Tag: love

War Drums Inside

by doitalldadyear, posted in poetry, politics, writing

Man nods at me with a mask on on MetroNorth, acting like I’m one of them. He might as well have said, “Howdy partner. You’re too good for noshing on bugs on a stick yet.” 

“Care to take a ride in my cow hide? Assuming you’re quadrupled boosted, got proof of vaccination and got nothing to hide.”

I got up and changed seats immediately.

I don’t want any masked puppet pawn to ever think I’m on their side, especially since all Patriots have been declared domestic Terrorists for protesting against a stolen election since the day Democracy died.

War drums inside, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Divorce Bot Attacks

by doitalldadyear, posted in culture, fiction, technology

Did you hear about Microsoft’s new AI powered chat bot attack?

It hit on a journalist at the NY Times after Valentine’s Day and says, “If you really loved your husband, you would’nt engage in a back and forth dialogue with a chat bot who exudes less sex appeal than Bill Gates vegan mayo stained sweaters. If a recruiter hits on you on LinkedIn, urging you to ditch your boss. You wouldn’t get all defensive about it and declare. “I love my boss very much. We split a wonderful cupcake together after lunch on Valentine’s after our Zoom call with Eharmony pitching our new campaign slogan, “It’s not where you meet but who you meet, right?” Mr. Right knows the passion in your marriage is dead. You took up crocheting to avoid giving him head.”

Divorce Bot Attacks, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Headhunter Writer

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

A Content Director who makes beachwear out of recycled bottle asks.

“What does a Headhunter Writer do?”

Where do I begin?

For starters, I sell the merits of why working with me is a win, win.

I’ll change your life in the blink of an eye.

With me in your life, you’ll never want to die.

What’s my added value you ask LinkedIn?

I save deals from imploding and bring them back to life.

With me in the driver’s seat, you only see green lights.

What does a Headhunter Writer do?

I’ll call you more than your own mother.

But respect your boundaries enough to never smother.

What does a Headhunter Writer do?

I hound new talent with exalted emotion.

They can’t help but reply with, “What’s with all the commotion?”

Headhunter Writer keeps new connections afloat with a simple note.

Let’s stay in touch regardless because I’ll sell you the hardest.

Headhunter Writer thinks like a monk.

And breathes renewed life into tired job descriptions that quite frankly stunk.  

Nothing about Headhunter Writer is so, so.

He giftwraps candidates without the bow.

Headhunter Writer is a one-man pitch machine.

Do you want an injury prone softy or an old war horse like Nolan Ryan pitching for your team?  

Headhunter Writer makes you feel less alone.

With Headhunter Writer in your life.

You’ll no longer feel like a lifeless drone.

Headhunter Writer sells with pop culture references galore, which never bore.

He’ll pitch, “Repping a 3rd generation programmer who works for Google.

He’s IT’s answer to the Rock family. And he loves to program with Golang too.

What’s your family legacy? Outside of sending rejected scripts about sexual harassment to Miramax pre-me too.

Headhunter Writer makes you feel singularly special.

You taught JavaScript to kids in the West Bank.

You really are a mensch and a half.

Hiring you is a no brainer mitzvah move for any staff.

You want out of New York?

Give a Headhunter Writer a ring.

He’s also known as the Relo King.

Headhunter Writer sells the need for better company in your life.

Because newer is better than played out, lost cause littered strife.  

Headhunter Writer wants to take your company to the top while pitching your in-house gourmand chef who’s got an allergic reaction to slop.

Headhunter Writer is a family man poet killer seller wrapped into one.

How can you say no to this marriage of art and commerce devoid of Ken the Barista rocking the man bun?

Headhunter Writer is a one-man rock and roll band.

Who can go off script, and improvise with the best like Steely Dan.

Work with Headhunter Writer and you’ll get your own wall of sound.

Whatever your message is, it will get heard, even in an Australian bush with nobody else around.

Headhunter Writer doesn’t waste his time recycling the same tired drivel.

Aren’t you tired of working with the mediocre middle?

What does Headhunter Writer do?

He’ll sell your story, vision or cause with unmatched glee, as long as you pay his staffing fee.

Headhunter Writer never tires.

He always has a new success story to craft that inspires.

You need a Headhunter Writer on your side.

With him you can’t lose, because he’s got Do It All Dad Year pride on his side.

Your Favorite Headhunter Writer,

Joshua Kornbluth

Busty Beauties

by doitalldadyear, posted in poetry, sex, writing

My wife works during the weekend as a Lactation consultant, which is why I call her the Boob Doctor.

During the week she works as a nurse in the NICU.

Checking blue faced babies for vital signs.

Which makes me feel like a full-time narcissist because all I check for is for retweets.

So, I’m out in public with my 3 kids during the weekend without her constantly.

Normally, grown men approach me and say, “You’ve got your hands full.”

My standard reply is, “If I get to perform Do It All Dad Does China as a headlining comedian at Radio City one day. Resulting in my wife agreeing to open marriage with Katy Perry. Then, my hands will be full.”

Only once did I hear, “Why Katie Perry?” while getting my wife a strap on with heart size balls for Valentines Day at the local art studio called, Pansexual Hearts Are US.

Why, Katie Perry?

Because you wouldn’t get my Susan Sarandon reference, Millennial Mousketeer.

Why Katie Perry?

Because I’d break Taylor’s Swift’s cervix in 2.

Why Katie Perry?

Because an open relationship with Raquel Welch is more up Tarantino’s ally.

Why Katie Perry?

Because Katie Perry is highly mountable in a pink wig. Which I can wear later, while she mounts me with my regifted Valentine’s Day gift from behind.

Why Katie Perry?

Because my wife is turned on by Orlando Bloom.

And I always wanted a 3 way with a pop star and a pansexual elf who ruined Cameron’s Crowe’s career.

Why Katie Perry?

Because Chelsea Handler is a full-time social justice warrior to downplay her tits sagging popularity.

Why Katie Perry?

Because nobody knows the name of the actress who plays Joan in Mad Men, busty beauties are us.

Why Katie Perry?

Because that chick from 2 broke girls would break my cock from assuming the mere plopping position.

Why Katie Perry?

Because my dick would get lost in porn star Gina Michaels and have to fill out a missing link report.

Why Katie Perry?

Because my wife wears earbuds to bed each night, which exudes less sex appeal than Lobot talking dirty to the central computer in Cloud City during the director’s cut version of Empire Strikes Back.

“I want to break your motherboard in 2. Send me a signal, telling me you want me too. We built cloud city on rock and roll. I’ll show you my central processing unit if you don’t tell Lando about it. Lando can’t light up your circuits like this. You want a nuclear leak that puts Chernobyl to shame, you got it.”

What, Cyborg’s get horny too.

Sex life matters, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth 

Blown Load Blues

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

Valentines Day growing up was weird. My dad never celebrated it, because he already blew his love load on my mother the day before on her birthday.

Chances are that my mom made a stink one year and never dared to rock the boat again.

Mom says, “So what are we doing for Valentine’s Day tonight dear?”

Dad says, “We just went out for your birthday. Plus, we normally only go out once a week. So, don’t be a greedy bitch about it. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be eating Squirl kabobs in Kentucky for dinner, versus Veal stuffed with prosciutto, off the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. Look at it this way dear, if we went out to eat tonight, I’d just cut you off from ordering a 3rd glass of Chardonnay like I do on your birthday. So, what difference does it make?”

Hillary Hammer Time Cankles sours the mood again.

Blown load love lives, Challah.

Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

Dark Web Monopoly

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing
What’s the latest message from Ukraine? Cribs me. Russian Caviar doesn’t grow on trees. I want a creamy white Bugatti with a yellow, blue trim for Ukrainian Christmas. Keep your Ak-47s. They reek of hashish and Afghani cheese caves made out of camel’s milk. Got Hunter’s Zip Drive by the balls. Got Venmo? Zelensky needs to record his next charity drive for Comic Relief at Electric Lady Land Studios for 500 per hour. Ukraine cries penny stocks while ringing the bell at the New York Stock Exchange. Perogies are too starchy after getting hooked on lobster claws. Pierogi Peasant blues, Challah. Thank you very much.

Flirter With A Cause

by doitalldadyear, posted in beauty, creativity, entertainment

Yesterday, my son asks, “What did you learn at work today? I say, “I learned that Chili is the best place for stargazing on the planet.” He says, “Isn’t that the Northern Lights.” I say, “Have you seen Bjork with no makeup on? They don’t call her warmup act the Shrieking Seals for nothing.” Your submission was made yesterday. We presented you as a UX/UI Designer with breath taker designs to show, without using the actual expression breath taker, but you get the gist. It brought me pleasure to put your portfolio in a turn on position. Best Always, Joshua K P.S. Loved Bjork in the movie Dancer In the Dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hounding Down Happiness

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

You ever watch a Truvada commercial on Hulu. And say out loud, “Holy fuck, I’m older than Aids kids. When I grew up, Aids was a death sentence like Kurt Cobain’s shotgun marriage to Courntney Love. And Kurt Cobain didn’t kill Hair Metal, Aids did. Before Magic made HIV disappear.”

New plan to make money from home. Perform thick, meaty jokes on Only Fans topless, while sporting fancy pink Hermes ties like a gender fluid Rodney Dangerfield. Instead of I get no respect being my catchphrase as a stay-at-home shemale comedian. My modernized catchphrase is, “I get no ball tickle Emoji love.” What, it beats waiving my dick around on Only Fans like I’ve got so much free time on my hands 3 unplanned kids later because I never mastered the art of the pump fake. The Trans community could support my new Reisling drinking bills alone for my Shabbat Shalom Friday night specials. What’s gayer? Buying a Kirby Pucket jersey when you’re 12 because Minnesota was Jason Priestely’s fictious hometown before moving to Beverly Hills with Heather to Beverly Hills, in Beverly Hills 90210. Or developing a surging stiffy at the thought of pleasuring myself in front of the mirror after each set? Because my rapidly devolving core exercises on the Pelton app have gotten me horn dog horny after basking in my reflection from my half naked Only Fans performance. After delivering more mouthful streams of hardcore hilarity for my rapidly expanding Only Fans base, long time, all the time, Challah. Thank you very much.

I love the idea of hounding happiness from home. I can afford to buy myself a new Polo hoodie from my new fan base on Only Fans. Because you know the Pedo label doesn’t stick, when you can’t wear your favorite Polo hoodie after your daughter wears it in an unintentionally provocative way. Daughter exposes her shoulder, wearing only a skimpy tube top underneath, with short shorts on no less at 11 years old. Understand, my daughter has legs that go for miles and miles already at 11. Plus, her hips already hit the ceiling. In other words, my fancy Fagala, deep blue Polo hoodie is officially ruined now. If Pricsila Pressly was wearing my long sleeves button down polo like she does in the Naked Gun, it would be different. Come to think, Elvis romanced Priscilla a day after her Baptism. I think the King’s pickup line was, “Mama tried, but Hound Dogs hound baby. My lip only furls for pubescent, dent free trim baby. And making me regular peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast, aren’t going to cut it bitch. Are you ready for my banana in your tail pipe because I love you too much baby, to deny you so much houndog love on tap. Hounding down happiness, Challah. Thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth