Resist This

Unknown touching fact about President Trump. When his friend Bob Kraft’s wife of 35 years died. He called him once every day for an entire year to see how he was doing. My wife refuses to get me off long time by even bookmarking my blog.
When Lebron didn’t make the Playoffs this year. Did his boy Obama shake off the talking shit about Trump curse sting, by tearing into his secret stash of Almond Joy’s in his man cave hidden inside a box of duct tape from Costco?
Whenever my baby acts fussy around mama, she claims he’s getting bored of her already. I always knew he was a quick learner unlike his learning-disabled daddy. By the time I was done with the SAT, my friends had declared their majors Sophomore year in college.
Did you know Muslims don’t believe in paying interest? Not even for a small business loan for a Sleepy’s Under the Stars, or else the Palestinians lose their UN sanction victimized status.
In England, they’re considering banning the teaching of the Holocaust because it offends the Muslim population who claimed it never happened. Ok, so Amir won’t be on the short list for internships at Amblin entertainment with any plan to be groomed as Stephen Spielberg’s next JJ Abrams in the making, despite the Quran being in dire need of a futuristic refresh.
An Illegal Alien got convicted of raping a dog to death, only to be released without notifying ICE agents in Sanctuary State, Oregon. Beavers are biters. I’d wouldn’t push your luck homes.

Courtney Love did acid at 4, was shipped off to Boarding School at 9 and blew Ted Nugent at 14. Thank God, I can’t afford boarding school for my daughter at 8. Don’t get me wrong, I think Courtney could’ve done worse than blowing Ted Nugent at 14. It’s not like she was going down on Woody Allen to get back at her adopted actress mother. Hole Live Through This is a rock masterpiece. She’s worth 150 million now. Courtney Love is Mia Farrow with better husband selection.

This is Roger Daltry yelling at fans for puffing weed at the last Who show at MSG.

We’re not Pink Floyd. Weed kills your ambition, remember, don’t get fooled again? That’s what Pete Townsend said when he clicked on the website Soap Suds Bottoms.com. We got it Pete. You we’re doing opposition research for a song about pedophile chat rooms, registered under moveonnothingtoseehereatpodesta.org, got it mate.
The End
By,
Michael Kornbluth

Like Mother Like Son

Me playing the role of trainer Mick for my son Art Show, AKA Feather Foot as Rocky 4 blasts in the garage as he does more sit ups on our ordained Rocky rug.

No pain Art Show, you’re pimping the American Flag bandanna big time. Let the music make your heart soar like a Bald Eagle not stressed about all his peeps being near extinct yet. 2 more, you’re going to be the prettiest bad boy soy boy in class. Every kid is going to want a piece of you, fronting to be real life tough guy, smart asses like Robert Dinero method actors in the making. Drop them on their ass for daring to fuck with you pretty boy face before they become high school loser drop-outs because they won’t want to show their mangled, mope maligned mugs after you’re done smacking their smirks on to the gym locker floor on top of their Iron Maiden Trapper Keepers. 2 more sit ups, make those dumb mooks run for the hills to their mommies for birthing such inferior, mush mouthed seed.

Me overruling my wife again.

Matilda can handle number sentences at school on a sprained ankle. It’s not like she’s ducking a fight using brass knuckles in a female remake of 3 Clock High because she’s so kettle bell dense strong, unlike the wobbles in the hyped female conjuring version of Super Bad. Because the world of comedy needs more, mild musings from the Female ID of Michael Cera. I’m sure the ska light, sexless sounding Sting promoting Rainforest meditative back beats from the latest and greatest Vampire Weekend in the film will sound more momentous and less existential strained than the Singles soundtrack no problem.

Michael Jordan torched the Jazz for 37 with the Flu in the NBA Finals with a 105-degree fever, making Karl Malone his bottom bleeding gimp. Begging to be infected with MJ’s killer attack, over the top Alpha Dog gene, versus his absence of an automatic clutch gear, no amount of fancy stick rigs or 100-pound curl raises can conceal.

Defending my Jewishness over this past Christmas.

Bloated, model of a blah brained, bearded wannabe hipster minus artistic talent blurts out “My sister is more Jewish than you are.” I reply. Have you even graduated college yet, 8 years later? You’re like Van Wilder minus the rich dad. Also, last time I checked you we’re too fat to pass the physical for the Police Academy. But I’m sure your heart was really into, Serpico. Also, I had a Bar Mitzvah and sang my Haftarah portion in Hebrew. Last time I checked, you air guitared your Ukrainian harp Bandura at Church because you’re a lazy, good for nothing blob of hobbit mole allergic to nuts and all forms of ball exertion. Who had to have your parents threaten to not pay 5 grand for your wedding if the ban of their 3 grand children who they never see was lifted. But Jesus loves the totality of you. But hey your religion allows your mom to be forgiven for being a colossal cunt and yell at my kids for jumping on the spare mattress in your old shit sty room at the foot of our old couch because it isn’t the designated, cramped play area. The room downstairs next to the kitchen, with your air guitar Bandura on the couch, as a mere decorative ornament like when you were last spotted in shame with it in Church back in the day is.

Your sister is more Jewish than me? Then, why hasn’t your dad ever used some of his SAP consultant money to pay for her nose job then? That’s right, he’s still sporting the same Tommy Bahamas from the eighties. When Trump was rebuilding Wollman Rink in Central Park for free and giving the profits to Aids men victim groups whereas your father was giggling to Monty Python sketches after work. Which did wonders for his imagination, knowing what a dead weight conversationalist you’ve become, like mother like son. Also, my kids love Futurama, but think your Bender tattoo is ridiculously stupid. A fake tattoo would’ve been a fun for a bit, right kids? If you got a fake Bender tattoo kids, worst case scenario then, you can’t be buried in a fake Jewish cemetery.

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

Force Feeding Communion Isn’t Kosher

 

Wife says. Arthur told me about Matilda taking a dump in the garden.

I reply. The corner in the garden is the designated pee area, when we’re having too much fun outside, when you’re at work. So, Matilda got a tad too comfortable in her lush, suburban fairy forest flicking surroundings. Also, Arthur wasn’t supposed to tell you. She knows not to do it again. Besides, we took her camping at 2. So, don’t act like taking a number 2 in our leafy lush,  side garden stone wall is the equivalent of bumming up the streets of San Francisco for entitled bum appreciation day. Also, show a spec of humor about it about our daughter’s break track of a dump. You’d think Little Bear was there, after polishing off every last drop of Mama’s Bear Fish Soup, loaded with extra quinoa, for added protein dumpage.

Last, I’m the one who stepped on her hot load of Plateosaurus poo, in my not so fresh anymore new Adidas. In reality, I should be the one steaming, knowing you’re the one who pushed the plant based, fake news pushing, Better Than Meat sausages on our Pescatarian reared daughter, not me. Only to learn from our daughter on our way to school today how she also knows what a cardboard body of Christ tastes like because it’s your mom force fed the Eucharist and her baby brother Arthur her behind my back, without my permission like a crazed Jesus freak. But my people, the Jews are the sneaky, controlling manipulative ones.  And don’t tell me the Eucharist is any different than getting a Communion, it’s an assertion of Jesus Christ being my children’s Lord and Savior. As opposed to true Master of the Universe, the one and only God, who doesn’t need to get crucified to make his presence felt. That’s right, Hillary Hammer Time Cankles isn’t the one entitled to conduct opposition research babe.

 

8 years ago, I made it clear to your mother how her Jewish raised granddaughter won’t be getting a communion ever. In the end, we should’ve told your mom about her conversion Mikveh ceremony at 2. Because she’s getting a Bat Mitzvah and closing with a 12 piece orchestra rendition of November Rain and an encore of performance of Wherever, Whenever by Shakira because the Reform Synagogue hosting the event, are cool with Lesbian rabbis, so they’ll lick it up, lick it up, oh, oh.

 

Also, we got Matilda converted to Judaism as a safety net for Heaven on earth, no Eucharist wafer required, assuming she falls in love with a Jewish doctor. Knowing her now legally solid, Jewess religious status won’t ever spurn a good guy Jew away in favor of an Atheist, Indy rock musician. Who rocks a Planned Parenthood bumper sticker on his Tesla. Possessing zero knowledge of the poor man’s Black Crows back in the day.

I still can’t believe your mom pushed the Eucharist on our 3 kids behind my back, knowing I’d shoot it down faster than her shitty chicken sausages from BJ’s. She knows were raising the kids Jewish and Jews believe in the act of Mitzvah, which is doing good for the sake of it, not for the hope of eternal life, with zero headliner entertainment to look forward besides Bill Hicks but God will want to hog him all to himself. 

 

I respect the Eucharist tradition knowing it was inspired from the Passover feast Jesus was celebrating with his fellow Jewish brethren, before the Romans crucified, twice Old Testament mentioning Yeshua. The Jews egged on the Romans, with divisive hate speech heckling from the sidelines because history proves we’re the real violent ones compared to gentiles at large, got it Mel.

But you don’t force your Jewish reared grandchildren to perform a Eucharist behind your Jewish son in law’s back, ever, it’s  the opposite of Kosher. If your mom had any alleged Jewish friends, she’d understand Jews like me, love some Jesus but never grateful over the millions of Jews killed in his name nor true believers in him being the one and only Messiah because peace on earth hasn’t happened yet. Obama nuke gifting Iran and making a hefty charitable donation to the PLO on his way out the door didn’t help, nor did W exploiting post 911 fear for all it was worth to Democracy builder uppers at Halliburton, selling Powell’s honor to the Devil without breaking sweat.

Your mother can’t accept the fact, Hillary is a 2-time loser for a reason and how the NY Times doesn’t know best. So of course she can’t deal with me being against Jesus being force fed down my throats for Christ sake.  But in the spirit of Jesus I forgive your colossal cunt of a mother for force feeding Eucharist, Communion, whatever, whenever,  down my kids throats.  I’m a proud Jewish New Yorker and so will her 3 grandchildren for life and she can’t ever take that away from me, force fed wafer or not. 

 

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comedy Gold Mobile

My wife works nights as a nurse, in labor and delivery, checking blue faced newborns for vitals signs. Which makes me feel like a self-obsessed narcissist because all I check for is for retweets and new likes on WordPress.
So, when I’m out in public with my 3 kids on a Saturday morning at the diner, I normally hear. You’ve got your hands full. I reply. If my wife agreed to an open marriage with Katy Perry. Assuming, my upcoming books sell huge. My hands would be full.

My so funny daughter making daddy laugh long time again. Daddy, what did you do with Grandma growing up? I don’t remember much kid. Daughter replies. Do you remember how awful her green beans were? I’ve created a comedy monster folks.

Shitting on my mother-in-law’s amorphous plans for Baba Camp.
Hey babe, what does Baba have planned for Baba camp for the kids? She’s only had the whole year to plan and feel God blessed about it.

Wife says. Fuck you. My mom mentioned something about taking the kids to the Delaware Aerospace Education Foundation.

I reply. But your parents have spent more money for doggy daycare than they have for any their grandchildren for the past 8 years So, don’t expect me to be floating on air to Dark Side of The Moon on the primo Maui Wowie at the prospect of them footing the bill for Space Camp anytime this millennium.

Also, Obama pulled the plug on NASA. And Space Force isn’t off the ground yet. So, I’m not expecting any major space shuttle reveals on display when they visit.

Last, we just took the kids to DC to the Air and Space Museum to gaze at Spaceship One. But a garden tour of Direct TV satellite dishes and of a UFO shaped house in the bowels of bumble fuck Delaware sounds like a blast.

I bet the ex-shuttle launch site is more deserted than Hunter Biden’s coke baggie after last call from the bathroom stall.

Me emoting about my 5-year-old-son making the monkey bars his bitch for a pleasant change of pace.

Great job Art Show, way to fill out that tang top. Don’t forget muscle has memory. My old catering boss in Orange County urged me to smile more as I worked the buffet line. Unlike you, I had no past happy muscle memory to flex from. Playing with GI Joe figures alone in my room throughout my entire 10th grade school year didn’t help. Neither did me getting a book titled the 12 Stages of Puberty from Mimi for Hanukkah one year. I said. Mom, getting this book in front of my younger brother of 3 years is so embarrassing. Jonathan already hit puberty and can play with himself whenever he wants. Mom replies. But you play with yourself all the time with your, GI-Joe figures.

Since I became a married man with 3 kids. In other words, a slut in a straight jacket. I flirt with older MILFS at the track by acting out cupping their scrumptios looking ta-tas as I run around the track to Highway to Hell to let them know how hot they look in their stretchy Lulu Lemon sports bras, begging to be manhandled in my mind at the very least.

My so funny daughter making daddy laugh again long time again.
I ask her. So, Matilda, do you think Uncle John really had a kid’s birthday party to attend, knowing he’s gotten you a grand total of 3 gifts in 8 years? Daughter replies. I think he’s telling the truth daddy. A kid’s birthday party is an elaborate excuse to blow off meeting us at the park to play ball. And Uncle John isn’t that smart.

Editor texts me. Got a huge migraine. Will have your 1st round edit by tomorrow. 2nd round of edits will take 3 days max. P.S Matilda, is so funny.

I share the text with my daughter. She replies. The Comedy Gold Mobile is all mine. I’m funnier than you are.

I reply. Relax, Female Flash. I was force feeding you lines when you can barely string to 2 words together. Do you remember the routine? Matilda do you have a nookie problem? Yes, I’m a little obsessed. I remember daddy. I also remember, money equals freedom. And Time is money and veggie bacon doesn’t pay for a Gold colored Porsche SUV. So can you get Falling For Fatherhood in publishable shape before Father’s Day already?

The End

By,
Michael Kornbluth

My Happy Jewish Afterlife

I believe the liberation of my people from death camps in Germany is proof God exists. And how the existence of Roger Waters proves there’s us and whinier, British malcontents who wish White Walkers could’ve finished the job on their behalf.

My Hebrew School failed in teaching us about the concept of an alluded to afterlife. Consisting of a place above with glow enshrouded souls, giddy with delight over not having to futz with going to the dry cleaners ever again. Feeling cleansed of all penetrable jealousies emanating from your Aussie brother in law for not being confused for Mel Brooks ever. Knowing he wasn’t chosen to be blessed with the funny Jew bone, nor made tough enough to endure goonish laugh producing periods of non-stop taunting despair, in the face of relentless imposed doubt from family members, friends, scuzzy sales bosses and joke sampled on strangers at large.

 

An Aussie brother in law whose only way to impress the opposite sex is by inserting his Aussie accent of old before moving to Delaware with his family, in the place of any semblance of personality to showcase at all. An Aussie brother in law who will never know what it feels like to unearth comedy gold, only after decades of digging for it within the deepest pits of your kvetching, rewriting righting soul.

Another way to ensure my funny man soul lives on is through reading the Old Testament this summer already. Getting closer to God will be a blast, further away from my aimless, MOJO rising not so much yet past. Ensuring my 3 kids, will possess a more intimate, heightened understanding behind the power of soul outside of blasting and puking their brains out in college to Jimi Hendrix’s blowing your mind with Power of Soul  on the Band of Gypsies, from killing floor, Fillmore East, New Years Eve show pasts.  I need to get familiar with my Torah like Abe Lincoln before me, if I plan to prove my worthiness to write Stay At Home Rabbi already. I’m thinking of pitching the book to Harper Collins and Rape Wood as Billy Madison meets Mr. Fantastic. Can I get a Hollah for some Challah? Because Adam Sandler isn’t the only true funny man, non-resistor Jew capable of bringing in big deal bread boyy!

The End,

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

Dusted Off Gems

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

Me stalling for the Tooth Fairy
Why didn’t the Tooth Fairy arrive yet daddy? The Rock slept in for a change.

F weird, weak Howard.
Howard Stern says. “Living under the Trump presidency feels like an alternative reality.” Howard always strained to sound forced deep. His best words of wisdom in his debut book Private Parts, was don’t go to prison. Hillary passed on the book Private Parts, in favor of Eat, Drink, Wheeze.

What’s grandparent bad manners?
Baba blaming the broken AC in her car for not visiting her 2 grandchildren all summer, knowing her husband would be giddy at the prospect of her sweating off a couple of tons in the process.

What’s grandparent bad manners?
Baba adopting a rescue dog 3 grandchildren later, without consulting the feelings of her grandchildren becoming Pluto far center of her universe now.

What’s grandparent bad manners?
Grandma defending Grandpa’s decision to huff multiple cigarettes before making your newborn daughter smell like Don Draper’s corpse draped in Aramis.

Why do my kids love me back?
I show interest in their stories. Plus, I don’t space out every 2 seconds like super stoned Dory.

Why do my kids love me back?
Because when I say I love you. It doesn’t sound guilt forced hoarse like my mother on the phone with me, trying to prevent a permanent text divorce.

Me explaining DNA to my daughter.
What’s DNA daddy?
Remember Baba rooting for Germany in the World Cup? Yelling at the kitchen TV, murder them.
Daughter says. Yeah but I thought Baba’s mother was only put in Work Camps in the Ukraine where they didn’t gas you to death. I reply. Yeah, her DNA is more ungrateful, unhuggable cuntish she’d give herself credit for.

Dumping on English soccer again.
Wife says. Manchester City won the FA Cup. It’s like the Super Bowl for the English Premier League

I say. And your dad can whip out his cherished Irish whiskey again like when the Eagles won the Super Bowl despite the birth of his super loving 3 grandchildren never warranting such a celebratory action announcement on Facebook. Grandparent bad manners age worse than Hunter Biden on Chinese paid for coke.

Getting feisty with my wife because she described my all-star molded, creation Matilda as “innately perfect.” Yeah, I agree. It sucks to learn Matt is in family therapy with his daughter and ex-wife. If we got divorced, I think Matilda would be OK with it. Don’t you see the way she lights up when she asks about my ex-girlfriends? I’m just saying, we fight plenty and she wants me to be happier and more fulfilled even if she had to see me less. I think it’s a sacrifice our daughter would be willing to make. It’s a sign of true love. Then, I wake up with my re-circumcised schlong down my throat.

The End
By,
Michael Kornbluth

Fuck Weird, Weak Howard Stern

Howard Stern says. “Living under the Trump presidency feels like an alternative reality.” Howard always strained to sound forced deep. His best words of wisdom in his debut book Private Parts, was don’t go to prison. Hillary passed on the book Private Parts, in favor of Eat, Drink, Wheeze.

F weird weak Howard.
He thinks Hillary would’ve beaten Trump if she took the gamble and let him interview her. Because Huma Licker Breath came off so well on 2 Ferns. Lesbian Dial A Date would’ve loosened her up and made Hillary Hammertime Cankles come off as a less bloated, diabolical, power hungry bitch in no time.

F weak, weird Howard.
He came out to the Daily Beast as a diehard Hillary supporter. Because of her decades of public service. Name one accomplishment Howard? Besides, getting Jimmy Kimmel to turn your brain to mush
F weird, weak Howard.
Never would’ve bought his new book if I knew the reformed narcissist ever uttered the words “die hard Hillary supporter.” I thought Gary the Retard was mentally challenged. Your bullshit detector God, Lenny Bruce would be so proud.

F weak, weird Howard.

“Living under the Trump presidency feels like an alternative reality.”
Is that your PR man speaking through you Howard? So, Jimmy Kimmel still invites you for chicken parm dinners with Jennifer Aniston?

I love the bottled water she does commercials for, Smart Water. It adds extra bounce to my step. It makes me feel like Jennifer Aniston on the rebound.

F weak, weird Howard.
“He can’t stand his old narcissism.”
Going out of your way to kiss the Obama slobbering, gap toothed hick from Indiana on Late Night back in the day. I understand.
But without your old narcissism, you don’t throw legendary funerals for Imus and become the larger than life shock Jock who could afford to dump his wife backer of 20 plus years for your trans upgrade in Beth, all mighty satellite king. Also, why does your new wife Beth wear so much lipstick? Normally, so, so pretty woman wear makeup because they have less than flattering, ghoulish, manly features to hide.

F weird, weak Howard.

You paid the Rev Bob Levy a measly 100 dollars as a gag writer on your show. Still, you’ve got the gaul to bitch about the Rev Bob Levy giving lengthy plugs for his stand-up comedy shows on your radio show? Used to feed his family. And then insist he was fired from your show because you’re worse at giving credit where credit is due than the sour puss resistance faces at MSNBC, Unibrow Maddow included.

Hey Howard, this is Chris Mathews sexually harassing his new chesty intern for MSNBC. Eating out Maddow, counts as your lunch break babe.
If Howard Stern is cured of his all-consuming narcissism than why not give credit to the recent policy decisions resulting in our current Trumpian led boomtime economy?

If Howard really cared about being an evolved, non-discriminate ball buster he’d address the MSNBC assertion behind Obama being the US President responsible for the lowest unemployment rate in African American history but actually be funny about it and state.

Giving Obama credit for our current Dow Jones Highs is like giving Nino Brown credit for getting Pookie off crack and welfare in 1991.
You know New York has gotten soft. And how Howard’s gone even softer.
When the Silicon Valley lords of the universe at Twitter now exists to keep Howard’s 650-million-dollar ego, afloat, dent free.

Every other F weird, weak, Howard truth bomb joke read above was posted on Twitter earlier and got my account frozen every time. Now, I can’t even start new account because of my alleged “unsupported phone number.” Understand, I’ve started 42 new accounts over the past year to ensure my jokes get read and aren’t shadow banned again.

I would prefer if I just got a lifetime ban already from the Twitter Twat CEO Jack Dorsey. At least then, it would make an interesting talking point when I’m promoting my upcoming, self-published books this summer, Falling For Fatherhood and Stay At Home Comedian. Henry Miller had his books banned in America. I’d like to join such a prestigious club.
Howard regrets mentioning to Robin Williams how he left his ex-wife because he started to bang his nanny. But how else was Howard going to feel good about himself in the presence of an Oscar winning comedian?
Granted, the movie Private Parts loses its good guy encrusted, heart filled luster knowing Howard never stuck it out with the wife he achieved super stardom with. Who’s also the mother of his 3 kids, etc.
Howard also regrets asking Gilda Radner if Gene Wilder had a big penis? So, now that Howard is neighbors with edgeless, yenta breath, Seinfeld in South Hampton, he no longer works blue? We’re still talking about the same shock jock who thought Fart Man was needed in a major comedy advancing way to make Bill Hicks jealous in comedy heaven above?

Howard Stern Comes Again is a real headliner hooker of a book title Howard. I guess Beth comes again to Jimmy Kimmel’s Trump is bad, media is good monologue would’ve been overacting beyond her limited screen credits on IMBD.com.
Howard Stern Comes again is the worst title ever Howard. Why not name your book collection of celeb interviews, Tools Like The Unhuggable C Word O’Donnell, being proven wrong about Russian collusions tales with less legs than Lieutenant Dan?
Now Howard tells Terry Gross on NPR, how he started out in radio, only doing outrageous racial, sexual and religious material to entertain and enlarge his audience. Because he had concerns of not making a living. You were doing material you thought was funny Howard because that’s what you were judged on in addition to making your mark in less politically correct times. But keep on proving your incapable of less honest introspection than the Harvey Hair Clumps Weinstein empowering, Jihadist hijacked NY Times dude.

Obama ruined Howard Stern. Add that to Obama’s illustrious list of accomplishments. Would the old school King Of All Media feel compelled to conduct an apology tour 25 years later otherwise?

Hey, Howard sound more like a double-talking FBI stiff James Comey and claim all your jokes, mostly written by others like from Jackie the Joke Man throughout the eighties and nineties we’re politically insensitive errors of judgment, lacking no real malicious intent whatsoever.

But Howard wasn’t done grossing out old school watchers of his Channel 9 show on NPR just yet. He added. “If I hadn’t grown and changed, I don’t know I could still be on the radio.” I’m sure that was Howard’s exact pitch when he resigned with Sirus XM radio for 90 mill a year.

If you hadn’t grown and changed Howard, you don’t know how you can still be on the radio? Becoming an old-world media establishment, high priced whore mouthpiece doesn’t reflect deep wowing evolution Howard. In reality, it’s a gargantuan, blatantly unnecessary, reversal of unapologetic funny. But hey, as long as Terry Gross on NPR is giving your book of interviews anybody can watch on YouTube, a favorable plug.
For all your tough talk Howard, you couldn’t handle a scrap of the 24/7 scrutiny our President endures between diet cokes, making NY flavored, ball busting great again. It could’ve been your legacy in a post fake news moralist grandstanding Obama universe, and you blew it.

Just when old school Stern loyalists like myself, couldn’t stomach any other new age drivel from Jerry Curl Crow Stubble Stern, he tells Terry Gross on NPR, his cherished superego/ID is “buried and dead.” But he still thinks the 30 million Sirus listeners could’ve swayed the election in Hillary Hammer Time Cankles favor if he only got to interview her about those deleted 30 thousand emails, including Yoga specials from Lulu Lemon and funeral arrangements in the woods, in case Chelsea Clinton’s husband decided to increase his asking price at the last sec.

Also, for legendary radio man, who made a living off aiming his comedic venom on those hypocritical, bullies in power. The fact Howard doesn’t unleash any justified venom at Trump supporter attacking ANTIFA, shadow government colluding Obama, fake news dossier financing Hillary, or on the treacherous FBI, deep state, you know Swamp Thing, signifies Howard’s title of World Heavyweight ball buster of the most deplorable, hilarious order is finished.

With KP gone, Louie’s show on FX over, Joan River’s daughter, pledging her support of Biden, the Yankees banning Kate Smith’s song of America the Beautiful, Madison Avenue being in bed with fake news fro Collin Kaepernick, The Giants trading away their only marquee personality, masters of the universe Bloomberg and Jamie Dimon at JP Morgan Chase being all talk but never showcasing the balls to take on the Big Donald on the national debate stage of ideas. My cherished New York City of old is so yesterday’s, meh, news. I was convinced Bloomberg was going to run against Trump during the last presidential election.
Then, Bernie Sanders had the DNC nomination stolen from him. So much for 2016 being the year for Atheist Jews.
But at least Park Slope’s sleepy prince of pompousness Bill De Blasio is being heckled in Trump Tower in the house that The Donald’s super ID built loud and proud. Too bad Howard’s introspective version of himself, doesn’t sound so loud and proud anymore. Between you and me, Howard no longer feels like the King of All Media, with Trump being Trump today. Above all else, that’s why Howard comes out with this book now to help solidify his good guy legacy. Meanwhile, there’s no way Howard ever works for free like our President, knowing what chump change he pays his writers to make him sound tougher than Dice.

Trump’s got great relationships with his drug free, non-hysterical children. And Baby Boomer arrogance never dies and that’s why so many other faded A list NY boomer celebs on the decline of cultural influence with less than stellar relationships with their own children, such as Robert Dinero and Alec Baldwin resent this beloved man of the people president, responsible for making ball busting great again, not weird weak Howard.
Reality update Howard, African Americans still got 99 problems, but President Trump isn’t one of them. I’m also more inclined to believe President Trump being the most pro African American President ever knowing how gang banger reformer, black pride incarnate, Jim Brown has his support over you. But at least you sold Terry Gross at NPR about burying your Super ID for good. Who sounds like the more laughable, Con Man now after all?

By,

Michael Kornbluth

Greatest Moderate Muslim Of All Time

Ali never declared Islam the greatest religion of all time. Insisting you better recognize or else Infidel. That means, chosen people my ass Cosell.

 
Ali didn’t devalue 911 by stating “some people did something”. He’d say those terrorists don’t represent me. What they did wasn’t courageous unlike Bill Maher barebacking with She He’s.
Ali appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated 38 times. And not once did you feel SI was trying to fulfill a Muslim forced diversity quota out of fear of offending old school militant Malcolm X before his pilgrimage to Mecca.
Ali never insisted the Jews in Hollywood gave their six million dead more specialty treatment coverage because they run the media, complain too much and never got over their interest charging, predatory lending business bleed into the red on such a big, generational wealth stealing scale.

 

Ali never described the Holocaust as giving him a “calm feeling.” Knowing, Norman Mailer’s mom would be spared. So, her son could report on Ali’s Thrilla In Manila and give Coltrane jerking off Jazz critics a means to afford to their rent-controlled apartments in the East Village by founding the Village Voice in the process.

 
Ali clowned around with the Beatles. And never accused them of exploiting the teenager in love humanity of Chuck Berry’s catalog of hits for all it was worth to their all about the Benjamin’s infidel, flaming gay manager Brian Epstein either.

 
Ali famously declared, “no Vietcong, have tried to kill me.” Never coming to close to today’s accusations of Trump bad for never stopping our military from knocking off Somalian Jihadists with drones in the name of poetic justice.
Ali never accused Israel of ethnic cleansing before Palestinian suicide bombers left Netanyahu no choice but to build the chosen people who elected him, the wall.

 

 

If alive today, both Ali and Mandela would try to stop the widespread murder of white South African Farmers, ensuring the story got more shouts outs than from the Michael Savage podcast and on Tucker Carlson the following evening.

 

 

Ali never accused Dick Cavett of trying to silence powerful Muslim voices by putting his audience to sleep when it was the host’s turn to speak.

 

 

Ali remained friendly with Sammy Davis Junior after he converted to Judaism like shorter, dapper, less nerdy stiff version of Rod Carew.
Ali kept fighting past his prime to give his purse money for charities not including the UN death tunnel digging fund for Hamas.
Ali never called Hitler a “great man” or refer to Sammy Davis Junior as part Candy Man part Cock Roach.

 

Ali never pushed for boycotts of Israel. But I’m sure he’d question Obama Nuke gifting Iran. In an alleged effort to stimulate their economy and make it less dependent on the sale of hair removal products for Khloe Kardashian.

 

Ali celebrated his comeback victory against Joe Frazier over an Ice Cream bar, slamming Root Beer Floats, with Malcolm X. Without threatening to impeach the motherfucker boxing commission for stealing his boxing license in his prime what’s my name, you better recognize years.

The End
By,

Michael Kornbluth

Thank You WordPress Peeps

Dear WordPress Peeps,

I wouldn’t have written my 2 upcoming books without you.

I wish I knew all your names.

You’ve given me effusive love and big time morality boosts on the stay at home comedian dad front.

Comedy needs a reaction.

You’ve given this to me and so much more.

Because of you my 3 children are big time believers in do it all dad’s books selling huge.

Because of you, I don’t have to waste my time, ranting and raving to a Trump resistor shrink.

The time has flown by.

It’s been an honor to impress, move and entertain you all.

Your growing attention and encouragement have enabled me to become my bravest, most expressive writer self.

I’ll be taking a mini break from blogging because it’s time to get both manuscripts together, start promoting them and take a time out from non stop new material generation.

After Father’s Day, I’ll be blogging my food writing book Crazy, Good Dada, Family Meals reimagined, one rant at a time.

I love you all for filling my new book author dreams with zestful, kick ass life.

You’ll all hold special claps on my heart forevermore.

This past year I’ve endured a skin cancer scare, dissolution of old friendships, destruction of any real sustainable lovable feeling from both my parents and my in-laws on top of an unrelenting ostracization from corporate America during this writing time off from the concrete jungle grind of life.

Giving birth to my 2 book babies will make all the angst worth it.

You’re the best midwives my wife never had.

Talk soon.

Love,

Michael Kornbluth

Red Lobster Resistor

Palestine was a safe haven for Jews after the Holocaust Rashida Tlaib?

But isn’t it against the Muslim faith to be in favor of any sanctuary state for the Jewish people of any kind?

Enlighten me, Ken Burns of Mecca. Calm me.

The ultra tolerant, super respected, never terrorist endorsing, highly cultured, Oliver stone movie quoting Palestinians welcomed the Jewish people after the Holocaust?

How much hashish are you smoking?

The Palestinians welcomed the Jewish people after the Holocaust.

And Roger Waters is happy for David Gilmore’s

INT. RED LOBSTER-MOTHERS DAY
Latino kid cries.
Stay At Home Comedian
Why is Julio crying?
I know the shrimp at Red Lobster isn’t Baja fresh.
But at least Jimmy Kimmel will look at his writing packet over a Trumpian supporter.

INT. RED LOBSTER
Stay At Home Comedian
I’ll have the Admiral’s feast.
Because I never outgrew my love of hair metal power ballads or taste buds from the nineties in general.

Waitress laughs long time.

On the phone with Dad on my moms cell.

We went to Red Lobster for an impromptu Mother’s Day feast.

Dad says. Do they still have all you can eat shrimp?

I say. No Dad or else I would’ve seen Rosie Odonnell’s, deplorable fat ass there.

My father has a crush on Steph Curry.

The Knicks could’ve got him.

He was the draft pick after ours.

Hey dad, remember when you told other rec coaches how much I sucked so you could hog up a greater allotment of A players available?

My wife explaining why she still enjoys visiting her parents.

I can sleep in. They look after the kids in the morning.

I say. They don’t have a choice because our kids woke them up already.

Because they were up late, hogging the big TV.

On the phone with mom for Mother’s Day.

Dad shared pictures of Arthur from his art show on Facebook. He got lots of comments.

Remember when you hid my Fire and Knives stories in your empty bar? Getting less touches than a bible in Provincetown.

Am I the only one who recognizes what a cliched hack Corey Booker sounds like?

“Beat demagogues with compassion.”

Did he read that from a resistance founded, good karma spreading, rainbow hued, Fortune Cookie shop in Bushwick?

Microsoft is using AI to enforce political correctness.

Hey, Cortana, what do you think of the lesbian couple in the new Google nest commercial?

How many woman do you think auditioned for the innocuous looking butch type?

Me defending exposing my 5 year old son to the movie Blood Sport.

Wife fumes.

Why did you show Arthur Blood Sport?

Gay, Trans, straight, I don’t care except firing my son up to not be the pussy on the receiving end of life.

You want mandatory vasectomy’s now Rape Wood?

Because you refuse to acknowledge an embryo as a life?

It’s the size of a Pomegranate seed. Got it John Oliver.

But what does the size of Alyssa Milano’s brain have to do with it?

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth