My Love Affairs With Strangers on Twitter

Was my grand total of 35,629 tweets worth it before I unplugged myself today from Twitter forever? Combining all the 24 new accounts I needed to create on Twitter. So, my hashtag lovers at #plumber, #fintech, #edtech #privateequity, #WordPress, #Istandwithisrael and #femaleentrepreneurs would be able to search and read my new, extra pointed, money shot, joke blasts, splattered throughout the Twitter cybersphere? Knowing, they couldn’t get enough of my truthful, gobbles of joke firing spraying fun. Knowing I’d get shadowbanned by Twitter every time I got on another carpet truth bomb hot streak. And had to start new Twitter accounts, 24 separate times in order to get my pointed  jokes stabs seen while losing all my past followers after deactivating  all of my past accounts in order to start anew. Boy was it ever worth it and then some.

Without my love affairs with strangers on Twitter over the past 2 years since becoming a full time stay at home comedian, do it all dad podcast host and now featured writer, on the Good Men Project, my comedic instincts for what works would never been as sharp as it is now.

Without the enrapturing, inspired embrace of my steady, non-stop barrage of new material fed into the Twitter abyss from my stranger lovers on Twitter, I never would’ve  banged out my monster parenting education humor book, Stay at Home Comedian, “How 3 kids Got My Act Together” feeding their appetite for more, more, more.

Comedy is a pure art form. The goal of a joke is to always score a laugh. There’s no room for artistic, merit measuring interpretation. Either, the joke made you laugh or not. So, by this definition, strangers on Twitter have made me feel like a perpetual winner as of late and stay at home dads need to all the wins they can get. Now, sometimes, the joke can generate a mere smile, a pleasant chuckle or a major league laugh yanker out of your esophagus. I constantly for go for the laugh yanker out of your esophagus. Jeff Foxworthy says you should always use a funny sounding word at the very end of a punchline, esophagus being used a second ago is a primo example, obviously. My old stand-up comedy professor Jim Mendrinos at the Gotham Comedy club told our class, you should only have 2 passable tests when constructing a joke, intended to perform on stage or on the page. And that’s A) Is the joke well-written and B) Did the joke make you, the creator laugh. That’s its folks.  At the same time, I also learned from my 1st year of doing open mike stand-up comedy in LA is how sometimes a joke which makes you laugh one morning, generates zero smile improvement generation the following evening on stage. Also, some jokes sound better written, then performed because some words are just hard to wrap your mouth around. For example, I still struggle stating my own name clearly, Michael Kornbluth and I’ve had at least 4 decades of practice already.  And I’m not even using comedic exaggeration to make my point in this instance. Michael Kornbluth is a total mouthful to say. Even Kim Kardashian can’t wrap her mouth around it. Ok, in this instance, I used comedic exaggeration to nail my point home. For the record, I’m a huge fan of Kim Kardashian since she used her social media influence for the greater good. And pushed for President Trump to pardon a reformed woman who was in jail for being a mule for a Drug cartel in California. Since then, President Trump also signed off on a prison reform bill, which accelerates the liberation of 1st time drug offenders in jail. Giving them a chance to renter society, take care of their families and make something of their lives again. So good for you Kim Kardashian and for being more than the top of the Persian porcupine puss chain, yummy.

So back to my love affair with strangers on Twitter. They’re the best grown up comedy buds I never had. Sure, I’ve had old school friends from High School, from college and beyond who read and emoted about my blogs, Yelp reviews, spec scripts and pilots in the past.  But since President Trump became president and since I became a father of the 3, the majority have been nowhere to be seen. Nor have they been able to keep up with my fast and furious rate via new joke text transfer either. I used to post jokes on Facebook in spite of these fake news friends because to illuminate their spiteful jealousy. Knowing they were giving 0.0 love to reposted  proven winners on Facebook. Despite the retweets on Twitter or votes from a site called ComedyWire, which is Twitter for comedy writers. Who are by the far, the most critical laugh judges of the bunch.

 

I stopped using ComedyWire 2 years ago, after posting more up 6999 voted on funny lines. John Lennon wishes he was this productive during his stay at home dad years. I stopped using ComedyWire because it gives you a constant feed of news stories to write one-liners on, yet the best comedy comes from hard core felt emotion. And when you’re being spoon fed topics, the jokes you generate aren’t going to deliver such a hardcore punch, if you’re meh about the curated topics you’re commenting on to get laughs from just for the sake of joke writing practice in the 1st place. Also, I felt it was time to tackle Twitter again after experiencing much success with Comedywire. But the major turnoff for me about Comedywire was some new guy who wrote for the Onion and some stupid book on Trump, commenting on my jokes.  I don’t need to hear your confusion at a dense, fully loaded joke of mine, hick from Wisconsin. Either you laughed at my joke stab or not. Don’t need the forced, hackneyed, fake news friend constructive commentary, thank you very much. Get stand-up comedy great, Nick DiPaolo to read and emote about your Louie spec through Twitter about his dear departed friend, always the scariest elephant in the room, the late great Patrice O’Neal. And I’ll start giving a shit about what your cliché brained mug has to espouse on what constitutes actual funny my friend. Get the Rev Bob Levy, stand-up joke marksmen and star writer and roaster from the Howard Stern show to laugh at your A plus jokes about Lena Dunham and claims of Trump being the anti-Christ through direct messages on Twitter and I’ll reconsider my position on your new evolved role as my new comedic ghost guru teacher whisper CNN contributor blogger you. Get stand-up comedy great Margaret Cho to read your pilot Mike Mates, which you bang out looking after your 2 kids and get her to give your script the “so funny” nod and I’ll look up to your enviable comedic stature for a change, Seth Meyers sucker. If you’re not afraid of Trump, then I’m not into my mother as much as Seth Myers. Oh, I can’t take no more.

So yeah, Twitter has not paid the bills for my family or put food on the table for my family at all whatsoever.  Still, Twitter is a world-wide open mike and I’ve been killing on it for 2 years straight now. And prior to that, I was able to connect and impress with the heavy weight comedic luminaries I mentioned prior, which gave me tremendous added confidence to keep on plowing forward with reckless abandon, with no guaranteed payday in sight. But every great major league hitter, Pete Rose, Derek Jeter, Wade Boggs, Edgar Martinez, Paul Molitor, Tony Gwyn, all needed batting practice. And that’s what Twitter has been for me.  And I’ve been batting above 400 for some time now. Being a stay at home comedian, it’s been a wonderful batting cage to tee off on targets such as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles, king of the persecution complex Lebron James, Trump resistors, Baby Boomer bust grandparents, Denture Breath Pelosi, Debbie Wolface Wasserman Schultz, Dinero Duntz, Baldwin, my writing sucks without Tiny Fey programming me, etc.  At one point, I was up to almost 3000 followers on Twitter, Richard Lewis being one of them from Curb. Who I exchanged compliments with back and forth through direct messages on Twitter. Once, my dad was gracing us with his presence from Arizona back east and I shared a recent message exchange from Richard Lewis with my dad. He shrunk into the couch as I read on as all the blood drained from his once cock sure face. All of a sudden, I blurt out. What’s wrong dad? Dad says. I’m tired. I’m thinking, of what being an asshole?

The thing is being a stay at home comedian, you don’t interact with the grown-up world too frequently because adult interaction is overrated. So, Twitter, has been my comedic sanctuary, my shrink’s office, my cooler talk repository, my open mike at the Eastville comedy club in Manhattan all wrapped up into one.  It’s allowed me the freedom to process my bruised feelings and enact comedic revenge in the form of exacting, get in the last word, reimagined narrative more to my liking. Whether my enragement or extreme annoyance stemmed from my wife, in-laws, ex fake news friends, or my parents blatantly disrespecting, devaluing and depreciating this stay at home comedian whose written for TV twice already, again and again. When, I’ve been the rock of my family, with 0.0 outside assistance to look after my kids in the form of Facebook grandparents, useless uncles or involved, uncle type, high character friends in sight.  Not complaining about it, it’s brought me closer to my 3 kids and we make a stellar home team. God gives kids to only the lonely. Plus, I’ve got God in my heart now. So, everything is peachy compared to my degenerate, druggy years of yesteryear. Also, during this stretch in the wilderness as a stay at home comedian in exile, off the main social grid of life, I’ve been able to dig deep, truly develop my voice and not give a fuck about what social ramifications it’s engendered, which is an empowering, liberating place to be. I don’t exist to win over your approval resistor, hipster hack critic. I don’t exist to make you feel superior smug, when you couldn’t score a retweet if your life depended on it. Obviously, you are so controlled by PC safe group think, the fascist, morality thought police, truth guardian proctors of justice for all at Twitter. Have never found your edgeless musings, on you thinking you’re smarter than a President to shadowban and hide your thoughts because they do nothing to shatter the fake news, played out propaganda concerning how every Trump supporter is a xenophobe racist. Actually, the true definition of a racist is the palpable, forced in your face, purported feelings of extreme moral and intellectual superiority. And if this doesn’t summarize every anti-American sleaze who’s done nothing but shit on an American President who works for free to make the grand old USA safer and more prosperous again for all Americans, I don’t know what is.

The other day, I told my wife I’m going to self-publish my parenting education book, Stay at Home Comedian, because no east coast publisher will have the balls to publish it. She says. “But I thought your book wasn’t political.” I say, “That’s right, you haven’t heard the totality of one podcast out of 57 yet, my bad.” The thing is, I didn’t set out to write a political book in nature. The heart of my book Stay at Home Comedian, “How 3 Kids Got My Act Together”, is about getting off my dependence of Adderall, weed and IPA’s for a good time and instead choosing to get high off my writing and education of my kids. Coaching them into being the independent, bad ass creatively jacked humanists they were destined to be, under my hardcore comedic tutelage of course. It’s a story about a stay at home comedian whose raised 3 amazing, loving, sweet kids who are the most behaved, giving, pleasure to be around kids in the universe. Funnier dad, happier baby. Children are better than you. My kids truly are superior company than most. I’m going to miss them terribly once I get a job doing recruitment again except this time it will be for the XFL in Stamford, CT. I refuse to accept no for an answer. Vince McMahon oversees the XFL and WWE start Chris Jericho loves me. I wrote all his music video intro one lines for America’s Hard 100 on VH1 Classic. We hugged it out once we wrapped the shoot together. Any company that represents, the anti-fake news fro Kaepernick alternative to American flag degradation is the place for me. It’s a sports startup and I want in. Time to unleash the beast.

I do miss people. I do miss making the phone calls rip and connecting with strangers.  I’m still an old school recruiter at heart. Hated working as IT Recruiter as a whole but there were good times also and my co-worker always loved me because we worked in open spaces before Google made them mainstream. And within those open spaces, glimmers of my personality and strength of voice emerged from cold calling my brains out 12 hours a day eight days a week. My old boss Larry at Adam Jacobs Associates, a boutique IT staffing firm in One Penn Plaza in Manhattan on top of MSG used to let me practice new jokes in front my old school IT recruiter brethren to break up our afternoons on occasion. I was so on edge back then because I still had plenty to prove and hadn’t written for TV yet. This professional goal materialized 4 years later after my 1st of 3 children Singing Rose was born.

Who knew President Trump would get his 42-year old stay at home comedian excited about cold calling within the field of executive recruitment again. The reason why is because I’ve said my piece in my book Stay at Home Comedian, my book on fatherhood bonding in the modern era about taking charge of my kids’ education while I was around to do so. It will be officially released this Father’s Day 2019 through a big-time book publisher or not. Again, I don’t write this book without the love from strangers on Twitter. Most of the material, I’ve published here on WordPress has been recycled from Twitter. That means the material has been filtered and vetted for proven funny already lit agents at large. Still, I don’t need your comedic validation seal of approval Mr. Brooklyn lit agent because the audience reveals all without you. That’s why the Good Men Project site has embraced and republished 90% of the material I’ve shared with them so far because it’s already been embraced and loved wholly by all of you, strangers on Twitters and WordPress alike.

 

My strangers on Twitter and WordPress provide this stay at home comedian with an incredible fix of comedic approval feedback, which has proven priceless. I don’t finish my book Stay at Home Comedian without it. I don’t bang out 100,000 plus words of consistently funny, emotive verse for Stay at Home Comedian, without your steady doses of encouragement and loving embrace of me and who I’ve strived to become along the way.

By declaring on Twitter and WordPress my intention of writing the funniest book of parenting, from a fatherhood perspective, your sustained interest and increased attention in what I’d bang out next has been nothing short of miraculous. Strangers on Twitter and now WordPress, you’ve truly been the gift that keeps on giving. I love all of you for helping me become the funny man author, I was destined to be. I’ll always cherish our time together during my stretch on the stay at home dad wilderness front. But stay at home dads can’t survive as welfare mothers forever. So, I must go out and become a Headhunter again, this time for the XFL. But my book stay at home comedian will be out for huge worldwide consumption soon enough and I’ll be working on my follow up book through WordPress, Crazy, Good Dada, to follow.  Which will document my family meal review show, the Pescatarian Comedians, “Family Meals Deconstructed, 1 Bit at a Time.” When that sells huge, I’ll have earned the right to hang up my cold calling past for good. Proving to myself and to the world at large, I’m no longer a mere Schmuck in a headset.

The End,

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

 

Pride On My Side

“The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”
Marcus Aurelius

Pride has nothing to hide like Kayne’s MAGA hat, Taylor Swift’s lick it up lollipop stick legs or Joe Rogan’s defense of intellectual joke property theft from Carlos Mencia. The only problem I have with pride, is when my pride morphs into full blown conceited vanity. Because it’s never a good look using your IT recruitment agency office to xerox copies of your It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia spec script, “The Gang Gets Outsourced.” No matter how funny or creatively jacked you proclaim it to be. Still, pride prevents mediocrity. And I never would’ve dared to attempt banging out an Always Sunny spec script between IT recruiter staffing agency jobs again. Without pride in my ability to either match the funny in the show or exceed it in my own unique way. Hellbent on proving to myself, I’m not an entitled, delusional hack but a capable funny man scribe slinger on the rise. Who belonged in the WGA in Rape Wood after all.
Without pride, I don’t take the next step and have my friend Jay in LA share my script with Glen Howerton. Who plays Dennis in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. For some reason Dennis wasn’t being invited to Adam Sandler’s basketball games in Malibu or to Gary Shandling’s hoop gatherings with David Duchovny and Greg Kinnear up in the Hollywood Hills just yet. As a result, Dennis from Always Sunny, only 2 seasons back then, ended up playing pickup basketball games with my friend Jay and his younger brother’s Persian friends in the Sinai Temple gym on Wilshire Blvd instead. Believe it or not Dennis went out of his way to kiss my friend Jay’s ass over letting him play in their little horseshit pick-up basketball game. Outside of Jay playing in the Maccabi Games, the Jewish Olympics. Nobody from the Persian nation had game. Scoring employee discounts from working at Armani Exchange the summer after college, doesn’t count. Dennis took the script from my friend Jay but never came back to play ball at Sinai again. My friends back east thought Dennis jacked the episode idea. I was flattered. He didn’t. But without taking pride in my writing, despite my own mother telling me months later, she didn’t respect my decision to pursue a career in comedy. I never would’ve been in striking distance to go for knockout shot.

Without pride, I never would’ve never taken on the open mike at Bar 4 again in Park Slope 3 months after I died on stage there. Pride motivated me to dig deep, write more jokes, do more mikes and go after the Bocce ball playing hipster hacks in attendance for my triumphant comeback return. It was a packed room and I killed. Killing on stage is still the best feeling in the world, I know. I get why Roseanne was ballsy enough to admit killing on Carson was a happier moment than the birth of her own children. After my killer set I pas a hippie in a Dead Head shirt I chatted with earlier. His eyes dance in the dark as he says. “You’re my hero.” At this moment, I assumed I wasn’t the only Dead Head in attendance. Who thought the Indie music rock which infiltrated Brooklyn around 2004 as a whole sounded like hushed, garbled, folk rock for hobbit massage parlors.
I don’t hit on my wife on Barry Diller’s balcony overlooking Central Park without funny man pride on my side. I was doing ad sales for CitySearch and had no business being on Barry Diller’s balcony in the 1st place. Mr. Burns from the Simpsons is based on Barry Diller’s mogul persona, allegedly. Which isn’t the most flattering portrayal of the man who greenlit the Simpsons, Married With Children and In Living Color as the head programming mogul at Fox. Diller also signed Andrew Dice Clay to a 3-picture movie Deal with Fox but had to buy out his contract after all the protesting from woman’s activist groups over the release of Dice’s big movie premiere, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane. Dice just stared as Lady Gaga’s doting, Limo driver dad in a Star is Born. So, he’s no longer such a comic clown monster after all. But by boss at City-Search liked me so he invited me to Barry Diller’s after work party on his balcony 40 stories above Carnegie Hall. At this time, Barry Diller was running IAC, which was a collection of internet companies he purchased such as Citysearch, Expedia and Ask Jeeves which was a poor man’s Google. Despite the rich man’s butler logo branding on it. When I met my future wife on Barry Diller’s balcony, I was developing my 1st Family Guy spec script. Just to be clear, a spec script, is an unproduced sample episode of your own making, nothing more, nothing less. Spec scripts or TV pilot episodes of your own making are your portfolio samples used in the Biz to help you can an agent and ultimately staffed on a TV show on network or cable TV.

Weeks earlier, before I met Natalia, my future wife, on the balcony of Barry Diller’s Tower of Love on Broadway, I was still dating this older yet petite Pilipino gal. She asks. “What’s going to make you happy?” I reply. “Writing a Family Guy.” Understand, I got a job now doing new business development for Citysearch in Manhattan. Sure, my territory was Philly. They paid for my Amtrak trips, wasn’t complaining. Sure, I was living at home again because I was so broke my Hebrew name was under judicial review. But I could’ve had 5000 grand in the bank and my own studio apartment in the East Village on St. Marks at the time. I still would’ve been miserable because my pride prevented me from mediocrity, from becoming an average nobody. Pride drove me to write a Family Guy spec because it challenged my comedy ego. Similar to when I forced myself to bang out specs for Curb, American Dad, Louie, Eastbound and Down and most recently Silicon Valley. Pride at this moment in time drove me to will my Family Guy spec into existence despite never even attempting to write a spec for any animated show prior.

So, when I met my future wife on Barry Diller’s balcony because she was working an Executive Assistant for his VP in charge of Mergers and Acquisitions. She told her boss to pass on My Space. I invite my future wife downtown for a drink in Tribeca. Now during our August stroll in downtown Manhattan on Cobblestone streets, I had a Family Guy script in progress to discuss with her. Plus, I was able to emote about how I was finally able to score some laughs at open mikes in Manhattan after bombing for a whole straight year in LA. Without pride in my comedy writing development, I would’ve had nothing interesting to share with Natalia when we met besides me working on hitting my quota at Citysearch. Without pride, I couldn’t have delivered a B- joke about how Citysearch is the number city guide in Manhattan, primarily used by gay men. To search who in New York City along Christopher Street gives the best facials. My joke writing has evolved since obviously.
Pride has provided me with more life affirming victories than ego deflated injury. Does it suck to get fired in Corporate America? Yes, but you become desensitized the more it happens like being indirectly called a moron for trusting the business instincts of a President working for free. Who revitalized the Wollman Rink in Central Park. Donating its profits to many charities such as the one for gay men groups during the Aids epidemic in 80’s. When other jealous resistor baby boomers were making a living back then selling jars to Potomka Pickles, no offense Dad.
Roman Emperor philosopher Marcus Aurelius was correct. “The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.” In my case, the him, whose done more harm than good, isn’t pride but my Vanity Vagina. My Vanity Vagina is my spoiled, oversensitive diva inside. Who makes it impossible to hide her disdain for jobs she hates on her face. Vanity Vagina will play the part she’s paid for. But lose her zest for pretending to give a shit 4 months into the job as usual. Before working on her own side projects to prove how much better she is than her current job lot in life like Laura Dern in Mike White’s show Enlightened on HBO. Despite my Vanity Vagina never holding a position of power prior with direct reports in the form of an even assistant to screen my calls either.
Becoming a father of 3, 2 being unplanned has helped keep Vanity Vagina from becoming a self-destructive c word again for the most part. But the thing is, when you become a father of 3 kids, you become 3 times more sensitive to insults and shows of disrespect. I’ve applied for a wide range of jobs since baby Samuel was born, even dreaded agency IT recruiter positions again. So I could prove to my wife, I’ve got Vanity Vagina under control this time. Still, no interviews since I fucked up the one promising one, I had going with IBM which I created out of nothing.

The job wasn’t very defined, it involved digital marketing. It was my understanding, IBM was looking for some much needed edge to make IBM come across as not your dad’s IBM anymore. My expression for the record. So, I sent not just my recruiter there some unasked for jokes but to every head of HR at IBM through email addresses I acquired from Fox Hunter.com. All these jokes got mad love on Twitter by geeks everywhere. I freaked out IBM big time with this unasked for material. My thinking was too different, too edgy and way too in their face. Vanity Vagina couldn’t understand what was taking IBM so long to schedule a follow up face to face interview after my 1st phone interview went so well. I must have scored at least 12 laugh out louds during my 1 hour phone interview alone. So, I bombarded the entirety of the HR at IBM with the totality of my humor pushed upon material because Vanity Vagina is an oversensitive, career sabotaging bitch. End of story, oh!

Kayne West says “The best form of revenge is success.” So if I can manage to go through life before I’m six feet under without reverting into Vanity Vagina again, I can die a resounding success. Knowing, I conquered my main root of bad karma contamination.
Pride is on my side, not Vanity Vagina. Pride is on my side because it takes pleasure in a job well done. It take pleasure in what rave reviews my 3 kids haven gotten so far due to my involved parenting on the stay at home comedian dad front. Pride is on my side because it takes pleasure in weathering 2 winters and 2 summers back to back with no grandparent babysitting assistance whatsoever. Pride is on my side because it helped me produce 57 podcast episodes in a less than a year. Resulting in 70 hours worth of A minus comedy material. John Lennon wishes he was this productive during his stay at home dad years. On nights mama works at the hospital. Pride is on my side when my baby boy Samuel tucks himself into our bed at night as we listen to my podcast on my smartphone by my bedside.

The End

By,
Michael Kornbluth

Mind of My Waiving Baby

Resist my release power of love baby. My daddy called himself Dragon Lungs before Kayne starting dropping dragon power. For the record.

Funnier dad, happier baby. Looks like your shit out of luck kid.

You can call me the Flirt Show if you’d like. Call me in 11 years and 4 months. Then, I’ll be a Hebrew Hammer Man according to Deuteronomy. Dada has been brushing up on his Old Testament lately, Deuteronomy.

I don’t need Kayne West for permission to release the love long time. Thank you very much.

 

My dad quit weed for me. And that was his 2nd true love after the Knicks and Katie King in Cape Cod. No offense mom.

Raise your hands if you don’t just care. Give it a try today Obama. I double dare.

Dada always tells me how God gave me the universe. So don’t be an asshole about it. So excuse my excessive feel good vibe asshole. New York mommies have issues.

My mom’s boobs taste better than yours do. According to Dada, mommy tastes better than most.

Have you ever been the beneficiary of a harmonica rib or a falling putzy apple tree head smash into your midsection? No wonder your miserable. So excuse me while I ooze more positive vibrations into the air.

Dada knows best. This Trump Train is bound for glory. And pretty soon, dada is going to buy this town. With all his comedy gold. That’s what he’s going to do. That’s what he’s going to do.

I’m Dada’s air guitar appendage. And Metallica fires me up like Moth into the Flame. Sold your soul. Build a higher wall. Daddy, says anyone who says Metallica stopped rocking from the Black album on is fake news.

I hear daddy score laugh yankers from strangers all day long. He’s more of a stay young at heart dad. Despite being a 42 year old unemployed comedian. Have a feeling his book will be huge though.

The Johnny Cash shot of flipping the bird is overrated. Plus, Shel Silverstein wrote his best song A Boy Named Sue, sorry. Does it hurt? My big sister can sing Ring of Fire verbatim though

My life is one endless red carpet except I don’t live in Rape Wood. Thank God Dada got out alive

The End

By,

Michael Kornbluth

 

Skin Cancer Announcement Aftermath

I hate this subject already.
Because it’s a tad self-obsessed, even for my taste.
Still, the comedic value from the consistently shitty reactions in my honor would be a shame to waste.
Mom pushes the issue after I say no. “Son, we’d like to be there for you during your skin cancer removal surgery. I ask. “Even in my Jewish Trump Supporter T-Shirt?”
Obviously, I didn’t drop this truth bomb because it’s a loaded nuke like calling the Robert Mueller Witch Hunt a fluke.
Or calling my dad a fake news hippie. For forcing the DJ at our wedding to turn down the Star-Spangled Banner 20 seconds in by Jimmy Hendrix in. Before the bomb dropping conjuring part.
Younger brother finally connects with me on the phone. He asks. How are you? in a self-obsessed, I’ve had a shitty day at work, I’d rather stew about tone. I reply. How am I? Reflecting on my 3 kid’s life without me? Younger brother replies. Screw your kids. What about me? Which is a self-centered yet sincere line worth repeating.
Then, my younger brother ruins whatever well-meaning feeling momentum he had in his favor with stating. “If something bad happened to mom and dad.” Obviously, I don’t want my parents to get any cancer scares either. Still, leave it to a mama’s boy/favorite son with zero kids to my 3 to lump my skin cancer announcement aftermath with made up fake news scares to strip the moment of any one on one, blood on blood brotherly love between us, my chest.
In attempt to give my younger brother a shot at loving me better. I ask him to read a recent blog post of mine because God forbid he’d want to see my writing talent shine.
In the end, I got. I’ll read while I’m taking a shit. The following day. I text. Talk about a long shit! 2 hours later I text. You’ve got shits. Or not enough fiber in your diet obviously.
Told 1 friend about my skin cancer removal surgery. He asked. Did it spread? Hope not or else I’d be closer to dead.
More than ever, I’m determined to love the ones I’m with. With more passion and loving desire than before. Laughter in our home from my kids and wife never bores.
My Skin Cancer announcement aftermath hasn’t been a total downer because it’s brought out my wife’s best nurturing side. Which makes her deep-rooted love for me, impossible to hide.

By,
Michael Kornbluth

Getting Love From Cancer

It’d be nice. Still, I can’t shake the idea of my mom blaming my early stages form of skin cancer from being a direct result of my excessive amount of outdoor play on the stay at home dad front. I don’t feel like such a sheltered bum now dad.

I don’t plan on telling my 3 kids because Cancer, Aids and 911 are off the list words of the day for now. In an ideal universe, I’d like to extend my kids enlightened age of existence as much as I can.

Thanks to Hillary Bot Huma lickers calling anyone who voted for Trump a Nazi. I’ve had to explain Hilter to my kids already. Failed art student. And the swat sticker art isn’t beautiful or deep. It just looks like a couple of a gay stick figures doing a sixty-nine on Crystal Meth.

Also, the form of skin cancer I got is Squamous Cell Carcinoma is highly treatable. Plus, it was detected early. So, I don’t have to sweat getting my finger amputated although that would make a solid start to my romantic comedy story, The Nine Fingered Foodie. Who eventually finds a hand in marriage, the end.

Of course, I told the wife about the skin cancer. So, I could give myself more generous pours from her fancy French Roses she’s been buying lately, feeling guilt free all the way.

Cancer scare, I don’t care about getting love from cancer. When I get to blast Hair Metal with my 3 tiny little head banger dancers on Spotify, assuming my nurse wife is working this evening.
Told my younger brother about having skin cancer because my wife said I’d feel less alone. But I have God in my heart and faith in knowing it’s not my time to part.

Getting love from cancer sounds like too much pressure to place on friends. Because true ones don’t need to make any forced last-minute amends.
Getting love from cancer isn’t for me. I’d rather smell the flowers more with more mystical zest. Knowing, God hooked me up with my wife and 3 kids because he knew it would bring out my writing best.

I never sought love from getting canned. Resisting pity love makes me you more of a man.

Cancer is cancer. And it can easily come back. But if I could do it again. I wouldn’t have told anyone offline to showcase my bigger sack.

By,
Michael Kornbluth