal white boys from Queens, the former breeding ground for Dee Sider from Twisted Sister, Nasty Nas, Black Sheep, 3rd Bass. I know the list is a greatest hits one that keeps you guessing whose even bigger on the list next. Art Garfunkel, the angelic sounding Jew and Paul Simon both hail from Queens, which stings the Republican gentile who’s jealous of creatively successful Jews, who didn’t take the Bernie Madoff route, I totally get it. But to round out the list of all-time great artists from Queens, you also have to include the consistently funny and transcendent Cyndy Lauper while also giving a loving, gushing shout out in honor of  showrunner and comedic writer, ball busting great, Doug Ellen behind Entourage, who made the legendary show on HBO infinitely cooler than Wahlberg’s producer name credits it on it. Doug Ellen is the funnier, cooler, version of John Favreau, until he started to produce, direct and write every episode it seems for the first season of Mandalorian, asshole. Look, I think John Favreau deserves a shot to reimagine Boba Fett’s backstory for Disney just for teaming up with Vince again on Made alone, even more than Richard Linklater for making Dazed and Confused the pitch perfect film to come out my senior year in high school among my old school pinko brethren buds of old. But still, asshole, if you’re creatively competitive at all, knowing John Favreau directed Elf, all the Iron Man’s and wasn’t too shabby in Rudy or PCU either. ” The big boss in charge of founding and running Mozzarella Man, says to his mouthy, unknown, unrepresented wannabe standup comedy star, “If you love John Favreau so much, then write your screenplay about being Vince Vaughn’s non-successful twin brother, because you look like him in a pre-good living, insomniac fashion and leave me out of it already.” Michael Kornbluth

The Mixed Up Mozzarella Man

“Pizza isn’t everybody’s favorite food because the universe loves melted Gouda. Nobody today, is waiting online to inhale entire pizza pies drenched in smoked cheeses like gouda, unless you’re a hardcore Dutch dude from Amsterdam in lower Manhattan on holiday, because working Europeans get 5 weeks of a paid vacation and have nothing better to do than try the new Gastro pub in town, Crackers and Brews, which offers state of the art mini pizza’s on in-house made crackers, to leave more room inside for perpetual IPA poundage soon after. Mozzarella will always be the most popular cheese in New York, because you’re not melting sharp Vermont cheddar cheese on a Veal Parm hero in NOHO either. Mozzarella is the king of NY cool dominance like Laurence Fishburne and Westley Snipes in New Jack all wrapped up into one. Am I being too talky, again boss?” Boss says, “There’s no practicing schtick in the dressed-up Mozzarella hawking game off St. Marks place, especially knowing you can practice your routine at a plethora of open mikes throughout the east village and Brooklyn, that ANTIFA hasn’t planned to take over yet in your own spare, non-billable time, where you can continue to make jack shit, spewing semi-coherent streams of thought, that never amount to as much hilarity mountaintops as you think.” Talking Mozzarella Stick says, “Alright boss, I’ll stick to the script and only ask girls who pass me by, “Have you ever been sticked by Big Buster before? Because you know I have but his name was Dave from Long Island, not Big Buster, which reminds me of a fat white rapper who had no role models to emulate really. Beastie Boys always rocked skinny, jeans dragging off their ankles and shit. Vanilla Ice always opted for the flaptastic, fly guy silk sweats. Anthrax was the backup thrash metal band for Public Enemy on Bring The Noise and they’re scrappy skinny yet muscular metal white boys from Queens, the former breeding ground for Dee Sider from Twisted Sister, Nasty Nas, Black Sheep, 3rd Bass. I know the list is a greatest hits one that keeps you guessing whose even bigger on the list next. Art Garfunkel, the angelic sounding Jew and Paul Simon both hail from Queens, which stings the Republican gentile who’s jealous of creatively successful Jews, who didn’t take the Bernie Madoff route, I totally get it. But to round out the list of all-time great artists from Queens, you also have to include the consistently funny and transcendent Cyndy Lauper while also giving a loving, gushing shout out in honor of  showrunner and comedic writer, ball busting great, Doug Ellen behind Entourage, who made the legendary show on HBO infinitely cooler than Wahlberg’s producer name credits it on it. Doug Ellen is the funnier, cooler, version of John Favreau, until he started to produce, direct and write every episode it seems for the first season of Mandalorian, asshole. Look, I think John Favreau deserves a shot to reimagine Boba Fett’s backstory for Disney just for teaming up with Vince again on Made alone, even more than Richard Linklater for making Dazed and Confused the pitch perfect film to come out my senior year in high school among my old school pinko brethren buds of old. But still, asshole, if you’re creatively competitive at all, knowing John Favreau directed Elf, all the Iron Man’s and wasn’t too shabby in Rudy or PCU either. ” The big boss in charge of founding and running Mozzarella Man, says to his mouthy, unknown, unrepresented wannabe standup comedy star, “If you love John Favreau so much, then write your screenplay about being Vince Vaughn’s non-successful twin brother, because you look like him in a pre-good living, insomniac fashion and leave me out of it already.” Michael Kornbluth

Killerset@gmail.com

https://doitalldadyearpodcast.libsyn.com/killersetgmailcom

Killerset for 1/20/21

Ahead Of The Curve Annoying

Tarantino Licker

The Hateful 2

CBD Oily Only

True Lincoln Log Story, Google It

Dr. Seuss Is Tony Robbins For Kids

Unmasking Ronan Farrow

Unmasking Dory

The Funniest Hitman From Queens

Cling on Cheesy

Pro-Creation Solution

Sticking With Nerf Football In The Yard

Carlin Wouldn’t Have Aged Well Today

The Brainwashing Projectors

Explaining Aids Through Trump

Killing Dream Stompers Loudly

Daddy Daughter Date Day

Overly planned dates never compare to spontaneous ones because they rarely lead to a triangle of love with some mysterious gal at the Sirens Music Festival in Staten Island, NY who makes the 1st move on your man without this being his plan in the 1st place. Of course, there are exceptions, because planning to see Elaine Stretch perform a bunch of Stephen Sondheim tunes at the famed Carlyle Hotel on the Upper East Side, JFK old’s school hump around stomping ground, for your 1st year wedding anniversary, while noshing on the most succulent slivers of primo smoked salmon and crackers imaginable prior in the piano bar, when your wife notices Paul McCartney checking her out with an interested, oh darling gaze, you’re not complaining about the results of a planned out date night either. Also, when Elaine Stretch, who played Jack’s mom in 30 Rock as a bad ass, domineering, woman of class, barbed wit and sophistication who can reduce any titan of industry son into a nerve plagued, mumbling man while thrust into her all-knowing aura again, and quotes in front a of live adoring audience, “The world always looks pregnant with magical delight from your hotel Carlyle window as flurries of snow start to blanket the city like the ultimate Macy’s day window display treat for mother nature to play a leading role in decorating”, isn’t making you question the importance of planning a magical date night wedding anniversary to celebrate the day, you became official life time partners in love, for better or worse either.

Still, deciding to visit the local pizzeria Frank’s in our nearby, adorably quaint hamlet town of Croton Falls, enveloped by ponds flush with trout, windy, hilly roads and high end, open aired horse stables for the finest equestrian horses the world has to offer with your pitch perfect 9 year old daughter who just schooled you on why the captain of the Titanic’s ego, was the main reason why James Cameron got his king of the universe Oscar, after getting divorced from Linda Hamilton, when he chose to dick around with some CGI some more instead of her ripping off his man skin in the sack, is what dream dates are made of.

All of a sudden, mama was out of the house with baby Samuel. Arthur was actually in school for a change in a post woke Covid crazed universe gone wild and I found myself at our kitchen table with my Bashert daughter, my new and improved female twin of the most special glowed order at noon and I proposed, “Why don’t we have a lunch date together and pick it up from Franks in town, Matilda.” Matilda says, “Great idea daddy, let’s leave now though, because my next Google classroom call is at 1240 and I know how you can do more talking than eating once you get your yak pipes warmed up.” So, we take an idyllic stroll to our local village in Croton Falls, which is a 2 minute walk max, where the old school post office in town, is where they actually shot It’s a Wonderful Life and I was so at one with my daughter during this bonding, talky stroll to even get angry over the crashing realization, we’d never gone on a daddy daughter day date to town since the era of using children as politicized pawns since terms such as remote learning went viral after the Covid virus made in China began.

Again, we didn’t have a planned lunch order at all. My daughter spotted a fresh, bright red, wrinkle free Grandma slice, begging to be devoured. Now normally, we’d order a dozen garlic nots, if her 2 brothers were partaking but it was just us 2 so the standard order of 6 bomb, roasted garlic, never burnt, always crispy on the outside and fresh within, was another no-brainer order add on especially knowing Franks’ side of marinara is always well flavored and chunky, herb flavored enough to take this standard adolescent side pizza delivery item so much higher. Do It All Dad over here couldn’t resist not ordering their consistently delicious, never too greasy, amazing hero bread shrouded, just the right amount of what tastes like homemade mozzarella on top, eggplant parm hero, to make you love embracing the Kosheterarian Diet come rain or shine. I still miss my cherished cheesesteaks of yesteryear, since embracing the Koshertarian Diet but sharing super fresh, scrumptious, never too heavy eggplant parm heroes with my daughter over daddy daughter date day, makes those cheese wiz laced, sautéed onions specked cheese steaks from Philly transplants in NY such as Tony Luke’s become a far flung distant, wasn’t as great as I remember longing for it memory, especially when you’re daughter assumes the lead and doesn’t hesitate to ask daddy for another bite of his egg parm hero. Especially after Daddy adds some salty fresh specs of pecorino from the fridge on top to make this eggplant parm hero worshiped in Queens, the original location of Frank’s Pizzeria, sing with such big deal specialness, you better recognize possibility.

I never planned on having my 1st born, Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth either, because I never mastered the pump fake, yet every day, she proves to me why the best things in life are never planned but given through the most high for never giving up on doing you all the way.

Michael Kornbluth

Gender Fluid Pink Ziti

If identifying myself as Gender Fluid will increase my chances of getting a job interview for a paid remote writer position, then I have no problem filling out that hole. Why not write myself a starring part in a modern update remake of Tootsie, except instead of an out of work actor dressing up like a woman to get work, I’ll play a Gender Fluid blogger who dresses up like Bobby Doll from Poison for Zoom calls based on his make up complexion on the record cover Look What The Cat Dragged In? I’ve also been a stay at home dad and our in-house gourmand chef for my 3 kids much longer than your typical paid time off maternity period. So I’m more than accustomed to my nurse wife treating me like her gimpy, bitchy underling for sometime actually, the way weapons maestro maker Destro would constantly belittle Cobra Commander’s commanding heft or leadership authority of the Crimson Twins, relegating them to nothing more than, “Overrated, Trust Fund Terrorist Babies.”

Stay At Home Dads, regardless if they more than 800 followers on their WordPress blog or not, are more than used to subduing their urge to dominate a conversation and play the role of submissive puss next time the subject of whether stay at home mom’s should get paid because they’re not fake feminists who suffer from severe egotism as much either.

So now for the million dollar question, how you can make baked ziti at home for your kids while in the process of making it feel more manly about doing it? Easy, make gender fluid pink ziti. Wear out the pseudo feminent label on your rolled up button Ted Baker sleeve or live the remainder of your life scared of being outed as a shishy bitch enricher. Also, get extra flamboyant with your presentation and announce to the world in a loud and proud fashion, ” Blanket your Baked Ziti with herbed Rosemary bitches. It’s only Alice Water’s favorite herb, which she told Bill Maher on Real Time once. Oh, that’s right, only gay guys know the names of brand name female chefs, my bad.”

Using an excessive preponderance of over the top spreading of ricotta in your gender fluid pink ziti, doesn’t make the preparation of making this old school Italian classic, make you feel anymore rough and tumble manly, that’s for sure. I’d also refrain from considering the subbing the use of cream to add that pinkish, alluring glow, in favor of using Coconut Milk, if sticking with the Koshertarian Diet to please God isn’t a predominant consideration if you decided to throw meh diced up chicken bits of protein in there either.

Frying up some peeled off bits of garlic, diced fine bits of shallot in butter and virgin, cold pressed olive oil, interspersed with cut off specs of rosemary dust before plopping the pre-made Rao’s marinara sauce, doesn’t make you feel like Rocky pulling Pauli in a sled during his training sequence in Rocky 4 either.

Using locally sourced pecorino from Yonkers, DMX’s hometown, adds some salty, hardcore edge to your overall gender fluid baked ziti presentation but not nearly as much as you’d think. It’s getting pretty hot pink in here, I thought while revealing my gender fluid pink ziti, which my family inhaled with scrumptious glee. So if making delectable pink gender fluid ziti, makes it hellish hot up in here, so be it. The endless sporadic Mmmms, were worth losing whatever masculine edge I have left.

Michael Kornbluth

Gender Fluid Pink Ziti

If identifying myself as Gender Fluid will increase my chances of getting a job interview for a paid remote writer position, then I have no problem filling out that hole. Why not write myself a starring part in a modern update remake of Tootsie, except instead of an out of work actor dressing up like a woman to get work, I’ll play a Gender Fluid blogger who dresses up like Bobby Doll from Poison for Zoom calls based on his make up complexion on the record cover Look What The Cat Dragged In? I’ve also been a stay at home dad and our in-house gourmand chef for my 3 kids much longer than your typical paid time off maternity period. So I’m more than accustomed to my nurse wife treating me like her gimpy, bitchy underling for sometime actually, the way weapons maestro maker Destro would constantly belittle Cobra Commander’s commanding heft or leadership authority of the Crimson Twins, relegating them to nothing more than, “Overrated, Trust Fund Terrorist Babies.”

Stay At Home Dads, regardless if they more than 800 followers on their WordPress blog or not, are more than used to subduing their urge to dominate a conversation and play the role of submissive puss next time the subject of whether stay at home mom’s should get paid because they’re not fake feminists who suffer from severe egotism as much either.

So now for the million dollar question, how you can make baked ziti at home for your kids while in the process of making it feel more manly about doing it? Easy, make gender fluid pink ziti. Wear out the pseudo feminent label on your rolled up button Ted Baker sleeve or live the remainder of your life scared of being outed as a shishy bitch enricher. Also, get extra flamboyant with your presentation and announce to the world in a loud and proud fashion, ” Blanket your Baked Ziti with herbed Rosemary bitches. It’s only Alice Water’s favorite herb, which she told Bill Maher on Real Time once. Oh, that’s right, only gay guys know the names of brand name female chefs, my bad.”

Using an excessive preponderance of over the top spreading of ricotta in your gender fluid pink ziti, doesn’t make the preparation of making this old school Italian classic, make you feel anymore rough and tumble manly, that’s for sure. I’d also refrain from considering the subbing the use of cream to add that pinkish, alluring glow, in favor of using Coconut Milk, if sticking with the Koshertarian Diet to please God isn’t a predominant consideration if you decided to throw meh diced up chicken bits of protein in there either.

Frying up some peeled off bits of garlic, diced fine bits of shallot in butter and virgin, cold pressed olive oil, interspersed with cut off specs of rosemary dust before plopping the pre-made Rao’s marinara sauce, doesn’t make you feel like Rocky pulling Pauli in a sled during his training sequence in Rocky 4 either.

Using locally sourced pecorino from Yonkers, DMX’s hometown, adds some salty, hardcore edge to your overall gender fluid baked ziti presentation but not nearly as much as you’d think. It’s getting pretty hot pink in here, I thought while revealing my gender fluid pink ziti, which my family inhaled with scrumptious glee. So if making delectable pink gender fluid ziti, makes it hellish hot up in here, so be it. The endless sporadic Mmmms, were worth losing whatever masculine edge I have left.

Michael Kornbluth

Deconstructing Shishy Bitch Tuna Melts

Tuna Melts don’t have to taste like Woody Allen in Junior High. After Woody sucked face with the Chicken of the Sea can, to see what going down on a cat lady on the Upper West Side tasted like, before he scored his TV writing break on the Show of Shows with Sid Caesar and could afford to acquire the taste of Pinkalicious Ahi Tuna Sashimi.

Good tuna doesn’t stink. Of course the Italian canned kind tastes so much more, sultry better. Good tuna doesn’t stink because it’s not your mom’s lazy day lunch.  And what’s better than bomb spicy tuna rolls? You don’t even give a shit that the spicy tuna roll is derided as Americanized Sushi one bit either. My ex-girlfriend from Westwood, CA took me to a family haunt Sushi place on Pico Blvd, which was managed by a Sushi Chef who always played Bob Marely and his spicy Tuna Rolls were high art like the Songs Of Freedom boxset for Bob Marley, it has acoustic medley on it, which is impossible to find anywhere else, and the accompanying, shim shaggy, Hurting Inside makes feel like I’m 21 again, it was a better than average year.

I also melted my daughter’s heart with my Tuna Melt Love Supreme for lunch today. She didn’t smell anything funky like when she asks, “Daddy, why does it smell funny downstairs?” Daughter adds, “Where did you go? You felt gone for an exceptionally long time this time around.”  Understand, this wasn’t my 1st Tuna Melt melding creation done good.  I hated the smell of my mom’s Bumble Bee tuna growing up. It’s like the woman has literally been pushing me toward homosexuality ever since I popped out of hêr womb. When I used to live in Sherman Oaks, CA, I got a freaking panini grill at the Grove in West Hollywood, best movie theatre there ever, saw Kill Bill there once and the entire audience started clapping in unified awe once the credits started rolling, in LA woman loving unison as the surging sparks of homage toward Gen X’s most prominent writer director auteur propelled the love beam wave to keep on rising, rising.

So, I got this cookbook at Barnes and Noble at the Grove also from famed cook Nancy Silverton who owns La Brea bakery, which I used their baguettes for bomb Boarshead roast beef made cheesesteaks with chopped, sautéed onions and green peppers to, white American cheese always being the best. In Nancy Silverton’s book, she has a recipe for the shishy bitch Tuna Melts of all Tuna Melts, which uses sushi grade, Ahi Tuna poached in olive oil and bunch of fancy dried herbs, with a homemade Remoulade, a mayo, pickle juice, spiced up New Orleans on my mind concoction and English cheddar, which I hate to admit is more musky chesty, than the strongest Vermont cheddar has to offer.  

Today, I’m not splurging or schlepping to Stew Leonard’s for Ahi Tuna, when the future of our republic will be sealed by hump day this week. So, I made a tuna melt with the previously professed into Italian tinned kind, with sweet, dice up nice red peppers, also sautéed with peeled shavings of garlic, red onion, fresh shredded shards of carrots, topped off with semi-thick slice offs of crunchy green Jalapeno and melted Vermont Cabot Seriously Sharp Cheddar, with some homemade Remoulade thrown into the mix to keep the Tuna spreadage moist in the middle, on top of diced, roasted, fresh juice essence spewing cherry tomatoes with some  olive oiled bathed sliced up nice Avocado on top. Yeah, my daughter better fucking love my Tuna Melt Supreme. It’s like saying, alright, to seeing, Dice at MSG ever.  I forgot, butter fried up Rye bread or Peasant Bread, humble sounding sourdough, takes this Tuna Melt Supreme so much higher, into electric shishy bitch, Jewish soul land.

Shishy bitch Tuna Melts can be the eliminator of a lonely heart because Tuna out of a can doesn’t have to be depressing, or another ho hum album addition to your Lonely Tuna Heart’s Band. I melted my daughter’s apprehensive heart from taking the deep dive into Tuna Melt land and you can to.

Michael Kornbluth

Hot For Hummus

Hummus is Chickpeas are great in Arabic. It’s the most popular dish in the Middle East among Egyptians, Jordanians, and Israeli offshoots of the Zohan tribe, 7 degrees separated from the golden Jew Adam Sandler. Actual unity is getting your Hummus resistor Jewish father from the Bronx to follow your 3 Koshertarian diet embracing children by joining the party to try your homemade Hummus made in his Arizona estate home for a pre-nosh nibble snack on top of toasted pita triangles with some diced up cherry tomatoes, fresh scattered parsley and vibrant looking, just grated carrots on top. I’m not betting the farm on my father to try my workshopped, perfected homemade Hummus over Thanksgiving break but as my father likes to rightfully point out, I don’t own a farm let alone a John Deer lawnmower or the personal property big enough to justify the expense because I’m still so broke, my Hebrew name is under judicial review.   Everyone can unify behind the depressingly dreary premise of a degenerate Jew like myself not being financially secure in life yet, who uses his fingers for basic arithmetic like a retarded version Dustin Hoffman at the Blackjack table at Talking Stick Casino.

Growing up in elementary school, all my Loan Officer mother ever made me was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, which didn’t help my blobby physique one bit at the time. Still, I never complained or requested anything different, urging my mother to make me Bento box lunches with Power Rangers stickers on the outside, with Cucumber and cream cheese Koshertarian rolls wrapped in seaweed and sticky rice within. Also, as a kid, I always preferred sesame bagels, for my egg and cheeses at the local Greek dinner, inhaling 2 in one sitting, after a night of drinking, with my old school high school buds, which is why my father called me the” human shovel” for a reason. So, I don’t need to be a math savant like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man to realize my love of nut based spreads like peanut butter would eventually lead to my developed steamy love for Tahani flavor in Hummus, which is where the oily, creamy, pulverized sesame seed spewing essence derives from. Hummus is basically, the more versatile, infinitely less tubby version of peanut butter, which also packs leaner blasts of less sticky mouth protein. So of course, I’m hot for hummus but only after I stared making my homemade versions to spice up my kid’s lunches, so I didn’t burn them out on peanut butter, ruining their capacity to ever savor a Reese Pieces Butter Cup, made at all the specialty chocolate chops like in Ridgefield CT again, which is an American shishy bitch rite as it gets.

If you never tried hummus, the famed sesame paste can be a turnoff, if you never sampled the primo goods before. On the surface, some store-bought hummus or homemade hummus can look like a sad plop mound of dried out earwax. That’s why you must add color and a dash of sophistication to your presentation. Pine nuts, who needs them. Chopped hardboiled eggs, gross, too overtly Israeli for my taste sorry. Pesto on top of hummus, is a blatantly unnecessary, awful idea, knowing Hummus when made right, requires no parm cheese garlic infusion to make it more swoon worthy than it already is. For me, I dress up my Hummus triangle creations with a menage a trois of radiant, lick it up color such as hot to trot, Little Red Corvette, cherry tomatoes and Arizona wild, desert bloom orange specked shredded carrots or some Polo Lounge conjuring green in the form of thick strands of Jalapeno on top to keep it extra steamy in the process.  

Just like it any relationship, you have to spice things up, incorporating needed color and variety to keep things interesting or you’ll lose sustained stiffage, which is the perpetual state of arousal necessary for any relationship to get excited for toppable tomorrows. The same rule applies to homemade loving infused creations versus the mass produced, manufactured kind, which lacks the length and depth of personalized pop compared to the real thing.  So invest in a Cuisinart to blend your Goya Chickpeas, add some store bought Tahini from your local Kosher butcher, add a garlic bulb or 2, throw in a generous heaping of sea, Himalayan, or Kosher salt, I don’t give a shit, before pouring in a steady steam of medium grade Olive oil, as the hummus magic swirls into scrumptious loving perfection before constructing your pita triangle pizzas with the steamy garnishes I mentioned prior and call it a day.  At the very least, your kids will love you more putting in the extra effort to tantalize and awaken their tastebuds to newer, fresher, yummier possibilities than ever before. Plus, your kids won’t become instantly tubby and resent your existence for it later. Last, your wife tasting like hummus won’t lure you into sucking face with her on the spot, but you’ll take whatever justified outs a 10-year marriage can give you.

Michael Kornbluth