Chris Rock says the worst thing about the made in Wuhan virus, designed to wipe out large swaths of life, kill off the small business owner and any veneer of fair elections ever happing again, is being a faceless nobody in a mask for a whole year. I thought Chris Rock and Mary J Blige were the only black people who lives in Montclair, New Jersey according to Chris?
Didn’t he get to work on FX when the entire country was shut down and forced to pretend they enjoyed remote learning for their kids? While Jeffrey Toobin at the New Yorker, forced every Zoom meeting forward to start with, “For all you perverted, Jeffrey Toobin degenerates, raise your hands up high, where I can see them.”
Chris Rock missed being noticed. You could’ve looted a Target with no mask on Chris without fearing any career hampering restrictions. But you’re cool with Lebron and company taking a knee for the National Anthem, because guaranteed money in the NBA is so oppressive. Now, cops are Ice Cube’s best friend, since they’ve been unmasked as neutered gimps in the face of peaceful protests, resembling Public Enemy videos come to life. Fuck the police actually takes on a loving Motown feel now, to show how much you appreciate them taking a knee, because they’ll be caught dead wearing Nike sweats till their grave no matter what. I’m positive a looter would’ve taken a time out from snagging more high definition TVs to ask for your autograph Chris, without sweating the tossed salad man on the horizon. Especially since bail was eliminated, proving blue balls for men in blue don’t matter, because it’s impossible to maintain sustained stiffage, when bad guys are being rereleased by the time Deblasio wraps up his 2nd set of 10 pound curls at the Park Slope Y.
If Chris Rock wants his name to pack real heat again, he should befriend the head of BLM who just scored a cushy new TV development holding deal with Warner Brothers. He could host a new reality show for big money like, Lifestyles Of Rich Bitch, BLM Activists, holla, thank you very much.
Once upon a time there was a biracial Korean, Jewish kid from the Riverdale section of the Bronx, Steven Park, otherwise known as Bad Boy Soy Boy, since he unleashed his Nunchucks of fury at a block party on a bunch of shit talking, instigating, black gangbangers, who wore the same wife beater, corn rows and cut off jean shorts, looking like they were dressing up for Coolio Appreciation Day. Who never dared to call Bad Boy Soy Boy, a COIVD chink in his midst ever again, as he cracked one corn row braided skull in 2 after another, without breaking a sweat in a NY Minute. Son of Sam in the seventies was scary no doubt, but the surge in hate crimes against Jews and Asians in the boogie down Bronx, Jersey City and throughout the Island of Manhattan were at an all-time high with no relief or added protection in sight.
Cops today, were younger, softer, and far less hardcore than their 9/11 predecessors. Nobody in the force today possessed the balls to make money on the side through good old-fashioned extortion like 99 percent of the force in the movie Serpico. Bail was banned in NY, garbage filled the streets, rats grew the size of Lena Dunham during Restaurant Week after challenging Leslie Jones to a Junior’s Cheesecake off. But even these woke large and in charge funny woman, couldn’t believe what a scary shithole their cherished concrete jungle of yesterday had become in 4 years flat.
Crazy talk slogans punctured the air such as, “Ban ICE”, because homeland security was so weapons of mass destruction years. It’s no excuse to mug Chinese grandma in Chinatown, yet the Wuhan made virus, made New Yorkers at large crazier than ever, placing misplaced faith in a news media hellbent on feeding more unregulated hate and fear into the nation about black men in America being America’s most hunted, despite not one enlightened BLM member encouraging their fellow brothers to just stop resisting arrest or the temptation to run out on a 2000-dollar dinner check in South Beach for Spring Break, God forbid.
Every day, Bad Boy Soy Boy worked at his parent’s deli in the South Bronx, despite living in the leafier, more snuggle soft confines, of Riverdale in the Bronx, where abandoned, torched, burnt down buildings to salvage a semblance of ROI from the insurance company were less common than a B plus Korean student at Bronx Science.
Bad Boy Soy Boy had to bite his lip at the deli every time some brother would come in there talking endless shit, yelling, “COVID Chink, this, COVID Chink that,”, despite him being fucking half Korean and half Jewish. It didn’t make a difference because cum bucket dumpsters such as Cardi B today were deemed heady, culture enriching, poets from the street, whose gaping, sloppy 3rds snatch couldn’t be beat, allegedly. Jim Rome lives, holla, thank you very much.
But one day Bad Boy Soy Boy decided enough was enough, so he opened a medicinal speakeasy weed milk bar in Bergen, New Jersey as a front to offer Nunchuck self-defense classes for Asian Americans based in any of the 5 boroughs willing to make the schlep to fight for their life to live out the protracted, rapidly fading American dream with a semblance of peace of mind as they raged, raged against the dying of the light. Dylan Thomas lives, holla, thank very much.
Now, Bad Boy Soy Boy’s Self-Defense Nunchucks Of Fury class, became the number one tourist destination in Bergen history, not that there was much stiff competition in this department. But Bad Boy Soy Boy had a college roommate from UPENN who he’d talk to on the phone every day who worked as a rock star chef for a Korean food truck in old city in Philly, known for their Korean eggroll cheesesteak hot pocket breakfast treats. Who now had to invest in a bullet proof vest covered food truck in Old City, which was once the only really safe area in Philly outside of Center City on Chestnut street. But safe spaces for Asian Americans were now deader than Jeremey Lin’s chances of gracing the cover of Sports Illustrated 7 times in a row again, especially since JR Smith bitched to Knicks management about the golden child Harvard grad who plopped in their lap out of the freaking blue, because he was hogging the Garden spotlight and bike lane all for himself.
Asian Americans including Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, who never bothered to study martial arts, thinking, it wasn’t necessary to learn from 1994 to 2020, were flocking to Bad Boy Soy Boy’s Self-Defense Nunchucks Of Fury class. Bad Boy Soy Boy’s grandfather, Michael Kornbluth was a Holocaust survivor because when all the brown shirt ANTIFA members of their day banned guns, he used his own Nunchucks of fury gifted to him from his Korean father-in-law, and cracked NAZI skulls hyped on crystal meth all his way to freedom from Nazi persecution. Who pawned enough Nazi gold teeth from the skulls he cracked in 2 with his Nunchucks of fury to buy a boat pass to NY, establish a family of his own with his reflexology wife therapist and become a proud 1st generation deli owner, getting Jewish New Yorkers hooked on Kimchi for more reasonable outs from ever having to slip their wife some tongue again.
Both young and old Asian Americans no longer had to live in helpless, paralyzed fear, all thanks to Bad Boy Soy Boy teaching them the infinite beat down possibilities unleashed from the almighty Nunchuck strikes of fury, to ensure they were never fucked with again in the name of the COVID Chink virus or not. Because Bad Boy Soy Boy was on a mission from God to prove Bruce Lee’s weapon of choice, ain’t nothing to fuck with.
“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 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.”
Pitchfork named Alright by Kendrick Lamar, song of the decade because Obama got the Nobel Peace Prize for rebranding ISIS, ISIL, so they’d sound more start up friendly in the NY Times. That’s an Obama accomplishment for you.
Just Kneel Already
Looting Ain’t A Thing
Ice Cube’s Freaking Out Day
Really Funny People and Seth Rogan
Not My President, David Stern
Cancel Alexa Bezos
Dreams Of Monument Sharing With Ave
From Doo Rags To Riches
All Lives Matter Is The N Word
The Greatest Cleavage Formation Of All
I love Dolly Parton, her songs to. Still, Dolly Parton’s statement to Billboard magazine felt forced off for me. She says, “And course Black lives matter. Do we think our little white asses are the only ones that matter? No!” Is this semi-fiery, no nonsense sentiment on brand for the only musical artist to have scored a hit on The Billboard Top Ten for 5 decades in a row? Has her magnetic cleavage withstood the erosion of time? Still, I can’t shake off the feeling that this trailblazing wildflower of the finest kind, whose been in an open marriage with her husband forever by the way, hey now, is capable of articulating more than the obvious fact that black men like skinny white assess to, because they don’t discriminate against booty, Whoopie Goldberg excluded, even if they just got out of Folsom Prison and lost a bet to Suge Knight in the can.
The Black Supremacist Court
The Hunchback of Open Borders Fame
Willie Brown Put Gunk In Her Hair
Make Scowling Great Again
Hamilton Is Worse Than Obama Rapping
Smiling In Seattle
Rioting is negative language used against black people. What expression would Maxine Waters prefer? Bring on the ruckus, resisting gentrification, looting Gucci ain’t a thang?