Tag: poetry

Chapter 34 Gold Driller

by doitalldadyear, posted in blogging, comedy, writing

 

 

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 29 The Path of Most Resistance

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, faith, fiction, Uncategorized

 

 

Chapter 29

The Path Of Most Resistance

 

Joshua never underwent Psychoanalysis.  Still, it didn’t take some fake news deep shrink who majored in Psychology at Tufts, to realize Joshua pursued the comedic pursuit of making strangers laugh for a living because being shipped off to sleep away camp in Kent, CT 3 months a year every summer, without any burning desire to attend, never gave him the impression of being the center of his parents universe.  It’s not as if Joshua was such a perpetual drag on his parent’s time after they came home from work. He’d hear them talk about their workdays over dinner and then retreat to his room to play with his blocks, bang his GI Joe toys together way past the appropriate age to do so, as he used to Gung Ho to turn Cobra Commander into his personal gimpy, bitch in his own innocuous, pubescent form of Pulp Fiction. When Joshua got a bit older, he’d organize his Basketball card collection, consisting of almost every rookie who played for the original USA Dream Team, MJ an the Bird, MJ combo rookie card excluded, because together they cost more than ounce of Maui Wowie. That’s so good, you take only one hit of delicious, crystal flecked green, watch the entirety of Pink Floyd Wall Sophomore Year in college and think you comprehended all the symbolic nuances from start finish, back when Roger Waters was more pro wall but no so much in Israel’s case to prevent more blatantly unnecessary death. Later, after Joshua in Junior High, he’d decorate the walls of his bedroom with an unoccupied top bunk, with cut out pictures of all his Hair Metal Gods from Circus Magazine, which included non-pretty boy faces such as the Freddy Kruger of shredding Mick Mars from Motely Crew. But sometime in the early 1990’s, Joshua’s parents decided to repaint his lost in fantasy island room. The Italian painter took one look at Joshua’s wailing wall of metal and says, “There’s a lot of dolled up men on your wall.” In Joshua’s Heavy Metal High pilot trilogy, which he pitched to the EVP of VH1 Classic in Manhattan, his character replies to the Italian painter with, “I’m sorry are blush covered cheeked Bret Michaels from Poison not manly enough for you Dominick I Ain’t No Fag Scholanti.”

Joshua would never forgive himself for letting his father bully him into inviting his friend Ari to see Motley Crew in the 6th grade at the Nassau Coliseum, during their revitalized, hit heavy Dr. Feelgood tour, with Warrant as the opening act, after promising his closer friend Coop, with his far deeper ties at the time.  Coop didn’t talk to Joshua for a solid 5 years afterwards and they hung out plenty in Elementary School, going to movies at Movieland in Yonkers all the time because Coop was an only child, whose parents were both Lawyers, at the same law firm, the father owned, so the could afford a pair of smoking hot, au pairs from Switzerland who tasted good inside and out guaranteed.  Coop was a mensch. Before he became a top realtor in Manhattan, he was the Nino Brown of weed dealing at Hartford University and would let Joshua’s younger brother, sell major weight for him back home and let him off the hook no problem if he was ever light 500 here, 800 bones there. Plus, when Joshua had his stand-up comedy bringer show at the New York Comedy Club, Coop’s presence among his high school class of 99 caused the biggest stir. Coop also delivered the most touching, emotive praise after Joshua’s friend Ari, who was still a mensch in his own right, simply stating in a stupefied, teetering on awe inspired state, “Awesome.” Coop approached Joshua outside the New York Comedy Club and said, “Great show, very funny stuff bro” with all knowing stony Buda assurance. Joshua replied, “Thanks Coop, but I’m still so broke my Hebrew name is under Judicial review.” Coop refused to give into Joshua’s feeble attempt at self-deprecation, which never captured his true funny man essence entirely and says, “Stick with it, you’re funny.”

Understand, this is more emotive encouragement Joshua ever received from his own flesh and blood, being his younger brother and 2 parents. But as they says, the 1st hilarious Bat Men Lego movie, you get to chose your friends, not your family and Coop’s push for Joshua to continue down the pursuit of getting Lady Laugh off long time was a noble pursuit worth fighting for with all this funny Jew bone, God blessed might.  Joshua developed a later in life, cast iron dense strong friendship with adopted valley brother Jay from Southern California, who knew the real him inside and out and gave him an even more rousing, inspirational, Mick type pep push from Rocky when he said, “Never lose your edge JK.”

 

Now, Joshua was 43 turning on 44, still pursuing the path of most resistance. His parents wouldn’t acknowledge his debut comedy record nor would his younger brother. Joshua’s wife claims to overhear portions of his Do It All Dad Year Podcast from downstairs because he’s such a loudmouthed, crazy man Jew, but 150 episodes in, had never listened to one from start to finish.   When Joshua had moved back from LA after living out there for 6 years, in West Hollywood, Hermosa Beach and Sherman Oaks in the valley, another old school high bud saw him do an open mike set at some shit hole bar east of Madison Square Garden in Midtown east, total no man’s land and he said with stupefied bewilderment, “You’d be ok with dying alone. You’re really in no rush to be in a relationship again ever.” The reality is, ever since Joshua fell in love with making Lady Laugh, laugh, he never felt alone again.  God didn’t give Joshua 3 unplanned kids to have panic attack over it. If Joshua was out with his 3 kids by themselves, which was often, a stranger would say, “You got three.” And he’d say, “All 3 were unplanned. Obviously, I never planned the art of the pump fake.” Then, Joshua would hear the same random stranger comment on how pretty his lucky number 3 Samuel is and he’d reply in a relaxed manner because he was accustomed to the unsolicited praise so often by now, “He’s a very pretty he. I envision a future where he’ll be fronting a Poison cover band no problem” These lines would generate streams of laughter every time. Joshua wasn’t ready to relinquish his God given edge just yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 13 The Comedy Grant House

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, Parenting, writing

Chapter 13

The Comedy Grant House

 

When Joshua still used Facebook, he posted a pic of his son Jeremiah pretend sleeping in cardboard box on the living room floor of their Comedy Grant House home, with the caption, “By now, I’m using to living out of boxes”, poking fun at this being their 3rd home in 3 years. During an interview for a Content Marketing role in Stamford, CT with the research, advisory, behemoth the Gartner Group, their in-house recruiter asks Joshua. “Will commuting be an issue after working from home for the past 3 years?” Joshua replies, a pleasure cruise through the windy, bucolic back roads of Bedford, NY and Stamford, CT after looking after his kids for 3 summer in a row without central AC would feel like a 5-week rave in Germany.” Reality is, Joshua wasn’t emotionally prepared to dump off his precious, 3-year old Samuel to some random day care in a hurried flash just yet. They continued to grow closer as their bond became more iron clad, every day, yeah, yeah. He was the happiest boy in the universe and his do it all dad knew he played a huge role in accentuating his super charismatic, bouncy buoyancy everywhere they’d go. “Funnier dad, happier baby”, his unemployed stay at home comedian dad would proclaim to anyone point out how happy is baby boy was whether they were the nearby Harvest Moon to pick up farm fresh eggs, the post office, to send Joshua’s comedy CD Resist This, to the likes of Kid Rock and every comedy club owner in Manhattan worth giving a shit about, or at the deli to pick up his Pap’s Tall Boys, the old school hipster beer of choice at this point, an vastly underrated pilsner according to a big time beer snob like Joshua, who never pounded more than 2 Pap’s Tall boys in rapid succession. Last time at the deli, Joshua get’s some Pap’s tall boys and recycles some older material, trying to make it anew, for an upcoming open mike. “Normally, I’d get the 90-minute Dog Fish IPA, but it takes me 90 minutes to finish my second. Also, can’t they make toothpaste which tastes like Coors Light, so I don’t taste anything afterwards. But seriously, I gave up drinking beer this summer because it got embarrassing, spending so much time hungover, recycling, empty reminders of my lushness, as entire Rocky Marathons on AMC pass me by.”

At the fancy, Italian Grocery store DeCicco & Sons in Sommers, NY, Joshua’s son Samuel would be hit by older, chesty Italian woman in Juicy sweatpants 24/7. They’d say lines like, “You’re are so gorgeous. When you get older, you’ll have 3 girlfriends to juggle.” Joshua says. “If James Woods had this kid’s face, your estimates wouldn’t be so conservative. But don’t worry, he won’t be leaving the house for Junior High without his backpack stuffed with pre-poundage consent forms to the brim.”

Joshua’s son Samuel was also a beneficiary of what they call, attachment parenting, which is turning your bed into a 24/7 milk bar for the foreseeable future.  Joshua equated attachment parenting to, “planting seeds of self-esteem on steroids.” On a rare occasion, Joshua would let Samuel cry it out in bed, if he put them intentionally after he wrecked his big brother’s magnet tile creation again, prematurely, while refusing, to acknowledge, he “felt bad” about it because his do it all dad had no intention of enabling a monstrous, anus hole psychopath who identifies with a bunch of Punisher vigilante wannbes in ANTIFA, rocking their social justice righting hoodies.  Joshua always talked all 3 of his kids like grown adults out of the womb. As a result, they behaved beautifully in public because their dad held them to a higher social standard than ANTIFA and was never afraid to point out when they were being whiny buzz kills, sucking him dry. Joshua trained his kids well. When Joshua picked his daughter Matilda when she attended pre-k in Scarsdale Village, precious Matilda would say, “Can I get a treat, I was fuss free daddy, fuss free.” On Joshua’s Do It All Dad Year Podcast, he’d always wrap each episode, by using his catchphrase, controlling our kids with comedy, can make our kids great again and my 3 fuss free kids for the most, are living proof of it.” Nickname creation was an effective technique Joshua used to control his kids with comedy. Matilda, was Deltoids Dawn Strong, Striking Beauty, Female Flash, 10 Homer Daily, Big Beat, Enchilada, if Daddy wanted her get some undies on already, “so the Chinese underworld had less to see.” Jeremiah was Art Show, later morphing into Art Show USA. Before he was born, Joshua came with Art Show and his big sister, started sweating his mojo rising already, with her baby brother not even out the womb yet, and declared, “No, it’s my show.”  Other nicknames for Jeremiah included, Feather Foot, Twiggy, when his Dad, playfully stretched his legs out, saying, “Are you ready for Kumite Twiggy”, which was a reference, to an blondie English model from the eighties and the classic Van Dam movie Blood Sport back in the day. Samuel his youngest was Chosen Curl Was Bound To Woo, Head Banger’s Ball, Snuggle Beast, Little Pig, whenever he’d snort to make daddy laugh, although Do It All Dad’s personal favorite nickname was Jabba Hut, Hut, Hut In The House, which Matilda, Jeremiah and Daddy would call him whenever he stuck his abnormally thick tongue out in public or at home. Thus far, the only home Samuel ever knew was Dad’s Comedy Grant House.  Joshua called the house the Comedy Grant House because they got after his all-star nurse wife, applied for an affordable housing grant, and got it. And ever since they moved in Joshua turned into his new comedy making factory machine, intent on making the entire universe laugh for a living on his blog and podcast, making the best of what God blessed him with, for sticking with serving lady laugh with his funny man might, despite there being no clear payday in sight. The mailman at the Post Office, was smitten with Samuel, always telling, Joshua, “He’s so good. You’re going to miss him so much once he starts Kindergarten.” But that wasn’t happening tomorrow. Recently, Samuel defended his Dad’s honor, after I had to explain mama broke his blue, yellow and red toy train gift from Hanukkah, which they picked up together at Union Square, because she threw at his big Jew head, after a conversation about telling her parents about raising them Jewish. Samuel says to Mama in the most direct, heart warming yet means business way, “Don’t throw my train at Daddy again. He’s my best friend.” And best friends find a way to hang out together no matter what, to build each other when they’re down and to make each other happy in their company. It was time to take their father, son dish review show Better Than Boobie, on the road and now Joshua had the idea to do it, with his 9 year old Beshert daughter agent, also known as Billion Dollar Brain to ensure this food truck comedy road show was bound for Do It All Dad glory.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6 He Talks To Tombstones

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, faith, writing

Chapter 6

He Talks To Tombstones

Joshua always possessed a feel for tracking down gravesites of famous people without the aid of Waze for Tombstones. First, he tracked down the gravesite of his lesser known yet still infamous great, great, great, grandfather on his mother’s Kentucky side, Austin Gallagher, who saved his boyhood friend Abe Lincoln from drowning. At the time, Abe had his dear friend Austin swear he’d never anyone about saving putzy Abe who slipped on a real life Lincoln Log while crossing Knob Creek because he had a vision in the water, of liberating the black man from slavery and he couldn’t let his fellow Americans know he was a worst swimmer than Frederick Douglass.

Fast forward, to a couple years after Joshua’s wedding in a sculpture garden, 10 minutes outside of Woodstock, NY he’d went on a camping a trip at KOA in Woodstock, embracing his inner gentile, watching his wife install their wedding gift paid for tent from REI doesn’t count. After splashing his 2-year-old daughter, Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth up and down into the KOA poo yelling, “Breaking baby”, to freak out the locals, showcasing his shock comic influence underpinnings. They grabbed a fancier lunch in Woodstock than Morning Star black bean veggie burgers and Joshua splurged on a fluffy omelet stuffed with outback grown, sautéed Hen of the Wood mushrooms and gooey Manchego cheese drenched from within, lost in purified, shishy bitch heaven. Feeling flush with high end giddy fullness, adding an extra bounce to Joshua’s step, the Vietnamese Coffee, ultra-dank, condensed, highly sweetened, super strong coffee helping, he decided to visit the local graveyard in attempt to track down Rick Danko’s grave from the Band. Rick Danko in case you’re wondering, millennial mousketeers was a star voice in the Band, who became the Band because they used to open up for Bob Dylan back in the day and created their best work at the Big Pink, which was their house up in Woodstock, away from the crazy, partying awaiting them in Manhattan the second, they arrived. Joshua felt bad for Rick Danko, because he believed famed drummer, southern bad ass, crooner stylist, Levon Helm had literally worked himself to death, while fighting a crippling heroin addiction, touring non-stop to support his family and kids, after Robbie Robertson, prematurely announced their last concert being The Last Waltz, while collecting the lion share of the profits. Robbie Robertson’s reason for sending the band off to retirement earlier than later because of the road claiming all the greats before them like Hendrix and Joplin. Still, that’s how Rick Danko ironically enough, went wailing against the dying of his light. In particular, Joshua always had soft spot for Rick Danko’s high octave, big time soulful crooning on It Makes No Difference. But Joshua’s love for the dreamy blend of folksy, rhythm and blues fused, electrified, gospel tinged, ramshackle brand of character driven story Americana rock and roll, The Band personified, stemmed from his father introducing to him to rock doc film, The Last Waltz, growing up, showcasing all star performances from whose who of Rock Royalty back in the day, such as Van, The Man Morrison, the Jewish Elvis, Neil Diamond, a coked out his mind, Neil banshee squeal incarnate Young, blues man and half Muddy, I’m a motherfucking man Waters, and baby boomer arrogance never dies, unofficially lord and savior, Bob, Rolling Thunder Dylan. Joshua cherished this special musical connection with his father, because he’s aware that other Jewish kids he grew up within the comfy, leafy confines, of Edgemont, NY did not. Nor did their Jewish dad’s ever tuck them in, regaling them with tales from their time working in the Catskills as a waiter, like the other crazy, scrappy Jews from the Bronx during their summers off from college, before crashing the original Woodstock, only to wake up from a post Acid induced haze, to hear Sly and the Family Stone, serenade the tripping balls crowd, with, “I’m Going To Take Your Higher.” Joshua found Rick Danko’s grave and thanked him for helping provide such rich filled memories between himself and his dear Abba, who he inherited his sense of dressy, flamboyance from, good taste in music and funny Jew bone from, before his younger brother got arrested for blow one 2 many times and got his father addicted to Ambien and becoming almost 24/7 humorless now as a result.

Now, Joshua was still in NY but in graveyard in Valhalla to visit the gravesite of Ayn Rand with his youngest child, Samuel Chosen Curls Was Bound To Woo Kornbluth. Joshua contemplated not taking his 3 year old son, but he showed interest after he asked him if he wanted to join him and pay homage to a great Russian Jewish American writer Any Rand and his son Samuel replied, with a resounding, “Yes, let’s do it, Poopy Face. You’re boring daddy.”

So, Joshua found the famous tombstone again without too much, lost in time, totally forgetting where he parked his car in the parking lot after a Dead Show in high school type of schlepping. What appealed to Joshua so much about Ayn Rand, was her insistence on not living your life for the sake of someone else, which Joshua identified whole heartedly with, especially since his own mother encouraged him to become a garbageman to feed his family, “do something”, she implored over the phone, after flat out admitting, she couldn’t respect him as a man for failing to be a consistent financial provider for his family so far on God’s bountiful, green earth. But Joshua’s mom not respecting his true authentic, creative writer self, even after getting his TV writing break in Manhattan 3 years ago, was no news flash. Plus, his wife not respecting his role a cook, coach, writer, podcast hero, stay at home comedian and fawned over father from his fuss free 3 kids for the most part wasn’t breaking news either. The pursuit of happiness, for that moral sake, alone, it this philosophical approach to living the life he wanted and did everything in his power to achieve, after God threw him 3 unplanned curveballs, by delivering him 3 unplanned kids. Which would’ve made most lesser cocksure, men, thrown in the towel on their dreams of being more than just a mere Schmuck in a headset, glamorized indentured servant agency recruiter/new business development advertising sales rep ages ago, but Michael knew deep down God blessed with him Unplanned fatherhood because God only he gives children to only the lonely and this comedy giant, was now three times as strong, no longer alone and was just getting his yack pipes and banging keyboard warmed up.

Chapter 4 Growing Up Pushover Putzy

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, faith, writing

Chapter 4

Growing Up Pushover Putzy

Reformed Hebrew School in Scarsdale, NY was a walk in the park compared to the Conservative Synagogue Joshua used to attend in nearby White Plains, NY which is parents stopped attending because the Rabbi called Jackie Mason overrated and hard to understand, even for hardcore Hasidic Jews, or something stupid like that. By the time Joshua started Hebrew School in Scarsdale, NY he already had a firm grasp on how to read Hebrew better than his far smarter classmates from nearby Edgemont, NY who didn’t to take the SAT’s untimed, only to finish them by the time his friend Ari declared his major sophomore year in college at Washington University, Harold Ramis, being the most famous, brainy funny man alum. Still, Joshua found solace in his parenting efforts compared to Harold Ramis after reading a book written by his daughter, titled Ghost Buster’s Daughter, learning, that having an open relationship with his wife wasn’t enough, choose to divorce his wife, letting some strange perv live with his developing daughter, who he on weed rolling detail prior, inspiring Joshua to create one of his earlier Do It All Dad Year Podcasts, titled, I’m A Better Father than Harold Ramis because. Superior munchie control one was one of the reasons on the list, oh yeah, that taking the time to read a film review or actually screen the movie before taking your daughter to see Harvey Keitel pleasure himself on screen in the Bad Liuentant.

The Scarsdale kids who attended Hebrew school were super soft, compared to the Edgemont crew Joshua was apart of, meaning, his friend Coopy would fling Nerds at super feminine, reformed Cantor in the making, Daniel Farber and never fear any retaliation in the process. Joshua and his dear Ari would spend ,most of their time, writing the names of obscure Heavy Metal bands they just learned of in Circus magazine on the covers on their jean jacket conjuring 3 ring binders, holding what inside at the time, Joshua couldn’t tell you now, if his funny Jew bone depended on it.

Joshua remembers how proud his dad was of his performance during his Bar Mitzvah both on the Bema delivering his Haftorah portion, stutter free, in a pretty enough octave, before his voice changed after becoming the last kind in his 9th grade class to get into the puberty party years later. Truth is, Joshua remembers spending more time with his dad practicing his Haftorah portion, under the scent of his Dad’s Aramis musk, more so than him recalling his Dad ever going out his way to teach him the intricacies of a half formed, half ass looking hook shot, with his back to basket in the post. The reason Joshua’s father, really rose to occasion when studying with his 1st born for his Haftorah portion is a result his more serious, learned Hebrew school upbringing in the Bronx off Pond Place, due his brilliant, chemist, father, who graduated high school at 16 only to win the Bronze star in the World War 2, later becoming the Vice President of his Synagogue, which isn’t chopped liver either.

Joshua always asked his father, questions about his dead Grandfather Murry, because he died before he was born, who was literally on his death bed, which they had to roll in during my father’s wedding to my mom in Queens, in the mid-seventies, before future President Donald Trump was old enough to be branded as a culturally deficient con artist by Mr. Personality himself, Philp Roth, who exuded less colorful oomph off the page than Ann Coulter on the rag.  But every time Joshua would ask his Dad to share something about his Grandfather, who he never got know, he’d always respond the same, “What do you want to me to say? He never talked to me. Your grandfather didn’t even attend my college graduation. If he spent any time together, he’d call me a moron whenever I asked him for help on a Calculus or Physics assignment.” So, Joshua growing closer to his father through his Torah study preparation for his Bar Mitzvah was special time for his father, which always held a scared place in Aba’s heart, Hebrew for father because he was able to spend quality time with the somber spirt of his departed father again in the service of preparing his son for his Bar Mitzvah, feel valued and nor longer feel like talked down moron of yesteryear.

Joshua’s father could even exhale a breath of relief, after seeing his son slow dance with the Australian implant, Joanne Matthews, without showcasing too much upper body, stiffness in the process, which would’ve made the slow dance a total bust.  Also, out of fear of nobody showing up to his son’s Bar Mitzvah, Joshua’s parents invited the entire class, despite Joshua having a crew of nice Jewish boys back then like Ari, Coop and John.  You know your parents think very little of your social ranking in junior high when they invite the entire class to your party, to ensure their son could be spend more time alone upstairs in his room playing with his GI-Joe figures well past the accepted playing age but at least now have a six CD changer, to play one Hair Metal record after another like Poison Open Up and Say Ahh, and Cinderella Night Songs, thanks to Joshua being flush with gift certificates from the Tower Records and the Wiz for his Birthday Bar Mitzvah bash.  And you definitely know it’s a reformed Bar Mitzvah party bash, when your dad’s chef friend from the Bronx off the Grand Course, caters the party with nothing but veal parm and meatball parm heroes, which always miraculously tasted ten times more delicious the next day, resulting in Joshua never forgiving his father for dumping all the leftovers from the party. Later in life, Joshua learned Carmine grew and bottled his own Roma tomatoes from his Yonkers estate compound garden, while using noting but primo cold pressed olive oil and fresh basil also plucked from the Garden, in addition to chunky shards of garlic, which Joshua became hellbent on replicating once he got into cooking for himself, getting the burnt out more frost bite burn from Turkey burgers bought at Costco in bulk in LA after he graduated college back in the day, discovering comedy writing as a way to fight back, get in the last word and no longer feel so perpetually pushover putzy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1 Rabbi Mendel Schneerson Lives

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, faith, writing

Chapter 1

Rabbi Mendel Schneerson Lives

 

Joshua loved his Grandma. Without her Pfizer stock money, he never would’ve been able to take the plunge into open mike stand up comedy during his recovery year living in Sherman Oaks, California with his dear bud Jay, who met during his IT recruiter days of yesteryear. Growing up, his stylish, rambunctious, art loving, bi-polar Jewish grandma would tell her eldest Grandson, “Slow down.” And her grandson wasn’t even addicted to time release Adderall yet. Nor was he an unplanned father of 3 who never mastered the art of the pump fake yet, trying to get his Do It all Dad Year Podcast on to I-Tunes New and Notable list without no immediate grandparents on both sides to help out with the kids in sight.

Joshua felt like his entire life was a cold call since graduating Ithaca College, which he calls Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor. Still, Joshua also likes to advertise his 2 decades worth of pot abuse and add, “But he attended the distinguished Roy H. Park School Of Communications, so he could puff bong hits of exceptionally strong outdoor and managed not to stutter every other 2 seconds.”  Becoming an IT Headhunter paying his own way in his world, after his parents finally cut him off at 23 made him the man he is today. Now, Joshua being a father of 3 tends question of the everlasting value of his college education, knowing he was the only putz to graduate a top communication school in the country with a debilitating stutter. But cold calling through his heavy pain period of being hung up on by IT Directors twice his age he cold called non-stop from 8 to 6 each day pre-smart phones in 99 when you actually had to call information for phone numbers when dial up Internet Access through a fucking Earthlink account wasn’t available in your office yet either. Still, despite crying it out in the bathroom stall at work after another crushing day of endless, dejected defeat from being hung up on all day long, not knowing how the hell he was going to make a living to support himself in this world, he plowed forward, out of sheer desperation, being totally optionless in life, possessing zero leverage over anything despite his adamant refusal to throw in the towel and quit the job, despite his Garbage Man son’s boss from Queens, giving the option out, stating, “How many more times can you deal with being hung up on exactly?” Joshua was never strong with numbers, having to count with his fingers for simple arithmetic, explaining why he’d constantly call himself a degenerate Jew, leading to a recent exchange with his 9-year Bashert daughter, Matilda Singing Rose Kornbluth. She asks. Daddy, how many zeros are in a trillion? Daddy, do you really have to Google that? Daddy are you financially illiterate. Is why you call yourself a degenerate Jew who still counts with fingers for simple arithmetic after all?

5 months later Joshua’s persistence was rewarded. Finally, he was able to slam his phone back on the receiver triumphant, yelling out loud for the entire open office of IT agency recruiters to hear, “Deal.” The room erupted with instantaneous jubilee, as all of his fellow IT agency recruiter took at time out from their daily cold call assaults to come over and give the traditional high five to a recruiter who just closed their first deal and broke his cherry, feeling a semi-capable, functioning human being the business world for a change.

Now, Joshua is with his dad, his best friend from the Bronx, affectionally known as Uncle D, his Grandma’s sister’s son Bernie and Wife Ruthie along with a Rabbi in a damp, blistery cold day in a graveyard in Queens,  staring down a barren, wooden box his Grandma is buried in. At this point, Joshua realizes he’s never been to a Jewish funeral before, so the stripped-down proceeding of the bare, non-ostentatious bare as can be coffin, chills him to the core. The final enormity of death pulled at his heart like a ton of bricks. All of his Grandma’s friends were dead now, so not one was there to pay their final respects. She also spent he remaining years, in fancy old age homes, she never cared for, off her bi-polar medication, which eradicated her special spark. Now, she was better off Joshua thought, reunited with his Jewish Grandfather who he never knew, who died before he was born, most likely from the nuclear radiation considering his close proximity to the big one in Japan, when he served as medic in the army, winning a Bronze Star for bravery in the process. Understand, Joshua had no intention to speak at his Grandma’s wedding because was frankly still pissed off at her for blowing off his wedding because he married a Gentile. In fact, since Joshua started pursuing a career in stand-up comedy, he’d do a bit, stating,” I wish I snubbed by whiny, no show Jewish Grandam for a wise Black Grandma at my wedding. Post an ad on Craig’s List, stating, Tyler Perry impersonators are welcome. Must be comfortable performing in front of white audiences only. Truth is Joshua being a native New Yorker, always enjoyed making the a New York brother laugh long time, considering his affinity for the New York Knicks, which he describes as forced marriage his father pushed on him, despite there never being a ring in his lifetime to show for it. Before Joshua even became an unplanned father of 3, he experienced an epiphany while on a run at his old high school, within bucolic, mountainous, tree topping, surroundings, of Westchester Country, in Edgemont, NY. As he picked up the pace to finish his final lap around the track where he used to drink flask of Southern Comfort and forties of old E from the local bodegas in White Plains who never asked for ID, Joshua thought, we learn our behavior from our dad. Which explains why I became a fat fuck in high school, sitting my ass on the couch, eating like shit, watching the Knicks stick up the joint on TV again and again.  Growing up, Joshua’s father would call him a waste of height because the highlight of his basketball career in high school was scoring a whopping ten points against an all Japanese team based in Westchester Country. Joshua in his act would say, “It wasn’t hard to score against these Japanese players who half my size because every time I’d drive to the hoop, they’d run away scared from me like they were movie extras in a Godzilla film, except instead of saying, Looking Godzilla, they’d say, look Hugh Grant on Stilts.” Raising a benchwarmer could’ve made Joshua’s dad beam with pride, especially senior year, knowing he’d schlep from his VP of packaging sales job in Jersey to high school a gym in Eastchester, NY only to see his son ride the pin because he never got his never putz energy under control, still hadn’t lost his virginity yet and started to have a more active social life involving, getting drunk with his friends at bars along North Avenue In New Rochelle to Oh, What a Night and smoking sprayed weed from the Bronx at a fake news Jamaican Record store, that taste like Windex. Joshua had also taken up smoking cigarettes because he his good friend Ari got him into on top both of them being enamored with Dice, the king of heavy metal hair comedians back in the day.

After Joshua spent a summer in Israel for a Masada teen tour, which is late Grandma paid for, he finally felt like man on the rise with a semblance of mojo working in his favor a change. Sure, hooking up with 2 Israeli girls the week he stayed on Kibbutz, that summer, did wonders for his self-esteem. Because prior, he was consumed with heavy heart, knowing his younger brother of 3 years had not only achieved puberty before he did but also banged the 3 hottest girls in his class, which he tried to jerk off to at the time but couldn’t, making him feel like a big brother bust, like Eddy Curry on the Knicks, with an even shittier, less reliable hook shot.  Chances are that Joshua doesn’t have the senior yearbook staff coin the award Grooviest in his honor if his Grandma never insisted on sending her eldest Grandson to Israel for the summer. Nor would he win the International Award, for hooking up with the two Israeli girls during his Masada Teen Tour. Prior, the only award Joshua ever won was for Most Improved Basketball Player at sleep away camp in Kent, CT, marking another award invented in his far less cocksure manner. Joshua was overwhelmed with emotion, when he won the Most Improved Basketball Award, knowing he was such a shy, unsure kid, he’d skip out on Canteen mixers with the neighboring girl camp in favor of doing defense shuffling slide drills at night, which he got laughed and ridiculed for. That is when he wasn’t reading Cracked Magazine in his bunk alone yet happy or trying to jerkoff to a Playboy magazine one night with his flashlight while the entire bunk was full without having the entire cabin to himself. Thinking things through was never Joshua’s forte.

Now, the Rabbi had asked if anyone wanted to speak about his Joshua’s dead grandmother, Ethel.  Joshua was consumed with a lofty spirit of some kind and finally reached peace with his grandmother blowing off his wedding because he married a gentile. He said, “I loved my grandmother. With her giving me Pfizer stock money amassed from her years of working as an executive assistant in the Manhattan at their corporate headquarters, I never would’ve been able to throw myself into my dream of becoming a strong enough stand up comedian to get a job writing TV sitcoms like American Dad or pilots of my own creation for a living. But what I cherish more is a book she gave me once, which was a first, titled, The Teachings of Rabbi Mendel Scheerson.  “Think good and it will be good.”   He also talks about not allowing yourself to be controlled by fear, knowing how mercurial humans can be. So, it’s a total time suck and way too emotionally draining to invest so much into caring so much about the opinions of others knowing how fickle we can be. Of course, I’ll never forgive my younger brother for writing some girl’s phone number on the inside cover. But he’d didn’t know any better, I’m assuming. Nor did Grandma know any other way but to always be brutally honest and bust balls because that’s what Jewish Grandma’s did back in the day. Later, the Rabbi, approaches Joshua, moved by his warm words about his grandmother asks Joshua, “Tell me about this dream your Grandma helped make true. What do you write for now Joshua?” Joshua can’t help but laugh inside and says, “Myself Rabbi, lady laugh, take your pick.” And the Rabbi’s face turned from glow filled acceptance to dejected dread, considering the Rabbi’s imagined success for Ethel’s too tall Jew, grandson prior.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Jewish Godmother Recruiter

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, relationships

Chapter 1

Amazed You Have An Ego Of Any Kind

Chapter 2

I Don’t Care About Your Kids

Chapter 3

Don’t Tell Dad You’re Fucking Up Again

Chapter 4

Fake News Hippie

Chapter 5

My Husband

Chapter 6

Back Up Singer Love

Chapter 7

Wishing My Son’s Birthday Never Blows

Chapter 8

Would You Like To Groove Together?

Chapter 9

Friends Play Ball Together

Chapter 10

Put God On Hold For You?

Chapter 11

Why I Should Remarry Your Daughter Dad?

Chapter 12

The Anchor Rescue Dog Baby

Chapter 13

Southern Beauty With Legs

Chapter 14

Caring About Making Fat White Fake News Nerds Laugh Is Gay

Chapter 15

Deciding Your Destiny, Not Dad

Chapter 16

Belittle My Potential For Gain Again

Chapter 17

192 Shares and Rising

Chapter 18

Shooting For Shit

Chapter 19

Loving Lady Laugh More Than Your Wife

Chapter 20

Spoiled Silly

Chapter 21

Clearing The Doors Of Perception Without Visine

Chapter 22

Accepting My Self-Love Problem

Chapter 23

Baby Boomer Arrogance Never Dies

Chapter 24

Slut In A Straight Jacket

Chapter 25

Unplanned Fatherhood

Chapter 26

So?

Chapter 27

What’s Next?

Chapter 28

Big Deal Year

Chapter 29

Caring Is Emoting In My Honor

Chapter 30

Romancing Lit Agents Hard

Chapter 31

What Excites Me About The Position?

Chapter 32

The Perverted Monk

Chapter 33

Getting Off On You

Chapter 34

Conservative Woman Are Hotter

Chapter 35

Waste Of Breath

Chapter 36

Couldn’t Be That Boring If I Tried

Chapter 37

Sharing For Genius Props

Chapter 38

Did They Pay You For It?

Chapter 39

You Like Me Being A Dependent

Chapter 40

Too Ambitious

Chapter 41

Tears of a Recruiter Clown

Chapter 42

The Big Sister Jewess Experience

Chapter 43

Gay For Getting Off Lady Laugh Long Time

Chapter 44

Tempting Passive Aggressive Payback

Chapter 45

Gonna Flex It For 3 Hours Long

Chapter 46

My 9 Year Old Daughter Agent

Chapter 47

Slobbering Over Samuel

Chapter 48

The Babysitter Recruiter

Chapter 49

In A Loud Mouth New York Jew Way

Chapter 50

Sketches of Sketchyness

Chapter 51

Kind Of Blah

Chapter 52

Live at the Charleston JCC

Chapter 53

Monster She Male Dad Material

Chapter 54

Defending My Jewishness on Christmas

Chapter 55

The Last Supper In Delaware

Chapter 56

Pushing for A Boob Lift On Passover

Chapter 57

Flirting With MILF Jewess New Yorkers

Chapter 58

Sustained Stiffage

Chapter 59

History Of Semi-Soft Core Anti-Semitism

Chapter 60

Growing Up Pushover Putzy

Chapter 61

The Sheltered Bum

Chapter 62

The Eco-Friendly Herring Car That Could

Chapter 63

The Jewish Mothering Club

Chapter 64

Fishing For Fathering Pointers From Jesus

Chapter 65

He Talks To God Stoned

Chapter 66

The Overrated Roman Heckler

Chapter 67

The Ghost of Rec Draft Past

Chapter 68

Joshua and Michael Rank Prophets on Ranker

Chapter 69

Avoiding Mom Again

Chapter 70

My Most Dependable Friend

Chapter 71

Siding With Dad

Chapter 72

Woopty Freaking Do

Chapter 73

Nurturing Narcists Only

Chapter 74

Fuck White Fat Nerd Pleasing

Chapter 75

Getting Paid To Hang Out With My Son

Michael Kornbluth

Do It All Dad Does Pleasantville

by doitalldadyear, posted in comedy, Parenting, Uncategorized

According to LinkedIn, the Ellen show is looking for a Digital Marketing Manager. What are the must have requirements for this job, besides being pro Bush?

Is it me or does Robert Dinero on the View look like Betsy Ross, falling apart at the seams?

If Google doesn’t manipulate search results, then why is it harder to find positive mentions of Trump on Google, than finding a film blogger on Rotten Tomatoes, who called the Irishman underrated?

Imagine Greta Thunberg debating President Trump on climate change on Pay Per View.

Trump says. Fracking reduces our carbon emissions Greta.

Greta freaks out. So, Neil Young is full of shit now?

Trump says. Neil Young doesn’t take showers to reduce his carbon footprint. That much you share in common babe.

Did you know can you be fined 250 thousand dollars for using dehumanizing language on an Illegal Alien in New York City, like no speak English? Whose translating these insults for Juan exactly? Now, an illegal immigrant in New York City gets a driver license to vote and a hate speech translator to bankrupt Apu, at a Bodega in Flushing.

Do blind men get the beer goggles? Assuming they do, does the seeing eye dog offer a second opinion? We better pass on this one Stevie. You can feel her face, but I can smell her snatch, woof, woof.

This is Ziggy Marley interviewed by High Times Magazine. How did your Dad Bob have 7 kids? Doesn’t ganja drain your life blaster dry? Fake news man.

I have 3 kids now. I’ve aged well I know. Despite my wife bemoaning, I’ve sacrificed. She acts like an aspiring stand-up comedian in his twenties while living in Queens wanted kids ever.

And can we stop calling Queens hot, it’s not. Compared to Manhattan and Brooklyn, Queens is the sloppy 3rd Kardashian sister. You know the extra greasy one, who’s easy to pound at 3 in the morning, like a lamb gyro in Astoria.

My daughter believes in God but she’s always looking for ways to disprove his existence: Daddy, if God created the universe, then who created God? God went back in time in a time machine made by Elon Musk. Real convincing Dad. Thanks for making me an atheist at 4.

My mom asked me if my daughter watched the Woman’s March on Washington, around the time my daughter was learning how to read. Daughter tries to make out one of the protest signs, “Daddy, what’s, pa, pa, Pussy Power? Is that a new show on Amazon Prime?

My wife works at night in the NICU revitalizing blue faced newborn babies for a living. This makes me feel like a total narcissist because all I check for is for retweets.

1 kid only, means your diaphragm is for walls after all.

Actress Rosario Dawson flirting with one-time presidential hopeful, Corey Booker:

Would you run into a burning building for me Corey?

Was it you or Chloe Sevigny who got Aids in the movie Kids? Just kidding. In the end, that white bitch, didn’t feel so privileged after all.

Have they taken the Rocky statue down yet in Philly? Because it promotes white supremacy.

Fuck China. Chinese made Fentanyl has killed more crackers in this country, than Lena Dunham kicking it with Taylor Swift on Instagram.

The NY Times, says mothers who juggle jobs outside the home today, spend as much time with their kids than stay at home mom’s in the seventies. So, all the stay at home moms from the seventies slept on job on one 2 many Quaaludes, haunted by images of Cosby’s family friendly sweaters. I don’t get it.

Wish I subbed my no show, whiny Jewish Grandma for a wise black Grandma for my wedding. Post an ad on Craig’s List. Tyler Perry impersonators are welcome. Must be comfortable performing in front of white audiences only.

I don’t believe ex Knicks all-star Kristaps Porzingis tried to rape a girl in his apartment building the day he tore his ACL. First, going strong to the hole was never KP’s forte. Last, do you see Harvey Hair Clumps Weinstein trying to rape Wonder Woman played by Gal Gadot on only one good leg?

Deplorable is anyone glad Jussie Smollett took a shot.

48 people have been fired at Google for sexual harassment. But Software Engineers are too busy banging out code to hit on girls. Plus, I don’t think their typical Perl script command is, “Massage my Carpal Tunnel, ho.”

Whenever my son whose 3, get’s fussy around mama. Mama says. “Baby gets bored whenever he spends too much time with me.” Always knew he was a quick learner.

Quotes about Mother’s Day aren’t the best sales pitches to use on Millennial Mouseketeers relishing their non-mom status.

It’s difficult but rewarding.

Being a mom has made me so tired yet happy.

Tina Fey doesn’t smirk anymore.

Enough with Israeli aggression. If Hamas fires 700 rockets into Israel’s backyard, don’t expect an Edible Arrangement gift basket in return, with a thank a note written in Farsi

Hillary giving a speech on Cybersecurity is like Kevin Durant giving a Ted Talk on how to ignore cyber-bullying.

Hate is good because it motivates you to seek out places where you feel more valued and appreciated like at a Trump rally behind your wife’s back, to make your sex life above average again. Put my man meat in Indiana MILF, I’m ready to play, play.

John Snow from Game of Thrones, going to rehab in Connecticut for 75 grand a week ruins everything. John Snow was supposed to be the more alpha dog Orlando Bloom in a beard, yet now you get the impression he’d startle easily from a cutting stare by Gordon Ramsey on an episode of Master Chef, celebrity edition for his take on Dothraki Lamb burgers.

Chef Ramsey yells:

This burger tastes like burnt villagers John Snow. And what the fuck were you thinking making Dothraki Lamb Burgers with a rosemary, roasted garlic aioli John Snow? Dothraki’s are never confused for shishy bitches like yourself John, no offense.

What I love about President Trump, still your President, is his relentless optimism and over the top salesmanship. If Trump was diagnosed with HIV today, he’d tweet the next morning. Do I have HIV yes? But my T Cell Count Numbers have never been stronger.

Michael Kornbluth