Tag: film

Deep Biting Masterpiece

by doitalldadyear, posted in fiction, poetry, writing

December 7, 2022

Dear Allison Adler,

Florida and Anti-Semitism are so hot right now, which is why you need to give United We Laugh a chance. We can name our next book together Mitzvah Moves, after you become the number one champion of the most hardcore hilarious Headhunter Writer Comedian you haven’t heard of yet. Heart To Hearts, a one man show turned into book form about a Dad who keeps getting passed off to another of one of his Koshertarian Comedian kids while calling them from Union Square a week before Hannukah, ranting wildly into his smartphone while desperately trying to squeeze in some last minute heart to heart conversations with his favorite fans in the universe, while thinking he’s dying of a heart attack after getting disowned from his parents after coming out of the closet as a Gender Fluid Shemale Comedian on his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, thaDxwrxw wzqQQwan g nnnt finally charts on Apple I-Tunes above Marc Maron since he became an unhinged, Big Pharma sucking, sell out hack hippie like the rest  could be a hardcore hilarious romp too.

But let’s make United We Laugh, an international best seli FCC c c CNNler 1st, because we can all rally around the COVID con, including the fake news vaccine that works less than Russell Westbrook running the Triangle Offense or a stay at home COVID truther podcast comedian for the past 5 years. Who can still make fun of election fraud, because he doesn’t have a showbiz career to squander in the 1st place. Who resumes his IT Headhunting career in North White Plains to finance self-publishing his trifecta of masterpieces United We Laugh, The Koshertarian Comedians and Waste Of Height, Really Short Stories, if he can’t find a lit agent or NY based editor who doesn’t feel compelled to bow at the altar of World Cup worship and swelling displays of national pride since the day Democracy died. I rhyme funny too.

Your friends will love me in cocktail parties in Manhattan, guaranteed. United Laugh is a comedic showcase of jokes and imagined scenes post COVID damage done as the never-ending shit show rolls on. I’ve recorded and starred on 136 comedy records on SoundCloud over the past 14 months such as Stab The Clown, Lapping Losers and Do It All Dad Does China. John Lennon wished he was this productive during his stay-at-home dad years.

I think you’d be a strong champion of United We Laugh, because you produce titles with sardonic, fatalistic feeling such as HOW TO STAY PRODUCTIVE WHEN THE WORLD IS ENDING.

United We Laugh is my victory lap. Help me make my Do It All Dad Year come true. Carlin and Lenny Bruce would’ve called out bullshit to voting still mattering and certainly wouldn’t take the fake news vaccine, especially if the open borders Pope promoted it despite all the fentanyl snuck in through our borderless borders being responsible for killing more crackers in this country than Taylor Swift kicking it with Lena Dunham on Instagram. Doctors at Weill Cornell even laugh at that one and they push operation death speed to save the children from the made in Wuhan virus without batting an eye.

According to my SoundCloud stats, I’m huge in Lahore Pakistan and Brazil too. Wordcount for United We Laugh is 120,000 words. You want to sell a pop culture book that actually matters, that was made for these times? You got it. Let’s break the Internet together. Trumpy Poo Tits won’t know what hit him, Groping Biden included.

All My Best,

Michael Kornbluth

Selectively Suspicious

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

Harboring more screenplay fantasies is off the list.

Halfway into Tarantino’s book Cinema Speculation, Tarantino pauses to point out what a foaming racist Dinero’s character is in Taxi Driver, before he started popping off at the mouth on the View, looking like Betsy Ross falling apart at the seams.

If Travis Bickle was such a lone nut racist, then why stop halfway with the Mohawk Quentin?

Doesn’t Travis invite a black chick out for a date who works in a porn theater in Times Square?

“So, if your Great, Great Grandmother was good enough for Thomas Jefferson. I wouldn’t mind pursing happiness through titty blasting bliss with you sis.”

In the book, Tarantino even goes out of his way to tell us how Harvey Keitel couldn’t find a white pimp throughout New York City to study under, yet Travis Bickle doesn’t hesitate to blow away this wannabe wigger. It’s not as if Travis Bickle gets cold feet at the last second and thinks, “Wiil this kill be applied to my quota when I apply for the Grand Dragon’s new opening in Hell’s Kitchen next month? That’s being advertised in the back pages of the Village Voice under the classified section ad for Ethnic Cleanser Cleaners needed, that reads, “Colorblind Vigilantes and Shaft wannabes aren’t allowed.”

Travis Bickle even admits to taking black riders in his taxi, while most of his fellow taxi drivers don’t.

And don’t you think Taxi Drivers of all colors have earned the right to be selectively racist? Meaning taxi drivers of all creeds, are allowed to be more selectively suspicious than others.

“Wow, this is a pretty big tip. I don’t do drug run drop offs for Frank Lucas, just because I’m dropping you off in Harlem dude. I actually prefer the bigger hipped sisters. What, only Lou Reed gets to cruise for some brown sugar around these parts like a Midnight Cowboy from Long Island.”

Just because Travis Bickle shoots a black guy robbing a liquor store, I wouldn’t call him the second coming of Ed Buck. You know, piece of shit, Democratic fundraiser who’d cruise for black homeless dudes in West Hollywood only to drug them to death with Crystal Meth while trying to get some drugged out love in the process, forget about it.

Countless lives lost, 2 billion dollars of damage later, post summer of love, in honor of George Floyd Appreciation Century. God forbid you be selectively suspicious of those who shout racist. When they don’t charge elitist white cucks in positions of power in the media and big tech and government for being selectively racist when they broadly brush MAGA country as a whole as racist, mongoloid morons who refused to get blood clots from vax shots that work less than Russel Westbrook running the Triangle Offense.

I’ll reserve the right to be selectively suspicious of more woke tard bullshit, whenever I want Quentin thanks. Like how on Joe Rogan, you played dumb about your film patron Harvey being a serial rapist. Look, I get it, Quentin, Disney wasn’t financing your next project. But at least, fess up and say, “I wanted to make more films and looked the other way. And close with a hard-hitting slashing joke.

“But at least Harvey’s wife finally left him after 12 years, to focus on her lifetime battle with Amnesia.”

Selectively Suspicious, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Year Without Beer Film Premise

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, psychology, writing

I never liked my old drinking buddies enough to seek out their company sober.

I’ve never gotten bombed with new buds in my life come to think of it.

Plus, the one relationship I rekindled that I care most about maintaining is a college bud whose been sober for 15 years.

I still like my gummies, but the idea of meeting up with old drinking buds for drinks offers less appeal than saying grace whenever my mother-in-law launches into a grace at our own Jewish observing house that sports a Big Mouth Moses Nutcracker to freak out fiercely protective gentiles at large in November before expecting a complete monopoly of Christmas decorations for December in full and the following 3 lazy stash away months that follow.

Year Without Beer, is shaping up nicely, my belly too, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Pitchwoman Of The Year

by doitalldadyear, posted in fiction, poetry, relationships

Aliens are capable of formulating and defending their own critical race theory, too. A bunch of Think Tank Alien Eggheads from Planet Scrambled Over Easy declared the American Dream dead and its entire race plain stupid for thinking otherwise, on both sides of the political divide, during its annual Brunch Expo address at their annual Northern Lights retreat on Planet Verde. It was known for its enormous avocado trees, tricked-out converted farmhouse party palaces, and was enveloped by hop farms galore and beautifully manicured baseball diamonds and fields of highly stimulating, brain-tickling weed.

            Even Think Tank Alien Eggheads need to cool off their hyperactive brains with some baseball, buds, and brews, from time to time.

            The Think Tank Alien Eggheads observed how unhinged and excessively biased the US media and Big Tech had become since the New Yorker from Queens exposed them for the feckless, misleading, self-serving, fear-mongering, deliberately divisive, commie sell out bastards they’d become.  

            Close Encounters Of The Third Kind was voted the number one-ranked sci-fi film for forty-four years in a row and counting, according to Egghead Alien Film Review Magazine, which still boasts an incredible print ad sales revenue because, on Planet Scrambled Easy, print is king and is considered the most prestigious medium, attracting the universe’s most talented writers, knowing they’re willing to pay up to three US dollars per word.

            There are no TV shows made on Planet Scrambled Over Easy except a hugely popular father/son alien cooking show called ‘Better Than Boobie.’ On this show, we learn the alien baby is a result of a mixed marriage between an alien and a busty, full-lipped, tan, Sicilian-blooded Italian, Barbera Bustiasti, originally hailing from Rochester, NY.

            On the show, our Stay-At-Home Alien Dad Host, Fried Brains Bourdain, a self-anointed in-house gourmand for the entire Planet Scrambled Over Easy, will ask his part-human, part-alien baby, Chef Samuels, what he thinks of his latest and greatest LEO Scramble Supreme, including smoked salmon lox, scrambled eggs, and sweet, not-too-bitter caramelized red onions.

            Normally, Chef Samuels will take a taste and pronounce the dish creation a double-fister instead of a yuck-yucker. But if baby Chef Samuels is totally enthralled with the dish, he’ll ask his cherished dada, Fried Brains Bourdain, to make the dish for him every day before he whizzes around the rings of Planet Scrambled Over Easy faster than Flash, in a high-calorie burning blaze of glory.  

            So, the reason Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy was smitten with the movie Close Encounters Of The Third Kind stemmed from the aliens portrayed in it being musical savant mutes, of sorts, like Holly Hunter in The Piano.

            The problem, on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, is how their recent open borders policy resulted in a gazillion different languages spoken at once at any given Farmer’s Market—enough to make C3Po’s language transmitter chip melt down from an intergalactic auditory sensory processing overload. So, the clamor in the streets had reached a fevered pitch, with no universal language in place capable of instilling a more melodic cadence.           And none of the star magazine writers on Planet Scrambled Over Easy were capable of banging out musical showtunes (such as West Side Think Tank Alien Stories), because Broadway tunesmith legend Stephen Sondheim declined the invitation to procreate with the alien civilization (because he was gayer about the prospect of lunging at the Othello backstage in tights, whenever asked to do his best Kevin Spacy impersonation by his cast and crew at Sardis for wrapup show celebrations, after hours.

            Stephen Sondheim gave the anal probe a shot after the Alien Think Tank Leader, Gershwin Goo, convinced him they were doing it the name of stool DNA sampling science in their long, hard, in-depth exploration pinpointing the exact genetic makeup roots responsible for sprouting such a mature musical genius out the womb.

            At six, Mozart was touring Europe, entertaining French nobles with the nimble quickness of a French prostitute who got two customers to spew with joy in one minute flat, each, so she could squeeze in her favorite customer, famed American Jewish writer Henry Miller, in one more, before closing hours, for the road.  

            So, not only was the roaring decibel of noise on the streets of Scrambled Eggs Over Easy consisting of every guttural, gross alien language imaginable, that collectively heard together sounded like the antithesis of French pillow talk in Eric Rohmer films such as Busted Burgundy Girls and Paris Dicks Are Burning, thereby making their home planet a highly grating, excessively annoying place to be; but there was also not a singe lone, beautifying voice to even sing their new planet anthem in an attempt to promote, celebrate, and unify the country behind a star’s beautiful voice in their own native tongue, Hebrew.

            What, you think the pyramids and the first great temple were built by the Israelites alone? I’ve known Jews who are allergic to Home Depot, who suffer from immediate panic attacks upon entry.

            On retreat, The Think Tank Aliens sucking down endless IPAs and puffing non-stop high-grade green over a killer double header of baseball surrounding the Field Of Dreams Funhouse, with a young, rising star egghead about to pitch his famous speedball splinter known to make most fellow aliens whiff more than Charlie Sheen at an AVN afterhours party, these days.

            An idea emerged. “Hey, fellas, instead of blowing up Planet Earth for our annual Fourth of July Celebration (to celebrate our freedom of banning the Internet in 2000, because we knew Y2K would serve as a slow-acting bomb to blow up Earth’s any last remaining capacity for critically thinking, mass-produced independent thought ever again), we convince Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth to become our permanent-in-house Planetary Anthem singer?

            “Granted, we have incredible leverage, knowing that if she refuses, we’ll go head and blow up the Earth for the best fireworks show we’ve ever seen. Bulldozing a casino is child’s play compared to planet blasting. Plus, I think the universe is ready for a new Earth to emerge, again (assuming God’s in the mood to give the human race another shot at redemption).”

            The Think Tank Aliens of Scrambled Over Easy Planet actually thought of Singing Rose Kornbluth immediately, the moment they coined the idea of establishing a Planetary Anthem in Hebrew, from eavesdropping from space whenever she’d recite the Shabbat prayers over the candles, challah, and wine.

            To them, Singing Rose Kornbluth was blessed with the most angelic-laced, beautifying, spiritually rich, jade-free voice of all time. It sounded ten times more soul-tantalizingly pretty sung in Hebrew, which she’d do in Synagogue, shining through the most whenever the Torah was taken out of the arc for the infamous Shema prayer “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”

            The Think Tank Aliens from Scrambled Over Easy Planet are able to eavesdrop into different galaxy systems due to their alien race being crossbred with Alien Hybrid Elephants reared by Alexander The Great. Alexander The Great would use those elephants to eavesdrop on his enemies or on Cleopatra the next time she plotted to roofie him, tie him up, and jam some precious gemstone beads up his ass for shits and giggles, to see if they came out looser since the last gender-neutral interkingdom orgy at her Luxor party palace.

            Now, Singing Rose Kornbluth is at home in her bedroom within the hamlet of Croton Falls, NY, fifty minutes north of Manhattan, brushing the mane on her new American Girl horse doll Lavender Love and singing her own made-up tune: “Lavender Love has beautiful hair, my brother Arthur better not threaten to turn him into fake news dog chow, if baby Samuel double dares.”      Then the Palomino American Girl Doll horse Lavender Love comes to life and speaks to her from the baseball diamond on the Field Of Dreams Funhouse, and says, “Singing Rose Kornbluth, don’t be alarmed. For starters, my voice can’t be any freakier than when you confuse your American Girl Doll Horse for an actual little person, on occasion.”

            Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “Keep talking.”          Think Tank Alien says, “We think your singing voice, especially in Hebrew, is the most beautiful, God-loving, effortlessly sweet signing voice we’ve ever heard, without any deep vibrato rumblings (which ruin Adele and Demi Lovato’s chances as potential picks for us, if you really need to know).”     Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “And who is “we,” exactly?”

            Think Tank Alien says, “We’re Think Tank Aliens from Planet Scrambled Over Easy. Our natural tongue is Hebrew, and we just came up with our first-ever Planetary Anthem, and it needs work, because our alien civilization isn’t musically inclined whatsoever.”

            Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “Do all aliens talk through American Girl Horses? I knew Aliens were real.”

             Think Tank Alien says, “Singing Rose, we love your voice. God made your supernatural voice for a reason. Still, we will be left with no choice but to blow up your planet, if you don’t let us use your gift of creation and singing love songs which touch the innermost sanctum part of the Divine.”

            Singing Rose Kornbluth says, “I’ll only help you out if you agree to take over control of our Internet, unleash virus worms to corrode all the software code for Twitter, Facebook and Google, and fill in that gaping voice of Internet bandwidth with my father’s Do It All Dad Year Podcast every Friday for another Meandering Shabbat Shalom Special.

            “My daddy is hilarious. He said, ‘Beyonce sat out the national anthem because Demi Lovato sounds like a white privilege version of Alabama Shakes.’”

            Think Tank Alien laughs a long time and replies, “We don’t have the Internet on our planet.”            Matilda says, “I’ll be your new best friend. And you’ll get one sleepover invite a year, deal? Think Taken Alien says, “Deal.”

            One year later, Singing Rose Kornbluth graced the cover of Time Magazine. On the top, the headline read ‘Pitchwoman Of The Year.’ She saved her country’s planet from being wiped off the solar system map for selling the Think Tank Aliens on making her Do It All Dad the most popular, downloadable, highly quotable podcaster in the universe.

            So, he could afford the opportunity to shine like the brightest rising comedy star in the galaxy and drive his family back from the hospital in his new Comedy Gold Porsche SUV with a new baby sister addition in the back, Lavender Love Kornbluth, to make his Do It All Dad year mission complete.

            Now Singing Rose Kornbluth could sing duets with her new baby sister, Lavender Love Kornbluth, for a double dose of beautiful wonderfulness on Planet Scrambled Eggs Over Easy, so she’d never have to feel homesick again.

Michael Kornbluth

Bad Artists

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

I don’t like my daughter getting a haircut without consulting me 1st.

She’s my prettier twin and has my DNA all over her face.

The Franco brother’s consult each other before they bleach their private parts, right?

In their next movie, White Privilege, Me To.

They consult each other if they’re going to bleach-bit their hard drives if word leaks out that they’re co-writing a sequel to Milk called, Sour Predators Versus Monkey Pox Monkeys, right?

Bad artists don’t do tame, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Beyond Personal

by doitalldadyear, posted in career, culture, education

More hardcore edge is funnier.

Governor Cuomo getting paid to write about leadership is like R Kelly getting early release to babysit the latest Kardashian out of the womb, Woody Allen writing a book on hands off parenting or Kevin Durant, Mr. Millennial Mouseketeer himself, getting picked to do a Ted Talk on how to defend yourself against Cyberbullying.

Celebrity couples who can’t keep their hands off each other are stuck in a perpetual sweaty sex period. That’s the secret sauce ingredient that makes any sexually charged relationship stick.

Russell Simmons addressing rape allegations with Gayle King. Gayle, read my lisp. I didn’t rape any of those vengeful, over the hill ho’s.

New marketing idea for my book Do It All Dad Does Jokes. Donate them to the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility where Martha Stewart stayed. Sample some Snoop Dog jokes on the Corrections Officer in charge of accepting donations for the Prison Library. “Have you tried Snoop Dog’s new red wine yet? Wine Spectator says it tastes like mouthwash used in Porn Hood Hell. Can I donate some Dr. Seuss books or are they not woke enough for the Warden’s tastes? Did you hear? Dr. Seuss is racist for drawing a pic of an African wearing a grass skirt. I didn’t know Fubu was in fashion yet.” Correction Officer laughs long time.

Dad giving you parenting advice 3 grandchildren later over the phone again from Arizona is annoying. Oh, you don’t like the idea of your granddaughter attending Cornell University eventually because of sudden mental health concerns post COVID pops? I think all the outsourced, invisible suicide nets used in factories for Nike and Apple in China got the 13 Reasons Why class covered pops. I bet Cornell made a Suicide Prevention App that has the Skulls and Bones logo on the button to make their snowflake prone students feel extra protected inside. Like Cornell alum Bill Maher for getting away with naming his production company Kid Love Productions, with no media inquiry into its pedo friendly name whatsoever.  If W’s kids weren’t such airheads, they’d download that app at Yale, knowing the Skulls and Bones logo makes you immune to fucking up again consequences like W after 9/11 for doing dick to prevent the inside job on his watch. Plus, whenever you press the Suicide Prevention App button, Bang Your Head by Quiet Riot plays pops, which gets you out of your head after you try to headbutt Joe Rogan through your laptop for promoting how much his brand of CBD oil matters man, despite it giving you no mental lift worth giving a shit about whatsoever like any heady rush takeaways from the Dax Sheppard podcast. That’s right, another interchangeable boorish, CBD disciple comic on The Joe Rogan Podcast sprinkles his killer sets with jokes about how Deadheads only attend Dead Shows for the drugs. Yeah, Dicks Picks Volume 1 through 9000 documents nothing but scattered tracers dude. But seriously pops, once you press that Suicide Prevention App and hear Bang Your Head by Quiet Riot, your anxiety level drops lower than Al Gore’s balls at the sight of finding one more Klondike bar left in his sub-zero freezer on the 4th of July.  

Imagine a kid trying to jump off a bridge at Cornell only to bump into the invisible net. Kid says, “I can’t even ace a perfect landing to end my endless shit show of a life.”

This is my impression of a Tour Guide at Cornell downplaying mental health concerns for the incoming class of 2021. “Freshman don’t even have time to squeeze in a 20-minute Peloton ride between classes. White Pelton Privilege doesn’t exist behind these Ivy draped walls. So, what makes you think, Cornell freshman can afford to spend their down time attending pill parties, listening to 13 Reason Why on Vinyl backwards? While looking for secret hidden messages like, “Sell your soul to Apple Music like Trent Reznor did. And you’ll look less tormented menacing in 700-dollar leather jackets in no time.” Also kids today post COVID can’t enough of social distancing, especially after their ears get raped to death from all the yenta breath sorority sisters during rush week in the school cafeteria, chanting, “Gama Roe, were so hot. We rock the Keto diet. So, we don’t become fat feminist Karen bots.”

Don’t go there question on Thanksgiving. So, dad, what brings you more shame, your son getting addicted to opioids or your eldest trying to wean himself off the comment section of the Gateway Pundit? You never heard of it? Its’ another alt right, dirt rag like the rest, according to Uni Brow Maddow at MSNBC. Hey dad, tell me if you think this impression is funny. This is Chris Matthews sexually harassing a new chesty, yenta breath intern from Long Island on MSNBC. Eating out Maddow, counts as your lunch break babe.”

Waiting for my car appointment to get a new key and some old guy starts asking questions about login codes for the internet. I said, “What are you really missing out on, besides the Do It All Dad Year Podcast and Do It All Dad Year Blog? Personally, I want to kick it old school and get a flip phone again if I’m honest about only wanting to hear my own opinions most of the time.  Describe the Internet in 3 words Twitter, “I’m smart stupid.”  Also, I want to start using my imagination for jerking off again, so I don’t feel like a slacker jerkoff at the same time in real time. Are you feeling me yet old timer? Old timer says, “I like using the Internet to read articles from the New York Times and Washington Post. I say, “Nobody’s perfect. Billy Wilder lives. I don’t do unnamed sources like you know who.” Holla, thank you very much.

At the library trying to donate some books and getting endless laughs by pitching all the book titles of my books to donate to a local prison in Bedford after receiving the suggestion from the Librarian like Controlling My Kids With Comedy, A Love Story, Do It All Dad Does Jokes, etc. Then, the librarian says, “You remind me of my nephew. He’s a comedian.” I say, “Your warm-hearted embrace of my funny man identity doesn’t remind me of my mother one bit.”

Why should I care about the Swiss beating the French in soccer? The Swiss are guilty of cultural appropriation by storing Mark Chagal designer lamps for their Nazi rulers to sell at Sotheby’s whenever they needed to stock up on more Malbec and crystal meth during their golden years, living it up in the Andes mountains, while writing more glowing reviews of Mein Kampf on Amazon under Nazi Scientist Protection Programs Rule.

New agent seduction plan. Only purse female lit agents, that give me sustained stiffage, which is extended arousal derived from their money shot loaded manuscript sales list. Playing with the idea of making mama jealous with a new potential Jewish Godmother fill in lover embracer regarding the totality of me wouldn’t hurt my increased motivation factor to woo them with more than my pulsating prose either.

Getting a new key at the Toyota dealership and start flirting with the slightly chesty, pretty faced enough, raven black haired, Latino gal who helped reorder the key for me prior in painless, super-fast fashion. I made her laugh long time prior the day before, when I said, “I don’t mind waiting. My unhuggable C Word of a mother-in-law is being forced to play fake news involved grandma for the week, so I’m whistling dixie regardless. Today, I say, the name Vilma is growing more on me every day. It’s more cinematic sounding than Penelope Cruz. In fact, I think Pedro Almodovar should make you his new muse and kick that uppity lisp to the curb.  Everyone working there laughs long time. I add,” I’m glad that my Philosophy and Film Class that my parents paid 50 thousand dollars for just materialized there.” The entire Toyota worker crew laughs long time again. United we laugh, oh, what a feeling.

Michael Kornbluth

COVID Babies

by doitalldadyear, posted in blogging, entertainment, family

The only good thing about the never ending shit show post COVID is learning how to trim my own beard. Then again, I don’t see any relocated barbers from the Taliban sweating social distancing guidelines while using their heirloom machete to trim a little brain off the top.

Truckers in Australia are planning a strike to end this COVID driven tyranny that’s turned the land down under into a nanny police state mate. God, please inspire Stallone to reprise his role as a truck driver arm wrestler in Over The Top for a commercial on YouTube with his arch nemesis Bill Hurley where they join hands in solidarity in front of an American flag calling for American truckers to do the same. Assuming, they can guarantee Ashton Kutcher servicing them at trucker stops with the trucker hat turned backwards to make room for more big gulps of working class hero privilege. John Lennon lives, holla, thank you very much.

Biden pushing the COVID vaccine again on all of us poorly informed, unvaccinated people. Mr. Groper says, “Pfizer’s COVID vaccine just received FDA approval. You take their boner bills right? So, stop being so headstrong about the repeat prick every 6 months and suck it up buttercup. It’s big brother’s world now, you feckless cunts. You’ll need to double up on your Lipitor and blood thinner treatments after I give MAGA country cardiac arrest with more Taliban gift bags from Airforce One to hijack your next local school board meeting near you. You thought your kids wearing masks was a a suffocating inconvenience? Try Sharia sanctioned law by machetes and Russian confiscated AK-47’s motherfuckers.”

A reporter asking Biden how many Americans are left in Afghanistan.  How many cigarettes are in a pack of Camel smokes Joe, after Hunter’s gone through one eight ball too many? How many more aces do you have up your sleeve Cool Hand Luke? Fine, straight to the harder hitting questions then, how many Americans will meet their maker in Afghanistan Joe? Come on man, if Hunter was president, I’d expect him to blow off questions regarding dereliction of duty to snag more blow to get up for some more blow painting but not you Joe. If you’re such a good guy Joe, then why didn’t you tell Hunter to cut out creaming into his dead brother’s widow seconds after the cremation ensued? Fuck this job, I’m getting in shape to become a Peloton instructor, they don’t teach live classes anymore, so I won’t have to get the vaccine shot right? Did you know some Peloton instructors make up to 300 grand? No wonder why they’re so fucking happy riding bikes to such shitty Fleetwood music. You can’t be arrested for hate speech if you’re a Peloton instructor in London for leading a Cat Stevens artist series on Yom Kippur either. Imagine a Peloton instructor dropping dead from the COVID vaccine shot on a live feed. Would you keep riding through the pain of not pushing yourself to burn through those remaining 200 calories left to burn for the remainder of your leftover 10 minutes in motion? So, you could enjoy your beer after your Peloton ride guilt free, soon after? Yeah, me to.”

A groomsman at my wedding almost 11 years ago is about to have his 1st kid. I want to be more excited for him considering the circumstances, but at least he lives in Florida. So, he’ll never have to see his kid come off the bus with a mask on looking like Michael Jackson’s adopted kids on holiday in Bahrain. Plus, my groomsman bud voted for Trump to. So, I can see him pushing his future daughter into getting artificial insemination one day. Because he won’t like the idea of any penis ever entering his daughter. Then again, look how Hillary turned out. Still, how will COVID babies be taught about Kamala Harris in US history class down in Florida in 4 years exactly when she becomes President in 4 weeks? Teacher says, “They call her Pearl Necklace Harris for a reason folks. She’s actually part Indian, and part Jamaican. Her ancestors owned slaves in Bob Marley country. Plus, she was born in Canada. So she’s an all over the place, unhuggable cunt really. Who never had any business sitting her fat stanky ass in the White House Oval Office, until we the people took the power back and DeSantis killed off the rhinos by starting a brand new Burning Mask Party, which gives Trump a heart attack for not patenting that killer political party name to slap on schmatta looking hats sooner. Then, the Trucker’s union in America went on strike over forced mandate shots, brought our economy down to it’s knees, after a nationwide voting audit proved Dominion machines are more evil embedded than White House assertions of any stranded Americans wanting to stay in Afghanistan as hostages because they really want to nail their audition for Saw 5000. Then, the new age Nuremberg trials happened, which sent Fuck Face Fauci to Gitmo for funding and lying about being the least deserving of his mass murder participation trophy. After that, our truckers stormed into the White House with the other white hats and MAGA Patriots, including active and retired military at large and got that fake news black lives matter bitch trucking on a one way ticket to hell, that being a one way Greyhound bus ticket to Folsom Prison to work on a chain gang for a new doc by Oliver Stone called,  Kamala Is The New Black. The end, thank God. Oh yeah, Ivanka broke up with Jared and got herpes.”

I reached out to a high school bud about visiting one of our friends who just had his 1st kid at 45. He texts back, “I don’t think Dave will want us around a newborn with all that’s going on.” I said, “But the Taliban is coming, we’re still forced to wear masks in hospitals anyway and Sharia Law won. So, what difference does it make? Hillary Hammer Time Cankles lives, Challah, thank you very much.

What’s an appropriate gift for a COVID baby in Australia today? Pepper spray resistant swim goggles. Strollers equipped with Alexa powered COVID curfew reminders? Unless mommy wants to quarantine herself in penal colony detainments for COVID spurning cunts while her kid gets snatched up by child services for reckless endangerment because the COVID God’s of law and order are batshit Pelosi crazy.

Michael Kornbluth

Grinding Out Greatness

by doitalldadyear, posted in celebrity, entertainment, film

In the Woody Allen movie celebrity Anthony Mason grinds Charlize Theron on the dance floor at some swanky club in Manhattan. Woody decided to make the pic a black and white one after the test screenings to subdue Anthony’s Mason’s penetrating blackness. Because just waxed socialites from the Upper East Side would soak their stadium size seating whole, clutch their pearls off and scream rape me already, before fnger popping themselves with their Cartier plated rape whistles as the most obscenely wealthy non-essential socialite yells, “Fuck Spike Lee. Mason can stop and frisk my billionaire row box for Hermes silk lining anytime.”

Michael Kornbluth

Flawless Light

by doitalldadyear, posted in happiness, poetry, writing

Pro abortion on demand posts proclaiming it’s the greatest thing since hand sliced Nova on LinkedIn have tampered off dramatically off since Friday. What happened? Oh yeah, you remembered that nobody gives a shit about corporate activism since your evil-siding scumbag overlords mandated forced clot shots since the day Democracy died. Who only 2 years prior, acted fake news outraged about a Russian collusion tale with less legs than Lieutenant Dan, right Buzzfeed? Use your head America, Trumpy Poo would never hire 2 Russian hookers to pee on each other because he’s a notorious germaphobe. And could always hire a bunch of Ivanka look likes who sound more like Melania who could pee on each other at his hotel in DC sporting nothing but mink hats from Spies Like Us whenever he likes.

I know, without your abortion you’d never be a proud homeowner at 33. Or know what it’s like to be on the receiving end from endless streams of yummy hugs after blowing your kids away with a chive specked, farm fresh, scramble mushroom supreme. Or be motivated enough to make your year without beer count. So, your sons can aspire to follow your lead with a follow up series of launch parties on top of the Box Jump that you just made your blast off bitch while blasting Take Me The Top by Motley Crue. Is that parenting rich premise worthy of intellectual contemplation Ayn Rand, self-serving cunts are us?

Have fun with your empty, drab, lifeless home in Northern California with no hardcore hilarious kids to brighten up your endlessly beautifying day with slacker prevention talk like this.

“Daddy, why didn’t you go on the Peloton yet?”

“I got food poisoning from the Hallal guys and never-ending long COVID from 5 booster shots in a row. I got full blown AIDS from Andy Dick through Zoom.”

“Enough with the excuses daddy. You’re worse than Hillary.”

Flawless Light shines on, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Reimagining Tea For Dad

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

Dad says, “Tea is gay.”

I say, “Do you want your 1st born to achieve his Do It All Dad Year or not?”

Dad says, “Does your Do It All Dad Year include you doing guys on the down low? I don’t get it.”

I reply, “I bet the voice of Alexa isn’t manly enough for you pops. Why don’t I change the voice of Alexa to the voice of Scarlett Johansson who sounds like she’s stuck between estrogen throat blocker treatments.”

Dad says, “I’d change the voice of Alexa to Samuel L. Jackson.”

I say, “Alexa, who told Samuel L Jackson it looks cool to dress up like Spike Lee’s Grandma, who identifies as a Jazz Critic descendent of Sonny Rollins, in Tyler Perry’s new film, The Uppity Cunt?”

Dad says, “You don’t like black people.”

I say, “Dad, how many black girls have you banged named Porsha? That’s what I thought. But good luck trying to gay shame me into resuming my lushy ways over drinking tea like Bruce Lee again pops. And even if I was 30 years gay, you got 3 grandchildren out of it pops, so you came out on top. And that’s how the tea leaves crumble.”

The vax lessens the symptoms, didn’t you hear?

Forget fatigue, you’ll storm the Capital Building like the Running Man after DeSantis wins in a patriot made landslide, no amount of election fraud can conceal.

No more headaches, just a mild irritation of the ears like the Muslim Call to Prayer on a busted loudspeaker in Astoria, Queens.

First an itchy esophagus, now you’ll be deep throating Lexington Steele replicas without it feeling like your tonsils just got punctured to pieces in the process.

Fever finished. Just measured smug superiority flowing forward.

Shortness of breath ends. Now, you’ll last longer than Jared Kushner in the sack with Ivanka despite her talking boring dirty to him in Mandarin on his birthday again.

Coughing comes to a screeching halt. Now, you’ll suck down medicinal strength dispensary weed out of a metal bat made in Wuhan and you’ll be flying high again.

Muscle aches become orgasmic mush on pure E from 1995.

Naps become siestas with Penelope Cruz falling asleep on your crotch to put her motor mouth lisp to sleep in the process.

Diarrhea is replaced by out of this world, beyond substantial dumps like you just inhaled an entire protein pea farm in one sitting.

Difficulty breathing ends although if Pearl Necklace Harris becomes President all bets are off. Calling that bitch erratic, is an insult to stable schizophrenics holding down government jobs in Quebec.

Congestion gone. Who cares if your media worshiping whores are still full of shit from head to toe already?

Michael Kornbluth