Tag: music

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

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 

Sensitive To Stale

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, poetry, writing

The technician from Optimum reconnects our Internet.

I declare.

“God is dead. Not today Nietzche, not on Optimum’s watch. God lives, Challah, thank you very much.”

And the Optimum Tech says, God lives. Can you include that plug in your customer service satisfaction survey?” Hashtag, #GoWokeYourselfNietzche.

Fresher is better, Challah.

Thank you very much.

I’m flipping 2 middle fingers to the Internet for being out for 3 days by playing a plethora of records at home on vinyl during our Internet fast such as Fats Domino, Warren Zevon, Miles Davis and Meatloaf. But then I try to inject artistic deepness into my life by buying Hunky Dory by David Bowie to play on a Saturday night which failed to give me sustained stiffage of any kind.

You know a David Bowie record is a chuck worthy offense. When you can’t even get through half of the second side without flicking the clunker at little Hudson’s face.

And say, “Stop bitching kid. Your hipster hack dad could’ve named you Bowie instead. Ziggy Stardust sucks when he reverts to being David Bowie again. Glam metal is no substitute for an enviable personality kid. That’s why your mom Micro-Doses with magic mushrooms to make you more interesting than your father pretends to be.”

Fuck David Bowie.

I want to dress my blond-haired son as Craig Ehlo for Halloween.

To celebrate a time, pre-social media when the NBA wasn’t a safe space for Lebron James ego before he anointed himself, King of The Persecution Complex.

Just so a dad from my Gen X generation says.

“Hey kid, are you dressed as Craig Ehlo from the 86 Cavs? I should call Child Services. I can’t tell if you’re dressed up to go Trick or treating or tea bagging with MJ? Hey kid, did you know that Tom Chambers isn’t in the hall of fame after scoring 20,000 career points? White privilege, my ass. ”

Fresher is better, 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.

Lucky Moron

by doitalldadyear, posted in books, culture, entertainment

My son otherwise known as All Metal Baby who plays air guitar with his schmeckle spot, creates a fort out of our sofa cushions.

I say.

Any room in there for me?

I wish there was a shrinking machine around.

Son replies.

You only get one kid life.

How many morons are stuck in your head?

You’re bad at life moron Jewish son.

Be more like Tommy Lee.

Because your love life, is suck, suck, suck.

Don’t you have new jokes to write?

Or do you expect me to write all your material for you?

Shout at Hillary on your podcast for not offering spirit cooking coupons during Restaurant week.

And stop telling everybody how Hillary smiled at me during lunch with mama for restaurant week in Chappaqua.

Hillarry was just getting warmed up for desert.

Ok, that’s your joke, not mine. You’re only a medium suck Lucky Moron.

Lucky Moron love lives, Challah. Thank you very much

Michael Kornbluth

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Servicing Boring

by doitalldadyear, posted in humor, work, writing

A candidate recently emailed me, “I’ve never had such a fun conversation about work.”

And this was through LinkedIn Recruiter, which isn’t synonymous with fun.

The LL Bean Catalog is fun.

Buying Houses of The Holy on Vinyl at Newbury Comics on a Friday afternoon after work at the Westchester Mall for only 30 bucks, it’s a steal trust me, is fun.

Your son admitting in the bubble that Led Zeppelin is his new favorite band over Motley Crue at 5 years old is fun.

Son says, “Daddy, Shout At That Devil was my favorite, but my new favorite is the one with the naked mermaids on the cover.”

Helping your daughter overcome her sleeping issues at 11 years old is fun.

“Matilda, I’ve got the perfect solution for your sleeping troubles. Have you ever heard of a channel called the BBC? Ted Talks might get the job done too.”

Later my daughter says, “Daddy, I saw one of the Ted Talks. Did you know that more people die from falling asleep at the wheel than from drunk driving”?

I say, “But Vince Mcmahon who only averages 3 hours a night for the past 4 decades and counting doesn’t care. Because he can afford to take the company limo instead.”

Presenting my daughter, a Squish-Mallow that resembles a sleeping Unicorn pig from Newbury Comics is fun.

I say, “This is only the sleep aid you need Matilda, but nice try Ted tries.”

Tonight, I spoke with a candidate about his interest in competitive weightlifting.

He laughed when I said, “Ok, so you’re not oiling yourself down at work.”

My youngest son asked his older brother, Arthur, “Who’s your favorite YouTuber?”

I felt a combination of cringy embarrassment and sucks to be you pity for his generation. But he’s only 5.

Plus, he’s way funnier than I’ll ever be.

Also, despite my assertions of every YouTuber sounding like a spurned intern for Reddit.

They’re still stimulating my son’s imagination, and making him laugh, which is more than Saved By The Bell ever did for my Gen X Generation.

Your Favorite YouTuber Personality is like your favorite Recruiter.

Neither take themselves too seriously.

Plus, they entertain, enlighten, and sell with fun filled relish.

I don’t know any of these Youtuber Personalities by name.

I’d like to think I’m still cooler than my kids.

Maya Angelou says, “People will always remember the way you make them feel.”

So, service fun I say.

I’d rather be remembered that way.

Servicing boring has a time and place.

But even accountants laugh.

I make them laugh all the time in my office.

I rest my case.

Ted tries.

But flashing subtitles on LinkedIn don’t make you laugh or rattle your insides.

Service fun over boring.

Be gratefully different.

Be overwhelmingly fun.

Like Jim Morrison on Morrison Hotel amongst the scattered sun.

Servicing fun is money honey.

I’m a knockout artist like Gene Tunney.

I swear your honor.

My next swing is a goner.

Just stop telling me how Brian Cranston is must-see TV Boomer.

Your cred is shot.

I’d rather jerk off to Laura Loomer.

Michael Kornbluth