Chapter 34 Gold Driller

Chapter 34

Gold Driller

Joshua never cared for dentists. He didn’t care if they were oral surgeons like his ex-girlfriend’s father despite his keg of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale on tap at his house, because birthing the only Irish lassie in Westwood who couldn’t handle her beer or booze made it a wash. Plus, Joshua resented the standard smug stable, pseudo brainy, neat, never too taxing 9 to 5, assistant organized existence of dentists. They never made a cold call in their life. They never had parents who shit on their dreams from start to finish. They never had to endure passive aggressive insults from their wife’s blah breathed friends at wedding with lines such as, “So you’re hosting a podcast. At least, you have a creative outlet to express yourself.” At the same time no dentist had to bite their lip for the sake of radical civility at their wife’s best friend wedding in upstate New York, as the same girl gives you grief for drinking a seltzer at the bar in splendid isolation away from his kids for a change, only to hear, “Feel free to join the party any time.” Boy did Joshua grow to hate resistor liberal, fucking fatties from New Jersey. He’d father face fuck a trailer girl with no teeth from the backwoods of West Virginia. At least, she’d could instruct him on the difference between powdery cocaine to sniff versus Crystal Meth.

There was also a pseudo ex friend from high school, who was apart of his pink crew who became a Dentist in DC. Joshua was happy for him, but Phil had a streak of funny in him, winning wittiest over Joshua in high school, senior year compared to Joshua’s win for grooviest, an award invented in his honor, but losing out to Phil still pissed him off. But really pissed Joshua off, besides Phil never being responsible for making Joshua laugh out loud on any consistent basis ever, was him not taking any creative chances with his life become another fucking dentist in his life, after attending college at Washington University with Joanna and Ari, from his senior class, whose carbon copies quotes of What A Strange Trip’s It’s Been, on their respective senior year book pages, failed to project much NPR group think originality either. The same dentist, once inferring Joshua be more a behind the scenes guy, after bumping into him on Metro North after telling him about his 2-year pursuit into stand-up comedy. Some of his meat head, football playing buds from high school, always thought he overreacted to this assertion, of Joshua being a more behind the scenes type of guy. This fake news deep dentist could go fuck himself long time in Joshua’s eyes. You score a call back for Paul Mooney sketchy comedy show, showcase the balls to approach Richard Pryor’s best friend and only joke writer, who never went out of his way, to suck off whitey ever and get back to Joshua on your ball free, zero imagination, gunky teeth cleaning existence on what actual star power you’re capable of exuding to see emanate inside and out through others who got it, moron. Its not’s that Joshua was jealous of the hefty, paycheck dentists received or normalized respect their profession engendered. He just hated members of his tribe who were Dentists, who acted like your bud, who promised to read your books and review them on Amazon, who never did. Comedians as a whole hate two faced hypocrisy like so called non-violent liberals insisting ANTIFA wasn’t a terrorist organization, deeming them an instrument of good, despite them throwing bags of piss at cops, concrete milkshakes at gay journalists who have a bi-line for the National Review or set fire to US military recruitment offices in Berkley, because big bad Ben Shapiro is in town, to give another boring, grating speech on how to own liberals in a debate, despite him being the least threatening Jew in America next to Chelsea’s Clinton’s neutered hub. Joshua was fed up with east coast, racist calling, elitist conjuring bullshit. Caring was emoting in his honor and if you made an effort to devalue his potential with gain with, you’re writing the Great American Jew Novel with so, you’re were off the list, meaning off the list of people, he gave 2 shits with impressing at this stage of his life 3 unplanned kids later, raising his kids all by himself, as grandparents on both side, continued to watch CNN for only fiancé news. Yeah, and Joshua only watched Real Time with Bill Maher for his bible study group.

Joshua loved to read the Weird But True books to his kids at night, especially to his 9 year old daughter Matilda, who took a special interest them also, despite her constantly busting her dada’s balls for reading more books of fiction because the Godfather by Mario Puzzo didn’t count. Last night, Joshua was reading to Matilda the Weird But True fact about how human start shrinking after 40 but Joshua was no 43 going in 44 and felt like he continued to grow in comedic stature and actual height in real life. Every time, he’d see his old buds for a game of stick ball, despite them being products of the comfy confines of Westchester Country versus the more hardcore, brick laden surroundings of the boogie down Bronx, they’d comment, “Joshua you’re enormous. Then, Joshua would air out a football and they’d started hailing their old bud as someone who could’ve been the second coming of Vinnie Testeverde. But Joshua’s yoga improved posture and core exercise regiment involving a daily use of kettle bells and arm planks on his yoga mat in his downstairs garage work out sanctuary, daily morning prayer space only played a surface level contribution to his enhanced physical and spiritual growth, enabling him to grow closer to God every day, yeah, yeah. The other side to Joshua’s hypergrowth during his time in the wilderness here in Croton Falls, NY hosting his podcast and writing his joke heavy books from home in their comedy grant house on the most northern point of Westchester Country, God’s country in his eyes, enveloped by one pristine, water spritzing reservoir or glistening lake after another, was the searing growing pains associated with acknowledging he had outgrown the need or want of adulation from those he once considered his closest alleys, friends, or past believers in him, namely his wife. He didn’t want to hear about the questionable news sources he read from anymore. He didn’t want to her so, couldn’t have done this and that, but I was just joke when I said I hated him. He didn’t want to hear Americans were stupid anymore. He didn’t want to hear negative, downer, hysteria, hate driven drivel on social media anymore. He didn’t want to ease his kid’s developing anxiety anymore, because Mama equated a substandard tooth brushing job, to kids dying of eventual, premature plague covered heart failure. He didn’t want to hear his wife actually explain what amber alert was to kids in full fucking detail. He didn’t want his kids to feel they were in constant competition with their mama’s fucking Instagram anymore. He was done acting like he card to be charming around his mother-in-law whenever he was graced with her presence again, just because she send her grandchildren another belated birthday card 2 months after the fact, while only using more stamps of the Virgin Mary in the middle of fucking summer. Joshua outgrew the need to give 2 shits about understanding the nuances of English worshiping football, because watching it still bored him to death. Joshua was sick of hearing his English born and raised, father in law on how George Washington was nothing but a lucky general while George Harrison was underappreciated, wordsmith genius, despite possessing the riveting personality of a Mitt Romney’s power red, private equity tie collection. Joshua was tired of pretending his wife was uncomfortable with him teaching Solomon’s Song of Songs for his own version of weekend Hebrew School, because of her own non-believer status. Joshua was tired of hearing the line, I didn’t even know I was pregnant 5 months later, for those joyless, humorless, women in die hard, support of 3rd term abortion. Joshua was tired of putting PETA, NPR, ESPN, EPA and Nancy Denture Breath Pelosi, on any so-called elevated pedestal of any kind. Joshua was also tired of drilling for comedy gold with all his funny man Jewish fighting might only to have Republicans who live to own liberals, deride his edgy, in your face, bombastic showmen style as mere crazy, over the rainbow, certainly gone swimming. Joshua was tired of pretending his dear New York City wasn’t turning into a piss sprayed, weed stinking, glamor stripped shithole fast. Joshua had outgrown the limited, provincial, so called enlightened New Yorkers adopted or native born of his past, who zero respect for heart felt patriotism, our troops, cops or masterful ball busting and high-level salesmanship done good. Joshua was tired of pretending his mama didn’t hate him for serving lady laugh despite no clear pay day in sight. Joshua was tired of acting like he didn’t want to mount a sexy, chesty, older, Jewish babe or not, with ravenous delight, who cared enough to emote in his honor, intent on draining him dry in the most primal, non-fighting about the same bullshit again sense possible. This slut in a straight jacket, needed to break free from his rusty cage in pursuit of toner, sexier, more loving arms fast. But Joshua was a family man and couldn’t wreck his marriage because his sweaty sex period with his wife was over. Plus, the idea of any of male figure raising his kids killed him fast. Still, it didn’t mean Joshua couldn’t get his hardcore flirt on, flex with his magnetic might around those fetching, older, Jewish or not loving babes, who could be the dreamy fill in Jewish Godmother MILF for his kid while making his wife get jealous and more appreciative of just his children being so wonderful due to his handy work so far. But as Joshua always pounded into his kids craniums, money equals freedom and it was time to get this Do It All Hero Food Truck on the road to Kansas City for the World Series of Barbeque championship, to test market their star Kosher smoked brisket, plant based cheese wiz hero. But first Joshua needed to partner with a star Chabad hipster in Crown Heights 1st.

Chapter 31 She Lip Syncs Grace

Chapter 31

She Lip Syncs Grace

She was the funniest, sweetest, most stylish, bighearted sister Joshua never had.  And with 2 younger brothers to entertain and care for, he’d be screwed without her. Matilda most resembled her daddy, inspiring Joshua to call her his funnier, infinitely sweeter twin, whose DNA was all over her face. When Matilda got her yellow belt in Kung Fu, her 2 younger, adoring brothers bombarded her from both sides, enveloping Big Beat within a circle of love, no amount of bitterness, jealousy or envy could infiltrate. Most siblings in life, fought constantly, always belittled, bullied, never got each other birthday gifts, who only showed compassion or the tiniest flicker of understanding if it advanced their own lying, self-interest advancing agenda. No, Joshua was hellbent on teaching his 3 unplanned kids the importance of always being picker uppers, instead of passive aggressive, bitchy, blatantly disrespectful, degenerate, thoughtless, indifferent discourager belittlers, or else his family of 5 would become another distant, fake news close, favorite treating family like the rest. No, Joshua, refused to allow this depressing, easily avoidable reality to unfurl on his watch or else he’d die a Do It All Dad bust, a deplorable fraud, a fake news good guy educator of the most meh, hacky order.

Joshua put together a Ted Talk, titled, Joy Is Not Bombing At Parneting, which is growing closer to your children through humor, versus your children growing father apart to the point, where they don’t want to seek out your company once they can afford to move out the house on their own. The last time Joshua had taken his 3 kids to the big city to check out this Gingerbread House creation in Gramercy Park during the month of December, also pointing  out all the sleek, art deco architecture, which made this beautiful corner of Manhattan so sleek, old world beautiful, soulful stylish in Joshua’s eyes. Along the way, his son Arthur at 5 years old spotted an overpass, connecting bridge between 2 buildings by the Credit Suisse corporate headquarters building in New York City, prompting his pitch perfect boy to declare with the most prideful oomph imaginable, “When I get older, I want to live there in the building across from you daddy.” So, Joshua wasn’t feeling like a colossal bust of a dad, suffering from anxiety over bombing at parenting just yet.

Matilda Rose Kornbluth was born off the historic Hudson River at Phelps Memorial with a set a full hair, thank God. Joshua gives thanks and praises to God on his Do It All Dad Year Podcast for not making his precious daughter Matilda, a bald one out of the womb, stating, “Truth is, bald babies are gross. They always have an indentation on their never-ending bald spot, looking like they got dropped on an anvil one too many times. Either that, or Nurse Jackie dropped the bald kid because she was all out of methadone and couldn’t control her shakes. When Joshua and Anna used to live in Astoria Queens, nearby the Queensbridge projects, Joshua heard a gunshot in broad daylight, the 2nd day she was home in their apartment, which gave them all the motivation to get the hell of the sloppy 3rd borough already, regardless if Michelle Obama deemed the move a racist one or not.

When she was 1 years old, Joshua was living in Delaware with his wife, their newborn daughter sweet Matilda and his in-laws temporarily, waiting on the Warner Brothers fellowship program, to accept him into their prized TV writing fellowship already, based on the sheer strength of his super punchy, highly imaginative East Bound and Down script, Cooperstown or Bust, inspired by the impending birth of his Daughter Singing Rose Matilda at time, which made Joshua think at the time getting into the writing program was his birthright and meant to be. It wasn’t. Still, the story of Kenny Powers trying to push his woman April into having an abortion because he a dream of his future daughter becoming the most dominant, Lesbian lusting, heat throwing softball pitcher of all time. Who would overshadow his legacy, making him the old man, bitchy, starless in comparison, version of Bobby Bonds, from the Bonds family. Regardless if Bobby bedded Josephine Baker after Willie Mays snagged her 1st or not. Back then, Joshua had some back up plans, such as putting together a creative copywriting portfolio, including a picture of Kenny Powers from East Bound and Down with an American flag, worn like a cape, making wild man, pushing an imaginary’s woman’s head down toward his super soaker blaster section with his hands, including the caption above, which read, “All Men Can’t Be Created Equal.” Big sisters aren’t created either, because on Goodreads.com, the quotes on sisterhood are less gripping than Tina Fey’s takes on motherhood and how smirking is a bigger strain than usual.

The other ad Joshua coined, which was rudimentary word play, but impossible to forget, included Matilda playing with the I-Pad, as the caption above read, “Tap Into Your Potential.” Joshua also undertook a colossal historical fiction project, creating 50 Brewery Origin Stories for 50 US States, creating a backstory for each star brewer and star brew creation, later morphing into 13 Original Brewery Tales for The 13 Original Colonies. So, even though Joshua was living with his in-laws on a temporary basis, before they moved back to his parents’ house, after only 1 month max. Because the mom couldn’t handle sharing any control over her kitchen, while calling her son in law “pathetic” in the process. Joshua still wasn’t out for the count or drained creatively, just yet. Soon after, Anna, Joshua and Female Flash, Matilda, moved into his grandma’s old apartment in Scarsdale Village, which was a fable like time. Granted, Joshua was still an out  of work new business development rep, agency journey man recruiter, with only a 3rd place Recommended Writer win for his 30 Rock spec script, the Kings of Comedy accolade win under his creatively jacked belt. But his wife nurse wife Anna was working in Manhattan on the Upper East now, at a highly respectable hospital, allowing Joshua write his Heavy Metal High pilot trilogy, before finally scoring his TV writing break with VH1 Classic in Manhattan, writing all of the mostly glam and thrash metal video intro homages host reads for WWE great Chris Jericho, giving this wannabe do it all dad a perm a grin from ear to ear, stretching, ten miles wide. Whipping around his 3-year-old daughter around their one-bedroom apartment to Lita Ford’s Kiss Me Deadly video was a Heavy Metal High, Joshua would cherish in his love imprinted heart forever. It didn’t matter, his mother in law refused to watch any of the countdown when she visited once, to plug in a toy Christmas Tree, because Jesus loves us, even Jews who don’t believe the original super Jew preacher, was the Messiah, and “she didn’t care for that type of music.” Nor did Joshua’s super Catholicism pushing mother in law care to emote about anyone but her own daughter’s accomplishments, to defend her own parenting whenever Joshua would expand upon another star chapter addition to his daughter’s kick ass life in the making. During a recent dinner in their Shabbat celebrating, every Friday night, Jewish home, his Jewish daughter lip synced  a grace as her Ukrainian catholic pushing grandmother pressured her into participating, as usual. Soon after Joshua announces at the dinner table, “Hey, Grandma, did you know Matilda’s 2nd grade teacher confessed to wanting to clone her for future generational students if possible? I know cloning wasn’t mainstream technology back in the day but did your daughter ever receive a similar compliment of such awesome, pride swelling magnitude you’d like to share?

During a trip to Scottsdale, Arizona, Joshua is having a brew with wife Anna and her old nurse pal, who she became friends with working in the same hospital in Manhattan, commented, “Matilda, is your Jewish mother, guardian protector Joshua.” Understand, Heather is a hardcore take no shit Italian gal from Long Island, who was now transplanted in Arizona with her husband and 3 kids. But also really got into crystals, palm readings, becoming a developing subject matter expert on mystical vibrational connections along the way.  Plus, Joshua being familiar with this chakra type speak based on his experience of almost going broke, spending a mini-fortune on a psychic on Beverly Blvd. on the outskirts of West Hollywood, who said he was destined for big time writer success at much earlier age. But something terrible went wrong with the universe and Joshua needed to purify his self-esteem battered, mo money needing chakras fast. Still, it was impossible for Joshua to not absorb the absolute truthiness of his 1st unplanned born, Matilda Shoshana Kornbluth, being his destined, Jewish mother nurturer, encourager bashert of the highest order. Matilda knew her daddy wasn’t a lazy brain who half assed fatherhood. Matilda knew Daddy was the one most concerned about getting a day job outside from home, fearing mama would bore the kids to death.

Now, Matilda would shoot down jobs her Do It All Dada was entertaining like an all knowing, female super-agent for ICM Sue Mengers, whose close friend Bette Midler played on Broadway. She’d say, “Daddy, I don’t know like this job, you creating content for a VR company. Virtual Reality is boring Daddy. You just sit there and stare at your hands all day. It’s a total time suck and waste of your precious talent daddy.” And daddy, why are you creating a demo reel for the QVC? All they do is hock schmatta Jewelry on that show Dada. If you’re going to be a commercial spokesperson and less crazy Eddy, you need to represent a more luxurious product daddy, like the Porsche SUV. And just to prove my point, I already sent one of our old commercial reels for your old creative tech staffing firm, Stand Up Staffer, Been Talent Hooking since Y2k. Well, I sent the demo reel Blond Ambition commercial for Stand Up Staffer, where I wear a blond wig and say, “But I thought only ugly girls go to coding boot camp.” Anyway, I had a power tea meeting over Skype with Ester and got her to email the demo to the Creative Director for Porsche SUV in NY. Your audition is tomorrow at 3, someplace in Gramercy on Broadway. I’ll email you all the details. I know mama is working tonight and will be sleeping tomorrow during the audition,. So all you have do is take baby Samuel to Esther’s office, on Madison, which is only a 2-minute walk from the audition site. Apparently, Ester’s executive search firm Silicon Alley,  has an in-house day care center, that teaches coding for toddlers. So, Baby Samuel will be able to tap into his inner nerd,  or to learn if it even exists in no time.” Daddy says, “You’re the best big sister ever.” Matilda says, “You forget to mention talent agent Dada. Now start rehearsing your lines daddy. I just emailed them to you to doitalldadyear@outlook.com  Remember less crazy eddy, and more commercial friendly this time Dada. Open mike time is over. They’re looking for a handsome family fan face. Whose not going to start making jokes about Lebron James getting the idea to sport cast from Michelle Obama after she threatened to break her arm in Obama’s ass, if he ever offered Beyoncé Paul Newman’s Lemonade over her homemade Kombucha again, got it.”

Chapter 24 Memories of Meh Brisket

 

Burnt anemic, miniscule steaks was Joshua’s idea of eating Kosher, growing up in the hilly, leafy, pine tree rich, Colonial and Tudor lined streets, of Edgemont, New York. Sure, his converted mother made Brisket on a special occasion for Rosh Hashanah, cooked in margarine but not butter because of the rule prohibiting mixing dairy and meat, accompanied with a killer, sultry yet sweet onion based, brownish, teetering on Burgundy red gravy, which beat kosher ground meat burger night, minus the melted Landa Lakes American cheese on top any day of the week. Understand, Joshua’s mother was a good converted Jewish wife, who found the time to make Kosher prepared meals, ready to be served around 6:30 almost every night, even after she started commuting to the big city again to work as a high ranking Loan Officer  JP Morgan Chase  in their corporate office in Midtown Manhattan, which was no easy feat to pull off, on Adderall or off. Still, Joshua felt a tinge of sadness on his mom’s behalf, when she recently asked him what was his favorite meal growing up a kid, which had nothing to do with his Dad’s  hurried, half ass scramble eggs on some random Saturday morning before basketball practice before more hamstring tightening suicide drills ensued. If Joshua was reared on more than just P and J sandwiches throughout elementary school and got off his ass to jog around the local track instead of trying to win Metroid on Nintendo or beat Mike Tyson in Mike Tyson’s Punchout one more time, than others could, his hamstrings wouldn’t have felt like mint jelly after running suicide drills his 1st day of Basketball practice, seeped in Mineral Ice all over either.  But now that Joshua was a parent of 3, in charge of getting his kid’s breakfasts and lunches ready every day before school and realized there’s only so much time in a day to be a do it all dad mom, especially when he made the extra effort to make all of his dish creations for his Pescatarian raised kids with, love, so he could inspire more yummy dances from kids as they’d all run around the kitchen table through the adjoining living room and back, declaring, with soul glowing glee, “Best daddy ever”, or simply proclaim, “This is so yummy, I don’t want to stop eating to run around, proclaiming best daddy ever.”

Making homemade hummus sandwiches for his kids, with ground up sesame seeds in place of pre-made, always chalky tasting Tahini, fresh lemon squeezes throughout, in addition to generous heaps of salt, and a diced up garlic bulb thrown in between, in addition to a vibrant, pinch of fresh grated carrots on top of good country white bread, was the least Joshua could do for his kids playful radiance and around the clock shrieks of joy, giving him nothing but generous, long lasting tastes of heaven on earth.  Using pre sliced cheddar slices for his kids peach jam sandwiches on good old country white bread wasn’t good enough for Joshua, regardless if those cheese slices were sliced and shipped from the Cabot cheese company in Vermont. No, Joshua insisted on not circumcising his children’s collective, endlessly budding happiness one bit, by forgoing the easy, half ass route in favor of taking only a couple of extra minutes to bust out the good old cheese shredder and grate some Seriously Sharp Vermont Cheddar for his kids Peach and Cheddar sandwiches on Country White Bread that morning, because he knew it imparted a juicer, fresher, more delectable, highly superior bite. Plus, Joshua incorporated feedback from his kids when Mama just plopped the pre-cut cheddar on instead, realizing, the extra effort always paid off. “God is in the details”, is what Joshua would sear into his children’s creatively jacked craniums ad nauseum, which he picked up from a book on songwriting by the legendary scribe Stephen Sondheim before his bundles of happiness spewing joy were born.  “God is in the details”, which explains why Joshua took such tremendous pride in his headline hooker prowess on display when The Good Men Project published a myriad 24 of his blog on parenting this past year, encapsulating the true definition of click bait, including such A plus titles such as, My Clown Origin Story, written after he saw the new Joker film, What Gen X Parents Understand, Wishing My Son’s Birthday Never Blows, Children Are Family Upgrades, Pride On My Side, The Last Self-Loving Jewish New Yorker, Born Again Newborn Dads, alright fine the last title is a tad long winded confusing but you should get the gist by now.  “God is in the details”, furthered evidenced by the tremendous nachas he received from getting his son’s Social Security card in the mail, reading, Arthur Morrison Kornbluth. Understand, the Yiddish word nachas is exclusively used to describe the swelling of sweet, prideful emotion, a Jewish parent derives from their kid’s accomplishments like getting into Cornell, early acceptance or Billy Crystal signing on to do a movie with your infinitely less talented, dweebier seed of a son. But not every Jewish dad, native New Yorker or not has the gaul to name their 1st born Arthur Morrison Kornbluth after the most charismatic, dark prince of poetry rock, who’s easier on the eyes than Patti Smith, that being, Jim, mother fucking, Mojo Rising Morrison.  Plus, similar to the self-proclaimed Lizard King, Joshua wasn’t one to follow the rules of so called, normal, Waspy, lobotomized, monotone you to fucking death, bourgeois behavior either, knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to break conversation with his old school recruiter bud, Gary mid stride while passing the corporate office of JP Morgan, only to hail down the great comedy writer actor and operator of Triumph The Insult Dog, Robert Smigel and proclaim, “Hey, Smigel, next time you see Sandler, tell him to put you in more of his films already. Joshua always loved Smigel’s brief cameos in Adam Sandler films like him playing he borophyil science teacher in Billy Madison, or the once aspirational hand model turned cell phone salesman in Don’t Mess With the Zohan. But Joshua didn’t stop there, feeling the compulsory need to impress Smigel with new schtick, fresh off the press, so Smigel would feel extra blessed. Joshua noticed Smigel wearing a Brooklyn Nets hat and says, “I thought you were  aKnicks fan, Smigel. I used to lived with my girlfriend now wife in Park Slope, Brooklyn ages ago, back when Lena Dunham had much skinnier arms and wasn’t so full of herself. I’m a father of 2 now. Just named my son Arthur Morrison Kornbluth. For a moment, I considered giving him the middle name Brooks in honor of the great Albert Brooks but then I changed my mind because I didn’t want to give my son the permission to be a Jewish pussy.” Smigel laughs out loud long time. In the end, Joshua pitched his impossible to remember website of old, DearDada.com without a business card to share at the moment.  Being an oasis of organization was never Joshua’s forte but fearlessly bombarding famous actors, stand up comedians and WGA represented writers was.  Sometimes, his cold calling conjuring, celebrity reach outs didn’t always materialize so smoothly.  Once, Joshua was with some old high school buds after having a couple of J&B scotches on the rocks in his system, Rodney Dangerfield’s preferred, reasonably priced, scotch of choice and bum rushes the comic’s comic Dave Attell outside the Comedy Cellar smoking a cigarette with another of his black comic buds, Joshua didn’t recognize and still doesn’t considering he never thought enough of him to remember his name afterwards despite him delivering the far superior laugh line to anything Joshua uttered during this punch drunk love, wannabe make out session with the personification of zero bullshit cool Dave Attell. Joshua goes into this lengthy, roundabout summation of Dave Attel’s career going, “I knew you were doing late night sets at the Cellar for 10 years at 2 in the morning in front of 2 sailors in town for Fleet Week, if Allen Ginsburg, hadn’t tied them up captive in his rent controlled apartment in East Village just yet”, blah, blah, blah. Then, finally without flinching, Attell says in a ball busting yet strangely uncomfortable manner, “Thanks a lot Ryan Seacrest.” Which, still makes Joshua laugh till this day, making him realizing the highly under-appreciated, under-celebrated talent of distilling the bare bones, funny essence of a moment in real life, with such razor sharp, crystal clarity, only a battle hardened, 300 a shows a year comic, can fart out at will, when the moment calls for it like the great Dave Attel.  But again, the best line of this evening, was uttered by Dave Attell’s black comic friend sitting next to him, outside the Cellar, who after taking in Joshua’s long winded, career retrospective of Dave Attel’s career, where he just finished sucking of the totality of his career peaking arc for all it was worth says, “What am I chopped liver?”

It was impossible for Joshua not  to reflect on these random encounters with the upper crest of Jewish entertainers on the Island of Manhattan, as he stared down the menu at the Polo Lounge.  Sitting across from Silicon Alley, Executive Search owner star Ester as Spike Lee enters the bar, Joshua got visibly annoyed scrolling through the menu, not seeing much to order outside of buckets of caviar, knowing a corned beer on marble rye with melted Swiss wasn’t going to cut it either, since Joshua decided to be more a stylish, proper Mensch and fear God’s wrath for not sticking with his God commanded Kosher diet, despite it meaning bullshit to fake news good guy guardians of morality like Bill Maher, who never would’ve been accused of pussy grabbing in the age of meto because he’s only 4 foot 2.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Son’s Love

A son’s love is God’s way of saying, I’m on your team.

A son’s love urges you to become a famous children’s author but funnier than Weird Al.

A son’s love is an unexpected hug from behind when you’re on the ground cleaning up after him.

A son’s love spoils you rotten because your tolerance for petty, passive aggressive behavior from lesser Alpha males becomes significantly less.

A son’s love makes you feel like a winner inside because you know he believes in your enormous upside.

A son’s love allows you to relive your childhood through more mature lens and start reteaching yourself the proper way to hold a pen.

A son’s love is a natural transfer of extreme joy. Assuming you’re raising your boys on more than just soy.

A son’s love is a 2nd chance at respectable redemption because abstaining from all hard booze at home for them does wonders for your complexion.

A son’s love never ceases to amaze like endless repeating viewings of Richard Linklater’s Dazed.

A son’s love makes you incredibly proud, especially when they deliver such A plus nicknames in your honor like “Always Loud.”

A son’s love makes you feel luckier than Lou Gehrig on earth. Batting behind Babe Ruth every playoff-birth.

A son’s love means I’ll silence the next guy who tells my son to shut up in a scoff because his head will be knocked right off.

Michael Kornbluth

When The Children Laugh

I should’ve called this poem “When My Children Laugh” because a stay at home comedian doesn’t get out much really.

And I don’t have as much experience making other kids laugh despite my propensity to deliver funny silly.

This Stay At Comedian used to live for adult laughter yet when the children laugh it touches you deeper forever after.

When my kids laugh, it grips my heart and pops it out of my chest like the voodoo doctor from Temple of Doom. Ok not my analogous best.

All 3 kids of mine have beautiful laughs of their own. Each one beaming with expansive, fun filled color like a new age hipster made Snow Cone.

My 4 year son now quotes me. Funnier dad, happier baby. Now that’s supposed to be funny Carol from LinkedIn, not maybe.

When the children laugh at your inspired ad-libbery, the comedy gods smile down the way they do at hysterical resistors who still support Hillary.

When the children laugh, it means they’re not jaded inside or in trouble of developing a rough hide.

I don’t want my kids to develop thick skin so fast. Because no age of innocence lasts.

I still listen to Hair Metal ballads of old because I long to touch the old with laughter. I refuse to fold.

Despite a mother who insists I dump my son off to daycare. So I can become a Garbage Man. Slinging shit for a living is some family plan.

No, shooting for shit isn’t my life motto. My 3 kids look up to me like I’m a comedy giant who hit the lotto.

I refuse to leave my 3 kids behind for a desk job in the city. Never writing my book the Stay At Home Comedian would be a pity.

This Stay At Comedian is bound for literary glory. F the stand up comedy roadshow. I’m here to stay. To do the writing I want, when I want in any which way.

My new friend resolution was to befriend an editor who can change my life for the better. I better get cracking on banging out those query letters.

Fight hard to stay at home writing in your happiness kids bubble. Where specs of grey in your beard are perceived as a comedic sage man stubble.

This White Lion lightens up when the children laugh. I must make a living off laughs because I suck at math.

Michael Kornbluth

Why Kids Love Back

Because you let them turn your bed into a 24/7 open milk bar. Which cures any potential abandonment issue scars.

Because you show interest in their stories and don’t space out on them every two seconds like a super stoned Dory.

Because you come up with funny nicknames in their honor like Eight Foot 2, Rock Star Ready and Art Show USA. Which they never heard Dr. Seuss say.

Because you never bitch or moan about them taking away from your precious time. Unless my wife’s been working 4 days straight and I haven’t had time to get into a zone banging out free verse lines.

Because you play with them come rain or shine. Thinking to yourself, I can’t believe their real or mine.

Because you reward their good behavior with fancy treats whenever they’ve been fuss free and don’t wiggle once in their seats.

Because you draw deal boards which make their imaginations run wild like a wide eyed, dream on, I can do anything consumed child.

Because you make them feel like the most important center of your universe instead of the reverse.

Because when you say I love you it doesn’t feel manufactured hoarse like your forcing the issue to avoid a divorce.

Because you make an Open Sesame Humus Bagel Sandwich with muenster to give their lunch options for camp more zest. Knowing do it dad refuses to settle for second best.

Michael Kornbluth