Converting Kansas City Christians

Chapter 41

Converting Kansas City Christians

Joshua resented his mother-in-law imposing grace in their Jewish house. He resented, finding out from his children about his mother-in-law forcing them to do Eucharist, which is Ukrainian communion for those ill-informed non practicing, organized religion spurning, culturally identifiable Jews at home. Whose extent of original, probing, critical thought is re tweeting whatever Sarah Silverman farts up after her weed brownies kick in. He resented learning that how his father-in-law didn’t care for the movie Inglorious Bastards because who doesn’t love hilarious, revisionist, Nazi revenge tales, unless you’re a Nazi apologist at heart. Who excuses their systematic execution of 6 million plus Jews, because the Germans are prideful people and only Nordic warriors of descent get to profit off war, no money grubbing Jews in positions of power of the overrated, much heralded Weimer Republic, not that the Vikings lost many major world wars, which was a smaller world back then, but still you get the gist. Joshua resented being forced to defend his Jewishness on Christmas, after his brother-in-law insisted, his sister was more Jewish than he was despite her playing dumb to the 2 thousand year old claim of Jews being the ones responsible for egging on the wavering romans ruler at the time Anton Pilate to crucify Jesus, because he was the neurotic, due processing following Jew, who was more indecisive than Jared Kushner with only one allotted small plate to fill at the salad bar at the Bellagio. Joshua resented his mother-in-law’s supposed enlightened, English artist friend, telling Joshua to his face, he wasn’t Jewish, despite her having zero knowledge of his southern raised mother from Kentucky converting to Judaism before he was born after his dad, pounded her into submission with his holy driving, Hebrew Hammer. Ronnie James Dio lives.

Joshua got it, America was a Christian country outside of New York City, some parts of Florida, LA and Beverly Hills. Now, Joshua had no problem with this unless those Christians tried to define his own Jewish identify for him out of sheer overt spite for being a descendant of those darn Jewish Christ killers, despite no Jew actually being responsible for nailing Jesus to the cross itself because the chosen people tend to avoid tool boxes like Lepers, nor were most handy enough with a hammer and a nail to hang up a Bar Mitzvah photo of their kids, let alone dexterous or in some cases even strong enough to hammer a nail through human bone and flesh with any semblance of follow through precision. Granted, Jesus was a carpenter, but I don’t recall him hosting his own traveling home improvement show, being heralded in the any of the 4 Gospels as the Bob Villa of Nazareth. Understand, Joshua in no way ever wanted to trivialize the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the original super Jew in his book. Who saw the entire Kosher dietary laws, as not too kosher, for Mario Batali if he wanted to open up an Italian food empire one day, before he’d sniff his sous chef’s red, wavy hair in his Lupa kitchen one too many times because the waft of fennel specked, porchetta rising off her Red Sonia, flowy hair was too hot to resist. Joshua was an unplanned of father of 3, always preaching on his podcast, God gives kids to only the lonely and was excessively grateful for the best three, non-passive aggressive comedy buds he never had. So, Joshua wasn’t some joyless atheist, blah breath, like others who claimed they only watched CNN now for finance news. Yeah, and Joshua only watched Real Time with Bill Maher for his bible study group. No, what Joshua had a major issue with was the Christian missionary types who jammed their Christ is your only savior or else you’re screwed to a lifetime of eternal hell spiel down your throat, which couldn’tbe much worse than constantly being told my his in-laws and brother-in-law and their Christian friends, how he wasn’t Jewish enough and was some sort of imposter in their eyes, because he was a too tall Jew, a very handsome one at that, who they’d like to claim on their side, because of his chosen curls, biting wit, stirring orating skills and vastly superior genes to his peanut butter allergic, stumpy brother in law, who could easily pass for a wannabe brewer hipster hobbit instead. Yes, Joshua loved the Jesus spark of divinity, if Christians didn’t make it a personal crusade to sell the Jews on why Jews should be for Jesus, knowing sales is more a Jewish thing anyway. Also, anyone who puts Mel Gibson on a pedestal, who tries to white wash the 2000 year old trope he perpetuates in the Passion about the darn heckling Jewish ancestors of Don Rickles being the ones who had the son of God’s blood on their hands because they can’t keep their mouth shut on top of their crafty insults and alien powered forms of mind control being the deciding factor in whether the Roman King Anton Pilate decided to crucify Jesus Christ because crowd sourcing like so many so called thought leaders on LinkedIn today, screamed Roman colonization rule without a doubt.

So naturally, Joshua was tad on edge at the American Royal Barbeque championship in Kansas City. Because according to Joshua’s estimates, Kansas City knows 1 fake news Jew, ex Chiefs coach Marty Schottenheimer, that’s it. Now, the award winners were to be announced for best smoked brisket as Joshua, his plant-based cheese wiz, Schmendel partner and older butcher brother smoker Jerimiah, rubbed the Star of David around each of their necks for some last-minute good luck. The main judge wearing a white brimmed cowboy hat, sporting some kick ass looking black cowboy boots, with bedazzled gemstones on it, looking like a huskier Tiger King, grabs the mike and makes his announcement. “And the gold medal winner for best smoked brisket for the American Royal Barbeque Championship, as if they don’t horde enough of the world’s gold reserves already, Jerimiah the Kosher Butcher, Schmendel the planted based cheese wiz king of Williamsburg and founding father of the Do It All Dad Hero food truck, Joshua Kornbluth. Come on up and collect your trophy and tell us what dumb hicks we are for insisting on reforming and replacing the Old Testament’s dumb Jew dietary laws to suit our more manly live off the land, a country boy can survive standards.” And make your speech quick, before you turn our barbeque championship into a Warsaw Ghetto uprising. “

Joshua collects the trophy for his Jewish brothers in arms and gives a quick speech, wanting to get out of Kansas City in his brand-new Comedy Gold Mobile in one piece. Joshua says, “First I want to thank the all mighty God for commanding your chosen people to follow Deuteronomy and follow Kosher law, so I could incorporate some much needed self-discipline in my life, becoming a less all over the place Jew in the process. Growing up in NY I always loved cheese steaks, and I wanted to replicate that joy since God became a permanent fixture in my heart after becoming an unplanned father of the 3 to the most amazing, joy spewing, beautifying, celestial beams of pure good blasting lights imaginable. So, I’d like to also thank my 3 kids, Matilda, Arthur and Samuel for bringing you into my life Lord and for granting me the continued blessing of getting closer to you every day through loving, nurturing and celebrating them every day, yeah, yeah. Last, I want to thank my new Jewish brothers from another mother Schmendel my plant-based cheese wiz genius and his older master Kosher butcher brisket smoker extraordinaire Jerimiah the great. We wouldn’t have won this gold trophy if God didn’t help us join forces together. Now, I know Kosher meat is a foreign strange substance to you Kansas City Christians, who haven’t dared to sample our delectable, 1st place trophy winning smoke Barbeque. One our secret ingredients is Kansas City pop if you need to know, which gives the edges of the brisket it’s crispy, super sweet pop. We got 25 pounds left, it’s on the house. The more Kansas City Christians we can convert to the Kosher side the better. So not only did I just offer one of our secret, gold medal winnings ingredients, I offered you God loving Kansas City Christians, free, incredibly more pricy cuts of Kosher meat, to counteract the age old perception of us being nothing more than Alien colonized, predatory, devil spawn, who exist to exploit the easily duped, brainless, southern gentile farmer for all he’s worth. Now, who’s with me Kansas City? For the record I think Brett Saberhagen should’ve been voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame already, especially over ex Yankee, Mike meh Mussina.” Joshua gets a standing ovation for the 2nd time in one week, converting the Kansas City Christians over to the Kosher side, as he takes a final bow for posterity sake.

Chapter 40 Jesus Killer Set

                                                             Chapter 40

Jesus Killer Set


Joshua didn’t quit easily. Why else would he still be trying to become a paid professional funny man 3 unplanned kids later at 43 years old without one upvote like in honor of his debut comedy CD Resist This, uploaded onto You Tube yet?  First, Joshua knew he was funnier than most and got laughs all the time from mere riffing alone out with his 3 kids, whereas every comedian on Coffee With Comedians would become a shell of their meh prior funny man selves without fail in his eyes on  Jerry’s yenta breath’s show.  Second, Joshua was still hell bent on proving his funny Jew bone blessed chops because each laugh scored from either an inspired riff or from pre-written or talked out material prior, was a win, win. Third, by Joshua hitting the keyboard again or the stand-up comedy stage in pursuit of getting laughs was an extension of his absolute faith in God, making him born for these times to ultimately succeed as a resounding success in the joy spreading connective game of life.  Fourth, when your own younger brother texts, “I can’t wait tell your 3 kids, what a loser you are when they get older”, it only strengthens your resolve to prove to yourself, you’re too legit, too legit to quit.”  Fifth, Joshua kept slinging jokes on his podcast, books, blog,  at the deli or at some townie bar in Northern Westchester County for open mike night, because getting laughs was still the best feeling, second only to coming home afterwards and ask his kids. “What did daddy do tonight?” And have his 3 kids shout with pride and joy, “Daddy, killed”, before bombarding Daddy with a group circle bear hug, squeezing daddy with every bit of their joy spewing hearts.  6th, Joshua loved the song Elected by Alice Cooper, which was also John Lennon’s favorite song, the original stay at home dad, who at one point resented Sir Paul for guilting him into becoming a more involved stay at home dad for his 2nd kid, after the release of Hey Jude. 2 weeks into pushing Julian Lennon in a stroller through Central Park West, John Lennon yells at maximum decibel as an extension of his primal scream therapy, “Choke on a fucking cucumber scone Paul and you’re fucking elevator, filler music without me.” Back to the Alice Cooper song, Elected, in it he sings with his signature inspired, reverberating growl, “I want to be elected, selected, respected.”   This was the holy trinity of success in Joshua’s book, if he got selected to write a self-help sales book with Tony Robbins after his Joy Is Not Bombing At Parenting Ted Talk became a smashing viral success.

It was impossible for Joshua to not relate everything in his life, both the good, the bad and ugly to sales because the majority of his jobs minus the 2 contract writing jobs for Viacom, representing his so called big TV writing break, were all sales related such as selling print and digital ads for the Village Voice in addition the occasional sponsorship  he sold for Atomic Wings at the Siren Music Festivals, showcasing brooding Indie Rock bands such as Petrified Forrest and Hobbit Massage Parlor Music Incarnate.   Selling print ads for the Village Voice was a hard sell in a post 9/11 recession before the fake news savior, Obama got elected to rebrand ISIS, ISIL, so they’d sound more start up friendly in the NY Times. The NY Times, you know the official paper of burying stories of the mass deportation of Jews to Nazi death camps to the deep back pages of job ads for messenger boys for law firms or clerks for big pharma companies, listing, “No Jesus killers welcome, you plague instigating, Karl Mark stroking, manual labor allergic, Israel licking, war profiteering, military service spurring, spit heavy, loudmouthed, media monopolizing, Ford kvetching,  Lindbergh gene envying, dwarfish, humpback, stubborn, savior resistant Jews.” Joshua used to do a bit about how hard it was selling print ads for the Village Voice because the prospective ad consumer, always inquired about whether the sex ads were still prominent in the back. Joshua says to a semi packed room at the New York Comedy Club on East 24 Street. “I used to sell some print ads for the Village Voice before I got fired, which isn’t a new experience for me. At this stage in my life, I’ve been fired more than a Palestinian Sling Shot from various sales jobs, for failing to fulfill my consistently elusive sales quota, defined my sales managers, who just existed to exploit my pushy, peddling Jewishness for it was worth like any other schmuck in a headset, really.  I’d go to a wine bar in the West Village with no appointment and the manager would ask, “Does the Village Voice still sell sex ads in the back?” And I’d lighten the mood with, “You mean the she male ads? Yes, the she male ads are still very popular in the Village Voice, but they’ve been reduced to stamp size, so you only see their head-shots now. The West Village wine shop owner replies, “But the bottom half is my favorite part.” Then, a blue faced, gerbil fell out of his ass, sporting Richard Gere’s blood-soaked prayer beads.”  But Joshua never went on stage without a script, relying on pure riffing intent alone until now.

What separated Joshua’s killer sets from the so, so ones, was whether Joshua was working as a full time IT agency recruiter or new business development manager, selling digital ads for the Village Voice or Citysearch because it gave him added rhythm and increased leverage, in terms of magnifying his I don’t give a shit factor if I’d manage to make you hick hipsters from Cleveland laugh or not at the Comedy Celllar. Of course, Joshua cared about making everyone laugh at the club and he wanted every joke to score big laughs.  But when you’re earning a steady paycheck from your day job, you’re more secure on stage and devoid of less desperate flailing pursuits of audience pleasing approval, even if you’re just slinging print and digital ads for the last free alternative newspaper  in New York. Whose best days were behind John Waters, using a recent film review by Michael Musto in the Voice to wipe up with, nothing more, nothing less.   But tonight,at the New York Comedy club, where Joshua had his 1st successful, killer set bringer show was different. Now, almost 15 years later, Joshua got his comedy Gold Porsche SUV as a sign on bonus, negotiated by his 9-year-old Bashert Talent Agent, Singing Rose Matilda Kornbluth, after his killer audition for their new family friendly campaign. In short, Joshua had nothing to lose by going off in any direction he chosed, indifferent to killing or not.  Moving forward, Joshua refused to have the totality of his self-worth wrapped up into whether he made a crowd of atheist New Yorkers laugh or not. He was tired of trying too hard, memorizing bits and sounding like a rehearsed, putz, who got excited too easily in all spheres of life, explaining why he’d only make it to 2 Mississippi, once a condom broke again during another one night stand back in the day, as he’d coo inside his head, “Wee, wee, sex is fun again”, splat. Finally, Joshua could let it rip, unleash, his crazy man, inner rock star and feel like a paid freak on the leash performer for once in his life, but this time having his entire Jewish mothering book club in attendance.  Joshua starts off his killer set with a proven laugh yanker before giving a legendary rant for the ages.

“God didn’t give me 3 unplanned kids to have a panic attack over it. Obviously, God never had the same confidence in Pete Davidson, the rebound boy toy voice of Generation Z. And how gay is Hollywood knowing this kid is plowing A plus trim despite looking like Barney from the Simpsons and Annie Liebowitz had a baby. I stopped smoking weed before I thought my daughter was asleep, because it got depressing taking so long to answer her questions on it. So, daddy, if God created the universe, then who created God? Uh, God went back in time in a Time Machine, made by Elon Musk. Daughter says, “Real convincing Dad, thanks for making me an Atheist at 4.  One time, I met a comic, who said, you’re not Jewish if you haven’t been beaten up for it.  So technically speaking, I’m not a Too Tall Jew anymore, just another annoying, loudmouth New Yorker, with my own God like complex to contend with like the rest of you elitist, Bill Maher suck him off wannabes. I’m in Arizona for another arranged visit to see my parents who retried to Scottsdale, Arizona so my dad could die in his jacuzzi overlooking Camel Back Mountain like an arrogant, self-satisfied Tony Montana for keeping his nose clean, unlike his favorite son, who 3 decades later, still only hears last call from the bathroom stall. For my brother’s 40 the birthday, his friends said,  “Blow”, and she snorted the cake. But he outgrew the need for coke because he takes 100 milligrams of Adderall now per day. I don’t know about you but if I took 100 milligrams of Adderall I’d blow through the old testament and the bible part 2 in a NY minute. Which, reminds, me does anyone here really believe Trump is the anti-Christ?  Because in the Bible Part 2 where Jews get blamed for killing Jesus, despite there being no actual proof of annoying or boring him to death in the process. Jesus returns from heaven to defeat the Anti-Christ. So have some faith in the Jesus comeback story, won’t you people?  But it’s the Jews who egged on the Romans to crucify Jesus, because their heckling prowess was on par with the old, curmudgeon, alter kocker puppets from the fucking Muppet Show. Is it me or does Natalie Portman’s forehead make her look like an uppity Jewish Grandma born with an Israeli clementine up her ass off the Red Sea? Do, icy, unhuggable cunts float? Just curious. Natalie Portman refused to accept the genius award in Israel, which is they’re equivalent to the Nobel Peace Prize because she disagrees with Israeli policies of aggression, despite her failing to acknowledge how Israel’s war against Hamas is never ending as long as Palestinians keep fucking.  Last time I was in the city, I’m at a gastro pub in the village and my Irish wife, whose kept her maiden name Duffy pays our tab and the bartender says, “Duffy, like me.” I say, “What a fucking coincidence. You can open up a fucking bar together and call it, O, I hate Jesus Spurning Jews.”  But we have Jewish grandchildren running through the White House now. Try beating that through your dumb mick heads. Oh yeah, Dennis Leary is a hack, Oscar Wilde is overrated, and George Carlin’s daughter couldn’t be boring drab if she tried. Last, Jack Dempsey was part native American Indian and JFK almost lead Cuba to nuke us into pieces. But you’re the lucky, chosen ones, not us. Good night.” Joshua gets a standing o from his Jewish mothering book club for channeling his inner Lenny Bruce in honor of his Jesus killer set for the ages.





Chapter 39 Parasites and Do It All Moms



Chapter 39

The Picnic Basket Entrepreneur


Joshua adored adventures with just his 3 kids without mama like the time they braved through the pushing through the more than expected runny current within the water hole in Woodstock, NY because it brought them closer together as a scrappy, fearless, home team on the road. Since baby Samuel was born, Joshua’s lucky number 3 was born 3 years ago, he was accustomed to going on many weekend adventures with his 3 kids because mama normally worked the evening till morning shit as nurse on a Friday night, leaving plenty of Saturday afternoons open to get creative with their time, give daddy’s brain a rest from making the universe laugh and seek out fun filled experiences, that Mama would feel excluded from and sulk a result, running their collective good time such as tackle soccer, trips to the driving range or venture into Central Park to throw the their new Beamo, around the Great Lawn in Central Park, only to realize it was more a glamorized, unkempt, semi-sprawling putting green.

Joshua loved to read stuff Mama would never read to hear kids on his ordained day rest every Saturday, such the book, The Joy of Yiddish, an dictionary with infinite examples of jokes to explain the depth and variety of this expressive, human condition of all forms encompassing language, finding a way to seep its way into Hollywood and modern culture at the large such as the word schlep.  Joshua’s in-laws lived in Delaware, which was closer than his parents, retired in Scottsdale, Arizona. Still, it was impossible for Joshua to not derive a burst of Do It All Dad Jewish pride, when the subject of taking a trip to Delaware was broached for Memorial Day weekend, before his 9 year old daughter Matilda, says, “Delaware is such a schlep daddy.”

There wasn’t one Friday night now, where Joshua wasn’t thrilled to spend it with his 3 favorite people in the universe, his cherished children, Matilda, Arthur and Samuel, who lived to spend quality time with daddy with mama at work, so they can do the Shabbat prayers together over the Challah, partake in space alien colonized synagogue drawing contents soon after, before the dance off to the Greatest Hits of the Beastie Boys on vinyl at  home would ensue.  Tackle basketball with nerf ball upstairs in Arthur and Samuel’s room would always get party started up in here.  Every Friday night now, after the sunset, Joshua’s children got the best version of him because he was done writing for the week and was able to bask in the Shabbat candle, flickering afterglow of his blemish free children, inside and out, as they played Barbie, sang, danced, built wine castles with magnet tiles, let their imaginations run wild or just jumped on top their daddy, from every conceivable direction and hug him with all their might, to give the best of their love.  If mama was home for a Friday night, she’d push for some recent Disney film, that got lot’s of NPR hype, versus Joshua would insist on exposing his 3 beamish, fuss free kids 90 percent of the time, to more classic, hilarious, life enriching movies such as Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Uncle Buck, Back To School, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, knowing dropping f bombs wasn’t kosher come rain or shine .

If he had to choose, Joshua would take his snuggling, heart deepening forties with his 3 kids over his frantic, booze heavy loaded, perpetual hound dog, lucky to get out alive LA in his twenties and contract some new strain of HIV, even Magic couldn’t make disappear in a NY minute. Joshua loved to teach his kids kettle belle cowboy swinging exercises and core strengthening plank exercises with them, only for his beautiful 6-year-old boy to jump on to his back for the remaining 39 left. Joshua loved to watch GI Joe toy collection videos on You Tube on their fairly big flat screen, to give his kids some big Kahuna gifts like the GI Joe Command Center with a jail cell for Zartan to get excited about, once his writing career took off the ground already, after already blowing a mini fortune on the original Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes from 82.  Poison, Nothing But A Good Time would be playing on 95.1 FM, the local classic rock station for Westchester County and nearby CT, promoting Joshua to say, “The kids love this song.” Only for his wife to say, “They just love because you do.” Deep down, Joshua felt it was deeper that it. Joshua knew his children were unabashed, kick ass, patriotic, rock and roll loving Americans, who both respected and adored, any manifestation of you better recognize attitude, relentless, self-belief powered aggressiveness, unabashed weirdo flair and major league, kiss ass at costs, gaul.   Joshua could watch his daughter Matilda, ride her bike in the nearby, empty parking lot as his son Arthur zipped around on his scooter, as his younger brother Chosen Curls chose to zip around superfast earning his nickname Super Flash, for hours if he wasn’t still freezing his balls off in May, as the Metro North train passed by, as their dad would sing in out of tune, playful fashion, “Dinosaur train, Dinosaur train.”  Before Baby Samuel was born Joshua took Matilda and Arthur to a Kid Rock show in Hartford, CT, just so they could hear his latest hit single First Kiss, by Kid Rock, only to sing in blissed out, nirvana peaking unison, “With Tom Petty on the radio. If I could just go back in time to fall in love with you again.” Now, when Joshua heard She’s The One by Bruce Springsteen on a Friday night on the Born Run album on Vinyl, he’d dance like man possessed with the most extreme, ecstatic type of love, no MDMA required because his love of being a dad to the closest three best friends he never had, who loved everything about him and all his passions and dreams, in addition to his annoying tendency to interrupt them and yell more than he should like most native New Yorkers do.

Joshua learned spontaneous plans versus plotted out ones using the localized search powered Yelp app was guaranteed to provide more magic and surprise delights on the horizon. Today, Joshua and his 3 kids went inside a mini, sit down, designed to be a picnic to go take out fancy sandwich shop called Perfect Picnic on Central Park West in the high nineties, tailor made of shishy bitches himself, offering a plethora of baguettes, fig spreads and goat cheese spreads to get any Kosher practicing, part time vegetarian off long time. There, Joshua recognized the woman owner of the shop saying, “Wait a minute, I could’ve sworn we met at coffee shop on Houston in SOHO, when you about to pitch this picnic to go concept ages almost 12 years ago. I remember you telling me how your parenting gets really exiting when they turn 4 and older.” The Perfect Picnic owner says, “I can’t believe you remember this conversation. My daughter was 4 before my Perfect Picnic pitch to a VC investor, right around the time, I just gotten divorced, that’s correct”

Joshua proceeded to charm her panties off with plenty of dad material later such as, “God didn’t give me 3 unplanned kids to have a panic over it. Obviously, God never had the same confidence in Pete Davidson, the rebound boy king voice of Generation Z.”  But for all stroking Joshua had done in honor on his Do It All Dad Year podcast, blogs and books, he also made it crystal clear, none of his awe inspiring creative output would’ve been possible without his Do It All Mom nurse wife.  Do It All Moms who did their best to make the most of out a shitty situation, like Joshua’s wife choosing to work nights, enabling her to spend more time with her kids while giving her husband more freedom to write, sell books and secure an advertiser for his podcast already.  But a single Do It All Mom, doing everything on her own, was rarified feat, deserving the highest praise imaginable in Joshua’s eyes, because as baby boomer God, Bob Dylan captures beautifully in his son Visions of Johana, “Tell me someone, that’s not a parasite, and I’ll say a prayer for him.”  Being an ex IT recruiter agency journey man recruiter, who fashioned himself as an overlooked, funnier Henry Miller, who used to live off Anis Nin during his STD catching Paris years, hit more home than Joshua preferred to admit.











Chapter 38 Eyes Of The Comedy Booker


Chapter 38

Eyes of The Comedy Booker


Any wannabe paid set comedian, who created an email address such as like Joshua did 15 years ago never outgrew his insatiable need to dominate on stage and finally deliver the elusive, teasing, killer laugh wave set from start to finish for 5 minutes straight.  When Joshua told his dad about his new showbiz hued email address, his expected reply was, “I’d create a new email address, that sounds more professional because any employer will think you’re crazy. I don’t even know how we’re related., is a good email address if you’re joining a sex cult in Waco, Texas, genius.”  But Joshua was way past giving a shit about acting in accordance with so called bounds of normalcy within the eyes of hiring sales managers and HR humpbacks littered throughout corporate America because becoming a professional comedian, who got paid to write funny or perform the funny you wrote on stage, was a giant fuck you to the straight, corporate hack, professional world, versus the world of entertainment, which rewards you for being excellent at getting your funny man freak on for a living.

It brought Joshua tremendous joy and prideful satisfaction to impress major comedy big wigs with his writing such as headliner great Nick Diapalo, who Joshua fondly remembers always  laughing the hardest from out of all the Comedy Cellar comics on Tough Crowd, which he used to get stoned and watch with his Ithaca bud JT who had just moved down to Hermosa Beach nearby back in the day. The same JT, who made tasteless Holocaust jokes, who peed himself constantly, but he was a solid drinking, weed smoking buddy, who had a shit together enough to end up graduating from Babson and score a job in SAP finance at Raytheon in nearby Redondo Beach. Joshua tolerated the occasional Holocaust jokes, because some Gentiles are more tasteless degenerates than their fellow Jewish friends, who weren’t blessed with the funny Jew bone either, so they can’t discern what’s really funny versus truly tasteless either.  JT and Joshua would love blasting the Motley Crue album, Too Fast For Love, together, after they got their drink on at the Poop Deck in Hermosa Beach after work with some other buds, right off the strand, where everyone would get picture of cheap lager beer for 4 bucks each, and you were allowed 2 pitcher each, so the amassment of pitchers grew quite large if they were 10 deep that night at the Poop Deck. During one of those nights, pounding cheap beer, soaking up the joyous youth of their mid-twenties, no longer freezing their balls off back east, JT tells Joshua, “Your short term memory is embarrassment to your people but you’re a social genius man.” Another of one of their drinking buds, who was a Marine, once told Joshua, “You can be the next Larry David man.” And Joshua wasn’t even that funny back then or even grown the ball sack to try being funny on stage yet.   Joshua missed his friend JT. They passed out at a 311 concert together in Long Beach, only 10 minutes in. Last he heard, JT got stone cold sober, after his ex-roommate and friend Jerard died from cancer at 32. The same good guy Jerard, from Indiana, who booked our hotel room at the Marriot by Times Square, insisting, he was always wanted to celebrate New Years Even in Manhattan, the place of Joshua’s birth, despite getting drunk and sluty desperate in the city for New Years being yesterday’s news for Joshua at this stage in his life.  It was impossible to not think of dear Gerard, when Joshua finished writing his script for America’s Hard 100 at Viacom Headquarters blocks down from the same Marriot in Times Square, where he saw his jubilant, edge free, rock solid, good guy face ever again. It was Greenwich Village, which held a longer lasting, special clasp on his heart than Times Square ever was, regardless if it being the site of his TV writing break, which was 12 years in the making or not.

Greenwich Village was another universe, within New York City, always more intimate, poetic and romantic than the now Salesforce building tainted skyline in Midtown Manhattan, yuck.  Herald Square by Madison Square Garden was still a dump at large, upper east had seen better days, upper west was still for single cat depressed cat ladies, Chelsea was overpriced, bland, and nothing to write home about.  Hells Kitchen, now nicknamed Hells Kitty on the outskirts of the Time Square and the Theatre District, possessed a quaint, quiet charm but never exuded a posh, I have to live here no what matter what, or I’ll die a creative failure.  The Lower East Side, south of Houston on Mott or Ludlow was cool, but cramped and Ronan Farrow lived there, in one of those luxurious condo high rises so how rock and roll was the former cruising ground of William Burroughs after all.  SOHO was gorgeous, the Euro trash in decked out Prada smoking American Spirit cigarettes, lingering outside the Mercer Hotel not so much. But Greenwich Village. The cobble stone street and Tribeca lofts off Battery Park were sweet, but it was impossible not to contemplate the avoidable spectator of large scale death still hovering in the air from ground zero, now replaced with sparkling Freedom Tower, as a heart crushing reminder, of America’s never ending war against terror, when W fucked up everything he touched without fail.  The East Village had Jones Street and Saint Marks, where Joshua used to get his bootleg Dead tapes in college, but now all he saw around these parts were fresh of the womb, zero style, nerds, who worked as coders, product managers or UX designers for good will hoodie at Facebook. Greenwich Village by NYU outside of Washington Square Park and the Comedy Cellar and Bitter End, is what gave Joshua sustained stiffage long time, that’s where action was, to chase down open mikes, bringer shows or paid performer gigs anywhere else was nuts. All of Joshua’s comedic heroes of yesteryear got their joke hitting practice at dumps such as Bitter End and within the basement bunker known as the Comedy Cellar. Joshua was still enamored with Joan Rivers, Rodney and the new school cast of big deal clowns like Jim Norton, Chris Rock, the late Greg Geraldo, and Nick lick my white Italian nuts Diapalo, knowing they all earned their pro stripes within these hallowed, better not suck walls.  The more fairy book tree lined, gas lit, stoop heavy streets of the West Village along Perry Street where Sarah Jessica Parker wrote her Sex In The City Column on HBO was and always would be magical in Joshua’s eyes, yet he wasn’t a fabulous, gay Investment banker with a personal MMA trainer at his beck and call either.

Joshua had good sets at the Comedy Cellar when he used to work as IT agency recruiter on 39 Broadway, using his office to fax copies of his Always Sunny In Philadelphia spec script, “The Gang Get’s Outsourced.” There was super cute, always perky up top Holly in his office, who he totally could mounted on top of his desk after work with real drill attack fury. They’d got out to lunch together for cheese steaks and her friends on Facebook in their early twenties compared to Joshua being a 31 at time, were even hotter, banging professional baseball players. Joshua was always into Italian gals and they felt the same. Holly even help Joshua develop his signature seeing eye dog bit at work one late night. She says in a friendly, helpful, way, “Why you don’t you try acting out the seeing eye dog on stage instead? Joshua took her advice and did his bit in front of beautiful, spastic laugh spewing Holly, “Do Blind Men get the beer googles? Assuming they do, does the seeing eye dog ever offer a second opinion? We better pass on this one Stevie. You can feel her face, but I can smell her snatch, woof, woof.” Holly finishes laughing and says, “I love you getting down on all fours. You’re going to kill at the Comedy Cellar tonight. I can feel it.” Holly was the best. If Joshua wasn’t a nice Jewish boy living with his girlfriend now wife Anna at the time, they could’ve made a hot to trot couple together. Holly even recommended Joshua write books for a living, without even reading any of his story scripts similar to his Summer wind Summer in Hermosa Beach, what a woman.

It was hard to not think of Holly as Joshua greeted Este, at her comedy club the Laugh Yanker, a new addition the Greenwich Village stand-up comedy scene, only blocks away from the Comedy Cellar, whose comedy booker was Isralie born also.  Ester greets Joshua outsider her comedy club, finishing smoking her Camel Wide cigarette, Turkish blend.  “Hi Joshua, you’re strutting the city like you’re in a NY groove again”, she says. Joshua says, “Your presence makes my mojo rising Ester.” Ester replies, “So I heard your comedy record, Resist This. You got it kid, very funny stuff. I just don’t know if New York City is ready for you yet. You can be a tad overwhelming. Have you ever considered writing a novel? You can let your imagination run wild and use a narrator voice, so your singular, larger than life personality doesn’t overwhelm all your senses at once the way it does on your comedy record Resist This. The seeing eye dog bit was one of my personal favorites. I see you a dreamy crossbreed of Richard Lewis, Dice and Rodney Dangerfield.” Joshua’s smart phone rings. He says, “You’re too kind Ester, just give me a second.” Joshua picks up his phone and hears, “Hello Joshua, this Pierre, the Creative Director at Porsche SUV. We loved your audition and want you to be our new face and voice for our family friendly Porsche SUV campaign.” Joshua replies, “That’s great news, Pierre, but you’ll have to talk to my agent Matilda, to hammer out all the business details.” Pierre says, “You mean you’re 9-year-old daughter? I already have Joshua, that’s why you’ll have your own comedy gold, Porsche SUV as a signing bonus as an act good faith to secure your services for this campaign. She insisted. Congrats again, or as your people say, Mazel Tov.” Joshua says, to Esther, “Feel my face, I just got my Comedy Gold Porsche SUV. Do my cheeks feel flush with untapped possibility? Still, why do I want to an open mike set at the Comedy Cellar right now and be the most patronizing asshole imaginable?” Ester says, “Sounds like you’re in the mood for a victory lap to me.”










Chapter 37 Boobie Talk



Chapter 37

Boobie Talk


Joshua missed sucking on some boob, that wasn’t his wife’s breast-feeding ones, who for the past nine years have tasted like a foamy tipped, regrettable non-fate latte. His summer wind Katie’s were perfect, as Rodney would say, 36 D to be exact. You’d think they were fake by the way they bounced when she was on top, because they barely moved out of their picturesque, perky plump place.  One time Joshua was doing Kettle belle chest raises off their fancy, Moroccan print, self-designated Rocky rug in the garage and having his 9 year old daughter do the same after, which prompted to her ask, “Daddy, will these chest exercises stunt my eventual breast development? Joshua says, “If you take off mommy, it shouldn’t be too much of a load off your shoulders.”

Growing up Joshua was more into the actress, Mimi Roger’s luscious lobes of round, from the 1st Austin Powers more so than Liz Hurley, who wasn’t making you feel shortchanged on top either.  Scandal in the Mansion was his favorite old school seventies porn by far, before tatted up white girls on Crystal meth ruined porn for him, being more of a golden age of bush, guy, himself. Like Dice would say back in the day, “Woman today, want to hide the smell with Chanel and stuff. When I go down there, I want to taste, SALMON.”  And smoking hot Nicole Eggert from Charles in Charge, who Joshua had poster from Child World, that his friend Jared offered to trade an Eric Lindros rookie card for, only became a woman in his Joshua’s eyes, after her boob job on full display in soft core porn flick Blown Away, starring a suddenly grown up ripped Corey Haim, before Hollywood used and abused him, sucking his life spark dry.

Now, Joshua was getting lost in Golda’s gorgeous, sun spotted, well tan cleavage formation with a star of David dangling between her swinging beauties on her nationally syndicated conservative talk radio show host of The Funny Jew Bone. Golda says, “Today, on our show, we’ve got a stay at home comedian dad, Michael Kornbluth, whose 9 year old daughter agent, suggested I book him a guest on my show already, after pushing for him to get into my Great American Jewish Novel Book club prior. Joshua just released his very funny, super ballsy, debut comedy record, Resist This. You recorded this comedy record from home correct? Joshua replies, “That’s correct Golda. I understand there’s no live audience, yet funny is funny and the material made me laugh out loud from start to finish, which is more than I can say for Dennis Miller’s White Album, also not recorded in front of a live stand up comedy audience. Also, what kind of a douche bag are you to name your comedy record, the freaking White Album, which is a top 4 Beatles record at best. Plus, shouldn’t comedians who consider themselves to true artists for creating comedic art of nothing, doing more some comedy gold digging to craft a stronger headliner hooker of a comedy record title than the fucking White Album. Also, isn’t great comedy, the most universal and not using the most obscure details to only stroke off your own fake news deep ego long time. Granted, Dennis Miller did encourage Lorne Michaels to give the golden Jew Adam Sandler and audition, but he also named his kid Holden, from Catcher In The Freaking Rye.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed that book when I was 15 like everyone else but he always came off a tad too preppy petulant for my taste. You were miserable in junior high, join the freaking club, at least you got live in Manhattan and lose your virginity to I’m assuming, was a semi good looking prostitute who knew she was doing a hole. Also, what kind of an asshole does a standup comedy show in Vegas, with his hands his jacket pockets half the time, fashioning himself as a punchier, styling Mark Twain minus the cutting, nationally acclaimed literary loaded, imaginative heft? So, Dennis Miller looks good in a beard and started defending Trump 2 years into his already wildly successful presidency, woopty freaking-do, Miller. Kevin Hart named his kids Hendrix and Heaven which is way cooler than Holden. Obviously, none of those names compare to me naming my son Arthur Morrison Kornbluth, pulling off a miracle by creating a freaking flow to Kornbluth but I digress.  I had an old joke, where I’d comment about how my last name Kornbluth is a mouthful and I even struggle to annunciate it despite having 4 decades of practice. Then, adding, Kornbluth is a total mouthful. Kim Kardashian can’t even wrap her mouth around it.  But now Kim Kardashian is studying to become a Criminal Justice Lawyer, after using her enormous social media platform to help get Alice Water’s pardoned from jail, so I’m just another loudmouth Jew in comparison minus the rich, successful friends, excluding you Golda. Kim Kardashian is going to become a Criminal Justice Lawyer. Criminal Justice Lawyers are so hot right now.” Gold finishes laughing and says, “I call this show the Funny Jew Bone for a reason folks. Joshua was obviously endowed with bigger bone than most.” Joshua continues to roll, constantly selling, “So my debut comedy record Resist This, consists of my greatest joke gem hits from my Do It All Dad Year Podcast, what gen X parents understand, controlling our kids with comedy can make our kids great again. My 3 fuss free kids most of the time, are living proof of it. I’ve done 162 episodes of straight up, topical stand up for 3 years straight, accumulating hours of grade A stand up material while looking after 3 kids in the process. John Lennon wishes he was this productive during his stay at home dad years.  Golda says, “Are you sure there isn’t anything you left out Joshua?” Joshua says, “Glad you asked Golda. I knew you got paid the big bucks for a reason. I’m about to complete my 1st coming of age, midlife crisis reinvention novel, The Great American Jew Novel in addition to securing our 1st round of super angel funding for my Do It All Dad Year Hero, Kosher Cheesesteak truck, using a plant based cheese wiz, which would blow off your bra Golda.” Golda says, “I noticed you getting lost at my balling beauties, prior. If you got it flaunt it.” Joshua says, “That’s why you couldn’t shut me up if you tried Golda, unless you buried my face into your chest during your next commercial break.”












Chapter 36 The Semi Working Artist

Chapter 36

The Semi-Working Artist

Best selling artists matter and Joshua was determined to become one. If his creative writing flair was to be used to create hugely popular viral video campaigns for his Do It All Dad Hero Kosher Cheese Steak Truck, then he could die a contented, semi-working artist success. Growing up in Edgemont, NY, Joshua never had any artist role models to emulate except Judy Cook, a striking, tall, elder stateswoman of the Alternative School within Edgemont High School, which she envisioned, created from the ground up out of nothing while challenged the status quo, giving well rounded, more insightful illuminating, written evaluations based on developing student performances, versus issuing standardized, stuck in time, immovable grade lettering, which is what great artists do.

The Alternative School was all about choice. You chose to apply to the program. You chose what classes to take, which were liberal leaning like Holocaust History, which wouldn’t be possible in certain London public schools these days, out of fear of offending the Holocaust denier Muslim immigrant population, because inclusive diversity is fake news bullshit after all. Joshua hates to admit it but he was caught dozing, during a talk in class from an actual Holocaust survivor deep into his Senior Slump year. He had no justifiable defense for such a blatant sign of disrespect on par with Ricky Gervais as the Golden Globes host mocking all the past award-winning Holocaust films, stating in so many words, your entire race almost got exterminated, you’ve been to one Holocaust memorial, you’ve been to them all. Get over it already or you’re no better than the Alt Right who never got over Hitler’s master plan become complete.

Back to Judy Cook, Founder of the Alternative School, Joshua’s guiding light, who encouraged Joshua to pursue a career in comedy his senior year in high school once he emerged an occasional funny man under his socially restrictive, past shy hiding shell. Thanks to finally hooking up with a couple of Israeli girls on a Kibbutz during his Masada teen tour in Israel, turning their collective faces into sloppy wet mops. Before Judy, know teacher of any impressive, kick ass, funny woman stature had ever taken a personalized interest in Joshua’s future, let alone articulated an artistic vision, he was capable of fulfilling. Now, at 43 years old Joshua’s mother was telling him about googling his old elementary school bud, who graduated with a degree in fine arts, before becoming a Unix Administrator somewhere in southern cal. But hey, at least Joshua’s mother remember he used to place Unix network administrators for a living when he used to work as a journey man IT agency recruiter, who made a living, off exploiting the billable brainpower of others, who on a deeper level as a whole, resented his parasitical based existence, driving Joshua to become a semi employable, skilled, master comedy writer creator himself. Over the phone Joshua’s mother says, “Was Jesse the only artist you knew? Joshua replies, “Besides myself mom and outside of Judy Cook, founder and fearless, kick ass leader of the Alternative School, who encouraged me to become more than a garbage man, that’s correct. Judy encouraged me to shoot for more than shit. Mom says, “I never told you become a garbage man. It was just a figure of speech, when I was urging to do something to provide for your family already. And I wouldn’t call yourself an artist son.” Joshua says, “Artists extrapolate beauty and create universality whether it’s through painting, sculpture, music, short stories or joke writing mom. A plus joke gems on my debut comedy CD Resist This, don’t grow on trees but I understand you’re dated, limited perception of what an artist is because you don’t have any artist friends either.”

Still, Joshua knew deep down, real art sells and until he secured a single sponsor for his performance arts based, stand up joke delivering heavy, Do It All Dad Year podcast, and started to make enviable, best seller sales from his debut comedy record, Resist This or his past books, Do It All Dad Does Jokes, Controlling Your Kids Through Comedy, A Love Story in addition to scoring an publisher and agent to sling his future novel The Great American Jew Novel on the shelves of Barnes and Noble for his 3 children to point up at and see, he would die another failed writer artist, who gave up on trying to become a monster best selling success again. But now, Joshua was planning on hearing back on whether he got picked to be the new commercial spokesperson for their upcoming, planned, family friendly, Porsche SUV campaign. If he got chosen to be that person, he’d be just another glamorized, devilish handsome marketeer, not an actual artist. The money would help finance his art to write more books though and give the freedom to travel the country and perform the stand up comedy he wanted, his way, ensuring he wouldn’t have to take the realtor exam and become a glamorized house Schleper just yet. Plus, Joshua also became a big believer in the power of choice and dreams to reconsider as your life’s priorities change. He only pursed the path of stand-up comedy because some alum from Ithaca College who worked on Everyone Loves Raymond, recommended he do stand-up if he wanted to write funny sitcoms and get into the WGA one day but only got into writing TV spec scripts and pilots, as an energizing, empowering, unique fermenting form of escape from the thankless, non-builder, task of cold calling IT Directors off a book a lists of cue cards at 23, going on 40 at the time. One time, Joshua’s daughter, took a bite out his homemade burrata bomb, roasted cherry tomato, fresh cut basil specked, cornmeal dusted bottom pie, and said, “Daddy, I knew you still really wanted to be a comedian. But can’t you be a pizza maker heaven in instead?” Now, Joshua was thinking he didn’t have to lose his comedic edge, make the Do It All Dad Hero a monster road show success, create funny an viral campaigns starring his favorite people in the universe, being his 3 star powered kids, and get the best of both worlds, marrying his love family, selling, creating and dining such a divine powered, Shishy bitch in the process, to earn more best dish ever, yummy dance reviews from his blessed, rapidly developing seeds of infinite light and non-stop show topping potential, who emanated from his do it all dad tree trunk. Joshua’s mom was banker for JP Morgan Chase, Joshua could pass the series 7 if his chosen curls depended on it. His mom provided for her family in the only way she knew how, having to endure plenty of gentile, Jew hating bankers trying to seduce her in their 10-dollar banker haircuts along the way. But she did marry a funny man Jew, being Joshua’s father, because he was different and made her laugh, the way Joshua always did without fail. Joshua’s all-knowing 9-year-old Bashert agent, Singing Rose Matilda, told her Dada over a bubble once, “Dada, it’s not that Mimi doesn’t think you’re talented, she’s just uncomfortable with your comedy. She worked as a loan officer for JP Morgan Bank, remember?” Now, Papa did plenty of acid in college and sold so much weed there, the bank of Lake Forrest, almost underwent a private investigation into the source of those flush funds. Wasn’t Papa also the only white, Jewish boy, who became an unofficial member of the House At Soul at Lake Forest College? Didn’t you also tell me the time he introduced himself to Ali in his older years, saying, “he was the greatest”, before Ali kissed him on the head. Papa just knows how obsessive and brooding you are about the comedy thing, who never looked at Joan Rivers or Redd Foxx living such enviable, lives after all. But I know you got do what you got to do Daddy. So, become a bestselling artist of some kind, already and start bringing home more than veggie bacon, alright. Remember, when my second-grade teacher Mrs. Fahrney, said you should be hosting our kid show after your rave revived performance as our Mystery Reader, giving an inspired read of the Book of Manners? So, I wouldn’t give up on making you father son, dish review staring Baby Samuel, Better Than Boobie. That would make a great book also.” But Joshua could taste career, world expanding enrichment on the horizon through the successful launch of the Do It All Dad Hero Kosher Cheesesteak truck in the making. Charlie Parker was a major Jazz artist who the French intellectual artist class sucked off long time before the emergence of Miles and Train. Kansas City despite it’s fly over country rap, was one of the few cities who never enforced the rules of prohibition and good barbeque was considered an art form by itself, brisket and ribs being the primo materials to coax, never ending scrumptious, heaven on earth made beauty out of. And what kid growing up in the eighties, didn’t want to become the golden boy stud, minus the mouthful of dip? The Kansas City Barbeque Championship for best brisket was for the taking. Becoming a best-selling writer artist could be put on the back burner on low for now, no offense Judy. Joshua longed for meatier conquest meals than veggie bacon BLT’s this upcoming summer.

Chapter 35 The Big Brother Butcher

                                                             Chapter 35

The Big Brother Butcher


It’s not easy to eat Kosher. If not for the whopping 2 kosher meat stores in all of Westchester County, NY, or the Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods in Danbury, CT, Joshua would be screwed. But in all seriousness, Joshua was going weeks without Kosher meet a time, even months sometimes, because he felt like a total selfish, fat slob for eating almost the entire mound of Kosher fried chicken all by himself because everyone else in the house at pescatarian. The main reason he refrained from making another overpriced, 40 dollar slab of scrumptious, well marbled brisket, in a homemade barbeque sauce in the Instant Pot, instead waiting to be reincarnated 5 times over into Vince Vaughn with a less obnoxious sounding cackling laugh in the older than Yiddish, slower cooker, was because Joshua wanted to everything within his power to avoid hearing his wife utter with jealous laced disgust, “Did you wash the cutting board with disinfectant?” Joshua claims she was jealous of his devour heavy Kosher meat feasts because she had nothing to do with giving him such wow, worthy pleasure. Joshua was taken a page out writer Ayn Rand’s book, by no longer living to please others has much. Joshua realized, relying on others, even loved ones, to give you sustainable pleasure, was bound to lead down the path of crushing, let down disappointment again and again. Granted, his 3 kids were perfect, who were only guilty of being too much in Daddy, insisting on stroking his scratchy beard and smell his armpit one last time before he tucked them in a bed to determine if Daddy was wearing deodorant or not. Obviously, Joshua had zero problem with his children manhandling him any chance they could get, especially in front of his wife, knowing how much it proved Do It All Dads matter.  His 3-year-old son Samuel loved to be hoisted up to ceiling with his bum touching the ceiling so daddy can say, “You want to be Spidey baby?” After a double bath bomb special, 3 year old Samuel would ask daddy to wrap him up like a baby to the bedroom before giving back to back to back, elevator drops, where he’d pick him with the towel wrapped around his back and drop him down to bed to repeated, shrieks of joy and endless request, “One more daddy.” Before Baby Samuel would instruct his Daddy, “Now tell Alexa to play, No More, No More by Aerosmith Dada. No more elevator drops, the last one almost shattered my teeth.”     But if Joshua had to endure his wife guilting his daughter into giving forced, emotive praise in honor of her brown poopy liquid looking black bean soup, he’d start sneaking in cut off pieces of Hebrew national franks into kids Heinz baked beans in a NY minute.

Growing up, shopping at the Kosher meat store with his Dad was weird. The Hebrew lettering on the meat exuded a mystical, holy component to it more in retrospect, since Joshua got closer to God and started to acknowledge his existence on a daily morning and evening basis. But back sometime in the 1980’s, the Hebrew lettering imprint, on the sticker price tags, designating it’s Kosher meat status was just perceived as another unwelcome reminder of another boring slog through Hebrew School.  Again, Joshua had a hard time getting excited about trips to the Kosher butcher back then because he wasn’t into cooking for himself, or embracing making a Kosher fried chicken in 30 bucks worth of Peanut oil from the Corona Virus laden, now closed down Chinese grocery store, within the derelict, strip mall stretch one floor below the DMW in White Plains, NY.  Joshua got a tad chummy with a butcher at the Farmer’s Market by the Grove in West Hollywood, when he started making homemade meatballs based on the recipe from the Soprano’s Cookbook, a NY Times Best Seller pre-fakes news, when he actually read the paper of record on a religious basis, to make him feel smarter and more informed in the process, after learning Walt Clyde Frazier read it religiously since he got drafted by the Knicks to expand his stupendous, ever expansive vocabulary with such nimble, “feline quickness.” Joshua loved these meatballs, because they combined ground veal, ground sirloin beef and ground, pinkish pork, back when eating some occasional pork didn’t bother Joshua one bit, despite his rapidly developing fondness for thick, double stacked, Turkey burgers from Astro Burger on Santa Monica Blvd, slathered with mayo, shredded lettuce and gooey slices of American cheese draping the mouthwatering bomb burger throughout. Joshua even introduced the same butcher to his mother during one her visits to the city of angels, which were always nice. What’s there not to like about LA, except the brutal bumper to bumper traffic and Hollywood producers, studio heads and directors giving the green light to rape kid actors at will?  Corey Haim Gen X’s dear lost boy, included.

Now, Joshua was in Crown Heights Brooklyn for the 1st time to meet Schmendel at Kosher butcher shop, which makes brisket heroes to go, which he was going to squirt his latest and greatest planted based cheese wiz on for a taste test.   Schmendel hugs it with the Kosher Butcher Jeremiah from across the butcher counter.  Jeremiah says, “Good to see you brother. I got your 2 Brisket Bomb heroes to go, the best in Brooklyn, including Williamsburg and I don’t to rely on melted, hard provolone, which tastes better by itself cold, on top to do it. Are you the Do It All Dad Hero guy, my younger brother has been yapping about it?  Joshua says, “In the flesh, you 2 are brothers?” Jeremiah says, “We pledged Zeta Beta, can’t you tell? We figured our natural good looks and superior wit wasn’t enough to guarantee us access to all the high-end puss John Hopkins University had to offer. I’m just playing, John Hopkins didn’t have much scrumptious trim to inhale in the 1st place. Joshua says, “Do you mind we squeeze some of your big brother’s plant-based cheese wiz on top your Bomb Brisket hero? I don’t want to trigger any hardcore orthodox Jews in the process. Would you mind making an announcement to your customers, we’re not using actual cheese wiz?” Jeremiah says, “Big brother, that’s a good one. If he was the big brother and real next in line man of the family, he would’ve taken over dad’s Kosher butcher business, not me. Do you have any idea how long it takes to scrub the smell of Kosher flank steak out of your hair? But don’t worry it Joshua, stop being such worrisome, neurotic Jew. Let’s try this plant based, cheese wiz already.” Joshua grabs the can of wiz from Schmendel and sprays on his Do It All Dad Hero and takes a bite. His eyes light up and says, “Fuck stand up comedy and writing more books, I can’t even get paid fucking reviews for because I violated so called rules of hate speech. This Do It All Dad Hero is fucking delicious, even Bill Maher would suck it down if given the option of going down on 2 black trannies first.” Jeremiah says, “Brother, Joshua is growing on me already.”










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 33 The Jewish Super Angel

 Chapter 33


The Jewish Super Angel


Growing up conservative Jewish in Edgemont, NY, Joshua was never entirely comfortable around Angel ornaments of any kind. For example, when his wife’s best friend got his daughter Matilda fairy wings for Christmas one year, insisting she try them on immediately, lead to Joshua freaking out instantaneously, stating, “Take the fairy wings off my daughter now. She looks like an overdose at the Limelight waiting to happen.”  The Limelight was an abandoned church turned into a clubby, rolling paradise throughout the late early 80’s, mid 90’s, making Macaulay Culkin look like a rapidly aging, embalmed, cadaver in fairy wings in the movie Party Animal, draining him of any old school, age of innocence charm left.


You would think Joshua’s mother from Louisville, Kentucky converting to Judaism would make him a tad less tense around angels on Christmas Trees, without feeling the need to deride some Christmas trees as, “too overtly churchy.” It didn’t help knowing his father would constantly shoot down his mom’s requests to get a Christmas tree every year during the holiday season, because they already had Christmas Stockings full of clementines and they put Christmas gifts from their relatives down south on the piano, nobody ever played.  Randy Newman piano playing, Jewish pride was devoid in this Kornbluth household on Glenwood Rd.  Every year, Joshua would push on his mom’s behalf, sticking up to his dad for a change back then saying, “Dad, get mom a tree already. She only abandoned her relationship with her lord and savior Jesus Christ to marry into your putzy DNA. It’s the least you can do, don’t you think? Dad says, “Joshua, Jews don’t buy Christmas Trees, unless they convert into a Tree House and flip it for a profit.”

Finally, Joshua’s dad relented one year, but only allowed the placement of a dwarfish scrubby bush within the cob webbed laden corner of the darkened, inside side porch. Still, Joshua marrying a gentile, did his best to get more comfortable in Church, even taken his 3 kids to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral during the holiday season, to ask God for a favorable review from the NY Post after he got the book editor there interested enough to give his debut book, Controlling My Kids With A Comedy, A Love Story, a read.  Joshua never heard back from the NY Post editor yet Hail Mary’s only work for Doug Flutie. Also, Joshua didn’t perceive a glowing review from a book editor at the NY Post, as an act of God in need of a miracle, because the all mighty was already channeled through the book, flush with A plus jokes and poetic prose, enough to give King David who first became famous as a big time singer songwriter musician, sustained stiffage long time.  But in Church, Joshua made it clear to his kids, “Just address prayers to God and not Jesus, and your still Kosher in the Old Testament’s book. Bill Maher could give a shit either way. “


Joshua had starting brushing up on angel literature, learning Joshua was Moses’s number one assistant, which is more daunting than the last one working for Harvey Weinstein trying to secure a meeting with a new hot actress on his old casting couch at the Four Seasons. Joshua decided to give the Hebrew name Jeremiah for his son Arthur Morrison Kornbluth, because he wrote the Book of Lamentations. And Joshua was always a huge Hair Metal power ballad guy, whose songs similar to the Book of Lamentations were always sorrowful but full out poetic longing and fleshed out feeling. Later, Joshua gave his son Samuel the Hebrew name Isaac, Yitzhak in Hebrew literally,  which Joshua loved because even the Koran gave Issac props, granting him immunity from ever being charged with intentional Islamophobia. And if Joshua were to rank the best prophets on Ranker, he’d put Isaac in the top 5 after Moses, and Abraham and King David, knowing he was no minor side character like the Tim Meadows of prophets, because he was the grandfather behind the 12 tribes of Israel. Nostradamus wouldn’t make Joshua’s list of top prophets on Ranker because he converted to Catholicism, so he wouldn’t be lumped together with all those dirty, crumb hoarding, Christian blood eating, ratty looking  Jews, for being the main culprits behind proliferating the fucking Plague, how convenient.


Now, Joshua was buzzing with heady anticipation knowing he destroyed during his audition for the family friendly Porsche SUV campaign, as he sipped his Macchiato at a swanky, modern, high tin ceiling covered coffee shop in the West Village; which could belong in Park Slope, Brooklyn if it ever attracted stylish, zero frump, 8 plus trim and above.  Joshua addresses the Barista who made the Macchiato at the coffee bar after he savors another sip, “Phenomenal Macchiato, it’s the most hydrating, non-burnt Macchiato I ever had in my life outside of Melbourne, Australia. I just feel like a moron for having to fly 5 million miles across the globe at 35 years to finally try a Macchiato for the 1st time in my life during my honeymoon in Australia. After dropping 2 Ambien and 2 mini servings of Jack before good night Irene on Quantas, farting up fumes of clam chowder from our layover in San Fran prior. The Macchiato is a circumcised Cappuccino, with half the foamage in my book. I wanted to marry my wife in Australia in Mother’s Beach in Victoria, where she grew up for a bit, yet my mom calls me on the phone one day and says, “Australia is a long flight from New York and your father doesn’t love you that much.” And I said, “Mom, just tell dad to drop another Ambien to sleep on the plane, which won’t be a radical departure from him doing the same at home after work on the couch for another 6 hours stretch at a time.   Finally, I reached a compromise with my wife, I said, “If we have a boy, instead of hiring a Rabbi for the circumcision, we’d hire Crocodile Dundee, just so we could hear a roomful of Jews, say, “Now that’s a knife. You can chop it all off with that thing.” The grey Canali draped Jewish Super Angel, sporting a black power CAA power tie, finishes laughing, “Shouldn’t you be performing at the Cellar or at Caroline’s on Broadway? Your delivery is even better than the A plus material itself.”

“Joshua perks up immediately, turns his body toward the Jewish Super Angel and says, “Thank you very much. I appreciate the praise long time. I’m actually banned from the Comedy Cellar for going over my allotted time by 5 hours after getting the one minute warning sign to wrap it up, only 2 minutes into my killer set showcasing killer Heather Mills material, only after I invited  my own well-paying private militia. Taunting management, with that actual militia line, didn’t make management there hate me any less either. I did audition for the New York Comedy Festival and for a reality show titled America’s Next Great Roaster at Caroline’s, after an older comic gave me the idea to audition; who used to attend an open mike I hosted in the downstairs of a belly dancing, Moroccan restaurant along bumble fuck, most derelict slab of real estate remaining in Manhattan, on the corner of 99 cent pizza store on 40th and 10th. My roast subject was Justin Timberlake. I said,”Justin Timberlake is like George Michael, he sings, dances and sucks.” I also sampled some Park Slope stroller mom material. I said, “Do kids in Park Slope make your mama so stupid jokes about Stroller moms in Park Slope like your mama’s so dumb she can’t complete the crossword puzzle in the Monday New York Times? That joke is so elitist, Hillary just got moist for the 1st time in years. “The Jewish Super Angel finishes laughing and says, “Yeah, I hate that evil wench also. Remember, when it took her 5 times to get her MetroCard to work? Joshua says, “I do. With the all camera crews hovering around her, Hillary says to herself before swipe number 5, super predators, I mean black people are watching. You can do it.  Nice Windsor not, add that to my never ending learn how to do list.”  The Jewish Super Angel says, “You mean Seinfeld hasn’t done an entire laugh free, Driving in Cars episode on the subject with George Lopez yet?”  Joshua says, “I just read about Jerry selling one of his porches at a charity function in the Hamptons. I just hope half those proceeds went to Larry’s kids.” The Jewish Super Angel says, “What brings you to the West Village? Joshua says, “I just finished an audition to become the new family spokesperson for the new line Porsche Cayenne SUV’s. I could use the startup money for my Kosher food truck business, selling the Do It All Dad Hero, the first ever Kosher Cheesesteak truck, made with Kosher smoked Brisket and a plant-based cheese wiz. I got a Kosher cheese wiz master working on the recipe for the wiz right now, who graduated John Hopkins before I could complete my untimed SAT. The Jewish Super Angel says, “Take my card, consider me your Jewish Super Angel. I invest in startups for a living. But what I really invest in is people. Ashton Kutcher stole that line from me for the record.” Joshua says, “I’ll be in touch in then. Played Ashton Kutcher in a game of pick up ball at Fairfax High School once. He looked way prettier than Demi Moore when I saw her in person outside the Century City movie theater. She had a droopy, elongated, stretchy neck and the figure of undeveloped, 12 year-old boy.”
















Chapter 32 Another Blind Date Audition

Chapter 32

Another Blind Date Audition 


Joshua hated big tech companies like Facebook because they made baby boomer grandparents the laziest grandparent generation of all time. Lifting a finger is liking a picture.  His out of state in-laws in Delaware adopting a rescue dog named Heidi, 3 grandchildren later didn’t make him hate Facebook any less, knowing his 3 kids would have to compete for attention with the ugly runt Heidi the terrible now. Also, Joshua being fully aware of his in-laws never being a huge fan of his people, despite the fake news claim, they had Jewish friends, bullshit. Oh yeah and the dad liked Mel Brooks films, so that excuses his hack, Jewish cheap jokes despite him spending more on Heidi’s doggy daycare than he ever did for 3 grandchildren. Never to let any funny man observation go to waste, Joshua made more comedic art from his life and delivered this joke gem on his Do It All Dad Year Podcast episode, Grandparent Bad Manners,  “Kids are asleep, and I tell my wife on the couch, “So The Good Men Project is going to republish 15 of my blogs. Wife replies, “What are they paying you for it?  I said, “Less than your parents give us, so nothing.”

Joshua hated Skype also because his retired parents in Scottsdale, Arizona couldn’t even dress up for the occasion to do a Skype call with their grandchild Matilda, before they had 2 additional grandchildren to dress up for, although one Skype call was enough.  During the Skype call, his dad was sporting the same pair of ashy tennis slacks from 86. His mothers’ hair was all tussled, looking like she’d been up late to catch those money shot tax reveals on Uni Brow Maddow. Joshua couldn’t complain too much about Twitter because he used it as his open mike for 3 years hard, becoming the joke writing animal machine he is today. Which made it easier for him to stomach becoming a shadowbanned comedian on the site, meaning the hate speech police would actively hide his jokes from being seen more than putz face Palmer Report, because he’d made fun of Lebron’s persecution complex and Obama’s overrated legacy of good accomplishments like rebranding ISIS, ISIL so they’d sound more startup friendly in the NY Times.

Apple pissed Joshua off because making fun of radical ISLAM didn’t win him any curator fans up in Cupertino, either.  On his Do It All Dad Year Podcast he didn’t hold back one bit, launching into another far from edgeless routine, “Enough with ISIS being such a good recruiters. All they do is target other lonely virgins on What’s App, who wish their phone blew up.  And why is radical Islam so into piercing Virgins? Doesn’t radical Islam have enough blood on their hands already? Last, if you fire 700 rockets into Israel’s backyard, don’t expect an Edible gift basket in return, with a thank you note full of happy face pineapples written in Farsi.  162 episodes into his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, Joshua expected to have his podcast listed under new and notable already, despite his 3-year podcast no longer being so new anymore. But stats don’t lie and 7500 plus downloads for Joshua screamed, you better recognize bitch, that’s more icky, we all look alike Brits who can fill Royal Albert Hall. Are you mental Apple or what? Don’t get confused,. Joshua didn’t care about following the great Bill Hicks footsteps and becoming a big swinging, sucked off dick in London town. His only illustrious goal, was to become  a semi-long lasting big deal entertainer writer host success within the Island of Manhattan, the city of his birth, “my city”,  as Walt Whitman called the beautiful, jagged, concrete jungle in his day. Especially knowing, Joshua would enrage his 9-year-old daughter again, whenever his allotted TV hang out time with his family was relegated to another Harry Potter film, he didn’t want to see again, always leading Joshua to shout out, “It’s too many English accents in one film for my taste, sorry.”

As Joshua signed his name on the audition sheet for the new Porsche Cayenne SUV, it was impossible to not think of the various annoying exchanges he had with Executive Creative Directors in his city in the past, like George whatever his name at Ogilvy and Mather, for agreeing to an informational meeting, after Joshua emailed him an inspired interview with his daughter’s stuffed unicorn. But this informational meeting with an Executive Creative Director big shot never happened, because he refused to reschedule and Joshua couldn’t make the stand alone, ordained meeting because Joshua had no local friends, grandparents or babysitting resources at the time and that was that.  Then, there was the comedy commercial director who worked for lesser name ad agencies, who did listen to his debut comedy CD, Resist This, only to hear back, “I don’t see a market for this but I think you knew that already.” Sure, Joshua only killed himself for 15 plus years, socially alienating himself to family and ex friends at large, as he holed himself up in his various writing and podcast hosting offices, in his attempt to write blogs, books, pilots and spec TV scripts 3 kids later to achieve a mastery of craft and earn the right to get paid as a creative professional and be more than another cold calling, schmuck in a headset agency recruiter again, to just piss off his father.  Who derided his stabs at making it as a stand up comedian as cute, despite never attending or requesting to see him perform in a show ever, got it.  Ok, maybe that was part of it.

Still, comedians hate it when others try to censor their off the cuff personality or be told to calm down or to have their guts and soul spilled onto  page after page as mere, offspring brain drippings.  Also, Joshua never bought into the argument, parents who to don’t encourage their children’s show biz ambitions, are just trying to mentally prepare them for inevitable failure, when the ability to score treasured, sought after laughs, was so important to Joshua, making him feel extra unique, confident, assertive, fearless, and a highly functional as his laugh hitting streak was reaching Pete Rose proportions with Ty Cobb fucking batting averages.  God has only so many God given gifts to spare, and the gift of comedic song, was what he gave Joshua, which made him feel less like an all over the place Jew like the one who still wasn’t very good at smoking weed, 2 decades later, still rolling more tight,, drool laden hit joints than Slaterson from Dazed and Confused did in the 5th grade Home EC.


As Joshua checked out his competition waiting for their audition for the new family friendly, Porsche SUV campaign he also thought of time he scored a commercial agent in LA, took a commercial acting class as instructed, only to ask out the 2 hottest girls in his glass by far, one was a tall, chesty, tan Greek heiress, classy guidet type and the other of shorter, far prettier faced, pure blondie doll, who looked like a 10 with no makeup on guaranteed, only to learn they were both married. It never occurred to a late twenty something Joshua to look for fucking wedding rings on ladies in his commercial acting class at the teacher’s home in fucking Toluca Lake for that matter.

And how could Joshua forget the Jew fro happy, Disco Dan, he was in the same audition waiting room with before his super funny addition landing him a role on Blind Date? Joshua’s older guaranteed laugh getter to start of a set was, “So far my claim to fame was my appearance on Blind Date. All I got out of it was a free meal and herpes. For our 1st activity, which they never aired, my date, who was a -5 by upstate New York standards, from Buffalo actually, gave the producers permission to shoot her mountain of muff get waxed for the occasion. She had been growing it out for the big wax for some time, because it looked like a pile of Brillo pads, stacked on top a busted slinky. Later, to wrap up the date back at her place, after drinking some piss warm, 2 buck Chuck Charles Shaw, my date asks me if I want to kiss her and I say with zero hesitation, “Why not? I’ve already seen your pussy.”

No, Joshua would not pussy out today, he would go for the jugular just like he did 15 years on Blind Date to entertain his then closer friends back east from Edgemont High School, who kept his Blind Date episode on TIVO for years and years later. But this time he’d have to force himself to stick to the overpaid copywriter so so script because imposing his own crazy man cowboy spin with such big time stakes in the air, 3 unplanned kids was over. The comedy gold mobile he craved as a validation for all his hard work and unrelenting self-belief was palpable, he could taste the high-end leather interior. It would be a giant fuck you for anyone who ever doubted his train was bound for comedic glory.  Joshua gives himself a last minute pep talk before his name is called, “Suck your ego in asshole and show a semblance of mechanical, plotted out organizational, preparedness exactness for once in your life and the Krauts at Porsche SUV will it eat with a spoon. If they ask, you polish your own boots, not some random Guatemalan at Grand Central, who you tip a 5 spot, regardless of what shine job, they produce. Last, if you do engage in small talk, mention your fondness for Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 and Charles Bukowski poems about woman in high heels knocking on his door and you’ll be finally made in the shade.”