Chapter 38 Eyes Of The Comedy Booker

 

Chapter 38

Eyes of The Comedy Booker

 

Any wannabe paid set comedian, who created an email address such as killerset@gmail.com like Joshua did 15 years ago never outgrew his insatiable need to dominate on stage and finally deliver the elusive, teasing, killer laugh wave set from start to finish for 5 minutes straight.  When Joshua told his dad about his new showbiz hued email address, his expected reply was, “I’d create a new email address, that sounds more professional because any employer will think you’re crazy. I don’t even know how we’re related. Killerset@gmail.com, is a good email address if you’re joining a sex cult in Waco, Texas, genius.”  But Joshua was way past giving a shit about acting in accordance with so called bounds of normalcy within the eyes of hiring sales managers and HR humpbacks littered throughout corporate America because becoming a professional comedian, who got paid to write funny or perform the funny you wrote on stage, was a giant fuck you to the straight, corporate hack, professional world, versus the world of entertainment, which rewards you for being excellent at getting your funny man freak on for a living.

It brought Joshua tremendous joy and prideful satisfaction to impress major comedy big wigs with his writing such as headliner great Nick Diapalo, who Joshua fondly remembers always  laughing the hardest from out of all the Comedy Cellar comics on Tough Crowd, which he used to get stoned and watch with his Ithaca bud JT who had just moved down to Hermosa Beach nearby back in the day. The same JT, who made tasteless Holocaust jokes, who peed himself constantly, but he was a solid drinking, weed smoking buddy, who had a shit together enough to end up graduating from Babson and score a job in SAP finance at Raytheon in nearby Redondo Beach. Joshua tolerated the occasional Holocaust jokes, because some Gentiles are more tasteless degenerates than their fellow Jewish friends, who weren’t blessed with the funny Jew bone either, so they can’t discern what’s really funny versus truly tasteless either.  JT and Joshua would love blasting the Motley Crue album, Too Fast For Love, together, after they got their drink on at the Poop Deck in Hermosa Beach after work with some other buds, right off the strand, where everyone would get picture of cheap lager beer for 4 bucks each, and you were allowed 2 pitcher each, so the amassment of pitchers grew quite large if they were 10 deep that night at the Poop Deck. During one of those nights, pounding cheap beer, soaking up the joyous youth of their mid-twenties, no longer freezing their balls off back east, JT tells Joshua, “Your short term memory is embarrassment to your people but you’re a social genius man.” Another of one of their drinking buds, who was a Marine, once told Joshua, “You can be the next Larry David man.” And Joshua wasn’t even that funny back then or even grown the ball sack to try being funny on stage yet.   Joshua missed his friend JT. They passed out at a 311 concert together in Long Beach, only 10 minutes in. Last he heard, JT got stone cold sober, after his ex-roommate and friend Jerard died from cancer at 32. The same good guy Jerard, from Indiana, who booked our hotel room at the Marriot by Times Square, insisting, he was always wanted to celebrate New Years Even in Manhattan, the place of Joshua’s birth, despite getting drunk and sluty desperate in the city for New Years being yesterday’s news for Joshua at this stage in his life.  It was impossible to not think of dear Gerard, when Joshua finished writing his script for America’s Hard 100 at Viacom Headquarters blocks down from the same Marriot in Times Square, where he saw his jubilant, edge free, rock solid, good guy face ever again. It was Greenwich Village, which held a longer lasting, special clasp on his heart than Times Square ever was, regardless if it being the site of his TV writing break, which was 12 years in the making or not.

Greenwich Village was another universe, within New York City, always more intimate, poetic and romantic than the now Salesforce building tainted skyline in Midtown Manhattan, yuck.  Herald Square by Madison Square Garden was still a dump at large, upper east had seen better days, upper west was still for single cat depressed cat ladies, Chelsea was overpriced, bland, and nothing to write home about.  Hells Kitchen, now nicknamed Hells Kitty on the outskirts of the Time Square and the Theatre District, possessed a quaint, quiet charm but never exuded a posh, I have to live here no what matter what, or I’ll die a creative failure.  The Lower East Side, south of Houston on Mott or Ludlow was cool, but cramped and Ronan Farrow lived there, in one of those luxurious condo high rises so how rock and roll was the former cruising ground of William Burroughs after all.  SOHO was gorgeous, the Euro trash in decked out Prada smoking American Spirit cigarettes, lingering outside the Mercer Hotel not so much. But Greenwich Village. The cobble stone street and Tribeca lofts off Battery Park were sweet, but it was impossible not to contemplate the avoidable spectator of large scale death still hovering in the air from ground zero, now replaced with sparkling Freedom Tower, as a heart crushing reminder, of America’s never ending war against terror, when W fucked up everything he touched without fail.  The East Village had Jones Street and Saint Marks, where Joshua used to get his bootleg Dead tapes in college, but now all he saw around these parts were fresh of the womb, zero style, nerds, who worked as coders, product managers or UX designers for good will hoodie at Facebook. Greenwich Village by NYU outside of Washington Square Park and the Comedy Cellar and Bitter End, is what gave Joshua sustained stiffage long time, that’s where action was, to chase down open mikes, bringer shows or paid performer gigs anywhere else was nuts. All of Joshua’s comedic heroes of yesteryear got their joke hitting practice at dumps such as Bitter End and within the basement bunker known as the Comedy Cellar. Joshua was still enamored with Joan Rivers, Rodney and the new school cast of big deal clowns like Jim Norton, Chris Rock, the late Greg Geraldo, and Nick lick my white Italian nuts Diapalo, knowing they all earned their pro stripes within these hallowed, better not suck walls.  The more fairy book tree lined, gas lit, stoop heavy streets of the West Village along Perry Street where Sarah Jessica Parker wrote her Sex In The City Column on HBO was and always would be magical in Joshua’s eyes, yet he wasn’t a fabulous, gay Investment banker with a personal MMA trainer at his beck and call either.

Joshua had good sets at the Comedy Cellar when he used to work as IT agency recruiter on 39 Broadway, using his office to fax copies of his Always Sunny In Philadelphia spec script, “The Gang Get’s Outsourced.” There was super cute, always perky up top Holly in his office, who he totally could mounted on top of his desk after work with real drill attack fury. They’d got out to lunch together for cheese steaks and her friends on Facebook in their early twenties compared to Joshua being a 31 at time, were even hotter, banging professional baseball players. Joshua was always into Italian gals and they felt the same. Holly even help Joshua develop his signature seeing eye dog bit at work one late night. She says in a friendly, helpful, way, “Why you don’t you try acting out the seeing eye dog on stage instead? Joshua took her advice and did his bit in front of beautiful, spastic laugh spewing Holly, “Do Blind Men get the beer googles? Assuming they do, does the seeing eye dog ever offer a second opinion? We better pass on this one Stevie. You can feel her face, but I can smell her snatch, woof, woof.” Holly finishes laughing and says, “I love you getting down on all fours. You’re going to kill at the Comedy Cellar tonight. I can feel it.” Holly was the best. If Joshua wasn’t a nice Jewish boy living with his girlfriend now wife Anna at the time, they could’ve made a hot to trot couple together. Holly even recommended Joshua write books for a living, without even reading any of his story scripts similar to his Summer wind Summer in Hermosa Beach, what a woman.

It was hard to not think of Holly as Joshua greeted Este, at her comedy club the Laugh Yanker, a new addition the Greenwich Village stand-up comedy scene, only blocks away from the Comedy Cellar, whose comedy booker was Isralie born also.  Ester greets Joshua outsider her comedy club, finishing smoking her Camel Wide cigarette, Turkish blend.  “Hi Joshua, you’re strutting the city like you’re in a NY groove again”, she says. Joshua says, “Your presence makes my mojo rising Ester.” Ester replies, “So I heard your comedy record, Resist This. You got it kid, very funny stuff. I just don’t know if New York City is ready for you yet. You can be a tad overwhelming. Have you ever considered writing a novel? You can let your imagination run wild and use a narrator voice, so your singular, larger than life personality doesn’t overwhelm all your senses at once the way it does on your comedy record Resist This. The seeing eye dog bit was one of my personal favorites. I see you a dreamy crossbreed of Richard Lewis, Dice and Rodney Dangerfield.” Joshua’s smart phone rings. He says, “You’re too kind Ester, just give me a second.” Joshua picks up his phone and hears, “Hello Joshua, this Pierre, the Creative Director at Porsche SUV. We loved your audition and want you to be our new face and voice for our family friendly Porsche SUV campaign.” Joshua replies, “That’s great news, Pierre, but you’ll have to talk to my agent Matilda, to hammer out all the business details.” Pierre says, “You mean you’re 9-year-old daughter? I already have Joshua, that’s why you’ll have your own comedy gold, Porsche SUV as a signing bonus as an act good faith to secure your services for this campaign. She insisted. Congrats again, or as your people say, Mazel Tov.” Joshua says, to Esther, “Feel my face, I just got my Comedy Gold Porsche SUV. Do my cheeks feel flush with untapped possibility? Still, why do I want to an open mike set at the Comedy Cellar right now and be the most patronizing asshole imaginable?” Ester says, “Sounds like you’re in the mood for a victory lap to me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 37 Boobie Talk

 

 

Chapter 37

Boobie Talk

 

Joshua missed sucking on some boob, that wasn’t his wife’s breast-feeding ones, who for the past nine years have tasted like a foamy tipped, regrettable non-fate latte. His summer wind Katie’s were perfect, as Rodney would say, 36 D to be exact. You’d think they were fake by the way they bounced when she was on top, because they barely moved out of their picturesque, perky plump place.  One time Joshua was doing Kettle belle chest raises off their fancy, Moroccan print, self-designated Rocky rug in the garage and having his 9 year old daughter do the same after, which prompted to her ask, “Daddy, will these chest exercises stunt my eventual breast development? Joshua says, “If you take off mommy, it shouldn’t be too much of a load off your shoulders.”

Growing up Joshua was more into the actress, Mimi Roger’s luscious lobes of round, from the 1st Austin Powers more so than Liz Hurley, who wasn’t making you feel shortchanged on top either.  Scandal in the Mansion was his favorite old school seventies porn by far, before tatted up white girls on Crystal meth ruined porn for him, being more of a golden age of bush, guy, himself. Like Dice would say back in the day, “Woman today, want to hide the smell with Chanel and stuff. When I go down there, I want to taste, SALMON.”  And smoking hot Nicole Eggert from Charles in Charge, who Joshua had poster from Child World, that his friend Jared offered to trade an Eric Lindros rookie card for, only became a woman in his Joshua’s eyes, after her boob job on full display in soft core porn flick Blown Away, starring a suddenly grown up ripped Corey Haim, before Hollywood used and abused him, sucking his life spark dry.

Now, Joshua was getting lost in Golda’s gorgeous, sun spotted, well tan cleavage formation with a star of David dangling between her swinging beauties on her nationally syndicated conservative talk radio show host of The Funny Jew Bone. Golda says, “Today, on our show, we’ve got a stay at home comedian dad, Michael Kornbluth, whose 9 year old daughter agent, suggested I book him a guest on my show already, after pushing for him to get into my Great American Jewish Novel Book club prior. Joshua just released his very funny, super ballsy, debut comedy record, Resist This. You recorded this comedy record from home correct? Joshua replies, “That’s correct Golda. I understand there’s no live audience, yet funny is funny and the material made me laugh out loud from start to finish, which is more than I can say for Dennis Miller’s White Album, also not recorded in front of a live stand up comedy audience. Also, what kind of a douche bag are you to name your comedy record, the freaking White Album, which is a top 4 Beatles record at best. Plus, shouldn’t comedians who consider themselves to true artists for creating comedic art of nothing, doing more some comedy gold digging to craft a stronger headliner hooker of a comedy record title than the fucking White Album. Also, isn’t great comedy, the most universal and not using the most obscure details to only stroke off your own fake news deep ego long time. Granted, Dennis Miller did encourage Lorne Michaels to give the golden Jew Adam Sandler and audition, but he also named his kid Holden, from Catcher In The Freaking Rye.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed that book when I was 15 like everyone else but he always came off a tad too preppy petulant for my taste. You were miserable in junior high, join the freaking club, at least you got live in Manhattan and lose your virginity to I’m assuming, was a semi good looking prostitute who knew she was doing a hole. Also, what kind of an asshole does a standup comedy show in Vegas, with his hands his jacket pockets half the time, fashioning himself as a punchier, styling Mark Twain minus the cutting, nationally acclaimed literary loaded, imaginative heft? So, Dennis Miller looks good in a beard and started defending Trump 2 years into his already wildly successful presidency, woopty freaking-do, Miller. Kevin Hart named his kids Hendrix and Heaven which is way cooler than Holden. Obviously, none of those names compare to me naming my son Arthur Morrison Kornbluth, pulling off a miracle by creating a freaking flow to Kornbluth but I digress.  I had an old joke, where I’d comment about how my last name Kornbluth is a mouthful and I even struggle to annunciate it despite having 4 decades of practice. Then, adding, Kornbluth is a total mouthful. Kim Kardashian can’t even wrap her mouth around it.  But now Kim Kardashian is studying to become a Criminal Justice Lawyer, after using her enormous social media platform to help get Alice Water’s pardoned from jail, so I’m just another loudmouth Jew in comparison minus the rich, successful friends, excluding you Golda. Kim Kardashian is going to become a Criminal Justice Lawyer. Criminal Justice Lawyers are so hot right now.” Gold finishes laughing and says, “I call this show the Funny Jew Bone for a reason folks. Joshua was obviously endowed with bigger bone than most.” Joshua continues to roll, constantly selling, “So my debut comedy record Resist This, consists of my greatest joke gem hits from my Do It All Dad Year Podcast, what gen X parents understand, controlling our kids with comedy can make our kids great again. My 3 fuss free kids most of the time, are living proof of it. I’ve done 162 episodes of straight up, topical stand up for 3 years straight, accumulating hours of grade A stand up material while looking after 3 kids in the process. John Lennon wishes he was this productive during his stay at home dad years.  Golda says, “Are you sure there isn’t anything you left out Joshua?” Joshua says, “Glad you asked Golda. I knew you got paid the big bucks for a reason. I’m about to complete my 1st coming of age, midlife crisis reinvention novel, The Great American Jew Novel in addition to securing our 1st round of super angel funding for my Do It All Dad Year Hero, Kosher Cheesesteak truck, using a plant based cheese wiz, which would blow off your bra Golda.” Golda says, “I noticed you getting lost at my balling beauties, prior. If you got it flaunt it.” Joshua says, “That’s why you couldn’t shut me up if you tried Golda, unless you buried my face into your chest during your next commercial break.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 34 Gold Driller

 

 

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 34 Gold Driller

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 32 Another Blind Date Audition

Chapter 32

Another Blind Date Audition 

 

Joshua hated big tech companies like Facebook because they made baby boomer grandparents the laziest grandparent generation of all time. Lifting a finger is liking a picture.  His out of state in-laws in Delaware adopting a rescue dog named Heidi, 3 grandchildren later didn’t make him hate Facebook any less, knowing his 3 kids would have to compete for attention with the ugly runt Heidi the terrible now. Also, Joshua being fully aware of his in-laws never being a huge fan of his people, despite the fake news claim, they had Jewish friends, bullshit. Oh yeah and the dad liked Mel Brooks films, so that excuses his hack, Jewish cheap jokes despite him spending more on Heidi’s doggy daycare than he ever did for 3 grandchildren. Never to let any funny man observation go to waste, Joshua made more comedic art from his life and delivered this joke gem on his Do It All Dad Year Podcast episode, Grandparent Bad Manners,  “Kids are asleep, and I tell my wife on the couch, “So The Good Men Project is going to republish 15 of my blogs. Wife replies, “What are they paying you for it?  I said, “Less than your parents give us, so nothing.”

Joshua hated Skype also because his retired parents in Scottsdale, Arizona couldn’t even dress up for the occasion to do a Skype call with their grandchild Matilda, before they had 2 additional grandchildren to dress up for, although one Skype call was enough.  During the Skype call, his dad was sporting the same pair of ashy tennis slacks from 86. His mothers’ hair was all tussled, looking like she’d been up late to catch those money shot tax reveals on Uni Brow Maddow. Joshua couldn’t complain too much about Twitter because he used it as his open mike for 3 years hard, becoming the joke writing animal machine he is today. Which made it easier for him to stomach becoming a shadowbanned comedian on the site, meaning the hate speech police would actively hide his jokes from being seen more than putz face Palmer Report, because he’d made fun of Lebron’s persecution complex and Obama’s overrated legacy of good accomplishments like rebranding ISIS, ISIL so they’d sound more startup friendly in the NY Times.

Apple pissed Joshua off because making fun of radical ISLAM didn’t win him any curator fans up in Cupertino, either.  On his Do It All Dad Year Podcast he didn’t hold back one bit, launching into another far from edgeless routine, “Enough with ISIS being such a good recruiters. All they do is target other lonely virgins on What’s App, who wish their phone blew up.  And why is radical Islam so into piercing Virgins? Doesn’t radical Islam have enough blood on their hands already? Last, if you fire 700 rockets into Israel’s backyard, don’t expect an Edible gift basket in return, with a thank you note full of happy face pineapples written in Farsi.  162 episodes into his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, Joshua expected to have his podcast listed under new and notable already, despite his 3-year podcast no longer being so new anymore. But stats don’t lie and 7500 plus downloads for Joshua screamed, you better recognize bitch, that’s more icky, we all look alike Brits who can fill Royal Albert Hall. Are you mental Apple or what? Don’t get confused,. Joshua didn’t care about following the great Bill Hicks footsteps and becoming a big swinging, sucked off dick in London town. His only illustrious goal, was to become  a semi-long lasting big deal entertainer writer host success within the Island of Manhattan, the city of his birth, “my city”,  as Walt Whitman called the beautiful, jagged, concrete jungle in his day. Especially knowing, Joshua would enrage his 9-year-old daughter again, whenever his allotted TV hang out time with his family was relegated to another Harry Potter film, he didn’t want to see again, always leading Joshua to shout out, “It’s too many English accents in one film for my taste, sorry.”

As Joshua signed his name on the audition sheet for the new Porsche Cayenne SUV, it was impossible to not think of the various annoying exchanges he had with Executive Creative Directors in his city in the past, like George whatever his name at Ogilvy and Mather, for agreeing to an informational meeting, after Joshua emailed him an inspired interview with his daughter’s stuffed unicorn. But this informational meeting with an Executive Creative Director big shot never happened, because he refused to reschedule and Joshua couldn’t make the stand alone, ordained meeting because Joshua had no local friends, grandparents or babysitting resources at the time and that was that.  Then, there was the comedy commercial director who worked for lesser name ad agencies, who did listen to his debut comedy CD, Resist This, only to hear back, “I don’t see a market for this but I think you knew that already.” Sure, Joshua only killed himself for 15 plus years, socially alienating himself to family and ex friends at large, as he holed himself up in his various writing and podcast hosting offices, in his attempt to write blogs, books, pilots and spec TV scripts 3 kids later to achieve a mastery of craft and earn the right to get paid as a creative professional and be more than another cold calling, schmuck in a headset agency recruiter again, to just piss off his father.  Who derided his stabs at making it as a stand up comedian as cute, despite never attending or requesting to see him perform in a show ever, got it.  Ok, maybe that was part of it.

Still, comedians hate it when others try to censor their off the cuff personality or be told to calm down or to have their guts and soul spilled onto  page after page as mere, offspring brain drippings.  Also, Joshua never bought into the argument, parents who to don’t encourage their children’s show biz ambitions, are just trying to mentally prepare them for inevitable failure, when the ability to score treasured, sought after laughs, was so important to Joshua, making him feel extra unique, confident, assertive, fearless, and a highly functional as his laugh hitting streak was reaching Pete Rose proportions with Ty Cobb fucking batting averages.  God has only so many God given gifts to spare, and the gift of comedic song, was what he gave Joshua, which made him feel less like an all over the place Jew like the one who still wasn’t very good at smoking weed, 2 decades later, still rolling more tight,, drool laden hit joints than Slaterson from Dazed and Confused did in the 5th grade Home EC.

 

As Joshua checked out his competition waiting for their audition for the new family friendly, Porsche SUV campaign he also thought of time he scored a commercial agent in LA, took a commercial acting class as instructed, only to ask out the 2 hottest girls in his glass by far, one was a tall, chesty, tan Greek heiress, classy guidet type and the other of shorter, far prettier faced, pure blondie doll, who looked like a 10 with no makeup on guaranteed, only to learn they were both married. It never occurred to a late twenty something Joshua to look for fucking wedding rings on ladies in his commercial acting class at the teacher’s home in fucking Toluca Lake for that matter.

And how could Joshua forget the Jew fro happy, Disco Dan, he was in the same audition waiting room with before his super funny addition landing him a role on Blind Date? Joshua’s older guaranteed laugh getter to start of a set was, “So far my claim to fame was my appearance on Blind Date. All I got out of it was a free meal and herpes. For our 1st activity, which they never aired, my date, who was a -5 by upstate New York standards, from Buffalo actually, gave the producers permission to shoot her mountain of muff get waxed for the occasion. She had been growing it out for the big wax for some time, because it looked like a pile of Brillo pads, stacked on top a busted slinky. Later, to wrap up the date back at her place, after drinking some piss warm, 2 buck Chuck Charles Shaw, my date asks me if I want to kiss her and I say with zero hesitation, “Why not? I’ve already seen your pussy.”

No, Joshua would not pussy out today, he would go for the jugular just like he did 15 years on Blind Date to entertain his then closer friends back east from Edgemont High School, who kept his Blind Date episode on TIVO for years and years later. But this time he’d have to force himself to stick to the overpaid copywriter so so script because imposing his own crazy man cowboy spin with such big time stakes in the air, 3 unplanned kids was over. The comedy gold mobile he craved as a validation for all his hard work and unrelenting self-belief was palpable, he could taste the high-end leather interior. It would be a giant fuck you for anyone who ever doubted his train was bound for comedic glory.  Joshua gives himself a last minute pep talk before his name is called, “Suck your ego in asshole and show a semblance of mechanical, plotted out organizational, preparedness exactness for once in your life and the Krauts at Porsche SUV will it eat with a spoon. If they ask, you polish your own boots, not some random Guatemalan at Grand Central, who you tip a 5 spot, regardless of what shine job, they produce. Last, if you do engage in small talk, mention your fondness for Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 and Charles Bukowski poems about woman in high heels knocking on his door and you’ll be finally made in the shade.”

 

Chapter 31 She Lip Syncs Grace

Chapter 31

She Lip Syncs Grace

She was the funniest, sweetest, most stylish, bighearted sister Joshua never had.  And with 2 younger brothers to entertain and care for, he’d be screwed without her. Matilda most resembled her daddy, inspiring Joshua to call her his funnier, infinitely sweeter twin, whose DNA was all over her face. When Matilda got her yellow belt in Kung Fu, her 2 younger, adoring brothers bombarded her from both sides, enveloping Big Beat within a circle of love, no amount of bitterness, jealousy or envy could infiltrate. Most siblings in life, fought constantly, always belittled, bullied, never got each other birthday gifts, who only showed compassion or the tiniest flicker of understanding if it advanced their own lying, self-interest advancing agenda. No, Joshua was hellbent on teaching his 3 unplanned kids the importance of always being picker uppers, instead of passive aggressive, bitchy, blatantly disrespectful, degenerate, thoughtless, indifferent discourager belittlers, or else his family of 5 would become another distant, fake news close, favorite treating family like the rest. No, Joshua, refused to allow this depressing, easily avoidable reality to unfurl on his watch or else he’d die a Do It All Dad bust, a deplorable fraud, a fake news good guy educator of the most meh, hacky order.

Joshua put together a Ted Talk, titled, Joy Is Not Bombing At Parneting, which is growing closer to your children through humor, versus your children growing father apart to the point, where they don’t want to seek out your company once they can afford to move out the house on their own. The last time Joshua had taken his 3 kids to the big city to check out this Gingerbread House creation in Gramercy Park during the month of December, also pointing  out all the sleek, art deco architecture, which made this beautiful corner of Manhattan so sleek, old world beautiful, soulful stylish in Joshua’s eyes. Along the way, his son Arthur at 5 years old spotted an overpass, connecting bridge between 2 buildings by the Credit Suisse corporate headquarters building in New York City, prompting his pitch perfect boy to declare with the most prideful oomph imaginable, “When I get older, I want to live there in the building across from you daddy.” So, Joshua wasn’t feeling like a colossal bust of a dad, suffering from anxiety over bombing at parenting just yet.

Matilda Rose Kornbluth was born off the historic Hudson River at Phelps Memorial with a set a full hair, thank God. Joshua gives thanks and praises to God on his Do It All Dad Year Podcast for not making his precious daughter Matilda, a bald one out of the womb, stating, “Truth is, bald babies are gross. They always have an indentation on their never-ending bald spot, looking like they got dropped on an anvil one too many times. Either that, or Nurse Jackie dropped the bald kid because she was all out of methadone and couldn’t control her shakes. When Joshua and Anna used to live in Astoria Queens, nearby the Queensbridge projects, Joshua heard a gunshot in broad daylight, the 2nd day she was home in their apartment, which gave them all the motivation to get the hell of the sloppy 3rd borough already, regardless if Michelle Obama deemed the move a racist one or not.

When she was 1 years old, Joshua was living in Delaware with his wife, their newborn daughter sweet Matilda and his in-laws temporarily, waiting on the Warner Brothers fellowship program, to accept him into their prized TV writing fellowship already, based on the sheer strength of his super punchy, highly imaginative East Bound and Down script, Cooperstown or Bust, inspired by the impending birth of his Daughter Singing Rose Matilda at time, which made Joshua think at the time getting into the writing program was his birthright and meant to be. It wasn’t. Still, the story of Kenny Powers trying to push his woman April into having an abortion because he a dream of his future daughter becoming the most dominant, Lesbian lusting, heat throwing softball pitcher of all time. Who would overshadow his legacy, making him the old man, bitchy, starless in comparison, version of Bobby Bonds, from the Bonds family. Regardless if Bobby bedded Josephine Baker after Willie Mays snagged her 1st or not. Back then, Joshua had some back up plans, such as putting together a creative copywriting portfolio, including a picture of Kenny Powers from East Bound and Down with an American flag, worn like a cape, making wild man, pushing an imaginary’s woman’s head down toward his super soaker blaster section with his hands, including the caption above, which read, “All Men Can’t Be Created Equal.” Big sisters aren’t created either, because on Goodreads.com, the quotes on sisterhood are less gripping than Tina Fey’s takes on motherhood and how smirking is a bigger strain than usual.

The other ad Joshua coined, which was rudimentary word play, but impossible to forget, included Matilda playing with the I-Pad, as the caption above read, “Tap Into Your Potential.” Joshua also undertook a colossal historical fiction project, creating 50 Brewery Origin Stories for 50 US States, creating a backstory for each star brewer and star brew creation, later morphing into 13 Original Brewery Tales for The 13 Original Colonies. So, even though Joshua was living with his in-laws on a temporary basis, before they moved back to his parents’ house, after only 1 month max. Because the mom couldn’t handle sharing any control over her kitchen, while calling her son in law “pathetic” in the process. Joshua still wasn’t out for the count or drained creatively, just yet. Soon after, Anna, Joshua and Female Flash, Matilda, moved into his grandma’s old apartment in Scarsdale Village, which was a fable like time. Granted, Joshua was still an out  of work new business development rep, agency journey man recruiter, with only a 3rd place Recommended Writer win for his 30 Rock spec script, the Kings of Comedy accolade win under his creatively jacked belt. But his wife nurse wife Anna was working in Manhattan on the Upper East now, at a highly respectable hospital, allowing Joshua write his Heavy Metal High pilot trilogy, before finally scoring his TV writing break with VH1 Classic in Manhattan, writing all of the mostly glam and thrash metal video intro homages host reads for WWE great Chris Jericho, giving this wannabe do it all dad a perm a grin from ear to ear, stretching, ten miles wide. Whipping around his 3-year-old daughter around their one-bedroom apartment to Lita Ford’s Kiss Me Deadly video was a Heavy Metal High, Joshua would cherish in his love imprinted heart forever. It didn’t matter, his mother in law refused to watch any of the countdown when she visited once, to plug in a toy Christmas Tree, because Jesus loves us, even Jews who don’t believe the original super Jew preacher, was the Messiah, and “she didn’t care for that type of music.” Nor did Joshua’s super Catholicism pushing mother in law care to emote about anyone but her own daughter’s accomplishments, to defend her own parenting whenever Joshua would expand upon another star chapter addition to his daughter’s kick ass life in the making. During a recent dinner in their Shabbat celebrating, every Friday night, Jewish home, his Jewish daughter lip synced  a grace as her Ukrainian catholic pushing grandmother pressured her into participating, as usual. Soon after Joshua announces at the dinner table, “Hey, Grandma, did you know Matilda’s 2nd grade teacher confessed to wanting to clone her for future generational students if possible? I know cloning wasn’t mainstream technology back in the day but did your daughter ever receive a similar compliment of such awesome, pride swelling magnitude you’d like to share?

During a trip to Scottsdale, Arizona, Joshua is having a brew with wife Anna and her old nurse pal, who she became friends with working in the same hospital in Manhattan, commented, “Matilda, is your Jewish mother, guardian protector Joshua.” Understand, Heather is a hardcore take no shit Italian gal from Long Island, who was now transplanted in Arizona with her husband and 3 kids. But also really got into crystals, palm readings, becoming a developing subject matter expert on mystical vibrational connections along the way.  Plus, Joshua being familiar with this chakra type speak based on his experience of almost going broke, spending a mini-fortune on a psychic on Beverly Blvd. on the outskirts of West Hollywood, who said he was destined for big time writer success at much earlier age. But something terrible went wrong with the universe and Joshua needed to purify his self-esteem battered, mo money needing chakras fast. Still, it was impossible for Joshua to not absorb the absolute truthiness of his 1st unplanned born, Matilda Shoshana Kornbluth, being his destined, Jewish mother nurturer, encourager bashert of the highest order. Matilda knew her daddy wasn’t a lazy brain who half assed fatherhood. Matilda knew Daddy was the one most concerned about getting a day job outside from home, fearing mama would bore the kids to death.

Now, Matilda would shoot down jobs her Do It All Dada was entertaining like an all knowing, female super-agent for ICM Sue Mengers, whose close friend Bette Midler played on Broadway. She’d say, “Daddy, I don’t know like this job, you creating content for a VR company. Virtual Reality is boring Daddy. You just sit there and stare at your hands all day. It’s a total time suck and waste of your precious talent daddy.” And daddy, why are you creating a demo reel for the QVC? All they do is hock schmatta Jewelry on that show Dada. If you’re going to be a commercial spokesperson and less crazy Eddy, you need to represent a more luxurious product daddy, like the Porsche SUV. And just to prove my point, I already sent one of our old commercial reels for your old creative tech staffing firm, Stand Up Staffer, Been Talent Hooking since Y2k. Well, I sent the demo reel Blond Ambition commercial for Stand Up Staffer, where I wear a blond wig and say, “But I thought only ugly girls go to coding boot camp.” Anyway, I had a power tea meeting over Skype with Ester and got her to email the demo to the Creative Director for Porsche SUV in NY. Your audition is tomorrow at 3, someplace in Gramercy on Broadway. I’ll email you all the details. I know mama is working tonight and will be sleeping tomorrow during the audition,. So all you have do is take baby Samuel to Esther’s office, on Madison, which is only a 2-minute walk from the audition site. Apparently, Ester’s executive search firm Silicon Alley,  has an in-house day care center, that teaches coding for toddlers. So, Baby Samuel will be able to tap into his inner nerd,  or to learn if it even exists in no time.” Daddy says, “You’re the best big sister ever.” Matilda says, “You forget to mention talent agent Dada. Now start rehearsing your lines daddy. I just emailed them to you to doitalldadyear@outlook.com  Remember less crazy eddy, and more commercial friendly this time Dada. Open mike time is over. They’re looking for a handsome family fan face. Whose not going to start making jokes about Lebron James getting the idea to sport cast from Michelle Obama after she threatened to break her arm in Obama’s ass, if he ever offered Beyoncé Paul Newman’s Lemonade over her homemade Kombucha again, got it.”

Chapter 28 You Can’t Fake Chemistry

Chapter 28

You Can’t Fake Chemistry

Joshua never cared for Scientists too much. When he dozed 2 minutes into the Making Of The Dark Universe at the Museum of Natural History, his daughter Matilda whacked him in the rib with her forearm hard with menacing disgust, prompting her Do It All Dad to yell in his defense, “God only made Neil deGrasse Tyson interesting in 2 minute bursts all right.” Albert Einstein helped make the Atom bomb, which put an official end to World War 2. The “Big One” also resulted in make out moments galore along the Canyon of Heroes on Broadway, honoring, America’s greatest generation and our last large scale, big deal military victory against a formidable foreign power, cranked up on Crystal Meth, pre-fake news and the era of HBO becoming must see TV for more resistor hued, Nazi revisionist, fictional TV series fare because she lost despite getting the debate questions in advance, so Joshua didn’t hate scientists all together.

Atheist know it all, twats like Stephen Hawking, didn’t make Joshua warm up to bean breath British physicists either. But Obama gave Stephen Hawking the Presidential Medal Of Freedom despite the award being the highest American civilian honor possible, so Joshua must possess a very low opinion of star fuckers from Kenya, I guess. But what really turned off Joshua from scientists besides the computer ones, who worked for IBM to develop technology making it easier for Nazi’s to identity European Jewish ancestors as they were shipped off to death camps, AOC compared to AC chill, border detention centers, was the dweeb brewer of Six Point Brewery in Red Hook, Brooklyn, who during the tour of his brewery, touted himself as the improv chemist genius of hoppy amalgam fermentation. But back to IBM for a second, Joshua lived in Croton Falls, NY with his wife anna and 3 kids, who would’ve been thrown in the gas chambers in Auschwitz, which AOC refused to take a tour of back in day, so knowing IBM had a major R&D facility in nearby Somers, NY, he was quick to point out IBM’s Nazi profiteering past, at the local brew bar upstairs at Italian grocery store DeCicco’s, if he overheard some IT folk talk about programming or coding of any kind and impose his material on them, regardless if they were engaged in a dialogue prior or not, “Hey guys, this is my impression of a computer scientist at IBM testing the artificial intelligence of Watson the Super Computer, who won at Jeopardy. Hey, Watson, are you aware of being named after the scientist Dr. Watson, who developed technology for the Nazis, who made easier to identify European Jewry before they were shipped off on trains to slaughter. Watson compute replies, “No shit Sherlock.” But if you didn’t know that, you probably didn’t know Hitler had a framed picture of Henry Ford on his desk, despite the Model T, being a poor man’s Mercedes Benz, Hitler’s preferred drive by car of choice.” Climate Scientists alarmists trying to give his 3 children eco anxiety didn’t inspire him to embrace the scientific community at large either. On Joshua’s debut comedy record, Resist This, he did a bit about imagining a debate on climate change between Trump and Greta Thunburg, which any NPR devotee believer would have a psychotic meltdown over, his wife included, in a NY Minute. Trump says, “Fracking reduces our carbon emissions Greta.” Greta says, “So Neil Young is full of shit now? Trump replies, “Neil Young doesn’t take showers to reduce his carbon footprint. So, that much you share in common babe.”

Again, Joshua was waiting to meet with the Rabbi’s highly touted, master brewer brother Schmendel but this time it was at the DBGB Kitchen & Bar on the corner of Bowery and Houston, which is easily confused with the CBGB bar of yesteryear, when model turned singer song writer, ambient rocker Debbie Harry pleaded on stage, to her latest hunk on a stick, “call me”, pre-smart phones and Steve Jobs inventing nothing but casual Friday. One time, Joshua’s kids discovered a gift from mama for dada, including a pile of cue cards with typed written notes and heart and froggy stickers placed on them throughout including loving homages in his honor such as, “I love the depth of your soul.” I love the way I can’t imagine a day without you in my life.” “I love how you kiss blondie.” After Joshua’s 9-year-old daughter discovered this card in particular, she asks her dear Dada, “Who’s Blondie Dada?” Dada replies, “Easier on the eyes than the Ramones, next question.”

Schmendel makes eye contact with Joshua at the bar, sporting the Hassidic beard, a Kippah and a rocking Faconnable bomber, black leather jacket. “Joshua get’s up from his bar seat, “Schmendel, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Schmendel says, “Thank God, another too tall Jew exists besides me.” Joshua says, “Growing up my Jewish father from the Bronx would always kvetch, “Joshua, why can’t you have taller friends? And I’m thinking, because all of them Jewish or Japanese American. Plus, you didn’t ship me off for 3 whole months every summer to a big man basketball camp in Zaire.” Schmendel says, “What beer are you drinking? “Joshua says, “I like to try local beers, because I’m obsessed with freshness, so I went with some IPA from Queens. But can we stop calling Queens hot. Compared to Manhattan and Brooklyn, Queens is the sloppy 3rd Kardashian sister. You know the extra greasy one, whose actually OJ’s daughter, who’s easy to pound at 3 in the morning like a lamb gyro in Astoria. And I don’t buy the fact Bruce Jenner when married to Kris Jenner was asexual. But I’m positive, Bruce stayed harder longer, after he convinced his wife Kris Jenner to cut her hair short, so she’d look more like a dolled-up Ralph Macchio. And if I see Transgender father’s day trend on Father’s Day one more time, I’m breaking my Chic Filet strike for good. Either you’re involved father or you’re not Nipple Tits. Getting shafted shouldn’t be such a shock to your system anymore either.” Schmendel finishes laughing, “You don’t have many friends do you?”, Schmendel says. Joshua laughs, “The majority of old ones are gone, that’s correct Schmendel. Apparently, certain fake news friends who only like you when they can feel smug superior, east coast elitist in comparison.” Schmendel says, “Join the club. You can’t be a self-loving, Trump supporting, funny many Jew in New York these days, without being looked down upon like some blissfully ignorant, uninformed degenerate, deplorable of Jew of the lowest order.” Joshua says, “So your parents hate you more than ever? Join the club. So, I need a mock cheese wiz for my Do It All Dad Hero Kosher cheese steak truck. Can you help me? I know you’re a master brewer, but I figured your background in organic chem, food sciences and microbiology at John Hopkins University, could figure out a killer recipe in no time. I’ve been stalking on you LinkedIn in case you’re wondering. It’s my old school IT recruitment agency background shining through.” I can still help you come up with a killer viral campaign for your great, American Jewish Pale Ale in exchange.” Schmendel says, “Joshua take it easy. You had me at mock cheese wiz for my Do It All Dad Hero kosher Cheesesteak truck. I’m a father of 7 myself.” Joshua says, “And I thought I was stuck up shits creek without a paddle.” Joshua orders an IPA for his Jewish brother in arms and raises his glass for a toast, “To meant to be chemistry, L’Chaim.”

Chapter 26 The Non-Religious Hipster

Chapter 26

The Non-Religious Hipster

The only time Joshua ever got into real trouble with his parents was during a family trip to Montreal, when he insisted on sending his younger brother back to the hotel in a cab, so he could pass out on top of a Canadian girl’s mountain of muff, unable to get it up for some boom, boom because of all the strip club day drinking prior, before those high octane Canadian Labatt Blues came back to knock him on his ass, after maintaining the same rock steady, pounding pace at the dance club soon after. Joshua had attended Ithaca College in upstate NY, otherwise known as Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor, located only a 4 hour drive from the Canadian border. So, he spent many weekend getaways in Montreal with his college buds to wreck more brain cells and feel more retarded than usual, tearing through an eighth of outdoor Tompkins Country weed every other 3 days wasn’t helping. If Joshua could do it all over again, he’d bribe the DJ at the strip club in Montreal with a 50 spot, so he could play the 20 minute version of the Allman’s Brother’s Whipping Post from the their famed Filmore East show, so he could maximize his erect, arousal, one lap dance per song moment for all it was worth like any good, shrewd, predatory Jewish New Yorker, not bright enough to pass the Series 7 to become a Investment Banker would. Joshua was never obsessed with getting lap dances from strippers, but clear memories of blowing off his homework in the 9th grade to watch the Cherry Pie video on MTV, the VHS Kiss doc Exposed with lead singer and songwriter Paul Stanley philosophizing on the art of being a playmate bedding rock star on a bed flush with nothing but perfect busty tens. In addition to endless repeat showings of the equally titillating, Motley Crue doc, Uncensored, including plenty of clips from the their slickest, most arousing, rock star affirming video, Girls, Girls, Girls, which takes place in the actual strip club on the Sunset Strip, where Joshua used to live down the street among the more homoerotic, rent controlled land of boys town in West Hollywood. So Joshua never got discouraged from pursuing the glittery, stripper’s embrace, before he got married, if he had the money burn, one bit.

But Montreal wasn’t all about the icy, cracked out looking, vixen, strippers for Joshua. Because he loved his out of nowhere, fluffy, thick, succulent, locally sourced, in retrospect, Canadian ham loaded Omelette at some random greasy spoon diner 10 times more. This omelette in particular gave Joshua more long lasting joy than any fleeting, blue balls destined lap dance, assuming he was wearing jeans and not sweat pants. Joshua also learned during a trip to Montreal hungover the next morning again, how the French Canadian’s just don’t serve you a regular egg and cheese sandwich there. Instead, they’ll throw in some tasty baby spinach greens, on top a mayo slathered Croissant, if you weren’t eating pork again, which Joshua wasn’t because some psychic in LA prior told him his Chakras were more clogged than his freshman one hitter. The same psychic who Joshua paid in what felt like the entirety of his inherited Pfizer stock from his Jewish Grandmother on his dad’s side, insisted Joshua abstain from pork and beer for a 30 day purification period. Joshua wasn’t complaining about the final results, looking slim and trim doing something more constructive with his time than binge, like DMX before he got into character at the recording studio that day, to rap, “I m slipping, falling and can’t get up.” At the same time, Joshua will never forget about how he relished his In and Out Burgers in LA, animal style, which is twice the cheese, twice the patties, on top of their specialty, never burnt or syrupy sweet, fried onions nestled between their buttered, specialty sauce slathered buns. Actually, Joshua had an old high school bud, another groomsmen at his wedding who visited him in LA during a work week, so he just drove Joshua to and from work, while smoking plenty of primo icky, sticky, California loving weed, from his contact in the valley, when he wasn’t revisiting In and Out, on back to back to back days, winning the tubby bitch, trifecta, New York style. Also, Joshua will never forget how delectable scrumptious his behemoth of a triple cheesed burger was from Fuddruckers in Palo Alto to celebrate the completion of his 1st purification feast, as he inhaled one yummy bloody bite after another.

When living in stroller mom central in Park Slope, with his girlfriend now wife, Anna, he couldn’t resist the idolized worship of thick cut, Applewood country, smoked crisp Bacon served at all the various, overpriced, never sexy enough for his standards brunch spots, sprinkled throughout the Brooklyn enclave, referred to famed novelist turned boxing Journalist Norman Mailer, “as the most secure place” for a Jew to live on our planet earth. Still, Joshua growing up in a Kosher household always felt a tad uncomfortable frying up any piggy in their apartment. Which still didn’t stop him from throwing a 12 inch Kielbasa on the grill in their garden outback, from the drab, bare bones, stuck in 1940, utterly colorless and humorless Ukrainian meat shop on 4th avenue, only a 2 avenue stroll down the hill one bit either. And when Joshua went on the Kornbluth European vacation in college with his parents and younger brother to Italy, which included stops along the Amalfi Coast in Italy, right off the mighty Mediterranean coast, he wasn’t kvetching about breaking God’s commanded law to not eat pork, as he suckled down one more mound of svelte, Prosciutto di Parma with more fresh, crackling sesame loaded, Italian bread with bits of semi-hard, mind blowing fresh, put hair on your chest provolone either.

But now Joshua was 43 going on 44, eating kosher and getting closer to God every day, yeah, yeah. So giving 2 shits about projecting any cool man foodie, over the hill Park Slope hipster cred among other piggling sucking, bearded hobbits, to conceal their drooping neck fat, in their best Paul Bunion gear, held out less appeal for him than liking and encouraging more pics of Lena’s Dunham’s frumpy, let it all hang look on Instagram. These were the type of thoughts swirling in Joshua’s head, as he took in the dinning scene at Mile End in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, waiting to meet with the Rabbi’s much touted brew master genius Schmendel any minute. Losing patience with Schmendel, Joshua decides to start ordering at the counter but has some questions first. “Hi, the smoked meat Montreal Pastrami sandwich on Jewish rye is Kosher, right? The lady behind the counter with decked out tattoos hanging on for dear life off her droopy, too cool for school flabby arms says with immediate repulsive, disgust, “No, we don’t serve Dr. Browns cream soda or offer complimentary Kosher spear dill pickles either.” Joshua barks back with menacing, pissed off, slightly disproportionate in return fury, “But you’re a Sunday Morning Bacon Jew, who believes only wolfing down more locally soured bacon on top of your fucking fries and poutine, makes you the more progressive, evolved, Jew. Who watched the Daily Show with religious devotion throughout your time at McGill, so you’re too sophisticated to ever identify yourself as a mere religious, old school, easily duped, observant, proud Jew, got it, FLAPS.” The cashier burns a death stare through Joshua’s swelling noggin and screams, “Get the fuck out of our store. You’re banned permanently, no smoked Canadian meat for you.” Joshua begins to leave and fires back one last time with, “I was already leaving. Good luck finding a reformed Jewish cemetery plot big enough to wheel barrel your fat ass into the ground, FRUMPS. Fucking Canadian Hipster Jews are so, off the list.”

Chapter 26 Fucking Hipster Canadians

                                                       Chapter 26

Fucking Hipster Canadians

The only time Joshua ever got into real trouble with his parents was during a family trip to Montreal, when he insisted on sending his younger brother back to the hotel in a cab, so he could pass out on top some bushy Canadian’s girls’ mountain of muff, unable to get it up for some boom, boom because of all the strip club day drinking prior, before those high octane Canadian Labatt Blues came back to knock him on his ass, after maintaining the same rock steady, pounding pace at the dance club soon after. Joshua had attended Ithaca College, in Upstate, NY, otherwise known as Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor, located only a 4 hour drive from the Canadian border. So, he spent many weekend getaways in Montreal with his college buds to wreck more brain cells and feel more retarded than usual, tearing through an eighth of outdoor Tompkins Country weed every other 3 days wasn’t helping. If Joshua could do it all over again, he’d bribe the DJ at the strip club in Montreal with a 50 spot, so he could play the 20 minute version of the Allman’s Brother’s Whipping Post from the their famed Filmore East show, so he could maximize his erect, arousal, one lap dance per song moment for all it was worth like any good, shrewd, predatory Jewish New Yorker, not bright enough to pass the Series 7 to become a Investment Banker would. Joshua was never obsessed with getting lap dances from strippers, but clear memories of blowing off his homework in the 9th grade to watch the Cherry Pie video on MTV, the VHS Kiss doc, Exposed with lead singer and songwriter Paul Stanley, philosophizing on the art of being playmate bedding rock star on a bed flush with nothing but perfect busty tens. In addition to endless repeat showings of the equally titillating, Motley Crue doc, Uncensored, including plenty of clips from the their slickest, most arousing, rock star affirming video, Girls, Girls, which takes place in the actual strip club on the Sunset Strip, where Joshua used to lived down the street among the more homoerotic, rent controlled land of boys town in West Hollywood, didn’t discourage Joshua to seek out the occasional lap dance of a glittery, stripper’s embrace, before he got married, if he had the money burn, one bit.

But Montreal wasn’t all about the icy, cracked out looking, vixen, strippers for Joshua. Because he loved his out of nowhere, fluffy, thick, succulent, locally sourced, in retrospect, Canadian ham loaded Omelette at some random greasy spoon diner, giving him more long lasting joy than any fleeting, blue balls destined, lap dance, assuming he was wearing jeans and not sweat pants. Joshua also learned during a trip to Montreal hungover the next morning again, how the French Canadian’s just don’t serve you a regular egg and cheese sandwich there. Instead, they’ll throw in some tasty baby spinach greens, on top a mayo slathered Croissant, if you weren’t eating pork again, which Joshua wasn’t because some psychic in LA prior told him his Chakras were more clogged than his freshman one hitter. The same psychic who Joshua paid in what felt like the entirety of his inherited Pfizer stock from his Jewish Grandmother on his dad’s side, insisted Joshua abstain from pork and beer for a 30 day purification period. Joshua wasn’t complaining about the final results, looking slim and trim doing something more constructive with his time than binge like DMX before he got into character at the recording studio that day, to rap, “ I’m slipping, falling and can’t get up.” At the same time, Joshua will never forget about how he relished his In and Out Burgers in LA, animal style, which is twice the cheese, twice the patties, on top of their specialty, never burnt, French onion, syrupy sweet, fried onions nestled between their buttered, specialty sauce slathered buns. Actually, Joshua had an old high school bud, another groomsmen at his wedding who visited him in LA during a work week, so he just drove Joshua to and from work, while smoking plenty of primo icky, sticky, California loving weed, from his contact in the valley, when he wasn’t revisiting In and Out, on back to back to back days, winning the tubby bitch, trifecta, New York style. Also, Joshua will never forget how delectable scrumptious, his behemoth of a triple cheesed burger was, which disintegrated into his mouth at such a man meant to eat meat, in what one felt like an extended, never tasted so wholesome bloody bite from the infamous dead cows hanging in the window entrance chain from Fuddruckers in Palo Alto with his ex, to celebrate the completion of his 1st purification feast.

When living in stroller mom central in Park Slope, with his girlfriend now wife, Anna, he couldn’t resist the idolized worship of thick cut, Applewood country, smoked crisp Bacon served at all the various, overpriced, never sexy enough for his standards, brunch spots sprinkled throughout the Brooklyn enclave, referred to famed novelist turned boxing Journalist Norman Mailer, “as the most secure place” for a Jew to live on our planet earth. Still, Joshua growing up in a Kosher household always felt a tad uncomfortable frying up any piggy in their apartment, which still didn’t stop him from throwing a12 inch Kielbasa on the grill in their garden outback, from the drab, bare bones, stuck in 1940, utterly colorless and humorless, Ukrainian meat shop on 4th avenue, only a 2 avenue stroll down hill one bit either. And when Joshua went on the Kornbluth family European vacation in college with his parents and younger brother to Italy, which included stops along the Amalfi Coast in Italy, right off the mighty Mediterranean coast, he wasn’t kvetching about breaking God’s commanded law to not eat pork, as he suckled down one more mound of svelte, Prosciutto di Parma with more fresh, crackling sesame loaded, Italian bread with bits of semi-hard, mind blowing fresh, put hair on your chest provolone either.

But now Joshua was 43 going on 44, eating kosher and getting closer to God every day, yeah, yeah. So giving 2 shits about projecting any cool man foodie, over the hill Park Slope hipster cred among other piggling sucking, bearded hobbits, to conceal their dropping neck fat, in their best Paul Bunion gear, held out less appeal for him than liking and encouraging more pics of Lena’s Dunham’s frumpy, let it all hang look on Instagram. These were type of thoughts swirling in Joshua’s head, as he took in the dinning scene at Mile End in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, waiting to meet with the Rabbi’s much touted brew master genius Schmendel any minute. Losing patience with Schmendel, Joshua decides to start ordering at the counter but has some questions first. “Hi, the smoked meat Montreal Pastrami sandwich on Jewish rye is Kosher, right? The lady behind the counter with decked out tattoos hanging on for dear life off her droopy, too cool for school flabby arms says with immediate repulsive, disgust, “No, we don’t serve Dr. Browns cream soda or offer complimentary Kosher spear dill pickles either.” Joshua barks back with menacing, pissed off, slightly disproportionate in return fury, “But you’re a Sunday Morning Bacon Jew, who believes only wolfing down more locally soured bacon on top of your fucking fries and poutine, makes you the more progressive, evolved, Jew. Who watched the Daily Show with religious devotion throughout your time at McGill, so you’re too sophisticated to ever identify yourself as a mere religious, old school, easily duped, observant, proud Jew, got it, flaps.” The cashier burns a death stare through Joshua’s swelling, noggin and screams, “Get the fuck out our store. You’re banned, permanently, no smoked Canadian meat for you.” Joshua begins to leave and fires back one last time with, “I was already leaving. Good luck finding a reformed Jewish cemetery plot big enough, to wheel barrel your fat ass into the ground, frumps. Fucking Canadian Hipster Jews are off the list.”

 

 

Cheesesteaks To Remember

Chapter 27

Cheesesteaks To Remember

The best cheesesteak Joshua had ever was at some random place in New Jersey, on the border of Philly, during a road trip back from Washington University outside of Saint Louis, with his far smarter, more infinitely together friend Ari and some of his college buds, including a cuter, prettier, less pale freckled, smokier eyed, sultry looking version of Parker Posey, minus the Richard Linklater film credit. In high school, during lunch breaks in Scarsdale Village at the local Muller’s Deli on Garth Road, the cheese steak was your standard array of warmed up roast beef, with some American cheese melted on top, nestled between a respectable, hoagie, with some occasional grilled onions on top, nothing to give Joshua and buds sustained stiffage, but it did provide some much needed variety from their standard chicken cullet on a roll with lettuce, tomato and mayo or Russian if the Edgemont crew was feeling more indulgent instead. But nothing had prepared Joshua for the Philly style cheese steak with shredded thin lettuce, edible, well sliced, non-Subway conjuring, Jersey tomatoes, on top cut of delectable pieces of rib eye steak, with semi-strong melted provolone on top with even layered smothered mayo throughout the bomb warm, Jersey hoagie, which got more inhalable scrumptious per bite. Later in life, when Joshua was working as a journey man IT agency recruiter/still wannabe sitcom writer scribe, on 39 Broadway all the way downtown in Manhattan, south of Wall Street, post 91l, when nothing but the haunting, swallowing hole of death lingered forever, until the Freedom Tower was built many years later, his boss from Jersey took him to a cheese steak institution transplant from Philly, insisting ordering a cheesesteak with cheese wiz and fried onions was the only way to live. Joshua agreed, whole heartedly. When Joshua sucked down his 1st Philly style cheese steak in downtown Manhattan, with nothing but cheese wiz and grilled onions, he thought of the time, the security guard at the Y in Park Slope told him he looked like Vince Vaughn. Joshua had heard this before, so he replies back with, “I get confused for Vince Vaughn pre-insomniac. Understand, this time, Swingers came out a decade ago and Vince had packed on some major poundage since then, promoting the security guard at the Y to shout out loud in the great, Vince Vaughn’s defense, “Good living, good living.” Although if Joshua had to choose, the more legendary line uttered at the same Y in Park Slope, Brooklyn, was the time Joshua was showing flashes of a scrappy, Larry Bird minus, the eyes behind his head and impeccable ball dishing skills but his relentless hustle on defense and tearing down of rebounds anyway he could, prompting the line of all lines from a brother on his team, who never played with Joshua before, declaring, “That boy’s hungry.”

Nothing has changed too much since that time in Park Slope Brooklyn 15 years ago, Joshua was hungrier than ever for sustainable big city success. Gene Simmons says, “Men crave 2 things woman and success.” And Joshua knew, he’d always be deemed another so called bitter, raving, crazy man lunatic, until he made his mark in this world and brought home more than veggie bacon to provide for his family. He recently read a book distilling the Book of Proverbs, which highlights the absolute necessity of joining forces with a business partner to achieve big deal, long lasting success. Forever, Joshua equated such a business partner as a literary agent or TV agent, to get Joshua in a room with studio heads to pitch his latest and greatest pilot like Horsing Around With Hinduism. But now, things have changed. Joshua had hosted his Do It All Dad Year Podcast, Dad friendly entertainment for you and me, for 3 years straight since, his son Samuel Chosen Curls was bound to woo was born. He grew accustomed to being his own boss, marketer and star content creator by himself, without being overly reliant on anybody for his awe inspiring comedic output outside of giving thanks and praises to the all mighty above, for granting him with the continued ability to make others laugh, warm hearts and bring God’s children closer to him in the process. Now, off the Adderall, Joshua wanted more than the high of laugh generation and the ego tickling stroking, which ensues. He wanted to build a family business, to grow closer with his 3 unplanned kids, which he equated with growing closer to God, which meant more than pulverizing all the myriad of highly poundable muffs on display in Paul Stanley’s bed in the Kiss Exposed video back in the day. Now, Joshua wanted to please God and his 3 glorious, beautifying, consistently, buoyant, hilarious children more than anything else in this world. Getting a hack Creative Director in Manhattan to take a peak at his writing portfolio, so he could slave away for some soulless, ad agency conglomerate, who puts fake news fro, cop hating fermenting, Collin Kaepernick on a fucking pedestal, after he got the NFL to cut him the largest unemployment check ever recorded in the name of fucking “collusion”, was so yesterday’s news. But being able to marry Joshua’s killer comedic instincts, promotional flair, imaginative thrust, idea machine power and shishy bitch leaning tastes toward the development of the most outrageous, hilarious, religiously sound, food truck business to sling his Do It All Dad hero, kosher style cheese steak was just what the doctor ordered. But without a Kosher Cheese Wiz brother in arms, partner, he was up shits creek without a paddle. Joshua will also relish the 1st time he showed his 1st born daughter Matilda the Blues Brothers movie, only for her to quote the movie at the refreshed, modernized Pizza and Brew on Central Ave the day after, “Daddy, have you seen the light?” Do It All Dad Joshua had, what he wanted more than anything in this world now was to please God, his children and grow closer to both in the process. Making the Do It All Dad Hero Truck become an undeniable success could please all his favorite beings in the universe and make them feel the most high. He just prayed, the Rabbi’s master brew maker Schmendel could put his degree in organic chemistry and microbiology to good use in helping him create the killer Kosher String Cheese in a can, to make the dreamy Kosher cheese steak truck monster success and turn his dreams of at oneness with God and increased time with his blessed, pitch perfect children, on the food tuck front, so they could make enough money to forgo paying 75 grand a year for Joshua’s kids to attend Cornell University to defend Israel’s right to exist more than making Dean’s List.