Burning Mask Party

At the Kosher Butcher and say, “A jar of Duck sauce. I don’t have to go out for Chinese ever again. Only to feel less welcome than a resurgent herpes sore on the spot.” Latino Koshertarian Butcher laughs long time.

Do kids in China count bats if they have a hard time staying away for finals week?

Have you seen the new Sales Force Towner in Manhattan? I haven’t seen such a hulking monstrosity taint the Manhattan skyline since Meghan McCain floated down Broadway dressed as a plus size Gumby for the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

A leadership book by Cuomo is less believable than a Stacy Abrahms romance novel, especially when the character based on her, finds love as a middle aged TV executive for BET who ditches the fat suit in exchange for a parachute jumper on casual Friday.  

I hate run on sentence critics. It’s my fault you’re slow and can’t keep up with my gender fluid flow.

Critical Race Theory is bullshit. Guaranteed money in the NBA, regardless of injury or a reliable hook shot or strong the move to left off the dribble is so oppressive.

If Biden is such a good guy, then why didn’t he tell Hunter to cut out creaming in his dead brother’s wife seconds after the cremation ensued?

 

What’s the message behind the chiseled, inanimate, 30-foot Atlas sculpture on Fifth Ave wearing a mask exactly? Follow the Atkins Diet and socially distance from carbs?

Forcing our kids to wear muzzle masks is wrong. A mask mandate on Boris Johnson’s wife at the G7 Summit, not so much, woof, woof.

Masks are the new condoms, only because I can’t cum in my wife wearing one either, cooing, “Yay, Yay, sex is fun again.”

No kids are dying from COVID, yet Dr. Gnocchi acts like the COVID virus depresses your immune system more than entry into the Dallas Buyer’s Club.

Biden is donating thousands of free COVID vaccines to Africa like a poor man’s Bill Gates, who can’t code for this shit either.

My wife really wants me to catch COVID. So, she can rub it in my face and say, “That’s what you get for going down on MAGA mom.”

Why haven’t I got a vaccination shot yet? Because I don’t have a job at Salesforce and don’t last at sales jobs very long, which explains why I’ve been fired more than a Palestinian Sling Shot. Why haven’t I got the vaccination shot yet? Because I’m not in the army now.  Plus, if I wanted to join the Army now, I’d be labeled as a right-wing extremist. Because they’d learn about my shemale search history on thirdlegs.com, which means I’m against Sharia law and genital mutilation all at the same time, which isn’t gay enough for Mayor Pete’s tastes, I guess. Why haven’t I gotten the vaccine yet? Because I don’t want to act all campy, sporting a “Just Vaccinated” sticker, which screams, look at me, I’m not on Trumpy Poo’s side to. Why haven’t I gotten the vaccine yet? If diehard Democrats of what’s become the open borders, rape enablement party, didn’t have their heads stuck so far up their ass, they’d see how they’re not the only ones allowed to resist. Why haven’t I gotten the vaccine yet? Because the pediatrician for my 3 kids told me to get one and he thinks Biden won fair and square. Yeah, and President Trump is allergic to high end trim. Explain to me why Biden got more votes than Obama Be Good again doc? Is it because Mr. Groper looks like a more virile Jimmy Carter in Aviator shades? School nurse sent my kid home today because he coughed BULLSHIT. After his friend Hobbs said he got COVID from watching a Trump Rally on Fox News. Doctor asks me “How do you think your son could’ve gotten COVID?” before the test results came back negative. I said, “We looted a Target in Minneapolis for George Floyd Appreciation Month. But don’t worry doc, we stole all the masks we could find. So, we could throw our Burning Mask Party on July 4th to light a fire under any patriotic verve Lady Liberty has left. The never-ending shit show ends today, USA, USA, USA. Michael Kornbluth

 

 

 

 

 

Loud Man’s Disease

How loud was Do It All Dad? For starters, when seeing Aerosmith live in Las Vegas 2 summers ago with close seats to the stage before a mask muzzle was designed to kill freedom of speech forever, his incessant hollering and wooing, made lead singer Steven Tyler, shoot off retaliatory hate stares of disgust in his direction which screamed, “Somebody shut this loudmouth Jew up already. This is my showcase career retrospective, not his. I didn’t blow millions on blow and almost derail my stadium selling out career in the seventies to have this big-headed putz project louder than me without a microphone, Joe Perry and a state-of-the-art sound system working in his magnifying favor either.”

There was also the time Do It All Dad saw Dice in a casino in Arizona with his younger brother, only for the Dice Man to single out the loudmouth Jew and yell with exasperated force, “You’re an asshole”, and all he was doing was laughing longtime all the time prior while sporadically yelling, “Dice Lives, holla, thank very much.” Dice was so flummoxed by Do It All Dad’s laugh throaty roar, he beelined into his nursey rhymes prematurely way ahead of schedule to get the fuck out of dodge at a hard 45 minutes into his set.

Then, there was the time when Do It All Dad saw Bon Jovi at Mohegan Sun with his daughter Matilda, fairly up in the nose bleed seats this time behind the stage, yet his bombastic, rocket fueled voice, still managed to get under Zebra print’s skin, as the old school long cowboy from Jersey, projected a damning you ain’t shit thousand-yard stare toward Mr. Loud Man’s Disease general direction, as he sang along with rock star blasting authority, “Bad Medicine is all I need.”  

Do It All Dad didn’t only piss off living legendary comedians and hall of fame rock star front men with surefire, unintentional precision. His omnipresent Loud Man’s Disease enraged his normally English dour, future father-in-law over a dinner at his home in Delaware only 2 minutes after grace, compelling him to bark out in depleted, drained already disgust, “He’s more talkative than the other one.” The other one being the gentile mute from Indiana, his daughter was engaged to before his daughter found her real deal partner in love this time, at least for the time being.

The major issue now was Do It All Dad’s loud man disease causing his son Art Show USA to develop all-consuming migraine headaches, leading his son to sport a permanent PMS face, until he started to take up mainlining extra strength Tylenol again. And Do It All Dad’s son was tough. How tough you ask? Well, when Art Show USA required stiches for tripping on top of an empty IPA glass on the ground and had to wait 1000 lifetimes in the emergency room so the other doctors could serve all the 1st in line dreamers in attendance, the doc gave Do It All Dad 2 options, “Either A) Authorize the doc using an anesthesia which would take 20 minutes to kick in, or B) To stich up his son the spot as his gaping gash continued to open wider than Octomom after push 5000. Do It All Dad chose B, only for the doctor to say, “Your kid is tough.” Do It All Dad inquires, “Indulge me doc, how tough?” Doc says, “One time there was this black kid from Brooklyn.” Do It All Dad says, “Sold already Doc. Thanks for giving my son tough guy bragging rights for me to derive vicarious pride from till my last dying breath.”

But how was Do It All Dad going to solve his Loud Man’s Disease exactly? Would triple masking even get the job done, after getting his tonsils taken out for an extra safe precaution to? Would Do It All Dad become a eunuch monk, despite already feeling this way at times from being a Stay-At-Home Dad, bitchy underling until his comedy writing career achieved blast off already? Would Do It All Dad seek out a Voodoo Doctor in Washington Heights to cure his Loud Man’s Disease by changing his pigmentation to ESL Asian?

What could Do It All Dad do to prevent his son from receiving any more debilitating headaches in his presence again? Finally, Do It All Dad devised a cure all solution. He’d buy his son a pair of Bose noise canceling headphones to wear in his presence and teach him fucking sign language. Because native New Yorkers were made to be heard.

The End

Michael Kornbluth